#Don’t ask okay? most of these came to me like divine visions

[thesealantern]

Pink corruption headcannons! (Varying from nonsensical, angsty to silly, most of these are weirdly specific but stick with me okay?)

• Pentellow was completely illiterate for a good chunk of her life, Iris has taught her the basics of reading and writing and while she can read simple texts fairly easily she still struggles with writing. Every time she needs to write anything she has Iris do it for her, she walks around the room like an old military general while she’s dictating. (It helps her think)

• Occasionally, when Iris is particularly upset, frustrated or stressed, he’ll blurt out something his dad told him as a kid. No one ever takes it to heart and half the time it isn’t even something particularly offensive but every time it happens Iris feels terrible and I’m telling you this man sits on his bed staring at his hands like “I am no better than my father”, he can time all instances this has happened and yes they haunt him when he’s falling asleep.

• Anytime Pyrare tries to write a letter to the other caretakers it ends in catastrophe. He refuses to shrink for the task, so either he tried to just write in very small letters and the text is absolutely unreadable, he asks Gold to write it who then proceeds to shorten it and leave stuff out (and has occasionally just changed the contents of letters entirely, mostly when it’s someone he doesn’t like) or there was that one time he just sent Pentellow and Iris a monster sized letter. It was a pain to deal with, they still have it somewhere because Pentellow insisted they keep it.

• Iris has a weird hatred towards a very specific kind of cursive most of the people back at the palace (including his father) used. Anytime he sees it anywhere he just gets super irritated, it’s honestly kind of amusing. Is Iris aware that a grudge against a style of writing is stupid? Yeah, but he doesn’t care.

• Gold and Cyanide like to play chess together sometimes, they’re both fairly good at it and their games are super intense and take a long while. The other heroes all collectively suck at chess (Orange is mediocre, Tsavorite and Cyan are a lost cause) but join in if it’s at Pyrare’s place, though that usually leads to them using the ridiculously sized chess board to make up their own games.

• The first time Gold saw a non-monster shape he was absolutely flabbergasted, he did know of them, but for most of his life he hadn’t seen one (I imagine Pyrare and Gold lived a fairly isolated life for the most part) and Pyrare never made it sound like a big deal so he just kinda thought they’d be a bit shorter. The fact they had two eyes was also kind of weird, sure he has two eyes but he just thought that was a hero thing.

• Seeing the inside of a shape-sized house was even more baffling, Gold still hasn’t gotten over how tiny some things are.

•Every time they spend a long time in shape populated area Pyrare is just STARVING, there’s no way any of the inns they stayed at have portions close to what an adult monster needs. He never complains about it though. Honestly I think he would just pass out at one point, the lack of food mixed with so much travelling is bound to catch up to him.

• Kind of random but monsters probably have a much slower heartbeat than shapes. Since most large animals have larger hearts but they pump at a slower pace, I’m pretty sure it has to do with temperature regulation but idk man I’m no biologist.

[finelinevogue]

hey, if you have the time can you write a blurb where harry gets home from the studio and he's stressed, so the reader ask him to take a bath with her? and it's really fluffy, with rose petals and wine glasses? I know this is all over the place, I'm sorry shakshskwh

we all need a bit of domestic harry fluff in our lives so here we are <33 hope you like it;

You knew something was wrong without having to ask him.

Harry had rushed out of the apartment this morning to go to the studio, having had an important call from Tyler about something, leaving you to clean up around the house all day. However, there had been no good morning text from Harry, or even one from a lunch break, and he hadn’t picked up your call when you did. Harry never ignores you, unless he is in a really bad mood. Something to do with not wanting to be a burden and pass on his troubles to you. So you, being the best girlfriend in the world, had decided to do something kind for him when he gets home.

About an hour ago you’d texted Harry just to check up on him and also so you could time your plan of making him feel better.

To Harry: I love you. Hope you’re okay. Let me know when you’ll be home❤️

From Harry: Sorry about today love. I’ll be home at around 7pm. I love you xx

You’d bought the raw ingredients from Asda and made blueberry muffins - Harry’s favourite - along with buying some avocados in case he preferred to have that on toast when he gets in. You’d bought a bottle of red wine, the cheapest you could find obviously, and poured two glasses waiting. Finally, you’d ran a hot water bath with lavender soap and added a few rose petals, because you knew they were good for calming and relaxing. The bathroom smelt soft and cosy, like a warm blanket on a winters evening.

It was 7:08pm when he walked through the door, you hearing the door shut with a heavy sigh of relief from your boyfriend. He slipped off his blue checkered vans and walked through into the kitchen, his keys making a clattering sound as he dropped them in the key-bowl.

“Y/N, love?” He called out to you, but you didn’t respond. He furrowed his eyebrows at the silence, but even more so at the arrangement that was left on the kitchen counter-side for him.

He made his way over, his socks making him slide slightly on the shiny marble floor. He took in the selection of things on the side; the blueberry muffins, the avocado, the glass of red wine and its’ bottle and even a little cut out photo of you and him that he knew you’d stole from a photo frame - somewhere around the apartment. He smiled as he picked up the photo and remembered the memory well; you latched onto his back as Harry waded through a muddy puddle back in Holmes Chapel, because he didn’t want you to get wet and he’d been the only sensible one in wearing welly boots. You were both laughing and it made Harry’s heart swell at how much your happiness could bring him his too.

He placed the photo down and turned to the envelope that sat next to the plate of muffins. It was a white envelope signed ‘H x’ on the front and underlined. He turned it over and undid the seal, bringing out a card that had written on the front ‘You’ve got this!’ which Harry could’ve sworn he saw in Asda the other day underneath the exam congratulations cards. He smiled at your kindness, turning it over briefly but then sighing when he noticed you’d written a message too.

“God damn you Y/N.” He muttered under his breathe, tears forming in eyes from the overwhelming amount of love he had for you - just as you had for him.

Harry, it read, I know today had been tough but look, you got through it and i’m proud of you and for that you deserve a blueberry muffin! If you’d rather share a glass of wine with me then come join me upstairs and we’ll finish the bottle together. I love you always. Yours, Y/N. It was signed with a kiss of your lips in pink lipstick. Harry brought the paper to his lips and kissed over the mark where you’d kissed, never feeling so loved than right now.

You were an absolute treasure.

Harry picked up his glass of wine and the bottle, before heading off upstairs. Originally he’d thought that you’d been in bed, waiting for him with a tub of raspberry ripple ice-cream and the latest episode of Love Island, but as he ascended the stairs he could smell the lavender bubbles and the even sweeter scents of your rose petals you loved so much.

He walked into the bedroom first, just to make sure that you weren’t actually in there, before making his way to the bathroom. As he opened the door, the heat hit him all at once making him feel so cosy and blanketed.

Then he saw you.

You were shoulder deep in the bath, which was tucked into the corner of the room in a triangle sort of shape, looking as beautiful as ever. Your hair was up and out of the water, it not being its’ wash day today, and you’d accidentally given yourself a bubble beard. You looked innocently perfect, even with a glass of wine in your hand. You smiled when you saw Harry, moving from the far side of the bath to the side closest to Harry. You rested your arm on the side of the bath, propping your head up to have a steadier vision of your boyfriend.

“Hello.” You spoke softly as Harry walked over to the bath, placing both his glass and bottle on the side of it carefully. He then came in front of you and crouched down with a crack of his old-man knees.

“Hi beautiful.” He stroked your cheek with his fingers, watching as you hummed in sight of having him so close and so loved up.

“You okay?” You asked, looking into his eyes for any sign that he was about to lie. You wanted him to be honest with you and honest he was.

“I can’t lie and say everything was perfect today, no.” He chuckled, you pouting when you heard his answer.

“I’m sorry. Want to take a bath with me?” You asked and this is exactly what Harry loved about you. You didn’t force him to talk about whatever had happened when you could clearly see he was still working through it himself, instead you simply comforted him and tried to help him remind him that you were here for him whenever he was ready to open up.

“Love to. Let me just go undress.” He stood up, but you reached out to grab him on his blue jeans before he could get very far.

“Don’t go. Undress here, please?” It was the little please that made Harry cave, not wanting to make you upset. He’d do anything to make sure you were happy.

He nodded and pulled off his socks first, making you laugh as he wiggled his oddly sized toes. Next was his grey TPWK jumper that he pulled off over his head along with his t-shirt.

“Damn.” You wolf whistled as his torso became exposed, making Harry shake his head and laugh at you from your silliness. “This strip tease is ten out of ten, Styles.”

“Oh shut up you.” He laughed as he pulled his jeans off and then finally his boxers. He didn’t even hesitate on that last item of clothing, both of you being absolutely comfortable with exposing yourself in front of each other. There was nothing sexual about being naked with each other, however, this time. You were just in love with each other. Simple as that.

He stepped into the bath, you moving back over to the far side so he could climb in. Once he sunk down and submerged his body he let out the biggest and happiest sigh, making you giggle. He took his glass of wine and took a large sip from it, leaning his back in relief afterwards.

“Nice?” You asked, knowing the answer already because it was sat proud on his face.

His eyes met yours and you pursed your lips under his gaze. You could see the cogs turning in his head and you only wished that you could see inside his head, just for a moment, to understand how he felt.

“C’mere.” He spoke softly, turning to put his glass back on the side as you shifted over towards him. Once you met him, he took your glass.

“Hey!” You whined in protest.

“Can have it back in a minute. Just want you for a bit, okay?” He explained, devoting his entire attention to you now. You sat on his lap and spiralled your arms around his neck, Harry’s hands finding their home on your waist.

Your lips both did the talking then.

He cupped your face gently and pulled you into him until your felt his plush pink lips kiss yours. You divulged in him and his love, feeling his warmth everywhere and your mouth. He was warming your heart the same way the bath warmed your bodies. There was nothing rushed or sensual about the kiss, it was simple and pretty. His lips moulded to yours perfectly and his tongue made sure to slide it’s way inside your mouth for a taste. You tasted divine - like the richest, most expensive, of wines. He pulled back first, not before you could push an extra peck to his lips for good measure.

“I’m so lucky to have you, Y/N.” Harry smiled, keeping ahold of your face as he spoke to you.

“And I you.”

Harry shook his head as the misunderstanding of his words. “No. You seriously have turned my life into something worth living and I couldn’t be happier to be with you. Y’so special to me, Y/N, and I love you.”

“I love you too, Harry.” You leant to kiss him again. “And i’m here for you for anything.”

“I know. That’s why i’m lucky to have you.”

[a-crepusculo]

Ours (Ethan x MC)

Part Five

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x Dr. Marchia Bisognin (F!MC) Series: Marry Me Series Premise: One simple question can change their whole lives forever. Rating / Category: General / Fluff Warning(s): None Word Count: 743 words

Previous Parts Here

A/N: Hello, loves! Life has been hectic, so I’m sorry this took entirely too long lol. But, we’re in the final stretch now, and AAAH I could scream because I’m excited to see their proposal. Anyways, thank you so much for sticking with me this long. I hope you’ll stick through the end!

It was yet again another long, exhausting day at the hospital; filled with mysteries of the human body that no one can quite decipher yet. This time, Marchia and Ethan found a mystifying conundrum that lies inside a thirty four year old woman—lurking, waiting to be solved by the intellectual duo.

“We’ll run a few tests shortly. Meanwhile, if you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask me or Doctor Ramsey,” Marchia explained thoroughly, her voice a soothing melody that calmed their spirit.

The young couple nodded weakly, but for the first time in months, their eyes alight with optimism.

“Thank you, doctors,” the man replied on behalf of his wife, who was caressing her swollen belly, while putting a kind smile on his face.

Edenbrook’s bright pair of diagnostician excused themselves, exiting through the giant mahogany door and into the hallway. Amelia was the fourth patient to be admitted into the diagnostics team today; came in together with her husband after being transferred back and forth from several medical institutions.

The couple looked tired when they first came—hopeless, perhaps. Every single one of the physicians they visited could not come up with an answer, or even the slightest clue as to what was causing Amelia’s spontaneous, impulsive tics. Most of those fools who call themselves ‘doctors’ dismissed it, saying that her pregnancy was causing those symptoms.

This time, thankfully, they went to the right place.

Marchia’s sharp and clever intuition had already began wandering through her mind palace, searching for possible explanations, as they walk towards their office. Stealing a quick glance at her boyfriend, she could see the gears turning in his head too, although it was not exactly for the same reasons.

“I think we should also include EEG, EMG—”

At the same time, Ethan suddenly muttered, “They seem nice. They’ll have cute kids.”

A warm chuckle escaped her, face turning upwards to meet his loving azure eyes. Without any second thought, her beautiful features turned into the most charming smile he had ever seen.

Easily, she replied, “Yeah, not as cute as ours, though.”

Her genuine, spontaneous response made him stop in his tracks.

There was something comforting yet oddly surprising about the words that came out of her mouth, bounding around his cranium before it was fully absorbed. Sure, they have been off the market for awhile now, and he is planning to propose her very soon. Yet, the sheer possibility of spending the rest of their lives side by side, creating their own family, building a future together—an explosion of delightful butterflies filled his stomach. 

“Hello? Earth to Ethan?”

Sparkling green orbs gazed directly into him, evidently expecting a response. The way she looked up at him, like he was her entire world, catapulted his heart out of its place and into the outer space.

“Are you okay?”

For one glorious second, a thrill runs up his spine as he watched her expectant expression. Luscious honey blonde spilled over her light skin, dark devilish lashes fluttering above her irises, rosy lips pursing in firm concentration—she is a dream, a spectacle, a vision. Unfairly divine in every possible way.

Unknowingly, effortlessly, she casts a powerful spell to the air surrounding them—almost knocking him down to one knee.

Almost.

If her custom made engagement ring was already finished, he knew that he could not resist to propose her right then and there.

“I’m alright,” Ethan answered, then pull in a hulking lungful of air.

She knitted her brows, not entirely convinced.

“You sure?”

“Positive, my love.”

Marchia studied him for several long seconds; finding no traces of pretense. Schooling a cheeky smile onto her face, she ran her palm through his waist. Adrenaline dances through him as her dainty finger moved upwards, digging into the silk of his hair.

“Wanna go get coffee, then?”

“I have a better idea.”

She responded by adorably scrunching her face, tempting him to kiss her senselessly. “And that is?”

“I want to...” he trailed off, then zipping his mouth as he contemplated his next words.

I want to marry you.

“Oh!” she half-shouted, releasing him from her hazy spell. Oblivious, she continued with, “Are we getting sushi?”

A sharp sound was his reply—some kind of snort. If there is anything else that she loves more than Ethan, the answer is definitely sushi. Unable to form a sentence, he nodded instead.

“You read my mind,” Marchia mused, a smirk on her gorgeous face.

Next time, he thought to himself. I’ll get it right the next time.

I’ll be tagging in a separate post!

[darkdevasofdestruction]

An Angel and A Demon ~ Pyramid Head x Reader

Update 2: My laptop restarted when I was in the middle of writing this, and trust me when I say it, I am positively pissed off, and I want to end my days, that's how bad of a day this was.

And I didn't leave the house.

That says a lot about today...

Update 1: But, without further ado, I was half-way writing this story, and I received this ask, and let me tell you...

helloooo, i absolutely adored the fanfics you wrote about kazan and danny🥺 could i request one where pyramid head is just really whipped for and in love with the survivor! reader but he doesnt know how to announce it to them so he brings her random ,,gifts" in and outside the trials and protecting her bc well, im pretty sure he cant speak so he doesnt really have any other options on how to express his feelings??

I live for it.

Bless you for sending me this, it's the reason I'm still sane right now.

I love you, baby-cakes.

Update 3: I want to kill myself so bad. Just smash my head on a wall until it explodes or sth. I was so happy with how this imagine turned out, only fuck fucking tumblr to just fucking delete EVERYTHING just as I was about to put the last gif and hit POST NOW.

--------

For the 5th time writing this :

FUCKMEDADDY - but this time - FUCKMYBRAINSOUTPLEASEIWANNADIE

Thanks.

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Hell - What was that place, anyway?

Some would describe it as an infinite ocean of flames and lava, where it's eternally melting-hot, and a bunch of hooved, horned, tailed red demons torture you with acid, with their red pitch forks, or boil you alive in their cauldron for soup. Or maybe you just get tortured by Stalin, who knows?

But never would have anyone thought that 'Hell' could look so...Normal. Well, normal in a very demolished, desolate, ravished way, but still...Normal, by human standards. Albeit, the never-ending loop of madness, anguish, agony and desperation of getting killed in different gruesome ways or fleeing for their lives and feeling a myriad of emotions pumping adrenaline through their veins so badly that their anxiety-meter skyrocketed to abnormal levels.

All this darkness, this hatred, this...Everything...It changed all the survivors. They became selfish, stubborn, rude, some even went as far as to sacrifice their fellow survivors in trials, just so they could survive. It was a complete mayhem that defied all kinds of reason, normality, morality or even ethics. Everyone became devoid of any laws that used to bind them to their humane sides, and now, you weren't sure if the killers were saner than the survivors or not.

But even in this abyss where you couldn't even see your hand in front of your very eyes, there was a little star - A beautiful angel radiating brightness and warmth, someone who was somehow able to guide everyone's straying souls with her benevolence.

In reality, she was merely a survivor, not the little lantern from an angler fish's head, but she treated everyone with such an untainted kindness...It was beautiful, and yet, unrequited for most parts. Everyone was still putting their own lives above all - And who could condemn them? - Perhaps their cowardice, for the girl preferred to save her fellow survivors as much as possible, even if that oftentimes assured her place on the hook, to be a sacrificial lamb for the Entity.

On the other hand, she rarely ended up on the hook - Most killers prefer to kill her themselves, instead of letting her become pray for the horrible Entity who tortured so many of them for refusing to cooperate - The Trapper, Evan MacMillan - He knew the best, with those hooks digging into his flesh, impossible to extract. He was the first to protect this girl. It wasn't much, but if he had to, he'd rather give her a swift, painless death, than seeing her without that serene, angelic smile on her face, as the Entity feeds on the last bits of her soul's beauty, the last parts of her humanity.

The other Killers were confused at the Trapper's actions, but little by little, they began to understand why this girl was so precious and special - And this domino effect hit Rin Yamaoka next, with Y/N stopping in the middle of a chase and taking off her jacket, just as Rin was about to butcher her with her katana, and she smiled, extending it to her. 'You must be cold' she said, realising that the Spirit was merely wearing a few bandages, not even her school uniform, or her kimono.

The ghost girl was shaken up by this, and told the others at the killer camp, but they just shrugged it off - Rin was a little girl who faced close to no kindness, they weren't surprised she was so taken aback by such a feat. That is, until Adiris, in a particularly terrible day, when everyone at the camp was staying away from her, as her profane censer wasn't able to cover the stench of rotting flesh - Y/N came over, taking out a small yet elegant glass bottle with pink liquid on it, spraying some on her - And now, The Plague smelled of roses and vanilla - 'You can come to me for perfume whenever you want, I always carry some with me!' she grinned at the Babylonian High Priestess, before leaving back to the survivor's camp site, leaving the ancient God symbol to stare with her mouth agape at the girl.

These words began to spread, and it was no surprise when the killers saw Susie clinging and begging her Legion friends to spare Y/N, for she was there to hug away her worries more than once, to tell her sweet words, to play with her hair and play the guitar whatever songs she wanted to hear, to get reminded of her home - She was so home sick that she freaked out, but now she was better, thanks to Y/N - 'I know you miss home, but sometimes, home is where your best friends are, and all three of them are here!' she tried to encourage the cute pink-haired girl who could only squeal and hug her new friend.

Even Ghostface wasn't exempt from falling to her charms, and they would often take silly selfies and mess around, making fun of the old horror movie tropes and doing lots of puns and pranks - So much that she even got his trust to be told about the Danny/Jed thing, and how he began his killer profession - 'You're a very talented photographer, Danny! You deserved all that recognition you got, both as a journalist, and as a killer!'

And very soon, Y/N found herself in the crushing arms of an overprotective Anna, humming her mother's lullaby together with walking through the forest, Y/N making flower crows for all the female killers at the camp site, and little by little, she somehow managed to worm her way under everyone's skins.

Y/N was the survivor with the highest survivability percentage, and maybe the Entity sometimes got pissed off, but at least she still got killed sometimes, so who cares? Well, that was soon to change as soon as a new Killer was added to this sick game - Pyramid Head, the terror of Silent Hill, as Cheryl, the new Survivor, called him - or The Executioner, as he was known now. He was ruthless, merciless, grotesque - He had his own criteria of killing, his own moral compass, ethics, conscience and understanding of the concept of life and death. Nothing that could compare to the visions of humans, clearly - Everything was gravitating around Divine Retribution and Justice, but the from the outside, he was nothing but a killing machine.

He would kill everyone and anyone that crosses his path, without fail.

Y/N felt like her fortune ended completely the second she found herself in the new, overly cramped map, with Pyramid Head as the killer - She couldn't help but run around like a spazzic meerkat, trying to find and fix as many generators as possible, without having to get face to face with the walking hazard...

Only to run past a stuck Pyramid Head.

Slowly backtracing her steps, she saw the mountain of a man with his metal pyramid stuck in the frames a low window which he tried to walk over. He was trashing like a raged bull trying to attack a matador, but it was clear he was getting nowhere with this.

"H-Hey, u-uhm...Need some help?" she asked in a soft, careful voice, almost like a meek cat trying to test the waters, but in return, he started groaning even louder from the wrath he wanted to unleash upon the whole world. "Okay, uhm...I think I saw a can of vaseline in one of the chests around. I'll go fetch it and I'll come back for you. Don't move." she said, only to then realise how horrible that sounded, considering the situation, and it only seemed to anger the killer. "...I'm sorry, ignore me, I'm an idiot." she slapped herself pretty harshly before bolting out of there trying to find the chest.

However, Y/N cursed herself for not having perfectly memorised the whole map by heart already, since she found the vaseline can after the 3rd chest, and then, it took quite a while to find the bloody window that got the killer stuck - And by the time she got there, she was dead tired. "Okay, I'm here, I found the vaseline! Let's try to get you out of here." Y/N muttered as she put her feet on the low window pane to get to his level. "If it's not too much trouble, could you please hold onto me? I can't balance myself with both hands occupied, and I'd rather not fall." she explained as she opened the vaseline can, only to shiver as she felt two big, strong hands getting a firm grip on her hips. It was almost...Endearing, were she not too busy trying to get the killer unstuck. She kept massaging the metal edge, trying to push and pull, also praying to whatever deity that existed in her human world that she had her tetanus shot done on time - Until finally, she was able to get hear a loud screech, like a pop, and the killer got unstuck, and in the process, he stumbled backwards, while Y/N fell down on her butt.

"Ouchie..." she muttered, rubbing her back and sides to take away the pain surging through her body. "Are you okay?" she asked, almost intuitively, without realising it at first, until she heart a low grunt that brought her back to reality. "O-Oh...! You have glass shards stuck in your side! And you're bleeding too! Hold up, let me help." she hurried to his side, while the killer merely stiffened, feeling her delicate, slender fingers tracing his body, while he heaved and slouched his shoulders from the repressed wrath. "It may sting a bit, and I'm really sorry, but I promise it will be better soon." her voice was so motherly and warm, which also resonated in her actions, as she gingerly took a water bottle and imbued some tissues with it, to wipe away the blood smearing down his skin as she extracted the glass shards, and then..."This is grandma's marigold ointment. It's really good, and it smells nice." she explained as she carefully smeared a thick layer of the yellow ointment on the biggest wounds, while the little ones were covered by smiley-flower patterned plasters. They were cute, and colourful, and they never failed to make her smile. "Okay, there we go, all better! I hope you'll feel better very soon!" her voice got a tiny bit more cheerful and upbeat.

It made the Killer think about a trillion things, as he stepped in front of her, towering over her like the Empire states building next to a smiling pomeranian. What was with this girl? Why did she help a killer? And why did he feel so...Warm inside? He could sense a foreign kind of luminosity, a naivite and innocence that he only witnessed in children and animals. This woman in front of him was untainted by the darkness and evil of the world.

It didn't matter how many hardships she's been through, or how much sadness she had to endure - Her soul remained as pure as any snowdrop, as the first snow of winter, as the fleece of a baby lamb who let out its first 'meeeeh' to its mamma sheep.

He couldn't allow this human to be maimed in any way - Not by the world, not by the Entity, and certainly not by him. - Screw the Entity, Pyramind Head kills by his own rules, and now, he was blessed to be faced with a human who bore no real hatred for her peers, or for the world, despite the horrible situation she was thrown into.

He didn't understand, obviously, especially as he remembered the myriad of abominations that lurked through Silent Hill, all of them created by the torment of humans - The very torment that distorted their own reality, which resulted in him needing to solve the purpose as The Executioner - Eradicating the world of all evil.

"Th-This sword is so heavy...H-How can you carry this around like that...?! Your muscles must be so strained and sore...Y-You really need a massage, I'm sure." she stuttered as she tried to lift the much taller and heavier sword from the ground, only for the brute to simply bend and pick it up with extreme ease, putting the girl to shame with her complete lack of strength. "Hehe...You're really strong. I'm embarrassed now." she chuckled softly, scratching the back of her neck.

Before she could leave or do anything else, Pyramid Head picked her up by the throat, careful not to hurt her or restrict her air intake - I mean, how else was he supposed to carry her so he wouldn't hurt her with his metal head or sword? - and it was pretty clear she didn't feel any malevolence from him, as she clinged on his forearm, trying to keep herself up, only to be dumped on top of the hatch, as the killer pointed towards it, so she would leave.

"O-Oh...! Thank you so much! You're really kind! I really appreciate this...I-I know it probably doesn't matter much to you, since you'll be doing this over and over again with all the survivors...But I really appreciate you for your kind gesture, and I appreciate you for being so nice with me. Thank you. Take care!" her dazzling smile lit the whole place up, but he couldn't talk, nor could he tell her how he should be the one thanking her for showing him that, despite the hundreds and thousands of years he had to roam the 'Earth' and execute the injust, miracles still existed.

As soon as she reached the survivor's camp, everyone cheered for her, asking how in the world could she have escaped the wrath of the butcher. "Oh, but he wasn't that bad. In fact, he's much more humane than I anticipated! I think he has a beautiful, blooming heart!" okay, she's lost it - the other survivors thought - but even so, she's always been a bit...Out of it, so who cares?

It took quite a while for the other three survivors to reach the camp, all bloody, in fact, like the new killer, who dragged himself with the same menace to the Killers' camp. "How the hell did you manage to survive?!" they yelled at her in utter shock, seeing that she got out of there unscratched. "Oh, you see...I found the hatch." she shrugged simply, not wanting to give away that the person who massacred those three was a soft one and he basically threw her down the hatch to her safety.

As she took a twig to roast a marshmallows, she noticed how Pyramid Head was standing much farther away from the rest of the killers - She knew that silent killers were bound to stay away from the more obnoxious one, remembering how Michael Myers almost killed Ghostface and The Legion at least a dozen times - But this time...He seemed kinda...Lonely? So Y/N took the matters into her own hands, roasted another marshmallow in another twig, and when it was done, she went to the killer's camp, calling out the lonely one's name - She has no idea why, but he actually followed her, pushing her further deep into the forest, until he was sure nobody was going to hear, see or interrupt them...

"Hey. You seemed pretty lonely out there...I thought you could use a friend. Thank you again for what you did at the trial...Here, this is a marshmallow. I don't think you've had many before...Cheryl told me of that horrible place you had to live in...So I hope this will make your day a bit better!" Y/N extended one of her hands towards him, so he could take the marshmallow - And a long, black tongue erupted from underneath the pyramid, snatching away the fluffy marshmallow and gulping it in one go.

What the hell was he turning into?

A towering man built of pure muscle, wrath and divine justice, with a pyramid representing the evil of humanity burdening his body, and a sword taller and heavier than the average human being constantly dragged in one of his hand...He now was a slave to a cute, innocent girl who was putting flower plasters on his minuscule wounds that would heal in a heartbeat regardless - He saved this girl who was now offering his these soft, squishy things that tasted overly sugarly, just like her upbeat and cheerful personality - If he could eat her, he was sure she would taste even sweeter than this - A sickish kind of sweet, that is.

She was indeed a beautiful angel in this tragic hell. But he didn't wait to snatch the second marshmallow either.

"Ah...! You liked it, didn't you? Well...Next time, I promise I'll give you more!" she grinned at him the same way a princess would to her chivalrous knight who saved her. The since he couldn't talk, silence took over them - It wasn't an uncomfortable one, per se, but it made it feel as if the conversation was over. "W-Well...I'll guess I'll see you around! Take care and I hope to see you again soon!" she waved cutely, trying to turn around back to her camp, only to feel a rough hand on her shoulder, turning her around and urging her to stop and wait for him and he went deep into the forest, leaving her alone and undefended by the potential malevolent forces of the forest.

When he returned, however, he stepped right in front of her, creating the perfect shade as he towered over her - Then he kneeled in front of her, so he would reach her eye sight, then he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and put a beautiful pink flower - As pink as the blush that started creeping on her face - He wanted to see her luminous face better, to highlight her dazzling smile and her glimmering eyes as the warm, silver light of the mother moon caressed her face.

Y/N felt her heart picking up the pace - It was beating so much faster than ever before - But this time, it wasn't out of fear or anything negative...It was something good. Something she never felt in her life, especially with her human acquaintances from back home. None was as chivalrous and gentle with her as this butcher of tormented souls - The bringer of justice, the merciless Executioner who was supposed to end the life of every living being that would cross his path.

It was insane how every Yin finds its Yang, even if that comes in the form of a little lamb of a small, frail girl, and a huge abomination of a brute man who knows nothing but death, bloodshed and carnage. It was truly crazy how opposites attract, and here she was, holding the killers large hands and gingerly putting them on her face, leaning into his touch - She felt safer now than ever in her life - Now, in the arms of an ancient killer.

An Angel and A Demon brought together in a perfect union.

As she leaned down, she touched the metal of the pyramid where she anticipated his forehead would be with her own forehead, and closing her eyes, she finally felt herself calming down. There was no need for words, actions spoke louder than anything, and she appreciated it...She appreciated him.

"Thank you." she whispered to him, knowing that yes, even though nobody else would hear it anyway, it was much more intimate than anything she ever experienced.

She was hooked.

Hope you liked my completely shameless pun, I couldn't stop it, especially after the pain I went through trying to write this...3 freaking times.

Yay.

[chemicalpink]

BTS members's reaction to their future spouse wearing their clothes....

Disclaimer: This analysis/reading is based on my experience and knowledge of astrology, it is not meant to be the absolute truth, as BTS are real people, and astrology can only capture so much about multidimensional humans that have had past experiences and cultural approaches amongst other things, it does not have to resonate with you since this is in no way related to anyone reading it (unless you are a member of BTS in which case, get out of here lol ) This is just for entertainment purposes.Remember that tarot as a form of divination only allows us to read current energy and as time advances it becomes less accurate, so it basically reads up to a 6 months period of time, which leads me to also mention that by s/o I mean any soon to be relationship or an already established relationship, indistinct of whether they are a soulmate relationship or not. Entertainment purposes only.

Warning: contains slight mentions of smut, not explicit.

KIM SEOKJIN

he feels this sort of fondness inside of him, kinda like taking a big needed gulp of air after holding your breath for too long, this man has stars inside his eyes from watching his s/o in his clothes, can’t help but think hey, maybe they look even better on them than I do (only for a split second tho) the feeling you get all warm and fuzzy inside? that’s a given in him. Ear bright red, he might not be too much into lending his clothes on a daily but he sure as hell discovers a fondness in it. There’s also this sort of… domesticity to it, like- this man wants to feel at home and watching his s/o using something of his definitely delivers that homey feeling. Apart from all that, the quote that comes up us “you deserve love” so maybe… that impulsive need you sometimes get when you wanna wrap up something cute and squish it? That's the feeling that’s most prominent here. (5oCrx, the star, the empress oracle cards)

MIN YOONGI

now this is interesting… when watching his s/o in his clothes, Yoongi has this conflicted set of feelings, overwhelmed, mainly, he truly knows how to appreciate the cuteness behind the act but he can’t help but feel kind of undeserving of it, it seems like the action starts an overthinking spiral of yeah they’re cute and all but what they do for me is so much more than I could ever give back. He kind of feels selfish by keeping them by his side, can’t really bring himself to mutter a bigger compliment that a ‘you look nice’ don’t get him wrong, he definitely acknowledges the small act of love but he’s.. carrying so much inner baggage that he can’t really look past what the scene makes him feel. (the hermit rx, 6oS, 10oC+ oracle cards)

JUNG HOSEOK

Now… Hobi is a fashion icon okay keep this in mind. He seems to be very particular of his clothes so while he knows there are no bad intentions behind it, he kinda feels itchy at the sight. It is funny though, there’s a playful feeling of surrender as he watches his s/o wear his clothes, like ‘fine okay I won’t get as itchy just this once cause you look cute or whatever’ soft smiles and warm hearts. Although he’s not the biggest fan of the action, it definitely serves to boost his ego, makes him feel like the man in a non greasy way/non toxic way, like a reassurance that his s/o is deciding to stay by his side after all. Similar to having conflicted feeling like Yoongi but from different parts from within, sure, he can’t help but think ‘oh god please be careful with that jacket if it gets stained there’s no going back’ but at the same time watching his s/o in it softens his rough edges and makes him smile even just a little. (7oWrx, 10oS, the emperor + oracle cards)

KIM NAMJOON

This man- the absolute death of me. Kim NAmjoon enjoys a good teasing. And he can’t help but keep feeling like that is exactly what his s/o wearing his clothes entails, and man is he glad to play along. Not quite exactly sexual, but more of a sensual part of it, he’s just dying to get the clothes off. Can’t keep his hands to himself (cue that one Selena Gomez song) it flips a PDA switch on him, he feels absolutely loved to the edges, has this warm feeling inside his heart that he can’t help but wonder how he got so lucky, and honestly, it isn’t frequently when people get to see his bright sunny side so it ends up being even softer than intended, he just feels so full and bursting at the seams with happiness. (5oC, the sun, ace oC+ oracle cards)

PARK JIMIN

Error 404. Park Jimin.exe has stopped working. This man loves good dramatics in his day to day and really, there’s no stopping him when he sees his s/o in his clothes, Time stops, his heartbeat is erratic, all he wants is to be their loyal servant, personal hype man at their service. Whatever it is that he was doing before? forget that completely, he's devoted to his s/o now. He gets to experience new sides of the relationship with such a simple action, like realising that he truly is head over heels for this person. There’s just a lot of loudness in this. I meant it when I said personal hype-man, would probably even go as far as to let his s/o “shop” inside his vast clothes collection ‘yeah take this and this, these would look amazing on you’ So yeah maybe he feels a tad bit insecure that his s/o is absolutely rocking his wardrobe but he can quickly get those feelings aside if it means watching his s/o just a little bit longer being the truest model there could possibly be out there. (IM SORRY I LOST THE CARDS LMAO)

KIM TAEHYUNG

This man goes 0 to 100 real quick. And don't get me wrong, he’s pretty romantic, but seeing his s/o wear his clothes? Now that’s a switch going off very clearly. Again, not in a toxic masculine way, but Taehyung is bursting with this distinctive dominating shine when watching his s/o wear his clothes, he’s absolutely on top of the world, cloud nine, and there’s no coming back down. He’s pretty playful about it, but there’s absolutely no doubt that inside his mind those clothes are currently non-existent. It’s the final nail in the coffin, the final reassurance that his s/o is his and his only, like a reminder that he is in a relationship and he’s 100% devoted to it. It does go down the traditional relationship line of thought but he’s quite a traditional man himself, so without any ill intention behind, he would really just like to show off his s/o being cute inside his clothes, a proud feeling behind when he talks about it, like a little kid teasing his friends about getting the best candy out of them all. (the hierophant, justice, the chariot)

JEON JUNGKOOK

Okay this is about to be quite a ride. As things are right now, he doesn’t seem to have a lot of tact when it comes to lovey dovey couple stuff, this man is more of a- man of deep rooted actions and sometimes cute words sprinkled on top rather than superficial actions, he doesn’t seem to find the appeal behind his s/o wearing his clothes, at least in an intended to be romantic type of way. He finds it trendy and he might just act cold about it, it doesn’t really hold a deeper meaning to him personally. Listen, he might be the type of boyfriend to ask for his hoodies back as soon as possible. If it isn’t meant to be done in a “oh look the couple sharing clothes” way, he might find his s/o cute in them, but not overwhelmingly so like many other people do. He’s just- very particular about his possessions being his. Funny inner thought that came up ‘we can buy matching shirts just please don’t steal my clothes’ (judgement rx, the tower, QoSrx)

Decks Used: the romance angels oracle cards, the prisma visions tarot

[anayaahwrites]

KOT ficlet #6 (Kudou Chika/Houzuki Satowa)

(Events based after the most recent update that had me screaming into oblivion.)

Needle in a thread

His first thought is, not them.

He recalls his horror when they took away the one person who had loved him, the one that lit fireworks in his darkness.

But before he had time to mourn, the torch had been passed—like some sort of metaphorical relay race—into fresh, affectionate, and welcoming hands. They cared, nurtured, and gave purpose to his existence.

The child hated by a parent, the child of calamity.

Of disaster.

And now that he’s built a home, a hideaway to rush back to whenever things seemed too rough, like hell he’d let the demons of his past have it their way.

He drops down carefully, one knee after another, placing folded hands in front of the head tucked in between his legs.

Because Chika is desperate and he has no pride to protect to begin with, so pleading before them to let him just live outweighed any sense of shame he’d feel.

But he’s naive to think Uzuki cares.

There was something bizzare about the boy since he’d met him, how he changed based on what the situation called for—like a snake shedding layers of its skin.

The light at the end of the tunnel vanishes, but Chika pushes on, pouring the deepest parts of his soul in front of the people that ruined him once before.

Because Chika refused to let his torch dim, the flame protected by so many, he couldn’t be any more grateful.

Uzuki snickers, instructing Abiko and taking a blow to the face.

“I’ll tell everyone you did this to me.” He smiles.

Chika’s light is bright.

But his darkness is all-consuming. It wraps him like a blanket of thorns, clawing to tear chunks of his soul away. In the end, who could he save?

Who could save him?

“I’m tired of all of this!”

He snaps his head, facing the voice, breathing life into his own.

Houzuki stands with her back to him, confronting the men with such ferocity, they stutter for a second.

“To hell with your ‘ruin his life’ nonsense,” she huffs, swinging her hair like a whip. “I’m taking him home!”

He had so many questions.

Houzuki grumbles under her breath all the way out, twisting and turning from one street to the other, tugging him behind her like a four-year-old.

Why was she here to begin with?

Usually, he’d shrug her away. He’d tease the ever loving crap out of her and watch Houzuki turn a brighter shade of crimson every time while subtly keeping his distance from the intense urge to hold her close.

But today, when he looks at her, Chika sees more than just Satowa.

He sees a woman with the will of a stallion, dulling her blade in front of no one, however intimidating they might be.

He sees the hand of a woman he could not help but admire.

Couldn’t help but love.

He stops walking, looking at the fingers wrapped delicately around his wrist as if Chika realised for the first time that he was holding the hand of the woman he fell in love with a long time ago.

“Are you tired?” comes her tender voice filled with concern, as she looks around, “Do you want to sit for a while?”

He looks into her worried eyes and quickly drops his gaze, to the hand she wouldn’t leave. On any normal day, by now Satowa would let go, a shade of bright pink spreading down her arm to her toes.

Today she holds his hand, firm and gentle, both at once, neither shaking nor blushing at the contact that was progressively setting his nerves on fire.

And admitting his feelings was easy. It was easy for him to look at every minute he’d spent with her—in sorrow, in joy—that Chika was irrevocably in love with her.

He’d give the Sun if she demanded it, the moon adorned as an elegant crescent ring around her finger. He’s so in love that he forgets his past, that he could endanger Houzuki and her entire family.

But it looms around him like a constant-present shadow. So he sharpens his facade to protect her.

“You shouldn’t follow me to places like this,” he swallows, maintaining his composure as best as he can. “It’s dangerous. Are you stupid? Don't pull a stunt like this again.”

He steals a glimpse at her, pushing strands of loose hair behind her ear with not an ounce of regret or fear of her actions.

“If anything, you’re the stupid one,” she replies, ebony eyes staring straight into his as he raises an eyebrow in question.

“For thinking you’d need to face this alone.”

He stills, feeling her thumb stroke his bruised knuckles, eyes steadily turning a shade lighter.

“I understand,” she says, “I understand you’ve been fighting your battles by yourself all these years. You feel responsible for everything—like you deserve divine punishment for sins you didn��t commit to begin with,”

“But for once, point the blame to those that deserve it.” her grip tightens. “Tell them to,” she sucks in a sharp breath.

“Eat shit for all I care.”

Her gaze softens as he peers into her eyes; for solace, for the comfort he’s never had. That he’s never asked for.

“You’re only human, Kudou, and humans make mistakes. We all do. Does that mean we need to be crucified for it?”

He shakes his head from one side to another in an unspoken response.

“The past won’t change, no matter how hard we try. But the future.....” she grimaces, “Our circumstances are different now. No one helped you then—no one stood for you,”

Satowa’s smile is melancholy, like rain and snow at once, as she cups his cheek with her free hand.

“But you have me now,” she whispers, lacing her fingers into the groove between his. He peers into those abysmal eyes and sees a promise.

“The only day I’ll let go of this hand will be the day I die.”

In a flash, Chika breaks.

He shatters like smashed glass, scattering across the ground in shards of built up agony. He feels the tears forming in his eyes as he looks into hers, chin wobbling uncontrollably. His heart squeezes in his chest as everything sinks in—Dad, Mom, Grandpa, everyone he’s loved and lost.

And she stays there throughout, rubbing warm circles into his much bigger palm, a distant sorrow in her eyes.

This woman, this beautiful, wonderful woman, had saved him on more occasions than he could count.

She was the white to his black, yin to his yang painting his life with every colour in the spectrum between them.

The Sun sets not far behind, fiery orange encircling her like a golden halo. And that’s all it takes—the gleaming sky behind her, the tears in her eyes, the ones in his.

He pulls her forward gently, letting Satowa fall against him as every type of warmth rushes through his veins.

She stills for a moment, leaning against him, not a hair on her head moving. Chika gives her time, space enough to let go if this isn’t what she wants. God knows he doesn’t want to force her.

When she leaves his hand, Chika thinks it’s all over. And that’s okay.

He’s okay with that.

Instead, Satowa throws her arms around his neck, face sinking into the groove of his chest, nuzzling the space where his heart beats erratically.

He takes a moment to register, but when realisation sets in, Chika pulls her tighter to himself, fingers working through the strands of her hair, chin resting comfortably above her head.

In those small arms, Chika feels the affection she holds radiating with every fibre of her being. She stands on her toes, reaching higher to lay her head on his shoulder. He draws her up by the waist, anchoring her safely to his chest.

“You’re not alone,” she whispers into his collarbone, the touch of her lips, a second of pure bliss for him. He shivers at the contact, holding his breath to stop his thoughts from escalating.

“You’re not alone,” Satowa repeats, chin resting against his chest as she stares into his eyes, lowering one hand to trace his jaw in short, quiet strokes.

“You have me forever.”

When Chika kisses Satowa, he feels everything all at once. The rustling of the leaves dull, his heartbeat overpowering every sound in existence.

When she kisses him back, realisation sinks in that this woman, this beautiful wonderful woman, would give him the world too.

Chika stands in the centre of their universe, two supernovae colliding against the speed of the world, her breath against his skin like warm sunlight streaming in through a window.

When Chika looks into her eyes, he sees himself in them, trapped in a circle of warm ebony. He watches her smile brighten when she raises herself just enough to wipe the tears he doesn’t remember crying.

Today, when he looks at Satowa, Chika sees salvation. He sees his world.

“Forever,” he sighs as they walk back side by side, fingers intertwined, like needle and thread. She gazes at him, instinctively moving closer.

For once, Chika would let himself be protected. Because Satowa was a force to reckon with. She’s fierce and brave and he’s safe in her arms.

Chika really smiles then, one so wide his eyes crinkle and vision narrows to the one person who matters more than any other.

The world has to allow him this one moment of greed.

“Forever isn’t long enough.”

Yay! I wanted to write something for so long! This idea came to me after randomly listening to "Safe and Sound" by Taylor Swift.

Thank you for reading, and being patient with me. I love y'all so much <<3

[sonderthroughthestreets]

Hi! Idk what came over me but I thought an AU where Sander’s kid is anti-Bowie was the most hilarious thing thanks to @hidden-joy @kylesbishops and @sanderijzermans so I wrote it skdjdj

Disclaimer: it’s all fun and chaos and I don’t really know anything about how to write kids

x, x, x, x, credit to the chaos 🤪

The day Sander Driesen hears the words come out of his child’s mouth is the day he wonders if this is his child at all.

He’s standing there, leather jacket, white t-shirt and all, bleached hair icy even in the summer sun, and he looks down at the small stature in front of him. Grey-green eyes, dark locks and an air of confidence that could only be learned from a certain music-loving individual fill his sight. There’s so much innocence standing before him but a driven insistence breaks through the words spoken.

“Dad,” he hears. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but...I don’t really like David Bowie all that much.”

Sander thinks he’s lost his senses. He is definitely not hearing right. Hell, he’s only a man in his early thirties, he could not be this hard of hearing already. He tries to brace himself on the couch from falling over. Shit, he’s also too young to feel this frail.

“Wh-what do you mean you don’t like David Bowie all that much?”

The question comes out in gasps of air, ragged and winded, like he can’t believe what’s happening. He feels like his world’s spinning, like he’s entered another dimension, like there was no way, absolutely no way, his child doesn’t like David Bowie.

Denial is a pretty powerful thing, though...

See, when Alexandra Driesen was born, she brought light and life to Sander and Robbe’s eyes. She had a chubby face and squishy cheeks and eyes the colour of a summer storm. Her dark hair had been a blessing to match Robbe’s. Everything about her was as perfect as it could get. And then came the perpetual frustrations of parenthood with the screaming and the crying.

Sleep was something to be cherished at the Driesen-Ijzermans household. A few day-naps here and a doze-off there. But God, oh God, did Alexandra know how to cry in the middle of the night. Robbe and Sander spent hours upon hours holding her and swaying her and rocking her on a chair. Sander had read that sometimes music helps so he’d even done all that. Bowie usually floated in the shriek-filled room during these times and yet, Alexandra just wept.

“Come on, baby, just a little bit of sleep. Don’t you get tired of screaming all night?” Sander asked in that exhausted tone of parentese. He held her against the crook of his neck and walked around in sweats until he saw Robbe enter the room with blood-shot eyes and curls disarrayed.

“She’s still crying?” he asked with a rasp in his voice.

“She literally won’t stop and I don’t know what to do, I’ve tried everything. I’ve even got Bowie on for her,” he said.

Robbe took her from his arms and swayed her a little, cooing and kissing her tiny head.

“It’s kind of loud, though,” Robbe said to him as he then stepped over to turn off the music.

And in an instant miracle, the house was all quiet.

It seems that’s what’s always happened and Sander just hadn’t noticed it. Alexandra settled into Robbe’s chest and stretched her mouth in a heavy yawn. Her warmth radiated and glowed through Robbe, but Sander was stunned. He’s completely shocked.

“You-she-“ he stuttered clumsily for a bit. “But it was Bowie,” he said weakly.

How could his own daughter not feel at peace with Bowie? It was a connection he held with him, something connecting him and Robbe and what he hoped would connect their child to them in this little family.

“Hmmm,” Robbe hums pensively. “Maybe Bowie’s not her thing.”

“Not her thing?” Sander just about exploded. Then he suddenly remembered Alexandra’s finally gone to sleep and whispered, seething. “That is not our child!”

“Biologically, no. Legally and emotionally, yes,” smirked Robbe. “Calm down, babe, she’ll learn to like him soon enough. For now, how about we hold off on Bowie for a bit, yeah?”

He swayed her just a little more, just to really make sure she’s easing into sleep and then set her gently back down in her crib.

“How long?” Sander muttered and Robbe gave him a confused look. “How long without Bowie?”

Robbe contemplated.

“Maybe we give it six months or so,” he said.

And now it was Sander who wanted to weep. -

As the months and years went on, Alexandra had gone on without her Bowie-loving phase, only mildly being interested in the lightning bolt plushies and the songs blasting on road trips and the shirts Sander would get for her. Robbe says it just takes time for kids to get into stuff. That it’s better to leave it there in the open for them than to shove it down their throats.

“It’s barely any shoving,” Sander had grumbled.

“I know, babe. But I know how you can get sometimes,” Robbe had placed a soothing kiss upon his lips.

Still, Sander’s worries were increasingly growing.

Then a few years later, they’d adopted another beautiful girl. Mia was a radiant vision of blonde curls and brown eyes. They held a similar warmth that Robbe’s eyes held and Sander couldn’t be happier to lose himself in pools of coffee or dark, earthy soils or any other sort of metaphor for his favourite kind of brown.

To his relief, though, Mia loved listening to Bowie. She loved playing with the lightning bolt plushy and wearing all the shirts and as she grew, she and Sander had lots of music jam sessions blasting Bowie throughout the house. Alexandra was enticed into joining for a bit in the beginning but as time went on, Sander found it that she was making more and more excuses to not be in the same room when Bowie was mentioned.

“Uh, I got homework, Dad,” she’d nervously run her fingers through her hair.

“Uh, Papa needs help with dinner I think,” she’d run out with a tight smile.

“Group project due soon. Léon’s being a piece of shit and not pulling his weight at all.”

“Language,” Robbe would chastise coming around the corner.

“He’s being a dick?” she suggested.

“Fuck him.”

“Sander!”

“Sorry.”

Her interests lay instead in skateboarding with her friends, headphones in her ears listening to rap: BROCKHAMPTON and Stormzy with even a little Ed Sheeran in the mix, and keeping her hair as short as possible. She’d had a bit of a habit wearing overgrown shirts like Robbe did. But Sander found that endearing and he didn’t really think it was a case of ‘not-like-other-girls’ syndrome. He and Robbe just let her wear whatever she wanted.

And in fact, it was at thirteen years of age that Alexandra came out to the family as a boy. Sander remembers it clearly with them all huddled on the couch looking at the person in front of them with beady eyes, waiting.

“Dad, Papa, Mia. I think I’m a boy. I think I’m trans and I’d like to formally introduce myself to you all. I’m Alexander, or just Alex. And I use he/they pronouns.”

Sander had wanted to tear up, emotions flooding inside his rib cage. Happy tears, though, a joyous occasion where his son felt comfortable enough to tell them about this part of himself. That he and Robbe had created a space where he felt safe enough. Loved enough.

“I kept Alexander ‘cause, Sander,” he gestured to Sander. “But really, Alex is fine.”

And Sander wanted to cry all over again.

They’d all been encased in a huge family hug with Mia chirping that she’d ‘always wanted a big brother.’

Robbe and Sander had been quite supportive of it all, calling the school to change both the name and preferred name and asking if Alex was considering wearing a binder or getting a proper haircut. “Yes” to the haircut. “Hold off for a bit” on the binder. He’d whined a “Daaaaaad” when Sander ruffled the short brown locks. Most of Alex’s friends were cool with it, too and while it wasn’t all smooth sailing, he’d never run out of love from his family.

It was a big change and everything, but Sander thought, well...as long as he had his Bowie-loving children, it was all fine. -

It’s his worst nightmare. It’s the stuff that haunts you from the depths of the worst kind of hell, making your limbs feel like jelly. He’s cursing every name and divine entity and he’s really hoping Robbe’s right about those parallel universes because he’d love to hop over to the one where this wasn’t happening right now.

Sander’s having a hard time even looking at Alex in the eye.

“Dad?” he hears his concerned voice.

“I think I need to sit down,” says Sander, grabbing the armrest of the couch, lowering himself onto the cushion.

“It’s really not a big deal,” says Alex.

“Not a big deal?” Sander looks at him with wide eyes. “My own son hates David Bowie.”

“I never said I-“

“The man who infinitely changed my life. Space Oddity, Life on Mars, Ziggy Stardust, Ashes to Ashes. None of them?” Sander waves his arms. “You’re telling me you like none of them?”

“They’re...fine, I guess,” Alex shrugs innocently with a cringe to his face.

“Fine?” Sander squeaks.

“What’s fine?” Robbe trudges to them overhearing the conversation.

“Your son hates Bowie,” Sander squints his eyes at him.

“I do not,” says Alex. “I’m just pretty indifferent to him. He’s not exactly my style,” he shrugs, his hoodie moving with the movement.

“And what is your style?” Robbe laughs as he comes up behind him to rub his shoulders. He looks up at Sander with long lashes and a questioning smile stretching across his face. They share one of those ‘parenting looks.’ The ones where they know it’s not all that serious. But Sander thinks it is.

“A bit of rap, a bit of hip hop, some pop, some mainstream,” Alex lists off. “Not exactly the ‘80s vibes in me,” he laughs.

Robbe cheers as their tastes in music are quite similar and he proceeds to carry out their very own handshake they’d created when Alex was nine. There’s a different one with Sander. Sander, who’s getting more and more agitated by this revelation.

“Oh, okay,” he pats his knees and stands up. “Well, if you two are having such a grand time hating Bowie and bonding over your own music, I’ll just take myself and leave. No child of mine doesn’t like David Bowie,” he says dramatically.

“Sander…” Robbe looks at him.

“Dad…” says Alex.

“No, no. It’s fine. Really,” he begrudgingly walks out of the living room, almost knocking into Mia on the way.

“What’s with him?” she blinks twice and points a finger back.

Robbe sighs as he looks back at Alex.

“Your father, he…” Robbe puts a hand on his shoulder. “Bowie’s practically his life and so are the two of you, so I guess it’s really important to him that you like him, too. He’s just gonna need some time with all this.”

His eyes are apologetic and he gives him a half-smile, hand leaving his shoulder.

Alex takes in the words while Mia wiggles herself onto the couch and finds the tv remote beside her.

“You finally told him about Bowie, huh?” she gives him a gravely sad look. One that says he’s about to be doomed.

Alex just lets out a stressed breath as Robbe follows to go find Sander.

What’s so special about David Bowie anyway?

————————————————————————

Part 2 is coming! IM SO SORRY SKDJJF I just need sleep and rest

[starkermeup]

Necessary Punishment

Tony is not amused by the chaos Peter caused in his absence and gives the boy a very necessary punishment.

Or what should of happened during the Roof Scene in Homecoming.

Part One

Cross posted on AO3

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Peter was stubborn, too stubborn for his own good. The kid was too quick to play hero without having a plan or any idea what he was truly doing. Now, here they were, after Tony not only saved Peter's ass but along with everyone on the fucking Staten Island Ferry. Tony rolled his eyes as Peter tried to bullshit his way out of taking proper responsibility. Not just for the ferry but for how he so easily lied to him. Tony knew he manipulated the baby protocol, he knew about every idiotic thing Peter had done since he left him to play the "Friendly Neighborhood Spider". Needless to say, Tony wasn't impressed in the slightest.

Peter stumbled backwards as Tony emerged from his suit, his eyes widening in shock that it was Tony in the flesh this time.

"I do care kid, I gave you the suit, didn't I?" Tony says sternly and Peter's stuck in place, under his glare. "That does not give you the right to disrespect me."

"B-but Mr. Stark I-"

"No. This is where you zip it, alright? The adult is talking. You were wrong Peter. Wrong." Tony snaps sharply at the boy, causing him to shrink into himself. Tony takes another step closer.

"I-I'm sorry Mr. Stark..." Peter says, still unable to meet his mentor's eyes. Tony clicked his tongue at the meager display in front of him.

"Peter," Tony starts. He grabs the boy's chin, lifting his head up and squeezes. Peter gasps but doesn't dare move. "You look me in the eyes when you address me. Christ, where's the good kid I met 3 months ago who showed the up most respect to his elders?" Tony shakes his head, convincing Peter of the severe disappointment he felt in him.

Peter looks befuddled, mouth opening and closing, changing what he wants to say at the last second. His eyes glassy as his face reddens. Tony rolled his eyes.

"You're clearly not ready for suit. You've shown that in more ways than one with your childish antics." Tony dropped Peter's chin as he spoke backing himself from the boy.

Peter immediately came to it then, pulling Tony back, clinging to him with his two fists. "No, N-no Sir please, I'm sorry, so sorry. I won't do it again just please don't take the suit, I'm nothing without it..." Peter babbled on, clutching Tony for dear life.

"If you're nothing without it, then you don't deserve it." Tony said simply, watching the boy's resolve crumble before his eyes. "I can't believe you would do this, to think you would disrespect me after all I've done for you..."

"Mr. Stark, please I'm sorry, I really am. I'm sorry I took off the protocol but-" Peter halted himself, words dying in his throat, realizing he was trying to defend his actions again. "Please Sir, just don't be disappointed in me. I just wanted to be like you. Y-you're my hero..." Peter's eyes were wet as tears rolled down his rosy cheeks. Apparently, expressing disappoint in the boy was his weak spot.

Tony stares at the boy with a unreadable gaze for a long moment before speaking. "You need to be taught a lesson for being so naughty and inconsiderate of others' feelings Peter and you're gonna get it right now. Get on your knees." Tony says sternly.

Peter hesitates for a moment, but he crumbles under Tony's ever so present gaze, keeping his head down. "Eyes on me and I won't tell you again." Tony says with an edge to his voice. It has Peter shaking with anticipation. Vivid flashbacks of the last time Mr. Stark told him to get on his knees come to mind. The limo ride home that had ended with Peter showing his gratification by sucking his mentor's cock while Mr. Stark praised him then jerked him off. It had been... amazing and Peter would be lying if he said he hadn't been thinking about it since it happened. It was apart of the reason why he wanted to see Mr. Stark so bad and why he threw himself into his little investigation, something to distract him from how bad he wanted Tony, how bad he wanted his cock buried down his throat again. The constant thought made itself known in Peter's head all the time as if to make sure he didn't imagine the whole thing.

The older man steadied his jaw, brushing his finger lightly against the boy's lips. "See Pete, that's the problem. You don't know when to shut this pretty mouth of yours and just listen." He dips his thumb into the boy's mouth which earns him a whimper. "But don't worry, I know just what bad boys need."

Tony held Peter's head in place while he used the other to undo his pants, Peter was rendered speechless. His breath hitched as Tony's semi hard cock came into his sight. Just as big and thick and in control like Mr. Stark, just as Peter remembered. He gaps at the twitching rod, mouth watering in anticipation.

"Keep your mouth open like that, perfect." Tony says, tracing his finger alongside Peter's mouth. "Now listen closely Peter. I'm going to fuck this pretty mouth of yours and you're gonna take it then thank me like the good obedient boy I know you can be, understand?" He's petting Peter's hair again and the boy can't help but lean into it.

"Yes Mr. Stark," Peter says as calm as he can, keeping eye contact with Tony this time, shivering from his mentor's words. He doesn't have a chance to say more, because Tony shoves his cock balls deep in his mouth in one go. Peter gags as his brown eyes widen, still staring at the older man. Tony uses the debauched sight in front of him as fuel to go faster. He holds Peter's curls tight, working himself in and out at a punishing pace.

Peter whines while Tony abuses his mouth and tries gripping the man's thighs for some leverage but Tony's moving so fast it's hard to hold on. He ends up placing his hands in his own lap and tries to focus on his breathing as Tony fucks his mouth.

"Fuck, look at you Peter. Your fucking mouth is like a flesh hole, the way you keep sucking me down like this. You must feel so guilty for disappointing me hm?" Tony says and Peter can't do anything but hum against the hot cock brutalizing his throat.

Tony keeps fucking his throat and the boy is almost able to completely bliss out from it. The fast rhythm was easy to follow once Peter focused on sucking cock, his throat feeling numb as Mr. Stark hit the back of his mouth every time. Closing his eyes, it was pleasant to let Tony use him as he pleased. It felt good being used like this, even though this was suppose to be his punishment, he felt his own cock throbbing hard in his suit.

Then Tony slams the boy's mouth balls deep on his cock. The pubic hair on Tony's groin tickles Peter's nose and he feels tears blur his vision. His mentor's cock was well down his esophagus. Peter lets out a strangled moan but Tony doesn't move, instead admiring the sight. The boy stares up at him with pleading wet orbs, his heart pounding hard in his chest as his cock throbs almost violently.

"Peter you're doing so good, but maybe a little too good. Perhaps this is what you wanted all along..." Tony ponders, lavishing in how the boy's throat contracts around him, can't help moving his hips a little at the tight sensation. "Was it? Is that why you lied to me and made stupid choices Parker? You wanted me to use your slutty mouth again. Isn't that right?" Tony asks and he must realize that Peter can't actually reply but that doesn't stop the boy from whining helplessly. He pulls back slowly, watching Peter's puffy lips come into view. "I said, isn't that right? And don't you dare think about lying to me again, you naughty boy."

Peter feels drunk from the speed of the throat fucking and his eyes are bloodshot from the tears filling out, yet he never felt so turned on before in him life, this topped everything, even the ride home. He knows Tony is waiting for his answer and he was never one to keep him waiting. So he clears his throat but his voice still comes out gravely. "Y-yes, I'm sorry for being immature Mr. Stark. Forgive me," Peter says, barely recognizing his own wrecked voice. He reaches out and strokes his mentor's length while looking up with what he thinks, is an apologetic expression.

Tony stares back amused, his eyes lower. He rubs the tip of his cock against the boy's swollen lips. "Oh baby, you're not immature, just a little cockstupid but that, that we can work with." Tony says almost adoringly, Peter's heart swoons in his chest and his cock leaks in his suit at the return of the nickname. Could it be Mr. Stark had forgiven him? Tony shoves his cock back into the welcoming mouth to the hilt and resumes his hard motions.

"That's it, baby, fucking take it." Tony mutters and Peter wants to be his baby, wants to be Tony's baby so bad, he's sick with it. Being calling baby by Tony gives him the encouragement to roll his tongue on the underside of older man's cock, which earns him a groan.

Tony tightens his hold of Peter's curls, aiming his cock directly down the boy's throat. It felt divine. He didn't originally planned for this to happen again but Peter, sweet little Peter in the suit he made him, making a mess of the city just for his attention was too much. And those innocent bambi eyes he gave Tony as he was told off was too good. He looked so small and vulnerable that Tony had it set in his mind that he was gonna have the boy on his knees again and this punishment was the perfect excuse to fuck Peter's inexperienced mouth like he wanted to in the limbo. And thank god, because Tony was slowly getting addicted to having his little spiderling like this, on his knees sucking his cock with that jailbait mouth like he was born for it. Another roll of Peter's tongue has Tony stuttering his hips and moving them in quick small thrusts in and out.

"I'm gonna come down your throat now," Tony states, leaving no more for objection. "And you're gonna be a good boy and swallow ever last drop okay? Good boys take their punishment with dignity and pride. Be a good boy for me." Tony shoves into Peter until he was nesting against his pelvis. The warmth and tightness became to much just then, feeling himself come down the teen's throat.

Tony's thick cock was lodged down his throat so deep, all Peter can do is swallow the hot spurts of cum over and over. Having Mr. Stark use his mouth like a whore had him so turned on, he can barely breathe, his own cock straining in his suit. He moans helplessly as his idle hands travel down to grip his hard on.

But one look at Peter and Tony knows. In one swift motion, he pulls his softening cock from the boy's mouth and grabs his hands above his head.

"Who says you get to come, hm? This is your punishment Petey, you don't get to have your release. You haven't earned it. " Mr. Stark says in an as a matter of fact way and Peter wants to cry. He sniffles, he never been this hard before in his life. What did Mr. Stark need from him? To give back the suit? A another apology? For him to beg to come? In that moment Peter would of done anything. There's no point in getting off if it's not with Mr. Stark, not anymore.

Peter's eyes are filled with arousal and sweet devotion. His lips puffy and red. It fills Tony with a sinful desire. Peter was far too easy like this. "I'm waiting Mr. Parker." Peter furrows his eyebrows together until it hits him and he manages to understand what the man wanted. He licked his lips before staring at his mentor.

"T-thank you Sir for letting me suck your dick," Peter says and the words feel foreign on his lips. Tony nods, pleased.

"Since you were such a good fuckhole for me, I think you deserve a little reward." Tony presents his right leg to Peter, moving it between the teen's spread thighs. "You can come but only by humping my leg." Peter's eyes widen at the realization of the man's words. He looks down at the roof, feeling humiliated and the undeniable throb of his confined cock.

"Are you going to take me up on it then? Gonna take your treat?" Tony purrs, petting Peter's curls. Peter's throat feels rubbed to hell so he nods at the man but Tony tsks in displeasure. "Use your words baby."

"P-please lemme get my treat M-Mr. Stark. I'm a good boy," Peter babbles, not recognizing the broken voice he hears. Tony smiles at him satisfied.

The New York sunset plays a beautiful backdrop, the sole witness to Peter humping his mentor's leg like a needy slut. His ears burn with embarrassment but he only thrusts his hips faster, unable to stop the lewd sounds from his mouth. It feels so good, also therapeutic and Peter feels more pre cum leak. He's already so close. The teen takes one quick look at his mentor's face, staring down at him, taking in how the handsome sternest of his features was in great contradiction with his near black eyes which was pure lust. He moaned, he wanted the man to touch him bad. Wanted to come from Tony's hands again.

"That's it baby, fuck my leg like a bitch in heat. Fuck, that's such a good look on you. You're gonna come aren't you? Go on then, come on my leg baby." Tony taunts and before he knows it, Peter is creaming his suit, letting out a strangled moan while grinding his orgasm into the meaty part of Tony's leg. "That's right, let it all out."

Peter pants hard, leaning his forehead against Tony's leg, coming down from the biggest orgasm he ever had. Tony lets him gather his breathing before he's pulling the boy up to his feet. Peter wobbles a little, knees being sore from being in the same position for so long but Mr. Stark is smiling at him like he's proud of him so Peter could care less about it. The smile falters a little as his eyes move down the front of Peter's suit. Peter follows them and blushes.

"You made another mess, just like last time." Tony states. He brushes his hand against the wet spot on Peter's suit, making the teen whimper. "I'm still taking the suit. But, next time I see you, it better not be for a punishment. Understood? Be a good boy for Peter." Tony says, in a demanding voice that shakes Peter to core.

Even though a part of him wants to disobey Mr. Stark, just to see what punishment he'd get, the bigger part wanted to be a good boy for his mentor, be worthy of his praise.

Peter bites his swollen bottom lip and says with the most conviction he can muster. "Yes, Mr. Stark."

Just then, Tony closes the distance between them and crashing their lips together. He holds Peter's jaw as he works the boy's mouth open, licking his way in, tasting his own cum. Peter is helpless to react, just becomes weak in his mentor's hold, letting Tony tongue fuck him. It doesn't last long but when Tony pulls back, Peter's needs to catch his breath. He stares scandalized at Tony through his lashes. The man only licks his lips.

"Good boy."

[akitohsworld]

Disclaimer: Thank you for all the love on my last smut fic. But well, since I want to commit, Imma give you another for this new year. I crave a more dominantly portrayed Simeon (I'm a switch, I have my craves ok) because I think he be the most shady of them all. I still need to accustom myself to writing these and get better, so extremely kinky shit will have to wait, but I did my best with this one as I vow to always do :D

Happy New Year everyone ❤️🌚👉👉

Warnings: NSFW, smut, light BDSM (collar etc.), fetishizing religion (Christianity), mentions of edging

Divinely Demonic (Simeon X GN!Reader)

"Take these off for me, would you?", his voice sounded innocent, but his eyes had this sadistic subtext to them. Taken aback, you reached for one of his arms, to take off his glove.

"Ah, (y/N)", you stopped, "I'd prefer you use your mouth."

An innocent smile tugged at the angel's lips. You huffed silently.

So this is how he wanted to play it?

Being in a relationship with Simeon for some time now, you could definitely say that he was all parts of a perfect lover and more. He was kind, caring and he conformed to your wishes as much as he could. For him bringing you happiness was his greatest joy and, if he was being honest, he never thought that he would feel that way about anyone. With different parts of your relationship, came different and new things to try and experience together, and so it had been a bit awkward to open up about kinks and fantasies at first. Especially, since Simeon was an angel and you didn't know where you had to draw the line. But, like everything in a good relationship, communication and an honest approach was key to fulfilling both of your desires, and indulging in this angel's fantasies in particular had you blushing and squirming in all the right ways.

You couldn't lie, the idea of Simeon's perfect, angelic, kind mask crumbling off to make space for that beautiful sadistic nature of his, sprinkled with raw un-honeyed disdain, made you quiver in excitement.

You provocatively shifted on the bed, hand grazing his arm as you took yours back to lean into for support. A shimmer glistened ever so slightly in Simeon's blue eyes when he grazed his gloved thumb over your bottom lip.

Your eyes trained on his as your lips parted, sensually engulfing his thumb, careful not to bite down on his finger. Teeth biting at the thin cloth, then pulling at it cautiously. Doing the same with his other glove afterwards. But this time, you made it a point to kiss his fingers, before taking them into your mouth, eyes trained on his. Simeon's breath hitched.

"(y/N)..", your hand traced his abdomen lightly, before suddenly sliding it into his pants, making him hiss as you palmed his already erect cock, proceeding to apply pressure to it deliciously slow.

You weren't going down without a fight. Not that it mattered, top or bottom, both was very enjoyable. But who could decline a bit more spice?

Your lips found his in an attempt to distract him from your other free hand, already pulling down the zipper as you felt him sigh into your mouth. Your fingers traced his slit just how he liked it, and he must admit, he was this close to let you just service him right then and there. Much to your dismay though, the angel smiled against the kiss. Indulging you, feeling you up himself as his tongue devoured your mouth, hands uncharacteristically squeezing your ass. He moaned.

"(y/N)"

You hummed against his lips.

The angel's hands were causing a tingling sensation on your skin as they traveled up your sides and a pleased sigh escaped your mouth.

"(y/N)."

He grabbed you by your chin and you could feel the excitement burning into your core at the change of tone in his voice. Innocence long forgotten. Simeon's eyes were dark with lust and-

"Ahh.. Where's your patience, little lamb?"

-you swore you saw a sadistic shimmer in them.

He chuckled, shaking his head in a pseudo-disappointed manner, pulling down your pants swiftly. You let out a surprised gasp as he pushed you on the bed.

"Sim- hah", his fingers traced your clothed sex, already wet with your fluids. He applied pressure to it, fingers trailing its features in a teasing build up, earning a gasp from your lips. Your inner walls clenched around something that wasn't there and you felt your core aching for his touch. Your body started squirming as you desperately tried to hold back your voice, while Simeon rubbed the spots that made you whine and hold onto him with need. When his slender fingers finally proceeded to enter you, moans and gasps followed as they signaled your growing impatience.

He slid down between your legs nerve-wrackingly slow, planting lingering kisses on your chest, abdomen and between your thighs, while your undergarments were tossed aside in a swift motion.

"You didn't think it'd be that easy, did you?"

His breath tickled on your skin as you felt his eyes bore into your soul. You said nothing and just looked at him tauntingly, a façade. In reality you wanted nothing else for him than to ruin you.

A smirk formed on his lips for a split second. Simeon's expression was no longer restrained, but clearly amused. Without warning his mouth enveloped your sex, tongue sliding around what made your hole clench and shiver. .

God, you wanted to touch him so badly.

"Simeon please- haah...nnh-", you felt a coil in your stomach tighten with each suck, each lick and stroke of his tongue against your sensitive spots. He groaned against your sex, sending vibrations through the sensitive nerves. You were so close, so so close-

"Fuck- Simeon-.."

He moved away.

You let out a very frustrated groan.

"No... Why?-"

"You didn't answer my question, little lamb."

He was mocking you.

"I-..", your fingers clenched at the sheets, "I forgot what you asked..."

Simeon sighed, seemingly disappointed.

"Oh no. That won't do", his gaze sent shivers down your spine, "That won't do at all."

He stood up, getting something from his nightstand.

A collar with a chain, and a Bible.

Your eyes widened. His cape slid down to the floor with a quiet thud.

"Now, now", the angel, still fully clothed hovered over you, "like we practiced."

The collar found your neck tilting it upwards as he gave the chain a light tug. He then proceeded to place the now open Bible next to your head.

"What do you say? Shall I forgive you?"

You breathed in sharply. Your mind was in shambles from all the teasing. And normally you hung onto Simeon's lips whenever he quoted the scriptures during sex because it was just so hot to you. But that didn't mean that you knew everything by heart. The Bible, tauntingly placed beside your head, was not an option. It was just there to test you and you knew that .

Your nose scrunched a bit as you tried to remember.

"M-Matthew 14 to s-"

SMACK.

His hand slapped your thigh.

You bit back a moan.

The numbers always messed you up, it was hard to remember them.

It didn't help that his fingers prodded your entrance before provocatively taking his cock out of the restraints of his clothes, rubbing it against your sex. Your hips ground up for more friction.

He just send you a teasing smile, a chuckle escaping his lips. "You were saying?"

You knew the answer was there, right beside your head, but no, no Simeon didn't like brats. Well maybe he did, but he didn't take too kindly to them. And today you were just not patient enough for hours of edging.

You felt his soft, warm hands rubbing at your thighs, spreading them slowly to see you better.

You were so lovely to him. Already so needy and throbbing. But that didn't mean he was going to let you off easy. A light tug on your collar told you he expected an answer.

"M-Matthew..... 6: 14 to 16, says ahh..", his fingers spread out your entrance, "F-for if you forgive them-"

He tugged at the chain, harshly.

"Guh- oth- other people when they do-"

Slowly he entered you, feeling your walls clench and sucking him in. A loud moan leaving your mouth. More, faster, deeper, is all you could think about as your legs attempted to draw him closer. Simeon groaned, brows furrowed as he indulged in the feeling of your aching entrance around him. "If you mnh do well" , he pounded into you once, hard, a guttural moan escaping you, " I'll let you cum, okay?"

That was not a question.

You nodded aggravatingly.

He then started to move at a steady, but rough pace.

"Mnh- hah siinn against you, ngh- your heavenly F-father will also...", your eyes traced down Simeon's beautiful features, " forgive you.  But if you don't-"

Another harsh tug at the collar took your breath away, followed by a particular hard thrust against your hips. You felt the coil tightening inside your stomach again, trying very hard to bite back your moans and do as you're told. Just concentrate, concentrate but... You were captivated by his flushed cheeks, his skin glistening with sweat and his eyes dripping with lust.

Good God, he was so pretty.

"Mnh Do not forgive others", your gaze lingers at his crotch, shamelessly and hungrily, " their... Uh their-"

Your vision was beginning to blur, he was hitting all the right spots. As such, it was beginning to feel harder and harder to recite in a comprehensive way. Every sound coming out of your throat threating to be a moan, rather than a word. Although, that's just what Simeon wanted. He loved to see you melt away under his touch, struggling to be good for him. It was the most delicious thing, seeing you squirm under him, trying so hard to make him proud and praise you.

The wet sounds his thrusts were making echoed througout the room, ragged breaths and low moans the only thing reaching your ears.

"Ahgh-", a cut out moan escaped your throat as he tugged on the chain once again, this time with more force.

"Are you mn..distracted, little lamb?", his voice brushed your ears like feathers as your gaze shifted up to his eyes again. He slowed down his pace teasingly, making you whine. "Done already?"

You shook your head. You wanted nothing more than to make him fuck you into oblivion at this point.

"Then continue. Unless", he lowered himself onto you, lips brushing yours, "you want to be punished?" your thighs clenched at his hips involuntarily.

"Their...", you furrowed your brows in concentration, hands clenching the sheets, "sins, your Fa-"

He pounded into you harder.

"Hahh- fuck-", a harsh tug on your collar took your breath away once again, but he wasn't slowing down. On the contrary.

"hah..Continue", his lips curled into a full blown sadistic smirk. His face darkened by shadow from the light hitting him from behind made him look so divine yet so demonic, eyes shimmering like sapphires drenched in blood.

Simeon himself was getting slightly impatient, what you did to him, he never experienced before. Your walls kept sucking him in, trying to keep him there in a delicious tide, as he felt his own orgasm approaching. Your moans and prayers tugging at his own restraints, when your body reacted to him in all the right ways.

You wanted to touch him. You needed to touch him. With pleading eyes and furrowed brows you tried to concentrate one last time. Gaze fixed on him, as you recited the last part.

"Yo-hah-your", he hit a particular spot with force, your back arched and made you almost shout the rest, "F-faather- aahhn- will not forgive yoUR SINS!!"

Simeon's smile widened while cupping your cheek.

"Such a good little lamb.", you felt his fingers tracing your sex again with urgency, while he hovered over you, letting go of the chain and pressing his forehead to yours lovingly. He bit his lip, muffling his ragged breaths and moans that dared to escape him each time his hips slammed into yours.

Finally, your hands buried into his locks, kissing him passionately as you drowned out your moans in each others mouths. Tongues intertwining as if you tried to suck out your souls, claiming each other.

"(y/N)", you parted, hooded eyes staring back at you, while both of you let the pleasure take over. Simeon's hips crashed into yours with more vigor every time, hitting that one spot that made your back arch and your walls clench deliciously around his aching cock. It was all so much. Your hands found their way under his shirt, clawing at his sensitive back. Your legs pulled him even closer towards you, flexing with each thrust. He felt his member dragging along your walls as if you were trying to milk him dry, your body trying to devour everything he was giving you and more.

"Hng Simeon"

His hand movements sped up together with his pace. The coil was tightening and tightening. He was close. And so were you.

The slapping sound of flesh against flesh mixed and matched the groans and pants of this ravaging play of pleasure. You were clenching him so forcefully now, every movement, every twitch of his cock mirrored in moisture of your hole. Bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Hah- mn- Simeon please, please, please-", your fingers were clawing at the angel's back so much, your knuckles turned white. With powerful thrusts dragging along your walls and his fingers moving over just the right spots a loud guttural moan accompanied your spasming walls , covering him in your juices as you were driven over the edge. He moaned loudly, overwhelmed by the feeling of your orgasm bringing about his own while he bit down on your neck in an attempt to deal with all the pleasure he was feeling. His wings had sprung out and his body was shaking wildly. As you rode out your high, you held him close, his moans still spilling out of his mouth.

He rocked his cock in and out of you in a slower more sloppy pace as his arms held your head, pressing his face into your neck, while your hands gently graced through his locks and then found his wings, causing him to shiver and groan, hands clawing into your shoulders.

With time you had come to understand that angels experienced orgasms way longer and were highly sensitive and vulnerable in those moments.

"It's okay...", you panted and lovingly kissed his head, "I'm here.. it's okay.. you did amazing."

A low chuckle errupted against your neck.

"I- ahh.. should be saying that...", he turned his head to face you, eyes full of love and adoration, "You did ama-nnh-zing, little lamb.."

Now it was your turn to chuckle.

"Let's take a bath later, shall we?"

He hummed quietly and nuzzled into your neck again.

"Yeah.. let's do that"

In moments like these, you don't need to say it, to get it across. Because you share it and you feel that.

[ackerfics]

your eyes still shined, like pretty lights — mikasa ackerman

— mikasa ackerman x female reader (modern au)

— request by anon: ooh how about some childhood best friends to lovers with mikasa? also based from taylor swift’s mary’s song :)

— warnings: none? just too much fluff and a hint of angst :))

— summary: you never knew that being childhood best friends with mikasa would lead to you finding forever within her gray eyes.

— word count: 6.3k words

— author’s notes: i am so happy that this is my first request !! thank you for requesting this and i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i loved writing it. i never knew writing mikasa would evoke feelings i was so familiar with back when there were face to face interactions with people. i will be forever grateful for the request !! you are a gem.

i reposted this bc it seems like this didn’t appear in the tags :(( i hope this works now :”((

> just two kids, you and i

The scent of apple pies drifted across the Ackerman household, ensnaring the girl of black locks and starlit eyes inside her room on the second floor. It wasn’t a regular day in their neighborhood. For starters, there was a moving truck parked at the house beside them, men shouting for the furniture to be lugged inside the walls of the empty home one by one, and the quiet atmosphere was interrupted by what was ensuing in the neighboring house of the Ackerman’s. Mikasa, the only daughter of the household, wanted to satisfy her curiosity, which flared, even more, when her mother baked one of her special apple pies. Throwing away the homework her first-grade teacher gave them, the young girl padded across her room, opened the door with a bang, and ran towards the kitchen in an excited rush.

With wide eyes, she stood on her tiptoes and peered at the edge of the countertop. There was flour everywhere, or was it powdered sugar? Mikasa will never know unless she will have one taste of it. Just a little taste. And so she carefully reached out one arm to swipe the white ingredient off the counter.

“Mika, don’t even think about it.”

Mikasa froze in her tracks, looking up to meet her mother’s eyes. “But I wanted to know if this is powdered sugar.”

The older woman smiled endearingly at her daughter. “You could’ve just asked, you know? Besides, I think these apple pies are much better than the powdered sugar.” She turned to get one of the pies from the oven with her mittens, then facing Mikasa with a proud smile. “So what do you think? Will our new neighbors love it?”

“Everybody loves your pies, Mom.”

A laugh came from the woman’s lips, letting the delicacies cool down before putting them in a box for their neighbors to enjoy. What her daughter said was true. Every time the light of the Ackerman household baked treats for the neighborhood, she would always receive remarks that she needed to open her bakery, saying that every single one of her treats was divine. She wanted to open her bakery, even to the point of helping out one of her nephews who was starting to have a tea shop as a dream. Her daydreams were interrupted when she saw something move in her peripheral vision. Mikasa was once again reaching out to swipe the caramel apple toppings. “Mika, you will have your share later. For now, we’ll have to be patient, okay?”

The little girl pursed her lips in annoyance. She was getting tired of standing on her tiptoes anyway. She had nothing else to do — she ditched her homework, she was told to wait before eating the dessert, and she was bored out of her mind. The silence stretched on for a couple of minutes, all spent by Mikasa thinking hard on what interesting thing she should be focusing her attention on.

“You know, our new neighbors have a little girl your age, why don’t you introduce yourself to her?”

That was the only catalyst for little Mikasa to make her way to her room, getting the toys she wanted to show, as she brightened at the thought of making new friends. In her elementary school, nobody wanted to be friends with her, knowing that she was known for being blunt and introverted. She was trying her hardest but nobody lasted longer than a few months — they always found a new circle of kids to share their stories with and Mikasa will be left alone again. Her older cousin, Levi, always teased her (in the least condescending way possible) that she should get rid of that permanent frown on her face (like he was one to talk). But it was never Mikasa’s fault that their classroom was always stuffy, with the air conditioner not functioning well. Mikasa doesn’t like being cooped up in a room, sweaty because of the humidity. The little girl rather preferred the coolness of the library, which the other kids didn’t like at all. They wanted to have fun and run around the school’s playground the whole hour of their recess and lunch breaks.

So now, it was an understatement that Mikasa was excited. She even brought some of her toys with her to share with her new neighbor. She hoped the girl liked toy soldiers (it was a gift from Levi on her birthday last year).

The little girl her mother was talking about was sitting on the front porch swing bench.

You were smaller than she and Mikasa wondered how you ever sat in the high swing. Your head was hung down and it looked like you were coloring something, with the way your hands gripped the red crayon. The black-haired girl wanted to call out to you but she doesn’t even know your name. Taking a deep breath, the little girl of gray eyes mustered up her courage and tried quelling the pitter-patter of her heart.

Why was it beating so fast?

The moment she stepped on the lawn of the house next door, Mikasa was sure she was seeing the constellations in your eyes when you looked up to meet her expectant stare.

> take me back to the house in the backyard tree

Mikasa was eight when she had this crazy idea inside her head.

In the two years that the two of you were friends, you always talked about a little safe haven tucked from the eyes of the world. A place where the two of you can be yourselves. A place where magic can happen even in the smallest space. Your eyes would light up blindingly when you talked about the things you will put inside your safe space, Mikasa matching your starry eyes with her own, staring at you silently as you poured out your beautiful dreams to her. The last time the two of you had a sleepover, you were chattering about a hidden library that only opens at certain times at night. The next second, you were off narrating how the stars were the most amazing things that gave you comfort on nights where you miss one of your parents because they were working so late. Then, you were relaying the possibilities of having a little art studio where you’re not afraid of drawing one of your prompts.

Mikasa let you ramble with a smile on her face. She was always a listener, afraid that the shine in your eyes would die down when she would interrupt — you just look so beautiful. However, there were times where you asked her things like her hobbies and likes, almost as if you were listing them down in an imaginary notebook in your head, and it will always catch Mikasa off-guard. Stutters accompanied her answers to your questions, not used to being the center of attention when it should be you. You were just too bright and full of sunshine. When Mikasa mentioned this to you, you only grinned, “Then you’ll be my Moon, Mika. I’ll let you glimmer through the night.”

She never slept that night, staring at the moon through her open window while thinking about your words.

Now, her mission led her to her father’s study, face set in adorable determination.

“Mika? What brings you here?” Her father placed his hands on her waist, lifting her until she was situated on his lap. His focus immediately went to his laptop on his desk. Mikasa’s eyes went from her father’s face to the gadget’s screen. She knew her father’s job was something hard and fun at the same time but looking at what was displayed on the screen, she instantly thought that drawing houses was harder than it looks. There were lines that she never knew were supposed to be there, a sprinkling of equations not suited for primary school was scattered around the blueprint, making Mikasa dizzy enough to place a hand on her forehead. “Complicated, isn’t it?” Her dad asked her in amusement. “This is what your Dad does for a living, Mika.”

“You like drawing houses, right?” Mikasa looked up at her father, gray eyes twinkling.

Her father hummed, ruffling her hair before squinting at his laptop. “Yes, I do.”

“We have a big tree in the backyard, right?”

The man furrowed his brows. He looked down at his daughter who was still in a daze in front of his laptop’s screen. “Yeah, it’s pretty hard to miss, you know?”

Gray eyes matched his own as Mikasa lifted her head and squeezed her hands on her lap. “How about building a treehouse in our backyard?”

Her father’s sputter was the only thing she received as a reply but that didn’t stop Mikasa from smiling smugly, your haven becoming possible by the minute.

And nothing can compare to your star-struck face the moment you laid your eyes on your little castle with Mikasa months after it was finished.

The midnight-haired girl swore she once again saw the entire cosmos in your irises, sending her heart in a confusing tangle of beats.

> said you'd beat me up, you were bigger than me (you never did)

Mikasa was eleven when she realized that she will do anything for your happiness.

Friday afternoons were always reserved for your and Mikasa’s many traditions: watch the movies the two of you borrowed from the rental shop downtown, snack on Mikasa’s treats and your mom’s sandwiches, immerse yourselves in video games until dinner was called. It was a celebration for surviving the end of the week — something that kept the two of your going. Your mom never lets you watch television throughout the week, the time was only spent studying and focusing on academics, which must be why you were one of the top students in your primary school. Fridays were your breathers, it reminded you that there was still happiness lingering after a week of pouring everything to not disappoint your parents. And you were happy that you get to spend this with Mikasa of all people.

The movies you two watched were all romantic comedies that your mothers suggested. You were a crying mess while Mikasa only stared at the television with a blank face. She never understood how everything in the movie moved you so much when it was just a pair of people expressing how much they meant to each other. You have that in your life — your parents, your two friends who you recently introduced to her, your dog, and her. Mikasa has always told you how much you meant to her through the littlest of things, the animated little girl when you were kids becoming a soft-spoken pubescent that supported you with little actions. And now, Mikasa didn’t want to see you cry because it didn’t sit right with her. You should be smiling because that’s when you were the most beautiful for her.

“Here, figured the movie would make you cry,” the black-haired girl told you, pushing the box of tissues in your direction.

You sniffed, lips pursed and wobbly. You took out some tissues from the box and proceeded to blow your nose, Mikasa’s hand forming a pattern of soothing circles on your back. “They died together. It was so bittersweet.”

Mikasa thoughtfully stared at your hands that were fiddling with the box of tissues. “At least she remembered him.” She lifted her eyes to meet your teary ones, breath hitching and thoughts forgotten as she blinked at how the lights from the television made your irises have silver flakes on them. Looking away without moving her head, Mikasa cleared her throat. “But they can still do everything as long as they love each other. I guess it’s not a sad ending, it’s not a happy one, either. I think it’s fitting for the two of them.” She carefully reached out a hand and wiped away a stray tear at the corner of your eye, lingering her palm against your cheek. “But if the movie made you cry for varying reasons, it means you understand their feelings, of the characters, I mean. Plus, your tear ducts are still functioning.”

A bubble of giggles came from you. You stared at her with soft eyes that pinched Mikasa’s chest. “What would I do without you, Mika?”

“Probably die in a ditch or something.”

“Hey!” You playfully pushed her side, Mikasa’s slight chuckles tickling your ears. “That’s mean. I never knew our friendship could amount to a thing such as bullying.”

She ruffled your hair with a small smile. “It’s a once-in-a-blue-moon experience.” The black-haired girl then turned around, rummaging for something besides the box of movies you rented for the rest of the day. Two video games were presented in front of you with a faux look of seriousness painting your best friend’s face. “Now, how about we play some games to alleviate the sad atmosphere brought by the movie we just watched?”

“You’re on.”

A few rounds of racing games later and you were becoming agitated. Mikasa always won against you at any type of game you two dedicated your time on. At the moment, you were ranked second, meters away from Mikasa’s selected car model. You were always brushing off your poor gaming and strategic skills, blaming your loss on the equipment you picked, saying that the stats are the absolute worst because Mikasa always took the best-looking car in the choices. All of the cars present in the racing game were all good and it depends on the gamer on how they’ll manage with the listed specs. You maneuvered your red racing car to one of the shortcut routes, your side of the screen displaying a forest terrain that neither of you ever ventured in before. You can see Mikasa glancing at you from the corner of your vision, making you speed up, only for you to be thrown off course by some traps plugged in by the developers. There was a standby screen flashing in front of you, not knowing how Mikasa slowed her car.

When the countdown finished, your car was able to move again and this time, you tried to take it slow since Mikasa might have won the game by now. To your surprise, your name was the one displayed on the screen instead of your best friend. She was awarded third place instead of the second when you could’ve sworn she was just a few meters from the finish line. You looked at her curiously, wondering what happened.

She glanced at you before looking down on her controller thoughtfully. “I guess I messed up, too. I thought there are no traps in front of the finish line but it turns out a bomb was implanted at the side of the track.”

There were no traps in front of the finish line and your giddy smile was picture perfect as you celebrated your first win against Mikasa.

> i dared you to kiss me and ran when you tried

Mikasa was fourteen when she realized that her heart was beating for you, something that wasn’t appropriate between best friends.

“Okay, for this small party, we’ll be playing Truth or Dare!” Connie exclaimed, the smell of his father’s stash of beer coming out of his mouth.

Your little world with Mikasa extended and created a universe with unlikely people that you never imagined would be your friends.

It all started with Armin and Eren, the two boys who became your friends in primary school. Armin was one of the smartest people in your middle school, already getting a sure spot in your town’s high school, being the candidate for valedictorian. Meanwhile, Eren was one of the members of the school’s soccer team, which in turn brought along his teammates, Reiner and Jean. The latter person in Eren’s little circle in his soccer team claimed that he and his two friends, Sasha and Connie, were a package deal. It was funny because Sasha was befriended by you and Mikasa way before the two of you knew she had some connection with the soccer player. The brown-haired girl was your seatmate in History. When you heard her stomach grumble (the subject was set before lunchtime and everyone was practically hungry after the morning hours), you offered your bar of chocolate to her. There you found your other best friend, her hugs and gushes of ‘I love yous’ made the first interaction unforgettable.

The small party held in Connie’s house was thrown because you were all graduating the following week. The short boy was ecstatic while planning out the mini-event, even threatening to kick out Sasha when she became hungry while preparing the snacks. Since the party was not limited to your friend group, Reiner invited some of his friends — Annie, Bertholdt, and Ymir. Connie was overjoyed that he was finally getting popular, to which Ymir shut down, saying that she needed the booze (she fought with Historia, her on-off girlfriend, leading to their nth break-up).

“Ugh, man,” Eren groaned. “Do you even remember what happened the last time we played Truth or Dare?”

Jean snorted. “Nobody asked you to do the dare, idiot. You could always take the shot.”

“Well, I don’t want to smell like booze when I go home, horse face. Mom’s going to kill me.”

“Who in their right mind would jump into the freezing lake naked then, Eren?”

You chuckled, remembering how Eren talked your ear off when he went home after his retreat with the soccer team. He claimed that his dick was numb to the point that he couldn’t feel anything while jerking off. Mikasa had to cover your ears while he went to that part and Armin was begging for the brown-haired boy to stop tainting his mind.

“Okay, can you guys stop arguing for just one minute?” Sasha pleaded through a mouthful of hash browns. “I’ll start spinning the bottle now!”

The game started quite well. Armin had to perform a dance number in front of all of you because Sasha wanted to let everyone know how awesome Armin was at dancing. Jean chose truth and was asked who he found hot among the girls his year. (Nobody missed his subtle glance at Mikasa, who was focused on the drink in her glass.) Reiner was asked who he last hooked up with and surprisingly, he downed a shot instead of answering. When Sasha chose dare, Reiner thought it was a good idea to witness the girl put as many marshmallows in her mouth without stopping. (Sasha managed to empty the bag.) Annie was dared to text her crush and the next second, Armin’s phone dinged with an incoming message. You and Sasha cooed at the blonde boy’s burning face. Mikasa also chose truth and drank her shot when she was asked by Annie about the person she likes. (Jean perked at this but quickly deflated when the black-haired girl held no hesitation in drinking the shot.)

Then, the bottle landed on you.

Your eyes met with Mikasa, knowing that she will be the one asking the infamous question of ‘truth or dare?’

“Dare.”

Sasha and Connie ooh’d at the background.

“I dare you to kiss the person you’re thinking about a lot.”

It was a masked question. Mikasa wanted to ask you about your recent crush but she had to be conspicuous about it. Of course, she noticed how you and Eren became close these days. Always sitting with each other during lunch and how the green-eyed boy always offered his jacket whenever you felt cold. She had to confirm it. She didn’t want Armin to pick up on her nerves every time she witnessed how Eren looked at you like you placed the stars in the sky. She was only worried for you since Eren had the most experience when it comes to dating among the four of you, having only dated one person the whole duration of middle school.

However, Mikasa didn’t expect you to place a hand on her cheek, your face inches from hers.

The entire circle became silent, jaws dropped at the scene unfolding in front of their eyes. Mikasa didn’t pay them any attention. Her eyes were wide while yours were hesitantly trained on her lips. She didn’t register that you whispered along the lines of only kissing her cheek. Her heart was threatening to burst out of her chest. Her face was burning with a beautiful shade of rouge. Her mind was muddled, panicking that you were so close to her. Mikasa remembered the times you left her breathless. They were unexpected moments that only occurred in a mundane situation but it was you. You were different from the people in Connie’s house right now. You were a force to be reckoned with, always interrupting Mikasa’s focus during class because you were there in her thoughts. You were a sight to behold, having a fair share of admirers, one of them being Mikasa, to which she was never aware until now. You were everything held tightly in a small body that fit exactly against Mikasa's when the two of you hug after a bad day.

You were so beautiful.

But Mikasa couldn’t handle the continuous pounding of her heart.

She turned around and immediately darted to the bathroom, leaving you frozen along with your gawking friends.

Oh, how Mikasa regretted running away the moment the door was flat on her back.

> take me back to the time we had our very first fight

Mikasa was eighteen when she heard the words she dreamed of coming from your lips.

“Why don’t you go back to Eren?” Mikasa grumbled, her eyes glaring at the road in front of her, knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel a little too tight. “Why would you even go home with me? He was offering to drive you back and you’re here sitting in my car.”

There was no reason why she was being angry right now. The past years in high school were pure torture for Mikasa and the soccer game that happened hours prior was the cherry on top of the sundae. When their school’s soccer team won at the final game of the seniors, she had to watch Eren pick you up, laughing while twirling you around. Everybody knew how much Eren liked you since he wasn’t afraid of expressing his feelings to a crowd of people. However, even with Eren’s efforts of wooing you, you always brushed it off, saying that he is still one of your best friends. There was no denying that Eren was courting you with the whole school as the witness. It was like a love story waiting to hit its climax — two childhood friends intertwining their fates together until they found forever with each other.

Mikasa had to suppress a groan at the thought. Maybe she watched too many romance movies to think straight at the moment. She honked the horn too loudly, making you flinch in the passenger seat. Her gray eyes were a raging storm and even the biker at the side of the street wasn’t safe as she turned her head to the window, shouting, “Hey, there’s a bike lane for a reason!”

“Mika, calm down,” you pleaded.

She scoffed in disbelief, remaining silent even though you were expecting to hear her answer.

“Why are you so angry right now? I don’t know how to fix this if you’re going to be so quiet over it.”

The car stopped in front of your house and you didn’t even notice how Mikasa practically broke the speed limit. It was a good thing there weren’t any cops doing their patrols on your side of town. Now that there was finally time for you to ask her questions, you turned to face her. You pursed your lips at the sight of her stony visage, face still so beautiful that it made your sketches of her look like nothing.

Mikasa has been ignoring you the past few weeks. You noticed that it was only when Eren was around. You looked away at the thought, heart-pounding that maybe Mikasa finally realized her feelings for the green-eyed boy. You never fail to notice how she was constantly hovering around the boy, reminding him of the schoolwork he was missing or his forgotten lunch. It always squeezed your chest too hard.

You tried reaching for her hand, only to be swatted away. “Mika,” you whispered brokenly.

“Do you like Eren?”

Oh, so that was it.

You schooled your expression in a blank one, licking your lips in nervousness. She wanted to make sure there was nothing between you and Eren so that she can finally tell him her feelings. “Why are you asking that?”

“Stop answering my questions with another question.”

You had enough of this. “Then what do you want me to say?”

Mikasa threw her hands up in the air, shrugging her shoulders in disbelief. “I don’t know! Your honest answer, I guess. It seems to me like you do like him. With you, all cuddled up with that long-haired idiot every single day. Is it the long hair? Do you like people with long hair? If that’s the case, I’ll grow my hair! Just give me a few years at most.”

You looked at her in confusion and frustration. “What are you talking about, Mikasa?”

She flinched. You never called her by her full first name. It was always Mika for you. She was always Mika for you. You were the only one allowed to call her that aside from her parents. Mikasa turned abruptly, taking you by surprise as she placed both of her hands on your arms, firmly grasping them to make you meet her desperate eyes. “I’m just making sure that you don’t like him because...” She faltered, not knowing what to say next. Is she even confessing to you right now? Years of pent-up feelings beginning to rise and overflow because of the stars gradually appearing in your eyes. Her mouth was running on its own and she was beginning to feel the shame bubbling in her stomach.

“Because … Eren is not the only one who looks at you like you placed the stars in the sky. He’s not the only one wanting to keep you warm on a cold day. He’s not the only one experiencing euphoria whenever you’re around.” She blinked away the tears building in her eyes.

“He’s not the only one in love with you.”

“You are so dense, you know?”

“What?”

Mikasa reeled back but your hands finding their way on top of hers stopped her from backing away any further. Now, you were the one looking at her like she created the entire universe in front of your eyes. You were looking at her like she’s the first snowflake making its way on top of your nose. You were looking at her like those times you were inside your treehouse, under the fairy lights hung on the walls. You were looking at her as if she was euphoria personified. Because she is. Mikasa is so breathtakingly ethereal, your surroundings becoming more transparent by the minute as you focused on her. Gently transferring your hands on her cheeks, you pulled you close until both of your foreheads were tenderly pressed against one another.

“It’s you.”

Her breathing hitched.

“It has always been you, Mikasa Ackerman. Since that day you rejected my kiss when we were fourteen.”

Tears became more prominent in both of your eyes.

“Not Eren or anybody who was rumored to be going out with me.”

She closed her eyes tightly.

“I’m in love with you.”

Mikasa opened her eyes, revealing the entire cosmos you adored.

“I love you and only you.”

It’s not a dream, the two of you sharing your first kiss that was more than what the movies described.

> they never believed we'd really fall in love

Mikasa was twenty when she had the courage of telling the entire world you’re the love of her life.

“Oh, my God, I knew it!” Sasha screeched inside the café you and Mikasa chose to have your group study session. Most eyes inside the café turned to your table since Sasha planted her hands on your table with enough force to attract attention. You laughed nervously and apologized to some of the people inside the café but the brown-haired girl still showed no signs of sitting down. You can see Mikasa placing a hand on her forehead, sighing at the third member of your trio. Sasha, however, was experiencing the milestone of a lifetime. She flickered her gaze between you and your girlfriend, eyes sparkling in obvious excitement and adoration. “And thank God you two finally got together! I had to endure Mikasa moping around during high school.”

“We are dating for two years now,” Mikasa dryly stated. “We didn’t get together recently.”

You placed a gentle hand on hers, smiling at the black-haired girl before turning to Sasha. “We tried keeping our relationship a secret for two years but judging from your first statement, it seems like we couldn’t conceal it that well.”

Sasha finally sat down, picking up her fork with some unattended carbonara on her plate. “I had a hunch. Well, not only me, Connie and I. Ever since I got to know you, [Name], I always admired your friendship with our Mikasa here.” She pointed her fork at you and Mikasa. “Yes, Mikasa treated all her friends in some special way. For me, she tells me not to eat too much.” Mikasa eyed Sasha’s plates of lunch. “For Armin, she tends to be gentler, I mean, you know Armin, softest boy on the planet. For Eren, she’s like his mother.”

“Somebody has to do it.” Mikasa rolled her eyes, making you laugh. “He never listens to Carla any more.”

“But for you, missy,” the brown-haired girl leaned forward with a teasing smirk, “Mikasa becomes all of these. Who would’ve ever thought that that childhood friend story circulating between you and Eren became you and Mikasa instead?” She leaned back and shrugged. “I never liked Eren for you anyways.”

“Same,” the black-haired girl simply stated, taking a bite of her pizza before offering you some. “I heard you wanted this café’s pizza.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, taking a bite of the pizza Mikasa was holding in front of you. “Annie’s right, the pizza in this restaurant tastes amazing.” You felt your girlfriend’s thumb brushing at the corner of your lips, wiping the pizza sauce smeared there.

The brown-haired girl sitting in front of you two squealed with hands covering her mouth. “You two are so cute together!” Yours and Mikasa’s face flushed, making Sasha gush again. The gray-eyed girl sighed deeply, placing her head on your shoulder to cover her red face, making you laugh at how adorable your partner is. “Wait, have you talked about this to your parents?”

You and Mikasa looked at each other, that Thanksgiving dinner flashing through your minds at the moment.

You were supposed to be enjoying the scrumptious feast your and Mikasa’s mothers prepared but you and your girlfriend were too stiff to participate in the casual talk flittering the table. The previous night, Mikasa opened the idea of telling your parents that you were dating each other. At first, you disagreed because you have seen how this would affect Mikasa. There was a time where some old woman looked at you two while you were on a date, yelling that you two should break up and find some man instead of finding comfort with the same sex. The black-haired girl nearly broke down when you arrived at your shared apartment and you reassured her that their opinions shouldn’t matter as long as you have each other. But now, these are your parents, of course, their perception of your relationship will always matter. Those worries soon vanished when your fathers rejoiced, the negative thoughts replaced with tears of relief rolling down on your and Mikasa’s cheeks.

“It’s about time, you know,” your dad smiled.

“We were supposed to place a bet but we were scolded,” Mikasa’s father sheepishly admitted.

“You shouldn’t bet on the girls’ relationship!” Mikasa’s mother replied, her playful expression turned soft when she turned to you two. “Don’t ever think we would go against this. We have been watching you two grow up and we always knew that there was a possibility that you’ll come into terms with your feelings for one another.”

Your mom perked up with glee visible on her face. “So … when’s the wedding?”

You shared a laugh with the love of your life. “They’re planning a wedding as we speak.”

“Make me one of your bridesmaids please!”

“I think you’re suited to be [Name]’s maid of honor instead.”

“Hell yeah!”

> we were sitting at our favorite spot in town and you looked at me, got down on one knee

Mikasa was twenty-three when she knew you are the constant in her life.

Graduation was only a few months ago and you have never felt so happy in your life. Gone were the days slumped in front of your laptop way past midnight trying to perfect your thesis papers. Gone was the day where caffeine was the only thing keeping you going during exams. Gone were the days you had laboratory periods that span the whole half of the day. All the stress was piling up on your shoulders the past four years, molding themselves in a huge ball that made you think you carried the entire world as Atlas did. Now you got your degree and you were ready to settle with the person driving the car with ease along the road leading to your neighborhood. As you stared at her side profile, you smiled, knowing that she has been in every part of your life, in your downtimes and zeniths brought by your achievements. You vaguely remembered how the car stopped in front of Mikasa’s house, the two of you immediately making your way towards their backyard.

Years of care were seen in her mother’s flower and vegetable garden but the only thing that took your breath away was the treehouse she surprised you with when you were both eleven. You blinked at the pristine condition of the small castle in the canopy of green, your smile pulling on the corners of your lips. “I can’t believe it’s still here.” A hand made its way on the small of your back, its warmth seeping through your French chiffon floral dress. You looked up at Mikasa, her casual ensemble of her gray suit and white shirt sending your heart in a frenzy. You pulled on her collar, your lips meeting hers in a slow dance, her hand on your back transferring around your waist.

When you pulled away, Mikasa placed her forehead against yours, her breath tickling your face. “Let’s visit our castle, shall we?”

The inside of the treehouse was still the same as ever. Aside from the thick layer of dust covering every surface of the small abode, it still gave the same feeling when you first laid your eyes on it. The knick-knacks you and Mikasa placed were still in the same position as you left them. The star projector you brought when you were thirteen was placed in the middle of the treehouse. You made your way to it and a sea of stars filled the crevices of the treehouse after gently turning it on. A myriad of purples and blues painted themselves on the ceiling, swirls of galaxies accompanied the constellation map you knew by heart when you were a kid. You faced Mikasa, only for your breath to hitch at the sight of her kneeling on one knee on the dusty floor. The first thought coming to your mind was how the dust would cling to her gray slacks. But that quickly erased itself when Mikasa tenderly presented a small velvet box.

“You made me believe in love, magic, myself, and the universe,” Mikasa whispered things meant for your ears only. “The way you love me and the way I look at you makes life worth living. Every single minute I’ve spent with you, I wanted to stop time to preserve it in my memory. I wanted to swim in your divine because I swear, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I promise to give you everything to make you the happiest woman in the world. I’ll still look at you like the stars that shine no matter how many years go by. You deserve the very best, someone who will back you up without limits, let you grow without borders, and love you without end. So, [Name],” she opened the small box, revealing the most beautiful piece of jewelry — a golden band with a sparkling diamond at the center of smaller gems shaped like stars, at the sides of the huge gem were crescent moons, “will you let me be the one?”

You were crying now, you never thought that this would happen.

The woman of your dreams was kneeling in front of you and there was only one answer that will seal your fate with hers.

“Yes, Mikasa, always and forever.”

> we'll rock our babies on that very front porch

Mikasa was twenty-five when she wanted a small family with you.

“How about using Eren?”

“Mika, why would you suggest that!”

“I mean, he has the hots for you.”

“I can’t believe you’re selling me to one of our friends.”

“Don’t leave my side. Here’s a kiss as an apology.”

“You’re lucky I love you, Mika.”

“And I love you, too.” Mikasa paused, turning the laptop to you as she opened the tab for one website she found. “How about adopting a toddler?”

You looked at a website displaying one of the orphanages in the city, chest filled with butterflies at the next step in your life with Mikasa.

“I think that’s a perfect idea, Mika.”

“I think so, too, Mrs. Ackerman.”

[totallynormalfanficauthor]

The sound of the skeletal rooster crowing at the top of it’s nonexistent lungs was nothing new to Jack Skellington. It was the same sound he heard every morning- not that he cared. It woke him up just fine, so who was he to complain?

Jack turned over in his bed. He yawned and opened his sockets a tiny bit, waiting for his vision to adjust to the golden light of the pumpkin sun that was beginning to stream in from a nearby window. The first thing he laid eyes on was the beautiful river of red hair lying next to him. Sally was still asleep, resting on her side with her arms folded neatly in front of her. Her back was facing Jack, but he could hear her snoring softly. A  warm smile came across his skull, and he sighed contently. 

It had only been a month or so since the two of them were married, and Jack still found himself getting used to waking up with someone else in his bed. But he loved Sally with every ounce of his phantom heart; and wouldn’t have it any other way. Carefully, without disturbing her, Jack scooted closer and moved a piece of hair away from her cheek. He leaned down and kissed her gently, pressing his lips to the stitches that fell neatly under her eye. She stirred, but didn’t wake. 

He sat up, stretched his back, and decided now would be the best time to get up. Jack crawled out from under the blanket and finally to his feet. Yawning one last time, he headed straight for the closet, ready to get dressed and start his day. 

--

Jack cracked the egg into the pan, listening as it sizzled. After getting dressed and coming downstairs, he decided to make breakfast awhile. He wasn’t sure if Sally would be up before he had to leave, but, he always made enough for two just in case. At the very least, she could reheat it later. Or not- rotten eggs and toast were just as good cold. 

As he prepared their plates, his mind wandered around as it always does. He thought about Sally.. how beautiful, and sweet she was. Jack could still hardly believe they were finally.. well, together together. He glanced down at his wedding ring, smiling to himself.

A slight creek of the floorboards caught his attention. He glanced up, half expecting to see nothing, but to his delight was instead greeted by the image of Sally standing in the doorway. She was still wearing her nightgown, which was white in color and very light. It was made out of a smooth, silky material and fell just a little ways past her hips. She smiled at him. 

“..I thought I heard you get up.”

“Sally.” Jack smiled back. “Horrible morning, my love. Did you sleep well?”

“Just terribly, thank you. And you as well I trust?”

“As always.” Jack tilted his skull, keeping his gaze on his wife as he sliced their bread. “I apologize if I woke you..”

“Oh, no.” Sally shook her head, and finally made her way over to him. “I was already awake, I just heard the door close.”

“Oh, right. Well..” Jack leaned over and gave her a small peck on the cheek before motioning towards the stove. “I’m glad you’re awake, the eggs are almost ready. I hope that’s alright for this morning?”

Sally inhaled deeply. “They smell divine, Jack, thank you. It’ll do just fine but...you didn’t have to, really, I could’ve made something for myself”

“Nonsense, I’m happy to cook for you. Unless.. of course, you really wanted to? If that’s the case, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“Jack” Sally reached up to cup his face. He fell silent at the gesture. “It’s okay, dearest. It's not a big deal who cooks for who. I appreciate you thinking of me” she patted the side of his face gently. “How about, if I cook dinner, then we’ll call it even?” 

The skeleton chucked, “Deal.” And kissed her once more before reaching over and sliding the rotten eggs onto their plates one by one.

--

After the couple finished up their breakfast, Jack washed the dishes and decided it was probably a good time to get ready to head into town soon. He was about to go back towards his bedroom to get his shoes when Sally called him into their living room. She spoke to him as he entered.

“Jack, Could I make something…” she pointed downward to the little ghost sleeping at her feet. “…for Zero?”

He smiled at the thought. “Like what?”

“I’m thinking…” she tapped her chin. “A scarf?”

Jack walked over and sat down on the couch next to her. He reached for her hand, squeezing it. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Sal.” 

“Do you? Good.” She squeezed his hand back and leaned close, so their noses were almost touching. “I hoped you’d think so..”

Her sudden closeness caught him a little off guard, but Jack took the hint. “Of course..” he leaned forward and closed the gap between them, a bit relieved to have access to her lips this time. Sally kissed back and wrapped her arms around his neck, practically melting into him. 

He wrapped his arms around her waist in response, enjoying this moment immensely. They probably would have continued, had a jarring noise not  suddenly cut through the air.

Brrriiiing

Brrriiiing

Brrriiiing

The phone. It rang loudly, and startled both of them. Jack pulled away and looked in its direction. 

“Probably the mayor…” his tone sounded slightly annoyed. He turned to Sally. “- I should get that.”

“Of course, go ahead.” 

The king stood up and walked to the opposite side of the room where the phone was hanging on the wall. He hesitated, cleared his throat, then picked it up.

“Skellington residence. Jack speaki-”

“Jack!!” the mayor's voice rang from the other side. “Thank HALLOWEEN you answered! Where are you?”

“Ah, horrible morning, Mayor. Still at home of course-“

“There are things that need to be done, Jack!! Halloween is only 96 days away! Why aren’t you here yet, it’s not like you to be late!”

If Jack had eyes, he’d be rolling them. “I’d hardly call it late..”

“It’s late by YOUR standards! You’re usually in town by now, what’s holding you?” 

“Er…” Jack glanced over at Sally, who was still sitting on the couch petting zero. “…I don’t know, nothing I suppose. We just finished eating, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Huff… alright. Terrible morning Jack, I’ll see you soon.” 

The skeleton hung up the phone and sighed. Typical mayor, never letting him get an ounce of alone time. 

Sally stood off the couch and walked over. “I take it you’re leaving now?”

“I’m afraid I must. I apologize.” 

“It’s quite alright love, you have important things to take care of. I still need to get dressed, anyways” she brushed off her nightgown and stood on her tiptoes to give him one last kiss on the cheek. “…I’ll try to come visit you in town later, how about it?” 

Jack nodded. “I would love that, thank you.” He glanced at the clock. “-I must be off. I’ll see you soon, Sal” he opened his arms and Sally came forward into his embrace. Her voice was muffled.

“See you soon, Jack. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

--

It seemed to be a fairly average day in town. As Jack walked the streets he greeted people on the side like he always does, everyone happy to see him as usual. He was able to get to the town square in a reasonable amount of time, which was good, because the mayor was already there waiting for him. A small stack of papers were piled in his tiny hands.

“Jack!! There you are!” He called out to him as he approached. “Horrible to see you, you almost scared me half to life when you weren’t here!” 

Jack sighed. The Mayor can be so dramatic sometimes. “Horrible to see you as well, Mr. Mayor. Shall we get started for the day?” 

“Ah, yes! Of course”, the shorter man cleared his throat and lifted the papers up to his face. “Firstly, we need to check in with all those who agreed to carve the pumpkins this year, to see how that’s progressing. You have a meeting with the vampires around 9:30… oh! And there are some documents in your office you’re going to need to have signed by tomorrow”

Jack nodded as he listened. “Very well, that all sounds… manageable. I suppose we should get started.”

“Yes! Let's not waste any more time” The mayor tucked the papers under his arm and scurried off in another direction. Jack folded his hands behind his back, and reluctantly followed. 

Jack Skellington found himself to be more tired than he thought he was. Or, maybe he was just bored. Or perhaps, a bit distracted. Maybe a little of all three. 

Most of his morning consisted of meeting with people. Checking in on the pumpkin carving, the training of the bats, etc etc. He was almost relieved when it came time to finally head back to his office to sign those documents the mayor spoke of. Typically the same ones each year, so Jack didn’t mind. 

The skeleton was sat at his desk, writing away with his quill. He tapped his foot lightly and hummed to himself. He was almost through all the papers, when there was a knock at the door. He looked up.

“Come in.”

The doorknob turned slowly and the door opened. Jack sat up straight and smiled upon seeing who his visitor was. 

“Hello there, Sally.”

“Hello, Jack.” Sally walked over to him happily, hands placed behind her back. “...I came to see you, just like I said.”

“So you have” the skeleton chuckled and stood from his seat, coming around to meet her on the other side of the desk.

“How was your morning?” She asked him.

“Relatively normal, the meetings ran smoothly. The vampires seem happy with their new role. How about you?” 

“Very good, thank you. I’ve already designed out a plan for Zero’s scarf- I think I’m going to head across town to buy some fabric for it after lunch.” She moved her head forward and leaned against her husband, taking his hand. “...I missed you, you know..”

“Awe, it’s only been a couple hours” he squeezed her hand back, “..I missed you as well. I felt bad leaving you so suddenly this morning.” 

“It’s nothing to feel bad about, dearest. You have important… kingly duties that need attending too.”

“Yes, but” Jack straightened his back to face her, brushing a piece of her hair to the side and cupping her cheek lovingly. “...Nothing is more important to me than you are.” 

Sally blushed a bit. “Well… I’m here now.”

He chuckled again, “True. And in that case..” Jack brushed his thumb along the side of her lip, and wrapped his free hand around her waist. “May I?”

“Of course..”

With both their eyes closed, they leaned in. Their lips barely brushed together when a loud bang was heard and the door suddenly swung open. 

“Jack!” the Mayor shouted as he strutted into the room, “Some of the ghosts have requested a meeting with you for this afternoon! Did you finish signing the-” he halted suddenly, noticing the image of the king and queen in front of him. “-papers….” 

Jack and Sally jolted away from each other, embarrassed. It would be one thing if they were in a private area, but technically Jack was supposed to be working right now. He let go of Sally and stared blankly at the mayor. It was quiet for a second, before the short politician spoke again.

“Is this… a bad time..?” 

“No..” snapping out of it, the skeleton cleared his throat and shook his head. “-No! No, no, it’s alright. What is it that you need, Mayor?” 

“Well… ahem.” he adjusted his papers, “-I was just coming to check if you were finished! Like I said, the ghosts have a matter in which they wish to speak with you about, they were hoping for this afternoon.” 

“I see..” Jack glanced at Sally- who was staring at the ground- before walking back around the desk to check his meeting schedule. “...I should have enough time to fit something in. Let them know I’ll come find them as soon as I can.”

“Will do! How are the documents coming along?” 

“Just fine, I’m almost finished.”

“Right, well… try to get done as quickly as possible! Remember there’s a lot to do today. I’ll check back in soon!” As he turned to leave again, he realized he hadn’t even acknowledged Sally. Not wanting to be rude, he tipped his hat to her awkwardly. “-horrible morning, Mrs. Skellington.” 

She forced a smile and waved. “Morning..” 

With one last nod, the Mayor turned and walked out the door. It shut with a very satisfying click. 

“Call me crazy, but...” Jack sat down in his chair. “...I don’t think we seem to be having very good luck today.”

“Well, that was certainly.. something.” She laughed nervously. “Doesn’t seem that way, does it? I should probably get going.” 

“Awe, so soon?” He teased. Sally rolled her eyes. 

“Nice try, Mr. Skellington. You’ve got documents to finish.” She thought for a moment. “How about.. If we meet up for lunch instead?”

“Horrific idea! I’ll come find you in… an hour maybe? How about it?” 

Sally smiled, heading towards the door. “Sounds good, my love. I’ll see you soon.” 

“You as well…” She blew Jack a kiss before finally departing. 

The skeleton sighed, slightly frustrated about being interrupted again, and annoyed that he’s back to work when he knows he’d much rather be spending time with his wife. Just one day… that's all he’d ask for. But.. he’ll get to see her again soon. Just knowing that she’ll be waiting to have lunch with him was enough to brighten his mood back up a bit. Picking up his quill, he dipped it in ink, and continued right where he left off. 

--

“This was a great idea, Sal.” Jack smiled at her as they walked along the side of the street, hand in hand. The restaurant they were going to eat at was just a few buildings away. “It feels like it's been ages since we’ve eaten out like this.”

“Oh, I agree” The ragdoll fluttered her eyelashes. “-And the nicest part is, we can spend more time together. I know we usually eat lunch just the two of us, but, It does feel like you’ve been rather busy as of late..”

“Ah, yes. Once we hit less than 100 days until Halloween.. My schedule can get pretty crowded.” He squeezed her hand, “-but you know I’ll always make time for you, just say the word, day or night.” Sally giggled. 

“I know… but I do hate to bother you when you’re busy.”

“I’ll never be too busy for you, Sally” The couple exchanged a heartfelt glance as they approached the doors to the restaurant. Jack held it open for her, bowed, and winked.

“-After you, my Queen.” 

The two chose to sit in the back, in a small secluded booth where they could finally be alone. They placed their drinks, which came rather quickly, and then their orders. Sally finally relaxed her shoulders and sighed.

“I forgot how nice this place is..” She admitted, “How long has it been since we were here?”

“Hmm…” Jack thought for a moment. “...I don’t think we’ve been here since before our wedding.”

“Oh, my. Well then, I’m very glad you could make it here with me.” 

“As am I..” he hesitated, before adding. “..The mayor seems determined on keeping us apart today, doesn’t he?” 

She laughed. “It does seem that way. I think he just wants you to stay focused on Halloween.” 

“Ohh, come on now. I’m plenty focused.” 

“Really? You weren’t thinking of me at all, earlier?” She teased him.

“Well…”

“That’s what I thought.” Sally laughed, grabbing the top of her straw and moving it to sip her Drink. Jack tried not to smile but couldn’t help himself. 

“Alright, you got me. Maybe I was a little distracted…” he reached across the table and placed his hand on top of hers. “But how could I not be, when you’re so…” He searched his head for the right word, “...alluring.” 

She blushed a bit and intertwined her fingers into his. “You aren’t bad yourself, you know..”

The skeleton chucked, and opened his mouth to reply before being instantaneously cut off by a loud voice echoing through the restaurant. 

“JACK!! There you are!!”

For the love of the Pumpkin Patch you have GOT to be kidding me.

Jack turned around and sure enough, the mayor was rushing towards them with his unhappy face flipped. As he ran up to them he showed absolutely zero regard to the fact that he was OBVIOUSLY barging right into their date.

“Mayor-”

“JACK!! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!! We have a problem, we need you to come quick!” 

He glanced at Sally, then back to the mayor. “Surely, this can wait? I haven’t even-”

“NO!! There’s been an accident with the pumpkins!! We need you right NOW!!” 

The king sighed. Never a moment's peace. He looked at Sally, who had an expression of pity on her face. He felt absolutely horrible that their moment was being ruined yet again. And for a reason that was probably unnecessary, knowing how the mayor tends to overreact. But, it was clear he wasn’t going to leave without Jack. 

“Alright, alright. I’ll be right there..” He turned to his wife. “Sally-”

“No, Jack. It’s okay. I understand, this seems important.” She took his hand and they both stood out of their seats. “I’ll just take our food to go, okay? See you at home, dearest.” Jack nodded solemnly, kissed her once on the cheek and took his leave, following closely behind the mayor. Annoyance burned in the back of his throat, but he tried to swallow it and decided to just deal with the situation as quickly as possible. The sooner he could get home to Sally, the better. 

--

Truth be told, Sally expected this sort of thing to happen. The mayor… he was always like this. Could never seem to take a hint. But it was alright, it couldn’t be helped. She understood that perfectly.

The ragdoll was back at Skellington manor now, sitting on the second floor in her sewing room. She was currently working on that scarf she wanted to make Zero. As disappointed as she was that her date with Jack a few hours ago was cut short, she was at least somewhat glad to get started on this. After leaving the restaurant she spent some time around town, chatted with the witches a bit, purchased the fabric she needed and even was able to call and have a short conversation with Jewel over the phone. 

For Zero’s scarf she picked the color combination of black, white, and orange, thinking it would go well for the ghostly pup. At the moment, he was sleeping soundly at her feet, seeming unaware of the gift his mistress was making him. 

Sally glanced at the clock, wondering how long it would be before Jack would return home. Almost on cue, she heard the front door open.

Jack was exhausted after today. Sure, he got lots of work done, but it seemed to be that the one thing he wanted to do was the one thing he couldn’t - spend time with his beloved. While yes, they have all the time they could want together during most of the evening and the night, but it doesn’t feel much the same. He wanted to be able to do more with her, spend time around town, without getting interrupted constantly. He knows that he usually gets busy around this time- but- this would be the first time experiencing a busy rush while being a married man. 

Jack shook his head to clear it. He reminded himself that this won’t be his only opportunity- that didn’t stop him from being annoyed, however. But he was home now. So it no longer mattered. 

He slipped off his shoes, and then his suit jacket, hanging it up by the door. “Dearest?” he called, “I’m h-!”

Jack’s sentence was cut off as Sally came at him suddenly, jumping and  wrapping her arms around him. He made an ‘oof’ sound as her weight was thrusted onto his chest, rather unexpectedly.

“Sal..”

“Welcome home, my love!” she cooed.

“Ah...haha..thank you. I’m glad to finally be here.”

“So am I..” 

“What have you been up to..?”

“Oh, nothing much. But I have been waiting for you. What do you say we relax a bit? Before making dinner?” 

“After today? I’d love nothing more.” The skeleton chucked and let go of her. They walked across the room to the lunge area, sitting back on the couch where they were that morning so they could be more comfortable. A bit of cuddling would really hit the spot right now. 

Jack sat down and opened his arms to her, to which Sally took the invitation right away. She fell into his lap with no hesitation, then onto her back to the side which pulled him down next to her. They wrapped their arms around each other and Sally nuzzled herself into his collar. She sighed blissfully through her nose. 

“I needed this… I love you, Jack..” 

“I love you too” Jack smiled, he tilted his head down and left soft kisses across her cheek that trailed down the stitches by her lips. She giggled at this, about to turn her head to kiss him back when,

SCCRRRREEEEEEEECCCHHHHHH!

The doorbell screamed loudly, once again startling the both of them. Jack, fed up, expressed his annoyance out loud this time. 

“Are you serious right now..”

Sally couldn’t help but laugh. “You were right, it’s just not our day, is it?” 

“I don’t feel like getting up…”

“Jack, go answer the door please.” 

SCCRRRREEEEEEEECCCHHHHHH!

It rang again. Jack grumbled. 

“This is getting kind of ridiculous..” 

“Sweetheart, the sooner you answer the door, the sooner you come back here.” 

As ticked off as he was, Jack knew she was right. Reluctantly, both of them sat up and let go of eachother. The king got off the couch and began making his way towards the door.

SCCRRRREEEEEEEECCCHHHHHH!

“JAAACK?? ARE YOU HOME?”

The third screech was accompanied by the mayor's voice. Go figure. Whatever he wanted, it better be important. He was ecstatic when Jack opened the door. 

“Ah!! There you are!! I thought I'd seen you come back here.” Trying to stay patient with him, Jack just nodded. 

“Yes, do you need something, Mr. Mayor?” 

“Right, of course! I just wanted to bring you these.” He held out a stack of papers in his hand. He explained, “..These are the things I’ve gathered that need to be done in the next two days!! There’s quite a bit on there… I figured you might want to get a head start!” 

He took the stack from him and examined it. He was right… There was a lot. But Jack really wasn’t in the mood for this right now. 

“..I see. Thank you, Mayor, I’ll be sure to get started as soon as possible.”

“Horrible to hear!! Well, I have to get going. I’ve got a few more things to organize myself- have a terrible night, Jack!”

“You as well.” He bid him goodbye, and shut the door behind him.

Finally back inside, Jack dropped the papers onto the counter. He paged through them briefly… It could take a while to get through this. It would probably be wise to start that night.

But no.

Right now, all he really wanted to do was be by Sally’s side. Just to hold her, and not have to worry about anything for a little while. 

He brushed the papers off to the side, deciding right then that he would deal with it tomorrow morning. Because right now, he finally, FINALLY had the one thing he wanted all day. 

Just him, Sally, and their love for eachother.

He could never ask for anything better.

[saphirered]

I just want to say your writing is absolutely amazing! It's what I read to destress after college courses and I hope your having a good day and taking care of yourself!

If your still open for requests though how about Yasha with an S/O who comes to her in the middle of the night because they had a nightmare?

Thank you so much! double shifts have popped up again but I've been dealing and have managed to do some writing in between. Take care and I hope you enjoy this one! 😘

-

You don’t know exactly what’s the cause of this recent raise in night terrors you’re experiencing. Endless falling into the void, drowning deep beneath the waves unable to swim, being on the run trying to escape a falling city, those you can deal with. Sure they don’t provide the most comfortable night’s rest but you can deal. The ones that truly haunt you, have you stunned and off your game are the ones involving your friends and family. The hopelessness of being unable to save them from a demises, or worse; them being killed by your hand, watching all your fears crash down upon you. You can’t keep doing this. Not even Caduceus’ special tea can keep the nightmares at bay. You’ll find yourself waking up in the middle of the night breathing heavy more often than not trying to calm yourself before attempting to go back to sleep.

This night is no different. You’d fallen asleep within the warm comforts of the dome provided by Caleb but not long after the nightmares showed up again.

You’re standing in the darkness; an eternal void like the blackness of the depths of the ocean but you’re not swimming. You’re floating. You see a flash of red come by and disappear as quick as it came. You hear the movement of shackles. Heavy shackles. You hear maddening laughter, the unsheathing of a blade and then a piercing pain between your ribs. You fall to your knees clutching the source of your pain as your breathing shallows. Your hands feel wet, sticky and warm. Glancing down you see it’s blood. You’re bleeding, heavily. You begin to panic, trying what you can to stop the bleeding but you feel weaker, a vignette clouding your vision as you desperately look around.

You hear the breaking of a chain, a battlecry, one of rage and heartbreak, the sound of metal clashing against metal. The maddening laughter comes to a stop. A flash of red comes by you again but still you cannot make out the details. Something touches you and you feel cold, so cold. Your limbs grow weaker and you’re having a hard time staying on your knees, the void is spinning around you. You fall to your side. It’s becoming harder and harder to breathe and as your hand lays within your view you can see it stained red. You move your fingertips barely a feeling left in them but the cold and you plead that whatever gods are watching will be merciful, will be at the side of your friends when the time comes.

The pain is unbearable but you can’t resign yourself to this fate. You’re not done yet. You have to stay. You have to… A hand touches your bloody one and you see black boots step into your vision. For a moment you think the final blow is coming but it doesn’t.

“No.” The word sounds like a silent sob. The voice is familiar to you but sounds so distant. The figure kneels down besides you and you can barely muster the strength to look up at them. There you see your white and black haired angel. She’s divine and for a moment you consider you’re to be carried to the afterlife. It’s the desperate scream ending in a stifled cry that makes you think otherwise. Yasha’s face is ridden with guilt and pain and anger but you know not who the latter is directed at. You can’t bring yourself to smile or comfort her, tell her it’s all going to be okay. You feel sad, the pain of the heartbreak, a thousand time worse than the cold numbness washing over you as the void grows darker and more consuming, to where not even your radiant angel can keep it at bay.

And then you wake, not shooting up in a sweat or a scream or shout. You wake up in silence, trails of moisture running down your face as your eyes open and you feel cold despite the warmth of the dome. Stretching and curling your fingers you can still feel the phantom stickiness of blood, your blood staining them but your hands are clean and clear. You wipe the tears from your cheeks as you sit up burying your head in your hands with a deep breath trying to calm yourself. You do in the sense you do not suffer a panic attack or a mental breakdown but you cannot scratch that feeling from your dream. There’s something harrowing about it, something true and you can’t shake it.

Then there you see Yasha, on guard for her shift of the night’s watch keeping her gaze trained on the wastes of Xhorhas. Not much longer before you make it to Bazzoxan. Not much longer before you all get some more answers about this Angel of Irons. There’s something in your mind that tells you to go to her, like Yasha is a beacon in the middle of a storm, keeping safe those trapped within it but it’s also laced with an unknown sense of loss and sadness. You decide to listen to it. Getting up, blanket still wrapped around your shoulders you approach the barbarian.

“Mind if I join you?” You ask. Yasha nods for you to sit down next to her and the two of you sit in silence. The lingering cold in your body is vanquished simply by her presence and you’re thankful you listened to that gut feeling instead of being stubborn and sucking it up dealing with it on your own.

“Did you not get your tea from Caduceus?” Yasha asks breaking the silence. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her. She knows you’ve been suffering from night terrors. She wasn’t unfamiliar with the concept herself and she feels sorry for you. Gods know what she’s tried to do to get rid of hers, but to no ends. Maybe she should be thankful for losing parts of her past because at least she cannot remember the nightmares she’d undoubtedly suffered within that same time.

“Yes. But it’s not working anymore. I don’t know what it is lately. Maybe it’s just the Barbed Fields getting to me in some way but every dream seems more… true… than the one before. It scares me.” You admit looking over the wastes with a deep sigh. Yasha awkwardly pats your shoulder. She’s not sure how to bring you any comfort in this. You send her an appreciative smile no less, thanking her for the effort.

The two of you watch the Barbed Fields, a storm rumbling in the distance and both of you let out a sigh, one of relief, as if the storm brings you some sense of comfort and warmth despite it’s nature. Maybe the Storm Lord smiles upon you, answering to your prayers by offering distraction. Or maybe more likely, sending you a warning of what’s to come but you dare not assume. You dare not interpret just as you dare not interpret your dreams anymore, scared of the answers you will find.

Yasha opens up her harms and allows you to lean into her side. Whatever phantom memories, pain and cool remained within you fade as you watch lightning strike in the distance, the ground rumbling beneath you. Neither of you jump or make move. There’s a serenity and safety in that light illuminating the skies for a brief second. You feel yourself humming to a melody as Yasha rubs circles into your shoulder. The melody falters and loses pace as your exhaustion returns.

“Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake.” Yasha encourages as you try to fight the sleep. She gently guides you down until you have your head resting on her thigh using it as a pillow. Yasha strokes a few strands of hair from your face as you take in a deep breath and nod best you can. The promise made by the woman feels like the truest thing you’ve ever heard and you can’t do anything but obey. You take one last glance up at Yasha’s face trained on the storm. She looks like a champion from the tales long past and you couldn’t think of anyone better to guard you while you sleep and keep the nightmares at bay.

Yasha does keep the nightmares at bay. You don’t know why or how nor do you care to understand. It is simply a fact; when you’re near Yasha the terrors fade and your sleep is restful so she’ll keep you company until morning and you’re back on the road again until your nightmares have truly gone and long beyond. She’ll be your the light in the darkness of your dreams no matter what. She’ll be there for you.

[thelordofdarkreunion]

The Experts

The second story of this story-line.  Another caveat of the request was to have the Imperials and Dr. Strange here, so here they are.  I have decided to name the planet ‘Polaris C,’ so as to give it some sort of name.  Enjoy Dr. Stephen Strange, Lord Inquisitor Hector Rex, and the Grey Knights meeting the Scoundrels.  As usual, I own no one here except Drake.  

“It is the duty of the Sorcerer Supreme to defend Earth and humanity against all magical and extra-dimensional threats.” -Dr. Stephen Strange

“I am the hammer, the right hand of the Emperor, the instrument of His will, the gauntlet about His fist, the tip of His spear, the edge of His sword!”  -Motto of the Grey Knights

When Doctor Stephen Strange had received a message from Peter Quill, he had almost laughed aloud.  Quill.  Peter Quill, in his opinion, was not only an idiot but a slight egotist.  He had almost laughed.  Almost.  If the message was not a missive asking for help.  His help, specifically.  Strange knew that if Quill, of all people, was begging for his help, then things were very serious.  So with slight misgiving (he didn’t quite know what he was getting himself into), Strange’s cloak had affixed itself to his shoulders and he had opened a portal to the bizarre planet Quill described in the message.  

He almost wished he didn’t come.  The planet itself was filled with strange red mist from an unknown source.  Not a problem, though.  His magic could easily take care of that.  It was the commotion.  People and aliens of all sorts, from all different places, were running about up to god only knew what.  A huge, bipedal metal robot (at least he thought it was a robot) trudged around, seemingly scanning a collection of long abandoned black buildings in the distance.  Soldiers of various sorts, all dressed differently, many of species he did not recognize, ran around doing things he couldn’t even guess at.  

To his left, greatcoat swirling ominously in the mist, lenses of his mask blending in with the background, was Peter Quill.  As soon as Quill saw the sorcerer, he ran up to him, almost hugging him before Strange stopped him.  

“Oh thank god you’re here!” almost shouted Quill.  “I don’t know what the hell’s happening and neither do we and neither to the GA and Cooper is trying to scan the structures to see what’s happening and he’s the only one who’s actually helping and Cain called the Imperial Inquisition who are arguing with the aliens and this reminds me way too much of when my father possessed me so can you help?”  Strange’s mouth worked spasmodically for a moment at Quill’s rant.  Quill almost hugged him and was now begging for his help.  This was a serious situation, then.  Strange held up his gloved hands.  

“Calm.  Down.”  Quill took a few deep breaths.  

“Okay.  Okay.  I’m calm.”  

“Good.  Now, take me to them,” commanded Strange.  Quill gave a nod and beckoned Strange forward.  The swirling mist parted to reveal a series of tents, the sort that he recognized from disasters he’d seen on the news.  Cold and clinical.  They ducked underneath a flap and passed swiftly through an airlock before getting into the main area of the largest tent.  It was much bigger than Strange thought it would be.  Various humans, all wearing whatever armor they had on at the time of the event, lay on cots lining the walls.  All of them were out cold.  

It was not the people on the cots, though, that caught Strange’s attention.  An imposing blond haired woman stood in the middle of it, bickering with two aliens: a small, bug-like creature and an eight foot tall, four armed, blue carapaced alien.  The woman wore a tight black bodysuit, and was currently glaring daggers at the black, bug-like alien.  The four armed one stood behind the bug, both pairs of arms crossed in a gesture that was remarkably human.  

“You can’t tell us what to do!” shouted the shorter insectoid.  “We rule this galaxy, and we will do this our way.”  The blond haired woman sneered at the two aliens.

“Chairwoman.”  The word was imbued with so much venom that it made Strange look up sharply from where he was studying one of the unconscious forms.  “You have no idea what any of this does, not to mention that-”  She was cut off by the beeping of her comms device.  She held a finger to her ear, and paused to listen to what was being said on the other side.  “Understood,” she replied.  She turned back to the chairwoman.  “Well then.  Do it your way.  Xenos no longer has authority here.  Take up the matter with Malleus.”  She spun on her heel and strode out of the tent.  On her way out, she almost slammed into a brown haired man wearing high boots and a leather jacket.  He sharply avoided her, then gave her a glare as she walked out.  Following him was an utterly massive individual in heavy green armor.  Super soldier, though Strange.  He’d bet his life on it.

“Well, looks like that’s all done now,” said the newcomer.  He walked over to Strange and held out his hand.  “Han Solo.  You must be the expert that Quill called in.”  

“Indeed I am,” replied Strange, still puzzled of what precisely was transpiring here.  

“Master Chief John-117,” replied the green armored man with about as much emotion as a bag of rocks.

“Good to know we have a true expert on hand,” said the strange, bug-like alien as she walked over.  “Hopefully you will be more agreeable.  I am the Chairwoman of the Galactic Assembly,” she announced.  

“Doctor Stephen Strange,” replied Strange politely.  “And I am here to help.”  The large, blue carpaced alien introduced herself as Sunny, chief weapons officer of the Omen.  With introductions out of the way, Strange approached the cots of the unconscious humans.  “Now, what precisely happened here?” he asked.

“We were inside one of the larger buildings in the middle of the abandoned city over there,” said Sunny, pointing to a direction outside the tent.  “We went through it… seemed like some sort of weird laboratory.  There was some sort of main central room.  The room had blast doors; big ones to keep something out.  They were open though.  There was some sort of glowing white orb on a central pedestal.  When Wilson, one of the scientists,” she pointed out Wilson, lying unconscious on another cot, “Touched it, it emitted a blast of white energy.  It knocked out all of the humans.  No aliens were harmed, and, oddly, the humans from one particular galaxy were not affected.  They all seem to have some sort of glowing white light around their eye areas, and Adam muttered ‘Deus’ under his breath while still unconscious.”  Strange didn’t know who Adam was, but this sounded… serious.  And weird.  Weirdly serious?  No.  Perhaps seriously weird?  Stop getting off track, Stephen.  

“Okay.  It is good you called me,” said Strange.  He paused for a moment, considering what he should do next.  “Can you take me to the orb?” he asked.  The chairwoman opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by the tramping of boot soles on the tent’s artificial ground.  A double file of soldiers came into the tent, along with three hooded, red robed individuals.  

“Scions,” hissed Sunny.  The soldiers all wore heavy black armor, and carried blocky rifles, at the moment pointed downward, but ready to fire.  The red robed individuals hugged the shadows, their cowls concealing their faces.  All of the newcomers had the same symbol emblazoned on their clothing: a stylized “I” with a human skull in the center.  Sigil of the Imperial Inquisition.  

“What is the meaning of this?” roared the chairwoman.  For a bug, she had a pretty impressive voice.  

“This planet is now interdicted,” replied one of the Scions.  Strange glowered at him.  If looks could kill, the chairwoman’s would have reduced the man to cinders at this point.  

“Under whose authority?” she snapped.  The arguing figures all turned around as massive footsteps sounded behind them.

“Mine.”  A huge man tore his way through the airlock of the tent.  Long grey hair was thrown uncaringly across his head, and a red cloak across his shoulders.  Ornate power armor, fitted to his large frame, glowed a dull silver in the weak light.  He was utterly massive, coming to reach the height of the Master Chief.  A beautifully crafted sword rested on his hip, and a bronze breathing mask covered his lower face.  However, it was not at this man that Strange’s eyes turned to.  It was the group of individuals that followed him.  If the man in front was a giant among men, the coterie that followed him were gods among giants.  They stood eye to eye with Sunny, towing a full foot above the Chief and grey haired man.  Each of the five wore silvery grey power armor, covered with strange runes, inscriptions, and seals.  Huge, twin barreled cannons were attached to their left arms, and in their right they all held halberds, suitably sized for their massive frames.  They stared at Strange and the group clustered around him from behind silver helmets.  Vision slits, glowing white-blue, seemed to peer into their very souls. 

With a start and a huge sense of foreboding, Strange realized what they were.  The size of genetically engineered soldiers, the strange runes and seals on their armor, the magic resonance of the ammunition in their guns and the power whispering through their halberds, all augmented by the fact that each of the silver warriors was a sorcerer of fearsome potency spoke of one thing.  These individuals were created and trained for one purpose, and one purpose only: slaying demons.  

If Strange could take a human being and make them into a weapon perfect for destroying the extra-dimensional beings that some called demons, he would have a result very similar to these silent, silver soldiers.  He could already feel the icy trickle of sweat as it made his way down his back.  This was not good.  Things had gotten a lot more serious.  

“Who are you?” half-whispered the GA chairwoman.  The sheer presence these newcomers had put Strange and everyone else in the room on edge.  

“I am Lord Inquisitor Hector Rex of the Ordo Malleus of the Holy Ordos of His Divine Majesty’s Most Holy Inquisition,” replied the grey haired man.  Well, this guy’s very dramatic and, apparently, very holy, was Strange’s first thought.  “We are here to investigate the possession of these individuals,” went on Rex.  

“As am I,” cut in Strange.  He was the Sorcerer Supreme of Earth, dammit, and he would not be intimidated by the likes of these men.  He could sense the Inquisitor, too, was a sorcerer, and a damn good one at that.  “Doctor Stephen Strange.”  Being polite couldn’t hurt, could it?  The Inquisitor gave no response as the lead silver giant stepped forward.  Strange and the various aliens winced as the temperature in the room dropped noticeably.  The giant warrior held out a hand and touched Strange’s forehead with his fingers; not too gentle, not too rough, it simply just was.  Strage felt the man peering into his very soul, but remained silent and still.  He had a feeling the giants would respect that more than any protests he could muster.  

“This one is pure of soul and strong of mind,” announced the warrior.  His deep bass voice rumbled and reverberated through the tent.  Strange found it disquieting.  The man introduced as John-117 had a flat, but normal human voice.  All the super soldiers he’d met in his home galaxy all had relatively normal voices.  It appeared that this one was so heavily augmented his voice was stronger and went much deeper than a usual human.  How intriguing.  

“Very well, then,” replied Rex.  “You.”  He pointed at Strange.  “Come with us.  Everyone else, stay here.  No one leaves.”  On that ominous note, Rex spun, and with a swirl of his cloak, walked out the door, followed by the giant warriors and Strange.  

Elsewhere

“Ah, shit,” swore Thomas Drake.  He looked around him.  Groups of his armsmen, GA marines, and redshirts stood up, confused.  Shepard, Kirk, and Vir brushed themselves off and stared.  

“Where the hell are we?” asked Shepard.  “And where the hell is everyone else?”  They stood in an open, endless expanse of white.  The ground was pure white, the sky… or whatever was located above them pure white.  It was like being inside a sterile room.  Or an insane asylum.  

“Don’t know,” replied Vir.  “Wilson touched that orb-thingy and now here we are.”

“Where is here, exactly?” asked Kirk.

“An excellent question,” replied another voice.  The Scoundrels whirled around to face a man, ethereally floating in the non-existent air.  The figure was a human man, obviously so.  However, something seemed… off about him.  There was, of course, the fact that he was in this strange realm, and that he was floating several feet off the ground.  His face…  Well, his face was the strangest part.  It looked a perfect blend between every human variation: the eyes, the coloring, the hair, all of it.  A perfect blend of every human to ever exist.  How is that possible…?

“What are you?” asked Drake.  His hand went for his sidearm, only to find it wasn’t there.  The ethereal being chuckled.  

“I’m known by a lot of names.  You can call me Adam… Adham, and variation of the name, really.  You can call me the First, or you can call me Deus.  Your choice, really.”  

“Deus…” muttered Vir.

“Great.  Why are we here?” asked Shepard, cutting straight to the point.  

“Quite simple.  You are now imbued with my power.  The power of what you may call a god.  There are things out there that would see you corrupted, and we can’t let that happen.”  

“Good luck trying to corrupt us,” said Shepard.  The being frowned.  

“Many more powerful than you have been.  Many.  It is simply a failsafe.  Through this, you gain a portion of the power of the combined gods of humanity throughout our realms.  While you can’t do any sort of god-like things; you’ll be the same as before except in one regard.  You are all now utterly immune to any sort of corrupting influences.  No one can hijack your brains.”  

“Great,” said Vir bluntly.  “Now what?”  Deus smiled.  

“Well, unfortunately, you can’t remember this conversation.” 

“Why not?” snapped an indignant Drake.  

“Two reasons: it’s best if you don’t, and there is a small chance that if these memories remain, you might go slightly insane.  Slightly.  Still don’t want to risk it.  However, there is one other thing that I can do safely.  I have a favor to ask you.  There are artifacts hidden in several locations around my galaxy.  They carry a taint.  There is one on each of the places that this planet reaches out to.  You can figure it out from there.  I want those artifacts destroyed.”  

“Okay.  Can you send us back to... wherever we are supposed to be?” asked Kirk.  

“Yes,” nodded Deus.  He snapped his fingers.

On Polaris C

“This is the chamber,” came the reverberating voice of one of the massive, silver armored warriors.  Strange had learned they were called the Grey Knights.  They didn’t tell him anything else.  Lord Hector strode forward to the white orb on the central pedestal.  

“It doesn’t look like any… Chaotic artifact,” he murmured.  “Hmmm.”  At that moment, the orb, which had been glowing brightly, suddenly went dark. 

“What was that?’ asked Strange.  

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

Drake’s head shot up so quickly it smashed into a medical orderly who had been tending to him.  With a cry of pain, he went back down into the cot, only to miss with one hand, lose his balance, and fall on the floor.  Over his muttered curses and the orderly’s apologies, the rest of the unconscious humans woke.  Sunny rushed over to Vir’s side.

“Adam!  What happened?” she asked.  Vir rubbed his head.

“Don’t know,” he said.  “There was the orb, then Wilson touched it, then we got knocked out.”  He looked up, seeing the Scions guarding them in a strange tent.  “What the hell happened?” he asked, slightly miffed.  At that moment, the flap leading to the airlock parted, revealing Dr. Strange, Lord Rex, and the Grey Knights.

“That is precisely what I am wondering, Admiral,” said Rex.  He came forward, and held out a hand, touching Vir’s forehead.  The temperature of the room dropped, and Vir felt the uncomfortable sensation of the grey haired man staring into his soul.  Rex dropped his hand and turned to the Grey Knights.  The temperature returned to normal.  “He appears… untainted.  Normal.”  A pair of inky brown eyes stared down at the waking humans.  “However, we must be sure.  Our testing shall be… rigorous.”

There we have it.  Now, unfortunately, you ought to know that the Grey Knights have a scorched earth policy.  They fight daemons, and daemons corrupt.  Therefore, anyone who is near them is at risk.  Also, they are a secret organization, and if anyone is left alive to know about them, Chaos could use it against them.  They have been ordered to not harm the Scoundrels themselves, as they believe they are vital to some future events.  They won’t harm Strange, as they see him as a protector of his realm, much like them.  The GA people though...  Tell me what you think should happen, and if you like this story line.  If you have any comments, questions, requests, criticisms, or concerns, tell me!  

[archonanqi]

fragile as dust  / 3

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ch 3 | first impressions

    Please, sit,” the man offered. His voice was back to the way it was before, quiet, gentle and solemn. You obeyed, sitting gingerly on the edge of one of the wooden seats. “May I have your name?”

    “Hansi, sir.” Quickly, you add, “though sir can call me whatever sir likes.”

    “Hansi,” he murmured. In his lips, your name — something that’s been baggage all your life, a reminder of the woman who threw you away — sounded like divinity. “Please, call me Zhongli.”

    Okay. The meeting was not going at all how you expected. But then again, it was what you figured: honorable in public, but behind closed doors—

    “Yes, Mr. Zhongli,” you nodded.

    “Would you like some tea?” He gestured to the other cup in the middle of the table. It was filled with a faint, golden liquid. “Please, help yourself. It’s Pu’Er.”

    You only froze for a second. Sure, you’d play along. You thanked him, reaching for the cup. It burned your fingers through the porcelain, but Archons be damned if you were going to drop and break it. You took a small sip. It scorched your parched throat all the way down.

    “How is it?”

    “It’s good, sir—“

    “Zhongli,” he reminded you gently.

    “It’s good, Mr. Zhongli.” It was not a lie — you wouldn’t be able to tell good tea from boiled grass, but the cup you just downed warmed your stomach and soothed your frayed nerves.

    “I’m glad to hear that,” he smiled, and suddenly — too late — you realized that maybe you shouldn’t have drunk something that you hadn’t watched this strange man prepare. You knew of the drugs that these men sometimes slipped into the food they gave to street rats like you, you’d seen many a woman and child stolen away because of it.

    You cursed yourself — what had happened to keeping your guard up? Was a soothing voice and pretty face all it took to earn your trust these days?

    You stiffened as he raised a gloved hand. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but you certainly were not expecting him to launch into a monologue about the history of Pu’Er tea.

    He did, anyway, losing you somewhere between “harvested from the caves of Ling’ju Pass” and “aged delicately for fifteen years”. To say that his behavior had transcended bewildering was an understatement. Was this some kind of setup? A sick joke that rich people played on their new servants and slaves?

    You realized that he’d stopped talking, clearly awaiting a response.

    “Wow, aged for fifteen years. That’s a uh, long time,” you offered lamely. Archon help you.

    “It may seem so,” Zhongli mused, “but it’s precisely that fermentation process that gives the Pu’Er tea its signature flavor. Fifteen years is but a small price to pay for such a unique experience, don’t you think?”

    Briefly, you remembered all the trinkets and wallets and jewelry you’d stolen from passersby, how desperately you’d pawned them off at the nearest willing merchant for the promise of a meal or two.

    “Yes,” you agreed, even though you couldn’t begin to imagine being rich enough to wait fifteen years to sell something.

    It had been a few minutes since you’d drunk the first sip of tea, and you were still fine. Besides, he was drinking from the same pot. Maybe the tea was safe, after all. You took another sip, finishing your cup. Despite yourself, you found yourself hoping that Zhongli would continue talking in that silky voice of his, even if it was just about fermented tea leaves.

    “I do apologize for rambling the evening away. I’m sure you’re exhausted from your journey.” He continued, “If you’re finished with your tea, perhaps we should head home. We can talk tomorrow, once you’ve rested.”

    Home. You swallowed a dry retch, the implications stuck in your throat. Of course. It served you right for forgetting what you were here for. Behind closed doors—

    “Yes. We can go if that’s what pleases you, Mr. Zhongli.” Your voice broke twice in that sentence. If Zhongli noticed, he did not say anything about it.

    He rose from his seat, and suddenly you realized just how tall, how solid he was. If you ran, he would catch you. If you fought back—

    Sweeping by you, he opened the door and stepped aside, gesturing into the night air. “After you.”

---

    You trailed a few feet behind him as you two walked through the quiet, twisting alleys of Liyue. You thought you knew the city well enough, having lived on its streets for as long as you had, but he seemed to know the back roads of the city like it were an extension of his own body.

    You took a deep breath to calm yourself. He left behind a faint lingering scent of flowers — like the glaze lilies you’d stolen from Yujing Terrace to pawn, but mostly, he smelled of warmth — earthy, spices, the fresh spring grass.

    Seeing Zhongli in all his standing glory made you suddenly and horribly aware of how unsightly you were in comparison. You’d been cleaned up before the escort, but there were still yellowing bruises that the damp cloth couldn’t erase, chewed fingernails and frayed hair and rib bones that jut out from under pallid skin. And while the dress you were wearing was the nicest thing you’d ever owned, it was but rags in comparison to the elegant outfit Zhongli was clad in.

    Your gaze stopped at his waist, and the golden gem dangling at his belt.

    “Is that a Vision?” you blurted, and immediately regret it. “I’m sorry, it’s not my place to ask about you, Mr. Zhongli.”

    “Please, never apologize for speaking your mind,” Zhongli answered, without missing a stride. “And to answer your question, yes. A Geo Vision.”

    The one at your chest is still warm against your skin. “That’s amazing,” you say, and you meant it. Vision users were powerful people capable of unbelievable feats — even raised on the streets, you knew that. You wondered how Zhongli got his Vision: a fight, perhaps, against the ferocious monsters that roamed the wilderness outside Liyue Harbor?

    If Zhongli had a Vision, there was no longer any doubt about it: the Vision given to you was a mistake. How could you ever hope to compare to someone like him? “You must be an incredible person, if Rex Lapis himself acknowledged you.”

    Zhongli did take pause at that, peering at you with a strange look in his eyes. A small smile danced across his lips. “That is one way to think of it,” he acknowledged, as he continued walking. “It has been said that Rex Lapis only grants Visions to those he deems the most worthy.”

    The rest of the trek was silent, until he stopped walking so suddenly that you almost bumped into him. You looked up from the ground, and found your breath taken away by the sculpture before you. It was a statue of Rex Lapis — there were plenty around Liyue, but tonight, silver stone gleaming under a sky full of stars, he looked ethereal.

    “This was cast by the first generation of Hanfeng Ironmongers, long before mankind mastered the properties of flame and the forge,” Zhongli said, citing the name of the most famous clan of blacksmiths in Liyue Harbor. “Each time I pass it, I like to take a moment to stop and admire it. It’s a beautiful statue.”

    “Beautiful,” you echoed absently, “he’s beautiful.” This was the Archon who had saved your life with that Vision, whether he’d meant to or not. You offered a silent prayer — of unyielding gratitude, for forgiveness, and for mercy. When you opened your eyes, Zhongli was eyeing you with a strange look on his face.

    “I would ask you what you prayed for,” he chuckles, “but some superstitious folk would say then that your prayers won’t come true. Shall we continue? We are almost home.”

---

    After ten more minutes of walking, you could feel your ankles trembling under the weight of your body. You and Zhongli had left Liyue, and begun walking through the forests on the outskirts of the city. Finally, he came to a stop in front of a house tucked into the foliage of a valley. It was a sizable estate, with a walled back garden and two floors, but you were mildly surprised that he hadn’t brought you to a castle, at this point.

    Zhongli unlocked the door and gestured, again, for you to go ahead. Your stomach in knots, you took your first step into your new home — and prison.

    It was warm.

    Embers crackled in the fireplace of the living room, casting a faint golden glow on the tasteful, lavish furniture that lined the floor. There were tapestry scrolls on either side of the fireplace here too. You don’t understand the poetry written on these ones, either.

    “Welcome to my home,” Zhongli said, walking past you. He did not touch you. “We have much to discuss, but that can wait until tomorrow. You look like you’re on the brink of collapse, and we can’t have you getting sick from exhaustion.” Despite yourself, you feel a small twinge of something at that — you’d never, in your life, had someone care about your health. He probably just doesn’t want to deal with the hassle of a sick servant, you told yourself.

    “Let us go to bed and have a good night’s sleep first,” Zhongli continued, and anything you’d felt quickly soured.

    Bed. You swallowed the panic rising bright and hot in your lungs. You might not be as educated as he surely was, but you were not naive. You knew that sleep was not what you would be getting tonight. The plea got stuck on your tongue. What could you say, to stop this rich, powerful man from claiming what was his?

    “Let me show you to your room.” He beckoned at you to follow as he strode down a long hallway. You blinked, too stunned to obey for a moment, before running after him.

    “My room?” You asked.

    “Yes.” He paused at the end of the hallway, opening one of the doors to reveal a cozy bedroom. Like everything else about Zhongli, it was tastefully decorated — lush, dark green curtains framing a circular window. A bed sat in the corner of the room, adorned with thick blankets and more pillows than you’d ever seen in your life.

    “This room was a study until very recently, and so these drawers are still currently full of my things,” Zhongli gestured to the bedside table, “but the closets are empty and free for you to use. I was thinking that we could go shopping for some clothes for you tomorrow, if you were feeling well enough. I do apologize for not purchasing any in advance, I was not sure of your measurements—“

    “Wait,” you said, afraid to let yourself hope. “Wait. We won’t be sharing a bed?”

    He turned to look at you, surprise briefly flashing in his eyes, and you’d never wanted to take back a sentence so badly in your life. A palpable silence draped the room, as Zhongli studied you so intently that you thought you might fall over dead, right then and there.

    “Truthfully tell me,” he said, voice as low as a hum. “Is that what you would want?”

    It took all of your courage to shake your head.

    “Then we will have our separate rooms,” Zhongli said, with an air of decisive finality, and continued like he hadn’t just shaken your world. “I will show you around the house tomorrow. There is water in the jug by your bed. Is there anything you might need for the night?”

    You shake your head mutely, again.

    “Very well. My room is right across the hall — please do not hesitate to shout if you need anything.” Zhongli smiled, and it’s so beautiful that you had to shake the shivers from your spine. “Good night, Hansi.”

    There it was again, your name in his lips — divine.

    Zhongli closed the door gently behind him, and you sunk to your knees, all the strength suddenly gone from your body. You’d survived the first evening with your new master. You’d survived.

    Once you picked yourself back up, you peeled your Geo Vision out from under the dress, taking your first look at it under the proper light of an oil lamp. It’s unframed, of course, unlike Zhongli’s, but the golden gemstone was identical in all other ways — catching the light in all its facets with a dazzling shimmer. When you put it into the bedside drawer, shoving it under the piles of scrolls and parchments, you were surprised to feel a twinge of sadness.

    Stupid. How could you miss something that was not rightfully yours?

    Still, you couldn’t help but feel a little excited as you clambered into the bed — your first very bed! Sinking into the sheets (they smelled heavenly), you let out an embarrassingly loud sigh of contentment.

    There was a little voice in the back of your head screaming — and part of you still knew, irrefutably, that you can’t trust Zhongli — but the call of sleep is much, much louder. You let your heavy lids fall shut, and quickly fell into the most comfortable slumber of your life.

[anjuschiffer]

Blessed Flower [Brought Us Together]

You know what I haven’t written yet? GARMARI!

Also, sorry it took his long to write this QQ

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45. I can’t imagine this world without you

48. Why are you crying?

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Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak​ @damianette-is-life​ @toodaloo-kangaroo​ @elijahcrevan​ @vixen-uchiha​ @nathleigh 

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AO3

Today was the day.

After months of sweat, blood and tears, Garfield had finally done it. He found the answer to his desire...he had cured Tara’s illness, so why?

Why did he dread this walk through the forest today? Why did his feet feel heavier with each step he took, as he got closer to the cabin he used to look forward to?

Why did he hesitate to continue down the ever so familiar path? A path he has walked down plenty of times before, both during the rain and through snow. So why? Why was he doubting himself? Wasn’t this what he wanted?

Garfield stopped, looking up towards the forest canopy, tiny beams of sunlight making its way through the dense layer of leaves.

The twilight’s breeze rustled the spring leaves, calming Garfield’s uneasiness a bit.

Taking a deep breath, Garfield recomposed himself before continuing his journey down the dirt path most of the people in his village often avoided.

“It’s cursed.” They would say.

“Those who enter often never return.” They used to warn him.

“No one dares to enter La Feerie’s Garden, even if the Blessed Flower is in it. You rather remain alive than face Lutin for her flowers.”

But despite their warnings, Garfield still went into the forest in search of the magical flower, having found it around a year ago. But upon reaching the one spot in the forest where the magical flowers bloomed, Garfield met her.

“How dare you pick ma petite fille?” A voice growled, Garfield stiffening as his hand hovered over the white flower, listening as footsteps drew near. 

He didn’t dare turn around in fear of seeing what was to possibly kill him. “Who are you and why are you-”

“I need them to help cure my friend’s illness!” Garfield blurted out, keeping his head lowered as he pulled his hand back to himself. 

Well, Tara wasn’t exactly his friend...more like the neighbor he didn’t have the guts to tell her that he liked her...but even then, he couldn’t just do nothing as he saw her dying before his eyes. “She’s been suffering from pain in her muscles and her cuts are starting to heal slowly. I heard that this flower-”

“Ah, so you’ve heard about the Blessed Flower.” The voice said monotonously, Garfield noticing that the voice was now in front of him. Bare feet were now in his vision, Garfield noticing that they looked human.

Slowly looking up, he was met with soft bluebell eyes. “And do you know how to administer it, human? Or do you plan on killing your friend?”

Garfield froze under her gaze, carefully choosing his next words. Was she not a human then? She can’t be one if she addressed him as ‘human.’

“I don’t. But I would gladly do anything to learn how to use it if it means saving my friend.” Garfield remained silent as he awaited for the girl to say something back. “Just teach me and then when she’s cured, we don’t have to see each other again. I’ll even give you permission to erase my memories if you think that’s a fair trade.”

He didn’t expect her to sputter into laughter, folding into herself as Garfield felt his body tense despite being confused by her response. 

“You’re an odd one, I’ll tell you that. Odd, but honest.” The girl finally said after composing herself. 

She stretched out her hand, Garfield looking at it before accepting it. The two stood up together, the girl smiling at Garfield despite his clear confusion. “I am Marinette, guardian witch of Edel Forest. You, what is your name?”

“Garfield Logan.” He responded. “My name is Garfield Logan. So please, Guardian, teach me how to save my friend.”

“Then follow me.” She commanded, Garfield watching as a small cottage materialized before their eyes. Or rather, came out of hiding.

As Garfield followed her into her cottage, he was met with the aroma of freshly baked bread and a hiss. He followed the sound, finding out it came from above him. A black cat with its back arched and fur sponging up was the one who greeted him with a hiss. His green eyes bore through him, the cat watching Garfield’s every move. “Don’t mind Chaton. He’s been overprotective of me ever since...do you like pie? I just finished making one!”  

Garfield simply nodded, but couldn’t help but notice the trembling of her hands as she moved around her cottage, watching as she fumbled to look for extra eating utensils.

Just how long has it been since she had anyone over that she couldn’t find another plate? 

Apparently a long time, Marinette having to resort to using a tracking spell to help her find one, causing Garfield to watch in utter awe as a plate levitated from its place and made its way to Marinette.

Meanwhile, Chaton continued to monitor him, his green eyes never once leaving Garfield out of his sight.

--

Over the course of the year, Marinette taught Garfield how to harvest the Divine, showing him which Blessed Flowers were used depending on the illness or the injury.

She taught him how to plant, care and harvest the plant. She even told him the importance of talking to the plants and how they enjoyed the extra attention. After all, it helps to enhance their healing capabilities. 

Sometimes when they were out in the field, the two would find ladybugs flying about. Garfield would tease Marinette whenever various would sit on her, Marinette whining to him that it wasn’t funny.

She taught him how to measure and procure the different medications that could come from the magical plant, Garfield absorbing everything with wonder and amazement. Who knew that the magical plant could also help with toothaches!

“Yarrow. That is its actual name.” Marinette clarified at one point when Garfield was busy packaging some yarrow into his bag to take back to the village. 

They had finished grinding up some dried yarrow and packaging them for tea. They even had a few made into pastes. “To be honest I don’t know why people call it the Blessed Flower,” she said as she unraveled her braided midnight hair.

Garfield watched as she carefully took out the red ribbon that held up her long hair, wondering why she has never done so before. It was pretty, very pretty.

“Perhaps because it can help with so many trivial things that inflict us.” Garfield provided, slinging the bag across his body, opening the door to leave. He watched as Marinette looked at him with panic, her eyes having dilated a bit before going back to normal. “I’ll be back again tomorrow, at the same time.” 

He watched as Marinette relaxed, her shoulders lowering from their tense form. 

“Have a safe trip.” She said, waving as he closed the door behind him before stopping.

“You should have your hair down more often. It’s pretty.” Garfield said, closing the door behind him and headed to the village. With each step he took, he felt his cheeks burn even more.

Why did he even say that?

--

Marinette hummed as she placed down a pot of chamomile tea on the table, gasping with glee as she remembered it's been a few minutes since she checked on her apple pie.

She skipped to her oven and carefully took the pie out, smiling at how well it came out.

She placed the pie down, liking that for once in her life, her table was cle-

Now that she thought about it, when was the last time her kitchen table wasn’t filled with books for herbs? That she had actually used it to have food on it?

Because she never once had to use it for a guest before. She had always just baked with her magic, pots, pans and ingredients floating midair as she recited recipes from her childhood. 

When was the last time she was excited to even have someone over?

The door creaked out, Marinette smiling as she saw Garfield walk in.

“Gar! Welcome back!” She greeted, making sure to not rush up to him. 

“Hey Mari.” Garfield said with a weak smile. A hiss was heard nearby. “Hello to you too, Chaton.” Even though it’s been months since their first encounter, Chaton was still hostile towards Garfield. 

“Want to have some pie?” Marinette went back to the table, lifting it up to show him. “I just finished-”

“Tara’s cured.” Garfield blurted out, watching as the apple pie splattered down to the table. “Mari, I-”

“That’s wonderful news!” Marinette celebrated, clapping her hands together before letting out a gasp. “Oh no! The pie!”

She quickly began to try and put the crumbled pie back into the pan, but it kept spilling out.

“Mari-”

“Can you believe it Gar? We actually cured Tara!”

“Marinette. Are you okay?” Garfield managed to say, reaching to grab her hand, only for Marinette to pull it back to herself as she picked up the wasted apple pie.

“Of course I am! Your wish came true, so why wouldn’t I be-”

“So why are you crying then?” Garfield softly asked, watching as she silently cried. They glistened as they ran down her face and onto her hands. “Mari,” he softly said, not knowing what to say.

“It’s goodbye...isn’t it?” She asked, setting the pan down. “Now that you got what you wanted, there isn’t any other reason for you to keep coming here. You got me to help you cure your friend.” She let out a dry laugh. “There isn’t any other reason for you to stay here.” 

“Mari. I still plan on coming here.”

“Coming here? What for? You already cured Tara- oh...oh!” Marinette exclaimed, a giggle escaping her. Then a dry laugh erupted.

“Marinette?”

“You’re just like them.” Marinette whispered. “You come to me, use me and then plan to continue to use me.”

“Marinette, let me-”

“You plan to continue to come here on behalf of your village, aren’t you? Act like it’s for your village’s benefit but end up using me for your own gain, right? That’s your plan, isn’t it, Garfield?”

“What? No! I would-” Garfield denied, but his words fell on deaf ears. 

“To think I feel for this again!” Marinette yelled, Garfield watching as her red ribbon flew and began to ravel her hair into a bun. Black dots began to blossom onto the ribbon as a red aura began to emit around Marinette’s hands. 

“Marinette, please. Just listen-”

“That’s what they said. To listen to them. To help them carry out a plan that would only benefit themselves and few others, but not everyone...but not this time.” Chaton appeared out of nowhere, now perched on a wooden beam above Marinette. His fur was on edge and his eyes gleamed a nasty jade. “I won’t let you use me again. I won’t let you!” Marinette yelled, dashing for Garfield, who did nothing but remain frozen as she tackled him to the ground.

Garfield struggled to break free from her magic binding, but his wrists were bound to the floor in plant vines. 

“Marinette, please!”

“Silence!” Marinette bellowed. “I shouldn’t have let you in. I shouldn’t have trusted you. I should’ve just sent you off like I did to all those who came before you! 

But how naive I was. To think that the Council was wrong all this time, only to see that they were actually right.” Her eyes glew a dangerous red. “You humans never change.”

Garfield watched as Marinette placed her hands on his head, a soft glow emitting from them.

“If you think this is for the best...then go ahead. Erase my memories...just like we promised when we first met.” Garfield softly said, looking straight back at Marinette. “Do it if it gives you peace of mind.”

He watched as something flashed across her eyes, watching as she hesitated to continue.

Marinette pursed her lips, shutting her eyes close before getting off of Garfield. A shuddering breath left her.

“What am I doing?” Marinette warbled, watching her hands begin to tremble. The glow surrounding her hands began to dim down, extinguishing. She hid her face with her hands, feeling her tears begin to trail down her face. “Just what-” She shook her head. “I can’t do it, I shouldn’t be- just what the hell-”

“Marinette.” Garfield softly said, watching as the vines disappeared from around his wrists, allowing him to sit next to Marinette. “I’m alright...it’s alright.”

“Alright? How is this alright?” Marinette gestured to herself. “I almost erased your memories and was on the verge of killing you! How is that alright?” She yelled, a sob escaping her. “How can you just-”

Garfield pulled her into an embrace, startling Marinette.

“Because I know you, Marinette.” Garfield said, tightening his embrace. “And even if you did erase my memories, my heart would remember the year we spent together.”

He felt as Marinette trembled against him.  “It will never forget, I know it won’t. After all, you mean so much to me.” He listened as she began to sob. “So even if you har-”

“Don’t ever let me do that to you. I’ll die before I ever dare to harm you, Garfield.” She whispered, gently pushing away from him to look at him. “Because...because I can’t imagine this world without you...I can’t live without you!”  Marinette confessed, looking at Garfield with fresh tears pooling in her eyes.

“Ever since we met, I no longer felt alone. I was no longer alone once you stepped into my home. I was looking forward to seeing you everyday, to chatting, learning together and just being with each other. I enjoyed it...I love spending time with you being with you.”

Garfield let Marinette recompose herself, allowed her to wipe away her tears. He didn’t know when, but at one point, Chaton came to the both of them, sitting in her lap. “I don’t want you to go. To leave me alone…”

“If...if you head let me talk, perhaps none of this would’ve happened. But even so, this is all my fault.” Garfield admitted. “I shouldn't have let you jump to conclusions like that by not saying what I need to say first.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I should’ve told you the better news first before the good news.”

“The...better news?” Marinette asked.

“I want to live here. With you.” Garfield said with a smile, grabbing her hand. “I, too, realized that I like being with you.”

Marinette looked at him with wide eyes, a faint pink on her cheeks.

“Do-Do you really mean that?”

“I do.” Garfield said, resting his head against her shoulder. “I really do.”

Marinette let out a small gasp, causing Garfield to lift his head to look at her. She smiled back at him and cupped his face.

They both erupted into laughter, pressing their foreheads together. Fingers intertwined as they sat together in comfortable silence, the crackling of the fireplace keeping them company. 

They didn’t need anything more to be happy.

Just the two of them. 

Just each other.

That was enough for them.

[under-sedationnn]

eleventh: divine museum (pt. 2): "the aged bride"

@impinehoney said to under-sedationnn:

may i have a request for the eleventh doctor? maybe an adventure that leads them to an art museum, but like some more divine type because it’s on a different planet or something?? ahH THANK YOU

Word count: 1209

link to part 1: https://under-sedationnn.tumblr.com/post/647929829543559168/eleventh-divine-museum-pt-1

link to part 3: https://under-sedationnn.tumblr.com/post/652651998501552128/eleventh-divine-museum-pt-3

I stepped closer to the painting of the couple, tracing my fingers along the frame. They scowled at one another, their grimaces causing deep wrinkles to form. Their hands joined in the center of the painting but their bodies leaned away from one another, both tempted to pull away out of anger, hatred, possibly disgust.

“What could they possibly be angry about?” I asked aloud, to no-one in particular.

The Doctor piped in, not breaking his concentration of sonicing the room, though. “If human nature tells us anything, it could be, well, literally anything.”

“How insightful,” I said. He chuckled to himself and continued his inspection.

“But very true.”

Paying no real attention to me, he did not notice curiosity getting the better of me. I found myself touching the painting itself, not the frame. The paintings had a sort of pull, a magnetism, something we noticed in the entry room.

To my surprise, my fingertips sunk in.

“Um… Doctor?”

He left the corner of the room he had been observing to find my hand slowly becoming enveloped by a thick, liquid substance. The painting was slowly pulling me in, icy paint inching its way up my arm and threatening to overtake my neck.

“Oh, well, this is unordinary.”

“You think?” I countered, panicking slightly.

“Well, now, don’t fuss, I need to try and get you out!”

He began pulling my body from the painting, only for the bright hues to further their journey around my body.

“Doctor, stop, it’s like quicksand!”

His sonic screwdriver did nothing to help, either, and eventually the sticky substance found its way down my torso to my legs as well as around my head.

“Doctor, I can’t- I can’t breathe,” I struggled to get out, the paint beginning to fill my nostrils.

“Ahh, just stop!” the Doctor yelled, frustration clouding his better judgement.

Suddenly, my vision began to tunnel and I felt my body be pulled into the frame and out of sight.

“Y/n!”

-----

“Hey! Hey hey hey, please, look at me. Y/n.”

My head was being cradled by two warm hands, my back on a cold hard surface. I opened my eyes to find the Doctor leaning over my form, attempting to shake me awake. He was covered in paint, his once vibrant suit crusted by partially dry paint.

I looked down to take in the appearance of my own outfit, the once canary yellow now stained a deep indigo.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“Look around,” he started, “see anybody familiar?”

I gazed to my left, taking in the couple we had once seen on canvas. This time, they stood only a few feet away from us. Their poses were identical to the ones we had seen in the gallery, still joined at the hands, their heads leaned to opposite sides of the venue.

Chairs were set out around the space, and yet no guests occupied them. The Doctor and I remained crouched in the center of the aisle.

“Okay, next question,” he pulled me up, our hands tacky with paint on each other, “how did we get here?”

He tilted his face down to mine slightly, “That, my dear, I do not have an answer for. I expect I’ll have one soon enough!”

Leaving me standing alone, dumbfounded, he made his way down the aisle to the couple with incredible speed. I ran to catch up with him as he slid across the marble, stopping right in front of the bride’s face.

He stood inspecting the two of them, most likely attempting to figure out whether or not the two were real. I joined him in the endeavor and noticed an oddity: their skin.

“Hm,” I said.

“What?” he asked, turning his attention to me.

“Well, they just look… older than I expected them to. I mean, here,” I pointed to the face of the groom, still gazing at his bride with a sense of dread, “in the painting you can see that he has wrinkles from his expression. Here, you can see fine lines. Those weren’t there before.”

“So either these two have been here for a long time,” he paused to think, “or perhaps the barrier of the painting acts as a sort of screen, blocking the viewer from seeing reality.”

I looked down at their hands. Patches of dry skin, impending arthritis and visible lines. The woman’s wedding ring has already been placed upon her finger, but clearly shows the effects of time on yellow gold; some patches show rusty brown, the diamonds have collected dust.

“Doctor, if they have been aging in here, don’t you think that they would look worse for wear? Like, emaciated?”

“That’s a good point, as well. They both look perfectly healthy.” He sighed, taking a step back from the two. “Right now, we just need to find out how they got here, and why they’re trapped.”

“Maybe you can scare them out of it? Like with a loud noise?” I suggested.

Chaos ensued. He jumped, hollered, stomped his feet, even banged on the large and ornate organ in the corner. Anything to get their attention.

Out of breath and out of ideas, he sidled up to me and huffed, “Well that was no use.”

“It was funny to watch, though,” I giggled, earning a small poke in the side from him.

He plopped down, feeling slightly defeated, on the chair directly in front of the altar.

“Maybe we could,” I motioned my hands touching each other, palm to palm, “smoosh them together?”

“Smoosh... them together?” He asked, a smirk playing across his face. I knew it sounded ridiculous, but it was our best bet.

“Do you have any better ideas?”

“Fair point.”

With his hands on the shoulders of the bride, and mine of the shoulders of the groom, we pushed the two together. In an awkward thump, they were cheek to cheek. The juxtaposition of their close proximity and their body language felt unnatural, gross.

This is when I noticed how close the Doctor’s face was to my own, his eyes a clear green in the cool sunlight of the chapel. He gave me a small smile, his lips only slightly covered in a vibrant orange hue from the painting.

“It was worth a try,” he said encouragingly, placing a hand on the top of my head and patting it slightly. The mood was gone.

He walked away from the altar, facing down the aisle and the chapel doors. He ran down, swung them open, only to be met with thick, white canvas.

“It was worth a try,” I said cooly, his response a small, sarcastic laugh. He went around the room with his screwdriver one more time, searching for a response from something within or outside of the room.

I was still leaning on the groom when I felt a cool, parched hand touch my own. Turning my head, I came face to face with the bride, her scowl deeper than ever.

I gasped, completely taken aback, and scrambled away from the couple as quickly as I could. The Doctor ran over to me and helped me steady myself, a feeling of shock taking over my system.

“Who are you and why are you touching my husband?”