#I imagine a lion just roaring at you in the most practical way as he's trying very hard to get his point across hahahah

[a-spacecadet]

Thinking about how the animals from the Madagascar movies don't actually talk...

If we were to watch the movie how it was really happening it would be just a bunch of animals making indiscriminate noises at each other lmao

[cannibalcoyote]

Scar: What Did I Do?

Imagine being Scar's daughter, and Mufasa hates you:

— Lil warning: Mufasa is an ass, violence —

I was born several months before my cousin Simba, a small cub that most thought wouldn't survive; I never got to know my mother as she died during my birth. I apparently look just like her, my fur is a light grey, almost like the foggy mist that gathers in the morning before sunrise, and my eyes are a warm amber.

I am currently 5 months old, the lionesses and lions still towering over me. Luckily I have other abilities, such as how good of a hunter I've become, and the fact that I am one of the fastest runners pride.

———————

"DAD! DAD!" My roared pleadings seemed to fall on deaf ears. 

I' m currently being chased out of Pride Rock by my uncle, Mufasa. I can practically feel his anger, large paws pounding against the ground as growls continuously emit throughout the air.

(I'm not sure why, but he's hated me for as long as I can remember. He never lets me play with the other cubs, and he makes sure the lionesses ignore me. I'm not sure why he's so cruel to me, I don't think I've ever done anything to offend him.)

My body tiring quickly, I've been running for a while — and though I may be fast, I really need to work on my stamina.

I'm about to call for my father again when a sharp pain is felt in my right hind leg, I yelp loudly, tripping over my feet and tumbling to the ground. I curl into myself, afraid of what will happen to me. I suddenly hear a growl thundering around me, but this growl doesn't sound like my uncle.

I sense movement, two lions are fighting, snarls and swipes being exchanged. I slowly uncover my face, eyes cautiously opening. I immediately see Mufasa, his large stature stiff and puffed out, he still looks furious; the other lion being none other than my father. My father is smaller in size, but he is quick, dodging most of the attacks while landing a few of his own. Eventually they are circling each other, heads low and claws bared.

"Stand down brother." Mufasa slowly orders, but my father refuses to comply.

"Why, so that you can kill my daughter?" Father sneers, his eyes narrowing.

"What did she do this time? Run too fast? Ask another annoying question? Or did her presence simply offend you?" Each question was growled in a harsh, agitated tone, each word emphasized by a swipe taken at Mufasa. My father was extremely pissed, but who could blame him? This is probably the fourth time Mufasa has gotten angry with me, but it is the first that he has attacked me; every other time he just made me really scared or embarrassed.

After the barrage of attacks, both lions backed away slightly, heavy breathing and growls being the only thing heard as venomous glares were traded. Mufasa holds his head up, looking like he wants to retaliate, but decides to release a loud huff instead, turning to walk back to Pride Rock.

"Get control of your daughter or I will." He snarls slowly as he passes Scar, glaring at me when he stalks by. My form seems to only wilt further, fear of punishment from father now making me regret calling for him.

Scar turns away from Mufasa, diverting all attention to my wounded form. He walks over to me, making his way closer to check on my injuries, but quickly stops when he notices me flinch away from him. His brows furrowed in confusion for a moment until understanding occurred.

"Y/N, you have nothing to fear, I promise I will never hurt you, okay?" His normally cynical voice is nearly unrecognizable, tone gentle and nurturing as he gazes down at his wounded daughter. I glance at him in uncertainty for a moment before stumbling up from the ground and running over to him.

He carefully comforts me, his paw lightly resting on my back as I begin to cry against him. As he comforts me, he quickly assessed my leg, it looks like a superficial wound, his claws seemed to have slipped right off of it.

"I-I don't-t even know w-what I did-d wrong." I whimpered quietly, my cries having simmered down to just tears blurring my vision

[dral-koumine]

the Leviathan/Reader slow burn fluff shall not be denied [OM!] [snippet!]

fandom: Obey Me!

fanfic title: TBD

tags: gn!Reader & Leviathan (friendship, pre-romance), picnic, beach and ocean vibes, Reader and Levi calling each other nicknames, Devildom headcanons/worldbuilding, fluff fluff fluff.

This snippet refers to my earlier snippet from here: [link]

[rated G below] [WIP ZONE]

Once, not long after you two have actually become friends, he walks back out of the water onto the shore, and you’re there waiting for him on an officially licensed TSL blanket with his headphones and a picnic basket. (He’s a creature of habit, so he almost always enters and exits from the same little cove, which is usually deserted because it requires carefully hiking from the sandy beach over some big slick boulders that are submerged at high tide to get there. You got yourself some knee-high rain boots, checked the tide charts -- with 3 moons, Devildom tide patterns are fucking wild -- and made it work.) He’s so surprised to see you there that he almost falls right back into the water. “What!” he almost shouts. “H-H-Henry! What are you doing here?!” “Hi, Levia-chan,” you say cheerfully, putting down your tri-lunar physics textbook. “I noticed you skipped dinner to come down here, so I brought some food for you.”

“F-for me?” he stammers. “Yeah!” you say, and smile at him. “I figured we could have a little picnic, just you and me.” “Just -- just us two?” He blushes so hard you wouldn’t be surprised if the seawater started steaming off of him; his long, reptilian tail curls this way and that, carving arcs into the wet sand. “Is that okay?” you ask, sure that he’ll blurt out a reflexive protest before eventually circling around to yes that’s more than okay. “Yes!” he blurts, being direct about it for once, and you grin at him delightedly. He’s so cute. You pat the blanket next to you, and Leviathan comes over to sit half hesitantly, half eagerly; he sits and has to immediately get up again to wave the seawater off of him and his drenched clothes and hair before he soaks right through the Lord of Shadow’s face. Then he just stands there, frozen for a moment in painful awkwardness. “That’s a handy trick,” is all you say, lightly, as you start pulling boxes of food out of the picnic basket, and he unfreezes and sits down next to you with his knees pulled up to his chest and tail curled around his feet, and quietly starts eating the food you hand to him, all dishes you know he likes and which you made a point to save from Beel, no matter how much Beel made sad demon eyes at you. You’re pretty sure this is one of the main reasons why Levi likes you so much: you don’t mock him for being his very awkward self; you barely even tease him for it, except in those rare cases when you’re sure you can make it abundantly clear that you’re only doing it fondly. And why would you mock him for it? After all, you’re more than well acquainted with awkwardness yourself. You know how it feels. You lean back on your hands and stretch your legs out in front of you, sighing contently. The gentle roaring of the waves rushing up onto the sandy shore, the rough splashing of brine against the nearby boulders, the smell of the salty sea air, it all erodes away the cares of the day. Leviathan slowly relaxes, too, until he’s sitting with his legs crossed and holding his box of lion’s head meatballs over oleander and rice in his lap and sneaking glances at you in between taking slow bites of food. “What’s it like down there?” you ask. “In the ocean?” he says. “Yeah. You dive down really deep, don’t you?” “Yeah,” he replies, blushing again, as though that’s something to be awkward about; maybe it is, for him. “So what’s it like down there?” you ask. “It, uh…” He thinks about it for a moment; you imagine him trying to put words to something that he’s experienced for millennia, but probably has never had to describe, let alone to a human who knows little about the Devildom’s oceans. “It’s dark,” he finally says, “and quiet, and empty, except not really because there’s still plenty of fish and jellies and tiny krill and stuff in the deep, and there are giant venom-sponges living along the trench down there --” he waves a hand vaguely in the direction of the ocean “-- and they tend to make noises sometimes while they filter-feed and most of the deep-sea animals have bioluminescence anyway so I guess it’s not that dark either…” He trails off, seeming to realize how much he’s rambled and contradicted himself, but you’re sitting there grinning at him practically with stars in your eyes, because you love everything about the ocean, and Levi rambling on about sea creatures is just about the cutest thing ever. He sees you grinning and ducks his head bashfully. “I’m not good at explaining it,” he mumbles. “It’s like … it’s not technically totally dark and quiet and empty, but it feels like it is, you know? It feels like … when I’m down there, I don’t have to worry about anything at all.” He curls in on himself a little, drawing his knees up a bit, like he’s anticipating that you’ll mock him for some part of that, like he’s still not used to the fact that you make a point of being nice to him whenever he’s not being a jerk, because you actually like him.

“That sounds amazing,” you sigh, staying in that relaxed position of yours, like sending out relaxed vibes will help Levi to relax, too. “I wish I could go down there and experience it myself.” He looks up, uncurls a little. “I could show you?” he offers. You perk up. “Really? How?” He offers his hand, a rare moment of confidence, and you take it, smiling. But you have to say, “Uh, Levi. I’m a squishy, air-breathing human, remember? I can’t just swim down with you.” “Oh,” he says, and covers his embarrassed face with his free hand. “Oh hells, I’m such a stupid --” “Hey,” you say warningly, squeezing his hand, because you made it a rule last month that he’s not allowed to put himself down around you. You’d like to expand that rule to you’re not allowed to put yourself down, ever, but … one step at a time. “Uuurggghhh,” he groans, hiding his face in his knees, fully curled up again, alas. “I know, I know, the rule.” “Friends don’t let friends self-deprecate,” you singsong annoyingly, like you do every time you have to remind him, and it always makes him smile even if he hides it, because yeah, you’re his friend. His true friend. And he smiles into his knees, this time, face red with joy as much as with embarrassment, and squeezes your hand back without looking at you. “So, alternate solutions,” you say thoughtfully. “There are submarines in the Devildom, aren’t there?” His head pops up with sudden excitement. “There are!” he says excitedly, “Diavolo has one!” You grin at him. “So we’re stealing Diavolo’s submarine then,” you say, pretending to be serious about it, and he physically recoils, dramatically, but doesn’t let go of your hand. “No!” he protests, “no we’re not doing that, don’t even think about it, Lucifer would kill us!” “Aw, but it would be so much fun to take it out for a joyride!” you say gleefully. “Noooo it wouldn’t,” he insists, though he looks a little shifty-eyed about it. You cackle a little.

[fruitcoops]

I was watching this video w Megan Rapinoe & Sue Bird (tumblr won’t let me link but it’s from 2 days ago on GQ- they ask each other questions but it’s like quiz style?) and didn’t know if you would want to do something similar for coops? Some of the stuff they said/how they acted reminded me of coops’ dynamic

Anon, this video was the perfect way to spend an evening. Both these women are my role models and they’re unbelievably cute together--go check out the video here if you have the chance! Their dynamic is a lot like how I imagine Coops, too! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

“Hey, Lions, we’re back!” Sirius waved at the camera and tapped a short stack on notecards on his thighs. “I’m Captain Sirius Black of the Gryffindor Lions and I’m here with my fiancé, Remus Lupin, to do another couple game.”

“The response to our last few interviews was incredible and we had a great time,” Remus continued. “Miss Marlene McKinnon was kind enough to drag us back in here to answer even more questions!”

“Do you want to go first?”

“Sure.” Remus cleared his throat and pulled the first card. “What are my parents’ first names?”

“Hope and Lyall.”

“Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. What’s my hidden talent?”

“You can sing.”

“Does that count? I feel like most people know that now.”

“Hmm.” Sirius thought for a moment, drumming his fingers on his knees. “You can cook really well.”

“Thank you, baby. What’s my favorite accessory?”

Sirius brightened. “Your watch!”

“Yes!” Remus held it up to the camera—it was simple and elegant, with a leather band and a small face. He wore it with the clock against the inside of his wrist, just above his pulse point. “What is my dream travel destination or vacation?”

“Oh, that’s tough.” Sirius bit his lip in thought. “Seattle? Paris?”

“I do want to go to Seattle, but I’ve always wanted to go to Montreal,” Remus said. “You’ve seen my hometown, but I’ve never been to yours.”

Sirius frowned. “Really?”

“Really. What am I most afraid of?”

“I think…I think you’re most afraid of not being useful,” Sirius said after a moment. “For six years, your job was all about helping people, and it’s not now.”

Remus raised his eyebrows at the camera. “I was going to say the dentist’s office. Goddamn.”

“Sorry,” Sirius laughed. “Yeah, you don’t like medical facilities.”

“I mean, you weren’t wrong about the useful thing,” Remus said. “You still get a point for that. What’s my favorite music, song, or artist to listen to before a game?”

“You don’t have one.”

“That was quick. Half a bonus point for speed. When was our first date and what did we do?”

“Our first official date was just after All-Stars and we went to Sid’s, but we had been together for about three months at that point and just hung out at each other’s houses.”

Remus grinned. “Do you remember what day it was?”

“January 28th.” Sirius gave him a look. “I know for a fact you don’t know what day it was.”

“January 28th.”

“You only know that because I just said it!” Sirius smacked him playfully with his cards. “Next question.”

“What’s my favorite movie and TV show?”

“Jurassic Park and Avatar: The Last Airbender.”

He whistled the first part of the theme song as Sirius did the hand motions. “What’s my shoe size?”

“Oh, god,” Sirius muttered, staring down at the floor. “Eleven? Eleven and a half? You have smaller feet than I do, but not by much.”

“I’m a size ten.”

“Are you really?”

Remus pulled one sneaker off and handed it to him with a laugh. “Check for yourself. Oh, I’d love to know the answer to this one. How do you know when I’m mad at you?”

Sirius tossed his shoe back with a snort. “You make faces.”

Remus seemed surprised. “Do I?”

“Yeah. You’ve got a very expressive face and the second you’re pissed, it’s written all over it. It’s like—” Sirius pursed his lips and scrunched his nose slightly. “I can’t really do it, but anytime I see that I’m like, ‘oh, shit, what did I do?’ Also, you stop calling me baby.”

“That’s what I was going to say. What’s my favorite city to play in?”

“Not Florida.”

“Not fucking Florida,” Remus agreed with a grin.

“Gryffindor for sure.”

“Where was I born?” He gave Sirius a teasing look. “Do you know this time, or should I get my mom on the line?”

Sirius stuck his tongue out. “Madison, Wisconsin.”

Remus glanced at the camera. “We got asked this question in an interview a few months ago and he had to call my mom afterward because he forgot.”

“She made fun of me the whole time,” Sirius pouted.

“What is my favorite food? Oh, you’ll get this one for sure.” Sirius hesitated and Remus’ eyes widened. “Really?”

“I’m a little torn. It’s either my grilled cheese or your dad’s turkey-cranberry thing. Actually, I don’t think you know what your favorite food is.”

Remus nodded slowly. “That’s a really good point. My first thought was grilled cheese, but my dad makes the best postgame sandwiches. I’ll give you that. What’s my favorite hobby?”

“Reading.”

“What did I want to be when I was a kid?”

“A librarian, until you started playing hockey.”

Remus leaned over and high-fived him. “You’re on a roll, baby. What was my jersey number in college?”

“Number six.”

“The transition was so fucking easy,” Remus laughed. “Coach literally came up to me a month before practices started and went ‘hey, what was your old number?’ and I told him, and he looked down at his clipboard and went, ‘cool.’. I got my jersey two weeks later.”

“Is this your last question?”

“It is, indeed. What’s my full birth name?”

“Remus Jehosephat Lupin.”

“That is incorrect.”

“Close enough. It’s Remus John Lupin, which I find endlessly funny.”

“Why is it funny?” Marlene asked off-screen. Remus hid his face behind his notecards as Sirius laughed.

“Because it’s such a basic middle name! I love Hope and Lyall with my entire heart and they’re wonderful people, but they named their sons Remus and Julian and then I think they got stuck. Like, you’ve got these two very uncommon first names and they sort of went ‘fuck it. John and Michael. We’re done.’ It’s just so funny.”

“Whereas your parents went the extra mile and gave you and Reg goddamn supervillain names,” Remus snorted. “The drama of it all, my god.”

“Alright, alright, my turn.” Sirius leaned his elbows on his knees. “What is my favorite color?”

“Blue.”

“How do I like my coffee?”

Remus hissed between his teeth. “Ah, shit, you always make the coffee. With a lot of sugar, right? It’s black with sugar?”

“It can’t be black if it has sugar in it,” Sirius laughed. “But yes, I do put sugar in my coffee. What are three things I never leave the house without?”

“Keys, wallet, phone.”

“My favorite TV show?”

“Why are you going through these so fast? Uh, Avatar.”

“Did I ever have a job that wasn’t playing hockey?”

“Nope.” Remus frowned. “Were you allowed to get a job as a kid?”

“I was not. What’s my favorite ice cream flavor?”

“Cookies and cream.”

Sirius made a buzzer noise. “Incorrect.”

“Is it chocolate?”

“Yep. You get half a point for that. What’s the first meal I ever cooked for you?”

Remus gave him a look. “You don’t remember what you cooked for me, do you?”

“Refresh my memory?”

“No way!” He punched him lightly on the arm. “I’m not falling for my own tricks. Next question.”

“It’s kind of a repeat from earlier. How do you know when I’m mad at you?”

Remus fiddled with the edges of his cards. “You act all weird and Captain-y, and then you get quiet. Just cranky vibes all around.”

“Cranky vibes,” Sirius laughed. “Good to know. What are my favorite movie-watching snacks?”

“Popcorn and…Sweet Tarts?”

“Yes!” Sirius gave him a high-five. “Do you know what I like on my popcorn?”

“Butter and enough salt to kill a Victorian child.”

“Bonus point! What is—oh, shit!” He nearly fumbled the cards onto the floor. “What is my favorite movie of all time?”

“Indiana Jones.”

“Which one?”

“The one with Marian, because she reminds you of me.” Remus looked over at the camera. “I really don’t like snakes.”

“What is the first thing I do when I wake up in the morning?”

“Oh, I think this requires a demonstration. C’mere.”

“Does it really?” Sirius sighed as he laid down next to him.

“For sure.” Remus cuddled into his side and laid his head on his shoulder. “Alright, the key to a true Sirius Black wake-up is getting all four limbs wrapped around the other person like you’re trying to suffocate them with affection.”

“Okay—”

“And then,” Remus continued with a grin. “I go, ‘honey, wake up’—”

“You absolutely do not.”

“In my head, that’s what I say. It’s very sweet. To answer the question, the first thing Sirius does is this.” He buried his face in Sirius’ chest and groaned loudly, then dissolved into snickering as Sirius’ chest began to shake with suppressed laughter. “Stop it, you’re ruining the demonstration!”

“You forgot the part where I have to peel you off me with pliers and grease,” Sirius teased as they stood up, dusting themselves off. The camera crew applauded and they both bowed. “Alright, where were we? What am I most scared of?”

“Losing your friends and family,” Remus said. “Also, spiders and most bugs.”

“You forgot one.”

“Which one? The dish soap bubbles?”

“Losing you.”

A vibrant blush tinted Remus’ cheeks and ears, and he floundered for words. “Oh.”

“You still get the points, though,” Sirius said mildly. “What city do I like playing in the most?”

Remus paused for a moment longer, then shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Uh, Gryffindor. You like the crowd.”

“I do.” Sirius smiled at the camera. “To all the fans out there: you are incredible and there is nothing like skating out with everybody roaring so loud the windows shake. Who is my biggest hockey influence?”

“Now, or when you were younger?”

“Now.”

“It’s Dumo, right?”

Sirius nodded. “On and off the ice. What’s my proudest career moment?”

“Hmm, I wonder,” Remus said sarcastically. “Could it possibly be winning the Stanley Cup?”

“Just maybe,” Sirius laughed. “What’s my most famous celly, and which one’s my favorite?”

Remus grinned. “Lightning McQueen.”

“I hate it when you call it that.” Despite his words, Sirius was smiling. “It’s supposed to be cool!”

“Can you elaborate?” Marlene asked.

“I mean, most people who have seen him play know what I’m talking about,” Remus said, gesturing to the camera. “But Sirius’ famous celly is a double fist pump, and I call it the Lightning McQueen because it’s like ka-chow! It’s also his favorite one, though he dances when we’re skating alone or with a couple of the guys.”

“Shhh, they aren’t supposed to know that!” Sirius covered Remus’ mouth with his notecard. “This is the very last one. What is my biggest pet peeve?”

“When I leave my socks laying around the house.”

“Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner! That drives me fucking bonkers. Marley, who won?”

“It wasn’t a competition,” she said off-screen. “Just a Q & A.”

“Who got the most right?” Remus asked.

“You two are hopeless,” she muttered. There were a few beats of silence. “Remus won, with sixteen and a half out of seventeen. Sirius, you had fifteen and a half.”

“No.” Sirius groaned and dropped his head into his hands as Remus whooped.

“Hell yes!”

“My bonus points let you win.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe this.”

Remus faced the camera with a victorious smile. “Thanks for joining us to witness my landslide victory—”

“It was one point.”

“And make sure to like and subscribe for more Lion Pride content! See you around, Lions.” They both mock-saluted, and the video ended.

[willadisastercry]

When the dust clears and you almost wish it hadn’t...

tw: emetophobia warning (brief but there), depictions of being trapped/pinned, broken bone, head injury, blood, threat of being crushed, threat of drowning.

The paladins respond to a distress signal on a foreign planet and make quick work of getting its civilians to safety, but on their last sweep surface side, shit hits the fan. Pidge and Lance are hurt but Shiro is trapped and can’t help them. On top of that, the conditions they’re stuck in are only getting worse. With no access to the coms and no tools to help them, the trio is forced to get creative and make some sacrifices.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

Dust rained down in a continuous sheet, the tiny particles lit up in beams where the brightness of the day outside peaked through the mottled roof of debris now sheltering them. It seeped through their shattered visors and cacked their lungs making whatever ragged breaths they took after they realized they’d finally stopped falling harsh and desperate.

Shiro was the only one who hadn’t been knocked out after the initial collapse, more just dazed in momentary shock from the suddenness of it all, his visor most in tact and his com emitting static output that would catch a few garbled words every now and then.

The planet they were on had sent out a distress signal when the galra outpost stationed in their solar system had somehow managed to pull their moons out of alignment, and like on earth, their moons had significant influence over their tides.

Before they arrived, the land had only been hit by minor floods but as soon as voltron and the castleship entered their atmosphere, the unruly currents ramped up tenfold and small tremors could be felt from somewhere deep underground.

The abnormal weather phenomena hadn’t yet delved into anything seismic, just tidal, but they’d only been planet-side for ten minutes before alarms started blaring and the locals emerged from their homes frantic and scared.

Evacuation via lion had actually gone relatively smoothly, the paladins able to relocate the citizens before the trembles of the shifting plates became truly dangerous.

It had started off pretty tame, the rumblings far between and only enough to shake the windows and trees. But they steadily amplified the longer the evacuation went on until shaking became shuddering and soon trees were swaying and buildings were groaning.

After everyone was loaded onto the castle outside of the planets orbit Pidge flew the green lion flew back down to the surface stowing Lance and a lionless Shiro. They were in charge of carrying out the final sweep to check for stragglers, though the only thing they’d actually found was themselves caught in the height of a particularly large quake.

They were in the city center attempting to make it back to Green who was stationed at the beginning of the tree line on the outskirts of the city, antsy and waiting. But they would never get there because the intense trembling brought them to the knees before they’d even caught sight of the lion.

It would’ve been alright if the solid ground they thought they were on was truly as solid as it appeared, but it wasn’t, because the cracks splitting the pavilion open splintered towards them before they could even cry out and then the last thing they could hear was a roar almost as deafening as the sound of the planet ripping apart beneath their feet.

The fall wasn’t long or else they wouldn’t be alive to choke on the sheer amount of crap in the air, their helmets not surviving the broken bits of sediment that accosted them on the decent, cracking their visors and damaging their com systems.

Though cumbersome and clunky, their paladin armor was also sturdy and could withstand the weight of the rubble they were more or less sandwiched in. Their suits were ultimately what saved their lives in the initial collapse but it beat their human bodies to hell in the process.

Their senses returned with the panic of not being able to breathe, the moment they realized the ground beneath them was rough with rubble and uneven uprooted earth that wasn’t quite earth audible, marked by disoriented cries of surprise at the debris still falling while the quake that brought them down tapered out.

Pidge and Shiro came back to themselves first, raucous coughs pulling each other to reality over their ringing ears as they worked to clear the soot from their mouths and lungs. It was hard work. The air was dense with all kinds of minuscule specks of ruin that silenced them for a good minute while they struggled against the dryness in their throats.

It was Pidge who tried to move first. She was slumped over a chunk of what used to be a stone pillar from the building that was sucked into the chasm of non-earth along with them, her legs tucked awkwardly beneath her. She stopped abruptly to let out a strangled wail when she went to push herself up.

She hadn’t felt much of anything when she first woke up, just incredibly dazed as she fought to open her eyes under the layer of dust encrusting them. But when she put pressure on her arms she discovered that something was seriously wrong with one of them, collapsing back onto the jagged piece of stone to writhe as pain shot through to her shoulder and seized her back.

“Pidge?”

She barely registered the crackle of a low voice from somewhere nearby, her mind entirely consumed by panicking over the pain she was in as well as the unknown regarding the extent of the injury.

“Pidge is that you? Are you okay?”

It clicked then that it was Shiro speaking but she didn’t have air in her lungs to produce any answer other than a panicked whimper, too afraid to lift herself off of the injured limb to see the damage and incite another wave of agony. She didn’t have enough air to handle that again, sucking down what she could in too large of quantities for such a limited supply.

Shiro was going through a similar mental battle, though the first thing dawning on him as he registered his new surroundings was that Pidge needed help, not his own physical wellbeing. So naturally, he’d tried to get up as soon as he heard her call out only to discover he couldn’t move much because he was sprawled on his back amongst an ever growing pile of debris, his prosthetic arm likely crushed to shit under a sizable slab of stone with smaller chunks pressing against his chest and legs.

He was sufficiently stuck, pinned in place and unable to get to her but forced to listen as her anguished sounds continued.

“Pidge I’m trapped, I can’t—shit, I can’t get to you. And I don’t have visual confirmation from Lance yet so you’re gonna have to work with me here... talk to me, where are you hurt? How bad does it look?”

The sound she contrived then was like the ones before, except not for her own misery, not entirely at least. Because that meant there was still no sign of life from Lance which meant there was a very real concern that there wouldn’t be which left Pidge having to pull herself together and search for him since Shiro was otherwise incapacitated.

This would be sucky and not ideal at all, but necessary.

”Pidge?!”

Logic told her that bones mend and that pain was fleeting. That agony would be temporary, fear too, and once she found Lance it would be better, bearable at least.

And so with that resolve she willed her breathing to slow enough to form a coherent statement.

“It’s my arm,” she huffed quickly, the shrillness in her voice evidence of the severity of the injury.

“Okay, can you move? Is there something on top of you?” Shiro asked calmly, his voice level and sympathetic.

“No, I’m on top of it... if-if I move again—“

“Take a breath, it’s probably broken.”

Clearly, but Pidge was already ten steps ahead, her brain grappling with the notion of whether stabbing pain meant safe compounded fracture or gruesome and bloody and open fracture that would make her sick if she even caught sight of her own arm like that.

She shuddered violently at the thought and bit back a gasp when it jostled whatever lay beneath her.

“You’re okay, just breathe... are you sitting or laying down?”

Still so calm, somehow. So incredibly practical and disarming. It was almost unnerving how well he could do that, compartmentalize everything.

“S-sitting, sort of.”

“How?”

Awkwardly, Shiro. The man might be terrifyingly apt at rationalizing the impossible but seemed utterly incompetent in predicting the obvious.

“Folded over a rock and using it as my pillow... all my weight is on it—on my arm,” she ammended with a gulp.

Shiro took his precious time turning this information over in his head and the radio silence almost had Pidge worrying he’d passed out until his voice came back somehow even more blunt and pragmatic than before.

“That’s better actually. What I need you to do is hold your arm in place with your good hand, press it to your chest and use your shoulder to lean on as you sit back again. It should be less agitating that way—“

Shiro’s gentle instruction was cut off by Pidge’s cry as she sat up and away from the slab of stone like he recommended, her vision whiting as she cradled her arm against herself.

When she could see properly again she found her curiousity too overwhelming and spared a look at the mangled limb.

It was both better and worse than she had imagined. The forearm component of her armor was hanging on in pieces and clearly displayed the horrifying mess that lay under what remained. No skin was broken, but the tip of her bone was very visibly poking the already swelling flesh where the middle of her forearm sported a new joint.

The sight was overwhelming and her breaths soon came in short pants, the threat of passing out suddenly very real.

“Good Pidge, that was great. Take a couple deep breaths for me while you adjust,” he asked gently, his voice taking on a more solemn tone now.

She already knew what was coming next and began rearranging her legs beneath her, several deep breaths required to clear the black dotting her vision before she was confident she could stand testing their strength without them turning jelly.

“I know you’re in a lot of pain right now, but you need to find Lance... I’m not mobile and I haven’t heard him yet.”

“Already... on it,” she panted as she leaned on her knees before coming to a shakey stance.

The lighting was sparse in the pocket of nothing that the pavilion collapsed into after the fissure opened, barely enough to make out the terrain in front of her and then some. So she made her way slowly, toeing rocks and larger slabs before proceeding, checking for stability with every step as she slinked across the unnatural landscape.

“Follow my voice... I can hear you now... watch out for the crap still falling...”

Finding Shiro wasn’t difficult when his voice carried so well through the wreckage, even despite the shifting fauna and bits still crashing down and settling.

There hadn’t been another quake in the time that they’d woken up, but that only made finding Lance that much more important. If he hadn’t responded yet then it was more than likely he was pretty hurt, which would be even more dangerous for him to be alone if the rubble decided to rearrange itself.

“Hey...” Shiro laughed pitifully as she ducked under a slanted piece of stone to get to him.

Pidge saw his predicament immediately, he was looking at her from where he was propped up one elbow, his metal arm wedged underneath a piece of stone bigger than he was.

“Well, that’s not good,” she stated before coming down hard on one knee, clutching her arm extra close as she lowered herself to the floor for a better look.

“Let me see your arm,” he ordered in his leader voice, a futile attempt to deflect from his own issues.

“My arm is snapped, let me see if you still have one,” she countered expertly, pushing away his searching hand after once he’d laid back down try and examine the disfigured appendage now securely in her lap.

He sighed in defeat. Pidge had too many years of experience dodging brotherly coddling with Matt to concede to Shiro’s fretting and let him distract from her own triage efforts.

“How bad? Can’t really tell from this angle...”

“I’m not seeing much but there is quite a bit of space between the floor and the rock still so that’s kind of promising for the integrity of the prosthetic... let me get this crap off though—“

“No, you’re hurt don’t push yourself, it’s fine.”

But Pidge acted as if she hadn’t heard him and began to remove the rocks, turning over the more meager pieces of broken stone from his chest with her good hand.

“Pidge, it’s okay. I’m not hurt and you need to save your energy to look for—“

“Wait! Shut up...”

“Excuse me?!”

“Shhhh!”

Pidge held her hand up to Shiro’s face as she closed her eyes and listened for something. Shiro only heard a faint whooshing and a steady trickle until it happened again. A very guttural but human moan.

“Lance! Shit.”

“Go, he’s gotta be close, he was just beside me when we fell...”

Pidge moved swiftly, more nimble than she could’ve thought possible as she maneuvered around the rubble with only one arm to steady her.

“Lance, call out!”

Every time she moved her arm throbbed horribly, but slowing down was not an option, not when another quake was due and could occur at any moment.

“If you can hear me I need you to make a sound, throw something, anything!”

Her repeated shouts are what in the end got him to groan again, the sound of her pointed words coming closer making the pressure in his skull swell exponentially.

“That’s it, keep making noise...!”

As he tried to wake up and open his eyes he only succeeded in making himself more disoriented, the world seeming to spin even with his eyes squeezed shut.

It dawned on him then that closing his eyes when he had absolutely no idea what sort of life threatening situation he may or may not be in was a sort of really bad idea. He had no clue how he was oriented, no grasp of what was up or down, how his body was positioned, if he was hurt or not. He wasn’t even entirely sure he was alive but the second heart beat on the side of his head seemed to eventually convince him he was.

“Lance?!”

But then again the agony swirling around in his brain didn’t seem to care if it was stupid to close his eyes, nor did the intensity of the light above him that burned his retinas when he attempted to open them.

“Call out!”

Uh, no I will not, thank you very much.

Whoever was screaming in his face needed to learn some manners and stop. The sound pierced his ears like a thousand needles and traveled to the center of the heartbeat in his skull, another pathetic moan escaping his lips as he tried to reach for the spot.

“Oh, no—no, don’t do that.”

He was sprawled on his side, limbs askew and otherwise undamaged aside from his armor appearing nearly shredded in some places with how roughly he’d been tossed around in the fray. His helmet was missing and it took Pidge a few moments to locate it, almost wishing she hadn’t once she did.

The left side was dented, the visor cracked so severely that there was nothing but a few jagged shards left of it.

“You’re okay, I’m here Lance, it’s Pidge.”

Lance didn’t care that it was Pidge, she was screaming at him and it was making him nauseous. He couldn’t understand why she insisted on being so loud when he had such a bad headache or why she held his wrist so tightly.

“You’ve got a pretty nice gash there—” she muttered, her restricting hand releasing him to turn his head to the side “—a nice few gashes, actually.”

He must have made a protesting sound at the movement because she stopped and cupped his cheek instead, using the top of her thumb to wipe the tears making their way to his chin.

“Hey, you’re gonna be alright. Can you open you’re eyes at all?”

“Mmmmm.”

“Can you try? Only for a second, I just need to see something. C’monnnn, don’t you want to see my pretty face?”

He made a softer sound then and his eyelids began to flutter as he tried to pry them open, wincing at how painful even the dim lighting was once he did.

“Good, that’s good. Okay, I’m just gonna help you out here, don’t be scared...” she said as she moved her thumb and pointer finger to prop open one eyelid at a time and keep them still so she could get a good look.

His pupils were blown which was probably why opening them hurt so bad, more light was coming in than should be which couldn’t feel nice for his clearly rattled brain.

“Kay, all done... I think you have a concussion, but nothing else seems to be wrong aside from the still gushing head and facial wounds. Can you keep your hand there do you think? ” she asked as she brought it to where the bleeding was worst and pressed down, illiciting a hiss but no other resistance as he held it place.

“Great, you’re doing so great. I know you probably feel really out of it but we need to get you over to where Shiro is... and my arms kinda busted so I can only give you one hand...”

His groaning halted for a moment to let loose a low whine as he tried to open his eyes long enough to look at what she meant, his face scrunching up with concern when he finally managed to.

“You-your arm... s’hurt...” he choked out, more a restatement than a question, his tongue unwilling and his energy spent as he tried to form something coherent.

“Yeah, as I said, busted. But don’t worry about that now, just give me your hand.”

Lance seemed a bit confused at her command so she took up the hand that was limp at his side and moved it to his lap where she could reposition her own at his elbow.

“This is gonna be a tad tricky so just work with me, okay?”

He grunted a sort of ‘uh huh’ and returned with his own grip on her upper arm.

“I’m gonna stand up and lean back, when I do you’re gonna lean forward and stand with me...” Pidge detailed as she moved his legs so that they were bent towards his chest and in front of him.

It wasn’t that he was immobile. The rest of his body was free of visible injuries but his brain and his limbs seemed to be on different frequencies for the time being, the channels of communication disconnected and not taking signals from one another making his movements sluggish and sloppy.

“Okay, ready? Alright, up we go...”

What happened next was anything other than graceful. As soon as Lance was upright he lilted into Pidge who fixed her stance as he stumbled to keep standing, his grip tight on her arm and his weight almost entirely on her hip as he held his throbbing head.

“You good? Here, arm around my neck, just don’t touch my arm... there ya go. We’ll go slow, it’s not far,” she assured as she began to walk forward, Lance following in his own sort of zigzag next to her.

They made their way excruciatingly slow. Pidge moved with care, constantly analyzing the most doable path to lead Lance into, stepping on top of and over boulder sized bits of stone as he continued on whatever even ground she could find.

It was only when she was tapping her toe behind his knee to get it to buckle that he was aware they’d made it. He hadn’t heard Pidge asking him to sit, didn’t even register her hand on his face as he fought with the terrible heat on the side of his head that threatened to make his stomach act on how unsettled it was.

He let out a breathless ‘oh’ as his butt connected with the ground, a layer of recently upturned dust rising after him. Once he was safely seated Shiro removed his hand from his back from where he’d been assisting the transition.

“Shiroo...!?!” he gushed, the word sloshing in his mouth.

“Hey, Lance.”

Though he knew his friend’s demeanor was the result of a pretty gnarly head injury, Shiro couldn’t help but let a fond smile appear at his almost childlike vocalization.

“How ya feeling?”

“Oh, not good I think, right Pidge?—yeah, really not good...”

“Concussion, I checked,” Pidge provided after Shiro took Lance’s bloody hand away from the source of the bleeding to check the damage out for himself.

“That looks painful,” Shiro sympathized before returning his hand to the spot as gently as he could.

Lance processed that his hand had made contact again about ten seconds after which seemed to send his head realing because the next moment he was choking back a gag.

“Crap, it’s alright if you need to throw up. Just get it out, don’t hold it in,” Shiro ushered, his hand moving to Lance’s arm as he doubled over himself, his throat clenching against the bile rising and he sputtered.

He was sufficiently out of sorts and could hardly hold on to a coherent thought but he knew that he did not want to throw up. Not here in front of his friends, especially Shiro.

But the wave of nausea that was making his stomach cramp and his head throb was overshadowed by the sound of something crashing, like a stack of precariously placed objects falling over abruptly except much louder and followed by a sustained gush.

“Shiro..?”

The trepidation in Pidge’s voice made her sound so much younger, like how she did before Shiro left for Kerberos.

At the same time that fear erupted in his friend’s chests, saliva welled up in Lance’s mouth and he let out a pitiful sound, the new commotion having him seeing stars with how angrily his head pulsed from it.

“It’s probably just rubble settling, can you see anything?”

Pidge moved towards the biggest source of light from where the surface above them split apart, the scene hazy through clouds of dust and substantially obscured by larger breakages of sediment. She lifted herself onto her toes to try and makes sense of the destruction around them.

“No...”

Pidge couldn’t see much through the chalky blackness, just hints of structures here and there.

“There’s nothing there—oh.”

The gushing sound seemed to pull to the forefront of the concerning noises then, like a geyser of something had erupted and was emptying itself out into the chasm that had opened up beneath them and swallowed them down. This was concerning for a lot of reasons.

“Yeah, never mind we are so fucked.”

Lance wasn’t even trying to follow the progression of events going on around him, listening intently enough to make sense of a single sentence worsening the pressure behind his eyes while he stomach continued to flip.

The acid taste coming up his throat was putrid, but mixed with a grating layer of dust irritating the back of his throat, the presence of it while already massively disoriented was overwhelming.

“What is it?-crap Lance. It’s okay. You’re okay,” Shiro soothed, his hand secure on the other boy’s back while his frame shook from retching so hard.

“Pipe must’ve burst, well I guess not a pipe, more like a main...”

“A main? As in a water main?”

“Yes,” Pidge deadpanned, using her good hand to steady herself against a taller shred of stone as she continued evaluating just how fucked they were.

Shiro gulped, convinced he could actually feel the tons of weight on top of his foreign prosthetic growing heavier the longer he remained wedged under it.

“How much is coming in?”

He could hear it clearer now, like the rumble in your ears when wind rushed past them.

“Too much...”

With a hiccoughing whine, Lance pitched forward, nearly collapsing into the puddle of his own sick as he continued to gag.

“Woah, okay! You’re alright, I’ve got you... just do what you have to do bud.”

Shiro’s free hand on the center of Lance’s chest was the only thing keeping him upright as he worked through the rolling waves of dizzying nausea.

Pidge spared a cursory glance towards her friend, watching how his shoulders worked as he heaved for a moment before returning back to her internal spiral.

“Coms are wrecked but they’re out of range so it’s not like that really matters anyway... the air is pretty thin already, but the longer we’re down here the less viable o2 there’s going to be... and the crater we’re in is flooding so the more pressing issue is—”

“Pidge,” Shiro drawled slowly, his tone placating as he watched her pace back and forth, images of Matt doing the same thing surfacing in his mind as she did.

She might resemble her brother in appearance but their personalities for the most part could not be more opposite. Though during his time in the castle of lions Shiro had found that they actually share a lot of the same nervous mannerisms.

He knew Pidge probably had no idea how similar their actions are and he’s sort of glad only he does, suspecting the knowledge would only make her sad.

The only issue with this discovery is the fact that even though her reaction isn’t new to Shiro, dealing with it was, and once Pidge’s mind started working it was hard to get it to stop.

Lance was winding down then. His breaths still heavy and uneven, the stream of blood down his neck and front steady as ever, but he wasn’t gagging anymore.

“You’re arm is... fucked, my arm is fucked, and Lance’s head! Oh god, this is—“

“Calm down, we can figure this out.”

She spun on him abruptly enough that Shiro was scared for a second she might’ve given herself whiplash.

“Calm down?! How do you expect me to do that when we’re going to be underwater in an hour, hell maybe even a couple of minutes?!”

Lance’s shoulders seemed to slump somehow further from the volume of her voice and Shiro took a second before launching into his response to help him sit back on his heels and away from the vomit.

“No, I’m going to be underwater. You and Lance are going to start walking, climbing, whatever it is you have to do to get to higher ground—“

“Yeah okay, fuck that. We’re not leaving you—uh buh bah, save whatever case you were gonna make because I’ll promptly stop listening.”

The visage of Matt retreated entirely with Pidge’s indiscretion, her words seeding with irritation as she shut Shiro down.

“Pidge!”

“I’m so very sorry for my attitude but you really did just pitch us leaving you to drown, are you really that surprised?”

Shiro took a practiced breath, the kind he uses to ground himself because the pit in his chest was expanding and the last thing they needed was him devolving into panic.

He eyed the way Lance swayed as he sat with his legs splayed on either side of him, his hands limp in his lap and coated in blood from the gash on his head.

“You can’t stay here, not when Lance is hurt like this.”

“Okay.”

“Huh? Okay?”

“Yeah, okay. If you want to waste your energy trying to convince me to let you die, then that’s whatever because the reality is that you’re the one stuck under a rock and I’m the only one whose mobile. This is very much my call. Sorry big guy, but we’re sticking around.”

Shiro actually laughed.

He couldn’t ignore the way that his heart filled with admiration at Pidge’s defiance but it was overwhelmed by the burden of the fact that no matter how much pride he had in her for stepping up, he was still trapped and they were still going to watch him die.

He shuddered and Lance hummed at the movement, wondering vaguely if Shiro was hurt at all before the thought disappeared and the only thing he could remember was how insanely painful the knot on the side of his head was and how heavy his aching body felt.

“M’tired... think I’m gonna... mmmh, gonna lay down,” he managed with some concentration and put his hands on the ground to brace himself but didn’t make any further moves, his face scrunching up in confusion as he struggled to figure out how to maneuver himself down when his arms were so difficult to control and his head pulsed blindingly any time he moved.

“You can’t go to sleep yet, dude. Just sit with Shiro for now, I need you to keep an eye on him for me anyway,” Pidge instructed with a grin.

Shiro huffed and narrowed his eyes but it only made her smirk widen.

“W-why? Is Shiro hurt?” Lance asked worriedly, forgetting himself entirely and attempting to twist around to see.

The gravity of the action caught up with him a beat later, the groan that bubbled in his chest ungodly.

“Easy there, hot shot, I’m okay. Just a little stuck,” Shiro assured, stilling him with a firm hand on his shoulder when the surge of pain had him tipping nearly over.

“Kay... s’good,” he noted through clenched teeth before his eyes fluttered shut and his head began to lower to his chest.

A sharp pain from where Shiro flicked the side of his cheek that wasn’t cut up and coated in blood roused Lance from his attempt to rest.

“Ow. Rude.”

“Not rude, necessary. There’s no napping on the job.”

“I’m so tired though... just wanna sleep... you guys are so mean... why can’t I just—“

“Nope. You’ve gotta keep your eyes open for me bud,” Shiro chided, shaking his shoulder gruffly enough to have his bloodshot eyes shooting open.

“But why?” he slurred, the exasperation in his whine sort of heartbreaking, “I could just nap through... the worst of this, it’d be... it’d be so nice... wouldn’t hurt so much...”

“Since when are you all about what’s easy, you’re like the most stubborn human I know?”Shiro asked, his voice full of fondness.

“And you get enough beauty rest as it is, lover boy, you’ll live if you miss a few hours.”

The rushing water filled the ambient silence while Pidge made her way back to her friends from her watch post amongst the rubble.

“Are... we?”

Lance’s voice was a broken whisper, the gravel in it a painful attribution to the stress his throat had been put under between the abuse of the acid in the bile and coarse texture of the dust.

“Are we what, Lance?”

“Live... are we gonna live?”

The gush of moving water rose up in Shiro’s ears like roaring wind again but stronger this time, effectively tunneling his attention on those words, the innocence of them.

“Of course we are—“

“I want it on the record that I, Pidge Gunderson, am making no such promises.”

“PIDGE!”

“So loud... please... shhh...” Lance cried desperately, his hands almost comically slow to rise and cover his ears.

“WHAT?! I’m being honest!”

“You’re being negative!”

“Coming from the guy who just told me to leave him for dead!”

The fire in both paladins eyes was burning so brightly Lance could’ve sworn there was an actual glow with how horribly his head was beginning to hurt from listening to them.

“Alright, I might’ve had a moment of doubt, but we can’t—“

“Stop shaking me Shiro...” Lance whimpered as he drew his knees up to his chest carefully “—it hurts... please quit it...”

This broke the two out of their heated argument.

“I’m not touching you, Lance...”

“Then t-tell whoever is... to fucking stop!”

His chest hitched pitifully when punctuating the last bit with a pleading whine had his head swimming in vengeance. If it weren’t for the stability of hugging his propped up legs so tightly he would’ve fallen over with how dizzy he was.

Pidge looked at Shiro as if he’d know any better than her what the hell he was talking about.

Unfortunately for the both of them, he did not.

“Deep breaths, Lance. You’re probably just disoriented, it’s normal for head injuries to mess with your sense of balance and equilibrium—“

“Shiro...?”

He was beginning to hate hearing his name being called when it was almost always followed by something he really wouldn’t enjoy hearing.

“Yeah, Pidge?”

But she didn’t have to continue because he felt it then.

A steady thrumming from somewhere below.

A rumble.

“Quiznak...”

[whereflowersbloom]

Sealed Fate

The Western horizon was on fire: hot pink turned into mauve, wild orange into gold, the bright colours fading into paleness, then darkness. It was the day they whisper their vows before the gods, both Raven and Damian believed that love was not what stood at the foundation of their pledge, at least not the kind that fate had in store for them. No, that’s what they want to believe, what truly mattered most at this point was peace, peace through political marriage rather than an overwhelming affection. Peace. Damian, the youngest son of King Bruce and the noblest of all of Gotham’s princes, living or dead. As King Bruce was only left with Damian and Richard. Raven, a demigod, sired by Trigon the Terrible and mortal Arella.

The fragile truce between Gotham and Azarath balanced on the tip of a blade, depending on this union of convenience. Kon-El was wearing a scowl that would freeze unquenchable fire from the House of Hades. She could feel Trigon’s dark eyes burning into her face, the harsh, singeing heat of a desert behind it. She wanted to run, but she was also afraid of him giving chase. What was the point anyway. Before coming to Gotham, she knew how to fly, wings spread wide, flying away, her shoulders have borne heavy burdens, heavy burdens of solid stone. Oh she prayed to fly away from them, and roam the freedom of the sky, but her father had cut off both her wings and left her rooted to the ground. There would no longe mountain's peaks with the promise of wondrous views to keep. It all came to an end the day her father told she had been promised to Damian: Prince of Gotham, the great. Gotham the glorious. Gotham the magnificent. She should be honored, but her thoughts and feelings on the matter were inconsequential as the advice of a woman in wartime.

A week later she found herself at her wedding feast. Wearing a silver attire, a veil, a lilies and myrtle garland, and a golden headband. The Brothers and sisters her husband had in plenty, raised to be warriors they fought during war to lose their short lives. Helena and Timotheos had fallen. No body of Jason had been found after the last battle with Crete. She only met her husband her wedding day. He was reserved but polite and not overly perfumed, and when her eyes fell on him she thought of Narcissus. Narcissus, who had been unable to pull away from his own reflection in the pond, enchanted by his own beauty until death claimed him. Although the way her tutor had prattled on and on about Damian’s innumerable virtues, Raven had not expected him to be as radiant as a god. The sun-kissed skin stretched to wrap around muscles built from years of practicing complex military skills, broad shoulders and powerful arms, displaying strength and virility akin to a noble lion, movements of disconcerting grace for one so large. His facial features had a frank and honest quality to them, bright and deep-set eyes, as green as spring leaves with the touch of Persephone, a Greek nose, full lips. He was a God in beauty and stature. Reluctantly, tore her gaze from his beautiful face and focused on her new family. They have been so impeccably polite, specially Richard. ‘Welcome my good sister. We are all so blessed to have you.’ Blessed. Blessed child she had been called once long ago.

Do you feel blessed, my dear sister?” Richard asked, passing a golden wine cup into her hand. His wide smile meant no harm nor his words. As she grew up Raven was left to learn how to smile and laugh prettily at compliments that made her skin crawl, feign the innocence of any maiden her age.

Blinking several times, she looked back at him and smiled weakly. “Of course, brother.”

Richard was all dancing, light and lean seduction, dark myrrh hair and flushed red lips, rosy cheeks and aristocratic arched eyebrows, adorning himself in a blue and gold tunic. Her new brother appeared to be content to sit in the shadow of his younger brother and watch him gleam in all his glory. Cassandra did not speak with her, she was the only calm in the midst of a storm of abrupt adjustment. She tried to pay no heed to the murmurs of gossiping women at the feast, eyes green with envy as she had married the godlike prince. Foreign seductress. Demon spawn.

Bruce and Olivier discussed vehemently about warfare and politics with Kal-El and Kon-El. Diana and Artemis were carrying an excited conversation about traveling and Shiera’s recent journey in Egypt. She caught no sight of Trigon to her relief.

Trigon. Other gods might have roared their pleasure at the skills and intelligence of their offspring, praised their achievements for all to hear whilst filling themselves to the brim with nectar. Not Trigon, who wanted to sire no child but found himself infatuated with Arella, bedding her out of enjoyment.

If she were godly, truly a deity, in all of its ways with fantastical unlimited power, then one could not help but ask: Would Trigon praise her then? Did he not want her because she bled red as earthlings. As I’d guessing what she was thinking her husband finally spoke.

“For a deity to come down on solid ground isn’t seen many times. For her to wed a mortal willingly is even more ambiguous.” Damian exhaled softly, standing right next to her. His voice was so deep, so soothing and alluring as she had imagined.

“I am no deity. I am the undesired offspring of the god of death.” She said in a choked voice. Not sure if he was mocking the nature of her position. Green eyes alight with amusement.

“You are anything but undesired, wife.” Damian responded, voice low in his throat, and private; a voice she knew in her bones he meant only for her. His face reflected an earnest expression filled with so much pure-hearted sincerity that it stole Raven’s breath away

No man had ever spoken of passion or desire to Raven, and all that she knew of such words she had overheard her tutors speak, or learned from old songs; the glory of being called beautiful in tones, not of cool reason but burning emotion flooded her entirely. She was desired. Biting her lip, her face flushed, and shining starlight hair drooping over her face as if that would somehow hide how obviously close to tears she was.

Damian smiled serenely and Raven felt like he’d seen the sun. Resembling the sun and light, Apollo.

He had a gentleness to him that is completely foreign to her experience, not seen at first sight, discerning the heavy emotions in his eyes. Raven did not know before that it was possible for men to be gentle. One glance and she thought of him kissing her mouth, just as he thought of tasting her skin. Uncertainty lies in her desire for the reciprocal dedication to infallible ardour.

Air. Her lungs were in need of air.

~~~

She went to the garden of Thetis, to sit among the flowers and watch the moon-washed stars. The goddess of flowers must have visited bringing brightness and beauty wherever she stepped, as she appreciated a patch of narcissus, foxgloves, hyacinth, and delphinium displaying tightly clustered flowers upon tall stalks in varied blues and purples, in full bloom, surrounded by the thick chorus of crickets chirping all around. With all thoughts of threats and protecting her homeland, Raven found herself strangely empty. It wasn’t hollowness: it was the emptiness of shock, of disbelief and misunderstandings when everything you’d imagined was pulled out from underneath you and she was suddenly living in a reality where someone admired her? Yearn for her touch rather than fear her.

“Raven.” Kon-El sighed her name as he walked closer to her, fabric softly trailing on the grass and it made Raven tremble. His ocean eyes saddened, darkened, burning through her and reducing anything to ash, to nothingness. There were things that must be said but she couldn’t bring herself to apologize.

“When Morpheus came to me in my dreams. I did not dare look upon his godly figure. But I heard his voice like a thunder from grand Zeus. He promised your hand would be mine to hold.” The words had come bitter and aching with such profound loss that it made her throat tighten with his emotion.

“I have a husband now, Kon.” She mumbled quietly, using his infancy name, casting her gaze downwards. “They were nothing but hollow words, grains of sand carried upon the wind of Aeolus.” His disapproval at the mention of the word husband was obvious.

Attempting to reason with him to not make a claim of a right that was no longer his. She could sense his anger, regret, sorrow. Envy . Why do you look at me in such way? Why do you look at me as if you pity me? Why do you look at me with eyes filled with sorrow and hatred, all at once? Where did her sweet and naughty Kon go? She wished to voice those questions.

With clenched fists, he nodded. “It’s for the gods to decide as our fate lies in their hands.” Kon-El spoke solemnly with unshakable conviction. “You have a husband tonight, but take heed as The Fates could cut his thread of life coming morrow.” He bowed down and left without saying no more.

No. No. He would not dare. Notion spit forth from such a place of hate, fear and confusion like its like a venom small at first or great yet if allowed it to take over fully.

The night was calm, witness of the conversation between two old friends, the stifling hot of the day finally giving way to a coolness which smelled like an approaching storm. Yes, she could feel it, there was a storming coming with the unforgiving and celestial ire of Zeus.

~~~

The feast passed quickly, with laughter and high spirits carrying it along. However, Raven could never quite relax after hearing Kon-El’s threatening words. And there was the bedding ceremony to proceed, not in public. Thank to Merciful Elea.

Torchlight played on Raven’s face as she motioned with her hands like a sorceress, then the royal peplos she wore dropped off her like the skin off a snake and she emerged. Goddess Nyx in human form, her breasts round and ripe and firm, her belly flat and sculpted thighs, the tangle of dark hair between her legs an invitation and a challenge. She was bare before him. So very delicate, so vulnerable, so unlike anything he’d ever laid eyes upon. It intrigued him, that vulnerability, laid bare for him to see under the soft glow of the torches. The daughter of the God of death.

What a curious creature she was. Gifted with the beauty of Aphrodite, the mysterious eyes of Nyx, holding the stars of Orion in them. They had been in his mind on and off at the feast, wrapped up in the hazy, sweetly intoxicating lull of inebriation.

As he looked down then back up her body, to her timid eyes, no challenge in them, though her lips still twisted in a semblance of indecision. Doubt. It was obvious that while she was not truly frightened of him, nonetheless the shadow of doubt and tension was present. Damian swallowed hard. He had avoided looking at her more than necessary during the ceremony but he gave into temptation as Aphrodite whispered in his ear all the ways he could have her. He did not like Gods nor their offspring. The Gods enjoyed tricking mortals for their own merriment. But, she was his wife and there was no escaping now. He cursed quietly for his mortality.

Raven dug her pearly teeth into the fleshy hills of her bottom lip, reminding herself to stay in control, taking a deep breath, fists clenched at her side as she took a brave step forward. “My prince.”

“Damian.” He corrected immediately as he straightened up for a fraction of a second before he bent his head and allowed his lips to graze Raven’s ear. “My name is Damian.”

With uncommon courage, she reached for the clasp holding his jade tunic under his chin. The heavy cloth sighed down around their feet. With a delicate feather-like touch, Raven traced the longest scar on his bronze body that went from Damian’s left shoulder down to his right hip. His breath hitched at the sudden invasion, but relaxed into her touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. No one had ever dare touch him intimately without his permission.

She could see hidden amongst the bright hues an emerald green clouding over with Damian’s lust. Their lips melded together as if they were made for each other and moved in sync as Damian threaded her fingers into Damian’s thick raven locks. Damian gently nipped her lower lip, and when she gasped heavily against his, he slid his tongue inside the warm cavern of her mouth to meet hers.

Her mind temporarily muddled with an electrical charge coursing through her veins making it hard for her to focus on any one part of her anatomy than her mouth against his. Everything tingles, starting at the back of her neck and rushing down, an uncomfortable yet exhilarating heat razing through her nerves only to whirlpool in her lower belly, churning, before continuing down all the way to her toes. He tasted like pure ambrosia.

As they continued kissing, his lips become eager, desperate, feverish. She’s never been kissed like this before. Kon-El had kissed her cheeks out of mischief a few times when they were children. Innocent love. Never with parted lips and tongue, with a hunger that would scare her had the same kind of hunger not driven her own greedy mouth to kiss and suck and nip. And yet she knew with the wisdom of Athena, that even if she’d kissed a hundred men a thousand times, nothing would ever compare to this.

Peppering her neck with kisses and listening to her gasp his name, he carried her slowly to the crimson bed where he laid her down. Dragging his teeth gently downwards, along the expanse of her sweet, alabaster skin. There all shyness was replaced with audacity and devotion. Not being able to resist the urge, he bit into her neck, at her pulse point where he could feel her unsteady heartbeat against his tongue as he laved at it.

Hands that were calloused and large and warm and so very gentle for a warrior, as they find their way roaming her natural curves. They skimmed over her thigh and hip, caress the soft skin of her waist, ghost over the swell of her breasts. His mouth, hot and wet, closed around her breast and sucks lightly, thus making her suck in a sharp breath. Expert tongue swelling around her pink nipple. What in the name of Hera he was doing to her? She wanted more. More. More.

Raven cannot utter a single word. Her mouth too dry, her mind too drunk on arousal, to form any coherent phrase. Calling his name between small whimpers showing her heightened ecstacy. This must be Elysium in all its glory. It was such a sweet torture.

Damian thought to himself she tasted like earth, starlight, like flowers blooming in the night. What was he thinking? She was his wife, no more. Daughter of his nemesis. His young heart hammering inside of his chest, the memory of his mother’s voice haunting him as she vanished with the wind.

Something flared in Damian then, flared up in his chest and his belly like a flaming arrow shot high to signal the start of a nighttime raid, and he seized her hips and pushed up inside her. Raven groaned softly in pain. Fear sent her stomach and chest quaking, her breaths coming short and fast, mind flooded with words of maidens about the pain of maidenhead being taken. At first, his strokes were slow, but his eyes do not look upon her face. The flower garland tumbled off her head and was crushed under their grappling bodies, the scent of a summer noon briefly filling the night.

She opened her legs wider and wrapped them around Damian following her instincts. Her velvet heat encased him, and he had to restrain himself from descending into madness at the pleasure. He felt like he was drowning in the Aliakmonas, the river swollen with melted snow. Raven’s round breasts goaded him, her hands caressed him tenderly, her ripeness clenched around him. As he started thrusting faster, harder, pumping in and out of her at an erratic pace. Damian drops his forehead to her shoulder, an animal like grunt in her ear, and she heard herself moan along with him. She even shifted her hips so that he hits her just right, his pubic bone rubbing against a sensitive spot his hand had touched.

He could tell she was close by the way her walls were fluttering around him, and he brought one of his hands down between them to rub circles onto her bundle of nerves. Damian also angled his hips enough to reach for the deep spot in the center of women that made them cry with satisfaction with each push.

Something inside her tightens, inside her belly where a babe will grow with the blessings of the gods, and then another wave of pleasure washed over her, pulling such a loud moan from her it should leave her ashamed, but she doesn’t care. Sweat beds clouding her vision, and the ragged breath of her husband hot against her moonlight skin, salty with sweat.

He reached climax and came harder than he had ever. His thrusts slowed, hips stilling as he emptied himself, thick, hot, white ropes of his seed filling her up to the hilt. Letting out a weary sigh he removed his body atop hers, carefully. It was done. Fulfilled his duty he told himself. A clear lie. Damian considered cupping her cheek and kissing her temple but he couldn’t do it. No. His features hardened as he turned away from her.

“I will show you respect as my wife. I will please you in all the ways a husband and lover can. But do not ask me to love you, for that is not an oath I can honor.” His voice came out hoarser and raspier than ever in the darkness, before rolling to the other of the bed preparing to fall in the arms of Morpheus.

There was an emptiness inside of her soul, her center she couldn’t describe. Waiting to be full again. Aching. Pulsing. Whirling.

“But I thought…” Raven began, a lump forming in her throat, not wanting to admit that she had hoped he could ever find love with her. Perhaps fondness. What about the gentleness he had shown her? The words died with the quietude of the royal chamber as if Harpocrates had made himself present.

Perhaps coming morrow with the grace of Apollo, he would bring Damian’s gentleness back to her. All she can do is hope and pray tonight. A lone tear slipped down her face as she closed her eyes.

Notes: Hello it’s me again with a new AU. Sorry not sorry. Had to get it out of my system 😂😂😂😂🙈🙈🙈🙈

Do not panic please. This is the first chapter and there will be Damirae fluff I promise. Happy Damirae moments and probably more smut than in other stories 👀👀

Hope you all enjoy. @ravenfan1242 @tweepunkgrl @chromium7sky @deepbreadlover @timid-soot-sprite @kallura-juniblade @shewhowillnotbenamed1 @andthendk @alerialblu

[thoseofgreatambition]

Dear George | Chapter 1

Dear George | Chapter 1 | Ten Miles Farther

Desc: Gwendolyn hid herself away after the war, from a mix of ambition and anxiety. It’s not until small reunion that she reconnects with her old friend George that going out and about more seems to become interesting. 

A/N: Hi there! I started writing Dear George about three years ago. It’s incredibly long, but I poured my blood sweat and tears into this. Please let me know what you think, I would adore some comments. 

Warnings: Alchohol

Pairing: George x OC

Word count: 4.6K

Gwendolyn’s father had been the first Slytherin in a long line of Ravenclaws. At the time, no one had been that torn up about the change. Their family business was running an apothecary, and his family had been quite pleased that their first born child was ambitious. It meant that their business would be left in good hands.

Then the first war happened. Gwen’s grandparents hadn’t changed their opinion on their son, they knew him well, and knew that he wouldn’t do anything to harm anyone. However, her father had to take quite a bit of action so people didn’t associate him with the death eaters. It had worked, in their tiny magical town in Wales, he’d been dubbed ‘a good man’ despite him being in Slytherin. Afon went through the training to become a healer before joining the family business. After that he had used his free time to heal those coming back from the war, and offering free medicine to those that needed it.

Gwen was very young at the time, and he’d made sure that the experience taught her a valuable lesson. If you’re in Slytherin, you have to go more than the extra mile to make sure people don’t hold it against you. You have to go ten miles farther than anyone else.

Her mother, a muggle, hadn’t really cared a fig when Gwen was sorted into Slytherin like her father, but Gwen knew that he wasn’t happy. He knew that it would just make life harder on her than if she was in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff.

As much as people who weren’t in Slytherin would like to attest, most of those in the house were perfectly normal. Slytherins knew that Gryffindor were their rivals, but that didn’t mean they weren’t friends with some of them. Many of those in Slytherin had friends with people in other houses, in fact, almost all of them did. Gwen did after all. Her best friend was her cousin in Ravenclaw, and she was good friends with the Weasley twins who were in her year.

Things started getting hard in her seventh year. Umbridge came around, and the favoritism she showed Slytherin was sickening. All of the Slytherins knew what her detentions were like. Malfoy had detailed them once in the common room. But what could they do to help? Most of them, the ones who weren’t Umbridge’s cronies simply tried to support people who weren’t in their house, took the fall for them when they could. Everyone knew she wouldn’t punish those in Slytherin.

Gwen had started volunteering in the hospital wing, when she wasn’t practicing with the rest of the Quidditch team. With Malfoy circulating the ‘Weasley is our King’ nonsense, it seemed like most people hated Slytherin with a passion. That year was both hectic and exceedingly simple. She practiced for Quidditch, helped in the hospital wing, and studied for her N.E.W.T.S. Above all, before anything else, she kept her head down.

Sure, she helped out her friends when she could, took the fall when she could, but with so much anger towards her house, Gwen found it easiest to busy herself with work and try to sway opinions by doing her very best.

It hadn’t really worked though.

She knew something was going on with the twins and their large group of friends. Every Slytherin knew there was some sort of meeting going on. Malfoy ranted about it every time he failed to find out exactly what was happening. Gwen didn’t really know the details. She hadn’t pressed to find out, and had just assumed it was some meeting of friends. If she heard anyone on the Inquisitorial Squad say anything that sounded important she passed it on if she could.

When she found out about Dumbledore’s army, what it had really been, it had stung a bit. Perhaps it was because she hadn’t pushed to find out what was happening, but to her teenage mind, it felt like she hadn’t been invited because they didn’t trust her.

She’d at least gotten to help in the Battle of Hogwarts. Gwen and her father had heard about what was going on and had arrived to offer their services as healers in the Great Hall. It hadn’t been much, but it had been enough to shake the association with their old house mates fighting for the other side.

All of this, every moment, led to today. She’d finished her training as a healer and moved back to Wales with her parents before the war, and was getting ready to take over the family business so her father could retire. It was hard work, standing over a cauldron all day, but it was for something greater than she could imagine. The Hughes family name was going to be known across all of Britain one day. She and her father were going to make damn sure that one day they were well known. It was rare that wanting to help people was met with such ambition, but the traits had merged quite firmly in the father and daughter.

She was quite engrossed in the pain potions she was working on, so when Gwen’s fire place lit up with a flash of green flame, with a familiar figure leaping out, she couldn’t help but yell out in surprise and drop her wand.  

“Merlin’s pants! Victoria, what did I tell you about doing that?” She picked up her wand that had fallen and scowled down at the fireplace as her cousin Victoria walked out. Really, if Victoria was going to opt out of helping with the family business, it would be nice if she didn’t scare the living daylights out of Gwen and distract her from working.

Victoria shrugged, and flashed the same winning smile she always did. “Sorry Gwen!” With a quick glance to her surroundings, she hopped up and sat upon the worktable. “We’re all going out for drinks, and I want you to come!”

“Who’s ‘we’?” Gwen frowned as she looked down at her potion, before starting to distribute it into smaller vials. She could probably go out for the night, it’d been several months since she did so after all. Then again, Gwen didn’t want to go to any sort of wild parties that Victoria seemed to be so fond of. Victoria was a good and smart woman, but she could drink Gwen under the table with ease.

“The Weasley twins, Angelina Johnson, me…. Plenty of others from our year? I’m not sure.” She gave Gwen an appraising look, taking in her stained shirt and pants, dirty from today’s work. “You’ll have to get changed.”

Gwen wiped her hands on her shirt. The thing would get washed anyways. Tactfully, the apothecary ignored her cousins blunt words and focused on finishing up her work.

Thinking about it, it sounded fun. She hadn’t seen much of any of the old group after the war, and the last time she’d seen Fred he’d been lying in the Great Hall, unconscious after a rather sizable chunk of wall landed atop of him. Gwen had heard he’d been wheelchair bound, though she was simply grateful he wasn’t dead.

“Fred’s going to be there? Is he doing well enough?”

Victoria nodded enthusiastically. “He looks like he’s doing pretty good! He’s using a cane now, but he said that he’s been itching to go out for a while since he’s feeling better.”

Gwen paused and took stock of her surroundings. She’d done the lion’s share of the work today, and she had a feeling her dad wouldn’t mind if she passed the rest onto him. Sure, she wouldn’t tell him she’d be drinking, but he’d be happy to know his daughter was spending time with friends. “Alright—give me a little bit to get changed. If you go downstairs Ma and Dad will get you something to eat I’m sure. They’ll be happy to see you.”

Getting ready was easy, this wasn’t some huge event where she needed to be dressed to the nines. A clean shirt, a clean pair of pants, and fixing the plait in her hair was fast and simple. Soon enough Gwen was stampeding down the stairs to meet Victoria.

“Bye Ma, bye Dad!” She kissed her mother on the cheek before waving to her father.

Ada looked up from her seat towards her daughter, a smile on her face. It was nice to hear that she was finally going out to see her old friends. “What time will you be back, Gwendolyn?”

Gwen shot a look towards Victoria, clicking her teeth as she thought. Her father was very much morally upright and hardly ever drank. While she had no intention of getting roaring drunk tonight, she knew he wouldn’t like the idea of her going to a bar. “I’m not sure. If it’s late I’ll just stay with Victoria—It’ll be nice to catch up with everyone.”

The expression on her father’s face showed she wasn’t fooling him in the slightest, but also that he didn’t mind enough to comment. “Have fun, be safe.”

Soon enough they bounded through the fireplace to Victoria’s flat near Diagon Alley. Gwen shrugged on a jacket. It was technically spring now, but it was still quite cool outside, especially at night. “So where are we meeting everyone?”

“The Leaky Cauldron! We’ll be meeting everyone there, I think it’s going to be a small reunion thing.” She did a final check of her hair in the mirror before flashing Gwen her winning smile. Gwen was still surprised Victoria hadn’t ended up in Slytherin with her. She was quite good at getting people to do what she pleased, and everyone in the family was quite happy she used her powers for good. It seemed however that her wit was her strongest personality trait, and it had landed her in Ravenclaw.

A reunion though? That probably meant a lot of the people in their year would be there. If Gwen was a betting woman, she’d wager that she’d be one of the only Slytherin’s there, if not the only one. Most of the people in her house were perfectly decent. But those that didn’t go out of their way to prove they were good people, tended to be excluded. Gwen reckoned the only reason she was remembered for this was because she was Victoria’s cousin.

On second thought, it may have been the fact she was on the Quidditch team. The twins probably remembered launching several bludgers at her in their younger years.

George had definitely popped her shoulder out of socket at one point, but the boy had been nice enough to check on Gwen in the hospital wing after. She didn’t really blame him. He’d been aiming for one of Slytherin’s Beater’s, and when the Beater moved out of the way, George had hit her while she was carrying the Quaffle.

Gwen massaged her shoulder as she remembered the event and walked out onto the street with Victoria. It was hard not to be a little nervous. This was the first time she’d seen these people since the war had ended almost a year ago, and Gwen hadn’t kept in good touch with any of them. She had a growing suspicion that people would be so interested in catching up with each other, she might have a hard time joining a conversation.

Her suspicion was correct. People were perfectly friendly to Gwen, and in fact there were a few people that seemed genuinely happy to see her. But as people got into deep conversations, she was spending more time listening than talking. Victoria was at a different and engrossed in a conversation with an old housemate, Gwen was sipping on her drink, wondering how rude it would be of her to leave early.

Looking around from her tiny booth in the corner, it did seem nice to be back. Gwen had missed these people, and even if she wasn’t sure how to join into their conversations, it didn’t mean she wasn’t happy to see them. She did wish that at least one other Slytherin had shown up, Gwen had gotten along quite well with most of the ones in her year, and she was certain she’d have a conversation partner if that was the case.

“So how have you been?”

It took a second to realize that the voice was talking to her, and as Gwen looked she saw a familiar ginger headed man sitting down across from her. “Hey George.”

If it had been a few years ago, she wouldn’t have been entirely certain which twin was which, but George only had one ear now, and Fred was restricted to using a cane. Somehow she wasn’t happy about being able to tell them apart. “I’ve been doing pretty well. I finished up training as a healer this fall, and I moved back home to help with the shop. How have you been?”

He squeezed into the booth, and they both pretended Gwen didn’t know the answer to the question she’d just asked. Gwen also pretended she didn’t notice the fact he was missing an ear now. Probably something from the war.

“Man that’s all you’ve been up to? After so long I really thought you were going to give me an earful.”

“That’s a terrible pun,” she said, smiling despite her words. There was a certain quality about the twins. They could make anyone laugh. Just across the room Fred was telling some sort of story that had everyone in stitches.

“No one ever likes the ear jokes,“ He clicked his tongue, and shook his head with an exaggerated look of sadness. “It’s a shame really, when I’ve got so many of them.” He couldn’t keep the fake frown on for long, before returning to his normal beaming self. “I’ve been doing alright, the shop’s been closed for a while now, but we’re hoping to open it during the summer. Fred and I have been developing new products as much as we can. It’s really nice to get back to work.” He looked across the room and eyed his brother’s cane. “It’s a good distraction.”

She followed his line of sight to his brother and frowned just a bit, wondering what else was going on that she wasn’t privy to. It certainly wasn’t her place to ask. This was her first time having a proper conversation with him since before the war started, and that topic would be going too far in depth for so soon after meeting him again.

Instead, Gwen steered the conversation to a safer topic.

“So what are you working on now? The new products?”

George knew perfectly well what she was doing, and he was quite alright with it. Detailing how hard Fred’s rehabilitation was going wasn’t something he wanted to do on a night that was supposed to be fun. “We’re working on a whole new line of sweets! Remember how we made sweets to help kids get out of class or tests?”

“I do. I also seem to remember a certain Mr. Weasley eating a bad batch of those sweets and vomiting on my shoes.”

“I’m not surprised you do, but you should also remember that the same Mr. Weasley apologized quite a bit for that, and held your hair when you threw up in return.”

He’d felt quite bad about it at the time. First for ruining her shoes, and secondly for causing her to get sick in return. He’d used a spell to clean her shoes though, and had made sure she was alright, so George figured they were square.

Gwen chuckled and took another sip of her drink, “Yeah—I guess we’re even. So what do these new sweets do? More to get you out of class?”

He shook his head. “No, we’re actually thinking of things that help you perform better. Things to jog your memory, a nougat to help with getting nervous in class….” George finished off the last bit of his drink and smiled. “We figure it’ll be nice to do some sweets that don’t involve making people sick.”

“I mean, I’m sure a lot of people would agree with you.” Gwen finished off the last of her drink as well, finally done with the first drink of the night. She wasn’t terribly fond of drinking, and tended to pace herself. “It’s nice to see everyone again, I haven’t seen you since what? A year and a half ago?”

She didn’t count the battle. Gwen had of course seen him there, but it was when his whole family was crouched over Fred, worrying if he was going to live or die.

“A year and a half ago yeah. Too long. I seem to remember you telling me you’d keep in touch, Miss Hughes.” George did his best impression of his mother when she chastised one of his children, and wagged his finger at her until she laughed. “You better start keeping up to that promise. I’ll be holding you to it.” Spying their empty glasses, he scooted out of the booth and stood up. “Next rounds on me—no arguing. What will you have?”

“A butterbeer. Thank you George.” He was the same guy he always was, funny, and always looking to reach out to those he thought seemed lonely.

As the night went on, the awkwardness of seeing each other for the first time in a while faded, and they were able to talk like they used to. “Yeah—Fred’s real happy. They took him off one of his pain management potions, so he’s able to drink again.” George’s face screwed up, realizing that he hadn’t exactly put his brother in a nice light. “Not that he drank much in the first place, but it’s just been a pain being told not to do something.”

“That’s understandable. I see that a lot. No grown up likes being told what they can and can’t do.” She sipped on her drink, feeling a very happy warmth spread over her from the butterbeer. “It’s hard making pain potions, you can’t make them too strong or else the patient can’t do anything, but if you don’t make them strong enough they don’t help. That’s good though, I’m happy for him. He’s doing a lot better than the last time I saw him.” Granted, the last time she saw him he’d been unconscious, but this was still a vast improvement.

George nodded, it was nice talking to Gwen about this sort of thing. She’d always been inclined to healing, and during their seventh year she’d snuck him balms to help with the scars from Umbridge’s detentions. “So I have a question for you. What sort of sleeping potion is best for insomnia?”

It was a complicated question, and Gwen mulled it over with a long sip from her drink. “Well, it depends on the background of the patient.” She looked between Fred across the room and George across the table from her.  She reckoned that he was asking either on behalf of his brother or himself. “If the patient is on a lot of other medication, it narrows the field. If not, there’s more options.”

“I don’t take any other potions regularly, except for a sleeping potion I bought at a shop. Didn’t see a healer for it though.” He had no qualms coming out to Gwen and saying it was for him. The problem laid in the fact that with Fred dealing with being so sick and in so much pain after the war, George hadn’t really felt right seeking out help for his own issues. Now that Fred was getting better though….

“With you, it’s actually not that bad finding something that would work. I’d steer away from anything you can just pick up without seeing an actual healer, those can get nasty. If you pop by our shop I can help you out. Can you not sleep at all or is it just trouble falling asleep?”

Well that explained the fact that his potion had stopped working on him. “I can’t sleep at all. I usually end up eventually falling asleep after a day or two.”

Gwen shook her head a little bit. That certainly wasn’t good. A glance at the clock showed that it was quite late, but not too late for her to help him out. “C’mon—we’re getting you squared away tonight.”

George looked at her in surprise, as she stood up, “Tonight? You sure?” He shot a look at Fred who was peering over at him curiously. Fred offered a thumbs up, and George shook his head. No, this wasn’t going to be like that. “Alright then—let’s go.”

She walked to the fireplace and tossed a handful of Floo powder in, “Hughes Apothecary.” Quick as all can be, she was back home in the store front, greeted by her confused father working on labeling potions.

George followed suit and was entirely unsure how to handle this situation. Luckily, Gwen seemed to have a handle on it. “This is my friend George, he’s had trouble sleeping so I wanted to get him settled with a potion tonight to help out.”

Afon frowned just a bit at his daughter. The paternal side of him didn’t like her bringing home a “friend” late at night with no warning. The ambitious side of him though was happy that he’d be getting a new customer, and trusted that his daughter would get a new patient for the business. “Nice to meet you George.” He shook the young man’s hand and noted the dark circles under his eyes. Yes, a sleeping potion would be in order. “Let me know if you need any help Gwendolyn.”

He was quite certain that she’d have a handle on it, but Afon intended to be right in the other room working just in case.

The redhead felt quite awkward. He’d be honest, after the war he was known for partaking in some ill advised flings, but that was a behavior George was determined to put behind him. Besides, this didn’t feel like that. Always one to crack a joke in any situation, he handled the tension the best he knew how. “So is this the part where you try to sell me as much as you can?”

Gwen let out a snort of laughter as she began sorting through several potions, before motioning loosely to a chair for him to sit in. “No, you’re not drunk enough to rob blind. So when was the last time you slept?”

“Night before last.” He wasn’t much of a coffee drinker, and even now he wasn’t fond of the stuff, but he’d had quite a bit to make ends meet. Gwen took his wrist in her hand and checked his pulse. “I went to bed at 4 a.m. and woke up at 8 p.m.” there was a twang of guilt, George was always very careful to go to Fred’s healer appointments with him, but had managed to miss that one.

“Have there been any other symptoms?” This all seemed fairly straightforward, but she didn’t want to miss some bigger thing he may have by just focusing on the lack of sleep.

George shook his head, trying to rack his brain. “I’ve had headaches, but that’s about it.”

With a nod, she let go of his wrist and grabbed a potion from the cabinet. “Alright, so this is what I’ll be giving you.” Gwen set the vial in his hand and sat across from him. She jotted down the instructions she was giving him verbally on a piece of parchment “You’re only going to take an ounce a night, an hour before bed. You’re going to cut out all caffeine after noon, and you’re not going to have any heavy meals three hours before bed. I don’t want you doing any work or any studying for products an hour before bed. You need to start relaxing.”

He was glad Gwen was writing all of this down. She continued to list what he was supposed to do, and he doubted he would have been able to remember it all.  Then again, if this would help him sleep, it would be worth it.

“Writing also helps. You can start a journal or write some letters before bed if that will help you relax.”

“Letters will probably work best…” his mother would be happier if he sent more letters to her, certainly. “Besides, given how much I’ve talked to you these past few years, maybe I ought to start writing instead.”

Gwen simply responded with a grin and a nod. The writing trick almost always worked. There was something therapeutic about getting all of your thoughts out onto a page before you slept. She stood up and began leafing about the room. She knew somewhere in here there was a tea that would help him relax. It certainly wasn’t a magical one, but it should still work.

“How much do I owe you?” He stood out of the chair and stretched, feeling himself grow more tired as the alcohol he’d had continued to hit him. His tolerance seemed to have faded after not drinking for some time. Hopefully he’d actually be able to sleep tonight. Gwen appeared to be searching for something in the cluttered workroom. George couldn’t pass judgment though, it was still more organized than what he and Fred had going on.

She simply shook her head. Her father’s ambition was to have the shop become so successful they could open another in Diagon Alley, and then more and more until they were in every wizarding center in Britain. To do this they had to make quite a bit of money and develop a huge client base. If he knew she was giving away a potion for free she doubted he’d be happy. Gwen’s ambition was the same, but she knew that sometimes it needed to be put aside, even if she wasn’t entirely thrilled about it. “Don’t worry about it, just let me know if it works alright? I think it’ll work for you, but I don’t want you paying for it if it doesn’t.”

“Are you sure?” George reached back to grab his wallet out of his pocket. He couldn’t help but remember when he and Fred were starting to sell their products at school, and how every knuckle had mattered when it came to making sure they could do what they loved. Sure, Gwen’s family business was much more old and established than his was, but he didn’t want to put anyone in a tight spot.

Gwen nodded, handing him the small satchel of tea she’d been looking for. “Drink this after you take your potion. It’ll help too.” She waved him off as he took out his money, “I’m sure! It was nice talking to you again. I want to help out where I can. Besides, you paid for drinks tonight. We’re even George.”

That had tended to be a running theme in their friendship. They’d first met in potions, where she’d helped him once and he’d helped her in return. After he’d hit her with the bludger during the Quidditch game and knocked her shoulder out of socket, he’d carried around her books until it had healed. When she gave him a balm to heal the wound on his hand after detentions with Umbridge, he’d given her a wide assortment of Skiving Snackboxes to help her get out of History of Magic.

It didn’t quite feel like even though. All he’d done was spend time with a friend, and now she was helping him with a problem he’d had for months. Always seeking to even the scales, George quickly thought of a solution. “I’ll write you tonight, and you can expect my letter tomorrow.”

Gwen smiled. “You better—I’m expecting to hear plenty of jokes from you. Good ones this time, not just ear puns.”

“Excuse you Madam, those are the epitome of comedy.” He gave her a quick hug and grabbed a handful of Floo powder. It was time to leave. Fred was probably back home and he was sure his brother needed help getting ready for bed. “You better come and visit the shop again soon. No more waiting a year before seeing your friends.”

She nodded, “I’ll come and visit when I have the chance.” For once, she actually meant it. “Get some sleep George.”

George tossed the powder into the fireplace, “Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.” Turning back to Gwen, he threw her a smile. “Thank you. Goodnight.”

Like that, he was gone. Briefly, Gwen wondered how Victoria would feel about the fact she’d essentially ditched the party to do more business, but shrugged it off. She was helping a friend, and had more fun than if she had simply sat in the corner of the pub all night. Gwen passed by her father and went upstairs to her room.

It’d be nice to read George’s letter in the morning.

tag list: @geeksareunique @insearchofnewdreams @notstandingstill-imlyinginwait @lumos-barnes @thatfuckingliardavidtennant @slytherinqween @xinyourdreamsx @skiving-snackboxess @wildfire-whizbangs @dwarfwizard-from-panem @diary-of-an-onliner @answer-the-sirens @woakiees @black-widow-fangirl @theheirofnightandday @summerstardust @whysoseriouspadfoot @chocok22 @myhopesareanchoredinyou @siriusblackisme @illusivedaydreamer @zeeneee @writingwitchly @wolfpotter12 @obsessedwithrandomthings @carolinesbookworld @shadowsinger11 @pit-and-the-pen @summer-writes @peachesandpinks @ickle-ronniekins @gweaslvy @alpinewinchester

[sombreboy]

Love Maze »18

Previous  » Next Series Masterlist ▎ 18+ ▎ pairing: Taehyung x Jungkook ▎ genre: School AU, crack humor, smut, angst, ETL, slow burn, fluff. ▎ word count: 7.7k ▎ ch.warnings: profanity, angst, jealousy, violence, blood, mentions of hospitals, yandere side character is back and he's CRAZY

Co-writer: @velvetwicebang​​​​ ♡♡♡

The following day was huge, today was the big game that they've prepared for forever! Jungkook headed out early, leaving Jisoo's home to head over to his own to grab his backpack before heading to school for the last morning practice. This afternoon was it; he had to be in his best form to perform well. Kook made his way to the locker room to change, a bit earlier than everybody else. He wanted to warm up properly, and give his all in the last practice. He loved the thought of competition, excited to show off the endless stamina he's spent countless hours building up for.

Taehyung stalled, lingering close to Jungkook like a pest just waiting to pounce on the opportunity to talk to him.. He waited and waited; until the opportunity never came. “Fucking pussy..” Tae self-loathed, watching as everyone else was quickly ushered out of the locker room by Namjoon.

“Tae, come on! You too.” The Captain was stressed, anyone could see that. Deciding it was for the best to not make a fuss, Taehyung obliged and kept to himself. The elder glanced over at Kook a couple times during practice, wondering how he was doing. Maybe he’d be able to get a hold on the younger before the big game tonight. Tae held on to that possibility.

Jungkook wasn't blind, he could tell that Taehyung's eyes were on him more than usual today. It was weird-- he'd been completely ignored for what felt like forever. Maybe he was just imagining things, however... That must be it-- nerves. He shrugged it off, overthinking was the last thing he needed to do today.

Practice went great, Namjoon praised the guys with a lopsided smile-- the stress and worry was evident, but he was confident in his players. He dismissed the members, Jungkook grabbing his water bottle by the bench to chug it down as he wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand as he resumed to head down to the locker room, the other guys not quite there yet as they stayed around to calm Namjoon's pre-game nerves.

Well, except Taehyung.

Taehyung’s quick, determined strides gradually lost their momentum the moment he pushed on the locker room door, nervous to see Jungkook’s face after what took place between them.. Suddenly, his confidence was equivalent to sand in an hourglass as it dropped by the ticking second. There stood the younger, completely unaware of the motive behind Tae’s hesitant, inclosing steps. He tried not to think about what he was unknowingly exposed to yesterday evening, but Taehyung couldn’t just.. ignore the imprinted image of Jungkook‘s lips molded against someone else’s. A girl. Hell, he couldn’t compete with that.. The elder inhaled a deep breath. “Uhm.. can we— can we talk?” His Adam’s apple nervously danced underneath his neck. “Please?”

Four words. It was the first four words Koo had heard from Tae in weeks.

'Can we talk, please?'

Kook swallowed tightly. Now he wanted to talk? Was ignoring him not enough--now he suddenly wants to talk. "No." He says. There was nothing he imagined that he wanted to hear. He couldn't afford to lose focus, and Tae would definitely not help with whatever he had to say. Kook turned his back towards the elder as he began to change, hoping that would be enough to be left alone. Fuck, this wasn't good. Taehyung had slowly already creeped his way into Jungkooks brain.

Taehyung’s self-confidence deflated on the spot, his disappointment instead peering through the cracks. He’s a fucking idiot. W hat else was he expecting Kook to say? Yes? No matter the initial letdown, Tae wasn’t one to give up easily. “Look, Jungkook— I hate not being able to talk to you.” His piercing gaze roamed over the younger’s bare skin, wishing the two dimples on the latter’s lower back were a pair of eyes. Taehyung wanted Jungkook to listen to him, to see his strained efforts to try and fix the deep shit they were in.

He caused it; he had to end it.

“I-I miss us.. you.” The elder glanced down towards the ground, suddenly wishing Jungkook wouldn’t turn around. If he’d just thought about it for a second longer, Tae wouldn’t have broken up with him. It was an impulsive decision— and fuck.. did he regret it.

Jungkook froze as soon as he pulled the hoodie over his torso. He couldn't believe what he just heard.. was it a dream, where his mind was playing tricks on him? The younger took a deep, slow breath to keep himself together, but it was easier said than done. He really wished Tae wouldve said those words earlier... much earlier... Before he went to Jisoo-- fuck... Kook felt his guarded exterior slowly being chipped away with every piercing word coming off the elders lips, and the mere thought of this was terrifying. He felt guilty, for a part of him wanted Tae back too. A big part. "I... I can't. Okay?" He didnt sound so sure. All he knew was that if he didn't keep his guard up; he'd crumble. And today the game was his priority. Jungkook turns on the spot, regretfully as he saw Taehyung's gloom stance. He seemed sincere... and that only made this entire thing so painful. Fuck, he wishes he could just... hug him. "Tae..." the name was unfamiliar on his lips once more, stepping closer to the elder. He looked a bit different than before-- but before he could say anything else, the rest of the boys came rushing down-- however they came to a halt as they saw their two golden boys in a rather tense situation. Taehyung with his head hanging low, and Jungkook looking absolutely distressed through his doe eyes. The very moment Kook heard the guys, he withdrew the hand he had extended, instead using it to grab his backpack and wordlessly walk away, pushing through the doors with his shoulder before heading towards the dining hall without waiting for anybody.

Jungkook missed him too.. and it was fucking terrifying. Why does Taehyung have this strong grasp on him? He shrugged as he went to sit down in his usual spot in the dining room, rubbing his eyes in annoyance, and an attempt to clear his vision. Game. Game. Game.

It didn't go that well.

~

Taehyung blankly watched the younger scurry out of the crowded room, ignoring his friends’ careful attempts at squeezing an answer out of him.

“You guys okay or..?”

He turned to look at Yoongi, not bothered to include a verbal clarification. The mint-haired male’s flat expression fell. He was visibly struggling to come up with anything remotely comforting as his palm glided over the sweat on his nape.

“Tae, please.. we need you here for the game, alright? Joon’s already stressed out enough, it’s the least we can do.” Yoongi’s never been in love, but it didn’t take a genius to know Taehyung was hurting because of it. He wasn’t aware of what happened between his friends, but he hoped they’d be able to put it off— whatever it was— until later; after they'd secured their anticipated win.

~

The rest of the day during school was dreadful, Jungkook couldn't stop replaying the simple words that Taehyung had told him this morning. It was confusing, to say the least. Why'd the elder have to put this on him now? Focusing in class was an impossible task, the one thing his mind tunnel visioned on was to win the game. Nothing else. He'd sacrificed way too much of himself to let this be a flop. As classes ended, he had some time to kill before he had to go prepare himself, so he opted to go for his trusted vending machine to get himself his favourite sweet, explosion of chemicals in the form of banana milk. With a straw pressed between his lips, he headed to sit where he usually would outside the building by the stairs, fishing his phone out to open his text conversations. He'd still kept the one from Tae, hovering over it with his thumb before opening the thread. The latest message was the one that ended their relationship, just after the previous text that was a promise of them meeting after class to fulfill their needs.

Kook sighed, shaking his head as he internally scolded himself for even going through this memory again. He wondered why Taehyung suddenly changed his mind.. and part of him knew he had to find out eventually.

~~~

The day’s blinding light converted into darkness, the sun’s blazing rays nowhere to be seen as seconds turned into minutes, and minutes progressed into hours. The overfamiliar gymnasium gradually filled up with animated students and proud parents, each one there to support and cheer for their respective team.

Taehyung was hidden away in the locker room along with everyone else, partaking in some last minute stretches before it was time for them to confidently walk out into the lion’s den. Tae was sure tonight was the most packed it’s ever been, the muffled commotion reached his alert ears from where he stood, the faint buzzing swelling to a roar.

Well, it wasn’t that dramatic.. Big crowds tended to spike up the elder’s mild anxiety, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle.

Taehyung’s hooded eyes were glued on Jungkook, replaying earlier events until it didn’t sit right with him. He wanted to make things right between them— for the game’s sake, and for theirs in the long run.

“Hey, Jung—“

“Jungkook? Hi!” Jisoo greeted with a beaming smile, seeming relieved. “I was dreading coming in here.. didn’t want Yuna to see any naked guys..” The woman awkwardly chuckled, gently withdrawing her hand from the little one’s big, curious eyes.

“Is that a baby?!”

“No, Hoseok, it’s a dog.” Yoongi sassed with a roll of his eyes, following behind their friends to greet the newcomer. Jimin and Hoseok seemed extra infatuated with the chubby little human while Yoongi kept to himself, trying to act unfazed by Yuna’s incoherent babbles. Namjoon and Taehyung however.. Both were wide-eyed.

“Jungkook, who’s this?” Jimin’s plump lips twitched up into a smile, curious about Kook’s friend. Jisoo’s fingers sneakily grazed over the younger’s strong, naked biceps. She tried to be slick, but failed. Jungkook looked extra good in a pair of jersey and shorts..

Meanwhile, Joon and Tae lingered in the corner, watching the situation unfold with narrowed eyes. While Namjoon glared at Jungkook, Taehyung glared at Jisoo.

Jungkook's eyes widened at the surprise, expecting her to be out in the audience rather than... well, in their locker room. It didn't fail to make his lips tug into a toothy grin though, giving Yuna's small nose a little boop of his finger before turning to Jisoo. ''Hey,'' he smiled, noting how Yuna relished in the attention of his hyungs. As they asked him, who the hell this girl was, he took a long second to think. They weren't something, but they also weren't nothing. ''She's my friend,'' he settles with this explanation, ''Lives next door.'' He didn't like to go too much into details, that's all they needed to know.

Jisoo merely agreed in the form of a nod, discreetly confused about where they stood. Now that the question was innocently brought up, it got her thinking.. They’ve kissed, fucked (sometimes more than once on the same day), spent almost every waking day together.. it nearly checked off all of the requirements for a relationship. It was a tricky situation, and alike Jungkook, she barely went into clear details— only useless rambling. “Anyways, I didn’t bring you the fancy sign, I know.” She joked with Kook, turning the locker room into her personal stage as she acted disappointed in herself. “But..” Jisoo looked around, making sure no one was in their point of hearing. “When you guys win, I’ll reward you with whatever you want. You know, to make up for it.” The woman stepped back, her usual smile decorated with the exhilaration of tonight’s possible affair.

Taehyung was fuming... He couldn’t bear to see the two of them together after what he came across the other day.

“They seem close, huh..” Namjoon noted with barely any emotion in his voice, arms securely crossed over his chest. Tae, who stood next to him, simply scoffed. “Yeah, they’re close alright.”

What did Jungkook see in Jisoo, anyway? Sure, she was nice.. caring, compassionate, pretty— all nice qualities. Taehyung only angered himself further. The woman was the perfect person for him. It got Tae wondering why the fuck they haven’t gotten married and birthed ten more perfect kids yet. They were so.. loud with their affection, it was annoying.

“Uhm, I mean, how close?” It was obvious Namjoon was jealous, no matter how hard he tried to play off his feelings.

“I caught them kissing. That’s how close.”

“W-what?” The elder’s hands unknowingly clenched into fists, not believing what he’d just heard.

Is that why Jungkook got so angry that one time..? It had to be.

Jungkook smiled coyly at Jisoo as she stepped back, stretching his back for the final remaining minutes. ''I'll look forward to it. Go get a seat before they're all taken!'' he jokes. But truly, there were a whole lot of people. Before Jisoo left with Yuna, she looked at Jungkook over her shoulder, meeting his eyes with a small smile. He waved vaguely as she disappeared out of view before turning back to his hyungs, not aware of the stares he's getting from Namjoon and Taehyung.

''Alright, let's do this!'' Hoseok chimes, working together with Jimin and Jin to bring the group together into a hug, smushing Tae and Kook together involuntarily, Joon as well in the mess. As if it came naturally, Taehyung’s arm wrapped around Jungkook’s smaller waist as their friends huddled together. While everyone else’s was on each other’s upper backs, Tae’s instincts just had to kick in at the wrong time. By the time he’d noticed, Joon’s body had practically locked him in position. It would’ve been awkward if Tae attempted to squeeze his arm out in the middle of Jin’s hushed ‘poetically powerful’ pregame speech, so he let it be. The taller nervously glanced at Kook from time to time, swallowing down his remaining panic. Taehyung’s bigger hand gently squeezed at Jungkook’s hip, his fingers digging lightly into the fabric of the younger’s Jersey. He missed having him this close... All of this unfolded in the midst of Seokjin’s uplifting words, so it was no surprise when Tae had no idea what his hyung had said by the end of it.

Just like Tae, Jungkook was unable to focus on anything that Jin blabbered about, the one thing he was hyper focused on was the close proximity of the elder. The way his strong hand wrapped around him-- the hand that applied pressure on his hip... It brought back an emotion that he thought he'd finally gotten rid of. Oh how foolish he was. He craned his neck forward, his long curls hiding the expression in his eyes, while his lips barely parted in a quiet sigh. He missed having him this close too...

As the group finally withdrew, giving the boys the much needed space and cheers coming from their hyungs, Jungkook felt like he stayed in Taehyung's arm for a second longer than he planned to, quickly pulling away to roll his tongue inside of his cheek. ''Alright, guys.'' Namjoon announced as he gave every member a pat on the back as they headed out towards the court-- well, until it was Jungkook walking past him. A glare shot his way, but the younger didn't take notice of this, instead fighting his internal battle of trying to suppress his thoughts to focus on the game.

Taehyung quickly followed behind Kook, itching to close the distance between them once again. Now that he’d gotten a taste of what he used to have, it was incredibly hard to pretend to hide his true feelings.. The urge grew more intense when they jogged into the packed court, peers’ blaring shouts of encouragement making Tae want to curl up against his ex-boyfriend’s chest and wake up in a more serene location. The younger’s bed, perhaps.. The thrill that used to overtake him at the thought of tonight’s game was no longer alive. He found the atmosphere suffocating, and the roars annoyingly unbearable. The elder didn’t know why he was extra sensitive to the loud noises, but he figured the constant buzzing in his ear was to blame. The piercing sound had yet to subdue, and it didn’t plan on leaving anytime soon.

Before the major game began, each team was given a few minutes to practice their free throws. Taehyung jumped in line behind the younger, building his confidence to lean towards Jungkook’s ear. “I miss you, and I’m sorry.” He whispered. It was killing him not knowing what to expect.. Did Kook want him back, or not? The elder lingered in that position for a second longer, only moving when the string of players did. E ven then, Tae remained close to Jungkook. He didn’t worry about the audience’s stares from the stands, or the questions that might pop into their heads. The rare moment Taehyung wasn’t so caught up in strangers' wandering eyes, was when he desperately needed to be. If he’d been as attentive as before, he would’ve easily pinpointed a certain devilish glare from the crowd.

Jungkook kept his eyes focused forward, however he was listening to every single word that went into his ear. Tae was way too close, in front of all these people... "Why are you telling me this now?" Kook glanced over his shoulder for a mere second to glare at Taehyung, but just as quickly returned to focus on the line as it moved. If there were ever a worst possible time to discuss their breakup, this was it. But Taehyung seemed desperate. And Jungkook slowly grew too unfocused for his own liking. He'd worked too hard for this game to let it go to waste-- and he didn't want to talk about this. Not now. Before Taehyung could say anything else, Jungkook leaped forward with the basketball in his hand, relieved he was able to remove himself from Taehyung for the moment.

Taehyung momentarily paused his ‘trying to win him back’ speech, piercing eyes glued onto Jungkook until he was caught off guard by the basketball thrown at him. Getting in position, Tae aimed for the net. The elder was surprised he made it, his focus was on anything but the game. He carelessly threw the ball to the person behind him, jogging back to a single line formation. “I’m telling you this now because I should’ve done it a long time ago.” Taehyung resumed, standing a little too close to the younger. “Jungkook, I’m sorry. I-I freaked out over nothing, I didn’t think any of this shit through.” He hesitated after a few seconds, “I still love you, so much.. I don’t want to just.. throw that away..”

Jungkook crossed his arms over his chest, grasping at his own biceps to practically hold himself in place so he wouldn't turn around to look at Taehyung. He felt his emotional walls crack, the emotions seeping through was not what he wanted as he was in front of this many people. He took a deep breath through his nose, shoulders visibly tense as he took a moment before he replied. ''But you did. More than once.'' Kook's focus on breathing slowly brought him back down to earth, building those small walls back up to remain as stoic as possible in front of the audience, taking a short step away from the elder as the line moved once more. He just wanted the game over with at this point.

The elder’s shoulders sank along with his confidence. The last thing Taehyung expected was for Jungkook to give in easily, but he also wasn’t anticipating the latter to be so vigilant. Then again, Tae naively played with his feelings countless times. He knew the younger was only trying to look out for himself— and his bruised heart. Shit.. it hadn’t fully sunk in until now. Taehyung fucked up. Bad. He was starting to doubt there was a solution to their problem. “No, you’re right.” Tae kept his distance, not wanting to make Jungkook uncomfortable. “I did, and fuck do I regret it. I just... I really miss you and—“ The timer in the scoreboard echoed throughout the large gymnasium, cutting Taehyung off mid sentence.

He had a feeling this was going to be a long night..

Jungkook turned to give Taehyung a glance before he headed towards their side of the court with the team, an unnamed emotion in his eyes before it slowly morphed into his focused persona when it came to basketball. As previously mentioned, the younger didn't come here to play around. He was here to win. He's prepared for this match with his entire being.

The teams gathered in each side, Jungkook and the others in a large circle as Namjoons eyes roamed the players. "Okay, this is it. Put your everything into this game.." he paused when his eyes flickered to Jungkook, a hidden glare thrown his way before they go back to the rest, "Let's get it!"

"Let's get it!" The rest of them cheered before getting into respective positions.

Along with Namjoon, Jimin, and Jungkook— Tae was one of the first players sent out into the bustling court. It was during moments like these that he wished he was a benchwarmer. Taehyung lacked his usual spirited determination. The elder’s pregame jitters were fully hidden behind his worrisome exterior, and catching sight of Jisoo silently cheering for Jungkook to do his best in the form of an encouraging fist only provoked Tae’s sullen expression to harden. Turns out he wasn’t the only one who saw, Namjoon was one step ahead of him.

“Jungkook!” Joon shouted, seeing how the younger stalled to get in position, likely because he was drawn to Jisoo’s cute antics. “Hurry up, you can talk to your girlfriend later.” He spat, gaze lowering in response,

Jungkook knew how he felt about the older woman, how could he do that to him? Kook's eyes widen before they squint in confusion, completely caught off guard by Namjoon's sudden words-- that were definitely laced with something. He knew their captain had a crush on her, but he also kind of fucked it up himself. "What? No, she's..." he was interrupted by the buzzer going off, shifting his gaze from his captain to the one thing that he wants to focus on; the damn ball.

Jungkook was doing well as expected, his attacking role perfectly suitable for him. However, whenever his captain got the ball, and he was in a free position to get a perfect throw, he was surprised to see Joon ignore him, glare at him or simply just pass somebody else. What's his problem...

Further into the game it was getting close to half time, and Jungkook was growing frustrated with the way he was being treated like this. He was barely able to play properly when his captain's childish antics kept happening.

"Joon!" The younger hissed as the first break finally rolled in, "Why do you not give me the damn ball? I had several perfect throws!"

“Several perfect throws my ass..” Namjoon spat under his ragged breath, disregarding his empty water bottle before briskly turning around on his feet. He came face to face with Jungkook, the anger in his eyes having yet to subdue. “You were practically out of it throughout most of the game, Kook!” Namjoon’s voice swelled, garnering the attention of a few of their teammates. “You were staring at Jisoo! If I passed you the ball—“ The captain cut himself short, biting down on his tongue to prevent anything he might regret from coming out. “If your girlfriend’s gonna be too much of a distraction, don’t bring her here. We can’t afford to lose this game because of you.”

Jungkooks temper slowly started to build, eyebrows drawn together as he stepped closer to Namjoon, "What's your problem? She's not my girlfriend!" He hissed, huffing through his mouth to move the sweaty bangs out of his eyes. "Are you serious? Lose the game because of me? You're the one who's not letting me get remotely close to the fucking ball!" His eyes were squinted, the obvious flare of his temper burning up too quickly-- the audience murmuring in confusion.

"Hey, calm down" Jimin tries to ease the situation, but they all know the younger's anger was like a rollercoaster.

"No, it's not fair!" Jungkook closed the distance further between him and his captain, making sure only he hears his next words, "Stop acting so childish."

Joon had to scoff. “Yeah, okay. Get away from me, will you?” He harshly shoved Jungkook by the chest, drawing the attention of Taehyung who moved quickly on his feet.

“Namjoon, what the hell— back off.” He stood in between them, momentarily breaking the heavy tension that linked them together.

“Why are you still standing up for him, Tae? You caught them kissing. Jungkook moved the fuck on!”

Taehyung’s facial expression flickered to one of hurt, his clenched fists slowly coming undone as Joon’s eye-opening words began to slowly sink in.

Was it.. was it possible? Jungkook moved.. on?

Namjoon’s chest heaved from a mixture of irritation and exhaustion; not knowing how to come down from it. He’s never been this angry at someone, much less a close friend.

Jungkook clenched his fists hard, the veins in his lower arms prominent. His body slowly moved, as if gradually his anger was fueling him up to pounce Namjoon. But as he took a step, he was held back by Yoongi's hand on his shoulder, out of all people. "You should take a break."

The coach approaches in the same moment, agreeing, "Jeon, you will be dismissed for now. Go take a break."

Jungkook's eyes widened, "No way. I need to play!" He turned to Namjoon, annoyed by the fact that he didnt protest, but simply agreed as well.

"Go."

A disappointed Huff pushed through the younger's lips, shoving away Yoongi's hand from his shoulder before scuffing past Taehyung to head out, towards the exit to go sit outside on the stairs. He needed some fucking air. U nlike everyone else who brushed off the players’ hostile behavior towards one another, Jisoo stayed behind to watch Jungkook storm out of the gymnasium. Alike everyone else, she saw the small feud unravel between him and Namjoon. It worried her— made her feel like she was to blame. And by the look on Joon’s eyes whilst he stared up at her, the woman knew she had a reason to be alarmed. Jisoo sighed to herself, disappointedly shaking her head before she broke eye contact. Adjusting a fussing Yuna on the baby carrier, she carefully made her way down the bleachers, on the lookout for Jungkook.

“Namjoon, where are you going? Come back here!” The coach called out for him, noting how Joon‘s feet were already moving on their own. Namjoon clenched his jaw, but he listened nonetheless. He wanted to go after Jisoo, but the woman was already out of sight.

~

“Jungkook..?” After a couple minutes of walking around the unfamiliar hallways, Jisoo finally came across the younger man. He was sat by the stairs out front, relishing in the night’s breeze. She bit down on her lip, wondering if it was for the best if she left him and his thoughts alone.. But she couldn’t, she cared too much. Jisoo didn’t know where they stood in terms of a romantic relationship, but the younger was undoubtedly a friend. The woman cared for him like a mother. “Hey.” She sat down next to him, the faintest of smiles grazing her lips. “Nice job out there— so far. I knew you’d do great.”

Jungkook turned his chin to look at her, his clenched jaw softening at her praise. ''Thank you.. But..'' He sighs as his shoulders sink with his next words, ''I don't think they'll let me play anymore. Namjoon is being an ass... With all rights, I guess.'' His eyes meet Jisoo's, a lopsided smile tugging at his lips, ''He obviously still likes you, so I suppose it's not surprising. But I wonder how he suddenly just... assumed you were my girlfriend or something.'' He ran his long fingers through his damp hair, leaning back on his elbows whilst looking up at the sky. It felt weird, really. He couldn't get the thought of Taehyung out of his mind. ''And Taehyung was acting weird too.''

The sound of Jisoo’s muffled giggle disrupted the small pause of silence, “Kim Namjoon is being an ass? Are you sure we’re talking about the same Joon?” An unknowing smile tugged at the corner of her rosy lips. Temporarily dismissing the hurtful comment he spewed in the past, the dimpled boy couldn’t hurt a fly.. The fond image of Namjoon was soon replaced with Taehyung. Jisoo turned her head towards the younger, curious as to what he meant. “Weird? How.” There was a question that lingered at the tip of her tongue, and if she wasn’t so desperate to receive answers, the woman would’ve done a better job of suppressing her curiosity. “Jungkook... do you love Taehyung?”

Jungkook felt his chest tighten at the question, keeping his eyes fixed on the nothingness of the sky. ''I know I did.'' He let his elbows give in, now laying down on his back fully. ''Then I thought I didn't.'' A nother long pause passed by as he seemed to sink into his own thoughts- ''Fuck, I don't know... He's a constant push and pull.. He kept coming at me at the worst possible moments during the warmup to tell me he misses me-..'' He stopped himself to groan in annoyance, just talking about it made him feel the frustration of his feelings, covering his face with his hands.

Jisoo simply nodded, allowing her fingers to comb through Jungkook’s sweaty hair. “Jungkook-ah, love is not something that can just.. go away.” Looking down at him, she made sure the ground was relatively clean before meeting Kook at his level. The hand that laid closest to him engulfed his significantly bigger one, communicating her empathy in the form of a gentle squeeze. “What made you fall in love with him?” A hint of bitterness lingered behind her otherwise sweet words. However, Jisoo was curious, she guessed some closure would be nice.. Turning her head towards him, the woman broke out into a small grin. She snuggled close to Jungkook’s chest, Yuna’s soft exhales of breaths the only muse throughout the quiet night. “Tell mee~ don’t be annoying.”

~

Taehyung spent minutes searching around the darkened school— searching for Jungkook. He was fucking worried, it was unlike the younger to storm out of, well, anything. When he was about to walk past the entrance, Tae pressed the brake. It was Jungkook and Jisoo... Laying together, they seemed happy. The elder hid behind the wall, chest tightening into a knot at their close proximity. Why didn’t Jungkook push her away? Why did he move on so quickly.. Taehyung couldn’t stand it, he was practically putting himself through hell by lingering around, waiting for his suspicions to get proven true. With his jaw clenched, Tae walked away. He needed some time alone, time to think. He advanced into the only space that was vacant, the locker room. Sitting down on the bench, Taehyung hid his face in the palm of his hands. “I’m a fucking idiot..”

A long silence followed after Taehyung spoke out loud to himself... Until a soft chuckle echoed in the locker room, a tall stature with wide arms crossed over their chest. ''Yes, you are...'' Their voice was nothing short of hostile, stepping closer to Taehyung before coming to a halt, a piercing stare burning holes into the male. ''Why do you have to keep bothering Jungkookie? He doesn't want you.''

It was Ash.

He'd kept a close eye on Jungkook for a while, watching his relationship with Kim Taehyung go back and forth. Apparently, they were broken up for a bit now, and it was perfect. He'd planned to approach Jungkook after the game, proudly cheering for him in the audience. But the hurdle being the male below him kept trying to come back, bothering his little Kookie, who looked annoyed and upset down on the court. Nothing irked him more.

The intrusive, unforeseen voice pulled Taehyung out of his daze. He quickly looked up, no longer seeing pitch blackness— instead he saw red. What the hell was Ash doing here? He’d been deaf to the inclosing steps, even more surprising the sound of the door opening. How did the other know where to find him? “I didn’t fucking ask for your opinion.” He hissed from anger, the sight of the other male being enough to spike up his alertness. Taehyung stood up from the bench, meeting Ash halfway. “Why are you so goddamn obsessed with Jungkook’s every move? You don’t need to speak for him. If he doesn’t want me, he’ll tell me.”

Ash's shit eating smirk grew, but his eyes were filled with anger fueled further by Taehyung's attitude. He took a slow step closer, arms falling to his sides as he clenched and unclenched his fists. ''I have to look out for him. His entire body language screamed uncomfortable when you were all over him during the game.'' he hissed back every word laced with mocking anger, ''I hate how stubborn you are, just leave him alone if you know what's best for you.''

A scornful, amused chuckle slipped past Taehyung, who further challenged Ash by stepping up to him. “You have to look out for him?” Tae’s broad shoulders vibrated, a lopsided smile beginning to pull at the corner of his lips.

Who did he think he was..

“What, did he order a bodyguard or some shit?”

He forcefully pushed Ash by his shoulders, prompting the latter to widen the space between them. Being close to him made him sick. Every time he looked into his devilish, hollowed face, Taehyung was reminded of that night. The night he gasped for air whilst he ran through the dim streets, praying for nothing but Jungkook’s safety. What kind of desperate psycho would force someone to sleep with him? Just thinking about it angered Tae. “Yeah, whatever. You’re fucking crazy, you know that?” With one last glare his way, Taehyung purposely bumped shoulders as he walked past him. “Jungkook will never love you.” That was the last thing he reminded before aiming towards the door, suddenly missing the crowd’s spirited roars. Anything to not be here with him.

Ash crooked an eyebrow, saying nothing as he turned to watch Taehyung attempt to leave.

No. No fucking way.

The crazed rage burning within Ash's being was taking over. He had to make sure nobody was in his way to reach Jungkook. And Taehyung made a huge mistake by facing away from a guy like this. A man with nothing to lose-- and only one thing in mind.

Get rid of the obstacle.

Ash didn't hesitate as he practically sprinted the few steps forward, triggered by the other males last words. He grabbed Taehyung by his hair, tightly tangled between his fingers as he forcefully dragged him down, not caring about where, so he opted for the nearby sink. Taehyung's head collided with the hard surface, almost knocking him out in one go. "He doesn't have to love me yet." He growled, "all that matters is that he doesn't love you."

Ash tugged at Tae once more, lifting his head up only to bring it back down against the sink again. And again. And again... until there was blood staining the sink to the floor... Ash eventually stopped when he felt Taehyung's body weaken its struggle in his hold, throwing the man on the tiled floor with a thud. Staring down at him, he scoffed as he wiped his hand on his shirt, thankful he decided to wear black today. "Crazy for Jungkookie, maybe..." he mumbled before removing himself from the situation, glancing over at the bloody male before stepping out of the locker room. He hoped to never see this guy again.

~

Jungkook had poured out his emotions to Jisoo, time flew by quicker than he thought as he realized he should go back. "Jisoo, I gotta go... uh..." he rubbed his nape as he sat back up, "thank you for... listening to me. And cheering for me." He glanced over at Yuna with a fond smile, "and little one too."

“Yeah, no problem.” Jisoo stood up with him, “I should probably head home, she’s out.” The woman reached down to pick up Yuna’s carrier, trying not to make any bothersome movements that’ll wake the sleeping girl. She was in a deep slumber. Her chubby hands were balled up into small fists, and her pouty lips were parted whilst soft huffs snuck past them. Yuna looked absolutely adorable. As both of them took their time strolling through the empty hallways, Jisoo’s eyes widened when they fell upon Namjoon. The man looked.. distressed? It seemed as if he’d been running around the place, unstable gaze flickering between the two.

“Joon? What’s wrong?” The woman furrowed her brows, her caring tone easing Namjoon’s nerves from whatever the hell it was that took a burden on him. Ungluing his sharp glare from Jungkook, it didn’t take much for Joon to give in, gaze softening at the sight of Yuna.

“Uh.. do you know where Taehyung is? Coach told me to look for him, game starts soon.” Naturally, Jisoo turned to look at Kook, confusion swirling within her eyes. “No.. we haven’t seen him. Have you looked long?”

Namjoon answered with a quick nod of his head, naturally thinking of the worst. Did Taehyung leave the school? They needed him there, especially now that it was a close tie.

“We’ll help you look for him, don’t worry.” She supposed it wouldn’t take awfully long, Taehyung had to be around here somewhere.. “Let’s split?” Jisoo’s gaze flickered between both boys, waiting to see what they thought of her last-minute idea.

“Please.” Joon sourly muttered under his breath, wanting nothing more than to divide Jungkook and his noona. They’ve spent more than enough time together, a few minutes on their own shouldn’t be a challenge.

Jungkook felt his chest tighten with worry, and partially in annoyance. Why would Tae out of all people risk the game like this? He wouldn't. "Yeah, I'll check the locker rooms." Kook agreed, waiting for the confirmations of the two before no longer staying around to waste time.

As he headed down to the locker room area, he checked other rooms and bathrooms on the way. Kook clenched his jaw in annoyance; why'd Tae disappear like this? It's a dick move as always, Taehyung is a fucking-- "Taehyung?" He didn't recognize his own voice at first, but it was. Jungkook had pushed through the doors to the locker room, and was met with a bloody mess on the floor. And in the middle of it, an unconscious person. "Taehyung!"

Was that really his voice? It sounded so desperate and hoarse.

He rushed to drop to his knees next to Tae, not bothered in the slightest about the puddle of blood he's sitting in, nor does he care that his hands are stained with the way he grasped the elders body, gently picking him up to hold him close in his arms, cradling his face to get a good look. Leaning in, he placed his ear close to his mouth, relieved when he felt the small huff of air. He's alive. But it was weak. Kook kept holding his ex boyfriend close, using one hand to pick up his phone and text Namjoon.

Instead he texted the group chat.

To: gang gang 🏀 Help! Lockers

As soon as the text was sent he returned to look at Taehyung, every single drop of anger towards the man practically evaporated, and were replaced with everything else. Worry, anxiety, sadness. Love. Jungkook felt as if he would fucking die if Taehyung did. "Tae, please... Hold on." Kook sobbed out, holding the elder close.

~

Namjoon stayed relatively close to Jisoo, peeking his head inside every door, hallway, janitor’s closet— anywhere that could serve as a hiding spot for Tae. They were desperate, even opting for searching in the girls’ restroom.

Where the hell could he be?

When Joon thought about calling the younger’s cell for the millionth time, his phone’s buzzing chimed in his pockets. “Noona, it’s Kook.”

Quickly, the woman advanced to his side, the brightness of the screen casting a harsh light over their troubled expressions. “Locker room..?” Not stalling any longer, Joon took Jisoo by the hand and led her towards the familiar room with quick strides— “Jungkook, we’re here— holy shit!”

Namjoon’s squeamish heart picked up at the bloody mess in front of him, standing still like a statue until Jisoo’s shaky voice snapped him out of it. “Joon! Call an ambulance. O-oh my god..”

It looked bad. The pile of blood only grew in size, bright in comparison to the color of Taehyung’s skin; ghostly pale. The boy appeared to barely be hanging on. The gushing, scarlet liquid luckily seemed to lose its momentum now that he was turned upwards, but the stream on the dirty floor was a big loss.

“Kook? Why did you text-“ Hoseok’s cheery voice was cut short by a sharp gasp, tightly clasping a hand over his mouth. Jimin and Yoongi shared a look of pure worry, the sound of Namjoon’s nervous stuttering over the phone whilst he gave the person on the other line the information they needed sounded weak compared to their loud breathing. Seokjin rushed to Jungkook’s side, attempting to pull the latter away. “J-Jungkook-ah, it’s best if you let him be, it— it can cause more harm than good.”

Jungkook's vision was blurred by the constant flow of tears, blinking harshly to attempt to regain some grounding. Jin's hand helped to bring Kook back down, however the sight of all the blood only had the younger's anxiety growing, his body reacting without his own say so. He couldn't let go of Taehyung, there was no way.

"Jungkook, you need to let him go." Seokjin repeated, carefully trying to pry the younger's arms open. It wasn't an easy task, but as soon as the ambulance arrived they finally managed to; but only because Jungkook helped to put Tae on the transporter. They put Taehyung in the vehicle, several nurses already working on examining and treating him as another seemed to be making notes about his condition. Jungkook pleaded that he wanted to come with, but was denied. They said he could visit the hospital-- what kind of bullshit was that? The very second the ambulance left, Jungkook hadn't realized his own condition. He was a crying, bloody mess. His legs and outfit was stained with the elders blood, eyes bloodshot and glassy from the constant tears.

Slowly, the group of hyungs approached their youngest, worry and sadness in their eyes. Both for Taehyung and his safety, and for Jungkook. "Hey," Yoongi suddenly said as he wrapped his arms around Kook, not caring about the mess. One by one, every single one of his team had joined in the group hug, holding each other tightly. Jungkook's breathy sobs grew louder, but he had his hyungs keeping him together this time. A large crowd of students, parents, teachers— everyone that was originally there to enjoy an innocent game, gathered around the commotion. The sound of the ambulance’s loud, ear-piercing wail struck them as serious. And it was; people’s heightened gasps emerged at the quick glimpse of a team of nurses run through the halls at the speed of light, transporting a gory Taehyung from one end to the other until he was securely placed in the vehicle.

“What happened?”

“Who was that?”

“It looked serious..”

Muffled talk spread like wildfire, and some aimed their shitty phone camera at the centre of the action.

Yoongi had to hold himself back from freaking the fuck out, instead hugging Jungkook closer, shielding the boy’s frail emotions from unwanted eyes. Had humanity stooped that low? Why in the hell would they point a camera at them..

“Jungkook, your Tae’s strong.. he’ll be okay.” Jimin softly assured, even though he himself wasn’t too sure. Tears welled up in his own glassy eyes, but they didn’t need him breaking down as well. Jungkook was an emotional mess, he needed them the most.

“Come on, w-we’re going to the hospital.” Namjoon said, pulling away from the group hug to dig for his car keys, not caring about the unfinished game.

Jungkooks body felt heavy, unaware of the commotion around them as all he could think about was Taehyung. The moment he saw him on the floor kept replaying in his mind, the uncontrollable quivering of his body only held together thanks to Yoongi and Jimin as the others pulled back, still remaining close around them to serve as a human shield for the cameras. Kook did look like shit after all. But he couldn't bring himself to care.

He just wanted to see Taehyung.

The very second Namjoon said they'd go to the hospital, Jungkooks glassy, reddened eyes looked up at him, his hyungs leading him behind the eldest towards the truck. At a time like this, Namjoons dad truck surely was a blessing.

Jisoo heavily insisted on going, wanting to keep a weak Jungkook company but was reassured that she’d be in the loop on Tae’s condition.

"Noona, we’ll keep you informed.” Namjoon started the car, convincing her to drop it.

The mother had Yuna to take care of, it was late into the night.. it was best if she didn’t throw herself into this stressful situation. It was taking an emotional toll on everyone, especially Jungkook.

© sombreboy 2020. Do not repost, edit or translate.

[the-melting-world]

Kinktober | An Unexpected Delivery 🍋

Andrico x Julian x (Kipling???)

Thank you @ilyamatic for feeding me so much AndricoxJulian food and for letting me borrow your apprentice! 

CW: Masturbation instruction, Voyeurism

~ 930 words

When Kipling decides to make a surprise delivery to one of her most enthusiastic clients, Dr. Julian Devorak, she didn’t expect that she would find him in the presence of another’s company…

After maneuvering through the ship, Kipling was sure that she had found Dr. Devorak’s cabin. Usually, she wouldn’t show up at her client’s homes like this, but she knew that Devorak’s ship had docked at the ports only yesterday and wanted to give her friend a warm welcome back to Vesuvia. She had chosen some white stonecrop. Not exactly an office plant, but it was pretty and not to mention pretty hard to kill. 

Kipling opened the door and discovered quickly that she had the wrong room because it was empty. So she tried another. And another. And another. Not only was she lost among the uniform corridors of the ship, she was totally alone. The few crew members were all above deck. She had thought she could take their directions to Dr. Devorak’s room without an escort, but —

“Lying? Andrico, love, you know I can’t tell a lie.”

Dr. Devorak!

Desperate to free herself from this lonely labyrinth, Kipling bounded for the door where she heard the voice.

“I’ll see it when I believe it. Prove it then.”

The new voice made Kip suddenly aware of all the noise she was making. She was close enough to see through the crack in the door. The stranger had his back to her, slouched comfortably — perhaps a tad too comfortably — in a wooden armchair. The doctor, meanwhile, was sitting across from him on his unmade cot. His auburn waves were tousled more than Kip was used to seeing. She also noticed that his shirt was casually unbuttoned and the fly of his trousers unfastened.

I do not need to be here.

Yet she had come all this way and didn’t write a note. How else would the doctor know that the plant was from her?

“Go on.”

Kipling looked up at the sound of the stranger’s voice.

“Show me what you did before we were together… when you were alone, thinking of me.”

The doctor’s pale face dipped sharply in color. He absently fiddled with one of his buttons, chuckled nervously and looked away.

“Andrico, I… do you promise not to laugh?”

The man closest to the door gave a nearly imperceptible grunt as he shifted in the rigid seat.

“That depends. Do you promise to make it worth my while?”

Kipling was sure that the doctor wouldn’t risk that sort of embarrassment, but clearly, she had been mistaken.

Something changed in Devorak’s face. Yes, he was still madly blushing, still fidgeting and hesitant, but his gray irises waned some as his pupils expanded in what Kipling could only surmise was acceptance of the challenge. She wondered if the doctor was even aware of it.

“Ah, I think,” Devorak slid his hand against his abdomen, past the buttons on his trousers, “it went a little like this.” 

Kipling swallowed at the high shade of pink she saw when he freed his cock of the dark fabric. The doctor leaned back some, jaw slack, gaze heavy and unsure as he stroked himself before his guest.

Andrico, the other man, watched quietly for some time, giving the doctor the space to get comfortable with this sort of vulnerability.

The doctor closed his eyes as he pumped his own cock and muttered soft, unintelligible things.

“A little louder. No one can hear you, Ilya.”

Julian cleared his throat. “I said... Andrico, I want you.”

The guest shifted his posture rather suddenly. His voice became husky. “Slow down. Take your time now.” 

Once again, Kipling was impressed by how readily Dr. Devorak obeyed. His eyes opened a little, searching his partner’s for some sort of approval.

“Describe what you’re thinking. I want to know the details of how you imagine me fucking you while you try to fuck yourself.”

A shiver climbed up Kipling’s spine at Andrico’s word choice. Apparently, Dr. Devorak was affected too because he was confessing everything in between hot inhales of breath.

“I’m… my mouth. You’re in my mouth.”

Andrico interrupted. “Ilya, you can do better than that. You have several certifications in the field of human anatomy. Please use them.” Kipling could practically hear the roll of his eyes.

“Your cock is hitting the back of my throat,” Dr. Devorak ground out. Now he made unwincing eye contact with the other man. “Your hands hold my head steady so you can fuck me.”

Despite the doctor’s intensity, Andrico’s tone remained cool.

“An improvement. However slight.”

Kipling wanted to toss her plant at his head. Still, the jab didn’t hold the doctor back from baring all.

Jerking himself a little harder, he gasped, “You’re fucking my face. I’m choking a little. But you won’t come.” 

Kipling flinched as Andrico abruptly stood up, knocking the chair onto the floor.

“That’s how it always is,” Julian confessed as he looked up at his approaching partner, “you never come for me no matter how hard I try to —”

Andrico was on top of the doctor before Kipling could blink. She didn’t know how such two strongly built men could manage to roll around on a cot without falling off.

Their deep groans and even deeper, wet exchanges sounded like lions roaring in the quiet belly of the ship. Then Andrico started whispering something low and apologetic to the doctor, which Kipling couldn’t quite catch. 

Deciding that it was definitely time to leave, she left the unmarked plant just outside the door and used her magic to draw up a portal that would hopefully transport her above deck and not – gods forbid – directly in the middle of somebody else’s privacy.

[adhd-demetri]

First things first, love the new url, it's super you. Second are you working on the story for your oc? I actually want to read more on it -Jane

Yep and after thinking about it, if you have a twilight oc, message me and I'll add them into the story :) but this is it so far. Consider this a free sample

~Breaking news~

Things are getting pretty wild in ohio near cowan lake campgrounds. Two coyotes and wolf have been spotted in the area roaming around together wrecking havoc and panic. Biologists are baffled by the sudden appearance of a wolf in ohio with what is supposed to be their enemy.

No one knows where the trio came from but police and wildlife officials are urging people to haze them away and for parents of pets and children alike to keep a sharp eye on them.

Witnesses say they have been seen near dumpsters and trash cans tearing open bags of uneaten food-

-Click-

Demi turned off his phone as he took a bite out of a sub he and his mate had dug out of the dumpster. He snickered at the thought of him, his little brother and his mate 'wrecking havoc' over simply digging in dumpsters for goodies people through out. Like phone chargers, towels, clothing, sleeping bags and even small one person tents with easy fixes.

People are so wasteful. Throwing away perfectly good treasures. Oh well, they were now theirs.

Casper walked up behind him and threw down a tent that he just patched up. It was a cheap green and beige 4 person tent that had a hole in the roof of it. It wasn't nothing special truthfully.

"What do you think? Nice patch work right?" He said looking very proud of his work. Demi turned around and ran his fingers over the the patch, inspecting the delicate stitching and the vinyl that protected them from wear-and-tear.

"Looks good Cas, can't imagine why someone would get rid of this for a easy fix!" He shrugged, oh well. It now belongs to his younger brother.

As he got up from the forest floor, he dusted off the leaves and dirt that clung to the back of his pants. Grabbing the tent, he headed to Caspers car that was parked by an abandoned entrance way that led to overgrown trails leading to their little hideout.

"Hey alex. Check it out, Cas fixed you a tent. Now you can go camping with us instead of sleeping in the car." He said giving his 10 year old little brother the now fixed up tent.

Alex was sitting in the back playing mario kart tour on his phone. He glanced down quickly and laid his phone down. He picked up the tent bag and looked at its contents. His baby blue eyes started to widen with excitement.

"Th-this is for me? My own tent? Wow this is so cool!" The little blond was practically jumping up and down in his spot with pure joy and happiness radiating off of him. He was so happy to have his own tent finally.

"Yup, tonight Cas and I can teach you how to put it up and when we leave, take it down. Sound good?"

"Yes! Thank you thank you thank you!!!!" He suddenly slammed into Demi with a tight hug. Demi patted his head and pulled the excited child off of himself.

Alex went back to playing his game. Demi went back and sat on the ground to join Casper in the small clearing while he was redoing the zipper work on one of the sleeping bags. Casper nearly had this one finished up and planned on giving it to Alex since it had Kion and other lion guard characters on it. Casper concentrated as he worked on stitching the zipper to the sleeping bag.

"Soooo Alex loved his tent. Thank you for fixing it up for him."

"No problem. Seemed better than sitting in the car ya know? Oh hey look I finally got it stitched. You know these zippers are so hard to fix now a days." He said zipping up the bag and admiring his work.

He looked up and noticed the sun was starting to paint the sky in a beautiful array of oranges and pinks mixed with some purples and blues. The air felt slightly cooler than it did before.

Demi rolled his eyes and simply smiled.

He knew it was time to get going and head back to the campgrounds.

Casper followed right behind him and started up his car. They headed back to Cowan Lake campgrounds tenting area.

"Hey alex! Buckle up bud!" He yelled getting back up and getting into the car to leave.

The ride there was quite relaxing as the trio was simply jamming out to some music on their way to the campgrounds. They didn't have a care in the world it seemed.

They finally made it back to their spot. Alex quickly hopped out along with his tent and claimed a spot right next to where Demi and Casper's tent was. He started to pull everything out of the make shift bag that he had stuffed it in previously.

Demi quickly got out and ran to him. He didnt want Alex to lose anything.

"Hey bud slow down, We still got to help you put it up. Cas you want to get the fire going? We can roast some shmellows and some hot dogs. I'm starved!" Demi quickly started unraveling the tent and pulling out the poles, laying them nice and neat.

While they did that, Casper started up the fire. It roared to life after a few moments of poking and prodding it with fiery paper. He grabbed all the goodies, the roasting sticks and a mini table from his car.

The sun sunk down below the trees as the beauty of the moon rose to the sky. She bathed the area in a soft ghostly white glow.

Meanwhile Alex and Demi finally got his tent all nice and set up. It looked a little worn down but it was definitely still usuable.

"Hey who wants shmellows? We got some dogs that need roasting too!" Cas called out to Demi and Alex. He laid out the marshmallows and chocolate along side the hotdogs, gram crackers and bread. Alex and Demi joined him by the cozy fire grabbing a few bits of food and wolfing them down like ravenous animals.

Demi shushed him real quick. He didn't want to disturb others and cause any unnecessary commotion. The last time that happened didn't end well .... for the other person that is.

Around them other campfires crackled and popped while kids and couples alike told stories and roasted foods. Some saying goodnight while others stayed out.

"So when the fire goes out, do you two want to go on a run? I'm pretty sure that stupid Cullen family is out hunting and I do NOT want him near our area." Demi asked Casper and Alex.

Casper thought about it for a moment and mouthed I dont care while shoving a hotdog in his mouth. Alex simply shook his head yes as he ate a burnt gooey marshmallow.

"Yeah it's a full moon tonight! And I haven't ran with you guys in forever!" Alex shouted a tad bit to loud grabbing the attention of a few nearby campers.

"Let's wait till 10. Most of the other campers will be asleep and in their tents by then. It would be the perfect time to slip out." Demi said leaning into his mate's embrace.

No one screams at his little brother for being excited.

"Yeah, it has been awhile hasn't it? It's about time we run and get a good idea of how big our territory is too if this is our permanent home." Casper said.

Demi nodded in agreement as he got up. He went to his and Casper's tent and stripped down to just his incredibly warm out pants. He didn't care if these pants got destroyed while shifting. They've been through so much and it was time to finally to get rid of them.

Casper got up from his spot and joined Demi in the tent. He wrapped his arms around Demi's midsection, pulling him into a warm hug.

"So when you want to head out love?" He whispered.

They both sat down on their makeshift bed. Minutes passed as they simply stayed still together.

A sense of euphoria enveloped him. What a lovely feeling it was.

He got up quickly, peeking out of the tent entrance way.

Neither wanted this moment to end.

His little brother crossed his mind. He left him out there by the fire by himself!

Hide and seek

Thankfully the fire was dying since no one was paying it any attention.

His brother was lying down on the grass. His headphones over his head and his hand tracing the stars as he sang a familiar song quietly. His head bobbing in sync to the beat.

Reason and rhyme

Grand and glorious

Living the dream

yours and mine

~ Euphoria!

As he sand the last part, his arm fell to his side. A smile was spreading across his face as he lost himself in his own little world of euphoria.

Demi felt his body shift quickly. Thankfully his pants were worn enough to not make hardly any noise. Brown, orange and white fur littered from his skin quickly.

The feeling of happiness and joy could be felt radiating from him once again.

Demi sighed to himself, grateful his brother was ok.

"Everything alright love?"

"Yeah, just got worried about Alex but he's fine. He's in his own little world right now."

"I can tell. I can feel it from here."

Demi went back and sat down. He searched for his phone to check the time.

9:57 PM

All of the other campers were asleep by now. The only ones awake at this point was the trio.

Casper's body morphed as well. Silvery gray fur with white swirls that resembled a starry galaxy painted his skin. His body shifted and the shorts he had were ripped quickly.

And just like that, a coyote that could blend in with the autumn themed environment stood before Casper.

The air swirled around Demi. With it, The smell of wet leaves and smoke with sugary delights. Demi inhaled the savory scents before making his way to the child that was still relaxed on the grass.

And just like that, a wolf stood above Demi in the 10 person tent.

Giving his mate a quick nuzzle, Demi slowly crept outside the tent. He didn't want to wake anyone or draw attention to himself. He still had to get Alex into their tent.

Demi nudges Alex with his snoot, urging him to get up. Alex realised it was time and ran to his brother's tent as there would be no room to shift in his own.

Soon after a small blondish white coyote pup came out. His ears and tail were probably the most unique feature both the wolf and coyote have ever seen.

Casper ran out of tent to give Alex some privacy.

'So Cas, did you hear what they said about us on the news? They think we are trouble makers!

Just were the ears attach to the head, Alex's fur was a shiny metallic gold color. His tail was the same way.

He jumped up into the air and started to run a tad bit. The excitment seemed to rub off on Demi. He too started to jump around with his little brother. Together their energy seemed to wile them up even more.

With a burst of energy, the trio took off onto the road. Demi and Alex yipped along the way down the road. Casper's tongue lulled out of his mouth while he ran.

Alex on the other paw didn't want to go digging like his older brother. He was more interested in the playground that was close by and the toys that had been abandoned there as well.

Ha! Can you believe that? Let's give them real trouble!'

Cas nodded in response. He started to slow down as they approached the dumpsters. The overwhelming smell of garbage that has been marinating all day under a scorching hot sun wafted around the trio.

Demi charged ahead of them. He loved digging in the trash, all kinds of goodies people would throw out for no reason was calling his name!

He chased after his brother though.

[lumosinlove]

Sweater Weather

part iii

Remus didn’t always have too much time for it, but there was nothing he liked more than sitting on the bench and watching Gryffindor City’s Hogwarts Stadium fill up with red and gold. The waves of chatter got louder and the seats filled, and it was a nice balance to the energy in the locker room as he walked back down the tunnel and through the doors, leaning against the wall with Moody. There, in case they were needed, but out of the way.

Even more than watching the fans, he liked watching the boys get ready. Kasey was down on all fours in a butterfly squat, full-pads making his body look huge and his head look tiny. Leo was down the hall some, throwing two balls against the wall and catching them quickly. Remus’ eyes blurred after watching for a minute and he looked away. Which turned out to be a mistake in itself.

Sirius was sitting in his stall, shirtless and knees spread to accommodate the stick he was taping between them. He didn’t have any of his pads on yet, typical Sirius, who always had to get ready at the last minute because he spent so much time on his stretches and sticks. He was just in his underarmour, the tight material leaving absolutely nothing to imagination. He had a Lions’ hat on backwards and stray strands of hair were sticking out of the front, casting shadows on his cheeks. He stuck his tongue out and wound the tape carefully around the blade of his stick, checking for wrinkles and creases every other turn. James was saying something to him with broad hand gestures, probably a play he wanted to get perfect tonight.

They all wanted to get everything perfect tonight. It was the home opener. The crowd would be wild, and the pressure would be on. Remus loved every second of it and he knew the boys did, too.

James let out a loud whoop then, clapping his hands together and and throwing his helmet on even though his pads were still hanging in his stall. “Let’s fucking go, tonight, eh boys? Durmstrang fuckers won’t know what hit them.”

He was met with a series answering shouts of approval, all of which amplified when Coach Weasley appeared through the locker room doors with the large lion on it. He grinned and held up a little slip of paper, tonight’s line up.

“Pots, since you’re already standing, why don’t you do the honors?” Arthur said, handing James the paper.

James hit his helmet on his head. “Alright, let’s see. Starting tonight,” the boys yelled and James dropped down a little, knees bent and voice low like the commentators, “in the cage,” there was another round of shouts and James wound up his arm and then bounded over to Kasey, “we have the man named for the sport of hockey itself, Kasey Winter.”

There were a series of “Yeah, Kase!” and “Be the fucking blizzard!” before James could continue.

“Next we have…on your left, Harzy!”

Harzy looked up from where he was lacing his skates with a little salute to the cheers.

“On your right,” James smiled around at them all, so wide that Remus could see where one of his outer bottom teeth was still missing, just out of sight. He pressed a hand to his own chest, “yours truly.”

“Alright, Potty-mouth!” Kasey shouted the nickname James had earned himself for his relentless chirping on the ice, name-calling and poking fun until the refs eventually had to call him on it.

“Your favorite D-man pairing, Kaner and our resident Finland-man, Olli!”

Timmy Kane and Olli Halla did some strange, complicated handshake.

“And your center tonight…the man, the myth, the one who holds the record for most marriage proposals by teenage girls at the glass,” Remus laughed at that and James ran back over to Sirius, pretending to take his stick just to see him flinch back, and taking his hat instead and placing it on top of his own helmet, “oh captain, my captain, Sirius mother-fucking Black!”

Everyone clapped a little, Arthur shaking his head fondly and Moody letting James run over and touch his leg for good luck, per tradition, and then it was really business time. There was some calmer chatter as everyone got into their gear and laced up, getting into the right headspace for a game.

Remus rifled through his own inventory in his head, making sure he would be prepared on the bench. He had extra blades for everyone, laces, sterile gauze, and a little box for teeth which he’d learned to keep the hard way (Olli Halla spitting a few directly into his open palm). He took one last look around the locker room before heading back to the mouth of the tunnel at the bench where the guys would pass on their way out for their lap-around introductions under the lights and warm ups. He could see some of the Durmstrang equipment guys over on their bench, and they exchanged nods that were friendly enough. Eagles games were always odd, not just for the competition—they had nothing compared to Lion and Snake games—but because their colors were nearly identical, and so the away-team always had to wear their more solid colored third-jerseys. Remus was glad they were on home-ice, so the Eagles would be the ones stuck in their nearly all goldish-yellow uniform, not the Lions.

Remus looked up at the stands, figuring his parents were out there somewhere, trying to keep Julian at bay, who was no doubt in his BLACK jersey and bouncing out of his shoes with excitement. At nine years old, Remus sometimes wondered if his little brother was a bigger Lions fan than even him, despite living halfway across the country from them.

He had a sudden fantasy of bringing Jules back to the locker room and Sirius being there, maybe James, too, and Sirius would give Jules a hockey stick maybe, and then smile at Remus—

“What’s with the face?”

Remus started, looking at Moody who had brought out the fresh bottles of gatorade and water.

“What? What face? Nothing.” Remus reached forward and started to help him line the bench with them. “I wasn’t making a face.”

“Alright, at ease.” Moody laughed a little. “Jeez, Lupin.”

Remus desperately tried to change the subject, “How’s the lucky leg?”

Moody scoffed, giving it a stomp. “It’s been kissed by Harzy, that’s what. Fucking crazy-ass.”

Remus laughed and sat down on the bench, looking up towards the jumbo-screen where they were showing a video of a few of the guys saying what they did that summer. James was on, giving a typically sarcastic answer. Something about hamburgers. When Sirius’ faces came on next there was a positive roar from the crowd and Remus felt flushed with their enthusiasm. Gryffindor loved their Captain, and they were just as eager to avenge him as the team was. It was pretty fucking thrilling to sit and watch it all, but if he could, Remus would be out there on the ice, fighting to get Sirius ever goal and point he could. He pushed that thought down just as the lights shut off and the music stopped, signaling the beginning of the Lions’ entry onto the ice, their first of the season. Remus’ heart pounded.

“Gryffindor!” boomed Frank Longbottom’s voice, one of their beloved announcer. Frank came with the team on the road, along with Marlene McKinnon. Butts and Kinzy were well loved by the team, and, maybe unfortunately for them, the subjects of many pranks, but Remus was sure they loved the boys’ attention as much as he himself did. The crowed boomed back in response and then the jumbo-screen bloomed to life, along with the lights and the lasers that streaked across the crowd and ice.

“Are you ready?” Frank asked the stadium, and then the jumbo-screen started counting down from ten with loud booms that quickly developed into a bass-heavy song.

“Ten…nine…” Remus found himself smiling, mumbling the numbers under his breath.

“Your Gryffindor Lions!” Frank drew out the words and the lights went crazy as the boys appeared down the tunnel.

Kasey came first, goalie mask propped on top of his head as he skated out onto the ice. Then Timmy, Finn, Leo…Olli, Brady, Evgeni, Kris, Tyler…

They all looped around the rink, warming up and pounding on the glass, laughing when the crowd pounded back. Remus liked watching the rookies the most, their eyes alight with the attention and praise.

And finally James, always second to last, and then Sirius, always last. Remus watched him come all the way down the tunnel, just in time for his name to be read out by Frank. Sirius raised his glove and knocked it into a few of the kid’s fists who had made it down by the glass, before scampering back up to their parents, delighted with having received a fist-bump.

Remus didn’t expect Sirius to look back at him, but for the split second between him being beside the bench and him being on the ice, their eyes met. And Sirius dropped a wink. And he was gliding away, dropping to one knee as he went and raising his stick a little, drawing screams from the crowd. They were happy to have him back. Sirius was cocky, and Remus didn’t like to admit that he loved that, but he did.

Sirius belonged on the ice, that much had always been clear, and when he wasn’t there, something was out of gear. Everything felt settled now, ready.

The lights came up after a bit and then Eagles filtered on, too, taking shots at their goalie. Victor Krum crossed center ice and met Sirius where he was talking to James, offering a somewhat stiff hand. Sirius smiled, so Remus guessed he had welcomed him back. The Eagles were good like the Snakes, but they weren’t assholes like they were. Remus watched Sirius pluck at Krum’s shoulder, no doubt chirping him for the bright yellow color, and Krum laughed, nudging him back and skating away.

Kasey was busy nesting his goal, scraping up the crease with his long goalie skate blades and catching the boys’ practice shots. Remus watched him for a minute, always enjoying how specific and protective Kasey was of his goal (he patted his posts whenever a puck got knocked askew by one, for god’s sake), but soon his attention was—predictably—dragged away by Sirius. Sirius had a routine, a strict routine, and there was few things Remus loved more than watching him go through it. Remus wasn’t sure he even knew about all of it, but he wanted to. He knew Sirius had to tape his own sticks, do specific stretches in a specific order, had to put his left skate on first, and during warm-ups he had to trace the Lions logo with a puck. He knew Sirius liked to have two pieces of toast with butter and honey an hour before games. Remus wished he knew more, secretly. He wanted to know how long Sirius’ pre-game nap was and what he looked like when he woke up from it—

“Earth to Remus Lupin.”

Remus’ slowly spiraling fantasy was abruptly cut off by James waving a glove in his face.

“What?” Remus stood up. “Sorry, what’s up, what do you need? James, face-off’s in like two seconds, you’re on first shift.”

“I just want some gatorade and it’s all red.” James practically pouted.

Remus huffed out a laugh and handed him a blue, shifting to the side as the other team members shuffled down the bench, coach Weasley slapping a few of them on the back. “There, now go!”

James whooped and skated off to take his position. Sirius was at center ice, eye to eye with Krum, the ref between them with the puck. They crouched, eyes on the puck, and Remus said a soft prayer to whatever god anyone could believe in.

The ref dropped the puck, and the game began.

Remus was on his feet the entire time. He was meant to be watching for any trip-ups, any hard hits, anything that might need to be looked at. Instead, he kept catching himself just enjoying the game, standing behind the bench. Sirius came careening over the boards, tapping Brady’s butt as he jumped onto the ice to replace him, and sat down heavily in front of Remus. He turned, sweat dripping down his temples.

“iPad,” he said, and one of the assistant coaches held it out to him. Sirius stayed turned, brow intense as he watched a replay of his latest shift, and so Remus got to study his profile. He loved Sirius in the heat of a game, loved how fast he talked. He leaned over to explain something to Olli, who leaned in like if he didn’t catch every word, he’d parish. Everyone on the team tended to listen to Sirius like that, like he was their leader through thick and thin.

“How’m I doing?” Sirius said as he handed the iPad back. Remus assumed he was talking to the coaches until Sirius’ eyes fell on him.

“Me?” Remus asked—stupidly.

Sirius smiled, “You.”

“You look great out there. You know you look great out there.”

James laughed, whacking Remus lightly in the stomach with his glove. “Way to call him on it, Loops.” Then the whole bench leaned back as Brady shoved an Eagles player nearly over the boards and into the bench. The crowd loved it, and James banged his stick on the boards after them. “Way to go, Shady-Brady!”

They were gone shortly after that, Coach calling for short shifts for the end of the first period.

“Keep ‘em coming boys, keep this lead!” he was shouting.

The Lions were up 3-1, and the atmosphere was electric. Remus loved this. It was the closest thing to being on top of the world there was, he thought. Suddenly, Sirius was on a breakaway up the ice off of a clean pass from Harzy. He skirted around number 16, number 3, with hard edges, and then he was nearly at the net—

Krum came out of nowhere, slamming Sirius into the boards.

Remus was on his feet in a second, pressing up behind Tyler and Evgeni on the bench.

It was a clean hit, but it felt like ages before Sirius got up. Remus didn’t even watch Krum take the puck, didn’t watch Kasey miss it, didn’t watch their goal-horn light up, didn’t watch the scoreboard change to read 3-2. He didn’t watch the Eagles celebrate.

He watched Sirius skate towards the bench. It was just for a shift change, but Remus looked over every part of him, checking for a limp, a wince, anything. He looked okay. James was on him in a second, skating shoulder to shoulder and talking to him. Sirius was nodded, even smiling a little, but Remus could tell he was shaken. To have something like that happen in the first game, and when he’d just gotten back…

The stadium filled with booing that felt like it shook the walls.

Sirius took his seat on the bench, but before Remus could get through his teammates and to him, the buzzer signaling the end of the first period was sounding and everyone was filing off the ice and back into the locker room. Good, Remus thought. He’d ask to see Sirius, he’d check him out fully, just to be safe.

Marlene was waiting for Coach at the end of the tunnel.

“Hey Arthur, who can we have for media?” she asked.

“Not Black,” Remus stepped in, “I want to check that hit.”

Coach nodded, “right. You can have Pots, or Kasey, I think.”

Marlene nodded and shot Remus a smile, which he returned tightly as he pushed between them and into the locker room. Sirius looked up at him almost immediately, like he had been waiting.

Remus only had to jerk his head towards the quiet and training rooms, before Sirius was getting up and following him. Remus held the door open to the quiet room. It was technically for concussion testing and protocol, and Remus hadn’t seen Sirius hit his head, but better safe than sorry. Sirius stepped inside and Remus closed the door.

“How do you feel?” Remus asked, then pointed to the padded observation table. “Sit there. I’m going to check your ankle and your head.”

“Loops—”

“Does anything else hurt?”

“Remus.”

Remus looked up.

Sirius loomed over him anyway, but he practically towered over him while wearing skates. Remus nearly had to crane his neck.

“What?” Remus asked, a little breathlessly.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “It wasn’t a bad hit.”

“I know. But given your recent history I want to make sure everything’s fine.”

Sirius sat down on the bench and took his helmet off, laying it to the side along with his gloves while Remus bent to start unlacing his skates. Remus’ heart was still pounding, and Sirius’ gray desperate eyes filled his head. He wouldn’t be helpless this time. He’d fixed Sirius’ broken bone, and he wouldn’t let anything go amiss, not now.

“Durmstrang’s always a tough one to call, eh? Sometimes they’re brilliant and sometimes they’re…”

“Angry?” Remus supplied, carefully sliding Sirius’ skates off of his feet before rising.

Sirius laughed a little, “Yeah. For sure, yeah.”

“Look here.” Remus held up a small flashlight and a finger. Sirius looked, but right at Remus, not his finger. A small smile was still lingering on his face. “My finger, Black.”

Sirius laughed again but obeyed this time.

“When’s your birthday?”

“November third.” Sirius supplied easily.

“When is Pots’ birthday?”

“March twenty-seventh. When’s your birthday, Re?”

Remus chest fluttered a little. He clicked off the flashlight, satisfied. “March tenth.”

“Hey, you and James are birthday-buddies.”

Remus rolled his eyes, “Raise your arms. Touch your—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Sirius obediently brought his fingers to his nose and back out again a few times, then, without prompt, got up and walked in a straight line, toe to heel, and turned and looked at Remus expectantly.

Remus narrowed his eyes at him. “And your ankle? Tell me the truth.”

“Fine.” Sirius smiled and sat down in one of the chairs in the room to start getting his skates back on. “Really, Loops, I’m alright. It probably looked worse than it was.”

“It took you a bit to get up.”

Sirius shrugged down at his laces, digging his heel in to pull them tight, “I’ll admit, I was a little surprised. It’s the first real time I got hit since…you know. Since Snape. But you said it yourself,” He looked up at Remus then, sweat damp hair falling into his eyes a little, cheeks flushed, “can’t let the fear get to me, can I?”

Remus swallowed dryly. “Right. Yeah.” He watched Sirius until he was standing again and pulling his gloves back on, tucking his helmet beneath his arm. “Right, right. Sorry.” He opened the door, “Have a good second period, okay?”

Sirius paused beside him in the doorway, tall as ever with his skates back on and looking down at Remus. “Hey.”

Remus looked up at him. Sirius had a funny expression on his face, something soft and determined.

“Don’t ever say sorry for helping me,” Sirius’ voice was low when he said the words.

Remus caught one last glimpse of the odd expression, and then Sirius was gone, enveloped back into the energetic mass of the team.

They won 5-3, Sirius with three points, two goals and one assist, in the second and third period.

The locker room was ecstatic afterwards, and Remus was kneeling to tape up Kasey’s thigh for him when Arthur came out with the lion head. The lion head was this seasons team token, of sorts, an object that got past around the locker room after every game, depending on who played best that night. For the first game of the season, Coach was the one who handed it out. After that it would go from player to player. This year, the object looked like an overly-furry lion-mane and nose, maybe from some poor, cotton stuffed animal, sewed onto a baseball cap. Remus grimaced just looking at it. He didn’t want to think about how sweaty and disgusting that thing was going to become by the end of the season.

“Great game, boys. Great start to the beginning of the season.” There were some cheering and Arthur smiled, waving his hand, “As you know, it is my pride and joy making our season tokens.”

“What section of the wall is last year’s going on?” James said, making everyone laugh. Arthur’s creation last year had been a monstrous blend between a gladiator helmet that had a yarn lion tale glued to the back of it.

“Front and center, thanks for asking.” Coach said. “This year, we have…”

Kasey started a drumroll which the entire locker room eventually joined in on.

“Lion-cap. Gorgeous, isn’t he?” Arthur held it up. “And tonight…I’ve got to give it to the captain, don’t I?”

“Yeah you do!” James pounded the wall of his stall with his fist.

“Quite a hit, and beauties of goals. Sirius.”

Sirius laughed as he walked forward, just his underarmour on again, and put the hat on, crouching into a ridiculous pose so that James could take a picture. He looked hilarious in it, the mane fluffing out around his ears and the nose resting on the brim.

“Thanks, Coach.” He said, and then handed it off to Remus for safe keeping, per tradition. Remus was always put in charge of bring the token on roadies, and keeping track of who got it when.

Remus felt his phone buzz in his pocket and was pulled abruptly from the bubble of the team when he saw his mom’s name flash up. He slapped a hand to Kasey’s shoulder, telling him he was done, and slipped out of the locker room to answer.

“Hey, mum.”

“Hi, baby. Great game!”

“It was,” Remus smiled. “I’ll be right out to get you guys and we can get ice cream or something. I just have to—”

“Remus?”

Remus pressed the phone to his shoulder, turning on his heel back to the locker room. Sirius was standing there, head poking out and smiling a smile that looked almost—shy.

“Yeah? Hold on, mum—Sorry, can I help?”

“Bring them back,” Sirius said.

“Huh?”

Sirius rolled his eyes, “Your family. Bring them back, show them the locker room and stuff.”

“Oh.” Remus’ heart beat. He would love that. Julian would freak out. “Oh, I don’t want—”

“C’mon, the boys would love it. We can sign a jersey and stuff, or a stick.”

Remus’ mouth hung open for a minute before he heard himself say, “okay,” and Sirius grinned before retreating. Remus didn’t move until he heard his mom’s voice in his ear. He blinked a few times and raised his phone back up. “Hey, mum, do you want to…would you guys want to come back to the locker room?”

And so here Remus was, his parents and Jules in toe, walking down the all too familiar hallway.

Julian bounced up beside Remus, both hands around his arm. “Are we going to meet Sirius?”

Remus smiled, “probably.”

“Are we going to meet Pots?”

“Yep, him too.”

“Blizzard?”

Remus laughed, “I think you could meet Kasey, sure.”

“Can I take a picture with them?”

“If you say please,” Remus said, because it was definitely what his mom would say. Once they reach the locker room doors, he looked back at his parents. Both were wearing BLACK jerseys, which Remus found unbearably endearing and also slightly embarrassing now that Sirius knew how Remus felt about him as a hockey player. There was no doubt he was going to think Remus had had sway over his parents’ jersey choice. His dad was clutching his phone excitedly to his chest, and Remus couldn’t think why he hadn’t asked to do this sooner. He was glad Sirius had said something, and he’d make sure to tell him thank you later.

“Ready?” He asked.

“Ready, ready, open the doors!” Julian whisper-yelled.

The sound wave once Remus did hit them like a wall, and Remus heard Jules quiet down a little, maybe with nerves as the reality that this was actually happening set in, and Remus turned around to put a comforting hand on his back. He could see that the media was just leaving out the press door, which Remus was thankful for because it meant that none of the players would be surrounded by cameras. He didn’t want this to look like a photo-op.

He made eye contact with Sirius almost immediately, and tried to smile in a way that didn’t look like he expected Sirius to come over or anything. Sirius had a routine, and that included winding down. He looked like he was about to leave for his twenty minute cool down on one of the stationary bikes, and Remus didn’t want to interrupt that. But then Sirius was grinning and motioning them over.

“Oh.” Julian said softly from beside Remus, and Remus patted his head softly and motioned for his parents to follow him over to Sirius’ stall.

Sirius stood when they got there, grinning warmly.

“Who’s this?” Sirius asked, holding his fist out for a dumbstruck Julian to bump.

“These are my parents, Hope and Lyall, and this is Julian, my brother.” Remus said, smiling a little at Jules’ expression. His heart was pounding. “Say hi, Jules.”

“Hi Padfoot. I mean—” Julian flushed.

Sirius laughed. “You can call me Padfoot if I can call you Jules. You play hockey, bud?”

Julian nodded frantically, “yeah, I’m a center, too.”

“Nice.” Sirius raised his eyes briefly to Remus’ parents and held out his hand for them to shake, “Hi, I’m Sirius.” As if they didn’t know, as if they weren’t wearing his last name on their backs, “Did you all enjoy the game?”

“That was such a nasty hit on you.” Julian said, eyes going from Sirius’ face to his locker to his pads to his stick.

“It was, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, we hope you’re alright.” Hope said with a very motherly disapproving frown.

Sirius nodded and, to Remus’ surprise, threw an arm around Remus’ shoulder. “Your son took care of me. Remus takes the best care of us, right James?”

James had come over with a protein bar hanging out of his mouth, but took a bite and chewed quickly when he put together who he was speaking to.

“Jesus f—” He looked at Julian whose eyes were practically hearts. “Hi,” James said again, laughing a little at himself, “you must be Loops’ parents.” James looked down at Julian again, “And older brother, I presume? What’s up, man? Here to try out?”

“Yeah.” Julian said softly, clearly barely able to think, and they all laughed.

Remus, on the other hand, was much to pre-occupied with Sirius’ arm which, having slid away from his shoulders, was now briefly a warm, pressing weight between his shoulder blades, before it disappeared completely as he slapped the seat of his stall.

“Well I’m certainly not going to have a spot on this team if you’re playing, so you might as well take a seat. Let’s see, what will he need to be a Lion, Pots?”

James crossed his arms, pretending to think hard. “Jersey, definitely.”

“Oh, two, I’d say.” Sirius added, “And a couple sticks, don’t you think?”

Julian, now seated snuggly in Sirius’ stall, was red-cheeked with happiness.

“On it.” James said, and winked at Remus as he left to get a few of his and Sirius’ jerseys and sticks to sign.

Sirius on the other hand, crouched down to Julian’s level. “Hey, Jules, do you know how awesome your brother is?”

Julian grinned up at Remus, then back at Sirius. “Yeah.”

Sirius nodded back, “He does practically everything for us. Gets us new skate blades, makes sure we have what we need on the road, keeps us healthy.” Then Sirius looked at him with a similarly fond and happy expression that Julian was wearing, and Remus felt a little like he might cry which would be completely and utterly embarrassing. “He’s pretty great.”

Remus felt his own cheeks flush. “Okay, okay, thanks.”

Hope laughed from beside him, squeezing him in a one armed hug. “Never could take a compliment, could you, Re?”

“That was a lot of compliments.” Remus laughed, running a hand through his hair. He couldn’t stop looking at Sirius and Sirius wasn’t looking away.

Remus felt like he was back in Sirius’ car, unsure what it all meant.

“Hey, did you know I’m your brother’s favorite player?” Sirius asked Jules.

“You’re mine, too! We both have your jersey!”

Remus flushed and had to look away from Sirius and his raised eyebrows then, pretending to watch James come back across the locker room with the gear. He didn’t want to hear what Sirius had to say about that.

James and Sirius were both at Julian’s level for a good fifteen minutes, signing things, taking pictures, and talking hockey. Kasey even came over before leaving to sign the jerseys and offer one of his own sticks. Remus didn’t know how Julian was going to carry it all.

His parents eventually left for their hotel with promises to meet him for breakfast the next morning and their favorite pancake spot—really everyone’s favorite pancake spot—in Gryffindor. Remus watched them walk back to their car until they turned out of view, smiling to himself at Jules’ insistence that he carry all three sticks and wear both jerseys at once.

Remus stopped by the exercise room on his way back to lock up the office for the night and, as expected, Sirius was there. He looked fresh off the bike and was on one of the mats, stressing his fingers towards his toes. Remus knocked lightly.

“Hey,” Sirius said with a grin.

“Hi.” Remus walked in a few more paces and leaned against one of the treadmills, scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the floor softly. “I don’t want to interrupt you or anything, but I just wanted to thank you. For earlier. You—You really made my little brother’s life, there. He loves you guys.”

Sirius stood, dusting off his leggings and picked up his water bottle from the floor. “I hope he’s not the only one.”

Remus bit back a smile, and his heart clenched. If only Sirius knew what he was saying.

“Of course,” was all Remus could think of to reply.

“You’re family seems great, Re. Really.”

“They are,” Remus replied before he thought about what that statement probably meant, coming from Sirius. Sirius who didn’t have a family like that. Remus felt guilt and the want to strangle anyone who didn’t love Sirius properly swirl in his chest. Sirius deserved so much. Look what he would do for just one kid who he never even met, for Remus, who he barely knew outside of his work.

“I’m headed out soon.” Sirius said. “Do you need a ride?”

Remus shook his head, “Moody said he’d drive me.”

Even though everything in him was screaming at him to lie and say yes, he didn’t want to explain that to Moody.

“Ah.” Sirius said, nodding. He looked, if not disappointed, something like it. “Okay. Well, let me know, eh? Any time.”

“Thanks, Sirius.” Remus was aware of how soft his voice sounded, but there wasn’t much he could do about it with Sirius’ gray eyes on him.

Sirius smiled, a soft and lopsided thing, and Remus’ heart flipped in his chest. As Sirius left for the showers, Remus got back to his desk. On it, was a hat.

It was a Lions hat, red with gold piping and the gold lion. On the bill, in the gold sharpie that the team used for signing, was a messily scrawled message and a signature. Sirius’ signature, complete with the number twelve.

I’m glad I’m your favorite, it read.

(A/N: Ah, slowly but surely....:)

[hystericalweenie]

Just Another Day at the Office Series - New On the Job

George MacKay x Reader Series

Part Five: The Morning After

Masterlist

Summary: Y/f/n Y/l/n was job searching, looking for a new place to work as an escape to her, then, current job; she’d been denied every pitch she had, yet she worked her ass off with zero recognition. Writing was her passion and her dream job laid in the hands of a magazine company in the city. Will the combination of her sexual frustration and her competitive nature cause her to risk her biggest dream for a blue eyed coworker?

a/n: I have absolutely no personal experience in magazine/journalism career, so the information in this fic will be provided with the knowledge I have conducted from research. With that being said, please don’t be mad if this is not accurate!!! Sorry this was late compared to my daily uploading, I’ve been very busy these past few days!

Warnings: This is a slow burn fic, their relationship won’t happen in one night, so if you’re not into that, check out some of the beautifully written imagines that you can most likely find under the george mackayxreader tag. I might eventually write some of my own too :P At least one person’s saying “fuck” and there’s some sexual! tension! up! in! here!

I opened my eyes to my dark bedroom. The darkness of dawn leaked through my curtains, reminding me of the misery that was Monday. I hadn’t slept well that night, too many butterflies in my stomach disrupting my slumber. George’s head rested on my chest, his cheek in contact with my revealed skin. He’d been restless, switching into many positions that night, but as soon as his head hit my chest and his arms slung around me, he didn't move a single muscle. I brushed my fingers through his hair, twirling around some strands. I heard him release a deep breath, before cuddling his head further into my chest as if it were a pillow. He reminded me of a child cuddling their mother after a nightmare in this moment, and I was grateful I was able to see another side of him, an innocent and youthful side to him.

I felt his fingers drum against my sides, notifying me that he was awake. I smiled, removing my fingers from his scalp.

“Don’t stop,” he mumbled against my chest, his voice soft and raspy.

My cheeks flushed as I brought my fingers back to his scalp, earning a delightful moan from him. My eyes widened at the noise, my mind immediately swimming in filthy thoughts, but I quickly forced them away, because it was certainly not the time for intimacy; he needed a friend to be there for him, and I was that friend.  

We laid there for a while in silence, my fingers tangling and untangling themselves in his locks, as I felt his warm breath against the skin of my chest. After these moments of bliss, my alarm on my phone went off, causing me to jump at the sudden interruption. I quickly grabbed my phone and turned the damned thing off, tossing it on the floor without a single worry. I quickly returned my fingers to his hair, as if nothing had interrupted our moment.

“As much as it hurts me to say this,” he spoke up, his raspy voice introducing itself to me again. “You need to go to work today, love.”

I groaned, watching as my fingers worked through the effortless blond waves.

“What if I just don’t go?” I suggested, my voice dry with exhaustion.

He lifted his head, turning it toward me as his chin rested on my chest, his eyes looking up at me. His lip had already started scabbing over, and his black eye looked more violet today, signifying that his face was beginning to heal. With his messy hair, his eyelids swollen with sleep, and his eyes looking up at me so innocently, my heart practically jumped out of my chest.

“Love,” he cautioned, his eyebrows knitting together.

My cheeks caught on fire at the way the word rolled off his lips so naturally, yet intimately. Love. I repeated it over and over in my head. I subconsciously pulled my bottom lip between my teeth as I stared down at him, absorbing his features as long as I could. I sighed, ending the moment, and removing my fingers from his hair.

“I need to, uhm, get ready,” I stammered, looking down at him.

He rolled himself off of me, reminding me of what it felt like without the weight of a six foot tall man sprawled on top me. I stood up from the mattress, stretching my body–moaning a little too loudly while doing so–and walking toward my bedroom door. I turned around, watching as George stayed in my bed with his hands behind his head, observing me.

“Do you want coffee or breakfast?” I offered, as he stared back at me.

“Are you going to cook me breakfast?” he joked, cracking a grin.

I rolled my eyes at the man.

“Coffee, it is,” I called, exiting the bedroom, biting back the smile that threatened to make its way onto my lips.

I started the pot, leaning on the counter as I waited for the machine to spew the liquid. I heard footsteps, making me turn around. Bree yawned, her mouth mimicking a lion’s roar. I smiled at her blond hair sticking out in multiple directions, her morning frown greeting me as she got her favorite mug out of the cabinet.

“Can you get two mugs out for me?” I asked her mindlessly, my eyes focusing back on the coffee machine.

“Two? You mean, on–” she stopped herself, her head whipping to me with wide eyes.

I looked back at her expression, visibly trying to hide my smile, as her jaw dropped to the floor.

Is George in your bedroom? she mouthed to me, her hazel eyes as big as could be.

I nodded slowly, causing her to jump up and down, looking as happy as I’d ever seen her in the morning. She realized what she was doing, before pouring herself a mug of coffee and quietly slipping back into her bedroom, mouthing a sorry. I rolled my eyes playfully at the girl, pouring two mugs of my own.

“How do you take your coffee?” I called to the boy, as I opened the refrigerator to retrieve the creamer for myself.

“Black,” he answered, surprising me with the closeness of his voice.

I turned around, watching as he pulled a seat out for himself at the small kitchen table, before sitting himself down. I handed him the steaming mug, before adding cream and sugar to my own. Closing the refrigerator with my foot, I took a seat next to him and sipped on the hot morning bliss, ignoring how it burnt my tongue.

“Dean and I called out of work yesterday,” he spoke up. “We’re hoping to see if we can convince Andrew to go to rehab.”

I furrowed my eyebrows at him, worrying that his plan might cause a repeat of what’d happened the night before.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I proposed.

He nodded, taking another sip from his mug.

“Dean's there right now. He said that they’ve put him under some medications that’ll hold him off for a while.”

I reached my hand out, gently resting it on his shoulder as I looked at him with concern.

“I just want you to be okay,” I admitted, my eyes scanning over the bruised eye.

He put his hand over mine with a small smile, his eyes softening.

“Thank you, love. I mean it.”

The sounds of footsteps interrupted us, as Bree walked toward the refrigerator with a sheepish smile.

“I forgot cream,” she apologized.

I rolled my eyes at her, gesturing out toward the small blond girl.

“George, this is my roommate, Bree. Bree this is my, uhm...”

What was he? 

“Coworker,” George corrected, reaching his hand up to form a small wave to the girl. 

Was that all he thought he was to me? A coworker? My roommate and I exchanged anxious eyes, as if we were both thinking the same thing.

“I’m the guy that gave Y/n a place to crash that night at the bar,” he introduced, his tone sounding...almost, protective. 

Bree scratched the back of her neck, still feeling guilty.

“Yeah, thank you for that, by the way,” she looked at him sincerely. “I’m still upset with myself for doing that to her.”

I looked at her, shaking my head.

“It’s fine, I already told you,” I insisted, bringing my mug up to my lips and gulping the energizing liquid. I wrapped my hands around the mug before standing up from the chair. “I should probably go take a shower,” I announced.

“I should probably get going as well, I need to clean myself up and meet Dean at the hospital,” George informed me, standing up from his chair as well. 

“Do you need a ride?” I offered.

He shook his head.

“Nah, I drove here. Hopefully my car’s still outside, if it hasn't gotten towed yet,” he joked.

I nodded, making my way to my bedroom to grab the pool of clothes that sat on my floor, before he’d changed into the comfier fabrics. I returned back to the kitchen, holding them out with his shoes. 

“Don’t want to forget these,” I reminded him.

He nodded, taking the clothes and making his way to the door. I followed him quickly, catching his attention.

“Can I, uh, walk you to your car?” I asked sheepishly, chewing on my lip.

He cracked a small smile, nodding. We silently made our way down the stairs, just like we had when I led him to the apartment earlier; there were no sounds, except for the echoes of our footsteps. We walked outside, the cold air surprising my warm skin as I hissed. His car had been still parked against the sidewalk, a little further down from where I’d found him sitting the night before. Once we reached his car, he turned toward me.

“Thank you,” he told me sincerely. “You took very well care of me last night, when you had absolutely no reasoning to.”

I shrugged. “I owed you one.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, as he looked down at me with a concerned expression.

“Is that the only reason why you took care of me last night, no questions asked? Because you owed me a favor?” he interrogated.

I was shocked at his question, my cheeks heating up and my eyes widening in surprise. I looked up at him, chewing on the skin of my bottom lip before answering. What is the point of lying again, I asked myself. 

“I took care of you, because I wanted to,” I admitted. “When I saw the texts you sent me last night, I was so worried, I literally got my slippers on and ran out of the building as quickly as I could to find you.”

His eyebrows knitted together and his eyes softened, as he looked at me with admiration. 

“Y/n, I don’t think you’re aware of what you’re doing to me,” he confessed. 

I tilted my head in confusion, but he gave no further explanation. 

“Go knock ‘em dead at work. Text me at lunch?”

I blushed at his words of encouragement and the fact that he wanted me to text him on my lunch break. 

“Of course,” I promised him.

He reached for my hand, pressing his lips to the skin, before releasing it and entering the driver’s seat of his car. My body was frozen, completely paralyzed at the feeling of his lips against the back of my hand. He drove away, sending me a wink as he passed. And I stood there, on the pavement, looking like an idiot. I don’t think you’re aware of what you’re doing to me, what the hell did that mean?!

I was almost late to work, because of that man. But, I arrived just on time, staring across from me at the empty desk. I sighed, forcing my attention on the document of my pitch, memorizing what I’d say to Connie when the time came. I looked at the new articles that’d already come out that morning, reading for my own entertainment to pass the time before the meeting. 

Once the inevitable hour passed, I made my way toward the conference room, this time without my brunette pal as my guide. Luckily, I was able to find the room, and I sat myself down next to Faith. She greeted me with a small smile, as I reciprocated her action and stared at the entrance of the room with anticipation. As more workers piled in, Connie stifled in with her assistant, making the butterflies in my stomach much more existent. 

“Happy Monday everyone,” she greeted us, her voice monotone. 

Starting with the beauty and fashion editors like the last time, my anticipation was building more and more as she discussed along the tables of the writers and editors. As soon as her head turned towards me, my heart practically sank to my stomach, her emerald eyes intimidating me.

“Print journalists? How about we start with you, Y/n,” she announced.

I cleared my throat anxiously before speaking.

“I was thinking about conducting an experiment with CBD oil, since that’s such a trendy product right now in the media, and I could write about it,” I explained, trying to exude as much confidence as I could under her stare.

She nodded after I spoke.

“That’s a nice idea, I’m surprised no one’s come up with that yet,” she admitted. “Try to work with a sub-editor on this, come up with some deadlines, and email me after. Anyone else?”

I smiled proudly at how well that’d gone. I looked forward to telling George about my succession on lunch, as the meeting flew by. Once I’d gotten back to my desk, I emailed Dean as soon as my fingers hit the keyboard.

Dean, Hopefully you have your email on your phone, because if not, then I’ll have to find another sub-editor that I actually like. Anyway, I have this idea for an article and I need your help to discuss deadlines and all that. Email me back when you get this... or actually I’ll see you if you don’t see this until you’re back in the office.  Thanks. Y/n

I sent the email, keeping the tab open in case he’d respond. I began opening a document and writing an introduction/hypothesis to the experiment. I clicked back on the email tab, sighing in relief as I saw a notification from him.

Hi. Wifi’s shit where I am, so this might not send. What’s the experiment? What did Connie say about it? Also, you don’t need to be so proper sending emails to me. We sent memes to each other, remember?

I laughed, recalling the memory when he’d asked me for my email on my first day. I typed back immediately.

Message has been sent to me, though you’ve probably already figured that out by now. Experiment’s about trying CBD oil for the first time. Yes, I’m a millennial, how could you tell? Connie liked it, she said I should work closely with a sub-editor and email her all the details once we've finished coming up with deadlines. 

I waited for him to respond, going back to writing again. After a few minutes, I received the notification.

Lol. I'm glad everything went well with Connie. Do you think four days would be a realistic deadline? Maybe take two days to write and research while doing the experiment, then two days for me to edit it and work with the art team for designs for the article? We can come up with a word count later. I’ll be in the office tomorrow and we can discuss this further. Just email Connie the main things and try to pick up and try that cdb or whatever shit up today. Srry if this sounds rushed, I’m a little busy right now.

I felt bad for intruding on Dean, as he was probably taking care of his friend.

I’m sorry for intruding on your day, just do what you have to do and we’ll work on this tomorrow. Thank you for everything you were able to help me with.

I emailed Connie right away before starting my research. I took important notes, cited some quotes to important articles online, and included some of my own pre-knowledge as well. I, then, looked at some of the best CBD products on Amazon, before settling on a roll-on oil and ordering it to the apartment, paying extra for a one-day delivery. 

Once lunch had rolled around, I made a salad in the small cafeteria and ate at my desk, pulling my phone out while I ate.

Me: Had a pitch today, it went sooo well. How are things with you?

He responded almost instantly.

George: That’s fantastic, Y/n! We’re at a rehabilitation facility, staying here while Andrew gets checked in. After this, probably going to go out and buy some groceries for dinner, maybe get some more ingredients for a recipe I can teach you.

Me: I would love that! Would tonight work?

George: As long as it does for you x

George: I slept amazing last night, even in that tiny bed of yours. 

Me: You make it sound like I sleep on a twin mattress.

George: A full is almost like a twin, right?

George: Did you like my big bed better?

Me: Considering I don’t even remember sleeping in it, I’m not sure. Remember, I woke up in that bed with absolutely no recollection of that night whatsoever. 

George: You would love my mattress, it’d practically swallow you up.

You know what else I’d like to swallow me up... Stop it Y/n!

Me: Are you sure you’re okay? With the whole Andrew thing going on...

George: Being with you helps get my mind off of it, so I think tonight is a good idea. I can’t necessarily say I’m okay right now, but I will be. He realized that he has to get better, and he’s finally taking the step to do that, and that’s already much more progress.

Me: Okay... If I can at least take your mind off of things, then let’s make dinner a definite tonight. I’m here for you, George, however you need me.

Did that sound too vulnerable? I wasn’t sure, but the more time George and I spent together, the less I cared about taking risks. 

George: That means more to me than you’ll ever know, love. 

When I got home from work, I took a shower to freshen myself up–despite having already taken one in the morning–before dressing myself in a tight turtleneck top with high wasted jeans and a pair of my favorite heeled leather booties. I styled my hair in waves before leaving the house and, finally, receiving a text from George with his address. As I drove with anticipation, I wondered what he was wearing, and maybe I’d overdressed myself. As I approached the familiar apartment, I parked my car behind the building before letting him know I was there.

He welcomed me within minutes, leading me up to his apartment. He was dressed in jeans and a maroon sweater, the color going well with his skin tone and hair. I wondered what would happen that night, as we entered his cozy, yet luxurious apartment. 

But, I had no idea what that night had in store for me.

[theonceoverthinker]

When Will My Life Begin? (Fair Game, 7/?)

Summary: Tangled AU. Clover Callows has been confined to a tower for all of his life, and given the threat that his Uncle Tyrian says his semblance poses to his safety, he accepts that fate. It’s the only life he’s ever known, after all. But when he’s offered the opportunity to fulfill his greatest dream after a chance encounter with a thief -- or bandit, as Qrow Branwen insists there’s a difference between the two -- both Clover and Qrow will discover joys that they never knew life could offer them before. AO3

Tumblr: (1) (2) (B1) (3) (4) (B2) (5) (6) 

()()()()()()()()()()()

Clover was often one to be ready for things. 

A lot of that came from the predictability of his life, and it couldn’t be helped when one followed a routine as constant as his was. 

However, as he’d discovered just under an hour ago, it turned out that he was ready for even the most unexpected of things, the things that formerly ruled his nightmares with an iron fist.

Of course, he likely wasn’t ready for everything the world both inside and outside the tower had to offer -- he’d probably find out soon enough how true that sentiment was if the next conflict he had to face panned out the way he wanted it to -- but Clover knew he could learn how to be ready for those things easily enough.

He’d captured a man and trapped him in his closet. 

Despite seeing and doing that himself, it was still more than a little hard to believe.

Real, tangible proof that he could survive in the outside world now existed but spitting distance from where he presently stood as he prepared to greet his uncle.

This was going to happen.

He stuffed the satchel and the pin that had accompanied it into a nearby flower pot before turning to see a grinning Uncle Tyrian.

“Clover!” Uncle Tyrian called from below, a singsong tone in his voice. “Come pick me up! I have a surprise for you!”

Well, what a coincidence.

“So do I!” Clover said, positively beaming as he finished setting up the pulley.

“I’m pretty sure mine’s bigger!”

“I seriously doubt that,” Clover mumbled while pulling, confident that his uncle didn’t hear the words he just spoke. It was for the best, after all. He’d already been enough of a braggart at breakfast -- anything more than that would’ve been overkill, or at least it would’ve been to his uncle.

Personally, he found some harmless bragging to be fun, but he guessed it wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea. Besides, who knew how much bragging Uncle Tyrian may or may not have had to deal with outside the tower. Maybe it really was overkill.

When his uncle was at last safely in the tower and the pulley was lowered once more, Clover turned to face him, only to have a small basket shoved into his arms. 

“Clover, just as I suggested earlier,” Uncle Tyrian said, “I went out and bought some eggs for you. Now, you can make a real breakfast for us! Imagine it -- eggs sunny side up, scrambled, boiled, made into some omelettes, or even a frittata, perhaps!” Uncle Tyrian paused to lick his lips at that last prospect. “My boy, the culinary world is your oyster! Surprise!”

Clover bit his lip.

Well, at least if Uncle Tyrian had to buy something like that now of all times, it was something that would still be good after their trip.

“This is great!” Clover said, trying to inject his voice with as much enthusiasm as he could muster at the subject. “So as I said, earlier, I have a surprise of my-”

“Did I tell you your father was quite the cook as well?” Uncle Tyrian interrupted as he lazily strutted around the tower. “Gods, you are so much like him -- me as well, but of the two of us -- lucky semblance or not -- I got the lion’s share of the family looks,” Uncle Tyrian teased as he landed by the mirror, looking at himself proudly.  

Clover didn’t appreciate being interrupted...again, but he felt it best not to mention it. The stranger wasn’t going anywhere -- even if he did, it would only serve to expedite the point he was going to make. Besides, keeping his uncle in a good mood as always was key to bettering his odds of getting what he wanted. 

“To be fair, we don’t exactly look alike,” he joked right back as stepped next to his uncle, “so I’d argue I’m quite dashing myself in my own way.”

Without looking at Clover, Uncle Tyrian waved a dismissive hand. 

“What are you talking about? You have my ears.”

Clover looked at the mirror, honing in on his ears. He knew his uncle’s visage better than anyone else possibly could, and his ears were smaller and more angular than Clover’s ever were.

No, he didn’t think their ears were alike at all. 

Then again, the last time Tyrian pointed out the similarities they shared, it was in their chins.

Was this another one of his uncle’s jokes?

As often was the case, it was hard to tell.

Clover gave a polite chuckle, but kept it low enough so that if it wasn’t a joke, he wouldn’t get the awkward look Uncle Tyrian gave him whenever he made such a mistake.

“So,” Clover said, walking over to the closet that held the stranger, “getting back to what I was about to say, Uncle Tyrian. I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier.”

Immediately, Uncle Tyrian’s eyes narrowed and a frown threatened to sprout any minute from his face’s presently neutral expression.

“Please tell me you’re not still talking about the stars?” he said, closing his eyes and massaging the bridge of his nose with his left index finger.

“I’m going somewhere with this, but yes,” Clover admitted.

“Because I thought we had left on the same page about that,” he returned, noticeably harshly. “The outside world? Dangerous? You don’t want to hurt me, nor put yourself in danger? Do you remember?”

“Well, yes, I remember, and I know you think I can’t handle myself out there, bu-”

“Clover, I know you can’t handle yourself out there,” Uncle Tyrian retorted, putting an emphasis on the word ‘know’ that was heavier than the very tower they stood in.

Clover took a deep breath, trying to get over how annoyed he was at getting interrupted yet again.

“But if you would-”

“Then why are we talking about this again?” Uncle Tyrian grit, his frown now fully formed and well on its way to becoming something of a sneer, or even a glare.

Clover knew he was pushing his luck, but he had to try.

“It’s just that-”

“Clover,” Uncle Tyrian scolded.

“Please, ju-”

“Clover!”

Uncle Tyrian’s tone was getting louder and darker.

However, so was Clover’s impatience.

No, he couldn’t give up, not when he knew what he had and what it meant.

“Oh come on! Just list-”

“Enough!” Uncle Tyrian roared, now stomping closer to Clover. “Enough about the lights! Gods, boy! Get it through your thick, boneheaded skull that you will never be ready to leave this tower, especially not for some meaningless lights! We’re done talking about this!” 

With each word he spoke, he got nearer and nearer to Clover, with every step matching the harshness and nastiness of his words. What’s worse were his fists, both of which were tightly clenched, and raised from his sides ever so slightly.

Clover took a step back, utterly speechless.

He was ready for many a reaction that he would possibly get from Uncle Tyrian before he revealed his hand, but he wasn’t ready for that one…

A stressed sigh left Uncle Tyrian at that movement.

“Oh great,” he commiserated, backing away to the breakfast table and sitting down. “Now I’m the bad guy.”

Clover looked at Uncle Tyrian, then the closet, and then his shoes.

The man trapped in his closet and all that he meant…

It wasn’t going to be enough…

It was never going to be enough…

Clover’s heart sank like a knife in a sink.

What was he even doing?

To his uncle, he’d never be ready to so much as step outside his tower, and without the assistance surviving out in the world that his uncle could provide, he knew he’d never reach the floating lights. There were many things he may have been ready to do, but navigating the land outside of his tower on any level was not one of them. However, it was clear now that that assistance was something he wasn’t getting anytime soon.

Clover’s eyes floated back to the closet where the man still was, feeling resigned to his fate and now trying to figure out how he’d frame capturing the man in light of this conversation as to just avoid getting into trouble.

And then, he realized something.

It was true that he wasn’t getting his uncle’s assistance with his dream.

However, his uncle’s assistance was potentially no longer the only means of assistance he had at his disposal anymore.

The man in his closet was likely by no means friendly -- Clover wouldn’t delude himself into thinking otherwise. 

That said, just as his uncle exchanged money for the eggs he’d bought for them, those outside the tower were accustomed to the practice of making deals.

And right now, Clover had a rather nice bit of leverage over his closet’s unwitting occupant. 

He could still see the lights.

But if this was something he wanted to do, he’d need to be ready to deal with the stranger.

That meant getting rid of the one obstacle in his way -- his uncle.

Luckily, Clover had just the idea ready for how to do exactly that.

Clover took a deep breath. Apart from Raven’s existence, it wasn’t often that he lied to his uncle. He often had no reason to lie. 

However, as he grew up, he learned exactly how to best do so if the need for a lie ever truly arose.

Right now was proving to be such a time, but for as difficult as it would be, Clover knew he was ready for it.

“All I was going to say,” Clover said, trying to conceal the still very true fear and anguish that his uncle’s outburst left him with, “was that I know what I want for my birthday.”

Uncle Tyrian still looked more than just a bit on edge as he turned to Clover again. “And what’s that?” he said, his tone clearly exasperated. 

“New paint,” Clover said. He turned to his painting of himself watching the lights. “You’re right about the stars and leaving the tower -- it’s just not worth it.” Despite now knowing that the possibility wasn’t completely gone, those words were no easier to say than if they were true. “So instead, I’d love to paint something else here, something we can both enjoy. I was thinking of those beautiful paints I made from the shells you got me for my nineteenth birthday, and I thought those would make a nice present.”

“Clover, that’s a three day trip. I-” Uncle Tyrian looked like he had more to say, but held it in.

That was a good sign.

After a moment’s pause as he seemingly mulled it over, Uncle Tyrian sighed. “You always have to cry until you get whatever it is you want, don’t you?”

Normally, comments like those upset Clover. This one did, too. How could his uncle believe he’d ever be so cruel to him?

But for as much as he hated even implying that he agreed with the comment, Clover knew what fighting back too much could cost him, and this time, he was okay sucking up his pride for it.

“Please, uncle,” Clover begged, dodging the remark as deftly as he could. “It would mean the world to me.”

Uncle Tyrian seemed to stew on it for a moment before sighing once more.

“For you?” he said, petting Clover on his head. “Anything.”

Clover smiled as he leaned into the touch. “Thank you, uncle.”

“Now,” Uncle Tyrian said when the petting was done, “why don’t you make me a quick lunch and pack me up a nice basket for the trip?”

“Of course!”

Clover got to work. His uncle’s favorite style of eggs were relatively simple to cook, especially for him -- sunny side up. As he waited for the two eggs he prepared to fully cook, he retrieved a medium-sized basket and put a few pieces of fruit as well as some leftover rolls and jam from breakfast in there. He knew his uncle had enough money for an inn and a meal or two, but still did what he could to make sure he’d be safe from any bouts of hunger he might face.

By the time he was done loading the basket, the eggs were ready to go.

After serving them up to his uncle, he worked a bit more on the basket, putting in cutlery and a spare sweet or two they kept around the tower. When he was done, he left it by his uncle’s favorite cloak and sat down at the breakfast table opposite his uncle.

“So Clover,” Uncle Tyrian said after just barely swallowing a mouthful of eggs, “because I know you’re dying to ask me and I know you won’t let me leave the tower without it, lay it on me now. Where’s the list of things you want?”

For an instant, unready for that question, Clover just blinked at him.

Then it hit him, and it was all Clover could do to keep his face from reflecting the realization that would make no sense for him to have.

He didn’t think of it until Uncle Tyrian mentioned it, but indeed yes, such a list did exist, but that matter was something that made this trip different from the one his uncle had taken years ago. When Uncle Tyrian left for that trip, Clover had a list of things he wished his uncle would bring back, things from the outside world even besides the shells -- pinecones, pine needles, rocks from the beach, a bit of sand, some salt water from the ocean. Uncle Tyrian clearly felt they were harmless enough, so he brought most of them back to the tower for Clover to look at, admire, and study.

This time though, while there was a list that Clover had, it no longer mattered -- in just a few hours, he was finally going to see and feel those things for himself in person.

But his uncle didn’t know that, so he had to pretend that he didn’t either. 

And to help with that facade, he turned to his nightstand with the list he had at the ready from years and years of dreaming about a day that was now upon him, but in a completely unexpected way.

“Here you go, Uncle Tyrian. Thank you for asking.”

Uncle Tyrian looked at the list as he kept eating, making the occasional hum as he appraised Clover’s desires. A little bit of his egg’s yolk fell onto the list, and despite knowing that he’d soon probably be feeling the very substance that was listed on the spot where it landed, Clover couldn’t help but wince.

That wince granted him a deadpan look with a raised eyebrow from Uncle Tyrian. 

“The phrase is ‘there’s no use crying over spilled milk,’ not ‘spilled eggs,’” he said, just before rolling his eyes. “Don’t worry -- I can still read it. I’ll be sure to get you your...nose. Well, you don’t really need that, unless it’s someone else’s nose you’re after, that is.” Clover had no idea as to how to respond to that, even as his uncle burst out laughing. Upon realizing that, Uncle Tyrian settled down just a little, though only that much. He was still laughing quite a lot, clearing his eye of a tear with just a single finger. “It’s a joke, my boy. Really, you need to get past this oversensitivity of yours. It’s a good thing you’re not leaving here, because out there, that would get you killed in an instant. It annoys me, and others don’t have the benefit of knowing you well enough to care one way or the other.”

Clover faked a small laugh and smile. “You’re probably right,” he forced. 

Finally done with his eggs, Uncle Tyrian walked over to Clover and patted his cheek.

“Once I get back, we’ll keep working on it, I promise you.”

Clover was sure his uncle would keep to his word.

If only, knowing his uncle’s methods of doing exactly that, Clover could muster any great deal of excitement at that prospect. 

Hopefully -- Gods hopefully -- after their individual trips, they’d both return in better, brighter, and bolder spirits.

“Am I all packed?” Uncle Tyrian asked, now changing his direction from Clover to the basket Clover prepared for him. 

Clover blinked to focus himself. 

“Yes, uncle,” he said. “You’re all good to go.”

“Fantastic! Now, I won’t be back for three long days, Clover. Are you sure you’ll be alright here, all by yourself?” Clover hated how drawn out Uncle Tyrian spoke as he brought up their separation. The way he spoke made the agony he felt for it very well known, and Clover couldn’t help but feel that way too. It made Clover want to stop this trip before it happened, to tell Uncle Tyrian not to leave, though he was somewhat reluctantly able to keep that desire at bay.

Gods, why couldn’t Uncle Tyrian just let them both go on a trip together?

It would’ve been so much easier and less risky that way than it now had to be.

Well, it was what was going to be done, nonetheless.

“I know I’m safe as long as I’m here,” he answered.

Uncle Tyrian smiled at Clover. “You know your dear old uncle loves you, right?”

“And I love him, too.”

Clover pulled Uncle Tyrian in for a hug, one returned very lightly.

If his uncle hugged him with anything resembling tightness, Clover bet he’d never let him go.

Uncle Tyrian was really going to miss him, wasn’t he?

Well, life-changing trip on the horizon or not, that made two of them.

Clover readied the pulley and carefully lowered his uncle to the tower’s base when it was ready. As always, Clover saw him off until he could see Uncle Tyrian’s form no more.

Once he disappeared behind the canopy of vines, Clover counted ninety full seconds. Based on past experiences, if Uncle Tyrian forgot something, he’d likely turn back in that time frame.

Those ninety seconds passed more slowly than any single instance of ninety seconds passed in all of his life, and he’d have been lying if he said he didn’t wince at least once out of nothing more than pure impatience. 

When they were finally over, he sighed in relief. 

Clover grabbed Kingfisher and exchanged a determined look with Raven, who was now waiting by the closet. With Kingfisher in his left hand, and the top of the still barricading chair in his right, he prepared himself for his confrontation with the stranger on the other side of the closet’s door.

He could do this.

Carefully, his right arm gently maneuvered the chair so that it was no longer in his way and then stepped back.

The closet door, even though it was no longer withheld from opening as a result of the chair, remained shut. Clover listened for any sound that the stranger was awake, and when he heard none, he took a deep breath and took Kingfisher into both of his hands.

With a careful swing, he cast Kingfisher’s hook onto the closet door and pulled it so both doors flung completely open.

For a second, nothing happened, but then, the still unconscious body of the man fell out.

Clover approached the man, searching for a sign that he was secretly awake.

Once more, he found nothing. 

With the coast clear on both his uncle’s and the man’s fronts, he set Kingfisher aside for a moment, and began his next task.

Putting the stranger in a chair turned out to be far easier than putting him in a closet. 

Who knew?

Once the man was secured in the chair so that his limp body would absolutely not cause him to fall out of it, Clover reclaimed Kingfisher and started wrapping its reel over every biological means of escape the stranger could possibly have, with his legs, arms, and torso, thoroughly covered and bound. When he was at last satisfied, he used what was left of Kingfisher’s line to pull the stranger to the center of the tower, lighting it so that only Clover and Raven would have a complete knowledge of the tower’s layout.

Now the only question he had was how he was to go about waking him up.

Raven got a look in her eye -- one Clover knew the meaning of well. 

She knew just how to wake the stranger up.

She’d done this to Clover more times than he could count on days where he was either late with her lunch or dinner or just snored too loudly. 

It was absolutely going to work.

As Clover lifted her onto the man’s shoulder, he gave her a look that pleaded for her to be careful, but still showed trust in her judgment.

After cautiously approaching the stranger’s face, Raven leaned her head into his ear.

Once Raven was far enough into the ear, Clover saw her body inflate with a fresh inhale.

A single, stark beat passed before she released the shrillest, loudest squawk that she could.

It was a good thing Uncle Tyrian was well out of earshot by the time Clover put this plan into motion -- a squawk of Raven’s that was that loud had the potential to wake up the dead.

But while the target was not dead -- the squawk fulfilled its objective, and two small bursts of crimson came into view as the man opened his eyes.

And this time, there was not a doubt in Clover’s mind that he was ready to meet those eyes with his own.

[disgraceddogstar]

Sirius Orion Black III

birthday: november 3rd house: gryffindor blood status: pureblood loyalty: order of the phoenix clubs: astronomy, astronomy homework, dueling zodiac: scorpio mbti: enfp-t (campaigner) alignment: chaotic good

✓ Humor ——- “Did you like question ten, Moony?”

He is barking laughter and poorly timed jokes, puns upon puns - seriously. A grin as wide as the day is long, carefree and easy. Light in the black of war; white sheep in the Black family. His good humor has covered him and carried him through all that he’s seen. It’s as much a shield for himself as it is those with whom he surrounds himself.

✓ Loyal  ——- “Died rather than betray your friends, as we would have done for you!”

He is fierce, heart full for those he holds dear. Not many are kept that close, but there is no hesitation when asked to give his life. Warmth and comfort, in the crook of his smile and the corners of his eyes. Brilliance and steadfast companionship: a dog is man’s best friend.

✓/✕  Strong-Minded | Judgemental ——- “Besides, the world isn’t split into good people and Death Eaters. We’ve all got both light and dark inside us.”

He is a tree rooted to the earth, tall and proud. Unmoving and firm against the hailing storm. Beliefs, unwavering, unwilling to hear. Opposition is wrong, and he knows it as well as he knows the stories written in the night sky. He is strong-willed and stubborn; a brick wall would be more receptive. He thinks himself open-minded, but it is only another belief.

✕ Impulsive ——- “What is life without a little risk?”

He is snap decisions made in the heat of the moment. Turbulent and emotional, judgement shifts as easily as debris caught in the tide. Words, biting, leaving scars as easily as laughter erases them from his mind. Passing thoughts in an endless stream of chaos - why waste time paying mind to outcomes when you can just act?

✕ Rebellious ——- “There are things worth dying for!”

He is 2 am, leather, and a mess of discarded liquor bottles scattered about the floor. Blood-kissed knuckles and knuckle-kissed jaw. Smirks and sighs toppling from carved lips. Caught in a tempest, winds whipping his hair about his face, unable to see, blindly stumbling along, deafening roars threaten to consume him - one foot in front of the other. Raw magic crackling in the air, electricity against your skin; a beautiful sight when it implodes.

headcanons: (tw: mania, depression, alcohol, slurs, mentions of dysphoria, mentions of abuse)

Patronus: It’s commonplace that a Patronus will match a witch or wizard’s Animagus form, if they happen to be such, and Sirius is no exception. His Patronus takes the form of a dog, matching that of his Animagus counterpart: a bear-like German Shepherd. German Shepherds are known for being intelligent, loyal, and fiercely over-protective. Any close friend of his would attest to the fact that Sirius exemplifies those qualities. He is a bright wizard, and he would do anything for those he cares about.

Wand: As badly as Sirius sometimes wishes his wand was made from Dogwood (think of the irony! the puns! the beauty of the universe!), he was chosen by a Cypress wood wand with a Dragon Heartstring core, 15 inches, rigid.

“Cypress wands are associated with nobility. The great medieval wandmaker, Geraint Ollivander, wrote that he was always honoured to match a cypress wand, for he knew he was meeting a witch or wizard who would die a heroic death. Fortunately, in these less blood-thirsty times, the possessors of cypress wands are rarely called upon to lay down their lives, though doubtless many of them would do so if required. Wands of cypress find their soul mates among the brave, the bold and the self-sacrificing: those who are unafraid to confront the shadows in their own and others’ natures.”

Sirius won’t think about the wandlore behind cypress wands and their masters dying a heroic death until the fleeting, infinite moment in which he begins to fall in the Department of Mysteries. He will think it ironic, then, that his death is hardly heroic at all; that, naturally, James and Lily had far more heroic deaths than him. (He will also think about finally, finally reuniting with them again, and he will think of how sorry he is for leaving Remus and Harry behind, but James, here I come.)

“As a rule, dragon heartstrings produce wands with the most power, and which are capable of the most flamboyant spells. Dragon wands tend to learn more quickly than other types. While they can change allegiance if won from their original master, they always bond strongly with the current owner. The dragon wand tends to be easiest to turn to the Dark Arts, though it will not incline that way of its own accord. It is also the most prone of the three cores to accidents, being somewhat temperamental.”

It is of interest to note that dragon wands tend to be easily swayed towards the Dark Arts. Sirius thinks it should be noted, and then he will tell it to fuck right off, thank you very much. He knows that, had things gone just a little differently, he wouldn’t have had any difficulty using Dark Magic; in fact, he’d have been rather adept at it. Sirius laughs at the notion - and would like to tell the Dark Lord that he can fuck right off, too.

Sirius is a very quick learner. He is intelligent and, when he puts his mind to a task, he is able to stay determined and focused. Magic runs strong in his veins, so it’s only natural he be paired with a wand that is able to keep up with him and his raw power. That being said, however, Sirius’ magic is - too often - unpredictable. It has been since he was a child, and he still experiences outbursts of unintentional magic when his emotions get the better of him; the dragon wand nurtures his accidental magic, at times.

    &--------Little Lion Man

He is named for the Dog Star, the most brilliant star in the sky, visible from anywhere on Earth - an actuality he embraces and carries with him from the moment he is able to understand its meaning. Ancient namings signify he is scorching, sparkling, bringing destruction and rebirth. He is important, and his name informs everyone of such.

But he is the point of Canis Major, a hunting dog, ever looking towards his master, Orion. Later, he would think it ironic that he was intended to obediently follow the hunter across the sky. When he was young, though, he did follow his father, his master, with wide eyes and a thirst to learn, to emulate. He did, after all, carry his father’s name as one of his own. He thought it only right that he be his hunter. He learned quickly enough to leave Orion Black be.

His name embraces the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black - a reality he despises when he is older. He is taught to believe that to be a Black, to be a Pureblood is to be royalty. He believes it.

He spends the majority of his childhood being trained to be the perfect Pureblood heir, to be the perfect Black. He attends many Pureblood-only balls and events, and is taught the proper way to mingle with other Purebloods. He learns manners and etiquette, and he is expected to be a proper child. There are never many other children at the balls, but he is reminded that it is improper to run about and make a fool of oneself like ordinary children; he is, after all, anything but ordinary.

How could he be? His name attests to his brilliance.

    &--------My Manic & I

Sirius is living with undiagnosed Bipolar 1 Disorder. It won’t ever be diagnosed or named in-game since they’re living in the 70s (it’s still fairly misunderstood now), but it definitely affects him. I feel like his upswings are pretty intense, and it usually results in him wanting to be out all the time and doing things, and he feels infallible and invincible, and he’s a lot more likely to be reckless (even more so than what is typical for him) and make snap decisions. He definitely has a tendency towards dangerous ideas that he thinks are absolutely brilliant (see: the Prank with Snape). On the other end of it, though, Sirius’ lows are very low, and he self-medicates with alcohol when he’s suffering from the worst of his depression (see: pretty much all of Order of the Phoenix). But I don’t think that Sirius recognizes the depression as such. It’s a lot easier for him to acknowledge when he’s feeling great and on top of the world as opposed to when he’s feeling like shit and struggles with getting out of bed in the morning. He’s a lot more likely to hide that side of himself, too, and play it off with a smirk and light-hearted joke at someone else’s expense. He became an expert at hiding his emotions at a young age, after all.

     &--------I Want to Break Free

If someone were to ask Sirius his gender and sexuality, he would quirk a brow and scoff and let out a bark of laughter because what sort of daft question is that? But, secretly. he enjoys the company of both men and women.

Sirius doesn’t remember the exact moment when he realized that he was attracted to men. Maybe it was sometime in his third year, when he had accompanied James to watch the Quidditch team practice. Maybe he had caught himself staring at one of the seventh years - a boy with shaggy brown hair and a strong jaw - as he flew around the Pitch. Maybe he had felt the distinct swoop in his stomach as he had watched, and maybe he had imagined what it would be like to kiss the older boy.

But Sirius only really remembers being too afraid to say anything to James, Remus, and Peter, being afraid that it would change everything and they would think him a freak that they didn’t want to be friends with, anymore. Especially after his “prank” on Snape in 5th year, Sirius doesn’t want to do anything that could again alienate him from his friends. They’re all he really has.

Something else he would never admit to is the many times he has passed frilly shop windows and imagined being able to wear whatever clothes he wants that he sees, or wished he could be as comfortable in his own skin as David Bowie, or Freddie Mercury. Sirius doesn’t always feel exactly right in the body he has, and he doesn’t understand it even a little bit. After all, it’s hard enough to deal with the war; he doesn’t want to even begin to focus on the whole gender bit.

In modern terminology, he would identify as gender-fluid demiromantic pansexual, but that’s too fancy and way ahead of his time, so all he knows is that he’s queer - just another way in which he would have disappointed his family.

     &--------The best thing that has ever happened:

“I know that you will make us proud, Sirius.”

No one ever expected Sirius to be a Gryffindor; he certainly hadn’t when he had stepped up to the stool to be sorted his first year at Hogwarts. His entire family had come from Slytherin. He even knew that, somewhere in his lineage, he was related to Salazar Slytherin himself. But as Sirius’ attention had drifted to the far table of green and silver, he had felt a tug in his stomach that he hadn’t really understood.

….“GRYFFINDOR!”

He ignored the shouts and jests coming from the Slytherin table to rightfully take his place amongst the lions of Hogwarts. He was joined, thankfully, by James and the redhead he had met with the greasy boy (he was grateful - and always would be - that the greasy one ended up in Slytherin).

It wasn’t before he was whisked away to his dorm and he got to know his fellow dormmates: one sickly-looking boy named Remus and a short, ordinary boy named Peter. Sirius thought he could do without Remus and Peter. Who needed them when he had James, his best friend? But Remus and Peter did prove themselves when they turned the greasy boy’s hair a bright shade of pink for a week. That, Sirius decided, was enough to earn his respect.

The four of them quickly became inseparable, and Sirius decided that being a Lion was worth the consequent Howlers he received, even if meant returning from the Christmas hols with bruises hidden beneath scratchy sweaters.

    &--------And the worst:  "Blood traitor! Filth! Scum!“

He tried not to cry out as his mother punished him one final time for being an insolent disgrace; he wouldn’t give her the pleasure. He was worse for the wear, however, when she finished with him and sent him off to think about his disobedience. Again. Sirius sat, on the edge of his bed, trembling; it was out of his control. He thought, but it didn’t take long for him to realize what he must do.

He needed to leave.

He hastily threw what belongings he could into his school trunk, gathering up anything he deemed important. He was able to perform a simple expansion and levitation charm - he decided he could deal with the Ministry later - and led his trunk out of his room. But he knew he needed to stop at his brother’s room before he left.

Sirius loved his brother and he has always loved his brother, but Regulus was not like him. He was weak-minded and bent to the wishes of their parents. Sirius always wanted to keep Regulus safe from them, from Mother, but he went to school and was sorted into Gryffindor and it changed. He became the disgrace, and it had been up to Regulus to be the perfect son. Sirius never wanted that for him, and he didn’t want that for him now. So he tried to bring Regulus with him. He wanted to ask, wanted him to leave and escape the hell they had grown up in.

But Regulus didn’t leave with him. He wasn’t like Sirius. He was an idiot, and he didn’t leave. So Sirius goes. But not before he watched as his mother blasted his name from the family tree.

(Sirius will always regret not making Regulus leave with him.)

[roguepaladin]

Shallura prompt? Rock concert!!!

Congradulations you have just recieved a 2300+ word essay! 

This was fun to write, is it romancey enough? I don’t know, but it was fun!

_

It was freezing!

On this late winter evening, where temperatures dipped below zero and the winds picked up; Allura found herself standing out in the bitter cold, holding on to last bit of warmth her body had left to give. You had to be crazy to be out here, but crazy she had been when agreed to accompany her cousin Romelle to a concert.

Romelle’s favourite rock band ‘Voltron’ was in town and she practically begged Allura to go with her. It wasn’t everyday a famous band came to their city of Altea. Romelle called it her one and only chance to every see them in the flesh, and Allura had to be there to catch her when she fainted.

‘What kind of name is Voltron?’

‘It’s their concept!’ Romelle explained.

‘They use their combined powers as musicians to form the new sound of futurist rock electro! - Allura, stop making that face, you have to come! Please please please!’

So, she eventually agreed, though it took her some time to understand the whole ‘mystical space lions taught them the way’ mythology… and to stop laughing. Now, she was slowly regretting everything!

Romelle made they arrive early in order to get the best spots in the standing area. A plan that had them standing out in the cold for nearly 4 hours. Please be worth it she begged. Granted she didn’t have to pay for the ticket as part of the deal. She looked at her cousin, even in this cold, Romelle never lost a bit of excitement, and she chatted away animatedly. Apparently, her favourite member was the drummer named Hunk and she even wore his colour; a yellow t-shirt and a matching signature headband. Allura looked around noticed many others in line also wearing yellow, some green, but most were dressed in blue, red or black. The reds and blues didn’t seem to like each other. Romelle said it was about a dumb rivalry between the lead singer and the guitarist.

After assessing all the colours, Allura started to feel out of place in her pink puffer jacket. Not that everyone was dressed in team colours, and she also felt they were just like her; here against their will.

When doors finally opened, Allura was dragged by her cousin up to the very front of stage. As close as they could get that was not actually standing on stage. Romelle pulled out her homemade posters and handed one to Allura. On Allura’s poster in bright yellow letters was ‘Feeling unsupported?’, which she supposed made sense with Romelle’s ‘I could be your other leg’.

The house lights went down and the avenue filled with screams as the band took to the stage. A large screen began to play a video, that made them scream more as it introduced the band members over the sound of deafening rock music. When the stage lights came on, Allura didn’t think it was possible for the crowd to scream louder but they quickly proved her wrong.

‘FORM VOLTRON!’

The leader singer screamed in the microphone and the crowd chanted back

‘DEFEND THE UNIVERSE!’

The band immediately started playing their first song, it was now Allura got a proper look at the band. The each wore their signature colour so she knew immediately recognised Hunk at the drums. According to the intro video; D-Jing at the launchpad was the group’s only female member Pidge. Next strumming away at the electric guitar was Keith. Standing next to Keith was the Leader Singer, Lance who seemed to be trying his best to sing a note over the sound of the guitar. The final member, dressed in all black except for his silver dyed bangs was Shiro, jamming away at the bass. Allura felt herself staring at him for most of the set. While the others were high energy, he had a calmness in his manner. He even struck her more when he took over for Lance and sang the bridge, which made half the crowd go wild. His voice was strong and steady and didn’t feel out of place in the lull of electronic beats. Romelle looked over to her cousin-

‘Ah-ha!’ she smirked.

‘What?’

‘I see you’ve decided to join team black, don’t worry, everyone falls for Shiro first’

Allura blushed, ‘I- I’m not falling for anyone’

Romelle laughed.

‘Its nothing to be ashamed of, Shiro is the leader of the group for a reason, he writes all the songs too’

Allura ignored her cousin’s smug face. Though she had to admit he did stand out the most for someone not wearing a colour.

She on the other hand, stood out very clearly dressed in bright pink and standing in front within the ocean of hardcore fans.

At the end of the song, the band took time to introduce themselves. Lance talked the most but he also seemed to have the most fans and he looked very proud of that. Allura was sure Romelle screamed out her left lung when Hunk said a small hello and waved his drumsticks. Keith just waved, and a fan at the back screamed out marriage proposal. Pidge hyped up the crowd with a few beats. When it was Shiro’s turn to talk, Allura felt herself become nervous. She didn’t know why but she felt like his eyes had glanced a bit longer on her than others. The crowd went wild as he smiled over his microphone. He then simply thanked everyone for coming to show, thanked the venue and introduced the next song.

Over the course of the next five songs, Allura wondered if she imagined him staring. His eyes would look up quickly in her direction and quickly down. Perhaps Romelle was right and she had developed some cliché crush on a rock star, because there was no way she could catch the eye of someone famous that easily. This wasn’t a movie where the next moment he would jump over the stage and proclaim her to be the most beautiful thing in the world. However, she was losing count of how many times he stole a glance at her.

‘Maybe he was staring because I’m staring’ She thought, and she blushed at how creepy she must be right now. So, she decided to turned at look at Romelle, who now had long tears down her face because Hunk wouldn’t stare her way. Judging from the way he played those drums, Allura highly doubted he could afford to look away for fear of messing up. She comforted her cousin and tried to help her enjoy the rest of the show.

Allura kept fighting her strong urge to look back over at the bassist, so she decided to close her eyes and dance instead. She had to admit that they sounded very good, not something she would listen to everyday but they played well and the crowd had a good energy. So, she danced, and pulled her cousin into a dance. It was there in the midst of her swaying she caught those eyes, and this time she was 100% sure he was staring this time. Her head moved side to side so he was none the wiser that her eyes were locked on him. He even seemed to be enjoying her watching her dance. Suddenly self-conscious of her dorky moves, she mis-stepped and tripped over the person behind her. Allura watched as his expression change to shock and fall out of view as she slammed onto her back. She was completely mortified! Over the sound of music, she could hear Romelle call out to her, as she tried to pick herself. It was in this process she was interrupted by a sharp pain to the side of her head which threw her back onto the floor, effectively knocking her out.

—

When Allura came to, she was lying on a sofa in what seemed to be the backstage area of the venue. As indicated by the vibrations and muffled sounds of music coming off the walls. She moved to sit up, and could feel her sides and head ache in protest.

‘Don’t get up too fast’ came the voice of woman, it was steady and monotone.

Allura looked over and noticed a tall older woman sitting across from her.

‘Where am I?’

‘Green room. I don’t know what you did to knock yourself out but you were lucky to not be trampled on’

It was then Romelle entered the room, signalled by her delighted squeal at seeing Allura awake. The other woman in the room made a face like her ears were ringing.

‘Are you okay?’ her cousin questioned, examining her up and down.

‘I’m fine, it only hurts a little’

‘That’s a relief! You caused quite a scene!’

Allura felt her face grow hot, ‘W-What…What do mean caused a scene?’

The tall woman got up from her chair and walked over to the pair.

‘For starters, we had to stop the show until we could remove you safely’ she stated as if telling her charges for arrest.

NO! Allura grimaced, they had to be joking, how embarrassing!

Romelle however was smiling at her.

‘Don’t be embarrassed, everyone is SUPER jealous of you right now’

Romelle then described the events after she blacked out. Shiro having seen her get kicked in the head, had stopped the performance immediately and ordered everyone to get out of the way.

‘and guess what!’ Romelle squealed-

Allura had no time to response before Romelle continued on detailing how Shiro, escorted by a few security guards, carried her backstage!  

‘-and I explained to Krolia, that you were my cousin so she let me in’  

Allura looked over at Krolia who seemed to regret that decision as Romelle couldn’t seem to keep from squealing excitedly about everything.  Allura wanted to sink into the floor, what if he thought she made a scene on purpose. She wanted to go home, but her head really hurt and Krolia refused to let her off the sofa. There she was forced to stay another 20 minutes until-

‘THANK YOU, GOOD NIGHT!!!’

The sound of the crowd roaring was heard from the other side of the wall. They had missed the rest of the concert. Not that Romelle seemed to mind, her cousin’s misfortune was working in her favour. She was back stage! Hunk’s jacket was on that chair, if only she could just reach out and touch it! Oh, why won’t Krolia just leave the room and stop watching her like a hawk!

Allura’s heart began to race as she heard the voices of the bandmates come closer to the door.

As the door opened, the sounds of the crowd screaming for an encore filled the room, but none of that seem to register to Allura’s ears as Shiro strode across the room towards her.

‘You’re awake! How are you feeling?’ and he had a genuine concern in his eyes.

Allura couldn’t seemed to find her voice. So Krolia answered for her and drew his attention away to band matters as Allura’s now understood her to be their manager. The other members came to ask her the same questions and here Romelle did the talking with a slight bias in answering mostly Hunk’s questions. Lance and Pidge were polite, lance more so and Keith seem to be just as mute as she was. The attention was overwhelming as thoughts battled to stay present while imagining all the ways she was possibly carried by Shiro. She blushed as she thought of him carrying her ‘princess’ style.

‘Let’s go home…’ she finally managed to say. Which was not something anyone expected a fan to say in this situation. She however was not a fan, and wanted to get far away from those piercing eyes as soon as possible.

Allura pushed herself off the sofa and grabbed her cousin’s hand.

‘Thank you and I’m really sorry I made you have to stop your show, and from what I remember I did enjoy it, so please don’t think it was done on purpose’ and with that she turned and left.

Reluctantly Romelle left the room behind her cousin knowing her excuse to be in that room just went up in flames.

‘Stay here, I’ll go get our bags and coats’ she sulked off and left Allura to stand in backstage area.

The door to the green room opened, which Allura didn’t notice until the person who came out was standing next her.

‘Allura?’

She jumped, and turned to looked at Shiro.

‘I’m sorry, that is your name, right?’

She slowly nodded and he looked relieved.

‘Don’t apologise, I know I’m the reason you fell and got hurt tonight’

‘What…what do you mean?’

‘Well, I was kind of staring at you down- I MEAN! not you…I was staring at your SIGN and then eventually…you’ he seemed nervous to admit that last part.

‘My sign…?’

‘Yeah, ‘Feeling unsupported’?’

‘Oh, well that wasn’t really mine, it was my cousins’’

Shiro now look extremely embarrassed, brushing his hand against his neck nervously.

‘That-Actually makes more sense…it was yellow after all…’ he mumbled.

It was now Allura noticed the hand on his neck and connecting arm was an artificial and extremely well made prosthetic. Did he think she was making a jab at his disability? She wouldn’t- She didn’t know!

‘Anyways! I’m sorry…for that, I’m glad you enjoyed the show, it’s not often I get see someone dance like that’ and he managed a smirk and mimed her.

Allura blushed, she knew it! He was laughing at her moves!

She wanted to tell him off but Romelle reappeared and he excused himself. Stealing one last glance as he closed back the door to the green room. Leaving her with a bundle of confused feelings. If he thought her sign was mean, why was he still evidently flirting with her.

That, however she would have to ponder another day, because for now she had to listen to Romelle describe every detail of her 2-minute conversation with her idol.

END

[ptw30]

Happy Birth-week! Maybe the prompt motorcycles/hovercycles like a race or a getaway scene? I’ll leave the pairing up to you and the setting. :) (Lol at first I thought you were asking for short stories for your birthday and I was like “sure!” XD)

Title: The Family Business

Pairing: Gen 

Summary: The Voltron Paladins - a team of thieves, smugglers, and outlaws - are hunted by cartels, the FBI, and Shiro's father. Yeah, life isn't easy, but the team has each other. And that's all that matters.

---

Shiro stepped on the clutch and shifted, sending his Dodge Charger—which he affectionally called the Black Lion—soaring through the almost empty streets of Daibazaal.

“You know this is your fault,” he said. A quick glance in the rearview mirror showed two black sedans chasing them. “You said we should take all the triggers.”

In the passenger seat, Allura typed furiously on her tablet. Dressed in a tight white and pink cold-shoulder top that cut just below her tighter-than-tight jeans, she looked more like a pop star than a high-profile thief. Her curly ponytail hit Shiro in the face when she shifted in her seat to look behind them.

“So then I am to assume you would have left the nuclear warhead triggers in the hands of not-quite-professional businessmen.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, you’re saying that you would have left them in the hands of nefarious criminals.”

“As opposed to non-nefarious criminals?”

Allura laughed. “Well, we aren’t exactly law-bidding citizens.”

The car wheels squealed when Shiro eased up on the accelerator, cut the wheel, and then tore down the nearest alleyway. The shadows of night wouldn’t conceal their taillights, and when the Black Lion rocketed onto the street, the sedans still clung to his bumper.

“I’m just saying that stealing a trunk-load of military grade explosives by having Lance and Keith start a fight in the middle of black-market weapons depot might not have been the best course of action.”

“Then what would have been the best course of action? Trying to steal the triggers after Zarkon used them to start World War III?”

“Of course not. I’m just saying—”

“And you know Keith and Lance weren’t acting. Lance actually did take Red for a ride the other day and put a scratch in her chassis.”

Shiro let out a heavy sigh. “Can’t you just let me live in ignorance?”

Allura laughed and leaned over to press a kiss to Shiro’s cheek. “At least they worked it out of their—Quiznak.” Allura’s tablet let out a warning beep. “Red Paladin, Blue Paladin, we’re going to need your special brand of street cleaning.”

As the Black Lion passed a main thoroughfare, two motorcycles roared to life—a red Kawasaki Ninja ZX-14R and a blue Yamaha YZF R1. The two racers wore protective jackets and helmets that matched their bikes, though the red racer’s jacket had black and yellow accents, while the blue racer’s uniform boasted red and yellow stripes. The motorcycles tore down the straightaway toward two more sedans that suddenly screeched to a halt in the middle of the street, blocking their path.

Shiro narrowed his eyes. “Does the Blue Lion have a red chassis now?”

“Yes! Keith defiled my baby!” Lance bemoaned across the team’s channel.

Keith huffed, and the Red Lion swerved to evade gunfire. “Stop whining and help me take these assholes out.”

“‘Stop whining.’” The Blue Lion hopped the sidewalk and used the streetlights as cover. “Well, if you hadn’t hurt my precious girl—”

“Your precious girl just got a new coat, something you hadn’t even bothered to—”

“Guys!” Shiro yelled, but Lance was already shifting gears. “Chill, Shiro. We’ve got this.”

Sure enough, Keith and Lance came to the middle of the street and wove between the car blockade. Two subsequent explosions sent the cars rocketing into the sky. The Black Lion poured it on then and zipped underneath the elevated cars, which eventually landed upon the chaser sedans.

“Good job, you two!” Shiro praised. “Now get to the rendezvous point ASAP and lock it down.”

“Yes, sir!” Keith’s crisp voice sounded over the connection, followed by Lance’s mocking tone once more. The twin motorcycles zoomed ahead and disappeared in the labyrinth of city streets.

Shiro could practically feel Allura’s penetrative stare give way to a self-assured smirk. “They make a good team.”

“As long as they don’t kill each other.”

“Oh, give them a bit more credit, Allura.” He waited a beat. “Keith would make it quick.”

“If Lance didn’t talk him to death first—and if that cartel doesn’t catch us.” Allura tapped on her tablet. “Green Lion, Yellow Lion, status report.”

Instead of a voice confirmation, a loud explosion echoed through the connection. Allura shot up in her seat. “Pidge! Hunk!”

A few loud hacks, followed by fits of coughing, and Pidge sucked in a deep breath. “I said not to denotate until we were a safe distance away!”

Shiro heaved a relieved sigh and heard Allura do the same.

“Oooh. I thought you said, ‘Let’s go for crème brulee,’” Hunk said between coughs.

Shiro could imagine Pidge throwing up her arms. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Hunk, Pidge, report,” Allura repeated, shaking her head. Shiro stepped on the gas for one final burst of speed, and the Black Lion entered the private airport.

“The facilities have been destroyed, Allura,” Hunk replied. “The rest is up to you and Shiro.”

So it was. Once Shiro spotted the Red and Blue Lions outside of a private hanger, he directed the Black Lion inside the massive area—devoid of any planes—and threw the car into park. Allura tossed him a nervous grin, which he returned, and they exited the car.

Only Keith and Lance occupied the hanger. No shelves, no airplane, no grease. Off to the side, a simple garage door lifted with eerie screeches that echoed through the empty space. Once it stopped, a rather tall man with slicked back hair, sunken eyes, and a thick chin entered the hanger between Lance and Keith. In a black suit with a purple tie, he looked like a wayward stockbroker, strides long, haughty, and loud. His eyes narrowed as he stopped before Shiro and Allura, arms spreading in a regal greeting.

“Ms. Altea. As always, a pleasure.”

“I assure you it most certainly is not,” Allura replied, manicured fingers clicking on her tablet.

Zarkon turned to Shiro without missing a beat. “Shiro, I appreciate you joining us.”

“We do agree there,” Allura snapped. “It is the only way you will survive, Zarkon.”

“Ironic, is it not? To think I am standing here with my former partner’s daughter who has taken my son as her own partner, despite knowing the history between our families.”

“Shiro isn’t a two-timing, egotistical psychopath like you,” Lance spat.

“But somehow he’s still entered the family business,” Zarkon retorted with an all-too-delighted grin.

Rather than replying, Shiro hit the car remote and popped the trunk. He lifted the back to reveal the triggers. “Here’s what you wanted from the Olkari Cartel, right?”

An amused, almost proud grin crossed his features. “I will need to inspect the merchandise.”

“Yeah, about that.” He slammed shut the trunk. “You’re not getting anywhere near these devices.”

Zarkon’s gaze was anything but tolerant. “We already agreed upon terms.”

“Yes, we did, but now I’m changing them. Ms. Altea, would you like to do the honors?”

“Thank you, Mr. Shirogane.” Allura stepped forward and handed her tablet to a suspicious-looking Zarkon. “That is a live feed from Langley, the ‘Other Matters’ subdivision, which you run.” She paused. “Ran. Our operatives Yellow Paladin and Green Paladin took care of your stronghold. Call it a retirement gift.”

“I thought we were calling it a ‘going away’ present,” Keith asked, arms crossed across his chest.

Lance giggled.

Keith rolled his eyes. “What?”

“You cannot get rid of me that easy,’” Zarkon growled. “No judge or jury in the world will convict me, not with my record. And no one will believe you—my son who became an international smuggler and his partner, the daughter of my former partner who died under investigation.”

“Yellow and Green transferred all your dark files to the Federal Bureau of Investigation before making the big kaboom,” Lance laughed. “Seriously, man? We have everything and we know everything.”

Zarkon’s thick fingers curled about the tablet. “You have to know this is futile. You can sell those triggers you stole to another foreign power. You can leave the country, hide in some remote island, and look over your shoulder for the rest of your life, but I will still find you. And I will end you.” He stared directly at Allura with demonic glee. “Just like I did your father.”

Allura didn’t even flinch. “Good luck doing that from a prison cell at Leavenworth.”

“FBI!” a booming voice echoed through the hanger. “On the ground now!”

A SWAT team stormed the front opening while a tall blond man came in from the back. He wore in a tight suit with a purple tie, dark slacks and a FBI jacket. Four female agents, all wearing similar garb to the lead agent, covered him from the entryway.

“I said on the floor, now!” the agent yelled at Zarkon.

Keith went down first, having gone through a similar situation before. Lance followed and muttered about this not being the greatest plan after all. Zarkon tried to rebuke the orders, but the familiar FBI agent—Lotor, Shiro noticed—wouldn’t have it.

Eventually, Zarkon met Shiro’s gaze once they were both handcuffed and lying face flat against the cold concrete.

“This isn’t over,” he threatened.

“Yes, it is,” Shiro insisted. “It was over the moment you decided your greed was more important than family.”

---

Shiro didn’t know how long he’d been waiting in the interrogation room, though he figured he would be the last one the FBI questioned. Pidge would be the first as the youngest, followed the soft-hearted Hunk, the smooth-talking Lance, the sharp-edged Keith, and then the regal Allura, if Lotor wasn’t intimidated. Then, and only then, would Lotor pay a visit to Shiro.

When he finally did, he wore a tired but true grin. “Special Agent Shirogane. I told you to get a team you could trust to have your back when I couldn’t be there. This was not what I had in mind.”

Shiro’s handcuffs jingled as he sat back in his seat. “You don’t like my choice of team members, Special Agent Sincline?”

Lotor sighed dramatically and dropped his tablet to the table, tapping the edge and bringing up five pictures. “An X Games Motor X gold medalist who was raised by smugglers and the silver medalist with whom he does not get along. At all. A red hat hacker who isn’t even old enough to graduate high school. A chef turned motocross mechanic. Oh, and the daughter of my father’s former CIA partner, whom he killed. That’s who you decided you could trust?”

Shiro tossed Lotor a teasing smile. “Jealous?”

“Of course,” Lotor replied, crossing his arms. “We’ve had each other’s backs since forever.”

“Since we were twelve.”

“Just because we weren’t together since diapers doesn’t change the fact that we grew up together. We went to Quantico together. And now I only get to see you for clandestine meetings and the occasional coffee.”

“But it’s good coffee.”

“You’re my brother, Shiro. I’m supposed to protect you.”

Shiro knocked his shoulder against Lotor’s knee. “And you do. You handle the bureau. I handle the criminals. If I didn’t trust you with everything, this couldn’t work.”

“Do you trust them with everything?” Lotor motioned toward the blackened two-way mirror. “Not one of them said anything. Just asked for water—or in one case, iced tea. Sweetened with lemon.”

“Lance…is high maintenance,” Shiro laughed, “but in the best way.”

Lotor huffed. “He asked for it to be sent to Pidge.”

“Of course, he did.”

“And Hunk asked me to make sure Lance was given appropriate bathroom breaks, and Keith asked if Lance was gagged and then asked if he could be.”

“Sounds about right.”

“Allura, however, asked me for pictures from our teenage years.”

Shiro blinked. “…I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

“But they all asked about you.” Lotor clasped Shiro on the shoulder, firm and supportive. Lotor truly was his foundation, unwavering and firm. “I’m glad for you, Shiro. You deserve to have a family again.”

Shiro undid his handcuffs with a trick Keith taught him and reached up to cover Lotor’s hand. “I miss you, too, brother.”

“Hm.” Lotor held him a second longer than necessary, almost as if refusing to let Shiro go, but he eventually relented. A serious countenance overtook his face, and Shiro sat up straighter in response. Back to business.

“I’ve spoken with the higher-ups,” Lotor explained. “I’ll be in contact when Father goes to trial. You and your team might need to come in to testify, but right now, I suggest you find some place to lie low. Maybe a Caribbean island. A nice seaside Mexican resort. Disneyland. Stay off the radar and away from anyone Father might have worked with. Be safe.”

Shiro blinked. “That’s it?”

“That’s it. Unless you’re ready to come in from the cold.” Before Shiro could debate that question, let alone respond, Lotor flipped a switch. The two-way mirror went from black to transparent, revealing Shiro’s team on the other side. While four of his team members sat around a small table—Hunk was teaching Keith to pay some card game while Allura braided the longer strands of Pidge’s hair—Lance held a hand-drawn sign, scribbled on a yellow notepad, against the mirror.

Can we please have our Special Agent Shirogane back now?

Shiro thumbed toward the mirror. “Does he know I’m on the other side of this wall?”

Lotor’s eyes were narrowed; a look of confusion overtook his face. “How…did he get a marker and paper? That’s a monitored room. No one’s gone in there.”

Shiro simply shrugged. If his team was anything, it was resourceful.

Lotor crossed his arms and stared into the room, eyes resting upon the one person sitting on the right side of the table, talking to Hunk and Keith.

“Allura Altea. She’s…good to you?”

Shiro eyed Lotor. “Yeah. She’s my best friend. I trust her with my life.”

“But do you trust her with a picture of your teenage years?”

“I certainly can’t trust you.”

“That hurts, Brother.”

“You should have thought that before you showed Allura my awkward teenage years.”

Lotor rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s not like I showed her the pictures from comic con.”

---

“So…that’s it?” Hunk asked, watching as the black, non-descript FBI vans drove away. “We help to take down a dirty counterintelligence agent—”

“And blow up part of the CIA’s own headquarters,” Keith added.

“Only the bad part,” Pidge pointed out. “We left the rest still standing.”

“Yes, but that means we must lie low for a bit.” Allura walked toward a private jet on the tarmac. “Coran has been scouting new jobs for us and believes he’s found an interesting one. Shiro, how would you feel about visiting your childhood home, if you catch my drift?”

Shiro smiled. “Tokyo’s nice this time of year.”

“Smashing!” Coran greeted, lowering the stairs to the private plane. “Come along, Paladins! I’ve stocked the plane with all your favorite snacks along with the latest episodes of Riverdale and Legends of Tomorrow.”

Lance raced up the stairs. “Score! Dibs on the couch!”

“No!” Hunk whined. “You can’t call dibs until you’re on the stairs! Everyone knows that.”

Pidge raced after them while Keith turned to Shiro. “I’ll save you a seat and a pack of gummi bears.”

“Thanks, Keith.” Shiro stopped Allura at the end of the stairs, taking her hand in his. “Hey. If you ever need to talk about anything, I’m here. You know that.”

Allura’s eyes trembled as they stared into Shiro’s. Tightening her grip, she looked away. “Thank you, Shiro. I know this mission was not easy for you, either. It must have been difficult arresting your father.”

“Yeah, well. Lotor technically arrested him, and we’ve been preparing for this day for a long time.”

“As have I, but…we’re never really ready for it, are we?”

Shiro’s heart ached, especially when he remembered the look of disdain Zarkon sent him as Lotor led him to the FBI van. However, it was nothing compared to what Allura must have felt when she received the call about her father.

“No, I guess we aren’t.”

Allura hummed. “It won’t get better. I’m not sure there is a better, but Zarkon will finally stand trial for his crimes. For that, I am grateful.”

“Me, too.” Shiro held up his phone with a picture of Allura with braces and short hair. “I’m also grateful for my new wallpaper.”

“Takashi Shirogane!” Allura’s hand shot out toward his phone, but Shiro managed to duck and head up the stairs. “Get back here! You’re going to tell me who got you that picture.”

“I’ll never give up my source.”

She caught up with him just inside the plane and playfully knocked him against the wall. “Hunk, Pidge, or your brother? It was your brother, wasn’t it?”

“It was actually Coran. He showed it to me the first time we met, along with every other baby picture he has of you.”

“Of course, he did. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an uncle to kill – I mean, fill in with our latest job.”

Shiro smiled, knocking her on the shoulder, and then headed to take inventory. Pidge and Lance took up the long couch, already halfway through the snacks, while Hunk sat in a reclining chair just to right next to them, his lap full of delicious treats. Keith lounged upon a loveseat and left a spot open for Shiro, while the seat next to it remained empty for Allura. She’d join them in a few.

As they took the skies, Shiro wondered not for the first time why Zarkon and Honerva took him in and taught him right from wrong, just to pervert those morals themselves. But he dismissed the thought quickly as he threw an arm about Keith and pulled him close. While he would forever regret the cycle of events that brought him to the world of drag racing and smuggling, he would forever cherish the family he found there –

Shiro’s phone vibrated with a message from Lotor.

Forgive me.

The cockpit’s door swung open to reveal Allura, a bright smile upon her face, her cellphone in her hand. “You cosplayed at comic con!”

– most days.

The End

---

Thanks for the prompt and birthday wishes!