#(at this point the nail had fallen out of the tire from taking it to Walmart to the garage)

[dazed-and-confused23]

Wouldn't Be Nice

Summary: After his divorce, Cooper Howard finds himself in need of a babysitter. That's where you come in.

Pairings: Pre-War Cooper Howard x Female Reader

Warnings: flirting and heavy petting. readers got a bit of a praise kink. Pretty domestic.

Masterlist

With the divorce came more responsibility, and that meant less free time with Janey and more searching for anyone who would hire him. He only had his daughter every other week, and while he did miss her - Coop always missed her - when Janey was with Barb it left him free to pursue other odd jobs that would keep food on the table. However, there were days that Cooper couldn't be there all the time, so after finding your ad in the paper, the ex-actor hired you to babysit Janey.

You didn't cost him an arm and a leg, and after the first couple of days, his daughter seemed to love having you around. That had won you enough brownie points from Cooper that he'd decided to keep you around. He had offered to pay you extra for keeping the apartment clean, Barb had taken the house, but you had shot him down, claiming that he paid you plenty.

Today, he'd come home, tired after working a children's birthday, and still dressed in his costume, to find you in the kitchen cleaning up after an early dinner. You greet him with a smile and a soft hello.

"Where's Janey?" He asks, keeping the same quiet tone. You nod at the bedrooms.

"Sleeping. She was tired after going to the park this evening. How was work?"

Cooper groans dramatically in response, and catching your soft grin is worth it. He kicks off his boots and strides into the kitchen, fetching himself a cold nuka-cola, "It was fine. The kids were great, but their parents always got somethin' to say."

Mr. Howard had told you a little about why his marriage had fallen out, but he intentionally kept most of it unsaid. You knew enough to know not to trust anything that Vault-Tec did, and you were fine with that. It wasn't any of your business what happened between them. Even if you were occasionally curious.

He watches you rinse the dishes out of the corner of his eye, taking in your soft curves and your messy bun. You're pretty and nice, and Janey loves you. He couldn't deny that he was attracted to you, and he'd caught the way you looked at him sometimes. It makes Cooper wonder if you'd want to stay here more often.

The ex-actor decides to throw caution to the wind and sets his cola down before he steps behind you, so close that he can feel the heat your radiate. He watches the line of your shoulders tense, and your movements slow to a crawl. Cooper drags his teeth across his bottom lip and then reaches out, his hands resting on your hips.

Cooper hears you swallow and catches your eye when you turn back to look at him, "Mr. Howard?"

"You do such a good job looking after Janey, Sugar," Cooper murmured, and inches forward, his chest brushing against your hair, "You won't let me pay you more, so how about somethin' else?"

One wet hand curls around his wrist, nails biting into his skin. Your voice is just above a whisper, "I don't think that's such a good idea, Mr. Howard."

Cooper drags his thumbs back and forth along your hips, the touch anything but innocent, "What have I said about calling me that?"

"It makes you feel old, and to call you Cooper," you rattle off, the words memorized by how often the ex-actor says them to you. Cooper nods, his chin grazing your hair.

"Good girl," Cooper praises, and his lips curl in a wicked smirk when he feels the way you shudder at the praise. His hands inch forward, fingertips brushing your inner thighs, and Coop wishes that you weren't wearing pants, "Come on, please? You do so much for us, baby. Let me give this to you."

His fingertips slip between the apex of your legs, dragging over your clothed sex, and Cooper sighs at just how hot you feel. You make a soft, startled sound, but you don't pull away from him. He presses himself along your back, molding himself to your curves as he hooks his chin over your shoulder to press delicate kisses to your throat.

Arousal pools in your lower stomach, and you can't help the way that you press into those devious touches to your core. You tilt your head back, exposing more of your throat, and feel the grin the ex-actor wears against your flesh.

The hand around his wrist releases him, and Cooper doesn't waste time sliding his palm under your shirt. He strokes your stomach, trailing his hand up and beneath your bra to tweak and pinch your nipple. Coop pushes you into the counter, using the leverage to grind against your ass.

Cooper’s fun is suddenly cut short by the sound of a door creaking open. Your head jerks up, wacking the ex-actor in the nose hard enough for him to grunt, and tears come to his eyes. He stumbled back just in time for Janey to come be-popping around the corner, a stuffed dog held tight in one hand.

You round the bar in the kitchen, smiling down at Janey while Cooper is making sure he doesn't have a bloody nose. He watches you crouch in front of his daughter, speaking softly enough that he doesn't catch whatever you say to her. Whatever it was makes Janey laugh and toddle back to her bedroom, a tired smile on her little face.

The two of you look at one another once she's gone, and then the two of you are giggling like children, red in the face after being interrupted by Cooper’s daughter. He meets you in the living room, hands resting on your hips as he faces you. You grin, reaching up to cradle his jaw.

"Is your nose okay?"

Cooper snickers and nods, "It's fine, baby. Come on, we should probably talk, hmm?"

[fcthots]

Okay but I like to think that Jason's helmet has like noise and brightness controls so he can focus when things get bad.

If you ever have a sensory overload day when he's near, and everything is just too bright, too loud, too much, he'll gently plunk his helmet on your head, turned down to block out almost everything but still leave you aware enough of your surroundings to know he's there.

The quiet helps, your eyes don't hurt as much. And you feel safe knowing he's protecting you.

❄️

ANON THIS IS FUCKING EVERYTHING

this may be a little too self-indulgent but, fuck it, I needed this

It started when you fell asleep last night, not meaning to, so you had to take a shower in the morning. Then you had to wear the pair of stiff jeans because you had fallen asleep before you washed clothes. Then the seams of your shirt became incredibly bothersome and ever-present. All of this is to say: you were destined for failure today.

The Wayne family had agreed on a public outing to go eat and keep up appearances. Afterwards, everyone would head back to the manor to either get ready for patrol or just hang out. The entire family was invited and so were the significant others, hence you. It's not something you could cancel and Jason was so happy to ask you to go. You were determined to tough it out. For him.

You sat down at the table and your chair was uneven and wobbly. Ok. Ignore it. Move on. The lights were almost painfully bright. You tried not to think about it. The music was on loop but there was a small static gap when it looped and the song itself wasn't long, so the static was every minute. Ignore it. You were seated with your back to the door so you couldn't see when or where noises were coming from. Ignore it. There was a baby crying somewhere around the back of the restaurant. Ignor-

Someone taps you and your shoulders raise. Jason retreats his hand back immediately.

"Are you ok?" You can see the worry and calculation in his eyes.

"I'm okay." Your words sound grating to your own ears.

He doesn’t look like he buys it. "Do you want me to order for you?"

You nod your head and he has you point to what you want on the menu.

You hold polite small talk with the entire family and try to avoid touching the napkin that's texture felt like sandpaper. You can do this.

You ignore the shuttering of paparazzi photos from the window and the constant buzz of screaming from outside.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. You can do this.

The waiter comes back and hands out the food. Yours is very clearly burnt.

But Bruce is paying for the food and it would be rude not to eat it, right? Yeah that's something that your mother told you.

You put it in your mouth and do your best not to gag at the texture. Jason narrows his eyes at you. Fuck, he's onto you. You smile and put your all into not gagging until he turns back to look at Dick, who is telling a story.

Nailed it.

Eventually. Finally. You get to leave the restaurant.

But it's already too late for you. You can hear cars wizzing by, horns, tires screeching, engines revving, people yelling, and all other sounds of Gotham traffic. You're thankful Jason drove his car today and not his motorcycle ir you think you would have died. Steph and Duke are engrossed in their own conversation in the backseat after they refused to ride back with Bruce after he disagreed with their opinions in some fight you didn’t get the full picture of. Jason eyes you warily, but doesn’t say a word.

It's barely 5 minutes before you're at the manor. You're sitting on the couch, back straight and legs together. Alfred likes the living room to be bright, so all the lights are on. Great for Alfred. Terrible for you. You swear there must be 50 people in this fucking family because you can hear each and every one of their voices.

The sounds are grating, the lights are too bright, Cass and Tim are tossing their gear at each other over the couch and over you head, the dogs are barking, someone is yelling, Dick squeezes your shoulder as he walks past (with good intentions), you can't fucking think-

Jason's helmet is slipped over your head. He's done it before, just not often, so you forgot it even had the function.

Everything is made dark. The noise, instead of sounding like its coming rom inside your skull, sounds low and distant. Cass catches her last piece of armor from Tim and moves presumably to go down to the cave.

It's like a sensory deprivation tank and you think you might just cry of relief.

You see Jason crouch in front of you. His voice, though quieter than it usually would be, is still clear.

"Better?"

You wordlessly nod your head. In doing so, you notice that everyone else is gone. When did that happen?

"Why didn’t you tell me?" You start getting nervous. You just knew how excited he was and didn’t want to ruin it for him. And you know he still would have wanted you to tell him, but you felt terrible. You anxiously raise your shoulders into a nervous shrug.

He sighs. "I shouldn't have asked. Questions only make it worse, huh?"

You nervously nod your head. He laughs.

"'M sorry, baby."

You shake your head no before he can continue that train of thought.

"You wanna go put on one of my big comfy shirts and we can put you in my bed?"

You nod again. That sounds like fucking heaven.

He holds out his hand and you take it.

[jaegerisms]

geto who stays at jujustu tech after hidden inventory, and sometime in the future ponders the subsequent developing of your relationship~

It would definitely take Geto a few years to even allow himself to consider if he wanted to marry you. Once he did, it would take him a few more years to actually pull the trigger. So much time in fact, that Satoru of all people gets on his case about it, “Dude, if you don’t fucking marry her already-“

“Satoru please don’t start this right now.” Their daily smoke sessions turning into a weekly occurrence after that. Almost monthly until Satoru gets tired of being avoided and demands his friend tell him why he dreads the topic of marriage so. How could he explain that even though you were the only person he could see himself with, the thought of getting down on one knee made his hands clammy, his heart race, his breath all but stop?

He wasn’t Satoru. He couldn’t brush off his worries so easily. Maybe there had been a point in time when he possessed the confidence to do so. Believing himself to be strong enough to handle anything and come out on top. But that had been before he saw the world crumple around him. Before he realized that he was just man, and there were risks he didn’t have the capacity to handle. Things he couldn’t control.

Eventually, Satoru’s insistent nagging would force Geto to divulge his worries to his friend. And upon hearing them, Satoru bursts into a fit of booming laughter. It pissed Suguru off.

“Bro, you’re nervous? Seriously? It’s been 6 years, if she was gonna leave you it would’ve already happened. Trust me, your emo ass has nothing to worry about.”

For a few weeks afterward, Geto would catch himself studying every interaction between the two of you. The soft voice with which you consoled him, the way you always asked if he was alright after too long of a silence. The way your hand always seemed to drift to him. As if you needed to feel his skin on yours as undoubtedly as your lungs needed air.

The way you brushed his hair, humming whatever tune your mind had decidedly fixated on. The tenderness with which you held his face, tucking his hair behind his ears and staring at his lips as if it pained you not to be latched onto them for even a moment.

Even if he was no longer the careless over confident sorcerer you had fallen in love with all those years ago, he was still your Suguru, no matter what shape he had grown to take. And upon the realization that he could be anything and you would still be there, he went for it.

On a Sunday morning, over coffee, as you sang along to the theme song of whatever show you had playing on tv. Taking sips of your mug between each nail you painted. Bare feet splayed on the edge of the coffee table, chewing on your lower lip in concentration as you tried your best not to make a mess of your attempted pedicure.

Drunk on the casual intimacy, in awe of the effortless beauty that had him in a chokehold, the words fell from his tongue before he had the chance to actually understand what he was doing, “Marry me.”

You nearly choked on your drink. The brush in your hands just moments before clattering to the ground, leaving a stain on the floorboards he would undoubtedly chastise you for later.

“Y-you mean that?”

“Yeah.” He choked out, holding his breath so fiercely he thought he might turn purple. Hands gripping the kitchen counter so hard his knuckles became white.

The shriek that erupted from you nearly scared him half to death. Wet nails be damned, you jump up from your spot on the floor and run to him. Throwing your arms around his neck and jumping up to wrap your legs around his waist. He couldn’t help the breathless laugh that escaped him at your unabashed animation.

Now that wasn’t so hard was it?

[aekatty]

melt my heart ₊˚ʚ 🧊 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

a/n: been rewatching fairy tail and i forgot how FOINE that man is aaaa also my friends requested this teehee also srry for long wait lmao

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

!!! series !!!

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

18+ !! MINORS DNI

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

cw: readers lowk a bitch but they’ll get a redemption trustt, multiple flashbacks, angst, enemies to lovers, eventual smut, female anatomy, slight religious references but mostly used to emphasize a point yada yada

tags ✮⋆˙  afab!reader x gray, enemies to lover, eventual smut, angst

now playing: i'll kill you - summer walker ft. jhené aiko

❅ chapter 1: i'll kill you ❅

part 2…

You had gotten tired of the endless running. The feeling of your lungs giving out as you neared your limit, the sweat running down your forehead as you climbed upon the stone rubble. The smell of blood and smoke flooded your senses. Have the gods forsaken us? You watched in horror as the village was engulfed in chaos by the cursed demon known as Deliora.

“Help me! Someone, anyone! Please!” You felt your lungs ache as you screamed in desperation.

You felt the vibrations of the demon’s heavy steps become stronger, causing you to hide under the fallen walls of a building. The dark growl of Deliora caused shivers to run down your spine.

“I’m scared…” A lump formed in your throat.

Tears spilled down your apple cheeks before the sound of yelling caught your attention. You peeked from your hiding place to see a…boy? He looked to be your age, black hair while supporting a white parka. Now that you got a better luck at him, you remembered seeing him along with a lady and a boy with white hair around him in your village. He was usually accompanied by a woman with dark hair and a boy his age with silver hair. You were always jealous of him, considering you were left an orphanage as a baby— You looked towards the left to see the back of Deliora in a close distance. This kid is standing right behind THE Deliora! You wanted to call for him but stopped yourself in fear of being caught. The situation is life or death, it would be foolish to save someone who puts their own life in the line. All you could do was watch.

That same woman who’s always around him appeared. Except, she’s wearing an ice prosthetic in place of her right leg. The spiky silver haired boy was laid out on the ground unconscious.

“Take Lyon with you, I can’t risk the two of you getting hurt,” she looked at him somberly.

“No! I’m not leaving you! Ur, please-”

“Ur, don’t go!” Your eyes widened as you watched the white haired boy stand up on his own.

“Lyon-”

“I was trained by one of the best wizards to exist, I can defeat Deliora!”

She clenched her teeth, “It’s too powerful even for me!”

“Just trust me!” The boy with white hair readies his stance by crossing his arms.

“That’s Iced Shell! Where did you learn that spell?!” The raven haired woman watched in horror.

“I went to the storehouse and read all your books since you refuse to teach us powerful spells!”

“Lyon, do you know what happens to the caster of that spell?!”

Your eyes widened at the scene unfolding in front of you. The intensity of the spell had alerted the large demon, causing him to to turn around and notice them. “What is he doing?! Deliora’s gonna kill them for sure!” You bit your nails from anticipation.

Before the boy could fully perform the spell, he had quickly been encased in an ice sculpture. His movements frozen in place by the raven haired lady. “I can’t let you do that…”

“Ur, please…”

You watched the lady and the black haired boy exchange a few words before getting into the same stance as the boy encased in ice.

“Iced shell!”

You felt your heart race as you watched the brave woman cast the powerful ice spell to seal the demon away. Could this be the end of Deliora’s chaos? Slowly but surely, the woman’s body had started to deteriorate the longer she casted the risky spell, yet it seemed to be successful in sealing Deliora’s body.

After its body had been fully encased in the ice barrier, you diverted your attention back to the woman, her body slowly withering away. The black haired boy teared up as he watched his beloved teacher become one with the iced shell.

You bit your lip as you watch the boy sob nonstop as he called for his teacher’s name. You couldn’t understand it, all you felt was nothing but rage. You cursed the gods for leaving you fruitless. That boy had someone to look after him and his foolishness killed her. Meanwhile, your parents dumped you into an orphanage, leaving you with nothing. You fixed your own wounds, scavenged your own meals, and took up risky jobs for a few jewels. You even learned Lava magic by yourself! This boy had everything. A loving parental figure, a roof over his head, and proper education to hone his magic.

And you despised him for it.

You fled the scene before you could watch whatever happened next, kicking a few rocks out of frustration in the process. You swore the next time you saw him, you were going to beat the living hell out of him. “I really hate that boy,” you muttered under your breath.

You grabbed a map out of your pocket, unfolding it onto a smooth to piece of fallen concrete. “I can’t be here for any longer, I’m getting outta here.” You decided to scavenge up enough jewels to leave the wretched place that was once your home. After all, there was no use for you staying here anyways. And most of all, you didn’t want to see the face of that boy again.

You traced your dusty index finger along the tattered paper before landing on a specific region.

“This is it!”

———

Years after Deliora's invasion, you acquired enough jewels to board a ship bound for Magnolia, a trading center in the Kingdom of Fiore. You had grown enamored with the bustling populace, the pathways crowded with vendors and children running around with toys. Your senses are continuously being tricked by the aroma of freshly made bread from the local bakery. You were in complete wonder of the gorgeous city and its stark contrast to your once little village. You've practically called this your new home.

And a new home means new opportunities! You ended up joining Fairy Tail, the most formidable guild in Fiore! A day spent at the guild is never dull since you’re constantly surrounded by kind individuals who genuinely care about you. Not to mention, it wasn’t unusual for brawls to break out every other week in the hall. It was no surprise to Makarov when you became a member of the guild at such a young age— you weren’t the only one, after all.

There is always terrible in addition to the good…

Maybe, just maybe, God or whatever heavenly force that resided in the sky would take pity on you. You’re already a starving wizard taking up jobs to pay off your own rent. You had your own problems and you can barely take care of yourself. But hey! God decided to send you a problem in the form of flesh and blood. Black hair, shirtless, ice wizard…

“Oh…you’re still here?” You dropped your messenger bag onto the table.

Gray rolled his eyes at your derogatory question, “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Your face contorted into an expression of disgust, “I was hoping you had left Fairy Tail by now so that I wouldn’t be able to see your face. Or even better, a giant toad could swallow you and digest you into nothing but bones.”

He smirked at your snickering, “Well that’s too bad, cause i’m not going anywhere.” You really hated that stupid smirk he gave you. It was like he was mocking you…

“Oh, yeah, you’re right. Cause you can’t do jack shit to save yourself,” you snickered.

He clenched his fist before getting up and walking towards you, “What’d you say to me?!” Mist seeping from his palms as he felt his temper rise.

“I said your ass can’t do shit to save yourself,” you laughed.

Before you could land another joke on him, you find yourself slammed to the wall by a huge block of ice. The warm red liquid trickled down your nose, irony and salty as you licked it off your lips, “Can’t take a joke, ice boy?”

You shoot hot magma arrows towards him before he dodged it, destroying the wooden furniture nearby in the process. He created a bow and arrow out of ice before shooting them towards you. Luckily you shielded yourself with hardened lava before you could pierced by them. As you bent the lava at your will, you felt a shard of ice knick you at the cheek, causing a drop of blood to trickle down it.

You dramatically gasped, “How dare you! I was supposed to be modeling for Sorcerer’s Weekly this week!”

He smirked, “It’s not like your face was pretty to begin with, lava witch.”

You flicked a droplet of lava on him, causing him to whince in pain before cooling the small burn wound with his magic, “Come on, [Name], revenge is so last year.” A sarcastic tone in his voice.

You wiped the blood off your face, “Oh please, don’t act like no one would want to date an ugly ice troll like you.” You stuck your tongue at him.

He rolled his eyes before continuing to use his ice maker magic against you, in return you employed your lava magic to defend yourself.

The both of you were too caught up in the fight to focus on the master’s screams as he begged the both you guys to halt your magic attacks on each other to prevent the destruction of the guild hall.

Before the both of you could land the finishing blow on eachother, you felt tight grip on your shoulder before looking up to see the red headed S-class wizard, a grimaced look painted on her face.

“Sorry, Ezra.”

“Sorry, Erza.”

You both spoke monotonously with a hint of fear in your voices.

“Master is not too happy with the destruction of the hall! The next time you idiots start bickering again, I’m gonna smash your heads into the wall until it’s nothing but soup!” She tightens her grip causing your shoulder to start aching in the process.

“Ok, ok! we get it! Just stop that! Ow!”

Before furthering any damage on your shoulder, she lets the both of you go before heavily sighing, “Since you both are done arguing, Mira wanted to speak to the both of you guys.”

You and Gray look at each other confused before walking towards the bar, you saw a drunken yet horrified master sitting on the counter as the silver haired beauty pours him another cup of booze, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol.

“Lovely morning to the both of you,” she giggles as she hands the wooden cup of booze to the master.

“And good morning to you too, Mira,” you smile back.

Gray stays silent with his arms crossed before you hit him lightly on the arm to alert him, “Hey- Morning to you too, Mira.”

She giggles again with her high pitched voice before tucking her silver hair over her ear, “Well, master was gonna tell you guys something but he got so stressed from the both of you almost destroying the guildhall that he drank himself nonverbal.” Right after saying that, you look over to see Makarov burbling random gibberish as he clutched the wooden cup handle.

She softly rubs circles onto the hiccuping master before turning her attention back towards you and Gray again, “There’s a job offer regarding the safety of a town nearby an active volcano. The volcano hasn’t been active for 1000 years but recently, the townsfolk have become concerned with loud rumbling coming from it. And since you guys are both lava and ice wizards…”

“Absolutely not. I’m not going with ice stripper here. And can’t you ask Natsu for help on this?”

Gray rolled his eyes at your nickname, “Not my fault my rock hard abs need air.”

“Never say that again,” your face grimaced.

“You know you like it, [Name].” He teases you.

You made a ‘barfing gesture’ at his comment, “Not in a million years, Fullbuster.”

She sighed, “Unfortunately, Natsu already stepped out with Happy since they’re still on that quest to find Igneel.”

“Of course he is,” you face palmed. You groaned as you pinch the bridge of your nose before looking up at Mira again, “Fine, i’ll do the damn job.”

“Awesome! I’ll mark this quest claimed by the both of ya’ll. And do try to get along while you’re at it…you’re kind of responsible for the lives of an entire town so don’t forget that!” She smiles.

Gray smirks before getting close to your ear, the warmness of his breath hitting your ear, “Don’t forget, we’re splitting the reward, lava witch.”

You rolled your eyes before turning your head towards him, “Duh.”

————

Two years after leaving your village…

You squealed as you glided your hand over the distinct mark of Fairy Tail on your arm, a symbol of your initiation into the guild. As you happily trotted down the guildhall, you felt someone tap your shoulder. In response, you turned around as you focused your attention towards a boy with pink hair wearing a scale-designed scarf.

“Hey, you’re that girl that just joined our guild! Welcome to Fairy Tail uhhh…”

“[Name]. My name is [Name],” you giggled.

He smiled cheekily, “Nice to meet you, [Name]. Name’s Natsu, I’m a fire wizard- wait no. A fire DRAGON-SLAYER, and this is my companion, Happy.”

“Aye!” The blue winged cat exclaimed in a high-pitched voice as he waved at you.

“Say, how old are ya and what type of magic you got? I hope you’re strong cause i’m looking for a sparring partner who’s tough enough to beat me!” The pink-haired boy slammed his fist towards his hand.

You smirked at his fiery spirit before you decided to boast about yourself, “Mmm I’m ten and I’m a lava wizard. Ten is practically an adult so I can drink beer anytime I want.”

The boy looked at you with amazement, “WHOAAA, that’s so cool. Once I reach double digits, i’m gonna drink beer everyday and then I’ll be able to beat Guildarts!”

“And I know I said we should spar against eachother but since we both work with heat…I say we work together to defeat that stupid ice wizard, Gra-” Before Natsu could finish his sentence, a block of ice appeared out of nowhere, crushing the boy under it.

“OW! What the eff, Gray!” He cried out in anger as fire escaped his mouth.

You turn your attention towards the culprit, he was about the same age as you and Natsu. Black hair, Fairy Tail mark on his shirtless torso, a snarky expression on his face. You stood there frozen in shock and disgust. The boy from the village.

“Your voice was getting annoying so I was trying to shut you up,” he yawned with a nonchalant look on his face.

Suddenly, he saw you standing next to the loud pink-haired boy before walking over to you, a smirk painted on his face.

“Sup, name’s Gray Fullbuster. You’re the new girl in our guild, huh? Saw you from over there and uh-”

“Hey, Gray! Stop flirting with my new teammate and go away!” Flames still erupting from the pink-haired boy’s mouth.

“IM NOT FLIRTING! I’m just trying to get to know her…” The black-haired boy looked away as he awkwardly scratched his neck, a red hue creeping onto his cheeks.

He returns to his usual stance before using that same smirk on you again, “I’m an ice-maker user, it’s pretty cool, no pun intended. So how bout you ditch this loser and join my te-”

“I would rather burn myself in my own lava then join forces with you.”

The smirk on his face faltered as he looked at you in disbelief, “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, no, looking at you made me automatically dislike you. Can you at least have some type of decorum? Or are you a pervert in training?” You look at him up and down as you roll your eyes.

The boy’s cheeks become redder than before as he looks down on his lack of attire, “Not my fault it’s become a habit! I learned it from training in the mountains with my master!”

You scoff, “Yea, whatever, ice boy. I taught myself on how to use lava magic. No master needed.”

“Well, MY master was like the greatest ice-maker wizard to exist. AND she had the potential to become a wizard saint, BEAT THAT!” He smirks at you.

You felt your temper rise as you puff your cheeks out in anger, “Well some of us didn’t have the privilege of having a ‘master’ to teach us ‘cool magic tricks.’ Some of us had to work our way to the top on our own!”

He scoffed before crossing his arms, “Calm down, lava witch-”

“Lava witch?!”

“Yeah, cause you look like one and act like one!” He angrily pushed you.

“Ok then, how bout I call you an ice troll! Cause you’re dumb and ugly!” You pushed him back.

“IM NOT DUMB AND UGLY!”

You laughed at his reaction, “Whatever floats your boat, ice troll!”

He felt his eye twitch, “What’s your problem with me?! All I wanted was to say hi and now you’re picking a fight with me!”

You cross your arms before getting close to his face, looking him up and down, “Hmm let’s see…you’re ugly, short, a pervert, and you’re dependent.”

“Now you’re just being a bully!”

“Well, sometimes it’s needed.”

“I’m gonna kick your ass!” He rolled up his non-existent sleeves.

“Not if I kick yours first!”

As master Makarov took another swig of his booze, he heard yelling and hitting behind him before sighing and placing the wooden beer cup on the bar counter.

“Not even her first full day and already getting into a fight with the ice wizard…As if him and Natsu weren’t annoying already. I swear this boy makes enemies too easily.” He hiccuped.

“It’s ice-maker magic, dipshit!” The boy shouted as he pulled your hair.

“CONTROL YOUR MOUTH, BOY!” Makarov shouted back.

“Can someone get this stupid block of ice off me! I wanna join!” The pink-haired boy still struggling to push the block of ice off him.

Ice and lava is never a good mix…

[strangerstilinski]

SELENOPHILES OF BEACON HILLS | Teen Wolf Rewrite

Stiles Stilinksi/Original Female Character

chapter one - - chapter two

summary; after an already traumatic evening involving the unfortunate discovery of a gruesome scene, amber is convinced to hike through the woods with her two best friends in search of the other half of a dead body. but it's not as if she could ever say no.. not when stiles looked at her like that.

word count; 11,952

notes; this whole thing was inspired by the throwaway line "two joggers found a body in the woods-" this is the first half of s1e1. i've already completed season one in its entirety but i will be posting them slowly on here. it's 13 chapters in all.

masterlist

c h a p t e r o n e

wolf moon pt.1

All of the craziness started on a Sunday.

The last day of winter break had been stressful enough to start, with the anxiety of having to start up classes again at the front of Amber’s mind all morning. It would be the final semester of her sophomore year. Then, the next year would be crammed with SATs and ACTs and applying to colleges. She knew they would all be one step closer to having to decide what to do with the rest of their lives.

She found it all very daunting.

Since waking up that morning, the girl had restlessly alternated between hiding away in the privacy of her bedroom and lounging in the living room downstairs, unable to find a comfortable place to settle. At some point, she'd managed to chew her nails to the point of bleeding. Pulling her hair back into a braid had become a necessity when she noticed herself picking obsessively at her split ends. Her laptop sat open on the coffee table along with a small stack of paperbacks, from where she had started and then immediately abandoned two different television shows and three books.

After dinner, her irritating inability to sit still had finally pushed her older brother, Jason, to his final breaking point. He'd demanded she go change into exercise clothes and then he dragged her from the house in an effort to release some of her pent up restless energy.

Jason forced her out for a jog through the preserve, and only a measly ten minutes into their run she found herself already with sweat trickling down her temple. She was breathing heavily, slowly falling behind, while her brother continued to run ahead of her with ease.

Amber watched as her brother's lead slowly increased in length, the gap between them growing larger and larger, the sound of his footfalls crunching over leaves and twigs growing more and more faint as she trailed behind. Eventually, upon rounding a long bend in the hiking trail, she realized that she could no longer see him in the distance at all.

With a pause to catch her breath, she bent over at the waist to brace her hands on her knees in an attempt to pull more air into her aching lungs.

Over a mile deep in the preserve, the only sounds that met her ears were that of the breeze whistling as it filtered through barren branches, the odd scuffle of fallen leaves rolling over one another, and her own wheezing breaths of exertion.

When she lifted her head to take stock of where she'd stopped, she found that she'd reached the first fork in the trail. She returned to an upright position, chest heaving as she continued to pant labored breaths, deliberating which path her brother might have taken with hands on her hips.

With a resolved shake of her head, she chose the path to the right. Regardless of which she took, both would eventually lead back to the small trailhead where they'd parked the truck. So, she continued on.

The pace that she settled into could hardly have been considered a jog — if anything, she was moving in a walk with only the exaggerated body movements of a run, but she was tired.

She had only made it a few hundred feet from where the trail split off before she spotted something that piqued her curiosity in a pile of dry brush and leaves at the side of the trail. She slowed as she approached, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead with her shirtsleeve and breathing heavily.

Poking out from the leaves, she could just make out the peculiar shape of a cluster of pale rocks — it almost resembled toes.

A choked combination of a gag and a gasp escaped her. She covered her mouth with the sleeve of her windbreaker as she reached the pile of brush because — It was definitely toes, connected to a foot, which then connected to legs and, well, that was pretty much where it ended because there was only half of a body.

Another gag pushed its way out of her throat, eyes drawn to the clean, smooth cut that went straight through the hips of the corpse beneath the dead leaves. Something had been used to cut them through muscle and flesh and bone. She could see it was a female — the body had been left completely naked.

This had been a person. And they laid on the ground, covered in earth and dried blood, just a few feet from where she was standing. Amber could see dirt caked around the pink nail polish that covered the woman's toenails. Even through all of the blood, she could make out a tiny freckle on the bare skin of the corpse's knee.

She fought back another gag as she finally found her voice, and she screamed.

“Jason!”

Her voice came out shrill. It cracked painfully as she shouted for her brother again and again. She screamed only a handful of times before she could hear her brother yelling her own name in panic as he backtracked and found his way to her on the trail.

Jason's feet skidded in the dirt as he came to a stop in front of where his sister was still standing. Her shaking fingers still covering her mouth as she struggled to keep herself from dry-heaving. His hands went to her shoulders as he checked his sister over for any sort of visible injury. When he found none, his attention turned around them, searching for a threat. His eyes widened when he followed her gaze and caught sight of the body — what there was of one — that sat only a few feet away from them.

Amber distantly heard the call that her brother placed to the Sheriff's Station. She could hear him telling someone about the body and she heard him give directions to their location on the trail, but it was echoed, like she was underwater as she listened to him speak into his phone off to the side of her peripheral vision.

She couldn't seem to pull her eyes away from the corpse. The skin was so pale, it had almost a blueish hue. She wondered, absently, if the person had been out here in the cold before they died, or if that was just what a body looked like after so much blood loss because this person must have lost... So. Much. Blood.

The whole body was covered in in it, gluing dry leaves and dirt to their skin. They had been cut in half. Or, maybe they hadn’t been cut in half until after they’d died. Maybe, Amber thought, it had been something simple. A quick death. Something like a gunshot to the head–

God. She hoped desperately that the woman hadn’t been sliced in half while they were still alive.

It felt like only a minute or two had passed but it must have been longer because suddenly, the bright evening sunlight that had guided her along the trail during their jog was dwindling. It was growing dark and she was being ushered away from the body as officers took pictures, laying crime tape and placing little numbered tents around the scene.

Her brother stood off to the side speaking to the same deputy Amber had just finished with, recounting his own memory of the evening. The deputy nodded and took notes down on their little pad once again, just as they had when Amber had been talking.

Down at the end of the trail, it seemed as if police cars might never stop coming. There were officers making their way up with search dogs now. The dogs barked and ran around, likely on the search for the other half of the body.

She stood off to the side as her eyes flicked from where Jason was speaking to the deputy, to the location of the body, where cameras were flashing and uniformed deputies were moving back and forth in a blur.

Amber felt a hand land on her shoulder and nearly jumped out of her skin. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears as she spun around to see that it was only Sheriff Stilinski, looking at her with the same soft look of concern in his eyes that she'd seen so many times over the years.

“Amber. I didn’t realize it was you and Jason who’d come across it. When I got the call.. I was out of the house so fast I didn’t think to ask-” He sighed, “You okay, kid?”

The girl took a shaky breath, but nodded. The heavy hand Sheriff Stilinski still had resting on her shoulder felt grounding. While he could never replace her dad, he was as close as she got these days and she was grateful for his presence now.

Over the years, there had been something about the stern, protective, always unwaveringly loving energy that her best friend's father emitted. Somehow, he always managed to make her darkest days just a bit better — it was entirely possible that the ability was simply a Stilinski family trait.

“Yeah. I’m okay. Scarred for life, definitely, yeah. But, okay.” Amber said, feeling proud when the small smile she gave him was only somewhat shaky. “I actually think I might go to Scott's? I’ll call Stiles.. See if they want to watch some movies or something. Just.. Distract myself, y'know?”

Getting Stiles to sit down quietly and watch a movie could be like pulling teeth sometimes. He was constantly jamming his elbow into her waist to get her attention away from the screen, or talking over the action, or pulling out his laptop mid-scene to search the internet for inaccuracies or an actor's filmography in a way that she found endlessly endearing.

It was exactly the kind of distraction she felt like she needed right now.

The Sheriff nodded in response before pulling her in for a tight hug. His hand lingered at the back of her head for a few moments, but then he was releasing her and setting off to talk with a cluster of officers.

“I'd really feel better with you at home where I know you're okay.” Jason told her once they'd closed themselves off inside of his pickup truck.

While understood why her brother was so reluctant to let her go off on her own, Amber was entirely too stubborn for her own good, and Jason inevitably agreed to drop her at Scott's house on his way home, with her promise of getting a decent night’s sleep.

After all, it was a school night.

It was hard to believe that only a couple of hours before, she had been stressed about school of all things. Now, she was fighting off yet another wave of nausea brought on by stumbling across a dead body deep in the preserve.

Well, half of one.

As soon as the vehicle began moving, trees rushing past her window in a dark blur of motion, she was trying to get a hold of Stiles. After two attempts in which the call merely rang through to his voicemail, she tucked her phone back into the pocket of her sport jacket with a frown and a huff. She would just have to wait and see if Scott knew whether Stiles was busy tonight.

Amber had hardly made it two steps into the entryway of the McCall house when Scott came barreling down the stairs, attempting to pull on a zip-up hoodie with one hand and wielding a baseball bat in the other. She opened her mouth to question him but before she could make a sound he shushed her aggressively, pushing her behind himself without explanation as he crept out the front door and onto the porch with an abundance of caution and visible nerves.

“Scott?!” She whispered aggressively, still receiving no answer beyond a frustrated wave of his hand signaling for her to be quiet.

She followed close behind, confused and mildly alarmed as she tried to imagine whatever threat Scott thought that he might find outside. She clung onto the hood of the boy's sweatshirt with one hand as she trailed close behind. Scott held the bat, ready to strike, as the two rounded the porch at the side of the house.

The rapidly dropping temperature over the previous half an hour had the breath puffing out from their mouths in foggy clouds in the dark. Scott relaxed his hold on the bat for a brief second as he peered down over the railing, inadvertently pulling Amber forward with him.

Suddenly, something large dropped down from the roof to dangle in front of them, both teens letting out a scream of alarm. Amber instinctively yanked on Scott's sweatshirt in an attempt to pull him back from the threat, but they both quieted upon recognizing the third scream coming from the person now hanging upside-down from the trellis at the roof of the porch.

“Stiles!” She and Scott both yelled in frustrated synchronization.

“What the hell are you doing?” Scott continued immediately.

“You weren’t answering your phone!” Stiles yelled at Scott defensively. “And.. Okay, I know I wasn’t either.” He added sheepishly when he spotted Amber still hidden behind Scott. “Why do you have a bat?!” Stiles’ voice rose to a shrill level again.

As if only now remembering his weapon of choice was still clutched defensively above their heads, ready for an attack, Scott lowered the bat a small increment before speaking, “I thought you were a predator.” He explained simply.

“A pre-” Stiles spluttered, “Look, I know it’s late, but you gotta hear this. I saw my dad leave twenty minutes ago. Dispatch called. They’re bringing in every officer from the Beacon Department, and even State Police.”

Amber felt her heart drop suddenly into her stomach as if it were made up of lead.

“For what?” Scott asked, his eyebrows scrunching in curiosity.

“Two joggers found a body in the woods.” Stiles explained at the same time Amber’s voice whispered a meek, “We found a body.”

Stiles clumsily dropped down from where he had been hanging upside-down, arms flailing as he fell from the roof and onto the ground below the porch in a clumsy heap of limbs. The boy stumbled a bit before he managed to get his footing and moved to stand upright.

Scott’s head pivoted back and forth between his two best friends, his eyes wide. “A dead body?”

“No, a body of water. Yes, Dumbass. A dead body.” Stiles scoffed, climbing up onto the porch to stand in front of them. He turned to Amber with a furrow between his brows, “Who's we? You found it?” He asked with growing excitement.

“Jason and I.” She supplied quietly.

“You mean like.. Murdered?” Scott interrupted, taking a step back to stand beside Amber instead of in front of her. He seemed to be stuck on the concept of the dead body being dead.

“Nobody knows yet. Just that it was a girl, probably in her twenties.” Stiles said with wide eyes, like he found it all very exciting. Amber was beginning to feel queasy again.

“Hold on,” Scott said, “If they found the body, then what are they looking for?”

“That's the best part.” Stiles started, looking to Amber for assurance, or maybe some assistance in the reveal of the next bit of information. She only managed a deep breath after a moment, feeling truly sick as Stiles finished, “They only found half.”

“It was only half.”

Although they spoke at the same time, Amber's words had come out much quieter than Stiles, hardly a weak murmur. Hand beginning to cramp where she was still clutching tightly onto the fabric of Scott’s hood, she released it to flex her fingers a couple of times.

Stiles reached out a hand to rest on her shoulder, leaning in close, “We're going.” He announced firmly.

“Are we actually going to do this?” Scott asked, looking back and forth between them again.

“No.” Amber got out, though the heavy warmth of Stiles' hand through her windbreaker was already making her judgement fuzzy.

Stiles looked at Scott briefly before returning his attention to her, “How come you're the only one who gets to find a body, huh?” He slipped his hand down from her shoulder to grip at her elbow and cradled it softly.

“I don’t know how great you think finding a dead body was for me, but I assure you, it wasn't nearly as fun as whatever you're imagining.” Amber told Stiles.

He stayed silent for once, maintaining eye contact with her for a long minute. She tried to remain strong, she truly did. Amber broke eye contact to look at his face, her eyes flicking over each freckle and mole dotting his pale skin. Steadfastly refusing to let her eyes fall to his lips or drift back to his whiskey colored eyes, she could literally feel her resolve crumbling with every second that she looked at her best friend.

“I’m never going to be able to talk you assholes out of doing this, am I?” She asked quietly. The pit in her stomach felt as if it were expanding with the intent to swallow her whole as her eyes finally went back to his.

A stupidly sweet smile stretched across Stiles' face immediately as he realized he'd won and his hand trailed lower again, taking hold of her own and giving it a squeeze.

Her belly did a traitorous flip at the feeling of her hand in his own and she heaved a resigned sigh. She really didn’t want to have to find both halves of this body.

“We’re seriously doing this?” Scott repeated, sounding unsure.

“You're the ones always bitching that nothing ever happens in this town.” Stiles said, rifling through his backpack as they climbed out of his cramped Jeep. He triumphantly pulled out a flashlight and clicked it on, illuminating the preserve in a bright stream of light.

“Plenty has happened for me, today.” Amber reminded them, shielding her eyes until Stiles had lowered the flashlight to shine on the ground.

He put a hand at the small of Amber’s back as they ventured away from the Jeep, guiding her forward gently while he lit a path in front of them.

“And I was trying to get a good night’s sleep before practice tomorrow.” Scott said.

Stiles addressed Scott first, “Right, ‘cause sitting on the bench is such a grueling effort. And you,” He said, shining the flashlight at Amber briefly before focussing it back in front of them while they made their way through the trees, “You get to find a body, I get to find a body, right? Fair's fair.”

“I'm playing this year. In fact, I'm making first line.” Scott said, bringing the conversation back around to himself and looking annoyingly smug.

“Hey, that's the spirit! Everyone should have a dream, even a pathetically unrealistic one.” Stiles laughed, his hand drifting to grip Amber's hip momentarily before it returned to the safety of her spine.

She reached up to reprimand Stiles with a gentle thwack on the back of the head as they walked, letting her hand fall to his elbow and pulling his arm from behind her, taking ahold of his hand for support instead as they walked. He began to move faster with his long stride and Amber allowed him pull her along while she attempted to keep up on her shorter legs.

It had grown colder still, their breath continuing to puff out in tiny clouds as the three hiked through the preserve, moving as quickly as they could while watching their step over rocks and fallen branches.

“Just out of curiosity.. Which half of the body are we looking for?” Scott finally asked.

Stiles stumbled, his steps faltering as he paused beside Amber, “Huh. I didn’t think about that.”

Both boys looked to her as they continued to move, waiting for an answer.

“You know what? You’ll find out if we find it. I refuse to indulge you both any more than I already am just by being here.” She huffed, taking a step away from the two of them while maintaining her hold on Stiles' hand.

“And, uh, what if whoever killed the body is still out here?” Scott followed up, nervously looking up into the trees surrounding them.

Amber took a hasty step back toward Stiles as her stomach tied itself tighter in knots at the thought, fearfully clutching Stiles' hand tighter in her grip.

“Also something I didn't think about.” Stiles replied.

“It's comforting to know you planned this out with your usual attention to detail.” Scott panted as they dropped to nearly a crawl at a steep incline.

“I know.” Stiles grinned, carefully pulling Amber up with him as they scaled the slippery hill.

When Scott stopped to lean against a tree trunk, she paused and tugged on Stiles' arm to slow him as he tried to keep moving.

“Maybe the, uh, severe asthmatic should be the one holding the flashlight, huh?” Scott said between choppy breaths.

Amber shot a brief glare toward Stiles in the dark, rubbing her free hand on Scott's arm in a comforting gesture as he pulled out his inhaler.

They continued on, following the light Stiles shined ahead of them until he suddenly dropped to the ground, dragging Amber down beside him and covering the bright beam shining out from his flashlight. In the dark, they could see more flashlights sweeping back and forth in the distance, illuminating the mist of rain that was beginning falling around them. They could hear search dogs huffing quiet noises between barks.

“Come on.” Stiles shot to his feet and took off before either of them could stop him and he pulled Amber's arm painfully as he took off, not yet relinquishing his grip on her hand.

“Stiles!” Scott and Amber both whisper-shouted at his back.

When her hand slipped from Stiles' as they raced after him in the dark, Amber squeaked unhappily, “Wait up!” She called out iman hushed voice.

“Stiles!” Scott called after him, “Stiles!”

The two moved as fast as they could, trying to keep up with their friend, but he'd gotten ahead of them. Amber huffed when her toe caught on a tree root and she grabbed onto Scott as she righted herself. She was still gripping onto Scott's arms and getting her feet back underneath her when she heard Stiles let out a cut off scream of alarm in the distance, shortly followed by the sound of dogs barking.

He had been spotted.

“Stay right there!” An officer shouted over the sound of the dog barking.

“Shit.” Amber whispered with wide eyes as Scott dragged her along to hide behind a large tree.

“Hang on, hang on. This little delinquent belongs to me.” They heard the Sheriff’s voice announce with disappointment.

“Dad. How're you doing?” Stiles greeted weakly.

“So. Do you, uh, listen in to all of my phone calls?” Sheriff Stilinski questioned.

“No,” Stiles laughed nervously, “Not the boring ones..”

Amber thumped her forehead against Scott's shoulder. “Idiot.” She whispered fondly, shaking her head.

“Now, where're your usual partners in crime? I thought after the night she’d had, Amber would've kept you away from this.”

She felt the heat of it when Scott took a quiet, shaky breath.

“Scott? Scott's home.” Stiles stuttered, “He said he wanted to get a good night's sleep for first day back to school tomorrow, so.. Amber went home and now it's just me. In the woods.. Alone.”

“Scott!” The sheriff yelled out, causing them both to flinch from where they were huddled behind the tree, “Amber! You out there? Scott!” There was a pause during which Amber and Scott looked at one another nervously, eyes wide. “Well, young man, I'm gonna walk you back to your car and you and I are gonna have a conversation about something called invasion of privacy.”

Thunder rolled loudly over the sound of the Sheriff dragging Stiles and their only flashlight off into the distance. The mist from earlier had eased it's way into a drizzle during the encounter and Amber shivered violently as the cold rain began to seep into her clothes.

“Now what?” She asked quietly.

“We- Walk home, I guess.” Scott sighed.

They made their way back through the trees in what Amber could only hope was the right direction, arms coming up to attempt to rub warmth into her own biceps as they moved through the rain.

They both flinched and spun around in fear at the sound of an animal howling in the distance. Amber turned to Scott and they looked at one another with wide, scared eyes before they began walking again. Scott jerked and came to a stop again only a few minutes later when they heard a large bird flapping it's wings overhead in the trees, prompting Amber to walk straight into his back. She reached up to push him forward with hands on his shoulders.

“Come on.” She urged quietly through her own nerves.

Eventually, Scott slowed to a stop again and moved to take a puff from his inhaler, his breathing ragged from all of the hiking. As he brought the inhaler to his mouth, Amber heard the sound of twigs breaking, the sound growing louder at it rushed toward them.

Scott yelled, shoving his friend to the side before falling to the ground himself. Amber screamed as she smacked against the ground, scrambling to hide behind a tree as a stampede of deer came running through. She gasped as she watched the deer only narrowly avoid trampling Scott several times before they cleared.

“Scott,” She whispered in the dark, heart pounding in her ears, “God.. You okay?”

“I dropped my inhaler!” He answered frantically, pulling out his phone for a weak source of light as he raked his hands through the leaves underfoot.

Suddenly, he yelled out again and Amber took a step closer to her friend just in time to watch him stumble and fall down an incline, and then he was gone.

“Scott!” She ran to the place where he’d fallen but as she reached the hillside, she tripped over something large on the ground and tumbled down after him.

Twigs snapped and scratched at her skin as she rolled down the hill, scraping at her hips and back as her shirt rode up, the back of her head smacking down roughly on a large rock when she finally came to a stop at the bottom of the incline.

Scott's heavy breathing was loud in the silence that followed as he righted himself.

“Amber?” He whispered, moving through the leaves.

She moved to sit up but her vision swam and she was forced to drop her head back down to the rock beneath her with a painful thunk.

“Ow.” She moaned quietly.

A loud growling sounded close by and they were both immediately filled with a cold dread. She could hear Scott’s screams but couldn’t make herself move. She shivered both from the cold and from fear, her head throbbing painfully as her heartbeat picked up.

“Scott?” She called out after a moment, voice quiet.

His screaming had stopped and she heard the sound of twigs breaking and footfalls running into the distance until she could no longer hear them at all.

“Scott?” She tried once more, finding the strength to lift her head to look around her.

The forest remained silent.

She rolled onto her front, moving her arms underneath herself and pushing up onto her knees shakily, black spots danced in the corners of her vision but the preserve was so dark that it was difficult to tell if it was due to the throbbing in her head or lack of light.

Crawling toward a large tree, Amber moved to lean back against the trunk. She shakily lifted a hand to the back of her head and felt the warm wetness in the hair at her crown. She withdrew her hand and her fingers came back stained dark.

“Fuck.” She whispered into the trees, unsure what to do now.

She must’ve fallen asleep for a few minutes because suddenly, she found herself waking.

She groaned quietly when she felt the sharp pain in the back of her head, the wound immensely sore where she had it pressed against the trunk of the tree behind her. She pried her eyes open and saw a head of dark hair on the person who was knelt down in front of her.

She tried to lift her head to lessen the pressure on her injury, but her head felt heavy so soon after waking, and it lolled to the side instead. The movement stopped when a hand moved to catch her gently by cupping the side of her face. Her vision swam for a slow second afterward while the hand held her head steady.

She could hear a voice but it sounded muffled and distant, like she had cotton stuck in her ears.

“Scott?” Amber rasped softly.

The first thing she’d felt had been the ache in her head, but as she came to, she began to feel other things. She could feel the way her damp clothes clung to her skin as she shivered. Her whole body felt sore from rolling down the hill but nothing seemed to hurt enough to be broken.

The hand on the left side of her face moved to cup her chin and pressed their thumb into her jaw, shaking her head softly. She let out a quiet, unhappy noise when the movement made her vision swim again.

“Spinny.” She complained.

Amber lifted a hand up to reach for the person's face. When her cold fingertips landed on their cheek she could feel a light stubble covering the person’s sharp jawline.

“Not Scott,” She deduced to herself miserably. She widened her eyes at the mystery person comically for a moment in an attempt to clear her vision, “Definitely not Stiles.”

She let her hand drop to the person’s shoulder to steady herself and pulled her torso up to lean away from the rough bark of the tree.

“Your. Name.” The voice repeated slowly, voice sounding clearer to her ears now that the fuzz in her brain was clearing. The hand on her face squeezed softly and pressed warm fingers into her cheek with each word.

“Amber.” She told them.

Her vision was clearer now. As the rain passed, so had the clouds, and in the glow from the moonlight that now shined through the bare trees above them, she could see the person in front of her with minimal double vision — The incredibly handsome person in front of her.

“Your eyes are very pretty.” She whispered before she could stop herself, looking into the palest eyes she’d ever seen. She wondered absently whether they were blue or green in the daylight.

The guy snorted softly in amusement, shaking his head before regaining a stoic expression, “Turn your head so I can check what we’re dealing with.”

His voice was deep and gruff and incredibly soothing. He continued to gently cup her head in one hand as he examined the bloody patch at the back of her skull, his hands the same rough yet soft combination as his voice.

“What seems to be the damage, Mister Doctor, Sir?” She asked after a moment, flinching when he prodded gently at the swollen area.

“Doesn’t look like you need stitches.” He told her, leaning back to give her some space and wiping his hands on his dark jeans, “Don’t think you hit it hard enough for brain injury either, but it’ll probably hurt for a couple days.”

“Yay for no lasting brain damage.” Amber cheered quietly as she shivered, missing the warmth of his hand against her cheek.

“You should get home. Get some rest.” The guy reached his hands out to her again, gripping one of her own and helping her to her feet with a firm grip at her elbow, “You shouldn’t even be out here in the first place. It’s private property, y’know. This isn’t a part of the preserve.”

They started to move through the woods slowly. Amber’s legs felt shaky and her butt was numb from sitting on the cold ground for so long, but her mystery doctor had moved one of his arms around her waist, supporting a majority of her weight as he maneuvered her feet smoothly over fallen branches and tree roots.

“It’s dark and my flashlight abandoned me,” She defended, “Then I tripped. Then I was abandoned again. Jesus, I hope Scott made it home okay.”

She looked to her doctor-helper with wide eyes, suddenly remembering the blood chilling sound of Scott’s scream before he had run away from her.

“There’s no one else in the preserve, now.” He assured her, “It’s just the two of us. So, whoever he is, I’m sure he made it home, just like you should be doing.”

“Yes, sir.” She mumbled reluctantly with her eyes still glued to his face, trusting that if she tripped he wouldn’t let her fall. She swore she saw his lips twitch into a brief but genuine smile before he shook his head, continuing their hike out of the forest.

“Do you have someone you can call for a ride?” He asked, “I didn’t drive here.”

Amber found herself wondering how he’d gotten out to the preserve on the edge of town if he hadn’t driven, but didn’t voice her thoughts.

“I, uh, yeah. I can try.” She decided. She pulled out her phone to see that less than an hour had passed since their run in with the Sheriff’s Deputies. She couldn’t have been unconscious for more than twenty minutes.

Amber sent a quick text to Scott to check he’d truly made it home, but paused before calling anyone. There was no way she was calling her brother to pick her up at nearly midnight, so she pulled up the number she’d called twice earlier in the evening and hoped for an answer this time.

The man beside her guided her over a cluster of rocks with a hand at her elbow as she brought her phone up to her ear and listened to the dull ringing.

“Amber! You good? You and Scott make it home okay?” Stiles greeted, picking up after only the second ring.

“Not exactly.” She muttered, her phone beeping as a text came through and she read the message from Scott.

Just got home. In bed. Need to talk to u and Stiles before school tomorrow.

Her eyebrows furrowed as she read and reread the message. She was glad Scott was safe at home but was he not at all worried about her?

“What do you mean? You guys okay?” Stiles asked nervously through the phone.

Amber smiled at the stranger beside her in silent thanks as he kept her from tripping over another rock.

“Scott’s gone. I guess he’s home now but I’m still in the preserve. I think I’m almost out to the road-” She said with question in her voice. The man next to her nodded silently and she continued, “Yeah, almost out to the road, but-”

“I’m on my way-” Stiles said quickly. She could hear movement on the other end of the line before his keys jingling loudly and the telltale bang of his front door closing.

“Your dad still working?”

“Yeah, I doubt he’ll be home ‘til morning.” He told her as the door to the Jeep slammed and she heard the loud rumble of the car coming to life, “Just stay with me and I’ll find you when you get out to the road, alright? Let me know when you’re out.”

“I can actually see it now.” She said, as the trees began to clear and she caught sight of the pavement ahead of her.

“Okay, okay. I’ll be right there, alright?” His voice was laced with worry and she sighed softly into the phone.

“Stiles, I’m fine, okay? Don’t speed to get to me.”

She heard him huff in response, which meant he was probably already going too fast as he drove the winding roads that led out to the preserve.

The hand on her arm had released her when they got closer to the main road and Amber looked to thank the man next to her but he was gone. She spun in a slow circle as her eyebrows furrowed, thinking that surely he couldn’t have gone far, but he’d vanished.

She looked back to the street after a few minutes and could see headlights shining bright in the distance, reflecting off the telephone wires and the wet pavement.

“Stiles, I see a car coming.”

“Okay, okay, I’m slowing down.”

The car approaching did, indeed slow down until there was a blue Jeep stopped in the road in front of her. Stiles threw the door open and ran from the car as she crossed she street and he didn’t waste a second before he was throwing his arms around her shoulders.

“You okay? I can’t believe Scott left you by yourself.”

His voice was muffled in her hair as he pressed his face into the top of her head. One of his hands trailed up from her shoulders to cup the back of her head and she flinched, whining in pain when he pressed against where she’d hit her head earlier.

“What happened?” He asked immediately, pulling back to look at her. When he caught sight of the red stain on his hand in the glow of the headlights, his eyes went wide, spinning her around quickly to look at the spot he’d touched. “Jesus, Am, what happened?”

“I’m fine, honestly. I’m pretty sure it’s barely bleeding anymore. I tripped and hit my head, but I’m okay. Could use an aspirin or ten, though.”

Stiles spun her back around and looked at her like he didn’t quite believe her, but guided her to the passenger side of the vehicle silently. She climbed inside and he was leaning in to buckle her up before she could begin to do it herself.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” He asked softly, letting his hand linger on her thigh after getting the buckle clicked into place.

“I’m fine,” She promised quietly, flushing under his gentle attention, “Can we just go to your house? If I get caught sneaking in at this point, Jason’s gonna kill me. I’m better off sleeping somewhere else.”

“Yeah, ’course.” He pulled back and gently closed the door before rounding the vehicle and climbing behind the wheel. Turning them around and heading home.

When they got to the Stilinski house, they went straight to Stiles’ room and he closed the door out of habit despite them being the only ones home.

“Let me see your head again so I can get a better look.” Stiles demanded as he approached her.

In the bright light of his bedroom, Amber could now see how dirty she was, her athletic leggings covered in mud streaks and her hands much the same. She could only imagine how filthy her face was. And her hair hair where it was pulled back in a now messy braid.

His hands were gentle as he moved her hair to look at the bump on the back of her head, but she still flinched when he poked at it delicately.

“Sorry.” He apologized from behind her, stroking a hand down the side of her hair.

“It’s fine.” She promised again, “I should shower though. Seriously.”

“Yeah, of course.” He said easily, squeezing her arm before traipsing back into the hallway and to the linen closet, pulling out a clean towel and holding it out to her.

She thanked him and made her way to the bathroom before closing the door behind her. She stripped out of her damp, dirty clothes, undoing the braid in her hair and combing her fingers through it softly. She turned the water on and let it heat up before climbing under the spray. She watched dirt and small bits of leaf trailed down onto the shower floor as she rinsed her hair.

She used the men’s shower products that littered the shower, scrubbing down with the masculine smelling body wash twice. She winced when it stung the tiny scrapes on her hips, and proceeded to gently shampoo around the bump at the back of her head.

When she finished, Amber climbed out and dried the excess water from her hair roughly before drying her body. She secured the towel she’d been given around her tight once she was no longer dripping.

She knocked softly on Stiles’ bedroom door as she made her way back over, not wanting to interrupt him if he was getting changed. The door swung open quickly and Amber jumped in surprise at the sight of Stiles standing in front of her in his doorway, already changed into pajama pants and a tshirt.

He gaped silently as his eyes trailed to where her towel was hooked loosely at the top of her breasts. A small bead of water dripped from the nape of her neck in a slow trail past her collarbones and into her cleavage before disappearing beneath the towel and he couldn’t help but swallow loudly, blinking himself out of his stupor and returning his eyes to the safety of his friend’s face.

“Am I allowed in, or have I been exiled to the hallway?” She laughed when he continued to block the doorway after a few moments.

“Right! Sorry!” He jumped back, opening the door wider and allowing her entrance into the room.

She continued to smile as she stepped past him, a blush rising to her cheeks as she thought about the look on his face as his eyes had trailed down to her chest.

“Can I borrow something to sleep in?” She asked, hand coming up to fiddle with where the towel was secured around her.

“Sure, yeah, what do you want?” He rushed to his dresser and opened a drawer already rifling through it.

“Any tshirt would be good.” She said, biting her lip as she thought about the underwear she’d left in the bathroom. She’d been wearing them on her run earlier and grimaced at the thought of putting them back on.

Stiles triumphantly produced a clean shirt and threw it toward the bed before looking at her, his eyes stuck on where she had her bottom lip pulled between her teeth.

“Would- Would it be weird if I asked for boxers or something?” She asked awkwardly.

“N-No, no I can-“ He slammed the drawer he’d procured the tshirt from and opened another, moving things around aggressively in search of a pair of underwear for her. It took longer than it had for the shirt, but after a minute his hand re-emerged from the drawer with a pair of checkered boxers in his hands and a flush on his cheeks. “Here.”

Amber accepted the shorts, her hand brushing his softly in the exchange and she gulped.

It was hardly the first time she’d slept at one of the boy’s houses, definitely not the first time she’d borrowed a shirt, but there was something significantly more intimate about doing so after a shower — about doing it and not having an article of her own clothing to separate Stiles’ clothes from her naked body.

She toyed with the underwear in her hands, “Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“I uh, I can’t get changed if you’re standing right in front of me.”

This seemed to startle him into action and he blushed, coughing into the back of his hand awkwardly in an attempt to hide it.

“Right, I’ll go- I’ll get you some Aspirin!” He said before moving around her and closing the door behind him.

She shook her head and took a deep breath, dropping her towel and drying herself one final time before pulling on the boxers, rolling them twice at the waist to get the fit better before she paused, distracted. Curling her fingers into the material at her hips, she had a thought.

Her mind was racing, imagining Stiles’ own naked body beneath the shorts that were against her bare skin, now. The thought sent a flush creeping up her neck and a tingling heat to her gut.

She swallowed loudly in the quiet room.

Stepping toward the bed, she picked up the basic shirt Stiles had gotten out for her. She moved her arms through the holes and was using her hands to stretch it over her wet hair in an attempt to avoid the sore spot at the back of her head when she heard the door open behind her. She quickly pulled the shirt down over her back and turned to face Stiles where he was standing frozen in the doorway with a glass of water in one hand and two Aspirin cupped in the other.

“I- Sorry,” He said quickly, “I should’ve knocked? I don’t know why I didn’t knock.”

“No worries, Sti.” She told him softly as she pulled her damp hair out from beneath the collar of the shirt. She moved to take the painkillers and the water from him with a smile before sipping from the glass and swallowing the pills.

“I also got out a new toothbrush. Left it by the sink. Figured you’d need one.” Stiles told her as he watched her swallow down the tablets.

“God, yeah. Brushing your teeth with your finger is just- Not the same.” She shuddered at the thought, “I’ll be right back, then.”

Grabbing her towel from the floor, she went back across the hallway into the bathroom. The mirror was still clouded with condensation from her shower and she wiped it clear with the damp towel before putting it in the hamper tucked behind the door.

She brushed her teeth quickly, collecting her dirty heap of clothes from the bathroom floor before she made her way back into the bedroom and closed the door behind her.

Stiles was already standing at the bed, pulling down the blankets and settling into the open side, already armed with the knowledge from previous sleepovers that she preferred to be on the side closest to the wall.

She moved to crawl across his legs to the other side of the bed and climbed underneath the covers, settling down onto her side facing the wall, not wanting to put pressure on the back of her head while she slept. Stiles quietly settled down next to her after switching off the lamp beside the bed.

“You smell good.” He whispered to her in the dark after a moment.

“I smell like you.” She laughed, “I used your shampoo and your body wash.”

“I know.” He said quietly.

She waited a full minute for him to continue, but he said nothing else. She turned to smile into the pillow before closing her eyes and drifting to sleep.

Too soon, morning came and they woke to the sound of Stiles’ alarm clock trilling loudly. Amber cracked her eyes open to find herself on her back, head tilted toward where best friend slept beside her.

During the night, one of his arms had been thrown over her chest, his forearm rose and fell in time with each of her breaths where it was laying across her breasts. He was sprawled out on his stomach, pillow tucked over his head, still sleeping soundly with his pillow muffling the obnoxious beeping.

“Stiles.” She groaned loudly, nudging her friend with her leg beneath the duvet, “Turn it off.”

He woke with a snort, moving to push himself upright with one arm against the mattress and the other where it was still pressed to her chest. He reached out a hand and clicked the alarm off.

“Ow,” She gasped, jerking away when his elbow put the brunt of his weight on her left breast, “Boobs, Stiles. Jesus.”

Stiles’ head snapped around to look at her as he pulled his arm away from where it had been digging into her. His eyes were wide, flicking down to her tshirt covered chest quickly before they traveled up to her sleepy face.

“Sorry.”

She sighed in response, reaching a hand up to sleepily cup the injury with a sleepy frown. It didn’t hurt anymore, the pain gone as quickly as it had come, but she covered the breast protectively for a moment anyway out of principle.

“Uh.. How’s your head?” He asked after pulling his eyes away from where her small hand was touching herself through the shirt. His shirt.

“Better than last night. Probably should take something for it before we head out, though.”

When Stiles crawled out of bed, Amber rolled onto her stomach and smothered herself in the pillow he’d been using, taking a deep breath of the scent under the guise of still being tired. She stayed in bed as Stiles went to shower and get dressed, waiting until he returned before she got up to use the bathroom and brush her teeth.

They stopped at Amber’s house before heading to the school so she could change out of her borrowed sleep clothes and get her backpack.

“Fifteen minutes!” Stiles yelled out the window of the Jeep in warning as she ran inside.

“Time me!” She dared over her shoulder.

She ran upstairs to her bedroom, stripping out of Stiles’ clothes and quickly pulling on a pair of jeans and a sweater within two minutes of rushing through the front door.

Using her hair brush, she removed the tangles from the ends of her long, ashy waves, combing through the top with her fingers until her flyaways settled.

Still rushing, she applied deodorant beneath her sweater with one hand and tossed her books into her bag with the other before zipping it shut and throwing it over her shoulder.

The girl ran down the hall to the bathroom and spritzed herself with the perfume on the vanity, fumbling to collect a tube of mascara and her eyelash curler in her hands before jogging back downstairs.

As she passed through the kitchen, she grabbed two apples from the basket hanging on the wall without slowing and continued on until she was out the front door and back at the vehicle where Stiles was waiting.

“Seven minutes.” Stiles told her with an impressed grin as she climbed back into the passenger side of the Jeep. “I think that’s actually a new record.”

She smiled, shoving one of the apples toward his face. She grinned harder when he automatically opened his mouth wide and sunk his teeth into it to take it from her while he backed out of the driveway.

Pulling down the sun visor, she curled her eyelashes and applied mascara quickly before shoving the items into her backpack where it sat on the floor between her feet.

“Dunno how you can do that in a moving car.” Stiles said through a mouthful of fruit, earning a laugh from her in response.

As she grabbed her own apple from where she’d put it for safekeeping between her legs, she looked over to where Stiles was steering the car with his left hand and shifting gears with his right between bites of the fruit. She ate her breakfast as they drove, her eyes bouncing between her friend’s long fingers where they wrapped around the gear shift and his mouth as he munched on his apple, too distracted to notice her ogling.

Stiles was finishing the last bite as he turned into the parking lot at the school, pulling the car into a spot and shutting off the Jeep before he turned to face the girl beside him. “Scott’s got something crazy to show us before class.”

“What?” She asked in confusion, climbing out of the Jeep and pulling her bag over her shoulders as she rounded the car to meet him, “He just told me he wanted to talk. What the hell’s he got to show us?”

Stiles rested a hand at the base of her neck, above her backpack, and guided her as they approached the school.

“Got bit by an animal last night, I guess.” He told her, “Says it’s pretty nasty.”

“Shit.” She said quietly, eyes scanning the bike rack as they passed to see if Scott was there yet, but not seeing his bicycle.

“Deserves it.” Stiles muttered, his hand gliding from her neck over to her opposite shoulder as he wrapped his arm loosely around her, “For leaving you alone in the woods. Hope he has to get a rabies shot and everything.”

“Stiles.” She scolded, “If he got bit by something, I’m pretty sure it happened before he left me.” She said softly, reaching her hand up to pat his where it was curled around her shoulder, “I heard him yell and then he was gone. He was probably in shock.”

“Yeah, well.” Stiles muttered as they came to a stop outside the front of the building to wait for Scott’s arrival, “I stand by what I said.”

She shook her head at him, appreciating the protectiveness, but more concerned about their other friend at the moment.

Only a few minutes passed before Stiles perked up and was releasing her shoulder as Scott came to stand in front of them.

“Okay. Let’s see this thing.” Stiles said excitedly, bouncing on his toes.

They both watched with rapt attention and leaned in close as Scott tugged up his shirt to reveal a large piece of bloody gauze on his side. The size of the bite was significantly bigger than either of them had been expecting. Amber gasped at the sight but Stiles looked absolutely thrilled.

“Ooh!” He said excitedly, reaching out to touch it before getting his hand slapped away by Amber, the girl pulling his hand back and keeping it trapped in her own.

“Yeah. Woah.” Scott said blankly, pulling his shirt back down, “It was too dark to see much, but I’m pretty sure it was a wolf.”

“A wolf bit you?” Stiles questioned incredulously as they slowly walked down the path to the school building.

“Uh-Huh.”

“No,” Stiles said immediately, “Not a chance.”

“I heard a wolf howling.” Scott looked past Stiles’ body to make eye contact with Amber, “Did you hear it?”

“I mean, I don’t know that it was a wolf,” She said slowly, shrugging and shaking her head, “Sorry, Scott.”

“No,” Stiles repeated, looking at Scott, “You didn’t.”

“What do you mean, ‘No I didn’t’? How do you know what I heard?”

“Because California doesn’t have wolves, okay? Not in like sixty years.” Stiles explained, shaking his head. He pulled Amber and himself to a stop as they turned to face Scott at the staircase in front of the school.

“Really?” Both Scott and Amber asked at the same time.

“Yes, Really.” Stiles told them, his eyes bouncing between his two friends. He squeezed Amber’s hand where they were still connected, “There are no wolves in California.”

Amber took in the information and reached down out of habit to check the time on her cell phone, only to find it missing. The pocket of her jeans decidedly empty.

“Stiles, is the Jeep unlocked? I think I left my phone.”

The boy reached his hands deep into the pocket of his jeans and produced his collection of keys, a tiny green bottle opener bright in the jumble of metal. Amber plucked them from his outstretched hand and rushed off without a word to retrieve her phone, only hearing the beginning of what Scott said next.

“Alright, well, if you don’t believe me about the wolf-“

Unlocking the passenger door, she quickly reached in to snatch the device from where it must have slipped out of her pocket and into the seat on the ride to school.

As she made her way back to the building, she fell into step with the beautiful strawberry blonde beside her as she made her way back toward the building, “Hey, Lyds.” Amber smiled, “How was break?”

“Oh the usual," Lydia narrowed her eyes. “We should’ve hung out, though.”

“Soon.” Amber promised her friend as they approached where Scott and Stiles were still in conversation at the bottom of the stairs, the latter’s voice gaining in volume the closer they got.

“-seriously gonna be the best thing that’s happened to this town since.. Since the birth of Amber Callisto.” He finished, catching sight of their friend and grinning at her cutely, “Hey, Amber, you look- Like you’re gonna walk right past me with Lydia.”

The girls passed by, but while Lydia’s eyes remained focused on the path in front of her, Amber shot her best friends a sweet smile over her shoulder, Stiles’ car keys still gripped in her hand.

“You’re whipped, dude.” She thought she heard Scott mutter before hearing what was definitely the sound of someone being hit followed by Scott’s quiet whine of pain.

Amber couldn’t keep the smile off her face at her friend’s antics, shaking her head as she continued to her locker to collect her things for first period. She turned her head when Stiles passed her locker to get down the hall to his own, her eyes glued to the back of his buzzed head as she pulled out her notebook.

She jumped when Scott stepped into her field of vision and blocked her sight of Stiles.

“Hey, I wanted to talk to you alone real quick.” He said, his hands pulling at the straps of his backpack nervously as he avoided her eyes.

“Sure, what’s up?” Amber clamped her notebook between her legs as she reached into her bag to pull out her chemistry textbook to stuff it into her locker where it could stay until third period.

“I just, I wanted to apologize. For last night. I-I don’t really remember getting home, or cleaning up the blood, or even texting you before I fell asleep. It-it’s all kind of a blur.”

“Scott, it’s okay,” She promised, turning her body to face him as she freed up her hands. She reached up to loosely tangle her fingers in the long hair at the side of his head, “You were in shock, okay? I’m not mad at you.”

“Right, I just, I needed to make sure you knew, y’know, that I’d never leave you behind.”

Amber’s grip on his hair tightened and she pressed up into her toes to lean her forehead against his. “I know.” She told him with a smile, knocking their heads together softly before shoving his head away and pulling back to gather her books for English into her arms.

She made her way to the English classroom and slid into her seat, smiling at Stiles where he was sitting at the desk behind her. She pulled out a pencil and tapped it quietly on her desk top as her eyes skimmed over the words printed on the paper in front of her until class started.

Students trickled in slowly, Scott going to his own seat beside Amber. When only a few empty desks remained, Mr. Anderson stood from his chair and moved to begin writing on the blackboard behind his desk.

“As you all know, there indeed, was a body found in the woods last night.” The teacher started, “And I am sure your eager little minds are coming up with various macabre scenarios as to what happened. But I am here to tell you, that the police have a suspect in custody-”

Amber whirled around to face Stiles, Scott doing the same, but the former shook his head. The Sheriff hadn’t even returned home by the time they’d left for school that morning, so there was no way for him to have obtained the information.

“-which means you can give your undivided attention to the syllabus which is on your desk outlining the semester.”

Amber turned to face forward again and slouched in her seat as she looked through the paper Mr. Anderson had left on their desks, reading through the syllabus and jotting down notes in the margins as she went. Her attention was torn away only for a moment to lean her head back and see Stiles with a pen in his teeth, using a yellow highlighter on his own paper. She grinned at him from her upside-down position before returning to her notes.

“Class,” A voice cut through the silence in the classroom, the students all looked to see their Vice Principal standing at the front of the room with a beautiful brunette. “This is our new student, Allison Argent. Please do your best to make her feel welcome.”

The girl, Allison, was nervously fiddling with the end of the thin scarf she had wrapped around her neck. She smiled, looking at the ground and making her way to the back of the room to sit in the seat behind Scott.

Amber watched as Scott turned to face Allison, pen between his fingers in offering. Both girls’ faces clouded in confusion before Allison smiled softly and took the pen from Scott’s outstretched hand.

“Thanks.”

Amber watched in awe at the way Scott continued staring at the new girl for just a moment too long before turning back to face the front of the room with a grin on his face.

“Are you staying to watch tryouts today?” Stiles asked Amber as he came to a stop where she was standing at Scott’s locker later that day after classes ended.

“Yeah, of course.” She told him with a grin, “Gotta watch my boys make first line, don’t I?”

Stiles rolled his eyes, engulfing her face in the palm of his large hand and playfully pushing her head away as she cackled.

“Can someone tell me how ‘new girl’ is here all of five minutes, and she’s already hanging with Lydia’s clique?” A girl from their English class asked as she came to stand behind Stiles.

“Lydia’s really not so bad. She’s a completely different person when you get to know her.” Amber defended.

Stiles ignored his friend and turned to the girl, “Because she’s hot.” He stated, “Beautiful people heard together.” He flicked Amber on the nose after his statement and she furrowed her brows. She rubbed at her nose before leaving them beside Scott’s locker and making her way across the hall where Allison, Jackson, and Lydia were standing.

“Um, I can’t. It’s family night this Friday.” Allison was saying as Amber reached the group, “Thanks for asking.”

“You sure?” Jackson pushed, “Everyone’s going after the scrimmage.”

“You mean like football?” Allison asked innocently, eyes drifting to Amber and smiling.

Amber shook her head at the girl, about to answer when Jackson’s voice cut in again.

“Football’s a joke in Beacon.” He laughed, “The sport here’s lacrosse. We’ve won the state championship for the past three years.”

“Because of a certain captain.” Lydia added, smiling at her boyfriend.

“Takes a whole team to win!” Amber said sweetly, her thoughts drifting to Scott and Stiles warming the bench for the entire season the year before.

Jackson rolled his eyes at her before returning his attention to the new girl, “Well, we have practice in a few minutes. That is, if you don’t have anywhere else-“

“Well I was going to-“

“Perfect!” Lydia interrupted what was likely to be an excuse from Allison, “You're coming.” Lydia and Jackson wandered off down the hallway, leaving Allison stunned in their wake.

“It’s actually kind of fun to watch.” Amber smiled, “I’m going too. You, Lydia, and me can all sit together, if you want. But, if you really don’t want to stay, you don’t have to. Lydia honestly won’t be mad. She doesn’t realize the force behind her own words sometimes.”

“No, I-I’ll stay and watch.” Allison decided.

The two girls caught up with Lydia on their way to the lacrosse field and the three of them settled down on a set of bleachers on the side of the pitch.

Amber smiled and waved when Scott turned to look at where they were sitting, but he paid no attention to his best friend, his eyes glued to the darker-haired brunette beside her. Scott’s gaze was torn away by Coach Finstock throwing a lacrosse stick with a larger net into the boy’s hands along with a new helmet.

“McCall! You’re in goal.” Coach told him.

“I’ve never played.” Amber heard Scott defend, clutching the new stick in his hands.

“I know,” Coach said, “Scoring some shots will give the boys a confidence boost. It’s a first day back thing. Get ‘em energized! Fired up!”

Amber’s shoulders slumped slightly. She knew that Scott had worked his ass off over the last year to try and improve his skills, but he’d never practiced in goal. She was unsure how her friend could attempt to impress the coach if he was being thrown into a new position just to make the rest of the team feel better about themselves.

“What about me?” Scott asked.

“Try not to take any in the face.” Coach supplied, reaching a hand up to slap Scott’s cheek softly before turning to the rest of the players around the field, “Let’s go! Come on!”

Amber rubbed her hands together in an attempt to keep them warm in the cold, winter air of the afternoon. She watched Stiles settle onto the bench, putting his helmet on the ground between his feet. He craned his neck to look for her on the crowded bleachers and grinned when he found her.

Shooting him a thumbs up and a smile, she waved before he turned his attention back to the field. Amber watched Scott make his way into the goal, helmet on his head and the goalie stick clutched in his hands.

“Who’s that?” Allison asked, looking at where Scott was waiting.

“Him?” Lydia asked, “I’m not sure who he is. Why?”

Amber rolled her eyes at her friend, about to cut in when Allison spoke again, sounding self-conscious.

“He’s, just- He’s in our English class.”

Allison turned her attention to Amber in question and Amber smiled at the girl’s lack of subtlety before the whistle blew loudly, interrupting them.

Their attention went to the field and Amber watched Scott in confusion as he clutched at his ears over the thick plastic that covered them. He looked like he was in pain and Amber rose slightly from her seat, debating going over to check on her friend.

Before she could move, another player walked toward the goal, stopping ten yards away and lobbing the ball as hard as he could at her friend. Amber flinched when Scott immediately took the ball to the head. It thunked loudly against the plastic of his helmet before he fell to the ground in the goal. Players on the field laughed at his pain and Amber slumped back to a seated position with a frown, seeing Stiles make a similar movement where he sat on the bench in front of them.

“Hey, way to catch with your face, McCall!” Someone on the field yelled.

Scott began to pull himself up, getting ready for the next player.

“Scott McCall.” Amber finally recovered enough to tell Allison, leaning close to give a small amount of privacy from Lydia. “He’s one of my best friends. Very much single.. Y’know, if you’re interested.”

Allison blushed and smiled, but refused to look at the face of the girl sitting next to her.

Another player ran up on the goal, throwing the ball to the left corner and straight into the net of Scott’s stick.

“Yes!” Amber squeaked in excitement.

Scott looked at the ball he was holding for a moment as if surprised he’d caught it at all.

“Yeah!” Stiles called out after a few seconds had passed, turning to look at Amber behind him for a moment and also wearing a look of pleased surprise on his face.

The third player in line rushed forward, shooting the ball low at Scott’s feet, but the ball was again, miraculously stopped from reaching the goal by Scott’s stick.

Stiles and Amber both yelped in surprise, the latter’s hands going above her head as she squealed excitedly.

Scott proceeded to catch every ball that was thrown at him, letting no goals pass as his friends watched on in amazement.

“He seems like he’s pretty good.” Allison observed.

“Yeah, very good.” Lydia agreed, impressed.

“He’s been practicing like crazy.” Amber supplied, unable to wipe the proud grin off her face.

They all watched as Jackson stepped forward, moving to the front of the line and readying himself for a shot. His feet came off the ground as he launched the ball toward the goal.

Scott caught that one too.

Stiles shot out of his seat when he yelled, his arms outstretched as he spun to look at the people around them, ensuring that they’d all seen the save.

“That is our friend!” Stiles announced loudly, looking toward Amber on the bleachers and pointing to where Scott was standing on the field. She nodded at him with an incredulous laugh.

Scott was good.

[cyanbugremix]

Sleepover - Stories of the Shaw Pack

Characters: David/Angel, Asher/Babe, Milo/Sweetheart, Darlin'(Tank)/Sam

CW: None; Fluff

Written in July 2023

Summary: The end of an evening get-together with the 4 pack members (David, Milo, Asher, and Darlin) and their mates. The house feels quiet, safe and like home.

Can be found ✨here on Ao3✨, written by moi (cyan_bug37 on Ao3)

~~~~

The quiet atmosphere was something David hadn’t had in awhile. Not that nights weren’t quiet and peaceful. Many of them technically were. But this time he had the people he loved, safe in his home, relaxing with their loved ones and a random movie playing in the background. He looked outside at the sky. A faint tinge of blue still colored the lower half. It wasn’t quite midnight yet, but it was getting there. Earlier, Sam and Tank had gone outside for a walk, or alone time, truthfully. They hadn’t walked very far. He could hear them laughing on the porch.

David looked over to his right at the sleeping couple. Asher lightly snored, and his mate slept on his chest. The couple looked very comfy, though they would probably be stiff in the morning.

Sweetheart and Angel were quietly muttering at the kitchen table. They were at one point painting each other's nails, but that activity eventually turned into them talking. Angel looked over their shoulder as they felt eyes on them. David was staring at them.

“One sec,” Angel said to Sweetheart. They walked over and leaned on the back of the couch.

“Yeah, sweetie? Is something wrong?” Angel quietly asked and placed a kiss on his cheek.

“No. Just watching everyone. . . Asher and Babe fell asleep.”

Angel turned their attention to the duo and smiled. “I’ll go get them a blanket.” They went over to the hall closet and carried out one. They slowly draped it over the two. Babe shifted slightly, but seemed to go back to sleep.

“They are so cute,” Angel muttered once they returned to David. Angel knew Babe had been working overtime to get a project done, a project that could hopefully earn a promotion, and was exhausted. Babe had bags under their eyes for days, and Asher had mentioned how they had a hard time falling asleep. He’d be asleep for about thirty minutes, then he’d wake up and notice Babe working on stuff or just sitting out in the living room.

Angel also had known that Asher was struggling, well in general. Asher started picking up more work, according to the alpha, and Babe said that he had Inversion nightmares almost every night. David had mentioned how Asher began to take naps at the office, which was strange coming from Asher who was usually quite energetic. David had been getting concerned that his beta was burning himself out, and was planning on having a talk with Asher soon. But for tonight, the couple were finally getting some rest.

Milo seemed to have nodded off at some point during the third movie they were watching. Sweetheart walked over to the couches and took their phone out. The glow from the TV gave enough light so they could take a picture of their sleeping mate. Sweetheart chuckled to themselves, “New lockscreen.”

“Do you wanna go take him to the guest room?” David asked. He would have offered their other guest room to Asher and Babe, but they had already fallen asleep, and he didn’t want to wake either of them.

“Probably a good idea. He already says I knock off a few years of his life when I jump scare him. I can’t have him complaining about being an old man just yet,” Sweetheart replied. They gently shook Milo’s shoulder. Milo blinked, though it looked like he could fall asleep again at any moment.

“Mmh? Sweetheart?”

“C’mon. We’re going to bed,” Sweetheart grabbed his hands and carefully dragged him up. Milo managed to say goodnight, and they went down the hallway, disappearing into the guest room.

David sighed and stretched.

“You can go to bed if you want,” Angel rubbed David’s lower back.

He closed his eyes for a moment at the gentle caress. He was tired, but not that tired. “And know that you will probably stay up until 4 in the morning completing some random project? I don’t think that’s the best idea, Angel,” David replied and wrapped an arm around them.

“Well, I gotta do the dishes,” Angel murmured.

“Then I will do them with you,” David leaned over to kiss the top of Angel’s head. Angel hummed in agreement. The two decided that Angel would wash the dishes and David would dry them. They quietly talked between each other about each other’s days, what they wanted to plant in the garden this year, and why a hippopotamus would win against a bear.

“I’m glad we could all get together like this,” Angel said at one point.

David gave a subtle smile, “Me too. I’m glad that everyone seems to feel comfortable here.”

The sliding door opened to reveal Sam and Tank coming back in. They looked around and noticed the new positions everyone was in.

Tank wandered over to the kitchen with Sam trailing behind. “Hey. I noticed the two sleeping beauties on the couch. Where’d the other two go?”

“I sent them to the guest room. Milo fell asleep,” David briefed.

“How was it outside?” Angel asked either one of them, still focused on a pan from breakfast.

“It’s very nice. Not too chilly but not too warm. You got lots of crickets here, David,” Tank said. They leaned back against the counter.

“I know. I can hear them almost every night,” David agreed. He wiped around the edges of a bowl and sat it down. They hadn’t accumulated a lot of dishes because of Asher’s idea to order pizza for dinner, and for that, David was thankful.

Angel handed him the last dish and turned around to wipe their hands on a towel.

“Would you and Sam like to stay the night? We have another room available and I have an excess of pillows and blankets for guests,” Angel offered, tucking the towel back onto the stove’s handle. Originally Sam and Tank hadn’t planned on staying, but the offer was still there.

“What do you think, Darlin’?” Sam looked over. Tank looked at their partner and Angel could see the debate going on in their head.

“If you want to, then it would be fine,” Tank finally said.

Sam gave a small smile, “Then we accept and appreciate the hospitality.”

Angel smiled back and went to grab a couple blankets and a stack of pillows. Once the two were settled, and the TV turned off, Angel and David left to head upstairs to their room. Before Angel shut the door they heard Tank say, “You talk like such an old man sometimes.”

“It was called being polite, Darlin’,” Sam replied as the two walked down the hall. They definitely would be staying up for longer, but at least they were comfortable.

Angel grinned to themselves and closed the door. David had already changed into a pair of sweats and flopped himself on the bed. The window was opened a bit, so the room wasn’t too stuffy. Angel went into their ensuite bathroom to get ready for bed. After they finished, Angel slipped under their sheets and settled down. Their body sank as they relaxed into the mattress. David shifted and laid one arm over Angel, and shifted closer. They breathed in the scent of David’s shampoo and the night air, and drifted to sleep.

~~~~

And my usual disclaimer: As always, I have no ownership or rights to these characters, stories, or franchises. I write this to appreciate the content Redacted ASMR/audio makes. Anything I write is not official in their stories, other than using moments from the original story line. I make no profit from this.

Please don't steal.

~~~~

Got brave enough to start posting some of my favorite short stories that I've written over on Ao3 onto here, and this is one of the first ones. I hope you like it :)

[saturnwisteria]

bitter coffee forrr …. Viv and Rory 😇😇😇

Bitter Coffee AU

☆☆☆

Viv scrubs her hands down her face in an attempt to shoo off the sleep still lingering around. She finds an empty table near the back of the mess and hunkers down to wait for the rest of her girls to catch up.

She sips her coffee, black but for a touch of sugar, the bitterness smoothing over her tongue amplifying tenfold as she looks up to see Captain Rodriguez heading towards her table. She reigns in her scowl at the smug little smirk that graces the other pilot's face, and what it tells her about where this interaction is headed.

It's not that she thinks Rodriguez's crew didn't deserve the lead position on their last mission, but it still raises her hackles that they were chosen first over her own crew.

Rodriguez sits without asking, setting down her own cup, which looks like it might be more cream than coffee. "You look tired, Savorre."

"Six in the morning. Everyone's tired, Rodriguez." Rory nods, acquiesing the point.

"Mm. So it's somethin' else that's got you sour so early."

Savorre does not outwardly bristle, but it's a close thing. Somehow Rodriguez has never been spun by her charm, never fallen for her acts. It irks her.

Rory cocks her head, a performative display, and Viv's guts churn as she sees herself in the motion. "Bet I know what it is," Rory says.

They've been pacing around each other since stateside training, opponents in a ring waiting to see who will make the first move. Both aware of the tension between them, left unaddressed for the sake of civility. Viv always had a hunch that Rory would be the first to break, but she'd thought it'd be because she was the one winning. (Rory had always thought so, too.)

Rory smiles, knowing she's gotten under Viv's skin already. "You know what I think?" She says, slowly stirring the spoon in her mug.

Savorre holds for a beat, weighing Rory up in her mind. She gestures lazily, faux-boredom lacing her tone, "Indulge me."

Rory's lips quirk minutely at the bid for control. "I think," she says, voice low as if she's confessing a secret, "I think it bothers you that Suzy got to fly lead first."

Savorre's nails tap the side of her mug, belaying the irritation hiding behind her cool expression. "Don't know why you would think that, Rodriguez," she says breezily, chin pushed forward in challenge. "I'm glad we're finally being taken seriously around here."

Rory can see the beast that prowls just under her skin, the one Savorre keeps in check by keeping people at arm's length, distracting them with pretty eyes and smart quips so they don't look too close. But Rory has been little more than a wild creature confined in human skin since she was a girl; she knows a starving animal when she sees one.

"Right. Of course, my mistake," Rory replies, taking a sip of the watery mess hall coffee, the sweetness on her tongue from more than just sugar and cream. "Although, Veal did tell me somethin' interesting the other day..."

Rory plucks the spoon out of her mug, lifting it to her mouth. She watches Savorre watch her, sucking the remnants of coffee off the spoon in an exaggerated motion.

For being the Captain of a plane dubbed The Mouse Hole, Savorre does not enjoy being the prey in their little game of cat and mouse. It's a feeling far too intimate for her. "Spit it out, Rodriguez, or go yap at someone else."

Rory laughs, pleased at how aptly she tries to switch their roles. A cat languidly sharpening their claws on a scratch post. Rory is content to be one; everyone needs an outlet, and she was made to be a scratch post that keeps the cat from tearing up the furniture instead. Makes her feel alive.

"Well, if my yappin' bores you so," she pushes up to leave. Viv's hand shoots out quicker than her eyes can track, wraps around her wrist like a vice. She doesn't say anything, won't bear the humiliation it'd cause her to ask or even demand answers, she just digs her short nails into the flesh of Rory's arm.

Contrary to popular belief, Rory knows when not to push her luck. She sits.

Viv's claws retract, but her hand stays wrapped around her wrist. Rory likes that. She can reward good-ish behavior.

"Rumor has it the next mission's gonna be a long one," Rory turns her wrist still in Viv's hand, letting her palm come to rest against the back of her forearm. "Now, Suzy ain't flyin' that one, and I heard that the lead might be goin' to someone..." She trails off, tracing a feather light finger over Viv's skin.

About damn time, Viv thinks, but doesn't say. She flexes the fingers around Rory's wrist as one of Rory's nails lightly scratch her arm, a delicious rush following the movement.

"Maybe even somethin' about a promotion, but what do I know?" That has Viv freezing in her seat. Would they...?

Like a ripple effect, Rory freezes, too. She had expected a flare of ego from Viv, something she could use to get both of their blood boiling over, not...whatever this is. She feels guilty all of a sudden, cruel, like a childish bully. She knows that Viv believes she doesn't like her, but she does, it's just that it's horribly muddled up with jealousy.

They're both nervous, ill-treated dogs. But Viv hides it, gets people to like her in a way Rory never could. Too full of ambition and vitriol and never good at lying.

They spring apart, as if the places where their skin touched had become a live wire. Viv glances over Rory's shoulder to see Willie and Bianca approaching; Willie with an expression of fondness accompanying a raised brow, and Bianca with what Viv thinks is exasperation on behalf of her pilot.

"C’mon, Rabid, eggs are waiting," Bianca says.

"Sure," Rory says, picking up her mug and avoiding Viv's gaze. "Just catching up. Neumann," she nods to Willie as she leaves.

Willie slides into the seat Rory vacated, stealing Viv's mug to take a swig.

"Bleh," she sticks her tongue out. Viv rolls her eyes and takes her cup back, wrapping her fingers around the base.

"Go get your own coffee then, freeloader."

"In a minute. What was that all about?" Willie asks, jerking her chin over her shoulder.

Viv traces a finger around the rim, brows furrowing slightly. She sighs, raising the mug to her lips, "I don't know," she says, taking a sip.

[chickensoup-4-mysoul]

herculean (drrr x f!reader) - chapter 29

chapter 29 - silver lining

synopsis: maybe this wasn't so bad.

word count: 4,387

warnings: namie's thing for seiji

"i'm making plans for the past so i’m losing touch fast i'm so callow, following a shadow of what i'm supposed to be,, aluminum - daisy the great

Every unfavorable situation has a silver lining.

A sweeping overstatement and a very naive thing to say. However, there are moments in your life where you actually stop and think “Oh. Well this isn’t so bad.” You’re having this moment right now as you sit in Izaya’s desk chair, using your feet to spin the chair so you can track Namie’s location in the room. Said woman is perched on a ladder, thoroughly dusting the tall bookshelves. The man had so many books, you wonder if he actually read them, or if he just kept them for appearances.

Izaya had left a while ago, probably off to do some shady business. It’s just the two of you now, quietly minding your business and enjoying each other’s company--well, you were enjoying her company. She hadn’t really acknowledged your presence all that much. Still, you were content to be in a space with a person. This was more like what you imagined it would be with Izaya--but the man would not keep his mouth shut. Not even during business hours could he refrain from spinning his chair towards you and imparting all of the grisly details of his current task.

While you were not keen on learning about whose place of employment he was giving to whoever, you were partially relieved at the absence of your friends’ names in his little spiels. You mentally scold yourself for using the term. ‘Friends’. They were just people, now. People that you cared about. People who might care about you…

You had hoped that these thoughts would stop coming. That somehow, the eccentric man and stoic woman would fill the void in your heart and dispel any desire to see your old companions. But you always knew that it could never.

God, you’re so tired of moping around like this!

Something topples to the ground, tumbling over the carpet with a dull thud. Namie stares down at the floor, where a book has fallen. You stand from the chair--a little faster than you’d like to admit--making your way over to the bookshelf. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it.” You say, bending down to pick up the book. 

Her eyes trail your hand as you raise it towards her, offering the book. You narrowly catch her gaze flitting to your face before she takes it from you. She pushes it back into place. Seeming to have finished her job, she climbs down the ladder, plucking another set of pages from the shelf on her way down. You don’t even have time to wonder what it is she’s going to do with it--she’s already sitting at her desk, flipping through the pages.

“Oh, I see. That’s what you thought that I meant.” Izaya’s laugh is like nails on a chalkboard to you at this moment. 

“What the hell else could you have meant?”

You had slipped yet another jab at Izaya into your unconventional conversations. It was growing to be one of your favorite hobbies, seeing exactly what you could do or say to throw him off at least a little bit. Guilt never overcame you--after all, he was usually the one who started it. His favorite thing to do was mock you for your ‘fall from grace’, dangling your previous friendships over your head to get a rise out of you. Refusing to give him the satisfaction, you fired back that at least you had friends at some point. You went on to say that the only person that had room to talk was Namie--hell, she even had a great relationship with her brother.

That didn’t garner the reaction that you expected. Now he was just smirking at you, relishing in the pressing gaze you were directing at him. “Well, well, how do I put this lightly…? The love Namie harbors for her brother is quite... one-sided.”

You really thought it would stop there--that Namie was just struggling to rekindle her connection with her brother and that would be the end of it. But then he just kept talking…

“It’s really a shame Seiji got himself a girlfriend...maybe then Namie wouldn’t spend so much time pining after him.” Izaya narrowly dodges something that had been thrown at his head--was that a stapler? Looking over your shoulder, you see the most emotion you had ever seen on Namie’s face. Her dark eyes glare daggers at Izaya. She stands with one hand perched on her desk, the other arm dangling in recovery of a strenuous throw. 

“I don’t know what possessed you to think you had even the slightest right to say his name...but you better not do it again.” The room practically ices over with the venom in her voice. Even you’re tense and her eyes aren’t even on you. 

“Right, right. Forgive me. My mistake.” Izaya is as breezy as ever, going back to his typical evildoings. 

Seiji. That’s that boy you see Mika Harima latched onto all the time, isn’t it? You ponder the likelihood of it being someone with the same name--but then you remember the indifferent, almost empty look on his face, how his dull, dark eyes match Namie’s almost perfectly. What a small world you managed to waltz into.

You’ve felt very awkward around her since then. After all, you wouldn’t be surprised if her animosity at Izaya had grown towards you as well. If you had known her brother was such a sore subject, you would have never brought it up! But how could you have known? It is kinda weird...really weird. Possibly one of the weirdest things you had come across--BUT you could overlook it….if you really really tried.

“I’m sure you’re bored, but can’t you find anything better to do than stare at my face?” Her eyes suddenly meet yours and it’s only then that you realize how long you’ve been staring at her. You’d usually bristle and skitter away--but the indifference painting her face keeps you from getting too flustered. You begin to turn away from her, ready to return to your spot at Izaya’s desk. However, a sudden thought stops you from getting too far. 

“...Were you trying to help me?” With your back facing her, you can’t take any cues from the woman’s face. Her silence baits you to turn back in her direction. Her head is tilted downward, almost buried in the book she was reading. To your surprise, though, her eyes are on you--pupils subtly zeroed in on your form. Bolstered by this, you turn to fully face her. “You sent me that photo of my father, and that document. Izaya obviously didn’t want you to. So…”

“You think I would jeopardize my profession, just to provide you aid in the form of a cryptic hint?” You barely looked away for more than a second, but when you looked back, her eyes had returned to her book. 

“Well, your tone is telling me that the answer is no.” Your feelings aren’t exactly hurt by that--you don’t know why you’d expected any different. After further thought, your lips quirk into a smirk. “Just wanted to piss him off, huh?”

A soft huff. The upward twitch of her smirking lips is so subtle, you barely notice it. Triumphant horns play in some far-off corner of your brain. This lady, she’s cool. 

The room settles back into a comfortable silence. You drape yourself over the back of the couch, your eyelids drifting closed. You weren’t particularly tired--but you found it soothing to just sit there and exist, enjoying the rare occurrence of an empty mind.

The stillness is disrupted by a piercing chime, no doubt from one of Izaya’s many work devices. It was familiar--you’d heard it go off many times as Izaya tapped away at his computer. Writing it off as a random email, you attempt to return to your relaxation. However, only a short moment passes before the chime repeats. Then comes another. And another. And another. 

You huff an irate sigh as you sit up, sparing a glance at Namie. She seems completely unfazed, probably used to the noise. You, however, quickly grew tired of it. Ignoring your body’s screams to be lazy, you extract yourself from the couch to approach Izaya’s desk. There had to be a silence button somewhere. Your eyes scan the many electronics cluttering the man’s workspace. For a moment, it seems impossible to discern which device the noise is coming from. Quickly, though, you spot a laptop that has only been partially closed, its screen still bright and flashing which each chime.

You quickly pull it open, only intending to press whatever button it takes to get the damn thing to shut up--but that plan swiftly escapes your mind once you see what exactly was on the screen.

Bakyura has entered the chatTaro Tanaka has entered the chatSaika has entered the chat

Bakyura: ‘Sup, you guys!Taro Tanaka: Hi!Saika: Hello!Bakyura: Been awful quiet in here...Figured I’d check in and say hey!Bakyura: Glad you guys joined, I was worried I’d be stuck alone with Kanra.

Your eyes scan the screen multiple times, but from the first second, you knew exactly what you were looking at. In the top left corner, where Sora is usually written, Kanra is written instead. So many dots connect in your head all at once. Kanra’s chatty, gossiping nature…”her” ability to sniff out the deepest of rumors rolling around Ikebukuro...of course it was Izaya. Are you surprised? Not even in the slightest.

Setton has entered the chat

Setton: Evening!Taro Tanaka: Hello Setton!Taro Tanaka: Looks like almost everyone is here ^^Bakyura: Yeah, we’re just missing Sora, aren’t we?Bakyura: Where is that dude?Saika: He’s been pretty quiet for a while…Setton: He has, hasn’t he? Hope he’s doing okay…Bakyura: Probably decided we were too lame for him. His loss!Setton: Oh, Kanra’s here! I didn’t even realize.Bakyura: Kanra, since you’re so all-knowing and powerful, what happened to Sora!

Bakyura: HuhTaro Tanaka: She’s quiet too…Setton: Now THAT’S unusual.Bakyura: Can’t say I’m mad about it!Saika: Maybe she’s not near her computer?

As much as your eyes want to remain glued to the screen, you force yourself to push the laptop closed.

“Ladies, I’m home!”

Just in time, the man of the hour waltzes in through the front door, a thin grocery bag dangling from his wrist. Namie, as usual, doesn’t even grant him a turn of the head. Undeterred, Izaya kicks the door closed behind him. He’s only a few steps into the room before his eyes switch to you. You notice the narrow in his gaze as it wanders to your position at his desk, and the laptop you had just shut. It’s obvious what you were doing, and you expect him to call you on it immediately. Instead, a ball of plastic is suddenly hurtling straight toward your face, his arm moving so fast your brain can barely comprehend it.

You’d barely raised your hand to protect your face when the plastic collided with your palms. As your fingers sharply grab it, you feel something crumble a little bit in your grasp. You shoot him an unamused glare, beginning to unwrap whatever ammunition he had attacked you with.

“After a long hard day of grueling work, I have brought home the bacon for the two most important women in my life! What a great man I am.”

The plastic is the grocery bag he had been holding, you realize. You toss it to the side in favor of inspecting to small red package that lived inside it.  

“Instant noodles?” you say flatly. Honestly, you were surprised he hadn’t tossed you a can of dog food.

“Now, what’s that look, huh? You should be grateful I care enough to feed you--not like you can go out yourself and show your face at the convenience store.” The laugh that tears its way through your lips carries a bitter taste.

“Yeah, yeah. What a great man you are. Thanks.”

The sarcasm in your tone seems to be lost on him as a satisfied smile melts across his face. You spin in the desk chair to turn your back to him, and as you do, you hear his long strides carry him in your direction. There’s barely enough time to turn back to look before a lithe hand plants itself on your shoulder. Your eyes meet that wolfish squint of his that you knew all too well. You only quirk an annoyed brow at his invasion of your personal space.

“Now, here I thought you had some sense in you and it’d be a waste of breath telling you that my work is confidential-” He’s cut off by your palm in his face as you push him away from you.

“Unless someone buys it off you, right? Relax…I was just turning the volume off on your computer. The noise was driving me crazy.” Izaya swats your hand away, his sneer now replaced with a much rarer pout. He perches himself on the desk, just far enough to be out of reach. That same sneer then overtakes your face. “Didn’t see anything you didn’t purposely leave open for me to find …I’m not stupid. Never took you for the type to masquerade as a woman on the internet. Well, maybe I did!”

The man snickers, unfazed by your petty teasing. “You’re one to talk. Mr. Sora . Y’know, if you ever wanted to be seen in public again, you could always change your identity and live as a man!” At that moment, he swiftly yanks the back of your hoodie, pulling your hood comically low over your face. He’s back at an unreachable distance before you can retaliate.

“Get bent.” He only shrugs innocently.

“Fine, then I guess you’ll never know which of your friends are who!” No matter how much you liked to pretend there was some sort of power struggle between the both of you, Izaya would always have the power to grab your attention. You hated to admit it, but he had this way of always piquing your innermost curiosity.

You had wondered about it, since long ago, when Celty had shown you the chatroom herself during the Slasher incident. As you chatted with your virtual circle, you found yourself observing each person’s behavior to see which one matched hers. It didn’t stop at Celty. You often saw a bit of Anri in Saika, and the shared name with that demonic sword thing seemed a bit too coincidental. Masaomi disappeared, and magically the similarly rambunctious Byakura appeared in the chat. The ache sneaks into your heart, blossoming into a sting as you think of each of your friends. By the time you catch yourself, it’s too late. Feeling Izaya’s gaze on you, you know that he saw it.

“Not my friends.” Your voice is infuriatingly small, and you can’t even force yourself to face that stupid smirk.

His chuckle is drowned out by the high ring of the telephone. You continue to avert your gaze as he grabs it from beside you. Taking advantage of his distraction, you slip away from the desk and back to the couch. “Ah, well isn’t this a surprise! Haven’t heard from you in a while.” 

The voice on the other end is dulled and muffled. Your trained ears automatically tune out the conversation. Instead, you bury your face into the cushion of the couch and attempt to coax yourself out of the sudden rut you had worked yourself into.

“My, my, sounds like devious business. How shady do you think I am?”

More muffled speech follows before Izaya lets out a sick, satisfied chuckle. You lift your head from the couch, perching your arms over the back cushions to give him a judgemental look. What you’re not expecting is for him to be looking right back at you, face twisted in an expression that sent shivers down your spine. 

“I see…I might just have the place for you. Check your email for the address and I’ll trust that I’ll be receiving your payment as usual.” Izaya slides into his desk chair before swiftly typing something into his laptop. Your eyes burn into the back of his head. What bullshit was he about to cause to invoke a face like that...? Just as quickly as he had opened the laptop, he snapped it closed, immediately turning back to face you.

“Unfortunately, looks like you will be enjoying your delicious meal at home. A colleague called an emergency meeting last minute.” Your lip twitches in annoyance. He was kicking you out!

“What the hell… your colleague ?? You mean another fuckin’ victim?”

“Language! As much as I love to share my exploits, not everyone is keen to extra listeners. So…nighty night!” He’s already turned his back to you, typing away on his monitor. You’d flip him off, but he wouldn’t even see it.

“Whatever, man. Thanks for the noodles, I guess.”

...

Your apartment resided on the side of Ikebukuro that was a little closer to Shinjuku than your usual hangout spots--but the walk home from Izaya’s apartment was still a pain in the ass. A part of you always considers staying the night, since you were probably just gonna come back in the next few days, anyway. But Renji needed to be fed daily and something about spending a night in the same vicinity as Izaya didn’t sit right with you. You wouldn’t be surprised if he gave someone your location so they could ambush you while you were sleeping...although he could still do that even if you slept in your own apartment.

You remember when you used to be so anxious making the first trips back and forth. Your eyes would dart about suspiciously and you would duck your head in fear of anyone recognizing you. The thought of someone finding out that you were fraternizing with the informant had you set on edge. Now, walking under the guise of nothing but an open night sky, you find yourself feeling oddly tranquil. The gray hoodie adorning your form practically swallows you. Even with the hood down, it dulls anything about you that used to stand out so much before. You blend in with the night, another nameless, storyless face lost in the city of Ikebukuro.

Nameless and storyless; friendless. Is that what you wanted to become? Were you becoming it, whether you wanted to or not?

Stop being so damn introspective all the fucking time.  

You blame Brigall for those sickeningly melancholy thoughts. Any thought that had you aching to hug Erika, hold Walker’s chilled hands, swipe Kyohei’s beanie off of his head, listen to Ruri with Saburo, pick out earrings for Anri, tease Mikado, stare into Shizuo’s eyes again…

That wasn’t you. That wasn’t you! That’s the other girl--the girl that a man injected into you with his weird, herculean, scientific bullshit or whatever. But even as her personality fades…her feelings are still there. The adoration, the compassion, the warmth, the attraction, the yearning …

The pulsing sting in your eyes and nose has you furiously wiping at your face. Not yet, please--not now. You had made it to the front of your apartment building, only an elevator ride standing between you and at least some semblance of comfort. The tranquil chime of the elevator carried a dull echo as if it was playing from far away. As your feet drag themselves through the hall, you ponder what you should do to distract yourself today. There was bound to be some shitty TV or movies to binge until you fell asleep. You guess you should whip up those noodles, too…

Your train of thought is abruptly halted when you realize your door is unlocked. Shit, did you forget to lock it when you left earlier? You were on the top floor, in a pretty well-off area(considering the city). Hopefully, somebody wouldn’t think to try the door. However, as you step inside, your heart stops. 

You hadn’t been using much of your lights the past few weeks. The natural sunlight coming through the windows was fine. As the sun set, the television and a few candles kept you from sitting in complete darkness. Those bright, fluorescent lights…they reminded you of that sterile, bright white hell--so you kept them turned off at all times.

So why were all of the lights turned on?

“Shit…” The word leaves you breathlessly. Looking around the kitchen and living room, not a thing looked out of place. The same dirty dishes piled up in the sink. Various sweaters and shirts decorated the couch. More importantly, the giant television was still there. Nothing looked any more ransacked than it already was. But someone had to have been in here. Someone could still be in here. 

You quietly traverse deeper into the apartment, ears searching intensely for any noise. You pause as you reach the kitchen counter. After a moment of contemplation, you reach towards the knife block and pull out the last one there, a small paring knife. If you didn’t have to be quiet, you would scoff at yourself. What the hell would you do with this? The further you moved into the living room, the more you hoped you wouldn’t be needing to defend yourself at all. 

That’s when you heard it.

A soft sound. So light, you had barely caught it. Then a slightly heavier sound. Then a zipper. You slowly turn in the direction of the sound, as if a mere click of your neck could alert the intruder of your presence. Sure enough, there was the door to your bedroom, pulled wide open. Soft shadows cast themselves through the doorway. You watched as they moved in an unidentifiable shape.

What were your options here? You could leave--hope Izaya’s meeting is over by the time you get back and break your streak of never spending the night at his place. But then what? Come back and hope there’s not someone squatting in your apartment? Let yourself get robbed in the case that they do find something valuable? You liked some of your things! You had no cash anywhere in the apartment, and you wouldn’t be surprised if they took something of yours to sell. And what if they came back for more? And where was Renji?

You think back to that night in the alley--when that guy had attacked you and you most certainly sent him to the hospital. Your strength was a product of torture and exploitation. It made you less of a human and more of a monster. But with it…you could defend yourself against almost anything. You stare at the small paring knife in your palm. Your fingers into a fist round it, before you carefully set it aside.

You press your back to the wall as you sneak down the hallway to your room. As you grow closer, the shadow grows into a clearly human shape. You watch it closely, trying to gain a sense of what this person looked like--their height, and subsequently their strength. Your shoulder softly touches against the doorframe, signaling that you’ve gotten the closest you can without being visible through the doorway. Shit how were you going to do this-

Swoop in and pounce? Slip in and go for the sneak attack? What if you punch first, ask questions later? What if it was someone really weak? What if this was all a misunderstanding?

Suddenly, you realize the shadow beginning to become a bit too clear. The sound of approaching footsteps meets your ears before they’re drowned out by the pounding of your own heart. They were coming, and they were gonna see you . Any ounce of your planning is replaced by pure panic as they approach the door.

A lump wells up in your throat as your mind races. Through the muddled thoughts, something slips through to the foreground of your brain. A sense of stillness washes over you as the thought fully dawns on you. Hold on…

This is your goddamn apartment!

Taking in a huge breath, you whip around and swing yourself through the doorframe. Upon immediate entry, you know somebody was there--as you suspected, closer to the door than before. You come face to face with a blurry mass--not close enough to easily collide but still within a limb's reach. You don’t make out a face, or even a body. Your comprehension cannot stem beyond the fight or flight chemicals pumping through your bloodstream. You don’t know whether to attack; to strike or shove. So you grab, fingers scrambling for purchase on whatever they can latch onto. A smooth, soft fabric is crumpled in your grasp and you pull--more like yank the person towards you. You find your bodies whirling as you spin to shove them against the wall.

“(Y-Y/N)!”

Your heart skips a beat as your name sputters from their lips. Breath heaves its way from your chest in the sudden stillness. Blinking rapidly, you attempt to clear your flurried and frightened vision. 

The first thing you see are gray eyes, so deeply sunken you could almost trace the shape of the skeleton. They’re shadowed by scraggly, unkempt strands of dark brown hair. Accompanied by an overgrown beard, most of this person’s face is obscured. 

A gasp, sharp and breathless, shoots out of you. It feels as though a rock settled its way into your intestines, nestling into places it should never be. For a moment, it feels like you've been stabbed through the gut--but as you stagger backward, you’re sure that you’re completely unscathed.

All of this from a person’s eyes.

His eyes.

Half of your subconscious struggles to recognize him. His hair is much too messy, his beard grown much too long, his gaze too empty--and where are his glasses?

The other half, however, knows him too well. Knows that unsettling, disheveled appearance. That unyielding stare. The clashingly pristine, white lab coat.

His face seems to split in half to make room for his wide, ill-practiced smile. It doesn’t suit his face. It looks as though his skin is screaming at the unfamiliar stretch. He opens his arms wide, a gesture intended to appear welcoming, but on him feels like anything otherwise. His lips part, and that graveled voice painfully pierces your ears.

“(Y/N).... my dear daughter…”

[weministertomonsters]

Fallen Gods

➤ Wordcount 1.2k

"I'm sorry for the mess," the god said, perched on what was once an altar laden with gifts.

The smooth slab of stone was bare of offerings, covered only by a red cloth that fell apart as he ran his fingers over the material. Everything valuable in the temple had been looted long ago, leaving the place bare of everything but the etched inscriptions along the walls and the painted pillars. Solyana had many questions to ask, like why did you save me, how did you fall, and why are you here alone?

She listened to the scrape of his pointed nails, loud even in the largeness of the space.

"Why would you apologize?" She asked, hiking her shawl back up around her shoulders as the biting chill of the wind stole her warmth.

"This is hardly a place worthy of company," the god responded, and she huffed.

"This is no temple, it's a tomb," she said.

Perhaps that was a little harsh because he looked like he had been slapped. She sighed and limped forward. He looked away, and if it was possible for a god to be embarrassed then that was what he was. Even while sitting, he was taller than her. She reached up carefully and when he did not move, she threaded her hands through his hair, slightly awed by how black it was. It was almost not a color at all, but a void.

For a split moment, she could see him as he was meant to be, in all his glory. He was lounging arrogantly on his god-throne, muscled and jeweled, with skin like shadows and a black panther curled at his feet. A vision. Her lips parted as she breathed in, expecting to taste the aura of divinity, but there was nothing but air. Her fingers tangled in the tight coils of his hair and she frowned.

"Years of solitude have rendered you nearly human," she said and again, it sounded harsh coming from her.

Kicking a fallen god while they were down was a risky thing to do. That was the way to curse your bloodline down into the future generations.

"What happened?" She asked more gently and took a seat beside him on the altar.

Some parts of the stone were dotted with old candle wax. She pried a red disc of it up with her fingernail.

"This isn't my temple," the god said, resting back on his hands. "I am young and weak enough to rank amongst the demigods. I don't even have a reputation for myself."

"That's certainly not true," she protested, and he tilted his head.

"Oh? Then why have you not heard of me?" His eyes glimmered gold in the hollow blackness of his face.

Suddenly, he looked less malnourished man and more being of power. Her words failed her, and it was only partially out of fear. The rest was awe. Even as he leaned in and caged her with his arms, she already found herself imagining what it would be like to swear herself to him. Her elbow banged against the rock and she winced, letting herself sink until her back was flat.

High above them, the ceiling was painted in eloquent red and blue miruhn, telling tales of myth and legend that she would have to take the time to decipher. Strange how she hadn't noticed it earlier.

"Go on, Solyana," the god encouraged, or maybe mocked? "Tell me my name."

She sucked in a sharp breath as she felt him close in. He knew her name. That meant there was power in him yet. Her arm had come up at some point, and whether she had wanted to push him away or pull him closer, she did not know. Her indecisive hand remained on his chest, fingers braced against not much more than bone. He could replace The Wraith and no one would notice.

"Ka'amal." The words seem to shoot out of her, surprising them both.

He froze above her. "That is not my name."

"Because you don't have one," she said.

Working on a wing and a prayer. She waited, searching his face. Was she correct? Again, the fallen god looked stricken as he pulled away and sat down hard.

"I am already beginning to regret saving you," he said, pushing the heels of his palms into his eyes.

Solyana sat up slowly. "You're tired," she noted.

"No," the answer came quickly.

"You're depleted," she amended, and he gave a dry laugh.

"If a beast were to wander in and eat you, there wouldn't be much I could do," he said. "So yes, I suppose I am."

Solyana couldn't help but giggle. "You mean you can't defend yourself?"

"What use does a god have for combat?" He shrugged.

Right now, she was stronger than him. It was a strange thing to imagine.

"I can offer you temporary devotion," she said. "It's not much, but better than nothing at all."

"Why would you?" He squinted at her.

"You saved my life."

"Which I regret doing," he said pointedly, and she laughed.

"Lie down," she said, patting her lap. "In the least, let me untangle your hair."

"Tch. Human foibles. Who cares about my hair?"

"Surely at the peak of your godhood you were better managed than this," she murmured, digging around in her pouch and bringing out a comb with a handle made out of a polished merkosc spine.

She didn't mention the short vision she'd had, unsure of how much of it was true.

"You had mere moments to escape from your Order with your life, and you chose to bring a comb?" The god snorted.

"It has sentimental value," she replied, pulling him over when he hesitated.

Just like that, he was draped on the altar with his head in her lap. His eyes pierced into hers warningly.

"Relax," she smiled, beginning to work through the mass of his hair. "I'm not going to dig your eyes out."

She worked in silence for a while, ignoring all his yips and groans as she tugged on stubborn snarls of hair.

"Tell me who you are," she said.

"Who I was."

She didn't bother correcting him.

"You say this isn't your temple?"

"It belongs to my brother, Andolin. I have learned he was captured by a powerful sorceress and contained in a human vessel."

"How does one trap a god?" Solyana wondered.

"No one can, not even with black magic. Unless the god is already in poor health, as my brother was. Ironically, he was the first of the deities to suffer the loss of disciples."

"And how did you end up here?" Solyana asked.

"I attempted to hold his place for him. I waited for his return even after the last of his devoted left."

"And then you grew too weak to leave," Solyana said, understanding the truth of the matter.

Something cynical in her heart seemed to soften then.

"You waited," she whispered, and much to her surprise, a tear fell from her eye and onto his face.

"Don't cry on me," he grumbled, hefting himself up and wisping away, rubbing his cheek.

She put the comb away, lost in the sadness of her thoughts. Maybe that was what she had to do as well. What better place to wait than here? If only she could get the god to agree to share the temple with her.

──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────

Excuse me a moment while I fangirl over my own lore. I'm just so happy with how everything is falling into place! Maji and I have been having fun over on @the-desert-lands with all the worldbuilding.

Spoiler: This god over here adopts the name Solyana gave him. It's pronounced as Ka-ha-mal.

Does anyone remember Andolin? I wrote a story featuring him here, although I'd say that's set in a different universe because he's quite different.

[eight-cats-in-a-box]

You take requests???? Because I would love more just a little creepy but well meaning Viktor Humphries if you have more for him. X GN!Reader, imagines, headcanons or otherwise I just love just a little creepy but in a cute way Viktor Humphries.

You're my first request ever! I have no idea how well I actually captured the cute-creepy, but I made this! Hope you like it! Feel free to tell me if there's something you don't like about it, and I'll do my best to change it!

Viktor Humphries x GN reader

Word count: 1297

Un-beta'd, we die like me- I don't think there's any egregious spelling errors/etc, please point them out if you see any :)

Viktor first met you through the Range Exchange. You were so kind, always getting him whatever he needed. And when you met him for the first time, his silly little joke made you laugh! Truly the best sound he had ever heard.

He wanted to hear more. So he started inviting you over more- even if it was just to work on something. And when you invited him to your ranch("to hang out for once," you teased), he was ecstatic. He was getting closer to you, learning more about you!

The day went by all too fast, the two of you talking about nothing and everything all at once. At some point, Viktor had gone on a tangent about his work, and upon realizing you weren't talking or replying much, looked over at you, nervous. But when he saw you looking at him with the sweetest, most awe-struck expression, urging him, "Tell me more, please, Vik?"... He was so glad his datapad would record everything, so he could play back this moment.

Later, he would use the footage to reconstruct your ranch, bit by bit. This process was made all the easier by you, albeit unknowingly- inviting him over more often, and when he finished with your ranch, he started on making... Well, you.

Bit by bit, week by week, he constructed an AI that talked, walked, even acted like you- from the way your nose crinkled when you laughed, to the way you picked at the dirt under your nails absentmindedly. And when it was done, he backed it up. Multiple times. Viktor had spent far too long on this to lose it.

Over the months following, Viktor ran simulation after simulation, trying to figure out how to get closer to you. And you noticed. Well, you noticed something was up, anyway. He was more tired, the dark circles under his eyes had somehow gotten bigger, and he made more mistakes- silly ones, that a not-exhausted Viktor wouldn't have made.

His surprise when you confess to him is... Simultaneously hilarious and sad. How could you have not fallen for the adorable, pun-cracking dork that is Viktor Humphries? How could you not love him? He admits, rather sheepishly, that he had never, in all his simulations, even considered you liking him back.

All his... What now? You're confused. He explains that he had wanted to test the Slimeulation, expand it. Make it more... accurate. Given how the copy of your ranch was never seen by you, that seems doubtful. But... You're flattered. He had done all this, simply to get closer to you.

You pull him in for a gentle hug, nuzzling into his shoulder. He stiffens, but just as quickly relaxes into the warm embrace. The two of you stay like that for god knows how long, and you eventually ask if maybe... He'd like to swing by for supper? He grins, ecstatic. "I- I'd like that," he says, that soft, sweet smile you adore so wholeheartedly spreading across his face.

But when the two of you step through the teleporter, you hear a crrk-pfoom, and look behind you...

To see the teleporter a smoking pile of junk on the floor of your Lab. And he's panicking, asking if you're okay, if you were hurt (you weren't, just rather startled) and all you can muster up is- "I guess we're having a sleepover, then?"

He looks... Shell-shocked, for lack of a better term. You backtrack, apologize, but he stops you with a fragile hope in his eyes and asks a question that...honestly hurts a bit.

"Do you...Do you mean it?"

Of course you mean it, you assure him! He's wonderful company, and you adore his banter. As you head to the house, passing by corrals of bouncing slimes, you ask about the recreation of your ranch. He blushes, and you snicker.

As you cook (he tries to help, but one very stern "Sit your cute ass down and let me cook," later, he's perched on a stool.), you jabber on about whatever comes to mind, and this time, it's his turn to stare with heart eyes as you ramble.

You finish cooking, and plate up the food. It's delicious, and probably the first real meal he's had in years. You admit that you always have just enough for two people, being rather used to cooking for yourself and another. He smiles softly. He remembers you saying something about that-he listened to the clip of your soft, sweet voice on repeat.

The two of you finish your food, and Viktor insists on doing dishes, but you manage to convince him to let you actually wash the dishes, and he gets drying duty. You banter all the way through it, playfully jabbing at each other as you finish the chore.

Later on, when you're preparing to go to bed, you ask him where he wants to sleep. You can take the floor, you tell him, but he's not having any of that nonsense. You're grown adults, sharing a bed is not the worst thing that could've occured.

You fall asleep first, and Viktor rolls over to watch you sleep. He's curious. He watches all through the night, and when you cuddle up to him, he tenses. He's unused to physical contact, but this...this is nice. He raises a hand, stroking your hair gently. As he reaches for his datapad, feeling blindly in the dark, you grumble and scootch closer to him. He makes sure the flash is off, and takes what is probably his favourite picture of you.

The next morning, you wake up next to him, and the sweet scientist is passed out cold, holding you in his arms. You smile softly, and begin trying to extricate yourself from his arms without waking him.

It's no easy feat, but you get it done. Checking the time, you're right on schedule, and you decide to get started on breakfast. An hour later, you've got food and a sleepy Viktor on your hands.

After breakfast, the two of you go your separate ways to start various chores. You follow your normal routine, and Viktor heads to the Lab to see if he can fix the teleporter.

The routine repeats for a few days, and slowly but surely he fixes the teleporter. You'll be almost sad when he does, because this has been wonderful. Waking up beside him, being around him in general, all that domestic shit you never thought you'd get out here.

And he asks you for help, and who are you to deny your favourite scientist? The two of you are covered in bleugh, but the teleporter works. And the two of you step in together.

You're surrounded by the familiar crackly vwoosh, and when you're greeted by the familiar sight of Viktor's Lab, he pulls you into a passionate kiss that leaves your head spinning. He pulls back, grinning brightly and realizes what he did. And you're looking at him like he hung the moon and stars- hell, like he hung the whole damn galaxy.

And you're kissing him again. And everything is perfect- the sound of something whirring, feeling you pressed against him, the taste of honey, probably from whatever you ate this morning, you in general.

You're kissing him, and in all his simulations, he never saw this coming. But then again, he never saw you coming- you, who helped him out even with no real reward. You, with your silly little Hunter slime pin. You, who he found buried under Tabby slimes and protested when he tried to help you up. He adores you.

"Stop thinking and kiss me."

"Gladly."

And who is he to deny his favourite person in this universe? He tells himself to shut up for once and kisses you.

Hope you like it!

Masterlist

[picturesofthegoneworlds]

Preview for Intertwined, chapter 12

The deep navy of the sky blackens and the stars brighten. Imogen struggles to see anything past or in front of the pinpricks of light, deciding it best to try and let her eyes adjust over summoning her own and perhaps drawing attention.

A cicada-like trill resonates from nocturnal insects, and she does her best to keep an ear towards the trapdoor; tracking the absence of bone in plate-metal or chainmail scraping against sodden stone, hoping it maintains.

She also hopes the clouds and the rain don’t return – aware of the hunger for it and the reprieve it had initially brought, aware that she will in time wish for it again. Laudna dancing in the middle of the pathway running between the fields-

The recollection makes her heartbeat dance in turn, blood twisting and crashing through her veins in excitable tides; she sees the visible stutter to her chest through Laudna’s movements on top of it, as if her head were on a platter carried between Imogen's awkward and fumbling hands  and her feet had dropped over an unseen step - like the ones she’d tumble down when she had fallen too quickly into a dream and had woken again with a start-

don’t wake her don’t wake her don’t wake her-

Right. Easy. Focus. It’s just like being in the saddle, not exciting your horse from erratic movements.  Imogen is confident there, is good at that - at a hold on reins and restraint. Control. Tack and the hands it is passed down from. Inherited. The burn of whisky, the bite of words. Control. The looks, the whispers she couldn’t hear but the thoughts she could. Smile. A tip of the hat and a bow of the head. Control. Two farmers and a butcher. Fingers that twitch. Lightning braiding around muscle and vein. Control. Two men singed and on the floor. Music. Sanctum. Hands and language and learning and being so tired, so ready to give over control. Be freed from it. Watch as her own skin is claimed each morning-

She doesn’t wake up alone any more.

Laudna's hands call darkness and Imogen's summon light.

It’s funny.

They are different, but also the same. A head with more than one voice. How can they even be expected to-

Laudna's head rises and sinks and Imogen is pulled into it.

Grey.

The air feels like it is buzzing, like it is heavy and holds a dulling pressure that pushes down on Imogen's temples and leaves her vision slightly blurry, a looping dull drone emanating from all directions, oppressively empty and void of destination or melody.

She crawls out from a pressure she realises is also physical. Looks down on large and fragile hands that remove splinters of pale brittle material with pointed nails from tattered skirts and fuckin’ shit she allowed herself in.

She wishes to wince; to rub her palm into her forehead and massage the ache. She can’t, realises she is just another passenger in Laudna’s head, does not want to push the boundaries of what it takes to execute influence.

Stench. Rot. A mountain of bodies.

It’s like the pile they had found together in the lower level of the ruins, except these bodies are covered in gore still, some bloated some rotting, some just pale - all mutilated and malnourished, wet with viscera.  

Laudna only spares them a glance before her feet carry them onwards.

The architecture is foreign to her – more complex in façade though duller in colour (save for the flecks of organic matter that decorate it as if the capillaries and nerves are growing between the wattle and daub and wood grain), a collision of materials forming overhanging upper-floors and exposed timbers that support but also adorn in banded segments of half-beams and intricately carved arches and stone chimneys all going to heights surpassing the usual one or maybe two story maximum she would see on the farm buildings back in Gelvaan, and many of them are terraced, joined together with narrow cobblestone alleyways dissecting them intermittently. Laudna winds her way through the main road and backstreets with an undistracted certainty, barely looking down at her own feet, aware of where the gutters run, eyes focused on the distance.

(you can read the previous chapters here)

[thewingedwolf]

wait i’m gonna be so annoying and have a final thoughts here

the aesthetic & main romance has just really fallen off. they are incapable of sticking the landing in the third act & while they still have some good looks, i think there’s a certain level of playing it too safe (see Kate’s wardrobe!!!!!) and also just, bizarre makeup choices that were a bit distracting.

they also just don’t know how to keep a character waiting for their romance while building that character up over several arcs. kind of a bad trait to have for a tv show?? 😭😭 like, i love them with all my heart, but everyone has said that eloise, benedict, & colin have felt so confused at points as characters, like the writers didn’t know where to go with them. they’re just waiting for their romance instead of like, growing.

Colin was the male lead what do we even know about him beyond his inability to interact with a woman without projecting onto her.

once again the milfs outsold, agatha and violet are the best thing about this series and i don’t care how much i like violet’s lil thing with agatha’s brother, i want those two gossipy old milfs to kiss sloppy style.

it’s too goddamn short, i think this wasn’t a problem in s1 or qc bc it’s the First season so there’s not as many characters to follow but they keep introducing all these other characters that take space away from a) The Main Couple and b) The Bridgertons As A Family, and those are the draws of the series!! it’s too much for only 8 episodes, what happened to 12-18 episodes for high budget or cable shows, if they had these people on like Normal tv contracts they wouldn’t have such a hard time scheduling and have these long ass waits between seasons Either, im tired of this and i blame the duffer brothers and i want those two nerds hunted for sport.

also hyacinth and gregory are getting SO OLD OMG HURRY UP 😭😭😭

i think they did a better job this season with folding the siblings in together but it feels disjointed from s2. anthony & kate specifically feel very oddly thrown in there and idgi. i loved seeing the bridgertons using calling times as an excuse for Group Hangs, and i loved the way John pointed this out to Francesca. i liked that the ending with benedict where he’s realizing he’s the oldest still left at home with two like, toddler siblings and feeling unhappy with it, but bc they struggle with incorporating all the siblings together, we really lose that thread from last season between him & anthony that could have given benedict a way to explore his sexuality in a slutty way while also giving anthony something to do & not drop the art school thing. however, this is all detailed and would take a lot of time and they only have eight episodes. why. do 13-18 or im gonna start sending death threats to ceos. for legal reasons that’s a joke haha.

i do think in the few kathony scenes we got, they nailed the dynamic that she is the world’s most put upon eldest daughterson and he needs to be institutionalized. pls put jonathan bailey and simone ashley in another thing together so i can see them together again. this can’t be the end. be the next tom hanks and meg ryan please. he george clooney and julia roberts. i’m on my knees here.

am i allowed to say i’m glad we got a long devirginizing scene like in s1 & qc but also we did not see Nearly enough of those two fucking. more than kathony but imo still not on the level of the other two. also you could write an essay here about the sex politics of this show. i will refrain and say Is This Not The Pervert’s Show?? Can we Please get better pandering????

i think no one can handle a big cast like shonda not even her hand picked teams. qc handled having a host of characters so much better. early grey’s is really great at this. htgawm is good at this. u can tell what season she was really In That Writer’s Room. shonda pls get back in the writer’s room i need something as emotionally devastating as “meredith i’m so sorry” “you must be the woman whose screwing my husband” i need sexy like the “teach me” scene but with the freedom of streaming to get freaky with it, this cast WANTS to deliver but netflix & these writers are NOT up to the challenge!!!

i love bi benedict. even if nothing else comes of this i didn’t think they’d genuinely have benedict get intimate with and acknowledge being attracted to a man. genuinely really jazzed about that. but they Have said they want to explore his ~fluidity more and there’s so many scenarios that could be, i have no idea what the hell they mean by that askksjd. crossdressing sophie, genderbent to solomon, a trans sophie/solomon of some persuasion, im excited to see where they go!

BI FRANCESCA. MICHAELA STIRLING. PEOPLE ARE HATING BUT YOU HAVE MY ATTENTION. esp bc you could do a michaela that has like, resigned herself to a life of never feeling love only to fall in love At Her Cousin’s Wedding so well with this. these three, michaela francesca john, are gonna break my HEART i’m READY for it!

i want the resolution to one of the gay couples to include brimsley & reynolds encouraging charlotte to cure society of homophobia somehow. if we can do this with racism we can do it with homophobia. why the hell not.

listen to me. listen closely. are you listening. if we don’t get lesbian eloise what are we even fucking doing here. enough fucking around. give me a real sign this is all going somewhere. i am no longer asking.

[idiotwithanipad]

Fluff... Just-Just fluff...

(TW: Incestuous relationship mentioned (I'm so sorry but that's just the canon, I'm sorry🫥 confirmed in s2Xe4 and s3Xe5)

"Rogh?"

"Rogh? You no slept yet. Moonah almost gone, Solah will show in short time. Sleep is gift from Moonah and you no take. No be ungrateful, Rogh" Gurr whispered. The older man leaned over, passed the shoulder of his mate and over to Rogh, who sat beside his own sleeping mate. He held a bundle of pelts in his arm, his tired but aware eyes gazed down at the bundle.

Rogh's first born had arrived that night. The tribe had waited a long time for this moment, and for Rogh, it was the most hair pulling, nail biting rock grinding time of his young life; many women in the tribe had died while birthing the young, others had died after the birth, when things were supposed to go smoothly. It laced Rogh's brain with fear and confusion, especially for his dear sister's fate.

His sister now slept at his side, sat up against the cave wall where she birthed the baby, her arms rested limply in her lap, her forearms crossed over each other with her palms facing the roof of the chalk pit cave. She had fallen asleep holding her new baby, which Rogh had scooped into his own arms so that the cold wouldn't take her from them quicker than she had been given to them by mighty Moonah.

Rogh gave a quiet grunt of acknowledgement over to his older cousin a few metres away, but he didn't take his eyes off of the tiny girl in his arm. Gurr slipped carefully away from his mate and crawled over to Rogh, crouching himself by his feet.

"Baby girl?" Gurr asked, eyeing the pelts in Rogh's arms.

Rogh huffed and nodded, the corner of his mouth twitched into a proud smile.

"Me and Lun only have boy babies. Lun say she want girl baby, but she go for hour or more. Get big tired fast" Gurr shot Rogh a look of mild horror and a feverish shake of his head. Rogh suppressed a chuckle and gritted his teeth.

"Me have look?" Gurr's voice seemed to soften as he scooted closer.

Rogh nodded slightly and held out his arms, the newborn still fast asleep in her fur swaddle. He transfered the baby over to his cousin almost ceremoniously, being careful not to jerk or jostle her too much. Gurr settled the baby into the crook of his arm as his spare hand rose a finger up to her face. He gently pushed down the section of pelt that partially obstructed her face so that he could get a better look at his younger cousins first child.

"She small. Need be big careful of her. Small ones go first in cold or fight or hunt. Is pain, but true" Gurr's voice was merely a whisper at this point; the deep gravelly drawl in his voice was put on a temporary pause, fearful of rousing the baby from her first sleep.

Gurr slowly leaned in closer to the girl. He gave a short huff, which caused Rogh's eyes to widen slightly, fearing something had happened or that his new baby had stopped breathing, like so many others had in the past.

"There. She have same mark as you" Gurr smiled. He pointed his fingertip at a brown freckle beneath the girl's left temple.

"Me just boy when you born, Rogh. But me remember. You have mark like that" Gurr smiled up from the baby towards his little cousin who now took a deep breath to calm himself of his previous panic.

Gurr reached out a hand towards Rogh's head, his grizzled face twitched and creased as his fingertips proded at the side of Rogh's left cheek, urging him to tilt his head to the side so that he could see clearer.

Gurr closely inspected Rogh's cheek for a while, longer than he would've liked; it had been harder to locate the identical freckle, given that, last year, Rogh's beard had started to grow. Proving itself quite the task to locate which was a freckle and which was a flea.

"That one. She have the same. There" Gurr spoke quietly. Pressing the pad of his finger through the thin hairs on Rogh's outer cheekbone. Rogh's eye twitched and looked down at his daughter to see the mark. Gurr was right. The small, brown dot under her left temple was in the exact same place that Gurr's finger remained pressed against.

Finally, Gurr pulled his hand away from Rogh's face and handed the newborn back to her father.

"She definitely yours, and not Wov's..." Gurr grimaced and nodded his head over to a henched and barely furred man sleeping with his jaw hung open, an unattractive string of spit dropped from his lip down onto the cave floor. Honestly, what did Riva see in that guy??

Rogh shuddered and gave an agreeing nod, taking the mopped up bundle back into his arms and bouncing it sightly when the baby stirred. Her tiny hand coming up out of the pelts and searching for something to cling to.

"Me think want name her 'Pin'" Rogh muttered, more to himself than to Gurr.

"She too small to be called 'Hibb' or 'Veo' or 'Zaa'. She small girl, so 'Pin'. Cute and small" Rogh smiled as the baby's hand came up to clutch at his furs, tugging at them and kneading the strands.

Riva wouldn't mind the name 'Pin', surely. She did say she hoped the baby would be a girl, so that's her wish granted by Moonah. Maybe the name 'Pin' would be alright? ... Maybe.

[pursuitseternal]

You will “Beg” me to post this update soon for “Touch the Darkness”

At least I hope! And while I promise some more saurondriel smut, I cannot wait to share some juicy Shelob from this chapter…

From chapter 40: “Beg”

CW: minor violence, bad bitch energy

“It won’t happen ag…” the orc’s words ceased midbreath, Shelob’s hand flying faster than sight could catch as her unnaturally long nails sliced through the soldier’s neck. As they began to shrink back into her fingers, she licked them clean of the black-spurted blood that soiled them. Serves them right for not grabbing the puny She-elf when she was vulnerable.

Shelob gave a weighted sigh as she stepped over the nearly-decapitated body to return to her favorite perch in the cavern wall. Those vile lesser creatures should all be thus punished for their failure. They must learn who is truly in command now, no longer a father, a sire of their line, but a ruthless and fearless being of power that could suck the very breath from their bodies on sight. Alas, she continued to muse as she wiped the rest of the blood on her dress. She tired of the taste of orc now. Only that Moriondor remotely came close to sating her.

As if summoned, Adar’s footfalls sounded from the entrance, quick and measured steps to match the precise and critical stare he leveled at her. “What is this?” He demanded, pressed and hushed in voice as he stopped short of his fallen child.

“A bit of a mess I haven’t had the time to clean properly, dear,” she called from aloft, savoring the way he squirmed when she used such terms of affection. Such pet names. And she certainly fed on such discomfort. “Now, I take it you did not come to see me in such a state…”

Her preternatural speed launched her to the floor beside him. A hand reached out to caress his shoulder, but even as he withdrew from her touch, her pointed teeth peeked barely from the bottom of her plump upper lip as she smiled her greeting. Undeterred.

“We require more power, more resources for breeding,” he stated. Still distant and cold, even as he retained her dark and alluring gaze.

“A shame to hear you speak of breeding so…” she paused to pass behind him, pressing her lips against the back of his mottled and pointed ear “… so dispassionately.”

“It is a matter of growing more soldiers, more warriors as we see the masses Sauron has called to muster for him.”

“Masses?” She demanded quietly, rounding to face him again more swiftly than before.

“Nearly ten thousand, an alliance of Men and Elves now camps between his tower and the mountain,” Adar’s smirk widened to see her perturbation twisting her pale face. “And you promised us aid, protecting, until we unlock the secret to Morgoth’s return.”

Her eyes rolled all the way back in her head, a toss of her long, ebony hair as she spun away from him. Her bare feet silent on the floor. “It matters not,” she hissed. “Let them come, we need but one thing to hold away over Sauron, and then he will feel truly Abhorred. To make him fall lower than ever before, to debase him worse than Melkor ever did, we must capture his mate.”

She rounded slowly, already feeling the rage flowing from the Moriondor, his ire like coals behind the black of his eyes. “We are not merely provoking Sauron,” he commented quietly. Always quietly. “This is about regaining a land for Darkness to thrive, a way of returning to Morgoth’s plan for a land of our own, for my children. And if his Chief Servant abandons loyalty, we must remove him or remind him of just whom he serves. We must reach the Dark One in the void.”

“You fool,” she chided, her tongue tutting the roof of her mouth. “You are in such denial, Adar. For you no longer serve your children now.” Eyes glinting like starlight in blackest night, she reached for him, feeling his shoulder twitch beneath her fingertips. “You belonged to me the moment you crossed into my domain, into Cirith Ungol,” she paused to lean up into his face. His own dark eyes stared down his nose at her, unyielding. “You are mine, Moriondor. You should have learned that by now for all the times you’ve had to please me just to keep your children here, safe… and alive.”

“You wish to put yourself on the throne of Middle Earth? In place of a Dark Lord, all shall bow to the Webbed Queen on her throne of corpses sucked dry and lifeless?” Adar taunted, almost leaning in as his barbs hit home. But he saved the best for last. “Even your own kind, another Maia, has chosen a She-elf for a mate,” his eyes flickered as he quirked a single brow. “And not just any of the Eldar, a most powerful warrior, brimming with boundless light now that he has gifted her with his own power. They will be nigh unstoppable.”

Shelob’s whole frame drew rigged, spindly power threatened to burst through her skin, fangs grinding in blinding wrath. It was meant to be you. It should have been you, the hiss of ages of jealousy wound tight over her heart. Always in the shadows as she was, the great Lieutenant had never stopped to gift her with more than a glance, but it was enough to whet her appetite for his power. For the depths of his smoke-scented magic And for more enticing form he now embodied, for all that he had to offer. For all that the blonde She-elf enjoyed. It should have been hers…

Only as Adar attempted to turn away did the visions of her green-eyed past cease. Her hand gripped hard into the flesh in her grasp, nails drawing black blood that began to darken his faded black tunic. “Where are you going?” Shelob hissed, pulling his body tight against the curves of her own.

“To breed you an army,” his mouth refuses to turn in displeasure, revealing no hints of pain. Pain he could no longer feel. “We can see to the details of power, of dominion later.” She felt a hand slink down her back, tracing around the fullness of her ass before gripping it tightly himself. “You should not forget I am just like you, Lady Shelob. Neglected, overshadowed, but not just lying in wait. We wait for the right prey.”

A cold smile of pleasure turned the fullness of her mouth into a beguiling smile. “Time to earn the resources you have requested,” Shelob’s free hand drew up her skirts as the other, still piercing his shoulder, pushed him to the ground. “Now get on your knees and use that tongue of yours for more than just words to beg me for my favor.”

[milflewis]

schumilton + ferrari

listen . ok. i love you?

Lewis is knitting when he gets back. It's something he's picked up from Valtteri - to keep his hands and brain busy. He never was good at being bored. Charles hasn't taken off his, only slightly misshapen, red bobble hat since Lewis gave it to him a few months ago. It's his only non sponsored clothing that he wears to races.

Roscoe doesn't even twitch when Mick closes the door behind him, toeing off his shoes. He hangs up his coat on the rack, running the back of his hand along Lewis’s fake fur coat. Lewis is barefoot, curled up on the couch, Roscoe leaning into him.

Lewis’s head tilts back easy, Mick’s hand curling into the hinge of his jaw. His mouth falls open under his. He tastes of tea and that vegan chocolate he likes and toothpaste, wet and warm and soft. He feels desperate with it all, something alive and shivering in his fingers.

Lewis is looking at him when he opens his eyes. He does not ask Mick to sit down but he’s got that look on his face, very deliberately not frowning, where he’s waiting for Mick to bolt. Mick, forever his father’s son and Sebastian’s student, had never been able to meet a challenge he can not spit at. He sits down, Roscoe between them.

The corner of Lewis’s mouth quirks up but he doesn’t say anything.

“I saw Yuki today,” Mick says, ruffling his fingers through Roscoe’s fur, pushing the hair back and forth. “Said to say hi and to remind you about some design thing you said you’d look at.”

“Right, yeah, thanks. It’s in my calender.” Lewis goes back to his knitting, needles click clacking together. There have been many nights that Mick has fallen asleep to that sound. He is happier than he has been in a very long time. I need this. Please, don’t take it away. I need you. I can have this. I can. I can.

Lewis is good at being wanted, he can conceptualise that, but being needed? No, that he won’t believe. Him and Sebastian are more alike than they will ever know.

“Pierre put another dead fish in Esteban’s driver room.” Mick laughs as Lewis’s nose wrinkles. “Yeah, Este wasn’t that happy either. Apart from that though, there’s nothing else new. Same old, same old.”

He knows he’s rambling. Lewis’s toe nails are painted lilac purple. A few of them are beginning to chip. Mick will have to redo them for him soon.

“Mick.”

When Mick looks up at Lewis, he is watching him, eyebrows raised. Mick’s fingers tingle, toes curling in his socks, like he’s taking a corner in the rain, trying to find the apex on muscle memory alone, trying not to back out, swallowing the urge to blink.

“Are you going to mention Ferrari at some point or will I wait for the Instagram post like everyone else?”

Mick swallows. Click. Clack. Click. Click. “I signed with them a week ago. It’s being announced tonight.”

He doesn’t say I meant to tell you but it hangs in the air between them. Lewis’s face does something that Mick isn’t able to read before he nods, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” Lewis shrugs. Mick suppresses the urge to hit him.

"You'll find someone else," Mick says and Lewis half laughs. "Of course, we will, that's not the point.”

Mick's stomach goes cold. He licks his lips, mouth dry.

"You already have someone."

Lewis sighs, putting down his needles, long fingers folding over themselves on top of the wool. There's more grey in his beard now then when Mick first joined the sport, the lines around his eyes deeper. He announced his upcoming retirement five races ago, after Silverstone.

There is a very big chance that he will retire a champion — even with Charles and George snapping at his heels, the title already feels like Lewis’s. There’s something to how he is driving this year, how he’s walking around and talking, it’s not just Mick who has noticed. Winning that eighth — winning it in Brazil — settled something in him, gave something back to him.

(Sebastian laughed so hard he nearly cried when Lewis won. Fernando had threatened to slash his tires if Seb wouldn’t stop following him around saying that Lewis now has four times as many titles as him and god, Fernando, aren’t you embarrassed. Mick doesn’t know who taught Sebastian the phrase “rip but couldn’t be me” but whoever it was, they are a genius.)

"It's being announced tomorrow, I think."

Mick doesn't have the right to be angry or hurt. He does not. He's the one leaving Mercedes. He’s the one that’s been in talks with Ferrari for weeks.

"Who?"

"Mick —“

"Who?” Mick looks away from Lewis. The sun is setting outside the wall length glass windows, melting red and orange and shimmering into the sea.

"Arthur," Lewis says, like he says everything else, as clear and solid as a punch. There are very few people Lewis lets himself lie to, with whom Lewis softens his words, and Mick has never been one of them. That alone could've made Mick fall in love with him.

"Leclerc," Mick replies, even though he doesn't need to - what other Arthur could Lewis possibly be taking about. Lewis hums in agreement, leaning his head back on the couch, cheek smushed into the cushion.

He remembers Charles’ face when Mick signed the contract, the circles under his eyes, the hollows of his cheeks.

“He turned down Ferrari,” Mick says and knows it is the truth.

Lewis shrugs. “Well, from what I understand it’s more like he didn’t give them the opportunity to offer it in the first place.”

“Right.”

Lewis doesn’t say anything. Mick feels like coughing, like throwing up, whatever he can do to get all this shit in his chest out. It’s taken him a long time to learn how to talk, to talk to Lewis. He hates to think that he has forgotten.

“Are you mad at me?”

He sounds like a child, which he hates, but Lewis doesn’t laugh. “No, of course not. It’s your life, Mick. It’s your choice.”

“Then—“ Then why does it feel like you are? Why does it feel like I’ve disappointed you? How dare you —

“But you don’t want me to go to Ferrari.” It’s not a question for all that Mick wants Lewis to disagree.

Lewis frowns, forehead folding in on itself, crease over crease. “That’s not — Okay. Look.” He glances down at his lap, the fingertips of his right hand pressing into the divots of the knuckles on his left. “This isn’t about what I want. It’s about you.”

“Yeah.”

Lewis told Mick that he was retiring a week before he announced it to the world, over apple pancakes and orange juice, the sweat from his run still clinging to the collar of his tank. Mick hadn’t said anything, only pulled Lewis in for a kiss when he passed by as he went for his shower.

They talked about it afterwards, in between zoom calls and workouts and sim sessions, but still, even then, Mick hadn’t asked him when he decided, when he knew he wasn’t coming back. Mick hadn’t asked him why he didn’t talk to Mick about it first. Mick hadn’t asked him if he was the first to know, he knows he wasn’t, is pretty sure that he knows who was.

(I don’t want what you have with him, Mick had thought, years before, watching Lewis knock knees with Sebastian, cheeks flushed, eyes shining. Sebastian hadn’t been able to stop looking at Lewis that night, not after George told him, tipsy and laughing, that Lewis was the one who organised it all. I don’t want it but I want something. I will not be the second choice. Not for you. Not in this.)

“Yeah,” Mick says. “It’s not about what you want.”

How can it be when I don’t know what you fucking want?

Lewis reaches over, running a hand down Roscoe’s neck, fingers stopping just short of touching Mick’s. “I want you to be happy. If Ferrari will do that, then I want Ferrari for you. That’s it. That’s all.”

Mick stares at the small tattoos etched into the back of his hand, dark and thin and careful. Is this a conversation you have already had before, he doesn’t ask. He is trying to be fair. He is. He thinks he might be going insane.

“Okay.” He covers Lewis’s hand with his, dry and warm. The skin around his wrist bunches up between his fingers. “And, and if they don’t?”

Lewis turns his hand over, thumb tucking up into the centre of Mick’s palm. “Then we figure it out.”

[coffee-in-veins]

Face Your Failure and how to uproot all of character’s backstory and development in one model or less - a practical guide by RedHook

can anyone tell from that title that i’m salty yet?

so major spoilers ahead about which i couldn’t care less, but people love this game and i want to be polite, and as objective as i can be, so: please be warned, DD2 ending and boss moveset is discussed under Keep reading. if you want to experience the ending for yourself, spoiler free, do not read

Edit: you know, after contemplating about it, i realized - it’s not a bug, it’s a feature (tm.). this is distilled quintessence of everything wrong with this game. it shows you everything, places all cards down and punishes you one almost-last time if you cared or paid attention - the last time will be in the very last cutscene, if you pay attention to the lower part of it. if this, too, doesn’t bother you, you won’t have any issues with this game. if you did, this will be the last nail you needed to lean back and take time to contemplate your choices.

i think they shouldn’t fix this. because this is what Darkest Dungeon had become, and they should be honest about it and their attitude.

so. the big bad boss on the throne has a move called Face Your Failure - which, as the title suggests, summons what the chatacter you select (Come unto thy maker-style) thinks is his biggest failure in life. Para gets her zombie mentor, Barristan gets the spectre of his fallen comrades, Audrey... gets a zombie of the husband who tortured... and... abused her...? Including sexually...? Do you want to tell something by showing this, RH...? Something very, very dubious...?

But I digress. I’m here to show you that writing in DD2 makes no goddamn sense (tm.) by pointing to our beloved rateating highwayman:

Namely, pay close attention to the mob it summons for Dismas

it isn’t too obvious, and the arena is spun wide to see all of the tentacles and the iron crown, so here is a closeup:

notice anything interesting about its weapons? let me give you a hint.

this is the guard from the clown car the stagecoach that Dismas robbed in his backstory, in which the woman and child were. the ones he killed by his reflexes misfiring after the fight was over accidentally “in erratic gunfire”. the ones which spiked his guilt. the ones which pushed him into character development and coming to Hamlet and trying to find redemption. you know? that tiny miny plotpoint thing which was the culmination of his backstory and made him the character who we knew? that passing thing?

and this is the prison guard from his very first shrine:

do you notice the weapon choice? the stagecoach guards have swords while prison guards have batons. and the big bad boss summons a spectre of Dismas biggest failure. with a baton in hand. a prison guard.

I... genuinely dunno what to say, because the implication, unless I’ve lost my mind, is that Dismas’ biggest failure in life was getting out of prison. and this scene in the credits:

makes no goddamn sense (tm.) because this is not his biggest failure - prison is. the locket isn’t tormenting. it’s not shameful. it’s just there. it means nothing. because a cosmic deity which supposedly knows all of existence showed Dismas his biggest fear - and it had nothing to do with killing innocents.

i could’ve chalked it to cuts on model prices. but Audrey received a new model of her deceased husband. if Dis got a spectre of the woman he killed, the ghost of the child staring at him, anything - Reynauld’s corpse half-eaten by the Heart of Darkness for fuck’s sake! - it would’ve been better. but no. he has a prison guard. because who cares. it looks cool and that’s enough.

on a more personal note... i’m happy i didn’t have the money to buy early access. i genuinely am. i’m tired. i know i would never buy it, now. not after their eradication of Reynauld, not after how they butchered Dismas. if you can enjoy the game - more power to you. i’m not here to police your fun. but for me... DD2 got cancelled during development stage, and only thanks to Shibs’ vigilence we got to see the models and animations. but nothing else exists because accepting it is a far too tall of an ask.

now i crawl back into my cozy reymas saltmines.