#// i literally almost lost this thread and had to dig so far to find it

[tewwor]

The smile infuriates him. If Joel hadn't gotten in the way, things would have taken a turn for the worse. Full body breaking and mending type of worse. It's avoided for now, though. Both of them are yapping about the damn weather, and he can't help but feel like they're being watched. So Dane relents. Purses his lips into a thin line, but doesn't try to continuously scare the blonde away.

"What? Nah, nah— it's humid, man. Like I can feel the humidity every time I breathe, kind of humid," Joel babbles on, doing what he does best — talk nonstop. "Oh— you don't have to do that, Bella. Thank you though." The offer calms him a smidgen. Just enough to slow his yabbering. "I don't even know if he's gonna stay here for long. Usually it's a quick in and out for an obscene amount of coffee—"

"It's just a large cup, Joel," Dane starts, still bordering on exasperation before he's leveled a look from the shorter man. "Okay, two large cups, but it saves me a trip from going to the cafe between classes, alright?"

"Yeah..... alright. Still don't get how you sip on super cold coffee like it's fine wine. Actually, you know what? Let's get three cups of coffee for the three of us. Redo introductions while we're at it, yeah?"

Longer than you've got strands of her.

It pulls a potentially more genuine smile from her, one of actual amusement rather than the posturing she'd been doing. And it's because she was only posturing - making it clear she wouldn't be intimidated - that Bella yields easily when Joel steps between them, back to the picture of faux innocence she so often projects to the world. She doesn't actually want to start a fight, after all, and she likes the young man (a laughable thing, her calling him young when she looks the way she does). Enough to put the rest aside.

"I've always preferred wet weather," She pipes up, as if anyone had asked for her opinion at all. It's not like they're talking about rain anyway. It doesn't matter, because she's moving on anyway, looking at Joel (the easier target, surely) with big doe eyes. "Should I get you and your friend some coffee, Joel? If he's been out of town for a while, you'll want to catch up, I'm sure."

[lesetoilesfous]

Are you taking prompts with the Florence + The Machine prompt list? ;v; If yes, can I request "She’s just like the weather, can’t hold her together" for Hawke x Isabela? Thank you!

This made me so happy and was such a gorgeous prompt for them, I really really hope you like it!

(If you’d like me to write you a dragon age fic, send me a prompt from here!)

@dadrunkwriting

Pairing: F!HawkeBela

Characters: Marian Hawke, Isabela

Tags: brief reference to infanticide and making children tranquil, fuck the chantry, mage hawke, hurt/comfort, established relationship, I just really like writing boats in storms, do you like character’s eyes glowing whilst they lose control of their powers because they’re overwhelmed by emotion and Only Their Loved One can get through to them?, this fic is for you

Rating: Mature

Isabela had joked once to her first mate that if she ever fell in love with anyone it would be with a strong gale blowing in a south-westerly direction. She had never thought she would mean it literally. But now, struggling to stand on her ship as it kicks and bucks harder than any deep road Bronto, boots slipping against the deck wet with lashing rain, Isabela can’t even find the good sense to regret it. Around them, waves roar as living mountains, crashing down in blue-grey cliffs of granite that howl as they fall and send The Harpy tossing on the water like an unhappy Orlesian princess on a mattress full of peas. 

Isabela ignores this, and the shouts of her crew as they swing over the side of the deck, barely held onto the ship in the storm by the lifelines they’ve tethered to the mast. Templar bodies go swinging over the sides of the boat like shooting stars or diving bells, crushing what crew Isabela has left against the rigging before flying off into the night like so much crumpled silver ribbon. Isabela opens her mouth, trying to shout over the storm. “HAWKE!”

Hawke doesn’t respond. Her always-blue eyes are blinding now, washed bright with light and magic. Her body is crackling with electricity and the tempest spirals around her, exploding outward in a strange suspension of rain and wind before crescendoing into the maelstrom above them. Around her feet are three dead bodies in apprentice robes. The oldest cannot be fourteen. Their bodies are still on the one patch of dry deck left on the ship. 

A wave slams into the Harpy will all the force of an avalanche, and Isabela’s feet go flying, sending her tumbling into the wheelhouse hard enough to bend her ribs close to breaking. She swears, and slips a dagger from her belt, cloth-wrapped hilt damp as bloody bandages. “Sorry, pet.” She mutters to the deck as it rises to meet her almost vertically, like a cliff face, and the Harpy’s keel tries desperately to keep her anchored in the water against the force of the shoving waves like a bird tugged off its perch by a particularly strong wind. With a wordless shout of effort, Isabela slams her dagger into the deck, and uses it to help her start scaling her ship as she moves back toward her lover. Hawke herself is blind and raging, lost to her magic, the dead apprentices and their injured bodies as still around her as lambs in a dream. 

Thunder cracks the sky open and lets lightning through, and where it spears into the ocean the water flashes from ink black to teal, illuminating like a witch’s cauldron and skittering with sparks that dance over the frothing waves. Isabela thinks she can hear someone screaming. Cannons come rolling toward her with a sound like groaning millstones, and Isabela kicks away from the deck in time to swing her body over the iron, cursing as she watches them hit and splinter the far railing before sinking into the belly of the sea. 

Water is running down Isabela’s back and chest, icy fingers digging into every wrinkle and crease of her body that she’d almost forgotten she had. Her hair is heavy and damp as wet kelp on her shoulders, and her knuckles are aching. The Harpy crashes back down into the waves with an explosion of white foam like shattered glass, and above them the mainsail swells with the wind, wrenching the Harpy forward and up the next blue mountain of water that dwarfs her the way a giant would a child. Isabela gets onto her feet and sprints, chest aching with the effort. 

Hawke is surrounded by a vortex of magic, and as Isabela breaks through it the lightning skitters across her arms, singeing her clothes and hair. She pushes through, fighting the water and the howling gale until, abruptly, she is in the eye of the storm. It’s silent.

Isabela stumbles to a stop and hesitates, transfixed as she stares at her lover, black hair lifting on a wind Isabela cannot feel here, so close to the centre of the tempest. Light jumps across her skin and down her body. Her clothes are dry but there is water on her nose and cheeks and chin. She is frozen like some strange Tevene statue, reduced to nothing but spitting magic. Around them on the deck, which is pale as sand next to the rain-dark wood beyond them, the apprentices lie as quiet as the sleeping children they should have been. Their hair is shaved roughly, and their foreheads are blistered with burns. Their bodies are littered with bruises. 

Isabela holds her breath as she steps over them, and lifts a hand over Marian’s cheek. When she speaks, it’s in a whisper. “Hawke.”

Marian doesn’t move. Isabela catches her breath, and looks up at the whirling vortex of black clouds above them. She clenches her teeth, and touches her lover’s skin. The effect is like getting hit by lightning, a burning punch up the inside of her arm that she can feel in her bones. Isabela grits her teeth, and brings her other hand up to clasp Marian’s face in her hands, pressing forward to push their foreheads together as she kisses her cold, still lips. 

Ignoring the pain of the magic racing through her skin, Isabela steps closer, winding her arms around Marian’s chest and pressing her face into her shoulder. The ship and the storm and her screaming crew may as well have been an ocean away. Here it is dry, and quiet, and still.

Isabela holds Hawke as tightly as she can, and shuts her eyes. “It’s alright. I’m here. I’m so sorry, love. I’m so sorry. I’m here.”

Isabela doesn’t know when the storm stops, or how they make it out alive. She keeps her eyes shut, and her arms around the stiff, tense line of Marian’s chest until her lover slumps like a puppet with its strings cut, and collapses around her, weeping. Isabela doesn’t move away, she just holds her tighter, running her hand through the unruly mess of Marian’s black hair as she presses kisses to every part of her she can reach. “It’s alright. It’s alright, I’m here.”

Eventually, Marian’s weight is too much for Isabela to hold standing, but she still doesn’t pull away. Instead she folds, taking Marian with her. The crew don’t come closer, and their voices are quiet - though whether that’s only the echo of the storm in her ears Isabela doesn’t know. She waits until Marian opens her eyes to look up at her, once again fully human, face red with sunburn and wet with tears. She says, “I didn’t, I’m sorry, I -”

Isabela says nothing. She just presses her closer, and rubs slow circles in her back, hushing her. Marian weeps until she cannot cry any more, and then lies there, quiet and shivering, face hidden in Isabela’s shoulder. Isabela holds her with shaking arms, and kisses her again and again. Around them, the ocean sways and kicks gently under a suddenly clear sky. Marian sniffs, and wipes her nose with the back of her hand. “Sorry, again, Guessing this really wasn’t what you signed up for, was it?”

Isabela purses her lips, and catches her face in her hands, forcing her to meet her eyes. “I always know exactly what I’m getting myself into, harpy.” Marian’s mouth twitches in the direction of a smile, and Isabela leans forward and kisses her, deeply, despite the snot and tears and ozone sting of magic on her tongue. 

Marian pays for the cannons, later. But first, they give the children a proper burial. Afterwards, they share a drink on deck together, sweating and dusty from the beginning of extensive repairs. The crew give Marian a wide berth. She drinks deeply from her cup, and looks at the horizon when she says, “it’s bad luck, you know.” She cuts a glance at Isabela, eyes blue as magic in the twilight. “Mages, on ships.”

Isabela shrugs, and steps closer, resting her hand over Marian’s on the railing and winding their fingers together, tightly. “Bad luck for templars, maybe. But something tells me we’re going to be just fine.” The corner of Marian’s eyes tighten, and she looks away from her, toward the leaping horizon.

“You have a lot of faith in me.” The words are pulled thin, like too little thread across an open wound. Isabela squeezes her hand against the still damp railing of her ship. The sea breeze pulls her salt-thick hair whipping against her cheeks and chest. She’s looking at the sunset when she replies, gazing at where the sun burns the sky as it dips into the sea. 

“I know. But I have to have faith in something.”

[mell-bell]

Fight so dirty (but your love so sweet) - Part II

The Mandalorian x Reader

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8

Words: 4773                       

Series Summary: You are sent to hunt down a Mandalorian, the odds aren’t exactly in your favor

Chapter: 2/8

Author’s notes: I did NOT expect the love that I received from the first part of this so I just want to say thank you for all of your messages and responses you have made my week! Literally cried reading all of them. I wanted to have this up sooner but it became long as shiiiit so lots of editing and there may still be mistakes so apologies because it’s late and I’m tired haha. But worth it for you guys. Pretty sure I tagged everyone that asked, it not please just let me know! Anyways I hope you enjoy!!!!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had prayed for darkness. But it didn’t come.

As you laid motionless on the ground, you knew the end was near. And there was nothing you could do about it. No one could save you now. Not even your Mandalorian.

You weren’t sure how long you had been there, but soon after the fire died out you felt your limp body being dragged against the ground, the rocks buried in the sand beating into you, birthing more bruises.

When the ground beneath you became smooth and solid, you knew you had made it back inside. And although it was a welcome relief to your body, you could only imagine what awaited you.

The men dragging you stopped abruptly, your body jerking in their hold, a groan escaping your throat.

Loud footsteps echoed across the empty walls in the hall, until two boots stopped in front of you. You swallowed hard before looking up and meeting an unknown man’s eyes. They were dark and sunken.

On either side of him stood Stormtroopers. It was then that you knew your initial suspicions had been correct. These were the men hunting down your Mandalorian and your little green friend. You could only hope that they were far away.

The older man stepped up to you and you flinched as his arm moved forward, his gloved hand slapping across your face. With a stinging cheek, you turned your gaze back toward him, meeting his eyes. His own widened minutely as if he was surprised you dared to look at him.

“Seems we have a fighter.”

He waved his arm, motioning for the troopers and men to follow as he turned on his heel.

The bare halls passed you by as you were dragged along, your gaze searching for any means of escape. But you found nothing. Just one door at the end of the hall that was quickly coming into view.

The door opened and a cold jolting gust of air settled deep into your bones as you descended the stairs.

When you reached the bottom, the contrast to the world above was disturbing. The cold stone walls seemed to be caving in toward you, the unlevel stone floor cracked, fresh blood still evident on the ground. You began to struggle against the men holding you, but their grips just tightened.

Rather unceremoniously, you were thrown into a cold and damp cell. You turned just quick enough to watch the door slam shut behind you.

And then you were alone.  

You pulled yourself across the filthy ground until you propped in a seated position against the wall.

Carefully you began to move your limbs one by one testing for broken bones or dislocations. When you thankfully found none you moved to push yourself to your feet when a twinge shot through your side and you fell with a yelp.

Tears streaked down your face as you clenched your hands tight, nails biting into your skin. You took a deep breath before pushing yourself up, your head rising, almost thinking for a second that a familiar gloved hand would be there to help you.

But it wasn’t.

You managed to make it to your feet, and as you swayed unsteadily, you took in your surroundings. Stumbling to the corner, you tried to dig at the walls in desperation, your hands turning bloody as fear settled into your bones. There was no way out of here.

With a scream of defeat, you fell to the ground in a slump.

A part of you waited for your Mandalorian to come bursting through the door. But logically you knew he wouldn’t come for you. Why would he? He had to protect the child.

You tried to rest. Tried to prepare for what was coming. You had been kidnapped before. Been tortured before. But not by members of the Empire. Commander Trax was right, you were as good as dead.

You closed your eyes but sleep wouldn’t come.

Haunting wails echoed through the stone walls and you wrapped your arms more securely around you trying to ward off the cold.

Hours passed by... And when they finally came for you, you were ready. You knocked three of them out before they were finally able to take you down.

And then you were taken to their leader.

This man. The Client as he called himself, was determined to make you talk.

He threatened. Had you beaten so frequently you were becoming numb to the pain. 

He had become so furious one day that he had a trooper stab you so deep in your side you had lost your breath. But even after that you still remained silent. He just sighed and had the troopers take you away.

It must’ve been at least a day later when you snapped and stabbed one of the troopers with a rock you had sharpened in the dead of night.

And from that moment on you, your arms and legs were shackled at all times.

He never let you have a moment of peace.

He would continue to call for you again and again. Threaten you. Beat you. Ask you the same questions over and over about the asset.

But all you did was lie on the ground, silently taking it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It could’ve been days later when the door finally opened again. Expecting it to be the Stormtroopers again, you just laid there on the ground, defeated.

But when you felt someone pulling at your chains, you looked up. It was a different man. He was much younger than the man in charge, donning a white coat, and wearing some strange type of eyewear. You had seen him lurking in the back of the room while they interrogated you.

“Who are you?” You said squinting at him, trying to steady your blurry vision, your head throbbing from the bright light in the room.

The man was twitching, wringing his hands together as he threw rapid glances at the door to your cell, “Is the asset safe?”

Your head swam and you mumbled something incoherent.

The man reached out shaking you hard and you flinched at the pain it caused.

“Is it safe?” He said louder.

You nodded.

The man visibly relaxed and your brows furrowed.

“Why do you care?” You mumbled.

Startled, the man stood abruptly.

“No, wait!” You reached out toward him, falling from where you had been propped against the wall, “Where are you going?”

“Keep him safe.”

And then he was gone.

The next time you woke, you felt a familiar gloved hand brush across your face and you almost wept in relief.

It was him. He had found you.

Something soft and warm wrapped around you, and you pulled it closer, trying to breathe in the scent you had become so used to.

Through the dark, you tried to reach out to him.

Arms wrapped around you, carrying you down the hall. And as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you tried to catch sight of his helmet. Just to know for certain that he was actually there.

But then you were dropped to the ground.

Your eyes opened.

And the man before you sighed.

“I knew I should’ve just killed you.”

“So, why haven’t you.” You croaked. You had been certain he was real this time. That he had actually come for you. But he hadn’t. This reoccurring hallucination had been haunting you for a while now. Thinking you were saved when in reality you were still a prisoner.

The Client began to pace, but your eyes were drawn to the strange man in the white coat standing behind him, wringing his hands. You met his eyes for a minute, before he looked away, scurrying from the room.

“Because I’m curious.”

Your brows furrowed, turning your attention back towards the older man.

“About the Mandalorian.”

Your heart was pounding as you tried to furtively glance around the room. This was the first time he had mentioned the bounty hunter.

“Ah, so you do know him. He’s not here.”

“Where is he?”

“That’s what I would like to know. You must have been to his hideout. His ship.” He questioned, stepping up close to you.

“No.” You lied.

The man huffed before reaching out threading his fingers through your hair, roughly pulling your head back.

“No more lies. You have wasted too many of my days.”

You spit in his face, but he didn’t even flinch. He pulled back slowly and wiped off his face with a handkerchief. Not pulling his gaze from you, he raised his hand and the door opened, a group of Stormtroopers storming into the room.

“You won’t find him.”

He let out a noise of realization, “You care for him.”

“No.” You swallowed hard, looking away from him.

He tsked, reaching out once more grabbing your chin and raising your gaze to his, “You do know that the Mandalorians are a complex people. He will never let you see his true face, his true self. Why protect him so?”

You bit your lip hard, remaining silent.

“We’re done for today.” He sighed in exasperation.

The Stormtroopers grabbed onto your arms, hoisting you up onto your feet. But as they went to turn you around, you ripped from their grasp and ran up to the man. You got within five feet of him before you felt a blaster aimed at your back.

The man in front of you seemed unconcerned as he looked down at you.

“You’re going to die.” You said.

His eyes flashed and a sinister smile crossed his face before he turned and swept out of the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had only just been returned to your prison when the door to your cell slammed open, the Stormtrooper who had been guarding the door falling to the floor, blaster burns smoking from his chest.  

Your eyes were wide as you looked out the open door. Before you could even blink a heavily armored man flew past, his arms locked in combat with a Stormtrooper. And your heart skipped a beat as you recognized him.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to smile but then you froze unsure if this was another hallucination or if he was actually here.

You moved slowly, peeking out into the hall watching as he fought, shooting Stormtroopers left and right, knocking them down with his staff, and disintegrating them before they could fall to the ground.

You were in no shape to fight, but when you saw five troopers round the corner at his back, you swung into action, grabbing a blaster off the ground and shooting each of them point-blank.

The bounty hunter must have sensed your presence because when he finished off the last trooper in front of him, he turned slowly, his gaze landing on you.

And you could see the tension pour out of his shoulders.

This was real.

He was here.

You threw him a wicked smile.

Just as you took a step out of your cell toward him, you felt a blaster press against the back of your head. Raising your arms immediately, you dropped the gun in your hand onto the stone floor.

You both watched the Mandalorian shoot a twitching Stormtrooper on the ground before he turned his gaze to you and began walking slowly up to you.

He raised his blaster at the man behind you.

“Ah, my good friend. Come to return the asset? I’ll give you this one in return.” The Client said shoving you forward a little.

The Mandalorian stepped closer, his armor glinting under the harsh lights overhead.

“Though I wouldn’t trust this one.” He chuckled, one arm wrapping around you pulling you tighter toward him so that you covered the majority of his body.

You stiffened in his arms at that comment but refused to pull your gaze from the Mandalorian in front of you.

When he made a slight motion with his hand, you instantly knew what he planned and dropped to the ground while he shot at the man behind you.

Turning around, you prayed to see the man dead on the ground, but he was gone and before you could move to go after him, the Mandalorian threw you over his shoulder as he took off.

You bounced painfully against his armor as he sprinted to his ship. When he made it to the pit, he all but dropped you into the seat beside his before he took off fast as possible, setting course to his nearest safehouse.

You sank into the soft seat and breathed a sigh of relief. You were alive. And safe.  

A small green hand came into view as it reached out toward you and you smiled, reaching over toward him, the child cooing at you.

When you began to feel a tingle in your arm you looked down and watched as the wound begin to knit itself back together.

“What?” You whispered.

An arm pulled you back as the little green child fell back, falling into a deep sleep.

“He does that.” The Mandalorian’s voice was gruff as he pushed the child’s orb into a darker part of the ship.  

“I see. I-”

“Are you alright?” He cut you off.

You offered him a small smile, “I am now.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You must’ve fallen asleep because a while later you were shaken awake. You raised your head off of the Mandalorian’s shoulder where it must’ve fallen.

Standing, your Mandalorian offered you his hand, but with a quick look at your bloody hands, you instead grabbed onto his forearms and pulled yourself up on to shaky legs.

“When did we land?”

“An hour ago.”

You tsked in annoyed, “You should have woken me up.”

“You need to rest.” He argued.

You rolled your eyes as you slowly followed him out the back of his ship, watching as he lowered the ramp.

But when it lowered you were met with a line of Stormtroopers.

The Mandalorian shoved you back, raising the ramp back up, the sounds of blaster shots hitting outside echoing through the ship.

“How did they find us?” You gasped.

“It was you.”

“What?” Your heart was beating painfully as he turned toward you.

“You. You led them here. They couldn’t have known where I was going.”

“No, I....” Your hand involuntarily reached down to the cut on your side.

Stepping forward, his gloved hand ripped your shirt up, showing the small incision almost invisible above where you had been stabbed.

“A tracker.”

You took a step back and when you looked back up his blaster was aimed at you.

“No.”

It was if your voice had brought him to life, because he shot forward, pushing you back against the wall. His hand wrapped around your throat, his blaster resting against your side.

You had never been scared of him. Never had a reason to be. But standing there as his supposed enemy, you were terrified.  

“I didn’t know. You have to believe me. What would I gain out of being a spy?” You pleaded.

“You’re a bounty hunter, you work for money. We all do.” His flat voice struck hard as if he had stabbed you straight through the heart.  “You’ve been working for them since the beginning. The Empire.”

You could feel him shaking against you, and you reached up grabbing onto his arm wishing he wasn’t wearing that god-forsaken helmet so you could see his eyes.

“Please, you know me.”

He looked at your hand and for a second you thought he believed you.

But he just shook his head.

“No.”

You growled, “You were the one who invited me along! I was more than fine being left behind but you ‘needed a crew member’ don’t put this on me.” You shoved at his armor, but he didn’t move an inch. 

You took a step toward him, he took one back.

“Tell me the truth.” His voice was low, but you could hear the slight waver.

But you just shrugged tired, “I did.”

He holstered his blaster.

“What did I do to lose your trust? Not turn you in when I found you? Save you from getting shot all those weeks ago? Help clean you up after all your fights. All those talks we had. Do you really think I faked all of that?” Your voice cracking.

When he didn’t reply, you continued motioning to your body, “Did I beat myself up for fun? Broken ribs, a black eye? Do you think I stabbed myself just to keep my cover so I could turn you in?” 

His hands tightened into fists and you took another hesitant step forward.

But before you could speak, the ramp to his ship burst open and Stormtroopers began to pour in.

You flinched as the crate next to you shattered into a million pieces.

The man before you had turned away from you, running down the ramp throwing a glance back at you and his ship before diving into the fight.

You followed, jumping on a Stormtrooper, taking him to the ground before rolling off him and grabbing his weapon. You shot him before turning blasting another trooper who had just rounded the corner.

“Give me my blaster!” You yelled at him.

Everything was exploding around you but the two of you just stared at each other, the sounds fading away. As he reached down toward the blaster he had shoved in his holster, the world blew up around you. Your body flying back to slam into the wall behind you.

You blinked your eyes wildly trying to get them to focus through the dust. Your eyes were burning and you frantically rubbed your hand across your face, wincing as the dirt from your hands fell into your eyes.

Pulling at your shirt, you scrubbed it aggressively across your face until you were about to make out your surroundings.

Everything was destroyed.

Rubble was falling from buildings and smoke was rising from fires that littered the ground. The combination of dust and smoke made it hard to breathe and you couldn’t see far in front of you. As you tried to call out you choked on the dust and coughed.

You rolled over on your side trying to pull yourself up onto your feet when you caught sight of the Mandalorian lying a few feet from you. Finally stumbling to your feet, you took off towards him. You tripped over some debris, falling to your hands and knees and all but crawled over to his motionless body.

Your hands fluttered over him, hesitant to touch him.

Was he breathing?

As more Stormtroopers exited the building before you, you hauled him up and began to drag him back up the ramp to his ship. A blaster shot landed right by your head and you dropped to the ground, pulling the blaster out of the unconscious Mandalorian’s holster before taking down the offending trooper.

You kneeled over the man beneath you, shooting Stormtroopers left and right. When you finally felt him stir beneath you, you pressed his blaster into his hand before giving him a slight smile.

“I hope you won’t forget me.”

You took a step back and as he reached for you, you threw yourself from the ship, taking the hail of bullets from the Stormtroopers.

You turned, “Go!” You screamed.

And he did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He had left.

And you were alone.

A loud explosion sounded nearby and you dove for cover, your heart racing. You reached for your blaster, finding your holster empty. He had taken your weapon....when he thought you had betrayed him.

You couldn’t blame him. But it didn’t make it hurt any less.

Another explosion sounded and you threw yourself to the ground once more, covering your head as stones rained down around you.

Using your shaking hands, you quickly shoved yourself up and stumbled to your feet, your legs weak from being shackled for so long. You clambered through the rubble, the stones cutting into your already battered hands as you tried to steady yourself. As you slipped into the building the Stormtroopers had been pouring out of, all you found was chaos.

The Stormtroopers had already torn this place apart.

And it was all your fault. You had led them here.

As you ran down the hall, you stopped picking up what looked like a metal bar, which you hoped would pass as a makeshift weapon.

Room after room was empty and you began to give out hope that the Client was still here.

As you continued running, you passed dead bodies, mutilated bodies, people crying, people fighting. The citizens were fighting back against the Stormtroopers and it looked as if they were winning. All you wanted was to stop and help them but you needed to take care of the Client first. With him dead, this whole thing would finally be over.  

When you finally reached the last room, you paused, clutching the bar tighter in your hand before pushing open the door.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

You twisted the bar in your hands and took a step forward. You could see the fear in his eyes.

“Let’s make a deal.”

You shook your head as you grew closer to him, “There’s no deal I would ever want to make with you. You tried to kidnap a child. An innocent child.”

“For the greater good.” He stood up, his eyes mad.

“If this is your greater good I want no part of it.”

“With that creature, we can do such great things. Bring back the peace to this universe that we had under the Empire.” He implored.

“I won’t let that happen.”

“You can’t stop me.” He said, but you could hear the fear in his voice.

“You’re wrong about that.” You smirked, raising the metal bar out like a sword.

The man reached down grabbing a blaster from a fallen Stormtrooper and brought it up aiming at you. He shot at you wildly, the shot going wide hitting a beam in the ceiling. You circled around him and he quickly moved trying to follow you, still shooting erratically, the shots splintering into the walls around you.

A loud cracking sound sounded through the room and you looked up watching a wide crack form in the foundation of the ceiling. As pieces of stone began to fall, you shot forward, grabbing the Client’s wrist twisting it around. You pulled the blaster from his grasp before slamming the bar of metal in your hand straight up through his stomach.

He collapsed to the ground.

And the last thing you saw was your Mandalorian standing in the doorway, right before the ceiling caved in on you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An alarm echoed loudly, the abrupt sound ripping you from unconsciousness.

A coolness spread across your brow and you squinted your eyes as they strained against the bright light in the room.

“Sorry.” A soft voice mumbled above you, turning off the offending noise and dimming down the lights.

“Where am I? What time is it?” You mumbled, pushing the hand away from your face as you tried to push yourself up.

“It’s five in the morning.” The deep voice rumbled before you, gently pushing you back down onto the bed.

Your eyes focused. It was him. He had come back for you.

“Am I in your bed?”

“Yes.”

“This isn’t exactly how I imagined it would happen.”

You heard him snort, and you chuckled lightly, pain shooting through you. He froze, his hands hovering above you, as you caught your breath. Once you settled down, he continued gently cleaning the blood and soot off your face.

He worked in silence.

You wanted so badly to ask him what had changed his mind. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

When he was finally finished he stood to leave, but you grabbed his arm before he could move out of reach.

“I.... would you stay?”

You wanted to tell him that you didn’t blame him. How his training had kicked in. How if you had been given time to talk to him he would’ve seen reason.

He stood motionless for a second, you and him just staring at each other. You were sure you looked worse, but the man himself looked exhausted even through all the layers of his armor.  

He gave a barely perceptible nod and for a second you thought you had imagined it. But then he moved. And settled into the chair beside the bed.

You turned on your side facing him.

You weren’t sure if his eyes were open or not, but you stared steadily at his helmeted face.

Reaching out, you touched his hand that rested on the bed and when he didn’t move it away you threaded your fingers through his and closed your eyes.

Even after everything, you realized the place you felt safest in the whole world was next to him.

“We’re going to talk in the morning.” You murmured.

“It is morning.”

You grumbled quietly before falling asleep, missing the soft caress of his hand over your hair and the quiet, “I’m sorry” that fell from his lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a week later.

You were healing slowly but steadily. The worst of the pain coming from your cracked ribs and battered hands. You tried to move around more, but your masked savior had all but forbidden you from leaving the bed for more than a few minutes.

And you were going stir crazy.

He wouldn’t talk to you and he wouldn’t even allow you to see the little green child, because he kept trying to overexert himself and heal you.

However, one morning, he went into town to grab some supplies. And not five minutes after he left, you snuck out of the ship into the forest where he had landed.

It was peaceful. Far from any civilization.

Wrapping a stolen cape around your stiff body, you made your way over to the brook, sitting on a rock by the water’s edge.

Closing your eyes, you took in a deep breath, enjoying the cool air and calming sound of running water.

That’s how he found you a few hours later.

You were surprised when he settled down onto the rocks next to you, instead of reprimanding you.

You ignored him, continuing to play with the tiny child who had joined you outside about an hour before. You threw a pebble into the air smiling softly when he froze it in the air and then shot it across the brook.

When he caught sight of the Mandalorian, his soft coos toward the man who had saved him made you laugh.

After a moment, you broke the silence.

“That man.... was powerful.” You paused, “How did you get away with the child in the first place?”

“I gave it to him.”

Your head snapped to look at him, “You?...”

“And then I went back and killed everyone I could.”

“Good. They deserved it.” You looked down at your hands, still wrapped tightly with bandages, the seemingly never-ending shaking that hadn’t gone away since you had gotten back.

The man reached out, grabbing one of your shaking hands and placing it between his own.

You hummed quietly, as he sat there silently. Out of nowhere, he whispered, “I almost killed you.”

You froze. Neither of you had so much as mentioned it.

But you knew he felt guilty about it. A few days ago, you had gone to hand him his morning drink like normal, but when he had reached for it you had flinched away from him. He had immediately stood and left the room. And you didn’t see him for two days after that.  

You weren’t sure if it was for your benefit or if it was his own guilt. Either way, it had been a tense week for the both of you.

“But you didn’t.” You stated.

“But I could have. I would have.” He whispered. The tremor in his voice made your heart clench.

Turning toward him, you hesitated before you reached out, placing your hands on either side of his helmet. You leaned forward, your forehead meeting the cold of his beskar helmet.

“You wouldn’t have.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.” You said.

He turned away, pulling away from you, your hands dropping in defeat.

You shivered, and he reached over pulling the cape that had fallen to the ground around your shoulders.

“What do you think they want with it?” Both of you looked at the little green creature playing in the brook, chasing after a toad jumping on the rocks.

“I don’t know.”

“What do we do now?”

“Fight back.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagged: @sargesbestgirl @abysswhiskey11  @yourfavoritearchangel @pedro-pascal-online @x-wingwarriorbbpoe8 @damnittjim @trickei @countessren @fun-sized-widow-bites @thefandomzoneisdangerous @ichigomiluku @bakerstreethound @clonesdeservelovetoo @bananyaaa @loveleah @javert-delacour @zoogrl05 @live-the-beautiful-game @maryan028 @ignimbritetcax @kaidad @kaimoar @yana-versio @peitromoximaff @alittleraincloud @fuckhead-writer @dottie-witch @nowheredreamer @pandalandalopalis @loveharrington @sw0rd-girlfriend @lex0h @piquantbarnes @go-commander-kim @finefangirl​

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: I noticed you did post to acknowledge the death of Uderzo, the co-creator of the Asterix comics. I have to ask Tintin or Asterix? Which one do you prefer?

It’s like asking Stones or Beatles? I love both but for different reasons. I would hate to choose between the two.

Both Tintin and Asterix were the two halves of a comic dyad of my childhood. Whether it was India, China, Hong Kong, Japan, or the Middle East the one thing that threads my childhood experience of living in these countries was finding a quiet place in the home to get lost reading Asterix and Tintin.

Even when I was eventually carted off to boarding school back in England I took as many of my Tintin and Asterix comics books with me as I could. They became like underground black market currency to exchange with other girls for other things like food or chocolates sent by parents and other illicit things like alcohol. Having them and reading them was like having familiar friends close by to make you feel less lonely in new surroundings and survive the bear pit of other girls living together.

If you asked my parents - especially my father - he would say Tintin hands down. He has - and continues to have in his library at home - a huge collection of Tintin comic books in as many different language translations as possible. He’s still collecting translations of each of the Tintin books in the most obscure languages he can find. I have both all the Tintin comic books - but only in English and French translations, and the odd Norwegian one - as well as all the Asterix comic books (only in English and French).

Speaking for myself I would be torn to decide between the two. Each have their virtues and I appreciate them for different reasons.

Tintin was truly about adventure that spoke deeply to me. Tintin was always a good detective story that soon turned to a travel adventure. It has it all: technology, politics, science and history. Of course the art is more simpler, but it is also cleaner and translates the wondrous far-off locations beautifully and with a sense of awe that you don’t see in the Asterix books. Indeed Hergé was into film-noir and thriller movies, and the panels are almost like storyboards for The Maltese Falcon or African Queen.

The plot lines of Tintin are intriguing rather than overly clever but the gallery of characters are much deeper, more flawed and morally ambiguous. Take Captain Haddock I loved his pullover, his strangely large feet, his endless swearing and his inability to pass a bottle without emptying it. He combined bravery and helplessness in a manner I found irresistible.

I’ve read that there is a deeply Freudian reading to the Tintin books. I think there is a good case for it. The Secret of the Unicorn and Red Rackham's Treasure are both about Captain Haddock's family. Haddock's ancestor, Sir Francis Haddock, is the illegitimate son of the French Sun King – and this mirrors what happened in Hergé's family, who liked to believe that his father was the illegitimate son of the Belgian king. This theme played out in so many of the books. In The Castafiore Emerald, the opera singer sings the jewel song from Faust, which is about a lowly woman banged up by a nobleman – and she sings it right in front of Sir Francis Haddock, with the captain blocking his ears. It's like the Finnegans Wake of the cartoon. Nothing happens - but everything happens.

Another great part is that the storylines continue on for several albums, allowing them to be more complex, instead of the more simplistic Asterix plot lines which are always wrapped up nicely at the end of each book.

Overall I felt a great affinity with Tintin - his youthful innocence, wanting to solve problems, always resourceful, optimistic, and brave. Above all Tintin gave me wanderlust. Was there a place he and Milou (Snowy) didn’t go to? When they had covered the four corners of the world Tintin and Milou went to the moon for heaven’s sake!

What I loved about Asterix was the style, specifically Uderzo’s visual style. I liked Hergé’s clean style, the ligne claire of his pen, but Asterix was drawn as caricature: the big noses, the huge bellies, often being prodded by sausage-like fingers. This was more appealing to little children because they were more fun to marvel at.

In particular I liked was the way Uderzo’s style progressed with each comic book. The panels of Asterix the Gaul felt rudimentary compared to the later works and by the time Asterix and Cleopatra, the sixth book to be published, came out, you finally felt that this was what they ought to look like. It was an important lesson for a child to learn: that you could get better at what you did over time. Each book seemed to have its own palette and perhaps Uderzo’s best work is in Asterix in Spain.

I also feel Asterix doesn’t get enough credit for being more complex. Once you peel back the initial layers, Asterix has some great literal depth going on - puns and word play, the English translation names are all extremely clever, there are many hidden details in the superb art to explore that you will quite often miss when you initially read it and in a lot of the truly classic albums they are satirising a real life country/group/person/political system, usually in an incredibly clever and humorous way.

What I found especially appealing was that it was also a brilliant microcosm of many classical studies subjects - ancient Egypt, the Romans and Greek art - and is a good first step for young children wanting to explore that stuff before studying it at school.

What I discovered recently was that Uderzo was colour blind which explains why he much preferred the clear line to any hint of shade, and it was that that enabled his drawings to redefine antiquity so distinctively in his own terms. For decades after the death of René Goscinny in 1977, Uderzo provided a living link to the golden age of the greatest series of comic books ever written: Paul McCartney to Goscinny’s John Lennon. Uderzo, as the Asterix illustrator, was better able to continue the series after Goscinny’s death than Goscinny would have been had Uderzo had died first, and yet the later books were, so almost every fan agrees, not a patch on the originals: very much Wings to the Beatles. What elevated the cartoons, brilliant though they were, to the level of genius was the quality of the scripts that inspired them. Again and again, in illustration after illustration, the visual humour depends for its full force on the accompaniment provided by Goscinny’s jokes.

Here below is a great example:

There’s a lot of genius in this. Uderzo copied Theodore Géricault’s iconic ‘Raft of the Medusa’ 1818 painting in ‘Asterix The Legionary’. The painting is generally regarded as an icon of Romanticism. It depicts an event whose human and political aspects greatly interested Géricault: the wreck of a French frigate, Medusa, off the coast of Senegal in 1816, with over 150 soldiers on board. But Anthea Bell’s translation of Goscinny’s text (including the pictorial and verbal pun ‘we’ve been framed, by Jericho’) is really extraordinary and captures the spirit of the Asterix cartoons perfectly.

This captures perfectly my sense of humour as it acknowledges the seriousness of life but finds humour in them through a sly cleverness and always with a open hearted joy. There is no question that if humour was the measuring yard stick then Asterix and not Tintin would win hands down.

It’s also a mistake to think that the world of Asterix was insular in comparison to the amazing countries Tintin had adventures. Asterix’s world is very much Europe.

Every nationality that Asterix encounters is gently satirised. No other post-war artistic duo offered Europeans a more universally popular portrait of themselves, perhaps, than did Goscinny and Uderzo. The stereotypes with which he made such affectionate play in his cartoons – the haughty Spaniard, the chocolate-loving Belgian, the stiff-upper-lipped Briton – seemed to be just what a continent left prostrate by war and nationalism were secretly craving. Many shrewd commentators believe that during the golden age when Goscinny was still alive to pen the scripts, that it was a fantasy on French resistance during occupation by Nazi Germany. Uderzo lived through the occupation and so there is truth in that. Perhaps this is why the Germans are the exceptions as they are treated unsympathetically in Asterix and the Goths, and why quite a few of the books turn on questions of loyalty and treachery.

Even the British are satirised with an affection that borders on love: the worst of the digs are about our appalling cuisine (everything is boiled, and served with mint sauce, and the beer is warm), but everything points to the Gauls’ and the Britons’ closeness. They have the same social structure, even down to having one village still holding out against the Romans; the crucial and extremely generous difference being that the Britons do not have a magic potion to help them fight. Instead they have tea, introduced to them by Getafix, via Asterix, which gives them so much of a psychological boost that it may as well have been the magic potion.

I re-read ‘Asterix in Britain’ (Astérix chez les Bretons) in the light of the 2016 Brexit referendum result and felt despaired that such a playful and respectful portrayal of this country was not reciprocated. Don’t get me wrong I voted for Brexit but I remain a staunch Europhile. It made me violently irritated to see many historically illiterate pro-Brexit oiks who mistakenly believed the EU and Europe were the same thing. They are not. One was originally a sincere band aid to heal and bring together two of the greatest warring powers in continental Europe that grotesquely grew into an unaccountable bureaucratic manager’s utopian wet dream, and the other is a cradle of Western achievement in culture, sciences and the arts that we are all heirs to.

What I loved about Asterix was that it cut across generations. As a young girl I often retreated into my imaginary world of Asterix where our family home had an imaginary timber fence and a dry moat to keep the world (or the Romans) out. I think this was partly because my parents were so busy as many friends and outsiders made demands on their time and they couldn’t say no or they were throwing lavish parties for their guests. Family time was sacred to us all but I felt especially miffed if our time got eaten away. Then, as I grew up, different levels of reading opened up to me apart from the humour in the names, the plays on words, and the illustrations. There is something about the notion of one tiny little village, where everybody knows each other, trying to hold off the dark forces of the rest of the world. Being the underdog, up against everyone, but with a sense of humour and having fun, really resonated with my child's eye view of the world.

The thing about both Asterix and Tintin books is that they are at heart adventure comics with many layers of detail and themes built into them. For children, Asterix books are the clear winner, as they have much better art and are more fantastical. Most of the bad characters in the books are not truly evil either and no-one ever dies, which appeals hugely to children. For older readers, Tintin has danger, deeper characters with deep political themes, bad guys with truly evil motives, and even deaths. It’s more rooted in the real world, so a young reader can visualise themselves as Tintin, travelling to these real life places and being a hero.

As I get older and re-read Asterix and Tintin from time to time I discover new things. 

From Asterix, there is something about the notion of one tiny little village, where everybody knows each other, trying to hold off the dark forces of the rest of the world. Being the underdog, up against everyone, but with a sense of humour and having fun, really resonated with my child's eye view of the world. In my adult world it now makes me appreciate the value of family, friends, and community and even national identity. Even as globalisation and the rise of homogenous consumerism threatens to envelope the unique diversity of our cultures, like Asterix, we can defend to the death the cultural values that define us but not through isolation or by diminishing the respect due to other cultures and their cultural achievements.

From Tintin I got wanderlust. This fierce even urgent need to travel and explore the world was in part due to reading the adventures of Tintin. It was by living in such diverse cultures overseas and trying to get under the skin of those cultures by learning their languages and respecting their customs that I realised how much I valued my own heritage and traditions without diminishing anyone else.

So I’m sorry but I can’t choose one over the other, I need both Asterix and Tintin as a dyad to remind me that the importance of home and heritage is best done through travel and adventure elsewhere.

Thanks for your question.

[jojo-reader-hell]

So I guess my inbox ate some requests... so if yours is missing I deeply apologize. This is for my bestest buddy who has been helping me throughout this whole thing, she loves Guido Mista a whole lot and we owe her our lives for requesting such sweet yet sad scenarios ❤️

“I hate to break it to you, but there is no way in hell you are going to wear that when we get off the plane.”

“Huh?! Why not?”

Where do you start? It’s cotton. It’s a crop top. And he hasn’t worn it in almost three years. You waste no time in informing him of his poor choice in outerwear, only for the gunslinger to scrunch his nose and scratch his head in an almost comical fashion.

Well… Almost comical. The situation at hand was far too serious to take chances.

It’s amazing that Mista has been there for every step of the planning, paid for his share of the tickets, picked the activities he wanted to do, saw you buy the necessities you needed for the trip, yet he still did not understand that a cashmere crop top and tiger stripe designer jeans were not appropriate for two weeks in Reykjavik. He… He did understand the name of the country was ICELAND, right?? Didn’t he?? Did you really need to have this conversation with him four whole days before you set off to leave?

“Do you not read any of the warnings on the tours?!” you growled, “It’s literally 1.5 C with the potential to dip into the negatives! You cannot be wandering around like that.”

His laugh sounded both careless and filled with anxiety. Full of a challenge. You knew Mista rarely changed his wardrobe around. Mondays through Saturdays: crop top jeans boots, crop top jeans boots. Sundays he wore a suit to church. Oh... Don’t forget his hat that he insisted was hand wash only (when have you seen him hand wash it?? Never...). Well traveled folks you’d been conversing with about this exciting trip all said the same thing: anything except wool kills in Iceland. Don't leave home without thermals. Get a good waterproof coat. Wear a hat. Invest in a good pair of nonslip boots with wool socks. Mista MAYBE had two of those requirements, you didn’t know how well his designer boots would actually hold up on sidewalks that were more sheets of ice than they were concrete but evidently you were about to find out.

“Keep digging in that closet.” you commanded, tossing his clothes to the side with a flourish.

“This doesn’t work?” he asked, genuinely perplexed as he still held fast onto the shirt.

“No. Keep looking.”

Reluctantly the shirt was tossed to the side and he continued to dig in his closet.

“You know, when we step out of the airport it’s gonna be cold as shit in your crop top.” You told him.

“Psh, I doubt it’s gonna be that bad.” He scoffs, scratching the dark happy trail of curls on his stomach.

“No Mista, I’m serious. Going from the airport right to the Blue Lagoon isn’t going to be a cakewalk. You’ll be freezing after you shower all of the silica off and I want you to be bundled up. We still have to take the shuttle back home and then walk to our air bnb-…”

As if on cue, Mista shakes his head, laughing and trying to get you to lighten up as you rant and rave about the long walk to the air bnb, the fact that he’s never left Italy to go anywhere in his life, and especially the fact that Icelandic cold is a type of cold he can never imagine.

“Brrr...” he makes a big show of shivering in his piles of clothes as you throw yet another cut up cropped shirt at him. “If it’s so cold, I’m not gonna leave the room. We should just stay in... and get under the covers... maybe try to keep each other warm with our body heat-...”

“Keep talking like that and you’re gonna sleep outside.” You grumble, “Keep looking!”

Now it was coming to the dregs of the closet, the clothes that have been there the longest and have seen the light of day only a few times in their short life. It was still the same batch of tops, cropped and totally inappropriate for the occasion, and even though you stepped in to look, it seemed like you would have to make a trip to the store to buy him a couple shirts after all.

Until you pulled out a nice little number: a green button up that you’d certainly never seen before.

“Hey!” You call out to Mista. “How about this one?”

Immediately he looks up, his usual unreadable facade softens as he wanders over.

“Woah!” Mista seems starstruck, smiling wide as he lifts the shirt, “This is an old one!”

“Shame you don’t wear them anymore.” You respond, “Look! It’s perfect for layering, I bet if you put it on now you’d still have room for your thermals…”

You trail off when you see him pull out another item from his closet: a purple beanie, well worn and loved from the state of it. Mista trembles, biting a plump lower lip and rubbing the fabric between his thumb and pointer fingers.

“Baby?”

“Huh?”

“What’s wrong…?”

For a moment he looked so soulful, lost, his eyes doing that odd thing where they seemed to darken, and yet the light catches a glitter, the bitterness of tears?

“Lotta memories in this shirt.” He mumbled, so softly you almost don’t hear him.

He doesn’t need prodding, you know from years of experience that Mista will tell you in his own time, and he doesn’t hesitate for a moment before the memories come spilling out of his mouth.

You see that bloodstain there? He went to prison with that shirt the first night they arrested him. They set the bail too high to afford, Mista often times didn’t have enough for food let alone bail on murder charges. Even though he had friends of all walks of life, none of them came to help when he was sitting there heart hammering in his chest. That little rip there? An officer’s ring got caught on a loose thread when they yanked away the belongings on his person. Did they use them for circumstantial evidence or something like that? Mista didn’t know, he was never well versed in law and didn’t bother to understand it even after Buccellati got him narrowly out of that one. The stories and the pain continue rapid fire, one after the other as his face begins to contort in sadness. The happiness and excitement at the prospect of finally leaving Italy on an honest to god vacation was diminished. Instead the pain returned, and it wasn’t long until you had him cradled in your arms, kissing his cheeks and not at all minding the cactus like scrape of his stubble.

All you focused on was his sadness, his hurt, because despite his ruthless demeanor and typical goofball tendencies Guido Mista was surprisingly still broken. He never talked about anything more than a few tantalizing tidbits about his past. Everyone always assumed your lover was easy going, albeit somewhat of a slob who only played at wearing fancy clothes.

They never really understood the real man underneath his well crafted facade.

[luccislegs]

The goddess of writing for polyamory can we please be blessed with All Might/Reader/Aizawa where reader and Aizawa still have their hero jobs so they often go on patrol together, but one night they come home to find All Might feeling down because he’s no longer able to do heroics anymore? The two of them decide to do something to cheer him up and make it up to him, it can be fluff or nsfw! I’m lof u :sadcat:

@jinxxyminxxy here you are even tho i know this mostly for me, and i appreciate it 🥺 i was on a really soft, insecure, needed comfort all might kick when i wrote these so fite me if u don’t like it 😤 i was gonna try and do smut but i just,,,wasn’t feelin’ it idk. this is also 2k words oops

You and Aizawa both know that it’s hard on Toshi, watching the two of you carry on with your hero duties while he’s stuck at school teaching or at home watching the news for any hint of you. No matter how many times you’ve told him that you like having him home at night, ready with a meal after a long day, he still feels like a burden.

Or that’s what he tells you, anyway. You’re both sure it’s true, but you know deep down that it’s more than that. There are feelings of insecurity, self loathing, and worthlessness stewing below there, but All Might won’t spill them no matter how gently you coax. So the best you and Aizawa can do is support him where you can, reminding him that you’re there for him.

On that particular night, you and Aizawa are out far later than normal. Having had no time to even shoot Toshinori a quick text letting you know you would be late, the two of you completely forget amidst the chaos and destruction the villain is causing. By the time everything is over, it’s 3 hours past when your patrol was supposed to be over and the two of you are bone tired.

Ignoring the swarming news helicopters, reporters, and adoring fans and rescued victims wanting to thank you for saving them, the two of you duck away, letting other heroes take the spotlight so that you can rush home. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, you’re both in hurry to get back to Toshi, to reassure him you’re alright and also maybe get something to eat.

It was probably the not knowing, or maybe it was just his norm when you and Aizawa aren’t home, but when the two of you stumble into the house, Toshi is slumped over the table with his head in his hands. Judging by the ragged breathing and the unkempt, tussled spots in his hair, something was wrong.

“Toshi, what is it?” you ask, rushing to his side. Aizawa follows at a slower pace, settling down on his other side and threading his fingers through All Might’s disheveled blond locks.

Toshi freezes as he realizes he’s been caught. It was something he was ashamed of, the jealousy he feels that the two of you can carry on as if nothing is wrong-- which is an unfair thought. He knows you worry for him, knows he’s being irrational, and it’s one of the reasons he hides his feelings. He doesn’t want to drag either of you down with him.

“W-Welcome home,” he murmurs, pulling his hands from his face. Taking either of yours in his, he forces a smile to his face. “How was your patrol? You’re running awfully late.”

You share a worried, critical look with Shouta, who’s giving you his own before nodding sharply. “We’re sorry we couldn’t let you know. I don’t know if you’ve seen the news, but things got very out of hand tonight.”

Aizawa picked up where you left off, squeezing Toshi’s thin fingers in his. “But don’t try to distract us. This has been going on far too long. You need to talk to us.”

You wince at his blunt, straightforward statement. He wasn’t known for his tactfulness (unless it was directed at kids, and even then...) but you wished just this once he could be a bit softer. But you were there, as ever, to pick up his slack. “Honey, you can’t keep doing this to yourself. We’re a team and we’re here for you. Talk to us, please.”

Toshi sighed then, slipping his hands from yours. They folded in his lap and he stared at his knees for several long moments. He was grateful that you were home, and deep down there was relief that his hand was being forced. There was one fear that was greater than all the others, and that was his fear of losing the two of you. Whether you realized it or not, you and Aizawa were his anchors, the only thing keeping him from drowning in his own self-pity. 

But that didn’t make it any easier on him, finding the words to explain how he felt. It was years of stewing and pushing these feelings down, only letting himself fall victim to them when he knew he was alone. Putting them into words wasn’t something he’d ever really considered doing.

“It’s got to do with us being heroes still, doesn’t it, Toshi?” Aizawa asked at last. He was always the most perceptive of the three of you, and both you and Toshi were grateful for it now. 

It gave him a place to start, and he nodded. “W-Well, sort of. It’s-- You know how I felt about retiring. It was necessary but…”

“But you didn’t want to. We know, Toshi,” you said. You wanted to reassure him, but felt like it wasn’t the right time. Right now, he just needed prompting to vent. Reassurance would only cause him to shut down.

“Right. I don’t like just sitting at home while the two of you go out on dangerous patrols. It makes me feel so worthless.” The last part was murmured, and you could hear the shame in his voice. “I know that isn’t fair to the two of you, so I didn’t say anything.”

You shifted, situating yourself as comfortably as you could besides him, with his knees tucked under the table and your hero costume digging and chafing after wearing it for so long. Covering the hand you were already holding with your other one, you leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his cheek.

On his other side, Aizawa sighed, giving Toshi a fond, exasperated look. “You fool. You aren’t worthless just because you can’t do this anymore. You did it for damn near thirty years. Probably more, given how stubborn you are.”

You nodded, the motion awkward against his cheek, and Toshi leaned into you a little. “You gave everyone so much. A Symbol of Peace. Years of peace and security. Your health, almost your life. Toshi, how could you be worthless?”

Before either men could react, you had thrown yourself at Toshi, knocking him into Aizawa, who was just quick enough to brace himself for the impact. You giggled from atop them at Toshi’s stunned look and Aizawa’s half-hearted scowl. While you were nuzzling into Toshi’s neck, you felt Aizawa’s arms come around the two of you, though he could only reach so far.

“I know you say that but how...how could you like me-- like this?” Toshi asked, staring blankly up at the ceiling. This was another deep rooted insecurity that he had been avoiding. Most of the time the thoughts were drowned out by your constant presences and actions, reassuring him that you weren’t there for show. But then the two of you would kiss him goodbye and head off together, leaving him alone at home and they would rear their ugly heads. And when neither of you had bothered to let him know you would be home late...

His fingers were threaded between Aizawa’s on your sides, squeezing so tight that Aizawa was sure he would lose feeling in them shortly. But he squeezed back nonetheless, telling him he wasn’t going anywhere. “Like what? Like a man who’s given his all for a country? Like a man who’s literally given his health for millions of strangers who don’t even know what he’s done? Like what, All Might?”

Toshi flinched at Aizawa’s use of his hero name. It was like there was a disconnect there now. He was still All Might, but he no longer felt like he deserved to be All Might. “Like a walking skeleton ready to keel over at any moment.”

Neither of you missed the slight tensing and quick relax in his body, and you sat up, pulling Toshi with you. For as strong as Aizawa was, you knew it couldn’t be comfortable with 200+ pounds of weight laying on him.

Aizawa situated Toshi between his legs, resting his head on the older man’s shoulder while you straddled his legs, cupping his face in your hands. “Well first off, you’re our skeleton, and don’t you forget it.”

That got a chuckle out of both of them, Aizawa covering his face with his hand in exasperation. “You’re ridiculous, _____.”

Sticking your tongue out at him, you continued. “Second, Aizawa said it already. You are someone who’s given everything for everyone. We couldn’t be more proud to be with you, to call you ours. Lastly and most importantly--”

“You are All Might. You *earned* that title and you shouldn’t let anyone take it from you--”

“Least of all yourself, Toshi. You shouldn’t sell yourself so short. You worked so hard to build your name and your reputation--”

“And the fact that you think you don’t deserve it now is insulting to everything you’ve done in his name.”

In the silence that followed, you could have heard a pin drop. From the deep shadows of his eyes, tears began to fall. You wiped them away as quickly as you could, and when Aizawa realized what was going on, he pressed his lips to Toshi’s neck, squeezing his middle tighter.

“We aren’t going anywhere, Toshinori. I hope you don’t forget that again,” Aizawa drawled against his skin. He could feel the prominent scar underneath his partner’s shirt, a symbol of pain and all that Toshi had fought for, given up, and lost over the last several years. His hand slid up, pushing Toshi’s shirt up and ran his fingers over the twisted flesh, causing him to jump.

“We couldn’t be happier. Maybe you can’t support us from the field, but do you know how much it means to us to come home to you? It’s like a breath of fresh air after a patrol, seeing your face. Even if he won’t admit it, we both feel as much. We love you, Toshi. Please don’t forget that,” you murmured, pressing a tender kiss to his lips.

Aizawa followed your sentiment, trailing languid kisses up the side of Toshi’s neck, ending just beneath his ear. “And if we have to, we will show you just how much we mean it, won’t we, _____?”

The smirk you gave Toshi was devilish and almost criminal. “Is that what you need? Do we need to show you how much you mean to us, All Might?”

Aizawa could feel him gulp under his lips, his fingers tightening on your thighs as he struggled to come to terms with this new arousal and his still jumbled feelings. At last, he sighed, giving you a soft kiss and laying his hand across Aizawa’s, the one still covering his scar like he was protecting it.

“Not tonight. Tonight I think I just want...to watch movies. Is that okay?” he asked, giving you a tired smile. His eyes fluttered closed as your lips covered his, jumping at the slight nip on his neck from Aizawa.

“Whatever you want, sunshine. Let us get changed out of these costumes, okay?” you said, standing up and helping your partners to their feet. You knew Aizawa’s costume was a lot more comfortable than yours, but even he had his limits. 

“I’ll heat up dinner again,” Toshi said, half-stumbling towards the kitchen. The two of you smiled, laughing under your breaths at how easily the man was flustered by your affections. 

In the bedroom, as you got undressed, you had a dawning realization. Half-clothed, you pulled Aizawa to you, enjoying the feel of his warm skin on yours. He was surprised by the intense kiss you bestowed him, letting his hands settle on your hips. Pulling back, you gave him a serious look. “You know I love you too, right?” 

Aizawa laughed, looking a little concerned. “Yes, kitten. And I love you. Is everything alright?”

You shrugged, drawing small patterns on his chest. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I just felt like saying it.”

In a moment, you were crushed to his chest, his fingers wound in your hair and his breath raspy in your ear, and you knew he understood your sentiment. The door creaked open mid-hug, and Toshi watched the display with a shy, hopeful look. Laughing at his timid behavior, which you figured wasn’t ever going to change, you both opened your arm to him, ending up in a smushed, awkward threeway hug.

He towered over both of you, hiding his face in the top of Aizawa’s head, who in turn was resting his on top of yours. Your head was directly over his heart, listening to it stutter at a fast and uneven pace, and you felt a flood of adoration all over again for the two men. 

They were yours and you would never let them forget it and the warmth in their gazes when you pulled away told you all you needed to know about how they felt.

[skvaderarts]

Happy Holidays Everyone!

Here’s my yearly Christmas fic if your interested! I love all the art you’ve been posting! Repost with links to your art and fics! Let’s make a thread!

Gathered for Greetings

 I’m going to end up writing a Christmas fic every year, aren’t I? That’s okay. I just hope that next year I’m no literally writing it on Christmas day! Curse you, procrastination!

-~-

When they’d received the invites in the mail, they’d been skeptical.

Togetherness wasn’t something that none of them were used to, but it was something that they were willing to play at, if only because of the simply apocalyptic year that they’d all had thus far. Due to obvious circumstances, the majority of them had little to no experience with planning holiday events, let alone even attending them, but that wasn’t going to stop them from trying. In a strange turn of events, Nero and Kyrie were probably the most well acquainted with how holiday parties worked due to the addition of the orphans a short while back, but even then they had never thrown a party. After all, there weren’t exactly a lot of people they could invite, and they didn’t have a very spacious living area. Try as they might, there was only so much that they could do, especially on their limited finances. 

But there was one unexpected additional point of intrigue that made this particular holiday get together a bit more interesting than it already seemed to be at first glance, and that was the setting that it was set to take place in. That, and who’s idea it was in the first place. Towards the start of the holiday season, V had approached Nero with a very much out of character proposition:

“... I think we should do something this year… at my house.”

Nero remembered looking at him as though he had grown a second head. Had V lost his mind? From what he knew about his generally socially challenged sibling, this particular request seemed like something he’d come up with after a particularly traumatic head injury or as the result of a late-night cheese binge. Was he caught in the middle of some kind of irreverent fever dream?

“Why do you wanna do that? I thought you hated parties.”

V had looked away from him, obviously uncomfortable with the reality that he was now going to have to explain what he was thinking. He’d figured that he’d more than likely have to do that, but that reality did little the quince the feeling of unease that he felt in the pit of his stomach. Voluntary honesty was difficult, especially when it forced him to speak on matters that he could frankly do without digging out of the lower recesses of his mind. He’d prefer to keep his problems buried deep, and this certainly counted as a problem, but he’d brought this up, so he was going to follow through.

“You’re correct, I do… but this is the first time I’ve ever had a family to actually commemorate the occasion with, and as such, the first time I…” he paused for a second, looking down at the floor with an earnest look of sadness.” I’ve never actually celebrated Christmas. Ever. Even as a child. I was hoping to change that.”

So naturally, not being a heartless psychopath, Nero couldn’t turn down such a heartfelt plea, especially from such a close member of his family. It was rare for V to ask for anything, and after the frankly hellish few months they’d had since his resurrection, he couldn’t think of a logical reason to dismiss his idea. He’d had an opportunity once or twice to do something for the holidays once he’d met Kyrie’s wonderful family as a younger child, but the idea of literally never doing anything for it at all… It actually hurt his heart a little to imagine that. Aside from cultural or even religious reasons, how on earth did that even happen?!

That was a question for another day. If his older sibling wanted to have his house destroyed by their extended family, then he was happy to help him in that regard. So in the last days leading up to Christmas, Nero, Kyrie, and Nico had brought the children over and they had spent several long hours decorating, wrapping gifts, and generally trying to keep V from having a protracted anxiety attack from the prospect of having everyone they knew at his house. Planning it was one thing, but actually doing it was another thing entirely, and he’d never been the best at long periods of social interaction. It drained his social battery to even think about it.

“Do you think they’re actually going to come over? Hell, do they even like Christmas? They barely like each other!” Nero shouted down to V over his shoulder as he shrugged and secured the last of the lights over a doorway. He was dead tired of climbing this ladder, and he hoped that the architects that built the place and decided that it needed close to fifteen-foot ceilings were burning in hell right now. But if he ever saw V climb a ladder again, he was going to have an anxiety attack.” I can’t see our old man even being the festive type. Maybe Dante but…”

He shrugged, fussing over the bottom of the gigantic Christmas tree that Lady and Trish had brought over early that morning. Where they had managed to find a real twelve-foot tall tree on Christmas day was anyone’s guess. It was probably Morrison’s handiwork, considering the fact that he’d helped them bring it over in the first place. That man could find ice in hell. Lady and Morrison were in the kitchen with Kyrie and Magnolia. They were helping taste things while the two of them finished up the last of the cooking. V had helped them cook a short while before deciding to turn his attention to the entirely bare tree. Three people in one kitchen was a bit of a crowd, but considering the fact that this had once been Magnolia’s family home, not inviting her would have been extraordinarily unkind. In an ironic twist, he’d managed to find ornaments but nothing to actually put them on. How fortunate that they’d arrived when they did.

Nico and Trish were on either side of the tree, attempting to help him get the last few ornaments on and clean up the bristles that had fallen on the tree skirt. As it turned out, V was actually horribly allergic to pine needles. They made him break out in an extremely itchy rash, a fact that he’d gone his entire life without knowing due to the fact that he’d literally never gone near a pine tree. It made the process of hanging ornaments slow and slightly nervewracking, to say the least. He imagined that this was what it would feel like to try and decorate poison oak.

“I’d imagine that they have mixed feelings about this time of year, to say the least. It more than likely brings up unfortunate memories.” He stepped away from the tree and allowed himself to slump over on the couch. All this standing didn’t agree with him.” Admittedly, I was pleasantly surprised when Dante agreed to come over. Even more so when he called back only a short while later to inform me that Vergil would be following suit. I suspect there was violence involved in that negotiation.”

Trish scoffed slightly, trying and failing not to laugh.” Oh, I’m sure there was. I don’t think either of them like parties. It’s one of the few things they agree on!”

With a relieved sigh, Nero climbed down from the ladder, thoroughly done with hanging things.” Sorry, but those are gonna have to stay up until next year. No way I’m going back up there.”

V nodded, equally tired and ready to get started with the festivities..” Agreed. It is quite a hassle. Thank you all for tolerating my request. It seems that none of us particularly enjoy large gatherings or decorating for that matter. I’m flattered that you would do so for my sake at your own expense.”

Everyone present waived him off nonchalantly. None of them minded on this one occasion. It was a welcome moment of normality in their entirely supernatural lives, and they couldn’t say that those happened very often.

“Yea, well as long as this goes better than that damn beach trip, I think we’ll all be just fine.” Nico said as she walked towards the kitchen with a bag full of pine needles.” Now don’t touch that godforsaken tree again or I’ll skin you all alive. I’m tired of cleaning!”

An awkward silence washed over the room as they thought about that trip. It had been a stressful year, hadn’t it? Between that and Belial… “yea, well if you aim low, you can’t be disappointed, can ya? That’s how I talk myself out of bed every day.!”

They all turned in the direction of the doorway, surprised to see who had spoken. Standing before them were Dante and Vergil, the two of them seemingly taking in the surprisingly festive atmosphere. It had been Lady’s idea to play Christmas music. She’d even brought over wine for the occasion. She was perhaps the most excited person there besides Magnolia and the children who were playing in the next room over with Lucia. Getting the redheaded guardian there in time had been nothing short of a logistical nightmare, but they had pulled it off nonetheless. Even Matier had managed to come over for the occasion, no doubt surprised to be invited in the first place. There were still a few stragglers who would be coming later on such as Patty, but the number of people who had agreed to come in the first place was enough for V.

Much to their collective surprise and disbelief, V actually laughed at that statement. It was a sentiment that he honestly had to agree with. It was rare that V actually agreed with Dante on something so wholeheartedly, but this was one of those occasions.” You make a valid point, Dante. I suppose I’m just glad you both came.”

Dante and Vergil almost seemed flattered by the statement, unsure of what to really say. It had taken quite a bit for them to talk themselves into coming over, but seeing everyone there wasn’t something they expected and as such, they were a little unsure of where to start. But they were willing to try, and that was what counted, wasn’t it?

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all…

Looking notably uncomfortable, Vergil glanced in the direction of the tree. It had been a long time since he’d seen one of those… It brought back vague but vibrant memories he thought he’d lost to the void of despair that was his life a lifetime ago. Perhaps actually attempting to make a few new ones wasn’t such an awful idea after all.

“... Thank you for inviting us.”

With that statement, the entire room fell strangely silent again, everyone collectively surprised to hear Vergil say something so… agreeable. It was a nice change of pace. One could only assume that he was genuinely pleased to be included in something like this, but it was hard to tell. They had no point of reference. But if the barely concealed look of surprised pleasure on Dante’s face was anything to go off of, they had done something right.

It was Nero’s turn to break the silence. He was admittedly starting to get hungry, and he was sure the children were probably driving Lucia insane in the next room. It was actually time to celebrate.” Anytime. Now let’s go eat. Kyrie and V were cooking and magnolia brought over desert again.”

Dante practically teleported into the kitchen.” Well, hell you shoulda started there! Speak up next time!”

Vergil shook his head and followed after him at a much slower pace. He was in much less of a hurry to get to the kitchen. He hadn’t really come there for the food.” At least he’s eating something besides pizza.”

Nero and V nodded in agreement. The holidays were supposed to be about the little things. It was about time they went and enjoyed them. After all, it wasn’t every day that they all got to spend time together without it being a life or death situation. They were going to savor that. Well, that and the food. The food was probably going to be amazing.

-~-

Thanks for reading this little holiday fic that I threw together! You’ll all see how this ties into the main story once we get there in Hirathe. I thought you might like this. Happy Holidays everyone! See you on New Years! I hope next year is a little better!

[greyias]

FIC: Smoke and Mirrors - Chapter 1

Title: Smoke and Mirrors Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight Rating: T Genre: Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn Synopsis: Something's rotten on Carrick Station, and Theron won't rest until he finds out what. But picking at the frayed threads of suspicion quickly unravels a conspiracy much larger than even the Republic's top spy can handle on his own. (A mostly canon-compliant retelling of the Forged Alliances storyline, as seen through the eyes of Theron Shan.) Spoilers: Forged Alliances. SWTOR Lost Suns and Annihilation. Some things in the Vanilla storyline, including the Revan flashpoints. Author’s Notes: Out of necessity, parts of this story will contain scenes from the game itself. Whenever possible I’ve tried to rewrite them so that they hopefully remain fresh and interesting, while still retaining the essence of the scene itself (so hopefully it doesn’t feel like you’re reading a transcript). This one is also going to be a bit slow to start, but it’s going to be a long one.

Crossposted to AO3 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |  Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

When the Supreme Commander of Republic Forces called — it was generally a good idea to answer. Even if he just so happened to be your father.

However, this was official business, so Theron Shan decided to ignore that fact as he strode into the large office located in one of the corners of the Senate towers. The receptionist had waved him through without any fuss this time around.

Perhaps she had gotten used to him at this point — she hadn’t even glared at him this time. He supposed that was progress. It was nothing he had done, of course, just a bit of guilt-by-association. She and Marcus Trant, the Director of Republic’s Strategic Information Services had gotten quite chummy a little while back, but alas, she was not to become the third women to hold the title of “Mrs. Trant”. Easy come, easy go as the saying went.

Come to think of it, maybe the lack of glares this time around had more to do with the fact that Trant hadn’t accompanied Theron. It was a mystery for another time, though, as his gaze fell on the figure seated behind the desk in the center of the room. 

Jace Malcom was an extraordinarily tall man, he towered over Theron by at least a foot or so, and between the height, his deep gravelly voice, and the gruesome scars crisscrossing his face, the man could come off a little imposing. Theron wasn’t easily intimidated though, and he had a… unique situation with Jace. — considering the fact that the man was his father. Biologically at least, or… whatever.

It was complicated.

Theron hadn’t even known who Jace was, outside of his military record that was, until they’d met during the mission to take out the Ascendant Spear. Their first real meeting as father and son hadn’t exactly gone well, it was awkward, Theron had just wanted to leave, and most of their interactions outside of a professional setting had just been a bit like that. On the job, they were good. Despite popular opinion, Theron could take orders (when they made sense),  and off the clock they… well, they were trying to settle into something resembling familiarity. The “father-son bonding sessions” were thankfully few and far between. Theron liked Jace well enough, and they certainly got along better than he and his mother, but it wasn’t exactly like they were going to go out and throw the gravball around any time soon.

However, this meeting request had come through official channels, so thankfully that probably meant things would be less awkward and weird. At least he hoped.

Theron cleared his throat, pulling the older man’s attention away from the datapad he was reviewing. Seeing his visitor, some of the deep lines on Jace’s face smoothed into a smile. “Ah, Theron, you’re early.”

“Traffic wasn’t as bad as I was expecting.” He folded his arms in an effort to look casual. “Trant had a Senate briefing, so you get me instead.”

“That’s all right, I was hoping you’d be here for this. We can loop the director in later.”

“Your message was a bit vague,” he said, “just that you had some intel you wanted to discuss?”

Jace nodded. “One of my men came to me with something he picked up in the field — regarding Korriban. And a way we might be able to strike back.”

Theron’s eyebrows shot up. “Hitting Korriban? You can’t be serious.”

“I am.” The elder man looked at him grimly. “This all started on Korriban, it would be fitting for us to start the death knell for the Empire there.”

Korriban had been one of Jace’s first stations, and where he had met the future Grand Master of the Jedi Order, Satele Shan — who just so happened to be Theron’s mother. Theron shifted the weight of his feet, a habit he’d unfortunately picked up in these conversations when the subject of his mother came up, even indirectly as it was now. He hated having a tell, even something so minor and with someone like Jace who while sharp, probably hadn’t picked up on it.

A change of subject from ancient history back to the present was probably in order — and a lot more comfortable. So Theron addressed the deeper issue at hand. “SIS has been trying to get a mole on Korriban for years, and everyone we’ve tried to embed there winds up dead. That place is a death trap.”

“I’m not asking anyone to go undercover,” Jace assured him. “I’m thinking more smash and grab. But before that, I want you to look over this intel and let me know if you think it’s viable.”

“Me?”

“You were the one who cracked how to take out the Ascendant Spear — if anyone can do the same with Korriban, it’s you.”

It was a high compliment, and genuinely based on his skillset, rather than a form of nepotism. After their success against the Ascendent Spear, Theron had been tapped as a resource more and more for Malcom’s office. It had kept him out of the field more than he liked, but the tangible results of his work on the overall war was satisfying in its own way.

“That seems simple enough,” Theron said, trying to focus on the task at hand. “Any reason for all of the cloak and dagger?”

“Considering the target I don’t want to take any chances. I want someone I can trust taking point on this.”

Theron couldn’t quite decipher the look on Jace’s face, but nodded a thanks all the same. It was… odd having someone be so complimentary and open about that kind of thing. Trant’s usual way of expressing gratitude was a cutting sarcastic remark. Which he was fine with — it was familiar. Easy. But the mark of a good spy was adapting to the situation at hand.

Even if that meant a little bit of inadvertent father-son bonding.

Jace handed over a small data chip. The fact that he wasn’t trusting any of this on any network channel spoke volumes about the need for discretion.

“I’ll look this over and get you an answer as soon as possible.”

That seemed to satisfy Jace, but as Theron made his way out of the office and out into the streets, he was unsettled. The reason for that feeling wasn’t readily apparent, but hopefully once he had a chance to dig into the data he’d figure it out. He tended to trust his gut on these things, but a chance to strike as rich of a target as this was too good to pass up on a mere bad feeling alone.

The more he dug into the intel that Jace had given him, the more Theron had to admit that the Supreme Commander was right. A strike on Korriban not only seemed viable, but had the potential to yield invaluable information that could finally lead to an end to the war.

A Jedi named Jensyn had come away from an encounter with an apprentice to a member from the Dark Council, revealing that they had databanks in their main chambers with some of the inner-most secrets to the Empire. A literal goldmine of information that could turn every future battle and operation to the Republic’s favor. It was almost too good of an opportunity to pass up, and so Theron kept digging. Every intelligence report surrounding the encounter checked out, and just because he liked being paranoid, Theron looked into the Jedi too. The man had served aboard the Telos in its campaign in the Albarrio and Relgim sectors, and had an exemplary service record. The closest thing he found to a red flag was the copious amount tea Jensyn liked to consume.  

As far as Theron could tell, the intel seemed clean.

That just left the minor problem of storming Siths’ the inner-keep. Just getting on the ground would have been an issue, except that apparently a SpecOps commander named Rian Darok had found a gap in the patrols on Korriban. It wasn’t a large one, and they’d never be able to launch a full-scale assault… but a strike team could make it through and perform an extraction.

Theron filled a large mug to the brim with caf, settled into the most comfortable chair he could find at SIS Headquarters, and got to work mining everything they had on Korriban. He had to cobble the data together from a variety of sources to even get a close picture if it could be done. They had old schematics of the ground layout, but due to the age he had to cross-reference it with a report from an escaped acolyte to confirm the probable obstacles facing a strike team on their route from the landing zone into the Academy. This, coupled with bits and pieces of security information scraped from the almost-defunct Imperial intelligence, yielded an access point for someone on the ground that could allow a talented slicer to insert an exploit. It was technically doable, but the resistance the ground team would face stacked the deck against the op’s favor.

“Viable but a logistical nightmare” was how he summarized it to Jace and Marcus the next morning, gratefully accepting the giant mug of caf the Supreme Commander had ready for him the moment he walked in the door.

“Pay up,” Marcus said, and Jace grudgingly handed over a credit chip.

Theron narrowed his eyes at the both of them suspiciously over the rim of his mug. “And what was that for?”

“Just how quickly you’d go for caffeine,” Marcus said casually.

Theron fixed his boss with a glare before taking a very long drag of the zippy brew. Apparently being Supreme Commander came with some perks, because if the spy wasn’t mistaken, this was the more expensive Alsakan Mountain roast. The director just shook his head and turned to the datapad with all the findings, letting out a low whistle at the potential yield if the operation was successful. As both of the older men perused the data, Theron barely suppressed a yawn. The all-nighter had come at the tail end of an op, and as much as he hated to admit it, he was probably needing at least a few hours of sleep.

“You could have taken two days to look at all this,” Jace said lightly, “but I appreciate the enthusiasm.”

“Intel can go stale quick.” Theron shrugged off the paternal concern easily.

“All the reason to act quickly,” Jace said, “if Trant can spare you for a little bit.”

“Please, take him. Much less of a headache for me.”

“I’m really feeling the love here,” the agent muttered.

“You’d feel more if you turned your expense reports on time.”

“You have to get a thrill somehow since you’re not out in the field anymore,” Theron shot back easily. “I’m just trying to help.”

“You see what I have to deal with?” Marcus pointed the question at Jace, who just shook his head.

“Well, I’m happy for the loan, Marcus,” he said, turning the subject back to the matter at hand. “I can see how logistics can get sticky, but I think I’ve got someone who can help with that. Colonel Darok has a knack for this kind of thing.”

Having spotted the hole in the patrol route, Theron had to admit the man had a keen eye. 

“You’d need a small army just to get through that many Sith. No way to get that many troops in,” Theron pointed out. “I don’t even see how even a master tactician is going to navigate that. ”

“What about a small strike team?” Marcus asked.

“Might work, but they’d need to have hides of durasteel.”

Jace looked thoughtful for a moment, before he headed over to his desk and pulled up a few dossiers on a datapad. He paged through a few, before handing it over to Theron. “Have you ever heard of the Coruscant Aegis?”

“Never met them personally,” Theron paused to take another sip from his mug before continuing, “but one of them provided cover fire on an extraction for me once.”

Marcus snorted, apparently remembering the incident in question. “Is that what you’re calling it now?”

“I needed to make a hasty exit, and the lady was kind enough to clear a path. At least I think it was a lady—there was a lot of blaster fire. Pretty sure she called me insane.”

“That sounds about right.” Marcus heaved the heavy sigh of the wearied soul.

“I suppose I owe whoever it was some thanks,” Theron said. “Probably wouldn’t have made it out without the assist. Some nice flying and shooting.”

“They’re good at what they do,” Jace agreed, “the best actually.”

“Are any of them lightsaber-proof?” Theron asked sarcastically.

“They haven’t let one stop any of them so far.”

Theron juggled the mug and datapad, skimming through the personnel files as he continued to sip from the sweet caffeinated nectar. He tried to school his expression as he skimmed through the major highlights of each name, but the laundry list of heroic deeds associated with each individual was quite impressive. A notorious smuggler who had taken down the Voidwolf. The commander of Havoc Squad. Even a member of the Jedi High Council. It was the last one that made Theron stop and frown.

“Is this last one even real?” he asked.

Jace nodded solemnly. “She is.”

“It says she killed the Sith Emperor.”

That got Marcus’s attention, who leaned over Theron’s shoulder to read the dossier. Not liking the crowding, he handed the datapad over to his boss, and proceeded to prop his hip on Jace’s desk, still nursing the mug of caf.

“You asked for a small army,” Jace pointed out. “Any of them would be able to perform the extraction.”

“I’d say in that case we should get them all,” Theron said, “but they’re probably pretty scattered.”

Their window of opportunity to strike for this was going to close fast, though, so time was of the essence. It was probably also best to keep the number of those aware of the operation on the lower side too. Even if they were going to take on the entire Sith Academy, and maybe even the Dark Council.

Jace nodded. “You probably can get one in all likelihood.”

“Me, huh?”

“Colonel Darok will be in charge of the operation,” Jace clarified, “but I want the SIS involved on this. This is too big of a target to not bring in our best.”

Theron caught the backhanded compliment, but instead of responding verbally, he just nodded. “I can do some recruiting if you want. You have a preference?”

“Surprise me.”

 Jace flashed him a brief knowing grin, and Theron checked the urge to roll his eyes. He was fairly certain Marcus wasn’t aware of the familial connection, so showing disrespect to the man who was technically his boss’s boss probably wouldn’t help things in the long run. Knowing the way his luck tended to run, Theron would probably need to appeal to the director’s better nature in the next month for some reason or another. Theron didn’t intentionally cause diplomatic and inter-departmental incidents, they just tended to… happen. Sometimes. And by sometimes he meant like clockwork. 

“I’m going to need a little time to dig into the files if that’s the case,” he said instead of rising to the teasing.

“That’s fine.” If Jace was disappointed in Theron’s utter professionalism, it didn’t show, and the moment of levity slipped away. "It will take me some time to get Darok caught up and for us to put a battle plan together.”

Theron nodded and pocketed the datapad from Marcus. “Exactly how much time are we talking about?”

“Enough that you can sleep on it,” Jace tried to keep his tone light, but Theron still caught a hint of paternal concern threading underneath.

“Sleep?” Marcus snorted derisively. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“I sleep when I’m bored,” Theron shot back.

“Good. Then you’ll be out before you even get through the first dossier.”

“Are you kidding? This is better than a holo-drama.” The spy tapped his pocket where he had stowed the datapad. 

Jace just shook his head, amused, and the discussion turned to other matters of intelligence. Theron let himself out once he finished his mug of caf, the weight of the datapad in his pocket a reminder of the upcoming mission. Despite the caffeine, he could feel fatigue pulling at him. Either the long hours were getting to him, or the unsettled feeling from the previous day was still eating at him. Maybe after he was able to study the personnel files some more, he could take a moment to review his notes and pinpoint what was bothering him. And then he could get some sleep.

Next Chapter

[pkg4mumtown]

Literally anything that has to do with that GODDAM BELT SCENE in John Wick 3. I’m a sucker for rescue scenarios and some good old Wick domination

Title: Last Resort

A/N: The belt scene killed me! I saw the movie three times and made the same fucking noise each time. I tried to incorporate all three things into one, so we’ll see if I succeeded.

Rating: M (violence, cursing, mild sex), female reader

Summary: The reader is out to fill a contract, but someone gets in her way.

I took a deep breath as I approached the hideout of some Russian asshole with a sizable contract out on him. Due to the price, I set out to complete the contract as quickly as possible; staying up late last night to memorize the layout of the hideout. I checked the chamber of my pistol, making sure I was set to go before listening against the door for any signs that someone got here first. All was silent, so I quickly picked the lock and peered in.

I favored a longer distance from my opponents, so a silenced pistol was a must as I stalked through the hallways. The area was heavily guarded as he knew he had a contract out on him, but his guards didn’t expect an attack so soon, so I was able to take them off guard. I made my way through cleanly, eventually coming to a door that I knew was one room away from the target’s office.

I had confidence oozing out of my pores at the ease in which this mission had been so far. I pushed the door open slightly with my shoulder and checked the areas that opened to me asI did. The door was barely half way open when a hand clamped down on the muzzle of my gun. In my over confidence, I made a rookie mistake and had stuck my pistol too far out in front of me which left me open to attack.

I cursed as I tried to wrench my weapon back, opting to push hard against the door to throw the assailant off balance. His grip on the gun remained, however, and the weapon was ripped from my hands as he stumbled back. I rushed in, tackling him before he could recover his bearings. I took note of the sheer amount of men in the room, hesitating slightly as I realized they heavily guarded the last room as a fail-safe. No wonder the rest of the place had been so easy. I jumped on the first assailant, grabbing my knife from my belt and stabbing him in the chest and head quickly. A group of men rushed me, and I held them off as long as I could, until one of them had managed to get behind me. I felt his arm wrap around my neck, squeezing tightly while a couple others grabbed my arms and legs. I grimaced as I felt plastic zip ties clamp around my legs and dig into my skin. The arm around my neck released me as my arms were twisted roughly behind my back and zip tied. I threw my head back, cracking the man behind me in the nose but earning me a punch to the stomach. I lost my balance, falling on my wrists and ass as I tried to catch my breath.

I looked up, seeing one with a bloody nose, “Sorry, did that hurt?” I snarked at him.

He kicked me in the ribs and sneered back in a heavily accented voice, “You’re lucky boss wants you alive. Something tells me he’s going to have a great time with you, bitch.”

I let out a pained groan through clenched teeth as I felt a hand wrap itself into my hair and drag me across the floor. I was lifted by my armpits into a metal chair. The zip ties on my feet were cut, but my legs were grabbed too quickly to retaliate and soon each leg was tied to a chair. I tried to tilt the chair but found that it was bolted into the floor rather securely. The zip ties on my wrists were cut and my arms were wrapped around the back of the chair and re-bound. One of the men spoke into a radio, briefly exchanging words with the other voice, who I assumed to be my target.

“He’ll be with us in a minute,” the man chuckled.

One minute turned into five as I shifted impatiently in my chair. A panicked voice came over the radio but was so filled with static that it was unintelligible to my ears. My head shot up and saw the wide eyes of the rest of the men in the room. The majority of them ran out of the room with guns drawn, leaving six men in the room with me, in front of me, but facing away as they trained their guns on the door. I kept my eyes on them as I twisted my wrist inward to attempt to grab a knife that I kept inside of my jacket sleeve, which they neglected to check. I was able to grab it with my fingertips, before letting it slide into my palm, so I could cut my restraints. It was small but would serve its purpose. I could hear the faint sound of gunshots and screams as I worked, watching the men in front of me grow more and more nervous as the sounds grew closer. I briefly wondered who else was determined to fill the contract and who had the reputation to rattle these men. One of the men turned and faced me, backhanding me in anger. I clenched my fists tightly to keep from fighting back, so he didn’t know I had cut my restraints.

“You think your little guard dog can save you?” he spat.

“I didn’t bring anyone with me, asshole,” I snarled back, spitting in his direction. He hit me again, the skin of my lip broke and bled as a result. “Fuck you.”

He grabbed a piece of cloth from his pocket, grasping either side of my face and digging his fingers into the hollows of my cheeks until I opened my mouth. As he was finishing tying the cloth around my mouth, the door burst open and gunshots rang out. Four of the men dropped dead nearly instantly, letting me see a figure using a dead assailant as a human shield. The assassin fired another shot but missed. He tried to fire again but noticed his gun was now empty. The empty pistol was flung at the face of one of the last two men. He dropped the human shield, revealing the assassin as none other than John Wick. I snorted to myself, typical John to go throwing guns at people. He charged the disoriented man and tackled him to the ground. I took my chance as both men were focused on John and his knife.

I quickly bent over, cutting the two zip ties around my ankles, removing the makeshift gag, and stalked away to find my gun. I quickly located it and sped over to the door to the target’s office. I stopped when I felt a hard, metal object hit my upper back and clatter across the floor. I turned around, rolling my eyes as I spotted the discarded gun and John’s form approaching me in a few quick strides.

“You don’t think I’m gonna let you take the kill, do you?” he questioned, his hands coming to his hips.

“Why do you always last resort to throwing guns at people, John?” I huffed reaching behind me and rubbing the area the gun hit. I pointed my gun at him after, daring him to do something.

“That’s not my last resort,” he smirked. His hands dropped to his belt, quickly unfastening it and sliding it from the loops with a quick snap. He made a show of folding it in half and snapping the two halves together, “I’ll fight you for it.” He released one end, letting the belt extend to the floor while he tilted his head and challenged me to shoot first.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted one of the target’s men enter the room with his gun drawn. I snapped my aim to the man’s head, over John’s shoulder, and fired once. The man slumped to the floor in a heap with a hole in his head. I pointed my gun back at John, who wore a stupid grin on his face. I glanced at my gun, seeing the slide locked in the rear of the gun to tell me it was empty. I took a page out of John’s book, chucking the gun at his head. He side stepped the projectile easily, chuckling at my attempt.

I threw my hands up in a shrug, “Zero out of ten, would not try that again.”

I lunged at him, narrowly missing being slapped by the belt as I ducked under it. I stepped on his bent leg, using it to climb his body and get my legs around his neck. I swung my body through the take down, sending him to the floor.

“I was here first, John. I did half of the work already,” I defended verbally, dodging another swing of his belt as he got up.

He folded the belt in half, threading his free hand through the loop and twisting it into a defense weapon. I moved to strike him, but he deflected me, allowing his arm to slide the belt along the back of my neck and around until he was choking me.

“Yet, the only reason you’re up is because I distracted them for you,” he almost growled in my ear.

I had managed to squeeze my fingers in between the belt and my neck before he tightened too much. He was close behind me since the belt was short while folded in half, so I threw my head back into his chin and elbowed him in the ribs repeatedly until his grip on the belt loosened. I grabbed one of his arms and flipped him over my shoulder, using my hips as leverage since he was so much bigger than I was. He landed on his back but immediately flipped over so he could push himself up. I was faster, driving a knee in his back to keep him down.

“We’ll go halfsies,” I requested, pulling his head up by his hair.

“Not a chance, Y/N,” he gritted out.

The office door opening caught both of our attentions, as the target stuck half his body out of the door. The hand not holding onto John’s hair, reached under my pant leg and grabbed a knife. I flung it at the target, the knife embedding itself into his throat.

My knee didn’t hold John for very long as he still managed to stand up with me attached to him. Me stealing the kill didn’t help the situation either. John was pissed. He basically threw me off his back, sending me sliding into the, now open, office. I shoved the legs of the dead target out of the way as I scrambled to get up before John could get to me. My movements were interrupted by the sting of the belt coming down across the top of my ass. While it hurt, I tried to bite back a moan but failed. The room got quiet except for our labored breathing. I glanced back at John, who was equally as shocked as I was.

“You enjoyed that?” he questioned with a tilt of his head.

“Go fuck yourself,” I muttered, standing up and searching for a weapon on the desk in the office.

I wasn’t fast enough, soon finding myself trapped between the desk and John’s chest. His hand found the back of my neck, forcing my face down into the desk. I felt the sting of the belt on one side of my ass, causing me to flinch away but moan still.

“You really do enjoy it,” he said in awe, almost to himself, as if he didn’t believe what he heard the first time.

“Fuck you,” I huffed, trying to get out of his grasp. I was only met with another strike of the belt.

“I mean, if you want to,” he chuckled, making a joke out of my cursing.

“I haven’t had decent dick in a while, so excuse me,” I mumbled against the desk.

“Ask and you shall receive,” he rumbled lowly behind me.

A weak plea escaped my lips at his words, “Please.”

I heard the belt clank next to my face on the desk. His free hand reached around and found the button of my pants, flicking it open. He dragged the zipper down and yanked down the garments until his eyes could see my bare ass. Fuck, was this really happening? His dress shoe-clad foot stepped in my pants, dragging them down my legs further. His hand left my neck briefly to work on his pants. I raised my upper body slightly, only to have my head forced back down to the desk.

“Stay,” he growled.

This time, when he removed his hand, I stayed put. I released a shaky breath that I didn’t know I was holding, the anticipation killing me slowly. It wasn’t long before I felt his length slide along my entrance. My needy whimper was satisfied seconds later as he filled me roughly. I gasped at the intrusion while my fingers scrambled for anything to hold on to. His hips met mine hard and fast, the whole ordeal almost coming to an end too quickly for his liking. His entire body stilled, forcing some self discipline into the situation. My imminent high slowly started to disappear farther from my grasp the longer he waited.

“Don’t toy with me, John, I swear I’ll—”

I didn’t get to finish my frustrated threat because he was grabbing the belt and forcing it between my open lips. I bit down on it almost too willingly, the ends being held behind my head by a single, large hand.

“I think I liked it better when you couldn’t speak,” he whispered harshly, tugging on the belt slightly. I mumbled angrily around the belt at his words. His hand came down on the reddened side of my ass, another moan escaping my lips. “You done?”

I let out a frustrated growl but nodded anyway. I moaned pitifully in the back of my throat as his hips resumed a slightly slower pace. In a hideout full of dead bodies, the only sounds were our sighs, grunts, and skin meeting repeatedly. It was still all over too quickly, but we couldn’t chance anybody else coming in and catch us off guard with our pants literally around our ankles. I could imagine it, The Baba Yaga finally killed because he stopped for a quickie.

I caught my breath while laying on the desk, moving my aching jaw as John’s grip on the belt finally loosened. As quickly as he had entered me, he pulled away. I heaved myself up, not bothering to clean up until I got back to The Continental. I turned around, facing him and seeing a few beads of sweat disappear into his beard.

“You owe me a new belt,” he stated, holding up the strip of leather with teeth marks along the middle of it.

“That’s dramatic,” I rolled my eyes, running my fingers along the marks that looked like they would vanish in a day. “I’ll wire you half, ‘kay?” I strode over to the target’s body, snapping a picture and sending it as proof of completion.

“You already paid me, but if you’re feeling generous…” he trailed off, securing the belt back around his pants. “Need a ride?”

“Your car or you?” I asked, following him out of a back entrance.

His laughter echoed off the corridor walls, “Both.” 

PART 2

Taglist: @cuttlefishcatfish @anita-e-taylor @synesthesiasocks @samanthagraceg @beyond-antares

[allxthingsxglxtter]

Thomas finds out about Newt having the Flare and feelings are also discovered.

Discord thread between @lcnelylcves Newt and Thomas

Thomas:

Thomas felt like hell.  He’d been the distraction for the job tonight, so it had started with insults and ended with a rather brutal fight with a few guys larger than he was. Which was why he was shirtless in his bed, trying to muster up the energy to take a shower or wash the blood from his lip. When the door to his room opened he grabbed his blanket and tried to hide in it. Especially when he realized it was Newt. “Hey.....I didn’t know you were around? Hi.”  He closed his eyes, hoping with everything in him the other hadn’t seen.

Newt: When he wasn't trying to find a way to save himself that didn't involve Tommy sacrificing himself to strangers, Newt wanted to spend as much time as possible with Tommy. Just in case they didn't have much more time together. Letting himself into his apartment didn't seem like a big deal, they'd spent a lot of time at each other's places, so he walked straight into his room without hesitation. Until he saw the way Thomas tried to cover up. His mind went... well, his mind immediately jumped to something dirty, but the joke he was going to make got cut short when he realised why Thomas was hiding. "What the bloody hell, Tommy?" He rushed forward, tugging the blanket away. "What happened to you? Are you okay?" Something happening to Thomas was literally his worst nightmare.

Thomas: Fuck.  Swear words were really all that could run through his head at that particular moment as Newt got worried. He hated worrying Newt, part of him thinking he wasn’t worth the concern. And Newt shouldn’t be upset. Ever. And now it was his fault cause he didn’t put on a shirt.  With a sigh he let go of the blanket and lay back on his back, detangling so he could sit up. It was mostly just bruising, maybe a cracked rib, but nothing Thomas hadn’t dealt with before. The split lip and bruise on his jaw weren’t great, but he managed. “It’s alright Newt, really.” Forcing himself time sit up, he managed not to wince, looking at Newt. “It was just a work thing.”

Newt As gently as he could manage, Newt helped Thomas sit up. Definitely not the way he'd wanted to get his hands on a shirtless Tommy, but he needed to make sure he was okay. "It's not bloody alright." His fingers splayed carefully on his chest over one of the bruises for a second, but when he heard what his friend said next, his jaw clicked audibly at how tight he clenched it. Fuck. He couldn't lose his cool. "A work thing? What the fuck does that mean, Tommy?"

Thomas Thomas sighed, knowing this was likely about to go from worry to anger.  Or at least irritation.  “It is Newt.  It’s fine.  I’ll be back to normal in a couple days.”  In different circumstances Thomas would be delighted the other was touching him like this, the closeness almost distracting until he heard Newt’s jaw.  Shit.  “It means what it sounds like Newt. I will...occasionally… Take jobs with a gang.  I started before you came and I..well, it’s not really something you stop.  And...i don’t necessarily want to...”. Thomas met his eyes, waiting for the reaction.

Newt: Even if the evidence of a fight would fade, it still made Newt feel awful now. "You take - you bloody shank!" Despite his efforts to be careful, his hand whacked into Tommy's shoulder. "You are damn well stopping that, goddammit. What the hell are you thinking, getting involved in a gang? This better not be some death wish of yours."

Thomas: Thomas swore when Newt hit him, looking up at him in surprise.  That was slightly unexpected.  However, he steeled his jaw a little, not wanting to argue it but here they were.  “No I’m not Newt.  It...I didn’t have anybody else, they needed somebody fast, and, well.” He smiled grimly before continuing.  “It’s not a death wish.  I usually do fine, it just ends violently sometimes. And it’s...it helped.  Before, when you weren’t here yet.”

Newt: The guilt he felt at Thomas being alone was quickly overridden by the anger that never felt far from the surface these days. "I don't care what they needed, I care about you. You're not doing that again. I won't let you." The words were coming out too close to a growl, but he had forgotten about trying to hide his secret. All that mattered was protecting Thomas. "It'll be bloody violent if you go back to them. I'll make sure of that."

Thomas: "I know you care about me Newt.  I do.  But I make my own choices.  You didn't have to know, and I'll be more careful going forward.  I'll.."  He paused, the growl in the other's voice enough for Thomas to know something was wrong.  Newt didn't growl. "You'll do that will you?  How do you intend to stop me?  I get hurt all the time, and I'm alive.  I've got a job next week and I'm going to do it Newt!"  He was stubborn, but Thomas was now watching Newt's reaction.  Something was wrong, and he really, really didn't want his suspicion to be right.

Newt: "Care about you?!" Love was a much better word, but he didn't use it, not while he felt angry enough to go out and kill any gang members he saw. And Thomas was only making him angrier. "No, you're not." He lost his cool completely, grabbing Tommy's shoulder and shoving it back, getting into his face. "I'll kill anyone who hurts you."

Thomas: "Yes, care about me...you just said you did..."  Thomas wasn't sure why he was outraged at that one, but as Newt got worse and more aggressive the reality of what was happening hit him like a brick.  His jaw flexed, hurt and anger in his own eyes now as he met the other's angry expression.  His voice was soft as he spoke, not needing to rile him anymore at this point. "And how long did you intend to wait before you told me you are infected with the Flare Newt. Or did you plan not to at all." Newt: He didn't think he could talk without saying something he'd regret. But it was too late, the change in Tommy's voice alerted him to the problem. "Tommy..." Realising his fingers were still digging into Tommy's shoulder, he pulled back sharply, furious with himself now. "I - fuck!" He'd just hurt Thomas in his anger, of course he'd gotten caught out. "Don't turn this on me."

Thomas: "I suspected when you started growling, but I'm sorry for pushing you.  I don't exactly mean to stop, but, I'm sorry I tried to provoke you."  Thomas pushed his own hurt out of his mind, hating that Newt hadn't told him.  But this wasn't about how he felt.  Even if Newt's last statement pissed him off beyond belief. "Don't turn it on you?  Okay, I won't acknowledge the fact you're allowing yourself to actively die when I've already told you I'm the cure for what ails you.  And We can instead just discuss that working for gangs and getting in fights feels more like what I deserve than sitting in a classroom and learning about biology does.  Fighting and running is all I know shit about at this point, and ...it's something familiar."

Newt: The anger flashed back into his eyes, but Newt did his best to keep his distance now. "You need to stop. If something happened to you..." The idea made him shudder, turning away from Thomas so he wouldn't feel tempted to hit something. "I'm not letting you hand yourself off to strangers to turn you into a science experiment. I'm looking for another way. My sister, she comes from another world, maybe there's something else that can heal me." He turned back, fixing Thomas with a glare. "Tommy, you deserve peace. That's all we ever wanted, and we can have it here. What would you do if it was me getting into fights? Alright, I do fight one shank in one gang, but that's a personal grudge."

Thomas: Thomas sighed, letting the other keep his distance and just watching him as they spoke.  “If something happened to me it’d...well.  Be unsurprising.  Gang or no, I’m not likely to stay out of trouble for long anyways Newt.” Thomas shook his head, wanting to reassure Newt. “I wouldn’t be a science experiment.  It’s in my blood, we already know that, and my siste Caitlin is a scientist, she’d definitely help.  You don’t need another answer you already have me.”  Thomas jaw flexed, looking away for a moment.  “I’d get in the fights with you, cause no one messes with you.  Except apparently one guy? And I...sure this place is peaceful, but I can’t have my rest without....well.”  He’d been about to say “without you” but he suspected that would be too far,

Newt: While he knew Thomas was a magnet for trouble, it was different knowing he had sought it out. "It's no gang. Or I'm going to join it with you." If he couldn't convince him to stop, then he'd just go with him. "I've followed you into worse." While he knew that Thomas trusted this sister, Newt didn't. Teresa had been a plant. For a while, he'd thought maybe Annabeth was too, but she'd proven her story, but that didn't mean everyone could be trusted. "I'm not going to use you, Tommy. That's not happening, I'd rather die." Which looked like a possibility now, but that didn't need to be said. Both of them knew it. "You'd try to protect me, Tommy. That's what we do, we protect each other. Not that I need your help pushing Luke down stairs. He's with Exitium." Risking moving closer, Newt sat on the end of the bed. "Can't have your rest without getting beaten up? Look at you, Tommy. You're hurt."

Thomas: “No you’re not.” Thomas wouldn’t let that happen, the idea of Newt dealing with anything other than good in this second life he’d been afforded absolutely out of the question to Thomas. However, at the other’s next statement Thomas looked at the other in shock. “It’s not “using me” if I fucking volunteer for it Newt.  I was able to save Brenda, and that wasn’t experimentation.” His jaw flexed, the idea he could lose Newt all over again and this time knowing he could save him was already destroying him just to think about. “I’d rather die than lose you again Newt.” He said it honestly, meaning every word. Being the only one to get a peaceful world and life at this point was torture when 90% of his friends deaths were his fault. “I can’t have peace and happiness and all the shit we’d hope to find without anyone to share it with Newt. I’m fine. It’s just a few bruises after all.”

Newt: "Yes I bloody am. You're not getting into fights without me, Tommy." That was simple for Newt, he couldn't let Thomas be in trouble unless he was there. "You'd volunteer for anything if you thought you'd save someone. And this isn't our world, so yeah, it's bloody experimenting. And I'm not letting you do it. There's another way, there has to be." He wished he had already found a way, but not yet. But he wouldn't give up. "Tommy, you could lose me any day. Not because of this, but because of any reason. You just need to find someone to share your life with. I'm sure you'll find a nice girl, you can do better than Teresa."

Thomas: Thomas wasn’t in the mood to argue this, his getting into fights so stupidly minuscule next to Newt dying. Again. Of the same fucking thing. “No, Newt, I wouldn’t.  Not just anyone. And Caitlin is a doctor from the future, she can do it. You can’t stop me from doing it Newt. I finally have a chance to save your life and you’re going to take it away again?! This is a way. It’s simple, and easy, and something I’m sure she can do.  And it’s blood. She doesn’t have to take a limb.” Which he would give if necessary, but that’s not the point.  “Someone to....fuck you Newt.  Are you that...daft?!  I didn’t want to share my life with Teresa.  Idiot. And yes, I could lose you any day, but that’s different than THIS. Something I can stop.”

Newt: Newt rolled his eyes at Thomas, since he didn't trust Caitlin but he didn't even need to use that argument. "Tommy, you might have noticed, we're not exactly in a place with good technology. I know you'd save me if you had to, but you don't have to. That's the last resort." He wouldn't let it get to that point. Unsure why Thomas swore at him, Newt frowned. "Fuck you too, Tommy. I don't exactly like girls, how would I know what you like? But if you need a wingman, fine. I can talk you up to anyone you like." It'd make him feel like actually killing himself again, but if it meant Tommy was happy, he could ignore his broken heart. Thomas: Thomas shook his head “that camp in the desert wasn’t a technological wonder either Newt, and they figured it out. It’s not a last resort, it’s the first one and will be what I’m doing this afternoon.” He hated this, every part of this conversation making him frustrated and angry, but he pushed on.  “Because I’ve told you repeatedly I’d rather die than lose you again! That I stopped caring once you were gone. I don’t want to share my life with a girl dumbass I want to share it with you!”

Newt: "You're not going anywhere this afternoon. Look at you!" Newt hadn't exactly forgotten about the bruises on Tommy's chest, not when he could still see them. "You need to rest." Unsure if he was reading too much into the argument, Newt shifted closer. "Tommy... you can't say shit like that. It's not fair, you know how I feel about you." Everyone knew, or so Newt thought. He'd never exactly tried to hide it, he'd just never said the words because there was no reason to say something that would just make Thomas have to reject him.

Thomas: “I’m fine. It’s just some bruises, and I’ll clean out my lip. It’s fine.” Thomas knew this needed to be handled, not about to lose Newt again because there wasn’t enough time.  “How you feel about me? You take care of me just like Minho and Gally and the rest. We’re friends. I can say shit like that because it’s true.  I’ve...you’re the only one I’ve ever paid attention to like that Newt. And it’s not like we really had the luxury to do anything about it. Plus you didn’t ever like me like that, and I just..figured you didn’t notice, or didn’t want to.”

Newt: "It's not fine, you're not going anywhere." Newt wasn't budging on that, not about to let Thomas run off while injured to go make more bad decisions. Especially not when he was saying everything Newt had wished he'd say. "You bloody idiot. I love you. Not like I loved the rest of the Gladers. You were the one that didn't notice me. How much more obvious did I have to be?"

Thoams: “It’s fine in comparison to you dying again!” Thomas was trying not to shout, trying not to be broken and frustrated just thinking about losing Newt to the Flare again. He was pissed he even had to worry about it.  “How am I the idiot? You treated me just like the others.  And you took care of everybody.  “ he looked at Newt seriously, unsure what it was they were saying to each other. “Are you..are you saying you’ve been in love with me the whole time?”

Newt: "I'm not going to die!" Newt knew he shouldn't promise that, but he didn't want Thomas to give up. Not when apparently they'd both been oblivious idiots. "You're the idiot because somehow you never noticed I was flirting with you. I figured you just weren't interested. Idiot. Yes, I'm in love with you. Everyone knows that."

Thomas “No, you’re not.” He knew Caitlin could make an antidote from his blood, the mystery taken out of what would cure it at least.  It was hard to focus on that when Newt was saying all of this though. “I was a bit distracted. But why wouldn’t anyone tell me if they knew? And I figured you knew I was flirting with you. I was always more protective of you than the others.”

Newt: Newt fell back onto the bed with a groan. "I thought you were just being protective of me because of my bum leg. Thought you were straight, that you wouldn't flirt with me. This is bloody ridiculous, we've been pining this whole time and no one told us?"

Thomas: Thomas looked slightly offended. “Just because you have a limp doesn’t mean you didn’t prove yourself capable a thousand times over. I was protective of you cause ever since you smiled at me at the bonfire I’ve been smitten with you and I have been angry about it ever since. Why the hell would you pine after me? I’m an idiot. Have been from day one.”

Newt: Newt laughed at that. "You should have just said something instead of being angry about it. I was flirting with you that night, we could have saved a lot of trouble. And there's a lot more reasons to pine after you than there is to pine after me. I'm smarter than you, but I'm skinny."

Thomas: Thomas shook his head. “You were a little drunk and I thought you were into Alby. Pretty sure everyone was a little into Alby. But no there isn’t. You’re smart, and kind, and so so thoughtful. And I’m skinny too, so, that’s not really a reason.”

Newt: "When is being drunk a reason not to make out with a cute guy?" Newt's heart ached a little, remembering Alby. "Yeah, I liked him once. But nothing happened, we had to put the Gladers first. By the time you rocked up, I was mostly over it. I was completely over it when you ran into the maze." He moved so he could lie his arm next to Tommy's. "I'm even skinnier. And you're brave, forgiving, and when you're not being an idiot, you're smart."

Thomas: “I think when I was confused, and frustrated, and irritated I liked someone when there was so many other things to worry about.” Thomas sighed, holding Newts hand. “So? And I don’t know if forgiving is the right word. But no, I’ve never been smart.

Newt: "Alright, maybe making out might not have been the best idea but it would have been fun. And I might have been nicer to Teresa if I'd known you weren't interested in her." Smiling as he looked at their hands, Newt wasn't letting Tommy go any time soon. "Sure it is. You tried to save Teresa, and now I know that wasn't even because of a crush. And we never would have gotten out of the maze without you, you're the one who figured it out. So you're the smart one at puzzles."

Thomas: “Teresa didn’t deserve your kindness, at least not at that time. But she made up for it, in the end. And I wasn’t interested, but there was something there..likely from before the maze.  So the jealousy wasn’t entirely unfounded. She did kiss me before she died.” He shrugged before looking over at him.  “I tried to save people cause it was decent. And you only got out of the maze because they changed it when they sent me there. Definitely not points towards brains.”

Newt: Newt pulled a face, not pleased to hear that. The jealousy had always been something that made his anger worse. "That's bloody unfair, I didn't get a kiss before I died." He squeezed his hand. "I'm not decent, I woulda let a lot of them die, I only cared about the Gladers. And you can be smart, Tommy. You think quick on your feet, I think things over carefully. That's all."

Thomas: Thomas chuckled a little. “In my defense I was the one dying at that particular moment.  No initiation from me, and you didn’t give me enough time to kiss you.” He squeezes his hand back; his jaw flexing just thinking about it. And now it was hanging over them both again. “Technically she was a Glader.  And maybe. But smart is a stretch.  You’re still the smart one. Why this is a discussion I don’t know.”

Newt: He hadn't meant to upset Thomas again. "Well, we'll try for a kiss when neither of us is in danger of dying, how about that?" Newt would happily lean over and kiss him now, but he wasn't sure Tommy wanted him to after the fight. "She wasn't a Glader, she was a plant. She betrayed us. And it's not a discussion because I'm right. If I'm smart, you just have to accept I know what I'm talking about."

Thomas: Thomas looked at him, hesitating just a moment before moving. His body was screaming at him, but that didn’t stop him from shifting up and kissing the other.  He wasn’t willing to wait, though he’d back off if Newt shoved him away.  Propping himself over Newt, he looked down at him. “Okay. I’m not gonna argue that with you. And...sorry. I..I couldn’t wait.”

Newt: Even if he was still pissed that Tommy was hurt, Newt wasn't going to complain that they'd finally kissed. He'd wanted that for a long time. "Don't be sorry, you stupid shank." He pulled him back down to kiss him again, only to hesitate. "You gotta tell me if I hurt you, alright? You look like shit."

Thomas: Thomas melted into the kiss, ignoring the ache in his chest at the movement. Flare or no, he was kissing Newt and for that little moment he was gonna enjoy something. “I said I’m alright Newt. I’ll let you know if it gets bad. Now kiss me and stop fussing.”

Newt: Newt laughed a little at Tommy's bossiness, raising an eyebrow. "What if I want to fuss over you?" He teased, kissing the corner of Tommy's mouth. "Maybe I like taking care of you, you ever think about that?"

Thomas: Thomas rolled his eyes a little at the other. “You shouldn’t.” Kissing the other again, he broke it and murmured. “And the thought had crossed my mind, but I figured taking care of me would just be endlessly frustrating.”

Newt: Gently, not wanting to hurt him, Newt brushed his fingers over Tommy's chest. "I don't mind being frustrated by you. Kinda used to it, really. Just get to kiss you to shut you up when you're being really stupid."

Thomas: Thomas shifted, laying back down next to Newt though he liked the feeling of Newts hands on him. “I likely won’t stop anytime soon, since frustrating seems to be a personality trait of mine.  And you’re just gonna kiss me when I’m stupid? Well, that sounds like it’d be all the time.”

Newt: Newt rolled onto his side so he could keep looking at him. "I think I'll kiss you whenever you're being stupid, frustrating or reckless. That way I'm definitely kissing you all the time."

Thomas: Thomas studies his face smiling a little. “How you could love me I can’t understand in the slightest. So many less-idiotic people to be into Newt.”

Newt: "Tommy..." Newt leaned down to kiss him. "That was for being both stupid and frustrating. I told you why I love you. It wasn't like I couldn't have fallen for someone else, but I still fell for you."

Thomas: Thomas didn’t want to stop kissing him, wishing he was in better shape so he could do more with the other. It was still a lot, wrapping his head around the fact that somehow Newt loved him.  “I love you Newt.” He definitely wasn’t going to lose him now, already planning on how to save  Newt this time.  He wouldn’t fail.

Newt: The smile on his face was bright in response to the words, kissing him again. "Good. Because maybe you'll stop getting yourself into trouble without me now."

Thomas: Thomas hummed into the kiss, lifting a hand to Newt’s cheek. “Then we’ll just have to make sure you stay around then, yeah?”

Newt: "That's what I'm planning on, Tommy. Someone's got to look after you. It's not a job I trust to anyone else." He turned his head so he could kiss Tommy's hand.

Thomas: He sighed, lifting an eyebrow. “Than stop fighting me on helping.  I can.”

Newt: Newt didn't mean to growl softly. "Don't, Tommy. I'm not letting it happen while you're already beaten up."

Thomas: “It’s just a needle Newt. You can even come with, listen to Caitlin lecture me about being stupid and you can both get on my about poor choices.  She’ll even take care of my bruises and lip while we help you. Please.”

Newt: It was so tempting, but what if it was a trick? "Or I could take care of your bruises. Not the first time I've had to deal with the aftermath of a fight."

Thomas: Thomas nodded. “If you really want to, okay. But I’m still going to Caitlin tonight. She’ll help. She’s gotten me out of scrapes before.”

Newt: Newt scowled, but he figured he could deal with that problem later. "Alright, let's clean out your lip first."

Thomas: Thomas didn’t like the scowl, but nodded and sat up. “I’ve got a first aid kit in the nightstand with everything I’d need.”

Newt: Grabbing the first aid kit, Newt settled in front of Thomas. "Obviously this isn't a rare occurrence for you." He was scowling at that now, the idea of Tommy being hurt. "Dumb shank."

Thomas: Thomas sighed. “No it’s not. I just...it’s hard to explain.” Without sounding entirely pathetic and awful, so he didn’t really want to try. “I’m used to it.”

Newt: "Just promise me you'll take me with you the next time, if it's that important to you." Newt was willing to fight anyone for Tommy, it was pretty simple. "This might sting." He cleaned the cut on his lip as carefully as he could.

Thomas: “No. And important to me isn’t the question. Its...all I know to do. Fight and run and struggle. I...it feels more right, to do that rather than pretend I’m fine and live like I’m normal.”  He held still while Newt cleaned it, not talking anymore as he waited.

Newt: Newt could understand that, he struggled to pay full attention to his university classes because it was hard to see them as important. "Yes. I'm coming with you." He finished cleaning his lip, leaning forward to kiss the corner of his mouth. "You're just going to have to deal with it."

Thomas: “No you’re not Newt.” He turned to kiss his cheek, but was serious. “You’re not coming. You’re not getting involved in this.”

Newt: "How do you think you're going to stop me? Which gang are you in? I'm hoping Arcadia, gives me more excuses to punch Luke."

Thomas: “By not telling you when it’s happening.  You don’t know which gang I work with, you don’t know what I do or where.  And I don’t plan on telling you. I’m not letting you follow me into my own idiocy again Newt!” His jaw flexed, refusing to even think about Newt fighting because of him again.

Newt: "Fine, I'll find out on my own." Newt's jaw tensed as well. "I'm allowed to join a gang if I want to, and if we're on opposite sides, that's going to be your fault."

Thomas: “Why are you doing this Newt?” Thomas met his eyes, not understanding why he’d be so stubborn about this. “Why the fuck would you join a gang?”

Newt: "Because I don't care what happens to me, I only care what happens to you, and it's the only way I can think of protecting you if you won't tell me what's going on." It seemed simple to Newt, he doubted it'd be anywhere near as bad as what they'd already gone through.

Thomas: “That’s absolute garbage Newt.” Thomas shook his head, tense with frustration before finally speaking again. “I joined a gang and willingly get into situations where I get hurt because it fucking helps me feel better for letting you die Newt. For letting you, and Chuck, and Teresa, and  Winston, and Alby die.   You all were following me or listening to my advice when you died, and I can’t fucking live with myself Newt.  I can’t accept...I can’t accept that I got to be safe and comfortable when all of you died horribly.  And somehow...letting other people point me at danger helped that. A little.  And it changed a little when you came back but I can’t just leave a gang. That’s not how gangs work.  And just because you’re alive doesn’t  change that I don’t.. well, that I don’t deserve this. Or worse. You getting involved in my own self destruction just makes it worse. I’m trying to ease out, and it’s working, but I can’t fix it over night.”

Newt: Newt's heart was breaking for Thomas. "Maybe one day you'll believe me when I tell you it's not your fault. None of us blamed you, it was all on WCKD. But I won't join the gang, alright? Just as long as you promise that if it's getting too dangerous, you tell me. I want to be there for you, I always will. That's part of loving you, Tommy."

Thomas: “How..how can I Newt? Just because you don’t blame me doesn’t mean...doesn’t mean I could’ve done more. Been faster, or smarter.” Thomas let out a heavy breath, ignoring the pain as he reached out and pulled Newt into a hug. “I won’t take you into trouble again Newt. I can’t. People who listen to me die.  But thank you. I...you deserve to be safe.”

Newt: "If I'd been stronger, maybe I could have held on long enough. Can twist it a thousand different ways." He hugged Thomas back, probably too tight. He wasn't always good at knowing his strength right now. "Maybe you should try listening to me more often then."

Thomas: Thomas wouldn’t ever blame Newt, but he understood his point. For now he was okay just hugging the other, ignoring the pain of being held so tightly. “Maybe I should.”

Newt Newt tilted his head so he could press a kiss to Tommy's shoulder. "I'm not doing a very good job of first aid, am I?" But he didn't want to let go either.

Thomas: “You’re fine.  Hugs are better than ointments and such anyways.” He didn’t move just yet, his face buried in the crook of Newts neck.  Finally sitting back, he pressed a kiss to Newts cheek. “I’m alright Newt.”

Newt: Reluctantly letting go, he shifted back. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Thomas: “Hand me my shirt? It’s on the floor by your foot. I’ve gotta get decent again and run an errand.” He smiled slightly, definitely about to go see Caitlin.

Newt: Newt leaned over to grab the shirt - and tossed it further away. "Nice try, Tommy. I'm not letting you leave. Pity about the bruises or I'd enjoy the sight."

Thomas: Thomas sighed with irritation, looking at him.  "Why not?  It's just a few bruises Newt.  I've definitely had worse.  And I think the bruises make me look more interesting."  He smirked a little, trying to be playful.

Newt: "Would you let me go if I had bruises?" Gently, he laid a hand on Tommy's chest, but he was also ready to stop him from leaving. "I always think you look good, you don't need to impress me."

Thomas: “If I was dying and there was a short time to safe me, maybe.” He pressed lightly into the other’s touch, just liking the feel of his hand. “I may not need to, but I like to.”

Newt: "I'm not dying right this minute. Promise. The black veins haven't even reached my chest yet." They were close, but Newt figured he still had a week left. "Figures you'd be the type to show off for your boyfriend. I'm gonna be worrying about you all the time, aren't I?"

Thomas: Thomas nodded a little, his jaw flexing slightly with the thought. Just because they weren’t at his chest yet wasn’t a good sign either, knowing it was likely getting closer. “Not tonight maybe.” He held the others hand, shaking his head. “No, you shouldn’t. I’m fine.”

Newt: Newt sighed, seeing Tommy's reaction. "Would you like to check for yourself that I'm not about to die tonight? Having you run off after I tell you I love you is going to suck."

Thomas: “I trust you Newt. But tonight doesn’t mean the clock isn’t ticking. Sorry, I just..the thought of losing you again is...” He shook his head, tugging him closer. “I’m not gonna run off.  I love you too.”

Newt: Newt wrapped his arms around him again. "You're not going to lose me. Look, if the veins reach my chest, I promise I'll let you do whatever you want to save me." He didn't want it to get that point, but maybe it'd buy him some time to find another solution first.

Thomas: Thomas shook his head. "No.  I'm not wasting any time Newt.  We already know I'm the cure, why are you fighting me so much on this?"  He lightly rubbed the other's side with his hand, meeting his eyes.  "You've an easy fix right in front of you.  Trust me."

Newt: "I do trust you, Tommy. More than I trust anyone else. That's the problem. I don't trust anyone else, except Annie. My sister. She's trying to find another way, she's a bloody genius." Just not in science, and this wasn't something she could fight.

Thomas: "Then trust me.  Just because you don't trust the people i know doesn't mean they're bad.  I trust Caitlin to help.  And you say you trust me.  Give me some time, and I swear I can fix this Newt.  You need to trust me.  Let me do something right."  He may have made mistakes before, but he knew he could handle this.

Newt: "I told you, I'll let you help if there's no other choice. I know you'd fix it, but I don't want you to be in that position." Newt wouldn't forgive himself if Thomas got hurt because of him. I There had to be another way.

Thomas: “Newt, I don’t understand why. It’s the easiest thing. Needles aren’t scary. I’ll be fine. And it’s something you can’t stop me from doing Newt.   I’m going to Caitlin. She’ll help, and I’ll have a cure by the end of the week if I know her. She’s brilliant.”

Newt: "Because if you get taken away from me by scientists, I'll be the one who's lost. Not like I'm much use on my own, and I can't ask Annie to risk her life for us."

Thomas: “I’m not gonna die Newt.  Literally. She’ll take maybe a pint of blood, I’ll have some candy, and she’ll run some tests on what she takes.  It’s the easiest thing.”  Thomas was pleading now, looking at him seriously. “I’m not even risking my life.

Newt: "You say that, but we trusted Teresa and look where that got us. Minho got taken." Newt was not going to give in easily. Not when it came to protecting him.

Thomas: “That was different Newt! WCKD isn’t here. Teresa was a coward, Caitlin isn’t.  Look at me Newt.”  He sighed, but his mind was set. It was stupid to look for a different answer when he was the answer. “No matter what you think of it, I’m going to Caitlin. Before 12 hours have passed I’ll have talked to Caitlin and we’ll be working on this Newt.  And nothing bad is gonna happen.”

Newt: "We don't know that WCKD isn't here! Or that it's not someone worse than WCKD." Newt sighed and started to pull away. "Can you give me one day? Just one more day for me to look after you for once."

Thomas: “We do Newt. If WCKD was here we’d already be in labs.” Thomas sighed, not liking that Newt was pulling back. “No Newt. You don’t need to look after me, not in this. There’s no danger here for me. And you look after me all the time.  Let me look after you.”

Newt: "It could be some kind of test. Another trick. It wouldn't be the first time." Newt shook his head. "Other than follow you around like a puppy, what have I actually done, Tommy? You're always trying to save everyone."

Thomas: “It’s not. Not this time.  Ava’s dead, no one is in charge. It’s not.” Thomas was sure this wasn’t WCKD, though he knew Newt would likely need time. “You kept us alive! Made sure we slept, or were bloody taking care of us when we weren’t caring for ourselves. And trying is the word there Newt. It’s not like I was actually saving anyone.  I can save you! This already happened once Newt.  Please, let me do it right this time.”

Newt: "Might not be WCKD testing us. Someone brought me back from the dead, Tommy. I don't know why. But what if they did it to lure you?" It wasn't his best thinking, but it was harder every day to think.  "I sucked at it, Tommy. Only did it because I didn't want anyone else to try kill themselves like I did."

Thomas: “They already lured me in Newt! There’s no point in waiting to get me now. This isnt..no.” Thomas shook his head. “No you didn’t. I would’ve died way before you if you hadn’t been watching out.”

Newt: The idea Thomas could be in danger made him growl. "They're not going to get you." He would never let that happen, not while he was alive. "You would have lived, Tommy. You don't need me."

Thomas: “No ones coming to get me Newt. No one.” Thomas reaches out, taking his hands. “Have you not listened to a word I said? I’m a wreck without you. I collapse in on myself till there’s nothing left but fucking misery without you. I need you Newt, more than I can even say.”

Newt: Newt still felt shaky with anger and didn't want to hurt Thomas, pulling his hands away. "You don't listen to anything I say. You're not going to lose me. But you should know you're more important than I am."

Thomas: Thomas stood, looking at the other. “I’m listening Newt.  And you’re very, very wrong. I’m not more important. Newt. That’s stupid.”

Newt: "Of course you are." Newt threw his hands up in the air. "I'm in love with you, you're more important than anything to me. How don't you get that?"

Thomas: “How don’t you get that I’m in love with you and you’re the more important one to me?!”  Thomas was frustrated and angry, and scared. He hated being scared again, but he was terrified he was going to lose Newt all over again.

Newt: "I know you think that, but you're wrong!" Newt didn't mean to shout. It was just hard to control his emotions.

Thomas: “Wrong about what.” Thomas closed the space between them, holding the other’s face gently in his hands. “I love you Newt.  And you love me. Of course we are going to be essential to the other.”

Newt: "About me. I'm just a mess. Even if I wasn't dying, you'd deserve better."

Thomas: “No I don’t you idiot. You’re perfect.  You’re the one who deserves better than the mess I am.” He stayed close, rubbing Newt’s cheek with his thumb. “I love you more than anything Newt. You’re strong, and you care so much.  I’m a fucking mess too, but you still love me.”

Newt: "I'm not good enough, Tommy. I'm also not giving you up, because I don't want to. I want to be selfish and keep you to myself." Newt closed his eyes, trying to keep his emotions steady, but his heart was racing. "I'll always love you. Don't think I can stop. Death didn't stop me."

Thomas: “You’re more than good enough Newt. And I wouldn’t let you anyways.  I wouldn’t ever want you to give me up. I am in love with you Newt, and I think you’re perfect.”

Newt: Newt hummed, both happy Tommy was saying it but frustrated with the overall conversation. "You're a bloody idiot, Tommy. But you're my idiot."

Thomas: “That I am. And I’ll always be yours.” Thomas stayed where he was, desperate to touch him for as long as Newt would let him. “I love you so much Newt.  More than anything.”

Newt: Carefully, Newt wrapped his arms around him, not wanting to ever lose him. "I love you more than anything too, Tommy." He had for a long time, it wasn't something he ever questioned

Thomas: “And if I have to keep telling you every day, for the rest of our lives, that you are important and loved I will.”  Thomas stayed close, needing Newt to know how important he was.  “You’re an amazing man. And of us you should’ve known that all along. I’m sorry we didn’t show that to you enough. You’re necessary, and brave, and so many other things.”

Newt: "I'll believe all that when you believe you're not to blame for what happened to me or anyone else." He didn't realise his arms were tight again, just holding onto to Thomas. "I'm not. But it's fine, Tommy. Bigger things to worry about than me."

Thomas: “Everyone else...maybe. But you...” he shook his head a little, comfortable in the others grip and ignoring the twinges of his ribs. “I’ve felt that knife go into your chest and seen the life leave your eyes too many times in my nightmares to think it was anything but me.”  Thomas held his eyes. “Nothing in this world is more important to me than you.”

Newt: Newt remembered it so clearly, shuddering slightly. "It wasn't you. I made my choice, and I wanted to die. I didn't want to live like that. It was a better reason to kill myself, that's all." He kissed Thomas, trying to keep it light. "Nothing in any world is more important than you, shank. You... meeting you, it gave me something to hold onto."

Thomas: “I couldn’t stop you. I should’ve stopped you. And that’s...” he hummed, knowing he’d just upset Newt if he had another breakdown. He was terrified of losing him, but that was his struggle. Thomas was determined not to burden Newt anymore than he already had.  “Same for you. Though at least you having your Annabeth and me having Caitlin and Frost we have family to worry over too.”

Newt: "You couldn't stop me. I had to do it, or I'd kill you and be as good as dead anyway. You wouldn't have been able to save anyone." What he'd been turning into was a fate worse than death. "Yeah, but my sister doesn't need me to take care of her. She's literally the daughter of a goddess, she could kick anyone's arse."

Newt: “I could’ve. You were still in there, enough to save me, and i could’ve fought better. Disarmed you, took the knife in the shoulder, something.”  He sighed before lifting an eyebrow. “Maybe so, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t care about you and doesn’t want you around.”

Newt: "There wasn't much of me left. I could feel myself dying faster than my body was. I'd have been completely gone within the hour, I could feel it." He'd been trapped inside himself, like he was now, and the thought of going through that again terrified him. "Yeah, that's why she's trying to help me. And I kinda like beating her cousin up whenever I get too angry."

Thomas: “It would’ve been enough time.”  He could’ve gotten him back to WCKD fast enough, and even with Jansen being a dick he was sure Teresa would’ve helped.  “People care about you Newt. You’ve more to live for than me.”

Newt: "Or I could have turned and killed you. I wanted to, Tommy. I wanted to hurt you, that's why I had to kill myself." He pulled Thomas as close as he could, shuddering. "I have you and my sister. That's all. I pick fights with everyone else, can't help it."

Thomas: “I know. I could see it in your eyes. That doesn’t change anything for me Newt.” Thomas hugged him back tight; his face pressed into the crook of Newt’s neck.  “Picking fights is alright, long as your smart. It’ll be better. We have each other now.”

Newt: "It changed everything. Once I wanted to hurt you, I knew I was better off dead." He cared more about Tommy than anyone. "I'm not smart about it, Tommy. I'm not bad in a fight, but each time, it feels like... I'm losing myself again. Like when I shoved you."

Thomas: Thomas sighed, knowing he couldn’t win with that logic. He also knew it put him in danger of making the same choice, determined not to lose Newt again.  “It won’t happen again Newt.”

Newt: Newt still felt sick with the guilt over knowing he wouldn't have told him. "I know you won't let it. I just.... I don't remember what it's like, not being sick."

Thomas: It was tearing Thomas apart, listening to Newt talk like this and knowing he could leave, right then, and have a cure for him in days. But he didn’t want to leave Newt just yet, knowing Newt would be upset again when he did. “You’ll be okay soon Newt.  It’s not fair, being brought here sick again. But you’ll be alright soon.”

Newt: He knew he should probably just shut up if he didn't want Tommy to leave right away, but it was hard to find the right words. "Can't believe I can't even die right, I'm that pathetic."

Thomas: Thomas breath caught, so deeply upset by that statement that he hugged Newt tighter, determined not to cry in front of him right now.  “You’re not pathetic. Stop being so down on yourself please.”

Newt: Newt tried to focus on taking a few deep and slow breaths, not wanting to upset Tommy more. "Sorry. Hard sometimes." When he wasn't sick, he had been able to work through the depression that led to him trying to kill himself, but now it was harder. "Once I'm better, this will be better."

Thomas: Thomas loosened his grip, not wanting to suffocate the other, and quickly shoved his emotions back down. He needed to focus. Newt was in trouble, he needed to fix it. Pulling back, he met his eyes before kissing him quickly, still aware of his lip. “Give me a couple days. You’ll be good.”

Newt: "We're a right pair of messes, aren't we?" Newt sighed, not wanting Thomas to pull back. He had imagined them saying they loved each other, but this way just seemed like both of them had so much baggage. "Just don't do anything stupid without me."

Thomas: “We are. But I don’t expect we can do much about that now.” Thomas smiled softly at him, gently rubbing his arm. “I love you anyways.  But nothing stupid. Easily one of the smartest choices I’ll ever make, okay?”

Newt: Newt returned the soft smile. "At least we're messes together. We'll remind each other of the good parts of us." Even if neither of them would ever believe it. "Thank you. You're why I'm trying to get better, so I need you in one piece."

Thomas: Thomas rested his forehead on Newts, wanting to enjoy the closeness a moment more before bending to pick up his shirt, his jaw flexing slightly the only sign he was hurt. “Sounds perfect to me.  And one of these days you might even believe me.     But you’re going to get better, without a doubt.”  Pulling his shirt on, he took Newt’s hand and met his eyes. “Trust me?”

Newt: "You better not be putting that shirt on so you can leave. You're hurt and I will sit on top of you to make you stay." It wasn't much of a threat, since even though he was tall, Newt was ridiculously skinny. "You know I trust you, that's never in question."

Thomas: “Newt.” He sighed, continuing to hold his gaze. “You’re dying. And every minute that passes is a risk of cutting it too close, or you making the same choice you did last time and I can’t stop it, again. The sooner I get this started the sooner a cure is in your hands.” Thomas squeezed his hand. “Then trust me now.  I won’t lose you again.”

Newt: "We're not having this argument again. Lie down, damn it. I promise I won't off myself." He tried to push Thomas towards the bed as carefully as he could, not wanting to hurt him.

Thomas: “Newt.” He held his hands in his own, standing still and looking at him. “I’m fine. They’re only bruises. And tonight maybe not. But I can’t wait.  Even just a night.”

Newt: "Tommy, I'm not letting you leave." His jaw was set in a stubborn glare. "I mean it. You're staying with me tonight. Please."

Thomas: Thomas let out a shaky sigh, but forced the fear and his own worry down. How he felt didn’t matter, and Newt was asking. “Alright. I’ll stay with you tonight.”

Newt: Relieved, Newt hugged Thomas. "Thank you." He would have to slip out once Tommy was asleep, try find a way to get help that didn't involve Tommy sacrificing himself.

Thomas: Thomas hugged him back, rubbing his back. “I’m gone in the morning though, alright? I’ll stay with you but then as soon as the sun rises I won’t stay a minute longer.”

Newt: Newt hummed, sort of agreeing. He didn't plan to be there in the morning. "You're so bloody irritating." It was said lightly, so that Tommy knew he didn't mean it. "Come on, I'm exhausted."

Thomas: “You are too.” He smiled softly before nodding at the bed. “Okay.  I’ll likely be up for a bit longer so feel free to lay down.” He didn’t sleep often, tired a good portion of the time but he didn’t mind it really.

Newt: "I don't trust you right now. You better lie down with me." He tugged on Tommy's hand, trying to pull him over to the bed.

Thomas: Thomas sighed, letting Newt tug him to the bed and into it with him. “I wouldn’t run off on you Newt, not after I said I wouldn’t.”

Newt: He laid down and pulled Tommy close. "You'd lie to me to save me, and we both know it. And I'll feel a lot better about all this if I know you've gotten some sleep."

Thomas: "With this, there's no room for lying."  Thomas looked at him, his expression serious.  He was still hurt the other didn't tell him, but wasn't about to throw that at the other.  "I don't really sleep much Newt.  But I'll stay here with you."

Newt: Newt winced, he knew lying had hurt Thomas. "I was hoping I'd find a cure before I had to tell you, then it wouldn't have mattered." Running a hand down his arm, he hoped to help him relax. "I don't usually sleep much either, but I feel better with you around."

Thomas: "I told you when we met again that I was the cure.  I've mentioned it on more than one occasion. When we had time.  Even if you had found a cure, I'd still have gone to Caitlin to see if she could make something.  Because I'm the only cure I'm certain of Newt.  You shouldn't have to worry about this ever again."  He was tensed, worried and upset about what could be, but the other's soft touch was helping ease him a bit. "You should rest.  Maybe sleeping somewhere that isn't a concrete floor will help."

Newt: "If I'd gotten cured, you would never had to know and you'd be safe." He could easily understand Tommy's perspective, he'd feel exactly the same if the situation was reversed. But he was still stubborn. "But you know now and I'll be fine and we'll be fine." He didn't stop touching Tommy, trying to help him relax. Sneaking out would be impossible if he didn't sleep, and sure, Newt felt bad that he was kinda lying again, but he would let Thomas yell at him once they were both fine. "I don't care where I sleep as long as I'm with you."

Thomas: “You never would’ve told me.” His jaw flexed with the admission, closing his eyes. His feelings didn’t matter, Newt was who was important. He didn’t say anything, falling silent and just focusing on the other’s hand on his arm.  “Then you’ll just have to sleep here then. I’ve got more blankets and such if you want...I sleep with a lot of pillows.”

Newt: "It'd only upset you and I know you already carry too much." He didn't want to be another burden for Thomas. "You shouldn't be surprised, I'm always hiding stuff. How I feel, being sick, the way I broke my leg." He was doing a terrible job at this. "I like lots of pillows and blankets. We didn't get that in the Glade, it's nice."

Thomas: Thomas didn't speak, shifting to grab a blanket off the floor and some strewn about pillows before settling back into the bed next to the other.  He loved him, but he didn't have any words for what was coming out of Newt's mouth that weren't angry, and he didn't need that right now.  "I'm the same.  Being able to be comfortable is nice, when I let myself."

Newt: He knew that Thomas was upset with him, and he wanted to fix it. He just didn't know how. "You won't be comfortable with all my awkward angles pressing into you." He joked, a little hesitant as he wrapped an arm around him. "But it's too late now."

Thomas: Thomas shifted closer. “I’d rather take your bony elbows poking me and a concrete floor forever than anywhere alone.” He meant it, though he didn’t meet Newt’s eyes for a moment before finally. “No more hiding things from each other, okay?”

Newt: "Well, this way, we've got a comfortable bed and each other, so that's a pretty good deal to me." Tommy's words made him sigh, nodding once. "Alright. So I make it clear, when I wake up, I'm still going to try find a cure on my own. I won't stop you though, if you really think your sister can help. But this way, we're doubling my chances. And if something happens to you, I'll be able to rescue you."

Thomas: Thomas knew he wasn’t going to do better, even though he thought it ridiculously stupid. “There’s nothing to save me from Newt. But fine.”  He took his hand, wanting to be close and linked with the other as much as he could.

Newt: Newt knew it was probably irrational, but arguing with his brain never really worked these days. "I really hope you're right, Tommy." He squeezed his hand.

Thomas: “I know I’m right.” He nodded solemnly before letting out a sigh, shifting to lay on his back.  He didn’t know what to say, or do even, but he had to believe they could be alright.  “I love you Newt. Even if you’re a shank sometimes.”

Newt: Feeling bad for upsetting him, Newt didn't know how to fix this. "I love you too, Tommy. I'm sorry, okay?" It was like he was always fighting his own brain these days.

Thomas: He felt like he was what was holding Newt back now, Newt's secrets and worrying about everyone's safety but his own putting his life now at risk, and all to spare Thomas' feelings or worries.  "I know.   And it's....it'll be okay."

Newt: Newt felt a little sick, interpreting Tommy's words to mean they weren't okay right now. "I'll make it up to you when I'm better. Whatever you want, yeah?"

Thomas: Thomas looked over at him, studying Newt a moment.  "You don't need to make anything up to me Newt.  You did what you felt you had to.  I'm just...troubled by what you felt you could and couldn't say."

Newt: "I knew it'd upset you. I don't like to be a burden to anyone, and especially not you." He sighed, rolling onto his side to get more comfortable. "It's easier to pretend I'm okay if you think I am."

Thomas: "That's not...we can't keep doing this Newt.  Keeping our lives secret from each other out of concern for each other's feelings.  It just makes it easier to shock the other with bad news when we can't keep it hidden.  Pretending doesn't help.  You don't have to be okay Newt.  Rarely are we ever.  And I still am into you. So no concern there."  He smiled a little, trying to lighten the mood.

Newt: He knew Thomas had a point. It hadn't been fun to walk in and see him covered in bruises, after all. "I'll try, I promise. I don't think I have anything else I'm keeping from you. Not on purpose." But it didn't erase the guilt he still felt.

Thomas: "I'll do the same Newt.  Really."   He met his eyes, though still hiding how he was fully feeling from the other.  Newt did not need his fear, or guilt right now.  Instead he just lifted their entwined fingers to his lips and kissed them.  "Get some rest Newt."

Newt: "You're... too bloody good, Tommy." It was softly spoken, Newt closing his eyes after the kiss to his fingers. "I'm so lucky."

Thomas: Carefully shifting to his side, Thomas watched the other's face as he closed his eyes, reaching forward to run his fingers gently through Newt's hair.  "Same here.  You're the greatest man I've ever known Newt."

Newt: A soft sigh slipped from his lips as Tommy played with his hair, the feeling soothing. "I love you." He didn't want to disagree again, not when it was hard to stay awake.

Thomas: “Love you too.” He continued to play with the other’s hair, wanting him to relax. He wasn’t sure if he’d sleep himself, but he wanted Newt to at least have some rest.

Newt: Newt hadn't thought he'd fall asleep, but he did, curling closer into Tommy's side like he couldn't get close enough.

Thomas: Thomas didn't move to leave once he was asleep, just enjoying the quiet moment while he could.  He looked so peaceful and happy, and he didn't want that to end.  Thomas did end up falling asleep not too much later, slumped in the pillows by Newt's head, their hands still entwined.

Newt: When he woke, Newt felt a little dazed, pulling Thomas closer. That was right, they were together, it was real. And he'd upset him. Hoping to make up for it, Newt ran his hand along his arm. He would wait for him to wake, instead of slipping off. Thomas: Thomas hummed at the touch on his arm, waking up slowly at the touch.  He was relieved to see Newt had stayed, honestly expecting he would've woken up alone.  "Hey..."

Newt: "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you." He whispered, leaning over to kiss his cheek. "Get some more sleep."

Thomas: Thomas sighed, admittedly tired and still half-asleep.  "I sleep light."  He yawned a little, "What about you? You should be sleeping."

Newt: "I don't sleep much anymore." It was like his body burned through everything too fast. His energy never lasted long, but nor did he sleep much.

Thomas: That was enough to bring reality crashing back into Thomas mind, shifting now to get up.  He needed to get to Caitlin. “Maybe resting will help?”

Mac: He bit back a sigh when Tommy moved, sitting up as well. "I'm fine, Tommy. And I know what you're doing." He was going to leave, which meant Newt was getting desperate. He couldn't let someone take Tommy, not when he was getting sicker every day.

Thomas: Thomas turned to look at him, cocking his head a little. “I told you I’d go in the morning Newt.”   He didn’t understand the other’s fear, but suspected it was because of the Flare agitating his thoughts.

Newt: "Yeah, and you're trying to get me to stay. But I told you I was going in the morning too." He sat up, running his fingers through his messy hair.

Thomas: “I know.  I really wish you wouldn’t though.” He sighed, knowing he was gonna have to be quick to get Caitlin working and have an update for Newt so he’d stop worrying.

Newt: "And I wish you wouldn't." He'd have to be fast, the longer it took, the harder it would be to protect Thomas. "It's just the problem when we love each other more than ourselves."

Thomas: Thomas sighed, shifting to sit cross legged in front of Newt. “You wont believe me, will you? That I’ll be safe.”

Newt: Thomas was someone Newt would always trust. But Newt also couldn't convince himself this was going to be fine. "No. I want to, but I can't. I can't lose you."

Thomas: Thomas sighed, his jaw flexing slightly but he just gave Newt a tired smile.  "I trust Caitlin just as much as I trust you Newt.  Nothing will happen.  Though I know that won't help."  Leaning forward he kissed Newt deeply, wanting to at least have this before he left.

Newt: He couldn't help the look of offence at words but he didn't complain. "When it's all over, you can tell me you told me so." He kissed him back eagerly, pulling him closer.

Thomas: Thomas shifted closer to the other, not wanting to break away just yet.  He knew he'd see him again, this wasn't a final kiss or anything, but he needed Newt to know he'd be alright.  Thomas was sure of that much.  This time he could save him.  He didn't break away till he needed to breathe, resting his forehead on Newt's.  "I love you. Once this is done we'll...talk about this, okay?"  He gestured between them, giving him a soft smile.

Newt: His fingers curled into Tommy's shirt, wanting to keep him close. As long as they were together, Newt could keep him safe. "I love you too." It made him a little nervous, the idea of talking and something going wrong. "Yeah, we'll talk. Hopefully I won't say anything else you don't like."

Thomas: “Come with me?”  He figured he’d try, though he expected Newt had other ideas.  “I’m sure I will say stuff you don’t lik, but that’s just how life goes.” He smiled softly, kissing him one last time before shifting back to leave. “Morning’s here.  I’ll see you soon, okay? It’ll only take a couple hours for me to talk to her and stuff, so I can be back quick.”

Newt "I can't, Tommy." He sighed, reluctantly letting go once Thomas kissed him again. "I'll come back as soon as I've found something. I'm not going to give up, I promise. You're not losing me." He got up, trailing his fingers over Tommy's arm for a second. "If I can't find anything, I hope your sister really does help."

Thomas: “I figured not, but I’ll still ask. I’ll find you in a few hours alright? It’ll all be figured out and you’ll be able to see I’m not being tortured or something.” He smiled a little, taking Newts hand and squeezing it before he moved to the door. “Trust me. Even if it’s just this once.” Newt: "Yeah, you're right. It'll all be fine when we see each other again." He still felt so terrified watching Tommy walk out, half tempted to drag him back and just refuse to leave the room. "Just go before my stupid brain decides I won't let you."

Thomas: Thomas gave him another smile before slipping out, making it till he was out of earshot before he was off at a run. He didn’t want to give Newt too much time, knowing Caitlin could do it.

[moirai-au]

“You look sad” Marvin and Jameson? If that works for you?

Timeline: early in Arc 6 - Aftermath, a few days after they defeat the Entity.

Taglist: @immabethehero @bupine​ @tabbynerdicat @i-maybe-exist @its-ethan-bro @sandinthetardis @honestlyitsjustkenna 

His fists clenched and unclenched as he stared ahead, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. The orchids in front of him swayed back and forth slowly, gently, a barely-visible green glow surrounding the damaged stems. “C’mon,” he hissed between clenched teeth, “C’mon, just work already-”

A stab of pain in between his eyes made him gasp, and he lost his grip; the glow faded and  the flowers dropped back into their sorry state. He grabbed the edges of his work table to support himself, clenching his jaw and hiding his face in his free hand; he could feel the uneven skin under his palm.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. But most of all, he wanted his mask.

“Hey.”

Mars yelped and turned around, clutching his chest where he could feel his heart beating frantically. “Jesus, Aster! I told you to stop sneaking up on me like that.”

The demon smirked, showing off his razor-sharp teeth. “Not in a million years. You’re too fun to play with, Scars.”

The young man rolled his eyes, feeling particularly aware of the chilly breeze against his face. “Back to nicknames I see. What, scared to admit you care? Again?”

Aster ignored him, walking around him to poke at the orchids. “The fuck are you doing here anyway? Doc would be pissed if he found out you were out of bed.”

Mars pursed his lips, fiddling with the fabric of his pyjama bottoms. “I’m fine. Just needed some fresh air. I’ve done nothing but sleep while I was stuck in that fucking tank, if I stayed still another minute I would’ve gone insane.”

The fiend hummed. “You should try it sometimes. Sane is boring.”

“What do you want?” Mars sighed, grabbing the plant to put it back in its proper place; the stems were just as ruined as before, the petals dull and drooping. “Other than ruin my day even more, that is.”

“I don’t want shit. He does.”

Mars followed Aster’s gaze; at the entrance of the greenhouse stood a sheepish-looking Charlie, his hand raised in a small wave. Mars blinked, waving back absentmindedly. “Um, hi? Sorry, did you need something?”

The dapper man shook his head, stepping inside the glass house to walk to the mage at a leisurely pace.

“‘kay Dapper, be quick about it,” Aster growled, “I have a nap to get back to.”

“Wait- Jem, you actually found him?”

It was common knowledge at this point; whenever Aster slept -which wasn’t that often- he disappeared from the surface of the Earth. Even Mars, who’d been living in the mansion all his life, who’d explored every nook and cranny of it a hundred times over, could never find where the demon hid to rest.

Well- except for that one time, not long after he got his human body. And that other time, just a week ago. But those were special circumstances.

“Yeah,” Aster relented, glaring at the bowtie-wearing man who only smiled innocently at him. “I don’t know how that weirdo did it either. Said he wanted to talk to you.”

Charlie nodded, his hands signing a slow and hesitant yes. “…Sure,” Mars shrugged. “What about?”

Aster propped his back against a pillar, closing his eyes in concentration. Since the whole… thing had went down the week before, the time traveller had been taken in by their strange little group, having nowhere else to go. Cecil had told them his vocal chords had been destroyed when that demon had slit his throat -a gruesome sight none of them wanted to remember- Aster had been playing translator, using his ability to pick up on the thoughts the time traveller projected. Until the mute was more comfortable with sign language at least.

Mars hadn’t really had the chance to interact with him much, being stuck in a feverish haze the whole time, yet he already knew all there was to know about him.

“I’m worried.” Aster started. His voice was even, calm, a far cry from his usually… intense inflexion. Mars tried to focus on Charles, the sheer bizarrerie of the situation not helping in the slightest.

The man’s warm hazel eyes peered right at him as the demon spoke for him, his hands signing clumsily every few words. “I’m worried. About you.”

Mars stared, dumbfounded. The man who’d been ripped away from his time, who had lost everything and everyone he’d ever known, who’d been captured, locked away, hurt and used as a human puppet for almost a year… was worried about him.

He’d laugh if he didn’t feel like such a useless husk at the moment.

Charlie gestured some more. “You look sad.” Aster translated, arms crossed and eyes still closed. The former mage raised an eyebrow. “What? I don’t. I’m fine.”

“Liar!” Aster hissed, eyes flying open to glare at him. “Stop lying. I fucking hate it when you lie, and you know it.”

Pretender. Fraud.

Charlie visibly tensed at the expletive as Mars scoffed, returning the glare. “And who’s saying that? You or him?”

“Both.” the demon retorted, uncharacteristically serious. “We know you. We’ve been in your head, remember?”

Mars winced, a mess of fractured memories coming to the forefront of his mind.

The blank void. The Architect beckoning him, coercing him to let go, to give up. The despair.

Then voices, first distant and muted, then all-encompassing; four he knew, and one he didn’t.

The merge. All those memories that weren’t his, flooding his mind relentlessly. The feeling of being one, then six, then one.

He’d been Ollie. He’d been Cecil. He’d been Dave. He’d been Charlie, the one he hadn’t known yet. Hell, he’d even been Aster. And they’d been him in return.

Everything they were, everything they’d ever been, mashed together in a single moment, in a single mind, powerful enough to beat their foe.

“I don’t remember much,” Aster’s voice snapped him out of his recollection; he was speaking for Jem again. “But I remember enough still. I know you now, Mars, and I can tell you’re distressed.”

The mage sayed silent for a few seconds; the problem with sharing a mindspace with other people? They’d be able to call you out on your shit.

Jem was right. Back at the forest, right after it was all over, they’d all been stuck in a trance-like state, their minds still linked by a few fraying threads. They’d managed to drag themselves back to the mansion before collapsing in an exhausted pile, unable to tell where each of them started or ended, a few fleeting thoughts and feelings still coursing between them.

The connexion had been snapped for good by the time they woke up the next day, and the memories of the time they’d spent as one had been fading away ever since.

Mars signed. He resisted the urge to hide his face, knowing the futility of the gesture; there wasn’t anything about him that Jamie hadn’t seen already. “Okay, okay.” he relented, sitting on a bench next to his work table. “Fine, ya got me. I feel like shit.”

Charlie nodded. “I figured as much. Do you wish to talk about it?”

The mage snorted; it was so weird to hear such old-fashioned language coming out of Aster’s mouth. “Not really. But I know you won’t leave me alone until I do, so I guess we’re doing this.”

“Indeed we are. Because I know you’ll let it fester inside until someone gets hurt. Most likely you.”

Mars looked down at his lap. He hated how right Jem was. “You sound like Dave.”

“We do share a similar outlook on life. Now,” the time-traveller said patiently, sitting next to the mage, “Penny for your thoughts?”

***

“It just… feels like such a non-problem, you know?”

Marvs didn’t know how long he’d been venting, but once the floodgates had been open, he’d found he couldn’t stop. And Jem just sat next to him, listening to his woes in silence, only nodding from time to time to show he was paying attention. Aster had moved to lay down on the table, his head resting on an arm while the other dangled from the surface. If not for the dim green glow of his barely opened eyes, one could’ve thought he’d fallen asleep. Not that he’d actually would, not in plain sight like this.

The mage scratched at the bandages on his arm; hopefully Cecil would let him take them off for good soon. “My powers, my magic- they were the source of all my problems. I’ve lost count of how many times I wished I hadn’t been born with it. But now…”

He shook his head, fingers digging into his skin. “Now I- I feel wrong. Useless. Broken. Like I’m nothing without- fuck, I actually miss it.”

He laughed mirthlessly. “God, I can’t believe this. I sound like an entitled brat. Oh wait, I am. This is stupid, I’m stupid, you’re literally stranded in the future and I’m complaining about trivial stuff like this, I shouldn’t be upset by this-”

“Bullshit.”

Mars turned back to Charlie, gaping; the man was glaring at Aster, crossing his arms in a disapproving manner. The demon furrowed his brow, opening his eyes to peer at the other. “What? …Oh c’mon old man, it’s the same thing- hey, what’s that supposed to mean? I’m not even- Ugh!”

The fiend growled and clicked in his native tongue before shaking his head and turning to Mars. “Fine. He didn’t say bullshit. He said, and I quote, ‘that’s a pile of moonrocks’.”

Mars blinked; that one was new. “What?”

“It’s not a contest.” Jamie insisted. “How you feel is not daft or unimportant just because some other people are, according to you, worse off.”

“But… don’t you miss your time?”

Charlie looked up, a wistful expression on his face; the sky was clear today, the afternoon sun casting warm rays through the glass ceiling. “Of course I do,” he said through Aster. “My life wasn’t perfect by any means. But it was something, and it was mine.”

He frowned. His hands were tight around his pocket watch, knuckles turning white. “And this… creature took it all away. I can never go back. All for some power he coveted for his grand plan. Did you know I couldn’t even use it anymore?”

That last sentence was directed at Mars, who reeled back in surprise. “Wh- your magic?”

“Yes.”

His head was spinning. It all seemed so… final. “It’s gone? Completely? Are you sure?”

“Quite sure. I’d never noticed it existed before I learned to harness it, but I can say for certainty that this part of me is gone.”

The mustached man tilted his head. “But surely you knew this, did you not? I felt it. The strain. The snap. Like something shattering. That means you all must have felt it as well.”

Mars looked down at his feet. “I- yeah. But I didn’t think… I didn’t know…”

“Do not pity me, friend. I don’t miss it.”

“You don’t?”

“Not one bit. I lived my whole life without it, and using it proved to be my downfall. But you?”

Jamie put a hand on his shoulder. His eyes were steeled by resolve. “You’ve always been aware of this power. It’s brought you pain, a lot of it. But it was still a part of you you learned to live with, to depend on. And without it, I am willing to bet that none of us would’ve met, and that’s not a prospect I’m too fond of. So it’s not surprising that you’d feel a sense of loss. Although…”

He got up, reaching for the orchids above the work table, Mars’ slitted eyes not leaving him for a second. He came back and handed the plant to the mage, his crinkled eyes and dimples showing that he was smiling under his mustache. “Look.”

And as Mars squinted at the flowers, wondering what point the other was trying to make- he saw it.

There, partially hidden beneath the dying stems, were a few bright green buds that definitely weren’t there before.

“Have faith, Mars.” Jameson winked. “I don’t think you’ve completely lost your touch yet.”

Mars looked at Jem, at a loss for words; this was a man who’d been through things he couldn’t even fathom. Yet here he was, still standing. Smiling through it all, bright and warm like a saturated sunrise, despite the obvious grief and trauma he didn’t try to hide when he was having a bad day.

He felt something bloom in his chest. Admiration. Hope.

In this moment, the heavy cloud that hovered over his head seemed so threatening anymore. He smiled. “…Thanks Jem. You’re… pretty swell.”

The dapper fellow smiled even brighter, scratching the back of his head bashfully. Aster made a gagging sound. “Blargh, you fleshbags are gonna make me sick. Dapper, you make me say any more of that sappy shit I swear to fuck-”

Language, Charlie signed. Aster flipped him off.

The mage and the time traveller erupted into chuckles, before the latter gasped. He raised a finger in the air as if to say hold it and got up, running out of the greenhouse like the devil himself was hot on his heels.

“What’s he doing?” Mars asked Aster, puzzled at the other’s behavior.

The imp shrugged, jumping down from the table. “Hell if I know. Heard something about forgetting, and fixing. Whatever, I’m out.”

“What do you mean you’re ‘out’? How am I supposed to-”

“Look,” Aster cut him off with a sneer, “He’s said his piece, I’m done playing parrot for today. Figure it out, genius.”

And with that, he walked away and disappeared into the mansion, leaving Mars sitting awkwardly on the bench.

Thankfully he didn’t have to wait for long, because Charles walked back in not a minute later, visibly holding something. Mars shot to his feet, not believing his eyes. “Jem- Is that my-”

The dapper man beamed as he came to a stop in front of him; in his hands laid his old cat-shaped mask. In one piece.

Well, sort of- the cracks running through it were obvious, having been filled out with a slick golden substance. The thinner cracks all around the edges has been filled in the same manner, giving it an almost regal feel.

It looked beautiful.

“I-” Mars choked, grabbing the mask with reverence, “Shit, Jem, this is- how? I mean, I know how, stuff like this was your job back then- but where? When? I thought- I thought it was lost, back in the forest…”

Charlie signed, slowly. Mars squinted, trying to decipher what the other meant with his very limited knowledge of ASL. “You… found the pieces? Here? In the mansion?”

A nod.

“But how? Did one of us pick them up on the way back?”

A shrug.

“Right, fading memories, got it.”

He looked down at the mask for a few more seconds, taking it all in, before finally holding it up to his face. He fastened the white straps around his head, in fluid motions rehearsed a thousand times, and let out a trembling breath; the weight and feel of it was familiar. Comforting. He smiled down at the tinkerer.

“Thank you.” Mars smiled down at the hat-wearing man, his slitted eyes gleaming in relief and gratitude. “So much. For everything.”

And as Charlie signed what he could only guess meant you’re welcome, he decided he needed to brush up on his sign language.

[malakhai-ozera]

Discord Thread || Khai & Emily

Discord thread featuring: Malakhai Ozera & Emily Davis ( @warmvlbes​ )

Mentions: Roman @romanbeckett , Landon @davieslandon , Shea @shea-morgan​ ​

When: July 19th

Description: Khai goes over to Emily’s after wandering around buzzed.

Trigger Warnings intense feelings and SMUT!!!

❈ Ⲉⲙⲓ𝓵ⲩ ❈

Emily was dressed in just running shorts and a tank top with her black house slippers. She felt like a grandma stepping out but as long as Khai was okay, she’d be okay. Just as she said, it took her two minutes to find him, parking her car and unlocking the door. “Come on hot stuff!” She yelled out the window.

ღ 𝕂нαι ღ He was just leaning against a light post smoking a cigarette and scrolling through his phone as he pulled up. His head lifting to look as she yelled out the window. “I’m coming” he said, throwing his cig and getting into the car. “I’m sorry, I was so lost. It looks so different at night. But I almost made it.”

❈ Ⲉⲙⲓ𝓵ⲩ ❈ Emily sighed, looking at him and making sure he got in okay. “You were close. But it would have been another 5 minutes of walking.” She said, taking off back towards her apartment. “I see you were smoking. Good for me.” She bummed to herself, pulling up to her place and parking in the right spot, getting out and leading Khai to her door. “Home sweet home!”

ღ 𝕂нαι ღ “I was” he nodded. Buckling into the seat and looking over at her. “Yeah, lucky you” he grinned. Taking her hand in his. They got to her place and she moved so fast he could barely keep up. Stopping her and pushing  her against her door he gave her a grin. “Slow down” he hummed. Leaning in and kissing her passionately.

❈ Ⲉⲙⲓ𝓵ⲩ ❈ Emily was just...well okay truth was she looked like trash. Haha. She wasn’t really wanting anyone to see her in this light. Yes it was 2:30 in the morning but they were in the city that never slept. It was the only thing keeping her moving so quickly. She didn’t even realize it until Khai pushed her against the door, hearing his voice and completely melting in the kiss. The taste of nicotine on her lips, making her kiss him back with just as much passion. “I’m- im so sorry i didn’t even realize-“ she said before not even excusing herself. Instead, she connected their lips again.

ღ 𝕂нαι ღ He just shook his head as she apologized and before he could speak they were kissing again. His hand moving to her ass as he squeezed gently. “Mmm” he hummed against her lips. His other hand resting on the door beside her head as he kept it going.

❈ Ⲉⲙⲓ𝓵ⲩ ❈ Emily smiled into the kiss, humming into it as she felt him squeeze her ass and she snickered into the kiss before finally pulling away. “I’m really sorry about that. I just- i look stupid.” She admitted to him and wrapped her arms around him. “Forgive me?”’She asked with puppy dog eyes.

ღ 𝕂нαι ღ “I’ll forgive you if you keep kissing me” he grinned. Kissing her again, slow softly pecks one after the other

❈ Ⲉⲙⲓ𝓵ⲩ ❈ Emily smirked, leaning in and kissing him again. They were just outside her door and she heard her neighbor open their door, making her laugh. “Sorry.” She said to them, holding Khai still close as she used her hand to open the door, kissing him still and pulling him into her apartment.

ღ 𝕂нαι ღ He laughed as Emily apologized to her neighbor and kept kissing her. His hands traveling up her shirt as she unlocked the door. “Hurry” he hummed against her lips

❈ Ⲉⲙⲓ𝓵ⲩ ❈ “I’m trying.” She said, laughing as she got them inside, kicking her door shut and pulling her shirt up and over her head. “We really about to not make it to the bed room?” She asked him, jumping up in his arms.

ღ 𝕂нαι ღ He laughed again as she pushed the door open and he licked his lips as she removed her shirt. Keeping his hand on her waist until she was fully wrapped around him in his arms. “Nope”’he hummed against her lips as he kissed her again. Carrying her until her back was pushed against the wall. “I want you now”

Emily She never had to do anything and she loved it. She literally looked so rough and Khai still wanted her. She connected their lips again, staying wrapped around him as she started to pull at his shirt, nibbling at his bottom lip.

ღ 𝕂нαι ღ He broke the kiss only long enough to remove his shirt and then reached between them to undo his pants. A soft hum passing his lips as he kissed her again. “How bad do you want me?” He asked with a low sultry voice

Emily “how bad do I want you?” She asked him, raising her brow as she tried to pull her shorts down but they only reached mid thigh. “Fuck...” she paused to look at him. “Finger me and you’ll find out.” She said aggressively, a chuckle passing her lips as she smirked .

ღ 𝕂нαι ღ Of course his body was in the way of getting her shorts off.  But that was okay, because he fully obeyed her request. His fingers trailing over her folds as he felt her and then pushed his fingers deep into her. Fingering her slow as his thumb rolled around her clit. His lips moving to bite at her jaw

Emily Emily tried to balance herself, her shorts literally sitting mid thigh as she was wrapped around Khai, moaning as his fingers pushed into her. “Oh fuck!” She called out, arching her back as she relaxed to his touch. “je t'aime et tout de toi.” She smirked, biting her lip as she pulled on his hair.

ღ 𝕂нαι ღ He was kissing and biting at the soft skin of her neck as he continued to finger her. His strokes pushing faster and deeper as she spoke. “What?” he chuckled. “آپ کو وہ بچہ پسند ہے؟” he moaned

❈ Ⲉⲙⲓ𝓵ⲩ ❈ “Baby...” she moaned out as his strokes were deeper and faster. “I’m gonna cum...fuck.” She couldn’t even move her legs. That was the worst and best part of it all. It felt so good to her, she whined. “I- I said...” she couldn’t even get it out, cumming right into his hand, trying to catch her breath. “I said I love you and everything about you. But what...what did you say?”

ღ 𝕂нαι ღ Hearing her words he moved his hand faster, pushing harder and deeper as he twitched his fingers inside of her. His thumb pressing firm to her clit as he worked on making her cum hard. “‘Mmm I love you too” he moaned softly after she came in his hand. Kissing her lips as he slowed his movements but kept going. “I asked if you liked it baby” he said softly against her lips. Kissing her slow as he kept fingering her.

❈ Ⲉⲙⲓ𝓵ⲩ ❈ Emily was not able to really keep still, her eyes of desperation as she was practically trapped against the door and him with her shorts holding her legs captive. “Take then off.” She whined, her nails digging into his shoulders as he continued to finger her. “I like it but...i wanna feel you closer.” She whined, rolling her hips against his fingers as she kissed his lips again.

ღ 𝕂нαι ღ She was so sexy, and the fact she couldn’t move. It really turned him on. He shook his head no and hissed as her nails dug into his skin. “I’m gonna drive you crazy.” He said with a low tone. His fingers picking up pace again as they continued to kiss. “You like it... I’m right here” he moaned against her mouth. His tongue licking against the roof of her mouth as he twitched his fingers inside her again. “میرے لئے بچے آو”

❈ Ⲉⲙⲓ𝓵ⲩ ❈ Emily groaned, not really hating it but this did restrict her from feeling him against her, making her body quiver once more. “Fuck!” She hissed again, kissing his lips eagerly as she used her teeth to pull at his lips. “What did you say?” She asked him, throwing her head back again as her legs started to tremble again, feeling herself about to release again.

ღ 𝕂нαι ღ He was loving the way she bit at his lips. Moaning against her mouth as he kept going more and more. “I said cum for me baby” he growled. His lips moving to her chest as he kissed up her neck and bit against her jawline. “Fuck you’re so wet” he moaned. Pulling his fingers from her and turned her around to lean her over the couch. He slapped her ass as he pushed his pants down and lined himself up with her. His hands moving to hold her arms behind her back as he pushed into her. “میں تمہیں اتنی مشکل سے بھاڑ میں جا رہا ہوں”

❈ Ⲉⲙⲓ𝓵ⲩ ❈ Emily was so spent by Khai, it was not even funny. They literally were having some very eager sex. The cravings were so hard, making Emily easily cum into Khai’s hand right on command. Finally, he pulled her off the door but they only made it to the couch, her knees still parted as far as her shorts would let her. As soon as his hand made contact with her ass, an evil laugh emerged from her. “Fuck me daddy!” She groaned, lulling her head back into him as he slammed into her. “Ohhhh my fucking god you feel so good.” She groaned, breathlessly. “Please daddy. Tell me what you said.”

ღ 𝕂нαι ღ He was so fucking hard for her his cock practically twitched inside of her. His body slamming into hers over and over. His wrapped his arms around her as she lulled back against him and he grabbed her breast. Squeezing and pinching at her nipples as he continued to bite at her neck. “Fuck baby” he growled against her skin. His body leaning back slightly for a deeper angle. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’re gonna squirt all over” he moaned. Pushing her forward again as he aggressively rammed into her round after round.

❈ Ⲉⲙⲓ𝓵ⲩ ❈ “Holy shit, Khai!” She moaned out, gripping at the back of his hair as he slammed into her over and over again. Fuck, he was so sexy and the way he spoke to her, he knew he owned her body. Her hands followed his, feeling him touch all over her breast, which made her reach down, rubbing at her own clit. She knew he would punish her for this. She wanted it. As she hit the couch, her hands gripped the back, grunting as he pushed into her, feeling herself about to cum again. “Fuck, right there baby. Don’t you fucking stop! FUCK!”

ღ 𝕂нαι ღ This was probably the hardest he had ever fucked her. But he wanted her to know how intense he could get. She needed to know! She reached down to touch herself and of course he slapped her ass again. This time much harder. “Don’t fucking do that” he growled. She was already sensitive from cumming twice so he knew it was a struggle for her to not cum yet. He watched her grip the couch and he reached down to wrap his hand tightly around her neck. Cutting her air off completely as he squeezed her neck. “You gonna cum baby” he growled. His hips thrusting into her as he started to bottom out on her

❈ Ⲉⲙⲓ𝓵ⲩ ❈ “Ah!” She yelped, loving the sting of how hard he slapped her ass. He was rough. Very rough. But she was so turned on and craved him That much more. She wanted him to keep doing that so she moved to touch herself again but it was cut short. He soon was gripping at her neck, causing her eyes to roll into the back of her head as her body started shaking and she squirt right on him, gasping for air. The feeling was exhilarating but she fucking loved it, her body convulsing as he fucked her. “God I fucking love you so fucking much daddy!”

ღ 𝕂нαι ღ The way he body shook and convulsed against him caused his own cum to shoot out of him. Growling through his gritted teeth as he pushed all the way into her and let his cock twitch out every last drop. He let go of her neck and leaned against her back. Kissing the back of her shoulder softly. “Are you okay!” he asked with a satisfied smile. Kissing her shoulder again before breathing out against her skin. “I love you too baby girl”

❈ Ⲉⲙⲓ𝓵ⲩ ❈ “Am I okay?” She asked breathlessly, her body starting to relax as she felt his kisses against her skin. “I think...that was the best sex...we’ve had.” She said to him, her head still hang into her crossed arms on the back of the sofa, then turning her face to kiss him. “I’m fine baby. Thank you for checking.”

ღ 𝕂нαι ღ He wrapped his arms around her as he kissed her back and lifted her from the couch. Pulling out of her to turn her around and kiss her again. His tongue slowly caressing hers a he hummed softly. “I’m glad you think so. I love fucking you” he moaned.

❈ Ⲉⲙⲓ𝓵ⲩ ❈ She winced as he pullled out of her but let him turn her around, leaning in to kiss him back, humming with him. “I love when you fuck me.” She said back to him, kissing him soundly again as she let her tongue slide into his mouth before she pulled away. “That will at least tithe me over until you get back which is....when?” She asked him.

ღ 𝕂нαι ღ He closed his eyes melting into her kiss until he was pulling away and his forehead pressed to hers. “I’ll be back tomorrow night I do believe. But I have dinner plans after. So I guess Tuesday”’he said softly. His hands trailing up her sides as he leaned in to kiss her again. “God, you’re so intoxicating”’he hummed. Picking her up and setting her on the back of the couch as he pushed his body between her legs

❈ Ⲉⲙⲓ𝓵ⲩ ❈ “Okay. Not so bad after all.” She said to him, not asking any further questions. Trust. That was what this was all about. And she felt she was off to a good start hoping this made Khai happy. “I want a date.” She told him. “Like ice skating!” She smiled, moving up to the back of the couch, cupping his face as she continued kissing him. “Mmmm your lips today....I can taste the nicotine.”(edited)

ღ 𝕂нαι ღ “Not so bad” he repeated softly. Kissing her again. “Okay, we can do that”’he nodded. His hands moving up to push her hair back as he looked down at her. He knew she was being so strong right now, and honestly? It was a real turn on. Of course he knew he shouldn’t be making dinner plans or kissing other people. But he had to get any thoughts of anyone else out of his head. He had to! Maybe now wasn’t a good time to tell her about Shea, but he did promise he would tell her if he kissed or hooked up with anyone. “You like it?”’he asked humming against her lips. “I could use another right about now” he smiled

❈ Ⲉⲙⲓ𝓵ⲩ ❈ “Can i ask who the dinner plans are with?” He owed her That much. She really needed him to be honest with her. She didn’t like this whole taking a few steps back after she had just got him. But this was part of proving to her if he really wanted to be with her. “I do like it.” She told him. “I have an ash tray in my bed room if you want to use it.”

ღ 𝕂нαι ღ He nodded his head and pulled back to kiss her forehead. “Okay, hold on. Imma grab it” he said. Pulling up his pants and going to grab the ashtray and his cigarettes before coming back. He pulled a Marlboro black from its pack and placed it between his lips before lighting it up and sitting on the couch. “Come here baby” he said, reaching for her as he took a drag. Letting the smoke exhale he looked into her eyes. “I’m having dinner with Roman. But it is not a date.”

❈ Ⲉⲙⲓ𝓵ⲩ ❈ She fluttered her eyes shut as he kissed her head, waiting patiently for him to come back as she pulled her shorts off and just pulled up her underwear and threw her shirt back on. As he came back, she listened, leaning into him and then looked at him. “Okay. Anything else you need to tell me?” She said to him, giving him the opportunity to be honest. “Khai if you hook up with him....I’ll never forgive you.”

ღ 𝕂нαι ღ He continued to smoke on his cigarette and leaned back into the couch. Placing the ashtray on his thigh as he looked over at her. “Yeah” he nodded. Taking another drag to calm his nerves as his other hand rested on her leg. “I kissed Shea” he said softly. Ashing his cigarette before taking another long drag. “Hooked up with him?” he said as he breathed out the smoke. “When would I have even had a chance?” he asked. A little surprised she said she would never forgive him.

❈ Ⲉⲙⲓ𝓵ⲩ ❈ “I don’t know Khai. He’s the guy you’re still in love with.” She shrugged. “I know you want me to trust you so at this rate, I’m putting my trust in not just you, but Roman too.” She raised her brows and then pushed her face into her hands. Kissing shea? Really? “Khai...” she said, her leg shaking as she tried to think. “No comment.” She said shaking her head because if she said anymore, it would turn into an argument and that’s the last thing she wanted. But it hurt. He did exactly what she was afraid he’d do.

ღ 𝕂нαι ღ “I’m always gonna love him, Emily. I think that’s a little unfair.” He knew she was hurt but he didn’t say anything more. He didn’t wanna fight either but he knew this was what he had to do. He needed to get these other people out of his thoughts and off his radar. “I’m sorry. I just really wanted to” he said honestly. “I love you though. Not him.” He took another drag before putting out his smoke and moving the ashtray. “Emily, I told you I would never cheat on you, and I know this is hard. I do, I get it, and I hate myself for it. But I’m fucked up. I’m trying to be what you want but I can’t do that as long as I’m bottling up what if’s.” Sure that probably didn’t help his argument.  But he wanted to be so honest. He was used to open relationships and he was happy with the freedom. It didn’t mean he wanted her any less. In fact he wanted her more

❈ Ⲉⲙⲓ𝓵ⲩ ❈ Emily listened to him. Khai was no fool. He knew when he would hurt her. He knew when she was happy and he sure as hell knew when she was sad. However, what he just said: that was what she had been waiting for. That raw and open honesty. She barely got this last night at the hospital and it was likely because of the drugs. He knew how hard this was and he was actually understanding her position in all of this. “Khai.” She said lowly, and crawled into his lap, wrapping herself around him so tightly. “Thank you. That’s all I needed to hear.” He was trying. He was finally proving what she had asked. Pulling back, she kissed him passionately, and then smiled back at him. “I know you hate saying it but damn it, Khai. I love you. I really love you.”

ღ 𝕂нαι ღ He wrapped his arms around her as she crawled into his lap and he kissed her back slowly and intimately. Pulling back to look deep into her eyes. “I don’t hate saying it. I love you too” he replied. Leaning his head against hers and he breathed deeply. “Please don’t say you won’t forgive me. I need you”

❈ Ⲉⲙⲓ𝓵ⲩ ❈ She pressed her forehead to his and then chuckled. “Ok my bad. Saying it so much.” She laughed, getting serious as he kissed her back and she looked right into his eyes. She knew there was not a bone in her that couldn’t forgive him. No matter if she tried. Cupping his face, she nodded. “I’m sorry. I was...In my feelings. I should not have said that.” She told him honestly. “You have my heart, Malakhai Ozera. I’m yours and I can’t wait to be your girl again.” She said happily, kissed him again, passionately before turning around and picking up another cigarette. “Shot gun?”

ღ 𝕂нαι ღ “Don’t ever apologize for that” he said softly. Kissing her again before looking into her eyes. “I know, it’s okay. I just... I don’t wanna lose you. I know it’s hard to be with me right now. But you are my girl. You’re the one I come back to every time.” He watched her grab a cigarette and chuckled softly. “You wanna shot gun a cig?” he asked with a raised brow. “You sure?”

❈ Ⲉⲙⲓ𝓵ⲩ ❈ Emily nodded, loving that he was finally understanding her stand point. She was starting to wonder if he ever would. “It may be hard Khai, but I’m still here. No matter how mad you make me, you can ask loren, I never let go. Loren, he praises us all the time and keeps me in line. He sees the love between us. So i know what we have is real and it’s strong.” She said to him, biting her lip. “You’re my person, Khai.” She teared up, smiling. “Like, you’re all I want in a man. Flaws and all. You’re mine.” She covered her face, trying to stop the tears and cleared her throat. “Ehemm yes.” She said, pointing to the cig. “I wanna try it.”(edited)

ღ 𝕂нαι ღ Khai’s eyes started to tear up as he watched her. Her words meaning so much to him. That’s all he ever wanted, someone to stay and not leave him. He wanted to be enough and he was trying to be. It was never about double standards or hurting her for him. He was honestly just a mess. He leaned in and kissed her again before nodding his head. “Okay,  but don’t say I didn’t warn you” he smiled.

❈ Ⲉⲙⲓ𝓵ⲩ ❈ Emily saw him tear up which let her know he understood every word. It was in these moments, not much more needed to be said. They had a bond That could not be broken. Smiling, she kissed him back and then she nodded. “I’ll choke. I’m sure but let’s try it.” She snickered. “I’m ready.”

ღ 𝕂нαι ღ He put the cigarette in his mouth and lit it up inhaling deeply. Using his finger he motioned for her to come closer and he blew her a shot gun right between her lips

❈ Ⲉⲙⲓ𝓵ⲩ ❈ She inhaled, a little sharply but not trying to do it like she would weed. Weed it was a lot easier. However, this stung. She leaned back, coughing a little bit smiling as she blew the smoke out. “Wow.” She laughed, tucking her head in the crook of his neck. “I liked it.”

ღ 𝕂нαι ღ He watched her and smiled as she coughed softly. Wrapping his arm around her as she tucked her face into his neck. “Yeah?” He asked. “You looked so sexy” he complimented. Kissing her head before continuing to smoke the cigarette

❈ Ⲉⲙⲓ𝓵ⲩ ❈ She could lay like this forever. Right in his hold. She brought her arms up, wrapping loosely around his neck as she watched him smoke the cigarette. Damn he looked so good. “If there’s one habit I don’t want you to kick, it’s this.”

ღ 𝕂нαι ღ He laughed looking at her and shook his head. “I don’t think you have to worry about that. Or weed” he said honestly. “I’m too addicted to the burn”

❈ Ⲉⲙⲓ𝓵ⲩ She pulled her face towards him, looking up at him with her big brown eyes. “And I’m addicted to your kisses because of it.”

ღ 𝕂нαι ღ “Oh that’s why huh?” He asked with a chuckle. “Here you finish it” he said handing her the half smoked cigarette

❈ Ⲉⲙⲓ𝓵ⲩ ❈ Emily looked up at her lover, and then at the cigarette. Could she even do this? She was such a rookie. But she brought it to her mouth, taking a hit and blowing out the smoke, smiling up at him as she finished it off and sitting up to put it in the ashtray. “Done.”

ღ 𝕂нαι ღ He watched her with a smile until his phone chimed in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at it sending a couple texts back and forth before putting it away. “I should probably go” he said. His eyes looking a bit sad

❈ Ⲉⲙⲓ𝓵ⲩ ❈ “Is it Landon?” She asked, knowing they were looking to meet up soon. She took a deep breath and crawled out of his lap. It sucked to see him go but she knew hed be back soon. “Have fun.” She said with a light smile. “I’ll miss you.”

ღ 𝕂нαι ღ “No, it’s not” he said shaking his head. “I just need to get some sleep before I meet up with him.”

❈ Ⲉⲙⲓ𝓵ⲩ ❈ “I mean...do you have to leave now?” She asked, her eyes growing sad. “Can’t you just...sleep here?”

ღ 𝕂нαι ღ He looked at her with his eyes tearing up. “I’m sorry” he said shaking his head. “Yeah, I can. I just need a minute.”

❈ Ⲉⲙⲓ𝓵ⲩ ❈ “Khai what is it?”

ღ 𝕂нαι ღ “It’s nothing... just... Roman. It’s fine” he said. Clearing his throat and swallowing back tears. “It’s fine. I’m sorry. I’m gonna stay. Okay”

❈ Ⲉⲙⲓ𝓵ⲩ ❈ Emily pulled khai’s face to hers. “Hey. Talk to me. What’s going on?” She knew how much roman meant to him so she wanted to be there for him.(edited)

ღ 𝕂нαι ღ She pulled his face to hers and he just lost it. Pressing his forehead to hers with his eyes closed as his tears fell. “It’s fine... really” he choked out

❈ Ⲉⲙⲓ𝓵ⲩ ❈ “Khai, I know how much he means to you. You can talk to me. Look at how upset you are, baby. What’s wrong?” She held him, rubbing his back. “I’ll just listen. Talk to me.”

ღ 𝕂нαι ღ “I don’t... I don’t wanna... talk about it” he hyperventilated. Just holding her and trying to relax

❈ Ⲉⲙⲓ𝓵ⲩ ❈ Okay she wasn’t going to force it out of him but it broke her heart to see him this way. “Come here baby.” She said, lying down with him on the couch, holding him close and pulling a blanket over them both. “I’ve got you, okay. I don’t know what happened but I’m here. I love you.” She told him, kissing his forehead, and wiping his tears as she pressed her forehead to his.(edited)

ღ 𝕂нαι ღ “I don’t wanna... be this upset. I’m really sorry. I am” he said laying against her. “I’m just... I’m never... enough for him” he cried more. “Fuck... stop it Khai” he told himself. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

❈ Ⲉⲙⲓ𝓵ⲩ ❈ Oh that hurt her. Not her but to hear him say something so silly about himself. She cupped his face and looked him dead in the eye. “You listen to me Malakhai. You ARE enough. Do you hear me? That’s his loss. Not yours. You will ALWAYS be enough. Remember what I just told you? You are everything I want in a man. You ARE enough for me. Your flaws, your pros, your cons, your smile, your laugh, your cry. You ARE enough. If he turned the cheek, that’s on him baby. That’s not on you.” She kissed his forehead, pulling him close. “I’m so sorry Khai but don’t ever talk like that. I love you.” She would say it a million times to let him know how special he was to her.

ღ 𝕂нαι ღ He held onto her and just cried. He hated crying over him in front of her or even in her arms. But he couldn’t help it, he did love him, and it hurt so bad. Her words did make him feel better, he loved her too. But he didn’t know what to say. He just cried until he felt asleep

[golbrocklovely]

only the lonely survive // colby brock - chapter twenty-one: make it feel like the first time

A/N: okay... so i suggest you read my update so you can understand why this is super late. also, two lovely reasons why this wasn’t up on time (bc anxiety and depression couldn’t just be it) is my laptop crashed while i writing this AND ALSO this whole thing is a sex scene. i’ve never truly written pure smut before, but i hope it’s okay. lmk if it sucks lol also lmk what you think of the story so far. alrighty... on with the smut.

description of the story

taglist:  @ajosieface , @localsleeper , @julyrubyrose , @far-to-many-bands , @absolute-randomness-forever

trigger warning: IT’S LITERALLY JUST SMUT

word count: 1933

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DAY 12/14

"Fuck, I need a break." I mumbled to myself, tossing my laptop off me and walking to the kitchen.

I had been editing, answering emails, and doing general work things all day. I was bored, tired... but mostly bored.

I needed something to do that wasn't work. I would have hung out with Casey, but she was out with Brennen. I didn't want to call Colby. I didn't want to seem clingy since we had been hanging out almost every day since I got to California. And even though my time with him was running short... I just didn't want to seem desperate.

As I stepped into the kitchen, I felt my phone vibrate. Unlocking it, I saw a new message from Colby.

Colby: what are u doing rn

I texted him back quickly.

Skye: nothing really. why?

I grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, waiting for his reply. I soon heard my phone buzz.

Colby: save me. im bored and no one is home :(

I could see his pout in my mind. I giggled to myself, typing out my response.

Skye: ask and you shall receive

/  /  /  /

"What have you been up to all day?" I asked as we both strolled into Colby's room.

He shrugged. "Nothing really. Mostly editing. I didn't even know I was alone in the house today."

"Where is everyone?" I inquired.

"I know Sam and Kat are hanging out all day. But everyone else... no clue." He replied, laying down on his bed.

"Am I your last resort?" I gasped dramatically, sliding my knee onto his bed.

He shook his head, grabbing my hands and pulling me down onto him. "No..."

I buried my face into his chest as we cuddled for a moment. I embraced him, and he did the same to me. Suddenly, he spun us around. I laid my back against his bed as he pulled away from me. He gazed into my eyes, smiling sweetly. I stared into his, getting lost in the deep blue that they were.

"You're so beautiful." He whispered.

A blush rose to my face instantly. I rolled my eyes, trying to cover it. "You love teasing me, don't you?"

"Never." He kissed my lips quickly.

I stared back into his eyes again, cupping his cheek. His mouth twitched from a smile he barely let show. His eyes scanned my face slowly, noticing every detail. I bit my lip softly, still looking into his eyes. When our gaze finally met, I leaned up and connected our lips.

Everything about this kiss felt slow and gentle. The nibble of his teeth against my lip, the brush of my hand up his back, every movement sweet. I thread my fingers through his hair, the slight tug causing a hum to leave his mouth.

His fingers trailed up and down my thighs, goosebumps following their path. I spread my legs, allowing Colby to get closer to me and relax against my body.

Our gentle nature changed.

As our tongues danced together, my fingers left his hair and traveled down his body, resting low on his stomach. My fingers snaked their way up his shirt, nails dragging lightly across his abs. He pulled away with a grunt, sitting up.

“Talk about teasing…” He mumbled, ripping his shirt off. A coy smirk appeared on his face.

I chuckled, my face mimicking his. “Bite me.”

“If you insist…” Colby uttered.

He shoved his lips against my neck, finding a sensitive spot under my ear. He nipped and sucked at the spot, causing me to moan. I gripped his forearms as I pushed my hips against his. I slowly started to grind in a circle, causing his teeth to sink a little more into my skin. A gasp escaped my lips.

His fingers pulled at the bottom of my shirt, slowly rising it up slightly. I nodded my head without a word, and Colby pushed my shirt off my body quickly.

His body pulled away from mine, looking at the new shown skin. I glanced into his eyes and watched his gaze danced across my skin.

A single word fell from his lips. “Gorgeous.”

My reaction to his words were cut short by his lips connecting to mine. His hands rubbed circles on my hips. They slowly moved up my sides, my back arching at the sensation. As we continued to kiss, I felt his fingers brush at the edge of my bra.

“Can I…” He murmured against my lips.

I choked out. “Yeah.”

He smiled softly, pecking my jawline as he unclasped my bra. He glided the fabric off me, the cool air of the room touching my newly exposed skin.

His lips left my jaw, kissing down my neck and to my chest. He glanced up at me as his mouth traveled to my left breast, pecking around my nipple. His tongue lazily circled it, my breath hitching in my throat. He sucked my nipple into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue.

I moaned his name, unable to hold back. “Colby.”

He removed his mouth, smirking. He kissed across my chest, going to my right breast. Doing the same thing to my other nipple, a shiver ran down my spine. I placed my hand on the back of his head, running my fingers through his hair.

Colby’s head slipped out from under my hand as he trailed his lips down my stomach. He kissed the skin that rested just above my shorts. His fingers traced the waistband as he looked up at me.

“Please Colby.” I whined.

He nodded, a smirk almost coming to his lips. He shimmied the shorts down my legs, leaving me in just my underwear.

He got up on his knees, watching me as he pulled his own shorts off, leaving him in just his boxers. My eyes widen at the sight of him.

Holy shit… this is actually happening.

Colby lowered his body back onto mine, brush his lips against mine. His hands cupped my hips, his fingers itching to touch me. My tongue swept across his lips, needing a taste. As our tongues grazed each other, his hand trickled down to my heat.

He rubbed circles on my clit as his mouth fell from mine. “I can feel how wet you are.”

I hissed. “Oh my God.”

He brought his lips to my ear, whispering huskily. “Can I taste you?”

I could feel my sex squirm at his words. I muttered a ‘yes’ as he snaked down to my hips. He pealed my underwear off slowly, teasingly. I felt a wave of nervousness wash over me, until I saw his face.

Not a single ounce of judgement appeared. His lust filled eyes looked up at me for a moment, and then back to my slit.

He leaned forward, his breath fanning across me. I shuddered, my legs shaking. His lips landed on my clit, and I melted into the feeling. He lapped at my clit, his tongue exploring. His fingers slid up my thigh and entered me gently.

“Holy shit! Fuck!” I whispered aggressively. My hands instinctively reached for his hair, pushing his head closer.

He hummed against my clit, causing my hips to buck against his tongue. His fingers sped up their pace, curving and going deeper.

“Colby, I’m so close.” I grunted, grinding my sex against his mouth and fingers.

He abruptly removed his fingers and mouth, causing a whine to come from me.

He chuckled lustfully. “I wanna feel you cum around me. Be patient, baby.”

“Not fair.” I sighed, trying to catch my breath. He rolled off me and pulled his underwear down, his cock springing free.

…Damn.

He got back on top of me, kissing me in the process. The kiss was slow and gentle, like how this all started.

“Do you want this?” He whispered, his lips barely pressed against mine.

“Badly.” I muttered.

A short laugh fell from both our lips. He nodded and reached over to his nightstand, opening the drawer. He grabbed a condom, bringing the silver packet over to us. He put the corner of it in between his teeth, tearing it open. He pulled the condom out and began to roll it down his shaft.

My heart began to pound in my chest.

Was I really ready for this? Should I tell him I’m a virgin?

“Colby?” I asked.

His movements stopped. “What? Is something wrong?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I- um. I…”

“What? You can tell me.” He smiled, cupping my face.

“I…”

The words couldn’t come out. I wanted to tell him I was a virgin, let him know that this wasn’t just going to be our first time together, but my first time completely. But… I couldn’t form the words.

“I haven’t had sex in a long time. So… be gentle.” I stated, exhaling.

Colby nodded his head, pecking my lips. “Of course, baby.”

He lined up his hips, his tip playing against my entrance. I slid my hands up his back, feeling his muscles relax under my touch.

“Ready?” He murmured, gazing into my eyes.

I stammered. “Please.”

Slowly, he entered me and my walls stretched around him. Every inch of him made me feel full. It was all intense and unlike anything I had felt. When his hips finally rested against mine, I breathed.

“Fuck, Skye.” Colby grunted, his hands gripping my sides.

“Oh my God.” I gasped.

We stayed still, Colby only moving to lean down and kiss me roughly. My body calmed, allowing the slight pain of him inside me to dissipate.

“Move, baby.” I moaned, yanking my lips away from his.

He leaned his forehead against mine, slowly pulling his hips back. He slowly sunk back into me, a groan escaping his lips.

His pace picked up to a steady rhythm, the in-and-out causing my hips to buck in time. I couldn’t stop myself from wrapping my legs around his waist, wanting him closer and deeper in me.

“You feel so good, Skye. Fuck.” He groaned.

“Go faster, Colby.” I uttered, my nails digging into the skin of his back.

He thrusted his hips harder, his pace speeding up. I could feel my wetness drip down my pussy lips, slicking my thighs.

“You’re so wet for me.” Colby smirked, biting his lip.

I whimpered. “Keep going, don’t stop.”

I began to thrust my hips in a circle. Expletives leaked from Colby’s mouth as he dived deeper into me. His eyes stared into mine, making the moment even more intense. I could feel a build up beginning in my stomach.

“I’m close.” I was barely able to form a sentence, the pleasure being too much.

He nodded. “Me too, baby.”

Colby pounded into me harder. His fingers suddenly finding my clit, rubbing it forcefully. He buried his head into my neck, lips against my ear.

“Cum with me, Skye.” He grunted lustfully.

My high came the moment those words left his lips. My body exploded from the pleasure as I moaned loudly, unable to hold back anymore. Colby sped up his thrusts, his orgasm ripping through him. He jutted his hips against mine, groaning against my neck and shoulder.

Our movements stopped as his body relaxed against mine. A sheen of sweat rested on our skin, causing the room to feel both too hot and cold all at once.

Colby picked his head up, looking at my face. He moved a piece of hair off my forehead as he leaned down and kissed me sweetly. His thumb stroked my cheek as he pulled away.

<< CHAPTER 20 || CHAPTER 22 >>

[rose-de-sang]

“I think.. you’ll do nicely..”

“Ah.. for, what, exactly, my Lady..?”

“Don’t you worry about that, my dear. You just sit there and look pretty. Let me look at you.” Morgana purred, flashing a pearly white and too-innocent grin up to the man she’d spent quite literally all day searching for. She felt her soul being tugged at it’s edges, that ebb back into the Shadowlands.. she’d spent too far away from home. Too far away from Victor. It was hard to tell if it was him or the Veil getting impatient. Regardless.. she didn’t want to disappoint.

Morgana spun in a slow circle around this raven-haired male, heels slow in their rhythmic tick-tocking against the wooden floors. What a dingy little place this was, in the heart of Stormwind City... how long it’s been since she’s been seated directly in the Alliance Capitol. A delighted little sigh left the Gilnean woman as her fingers trailed slowly along the breadth of this poor soul’s back, pads digging into clothing as if testing muscle. Her head tilted, settling those murky blues onto the side of the man’s face. 

The likeness was too much. If she didn’t know any better, she’d have thought this was Victor near in her arms, not some... hm.

“What did you say your name was, again?” She chimed quietly, fingers beginning a slow walk around the man’s bicep to crawl to the center of his chest, well-manicured nails pressing into a thin cotton shirt. The man swallowed tightly as he watched this dark-haired vixen circle him like a predator. She was.. utterly enchanting. It was hard to peel those honeyed brown hues away from her. 

“S-Seamus, my Lady..” He managed after a moment, clearing his throat. His breath hitched as her fingers crawled up his throat, manicured claws pressing into the back of his neck along his raven-colored hairline. A thoughtful hum left her, not that she cared, but she’d nod.

“Seamus...” She repeated slowly, pointedly rolling his name off of her tongue. His hands twitched at his sides and Morgana’s free hand was quick to swat at it, snorting indignantly.

“I’m a married woman, Seamus. But that’s why you want me so, isn’t it?” Morgana hummed rather abashedly, an amused twinkle to those murky blues as the man began to sputter. 

“Wh- well.. no, my Lady, you’re just--”

“Just what, hm? Not yours? And that’s why you want to touch me, to ravage me like a brood mare.  Don’t lie to me, darling... your sins are on a silver platter ready for me to devour.” There was a wanton need in the way Morgana’s voice groaned as she made another pass around the man, head tilting appraisingly. She could see the sweat clinging to his brows, the way his fingers twitched at his sides... the way his heart thrummed in his throat. The sound of blood roaring in his ears.

It almost made her dizzy.

“Y-yes... I enjoy married women’s company...” He admitted in a slow drawl, and a delighted little titter left Morgana’s lips, skipping back around to his front. Chocolate and dark cherry curls bounced excitedly as she stretched up on her tiptoes and snared the man beneath his jaw, pressing the nails of her thumb and index finger into his hot skin.

“Aaahh! Aha! There it is... Well.. Seamus. You’re in luck, it seems.. because, you see.. I want you just as bad as you want me,” Morgana chirped, flashing a fanged grin up to the man with another giggle. A relieved sigh left the man, and he’d laugh with her. Morgana’s free hand pressed right over his sternum, her head tipping to the right as she released the man’s face, though his gaze was still drawn to her.

“I enjoy the taste of adultery... it’s rich... sweet, almost like wine.” Morgana sighed, shoulders rolling back contentedly. Murky blues flared an intense cyan as painted lips pulled apart into a wide grin. He didn’t know any better, for he just assumed she was speaking in sultry prose.. nothing literal. Seamus’s head dipped down, then, hands gripping Morgana’s hips roughly as he moved to slate his lips over hers.

She was ready to indulge him, if for a second. Just before his lips touched hers is when he’d jerk, a short gasp leaving him. Brows knit in confusion as he stared down to her, centimeters away. Seamus dipped his gaze down to where her hand was, resting over his sternum.

Her fingers had wedged themselves inside of his chest, blood pooling around the punctures. In Morgana’s palm swirled a delectable orb of cyan, thin tendrils of crimson serving as thread to hold this orb together. Just like that, Seamus’s soul was pried from his waiting chest, and the shock couldn’t even warrant a scream. His mouth agape, thin wisps of his energies wafted into Morgana, who hissed in delight.

Seamus slumped in Morgana’s arms, gasping wetly as he struggled to breathe.

“Sh-shh.. we don’t want to disturb anyone, do we..? I haven’t even started...” Morgana purred, guiding the man backwards until his knees hit the edge of the bed and he slumped into a stunned sit. Slowly did Morgana’s fingers slide free of his chest, cupping that cyan orb, cradling it in her palm. Prying his knees apart, Morgana dipped into a crouch, staring up at him with a delighted little laugh. 

“Fascinating.. isn’t it? More so for me, not for you.. is this really what Victor would look like horrified? At my hands?” A little gasp left her, causing her spine to straighten and her eyes to widen. How.. untoward. She didn’t like that. Slowly, blood and muscle sinew corded and wound around the soul, of which appeared to bubble and pop apart. Seconds later, there would be a single pomegranate sitting in her palm. Morgana’s brows ticked upward and she’d grin, nodding towards the fruit in her hand.

“You’ll do quite nicely indeed.. but I need you relatively in tact and none of you in that pretty little noggin of yours, you see.” She continued, though the man’s eyes had lost all life, soulless, a mere shell of a man. Morgana sighed as she rocked up into a stand, tilting her head. That had to work, right? The pomegranate was warm in her hands, thrumming with energy. Fear, mostly, but that would taste delightful later.

“You don’t know a damn thing, do you? Aw... how sad. I do love feasting on memories as well as sins.. anima.. blood... But you? You would have made a dashing husband, you would.” Her lips puckered into a pout, more so out of mock sympathy for the man. Morgana’s left hand drifted to the bloodied pock marks that tattled her entrance into the man’s chest, thin threads of blood weaving through her fingers. Strong, he was. His heart, however? Slowly thudding to a halt. No, no.. that wouldn’t do.

A slow sigh left Morgana as she tucked the pomegranate into her jacket, gently. She pried a glove off of her right hand, shoving her sleeve back. Bringing her wrist to her lips, she’d bite down. Blood pooled around her fangs before she released herself, welling some in her palm before she tugged his shirt off of one of his shoulders, slapping her bloodied hand over the pock marks she’d made. The blood threading through her fingers sank back into him like needles sewing skin back together, palm glowing an eerie crimson. Flicking her right wrist, the wound already closed, she waited, uttering words in a dark and ancient tongue to finish the binding. 

Already exhausted, her essence would keep the man alive as long as necessary for another soul to claim it as it’s host... And how Victor would love it. An excited giggle left the woman as she tugged that bloodied shirt back up onto the man’s shoulder, twirling a lock of raven colored hair around a finger with a fanged grin.  Shadows coalesced around their frames and suddenly.. they’d be gone.

Ramsey Manor. A decrepit, falling apart ruin of a once grandiose display of wealth and status within Gilneas. The ages haven’t been kind, nor the wars this land has faced and lost to. A perpetual rainfall saw to it the roof leaked in many of the rooms, and a damp, musty scent clung to rotting wallpaper and wood. 

Morgana and her victim reappeared within the Lady’s chambers. Elegant and posh, it rang, or.. used to. Now it was dark, though appeared slightly lived-in. Her traipses through the Anima Pathways and the Veil between worlds saw her back here, tending to the old rooms. At least the bed made, candles lit, dusted.. it was still a lovely display of overcompensation met with an abundance of childhood trauma and emotional neglect from the inflated heads of greedy parents. Ah, memories.

Exhaustion tended to her limbs and she’d groan, dragging Seamus’s lifeless body to the edge of her bed before dumping him onto it, hefting him into a comfortable-looking lay. She even fluffed up the pillows. Satisfied, Morgana wiggled with excitement. Next to her vanity and in between a fireplace that hadn’t seen any use for ages, sat a full-length mirror. The glass, however.. rippled crimson, tattling a world and place beyond. 

“You wait right there. Don’t move!” Morgana chirped to the corpse, holding up a finger as she skipped to the edge of that mirror, a grin threatening to tear her face in half forming. Sucking in a breath, she stepped through, the magic holding the portal together rippling excitedly with her energies as she passed through the Veil. 

“I thought I heard your voice... where the hell have you been?” Came worriedly from across the absolutely lived-in, posh chambers of Victor Rymaer himself. Morgana squealed in delight as she skipped across the way and hopped right up into his waiting arms, winding her arms around his neck with a grin.

“I went... mm. Shopping! Yes. Shopping, oh, my love! You are.. going to -love- it. Him, I should say, but I digress. I worked so hard all day to find someone that was just -perfect- for you, and oh do I think I found the one!”

“Slow down.. shopping. On.. Azeroth. Shopping on Azeroth.” He repeated for clarity, those brows tugging up in surprise as he peered over to Morgana. “Him. Whatever you acquired.. is a him.”

“Yes! Yes, my sweet... comecome, you and I..? We.. are going home.”

“Home...?”

[afteriwake]

(Banner by @strangelock221b)

…And All The Men And Women Merely Players - Mycroft Holmes is not-so-subtly trying to make sure there’s a reconciliation between his youngest sibling Sherlock and his ex-wife, Molly Hooper, by forcing them to work together on a theatre project. But it isn’t all smooth sailing when his and Sherlock’s sister comes back from the States with a boyfriend who is the devil incarnate…and all hell is about to break loose.

READ CHAPTER 1 | READ CHAPTER 5 | BUY ME A COFFEE?

He wasn’t at all surprised when John insisted on joining him at the auditions. If it hadn’t been for him, really, there would have been no Mr. & Mrs. Holmes to speak of, as in university he’d been completely blind to the fact Molly fancied him, and it had been John’s intervention that had led to their first date. If Molly would be happy to see anyone else from her past, it would be John.

And all things considered, with the crap quality of actors they had auditioning for roles so far, it wouldn’t hurt if John was around to give his opinion or, perhaps, ask for a role himself.

They made it to the theatre to find Molly waiting, chatting with a moderately attractive blonde with curly hair. They seemed to know each other well enough that this was not their first meeting, and as the two men got closer Molly and her friend shared a laugh until Molly noticed them. “John!” she said happily, moving away from the woman to give her old friend a hug.

“Molly,” he said warmly, giving her an embrace back. “New York just made you more lovely, it seems.”

“No flirting,” Molly admonished with a smile on her face. She let go and then gestured to the woman. “With me, at least. I was hoping you’d come by our auditions eventually. This is another expat friend of mine I found in New York, Mary Morstan. She’s a musician and actress. Did a lot of off-Broadway musicals.”

“Did you now,” John asked. “Any I may have heard of?”

“Probably not,” Mary said with a smile. “Lots of low rent theatres, small crowds. I did a showcase from Bonnie & Clyde after the production wrapped, though. That was well attended.”

John’s eyes widened. “Were you a ginger when you did it?”

Mary nodded. “Yeah. And my hair was longer.”

“I saw that! You have a lovely voice. You put Laura Osnes to shame.”

“You’re a fan?” she asked, surprised.

John finished letting go of Molly and turned fully to Mary. “Oh yeah. I do musicals too, mostly, with small bits in dramas when I can get them. I wasn’t planning on auditioning, but if you are, maybe I’ll give it a go too.”

Sherlock moved over towards Molly, who had a smile on her face. “Matchmaking?”

“Mary is a sweetheart. She deserves a nice bloke, and John is nice. We both know that.” She looked and saw Sherlock was holding two coffees. “Is one of those for me?”

He nodded and handed it to her. “I’ll let us all in and we can watch them flirt from a few rows back,” he said, digging his keys out as soon as she took her coffee. He unlocked the doors to the theatre and the four of them trooped in, John and Mary completely oblivious to the other two. They sat in the first row of seat and Sherlock and Molly sat four rows back.

“Reminds me of us when you finally realized I was worth talking to,” Molly said, taking a sip of her coffee. “We didn’t realize there was anyone else in the world, and that was just when we were friends.”

“Yeah,” he said with a nod, settling in next to her. “I miss those days.”

“I do too.” She moved her hand and brushed her fingers over his wedding band on his finger. “You haven’t let it get far from your mind.”

He was quiet for a moment, focusing on the electric feeling her simple gesture had given him when her fingers touched his skin. All these years later and there was still almost a literal spark between them. “I was selfish,” he said softly. “I took what I wanted in my career and let us fall to the wayside. It was only after you left I realized the enormity of what I had lost.”

“I think we needed it, though. We needed to grow as individuals and if we were together, we wouldn’t have done that.” She paused, and hesitantly threaded her fingers through his to hold his hand. “Doesn’t mean we can’t try again.”

“You do still love me?” he asked.

She nodded. “I do. I never really stopped.”

He squeezed her hand. “Neither did I.” She gave him a bright smile. “Would you do me the pleasure of joining me for dinner? I’ll cook.”

“Can you make the cabbage and rice rolls Mrs. Hudson taught you how to make?”

He nodded. “I think I can. If not, she can come upstairs and make them instead and I’ll focus on dessert.”

Her smile got wider. “So you actually moved into the flat? I was wondering where you were since the apartment was empty.”

“I have most of the building to myself, she has the lower portion, and Speedy’s, too. It was left to her when the owner died. I updated everything, of course, modernized it, but it’s always been a home away from home. Now it is more a home. Just not...you know.”

“Not really a home,” she said. He pulled their joined hands up and kissed the back of her hand as he nodded. Yes, she understood. But hopefully, if this worked out and she decided to stay and they patched up the remnants of their marriage and built something stronger, hopefully it truly would be a home...for both of them.

[moody-blues-requiem]

This is Diavolo anon resending again: could I request a nsfw scenario of a jealous Diavolo with a fem s/o? I really love your writings by the way 😍😳

Tysm!! I sure hope you love this one too! 💜💜

(note: “regina” in Italian means queen. I use it a couple times in this)

(n/s/f/w under the cut)

Two traditional key locks, a number pad, and a hidden fingerprint scanner in the doorknob barred entry into the unsuspecting home near Punta del Miglio, a little cape along the coast of Capri. Close to the sea but far from civilization, it was one of Diavolo’s favorite safehouses. On rare nights he would pull back the blackout curtains and open the windows, letting the sound of the gentle waves crashing against the short help lull the two of you to sleep. 

You opened both of the locks, punched in the long keycode (a string of meaningless digits that you had memorized a while ago. Diavolo changed it every few months.) and let the fingerprint scanner verify your identity. When you heard the final deadbolt open with a heavy clunk, you opened the door, finding a dark apartment before you. Lights off, curtains shut. Had you not known better, you would have thought it was vacant. 

You turned around to re-lock the doors and as soon as you had, strong arms were wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. Diavolo leaned down, burying his face into your hair, practically melting against you. You reached up to stroke his long, silky hair, smiling as he leaned into your touch. “Rough day?” you asked him softly. You could feel his head shift against your skin, nodding. On days where his paranoia was at its worst he tended to live in the darkness, sitting quietly, as if waiting for something. Someone? You weren’t sure, he won’t tell you. Maybe he wasn’t sure himself. Instead you just did your best to comfort him, often talking him through his paranoid thoughts and back to reality. 

“Those two from the execution team…” Diavolo said, voice low and hoarse, as if he hadn’t spoken to you since this morning when you woke up. “They’re getting closer.”

“They’ll never find you,” you reminded him, turning to kiss his cheek. “You’ve hidden yourself immaculately.” 

He grunted. “They’re still getting information. Slowly, but they’re digging it up.” He paused. “I don’t know from where.” 

It was horribly frustrating to see your lover in distress like this, only knowing there was so much you could do for him. When you turned to reply you found his sharp green eyes staring through you like daggers. You were frozen. His voice was controlled and even, arguably scarier than an angry Diavolo. 

“Where are they getting the information, bella?”

Surely he didn’t think you were selling him out! You would never! It shocked you and hurt you all at once, having Diavolo even question your loyalty, but… you had to remind yourself, this was just his paranoia. He didn’t really believe you were giving out his information. If he really thought you were, well. You’d probably already be six feet under by now. 

“Diavolo,” you spoke, keeping your voice even to match his. “I haven’t spoken a word about you to anyone. You know I haven’t, at all, ever.”

“I know, bella.” His voice was quieter now. He pulled you in closer, hugging you tight. An apology of sorts, but you knew he wouldn’t seriously think you were selling him out. At least, you sure hoped his paranoia wouldn’t go so far as to turn him against you. The two of you stayed like this for a while, holding each other in the darkness of the apartment. Diavolo would never say it, but he liked to be held. “I wish you didn’t have to go out so often,” he whispered. “Someone could take you from me. Someone could… if they make a connection between us--”

“They won’t,” you reassured him. “I have no ties to Passione beyond you. I doubt I’m on any radars, let alone a suspect.” Your hands ran comfortingly up and down his back following the lines of his broad muscles and tracing down his spine. “I have to go to work, get coffee, visit people. See things, enjoy the sunshine. Enjoy life.” 

Diavolo brushed a stray hair from your face, before leaning in close and gently pressing his lips to yours. His lips were soft with lip balm, rather than his usual inky-black lipstick. “It would be so nice, though,” he whispered, with his lips still pressed lightly to yours, “to have you simply… stay. I’d take care of everything for you, you know you’d be my crimson queen--”

You cut off his pun with a kiss, earning a smile from your lover. “Am I not already your crimson queen?” you teased, earning a smirk from Diavolo. “I suppose you are,” he replied. Lifting you in his arms bridal-style, he began kissing a line down from your lips to your neck to your collarbone, making sure to scrape his teeth with a feather-light touch over the places he knew you were most sensitive. “Allow me to show you just how I treat my queen.” 

“By all means, my king,” you purred low into Diavolo’s ear, “show me.”

In no time (literally, with Diavolo’s stand ability) you found yourself seated on the edge of the large, plush bed you shared, Diavolo working his was down your body with kisses and playful nips. His large, strong hands caressed up your sides, working you up and soon enough, working your shirt off of you. He kissed again at your sensitive collarbones while his hands cupped your breasts, gently squeezing and rolling them through the silky fabric of your bra. He left a slight sheen of chapstick behind as he kissed down your chest, tugging your bra down and taking his time to enjoy your chest. Soft purple marks followed his mouth as he left light hickeys across one breast and then moved to the other, slowly working his way to your nipples. Something about the way he looked up at you as he took the rosy bud into his mouth, the sensation of his tongue on such sensitive skin combined with the lovestruck look in his eyes both melted your heart and made your thighs quiver with anticipation. As if Diavolo could read you like a book, he moved to the other breast and began working his hands up under your work skirt. “Already so excited?” he asked, brushing his fingers over the dampness on the front of your panties. You blushed, squeaking as Diavolo pressed harder. Through the fabric he found your clit and started teasing towards it with slow, controlled circles, each one bringing his fingers closer and closer to actually touching the sensitive bud. Diavolo just couldn’t resist seeing you squirm, so needy for his touch. 

“D-Diavolo,” you whined. “Please…”

“Hm? Please what, regina?”

“Diavolo, please… make me cum…”

He hummed to himself, as if lost in thought. His fingers pressed in harder, attention focused fully on your clit, making you gasp. “Wouldn’t you like this kind of attention all the time, bella?” he purred. “Wouldn’t you like staying in with me and living like royalty?”

Your hips were bucking at his hand, practically humping him. Looking for the friction that he wasn’t going to give up so easily. “Say the words, bella, you know what I want to hear.” 

“Diavolo!” you cried out. Even with lust fogging your mind, you were certain you wanted this. “I-I’m yours, all yours. I’ll stay with you, always.”

“Perfect, regina,” he whispered, pulling your skirt and panties from your body in one quick motion. “Perfect.”

Diavolo leaned in and ate you out with the passion of a starving man. He moaned as he lapped up your juices, loving how lost he could become in your very essence. When he felt your fingers thread through his hair and tug he only worked harder, moving from your clit to begin fucking you with his tongue. His strong hands reached around to squeeze your ass and pull you in even closer-- his enthusiasm for eating you out only served to turn you on more. You couldn’t stop your hips from shaking as you rode his face, gasping and moaning as your orgasm drew closer and closer. 

“I’m gonna…” you began to warn Diavolo. “I’m gonna--!!”

Your orgasm hit before you had time to finish your sentence, your back arching and a long, lustful moan escaping past your lips. Diavolo didn’t slow down a bit, eating you out through the entire thing, drawing out your release as much as he could. He only retreated when you gently pulled on his hair, bringing him up for a kiss. You couldn’t help but admire your slick coating his lips and cheeks and chin, showing off just how passionately he had worked you over. Your lips met his, something about tasting yourself on your lover you just couldn’t get enough of. 

“Do you want me to…?” you asked in a quiet voice, almost panting from the energy you’d just spent. Diavolo smiled, small but genuine. “Maybe later, bella. You should rest first.” He stepped towards the bathroom, filling a cup with water for you and turning on the tap to the bath. “Let’s clean up, and then we’ll see what fun may come.”