#MAN do i need to start in another rarepair hell now

[the-kipsabian]

okay but how is there less kris/oc fics on ao3 than kip/oc fics

fam i just wanna talk

[lily-alphonse]

for the rare pairs, did you ever get one with marlon and rasmodius? i haven’t been able to stop thinking about them together 👀

Old man yaoi is such a crowd favorite fr lmao

Ok you guys aren't ready for where I'm going to take this (except Human) because I had an idea for vampire!Abigail that involves Marlon and Rasmodius getting together. Cuz you know, like, 2 dads or whatever. (Technically 3 but Pierre? Ugh. He’s wimpy comic relief in this only)

For the purposes of this fic, Abigail is the wizard's daughter and only him and Caroline know.

Anyways I'm trying to do A LOT with this one so maybe I just do bullet points this time to give you the idea

There's no farmer, instead Marlon takes Abbie under his wing as a young adventurer

Rasmodius (because he watches everyone, like a creep) sees this and is like UGH not that THAT GUY, because Marlon is essentially his annoying coworker. Marlon tries to be buddy buddy with him and Ras is not about it. Like bro do your job protecting the valley and shut up pls.

Abbie stumbles on something she shouldn't in the mines, accidentally unleashing an ancient evil vampire and getting bit. It's very important to me that she turns into a bat. It happens automatically when the sun touches her skin, as a defense mechanism. She can survive in the sun as a bat.

So shit hits the fan obviously. Caroline goes to the wizard's tower screaming and freaking out because her daughter is missing and she is certain he has something to do with it (she hadn't known about Marlon) and Rasmodius pieces together it probably has something to do with the ANCIENT EVIL now on the loose. He assures her he is going to take care of it and has no choice but to team up with (ugh) Marlon.

Marlon doesn't know about Abbie. Ras is keeping all his secrets close and being careful about which info he gives to who. They go on an adventure of bonding. Important features of which are homoerotic wound dressing, and Marlon getting serious with Ras about his past and stuff. So he sees another side to him and starts to gain respect for the man.

A lot happens next that I don't have worked out yet sue me its just a concept rn. I have a few different ideas for how Abbie's side of things can go. She could potentially get out of the mines and turn into a bat which leads to her flying to the tower bc who else would believe her? Or she could be trapped in the mines with the original vampire and be like his spawn under his control or something.

Either way, we end up at a moment of truth where Marlon realizes Abbie has turned and feels like they need to kill her or otherwise trap her for eternity or something. And Ras is like tf no Im not condemning my daughter to that and Abbie and Marlon both are just [shocked pikachu face]

BATTLE OF THE DADS. DAD DUEL. FATHER FIGHT where they are physically fighting but also arguing about who knows best for her since the wizard has literally never spoken to her in her life but is also the one trying to save her, while Marlon actually did become a strong father figure for her but wants to kill her (only to end her suffering ofc)

Imagine they are fighting and Abbie just calls over them like "Not really suffering a whole lot, to be honest!" because this is a dark comedy as well as a romance.

Ras wounds Marlon badly enough (owie, it hurt his heart to do though, what is this, FEELINGS?) that he is subdued. Abbie and Ras take on the ancient vampire and nearly DIE but Marlon comes back and saves the DAAAY

He has the opportunity to also kill Abbie and doesn't, he's come around to compromise his morals for the sake of the ones he loves

Potentially even more homoerotic wound dressing and then they KISS with their old scruffy man beards and Abbie pretends to vom

The End

If you want this one to exist be sure to reblog and vote for it in the poll! This would be a hell of a fun one

Send me any Stardew Valley rarepair and I will tell you how I would make them work! (Even non-marriage npcs) If youre lucky you may get a mini fic out of it. Check the list below to see if Ive already answered yours

Rarepair Masterlist

@totallyhumanexe @chikoxiko come get ur old men

[hermanunworthy]

Hi, there, Siren, hope you're doing well! If you're still taking dndads ship requests, how about maybe 35 for Cheerkicks/Oakli (not entirely sure on the name here, but. Link and Normal. You get it), please? Feeling in a silly rarepair mood today hehe 💚💚💚

Bullet Holes and Acne Scars (and Other Wounds to Heal)

35. kissing their bruises and scars

from the touch prompts list!

I WAITED A MONTH TO START ON THIS HELP 😭 trust me though ive been so excited about this one, oakicks makes me ill /pos (and also im glad i waited bc i got to use the latest episode as context for this scene!)

cw: violence (including gun violence), blood and injury

also on ao3!

Normal never would’ve taken Lincoln as a fighter, at first.

Ever since they were young, Lincoln has been timid, uptight, the type to go rigid if you get too close to him. Or maybe that’s just in Normal’s case. They’re working on it, though. He thinks. He hopes.

He never would've thought that the sweet kid he used to see kicking rocks in the corner or a soccer ball on a field would one day be kicking FBI agents and military soldiers on the battlefield. With the force of a beast.

Normal thinks he understands, now, why Lincoln’s dads tried to shelter their son so much.

But he also thinks he understands, as he’s too distracted looking at Lincoln to succeed at the spell he’s currently casting, the way he feels. He may not understand what it’s like to be unconditionally loved by his parents (something that arouses a deeply-rooted feeling of envy in him towards his friend, but that’s another thing he’s working on), but he understands what it’s like to feel pressured by his parents. And he thinks, in their own loving way, Lincoln’s dads have pressured him too much. And this is his release. His rebellion. Like a caged animal set free.

And Normal does believe he deserves this. However. It also concerns him greatly.

Because the paladin is moving so quickly, so aggressively, and the cleric is barely able to even keep an eye on him but it sounds like he's breathing heavily and at one point he thinks he catches a glimmer of something in his eye. And it all keeps distracting him from helping out in the battle himself.

Normal just narrowly avoids another incoming attack. Focus, Normal, fucking focus! He shakes his head, his heart pounding irregularly in his chest, trying to pay attention to anything other than Lincoln, Lincoln, is Lincoln okay—

“Norm!” Scary’s voice calls from a ways away, blasting a fireball directly into a man’s face. “Taylor could use your help!”

“No, I—!” Taylor immediately snaps back from where he stands off, holding a soldier back with their weapons clashed. “Uh, I mean… Yeah! Normie! We need you!”

Normal leaps straight into action, fueled by his friends’ words and ready to defend them, but realizes while he’s charging his spell just what’s going on. Something burns within him, something that has settled deep within his veins and has been repeatedly threatening to burst through these days. Do you really need my help, or do you just want to feel better about being such a dick to me lately?

His spell fizzles out in failure again, and he clutches his head and growls to himself. Lincoln, get out of my damn head!

“Norm— Augh!” Scary, in her distraction, takes a blunt melee attack to the head, knocking her down.

Taylor swivels around with a slash to his opponent to face Scary’s assailant. “What the hell?!” He jabs his sword toward the FBI agent. “Normal! What’s with the weaksauce spells?”

The blood is roaring in Normal’s ears so loudly that he can't even hear himself stuttering. He dizzily looks between Scary on the ground, Taylor standing off against the agent, and Lincoln, off in the distance, surrounded by soldiers. He's paralyzed. His lungs feel compressed tightly in his chest, and not even the strong emotion shooting through his blood is enough to awaken any magic.

Scary, thank the metaphorical heavens and not the godawful place they all visited earlier, manages to make it back onto her feet, but not without great effort. “You're—” She coughs. “You're good, Norm, you're good.”

The squeezing feeling in Normal’s chest somehow worsens. Stop it, don't say that. Why am I even here? I'm no help at all!

He stumbles backwards, and his back bumps into somebody. Before he can turn around to face them, a pair of burly arms are slung around his neck. Already short of breath, the cleric is easy to choke out, and his hands fly up to scratch at their sleeves. Panicking, he looks to Taylor, the closest nearby person, and cries out, “Help!”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Taylor drops what he’s doing and, like a true hero, blindly sprints over to slice the back of Normal’s attacker. The arms release him from the chokehold, and he falls to the ground, heaving for air.

But he isn't able to recover for long, because somebody is yanking him back up by his collar. He braces himself this time, but finds himself face-to-face with Taylor. His expression is twisted in anger, the way he looked at him the last time they argued.

“What the fuck was that, dude?! You can't even use a spell to help me, but you can use me to help you?” He shoves him, nearly toppling him back to the ground.

He… I used a Command on Taylor, didn't I? He didn't even realize. It was just instinct, of course he wouldn't just use his friend like that…

You only ever want to help yourself, a familiar voice scolds him in his head.

“Taylor, quit it, he’s already been…!” Scary is beginning to argue with him now, but Normal can't even pay attention to that anymore.

Lincoln is now fighting Agent Shmegan.

The man is trying to resist his attacks, shielding his body with his arms and trying to talk to him, but the paladin will not let up. “Kid, if you could just— You're making this harder than it needs to be, we just want—”

“I don't care what you want!” Lincoln roars, the first words Normal has heard him say during this entire fight. “I'm not going to listen to you anymore! I hate you adults! Fuck you!” He kicks him again, and again, and he's starting to lose his momentum with each swing but he refuses to give up. “Fuck you! Fuck you!”

Normal knows Lincoln has a history with this man, but he also can tell that this is not just about him and Taylor’s kidnapping.

“Li-Wilson— Please just get a hold of yourself and your friends—” Schmegan orders through grunts of pain. Normal knows Lincoln has been training hard to perfect his soccer kicks, so that can't feel good to take.

“Shut up! That’s Mr. Kicks to you!” The soccer player utilizes a swift kick to the crotch as emphasis.

While the FBI agent is finally doubled over in pain, unable to make any more demands, Lincoln’s body heaves with effort. He looks like he’s preparing another kick, but he’s cut short when a loud gunshot fires out, and he stumbles backwards.

“Link!” Normal shrieks, his body finally allowing him to move again, and he dives over to where his friend has fallen. As he gets close, it becomes apparent to him that Lincoln is crying, and he’s crying hard.

“Sir, let's get out of here.” Another agent, holding the gun used to shoot Lincoln, rushes over to Shmegan’s aid, helping him to lean on his shoulder and escort him back to their helicopter. “Freeman kept us from capturing the King, but we have him and his buddies as hostages for later. We need to retreat for now.”

Shmegan’s face contorts in pain and anger. “That better include Wilson. I have some words for that man about his son.”

The other agent chuckles wryly. “Oh, yes, sir. He’s been incapacitated since the fight began.” He looks down at where Lincoln sits, with no sense of remorse. “Seems we’re not the only ones disturbed by that kid’s violence.”

Normal is crouched by Lincoln’s side, trembling just as bad as he is. “Link, it’s Normal. Normal’s here.” God, that must be the least comforting thing he could hear right now. He must be the last person he wants to help him.

Normal’s hands are on Lincoln’s hands. Lincoln’s hands are on his knee. Lincoln’s blood is on his hands, on his knee, on his clothes, on the ground…

“Dad,” Lincoln sobs weakly. “Dad.”

All of Lincoln’s fight has left him. Now he’s just a scared, powerless little kid.

And so is Normal, now that he’s drained of magic. He can't cast any more spells. He used the last one to help himself. He can't heal his friend. And dear god, Lincoln’s still crying for his dad. But Grant has been captured. And so have the rest of their dads, it sounds.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck!

He presses down harder on the wound, but he can't tell if it’s even helping to stop the bleeding, or if it’s just him trying to squeeze Lincoln’s hands to help himself calm down. God fucking damn it, I'm so selfish, even as my friend is sitting here with an actual bullet wound… Can’t do shit for him…

He dares to look back up at Lincoln’s face, and finds it even worse to look at than all the blood. His eyes are scrunched up, leaking a river of tears down his face, his lips quivering with each shaking breath. It reminds him of when he got to see this boy as a baby, and how he promised him that it was going to be alright. He has to make this alright again, if it’s the last thing he does.

With one hand still pressing against his knee, Normal uses the other one to carefully lean forward and stroke his cheek again, wiping away some of his tears.

Lincoln opens his eyes, and when they meet Normal’s it’s clear that they are bloodshot and unfocused. “D-Dad…” he still whimpers. “Help…”

It hurts, knowing that he doesn't want Normal, but he tries to put himself in his shoes. What would I want from my dad, if I were him?

He knows Grant wouldn't know any healing spells. But he does know that he was very tender and affectionate with his son. He seems like he’s very gentle in how he cares for him, like he feels like his own dad has the potential to be.

He knows what he wanted his dad to do for him when he got hurt when he was younger. Grant seems like the type to care unconditionally, though. So, unlike his own dad, he ignores the disturbing and gross nature of this situation, and with all the love (and lack of magic) in his heart, he presses his lips lovingly against Lincoln’s knee as if it was simply the scraped knee of a child.

Lincoln gasps at the feeling, and Normal instantly regrets it, feeling like an utter idiot, He has an literal hole in his knee, I can't just kiss it better, this must be hurting him so bad—

“Normal,” Lincoln chokes at last. He grabs one of his friend’s hands and squeezes it with enough strength to break him. “Normal.”

The cleric lets out a squeak from the strong grip, but watches as a golden light begins to slowly, slowly glow from underneath the paladin’s other hand, which is still on his knee. He’s casting Lay on Hands on himself. Oh, Normal didn't even think about the fact that Lincoln hasn't been using any magic, so he probably could've…

But no, Lincoln wasn't able to help himself before, was he? It wasn't until Normal kissed him that that something in his eyes cleared, like a fog being lifted. Did Normal actually help? Or is he just being selfish, just taking credit for something that had nothing to do with—

“Thank you, Normal,” Lincoln breathes. The words he’s been wanting to hear all this time. Normal’s heart squeezes at the sound.

“Did you…” Normal’s own voice feels thick in his throat, and he realized just then that he has tears dripping down his face as well. “Did you even realize what you were doing? How hard you were fighting?”

More tears begin to roll down Lincoln’s cheeks. “It… There was no pain… At first… Only anger…”

He squeezes his friend’s hand back, but it’s not nearly as strong. Not as strong as Lincoln, never. “I was so worried, it felt like losing you…”

Lincoln’s face crumples again, and Normal can hardly bear to look at it. “Normal…”

His eyes wander over Lincoln’s body, realizing that there are other spots of blood not just from the gunshot. All sorts of cuts and bruises, all of which look very painful, but Lincoln hasn't acknowledged any of them. That “zone” that he seems to get into, that rush of adrenaline, that thrill of violence, must be a very, very dangerous place for him to be in. He never wants to lose his friend to that darkness again.

So he shows him the light. He leans in close to each wound, trailing the gentlest of kisses over the dark spots on his legs and the nasty gashes on his arms, never once shying away from the blood or the hair or the sweat or the filth because it's all normal to him, and even though he knows it's selfish to give Lincoln what he wants for himself, he wants to love Lincoln like he’s perfectly new.

“Normal,” is all Lincoln can say now, through his continued crying. “Normal, Normal…” The way he’s whimpering his name, like a prayer upon his lips, only fuels him further, the way it feels to have replenished magic surging through his veins.

It isn't until he gets tugged away by his hair that he realizes he should probably stop. But Lincoln's hand doesn’t move from the back of his head, and when he looks up at him, Lincoln just stares back, his pupils wide. “Normal,” he whispers again.

Lincoln’s gaze is roaming over his face, and especially over the blood drying on his mouth. Normal can taste it, he realizes self-consciously.

“How can you still be so nice to me?” His eyes shine with a horrible, heart-wrenching guilt, a guilt that Normal can feel himself as he fights the overwhelming need to kiss the one little cut that he missed, the one he’s been avoiding, because he knows it would be too selfish of him.

The one on his lip.

“I'm… so sorry.” Lincoln’s fingers loosen in his hair, but Normal still leans his head into his hand before he can decide to let go entirely. “For how I've… I've been so…”

“It's okay, Link,” Normal murmurs, even though he doesn't know if it's true. It’s just hard to focus on the long-term pain this boy has caused him when said boy is caressing the back of his neck so delicately that it makes him melt.

“No. You're my friend. You're my husband.” The certainty with which he says it brings Normal a shiver. “I need to make it up to you.”

This time, Lincoln is the one leaning forward. Normal freezes up, his face flushing red as his husband’s lips land on his cheek.

But Normal doesn't understand. He doesn't need healing, he doesn't have any scars. Not on the outside, anyway.

Is he… kissing my tears away?

Another kiss. And another. Each touch of his lips to his face leaves him with a feeling of warmth and light. Lincoln even reaches with his bloody hands to brush the sweaty hair sticking to Normal’s skin out of the way, and begins to leave kisses on his forehead as well.

Oh. He’s kissing his acne scars.

More tears run down where Lincoln has kissed. Nobody has ever… He's always been told that he's gross, that his acne is a problem, something to be ashamed of. He has spent countless hours staring at himself in the mirror, popping pimples and picking at scabs (despite his sister’s warnings), wondering why he has to look like this and if anyone could ever love him like this. His parents would never do something like this for him.

But Lincoln is. Lincoln, the one he’s been trying to win over for years. Lincoln, the kid he always wanted to play with but wasn't allowed to. Lincoln, the friend who always seemed to shut him down no matter how hard he tried to love him. That same guy is here, sitting on the ground in literal Hell, a bullet in his knee and blood on his clothes, his fingers curling in his greasy hair and his lips kissing his pockmarked face.

“I'm sorry,” Lincoln whispers tearfully against his skin. “Thank you for… for being my friend. For being you.”

As he pulls back, Normal pushes forward, resting his forehead against Lincoln’s. “I love you,” he sighs, selfishly but honestly. He hopes it brings Lincoln as much catharsis as it does him.

Lincoln glances up from where his eyes sat downcast at the blood on the ground, to stare into his husband’s eyes. His hand on Normal’s neck drifts to his jaw. Eyes still glittering sadly, he offers a smile, but the stretching of his lips opens his cut and makes him wince away in pain.

Normal reaches forward with a careful hand, and catches Lincoln’s chin. He really hopes this isn't going too far, too fast, too bold, like he always seems to be going without realizing it. “Let me…?” He can't even finish the question, can't bear another rejection.

But Lincoln beats him to it, kisses him first, kisses him better. Cradles him with such love and care that you’d think he’s the one being nursed back to health.

And it is undoubtedly healing. Something Normal has needed for a long time. Something that tastes like blood and grime and filth, something that tastes so normal and familiar that it feels like coming home. Feels like being blessed by an angel visiting Hell.

After all, Normal always thought Lincoln was more of a lover than a fighter.

[ms-starflower]

Maribat Rare Pairs — Day 7 — Soulmate AU

@maribat-october-rarepairs

Okay people, have this little fluffy Roynette piece to make up for yesterday's angst.

Sorry, tho, but it's a short one. Spook-tober sucked up all of my creativity for today.

Also, you wouldn’t believe how hard coming up with the right sentence for Marinette’s words was. And then I had to come up with a response! I swear I’m never taking soulmate fic for granted, how do people even get soulmark that creative?!

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

Marinette had spent all of her adulthood wondering what kind of situation would bring her soulmate to say her words.

They were not mean, or weird. Well, alright, they were maybe a bit weird, now that she was an adult. But what really got her wondering was the fact that they made no sense.

“What the hell? When did B adopt another one?” was etched on her left upper arm.

Marinette was someone that would easily think of the worst case scenario, and make it even worse. So, of course, when she first understood her words, she thought her parents were going to throw her out of their house because she wasn’t good enough.

It took a while for her parents to convince her that they would never do something like that, but they did it.

So, then, Marinette thought that they would probably not have a choice in the matter. If they died, she would be sent away and adopted. She didn’t want her parents to die!

She never told her parents about her theory, too afraid to declenche some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy, like in the movies.

Middle school had been The Worst. And that certainly didn’t help when Hawkmoth, in his infinite generosity, decided to add his own category in Marinette’s ‘how my parents could DIE’ list.

But then they defeated Hawkmoth, and graduated, and turned eighteen. And her parents were alive.

Marinette had never felt so lost in her life.

She was eighteen, even if something happened to her parents, she wouldn’t be adopted. So what? Did she misinterpreted her words? How could that even be misinterpreted?

Her words made no sense.

She spent a lot of her time thinking about it but, ultimately, she never even came close to the way her first meeting with her soulmate would go.

The day started normally, she was in Gotham for a couple of days, brought here by her commision for the Waynes. It was the final fitting, so it was more informal than their previous interaction. It helped that all of the kids had somehow become sorta-friends with her.

Even the little gremlin that was the youngest, though he didn’t admit it. She knew her brownies would win him over.

It all happened toward the end of the fitting. She was standing in the middle of the living room, back to the door, looking over her notes and waiting for Cassandra, who was changing from her dress in the other room.

She heard the door open behind her, but didn’t really pay attention until she heard a voice that wasn’t Cassandra’s.

“Hey, Jay, I need your help with—” She turned around, surprised because she had never seen the man all the time she had been here the last few months. The man, a tall and good looking redhead, paused when he saw her. Only to re-open her mouth and completely rock her entire world. “What the hell? When did B adopt another one?”

The Waynes all, except for Damian who only rolled his eyes, burst in various levels of laughter. Completely oblivious to the internal crisis that Marinette was undergoing. Because what. She had spent so much of her teenage angst agonizing over her parents “unavoidable” death, imagining the worst way she would be adopted (sometimes through kidnapping) only for that to happen?!

All that time, it was just because her soulmates would mistake her for one of Bruce Wayne’s kids. Why?!

“Don’t be stupid, she is—” Jason started, only to be interrupted by Marinette scream of frustation. Everyone in the room, even Cassadra who just entered, were looking at her like she was crazy now.

But, oh boy, how she didn’t care.

“Holy shit!” She screeched, pointing her finger rudely at him. “I spent all of my teenage years thinking my parents were going to die because of you!”

The man’s eyes widened with surprise, before his lips stretched in a big grin.

“I always wondered what I would say to bring out this reaction,” he told her, still grinning like a fool before taking a couple steps toward her. “But, yeah, that’s fair. Sorry ‘bout that. I’m Roy.”

And, really, Marinette wanted to stay mad at him a little longer. There had been so much angst in her teenage years, so much catastrophizing. But he was looking at her like she was the best thing happening to him ever, and his grin was so bright and pretty. She really couldn’t bring herself to.

“Marinette,” she told him, grabbing the hand he was giving her to shake with a smile. They both ignored the gaggle of Wayne kids asking for explanations in the background, only looking at each other.

[marauderundercover]

The Strings that Bind Us: Chapter One

AO3

Marinette Dupain Cheng was tired. She’d fought the same villain for fifteen years. She’d been a hero longer than she’d been just Marinette. It was exhausting. And she was ready for a break. Two years after unmasking Hawkmoth, Paris was finally healed enough for her to move on. To leave.

Which was why she was currently putting fairy lights and pumpkins on the balcony of her new apartment in Gotham. It was quiet, and lonely, but at least she didn’t have the weight of a city on her back anymore. She hums as she places the last pumpkin. Perfect. Glancing across the city, she lets out a sigh. Here she was, in an entirely new city, no connections and no one to talk to when she needed to just talk. But it was worth it, the memories of everything in Paris still too fresh. It still hurt too much. Deciding it’s not too early to go to sleep, she walks back inside. She’s just closed the door when a loud crash from outside has her tensing. She peeks behind the curtain, frowning at the figure on her balcony. She opens the door.

“Uh, hello.” She greets the strangely dressed man. If what she’d read had been correct, this was Batman. Gotham’s resident hero, or vigilante as the papers called him. He probably wasn’t here to fight her, but you can never be too careful.

“My apologies.” He says, his voice gruff. Her eyes narrow at the way he favors his left side.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” She asks suddenly, her face instantly heating up as the words tumble out without her permission.

“I’m not-” He starts, but she shakes her head.

“I insist. You are out trying to protect citizens, are you not? The least I can do is offer you a coffee.” She says, turning and walking back inside. She doesn’t turn to see if he follows, but she does hear footsteps behind her. She figures he could walk silently, if he really wanted to. After all, even though he’d been around for eight or so years, few had ever seen Batman. She hums, moving around the kitchen and starting up her small coffee pot and grabbing a few of the leftover pastries from earlier. Placing the pastries on a plate, she pulls down two cups before turning to the vigilante in her kitchen.

“How do you take your coffee?” She asks, and she swears his lips twitch slightly.

“Just black.” He says, and she grins.

“Thank goodness. One of my friends in Paris refuses to drink coffee unless it’s half cream and sugar.” She says, trying to keep the conversation light. After all, what do you say to a random vigilante? It was different when Chat Noir, or Adrien, visited her back in collège. He didn’t start doing that until after she’d helped with Evillustrator, which helped it to not be awkward. Like it currently was with her and Batman. God, why did she even invite him in? She turns and almost sighs in relief when she sees the coffee is done. Quickly filling up both cups, she passes one to Batman and then pushes the plate of pastries towards him.

“I own the cafe downstairs.” She says as an explanation when she sees his lips purse. He nods and grabs a croissant, taking a hesitant bite out of it.

“Thank you.” He says, and she just smiles. She may not want to be a hero again, but maybe it would be okay to be friends with a hero again.

---

The bell over the door notifying her of another customer makes Marinette stick her head out from the back.

“Hello! Welcome to La Petite Tasse, I’ll be with you in just a minute.” She calls, not catching the response before she’s back in the kitchen, pulling a fresh batch of croissants out of the oven. She slides the tray onto the cooling rack before tugging off the oven mitts and rushing out to the front.

“I am so sorry about that, most of my workers are also students so they have class right now. What can I get you?” She rambles, freezing when she looks up into the most attractive blue eyes she’s ever seen. The man just smiles at her, and she swears her knees go weak.

“That’s fine. Could I have... a large black coffee and a croissant?” The man asks, glancing up at the menu before looking back at her. She nods and smiles, cursing the way her cheeks heat up. Sure, this was quite literally the most attractive man she’d ever seen in person, but she was not going to fall for a pretty face. Nope. Totally not. She turns and grabs a cup, filling it up before rushing to the back to grab one of the fresh croissants. After all, they were better warm.

“That’ll be three dollars and twenty seven cents.” She says, passing the man his order. He grins and passes her a twenty.

“Keep the change.” He says with a grin before he turns and walks out. She blinks, slightly confused, but takes the change and puts it into the tip jar. That was weird, she thinks, but she doesn’t think too much into it. It’s not like she’d ever see him again.

---

She had been wrong, and she was completely okay with it. The man came in almost every day for two weeks before she worked up the courage to introduce herself and ask his name. He’d seemed shocked, but had introduced himself as Bruce. And after two weeks, she was happy to say that Gotham had started to feel a little lighter, that she was a little happier in this dark city. The bell above the door chimes, but she keeps working on filling the macarons since Mack was manning the counter.

“Listen kid, open the register and I won’t shoot your fucking brains out.” A voice says. Oh hell no. She drops the piping back and picks up her rolling pin. Peeking out, she breathes a sigh of relief when she sees it’s only one guy, not an entire group. She tosses her rolling pin lightly before catching it, familiarizing herself with it as a projectile before she actually uses it. She watches as Mack’s hands shake, obviously panicked. Letting out a steadying breath, Marinette aims and manages to hit the man in the head with the rolling pin. He drops instantly, the gun clattering to the floor. She rushes out and grabs a couple zip ties from under the counter, walking over and cuffing the man’s hands behind his back before dragging him towards the handrail and attaching him to it. She glares at the man before she remembers Mack and gasps. She rushes over, frantically checking over the girl to make sure she’s okay.

“Mama M, I’m fine. I promise.” She says, though her voice shakes. Marinette breathes a sigh of relief before crushing the girl in a hug.

“I am so sorry, Mack, so, so sorry.” She apologizes, holding the girl close. She can feel the girl shake slightly, her shirt getting wet as the girl cries. Marinette just coos softly, whispering reassuring words to her. She barely hears the bell signaling a customer ring.

“What the hell happened?” A familiar voice asks. She glances over at Bruce and grimaces.

“Attempted robbery. Would you mind calling the police?” She asks, nodding towards the landline. He blinks, standing frozen as he stares at the tied up man in the corner. “Bruce!” She calls, his attention snapping to her. She nods towards the phone again and he nods, walking over to make the call.

---

After the police take their statements, Marinette sends Mack home with the tips from the day, despite the girl’s protests.

“Sweetheart, you were just held at gunpoint. I’m not gonna let you stay here. Go home, eat some junk food and watch something funny. I’ll see you on Monday.” Marinette says, giving the girl another quick hug before watching her leave. She turns to Bruce, who had been kind enough to stay, and winces. “You’re not gonna get in trouble with your boss, are you?” She asks. He just grins.

“I was actually off today, don’t worry about me.” He says, his smile falling as he looks her over. “Are you okay?” He asks. She lets out a shaky breath before nodding.

“Yeah, yeah. I was more worried about Mack, honestly. I was in the back, but I couldn’t just stay there. Not knowing she was in danger.” She says, her arms wrapped around herself as she tries to stay calm. It was the first time she’d had an actual gun aimed at someone she cares about.

“You were quite the hero today.” He says softly, and she snorts, shaking her head.

“No, Bruce, I wasn’t. I did what anyone else would’ve done.” She says, waving him off dismissively.

“Only you would actually believe that there are still people good enough to act like that.” He says softly. She blushes and clears her throat.

“Well, did you want your regular?” She asks, moving to go back behind the counter. He frowns.

“Mari, you aren’t seriously going to open the cafe back up today, are you?” He asks and she frowns.

“Why wouldn’t I?” She asks.

“Because your store was just attacked!” He exclaims, and she snorts.

“If my parent’s bakery in Paris closed every time there was an attack, they would’ve gone out of business.” She says flippantly. He frowns, and she worries she’s said something wrong, when his face suddenly twists back up into a smile.

“Spend the day with me.” He says and she blinks in surprise.

“What?”

“I had set out to ask you on a date when I came in today, but the whole attempted robbery stopped me. I know you want to just get back to work, but what if you spent the day with me instead?” He offers. She stares at him, wide eyed, before a wide smile forms on her face.

“I thought you’d never ask.” She says. It’d be fine to have the cafe closed for a day.

Next

Event tag list: @maribat-october-rarepairs

Permanent tag list: @stainedglassm​ @kittenmywaythrulife @laydeekrayzee @doll246 @queenz-z @deathssilentapproach-blog @literaryhiraeth @unoriginalmess

[infinityhype]

Loyalty

I fully blame @miialona for making me think about them and write about them and turn them over in my mind. Sometimes one dude saving another dude from death row so said murderer can help him make a game is valid, actually.

Also there’s something about digging into a new rarepair that makes my little heart happy.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Razor tumbled through the dirt and grass until he finally came to rest at the base of a tree, surrounded by red poppies.

He looked up at his assailant; a short man around his age with black, spiky hair and golden brown eyes.  

“I caught you,” he said with a grin. “Told ya I would.” 

“So you did,” Razor said with a sideways smile. “Didn’t expect you to hit so hard.” 

“It’s what you get for underestimating me,” the man said as he took a seat next to Razor. “Name’s Ging Freecss.” 

Razor righted himself. “Nice to meet you, Ging. Now that you’ve caught me, I’d like to ask a favor.” 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Ging said as he plucked a poppy and twirled the stem in his hand. He tucked an arm behind him and leaned back against the trunk.

“Instead of taking me back to prison…would you kill me? I’d rather die out here knowing I was free, even for a little while. They’ll still pay you full price for me.”

“Nope,” Ging answered immediately. “I’m not taking you back.” 

“You’re not after the bounty?” Razor asked, voice dripping with skepticism.  

“I don’t need money. I need you, Razor.” 

Razor wanted to laugh until his throat hurt. No one had ever needed him. Not his no-good, alcoholic dad, not the mom who’d walked out before Razor could even remember her face. 

No one. 

“You don’t believe me?” His brown eyes looked up at Razor with a steady gaze. No trace of doubt or fear. 

I wish I could think of some poem or fancy word to compare his eyes to, Razor thought. Shoulda paid better attention in class. Maybe read a book or something. 

“Course I don’t,” Razor said as he looked up at the drifting clouds. “People like me exist as a warning. You know, don’t cut class or you’ll end up like that guy. Eighteen and on death row.” 

“See, I don’t believe that. I read your story, and I think–” 

You’re criminal scum, worthy of doing my dirty work, Razor finished in his mind. 

“–with some respect, and like…I dunno, something to do that’s not rotting in a cell, you could be a good person.” 

“I must’ve misheard you,” Razor said. “Did you just tell me I could be a good person?” 

“Yup,” Ging replied. 

Razor did laugh this time; long and hearty until his breath came in fits of wheezing. “I…man. I’ve met a lot of weirdos but you…you take the cake!” 

“So you’ll join me?” Ging asked. 

“Yeah, sure. What the hell, it’s not like I’ve got anything else going on…” 

—

Razor stared into the fire and finished off his beer. He crushed the can flat on a nearby tree stump and tossed it into an ever-growing pile. Pulled another one from the cooler and cracked it open. 

He was nowhere near drunk, but starting to feel a bit tipsy. Thoughts he normally kept to himself lurked beneath the surface. Everyone was in a jovial mood, celebrating the completion of a big part of the game. They were all nice to him, of course, and Razor didn't mind the team, it was just…

"Hey! Why so glum, chum?" Ging laughed a bit at his own joke as he took a seat next to Razor. 

"I'm not," he replied as he took another drink. "Thinking is all." 

Ging sidled up to Razor. "About? A special girl? A special guy?" 

Now's better than never, I suppose. 

"You," Razor said. 

Ging tilted his head and grinned. He looked at the dregs in his red plastic cup and dumped it into the fire. It turned bright blue and settled back into the orange red it had before. 

"Well." Ging said as he stood to his feet and dusted himself off. 

"Well?" Razor raised an eyebrow. 

"You want me, and I want you so…you want to do something about it?" 

"You're–" Razor tried to finish his sentence, but then Ging was on his lap, and Ging's lips tasted of beer and he smelled like smoke and soap. The beer tumbled out of his hand and rolled off into the dirt. 

"You were saying?" 

"Fuck it. I forgot." Razor pulled Ging against him and kissed him again. 

"Get a room!" List shouted, to the cheers and jeers of the rest of the group. 

"You heard 'em—whoa!" 

Razor laughed as he picked Ging up and carried him bridal style. 

"Aw, are you blushing?" Razor teased.

"No! I've just…never had someone pick me up like that. Am I even heavy to you?" 

"Not at all," he replied. "I'll do it anytime you want." 

"I didn't say I liked it," Ging grumbled. 

"But you haven't said you don't like it either…" 

—

"Hey." 

Razor turned to Ging. 

"I hate to ruin the afterglow but…" Ging scrubbed a hand through his hair and leaned back against the headboard. "I can't…I won't…do the thing where I stay with one person forever. I should've explained it before we…you know." 

Razor shrugged. 

"I understand. You mean a lot to me, but I'd never try to tie you down." 

Ging was quiet for a moment. He traced the curve of Razor's bicep with a light touch. "Thanks. You mean a lot to me too."

Razor took a hold of Ging's forearm. He knew he didn't have to be gentle, Ging was the furthest thing from fragile, but…

"No taking it easy on me," Ging said, brown eyes sparkling. 

"Amber," Razor said. 

"Huh?"

"I…how do I explain this without sounding dumb…"

"You just explain it," Ging said plainly. 

"Oh. When we first met, I couldn't think of something to compare your eyes to. But the stuff you showed me on the trees, with the bugs in it? That's the color. Amber." 

Ging snorted and laughed. "If I was anyone else I might take offense. But I choose to accept your compliment for what it is. Sincere and heartfelt. And sappy in more ways than one." 

Something turned in Razor's chest. So this is what it's like for someone to care. For someone to understand. 

He pulled Ging to him with a sigh. "Gonna have to punish you for turning my heartfelt sentiments into another one of your dumb jokes." 

Ging grinned. "Do I get to pick? Can you suffocate me in your pecs? Kiss me until I–augh!" 

They tumbled out of bed in a tangle of sheets and pillows. 

"Oof, I felt that in my tailbone," Ging said. 

Razor chuckled. 

"Stop laughing, I don't have the same amount of cushion as you do!" Ging said as he smacked Razor with a pillow. 

"Cushion? I work very hard to have an ass this nice." 

"I know, I watch you sometimes." The alarm clock had fallen down with them. Ging looked at the time. "Aw hell, we have a meeting in half an hour. Guess we should get ready." 

"Or…" 

"Or?" Ging looked at Razor, head tilted. 

"How much do you actually care about being on time?" 

Ging laughed. "I take it on a case by case basis and in this case…I don't give a shit."  

—

[failedintsave]

I tried the MTL pairing generator for rarepair month...aaaand it told me to stay in my lane lol. And then it told me to write some Rachel/Roy Cornickleson which I just don't think I'm ready to take on 🙃 So here's some Skwistok set just before Doomstar that I've been fiddling with.

(gets just a little nsfw near the beginning)

Stages

Everyone handles grief differently.

Skwisgaar groaned as muscular arms pushed him against the wall, the reinforced metal door to his room on the submarine banging shut as they cleared the threshold. Hands tangled in his hair, holding him in place while lips and tongue and teeth worked over his neck. He clung desperately to the body pressed against him, fingers twisting in blue cotton material and yanking it upward. The mouth latched onto his throat pulled away as the t-shirt was hauled over his head and Toki's fevered eyes found his before rushing forward again, mashing their lips together with sloppy abandon. He gripped Skwisgaar by the belt, half dragging him as they stumbled their way to his bunk and collapsed. Breathing came in gasps and sighs as Toki's weight pinned him down into the mattress, the pressure both exhilarating and mollifying, an anchor to hold onto as the life he'd known for so many years turned upside down and twisted away in the wind.

He'd never given much energy to grief. Life was just a punctuated string of losses in the long run. Loss of innocence, loss of trust, loss of opportunities. It was all meaningless, really. In his experience, something new always came along to fill the space so why dwell on mourning what you couldn't have back?

Boots thumped to the floor, kicked off in haste. His shirt was peeled away before sturdy hands lifted his hips to free him of his jeans, calloused fingertips gliding back up his thighs and making him shiver. Toki climbed up to kiss him again, hungrily, as if trying to swallow him whole, their teeth knocking against each other. Skwisgaar ran his hands over every inch of skin he could reach, the hard lines of Toki's shoulders, the raised ridges of overlapping scars on his back, hip bones where they ground down against his own. Heat pooled low in his belly like magma aching to erupt. He wanted this, needed this right now, more than he'd ever needed anything in his life. How long had they danced around this, stealing moments and blaming it later on booze or post-show adrenaline, walking right up to the line and peeking over before backing away again? In the name of preserving band dynamics? A lot of good that had done, they'd still ended up where they are now, Dethklok tipping over the precipice into self-destruction.

Another loss to add to the list.

Toki pulled back, glacier blue eyes raking over Skwisgaar's features with manic light, chestnut locks of hair falling in disarray to frame his face. Skwisgaar reached up and tucked a strand behind his ear and Toki's expression shifted, the wild yearning softened into something gentler, less wolfish. He sat up to kneel between Skwisgaar's legs, hand skimming from his collar bone to his navel and leaving a trail of fire, over the inside of his thigh and dipping beneath, pausing until Skwisgaar breathed his assent, whispered his name.

Fingers tested gingerly, gradually increasing in depth and pressure before he gripped him by the waist and hauled him onto his lap. Skwisgaar canted his hips, lip catching between his teeth at the feel of Toki against him, his pulse hammering in his ears. His head angled back into the pillows and a wordless moan escaped his throat when Toki eased forward, back arching as lightning raced up his spine. Skwisgaar's fingers knotted in the bed sheets as Toki released a shuddering breath over him, rocking into him slowly, building rhythm into a steady push and pull.

Loss of professional boundaries. Definitely not something to be mourned.

The devastating sensation of fullness where they joined drove all coherent thought from Skwisgaar's mind and his eyes rolled back under closed lids, panting nonsense and expletives, begging for release. His toes curled as Toki matched stokes with his hand to the tempo of his thrusts, coaxing him through his climax until tipping over the edge after him with a whining sigh. Call and response, Skwisgaar thought dazedly as his superheated skeleton melted into jelly. When he could open his eyes again, his gaze landed on Toki's face above him, watching him with an openly heartsick expression.

"I… hads to do dat… at least once before dis ams all over." The broken whisper settled over him like a burial shroud.

Skwisgaar shook his head, holding out his arms. "Come heres."

Swallowing thickly, Toki obeyed, winding his arms under Skwisgaar's shoulders and burying his face in the crook of his neck. Skwisgaar shifted to find a comfortable position, their sweat-slick chests sliding against each other as he angled slightly onto one side, hand cradling Toki's skull to keep him near.

"Seem pretties stupids we aments been doing dat dis whole time, honestlies."

Loss of time.

Toki held him tightly and Skwisgaar felt the tremor in his grip. He rubbed his cheek against the crown of the other man's head, humming tunelessly as he waited for him to speak, knowing already the fears plaguing his mind. He'd faced them often enough in his younger days, even if the scenario now was more complicated. It was hard to compare wondering where your next gig, your next meal ticket, might come from to wondering where to go after you'd already stood at the top.

Sniffling preceded the feeling of wetness against his shoulder, Toki mumbling against his skin. "What happens now? Ams we all just gonna says 'fucks you, see ya laters' now dat de band ams done? Even now dat dey tells us we gots to plays music to saves de world?"

Skwisgaar fiddled with a strand of brown hair for a moment before answering. "Well, I don'ts know abouts all dis saves-de-woirld business. But whats I do know ams band break ups. And, euughh, ja dat ams a pretty standords opseratings procedures."

"But does it has to be likes dat? We coulds all stays pals, right?"

"Dat ams...compslickateds." He dropped the lock and let his hand fall to Toki's shoulders. "Somet'ing like dis...people tends to ezpecks yous to euughh, picks sides. It ams messy. And it never warks out, t'ings always comes apart in de end."

Loss of the longest working relationships he'd had in his life.

Toki said nothing, so Skwisgaar continued if only to fill the silence. "But it coulds be worse, you knows? We gots more moneys den god, what's so bad what cants be fixed wif dat?" The statement produced a cold feeling trickling down behind his ribs, like swallowing a heaping spoonful of snow. "Nones of it acktualies matters. Just goes on to da next t'ings."

"I just... don'ts know what to does if dere aments a Dethklok."

"Whatevors you wants! You coulds buy de whole stores of airplane models, or you coulds builds you own splasharoonies water parks. Hell you coulds probablies starts a new bands wif dose guys from dat T'underhorse group."

"No," Toki murmured, face still compressed against Skwisgaar's neck. "I don't wants a new band. Dis was da one."

The possessive satisfaction he felt at those words tied his stomach in guilty knots.

"Ja it ams was a pretty good gigs…"

Toki shifted, laying his head on the pillow next to Skwisgaar's, his forlorn gaze searching his face for answers. Skwisgaar rolled so they were laying face to face, legs still twisted under the sheets.

Not everything was tied up in the feud that caused the band to split. What if it didn't have to be a total loss? Surely there were parts here that could be salvaged.

"Okej...so who says we haves to do anyt'ings at all?"

Toki's brows cinched. "What you means?"

Maybe, just this one thing, he could keep.

Skwisgaar's lips curved with the ghost of a smile. "I's already mades it to de top, ams de fastest guitarist alives...coulds be I shoulds just quits while I gots de title, ja? Retires, takes my ball and goes home wif it."

Toki snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Builds mineself a giant house up in de mountains or somet'ing. Or travels and just fucks off on de resgiduals forever, not worries about a deadlines or demos ever again. Plays guitar just for funs."

He saw his grin mirrored on Toki's face as the other man nodded dreamily.

"Maybe you...comes wif me?" Fluttery nerves tickled behind his sternum. "If you wants to."

Toki's eyes widened. "Wait. Whats?"

Just this. He could be happy with this.

"Y-you means it? You aments just messings with Toki?"

He shook his head. "How long dids we waste before nows? For not'ing. I'm sick ofs waitings. Let's just goes."

A heartbeat passed, and then Toki's mouth was on his again. Less frantic this time, hopeful rather than desperate. He cradled Toki's jaw, taking his time as he returned his affections, deepening the kiss and tracing languid strokes over his neck, his shoulders, his chest. Their limbs wound together in a twisted bramble, bodies drawing tightly together, fitting like puzzle pieces.

A repetitive, discordant riff sounded from the pile of clothes abandoned on the floor and Toki's head jerked away. Flashing an apologetic grin, he rolled away to fish his phone from his pocket, sliding his pants up loosely around his hips.

"Sorries, be rights back!" He whispered, pressing the screen to answer. "Oh hei, Rockso!*

"Hows do you even has signals down here?" Skwisgaar called after him as he stepped into the hall, then flopped back onto the pillows to stare at the ceiling, counting the shiny rivets in the metal plating.

This was doable. Tomorrow they would bury more than just a mentor, they would lay to rest their careers as the biggest metal band in existence. The world at large would mourn their passing, but Skwisgaar wouldn't dwell on what's done and over. Not if he had new prospects to look forward to. Something always came along, and he never looked back.

"I tolds Magnus dat I woulds sit wif hims tomorrow." He heard Toki's muffled voice through the crack he'd left in the door.

A shadow passed over his thoughts at the name, like someone walking across his grave. It was uncomfortable to say the least, to have their former guitarist back in the fringes of their lives. Toki had a habit of finding friendship in questionable places, but where the clown was mostly an annoyance and sometimes a financial drain, his relationship with Magnus left Skwisgaar apprehensive. It didn't ease his mind when Toki insisted the older musician was different now. How could he know? He hadn't lived with the man, hadn't walked on eggshells during every rehearsal or songwriting session, hadn't watched as he plunged a knife into a bandmate.

But Magnus had also saved Toki with his insulin. He'd been there for Toki as a shoulder to lean on when the band had started to fall apart, too preoccupied with their own issues to spare a minute for their youngest member.

So maybe Toki was right. Things change; he'd never expected that a wedge could be driven between Nathan and Pickles far enough to end their friendship in such a catastrophic way, but here they were. And if Magnus still harbored any resentment for the band, their breakup was probably a balm to the old wound of rejection. What else could he wish on them? He was probably loving this.

The door scraped shut and Toki slipped back into the blankets gingerly, as if expecting Skwisgaar to be asleep. When he saw that he was still awake, Toki leaned in with a grin.

"Sorries...now, where was we…?" He murmured, capturing Skwisgaar's lips tenderly. "Oh ja, you was tellings me how we's gonna runs away togedders into de sunsets."

"Pfff. Dat am hardlies what I saids."

More kisses peppered his cheek and jaw. "Dats what I heards."

"Well I always knew yous was tone deafs, I didn'ts realize you ams just all de way hards of hearingks." His arm encircled Toki's back as the brunette nestled in again.

"Tells to me about wheres we gonna goes. Tells me about our house on tops of de mountains."

Skwisgaar snorted. Of the two of them, his was not the more vivid and fanciful imagination. But staring up at the blank canvas that the brushed metal panels of ceiling created, he envisioned a future for them to share. They squabbled playfully over locations and home design styles. They named off outlandish things they would fill their home with, like an even bigger ruby metronome or a trampoline room or an indoor pool shaped like a guitar and filled with champagne. They listed places they'd toured that they wanted to visit again, and locations they hadn't been yet but had always hoped to see.

"Can we gets a cat?" Toki asked suddenly, making Skwisgaar laugh airily.

"If we haves to?" He laughed again as Toki nodded against him. "But I'm not cleaningks up after it, dat ams all you, pal."

"Okei." Toki sighed deeply, settling in more comfortably. "Okei. I feels a lots less scareds now about all dis."

His hand glided up from where it had been resting at Skwisgaar's hip to lay warm over his heartbeat.

"I'll miss Dethklok. A whole lots. But now I t'inks I ams acktualies looking forwards to what comes next."

Still staring at the steel plates above, Skwisgaar grinned at the pictures they'd painted in his mind.

"Ja, me toos."

He covered Toki's hand with his own. However much they stood to lose after tomorrow, his heart felt lighter at what they were about to gain together. There was no reason to dwell on what was gone.

Everyone handles grief differently.

Laying on his bunk, Skwisgaar's eyes roamed the scuffed plate ceiling overhead, lingering on rusted rivets and water stains. The imperfections seemed to move and writhe like crawling insects under the influence of whatever handful of pills Pickles had given him. A half-drained bottle of vodka lay cradled against his chest, the mouth stoppered by his thumb. Fire burned in his belly from the alcohol, but cold fury pulsing through his veins tempered it.

He'd been prepared for Dethklok to end, had even accepted the idea that his career as a guitarist was over, diminished to a hobby. Playing guitar was his lifeblood, his purpose, and he'd been about to let that go. What had he been thinking? How had he gotten so wrapped up in fantasy that throwing away his entire self had seemed like a plausible course of action.

Loss of objectivity. Fortunately it seemed to be temporary.

He took a long pull from the bottle, dribbling a little and not bothering to wipe it away. Stupid Toki, needing to be comforted like a child with make-believe bedtime stories. He couldn't just man up and move on like everyone else, like Skwisgaar had been doing since he was a teen, finding his next audition, his next couch to crash on, his next temporary alliance with subpar musicians to make ends meet. It couldn't have been an easier landing for him either, no concerns about hunger or homelessness or deportation hanging over his head. He was set up for success and still couldn't handle it.

Fucking idiot needed so much attention, so much coddling, he'd even run straight into harm's way to try and make a friend. Of all people, he'd had to choose Magnus, that vindictive bastard. Of course he'd still been carrying a grudge, when had he ever let anything go in the past? And they'd known it.

A pair of divots on the ceiling stared back at him, one dark, one catching the light. Glaring back at him mockingly, winking at his impotent rage.

They'd known. They'd known, they knew, they knew.

Skwisgaar knew. And he'd said nothing.

Then he'd watched again, frozen, as Magnus drove a knife into someone close to him.

Skwisgaar thrashed upright, a strangled roar bursting from his lungs as he flung the bottle at the wall. He kicked at the bedside table bolted to the wall, denting it from below, then spun around to tear the sheets from his bunk and hurl them across the room. This wasn't the trade he'd prepared for, this wasn't the deal he'd made with himself.

His eyes fell on his Explorer propped in the corner. He reached for it, wrapping both hands around the ebony fretboard, holding it like an axe and swinging it against the wall. He bashed it into the floor, the dresser, screaming until his throat was raw and the guitar was cracked into useless chunks of wood and fiberglass connected by twisted strings. He dropped the pieces in a heap, sinking to the ground to lean against the side of his bed, his shoulders heaving with labored panting.

The door of his room scraped open, and in his periphery he saw a figure standing, backlit by the dim red glow in the corridor. Broad-shouldered, straight hair dangling about their head. His heart seized for a moment before the figure spoke, shattering his hallucination.

"What are you doing in here?" Nathan's gravelly voice was cautious.

Skwisgaar didn't turn, eyes still focused on the debris ahead of him. The stainless steel guitar strings seemed to wriggle like worms in grave soil, consuming the corpse of his instrument. He waited until he caught his breath before trying to respond.

"What does it looks like I'm doingks?"

Nathan shifted in the doorway. "Losing your mind."

He chuckled mirthlessly.

Loss of sanity? Maybe.

"You've been locked up in there a while. Maybe you should, you know. Come out here. With the rest of the band."

"Fucks off."

Nathan didn't move. Skwisgaar felt the urge to rage at the other man rise in him, to shout in his face, demand to know why it had taken him so long to patch things over with Pickles, why he let it go so far that he'd upset all of their lives so horrifically. But the feeling passed, his body drained from his previous outburst and from trying to filter a pharmacy's worth of substances through his liver.

"We're gonna find him, you know. Charles has people everywhere looking already."

One shoulder rose and fell in a halfhearted shrug. "Whatevers. Who cares."

They could have been a four-piece. If he really wanted to rage at someone it would be his past self. How different would things be right now if he'd never given that gutter rat a chance after missing his audition time? How much of what they achieved would they have really missed out on? How many rerecording sessions and stupid arguments and publicized blow outs could have been avoided? What would they really have been missing?

He certainly wouldn't mourn the loss of a constant source of annoyance. Of an immature tag-along with a hair trigger temper. Of a loud and boisterous whirlwind of silliness and color and sincerity.

Loss of his shadow. Loss of his muse. Loss of his best friend. Loss of his future. Loss of…

Loss of…

He couldn't breathe.

"Just leaves me alone. Please." He gritted out, proud of the steadiness of his voice as his stomach began to roil and his eyes prickled with tears.

Nathan hesitated. "Should I...close this?"

Skwisgaar nodded and after another moment the steel frame clanged shut. His vision blurred as tears welled and spilled over, his breath returning in short gasping puffs which rolled over into sobs that rattled his frame.

They'd had one day. Not even a day. An evening. Hours.

He wept until he was sick, vomiting clear liquor and not much else onto the floor next to the remnants of his guitar. He wept until his tears were spent and his head throbbed in tandem with his heart, even though he didn't understand how the muscle still carried a beat when the rhythm had been taken away.

Eventually he had nothing left. His face felt swollen, his eyes were gritty. Skwisgaar rolled to his hands and knees, avoiding the puddle of sick as he rocked up onto wobbly legs. He looked at the door, wondering if the others were still awake. If they were sitting in the lounge, drowning their sorrows. He felt like he wore a lead weight around his neck, bowing under the pull of it. It might be better just to sleep.

He turned to the naked mattress, but a scrap of blue on the floor near the foot of the bed caught his attention. A faded cotton t-shirt lay where it had been discarded. Skwisgaar stared at it for several long moments. He stepped closer to the bed, to the shirt.

And kicked it underneath the frame and out of sight before turning for the door.

He'd never given much energy to grief. Life was just a punctuated string of losses in the long run. Loss of purpose. Loss of self. Loss of connection. Loss of…

It was all meaningless, really. So why dwell on mourning what you couldn't have back?

[sometimesiwrite]

Just a Scratch

B I N G O ! 

Prompt: It’s Just a Scratch

Pairing: Lambert/Aiden; Eskel & Lambden; Implied Geralt/Eskel 

Rating: Teen 

Summary: Lambert and Aiden are moving to start the next leg of their adventure together. Eskel sees them off.

Warnings: Modern AU; bittersweet; friends leaving; implied COVID distancing A/N: For Ben & Jemma

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo @continentcakeshop @morethangeraskier​

Read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33145900

“All set?” Eskel asked, squishing in one final duffel bag into the footwell and backing himself out of the rear door of Aiden’s VW Golf. Anya, Lambert and Aiden's husky mix, dozed sleepily in the back seat despite the excitement, having been rudely awoken at 6:30am to confusedly do her business.

“That’s it,” Aiden shrugged, letting the trunk close with a dull, satisfying thud. He opened his arms questioningly, and Eskel wasted no time pulling him into an affectionate squeeze, touching his hand to the back of Aiden’s head before pulling away. 

“You take care of yourself. Let me know when you make your first stop, alright? Anything goes wrong, just let me know.” 

“We’ll call you from the hotel,” Aiden reassured as he flipped the car keys over his finger.

“I still say we can make it to Port Hope by the end of the day if we push it.” Lambert was tucked under the hood, giving the car one final check for fluid levels (tyre pressure had already been meticulously checked earlier that morning).

Aiden tilted his head, “That’s if you drive and unfortunately the highway patrol doesn’t care about fuel efficiency if you’re going ten over the speed limit.” He ambled his way over behind Lambert to get a cheeky eye-full of his favourite view, “Besides, I need you to put that sexy brain of yours to work for navigation.”

“Oi! Gerroff!” Lambert protested and Aiden backed away, but not before getting in a perfectly resonant smack. “If you had it your way, you horny old bastard, we’d be stopping every two hours to—”

 Eskel pointedly cleared his throat, scratching his head as he met Aiden’s eyes with a mixture of amused pride and endearing awkwardness that Aiden had so quickly grown to love. He would miss Eskel. They'd gotten close over the last five years, close enough that they had become friends of their own—each keeping the other company when Lambert or Geralt was out of town, planning surprises... 

Aiden's proposal had gone perfectly, their crowning achievement of mutual scheming. Lambert didn't even try to deny the fact that he'd cried like a baby—candles, dusk, his favourite hiking trail, champaign. Even Anya had behaved herself. That is, until she decided her owners had been embracing for too long and not paying nearly enough attention to her. Eskel had offered to edit that part out of the video, but Lambert insisted on keeping it in—"What's a special moment without our favourite dingus. Isn't that right, Anya? Are you a dingus? Yes! Yes you are!" 

“Not gonna miss us at all, are ya, big guy?” The hood latched heavily as Lambert wiped his hands and stowed the oil rag in the passenger's side door next to the Stanadyne.

"You kiddin'? I'm gonna miss you like hell. C'mere." Eskel wrapped Lambert in a bear bug that nearly crushed his goddamn ribs. 

"Easy, Eskel, Jesus I gotta breathe!" 

"Sorry," Eskel eased off, but he didn't let go. There hadn't been enough hugs in the last year. The last few months had barely made up for it, and now there would be far fewer. More dinners over Skype, more sporadic phone calls, occasional texts... watching his and Aiden's life unfold over Instagram and Facebook. But at least they would be happy, Eskel told himself. At least they were starting the next stage of their lives together with an adventure they'd remember forever. This was important for them. And yet the chill, damp fog of isolation was already creeping in around Eskel. Even as he held Lambert close to him and swallowed tears he'd save for later. 

One final squeeze and a pat on the back, and Lambert turned to get in the car, tossing a treat to Anya as he settled in. Aiden gave Eskel a final peck on the cheek, "Take care of yourself, alright? Don't be a stranger. Call, text, whatever. We're always happy to hear from you. Promise?"

Eskel nodded soberly, "I will. Thanks, Aiden." 

"We'll skype when we get to the new place. I want you to see it before it gets cluttered with boxes. We could even do dinner or—"

Eskel waved a hand, "We'll figure something out. Just get there in one piece, and send pictures. I'm not worried." 

Aiden smiled warmly, "Good. Good." A heavy exhale, "Alright, well..." 

"I hate to interrupt the bleeding hearts moment, but we've got commuter traffic piling up on the 606 as we speak! Get your gorgeous butt in the car, we gotta move!"

Aiden took a beat, "Yes dear!" 

"Okay, Anya! You be good!" Eskel gave the chocolate-and-caramel pup one last scritch behind the ears and closed the rear door just in time for the stereo to start playing Journey.

The car rolled down the driveway and Eskel watched until it disappeared over the hill past the stop sign. When the gravelly diesel purr was finally drowned out by late summer cicadas, Eskel sat heavily on the front steps with his coffee. He couldn't bring himself to open the door and go back inside. Something about the stark emptiness of a home previously occupied with guests made the aimless silence too loud. Besides, robins and cardinals were better than daytime tv for company. Finally, Eskel rested his forehead against his thumbs and let the wave of emotion breach the dam.

Shedding tears was something Eskel usually associated with significant pain—rage, grief, remorse, indignation—an open wound that took time and tending to heal. This wasn't like that, though. This was a scratch. Simple, uncomplicated pain: he was sad. Eskel couldn't remember the last time he'd cried because he was just... sad. Decades ago, he imagined, though he couldn't pinpoint a specific moment. It was something children did before emotions became more complicated. But here he was, sitting on his front steps, crying because he was sad. Eyes streaming, hot and wet down his cheeks because his friends were leaving. Just a scratch.

He felt silly, crying over something so inconsequential— and a man as touch-needy as Eskel, bearlike as he was, was left with the sinking feeling that, aside from Geralt, he might not touch another person for a rather long time.

It's not that they didn't have friends, of course, and he would talk to them later that night. He was helping to plan their wedding for chrissake, it's not like they would never speak again. But proximity to other people was something that had grown increasingly scarce, and Eskel—bearlike as he was—had the sinking feeling that, aside from Geralt, he might not touch another person for a while. 

Lambert and Aiden had an uncomplicated relationship with affection that always freed Eskel from the burden of second-guessing the odd touch to a shoulder or elbow. So many others had different personal spaces, many of which had expanded recently. Eskel was happy to respect, and accommodate, but Eskel always felt most himself when he could be affectionate with the people he cared about, and with those two gone, it suddenly felt as though a part of his identity was being forced back into shadow and shyness.

Eskel felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and he sniffed loudly before answering. "Yup? Geralt, hi. Yeah, they just-just left. I'm ok-I'm okay. You know. Goodbyes are never easy. How's the conference? Heh. Good, good. Tell him I send my regards... Listen, I should get to work. No, I’m okay, I'll call you later... Will do. I l— I love you, too, hon. Buh-bye.” 

Eskel hung up the phone and stared quietly at the bird feeder for a few more minutes before going back inside, feeling as though something in the cosmos had shifted. 

[thinkingisadangerouspastime]

forever i will live for you

Right now, though? Yeah, Sokka wasn’t sure either of them would make great dance partners, what with Aang bleeding out from a knife wound to his stomach while Sokka desperately tried to stem the flow, blue fabric in his hands turning violet.

(Written for Day 3 of Aang Rarepair Week: Wounds/Wounded, hosted by @aangtheestallion. Pairing: Sokka/Aang. Read here on AO3, or continue reading below.)

Sokka wasn’t much of a dancer. But Aang was, therefore Sokka did his best to participate, if only to see Aang smile. At any and every party they attended, whatever events the Avatar’s presence was mandated at and Sokka was his plus one, he would allow Aang to pull him into at least one dance. Sometimes more, but never less. Toph often teased him about the compromise, but hey—it worked for them.

And come hell or high water, Sokka always gave Aang that one dance. He’d done so with blisters on his feet, a broken arm, a sprained ankle, and once with a concussion. Although Aang had stopped that last dance immediately when Sokka’s vision began to spin faster than they were.

Of course, Aang had danced through pain numerous times, too. Being lighter on his feet, Sokka often didn’t notice until after the fact, which always earned Aang extensive scolding. Not that Aang ever learned his lesson. But at the end of the day, Sokka gave their dance his all and Aang responded in turn, guaranteeing that one dance together was the best anyone had of the night.

Right now, though? Yeah, Sokka wasn’t sure either of them would make great dance partners, what with Aang bleeding out from a knife wound to his stomach while Sokka desperately tried to stem the flow. The blue fabric in his hands turned violet as he pressed it against the wound, soaking up too much blood too damn fast—

“The one party Katara couldn’t make it to, huh?” Aang croaked. Sokka could barely hear him above the frenzied cries of the crowd fleeing around them. Apparently an attempted assassination was too much for ordinary people to handle.

“Now’s not the time to think in retrospect,” Sokka muttered, abandoning the blood-soaked cloth for another wide strip of fabric he’d torn from his robes. Teo was chasing down an Earth Kingdom healer—no waterbender, but it wasn’t like they could be picky—as Sokka worked, while Mai and Ty Lee were ‘taking care of’ the would-be assassin.

Would-be. Because Aang was not dying tonight.

It had all happened so quickly, which Sokka kicked himself for even silently admitting to. Impractical, unhelpful, useless.

He, Teo, and Aang had helped the town over the course of the week with some mechanical and political issues. As thanks, they’d been offered a chance to attend the community-wide dinner. Aang was never one to turn down hospitality—nor Sokka food—and so the three had accepted the invitation in seconds. Mai and Ty Lee had tagged along at Zuko’s request to assist in the work efforts, hence their inclusion, too. But apparently the dinner being such a local, isolated event had made it the perfect target.

They’d stood up to dance, he and Aang. The one dance Sokka promised him for every event. Maybe that was the issue—they were predictable. Had a routine. Because when Aang had offered Sokka his hand and thrown him that charming grin, a grin that still made Sokka’s heart flutter after all these years, they’d both been—Sokka had been—too distracted to notice a man burst out of the crowd and twist a blade into and out of Aang’s stomach.

Aang had doubled over, orange robes stained scarlet, and everything was a blur after that.

Sokka tightened the fabric around Aang’s midsection before putting pressure back over the wound, knowing his partner couldn’t afford to lose any more blood.

“Where—Where are the others?” Aang hissed in pain as he tried to sit himself up, Sokka promptly freeing one hand to grab his shoulder and hold him still. “Teo? Mai and Ty Lee?”

“They are otherwise entertained,” Sokka replied, trying to prevent fear from leaking into his tone in the form of frustration. “Just—don’t move, Aang. This wound could start bleeding again if you shift an inch too much.”

The truth was that the wound had never really stopped bleeding, the spill of crimson only slowed, but Sokka had a feeling Aang knew that without needing to be told. The Avatar had always been too perceptive for his own good.

“How bad is it?” Aang whispered. Sweat beaded his forehead.

Sokka’s heart clenched in his chest. “Well,” he said, swallowing hard, “it could definitely be better.”

Aang laughed, somehow, despite the clear pain he was in. “Gee, thanks. I’d never have guessed.”

Sokka glanced around them as the crowd was at last thinning, desperately searching for a sign, any sign, of Teo returning with the local healer. There just wasn’t enough he could do on his own without any medical equipment—

“Was anyone else hurt?” Aang asked. His breathing had started to grow ragged in a matter of seconds, and Sokka had to blink away hot, panicked tears.

“Uh—no, no I don’t think so. Mai disarmed the guy right away and—and last and I saw she and Ty Lee were working to capture and restrain him when he—when he, ah, tried to disappear into the crowd.”

Aang only nodded in response, and fuck, Sokka knew it was a bad sign if Aang couldn’t continue conversation. Rambling was all but his only hobby.

“You can’t go dying on me, Aang,” Sokka whispered, the hot blood on his hands burning through his skin like acid. “That bastard interrupted our dance, which means you still owe me one. You can’t die until we have that dance. Understand?”

Aang gave him a tired grin, one that Sokka had never been able to stop himself from returning, even when his boyfriend was losing an ungodly amount of blood, apparently. “Yeah. I’d planned to introduce a new step for us tonight.”

“And you can show me that step as soon as you are healed,” Sokka promised. “So just—just hang on until then, okay?”

Aang’s eyes were starting to glaze over as he nodded, and Sokka again looked around desperately for any sign of Teo. Hell, he’d even take Ty Lee’s assistance at this point—maybe there was some kind of chi-blocking method she could use to stop excess blood flow?

“Katara’s gonna be on her way here before you know it,” Sokka lied when Aang attempted to move, his partner grimacing at the pain. “And she’ll be as pissed as I am that you went and let yourself get stabbed like this.”

A weak laugh escaped Aang’s lips. The sound made Sokka’s chest ache even as the smallest of smiles tugged at his lips. He ignored the hurt. For now, he just needed to keep Aang awake. Alive.

“Hey, Sokka,” Aang mumbled after a pause.

Sokka continued searching the crowd for a glimpse of Teo, still pressing blue—now purple—fabric against Aang’s wound. “Yeah?” Maybe he was—there! Teo was tearing towards the two of them, a dark-skinned woman with a stuffed satchel running at his side. “Aang, Teo’s bringing a healer—”

“We should get married.”

Sokka choked on his words, snapping his head around to stare at Aang with wide eyes. “We—what?”

A grin tugged at Aang’s lips. Weak, wavering, but present nonetheless. “I want to marry you. And I want you to”—he coughed, and Sokka’s breath hitched—“I want you to know that I want to marry you.”

In case I don’t make it went unspoken, but Sokka heard the words all the same. He didn’t dwell on them, refusing to acknowledge the possibility that Aang wouldn’t pull through.

“You know I’m a romantic at heart, Aang,” Sokka tried to joke. Ease the tension. “I can’t say yes without candlelight and music and rose petals—”

“Sokka.”

Sokka closed his eyes to hold back tears, silently begging for Teo and the healer to move faster. “I won’t—”

“Sokka, please.” Aang’s voice was growing faint. “Look at me.”

And Sokka did, because he’d never been able to say no to Aang. “Of course I want to marry you, idiot,” he whispered, tears dripping down his cheeks.

Aang smiled at him, elated despite his pain, and in any other scenario Sokka would have sealed the proposal with a heated kiss. But now—

“That dance I owe you?” Aang murmured. He placed a hand on one of Sokka’s forearms, squeezing it. “It’ll be at our wedding. Does that—” He choked, breaking into a coughing fit.

“Shh,” Sokka reassured him, almost laughing and crying as any shred of decorum had long been forgotten. “That sounds perfect, Aang. So you’d better stay alive to make it happen, okay?”

The sound of wheels skidding to a stop informed Sokka that Teo had arrived, knowledge reinforced by the healer dropping to the ground beside him.

Aang gave Sokka a tired but overjoyed smile. “I can’t die now.” His shoulders slumped. “I’d… I’d miss our wedding.” Aang’s eyelids fluttered shut, Teo pulled Sokka out the way, and the healer’s hands were stained with blood.

“He’ll make it,” Teo whispered, and Sokka broke down in sobs.

[eredins-a-king-aint-he]

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo​ fill for “hiding in the same hiding spot”


Out of the Frying Pan and Into the Viper’s Hands


Relationship: Lambert/Letho z Gulety | Letho of Gulet 


Rating: E (Explicit)
Content warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Finger Sucking, Semi-Public Hand Job, Dirty Talk, Frottage


Summary: Lambert needs a place to hide, but finds that the nearest spot is already taken. 
Fic on Ao3

      “Get back here, you fucker!” 

      At the sound of the yell, Lambert is already on his feet and running. He had hoped that visiting a bar all the way across the city would help him avoid the owner of that particular voice, but it seems that luck is not with him today. It usually isn’t. His one blessing is that he’s fast.

      He’s out of the bar and around the corner in the blink of an eye. If he’d had his friends with him, he might’ve tried to make a stand, but he’d come out alone, and if he wasn’t careful he might end up in the gutter alone. He makes a quick turn, then sprints down the street and makes another. It’s late enough that the streets are fairly empty, which is another stroke of bad luck.

      I guess I’ll have to find somewhere to hide, he thinks, his lungs beginning to burn. A moment later, he spots a dingy alleyway.

     Good enough. He jogs between the buildings, his mind whirring. It’s definitely not the best place to hide, there’s nothing but a few dumpsters—

      A hand, an enormous hand, shoots out from behind the dumpsters and grabs him, dragging him swiftly down behind the big plastic cans. He opens his mouth to yell, but another large hand clamps over his face, barely leaving his nose uncovered so he can breathe. When he tries to struggle in his weirdly crouched position, his captor pulls him back between large thighs and against a huge, very warm body.

      “Shut up,” a deep, gravelly voice whispers, “or we’re both gonna be in trouble.”

      Lambert freezes. He recognizes the voice. In his memory, it belongs to an acquaintance of one of his friends, a goliath of a man who never seemed to talk much. 

      The hand over his mouth doesn’t relax when he stops fighting it, nor does the arm holding him against the other man’s front, in fact they tighten. He is completely immobile, settled between a pair of meaty thighs and pressed tight to the solid heat behind him, and—

      Fucking hell, not now—

      But of course his stupid body doesn’t care how badly he might get the shit kicked out of him if those men find him, it has a mind of its own. Being held like this, a hand over his mouth, an arm wrapped tightly around his middle, pinning his arms to his sides, it does something to him. Heat spreads through him, rising up his neck into his cheeks and sinking into his lower belly. His legs begin to tremble, threatening to let him drop onto the concrete below.

      Hot breath gusts against his ear, and he barely manages to hold back a moan, wiggling slightly against the grip around his waist.

      “Shh,” his captor hisses. “They’re still close.”

      A moment later, Lambert hears voices pass by. They seem to pause for a moment, then they move away, and the only noise that remains is the frantic thumping of his own heart in his ears. His body is thrumming with adrenaline and arousal, drawn as tight as a wire. He’s also hard as a rock.

      After another minute, the man holding him loosens the hand over the lower half of Lambert's face.

      “Lambert, right?” he growls. “Seen you with Geralt and Eskel sometimes. Figured I should help out when you ran up like a little bunny rabbit, lookin’ all scared.”

      Lambert opens his mouth to reply, but a soft gasp escapes his lips instead. Heat floods his face, this time from embarrassment. 

      “I wasn’t fucking scared,” he snarls quietly, keeping his voice soft in case his pursuers decide to return. “I was just looking for a place to squat so I could wait them out, but I didn’t realize this spot was fucking taken.”

      The man behind him chuckles, and fuck if it doesn’t feel good to have the sound roll through his body like a wave. Lambert bites his lip. He wonders whether or not he should mention that the man— Letho, he suddenly remembers— is still holding him, one arm wrapped around his waist. Letho seems to be thinking the same thing, as he says,

      “Surprised you haven’t pushed me off yet.”

      His mouth is still barely inches away from the back of Lambert’s neck, and his breath sends goosebumps across Lambert’s skin.

      “My legs are asleep,” Lambert retorts, blushing. “I don’t wanna pitch forward into the dumpsters and wake the entire damn neighborhood.”

      In this position, nestled firmly between the big man’s thighs, Lambert suddenly notices that he can feel something hard pressing against his ass.

      Fucking hell, he thinks wildly. He’s into it too. …This is a terrible idea. 

      He shifts a little, trying to very subtly grind against the hard length behind him, and he hears the big man’s breath hitch. 

      “You doin’ that on purpose?”

      The growl is low and dangerous and right next to his ear and Lambert nearly moans out loud. 

      “What if I am?” he manages between clenched teeth. His cock is straining against his jeans at this point, aching to be let free. 

      “If you aren’t, gonna help you up,” Letho says softly. “If you are…” 

      “Yeah? Then fucking what? What are you gonna do?”

      The aggression of the challenge is diminished by the fact that Lambert is nearly panting now, desperate to either be touched or to quickly find a place where he can touch himself. The arm around his waist tenses.

      “If you are, we might as well do somethin’ about it,” is the slow reply. “How about you give me a good old-fashioned go ahead instead of makin’ me guess.” 

      Lambert groans.

      “Fucking… Yes,” he finally grunts.

      “That’s a good little bunny,” Letho murmurs into his ear, and Lambert melts. The grip on his waist loosens, then huge hands are deftly undoing his belt and his fly. When a warm, soft palm finally wraps around his aching cock, Lambert is ready to explode.

      “Guess you like bein’ held and gagged,” Letho comments, and when Lambert takes a breath to make a snappy reply, the big man thrusts two thick fingers into his open mouth.

      “Quiet,” he says. “Or do you wanna be found like this?”

      Lambert tries to make an indignant noise, but the sound is depressingly muffled, so he closes his lips around the fingers instead. Determined to not be completely beaten, he begins to suck, using his tongue against the sensitive undersides of the fingers, and is rewarded with a soft growl beside his ear. The fingers pull out of his mouth.

      “Spit,” is the quiet command, and Lambert does as he’s told without thought, spitting into the offered hand. Seconds later the fingers slide back into his mouth as the other hand slicks against his erection. He moans.

      “More suckin’, less noise,” Letho grunts. “Show me what that foul mouth of yours can do.”

      That’s a challenge Lambert can get behind. The hand around his cock pumps slowly as he does his best to tease Letho into moving faster. It works, the grip around him tightening, the hand picking up speed. Pleasure starts to rush into his core with every stroke, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. His breath begins to burn in his chest, light sparking behind his eyes. His legs tremble.

      “You gonna cum?” 

      He nods frantically, feeling his muscles tightening like a spring, then Letho’s hand clamps over his mouth again.

      “You strike me as a screamer,” Letho murmurs into his ear. “Let’s not wake up the ‘entire damn neighborhood.’”

      He’s right, but Lambert would never willingly admit it. Instead he lets go, surrendering to release with a muffled cry, his body shaking with the force of the climax. Letho waits for him to ride the wave to completion, then slowly uncovers his mouth.

      “Hot,” the big man says. Panting, Lambert leans back against the solid warmth for a moment, then reaches down and shoves his sticky, softening cock back into his pants. 

      “Want a drink?” he manages between breaths. “Might as well thank you for— Uh, yeah. Everything.”

      Letho chuckles.

      “Wouldn’t mind, little bunny. Watching you cum like that made me thirsty.”

      The words make Lambert shiver, and he tries to stand up. 

      “I’m stuck,” he finally admits, then suddenly he’s rising into the air, a hand under each armpit. 

      “Let’s go,” Letho says, sounding amused. “Lead the way.”

      Though his legs are a little unsteady, Lambert can still walk, so he heads toward the street and steps out into the open.

      “There he is!”

       Lambert whips around and sees two men advancing on him. His muscles twitch, ready to spring into action, but then someone walks up behind him, casting a much longer shadow than his.

      “Ah,” Letho says. “How’d you manage to piss these guys off?”

      “Long story,” Lambert replies. 

      The two men had frozen when Letho appeared. They seem to be debating whether or not they should back down, then one of them steps forward.

      “Boss says you gotta pay,” he snarls at Lambert. “Don’t care if you’ve found yourself a meat shield in the dumpsters.” 

      Lambert begins to make a snarky retort, but Letho is quicker. He moves so fast Lambert can hardly follow what is happening, and a moment later the man who had spoken is lying flat on his back on the sidewalk, out cold, while his companion sprints away.

      “Now that,” Lambert says, “is hot. Come on, let’s get out of here before they find backup.”

      He begins to jog off in the other direction, and Letho catches up to him easily. 

      “They’ll be after you too, now,” Lambert says conversationally. “And they’re fucking persistent.”

      “Me and my boys will take care of them,” Letho replies, sounding completely unconcerned. Casting a sideways glance at him as they jog, Lambert gets a better look than he had before in the darkness of the alley. 

      He looks like someone I would not want to fuck with, Lambert decides. Those tattoos must have cost him a fortune. How have I never noticed them before?

      Dark designs cover the entirety of the man’s hands and arms, as well as the bare skin of his neck. Lambert finds himself distractedly wondering where else the man has ink, and he nearly trips. A hand closes around his arm like an iron shackle, steadying him.

      “Careful there, bunny,” Letho says with a grin. “Wouldn’t want you getting too friendly with the sidewalk.”

      The grip around his bicep is very distracting. 

      “I don’t plan to get too friendly with anything,” Lambert says irritably. “Not unless you wanna help me get real friendly with a wall.”

      “You askin’ me what I think you’re askin’ me?”

      “I might be.”

      And suddenly Lambert finds himself crushed face-first against the nearby wall, gently enough so it doesn’t hurt him but swiftly enough to leave him breathless. Letho’s body holds him firmly against the bricks, hot and huge and—

      Fuck, Lambert thinks, his mind swamped with arousal. He’s not used to feeling so small. Something thick and hard presses tantalizingly against his ass.

      “Reconsiderin’ that drink offer yet?” Letho asks. 

      “Absolutely fucking not,” Lambert wheezes. “The only thing I’m reconsidering is not asking you to come back to my place and fuck me into oblivion first.”

      Letho’s laugh shakes them both and fucking hell Lambert wants him right here, right now.

      “I’d settle for the nearest bush at this point,” he manages. Hands grip his waist and Letho moves against him, rolling his hips, his erection rubbing against Lambert’s ass.

      “Let’s get that drink first,” he growls, his breath tickling the back of Lambert’s neck. “It’ll be fun to watch you wiggle for an hour or two. Plus, I usually like to get to know someone just a little first.”

      “Grabbing and hauling me behind some dumpsters isn’t exactly getting to know me,” Lambert says with a snort. Breath gusts over his ear, then lips press against the side of his neck.

      “You’re an exception, bunny. …Plus, Geralt and Eskel have talked about you enough, it almost feels like I know you. Still wouldn’t mind that drink, though.”

      Shivers roll over Lambert’s skin at the sound of that deep voice so close to his ear. Shoved flush against the wall like this, every tiny movement creates delicious friction against his growing hard-on. 

      “Let’s get that drink, then,” he grunts, “or I might cum again right here.”

      Letho steps back, allowing Lambert to peel himself off the wall. After a moment of reorientation, Lambert sets off down the street, Letho a step behind him.

      “There’s a place nearby that I’ve been to before,” he says. “It should be safe from those assholes… at least I think so.”

      “No ones gonna bother you if I’m here,” Letho replies. 

      “They better not. I have a very packed schedule for tonight now, as long as having a drink with me doesn’t put you off.”

      “Won’t.”

      “Don’t be so sure,” Lambert says with a grimace. Letho snorts with amusement. 

      “Judgin’ by our encounter behind those dumpsters, I think we’ll get along real well, bunny.”

     A little thrill of heat runs through Lambert every time he hears Letho’s deep voice saying that stupid, embarrassing nickname. If it was anyone else, he would’ve punched them, but—

      “I fucking hope so,” he says. “And for fucks sake, don’t call me that again until we’re someplace where I can suck your dick about it.”

~~~

      A ray of sunlight wakes Lambert the next morning by falling across his face. He cracks an eyelid, and doesn’t recognize the room he’s in. For a brief moment, he panics, then he remembers. Thick arms tighten around his middle. Lips press against the base of his neck.

      “Mornin’,” a deep voice rumbles in his ear. He hadn’t thought that voice could get any sexier. Well, he had been wrong.

      “Didn’t think you were the type to stick around,” Letho continues. “Thought you were gonna scamper away as soon as I was done with you.”

      “I don’t even remember falling asleep,” Lambert admits, feeling heat creep into his cheeks. “I guess you wore me out.”

      His body shakes with Letho’s chuckle.

      “Good.”

      Lips ghost against the back of his neck again, and the touch reminds Lambert of something he had been meaning to ask the night before. He wiggles, squirms, and manages to roll himself over in Letho’s hold.

      “Who were you hiding from last night?” he demands. “I completely forgot to ask. Who the fuck could make you want to hide in an alleyway?”

     Letho blinks slowly.

     “My friends,” he says after a moment. “They were tryin’ to make me go on a blind date, and wouldn’t take no for an answer. So, I took a walk.”

      “A walk?”

      “Yeah, an evasive one. Not a fan of blind dates, at least the kind you have in a restaurant or some shit. Didn’t mind the one we had, though.”

      “Dunno if I’d call that a blind date,” Lambert mutters. 

      “Doesn’t matter what you call it. It was hot.”

      Grinning, Lambert slings an arm around the big man’s neck.

      “It was. Anyway, how about we have another go, then we get breakfast somewhere, my treat.”

      A quick scramble later and Lambert finds himself rolled over again, a huge hand clamped firmly over his mouth, the other holding him tight against Letho’s body. Teeth close gently around the shell of his ear, then a tongue slides against the surprisingly sensitive skin. Heat pours down his throat.

      “That sounds like a plan,” Letho growls. “Now, be a good little bunny and beg for my cock like you did last night.”

~~~

      Lambert takes a long drink from his glass. He’s been trying to keep the events of the past few weeks under wraps as best he can, but he forgot to wear something to cover the bite marks on his neck tonight, and he can practically feel the marks burning under his friends’ scrutiny. 

      “Nice necklace,” Eskel comments, indicating what he means with a free hand. “Didn't realize you liked wearing jewelry.”

      “Oh, I saw that too,” Geralt adds. “Very fancy.”

      “Fuck off,” Lambert mutters into his beer. His friends guffaw. 

      “Who do you think is the culprit?” Geralt asks the man next to him, who happens to be Geralt’s boss. The man stirs from his contemplation of a wine glass, blinks once, then smiles a close-lipped smile. Lambert belatedly remembers that this man is also heavily tattooed, just like—

      “You know,” the man says in a soft voice, “usually I wouldn’t have an answer for you, but I did recently overhear a friend referring to Lambert here as ‘bunny’ and I couldn’t help but wonder…”

      A hot flush rises into Lambert’s face as Eskel and Geralt howl with laughter, then begin pelting the man with questions. When he refuses to elaborate, they turn back to Lambert.

      “Who is it?” they chorus in unison.

      Lambert takes a drink of his beer instead of giving them an answer, and finds an excuse to leave as fast as possible. He has somewhere to be, anyway.

[themagicalmysticalboy]

Rarepair week, george&paul? Angst/comfort maybe? Let it be era? Hurt my soul :)

a/n: you’ve got it babe! i actually did some research for the flashback scene so it’s pretty accurate to reality, according to Ringo’s and some crew member's accounts.

Don’t Let Me Down

For as cold as it had been for the last month, the sun was shining high in the sky. A peculiar sight that brought a hint of warmth to Paul’s face but did not extend further than that. He could be in a summer's day desert and still feel the cold churn in his stomach. Looming tall and strong over him was the Abbey Road studio. The uncharacteristic beams of sunlight lit the many windows with a yellow glint. A million-eyed monster ready to tear him to shreds if he dared step closer. And he did dare. He peeled himself off his car and stiffened instantly. He’d been leaning against the passengers' door so long that when the wind hit his back it sent a shiver right through him. Or maybe it was solely his nerves. Either way, he didn’t plan to dwell on it.

A few Scruffs were waiting outside with paper coffee cups in hand and drink carriers stacked against the wall. So George was in. He had really come back. The cold churn rose to his chest. At this rate, he’d be a human popsicle by lunch.

There was a disjointed chorus of “Hi Paul” and “Good Morning” which he replied to with a courteous wave. He’d been largely turned off by the Apple Scruffs for some time now but there wasn’t really any malice. Having your house broken into was more than a bit off-putting, though. So he felt justified. George was the most tolerant of them, buying them coffees and breakfast foods every so often. They must have missed him while he was gone. Yeah. Surely they did. Because I did. Paul pushed the sentiment to the wayside. They still had an album to make. They still had songs to record and a documentary to be part of. He couldn’t let his emotions get the best of him again. That had only led to an explosion.

Preparing himself with a stiffened posture and pushed back shoulders, he walked into the studio with a smile. It was almost painful to keep up but the cameraman was already in his face and he refused to let on to his nerves. He needed some inkling of control here and there was so little of that to grab hold of these days.

When he walked into the recording room, he found people scattered across the room but he didn’t find John or Ringo. It was still early in the morning so it made sense but he was undoubtedly rattled by the realization, becoming more rattled when he noticed George looking at him. Paul didn’t dare meet his eyes, drifting down to his feet. He looked soft, despite his sharp features. Cozy in his furry boots and warm jumper. He missed looking at that face and touching that body and kissing those lips. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he’d been able to do any of that. Too long.

George gave a thin-lipped smile before turning to Billy Preston at the piano. Was that a good sign or was this small sign of grace feigned for the cameras?

Whatever it meant, it drove Paul mad. He didn’t think he deserved forgiveness but he sure as hell would take it. There was no helping the intrusive memories of the aftermath of George walking out. He had done it so nonchalantly that no one was sure he had actually left until they got to the recording room and found him and his guitar missing.

Something had shifted in the room as soon as the three remaining Beatles looked at each other. John was breathing heavily with an icy glare. There was a glint in his eye that screamed danger. It was focused on Paul. Picking up the bass with a death grip on the neck, Paul just stared John down. There was a mutual understanding in the moment. The rage in both of them was bubbling over more and more by the second.

John yanked his guitar from the rack and they both plugged into the amps. No one seemed to remember the camera crew was still around. They just turned to Ringo, who was already at his drums, drumsticks in one hand, rubbing his eyes with the other. He was pushing so hard it had to hurt. And that was it. John squared up to the mic and began to scream the lyrics to a song they'd already wrapped up but they all threw themselves into it without question. Screaming, banging, and heavy riffs filled the studio. Nothing made sense and every fiber of Paul’s being hurt so much that he didn’t care. He wasn’t alone in the feeling, at least. They all felt some level of hurt.

Ringo was even mad- at the situation or at George or at Paul, it didn’t matter. He banged and slammed away like never before. It sounded so wrong coming from him but at the moment it was the only right thing to do. They sounded perfectly horrible. There was a distinct addition to the vocals and Paul turned to find Yoko sitting on George’s little blue stool, wailing along with John’s screams. Yes. Perfectly horrible.

When the song was up the energy was still poisonous and thick in the air. They weren’t done, not by far. Paul stepped up to the mic and John did not move away. With little notion of what he was doing, he went at the lyrics of another song. The words spat from his tongue with vitriol and fire.

They all needed to scream. Ringo was at the mic at some point, coming up with random words on the spot. Really just to have something to yell about. 

When they finished, panting out the last seething breaths, Paul felt empty. 

“Way to fucking go,” John yelled, eyes fixed on Paul. “Way to go.” his voice was drastically quieter, more tired and sad and hoarse, eyes drifting to his feet.

Paul’s bass suddenly felt a thousand pound heavier, pulling the strap down against his shoulder painfully. Maybe it was more the weight of his mistakes than the bass. Everything felt painstaking and dreadful for the rest of the day. The anger was gone and the screaming was done. There was nothing else to keep his mind from wandering into a wall of depression.

In the present, sans John and Ringo, he shyly grabbed an acoustic guitar and went to sit in a corner. He worked on one of his own songs, quietly strumming and murmuring. He didn’t like it yet, keeping it to himself. The awkward air in the studio only exemplified his need for privacy. So he stayed tucked away, only speaking when spoken to, like a good little schoolboy. George had even come over to ask about the song but Paul told him it wasn’t right just yet. There was no way he was about to embarrass himself on top of all this.

He went back and forth for most of the day. Playing several takes of various songs before turning back to his own song. There was a part on one of the songs that Paul found needed a quieter guitar part. The thought of addressing this issue to George was met with resistance. Was he really ready to address him? The guitar part could be addressed later, maybe. He could suggest another take tomorrow. But the song. It just wouldn’t be right. And maybe no one would be willing to do another take later. That struck a nerve in Paul that rang louder than the rest of his rationale. 

“Maybe,” Paul started, resolving to look directly at George for the first time since he walked in. “The guitar could be a bit quieter next take, y’know? Just sounds a bit heavy.” He tacked on quickly, glancing at Ringo, “The drums too.”

Ringo gave him a pained expression. Paul looked George dead on with a weak smile, though he could see John’s cautioning glare in his peripheral vision. George’s eyes were dark and apathetic. His jaw was set tight.

George Martin came over just when he was about to respond. Oblivious to the tension between them, he clapped a hand on John’s shoulder with a grin. “That was a great take, lads. Why don’t you take a lunch break with the film crew.”

“Wasn’t good enough for Paul,” George huffed, leaving first. “But what is?”

George Martin didn’t hear the remark and walked off to talk with Mal.

“You’re really going to cock it up already?”

“What!” Paul went quickly to his own defense. “It was a suggestion, is all. I’m not treating him with kid gloves just because we had a row.”

“A row? He left the bloody band.” 

“Not being a prick for one day isn’t kid gloves,” Ringo suddenly chimed in.

Paul gaped. “Caring about the songs is being a prick now, is it?”

John huffed an indigent laugh. “You’re painfully stupid.” He left with Ringo in tow before Paul could ask for any clarification. Not that he was sure he wanted any.

Stunned by the attacks, he stared blankly at George’s guitar. He had absolutely none of his friends at his side. He had managed to push them all away when all he wanted, so desperately, was to bring them together. They were slipping through his fingers like grains of sand and all he could seem to do was open his hands to quicken the fall. He’d lose them forever. It was all his fault. How long would it take? When would they figure out he wasn’t worth the trouble?

He just wanted them to be alright. He wanted to go back to how they were and just tour a bit. Play on stage like they all used to love. The band couldn’t rip apart. It just couldn’t because Paul would tear apart with it. And yet here they all were, at wit's end with one another. The connecting link to this free fall was Paul, of course. He had made Ritch leave and then George. It was all too obvious that John wanted out - surely Paul’s fault as well. 

He couldn’t imagine a world without Ringo, John, and George playing at his side. He didn’t want to. It was something new and terrifying that had no qualms with keeping him up at night, even when three glasses of scotch in. He couldn’t recall the last time he slept without drinking. Even still, nightmares filled his dreams and made sleeping seem worthless and just as tiresome as not sleeping at all. What a poor excuse of a man he was becoming.

With a tight chest and burning eyes, he got up. Thankfully, the film crew had truly gone to lunch. He was mostly alone with a few straggling technicians in the booth.

There was no way in hell he could go to lunch now. Not while it felt like the world was out to get him. Not while he felt on the verge of crying. Instead, he decided to go outside for a smoke. The cold winter wind cooled his hot skin. He fell against the wall with a thud and bit his lip. His eyes were pricked with tears but he wouldn’t let them fall. Not here. Not now. 

Dragging a hand down his face, he dove into his pocket and pulled out a spliff he’d rolled that morning for this very reason. His hand was caught on his chin as he eyed the thing. A beacon of hope.

He wasted no more time in lighting it. The earthy taste coated his tongue and warmed his throat. He relaxed on the exhale and repeated the process until his mind was a little numb. The carefree smoke floated high above before disappearing into the brisk wind. It would be so much easier to disappear with it.

“Stay gone too long and they’ll think you quit too.” 

Tension pulled at his neck and traveled down his body. With an involuntary jerk of his fingers, the spliff fell to the concrete. He didn’t look at the newcomer and didn’t need to. The calming drawl could only be from one person.

“So?”

Paul reluctantly turned his head to find George’s steady gaze on him. Words abandoned his brain. “So,” he asked stupidly.

George’s features suddenly dropped and Paul noticed there had been a hint of lightness seconds before. Great. Already cocking it up. 

“Oh, fuck you, then.”

“George! No, no!” He jumped forward and grabbed George’s wrist. “Please, love.”

There was hesitation in George’s step. He shook Paul’s hand off but did not leave. “Do you even care? Care that I left.”

His brow furrowed and his mind swirled back to life. “Of course. We were all-”

“I didn’t ask about the others. Did you care?”

It seemed like such an absurd question. There was nothing to suggest he didn’t. He was downright miserable. Was that not plain to see? Something inside him made him want to switch back on the defense. Deflect and reject. But he couldn’t let himself slip anymore. Everything was on the line now. His entire relationship was up to bat. He’d just be honest. And honesty wasn’t all that hard when your heart wrenched at the thought of this charade continuing for another second.

“Yes! I cared. I thought you’d never come back and I was terrified.” He was desperately searching George’s face for any recognition of belief. “You didn’t answer my calls for weeks and I thought you wanted nothing to do with me. If you don’t I can't even blame you at this point. Just tell me what I did wrong.”

There was no hint of emotion from George. He had a corked brow that could mean anything. The time passing with no answer couldn’t be good. Maybe he wouldn’t answer at all and just leave Paul standing here like an idiot.

“You want to know what you did wrong?” A look of contempt screwed up George’s features. “I don’t even know where I’d start.”

A weight crushed every bone in Paul’s body. He deserved this. He deserved the heartache and pain. The more it hurt the better George might feel. He just had to hold his asinine tongue. 

“You treat me like I couldn’t find writing talent if it bit me in the arse.” Paul tried to interrupt, despite himself, with an explanation. “Shut up and listen!” George moved closer, sizing Paul up. “When’s the last time you took any suggestion I’ve made seriously? You’ve been screaming from the damn rooftop about staying together and getting back to basics yet you sit in your little fucking corner like a punished child, ignoring us to work alone. What’s the point, then? Just to show how much of a pain you can be? You act like you don’t want me- any of us- near your songs and then boss us around on our own.”

George was pulling in unsteady breaths. He leaned forward slightly, really looking into Paul’s soul.

“You weren’t even the one to ask me back. Had Ritch do it for you, you coward.” George pushed him into the wall and Paul took it. “And you have the gall to ignore me! Even when I came to you like a stupid loyal puppy! That’s how you see me, isn’t it? Your little puppy that you get tired of when it makes too much noise. Well, fuck you and your damn songs. Fuck whatever you think you’re doing. You’re not keeping us together and you never could.”

Just punch me. The thought was screaming at the forefront and wouldn’t settle. Too angry with himself to stop, he yelled back, “Don’t you think I know? I see everyone slipping away and turning from me and all I can do is push you further! No matter what I try or how good I think I’m doing, you’ll just leave me out cold.” Caught up in it all, he shoved George back. “And you’re not a puppy! You’re my mate. You’re- I love you, alright.” 

His voice cracked and, god, he was crying. He was actually crying and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“Really just didn’t think you’d come back if I asked. And if that makes me a coward then sure. That’s what I am. If being a coward is what I need to have you near, fine.”

A muscle in George’s jaw tightened. He was stiff and his eyes were damp. His voice was so soft when he said, “Why didn’t you look at me? When you walked in you wouldn’t even really look at me. And when I tried to talk you just buried your head in your notebook.” He laughed mirthlessly. “But as soon as you have an issue with a song you go in with those big eyes of yours and I don’t want to hate you. It’s not fair.”

“You’ve said it, y’know. I’m a right coward. Scared to lose you if I speak and losing you just as fast when I don’t. Shouldn’t have turned you away. I shouldn’t have ignored you. The song- the stupid song. Don’t know if I even cared about how loud your guitar was. I just wanted to look at you, I think.”

“Looking at me now, aren’t you?”

And he was. They had been staring relentlessly and it felt good, no matter how much yelling they’d done. He wiped harshly at his cheeks to clear them of tears. “I’m sorry for being a prick.”

“Aye. You should be.” The words might have hurt if the corners of his mouth didn’t twitch up. He rubbed Paul’s shoulders and arms. “Just talk to me, okay? I won’t disappear, I promise.”

His smile was sad but genuine. All Paul could ask for. He nodded but then realized he already missed the point. “Okay,” he voiced. “Talking. Always been my strong suit.”

George’s smile grew and he pulled Paul into a hug. He hugged back fiercely, balling his hands up in George’s jumper.

“I don’t deserve this.” The words weren’t meant to leave his mind but they seemed to come of their own accord. 

George moved him back and Paul almost pulled them right back together. “What do you mean?”

Bringing a hand up to caress George’s cheek, he tilted his head. “I don’t deserve to have you. Don’t deserve to have this band. Wouldn’t you be better off without me? I’m just here to cock it all up.”

“You… really mean that, don’t you?” With a shaky breath, George brought him back into the hug and gently held Paul’s head to his shoulder, petting down his hair. “No matter what happens to the band, it’s not because you don't deserve to have it. It’d be because we all need space, alright?” He held Paul a little closer. “And you don’t get to decide if you deserve me. That’s my decision.”

Paul nestled into the crook of his neck, scared to ask but not willing to keep it back. “And you think I do?”

“No. No. I just fancy hugging people I hate.”

Paul smiled into his neck. “Arse.”

[hopeshoodie]

Rarepair Sunday- Hopeisol

Headcanons

The actual power couple we deserved. The both came into the game with opposing strategies- Hope thought it was important to be cordial with everyone and play the social game, Marisol came in prepared to be extremely competitive and selfish. 

But throughout the game, they gradually adopt each other strategies unknowingly (as Marisol burns through partners she’s only tethered by her platonic relationships with MC and Noah, and Hope reverts to being territorial and selfish because MC/Priya sabotaged her relationship and didn’t have the decency to not gamify it). Marisol approaches Hope towards the end, after she breaks up with Graham for flirting with MC, to thank her for the advice. “You were right, the only thing keeping me sane is the friendships. It was dumb to actively TRY and sabotage friendships with the girls for the sake of gameplay.” And Hope starts silently crying because she feels like she hasn’t had the luxury of that. 

They hug, Marisol leans in for a kiss, Hope hesitates, then Marisol pulls away and starts apologizing profusely for ‘misreading the situation’. Hope shushes her by kissing her back, and it gets heated.

When they pull away Hope laughs lightly and admits “that hardly helps my inability to build friendships.” Marisol grins and kisses her again, deeply. They get a little handsy, but it doesn’t go much further.

Neither of them talk about it after. Marisol starts dating Elisa, and gets really involved in the toxicity of that relationship. Hope finishes the game with Noah. 

Both relationships don’t survive the real world for more than three months. Hope finds her mind periodically drifting back to Marisol…

After sending a text, they meet up for brunch and the rest is history. For some reason being out of the villa erases a lot of their awkwardness- now they’re just best friends. They ramble about politics with each other, have most of the same values, and consume the same kind of media. Hope invites Marisol on a work trip to somewhere in South America, and they become more than friends.

Best. Dressed. Couple. Ever. Neither of them keep active social media, but what does get posted to instagram is absolute fire. Marisol has that really classic, monotone, sleek fashion taste and Hope has the really elegant style with bright contrasting colors and sharp silhouettes. They are… Stunning.

A lot of LITG couples struggle with the day to day. Hope and Noah struggled with this- they were totally fine when they were doing grand gestures or being intensely affectionate, but then when little hiccups came up or the daily minutiae of making food/going about their daily life set in they couldn’t keep the same affectionate energy. Hope and Marisol do not have that problem what so ever. While they can be super affectionate, that part of their relationship is a bit more lacking whilst they get along really well on all the little details.

Their dynamic is like highschool lovers because neither of them have had such an emotionally important sapphic relationship before. They’re absolutely infatuated with one another and feel like it’s them against the world. There’s a ‘we’re building our empire’ vibe. But equally explosive is their arguments- Marisol is passive aggressive and Hope is SO reactive. Their disagreements, though few and far between, end in screaming and sobbing in separate rooms. They definitely break up a few times, then Hope will bring flowers and beg to get back together or Marisol will awkwardly show up and pretend that nothing ever happened. They mellow out with age and consistency in the relationship, but the first few years are super intense. 

Love is Hope making an effort to plan out vacations/events for them then insisting Marisol follow through and come. Love is Marisol encouraging Hope to find a WOC therapist and talk about anger management and insecurity with her. Love is Hope holding Marisol accountable for making selfish mistakes and insisting, calmly and firmly, that she needs to apologize and make amends. Love is Marisol finding little jokes that make Hope laugh and then peppering them around her world, forcing Hope to admit that she loves the ducks of the month. 

No kids, no attachments to their hometowns, two large corporate incomes- they live their absolute best life. Travelling and fashion are the big investments for them. I don’t think either of them really feels a need for home ownership, so they periodically upgrade just for the hell of it and enjoy condo/apartment living. 

Almost every day they visit each other’s office for lunch. It’s not a consistent ‘at noon my wife comes’ because it changes with their workflow. But even if it’s a busy day, Hope will visit and sneak Marisol a coffee during a 5 minute break, or Marisol will show up and they’ll eat lunch in Hope’s office with the door firmly closed and the blinds drawn. They’re not overly affectionate in public though- Marisol is a fan of kissing Hope’s wrist and the back of her hand, and Hope loves to run her hands through Marisol’s hair and hold the back of her neck. 

Light nsfw but they definitely come into their own sexually through each other. Neither of them has a lot of experience with women, and I think if they were with someone who was experienced it would be a process of embarrassment and discomfort. But because they’re both learning together, the power dynamic is a lot more balanced and they don’t enforce strict roles onto themselves. 

They adopt a really crotechedy, mean old cat and constantly joke that he’s the man of the house. He’s an asshole, but they’d both die for him (and they both just want some other presence to be in the home, even if they don’t interact with him outside of sitting in the same room). 

While they’re still friendly with the other contestants, they’re much closer to their non-Love Island friends, and are generally more isolated than other characters. They’ll show up to the 1 year, 5 year, and 10 year reunion, but not much more than that. Neither of them were close enough to keep tabs on or reach out to other islanders. Maybe Noah reaches out years down the road and he reconciles with Hope, but neither of them feel the need to keep in touch. 

They are SO supportive of each other’s projects and careers. They both intently listen to the other ramble about their workdays, have a deep understanding of what the other’s position and role is, and want the other to be challenged. Marisol often jokes (and honestly it’s kind of true) that if Hope was sick she could fill in, and a couple of times when ranting about a negotiation Hope has suggested a tactic that ended up working. 

When Marisol’s dad is struggling with alzheimers, Hope is honestly more attentive to him and the situation than Marisol can bring herself to be. Hope visits him at least three times a week, takes charge of all the arrangements, and encourages Marisol to visit him on ‘good days’ while quietly discouraging her from visiting on bad days. 

They’re the best aunties to Hope’s brother’s kids. Hope and Marisol 100% spoil them, and are happy to watch them for a weekend, but are always relieved when they go home and the house is quiet again. 

As they age, they both get a lot more philanthropic than they were. I can see Marisol retiring and accepting a role on some kind of board or nonprofit. Hope will work for as long as she possibly can (and considering she works in corporate, that’s a lot longer than you’d expect). They both struggle with retirement, and how to provide structure to a day when they can’t work like they used to.

Hope really struggles with losing the mobility and strength that she’s used to having. Not being able to do things that she ‘should be able to’ brings her to the point of a breakdown multiple times. Marisol struggles to know what to do, outside of laying a sympathetic hand on Hope’s forearm and nodding sadly. They still travel a lot, but it’s more confined to tours and cruises than it used to. Admitting that her health/bodily abilities make an annual trip unfeasible is the hardest thing Hope ever does.

And despite how Hope’s health is the first to start wavering, Marisol has similar problems to her dad. Far too soon. Maybe a year after Hope admits they need to opt out of another trip abroad, Marisol starts to turn sharply downhill. Hope can pretend it’s fine, that Marisol hasn’t been blankly sitting on the couch for 9 hours or forgetting basic information or getting lost in the middle of stories. But then the wandering starts, and the fear and confusion at not recognizing where she is. Admitting Marisol needs more care than their condo can provide, that SHE can provide, absolutely shatters Hope. They both move into an assisted living home, because Hope can’t bear to leave Marisol alone.

The worst days are when Marisol outright doesn’t remember her. There wasn’t anyone in her life early on who looks like Hope, so there’s no one for Hope to ‘pretend to be’ like a sister or aunt. Marisol will just assume Hope’s a nurse on these days. Being brushed aside and dismissed is better than not seeing Marisol at all. 

But the good days are so lovely. Gentle. Soft. Both of them feel whole.

Marisol passes before Hope does, and Hope doesn’t have it in her to move out of the home and be on her own again.

[ms-starflower]

Spook-tober Day 1 — Decorating

@maribat-october-rarepairs

So, technically, it’s October 2nd for almost two hour here, but it’s probably still the 1rst somewhere, right? Well, I don’t care anyway.

It’s my first time writing for an event (Maribat or otherwise) and I wanted to write both prompts for Spook-tober - Maribat Month and the Maribat Rare Pairs Month, but didn’t have time to start writing before 11pm.

This one's for Spook-tober, though it could also qualify as rarepair since it's a Stephinette (is that the correct shop name???), because Steph is my Queen (Cass too, but I wanted Steph today). Though they don't interact (yet) but I think I’ll write a follow up for other days' prompt, maybe (day 9 and 21, I’m looking at you,).

Anyway, let’s start.

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

“You sure you got the right address, miss?” The cab driver asked her with a skeptic expression. It would have been alright if the man hadn’t asked the same thing in at least twenty different ways during the ride.

“Yes, thank you Monsieur. I’m exactly where I wanted to be,” Marinette answered with a tight smile, like the twenty previous times. Giving him the money she owed him, she got out of the car to stand in front of the gigantic gate of Wayne’s Manor. The place was kind of intimidating.

Still hearing the car behind her when she reached the intercom, she turned toward it. The driver was shamelessly looking at her, probably waiting for her to get refused access.

“Are you waiting for something, sir?” She asked, tilting her head slightly.

“You’re gonna need a ride back, don’t ya? I’m already here, might as well,” he smiled at her with condescending amusement. Marinette was tempted to tell him that she would prefer to go back to the city on foot than to get into his car again. But her parents raised her better than that, so she only smiled politely.

“There is no need, sir, I really don’t know how long I’m going to stay here.”

“Yeah, right,” the man huffed, still staring at her.

Deciding to just ignore him, Marinette turned to push on the intercom’s only button. It took a minute before an elegant and accented voice responded.

“Hello, how may I help you?”

“Ah, hello sir. I’m Marinette, Jason asked me to come?”

“Indeed, Master Jason warned me to expect you.”

When the gate opened, Marinette made a point to turn around to smile and wave goodbye at the cab driver. She would cherish his dumbstruck expression for a long time.

Her victory was short lived, though, when she saw how long the march from the gate to the house was going to be. Jason better be on the brink of death. Or the world, she wasn’t picky.

When she finally got there, an old gentleman she thought might be Alfred was waiting for her.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng, I’m Alfred, the family’s butler, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Alfred said with a kind smile and a nod.

“The pleasure is all mine, sir. And just Marinette is fine,” she told him kindly, walking into the house. “Jason is okay, right? He didn’t say why he wanted me here, and I have to admit that he got me worried.”

Jason had been determined to keep her as far away from his family as he could manage before, and the sudden change was really odd.

“I see,” Alfred said slowly, closing his eyes for a second. “Master Jason is alright, Miss Marinette, do not worry. He just… Well, why not let Master Jason explain the situation to you himself. If you would follow me.”

Marinette followed him for a couple minutes through a couple of corridors, before he opened the doors to… a battlefield.

She thought that, maybe, it was supposed to be a living room, but it was hard to say, under all those decorations. They were literally everywhere. Throwing on the couches, a couple of boxes were overturned in a corner, a couple of garlands of little cartoon ghosts hanging hazradly from the chandelier. It was a mess, but she could see that someone probably tried to… decorate? Maybe? It was a really bad job, though.

Jason and a man she assumed to be his brother were battling with a plastic pumpkin and a skeleton respectively, while two more men and a woman—probably also Jason’s siblings, she heard Bruce Wayne was kind of a serial adopter— were cheering on the sidelines and a brooding teenager was glaring at them. Everyone froze as soon as they realized that they weren’t alone anymore. Alfred only sighed, nodded at her before going back to where they came from.

“Hey! Pixie! Great, you’re here,” Jason exclaimed excitedly, letting go of the pumpkin he was shoving into his brother’s face and stauttered toward her.

“Jason, in the name of everything that’s holy, what the hell?” Marinette asked with a voice deceptively calm. She could see the woman and one of the men behind Jason wince at her tone. Good.

“Well, see, we wanna decorate the house for Halloween, now that it’s time—”

“Jason,” she interrupted incredulously. “We are in September!”

“Well, technically, it’s already October in Russia,” the man that had been fighting with Jason piped up.

“Yeah, what Timbers said,” Jason said with a serious nod while Marinette could only look at him in astonishment. “Anyway, Bruce said we can decorate all the room in the Manor like we wish if we can make this one presentable, without the help of Alfred. And I really want to make a cat theme for his bedroom, so I thought; hey, you know a designer…”

“I’m a fashion designer, Jason, not an interior designer!”

“Same difference, Pixie. You’re my only hope, all of them are hopeless in terms of good taste.”

Marinette pinched the bridge of her nose, ignoring the various protests from Jason’s sibling, before taking out her phone.

“So you proceeded to send me ‘Hey Pix,” she said, reading the message he sent her earlier with a bad imitation of his voice. “‘Need you at the manor asap, urgence lvl 3’ before ignoring me, making me think that the world was probably ending—”

“World ending is at least a lvl 5, Pix, come on,” Jason interrupted with an offended expression. She ignored him.

“—Forcing me to take a cab with a absolute jerk driver—”

“Why did you take a cab? You have a car!”

“Adrien took the car, he is visiting Chloé in New York. But that’s not the point. The point, Jason, is that all of that was because you needed me to help you decorate for a day that is literally in a month?”

“Hey, Halloween is a very important celebration,” Jason’s brother, the one that had been cheering the loudest, told her with a solemn expression.

“I’m French, I don’t care about Halloween,” she deadpanned.

“I’m sorry, what?” The one Jason had called Timbers, probably Tim Drake, looked pained at the very idea that someone could not be obsessed by Halloween.

“I mean, we used to make speciales and sales at the bakery, and I’ve been to a couple of costume parties, but we don’t really pay attention to Halloween until around the 25 of October.”

“That’s sacrilegious,” Jason said, and almost all the others agreed in a way or another.

“Maybe for you, Americans,” she told him with amusement. “But it doesn't change the fact that I’m not going to help you.”

What? Why?!” He exclaimed, his eyes widening.

“Because, one, I don’t have anything to gain from it,” she said, showing him one of her fingers before adding a second. “And two, do you know how long the walk between the cab and the door had been? And all of it just for decorations?”

“Aw, come on, Pix! Bruce is going to make Alfred judge, and I have projects for the cat theme!”

“There is nothing you can say that is going to make me change my—”

“Hey guys!” A cheerful voice suddenly interrupted her, the owner barging into the room like a whirlwind. The woman was slightly taller than her, with long blonde hair and blue eyes. She had a beautiful smile that brightened the room and Marinette could feel the hearts that were making their way in her eyes. The girl was cute. Uh oh. “You are decorating already?! Cool! Be right back, let me just grab my stuff!”

Then she was gone, and Marinette could only blink slowly, before turning back toward Jason.

“Alright, I’m in.”

“What? Why— Oh, no, no, no! You’re not going to crush on Steph—”

“Oh, her name is Steph? What a lovely name,” she mumbled, looking back in the direction she disappeared. “But if you don’t want my help, I can just ask for her number and let you fend for yourself with the decorations, you know.”

“Pixie!�� Jason complained, making his sibling laugh or snicker at him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Fun fact: when Marinette says that France doesn't care about Halloween until around October 25th, I’m talking from personal experience. I don’t know if it’s the same in all of France, but I grew up in Paris’ region (It’s not Paris Paris, but it’s like, the places all around and we call it régions parisienne) and they don’t care about it. Where I live, the shops don’t start selling Halloween themed candy before, like a week (maybe two?? when they start early) before Halloween and the children rarely go trick or treating. (I lived in this house for ~five/six years, and I’ve never got a child knocking for candy on Halloween.)

Again, I’m not saying it was like that for everyone in France, maybe it was only my city, but I thought it funny to have this opposition between Marinette and the Batkids.

[sh-rare-pair-exchange]

Bones In The Ocean

For @jesssssah

Summary: There was one simple fact about Jace’s life. He could not live without Alec. So, when Alec was taken out into the ocean never to break the surface again, Jace knew that he had to follow him, no matter what it took to do so.

A/N: This is a gift for Jessa as part of the shadowhunters rarepair fic exchange! I hope you like it! I started and restarted this fic so many times because I kept coming up with different ideas, so I hope you like where I ended up with it. I didn't quite intend to write so much before getting to the underwater part but... I hope you end up liking all the long build up anyway.

Read it on ao3 HERE

Alec had been gone for about a month before Jace finally broke. For a month, Jace managed to pretend that everything was okay. He managed to close himself off, force down all his emotions, go to work everyday and be a shadowhunter, not Jace, not the man who used to be Alec’s parabatai, not a man who was missing half his heart but a shadowhunter. He was just a shadowhunter and he managed to keep that up for a month before all at once, he snapped.

All at once, he wasn’t a shadowhunter anymore. He wasn’t even Jonathan Herondale - greatest shadowhunter of their generation. He was Jace, a twelve year old boy who’d come to the Institute as an orphan, a boy who’d found solace in Alec, a boy who needed his parabatai back, no matter what the cost.

Jace knew then that he needed to get Alec back. He needed to see him again and he needed to make sure that nothing could ever separate them again. Now, he didn’t know how he could do that but he knew that he’d be willing to do anything to make it happen.

Jace dug up anything he could find of the fae. Anything that shed light on the elusive class of them that preferred to hide in the depths of the water, away from human civilization and fae civilization alike. They were the one class of fae that had their own government entirely separate from the Seelie Queen. Her influence couldn’t quite reach them under the water and apparently, they preferred it that way anyway.

This also meant that information on them was hard to come by. They rarely surfaced at all. They wrote no books Jace could read. They weren’t very forthcoming about any information regarding them whatsoever but what Jace did know from personal experience was that they could turn people, much like a vampire or werewolves could, though their ritual relied on magic rather than saliva or venom. Those who were turned weren’t as powerful as those born to the water nymph. They didn’t inherit the magic the others were born with. Turning was also very rare, hard to do and dangerous for everyone involved.

Jace didn’t manage to find out much else but that simple information was enough for Jace to wonder. Was Alec even still alive? Had he survived the transformation? If he had, what was his life like now, being so powerless compared to his new peers? Did he know how to survive by himself? Was Magnus helping him? Had the vicious nymph slaughtered him, regardless of what Magnus had promised Jace? Had Alec even survived a week?

Other things Jace thought about too. What did Alec look like now? Would Jace even recognize him? Did he look like the water nymph in the sketches Jace had found? With huge dark eyes, clawed hands and those sharp teeth that gave Jace nightmares, though he would not admit it. Did he look half as viscous as the sketches did? Did he really look like that much of a monster now?

That was all of course, if Alec had even survived the transformation. If he hadn’t, then none of those concerns were valid at all. He’d simply died in the water, probably in pain with no one who cared about him there to comfort him before he went but Jace tried to push that thought away. He had to believe Alec had survived. If he was proven wrong, Jace didn’t even know what he’d do.

If Alec had died, Jace didn’t imagine that things would ever be okay again. So, he couldn’t be dead. He simply couldn’t be but that belief didn’t help Jace when he had no clue what to do next. He needed to contact him or he needed to contact Magnus and unfortunately for Jace, he had absolutely no clue how to do that.

Asking around about the water nymph was not easy. Downworlders didn’t like shadowhunters and even if they knew something, few of them would be willing to share downworld secrets with him, especially about a species as elusive and powerful as the water nymph were. They rarely got involved in above water debacles but Jace did know there were rumors about their armies and their strength, so no one really wanted to anger them.

Jace didn’t even know if that was true. He didn’t know if they really had armies at all. He knew so little and no one at all seemed willing to help him fix that or they also knew nothing, which was almost worse. If no one knew anything, that meant there was no way Jace could get any information. That meant that he had no clue what to do and he had no plan and he had no way to even find out if Alec was alive at all.

Jace just needed to talk to him. He needed to know if Alec was okay. He couldn’t think about anything else until he did.

Jace finally got a lead a few days later. There was a faerie who apparently had close connections to the water nymph. Tracking him down was a hassle in and of itself but Jace finally found himself standing in the woods in some isolated park, weaponless as requested, feeling as if he was walking into a trap and finding it a little hard to care. He needed to find Alec. Even if he knew this was a trap, what else could he do but come and try?

Jace was jittery, looking around at every noise, waiting to have seelie weapons drawn against his throat but that didn't happen. When the faerie finally arrived, Jace looked up and simply found him standing there a few feet away. He was wearing armor with a blade across his side, looking ethereal and deadly all at once.

Jace, with his plain clothes and empty hands, felt entirely underdressed and under prepared but Jace supposed that was the point.

“Shadowhunter,” Meliorn cooed. “I hear you’re asking around about the water nymph.”

Jace took a deep breath in. “Yes, my parabatai-”

“Alexander,” Meliorn cut him off. “I’m aware of what happened with your parabatai.”

Jace didn’t ask how he knew. Word got around, he supposed but if Meliorn knew about Alec it had to mean he knew someone who had contact with him. Word had gotten from the water out somehow and Jace needed to know how.

“I need to know if he’s okay.” Meliorn’s eyes flickered up and then down Jace, frowning. “I heard you’d like to know a bit more than that. I heard you want to know how to do it.”

“It?” Jace murmured, knowing what Meliorn meant but asking anyway.

“You’d like to join him.” Meliorn said evenly. “It’s rare for a shadowhunter to be willing to undergo such a transformation. Are you sure you’d like to do it?”

“No, I’m not.” Jace snapped, his eyes flickering away. “I just… I need to know if Alec is alright and after that-” “You’ll decide if you can live without him or if you’d rather be cursed, like he is?”

Jace’s gaze sharpened into a glare. “Alec isn’t cursed.”

“He might disagree,” Meliorn murmured. “He’s alive. He survived the transformation. Magnus has been caring for him. I hear he’s grown quite fond of him.”

Instantly, Jace’s eyes snapped up. “You’ve heard from him?”

“I’ve heard from Magnus. He also told me that you should move on. He said Alec is safe and he’s adjusting and that you should adjust as well.” Meliorn stared at him for another moment longer before he kept speaking, “He’s not part of your world anymore, Jace. Trying to contact him would only make it harder for you both.”

“Alec is my parabatai.” Jace snapped. “I can’t live without him. I don’t know how.”

“And yet, you have to.”

Jace tightened his jaw in his mouth. “You won’t help me?” He asked finally.

“I think I already have. If you’re asking if I’ll help you contact him again, the answer is no.”

“Great,” Jace snapped bitterly, already turning to leave. Jace made it nearly twenty feet before he heard Meliorn call out to him, making him stop in his tracks.

“If you really want to do it, find Ragnor Fell. He’s Magnus’ oldest friend and one of the only people above water that he keeps in contact with.”

Jace spun around instantly, scanning Meliorn’s face as if to see if he was lying but Faeries couldn’t lie, could they? “Thank you,” he said finally, breathless in his disbelief.

Meliorn pressed his lips. “Don’t thank me. He probably won’t even talk to you.” Meliorn turned away before Jace could say another word.

Jace watched him leave, struggling to comprehend the fact that he had an actual clue. Alec was okay, Jace thought, repeating it to himself until the words sunk in. Alec was okay. He hadn’t died. He was alive somewhere and for now, Jace’s life was not over and thanks to Meliorn, he even had a lead.

Ragnor Fell. Jace had heard of the warlock before. He couldn’t be that hard to track down. If Jace was lucky, his address would be in the Clave’s files and it would be as easy as that to find him.

Jace, as it turns out, was not lucky. Ragnor Fell was in the Clave’s files, listed as one of the most powerful warlocks the Clave had ever worked with. His last known residency was a loft in London, one that had been long abandoned. He had no known address on file, only a small annotation that read ‘seen last in New York- 1997.’ There was a little blurb about him owning a club in New York but that wasn’t as helpful as knowing where the warlock lived.

Jace had to hold back a sigh as he read it and then searched through the system again, hoping maybe there was more information filed under something else that would help him. There wasn’t.

Jace finally spun away from the monitor, jumping as he came face to face Isabelle, who had clearly seen what he’d been searching for. “Ragnor Fell?” She demanded. “What the hell do you want with such a powerful warlock?”

Jace froze for a moment, not even able to come up with an excuse. “It’s nothing,” he said before he was pushing past her.

“Nothing?” She echoed, darting after him. “Jace, I know you’re looking for Alec,” She snapped when Jace refused to slow down.

“No, I’m not,” Jace said simply.

Isabelle reached out and grabbed his arm, forcing him to a halt. “Yes, you are. You’ve been asking everyone how to get a hold of Magnus. You didn’t think I'd hear?”

Jace turned to her, frowning. “So, what if I am?” He said at last.

“So what?” She snapped, appalled. “Jace we were told not to contact him. It was part of the deal. They don't like shadowhunters. You could be putting him in danger.”

It had been part of the deal. Magnus had told them that if he took Alec, he didn’t want any other shadowhunters bothering him again but how could Jace just move on? “I don’t think I am putting him in danger,” Jace said finally.

“What do you mean?” Isabelle asked cautiously.

“Magnus has been taking care of Alec. He likes him. He’s grown fond of him. Magnus isn’t going to hurt Alec.” Jace turned away from her, heading down the hallway towards the supply room.

After a second, Isabelle darted after him. “Ragnor?” She questioned simply.

“He’s Magnus’ oldest friend. He’s the only one Magnus keeps in contact with up here,” Jace explained as he walked into the room, darting over instantly to the weapon’s rack, where he snatched up a blade and started to head towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Isabelle asked behind him.

Jace paused for a moment, turning back to look at her. “Ragnor used to own this club downtown. He hasn’t been seen there in years but someone might know where he is.”

Isabelle hesitated for a second before she grabbed her own weapon off the shelf. “Fine, I’m coming with you,” She said, heading past him and starting to go out the door without another word.

“Are you sure?” Jace asked, as he followed her outside. “It’s not only going against what Magnus said,” Jace reminded her. “It’s going against Clave orders.”

“I’m sure, Jace,” she said and Jace could do nothing but nod in response. Secretly, he was a little relieved to not be going alone. He was so used to doing everything with Alec. Having to do everything alone was one of the hardest parts of him being gone.

He was used to being two parts of a whole and now, it was just him, trying to find his other half again.

The pandemonium was as full as Jace imagined it always was on a Friday night, being that it was the most popular downworlder club in New York. Jace made his way through the people towards the bar after splitting up with Izzy, both of them agreeing to do what they do best - flirt and try to find information. Though, normally on a mission like this, Alec would be there watching from somewhere, waiting to jump in if they encountered trouble.

It made his absence all the more obvious, not as if Jace had been able to think of anything else since Alec had been gone. Jace settled at the bar, ordered a drink to look casual and then started smiling at people, flirting, dropping Ragnor’s name when he thought he could without raising any red flags but if anyone did know how to contact Ragnor, no one was very forthcoming.

On the outside, Jace knew he looked at ease. He knew it looked like his attention was on everyone around him but in reality, Jace’s mind was only on one person and he was reliving one thing in his head, no matter how much he tried to push it away and focus on the task at hand.

He was thinking about Alec. He was thinking about what had happened to him. He was thinking about what Meliorn had said about his parabatai being cursed and he was thinking about that awful day that they’d lost him, the last day Jace had seen him.

It had been a simple mission, a deceptively simple mission. They’d been trying to chase down a couple of Shax Demons that had popped up on their sensors. It had been a little odd how the demons had clustered in the same area and showed up at the exact same time but they didn’t really question it before they set out to find them. Either way, they needed to kill the demons.

They’d found themselves in a graveyard, a small one Jace had never been to before despite living in this city for most of his life. One of the demons had popped out. Alec had taken it down with one arrow and that was supposed to be how the rest of the mission went. Simple. Easy. Kill them and get out but when they finally made their way towards the back of the cemetery, they’d seen something they were entirely unprepared for.

They’d seen a rift and without a warlock present, they had no way to close it. They could only fight the demons that kept spilling out. Izzy called the Institute. Alec and Jace kept fighting, trying to hold them back until enforcements got there and hopefully, a warlock as well but then, the unthinkable had happened.

A demon had dived at Alec and Alec, with his attention on a demon that was going towards Jace, hadn’t noticed. The demon had tackled him and before Jace could even blink, Alec had disappeared with the demon into the rift.

A warlock finally came. They closed the rift. Jace raced back to the Institute, clutching his parabatai rune. He could tell Alec was alive still but he was so hurt and they had no clue where he was. The Institute finally got the call that Alec had popped out of a rift that had opened on the sea coast. Alec, already injured from the demon attack, had fallen nearly twenty feet before he’d hit the sand.

Jace wasn’t quite sure what happened after that. He wasn’t there and he couldn’t convince a warlock to open a portal for him on such short notice. Magnus Bane had been there, somehow. He’d come to check out the rift so close to his ocean and he’d seen Alec, a crumpled bloodied mess on the ground.

All of Alec’s bones had been broken. Even with all the help the Institute could get him, Alec would not survive and then, something Jace still didn’t understand happened. Magnus offered to take Alec. He offered to change him and either Alec would die during the transformation or he would become one of them, stronger with Magnus’ magic, healthier, more vicious, never to leave the ocean again, never to again be human or nephilim, never to speak to Jace or any of them again.

It was part of the rules when things like that happened. If a nephilim became a vampire, they were not to talk to them again. If a nephilim became one of them, well the same rules applied along with the fact that the water nymph did not like them, would not tolerate communication between them and lived in the ocean, so far disconnected from modern forms of communication like the cell phone.

Magnus had offered to turn Alec only if he would not have to deal with any other shadowhunters again. He made it clear Alec would not be worth his effort, if he was going to be cursed having to deal with nephilim for the rest of his life. If any of them contacted him about Alec again, Magnus would simply kill him and move on.

But how was Jace supposed to do that? How could he possibly move on and leave Alec behind, especially now that he knew Alec was alive? Besides, Jace was kind of banking on what Meliorn had said. Magnus was fond of Alec. He was protecting him and keeping him safe. Surely, he wouldn’t kill him just because Jace tried to contact him, right?

Jace was jolted out of his thoughts when someone stepped in front of him. It was a warlock, Jace recognized instantly. The warlock had horns and skin that could have been off colored but Jace couldn’t tell in the flashing colored lights of the club. Finally, the lights flashed white for a moment and Jace could see the emerald green skin.

“I hear you’re walking around my club bothering all my patrons to try and find me,” Ragnor posed, looking exceptionally unimpressed. “Find your sister and follow me. I’ll give you five minutes if it will make you never contact me again.”

Before Jace could say anything, Ragnor turned and was heading towards a room in the back of the club.

“What do you want?” Ragnor snapped, sounding as if he was already reaching his limit with the situation at hand.

Jace started speaking instantly. He wasn't going to push his luck with pleasantries.“I need to contact Magnus Bane. I hear you know how.” Ragnor eyed him, not looking any more impressed with Jace’s explanation. After a second Jace kept speaking, “My parabatai, he-”

“I know who your parabatai is.” Ragnor said before sighing, turning away from them both to head towards a drink cart Jace saw in the corner.

“I need to talk to him,” Jace insisted.

Ragnor peered at him, pouring a drink without looking at it. “Magnus told all of you not to contact him.”

“I know but-”

“What do you want Magnus to do anyway?” Ragnor continued. “You know your parabatai survived. What, do you just want to meet up and have a chit chat about life? There’s no reason for you to have to contact Magnus. Your parabatai is in a different world now. You knew that when you agreed to have him changed. Trying to contact him isn’t going to do anything but make it harder for you both.”

At that, Jace hesitated and after a moment, Ragnor’s eyes widened just a fraction. “Magnus isn’t going to change you too.” He snapped, sounding shocked Jace would even consider it.

Next to him, Isabelle finally seemed to find her voice. “He doesn’t want to be changed,” she said confidently before turning to Jace and seeing just how unconfident he looked.

“Why wouldn’t he?” Jace asked quietly, ignoring what Isabelle said all together. “He was willing to do it for Alec.”

“Jace-” Isabelle snapped, looking horrified. Jace ignored her and kept his eyes fixed on Ragnor.

“Yes well, Magnus has a soft heart for shadowhunters who are bleeding out on his beach. You are decidedly not bleeding out and you don’t know what you’re asking for anyway. It’s a painful transformation, one you probably wouldn’t survive, one your parabatai almost didn’t.” Ragnor stared at him for another moment before he sighed, placing his drink down. “It must be… hard losing him-” Ragnor said, sounding as if he was trying to find a single sympathetic bone in his body and struggling. “But Magnus isn’t just going to change you because you’d like it. That’s exactly why he hesitated in doing it to Alec- he didn’t want all of you bothering him.”

“I’d just like to talk to Magnus once.” Jace murmured softly. “If he tells me no, I’ll move on,” Jace said, only half meaning it. There was no moving on from Alec but if Magnus did say no, what other choice would he have?

“I’ll ask him and I’ll let you know.” Ragnor said at last, “But I wouldn’t expect an answer other than no.” Ragnor waved his hands towards them both. “Get out of my club before I change my mind and don’t ask at all.”

Jace hesitated for a brief moment before Isabelle reached out and grabbed his hand, starting to gently pull him towards the door. It was only outside in the cold crisp air that Isabelle spoke again. “You can’t really want to join him, Jace?” She asked softly.

For a moment, Jace kept walking, ignoring her. At last, he snapped, “Of course, I do. He’s my parabatai, Izzy. ‘For whither thou goest, I shall go’ and he had just-” Jace broke off with a shaky breath.

“He had just told you that he was in love with you,” Isabelle finished softly. “He told me.”

Jace stopped in his tracks, his hands clenched into fists at his side. “I didn’t react right. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t tell him that I loved him too and now, he’s gone.”

Isabelle sighed softly. “That’s a big choice, Jace. You’d be leaving everything you’ve ever known behind.”

“Except Alec.”

They stared at each other for a moment before they both started walking again, in silence.

Ragnor’s answer came the next day in the form of a short fire message. “He said yes. He’ll meet you at the dock near the Los Angeles Institute at midnight tonight. If you’re late, he will not see you again.”

Isabelle said she’d come with him, though Jace tried to convince her otherwise. Magnus was centuries old. He had a greater demon’s blood and he was one of the most powerful beings the Clave had on record. If Magnus did not like them, this could go bad very easily but Isabelle insisted she’d come. This was about Alec. Of course, she’d come. Besides, she told Jace if he ended up not coming back, she wanted to be there to say goodbye.

How could Jace argue with that?

The meeting spot Bane had requested was isolated enough to make it a hassle to get to without a portal but at last, they managed to find the right spot. It was an isolated dock that Jace wouldn’t quite describe as close to the Los Angeles Institute. It was more vaguely near, if you considered a couple miles of nothing as near.

Regardless, they made it there only a little late. Ragnor’s words about not being late rang through Jace’s head but Magnus wouldn’t really leave because they were a few minutes late, would he? They walked out onto the dock and both of them, even with their most important runes lit, almost missed the fact that there was a man standing on the dock, looking out at the ocean, as still as if he’d been a statue.

They both froze a couple of yards away. Isabelle’s hand snapped to her whip. Jace reached for his blade but didn’t pull it out yet. For a moment, it almost seemed as if the man hadn’t heard them and them, he turned and peered across them both only looking mildly interested.

Jace knew at once that this was Magnus Bane. It could be no one else. His cat eyes cut through the darkness sending a chill down Jace’s spine. The man was nearly naked and not seeming to find that fact disturbing one bit. For a moment, Jace was thankful he could only just make out the shape of Bane’s body. He couldn’t get distracted. Not now. This was about Alec.

“Bane,” Jace called, knowing it was him but needing some kind of confirmation. Bane was a water nymph and yet, he stood here, his body more human than not, his scales mostly gone, his fingers twisted, humanish in the light and his legs.

Jace had heard rumors that the sons of greater demons could do what the rest of the water nymph could not - they could shift and move to walk among the humans but Jace had always assumed it was rumor. Apparently, he’d been mistaken.

“Lightwoods,” Bane called over, sounding unimpressed with them already. “You’re late.”

“We had a hard time finding you-” Jace started but Magnus waved him off before he could keep going. Jace fell silent instantly and that seemed to make Magnus smirk in the darkness.

“Oh, you’re obedient. What a pleasant surprise.”

Jace stayed silent and he wasn’t even sure why. Magnus had told him to be quiet, more or less, and he wasn’t going to speak and mess up whatever chance he had at seeing Alec again. Jace told himself that was the only reason why but in the back of his head, he knew it was something else too.

Magnus was commanding. He held himself with such confidence that even Jace paled in comparison to. It was hard to not want to listen to him, that and the fact that he was unnerving, scary in the way that monsters who appeared human were.

Magnus’ eyes flickered to Isabelle at last. “You can go,” he stated simply.

Instantly, Isabelle started to protest. “I’m not leaving him here alone.”

Magnus’ eyes flickered to Jace and then back to Isabelle once more. “I wasn’t asking,” He said mildly. “You can see him again when we’re done talking. I’d like to speak to him in private.” Isabelle opened her mouth to protest again but Magnus raised a finger, silencing her. “Or, I can just leave,” He threatened.

“Go, Izzy,” Jace said without looking over.

They stood for a tense moment before Izzy finally turned and started walking off the dock, leaving Jace and Magnus completely alone. Jace was happy that Isabelle left without a fight. He knew she didn’t want to leave him. Truthfully, being alone with someone as powerful as Magnus made Jace nervous but it was better than Magnus leaving and Jace having no chance of seeing Alec ever again.

Magnus eyed Jace for a moment before he turned to face the ocean like he had been when they’d first walked up. “Come,” he murmured softly.

For a moment, Jace was surprised Magnus would turn his back on someone who stood there armed but that also meant Magnus knew he had nothing to worry about. Jace wouldn’t be able to hurt him and besides, Magnus had Alec. Jace wouldn’t hurt him, even if he could.

Jace eased his hand off his weapon and walked forward, until he stood a few feet away from Magnus, his body tense all over. Magnus was completely naked, Jace could see this close. He put his eyes pointedly forward, watching the waves crash out on the dark ocean.

“You’re human,” Jace said finally, unable to stop himself from saying it.

“No,” Magnus murmured. “I’m not. I just look it.”

“Could Alec-”

“No,” Magnus said simply before the hope could grow in Jace’s voice. “He couldn’t. The transformation is permanent. He isn’t like me.”

“Oh,” Jace whispered, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice. If Alec could look human again, that could change everything. Jace could come here and they could visit. Alec could talk to him. Alec could walk up on the beach and tell Jace all about what he’d been doing recently but that was just a fantasy. Alec was stuck, with literally an ocean keeping them apart.

“Why did you want to meet me, after I explicitly told you not to contact me?” Magnus spoke mildly but there was a twist in his words that reminded Jace he’d already disobeyed him by asking him to come here at all and yet, Magus had come to meet him.

“Meliorn told me you were fond of Alec. I was hoping you wouldn’t really hurt him.”

“That’s not a reason. That’s a justification.” Magnus turned to look at him and Jace found that his eyes were almost hypnotizing this close. “Why did you want to talk to me?”

Jace swallowed, his throat suddenly incredibly tight. He thought about telling him he wanted to ask how Alec was. He thought about telling him that he needed to know that Alec was okay. He thought about asking him to tell Alec that he loved him and that he was sorry he ever hesitated in saying it back.

That was all true but that wasn’t really what Jace was hoping to get out of this. “I want you to take me too.” Jace said, something pleading breaking out in his voice. “I want to be with Alec. I can’t live without him. I want to come too.”

The moment Jace said it, Magnus’ entire face softened. He stared at Jace and in the pale moonlight, he almost looked sorry for him. “Ragnor told me you wanted to do it but I didn’t believe him. Most shadowhunters would choose death over a life in the ocean.”

“I’d choose a life in the ocean over living without Alec,” Jace said and there wasn’t even a flicker of hesitation. He even surprised himself with how sure of it he was. He hadn’t wanted to admit it to Meliorn. He hadn’t wanted to admit it to Ragnor or Izzy but it was true. He wasn’t just thinking about it. He didn’t just want to make sure Alec was okay. He wanted to go with him more than anything. He needed to go with him.

For a beat, Magnus eyed him as if fully taking him in for the first time. Finally, he looked back up to Jace’s face and though nothing in his expression had changed, Jace got the impression he was pleased. “You’re lucky you’re cute and not as incredibly annoying as you seemed when you were asking about me to anyone who would listen.”

Jace didn’t know how he knew he’d been asking around about him, nor did he ask. He didn’t want to risk suddenly appearing annoying and having Magnus change his mind. “So, you’ll do it?” Jace asked, half in disbelief.

Magnus raised an eyebrow, “You do realize there’s a great chance you won’t survive. I’m surprised your parabatai did. I had to do a lot to keep him alive. The chances of both of you managing to survive is slim.”

Jace nodded. “I know.”

For a moment, Magnus kept eyeing him, as if he was waiting to see any hesitation, any glimmer that showed Jace did not want to do this. Instead, he saw nothing. Magnus turned back towards the ocean, letting out a soft sigh.

“Go say goodbye then,” Magnus said.

Jace turned and started walking down the dock towards Isabelle before Magnus changed his mind completely.

Jace had almost expected Isabelle to try to talk him out of it but she didn’t. They’d both come here knowing that if Jace was given the chance to join Alec, he would. He loved Alec more than anyone in the entire world and if Alec was somewhere, Jace had to go with him. The fact that Isabelle had ever been surprised he’d wanted that was shocking in and of itself.

Isabelle didn’t try to talk him out of it. She didn’t even comment. She just hugged him tight for a moment and then, she let him go. They both knew they wouldn’t see each other again. The ocean was vast and after Jace changed, if he even survived, they would speak entirely different languages. Jace was leaving her behind here but Alec had already left them and Jace had always been Alec’s anyway.

“I love you,” he murmured as he let go.

She nodded, looking as if she was trying hard to keep the water out of her eyes as she responded. “I love you too,” she murmured. “Take care of him.”

Jace nodded and after a moment, he turned away from her. Shadowhunters didn’t say goodbye and though Jace wouldn’t be a shadowhunter soon, he wasn’t about to break that trend. Saying goodbye would almost be like tempting fate to make him not survive this and he needed to survive this.

Alec would blame himself forever if Jace didn’t, so there was no other option. He needed to survive. He needed to join him. He couldn’t let Alec do this alone.

Jace walked down the dock until he met Magnus, where he stilled. Jace hoped Isabelle had started to walk away already. She didn’t need to see whatever would happen now. Jace didn’t even know what would happen now. Would Magnus do it here on the dock? Would he drag him to the bottom of the ocean?

Magnus turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “Are you ready?” He murmured.

When Jace nodded, he frowned, his eyes flicking up and then down Jace. “I do hope you survive,” Magnus said at last. “You’ll make a pretty one.”

Jace didn’t even have a chance to respond to that before Magnus grabbed him, his grip tight on Jace’s upper arm as he pushed him and then, the world disappeared in a blur of dark blue. Jace was suddenly freezing. For some reason, he hadn’t expected the water to be so cold.

Something moved in front of him and the dark figure made Jace flinch, his shadowhunter instincts yelling at him to find a weapon, to get out of the water where he’d be able to defend himself more easily but after a moment, Jace’s eyes focused on what the figure actually was and his heart started pounding in his chest.

It was Alec. He looked nothing like Jace remembered him but it was him. Jace would recognize him anywhere and he was suddenly ashamed that he’d ever questioned if he would or not. He was huge, which probably shouldn’t have surprised Jace as much as it did. Alec had always been big as a shadowhunter. He’d been bulky and tall and his form now was even more so.

His scales were dark blue and in the water, Jace could just barely see the way they shimmered in the pale moonlight- flickering in light blue, touches of green, turning his body from a dark almost black blue to a cascade of different hues. He had claws now too, long dark spikes that came off his webbed fingers into claws sharp enough that they looked like they’d stab right through Jace, if Alec wanted to do so.

He looked dangerous and terrifying and he looked like Alec. His eyes flashed across Jace and Jace could see that same concern in them that he saw when he got hurt and Alec was there, trying to save him. Jace saw something else moving and it took him a moment to realize it was Magnus. He’d changed now and he looked so entirely different from how he’d looked a moment before, on land.

He was so different from Alec. His scales were bright gold even in the dark, shimmering in hues of red as he moved. His eyes glowed bright in the water and he moved like a blur around Alec, leaving Jace to only see the flash of his tail before he’d moved out of sight again.

Alec darted forward suddenly, pressing his cold mouth against Jace’s. Jace was startled for a moment. Of course, he wanted Alec to kiss him but he was surprised that was his first reaction. Then, he felt Alec pushing air into his lungs and Jace realized what Alec was doing.

Jace was drowning. He was trying to stop Jace from drowning.

Alec grabbed Jace as he pulled away, being careful not to stab Jace with his claws as he did so. He moved like he was going to pull Jace to the surface but Magnus was suddenly there again, grabbing Alec to stop him and chattering in some language Jace did not understand. Whatever Magnus said came out in a series of chirps and noises. Jace wondered if Alec had understood him instinctively when he was turned or if he’d had to learn their language.

Jace had never been fantastic at languages. That had always been Alec’s thing.

Alec pulled away from Jace, looking angry. He seemed to argue with Magnus about something for a moment before Jace felt Magnus grab him and start pulling him down, leaving the pale light from above to start disappearing as they sank.

Alec froze for a moment and then, he darted after them, following them as they went to the bottom.

It was just about then that Jace realized his lungs had started to burn. He was drowning, he realized after a second and this time, Alec was not there to push air into his lungs. Jace didn’t know why he was surprised by that. He’d kind of expected that he’d just change before he had to feel this awful choking feeling but that apparently wasn’t the case because even when they stopped going down, neither Magnus or Alec did anything about the fact that Jace couldn’t breath.

Alec just hovered, looking exceptionally concerned as he made circles around Jace’s drowning body, looking like he wanted desperately to do something to help him but couldn’t.

Jace passed out at some point and when he woke up again, the only thing he could feel was pain. His whole body was lit in pain and that horrible feeling was still burning his lungs. He felt like he was so far past drowning. He felt like he should be dead by now but he wasn’t.

It was a few moments later that Jace started breathing, somehow. He could feel himself doing it in the water but he couldn’t even think about how because everything suddenly hurt so bad that Jace couldn't think of anything else. It felt like all his bones were breaking and it felt like his skin was being torn off but eventually, the pain subsided and when Jace opened his eyes an unknowable amount of time later, everything was different.

At first, Jace didn’t notice that he was different. He noticed that everything around him was different. The ocean, which before had looked like nothing but dark shapes, was lit in a way Jace had never seen before. The light wasn’t actually coming from anywhere but Jace could just see through the darkness now. He could see every particle floating through the water and every small creature fluttering by. He could see the rocks and the grains of sand at the bottom of the ocean. He could see to the water line far above and the warmth.

The water had been freezing when Magnus had pulled him in but now, it felt like a warm bath. It felt like it was the perfect temperature to live in forever and when Jace finally looked down at himself, he realized why. Suddenly, he remembered exactly what happened and he realized for a startling second that he was breathing in the water.

Which made sense, considering that when Jace looked down, he had a tail. It wasn’t as bright as Magnus’ or as dark as Alec’s but instead, it was somewhere in between. Jace’s scales almost looked like Magnus’ gold scales except they were muted, shimmering more in hues of silver and green instead of the bright red of Magnus’ own.

It was beautiful, he thought for a moment but he still didn’t quite feel like that could possibly be him but when he moved, his tail flicked softly and he knew that he was undoubtedly looking at himself.

The moment he moved, he saw a flash of movement next to him and before he even registered that someone was there, he was looking up at Alec. Alec’s eyes were wide and frantic, flicking over him as if he was expecting to see an injury that it didn’t seem like Jace had.

Alec’s mouth opened and he was speaking suddenly. Jace could hear two things happening at once, he could hear the individual sounds that Alec was making, the clicking noises that Jace had heard before, the sounds that had sounded like nothing meaningful at the time but now, Jace could understand him. He didn’t even know how but he could.

“Are you okay?” Alec asked and even though it sounded so different from english, Jace could hear that same alert tone in Alec’s voice that Jace was so used to.

Jace opened his mouth but english words couldn’t seem to find their way out. He fumbled for a moment before Magnus was there at the other side of Alec, speaking softly, “He’s fine. It’s going to take a while for him to be able to speak,” he said, seeming as if he was reminding Alec of that fact. “Remember you?” Magnus asked.

Alec nodded but his eyes didn’t move off Jace. Finally, Alec darted forward and Jace felt Alec’s arms wrap around him. Their tails curled together and Jace felt Alec huff what sounded like a laugh in Jace’s ear.

“I’d have killed you if you died trying to come to me,” Alec murmured to him.

If Jace knew how to speak, he’d have told Alec that he should have always expected Jace to follow him but he didn’t know how to say it, so he just held Alec closer, trying hard to be aware of the talons he now had and not dig them into Alec’s side. If he could have, he’d have told Alec that he loved him too but he couldn’t, so Jace could do nothing but let it wait.

After a few moments, Magnus said they should go home and then, Alec pulled away and Jace got to learn how to swim for the first time.

‘Home’ it turns out was a cave. It was a nice cave admittedly, but still a cave and still very different from anything Jace had ever considered a home before. There was coral growing all around the outside of the cave along with other plants that looked like they had been intentionally placed there. Long flowing strings of seaweed obscured the entrance but they really looked more decorative than truly placed there to hide the cave.

Inside, it was even more intentionally decorated. Jace looked around and found shells. He found pretty, intricate looking gems and stones. There were glass containers pressed into the crevasse of the rocks, containing some things Jace recognized - vampire fangs, feathers - and some he didn’t. There were some human things too.

There was a small row boat pressed into a corner, almost looking like a bed. There was a net hanging across part of the ceiling, swaying gently in the water like a hammock in the wind. Jace could see live fish caught in another smaller net, fluttering around as they attempted feebly to escape.

There were lights here too, lit with some force Jace didn't know of. There were glowing stones across the walls and they reminded Jace of witch lights, something that comforted him and reminded him of home all at once.

Alec didn’t let Jace look around for too long before he was pulling Jace and pushing him gently into the boat, telling him that he needed to rest. Jace sank into the boat without much protest. He wasn’t that good at swimming anyway, especially not if he didn’t have Alec by his side to help him.

Besides, Jace was exhausted. Jace relaxed into the boat and let himself close his eyes, well aware of the fact that Alec was hovering around him anxiously, keeping a close eye on him as if he expected Jace to disappear.

Even that anxious vibe that Alec gave off was comforting. Jace didn’t think he’d ever feel Alec stress him out again.

It was apparent to Jace rather instantly that before he’d arrived, Alec and Magnus’ relationship hadn’t been strictly platonic and now that Jace was there, neither of them seemed to know where they stood. Neither of them said this to Jace but Jace could just tell and suddenly, Meliorn’s words of Magnus being fond of Alec rang a little differently in Jace’s head.

Jace wanted to say something about it. He wanted to talk to Alec and tell him that he loved him but that if he’d moved on, Jace was happy just being with Alec again but his ability to express himself wasn’t quite on par with saying that.

He understood Alec and Magnus instinctively and some part of him knew how to answer them too but trying to actually get the sounds out of his mouth was a hard and difficult process. Apparently, Alec had taken to the language much more easily, which Jace wasn’t really surprised by.

Jace had always gotten praise because he was more flashy than Alec and he excelled at catching everyone’s attention but Alec was always innately more skilled than Jace was, he just kept it to himself. It was only ever people like Izzy and him that noticed but here, the difference was apparent.

Even so, Jace didn’t find himself annoyed by it. He’d thought he’d lost Alec for so long and if it was Alec’s time to outshine him, then Jace was fine fumbling as he tried to speak, as long as Alec would stay with him while he did.

Jace didn’t actually find the words to try to talk to Alec for a few weeks.

Jace was eased into things like he was a baby. Magnus caught his food for him. Magnus showed him how to eat it. Magnus corrected him when Jace swam wrong. Magnus snapped at him when he strayed too close to something dangerous or too far away from him and Alec at all.

Alec himself seemed more than comfortable hovering around Jace and swimming slow circles around him that Jace couldn’t do if he tried, while Magnus did the actual teaching. It occurred to Jace that Alec might not actually know what was dangerous and what wasn’t yet, that or he just referred to Magnus’ judgement anyway.

The three of them had fallen into some kind of hierarchy and Magnus was undoubtedly at the top. When they went out, they went where Magnus brought them. They listened when Magnus spoke. If they came across others (which had only happened once and apparently did not happen often), Magnus was the one that spoke for them.

Magnus was bigger than them and more powerful and far more knowledgeable and that was a comfortable thing to fall into. Jace could see that Alec liked having someone who took care of everything for them and handled all of the important stuff. On the surface, Alec had always had so much on his plate and it must be rather nice now having someone else who took that role. Jace didn’t really mind it either. He’d always been strong headed and even with Alec but here, it was nice that Magnus corralled them like they were children. The structure felt nice in a world that was so foreign, even if Jace really wanted to touch the spiky thing just to see what would happen.

If there was anymore of a hierarchy beyond Magnus being at the top, it was certainly Alec and then Jace. Magnus would ask Alec’s opinion sometimes. They would have discussions that Jace was never involved in and he had the feeling that even when he was able to talk, he wouldn’t be but he wasn’t offended.

He was at the bottom but that came with a freedom that Jace breathed in as easily as his new gills pulled air from the water. Magnus and Alec took care of everything. Jace was safe and he could dart after fish and try to catch them (a task that Magnus did very easily, Alec was good at and Jace hadn’t quite mastered yet) and be dragged back like a child when he got too close to the drop off only Magnus ever seemed to venture into.

He was at the bottom but that was a comfortable place to be. He was taken care of and for once in his life, Jace let himself accept that. He’d never really been taken care of before. He’d never really let himself be but he was learning fast that it was a nice feeling.

In the end, it wasn’t actually Jace who broached the topic of their relationship. Jace had been planning on waiting a little bit longer before he tried to talk to Alec about it but when Alec brought it up, Jace couldn’t exactly tell Alec to wait until he could say more complex things.

It was one of the times Magnus was gone that Alec finally said it. He’d gone out to look for something he was out of, leaving Jace and Alec home alone in the cave. Alec had been folding seaweed, making a little rug out of it that Jace had seen them use like a basket. Truthfully, Jace didn’t think they needed any more of them and the ones they had looked better than the one Alec was making but maybe, Alec just liked having something to do. Jace himself was perfectly content curling against Alec's side, watching him maneuver his claws and trying not to cut the seaweed as he did.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Alec said at last, not even looking up from his task. “Before,” he murmured softly. “It’s okay if you don’t love me but I meant it and I’m glad to have said it but I’m sorry if it upset you.”

It took Jace a second to even process Alec’s words and then, even after he did he wasn’t sure how to respond. He knew what he wanted to say but he didn’t know how in the world to go about saying it, so before he could possibly overthink it, say nothing and react even worse than he had last time, Jace started speaking. “You didn’t,” Jace snapped frantically.

Alec paused and looked over to him, a small frown coming across his dark, scale flaked face as he waited for Jace to continue.

“Upset me.” Jace said, only recalling how to say it because Alec just had. “You didn’t upset me,” Jace repeated, finally stringing his thought together into a full sentence. Jace frowned himself, fully expecting Alec to cut him off as he struggled to find the words but Alec didn’t, he just waited and Jace was thankful for it.

Jace looked up to meet Alec’s eyes again, “I love you too,” he murmured. “I just didn’t-” Jace shook his head, frustrated. “I was scared,” he started again, scraping his unfinished sentence completely. “But I love you,” Jace repeated, hoping if Alec heard anything in his mangled words that he’d hear that.

Alec’s eyes were wide and soft. He looked away, not exactly looking disappointed but more shocked, as if the world had shifted in a direction he hadn’t expected and he didn’t quite know how to process it. Jace understood the feeling.

“Magnus?” Jace posed simply.

Alec slowly looked up to him. “Do you like Magnus?” Alec posed simply in response.

Of course, Jace liked Magnus. Magnus took care of them. Magnus saved Alec. Magnus reunited them by taking Jace too and besides, Jace did like Magnus even personally. Jace liked watching Magnus. Jace liked doing stuff Magnus didn’t like him to do, just so Magnus would roll his eyes and stop him. Jace liked how easy on Alec Magnus was and he liked how Magnus always seemed to know what not to say to Alec, to avoid pressing all those insecure buttons that other people had always seemed to press so easily.

Similarly, Jace liked how soft on him Magnus was too. Jace was still testing that boundary with Magnus but so far, Magnus never seemed honestly annoyed with him. He was always lighthearted about it, even when what Jace was doing probably was annoying to a centuries old all-powerful being but Magnus never lashed out at him and he ever seemed to get aggravated with Jace, not really.

But even besides all that, Jace knew that wasn’t what Alec was asking. Alec knew Jace liked Magnus. It was obvious but he was asking if Jace liked Magnus and the truth was, Jace wasn’t sure.

Magnus was beautiful. He was charming and he was fun to be around. He certainly flirted with Jace enough to indicate that he was interested but… it was obvious that Alec and Magnus were drawn to each other. Certainly, Magnus couldn’t really be interested in him too? That’s just how Magnus was. He flirted where others would normally do anything else.

“Does Magnus like me?” Jace asked instead of answering.

For a second, a brief almost amused smile flickered across Alec's face and then, someone else was speaking from behind them.

“Smooth way to avoid the question,” Magnus called over. “I haven’t peaked your interest yet?” He asked, half flirtatious and half joking. He raised an eyebrow and at once, Jace wanted to point and exclaim that that was why he didn’t believe Magnus was ever actually interested in him.

Magnus flirted with Alec too sure but Magnus also leaned close to Alec. He’d touch him softly and murmur to him. With Jace, Magnus only ever did this - he’d flirt, always half joking, never completely giving Jace any reason to think he meant it.

“You’re joking,” Jace snapped, his tone flat.

Instantly, the smirk on Magnus’ face disappeared.

“You never flirt with me like you do Alec.” Jace continued. “You’re always kidding.”

For a moment, neither Alec nor Magnus responded and then, Magnus opened his mouth, looking confused. “I’m not kidding,” he said softly. “Have you thought I’ve been kidding?”

Jace had the urge to deny it suddenly and avoid the embarrassment but after a second of hesitation, he nodded.

Magnus looked astonished. “I wasn’t kidding,” he insisted. “I just-” Magnus gestured over to Alec. “I knew Alec was interested, Jace. We talked about it before you came.” Magnus paused for a moment, frowning. “I didn’t know if you were or not and with you here, I wasn’t exactly sure if I was being cut out.” Jace stared, his mind struggling to process exactly what Magnus was trying to say. “So, you weren’t kidding?” Jace asked at last.

Magnus' expression flickered in an amused smile but there was something a little… self conscious beneath that. “I wasn’t kidding,” he confirmed.

“Oh,” Jace said, struggling to come up with a response.

“Disappointed?” Magnus asked, his lips quirking like it was a joke even though he didn’t seem to find it amusing.

“No,” Jace said hastily. “Surprised,” he insisted instead. They both stared at each other and after a pathetically long moment, it occurred to Jace that Magnus was scared Jace didn’t like him. He thought that somehow, Jace didn’t like him. “I’m not kidding either,” Jace said, which didn’t really make sense because up until now, Jace hadn’t really said anything at all, let alone something that Magnus might mistake as a joke but Magnus seemed to understand what he was saying anyway.

Magnus nodded slowly, “And… you two?” He asked, glancing between them.

Jace looked to Alec. “Not kidding?” He asked after a moment.

Alec huffed a soft, chipped laugh. “Not kidding,” he assured.

For the moment, it seemed it was as simple as that and there really wasn’t anything else to say until Magnus finally spoke again. “Well, let’s go,” Magnus said, turning towards the entrance of the cave that he’d come from a few moments before. “You’re finally going to catch a fish,” Magnus called over his shoulder.

Jace groaned softly before following, as Alec laughed an adorable, distinctly inhuman sound behind him.

Jace’s new life was easier to fall into than he’d expected it would be. He thought it would be a struggle all the way through and while some things were, even the struggles came easier than Jace had expected. Jace struggled to speak but neither Magnus nor Alec rushed him to get better at it any quicker than he did, so it didn’t seem like it was that big of a problem. Jace sucked at catching fish and he wasn’t stellar at swimming but Magnus caught them food and besides laughing at Jace’s attempts to be as elegant as Magnus was in the water, they didn’t rush him on that either.

Similarly, Magnus and Alec were easier to fall into than Jace had expected. With assurance that Jace was in fact interested, Magnus was more blunt with his flirting. He’d lean into Jace like he did Alec. He’d brush Jace’s golden wispy hair back and he’d press kisses onto Jace’s cheek, being careful to keep his sharp teeth and claws safely tucked away (something Jace learned that he was not fantastic at, when their relationship started to involve a bit more interactive things).

Alec was a bit more hesitant with him and it didn’t help that Jace felt equally as unsure with Alec. It was easy to fall into that relationship with Magnus when the man himself was the one initiating it but neither Alec nor Jace seemed quite sure how to go about it with each other. For a long time, they’d been friends and then, they’d been parabatai and now, they didn’t quite seem to know how to be something else, even if they both wanted to be.

In the end, they realized they were both vastly overthinking it. Nothing about the way they interacted had to change. Jace didn’t have to push aside his playful nature to try and flirt and Alec didn’t have to push aside his predisposition to be annoyed at what Jace did, so they could try to be more romantic.

Their same banter was fine and at night, if Jace wanted to tuck his tail around Alec’s and bury his face in the man’s neck, he could and that would be fine. If Alec wanted to wake him up by kissing him, he could and overthinking the way they interacted otherwise helped no one.

It was Magnus who so very helpfully pointed this out, after awkwardly watching both of them try to fumble around their new relationship for a few days. They both realized very quickly that Magnus was right, as he often was.

Looking back on it, joining Alec hadn’t exactly been a choice. He hadn’t really thought about the consequences or what life would be like underwater. The only thing he’d thought about was Alec and that he needed to follow him, regardless of where he went. There hadn’t been another choice but overall, Jace found that he couldn’t regret what he’d done at all.

Shadowhunters thought of those underwater as cursed, vicious creatures. The latter, Jace could understand given that he thought Magnus could kill someone in a second but the former? No, Jace didn’t think they were cursed. The real curse would be a life trapped away from Alec. The real curse would be knowing that Alec was here with Magnus and being stuck above.

Jace was not cursed. Alec was not cursed. Their lives were just different now and besides, if it meant that Jace could spend eternity with Alec and Magnus, how could it be anything less than a blessing? How could anyone pity them?

Besides, Jace also learned fairly quickly that his new anatomy was quite a bit more fun than what he’d had as a shadowhunter. Magnus said that their bodies were more sensitive than human bodies and that was a fact that Jace was more than a little excited to explore himself.

If Jace had been cursed with anything, it was an astounding appreciation for everything his new body had to offer. Things were different but overall, Jace really couldn’t complain, even if he never quite seemed to get the hang of the spinning maneuver that Magnus and Alec could do in the water.

Jace really, really wanted to be able to do it but he had a long time to practice and Magnus had a long time to be able to laugh at him as he tried to do it. Jace really thought that things could have ended up far worse for him than a life like this, with two boyfriends who he was not worried would get sick of him and a home full of water where he was safe from scary predators when his far more capable boyfriends were away.

Jace didn’t think that a life cursed to remain in the ocean was that bad.

[ithilloktewrites]

Unposted Fanfiction Masterlist

This is the Masterlist of my fanfic that is not posted, but I intend to write and post them all. I hope you enjoy what I have for fic ideas. I write many pairings, and am not afraid of rarepairs. I hope to inspire others to write for all the different eras of time that could be written for, as the well, jewel, and god tree can all be used to move Kagome or others into other worlds, at different eras of those worlds. I will update this list with any new ideas. 

Feel free to ask about anything that might catch your eye, or make you a bit curious as to what exactly I’m thinking of with each fic, I’ll be happy to talk about it!

A Twisted Feudal Fairytale - Neji/Kagome

Eventual smut, Rated Explicit

When Naraku tries to send Kagome to another world, he never expected to get caught using the spell in their camp by a bunch of shinobi ready to pummel him into next week to defend her. Who knew that having time and space warped around you would allow you to world hop alongside time hopping?

Accidental Transportation - Kagome/?

Eventual smut, Rated Explicit

The second Hokage had made preparations for the event of the Uchiha’s rebellion after his brother had passed on. The walls he’d had built around the Uchiha compound contained a special seal that had been discovered to be efficient at transportation. All he did was set it to another world, one he’d visited accidentally with his brother when experimenting with a new jutsu. He’d set it to have two triggers. Poor Kagome is one of them.

Akatsuki: Blast To Another World’s Past - Akatsuki/Kagome Harem

Eventual mass amounts of smut. Rated Explicit

Apparently mixing two space-time jutsu had a very high chance of being tossed into another world. But he did not expect the link of the rings all the members wore to transport them with him. He’d seen that the pain and suffering of this world had turned to tranquility and peace. The question was, was it worth staying?

Aspect Of Four Souls: Sakimitama - Itachi/Kagome/Kisame

Eventual Smut. Rated Explicit

Midoriko knew Kagome would need a balance for her large soul, or she’d never be able to destroy the abomination she’d made. So she summons two people that would balance her more than the one the Kami had tried to match her to. He was insufficient, and uninterested in her. These two, they would be best for her. They would make sure her Sakimitama was present and in place so she could destroy the Jewel, just as she would heal them as well.

Changing History - Young!Jiraiya/Kagome

The well reopens as Kagome knew it would. But when she materializes in the bottom and climbs out, she finds herself not even in her own world anymore. She finds the well sitting in the middle of a road, and a man with white har, red streaks falling from his eyes that towers over her. When she looks back at the well behind her, she finds nothing. It vanished into thin air. The man is eyeing her suspiciously.  Where is she, and what's going on now?!

Connected Reflections - Kagome/?

Eventual smut. Rated Explicit

Naraku has gone completely silent. No one has seen hide nor hair of him for months. Then the barrier hiding his layer falls. Inside they find a huge bronze mirror. It’s big enough to walk through. Kagome accidentally activates it.

Dreams Of A New Reality - Itachi/Kagome Shisui/Sasuke

Eventual loads of smut Definitely Rated Explicit

The Shikon’s efforts to torture and break Kagome fail. She pulled two men out of the dreams she was having. Now she’s pulled a third. They speak at length on this issue, and easily decide to help her with her task in exchange for finding a way back. In the end, the Jewel tries to force them back, but the bond the well created around them is too strong. Many things have changed in their world with the addition of Kagome, and she didn;t know how many cans of worms she was opening by trying to save them. Including the population of Uchiha that would be living in Konoha. It seems as though a solution has been found for that though.

Dreamwalkers - Itachi/Kagome/Shisui

Eventual Smut. Rated Explicit

With dreams of three boys and the fate of the clan they come from clear to her eye at night, Kagome is given a choice. Forsake her world, and save them, or live in a world where she doesn’t really belong anymore

Fugaku had been having dreams of a girl for the past three years. His position weighs heavily on him. He wishes that girl was real, and here to help him resolve the issues between the village and his clan. He didn’t want to stage a coup. But his clan has demanded such of him. He would give that girl anything to stop the extermination of his clan that he sees on the horizon.

Existing Within Each Other - Kakashi/Kagome

Eventual smut. Rated Explicit

Travelling can be a very dull thing to do, especially by foot. Kagome came back one day, reading a series called Naruto. It wasn’t long before she not only had all the books in the series, but all her friends reading it too.

Kakashi had been enthralled by this book that was rated for teenagers. His students started it. He’d even seen Jiraiya reading it! But his curiosity was piqued. This series ‘Inu Yasha’ was good. Only when he finished it, the main heroine, Kagome, materialized on his bed. What fresh Jutsu was this?!

Fighting Hatred - Obito/Kagome

Emotional Angst. Rated Mature

“It’s okay if you like someone else, Obito! I’m used to being left behind!” The painful, watery smile she gave him tore his heart out. Before he could respond, she looked at the ground as the tears streamed down her face. A sob escaped her. He blinked and the stool beside him was empty. The ends of black hair turning the corner like a cat was all he could see of her before she was gone. His chest ached, and suddenly, all he could think of was her. How had he been so blind?

From The Garden Of The Gods: Founders Of The Leaf - Kagome/?

*Please note that I have asked for permission from the original author of ‘From The Garden Of The Gods’ on ff.net, She has abandoned the Suna fic she was writing, and it was plainly stated in her fics as well.

Eventual Smut. Rated Explicit.

Kagome has been dropped into a world she doesn’t recognize, and it’s not long before she realizes that no one understands her. Coming across a village being built, and made of many different shinobi clans, Kagome doesn’t think she could make it on her own in the village.

 Instead she tries to not bring attention to herself, well aware that they would most likely try to kill her or use her horribly. She decides to stay close to the village, but not become a part of it. Her anonymity is scattered to the wind when enemy shinobi attack her small home, hoping to weaken the in-progress village. She’s cornered by three very powerful shinobi, and only her barrier separates her from them.

My Daughter From Beyond The Well - Shisui/Kagome

Rating Unknown. Depends on it I decide for it to be fluffy or not

Marriage within the Uchiha clan meant loyalty to your partner, and while he was never disloyal, it did not mean that he did not have a lover before his marriage was arranged. His wife did as well. What made his so different was the well he had to use to get there. Now, nine years after he was forced to leave her, a small girl arrives in the well. She looks like a carbon copy of him, except for her hair and eyes. They are her mothers. His ex-lover. In her hands, a letter covered with tears, and the strong scent of medicine. Itachi is curious, as he should be. She was another sibling for him to care for. But Shisui, he was enthralled. He had no idea what she was scared of, but he desperately wanted to eliminate it for her. Sasuke wonders why she’s so sad all the time.

Growing Intertwined - Yamato/Kagome

Eventual Smut. Rated Explicit.

The Final Battle did not go as planned. No one expected the Jewel to throw Kagome into another world. Scared and surrounded by people holding weapons in her direction, Kagome throws a barrier up unconsciously. It’s not long before someone realizes that she’s not going to hurt them, but she was too busy crying, calling for Inu Yasha. The gentle, careful knock on her barrier has her looking up into calm, gentle black almond-shaped eyes. He was crouched in front of her, a sign that he didn’t want to hurt her.

“Nice barrier you got there.”

Hatake’s Saving Grace - Kakashi/Kagome

Rating undetermined. Not sure if just fluff is going into this fic.

Sakumo couldn’t thank her enough. Not when she’d saved his life, and given him grandchildren. Beautiful, blue-eyed grandchildren. And her food saved so many lives.

Hokage In The Well - Kagome/?

Rating Undecided. Not sure if this one will have a pairing. BroTP yes, but as far as shipping goes… no idea who to pair her with for this one.

Kagome had no idea what to think when five men appeared in the well, three of which were arguing with each other. The other two watched from the sidelines. She had no clue what a Hokage was, nor why one of them was not one while all the others were. What fresh hell is this?

Kagome Saves Tobirama - Tobirama/Kagome

Eventual Smut. Rated Explicit.

Falling asleep in your dorm room with all the nekomata napping in your sweater resulted in waking up in a different world surrounded by shinobi who were being hunted by other shinobi, and you were the only chance at escape. Who knew?

Last Ditch Effort - Hashirama/Kagome

Eventual Smut. Rated Explicit.

While rooting out and eliminating traitors who wanted the war to continue raging, Hashirama feels a pull. Following it, he finds a girl in the bottom of a well in an abandoned village. She was fighting for her life, and losing. The stinger in her leg would make sure of it. He didn’t know how much the village he’d dreamed of building needed her until he decided to save her.

Like Her Namesake - Neji/Kagome

Eventual Smut. Rated Explicit.

Irony could describe how he’d found her, and how her name had been marked on the underside of his upper arm forever, just as the bird chained to his can seal had been marked on hers. 

“Kagome, Kagome.

The Bird in the cage.

When will you come out?

In the light of the dawn?

The crane and the turtle slipped.

Who will betray you now?”

Little Kagome - Obito/Kagome

Rating Undecided.

After being found abandoned as a baby, Kagome clings to Obito, and he brings her home when the orphanage turns her away. When Fugaku gives them permission to keep her, especially seeing the bond she has with Obito, he feels his priorities shifting to her. Luckily, she is a full trained priestess with lots of experience protecting herself.

Loving the Hate Away - Minato/Kagome

Eventual Smut. Rated Explicit.

When offers of training from each member of the Inu Taichi are rescinded shortly after being made, Kagome wonders if there is something wrong with her. But the really kind man from her dreams gives her a small pointer that uncovers the truth about the person she thought she loved, trusted with her life. When she sees the man in her dreams for the last time, she gives him the ability to summon her as thanks.

Making My Way To You - Kakashi/Kagome

Eventual Smut. Rated Explicit.

Soulmate’s AU inspired by Kakshisninken’s Scribbles series, written with permission to borrow some themes.

Kagome never expected to have a Soulmate, much less one in a different world that paired everyone off automatically. And what’s Chakra?

Marriage Of Protection - Kakashi/Kagome

Smut. Rated Explicit

An illegal, unsanctioned summoning has the Hokage in deep water. He is finally forced to go after Danzo, the problems he’s caused greatly outweigh the benefits to him being the Shadow Kage. The girl he’s summoned now remains a giant target for the rest of the world, and that’s not fair to her. Thus he needs to marry her to someone strong enough to protect her from Danzo and the rest of the world. He cannot select anyone who would be forced to concede to clan politics, which made his selection pool very small. Luckily there is one man, last of his clan. He will do nicely.

Match Made In Hokage - Kakashi/Kagome

Eventual Smut. Rated Explicit.

When Tsunade informs Kakashi that he is to become the next Hokage until Naruto can take over, Kakashi is stunned. However neither Kagome or Kakashi knew why they or the council had to be present for such a decision.

“However, there is a weakness that must be eradicated. Hatake is both the last of his clan, and not married. This could be taken advantage of. We have selected the best candidate to fill this position. We require Hatake and Higurashi to wed, increasing political ties, and to produce heirs to continue the Hatake line. They will be wed before the mantle of Hokage will be passed. The Higurashi Matron has been contacted and has given both permission and support to this motion. Higurashi has expressed a lack of interest in any partner in the time she has been part of Konoha, and Hatake has expressed interest in her. Thus the motion will carry.”

Kagome stood frozen in both shock and anger at the council and Tsunade’s audacity. Kakashi was in deep shit.

Midoriko’s Gift - Shisui/Kagome

Eventual Smut. Rated Explicit.

Shisui wasn’t given the chance to use the erasing jutsu. No, he was taken just after he fell. Waking up in a cave with a pretty girl asking if he was okay wasn’t a bad thing either. But how would he know? Both his eyes were pulled out, and he was blind.

Mission Unexpected - Kagome/?

Rated teen. No smut in this fic, no one to pair her with that isn’t Inu Yasha.

 Minato had gone after his students after they’d been forced into and cornered in an abandoned well. He’d tried to get them out quickly, but hadn’t noticed the activated scroll tossed in on top of them until the ground fell out beneath them, and everything became a large, starry void. Surly this was a genjutsu. Why couldn’t they break it then? Amd who is this girl who jumped in on top of them and disappeared?

No Where To Go - Itachi/Kagome

Eventual Smut/ Rated Explicit.

Naraku tried to escape the Final Battle. He had defeated the Slayer and Monk, targeting them specifically. The jewel had told him they were her ancestors. Yet, he had still been forced to run. She had followed of course, nothing but death awaited her in that world anyways. She didn’t expect to out a corrupt politician when she’d only tried to protect him from Naraku, nor did she expect how high up he was. She also healed a boy accidentally, and found herself the focus of an entire village of Shinobi. The political position she found herself in for completing her task made her wish she had faded from existence in her world. But there is no way back now. 

Perfect - Yamato/Kagome

Eventual Smut. Rated Explicit

Inu Yasha’s uncharacteristic behavior has Kagome worried. But he makes her take a vacation. He didn’t know the well had made a second direction, a world slip. After explaining everything to the ‘Hokage’ Kagome makes a deal with him. He sends two ANBU members to assist her in her task, hoping she’ll fall for one of them, and they for her. It would give her reason to stay in Konoha, and the village would be that much more powerful. Yamato and Kakashi never expected the roller coaster that all of them would be forced to ride.

Pop-Up Prophecy - Itachi/Kagome

Eventual Smut. Rated Explicit.

Kagome is dropped right behind two people. An old man with spiky white hair in a low ponytail, who dwarfed the smaller black-haired smooth  ponytail wearer.

“Ah there she is. Take care of her, Itachi. She is the key of salvation for your clan.”

“Of course Jiraiya-sama.”

Preventing Chaos - Izuna/Kagome

Eventual Smut. Rated Explicit.

Izuna is stolen from Madara right before he was supposed to die. He woke up to a girl healin him in a place where he recognized nothing. There was a box talking to him, and are those dog-ears on that boy’s head?

Putting On A Show- Uchiha Style - Itachi/Kagome

Smut very early on, Arranged Marriage. Rated Explicit.

The whole Uchiha clan was moved after the ninetails attack not because they were not trusted, but because of a prophecy a man bearing blue eyes and other-worldly knowledge had given them after proving his abilities, and passing on. Of course any soothsayer would know when their progeny would follow them. The only difference is that now Fugaku had been notified of her arrival, and the Uchiha’s involvement in it. The Hokage asked them for a show, and now that Fugaku understood, he would get the show of his life in the only way his clan knew how to give one. Uchiha-style.

Recall: Shikon’s Return - Akatsuki/Kagome Harem

Smut from the very beginning. Rated Explicit.

She’d finally destroyed the jewel. She was spat into a world not her own. When she is come across by Tobi and Zetsu, they note her precarious position in this world and take advantage of it. She’s to become the Akatsuki’s healer for the main groups of shinobi partners, with benefits. (Nod to AwolAngel’s ‘Maid with Benefits’) Inadvertently, they all end up smitten or very fond of her, and she of them. So it’s a no-brainer when Kagome feels yoki coming from the well she’d arrived in, that they’d all follow her to help her destroy it. But the results of this are mind-blowing when they step into a clearing only Kagome recognizes after all of them are pulled through the well.

“You all know there’s supposed to be a large scar on my side, right?”

The unblemished skin on her side could only mean one thing.

Roof Of The Pillars - Hashirama/Tobirama/Kagome/Madara/Izuna

Eventual Smut. Rated Explicit.

The adorable little girl in the bunny clothes had no idea that she would be the end of the feudal wars in another world, and the glue of an alliance through marriage to two sets of brothers from opposing clans. 

But those big blue eyes held peace for all of them.

Saigo No Akuma - Minato/Kagome

Eventual Smut, Rated Explicit.

Kagome’s lost everything to the jewel. After being trained and then transported to another world, she finds herself protecting the village during the Nine-tails attack, which not only ends up saving the Uchiha, but also Minato and Kushina’s only son. Kushina’s last wish was that Kagome help Minato raise Naruto, since he was the Hokage, and that Minato take care of Kagome.

Shattered Again - The Jewel’s Existence - Madara/Kagome

Eventual Smut. Rated Explicit.

The jewel tried to bring another ally to Naraku, but the Goshinboku interferes and changes which point of Madara’s life he is taken from. The Jewel shatters itself again to keep from being destroyed. This ends up saving both him, and the group he has inadvertently become a part of. With Madara’s addition to the group, Inu Yasha notices how he only has eyes for Kagome. This is a good thing. She’ll be in good hands. He leaves her, and frees her from her promises. Madara is there to pick up the pieces, of both her heart and the jewel.

Shisui’s Resolve: Kagome’s Happiness - Shisui/Kagome

Eventual Smut. Rated Explicit.

After being betrayed and abandoned, Kagome is dropped into a different world, right in front of Shisui. When brought before the Hokage, Shisui makes an offer that will both save his clan, free them of the curse, and bring them into the village as they had originally been promised all those years ago at its founding, so long as she is willing to do so.

Stuck In His World - Kakashi/Kagome

Eventual Smut. Rated Explicit.

After keeping Kagome and her remaining family from returning to her world through a portal, Kakashi brings them to the Hokage. Normally his paranoia pays off. Rarely does it end up getting him into trouble. This is one of those times.

Uchiha’s Heart Of Konoha - Madara/Kagome/Izuna

Eventual Smut. Rated Explicit.

The well prevents disaster in the shinobi world. It takes Izuna from Madara right in front of him, and delivers him to Kagome to save him. When she goes to his world to tell his older brother, she figured she’d only gain some new friends, possibly help for the task in her world’s past. Not two very powerful, handsome, kind, doting men intent on wooing her, and making her happy in return for preventing their grief.

Uncorrupted - Obito/Kagome

Undecided Rating.

Black Zetsu knew there was a chance that Obito could be sucked into another world while practicing his kamui. Whether the real Obito disappeared or not, the Eye Of The Moon Plan would come to fruition.

Wishing For Backup - Kagome/?

Eventual Smut. Rated Explicit.

Waking up to a kunai held at your throat with a demand for answers by a voice you only recognize from an anime is more than a little jarring, especially when the person really is from that person really is from that anime. Kagome wants to strangle the Jewel now.

Wooing A Higurashi - Madara/Kagome

Envental Smut. Rated Explicit.

How dare she? She stole his Gunbai, yelled at him, and forced him into immobilization for an extended period of time! How dare she flash her teeth at him?!

I will update this list as more ideas are added, or if I post a fic. If I write one-shots, then those will simply be posted to the finished fic list. Of course not all the details are in these summaries. Feel free to ask if you have questions or concerns regarding my fics. I’ll try my best to clear up anything, or just gush. Please enjoy!

[satendou]

OKAY OKAY OKAY I KNOW THIS IS SOOOO CLICHE BUT LIKE 😠😠😠 im such a SUCKER for relationships with a deep understanding for e/o and a poly relationship w bokuaka would be just THAT.... like im so INVESTED also omg talk abt ur fav poly pairings bc ive read thru ur entire poly tag and im in love 😞😞😞 suddenly i do want to be in a poly relationship w the hq boys (i am also a rarepair kinda girl so seeing u write about them as poly pairings make my heart go 💗💗💗💗 i luv it so much thank u for ur service)

you saying i have a deep understanding of e/o: what is e/o?

hrnnnngd wjeheveve i loved reading this i was so tempted to just hoard it 🥺

uhhhhh my favorite poly pairings are probably iwaoi, akiwa (iwaka? iwakaashi? anyway i get da point), kuraka, daikuro (daishou not daichi sorry), and whatever the hell the ship name is for semi/shirabu.

iwaoi should be obvious like,,,they have such a strong bond already that it feels like one of the most natural pairings. i don’t have to fight to see how they might interact. i always imagine oikawa acting like a little gremlin just to rile iwa up, and iwa is SO obvious about his feelings for oiks bc he’ll start stumbling over his “shittykawa” insults in fear that oikawa will ✨suddenly✨ be hurt by them.

iwa: i don’t wanna be obvious about it

you mattsun and makki, in the bg, watching him stutter through a painful number of insults for oikawa: sure jan

oikawa, pretending to be oblivious: what was that iwa-chan?

kuraka isn’t quite as fluid to me as boaka would be but i just know that akaashi and kuroo would be the cheekiest, sweetest, dorkiest idiots in a relationship. kuroo enjoys inconveniencing you to the nth degree, and akaashi will sit back and watch it happen. akaashi is a good cook (you can’t change my mind) and makes sure you’re eating correctly, but will get kuroo back for shenanigans by telling him he doesn’t get to eat. also: puns. that’s all.

one of my rarepairs is probably more like a “uniquepair” but whatever. iwakaashi just slammed me in the head with a mallet one day and took hold. akaashi takes a LOT of pride in flustering iwa, but iwa doesn’t realize how easily he flusters akaashi in return, bc he’s too busy being flustered. iwa has an obsession with akaashi’s hands (don’t we all), and akaashi always loses his ability to think when iwa wanders in shirtless (i’m losing my ability to think just thinking about it oop). anyway, the relationship with them isn’t as loud as it would be with kuroo or oiks, but akaashi flourishes by being the trickster in the relationship. in the other i always see him as the more level head just bc kuroo is a bigger goofball.

uhhhh kurodai (daikuroo?) is just,,,like iwakaashi it knocked me out one day. that fuckin relationship is chaotic af. i hate to say it but they probably argue a lot. it always starts out joking, but can and will come down to a “why do you always do this” type of fight. like,,,they don’t find it hard to agree on things specifically but each of them has their own opinion and both want to do it, so neither of them want to back down. so they often devolve into petty arguments bc “nothing they suggest or do is ever right”. theirs is probably the most unstable relationship to me, but they just have to go and learn from a sort of friendship to a relationship. they’ll figure it out and then you’ll have your hands full. sarcasm, stupid puns, romantic surprises all the time. they almost burn the house down once trying to recreate the dish you had on your first date with them at home. charcoal a la city water: yum.

semirabu, shiremi, uhhhh shiremabu idfk they all sound terrible ANYWAY. semi is pretty laid back compared to shirabu, and usually just lets shirabu have his way (within reason of course) bc usually he’s right. shirabu has to learn to curb some of his more acerbic attitude at the beginning of the relationship, bc before where he’d just speak his mind, he now needs tact and boy lemme tell you, he doesn’t have that. another one that’s kinda unstable at the beginning bc shirabu has never had a serious relationship before, so he’s unsure of himself and that makes him even more uneasy, which makes him prone to lashing out more. you and semi need to be patient with him but don’t let him walk all over you either. he figures it out eventually.

this got so long sorry 💀 i just,,,love talking about them man. i don’t think most people like polyships lmao.