#AU: Astray. Abandoned. Alone.

[waatched]

am i living an illusion? i wanna run away

[lunavagans]

Idea for what I‘m calling the fairytale AU right now. Ganon‘s not around, the colours are siblings and Vio‘s a scholar who wants to save his reputation, job, feeling of self-worth and dignity. Shadow‘s a fay and, compared to the manga, relatively chill - he just bothers travellers for fun and definitely never abandons them to the wolfos.

Vidow slow burn with a fantasy scientist/test subject dynamic, no angst, just magic, mystery and mistaking your gay awakening for a supernatural being because all of your brain cells are basically fraying at the seams because of stress and anxiety. (That moment’s not in this part, but it‘s the scene I‘m building everything off of. (Also it‘s not like Vio‘s wrong.))

(500-ish word intro below cut)

The people of Hyrule are loud in their worship of what they believe in. They host celebrations lasting days, sing and cheer and cry in the name of the Golden Three and Hylia. Pride is all to see in the chaotic parades and the solemn prayers, and in the libraries and studies afforded to their teachings.

Gilded columns and stained glass windows painting light-brushed images on stones floors are the backdrop to that which is good and holy and familiar.

The people of Hyrule whisper about that which they doubt. Behind closed doors and fences of salt and iron, they protect themselves from invisible ears, earthly, divine or otherwise. But no matter how often they‘re assured that the mischievous and malevolent will be held at bay by guards and priests, they can never stop believing in the shapes rushing through the night.

All known about these others are hushed accounts from trembling merchants led astray, symbols in the fields and stars misarranged for one night.

In the bastion of the Goddesses, the golden-dappled towers and roofs of Hyrule City, there lives a scholar. With three brothers accomplished in other fields, a father distant and awkward in his good meaning, an absent mother and no close acquaintances, he‘s lonely - starving for things he refuses to name, all but one of them.

It‘s the acknowledgment he craves, the confirmation that the knowledge he seeks is needed, even wanted; a place in his own profession, much like those of his relatives. That muchs he admits to his family when he stands in the front door of their house, travel bag in one hand and his horse‘s reigns in the other.

He can see that they don‘t believe in his cause, either. The notion is too outrageous for these poor narrow-minded fools, and he doesn‘t blame them. The study of fay is prohibited for a good reason, and the chances of no return are greater than a return eternally scarred. Any other outcome is negligible, and he pointedly doesn‘t mention it.

But they don‘t stop him. They know about the risks of him leaving, but also about the risks of him staying. Others may be content fading into oblivion, admonished by their mentors and brushed off by their colleagues, or simply changing jobs. But what would it imply about Vio if he were to take the polite dismissal in stride and continue to remind his colleagues of his name, let alone his topic of research?

To tame a fay, study its workings, present it to the public and reap the rewards; that is the silver lining Vio sees before him. Has it been done before? Not according to trustworthy records. That will only afford him and his field the prestige they need and, once he’s succeeded, deserve.

He finishes preparations, waves goodbye and mounts the horse. As much as he doubts his chances along either everyone watching his departure, his permission to undertake this venture has already cost him the last bit of favor with the king, even if swayed by the princess.

He leaves without turning to see his family once.

[rivkae-winters]

'Chair fic' - my little enki/cahara au

Once again the gods have deemed me to live some number more of days to menace the world... I've been really hard into funger since late march, I've written both way to much and nowhere near enough for these two. Anyway here is the first 6,029 words of my little long running pet project, this installment of which centers around them boning in the life crisis/contemplation chair. The rest [like 7k] will be up on Ao3 once it's through editing :3

Splitting up was almost never the most advised option. Even Enki with his sometimes overly open disdain towards other people and insular nature could admit that. 

Almost. 

Since sometimes, when you- out of some unexplored childhood trauma- decide to pick up a child left in the dark in a cage that child needs sleep. More sleep than the rest of the group, that is. Or really a similar amount if Enki was honest with himself, adults were just better at pushing through the exhaustion. Either way sometimes that child needs sleep now, and the group at large also /needs food now/. 

Ideally, according to the bow wielding outlander, there would be no man left by himself in a situation like this. Right after stating that wise and obvious statement however the auburn haired man proceeded to make excuse after excuse for why Enki really should take Cahara and that he would be fine with only the cave wolf that had also been adopted and a sleeping child. 

That man… That man and his way of constantly making things harder for himself, occasionally when easier solutions are available, drove Enki crazy sometimes. 

Enki could tell Cahara was getting antsy though and he knew that he was not going to be able to bargain being left alone after the last scare so he’d cut his losses and followed the sellsword’s lead through the winding hallways of the dungeon. They didn’t go that far astray of the dungeon complex they’d left behind. Not particularly.

Enki couldn’t help but wince as their footsteps echoed when they entered the main dungeon bulwark, the one where he’d stumbled upon the man he was following behind. Enki braced himself and caught up a bit to Cahara and leaned in close before making his query. 

“Where exactly are we going?” The tightness in his voice did nothing to dissuade Cahara’s almost jaunty strut through the dungeon, his footsteps would almost certainly be featherlight in any room or section except this one despite the appearance of his stride. 

“There was a room I’d noticed a lot of the patrolling guards always circling back to in here, then-” Cahara cut himself off almost abruptly, his stride kept in beat though with only a stutter in his front step that Enki could see almost jolt his hip giving his discomfort away. “Then in the cell I had a slightly better vantage point.”

Then the mercenary stopped abruptly, his head barely moved but Enki could almost see his eyes moving from side to side in a manner the other didn’t think was obvious from behind. Cahara pulled them behind a crate, pressing Enki behind himself and against the crate just in time for a Guard to walk by on a parallel walkway. Thankfully the lumbering brute didn’t seem to see them, or smell them. Still the glint of the morning star and sword on it’s back sent a shot of anxiety through Enki. Enki’s hands still felt hot by his side even as the Guard disappeared into the darkness. Cahara turned to him, seriousness showing for once, fully in his eyes breaking through the facade.

“Sometimes they’ll go in with one weapon and leave with another,” Cahara’s voice was low and quiet and Enki almost didn’t hear the slight echo it gave off. The other man glanced over his shoulder. “The doors are a bit further that way.”

“You think its a general supply room, not an armory?” Enki tried to keep his voice neutral. On one hand, Cahara was likely right. This was a prison floor first and foremost, there would likely be some sort of abandoned supplies for upkeep of various types there. On the other hand: Cahara was leading him to an area that could have heavy traffic.

“I’m fairly sure of that, but comparative logistics aside, a chance at food is something we can’t pass up right now.” Cahara’s words were barely audible and he looked at Enki, eyes totally serious once again, a weird type of concern present as well. To Enki’s surprise the innate response to fight at the sight of pity didn’t rear itself up like a crying monster in the back of his head. 

Enki knew what the other meant: at this point they’d either die starving or die fighting before they were able to get out. Enki knew he didn’t quite want such beings as the girl child to die starving. Something in him protested against it greatly. 

It was odd honestly. Enki had never really cared about such things that plagued the hours and days of others like that before. 

Instead of speaking Enki simply nodded at the other man, the footsteps of the hulking beast still haunting the very edges of his perception. Cahara took that as affirmative and moved out of the spot he’d tucked them into. Careful to keep his steps light, Enki followed the other. The guards weren’t intelligent enough to be attracted to noise or so he thought. The thought still nagged at the back of his mind as Cahara’s light swaying steps led them the final stretch to the store room. The door stood on one end at the end of their walkway and an infinitely dark hall on the other. 

As the other man held his torch a bit higher and peaked inside before confirming there were currently no guards Enki’s mind turned the question over and over. Some would say that humans wore clothes while animals did not- that they had no business covering something that they had no business being ashamed of. What was left of much of prison staff could be likened more to the latter now than the former. 

A light tap on his shoulder almost had Enki jolting out of his skin. Cahara’s deep eyes were sharp against the torch light as they peered into his. The mercenary tilted his head back towards the supply room and the piles of unattended crates sitting there. It almost seems too good to be true…

Ultimately it was: in the eerie silence of the cavernous prison level Cahara and Enki sorted through crate after crate and barrel after barrel. Some were empty. Some had dirt. Some had discarded sweaty loincloths and torches broken as if they were toothpicks. 

None had food.

There were a precious few preserved herbs that Enki found and pocketed, several green and one blue, yet there was nothing edible. Neither of them were quite hungry enough to chance the maggot ridden raw meat that lay in the back of the room on a side table. 

Not yet at least. 

Cahara was the one to open the last box in the room and the way his head hung down told Enki all he needed to know. Then, one of the flies, freshly on their wings, came buzzing around his head from the meat. 

‘Down the hall… There is fresher stock down the hall and into the dark… It’s from whence we came…’

Something in Enki’s gut jolted but he felt an odd sort of trust in his gut. The insects had never had reason to lie to him whether he overheard idle chatter or was made to listen intentionally. Enki took the few steps that separated him and Cahara before leaning in close, his lips almost brushing the other's ear. 

“The hallway next to this room, something is down there.” Enki could see Cahara’s lips purse before he nodded. The other man handed Enki the torch and took a step back and nodded towards the door as if telling Enki to lead the way. The way the mercenary’s hand hovered over his sword told Enki exactly what the other was going to do. 

Enki didn’t question as he usually would why the sellsword took his word that quickly, without asking for any source or proof. The hunger was eating at his mind and no doubt the others as well. 

The hallway was damp and somehow almost oppressively dark even with the torch. It stretched in front of them ominously but Enki didn’t feel as disturbed as he probably should have. There wasn’t even the normal numbness that typically accompanied identifiable emotions. It just felt familiar instead. Almost mechanically he led Cahara down the hallway into the humming darkness. Something was almost entrancing about it. Enki’s eyes couldn’t help but fixate on something just shining through the darkness at the end of the hallway. 

He was jolted back suddenly, something pulling him back abruptly. 

“Careful,” Cahara’s voice cut through the shroud and something else shiny caught Enki’s eye on the ground. He watched as Cahara’s foot nudged the nail straight on out of the way, until it rolled up against the wall. He’d almost stepped on it hadn’t he. “No need to get infected unnecessarily now, no matter how many of those pretty green herbs we found just now.” The statement was awkwardly humorous in a way that gave Enki whiplash when contrasted with the deep darkness of the air surrounding them. Cahara’s hand lingered on Enki’s waist for a little longer than necessary, fingers dancing lightly, before he fully pulled away again and took a step back. Enki only hummed, glancing once more at the nail before refocusing his eyes on the barely visible door that only just barely cut through the darkness. Even then, cut might be an overstatement; it just barely shone to the point where if Enki hadn’t just been pointed towards it he would think it a mirage at first. 

“We’re going to need your locking picking skills in a second.” Enki’s voice still sounded dull and almost dreamy to his own ears. He could hear the leather of Cahara’s vest shift as the other man leaned forward until Enki could just barely hear his breath.

“Well my deft fingers are, as always at your service.” Cahara sounded cocky, as if Enki was far more attractive and invited him to bed. He brushed it off and, after checking the space in front of his feet, let himself be almost pulled towards the end of the hall again. 

The door became clearer with every step they took towards it. Some containers behind it became apparent, four crates and a single barrel. What really attracted Enki’s eyes though, as he stopped a short pace from the door was the descending darkness in the back right corner. Stairs leading downwards to a further darkness. The fly’s words repeated in his head- flies were of the depths after all. 

Enki heard Cahara pulling out his lock picks and held out his hand to stop the other man from trying to move in front of him. 

“It’s locked from the other side,” Enki felt numb and lifeless and /hungry/ as he said the words. Cahara only put his lock picks away deftly and pressed something cool and round into Enki’s hands. Enki reflexively retracted and looked down at the red vial sitting innocently in his hand. 

Cahara held out his hand as he stepped slightly in front of Enki and Enki returned the vial to him.  Enki took another step forward and held the torch, just away from the bars illuminating the lock of the other side. Cahara uncorked the vial and stuck the tip just through the bars before dumping it on the lock. There was a sizzle almost immediately on contact. Cahara didn’t croon or make a snide comment as he sometimes would. Instead the sellsword was still staring down at the lock as it continued to sizzle. The prison floor was likely still affecting him as it had been since they’d set foot in it. Cahara took out a tool to reach through the bars and agitate the lock a bit. 

Enki took the role of looking out behind them as Cahara worked. The residual sizzling and clinking of discardable tools filling his ears. The hallway stretched back further behind them than Enki had remembered walking. The storeroom was dimly visible at the end of it, angled away from them.. Its gaping doorway now only seemed the size of an average tome in the distance. 

The sound of the vial reacting with the metal died down and Cahara groaned behind him. Enki turned to look. The door stood unfaltering even with half of the lock slightly melted and the innards of it no doubt a mess. 

“Damn this fucking thing,” Cahara hissed, the other man more agitated than Enki had seen him get… over most things.

“I’m assuming you don’t have another then?” Enki turned fully back to the problem at hand, leaning a bit to inspect it. As before: it meant nothing to him. The lock simply looked like it should be holding on far less than it was. 

“No, that was my last one for now.” Cahara’s voice was almost snappish in a way that the other man seemed to wince at after hearing it. “Sorry, I’m just-”

“Stop.” Enki cut the other off before he could start trying to tell Enki that he wasn’t angry at him or whatever. Or worse, start nervously prattling. Though unlike that weird knight girl Enki had briefly encountered very early on in her time here: that didn’t seem as likely with Cahara. He had survived this long after all, the other one likely hadn’t. Enki drew on his small reserves remaining and, with a thought of Gro-Goroth, of destruction bursting through life and everything, felt his hand heat rapidly. Enki let a small flame grow in his hand, until it was just about the same size as the one on the torch that he handed back over to Cahara. “Let me.”

The sellsword stepped back otherwise unprompted and Enki took his place. He placed the fire a bit below the unmelted bottom part of the lock. Enki took a breath and then fed much more into the fire. Thoughts of his own eventual destruction and the memory of burning his own order to the ground fueling the flame to rage. Enki let it raise up and subsume the lock for about a second before he stopped feeding it and let it dissipate in the air. He took a step back and turned to look at Cahara, taking the torch back quicker than was technically safe. The mercenary seemed to understand coming up to ram his shoulder into the door. The door opened, the areas that had once secured the now ruined lock hopelessly warped. 

What must be the internal mechanism of the lock fell out and flung towards the stone floor, already made mostly useless by the vial. The noise didn’t echo as much as it should have. Cahara dusted off his shoulder and went to go for the stack of crates when Enki grabbed his wrist, long pointed fingers wrapping loosely around it. 

“Not up here,” Enki then started for the stairs. 

“Lead us to edible food then bug-man.”[might change thisline] Cahara’s tone was sardonic and dour but Enki simply took measured steps down the steep stairs that led into the abyss. The torch cast only the few steps in front of them in dim light. The full extent of the descent as well as the steps leading back up remained in impossibly dark shadow. Enki let time slip through his fingers through the descent, focusing more on making sure his feet were stable on the steep and uncared for steps. The sound of Cahara’s footsteps behind him, slow and careful as well, was oddly comforting. 

The further they descended the earthier the air seemed to smell. By the time the last steps were in sight the scent of the slight draft coming in was almost floral, like the courtyard where a statue of Alll-mer loomed over the library’s exit. Like the spore ridden thicket. 

The stairwell let them off into a circular chamber. Enki could see the way down just to the left, barely, the stairs sinking further into the abyss. That didn’t catch his eye though. He took a few steps forward and then felt as if he’d been given a boon. 

In front of them, barely outlined by the torchlight was another storeroom. 

“Well shit,” Cahara mumbled from behind Enki as his torch cast some of the rather cramped room in dim light. Enki wasted no time in walking over to the sconces he saw shining on the wall to light them. The room seemed less cramped once the two surprisingly intact candles were glowing in addition to their dying torch. “Your little bug friends save the day again I guess.” Enki turned back abruptly from his work in placing the torch in a holder no doubt meant for something else that rested between the sconces** to see Cahara still in the doorway leaning against it in a way that would normally be termed provocative. 

“They are not my ‘little bug friends’,” Enki was unsurprised at the sharpness that entered his voice and had no desire to tamper it down. They weren’t- such terminology was demeaning to both him and the insects he occasionally communicated with and that occasionally helped him. “That is-”

“Regardless,” Cahara’s voice was light and airy as he cut Enki off before righting himself and crouching in front of the pile of crates nearest to the door. “We have more things to look through now.” Enki actually looked at the other now and the fatigue that gripped his frame mirrored that which Enki felt in his own. The hunger in those dark eyes… Enki was starting to feel it more himself. There were more pressing things than semantics right now, after all. 

“Alright,” Enki turned on his heel towards the side of the room opposite Cahara. “I’ll start on these if you could move crates out of the way as we go.” Cahara nodded back at him, and they were off. Enki wouldn’t realize until later that the request didn’t create the same burning ire and hatred towards his own body that it usually did. That he didn’t feel so much disgust as he usually did at his constitution, notably poor even for a dark priest. 

They worked in turns, Enki sorting through boxes and Cahara moving them. This time they actually found food. Cured meats, somewhat decent produce. Even some preserved fruit and vegetables as well. 

It wasn’t that much, maybe enough for a few days across the four people and one cavewolf they were feeding. Even then, the thought occurred to Enki that for everyone else he was with this would be stretched far less than they were willing to here outside the dungeon. Regardless: they had food now. 

They amassed enough that Cahara and Enki, down to what they were fairly sure were the last few crates, stopped to eat. It wasn’t much. They each only had a bit of dried meat but with the Hunger just having started to gnaw at both of them to the point of weakness it felt like the best food in the world. They both chewed slowly, trying to trick their bodies into thinking it was more food than they actually had. 

When they got up again Cahara went to move the crates they were sitting on for easier access. It seemed when they started up again though that their blessings had run out for now. 

All they found inside the next five crates that were mounded up around a tarp covered mass was things that were either unspeakably spoiled or virtually back at the realm of being dirt.. 

There was one lone box left next to the dust cloth covered mass. It was smaller and the wood looked different to the point where Enki actually felt something like hope for its contents. 

Enki went for the small crate next to the hanging dust cloth. His gut feeling was proven correct as inside revealed a collection of rags and assorted cloth fragments. Something that was more than invaluable for wounds that they always kept coming across. It wasn’t all good- the selection of cleaning supplies had likely been long forgotten by the time everything in this place went to the sulfur pits. Any supplies were helpful, the technicalities of such things as being fresh and highly effective were a luxury here. 

Enki was starting to sort the good from the barely usable from totally unsalvageable when a sound like a rug being pulled filled his ears and there was suddenly more dust than good air in his face. Enki turned his head in unison with Cahara plopping down on the surprisingly intact chair he’d uncovered. Maybe it was from an old officer’s room Enki distantly thought, but gods only know how long it’s been down here. Enki put the vial he’d been holding down before he broke it as the other man stared at him with hungry eyes. He wasn’t sitting properly but Enki had stopped expecting the other man to do that right within the first hour of their acquaintance. 

Enki felt something, he realized distantly, as his hands continued to ball but this time not around the old fragile vials. It wasn’t anger though, it was odd. 

“Comfortable?” Enki let the sardonic tone overtake whatever was bubbling in his gut as he rolled his eyes at the other man and turned back to sorting. He noted that some of these would need to be cushioned in among the other odds and ends they’d found on the way back. Enki didn’t trust old glass like many of these were from his experience; they'd likely been used and abused up to their breaking point. 

“Very,” Cahara’s voice was smooth and quiet, and there was a slight rustle of leather against fabric as the other man adjusted himself in the chair. “You know…” The other man trailed off in a way that made Enki imagine he was licking his lips, or preparing for something. Enki stood, leaving his box half organized and turned on his heel to Cahara. He briefly felt some enjoyment for the way he was just shy of towering over the man sprawled out as he was like this. The chair was large, making Cahara look almost small in comparison.

Almost. 

Enki would look miniscule in it most likely.

“What?” Enki said with force levelness. Cahara only shifted his eyebrows a bit at him and batted his eyes. Enki narrowed his eyes at the other man. He waited for a few counts for a more substantial response before tsking** and going to turn back to his work. Then he was yanked off his feet as a pair of muscled arms hoisted him down to Cahara’s level. Onto Cahara’s crossed legs. [exasperation and embarrassment but not the level you’d expect bc emotional numbness]

“We don’t have company right now,” Cahara’s lips were almost touching Enki’s ear before the man abruptly pulled back. His arms loosened slightly around Enki’s waist. If this had been something Enki had been watching uncomfortably he’d have called the tone of voice a croon, like that of a self-important bird. Enki turned himself a bit but didn’t try to get up for reasons he didn’t want to think about too much. Cahara’s dark eyes were warm and deep and-

Cahara’s hand wandered up to the back of Enki’s head, resting oh so slightly over the back of his neck then gently pulled the other man to him. 

Enki didn’t resist. 

Cahara’s lips were warm and slightly rough just like the last time. Enki let his eyes slip shut almost instinctively. This time the other man’s lips didn’t taste like the distinctive scented alcohol he carried around doctoring the abandoned bottles they came across. The taste of dried meat still fresh in the other man’s mouth barely registered to Enki. 

Then Cahara stopped and pulled back and Enki pushed himself up. He looked down at Cahara and took in the feelings that pierced through the surface of the numbness he’d lived up until entering the dungeons. A good bit into these dungeons as well. The part of him that yearned for knowledge felt less urgent in it’s ravenous desire oddly. It was a feeling that was so similar to how things had felt last time. 

“So what if we don’t have company then?” Enki in a moment of pure hunger for something that he couldn’t identify let his hand fall against Cahara’s chin and his gloved thumb rest against the other’s bottom lip. 

“I thought we could continue,” Cahara pulled Enki’s other hand to his lips and pressed the same feather light kiss he had to the center of it the last time they had been ‘sitting closely’ in this manner. This time Enki was still wearing his gloves though. “ Y’know- From were we were interrupted last time,” Cahara’s eyes were downright mischievous and seemingly gleeful at the idea. Enki couldn’t argue with that logic too much though- there was no small child to wake up from a nightmare here. There was also no risk of them waking her either, although they hadn’t gotten as far as for that to be a problem prior. 

“Well then,” Enki looked down at Cahara and felt things beyond numbness to the point were he felt them warp his face a little. The gaping chasm that led to nothingness inside of him felt less large now. 

“Well sweetling,” Cahara’s dark eyes seemed to sparkle momentarily. 

“Lets.” Enki almost popped the T out of his mouth and swallowed the ‘S’ as Cahara pulled him down again. The other drowned Enki in his being, his presence. Cahara’s gloved hands held Enki’s waist and the back of his neck in a way so gentle it came back around to hurting almost. The contact was fast and intense, like a piece of tinder. It felt like the other released him just as soon as it started although Enki knew logically that wasn’t quite true. 

“Lets…” Cahara’s voice dragged out in a way that was a bit more than his usual speech. 

When they kissed again the silence around them felt like a heavy hand gripping the back of Enki’s neck. The sound of his own voice, his own breaths, of their combined movement in the chair returned to his ears and Enki felt something like shame. Shame that he existed and took up space in that familiar way that he’d felt as far back as he could remember. Before even the adults at the temple** started to whisper about the weak one, the disappointing runt. Only the water droplets that seemed piercing through the relative silence occasionally outshone the shame that was Enki’s existence. 

The ennui that usually accompanied that shame of a life that wasn’t worth living, wasn’t tingling at its heels though The ambient dissatisfaction that filled Enki’s days when nothing was new or intriguing enough was oddly absent. That something warm was also still present and it pushed up against Enki’s lungs. He let himself get lost in the sensation, the shame and numbness that persisted through so much felt more like a shadow cast and less like the core of his being. 

Perhaps this is what excitement felt like. True excitement instead of the anxiety and tenseness he’d found himself chasing and falling back into creating for so long. 

When they broke away for air again, Enki felt breathless in the best possible way. Cahara looked up at him with eyes that held nothing but mirth and merriment and luxuriation. Like a cat lounging in the sun. 

Enki knew he was not the sun though, not anywhere close even. To the point that it took his mind a second to process that this was directed at him. Cahara’s eyes had nowhere else to wander in this moment, they were focused and present and only on-

Cahara pulled Enki down again for another kiss, this one much gentler. It was more of a resting together of their lips combined with a brief moment of their noses brushes. Enki felt one of Cahara’s hands stray and wander up his thigh but he did nothing to stop the man. 

Enki couldn’t help the hiss that left his mouth once Cahara’s hand found his hipbone, and thumbed in the crevice. The smooth leather created an almost otherworldly feeling on the sensitive area. Enki felt Cahara stop and couldn’t help but look down at the man below him in question. 

“You alright there priestling?”  Cahara’s voice was only outwardly jovial, a brush of suaveness covering what Enki would have called concern if there was anyone that wasn’t himself involved. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Enki’s voice was noticeably softer than it should have been even to his own ears. Cahara shifted his thumb over the same spot again, moving to clutch Enki’s hip as well. This time, Enki looked Cahara dead in the eyes and didn’t move, surpressing the shudder of /something/ that tried to arise inside him. 

“The point of this,” The concern adjacent emotion was back in Cahara’s eyes and the man was clearly trying his best to keep his voice level. “Enki, is mutual pleasure.” The question hung at the end of the statement, unasked but clearly there. It was a brothel bed curtain hanging between them. Enki jolted to grab Cahara’s hand as it slowly started to retreat at Enki’s silence. He held it still tightly on his thigh  in his own through the thin barrier of his own robes. 

For a second they just stared at one another. Enki was hyper aware of the leaking /something/ somewhere in the background. 

Drip. 

Drop.

Drip.

Drop. 

“I am aware,” Enki stared at Cahara, searching for something not even he was aware of in those dark eyes. “I think it will greatly succeed in that measure.” The other man’s demeanor relaxed and Enki found himself being pulled down for another kiss. Enki responded in kind this time. He pressed back at Cahara and returned the other’s advances in intervals instead of laying dormant and letting the experience happen to him. When Cahara’s smooth glove migrated back up to Enki’s hip-bone Enki’s fingers had found the lip at the edge of Cahara’s vest. His slim fingers were able to slip just under the edge easily. Cahara broke the kiss, even as close as they still were Enki could see a smirk across the other man’s lips that meant nothing but pure mischief. He couldn’t help but mirror it with a slight curl of his own lips. 

“Eager to get me bare and exposed?” Cahara’s fingers dug oh so slightly into Enki’s posterior as he said that and the Dark Priest clicked his tongue in response.  

“Perhaps I don’t want to be the only one exposed,” Enki looked at Cahara’s eyes and how the light played off their shadowy depths in a way that showed pure mirth. It was almost enchanting. “This is an act of reciprocity is it not?”

“Ya’ got me there priestling,” Cahara’ s eyebrow arched in acknowledgement, yet his hand stayed steady and light on Enki’s hipbone. The mercenary below him simply stared up at Enki, like there was something special there. 

This time Enki leaned down to kiss him. 

Enki could feel Cahara at full mast beneath him and the thought wasn’t as intimidating or unwelcome as it would have been a week prior. He slipped his hands under the fabric Cahara wore tied around his waist. He stilled purposely when the other hummed appreciatively and waited a few seconds before continuing. His fingers found the closure of the sellsword’s pants rather easily, conveniently enough they were on the side of Enki’s dominant hand. They broke for air for a second, and Enki couldn’t help but grasp onto the lip of the opening before Cahara pulled him back down. Enki lightly tugged on the laces that held the garment shut in askance and Cahara more than happily obliged. 

Their lips pulled apart again and the man lifted his hips and Enki on top of them easily and roughly pulled his pants and small clothes down to his thighs before Enki even had time to react. Then those sticky fingered hands were wandering again, one pressed to Enki’s back and the other crept up under his braies and sent a pleasant shiver up his spine. Cahara leaned back, and looked like he wanted to lick his lips. 

“Your turn now priestling,” Enki could have bathed in the sound of his voice. With another delightful brush his own small clothes were at his ankles and Cahara’s lips were on his again and-

Enki wanted more. 

He deepened the kiss himself. Enki took Cahara’s hard cock in hand loosely and brushed his fingers up and down it ever so lightly. He relished in the shudder that ran through the other’s lips and body and at the depth and intensity of the contact. Then Cahara pushed him back slightly, breaking them apart momentarily as he bent down. The displeased noise that passed through Enki’s lips against his bidding made his cheeks heat slightly and Enki could hear Cahara snort lightly. 

“Are you ok with…” Cahara trailed off simply tilting the vial to and fro in a bare hand to emphasize his point, his glove likely discarded at their feet. 

“More than,” Enki idly stroked up and down the mercenary’s member as the cork was roughly popped out of the vial. The scent of chamomile was mild but still present. Enki was mildly surprised, this was something that was from outside. From the rest of the world outside this accursed little hell trap and her beautiful libraries. The significance was one that he realized he felt almost inappropriate receiving

Enki watched the faint smelling substance pour over Cahara’s fingers before he was pulled in for another kiss. The mercenary’s hands crept up from under him. Enki hummed as a calloused digit ghosted over his rim. Then again, this time making several small circles. Then Cahara pulled Enki slightly closer and slowly inserted the slick digit in. The mercenary’s hand settled fully on Enki’s back as another finger joined the first. He jolted forward as Cahara spread his fingers inside him and brushed something that sent a shivers up his back and warmth to his core again. Then enki was pressing down against Cahara’s hand and the other started pushing up in turn. Time felt like it was blurring when Cahara added another to the mix. Enki could feel cahara’s grin against his lips were they were still loosely connected but he still-

The mercenary’s fingers curled inside enki and roughly came out hooking on that /spot/ on the way. Enki couldn’t push himself down fast enough. He pulled back, and found himself breathless and then-

Something bigger pressed up and Enki pressed down. Only Cahara’s clean hand caught his hip.

“Easy now priestling,” The mercenary’s voice was soft while his grip was surprisingly iron-like. “Let me take care of this part.” Slowly and tantalizingly Cahara lowered Enki down, letting the other man’s dick enter slowly. Enki had to bite back a moan when oil slick fingers caressed his own member as well. 

Then he was fully sitting on Cahara’s lap again this time with nothing between the. There was no barrier between them on anything. 

“You ready?” Cahara’s lips brushed Enki’s cheeks as he said it and Enki didn't have the words for once to say anything. Instead he ground into Cahara’s lap delighting in the friction created. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Enki heard Cahara’s voice was full of mirth but before he had the time to be offended in any way Cahara had pressed a kiss to his cheek and then he was moving in. The first pass was slow. Cahara slid in with just the right amount of friction. Enki tried to swallow back a reflexive noise yet a slight hiss slipped past his lips. 

He wanted to push, to take control. To maintain a position of some power in a way that had always made him feel more secure. Yet Enki couldn’t find the will to. The almost violent urge, one that had always resembled a starving and beaten animal lashing out, pulsed there in the back of his mind. 

[daisychainsandbowties]

oh man i was gonna rec wolves of the revolution it's just SO it's Such a song but uhhh liar also by the arcadian wild and abandon ship by fin are both kinda giving vibes

oh i LOVE that song. i mean, the album art alone !!! is giving vibes to me.

(probably bc i'm in love with the avatrice pirates au. pls read it i wanna yell)

but also. screaming shouting yelling MY BABY LILITH at the top of my lungs about Liar but is is also, wretchedly, an extremely incredibly profoundly bealil song. & specifically the dark halo au i'm writing

"all have been led astray/ we've all fallen short in some way/ please understand, i'm ashamed/ and i beg of you, please find your grace/ 'cause i'm not in a right state of mind"

fr the two most emotionally repressed girl nuns in the universe are on a jason bourne-style road trip across europe. something something there will be blood.

"honestly, truth and i are never one.../ i have made you my next victim"

liar liar the world's on fire

ANON!!!! grabbing you very affectionately by the lapels Abandon Ship is SUCH A DAMN SONG. when i tell you i put in on the bealil playlist at an approximation of the speed of light

"all these lonley kids have so much left to live for/ so we'll run to the sea, and find no captain waiting/ for we're all that we need to keep this boat from sinking"

you are a legend for giving this to me. HOLY

"but when that line of blood comes down/ in some ways, it reminds you how you were before you got too old to leave."

oh also this is a very very very very transgender song. you have found one of the most casper songs to ever

[itzcherrybonbon]

It has been a while since I've made posts about [Bright&Azure], yeah?

I gladly inform you that new ideas have been sparking, and I am thinking of rewriting the entire story.

Dear IE AU fans, I introduce to you the secondary protagonist beside Bright [Lots of text ahead, I'm sorry! There's a lot to be said.]

Meet Azalea!

No more Raspberry. I hated him-

Azalea is a human cursed with immortality. She killed her abusive father, and his last words was a spell for a curse. Only Bright and Midnight knows about this.

She used to live in Dreamtale, and was Midnight's closest friend. You could say they liked eachother, but never really confessed to one another. Both felt confused about what they were feeling, but Azalea was the first to come to terms with her feelings and actually planned to confess. But slowly, their friendship began to crumble, and that ruined Azalea's confession plans. Midnight was going more and more insane, and Azalea tried to keep him from going astray, resulting in arguments and a slap to her face. But after the apple incident, things went downhill..Seeing as Bright had turned to stone, she tried to defend the village herself. She lost her arm and one eye in a battle against Midnight as she tried to buy enough time for a child to escape. To prevent any more fatal injuries, she ran away never to be seen again.

Midnight kept searching for his "old friend" for years, and finally..he found her in an abandoned factory. He figured he could use a new ally, and despite her declining and efforts to get out from this situation, Midnight forcefully took her to his company by knocking her unconscious.

Ever since then, Azalea has been stuck working for him. Due to her disability, Midnight barely sends her out on any important mission unless it's to spy on someone or make her trick others with her friendly pretty face. Everybody trusts a fragile woman with disabilities..

Eventually, she ended up in a poly relationship with Midnight and Killer/Arnold. Midnight still had an interest on her. And this made Arnold feel envious. But as much as Azalea finds Killer annoying..she took an interest in this man. She still feels something for Midnight too, but only a little. Of course, she isn't planning to stay in this relationship, just having her final moments with the ones who'll end up dead eventually.

She made a deal with Merciless: Agreeing to help him built up his chances of killing Midnight in exchange of letting her go and clearing her name.

In Bright & Azure, Azalea took care of Angst and Merciless. She got attached to them both. Azalea adored Angst's good heart and for continuing to have hope, and she adored Merciless for slightly resembling Midnight from 600 years ago..It brings her nostalgia. Afterall, she still has a good feeling left for Midnight..

She was the only one who cried when Angst died. Merciless lied to her that it was Midnight who got his hands bloody, so Azalea had more reasons to hate him. Merciless acts innocent around Azalea to keep having her trust and support. (based off a hc-)

When Bright was captured, Azalea visited him and brought him clean clothes and food, seeing this as a chance to speak to him alone. A good friendship started building up, seeing as both had a few things in common, including being trapped in this place.

Azalea genuinely hates seeing Bright in this miserable state, so she plans on killing him when Merciless' plan commences. She wants to fulfill his wishes and end his suffering. For now, she's trying to have some final moments with him.

Her and Killer tend to fight a lot. Well he's usually the one looking for a fight. But she's usually chill, doesn't give him what he wants, gives him a gentle, playful smack instead. He's always trying to provoke her, but she sticks out her tongue in a mocking manner just to see what he's gonna do-

Azalea isn't afraid of dying. She's afraid of dying unhappy or in agony. Not a big fan of pain and torture, so she always is obedient and stays on Midnight's good side. This woman is good with words, afterall.

Anyways she's a year older than Midnight, and not that close to Horror, Dust or Crescent. She tolerates them though, seeing as they barely bother her and she barely bothers them.

Actress without an Oscar :3c

IE/Identities Evolved AU belongs to @crystal-traan (sorry for tagging you)

Hopefully I start another [Bright&Azure] book on Quotev because I deleted the old one, it made me gawk.

[dxwnfxll]

"You're starting to look really weird"

My ESO oc Nepelle slowly becoming an Automation

Sketch no color lol

Nepelle info:

So Nepelle is one of Sotha Sils assistants (ik ik i'm so creative), she was completely devoted to him and that devotion led her astray. She developed romantic feelings and instead of trying to work them out normally she just somehow found her way out of the city. She had planned to stay away for good but when she had to return to save Sotha sil (after rushing into a marriage, becoming Vivecs champion and starting a family) she begged for his forgiveness due to her loyalty and he took her back. She abandoned her family due to her devotion and loyalty.

I have it in my au that 'Memory' is Nepelle and Sotha sils kid cause why not i thought it would be cute, they do have romantic moments (not much intimate) but after she and Sotha sil started becoming more machine than mer they hardly had a word towards one another.

She's my Nerevarines grandmother (born from her family she abandoned) and has been alone in Clockwork city for way too long.

She's still a work in progress so everything i wrote out might not remain 'canon'

Uncensored photo

[creamecream]

“I know those eyes, following me,

Dark, and familiar, and deep as the sea,

I know that face, strange though it seems,

Younger, and kinder, it haunts all my dreams,” ~ Jacob Foxglove probably at some point.

[ilariyalavorowrites]

Good enough (9-1-1) Part three

Imagine leaving LA after feeling like an outsider in your relationship with Bobby and Athena as they seem to pull away and distance themselves from you. Only to find that it is almost impossible to actually walk away.

Warnings: Angst with happy ending, AU, Bisexual Athena, (Eventually) BDSM

Pairings: Bobby Nash x Reader x Athena Grant

Word count: 1,124 words

Universe: 9-1-1

Reader gender: Female

Author: Ilariya_Lavoro writes

Previous/ Next

Part 3/10

Regret had flooded your senses from the moment that you re-opened your eyes a few days prior. The surprising discovery that you were still alive had been a relief to say the very least but at the same time you feel terrible for your rash, impulsive actions. You were bound to a bed on a ward in an unfamiliar hospital. 

Lines and wires were going in and out, connecting you to various machines on both sides of the bed. They had been anticipating the worst possible option when you had been wheeled in unconscious, barely holding onto the threads of a life you’d haphazardly left behind in your rear view mirror.

Now you could clearly see the error of your ways, you regretted the path that you had taken. Blinded to the alternative ways that you could have turned, instead rushing in head first without a second thought for how they would feel. This was karma for your choices. You were completely and utterly alone.

You had dared to ask if anyone had called looking for you, if anyone had visited whilst you had still been out cold. The answer to both had been the same, no. No-one was out there looking for you. This was your new future, far from how you dared to envision it. You had left and this was your new tomorrow.

You should feel free but that was not the case. You were drowning in a harsh sea of regret, grief and sorrow. This was of your own making, the bed you had made. One you would lie in night after night. There was no way back, not one you see in this particular moment in time.

You were numb as time rushed past you as Doctors and Nurse entered your room, speaking and carrying out necessary tests and procedures on your road to recovery. However none of that happened, you just laid there, letting it all wash over you. Where would you go? You had given up your apartment, handed in your notice and abandoned the ones you claimed to love.

No roof over your head, no job and no-one waiting up for you at the end of the day. When you had been truly left with your thoughts in that small room. Your raw, untapped emotions bled back through breaking down your walls. Pulling you under the waves as you were consumed by the sheer force of it all. You had been flung out of the calm into the raging heart of the storm.

You cried out in the dark, this was self inflicted. You were wrong. Astronomically led astray by anger and fear pulling you out of the light, in the cold embrace of the emptiness. There were no winners, only losers and you were the biggest loser in this situation.

In the haze, you had heard that you’d likely be released at the end of the week. Pending the results of the various swabs and tests showed.  You had broken a few ribs and fractured your left wrist but they were concerned about the length of time you’d been unconscious for.

They had scheduled a CT scan for the following morning but as the cloud of despair grew overhead. You cared very little for what lay ahead in the days that followed. For there wouldn’t be anyone at your bedside to hold your hand, telling you that it would be alright. Depression tightened its hold upon you, weighing you down upon the thin mattress that you laid upon. Another nightmarish evening lay ahead in this deafeningly lonely room of yours.

This was your life now

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

Forty Eight Hours Earlier

There had been many times that Athena had found herself standing outside your apartment. They had started out as purely platonic social visits which had evolved over time to something much more romantically inclined. Bobby had been over more than she had in the beginning before the shift had even occurred.

Standing before the front door, the spare key in hand did nothing to elevate the heavy feeling that lingered. Something wasn’t right because it was far too quiet. For there, no noise emanating from within the abode. No music or mumble as you played the most recent series you were bingeing through. No footsteps walking from room to room. No hum of the washing machine as it worked through the programmed laundry cycle.

It was rarely this silent, it was almost as if you were simply not there but you won’t just leave your car parked outside. There were simply too many questions and too few answers for her taste. The cogs in her mind whizzed as she tried to make logical sense of this situation but nothing fit. 

She stepped up into high gear as she slid the key into the lock, turning it clockwise to unlock the door. Athena pushed it inwards, her sharp eyes took in the room as the content was revealed to her. She narrowed her eyes at the now spaciously decorated interior. 

WRONG

WRONG

WRONG

The word echoed in her mind as she stepped into the apartment, closing the door behind her. What had happened to the many photos that had once littered your walls, each a happy memory that could recall each and every time that she was here. Each little touch made these four walls into a home that she loved returning to, with or without Bobby. Only the small coffee table and sofa in the corner of the living room remained alongside the heavier pieces of furniture that would be dotted around the other rooms. One thing did stand out in the spartan room. A singular envelope laying flat upon the table. This was a start. She dared to hope that what she could see before her eyes.

At the same time, her years on the force gave her the skills to read a room. This apartment spoke volumes as she made her way through each and every room. Until her feet found their way back to the living room. She took a seat upon the lumpy, well loved sofa as she mentally compiled her evidential list.

The lack of personal belongings/clothes

The sudden radio silence

Your abandoned car

The keys that she had kicked on her way in

No, this couldn’t be the case. There had to be more to this than this surface-level detail. Athena whipped out her phone and dialled a familiar number. She placed it to her ear and waited for it to be answered. “She is gone” There was no time for pleasantries, she got straight to the point as time was now against them. However, one mystery remained that could be easily solved. The contents of the envelope.

[carpsurprise]

fantasy au hcs for the marriageable canidates?

fantasy au headcanons for the bachelor/ettes!

this was fun!! if this isn’t what you wanted exactly i apologize!! i tried to make these all a little different, but i def headcanon that abigail/sam/sebastian are in their own group together!! but that’s a whole other thing!!

alex:

-definitely a man of weapons! he can use swords, spears, any kind of fantasy weapon you could really think of

-he only knows a few spells and one or two different types of magic, but he has amazing precision and would be a great warrior

-i can see him as a leader of a group of mages for hire, where he can travel as he pleases and make easy money

elliott:

-elven, but one that's still tied to the ocean (possibly a seafarer)

-i do think he could do enchantments and spell writing 

-people would seek him out as a mentor and a companion, since he’s so easy to get along with and so willing to help others

-the sound of his piano by the sea, depending on the tune, can signal good luck or something foreboding is coming

harvey:

-herb collector and a healer

-i think he would have an herb/potion shop smack in the middle of a village to help heal and educate others 

-i don’t think he’d also be very social, but i think when he goes to forests to look for more herbs, forest spirits would be attracted to his presence

-his friends are the trees and energy of the forest !!

-maybe a satyr would be a good look for him?!

sam:

-i think sam would definitely be a traveler, but would never be alone. he’s the type of person to tag along with others on their journeys and help them out along the way

-he would be a being of the sun or stars and feel most comfortable (or have his height of power) in sunlight

-a bard (dnd) kinda thing. i think he could enchant others and uses his talent of music and his friendly charisma to charm and help himself/others

-he’s got real talent that keeps people’s eyes on him! i think he could easily make others like him using a magical skill through music and keep himself on everyone’s good side.

sebastian:

-definitely a mage, but a hermit who keeps to himself

-i think he’d be very talented in certain types of magic and that would make others seek him out

-he’d be very passive and want to spend his time perfecting his own skills rather than seek others out

-if not something like that, i could definitely see him only coming out under the cover of night and stealing objects of high value to resell sort of like a mercenary?

shane:

-definitely the grumpy mage that doesn’t really associate with others

-he keeps his magic limited to helping animals

-often looks over and protects farms and fields from other people/animals with intent to harm

-i think he would use summoning magic!! i think he originally learned it for selfish purposes, but turned it around to protect helpless animals from danger

-he can communicate with animals through waves instead of words! he can sense their emotional states and worry and uses that to act!

abigail:

-the easy answer: knight. 

-but i’d like to think she would want to be a dragon slayer of sorts

-she would keep a piece of whatever hoard the dragon would have as a sort of trophy 

-otherwise i think she would know arcane magic that could benefit her and her only

-would definitely live in an abandoned castle (most likely haunted) and would spend her days with riches and a drive to use her sword for any reason

emily:

-i think with how spiritual she is canonically, she’d be someone people would look to in terms of religion or clairvoyant magic

-maybe not so much of a priestess, but an oracle!

-she has a very mystical/fantastical aura to her anyway, i think she’d definitely be seen as a prophesier or something ethereal

-definitely very powerful!! some type of creature of aether

haley:

-miss mermaid is the easy choice to go but i do think she’d be perfect for a life at the beach and in the ocean

-friends with the dolphins and fish (stingrays are her favorite though)

-with an offering of seashells she could help ships with directions and other nautical things

-but… as a mermaid she would definitely be prone to mischief!! ask her to do something without a gift and she’ll lead you astray

-not to your death of course but… it’ll definitely add a couple gray hairs to any sailor

leah:

-would spend her time in the forest, with other forest spirits

-i think animals would be drawn to her and put their trust in her!! like how shane can feel other animal’s emotions, i think she would be able to directly communicate with them 

-she would have horns!! maybe curly horns like a ram has

-her magic would be centered around the forest and sunlight!

-she’s the type of spirit you run into in the forest and is bound to help with friendly advice, but the second you turn your head she’s disappeared into the air

maru:

-i think she would use magic to benefit others!

-she would build staffs and other magical items for others and help them enchant them

-maru would also definitely be a mentor of others 

-though i see her more as a steampunk fantasy than a high fantasy type of thing, i think she could make armor for specific types of buffs and magic

-she would look very cute with elf ears i will admit

penny:

-she’d be an amazing archivist for magic books and knowledge

-i could see her living in the trunk of a giant tree, dedicating her life to collecting magical knowledge and letting others borrow the information to better themselves

-hm… magic cafe maybe? like make tea with herbal potions in them and help others wind down?

-i think she’d be good at blessing objects and doing little here or there magical jobs to help others out with small things

[waatched]

try not to think about it too much. things never turn out the way you expect them to.

[smutsonian]

yet another mob!henry drabble

mob!henry x reader

summary: you get yourself in trouble with a rival gang gang gang

warnings: lil angst, violence, not smut (thought i might warn y’all), i never do proofreading

word count: 900

an: my last mob!henry au ended badly (leaving lots of people hanging) and im hoping this would suffice as an apology but i feel like the lack of smut aint doing it sksksks i swear i started writing this with the thought of writing smut but shit just got too soft.

masterlist

You’re completely fucked. Like… royally fucked. What is it about trying to please him to no ends? What is it about wanting to see him happy and relaxed instead of troubled and vexed? You just wanted to help but you couldn’t have done that by doing a simple thing like baking his favorite cake or buying him another ring for the collection he has on his thick fingers.

No, you just had to interfere with his business. You just had to eavesdrop on a communication you obviously weren’t supposed to hear. You just had to meddle with his business in hopes of putting an end on the conflict he had with a rival gang. Looking back at it now, it was for a good cause but an oh-so-awful and horrible idea.

How you managed to contact the other gang’s leader is still a mystery but he agreed on accepting the money you so genuinely offered in exchange for a truce with your boyfriend’s gang. All you had to do was leave the bag of cash on the exact address he sent you. The deal was you had to come alone and if you even tried to stray from the plan, it’s your boyfriend who’ll pay. 

Not being used to how your boyfriend’s lifestyle works, you agreed in a blink, not wanting to put your Henry in trouble. (Or whatever ‘pay’ means) You went to the sketchy abandoned parking lot alone and dropped the bag. You hurriedly went to walk back to your car and that’s when everything went astray. 

You suddenly found yourself held hostage by the rival gang’s leader who then asked Henry for a fat amount of money in exchange for you. The bastard even had the audacity to spill some of your blood to ‘motivate’ your boyfriend into making the transaction faster. 

That made the transaction faster alright. Once Henry saw the photo of your bloodied face, the line went dead and the bastard had the audacity to smile at you and pat your head in faux appreciation. The bright smile on his face was soon wiped away when a bullet found its way in between his eyes. His men soon suffered the same faith as his once his body dropped dead on the cold ground.

You were then faced with a fuming Henry. He skillfully removed your restraints before gripping the sides of your face. He tilted it from side to side to find the source of the blood that was smeared across your face. He hisses quietly before taking out a cloth from his pocket and wiping the cut on your forehead.

“Ow” you winced at the sting you felt and his grip on your chin only got tighter to keep you in place. “Stay still” he grumbled as he continued cleaning your cut, using the tools that one of his men just gave him. “Henry, I’m so—” you tried to apologize but he cut you off with a glare. “Don’t. Fucking. Move.” His tone was rough and hard and you immediately shut your mouth before dropping your gaze to your hands.

As he continued tending the cut on your forehead, you let your head fall down to avoid his gaze as tears started forming in your eyes and falling down your cheeks. You didn’t want him to see you cry. You didn’t want to anger him even more.

You heard him sigh as he pulled his hand away from your cut and using the other to lift your chin up. His face held a softer expression now as he uses another clean cloth to wipe your tear-stained and blood-stained face. He smiles softly before caressing your face with his huge hands. “There. Good as new.” You chuckled at him before bursting into quiet tears again.

He curses under his breath before pulling your body close to his and pressing your head into his chest. “I’m sorry. I just w-wanted to help. I didn’t mean to make everything worse, I s-swear.” You choked against his chest as he runs his palm against your head and your back in hopes of comforting you.

“I know. I know that, angel. I just got worried. You scared me. You really scared me there, my little angel. I’m just so glad that you’re safe in my arms now.” He rocked your body back and forth as he embraced your body tightly against his. “I didn’t mean to scare you, Henry. I- I just suck at doing your job.” You whispered quietly and felt a little calmer when you felt his body shake as he laughed. You looked up at him and he looked down at you with a bigger smile. “Although I love how you wanted to help me, I want you to promise me that you’ll let me do my work from now on. I can’t risk losing you. You’re the only perfect thing that happened to my life.” 

“I promise.” You grinned as he leaned down to capture your lips with his, returning the same passion he has and smiling as you feel his hands rubbing your back and pulling you against his body as his kisses got rougher. When he let you pull away to catch your breath, he presses his forehead against yours before kissing your nose and making you chuckle. “I do love you with all my heart. I just think I should remind you that.”

You bit your bottom lip before nodding. “I know and I love you with all my heart as well.”

[cupsofsuga]

𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 ━ 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐓𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 *:·。.

{ ⚠️} WARNING - This is a yandere au, meaning the following may be triggering to some viewers.  I am not trying to discriminate the boys in any way, this is for entertainment purposes. Viewer discretion is advised!!!

{ ☕️} NOTE - there’s some heavy violence in this headcanon! again, viewer discretion is advised! also, thank you anon for being so kind!!!

{ 💐} ANON ASKED - ❝ Hcs for each member to their s/o having a hard time at school because they have a lot of exams and there is like this one girl who is kinda bothering them a lot and says thing’s like „you’re so dumb“ + Thank you for your hard work🌟 :) ❞

━━━ 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐊𝐉𝐈𝐍

whilst walking through the early afternoon, jin can’t help but let his mind wander to his y/n

they are candied cherries, chocolate-covered strawberries, slices of honeydew of a sultry june afternoon

they are a summer sonnet, saccharine sunshine embodied

they are in every means the light in a pit of darkness

and just before his fists meet with the mahogany door, the hushed sounds of sobbing brings his ethereal thoughts to an abrupt halt

that sugary taste of spring melts into a metallic tang

jin is ripped from the arms of serendipity and embraced by a holy, winter night; he is exploited by hell and feels it’s knife-sharp kisses litter his body

and without a second thought, he bursts through the door with enough force to puncture the wood

he is quick to provide aid for his love, letting them trail on of tales of their arrogant teachers and that sadistic blonde who finds pleasure in your torment

jin’s heart shatters and underneath the glass shard in unfathomable rage

and just like that, we watch as his anger swells and the events that follow after the faltering of his flower

5:38 PM, your teacher who has thrust you into a rough patch with school stands by his car

jin strikes, he falls to the ground, streets seeping with crimson blood as his sinful acts bleed into the creases of the pavement

the brick in his hand is quickly disposed of as he hijacks the stranger’s car and attends the key to his office

hours later, he finds you, nestled under silky blankets with moon tea in your grasp

he presents to you a cheat sheet, relishing in the way you smile so vividly and the summer petals that asphyxiate him

next, is that girl who dared to let you cry tears for her

and the acts performed on her were horrific

he nustles you back into bed, a gentle kiss to the head and caresses to the cheek, then, he is off into the night

within the next 12 hours, jin had managed to slice off her fingers and toes, laughing sadistically as she begs for mercy

the annoying disunity of her pained, guttural screams irritated jin, and to end of the night with a bang, he forced her to eat a bullet

now, the burdens have been disposed of, the anger has simmered and his love has found peace, you both can live smoothly

without the suffocating weights of the horrid world, jin can listen to his midsummer sonnets as they grace his world with their delicate smiles and infectious laughter

finally, he can breathe.

━━━ 𝐌𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈

yoongi awakes in the evening a couple of steps into march, early spring sticky on his cheeks and sheets pressed upon his dainty legs

the burning revelation of what lies next to him feels like the midnight sun warm against his bareback

he knows the love of his life rests right beside him, deep in a luminescent slumber

yoongi turns his body around, meeting with his love, who instead is perched on the side of the bed, phone screen illuminating the room that drowned in obscurity

beneath that canopy of constellations, there is his y/n, crying out to the empty night

and that bruising palpitation that strikes his heart with one bitter-intended swing could’ve crumbled planets in the galaxy to nothing but dust bunnies you’d find nestled in the depths of the attic

every bated breath is suffocated within his lungs, saltwater smothering him as he can’t find the words to provide aid for the love of his life

the ashes skies and dull clouds envelop him, and alas, magic has died

with a gentle touch to your shoulder, the boy behind you coos and hushes his own cries of worry as you both sit in solid darkness

through saturated cries, you manage to cough up tales of demons that litter the hallways, choking on the acerbic aftertaste of tears

with the moon strung high, yoongi finds devotion through the thorn-laced ivy that punctures his form

he must prove his infatuation, he must

after all, when the world left him astray, you painted him gold with stardust brewing in your lungs

when the galaxy abandoned him, you gifted him the sun as if the planet was nothing but coins in your pocket

when he was alone, you were there in all of your effervescent glory

and that leaves your lover now, writing an anonymous complaint about that blonde’s behavior, lacing the letter with false stories of her becoming physical

yes, yoongi knows this is wrong, but that image of you with gleaming tears sprinting down your cheeks robs him of any potential mercy

he loves you, and he must defend you from the world

and there it is, your smile

you look like a pack of adonis blue butterflies in the summer, the diamonds that scatter the galaxies, rose petals as they fall from the clouds

you are happy, and now you can live in tranquillity

as the sun sets and the wolves venture out of their the caves, you two spend eternal hours on the roof, sipping cheap red wine as bellowing laughter echoes

and it’s so sweet - so, so sweet - living days in the depths of ice-rimmed snow globes and soaring through the land of hogwarts

it's so sweet finding forever summer within the cold days of late winter

it’s so sweet to live the rest of his days with you.

━━━ 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐊

❝ oh, oh! i’ll do them for you! ❞

without a hint of breath, hoseok interferes your rant about exams with a shimmering idea

that’s who he was, after all

a boy willing to spit out the ash of bullets with the sun pounding against his ribcage and with the alacrity of his spirit

he’d watch the stars bleed and summer fade, he’d embrace violence with pleasure and hunt out the wolves of the night

he’d swallow seas, seethe in hellfire, swim within the embers of the sun and wither planets to dust

he’d just about do anything for you, and you milked his very desire to do such

you see, exam season was hot on your tail and there were only seconds before you witness the death of a downfall behind procrastination

the elegance of time has faded, and fortunately for you, your pretty-pliant boy toy is there with a cape to save the day

you should feel guilt for manipulating and twisting your lover's brain, but, the poison that seeps through the maze of your veins robs you of any empathy

his whitening bones and your rotten figure, his sunset skies and your ashen wastelands

you both might as well have been a devil and an angel sitting in the same high school class

but, the burden of exams is only an inkling of the baggage heavy on your shoulders

that blonde who finds sadistic pleasure in turning your life into a living hellhole awaits your next move, and with the help of your delusional lover, you may find stars within the black hole of the universe

as your grades all skyrocket as planned, you’ll have enough golden stars and lollipops to have her regina george and her precious good-girl streak melting into the tile before her expensive platforms

so, as the next afternoon blossoms, you meet hoseok at his locker with a disposition burning within your heart and ask him out on a date, watching as summer’s sky drowns out within his irises and the essence of spring spreads amongst his doll-like features

as he accepts with a stutter, you become concerned with whether or not you should check if the poor boy is still breathing, but settle on attending the ice cream parlor on the corner of town

and as you both sit in the sunset as superman ice-cream stains his lips, your plan proceeds in perfect harmony

with your sweetheart who resembles a golden retriever who’s met face-to-face with a battered-off tennis ball, your every desire is granted

with cloy praises and sugar-tainted caresses, you��re passing your exams with a pretty little pet there to serve to every one of your commands

and blinded by the infatuation through the manipulation, hoseok finds lavender-infused meadows and universes undiscovered

ever waking second with you, he finds the sun as it beats against his empty eyelids

alas, he has found clarity within the treacherous world

and he doesn’t know what he’d do if you ever left him.

━━━ 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐉𝐎𝐎𝐍

wednesday afternoon, namjoon is roaming around the somewhat-secluded library, once again

he finds you at a deserted table and relishes in the ambivalent pandemonium of your eternal gaze that pounds his hummingbird heartbeat

he finds cherry stains chalked upon your lips, the dust of a child’s dreams scattered upon your features, the touch of aphrodite herself laced within your fingertips as you turn the pages with elegance

to have a stark sight of you, he has found rome in the depths of you and he is only left to scrutinize every last moment

as you talk with a friend on the phone, namjoon picks up a stray book off the shelf, posing to deem it interesting as the ink fades to nonsense

there’s a tangible bitterness in your tone, stating your stress over exams, then exclaiming your rage for another student who has found entertainment in using you like a rag doll

namjoon listens, and he seethes

there’s a vivid pulse of red, a breath of tranquility left astray, heavy spring rain that envelops him

in the serrated halt in his thoughts, he listens to your rants and the harmonious claps of thunder that follow after the light rain showers

as the clock reads 3:27 AM, the boy spends the ungodly hours of the night inhaling the musk of silken mist as he dives into the depths of whatever information he can grasp of your supposed bully

after all, he’d do just about anything for you

he’d swallow bullets, suffocate himself on clouds, slice galaxies and set your shadows aflame if you simply asked

he loves you, and the burning light’s embrace taste of lemonade

you are willow trees in late june heat, apple pies left to cool on an autumn afternoon, a star amongst a field of faux pearls, a fairytale you’d find hidden in the dust of a bookstore

you are in every means a melody of summer and the ethereal sense of purity that follows after

so, that leaves namjoon now, casting his gaze upon a penthouse where the villain of your story lies

and the acts that follow after climbing into the adobe through the fire escape are horrid

he spits out threats and insults as the girl shows her submission, tears tumbling down her rosy cheeks as she pleads for any potential compassion found within the man

she then proceeds to swear on her life that she won’t utter a breath of this night if the intruder were to simply leave, but, the myths that lie within those ocean eyes state differently

and so he kills her - he kills her so violently - he watches the life leave her doe eyes like a dying star

namjoon then leaves her in the bathtub, mustering up some sob suicide note about how unfair her life was, then neglecting his sins at the domain

finally, finally, he can taste the midsummer plums and strawberry-tainted air without the burden of the world

finally, he can dance with the sunbeams as the rain begins to fade into lustrous stars

finally, he can breathe with you.

━━━ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍

even with the simple incantation of a compliment, you have jimin vowing his devotion to you, a simple stranger

you, who holds the hypnotic elegance of a swan, the unintentional divine nature of a ghost and the substantially ethereal depths of aphrodite herself hold a young boy’s sensitive heart in the palm of your palms

you, who lives in the wind by the riverside, hold the universe in your hands

jimin, and his tenacious behavior, stand just outside the door of his father’s office, ear pressed against the door, clinging onto any inkling of a word he can grasp

your father stands in the room, too, just without you, the sun in the empty abyss

with muffled words, he listens as your father speaks stories of your stress with upcoming exams and with a bully of yours

his brave iris, his luminescent flower, his star dripped in honey nectar- is suffering…?

jimin has been left to wallow in a desolated graveyard, just to fantasize of your dancing touch and luminescent smile

you are both two bunny rabbits prancing through the barricades of spring, two fairies dancing with dust in the heat of summer

every fleeting moment, it all echoed within him

and that leaves jimin now with the yearbook that he borrowed from you settled in his lap

he takes the brief second to examine your school picture, tracing delicate fingers amongst your features and the doodles of hearts and flowers that litter around your sparkling face

flipping through the pages, he hears your father’s voice in his head, who had spoken the name of the demon that dared to dwell in you

languorous days, lavender hearts and june-infused nights, he has found some sense of clarity within the heartbreaking loyalty

inhaling the musk of a filthy bar littered with drunk men, he finds a blonde head, plan lingering within his mind

he then forges attraction, single whispers proving more of the bruises on his skin than the flower of his love

with angelic tones and forcing gags back down his throat, jimin had finally gotten this parasite alone

he had gotten the doe-eyed villain alone in an alleyway, lust staining the shades of her eyes

and that leaves the blue-eyed, plum-lipped girl with golden hair now, left in a puddle of piss and beer - dead

there’s blood everywhere - in the wind, on the pavement, on the brick walls, stained upon empty skin

but, alas, despite drowning in the sticky residue of his sins, eden’s garden has bloomed

alas, without the burden there to touch your soul and carve letters to ghost upon your precious skin, he is free

and you venture behind your father to another meeting several days later, meeting face-to-face with an abnormally bright puppy-dog with summer sunbeams soaked in the hues of his irises

❝ y/n! y/n! hey! do you- do you need help with your exams? i can help, i swear! i really can! i promise...! i’d do anything to help… ❞

━━━ 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐄𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐆

you curl your fingers around the flutter of the telephone cord, the prismatic pastel hues complimenting every syllable that leaves your mouth

your brows knit and nose scrunches, your lips twist and eyes glimmer

and, within your haze, after leaving your window open to find some contentment in the heavy humidity, a figure slid in through the crack and resides in the closet

taehyung now cherishes you through the speckles of light given through the rift of the closet door, summer leaving its eternal residue upon his form

he stares and finds the embodiment of the moon and its naked bones through the gentle film of your bedside lamp

he then listens as you complain about your bad day, dwelling in the curves and juts of your tone

how no matter how many times you attempt to curl your way out of her embrace, the blonde who has learned to despise you, an angel, always seeps her way back into your bloodstream

like a sour lemon upon the july sun, like the burning embers of winter amongst summer stars

his tranquility found in the human he loves has suffered a perceptible shift

and now, all he can touch and all he can see is unfathomable rage

how dare someone treat such a creature with envy? how dare they treat his love with obsidian-stained hatred!?

how could a human disrupt a heartbeat trapped in the galaxies!? how could a human hurt such an angel...?

these thoughts spread like constellations as taehyung sits beside you on your bed, tucking you tighter into your blankets with caution not to jeopardize his identity

you sleep like pearls in the sea, like california poppies in the daybreak

and with a gentle kiss to your forehead and a secret in the grave, he is off into the night

and within the blistering bite of the night, taehyung finds the girl and gives a gaze with two beady, stern eyes that burns bullets into his helpless victim

a good game of tag as the wind chills through the oxygen, cat and mouse in the opalescent midnight sky

and within a matter of seconds, an arrow pierces through the night and penetrates through her neck

he watches- watches as life bleeds down her collarbone

and he loves it

but now, he has returned to his love, soaked head-to-toe in the irony taste of his own sins

he sits beside your sleeping form, clutches midsummer peaches in his grasp as places his land ever so gentle upon yours

a plan lingers- a plan of how he'll kill two birds with one stone

he'll begin tutoring lessons, assisting you with your exams and drowning in the neon hues of your soul

and through the lullaby, kim taehyung has found a pale summer sky in an eternal night

he has found the lulling taste of july fruits in the suffocating depths of the attic

he has found his heartbeat in the graveyard of his mind

and his love for you is eternal.

━━━ 𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐊𝐎𝐎𝐊

with a juul held beneath your skin, nicotine soaks in the air and poisons the musk around

it fills your nostrils, holy smoke fogging up the deceased, midnight breeze

there’s muffled music that doubles yourself in this dream, there’s tranquility found in the abandonment of time

you listen and bathe in the epiphany found in the ghost of the late-night song, dwelling in the simmering sounds

you and your closest friend sit on the roof of your car, just outside of a party, gazing at the moon and sharing hits of the toxic juul pod

and within jungkook, there is infatuation infused with every breath, every blink, every waking second

there lies pearls and petals of lotus flowers within your irises, the smoke serving as a wreath around your exquisite form

your voice sounds of nature as you speak to the moon, and he has fallen prey to every curve and jut of the gibberish that leaves your mouth

you are graceful, you are broken

you are enigmatic in the hypnotizing land of twilight, you are beauty embodied as the stars circle the earth

but, through the canopy of tulips and chirping birds, the wolves venture from out of their adobe with bloodlust staining their golden eyes

you fuss about a particular blonde, proceeding to thrust your friends sanity into the flames of a hearth

you are but a doll in her grasp, a bruised and battered toy crafted for tantrums

you speak words of sour lemonade, and alas, the tranquility in the air has simmered into wrath

with lilacs in the black skies and tragedy in the pavement, you, too, find anger within the slender bones of the moon

you despise being wormwood in her grasp, but, you assume those are just the blues of being a high school student

and as the night falters and dawn blooms, you are met with fatal permission

you have met with the edge of the woods, found the corpses of mauled wolves, found ecstasy in a wasteland of dust

you eavesdrop and hear silent chatter of how regina george did not retreat home from the party the previous night

unknown to your knowledge, the sadistic candyland you were a plastic figure in has met its fate

as it will forever live as a mystery, you are unaware to the fact that her body lies miles away, left to rot within the venomous soil

then, you approach jungkook, filling him in on the latest gossip and expressing your cruel joy for her disappearance

and the pleasure that settles in his face like honey’s residue on a july afternoon was terrifying

jungkook has lost himself in a hallucination of lively color, an illusion of summer days amid winter

he has found the phoenix flower as it blooms within the hues of your eyes, he has found silken stars as they litter your face like sugar and glitter

he has found solace in the new day, the new beginning

he has found euphoria in judgment day.

[greenninjagal-blog]

That Island That I Just Can’t Reach

Quick little idea that I super loved and couldn’t get out of my head: Sanders Sides/ Miraculous Ladybug au! I call it The Faux-Butterfly Effect!

Words: 2329

Pairings: Anxeit (because I’m a sucker for sympathetic Deceit)

Summary: Virgil doesn’t know how to tell his former best friend that magical girl transformations do not stop real world bullets.

Quick Taglist: @chelsvans @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @treasureofpriam

Ao3  || Series Master on Ao3 || My Genral Masterlist

Virgil Storm hasn’t talked to Dante Ethan Ekans in two years. And yet, here he stands right in front of Virgil, dressed up like that fox themed menace that’s been terrorizing the Shopping District for the past week, and he’s holding out a box out to Virgil and asking him to help save the world.

Part of him can’t believe this is real.

It’s most likely some sort of trick. 

Dante had always been really good mind games. Ever since they were kids and he had learned that he could get what he wanted by telling his dad that his mom had specifically said no to it. Virgil had lost count of the fights he had started with just flick of his tongue, of the verbal sparring he had engaged in during class that left most of his opponents scratching their heads, of the consequences he had dodged by just a hair’s breadth.

At one point, Virgil and him had been inseparable.

Virgil thinks that’s why he knows who it is under that offensive orange mask. It’s so obvious. There’s no one else who smiles like that, who’s eyes glisten so excitedly when they leap straight into danger, who delights in trickery and illusions the way that Dante did. The way he stands is so Dante-like that its almost painful to look at. Virgil almost doesn’t understand why he’s the only one who sees it.

But then he remembers that not everyone had a massive crush on their best friend.

“Virgil Storm,” The Fox says-- what was he going by? It was some sort of pun wasn’t it?-- “Will you help me save the world?”

Its absurd. Absolutely insane.

“Are you stupid?” Virgil blurts out. Which is probably not the smartest thing ever because Dante has a flute that doubles as a bo-staff that he most certainly knew now to wield and they hadn’t exactly parted like friends.

“What--” Dante blinks like he had been ten steps ahead and Virgil had just done something that threw off his entire plan. “You do know I’m literally giving you the power of a god. Just take the broach--”

He nudges it towards Virgil’s face, and Virgil is suddenly flooded with angry beyond his comprehension. He doesn’t really know what its about, but suddenly his hand flies up and he slaps the box right out of Dante’s hand.

“Are you stupid?!” Virgil snarls again. “No stop! This isn’t about the fucking box, Dante!” 

The Fox hero freezes.

Virgil thinks its the first time he’s had Dante’s attention all to himself in two years. Its terrifying. Its invigorating. Virgil wants to cry.

Had he really missed those gold and brown eyes that much?

“This isn’t a game, Dante! Florida is under attack!” Virgil shouts at him, “Those are people with actual guns! That’s the actual American Government! And no fancy orange super suit is gonna stop an M4 carbine! You’re gonna die!”

Virgil’s hands are shaking, he realizes. His entire body is shuddering at the thought. Because as soon as its out of his mouth that they only thing he can think about is Dante lying on the ground with a gaping wound in his chest and his blood and life leaking out of him. All he can think about is that smile falling blank, and those pale lips splattered with blood, and those eyes-- those special, mismatched, and mischievous eyes-- losing that light they danced so freely with.

All he can think about is Dante dying.

“I’m not going to die,” Dante says dismissively.

“You don’t know that!” Virgil wants to pull out his hair. How can he brush off the danger like? How can he have such a disregard for his own life?

“Virgil,” Dante says again. Had Virgil’s name always sounded so foriegn coming from him? Or maybe its just how softly the other says it compared to the way it had been screamed the last time? Had one argument really shattered everything they had?

Dante reaches his arms out and gently grabs arms shoulders, “Listen to me. Have I ever led you astray before?”

Virgil thinks of the time they were seven and Dante had gotten him bit by a dog because he said “it’s obviously harmless!” and Virgil had believed him, of the time they were eleven and Dante had said “No one will catch us!” and they had both been arrested an hour later in the middle of spray painting the wall of the not-quite-so-abandoned warehouse, of the time when they were fourteen and Virgil had beat out Logan for the highest grade in history class because Dante had slipped him the answers and the next time they had tried to do it Logan had snitched on him out of spite--

“I am not going to die,” Dante says confidently, “You are going to help make sure I don’t die, but providing me with support.”

Virgil shakes his head. He feels sick to his stomach, and cold despite the wait he’s sweating through his sweat shirt.

“No!” He croaks, “Find someone else. Anyone else.”

“I don’t trust anyone else like I trust you.”

A laugh breaks the feverish feeling he has. Because it’s insane, absurd, stupid. Dante can trust him? That’s got to be the worst joke he’s ever made. 

“No!” Virgil yells again, “You made it very clear what you think of me, Dante!” So clear, in fact, that, Virgil still lays awake at night remembering the way that Dante had screamed his name and called him a traitor when Virgil had just been trying to keep him alive to see the end of the week.

Dante’s pale underneath that mask. It looks like for the first time his silvertongue doesn’t have a response. It tries, though, fluttering behind those perfect white teeth of Dante’s and choking on too many syllables. 

There used to be a time when Virgil knew what he was thinking with just a glance.

That time is long gone. And as much as Virgil misses it, he doesn’t think it can ever come back. Not when every time they talk theres something between them: a door, a phone, a bright orange mask. 

There’s a primordial fear in him that sparks when something pops into the air between them that sounds remotely like an English word and Virgil realizes that he doesn’t want to know what Dante is thinking. He pushes himself away from Dante and the Fox lets him go.

Maybe its the shock? Dante doesn’t usually let go of things that easily.

He pretends like he doesn’t miss the warmth the second its gone. Instead Virgil’s arms wrap around his body and he hugs the feeling of wrongness out of his body.

“I’m not doing this,” Virgil says, “I’m not helping you kill yourself, Dante. I can’t do that.” 

For a moment, Virgil things he reached him. Like Dante’s been on some distant island since his mother’s funeral and Virgil’s been paddling towards that island but every time he gets close the island is somehow further away-- For a moment Virgil’s thinks he’s finally landed on the beach and there’s sand between his toes, and Dante is right there on the shore ready to come back home--

For a moment Virgil thinks that Dante will take off that mask and come with him to find somewhere to hide. 

But the moment passes, and Dante leans to the ground and picks up that box. His hands are shaking. His lips purse but he nods at Virgil.

“Okay,” he says. He flips the box in the air. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Virgil repeats.

Dante looks at him. Virgil looks back.

“I’m sorry,” Dante says. “I shouldn’t have asked you to do this for me. That was my bad.”

Virgil’s stomach jumps straight to his throat.

“You want to stay and hide and I get that, Virge, I do.” He says and Virgil thinks he really doesn’t. “There’s safety in the shadows and in keeping your head down. But I can’t do that. Not when there are people out there who are begging for a hero-- and I’m a pretty crappy hero, but I’m the only one they’ve got.”

The necklace he’s wearing glistens in the sunlight that peaks down at them. Virgil thinks he remembers a public announcement going out about how much it was worth if someone got it and turned it in. Millions probably.

“I’m going to save those people, Virgil.” Dante says. 

In a fluid movement Dante has that flute bo staff drawn and he slams it into the ground and vaults himself into the air. Virgil’s jaw drops as he watches him catch a windowsill and pushes off to the other wall and  bounces back and forth until he’s on the roof of the building and dancing in the sunlight completely.

It makes him look like a traffic cone. 

The Fox hero-- Dante-- spins the flute in his hand and stares down at Virgil with an unreadable emotion on his face. 

“I’m going to save all of America,” Dante says. 

Confidently.

Certainly. 

Virgil wants to scream at him.

But his jaw feels rusted shut and his heart is beating way too fast in his chest. And even if it weren’t, Dante disappears from his line of vision, running the roof tops so very fluently.

And Virgil is left all alone in the back alley, hugging himself and trying to convince himself that he did the right thing. He can’t watch Dante die, he won’t encourage Dante to go gallivanting across the state trying to find a fight that he can’t win.

He’s alone in the darkness.

And its the most real thing he’s ever felt.

***

The Faux Fox was not a hero. 

His debut was robbing a high end jewelry store by filling the area with a imagined bright green gas and waltzing in behind the counter while people were frantically pressing scarfs to their faces and running away from the gas. 

He wasn’t a villain either.

His second appearance had him shutting down a drug ring shipment by terrorizing the grunts with visions of zombies until they turned themselves in.

They called him an anti hero, a vigilante, a menace.

He stopped a bank robbery, shut down a child trafficking ring, exposed a corrupt politician.

Virgil had followed the news stories since they had started popping up. He had his phone set up to notify him any time Faux Fox made the news and he stopped whatever he was doing the second his phone dinged.

The day that Virgil talked to Dante for the first time in two years, he watched from that alley on his phone as Wyvern made his debut beside the Fox and together they ran circles around the aggravated soldiers who were holding hostages in the center of the shopping area in an attempt to draw out the Fox.

Weeks later, he watches huddled in his own locker as school as Zeal turned his school mates fears into protective monsters that drove off the solider occupation of their school.

And weeks after that, Virgil sees for himself the moment that Nectar shows up in that unholy yellow outfit and challenges the Faux Fox to a duel right in the middle of the city where the Fox had just finished emptying a building that was on fire. 

And two days after that, Virgil notes, that Swarm looks exactly like Nectar, but with a white streak in his hair, as he runs for cover inside a shop when the occupying soldiers decided it would be easier to off both the bee wielder and the fox wielder together and take the miraculous from their bodies.  

Virgil thinks about the day in the alley a lot. Every time he goes to school, every time he runs from a fight, every time he sees the color orange and a news headline. He thinks about how it used to be Dante and him against the world, about how Teachers used to dread getting both of them in the class together, about how Virgil moved schools and he probably shouldn’t have but it had been easier to change schools than to face Dante again. 

He thinks about how Dante said, “I don’t trust anyone else like I trust you” with brazen, raw honesty and “I’m going to save America” with unbridled confidence.

And sometimes when he thinks about that, Virgil’s eyes flick over to the tiny box that had appeared in his pillow after that day.

If he had half a mind he would take that box and march over to the mansion Dante lived in when he wasn’t busy defying laws, where the hired help watching the cameras would wave him threw because him and Dante had been that close, and he would throw that box right back at Dante and tell him where he could shove his superhero fantasy.

But that would be talking to him face-to-face with nothing between them. No door, no phone, no masks.

Just Dante on an island he doesn’t want to leave and Virgil in his boat trying to convince him to come back to civilization before he dies alone.

(But thats not true anymore now, is it? Because Virgil’s seen the way that the Faux Fox and Wyvern so a fist bump after they do good work, the way that Zeal grabs the Fox in hugs and sweet smiles, the way that Nectar can finish the Fox’s sentences and Swarm acts on them without hesitation. Dante’s not alone on his island anymore.)

Some day, Virgil thinks, he’ll get the courage to open the box.

(Some day, Virgil thinks, he’ll understand how that island could be safer than his boat)

But for now, he listens the news reports on his phone with his legs curled up to his chest and his hands buried in the sleeves of his jacket and watches the white Pieris greet the flowers he planted in the flower box outside his window.

[collecting-stories]

Tradition - Thorin Oakenshield

Hey there, I just saw you are in need of request hehehe. So, I sadly, can't find a lot of fics with Thorin, and he's my request. Something fluffy, like, first year of marriage and they having a baby on the way. AU or not, I'll let you decide that. Thank you so much for all your work, and I'm so in love with your Daryl series 😘😘😘 - @alhenablack

Tradition - Thorin Oakenshield

There was much expectation steeped in Thorin’s legacy. The dwarfs were people of great tradition, their lives entwined with those who had come before them. They were dictated by pride and superstition, something you were both used to and unprepared for when Thorin had first turned his gaze on you. The son of Thrain had many responsibilities, both to his people and to his throne. One of them being his continuation of his family’s lineage. As a young dwarf Thorin knew what his responsibilities were. Some of them he fretted over, how would he fill his father’s boots, how he could lead his people and provide them health, happiness, and provisions. He did not think that he would worry so much about marriage and babies. But as he aged what he thought would come naturally did not.  

Marriage didn’t come when he was a young dwarf like he thought it would. He toiled, faced despair and loss, the threat of death and exile. He suffered when he should have been happy, was exiled to nothing when he should have been king under the mountain. And so he wrote off any thoughts he had about marriage. He was no king, there was no dwarf legacy to continue, and perhaps the lineage or Durin would end with him.  

Then something happened that he could not explain. For one thing you were not a dwarf. You were born of man, living in Dale. He thought Kili foolish for his infatuation with Tuariel. Dwarves were meant to be with dwarves, especially those who were part of Durin’s lineage. Even if Kili was not as direct a descendant he was still tainting dwarf blood by even considering an elf.  

“Is it really so awful?” Those, he still remembered, were the first words you ever said to him. Sitting in a shack in Dale, with little hope for the future and convinced that Gandalf had been leading them astray this whole time. You had come up with food and while you handed it out to the dwarves huddled inside Bard’s home you had spoken to Thorin, isolated in the corner.  

“Is what so awful? That we should be sequestered here or that all hope of our kingdom, of our legacy, shall be thrown aside for some gold-hungry dragon?”  

“I simply meant, you are all together are you not? Surely that is more important than a mountain.” You replied, and, seeing him begin to seethe with anger once more you touched his hand, “I don’t mean to offend. I apologize.”

And though he was angered by your words there was more that he could not explain. As time went on he became more and more enamored by you. He sought out ways to see you and began to ask for your advice on matters that normally would not concern those not of dwarf lineage. The others noticed but said nothing. They simply waited and watched, curious to see if Thorin, who cared more for tradition than any dwarf before or after him, would do.  

When the kingdom was restored it was Thorin, to the surprise of many but not those who had been in Dale with him, that suggested it was time for a new set of traditions. “Our old way of life lead only to our ruin. It is time that we look to a new day. Durin will prevail but we must not let the mistakes of our past dictate our future.” Thorin’s speech had been nearly a day in length and he had invited all members of the dwarf clans and Dale. At the end, as the sun was setting in the sky he made the most important of his announcements. After all this time Thorin would no longer be alone. He would take the throne with a bride and the lineage of Durin would continue, though different than before because it was no dwarf that he was marrying. Instead you.  

There was little backlash from the people of the mountain. The war had settled their interest in conflict and they were too happy to be home and reunited with each other to be concerned with that you were of man. They instead focused on how you were. Benevolent? Where you a good listener? Did you care for the people? For their king? These questions dictated their feelings toward you far more than your parentage did.  

The wedding was one of decadence. Lavish decorations were placed in every corner of the castle and the dwarves were giddy with excitement, though some showed it more than others. The event lasted some four days, with drinking and dancing lasting well into each night. Guests came from far and wide to celebrate. Gandalf, Bilbo, Bard, Tuariel, and more still were in attendance. Despite that your focus remained on your husband, who though happy, kept a stoic face. That of a king.  

“I should think you are regretting this arrangement.” You teased on the final night, catching him sitting at the head of the dinner table, watching the guests as they mingled. You had been entertaining yourself with tales of travel from Fili and Kili when you noticed you new husband’s sour expression. You knew it was nothing to be worried about, though your time knowing each other had not been too long you knew him well, and could tell the difference in his frowns by now. He had been wearing a similar expression the first night that he told you he loved you.  

He looked up to you and took your hand in his, bringing it up so that he could kiss your palm. “Never, I am simply observing the festivities.”

“Perhaps you should join them? What do you say you humor your wife by dancing with her?” You asked, taking a seat beside him. “Dwalin wanted to send the guests off with a story of your journey to the mountain?”

“Then he should.”

“I do love to hear you sing though,” you coaxed.

Thorin turned his gaze back to the party, “If it will make everyone leave I’ll indulge you.”

“So you aren’t enjoying your party.”  

“I am enjoying being married to you but I am not enjoying sharing you with all these well-wishers, as you say, night after night.” Thorin replied, “I have hardly spent time with you.”  

“Then go entertain Dwalin and we can disappear after that,” you propositioned.  

He did as told, a habit he gladly adopted. It was said within his inner circle that you had a way of making Thorin do anything you wanted him to and, truth be told, that was entirely correct. All you need do is say the word and Thorin was meeting whatever wish you had. Be it that he listen to his cousins advice or be kinder to those who came to barter. It was no secret trick that you used to bewitch him though. Simply that he longed to please you and that you would never ask anything of him that was not beneficial for the kingdom as well.  

You cared for the dwarves that now saw you as queen and wished to always do right by them. Thorin taught you all that you wished to learn about their traditions and laws so that you could rule them well when he was not able to. He trusted you with the throne and knew that you were far better suited to it than most. Thorin was prideful, somewhat haughty, and stern. He could be greedy and self-centered, they were vices that he could not shake, even in his strongest moments. You were patient, kind, smart, quiet, and selfless. More than any he had met before and he felt in awe of your ability to lead his people. Well, your people too now.  

When Thorin was young Thrain would often talk about the day that his son would take the throne and be married. He spoke of the first year, hectic and full of uncertainty, each learning their role within the kingdom and together. It was no time of elation, that would not come until after the first year was over and things began to settle themselves. But Thorin’s first year of marriage was nothing like his father’s description. There was no uncertainty.  

“Thorin,” he was inspecting the mines when Dis came to find him. She looked impatient and she was. She had been trying to find Thorin all morning, ever since you requested his presence. You were in the throne room and unable to leave as you were dealing with the disputes of neighboring Dale. So you had sent Dis, who felt as if she had been through the mountain twice looking for Thorin.  

“Dis, what is it?”

“Your wife if looking for you.”  

Immediately Thorin abandoned his observing of the mines and headed for the throne room. Thorin was a difficult man to pull away from a task and many dwarves claimed that once he was focused on something he would not stop until he had completed what he was doing. But it was clear to all that you were always first priority and at the mention of you needing him it was not surprising to find him leaving what he was doing to see to you.  

Dis hurried after him as he walked through the halls to find you. When he did she came up to take your place at the throne, allowing you privacy to speak with your husband away from the listening ears of those waiting for an audience.  

“Could we not rush?” You laughed, following him into a private chamber behind the throne room, “I’m in no hurry.”

“What is it that you needed me for?”

“Perhaps I’m just being needy?” You teased. There was nothing you enjoyed more than teasing him, watching his ears go pink when you said something that made him fumble over his words. Flirting could reduce Thorin to a flustered mess, unsure how to proceed.  

“I have plenty of work to do.”

“I have news.” You replied, stopping him from leaving. Or pretending to leave.

“What is it that’s keeping me from the mines?” he asked, looking stoic but you knew he had come willingly to see you.

“I’m with child.”  

There were no nerves in telling him that you were expecting. It was no secret that Thorin wanted an heir, it was part of his legacy that he would have a child to pass the throne down to. It was something that the two of you had discussed when you first wed. You wanted children as well and were happy when the dwarf healer had told you that morning that you were with child. There was nothing but elation when Dis came to your room and you asked her to find Thorin for you. Sharing the news with him was your first priority and you couldn’t be more excited when he came to the throne room to see you.

“Truly?” Thorin asked, looking at you with awe.  

“Yes truly.” You smiled, “we’re going to have a baby.”  

Dwarf babies took a long time. Four years, according to the healers. Though Gandalf suggested that your being a descendant of man meant that the birth could end sooner. That alone was enough to make Thorin impatient with excitement. Though he didn’t understand how a baby could possibly require only nine months in the womb the thought that a baby could come sooner and he could have a child sooner was thrilling. He never imagined himself one to want a child. It was part of his role as king and he always knew that if the mountain returned to the dwarves it would be a necessary requirement. But he was never interested in the thought of children. Until you agreed to marry him.  

Practically the moment it was announced that you and Thorin were to be married he began thinking about the possibility of having a child. It was never something that he thought would be a reality but it seemed more and more likely as your time with him went on. He didn’t simply want a child for the legacy of it but because he wanted a family with you. A odd thought to be filling Thorin’s time but he couldn’t help himself. And knowing that you were finally pregnant meant that the family he envisioned was beginning.  

Each day throughout the pregnancy was the same. Thorin paid you more attention than he typically did, being sure that you were well rested, well fed, and happy. All things that you assured him you were. “You’re worrying over nothing my love.” You would tell him every day when he got away from his responsibilities to check on your wellbeing.  

“I am worrying over the health and happiness of my family, it is not nothing.” He argued.  

“And I appreciate it,” you placed a hand on his cheek, kissing him, “but there is still a long way before this baby is born.”  

“So there will be many days of ensuring that you are well.” He replied, as though his concern was obvious.  

“I cannot argue with you.”

“Because I am right about these things.”  

It took only a year and a half for the baby to be born. Long for you, who expected the pregnancy to be closer to that of your mother before you or even other women in Dale who had given birth. But it was shorter than dwarves were accustomed to and there was a great celebration when they learned that the baby was ready to be born, and so soon. A true gift from the ancestors, they were to meet the newest in the line of Durin, the next heir to the throne, after only a year and a half. You were truly a blessing to the people, as they saw it.  

While they celebrated you labored, the baby was stubborn and much larger than you expected. ‘Dwarfs are born strong’ was Thorin’s explanation for the size of the child, some ten pounds in weight. He took longer than a day to be born and when finally he arrived you were so tired you wept holding him. Thorin took him to the throne room while you were sleeping, disrupting the festivities to share his child with the other dwarves.  

“I never thought I’d see the day,” Dwalin mused, passing the son of Thorin on to Oin. The baby hardly fussed as he was passed from dwarf to dwarf, each making their own observation on him and his lineage. Thorin walked proudly about the room, watching over his child with caution as each too a turn to hold him. It was a moment he had never envisioned coming to pass and he felt more pride than he realised he was capable of. More enthralling that retaking the mountain from Smaug or journeying across Middle Earth with Bilbo was the birth of his child. As he looked upon his son he was overcome with joy and love, emotions that had little room in his heart before he had met you.  

When the baby had met the last of his future subjects he was handed back to his father who took him to your room where you lay, awake now, and waiting to hold him.  

“Who would have thought I would be the last to hold my son?” You teased, and watched as Thorin’s ears went pink.

“It is tradition he be presented to the people.”  

“Given the length of our people’s celebrations I imagine you did not need to present him so swiftly. Perhaps you could have waited a day or two?”  

“I admit I was impatient to show him off.”

“Then let’s be glad I was not pregnant for four years, I don’t know if you could have waited.”  

He passed your son to you and settled on the bed to observe the two of you together. “I am glad, it gives us the opportunity to try for another sooner.”

“I’ve just had this one.” You leaned over and kissed him, “and we have not even named him yet, unless you have done that without me as well.”

“I simply wanted you to rest undisturbed.” Thorin replied, defending his actions.

You laughed, “I know my love, I’m only teasing you.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.” He brushed away the fringe on his son’s forehead, hair dark like his own. “We shall think of something befitting, for now let us just enjoy him as he is.”

I just kept writing for five hundred years...sorry this took so long! Also, this is the first time I've written Thorin so I apologize if the vernacular is off...I didn’t get a chance to rewatch any of The Hobbit to reacquaint myself with him and it’s been like a year since I’ve seen it. 

[littleobake]

Traduction en français de "Honey I'm home" par GHOST chanté par Dex

Father said that this world isn't for me

Père a dit que ce monde n'est pas fait pour moi

I tried to pray for a new reality

J'ai essayé de prier pour une nouvelle réalité

''So, come to me, we can change night into day.''

"Donc, viens à moi, nous pouvons changer la nuit en jour"

A tied up moth seemed to know a different way

Un papillon de nuit enchevêtré semblait connaître un autre chemin

Don't remember it

Ne t'en souviens pas

Don't return to it (Oh)

N'y retourne pas (Oh)

Father tore out the umbilical cord

Père a arraché le cordon ombilical

There's nothing left in the bottle keeping

me scored

Il ne reste plus rien de la bouteille qui puisse

me garder mes points

We'll abandon the scenery in the

Nous abandonnerons le décor dans le

(Don't remember it)

(Ne t'en souviens pas)

(Don't return to it)

(N'y retourne pas)

Rear-view mirror

Le rétroviseur

A petty line of white noise

Une insignifiante ligne de bruit de fond

Pack out your bags and throw out the toys

Fais tes valises et jette les jouets

Three strikes, and ''Honey, I'm home!''

Trois coups, et "Chérie, je suis rentré !"

Three voices come from the gramophone

Trois voix sortent du gramophone

A vivisection of me

Une viviséction de moi

Yielded the start of a mystery

A cedé le passage au commencement d'un mystère

Say ''Hello! Honey I'm home!"

Dis "Bonjour ! Chérie je suis rentré!"

Three voices come from the gramophone

Trois voix sortent du gramophone

God returned with the moth chained to His hand

Dieu est revenu avec le papillon de nuit enchaîné à Sa main

''There's so many things that you'll never understand..

"Il y a tellement de choses que tu ne comprendras jamais...

So come to me, we can change night into day

Donc viens à moi, nous pouvons changer la nuit en jour

You'll hold my hand so you never go astray.''

Tu tiendras ma main pour que tu ne t'égare jamais."

God devoured that of father

Dieu à dévoré cela de père

A spider preaching with poison on its lips

Une araignée prêchant avec du poison sur ses lèvres

''To get out of here is to promise me a kiss''

"Sortir d'ici est me promettre un baiser"

The abandonment of scenery in the mind of mother

L'abandon du décor dans l'esprit de mère

Don't remember it

Ne t'en souviens pas

Don't return to it

N'y retourne pas

So, with advice of the dead

Donc, avec le conseil des morts

And a halo over my head

Et un halo au dessus de ma tête

At last ''Honey, I'm home!"

Enfin "Chérie, je suis rentré !"

Three voices come all alone

Trois voix viennent toute seules

A vivisection of me

Une viviséction de moi

Done by God for all to see

Faite par Dieu à la vue de tous

Say ''Hello! Honey, I'm home!"

Dis "Bonjour! Chérie, je suis rentré!"

Three voices come all alone

Trois voix viennent toute seules

A vivisection of me

Une viviséction de moi

Done by God for all to see

Faite par Dieu à la vue de tous

A vivisection of me

Une viviséction de moi

Done by God for all to see

Faite par Dieu à la vue de tous

[schmicos]

@abraxoschase said, AU where the ambulance scene never happens and Levi starts dating other men while Nico is sad and jealous (but with a happy ending when they finally get together)!

[AO3]

—

“So, I’ll pick you up at eight?”

Nico stands off on the far side of Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital, he takes in the vast expanse of the dark, nighttime sky and he watches as Levi beams at a man he’s never met.

“Yes, that sounds wonderful.” He sees Levi smile.

The night is brisk, clear, serene. A quiet stillness falls over them, blankets the sky under the cover of darkness as the warmth of the city’s street-lamps glisten off of fresh snowfall. It’s late. He should head home. Until he had watched as Levi typed his name into another man’s phone, and kissed him goodnight. He watched as Levi had fallen all over again for another man, another man who could never possibly be him. And it hurts, hurts in the way of missed, forgotten chances, pierces him square in the chest as he feels the weight of everything he knows he should have been. So he walks away, steps forwards in the opposite direction, and the two become wandering ships, vanquished, astray at sea. Passing one another on choppy, desperate waters, both far too blind to notice.

I thought this was a teaching hospital! The words reverberate, a broken mantra trapped inside his head. He pictures the sparkle Levi had lit inside his eyes, the brightness of the smile he had cast upon him that fateful day in the elevator. Until he remembers the way he had all too hastily cast him aside, turned him away without giving a second thought. The image haunts him, the innocence that had drained from Levi’s face, every feature of his expression furrowed in—

“Dr. Kim, I’m on your service today?” Levi states sharply, distracting Nico from his thoughts. He walks, comes to stand beside him at the counter in front of the nurses’ office. He flips open a chart and proceeds to scribble a series of indiscernible numbers on the form in the front. Levi peers at him from the corners of his eyes, expectantly.

“Right—right,” Nico’s stutters. “Daniel Lanson, age 11, fractured radius, room 2212.”

Levi snatches the notebook from his hands and marches away again, leaving Nico alone, eyes trailing after him. 

—

“I don’t know, Link. It’s like—like, I missed it. I missed my chance, and now I have to go around, watching him put his phone number in other people’s phones, like I—”

Levi strolls past the fellows lounge on third, overhears Nico’s and Link’s voices filtering through the doorway. He needed Link to check on his patient an hour ago.

“Look, dude. So you missed it. You missed one chance. It doesn’t mean it’s over.” Link reasons, tossing a plastic ball into the air.

Levi walks through the doorway and pauses.

“I don’t think he’s ever going to forgive me.” Nico shakes his head. He’s laid out on the armchair in the corner, his hands folded across his chest, gaze turned upwards.

“I should have just told him. I should have just talked to him, and I ran out instead.” Nico says. “I feel like I abandoned him.” he shakes his head.

Levi chooses then to interrupt.

“Dr. Lincoln, Daniel’s asking for you.” Levi says. The two men jump, swiveling their attention towards the man standing in the doorway. Link walks to him, briskly, and checks the chart in his hands.

“Uh—Thanks, Levi.” he says, giving him a brief pat on the shoulder before rushing out the door.

Nico approaches him slowly. “How much of that did you hear?” he asks, not quite meeting his eyes.

“Enough.” Levi responds curtly.

“Levi…” Nico starts.

“Look, save it,” Levi says, waving him off. He sounds exhausted, weighed down by more than just his strenuous shift. “I’ve heard this all before. You said that you didn’t want this. And I get it, okay? But, I’m trying to move on now, Nico, so could you please, just—” Levi closes his eyes for a moment, and extends his arms outwards. He motions, gesturing as if he were distancing himself from him. He’s pushing me away, Nico realizes. It only fits. He let him go. And it hurts him in more ways than one.

“Levi, what I said to you that day in the elevator, it wasn’t—I didn’t—” He can’t speak. Nico can’t speak. He can’t bring himself to formulate the words meaningful enough to tell the man it was everything about himself and nothing about Levi that forced him to walk away. It was him, terrified. Terrified of ever letting another human know what it means to love him again. Terrified of entrusting another person with the depths of everything he is, bestowing upon them the capacity to ever tear him apart again. He can’t. So he stands there, stuttering, watches as the Levi all but slips through his fingers.

“You said to me that day in the elevator, that you didn’t want to do this, that you couldn’t go through it again.” Levi accuses him. “And now, you’re turning this back on me, Nico—I can’t—I can’t figure out what it is that you want from me!” Levi blurts, his eyes blown wide.

“You! Levi, I wanted you!” Nico cries out.

The words resonate in his head, they beat against the pulsating rhythm of his racing heartbeat. “I wanted you,” he whispers again.

“Nico…”

“Look, don’t. Just, don’t, okay? We don’t have to do this anymore.” Nico scrubs a hand over his face, and walks out the door.

—

The shuffle of commotion dies down towards the end of the day. Nico wanders through the empty halls of the hospital and finds Levi lacing his shoes in the intern lounge.

“It’s late. Aren’t you supposed to be on your date?” Nico asks, leaning against the doorway.

Levi glances up at him before quickly shifting his gaze downwards again, fidgeting with his other shoe.

“It didn’t work out.” is all he says.

Nico softens in understanding and comes to sit down on the bench beside him. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well.” Levi nods.

“He’s going to regret it, you know, not being with you.” Nico says to him, earnest. “He will. He’ll wish he had been there for you.”

Levi looks up at him again. “Thanks, Nico.” he says, softly. The two stare at one another a moment longer. “What are you doing tonight?” Levi asks.

“I’m probably heading over to Joe’s in a little bit.” Nico replies. “Wanna come?”

“I would love to.” Levi smiles.

—

Later that night, as the two saunter through the front door of Joe’s, they wave to their friends sitting a few tables away. As they order two drinks, and find a seat together at the bar, the clock strikes on the hour.

It’s eight.