#ah yes the very specific fear I have of a forced dinner knowing that if I don't figure it out me and a loved one are both dead by dessert

[auspicioustidings]

"You are being detained under Section 2 of the Mental Health Act 1983."

"You're fucking sectioning me?"

It took 14 days to get cleared. The police continued to treat you like a head case even if the doctors fully believed your story and insisted further investigations were done. Your family and friends walked on eggshells, they thought you were mental.

Something was off going into your flat. Your cat rubbed against your legs. Who the fuck had been feeding her? Her wet food dish was freshly changed, the auto-feeder and water fountain topped up.

You took a knife with you when you went to check the rest of the flat. Your toothbrush was damp. The shampoo was nearly finished when you were sure it had been half full. Your bed was rumpled and the whole room smelled of sex and sweat. The pillows were arranged into a vaguely person like shape, the place where hips might be dented down and stained.

The cat went in the carrier. You would have packed clothes, but all of them were covered in streaks of crusting white that you did not investigate further. You took photos though. You couldn't take the risk that you showed up, told the police and they found nothing that you claimed would be there. Not again.

Didn't stay long, just made the report, gave your phone number and got yourself on the next train across the country to your mothers house.

She has a new boyfriend, John. He is tall and handsome and when he speaks you sidestep to the utensils drawer without taking your eyes off of him. Your grip on the cleaver is painful as your mother continues chatting away unaware that the man behind her is raising an eyebrow at you and moving his shirt to the side to make you more than aware of the gun he has.

"Since your daughter is here, wouldn't it be nice to have a family dinner? My sons will just love their new baby sister. My youngest can be a bit rambunctious, but you'll need to take good care of him. Blew his knee out in a car accident."

Your mother blushes and laughs, turning to smack his shoulder as he smiles indulgently at her and puts a hand on her hip. A light squeeze. A warning.

"Let's maybe give it another year before talking about making our kids siblings John! I've not even met your boys yet" she scolds, laughing happily while you consider if it would be kinder to attack knowing it will end with a bullet in her skull.

"No time like the present then luv. Why don't you go get yourself pretty and we'll make a start on dinner hm?"

Fine. It's better anyway that she is out of the room. You're going to kill him. You are going to kill this man. You smile pleasantly at your mother as she leaves to go upstairs as does he. You wait for the sound of the shower kicking in before you launch at him with the cleaver.

He is not like Soap. He doesn't grin wildly at how much you want to tear him apart. Instead he growls low and dangerous when he manoeuvres to get your back pinned to to his front, the cleaver dripping with the blood he sacrificed to do it. You're still gripping it tight, but he just moves your own hand to hold it at your throat.

"Settle down. Would hate to bring your lovely mother down here and see exactly what I could do to her to motivate you to behave. You're Soap's to ruin, but she's free game."

You grit your teeth, press yourself forward into the blade to break skin. If he doesn't want to kill you because that's Soap's job, maybe this will force him to change tact. If you could just get an opening, just get free enough of his hold to grab that gun and blow his pretty brains right out of his skull.

"So pretty. Ye cut him didn't ye?"

You fight the urge to scream and cry. Soap is here. He is here and he is walking towards you with his cock straining against his jeans, his tongue immediately bullying it's way into your mouth when he gets close. The cleaver is taken from you, Price you think. Soap moves down to your throat, his maw covered in your blood as his teeth glint in the red like a wolf feasting on a rabbit.

You hit him as hard as you can, try to bite and scratch and gouge. He loves it. With every blow he groans, becoming more and more desperate to get his mouth on you, to sink his hands into your flesh.

"C'mon baby, ken how mad ye are. How much ye want tae hurt me. Dae it. Fucking hurt me."

He pins you to the counter and your hand manages to hit metal as it searches for anything to help. The fork buries itself into his side and he backs off ever so slightly to look at the handle sticking out of him in delight. You try to scramble away while he is distracted but turn to find the muzzle of a gun.

"Now now. We're going to have a nice, family dinner. Go get her ready would you Ghost? Can't have these blood stains."

Ghost is huge and scary and he drags you like you are a ragdoll. Soap is whining, a desperate noise as you are taken away from him. Your cat is rubbing against his legs, trying to comfort him. You want to tear him apart.

"Let's go for steak shall we?" Price says to the 4th man. "I'll go check how your mother is doing."

The threat is implicit.

Ghost roughly cleans you up. You feel like a corpse being embalmed as he rubs lotion hard into your skin and puts you in a pretty white summer dress. His big hand wraps around your throat like a promise.

"Not until the second date" he says before wrapping a bandage around your neck.

At some point during the dinner as you are considering how far you can get with one steak knife your poor mother has realised something is wrong, but there is nothing either of you can do now but play along. She tries to excuse herself, no doubt to phone the police, and Price firmly tells her to sit back down. Soap eye's are glued to your hand around the steak knife.

Yours are glued to the glass of whiskey in Price's hand. The bottle sits next to him. Cask strength, more alcohol than water. You almost wished you could blast some show tunes as you use the knife to lunge at the bottle and smash it. Soap laughs, a hand caressing your hair as he knocks over the candelabra right into the puddle.

He tries to drag you out of there by the hair. Somewhere in the chaos you manage to sink your teeth into his hand deep enough to taste blood and his grip loosens enough for you to escape into the smoke. You pray he burns. You pray they all do.

You are back in a hospital being questioned by the police after. Your mother is in a coma and can't verify your story of how exactly her house burned to the ground.

They don't find any human remains in the ashes.

No second location, that was the mantra that had been drilled into your head. So when a man bullied his way into your passenger seat, put a gun to your head and told you to drive, you did that. When he told you to take the next cut off you did not.

"Naw think I'll shoot ye?"

"Think if you do we're doing 80 and we're both meeting a quick end."

It's night time, quiet motorway that stretches for hours and hours. He laughs in disbelief after the initial plan to intimidate you fails. You can't keep driving forever, but he is fascinated by the attempt.

One hour in and you know each others names. He knows what music you like, knows you're single, that you have a cat. You know this is the first time he's brought a girl back (or has tried to at least), that he's the youngest in his team and this is an initiation of sorts. He connects his phone so he can blast his music. "Naw dying in a blaze of glory to fuckin' showtunes sweetheart."

You scream at one point, raw fury. He screams with you, whooping as you pick up speed and hit 100 in a moment of blind emotion before you slow a little again. He's touching you, a hand running down your body as he whispers filth into your ear. You give him nothing, act unaffected as your hands grip the wheel so tight they are turning pale.

There's a phone call. One of his team.

"As beautiful as you'd be dead, your pretty corpse is of fuck all use if it's burned to a crisp in a fireball."

"Oh, I don't talk about necrophilia until the second date."

"Fuck LT ye should see her. Spitting mad, think she might actually kill herself just tae take me with her."

Soap groans the words out, hard over the idea of dying in this car with you, throbbing with the knowledge that maybe you hate him so much you're willing to give up your life to spite him.

There are other team members, you try and block it all out. You are crying with frustration because soon the motorway will run out. Maybe you'll just drive straight to a police station, but then Price who you think may be their leader tells you that if his boy goes to jail, he may as well do it for murder.

"Soap'll blow your pretty brains right out of your skull luv, now pull off at the next exit and follow directions."

"Isn't it apparent by now that I'd rather die?"

"If that were true you'd have crashed 100 miles back."

He's right. You don't want to die. You really do not want to die. Over the last few hours you've developed an aversion to Soap dying as well. He's crazy, certifiably insane, but the danger of him is the kind of danger that comes with the flood of adrenaline that borders on erotic with how strong it is. You're sort of attached, trauma bonded maybe.

But the mantra persists. No second location.

Soap grins wildly when he sees how you relax, how your eyes fill with resignation. He can see what you're going to do. So he kisses you, tongue trying to bury itself as far into your mouth as possible.

"Let's dae it baby."

So you do. You bank hard right and the car goes flying, tumbling over and over into a field. You don't know how you survive it, but the next thing you know you are in the back of an ambulance. The police question what happened once you're stable in the hospital. You tell them everything. Psychotic break they think, suicide attempt. After all, yours was the only body in that car when they got there.

[midwintermasque]

Storyline: Gentlemen Bring Word from Afar

The evening was chilly, so Petrea and Marco sat by the fireplace in her private apartments at Cereus House. He was in the City of Elua for several days, stopping on his way to Alba from Caerdicci Unitas. The silver embargo had been lifted, so Marco had no shortage of work and found himself passing through the City of Elua much more frequently over the past months. The past year had been slim, so he was making up for lost time and profits this fall. Petrea had been quiet over dinner, much more distracted than usual when Marco was visiting. Her attention was elsewhere and they had retired early. He sat against the corner of the chaise with her in his lap. She curled against him, comforted by the warmth of his body and the steadiness of his heartbeat. “You are troubled, my love. What can I do?” he asked, stroking her hair. She sighed and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face against him. She mumbled something into his chest. “My ears are up here, not inside my shirt,” he laughed. She looked up at him and wrinkled her nose in mock anger. “I said: it feels like everything is going wrong and there is nothing I can do to fix it and unless you are here for the next month and able to step in as Second of Cereus House as well as plan the Midwinter Masque, then I do not believe that you will be able to fix it, either.” “Ah. Well, yes, I think that may be beyond my capabilities. I am here to listen to you, though, if that will help.” “I don’t know. I am just, well, it all feels as though it is falling apart. I laid out a very clear plan for the ball and, at every turn, there is some problem or someone has made a mistake. How do the silk dyers mistake blue silk for white? Why did the servants bring out brandy glasses instead of champagne flutes? Why have pheasants been delivered and not duck breasts? Where are the gooseberries for the jam? These are not small mistakes, Marco!” Her voice raised at every sentence and her face grew redder. Marco took her chin in his hand and silenced her with a finger to her lips, “My love, you have time. The ball is not tomorrow. People make mistakes. You are clearly frustrated, but you are speaking of fabric and glasses and foodstuffs. You have planned this ball for many years and certainly there have been mistakes before. You have a large, experienced staff to assist you. What truly troubles you?” Petrea looked away, her face falling. “It is not just the ball; you are right. In years past, I have been able to focus solely on that and nothing else. This year, however, my attention is forced elsewhere and, if I’m being honest, my absence from the Night Court last year contributed to this. I fear that many of these ‘mistakes’ in the ball preparations are guild leaders testing my mettle, seeing how I - how our House - responds to the constant pressure from them. They want to see me fail so that they can talk of our crumbling leadership.” Her voice grew bitter. “And Aliks certainly is not doing me any favors. Did you know that she - ” She was interrupted by a light knock on the door and a young adept peeked his head in. “Begging your pardon, my lady, but the Aragonian gentleman has just returned to the City and is asking for you and, er, you did give specific orders that, uh, he was to be admitted the moment he arrived no matter what, and, um, well…” The adept rambled and looked at the floor. Everyone in the House knew that she was not to be disturbed when she was with Marco, yet she had told them to admit Ramiro as soon as he set foot in the door. Her face brightened noticeably. “Oh! Yes, please invite him to my chambers. Immediately.” “Ramiro back in town, eh?” Marco smiled at her mischievously and tugged on a lock of her hair. She had made no secret of her relationship with Ramiro and took no steps to keep the two apart, yet this would be the first time the two had crossed paths for more than a brief conversation. “It would appear so. You know that lifting the silver embargo has been even more beneficial to him than it has been for you and he is gobbling up the attention of the nobles here as he swaggers around, negotiating deals.” “And I am sure that’s not all he has been gobbling up in the City,” he teased, pinching her thigh. She laughed aloud as Ramiro burst into the room. His eyes flew to Petrea, his gaze full of fire. “Mi florecita, how I have missed you!” He was at her side in an instant, on his knees before her. He took her hand and kissed her knuckles, his dark eyes never leaving hers, “It has been too long since I have been in your presence, mi amor. I have counted the hours until we could be together again.” She turned to him and leaned forward, giving him a deep smile and a kiss on the cheek. “It is good to see you, too, Ramiro.” She gestured towards the man in whose lap she sat. “I believe you are acquainted with Marco Meridius?” Ramiro blinked, coming out of his reverie. His eyes slid to Marco, who grinned at him. “Ramiro, how nice to see you again.” Ramiro dropped Petrea’s hand and jumped to his feet. “Marco!” he cried, “What a wonderful surprise to find you here, as well!” Petrea bit her lip to cover a smile. Surprise? Yes. Wonderful? Not as much. “Perhaps we should not be shocked to find each other here. It was bound to happen sooner or later with the trade embargo being lifted,” Marco said plainly. Ramiro nodded. “And what better place to meet than here?” Marco chuckled. Petrea motioned Ramiro to sit in the chair across from them, but instead he grabbed a tufted stool and pulled it close to the chaise. Petrea waited for Marco’s reaction, but none came. Ramiro liked to engage in intimate conversation, no matter the topic, but his tendency to ignore social niceties of personal space, which often put others ill at ease. “So, Ramiro, what news from Aragonia?” Marco asked, lazily draping an arm across Petrea’s shoulders. “Ah, well, things are much better now that we can trade for our silver. My father was extremely impressed with the way I finagled that Lancelin fellow into pushing for the embargo to be lifted.” “That was your doing?” Marco raised his eyebrows. “Hmm. It was an interesting turn of events. One day, an embargo. The next, no embargo. I expected proclamations and fanfare, but, instead, business just went back to usual. It was quite an odd situation.” Ramiro shrugged. Petrea rolled her eyes inwardly. Of course Ramiro would believe that it was he who was responsible for lifting the ban. She truly hoped that word did not reach his father about what really happened with both the dinner and the lifting of the embargo. Strange that it seemed to simply vanish as though it had never existed. Perhaps, though, not so strange. Those who worked in the shadows clearly wished to remain there. She wondered what moves her chess playing friend made for the Duc de Chalasse to relent. “So Marco, my friend, your business has picked up, eh?” Ramiro was all business. Marco nodded. “Truly the lifting of the embargo has been a great boon. Not just for silver, either. With the movement of the ore, other materials and goods are finding their way back onto the trade routes, as well.” Ramiro’s head was bobbing as Marco spoke. “Yes, yes, all excellent news.” Ramiro took one of Petrea’s feet in his hands and began massaging it, as he often did when they were alone. She closed her eyes and leaned back against Marco’s shoulder. After a moment, Ramiro paused, as though something important had occurred to him. He looked up and gave Marco a questioning look. Marco shrugged and Ramiro went back to rubbing Petrea’s foot. “Your muscles are extremely tight, my sweetest,” he commented. “You are troubled.” Marco huffed a laugh. “She was just beginning to tell me of her troubles when you walked in.” Petrea sighed. “I am frustrated with everyone and everything, Ramiro. Keeping up with my duties as Second, trying to keep up with the goings on in the City, plans for the ball - you are coming, yes?” Ramiro shrugged. “I will do my best, but I make no promises. I still do not understand these duties you have. You are a Servant of Naamah, you call it. Is it your duty not to serve her? What else is there?” Petrea gave him a smile. “The Second is a position of leadership in one’s House. It is not all parties and patrons. We are still a business, as we fought so dearly to prove, and must operate as such. There are accounts to keep, adepts to bring in and train, hired staff to manage, and now my Dowayne is considering lighting a candle to Eisheth!” Ramiro frowned, working his fingers into her muscles. “What does it matter why she is lighting candles? Everyone lights candles every night?” “It means she wants to have a baby. It’s some D’Angeline thing,” Marco explained. “Ah, that would complicate matters for you. She would retire?” Ramiro asked. Petrea shook her head. “Oh no, not Aliks! That would be far too easy for her. Her plan is to simply continue running Cereus House - essentially managing the entire Night Court - while carrying a child, lying in after giving birth, and then raising a child.” Marco frowned. “That does seem…complicated. I assume this is with Waldermar?” Aliks’s love affair with the Mandrake adept was the worst kept secret in all of Terre d’Ange. Nevertheless, everyone pretended it was a secret. Petrea nodded. “I have no idea what her plans are for his involvement. Who knows where this child would live? I assume here.” She waved her hand. “The whole thing is simply preposterous. The ripple effects of the Dowayne of Cereus House having a child with an adept of another House are too many to even begin to list. And she accuses me of scandal.” Ramiro nodded sagely and continued his ministrations. The trio sat in silence for a moment. Neither man knew which scandal Petrea referred to; both secretly suspected it was the one he had caused. It was Ramiro who finally spoke first. “Marco, word about town is our lady has taken a new Tiberian patron. She has been seen with Crescens Emerentius. Perhaps you have some competition, eh?” Marco chuckled, toying with a lock of Petrea’s hair. “Ah yes, I know the man. He’s here with his sister, to present her to King Gustav in hopes to marry her off.” Petrea groaned. “He is one of the most arrogant men I have ever encountered! It takes every bit of my extensive training to get through the assignations. Of course, I have dealt with men of ego, but this is beyond the pale. He cannot stop talking about himself and his accomplishments - how much he has done in such a short time. Oh how, it is tiresome! Not one that, but he seems to believe that he can impress me with the names of people he has met while visiting here in the City! I must bite my tongue not to retort that I have had half of them in my bed!” She paused and poked Ramiro with her free foot. “I am trusting you two with private information.” In fact, she trusted that none of this would stay private, what with Ramiro gossiping worse than any new adept. She wanted this to get out. Petrea knew that information about Crescens’s sister, Aurea, was scarce and rare information is always valuable. Petrea knew from Marco that Aurea was proud; she would likely not appreciate insults to her brother and would want to confront the person starting them. If Petrea could draw Aurea to her, so much the better. If nothing else, knowing the Second of Cereus thought poorly of someone would close other doors in the Night Court to him…and keep him away from her. Perhaps deflate his overly large ego. Marco barked out a laugh. “That would fit with what I have seen of him. His father is well liked enough, but the little I know of Crescens? I would not have picked him to accompany Aurea. Let us just say that he does nothing to bolster her chances.” “Aurea seems rather quiet, does she not?” Ramiro asked. Petrea frowned. “She has been seen out and about and does the appropriate amount of socializing, but nothing more. She certainly has not visited the Night Court. Yet.” “Yet? You have plans to change this?” Marco teased, pulling her closer and placing a kiss on her brow. Petrea shrugged and gave him her most innocent smile. “Mayhaps.” Ramiro put her foot on his thigh and motioned for her to give him her other foot, which she did. “Ah, Ramiro, you could make your marque at Balm House.” “I think that would be quite boring,” he responded. “Balm House is nice for a night, but there are more preferable Houses.” Marco grinned at him. “Ramiro, have you had a chance to make the acquaintance of Évrard de Bretel? He spends much of his time in the Gaming Room at the Palace and I understand that you have been given apartments there,” Marco mentioned. Ramiro brightened. “Beautiful accommodations! And yes, I have met Lord Bretel. Wonderful fellow. We have traded much money over dice. I believe he is engaged in a new love affair.” “His family invests significant funds in various trading enterprises. I have worked with them often. Évrard always has a story to tell about someone, knows everything. He is most interesting,” Marco explained. Petrea knew Lord Bretel well; she had used him as a contact many times to keep up with the gossip of the City. She wondered if Évrard had been in contact with Aurea Emerentius. If nothing else, he would have tried. She would have to ply him for information at their next assignation. Ramiro’s hands had moved up to knead the muscles in her calf. Petrea let out a soft sigh of contentment. Absent-mindedly, Marco trailed his fingers up and down her hip as their conversation continued. Petrea could feel her attention waning. Trade, politics…much though she tried, she could not seem to focus on these topics much longer. She felt her eyelids begin to grow heavy and the men’s voices seemed to fall away. “I am bored of this,” she said abruptly, untangling herself from Marco and Ramiro and standing. The two men stopped talking and looked at her. She looked slowly, deliberately, from one to the other. “I am going to bed. You are more than welcome to sit by the fire and continue your business conversation, but I am finished here.” She snatched her skirts and stalked off towards her bedroom. Marco and Ramiro looked at each other, stunned. What had just happened? After a momentary pause, Marco gave Ramiro a broad smile and gestured towards Petrea’s departing figure. “Shall we?” Ramiro grinned devilishly. “Oh yes. We shall.” Read the full article

[justauthoring]

Lie Your Way To The Truth

Prompt: Ooh I have an idea - Bokuto being a bro and coming up with increasingly absurd heroic acts for Kuroo to impress the reader?? Like “saving” a child from “drowning”, bragging about him so on Requested by: anonymous.

A/N: I very much adore Kuroo, and want you all to know I listed to a Kuroo playlist while writing this fic cause I felt it was only natural. Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro x F!Reader

“There she is!”

“Honestly, Bokuto, this is absurd--!”

“Shh,” there’s a resounding clap as his hand hits his chest, “this will work.”

Your eyes scan across the entire gym, easing when you catch sight of the group of boys you’d been sent after. After the managers noticed a select few still hadn’t come to grab dinner, they’d sent you promptly on their way after them (and specifically your team’s captain) without really letting you get a word in edgewise.

Nonetheless, you hadn’t had much to complain about. Because you were all too happy to have the chance to catch up with Kuroo. He had, of course, been lately busy with training camp going on.

You catch his eye, offering a bright smile as you make your way into the gym. All eyes fall on you at your intrusion, but Bokuto being the way he always is, continues on with his conversation with Kuroo, quite loudly if you were being honest.

“It’s honestly thanks to you, man,” he sends a jab to Kuroo’s side, “that that puppy is now safe and all warm and happy in it’s new home. Without you, it would’ve probably starved, maybe even to death, and--”

Sending a look Kuroo’s way at Bokuto’s words, to which the man only blushes, you come to a stop in front of the two, as the other’s gather around them. “Hello boys,” you greet warmly, tilting your head to the side in a greeting that has Kuroo’s stomach fluttering with butterflies of all things and he’s almost completely enamored by the presence of you.

“Y/N/N!”

At least until he nearly goes deaf at Bokuto’s boisterous greeting.

Kuroo straightens out the second Bokuto’s arm leaves his shoulders, letting out a small sigh at the relief it puts on his already tired muscles. But Bokuto seems all too oblivious, his attention now fully on you as the rest stare on in wonder. Well, at least, Lev and Tsukishima seem curious, Akaashi looks like this is a daily occurrence for him.

“I did not see you come in at all,” he adds, putting a little too much emphasis on his words.

You just seemed confused, baffled even -- which was a lot given that Bokuto didn’t really make sense most of the time. And Kuroo can’t help the small smile that curls onto his lips when you once again look towards him for some kind of guidance, to which he simply shrugs, and the two of you, in his opinion, share your own little moment.

“Ah, well, anyways,” you laugh lightly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and Kuroo shamelessly watches the movement of your hand with great focus. “I came to grab you guys because they’re about to put dinner away and start cleaning up for the night and I didn’t want you--ahh!”

A squeak leaves your lips as you’re all but suddenly swept up into a pair of strong arms, your feet leaving to comfortable ground beneath you completely. It takes you a moment, a blink or two before you realize it’s Bokuto whose got you all wrapped up in his arms, cheering loudly; “you’re an absolute savior, Y/N/N! I’m starving!”

Frowning, Kuroo steps forward; “put her down, dumbass. Before you drop her.”

Bokuto heeds, but the second you’re back on your own two feet, a little dizzy if nothing else, he’s sending a pout the boys way. “Moo... You’re so cruel, Kuroo.” But his sadness doesn’t last as Akaashi simply reminds him the two of them better start heading towards the cafeteria before the foods all gone, pointing towards the door Lev and Tsukishima have already made their way out of.

“Hey hey hey!” Bokuto cheers, voice booming as he drags Akaashi along with him.

Kuroo and you watch the two run off, realizing a second later that it’s just the two of you left.

“Did you eat?” Kuroo asks you, pulling your attention on him as he moves forward.

You nod, smiling softly. “I ate with Kenma,” you explain, “and I put a plate aside for you.”

Kuroo’s eyes gleam. “How thoughtful,” he whistles, pressing a hand right above his heart before sending you a smirk. “I never thought you cared about me so much, Y/N/N.”

You flush lightly, “sh-shut up,” you huff, picking up the speed in your step. “I made one for Lev too, of course!”

But, in reality, you didn’t.

-

“Didn’t you save a kid from drowning once?”

It’s breakfast the next morning, and instantly you’re one sided focus on your breakfast is interrupted as Bokuto’s words drift towards you. Swallowing the food in your mouth, you look up from your spot across from the two boys, quirking a curious brow.

“You did?” You question, attention focused solely on Kuroo -- thus, you miss the sly grin that grows on Bokuto’s lips.

“Well, not--” He cuts off by a groan, Bokuto’s elbow hitting him directly in the gut and sending an unpleasant feeling throughout his entire body. Kuroo sends the boy a sharp glare, but he only responds with a harsher one, subtly tilting his head in your direction as if Kuroo was dumb.

Oh.

Oh...

so this was Bokuto’s plan? Come up with obscure heroic acts to brag about for the sake of impressing you for him... He had to admit it was a good plan, and not a complete lie. He had found a puppy once on the side of the street, but hadn’t necessarily nursed it back to health himself. And there was that one time his cousin had been drowning in the pool, but Kuroo had been too busy laughing at his misfortune to focus on saving him and oh-- what the hell.

Why not?

“I-I did, yes,” Kuroo nods, turning to you with a smirk. “My cousin.”

“That’s right,” Bokuto grins, clapping his hands. “Your mother went on and on about it that one time I came over. She wouldn’t stop gushing about how brave you were.” 

Kuroo eyes you and honestly, you seem a little skeptical if the narrowing of your eyes was any telling. But, you were smiling that cute little smile of yours and you seemed amused nonetheless -- not to mention your attention was focused on him, so, Kuroo felt Bokuto’s plan, despite how odd it seemed to compliment the idiot, was actually working.

“Well then,” you smile over at Kuroo, eyes twinkling with delight. “I’ll make sure to bring you along the next time I go swimming. I absolutely suck.”

Kuroo practically beams with praise.

“Of course!”

-

“Isn’t it kind of bad to... lie?”

“Nah, nah, see, my padawan,” Kuroo pointedly chooses to ignore that comment, “we’re not really lying. Just bending the truth a little.”

“It still seems wrong,” Kuroo frowns, “I don’t want her to be disappointed when she learns I’m not actually that amazing of a person.”

Frowning, Bokuto’s expression turns suddenly serious at that. He promptly sets his hand on his friends shoulder, squeezing tightly in what he’s sure is a reassuring way (but honestly, Kuroo is more weirded out then anything) and sends the boy a wistful look (he just looks like an owl) before nodding; “you aren’t.”

Kuroo blinks. Once, twice, and then all but rips Bokuto’s hand off of him; “what the hell man!”

“Don’t get mad,” Bokuto cries, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’m just telling the truth. We’ve painted you out to be some war hero or something--”

“Hardly.”

“--And you’re definitely not--”

“We don’t know that.”

“But fear not,” Bokuto grins, sending him a thumbs up, “my plan will work.”

And honestly, Kuroo figured it was too late to back out now.

-

“And then he pulled a itty-bitty-kitty from burning in a house--”

“Tetsuro?”

All falls silent as you speak, and Kuroo, wincing, turns to look at you. “Yes?”

Smile never faltering, you tilt your head to the side; “can I speak to you for a minute?”

“Um,” hating the way his chest tightens and everything seems to close in on him, Kuroo forces himself to respond. “O-Of course,” he nods, moving to walk in step with you but not without sending a pointed, somewhat panicked look back at Bokuto who seems plainly oblivious to the fact that they’ve been caught in their lie as he sends him a grin and a thumbs up.

This was so not good.

You don’t stop until the two of you are out of the gym, in the cool night air, away from any prying eyes or ears to listen in on the conversation. Kuroo finds himself uncharacteristically nervous and he almost feels like he’s going to vomit as he prepares himself for your lecture.

You’d have every right, and that’s something he can’t argue against, and he curses himself because he knew he shouldn’t have let Bokuto continue spouting these absurd stories that were so clearly meant to brag and--

“You know you don’t have to make up absurd stories to get my attention right?”

And Kuroo blinks but you seem so entirely not angry that he’s stunned silent.

“I mean, I’ll admit I believed them at first,” you laugh lightly, and the sound of it is so soothing to Kuroo. “But honestly, there’s no need to try and get my attention because... because--” and then you falter, and Kuroo blinks as he notices your gaze lower and your cheeks warm, as if you’re embarrassed--

“I already notice you. Just the way you are.”

Did he... did he hear that correctly?

Was that... was that meant to be a confession?

You’d just confessed to him, and Kuroo’s so completely in his own head with disbelief that he doesn’t realize with each passing moment you’re growing more and more unsure.

“Unless,” you squeak, causing Kuroo to blink down at you. “Unless I misread the situation and you weren’t trying to get my attention. Which if that’s the case, i’m so--”

But you never finish because in the next second Kuroo’s lips are pressed firmly against your own and his arms are slipping around your waist, pulling you flush against him he pours his absolutely everything into that kiss like he’s being dying to do since you walk through those gym doors three years ago.

“Yes, operation get-Y/N-to-notice-Kuroo a success!”

“What an original name...”

“Were you watching us?”

“Bokuto!”

[thebadboyfanclub]

Sounds Like Heaven (Klaus Mikaelson x Reader)

Y’all though I would leave... nah ah I’m back. Anyway this was requested by an anon and I wanted to kind of twist it, cause I do believe that the whole “I’m on my period and can’t lift a finger” not only is it overdone but it’s also not really believable since there are those cases of immense and unbearable pain but most women have learned how to deal with it so we overdose on pills and just move on... anyway enjoy!

“Klaus for the millionth time I am completely capable to take care of myself”

“I know that, but when do you ever let me take care of you? So be a doll, sit back and relax”

(Y/n) was always very stubborn, specifically when it had to do with Klaus seeing her as fragile. He was this invisible big hybrid that no one could really kill and she was just this mere human that he had to keep an eye out cause even a thin piece of paper could slice her skin. She had never really understood the concept of mortality until she met him, before he strolled into her life she saw herself as this strong, independent being that could take anything, yet now she had Klaus running behind her to make sure she was alright while he could take a stake to the heart on any given day without the fear of death. 

“So I bought this tea for you, it’s supposed to relax you and its infused with lavender and vanilla, do you like it?”

He asked her as he passed her the mug with the said tea. (Y/n) was in her “lady days” as Klaus would call it, which she found really weird, a vampire that has lived over decades didn’t want to say period. Klaus had seen how uncomfortable she got and how she would get random pains in her stomach, the part that was more concerning to him was during nightfall, where she would try and sleep but end tossing and turning for what felt like hours until she found a position that was comfortable and stopped the cramps. So this time he made it his mission to make her feel better and ensure that she is well taken care of.

(Y/n) took a small sip and let her taste buds judge the new hot liquid that went down her throat. She smiled at him as she let her back touch the pillows once again, nuzzling in the comfortable fluffy blankets with content

“Tastes like vanilla with caramel”

“Good, Excellent. Enjoy your tea dearest, I will make you some delicious dinner”

Klaus was aware of how much (y/n) hated soup, it made her feel like she was in a hospital or reminded her how her mom would force her to eat it when she was sick, so now as an adult soup was the devil to her. With that information he decided on making her some mashed potatoes that she seemed to find very comforting and steak with gravy, what could be more filling than that?

(Y/n)’s dinner was quite small, she wasn’t this millionaire that could afford mansions because she was alive over a century, yet that came in handy since she got to enjoy her TV series and also watch Klaus’s back while he prepared dinner. She slowly sipped on her tea and observed him as he ran around the kitchen, gathering ingredients, mixing them and putting stuff in the oven.

“Whatever it is that you are cooking it smells heavenly”

“I’m glad you like it love, just give me a few minutes to prepare my presentation”

(Y/n) giggled at how invested Klaus was at making her this dish. If you had told her that she would find a man that would prepare a meal for her because he wanted her to be happy and full during her period a year ago, she would have laughed in your face. Klaus wiped the plate to make sure there was no spills or anything unnecessary, he served it with some cold lemon tea, (y/n) wasn’t a big fan of alcoholic beverages during her meals. 

She clapped in an excited manner when she saw the tray coming to her. Her eyes where already on the plate, seeing that he had cooked her one of her favorites, of course he knew exactly what to do to cheer her up. As soon as he placed it right in front of her she took the knife and fork and dug started slicing the tender meat an took some of the mashed potatoes to smear it on her bit, when the first bite touched her tongue a little “mmmmhhh” was heard from her. 

“Oh it’s so good”

“Still got it”

“Oh yes you do, you should open a restaurant”

“Well since my sweet is in that said industry maybe when you become misses Mikaelson we can open one together”

(Y/n) was one of the few people that actually loved to work in customer service, specifically in restaurants. She loved to get closer to the customers and be part of their great meal, that’s how they had met so Klaus never minded it, although he did mind when he saw her after a particularly difficult shift, hearing her groan as she took her shoes off and complained that she smelled like food. That part to him was quite hilarious, to him she was always... edible, one way or another.

“Don’t patronize me Sir, cause I might take you up on that offer”

“I hope you do, Rebekah would be more than delighted to plan our wedding”

“Would you be okay with me walking around our mansion being pretty and hiring maids and chefs to do everything?”

“Would I be okay with having you be the madam of our household? Dearest, that sounds like heaven”

(Y/n) put her fork down for a quick minute so she can pucker up her lips and let him place a kiss to show him her appreciation. Of course she had thought of marriage, immortality with him did not sound so bad when Klaus and his family would be around, her and Rebekah had grown to be get pretty close and Elijah was always kind and helpful with her, almost like the older brother she always wanted. 

“Come now eat up, I have prepared some raspberry bavarian cream for desert”

“When did you learn how to do that?”

“To be quite honest, I saw your shampoo was with raspberry so I thought you might enjoy it”

“You spoil me way too much”

She said as she picked up the cutlery again but instead of cutting one bite for herself she offered it to him. He opened his mouth for her to feed him and smiled as they looked at each other, they were already acting like a married couple that was still on the honeymoon phase, still their honeymoon phase should have ended long time ago, now there they were still acting like 15 year old’s around one another. 

“Of course I spoil you, what other reason do you have for staying with me?”

“I can think of a few, wait a few days and I can get in more depth over them”

“Naughty little girl... I will write that down on my agenda, for now I have to go and prepare your dessert. Get ready to be amazed”

Taglist

@akshi8278

[joonie-beanie]

Eroge

Pairing: Leviathan x Reader

Word Count: 3,778

Preview: You happen upon Levi at a bad time, and accidentally end up getting sucked into his video game. It wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for the fact that said game is a kinky eroge.

“Can’t you get me out?!”

“Ah—um—it says that the only way to get a player out of the game is the make them—um—climax?"

** Please note that this is a cross-posting **

This chapter was originally posted on 2/8/2020 as a part of my “Devil Doms” series on AO3.

[New text from Leviathan]

Leviathan: Hey!! Come to my room today!! I need your help with a boss raid!!

You: Okay!!

“Levi!” you call out, knocking on his door. It’s close to 9pm, but he hadn’t texted you until a short while before dinner, and you’d already agreed to proof read Beel’s literature essay for him following the meal. You’d assumed that coming to Leviathan’s room whenever would be fine, but when you hear the Avatar of Envy startle from within—something crashing to the floor and a scream following—you wonder if now isn’t the best time.

“Ah! No!” he cries out, something else clambering onto the floor, and you knock on the door again.

“Levi? Are you alright?”

Without waiting for him to answer, you test the doorknob and push the door open when you find that it’s unlocked.

“N-No! Don’t come in! I--,” he begins to say, but quickly realizes he’s already too late when he sees your head pop through the doorway. Your eyes land on him. He’s kneeling beside his desk, face red as a tomato, and a few figurines, a bottle of…lotion?, and a controller are scattered at his feet.

“Are you okay?” you ask, hesitantly stepping into the room and closing the door behind you. Levi’s hands shake, his gaze turning down to the floor in front of him.

“I’m fine! Totally fine!” he nearly yells in response, hurriedly scooping up the items scattered across the floor. His eyes dart back up to you, and he spins on his knees, facing away before standing up.

You frown, wondering why he’s acting so weird.

“Is now a bad time? Maybe we can do the raid tomorr—”

“No!! It has to be today!!” he responds in a panic, his head whipping every which direction. After a second, he rushes to his bed and gingerly sets the figurines down. He then stands up, still facing away, and glances at you over his shoulder. As soon as he makes eye contact with you, his blush deepens.

“We can do it now! I just…I need to use the bathroom first!” he says, and stiffly walks to another door nearby. You watch him, concerned. You’ve seen Levi flustered before, but this is an entirely new level.

Still a little unsure, you slowly pad further into the room. After a few seconds, his monitor catches your eye, and you make your way over. On screen, there’s the start menu of a game. It’s pink, and twinkly—little starbursts shining all across the menu. However, there’s no title to the game, or indication of what it’s about. The only options on screen are “Resume Game”, “Import Character & Continue” or “Quit”.

Well, if this is the game we’re playing, I might as well get a head start and make my character, you think to yourself, scooping his wireless controller off the ground. You take a seat in his green and black leather chair, figuring it’s not a big deal since Levi isn’t around at the moment.

Pressing the joystick down, you hover over the “Import Character & Continue” option, and then hit ✕. A text box pops up.

“Is the current player the one you would like to import?”

A “Yes” or “No” option appears, and you click over to “Yes”. However, as you confirm your choice, an electric tingle rolls over your entire body. You gasp, the controller falling out of your hands, and it clatters to the floor.

The sound manages to reach Levi—who is still hidden in the bathroom—and he opens the door slightly.

“Y/N?” he calls, “what was that?”

There’s no response, and Levi peeks his head out a bit farther. His eyes scan the room, and there’s no sign of you. Just his wireless controller on the ground beside his chair, and—

Levi notices the screen on his computer has changed, and his heart drops into his stomach.

“No no no no no no!” he panics, darting out of the bathroom and to his desk. He holds the monitor between his hands, orange eyes widening as the screen changes yet again—the level finally having loaded. Immediately—you appear on screen.

“Leviathan?!” you call out, scanning your surroundings. You’re no longer in the House of Lamentation, but what looks to be a city—or, more specifically, an alleyway within a city. Tall brick walls cage you on either side—a dead end behind you, and a street a few hundred feet ahead.

“Levi!” you try again, and this time you hear a response.

“Y/N!” it sounds like he’s far away—his voice echoing down the alley. You open your mouth—relieved to hear him—but he doesn’t sound calm at all.

“Why did you do that?! You stupid normie! Now what am I going to do?! Oh my GOD. OOOOO MY GOD—”

“Levi! What is going on?! Where am I, and why are you freaking o--?”

Before you can finish, a dark shadow begins to materialize out of the pavement in front of you. You startle, back tracking. Ever so slowly, the dark mass rises up—tentacle-like arms whipping out and dragging across the floor.

You stare in fear, gasping when you roughly run into the brick wall behind you.

“Levi!” you yell, frustrated at his silence.

“I—UGH. Okay! Listen! I was playing a game, and this is the final boss! You totally came to my room at the worst time--!”

He’s halfway between exasperation, and a whine, but you don’t have time for his rambling at the moment.

“What kind of game?” you interrupt, your eyes training on the abomination in front of you once more. By now, it’s no longer a dark shadow. The mess of slick limbs has taken on a purple hue—two large eyes appearing at the front of it’s torso.

“Um…”

Leviathan sounds more embarrassed than you’ve ever heard him before, and realization begins to dawn on you—both fear and arousal mingling in your gut.

“Levi…,” you speak again, your tone soft, and a little scared. The monster makes eye contact with you, and its tentacles begin inching forward.

 “I—it’s—,” he struggles to admit the truth, but at this point you don’t need him to say it. You realize what he’d be playing: a very kinky eroge—in which the final boss is apparently a tentacle monster.

“Can’t you get me out?!” you ask, shivering as one of the tentacles begins curling up your leg. There’s the sound of a game case clicking open, and papers being flipped. You assume he’s reading the manual.

All the while, another tentacle reaches out and touches your wrist. You immediately jump away from the feeling, but the tentacle is persistent. It darts out—securing your wrist in a split second. You panic—attempting to pull free, but it’s clear that the monster is much stronger.

With little effort, it forces your arm above your head, and another tentacle darts out to capture your other wrist. By the time Levi’s voice returns to the space around you, both of your wrists are secured above your head by a single tentacle—your feet barely touching the ground.

In his room, staring at the screen, Leviathan swallows harshly. The tent in his pants twitches at the sight of you.

“Ah—um—it says that the only way to get a player out of the game is to make them—um—climax?”

His voice pitches high at the end. Clearly, he’s embarrassed to be saying it, and you don’t blame him. However, right now, you’re pretty sure that if either of you have the right to be embarrassed, it’s you.

“Do you…have a hand in completing the level?” you ask him when the monster begins to idle. As if on cue, a bold, white “LEVEL START” appears in the space above you. Levi’s hands tighten around his controller, and his tongue darts out to lick his lips.

“I…”

You can hear many emotions in his voice—everything from shame, to regret, and maybe even a little bit of excitement. You sigh, your thighs rubbing together shyly. If it was up to you, you would have built an emergency escape option into the game, but since there’s clearly only one path to getting you out…

“It’s okay, Levi. I trust you.”

And it’s true. Despite the monster in front of you, it’s reassuring to know that at least Levi has some control. And…it’s not like you’ve never seen anything involving a tentacle monster before. Like Levi, you enjoy anime, and at some point, had discovered hentai. You’d always felt shameful when becoming aroused while watching, but the idea of being stimulated so much at once is undeniably appealing to you.

So, while your current predicament wasn’t exactly planned, it wasn’t completely unwelcome either.

“Y/N, I…,” Levi sounds so torn. If he’s being honest with himself, he really wants to play the level. And the fact that you’re willing to put your trust in him and let him play it a huge turn on. However…if he had just been more careful, and hadn’t freaked out and left you alone, then you wouldn’t be in this predicament to begin with.

“Levi,” you speak up again, and he glances at his computer screen to find you smiling up at him. You send him a little wink, and while he can tell you’re still nervous, there’s an air of genuine reassurance about you as well.

“Have fun. I’m yours to use.”

And with that, Levi needs to hear nothing else.

His tongue pokes out to wet his lips, heart thundering against his ribs, and his fingers tighten against the controller in his hands.

“Ittadakimasu,” he whispers, an edge to his voice that reflects his hunger. You blush, realizing how turned-on he is by your words, but don’t have long to think on it. The tentacle wrapped around your leg inches up to meet your womanhood—rubbing it through your leggings.

You gasp, arms straining against their restraints, but of course it’s no use.

Behind you—perhaps purposely hidden, so you can’t see the words—an array of options appears.

✕ – Play with breasts

◯ – Rip off clothes

△ – Spank

□ – Fuck pussy

Levi reads through them quickly. All of the choices are tempting, but he doesn’t want to be too rough with you starting off.

His thumb hits the ✕ button, and a tentacle wiggles forward—curling around your waist and then wrapping around your breasts. You keen, thighs pressing together as heat begins threading through your limbs. Even while clothed, the sensation of having no control while being touched in your most sensitive areas is more arousing than you’d care to admit.

The tentacle at your chest curls around one of your breasts—squeezing, and tugging at the mound. Your other breast is prodded at by the round head of the purple appendage—attempting to locate your sensitive nipple through your clothing.

Again, an option appears on screen.

RB – Remove shirt

Levi’s finger hesitates over the bumper, precum beginning to pool against the crotch of his sweats. What he’s doing feels like a crime, but…your words of reassurance resound in his head, and he pushes the button.

In reaction, the tentacle at your chest momentarily stops its ministrations—diverting downward. The slimy arm sneaks beneath the hem of your t-shirt, crawling its way up between your breasts. And then, with a might tug away from you, it rips your shirt up the middle. Your bra is the only thing left shielding your chest away from public view, but it doesn’t stay in place for long.

Apparently part of a package deal with the “Remove shirt” option, the tentacle yanks the lacy white fabric away from your body—the garment disappearing from around you with a definitive rip. Immediately your breasts spill into the open air, and you flush bright red, realizing that this is the first time Levi will have seen any part of you so intimately.

Seated in front of the PC, the Avatar of Envy sets his controller atop his desk—prepared to push the buttons with one hand (no matter how lame of a gamer it makes him), while his other hand finally sinks into his lap. He palms himself through his pants, nearly moaning at the momentary relief. However, he doesn’t give into his desires just yet—his eyes still glued to the screen as the monster begins toying with your tits once more.

This time, with no fabric in the way, you’re feeling much more sensitive as the tentacle resumes its movements. The purple limb wraps around one of your breasts, pulling and squeezing the soft flesh, while the head of the tentacle swirls around your hardened nipple. You tremble at the feeling, managing to hold in any sounds that threaten to escape you…at least, until an additional tentacle hovers over your neglected breast—the end of the limb opening like a pair of lips. It wastes no time locking onto your nipple—sucking harshly and causing a lewd gasp to escape you.

Finally, with two tentacles assaulting your tits, and a third still rubbing between your legs, you’re beginning to fall apart at the seams. Your breathing becomes unsteady—whines and moans rolling off your tongue as the monster continues to follow Levi’s commands.

While you can’t hear it, the purple haired demon’s breathing has turned rugged as well. His dick is so hard now that it’s painful, but he still doesn’t grant himself relief. Not yet, not like this.

“Levi,” you moan, and you hear a quiet groan in response. The Avatar of Envy reaches down between his legs to pinch the base of his cock—stopping himself from cumming at the sound.

“Shit,” he curses to himself quietly, his eyes flitting back up to the computer when another round of choices appear.

✕ – Fuck pussy

◯ – Fuck mouth

△ – Fuck ass

□ – Other

Heat creeps up Leviathan’s neck as he reads through them. The game had been equally as blunt on previous levels, but now that you’re involved, he wishes there was some sugarcoating in place.

His pointer finger moves to hover over the ✕, but he hesitates. As he mulls over the many thoughts in his head, your moans reach his ears once more, and he immediately makes his decision. He won’t last if you continue sounding like that.

In game, you begin to whine his name—needing something more, anything—when all of the sudden your mouth is filled. You gasp, your eyes squeezing shut as a tentacle presses between your lips—the slick limb moving across your tongue. The monster fucks your mouth at a steady pace—testing the waters. You gag when the tentacle ventures a little too deep, and it seems like the game takes note—lessening the frequency in which it forces you to try and deepthroat.

However, each time you gag, your nipples and clit feel more sensitive than before. At this point, the lack of true contact on your womanhood is turning into torture, and you whine around the length in your mouth—your thighs rubbing together around the limb still sliding up against your pelvis.

Levi understand what you’re asking, and taps □. Instantly another line of options appear aside from the main ones, and Levi is relieved to find the one he’s searching for.

LT – Give oral

He hits the trigger, watching as the tentacle tending to your lower half pauses in its job. It reaches up to grab the waistband of your leggings, and in one fell swoop tugs them down your legs. You squeal at the sensation—eyes popping open and glancing downward, attempting to see what’s occurring.

You note an additional limb sliding across the ground towards you. It reaches up, curling around one of your legs, and hiking it off the ground. Suddenly, your pussy—shining with your arousal—is very much on display for Levi to see.

“Oh, fuck,” you hear him groan, wishing you could see him. Knowing that what he’s doing to you is getting him off makes your pussy clench, and you wonder if that’s his plan. However, the tentacle that had been teasing you up until now doesn’t fill you as you expect it too. Instead, the tip of the tentacle peels open—a smaller appendage sneaking out of the opening.

To you, it looks similar to a tongue.

“Mmph!” you gasp when it licks between your folds—finally coming in contact with your aching clit. Your spine curves—hips pressing downward as tentacle pleasures you in earnest.

Tears prick at your eyes—the amount of sensations afflicting your body at once almost overwhelming. You mouth is full—tits being sucked, and licked, and squeezed—and now your clit is getting the attention it’s been so desperately craving. Really, it’s enough to drive you insane.

Eyes squeezing shut—your thighs shake as the pressure building in your gut threatens to snap.

“Please cum, Y/N,” you hear Levi beg—breathless. You’re not sure if you had been meant to hear his silent plea, but it’s enough to push you over the finish line.

You climax with a cry—the sound muffled by the tentacle in your mouth as its rhythm slows—sensing your release. The tongue between your legs continues licking—dragging as much pleasure out of you as possible—while at the same time the tentacles on your breasts give the mounds one last round of love.

By the time the waves of pleasure have diminished, your arousal is leaking down the inside of your thigh.

Above your head, a bold “LEVEL COMPLETED” appears in the air, and the tentacles begin to retreat. You breathe deeply as your mouth is freed—the slippery limbs uncurling themselves and returning to the main body of the monster. And—as soon as your feet touch the ground, and your wrists are released—the scenery around you shifts.

Levi’s hands scramble to grab you as you materialize beside him back in his room—your legs giving out as he does so. You slump against him, still struggling to catch your breath. You’re relieved that it’s over—you’re not sure how much more of that you could have taken—but you’re jumbled out of your serenity as Levi hefts you up so you’re seated on the edge of his desk.

“Levi?” you question, eyes darting up to his face. There’s a serious look in his eyes, and you watch in surprise as the Avatar of Envy shoves his sweats down his thighs—his cock weeping against his abs.

“I’m sorry,” he says, swallowing your groan with a sloppy kiss as he slides his length between your walls. His voice is shaky—he’s been holding back for too long. “I need this. I n-need you. Please.”

“Fuck, Levi,” you groan, your pussy tightening around him as he begins chasing after his own release. His pace is quick, and sharp. It’s clear that he won’t last long. He had been waiting for this—for you—and while you know you won’t be able to orgasm with him—you can at least egg him on.

“You feel so good,” you speak, tits bouncing at the intensity of his thrusts. Your hands reach up to hug his skull—the demon’s breath hot against your neck as miniscule whines escape his throat. His grip on your waist tightens—blue colored fingernails digging small crescents into your skin—and with a few more snaps of his hips, he’s releasing inside of you.

“Fuck,” he chokes, forehead pressing against your collarbone he rides out his bliss.

After a moment, he pulls back—his cock slipping out of you, and immediately his seed is sliding from your heat—mingling with your own arousal. The sight has you both turning a bright shade of red, and Leviathan begins to panic—his head whipping every which way in search of a towel, or literally anything.

You laugh at him, your hands reaching up to grip his sides, and he finally pauses. His gaze turns back to you—his orange eyes shy now that the intensity of the situation has died down, but you only smile at him. Tired, but reassuring. Like always.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” you ask, giggling when Levi sheepishly nods his head. “I’m glad then.”

“I’m sorry,” he speaks up after a moment, his hands reaching beneath you. He cradles you in his arms, carrying you to his bed. “Please don’t hate me now.”

“I could never,” you tell him honestly, your palm cupping his cheek as he bends over to set you down. His eyes meet yours—still apologetic—and you cough, your face turning pink and gaze darting away.

“And besides, I…um…actually really enjoyed that. So please don’t feel sorry.”

A wave of relief washes over Leviathan, and he topples you over with a hug.

“UGH. I was so worried! But man, that was sooooo hot!! I can’t believe you let me do that to you, and you enjoyed it!! I knew I liked you for a reason, Y/N!”

His outburst of emotion has you giggling—his face rubbing against your chest as he releases all his pent-up feelings. However, after a minute his words and movements stop, and you open your eyes, glancing down at him.

He’s looking at you with a serious face, but his eyes shine with excitement.

“Can I import you and start the game again? Oh! Or, if I buy more games like that will you let me make you my main character? Please?”

“I--,” you’re not sure what to say—feeling embarrassed all over again at the idea. He seems so enthralled by the idea, and while you’re completely flattered that he’d enjoyed the experience so much that he actually wants to do it again, right now your brain isn’t able to entertain the thought. You’re too exhausted.

“M-Maybe?? Ask me later.”

“Huhuhuhu okay~!” he giggles, hugging you tightly once more, and you can’t help but smile.

As dorky as he is—the Avatar of Envy is as equally endearing.

“Hey Levi?”

“Hmm?”

“Why didn’t you make the monster fuck me in the game?”

Your question has him turning pink—his gaze shying away from you.

“Because…”

“Because?”

“Because yourpussyismine--!”

You frown, not understanding.

“What?”

“Because your pussy is mine!!” he yells, his embarrassment exploding as you force the admission out of him.

Your eyes go wide, cheeks reddening at his declaration.

Well, you think, feeling like you may need a cold shower. That settles that.

[fanfictiondreamscape]

To Grab the Gold

Request: Could you maybe do a yurio x reader where the reader is a skater in the girls league at the same level as him. And though she almost always wins gold like her brother victor she’s always hard on herself saying she could do better. Either headcanons of how he would handle it or a Scenario please and thank you!!!!! Love work by the way!!!!!!!

Title: To Grab the Gold 

Genre: fluffy, strays a lil into angst-y territory (but it should be fairly short)

Pairing: Yuri Plisetsky x Fem!reader

Notes: Okay, so thank you for this request! I’ve always wanted to write something about the reader being a sibling of Victor or someone, so this gave me the prime idea! 

Otherwise, I feel as if I can relate to this idea in itself - being hard on yourself. It can literally be seen on this blog. It’s so nice and it makes me so happy to see that people enjoy the work I put out. So, I will thank you for that. 

That said, I went with headcanons. Small warning, though: 

These ideas will stray into territory that can be triggering. I would give it a specific label, but it is simply amplified insecurities, so if you deal with that - please proceed with caution. 

KEY: (Yuri = Plisetsky, Yuuri = Katsuki)

Below the cut! 

we have to cover this before anything else is said:

the figure skating world is brutal.

with that in mind, seeing as you had managed to jump the ranks as quickly as you did, people knew you as a formidable competitor. 

yuri in particular knew how fierce of a competitor you were, seeing as he had trained with you and your brother victor under yakov for as long as he remembers.

so yes, while you two did grow up beside each other, you never really talked to anyone besides yakov, victor, and mila (from time to time) 

in short, you two barely knew each other despite growing beside each other. 

funny occurrence when you consider that he was of the few that knew of your habits when skating.

in similar fashion to your brother, you were almost a natural on the ice, and the way that you moved even off the ice was graceful yet intimidating. 

it frankly shocked the other people competing against you in the senior division in which you debuted.

yuri was beside you the whole way.

literally.

when victor had made the claim that he was going to coach yuuri katsuki, he had suggested that you join him and train under him for the year. 

you reluctantly agreed, though you also avoided saying anything to yakov as you weren’t as straightforward and recklessly fearless as victor is. 

that said, yuri was a little disappointed and jealous.

he knew it was baseless, you were victor’s younger sibling, after all

what right did he have to keep you here?

what really bothered yuri was the fact that victor had made him a promise. 

and he intended to make sure he kept it. 

so when he showed up at the local ice rink out of the blue, you were left jaw-on-the-floor. 

were you really surrounded by people that were purely impulse and nothing else? 

you didn’t let the event prevent you from working on your senior debut pieces, though.

while yuri and yuuri were being coached by victor, it was only when they were done for the day that victor stood by and helped you with your senior debut. 

you already had high expectations, after all - if you couldn’t hold up, what would happen? 

you and yuri are the best new entries, so if either of you couldn’t hold up, what would go down if victor decided to quit coaching for competing in the next season and you had to go back to yakov?

what about if you had failed to grab even silver in your debut?

you knew you could do it, and you wanted the satisfaction that came with the draping of the medal around your neck, standing on the highest pedastal on the winner’s platform.

at least, that’s what you were trying to convince yourself to do. 

you had been trying and failing to do an even more advanced jump than what you usually did.

and you wanted to use it in one of your routines

but the best you could do was the mount. 

your landing was flawed at best, and a wipeout at worst. 

it was starting to get to you.

many things swung around in your head.

‘is it my weight? is it being distributed incorrectly or did you just gain some?’

‘maybe it could be the routine itself. is it good enough to shock a crowd and win the gold?’

‘or, maybe, it’s just the fact that victor wasn’t able to focus and help you when you needed it most?’

the ideals that had been drilled into your head differed greatly from victor’s 

and the fact that you had the expectation to live up to his abilities was starting to get to you for once.

normally, you’d just brush it off, but your competitive nature kicked into full gear and you felt the overwhelming need to avoid disappointing and losing.

you loved the feeling it brought to you. what else was there to say? 

that, and you knew how victor could get when he had expectations. 

just because you’re his family, doesn’t mean that you are exempt from his expectations of nikiforov gold. 

which is why you worked your ass off. 

you lost weight in favor of toning, you made sure to reach the rink before and after the three males entered and left.

more often than not, you would be eating a meal in your designated room in at the hot springs later at night, after your daily workout. 

the new jump that you had been trying to accomplish was barely coming along

your routines were starting to slack.

you didn’t know what was going on, as things like this were normal, but they never reached this extent.

either way, you worked and worked and worked.

eventually, you had begun to skip dinner

you had begun to lose sleep 

you had started to pass out at random times.

despite how much you tried to hide it and play it off as if everything was normal, everyone that saw you could tell that wasn’t the case by any means. 

yuuri was trying to get you to stop and relax, but in your work-induced mindset led to you lashing out at him. no matter what he did, nothing worked. 

yuri and victor had been aiming to get you to relax and stop working as well, but even they knew that you wouldn’t do that unless some more powerful entity forced you to.

that, and the sheer amount of disappointment that had started to rain over your being was starting to transform into anger. 

you were beginning to have outbursts, your were beginning to perform as if you were a simple novice.

you were beginning to look as if you were going to fall apart after a single breath. 

you failed to realize and care about your wellbeing until you wiped out on the ice and couldn’t get back up. 

you were lucky that yuri had stayed back to get something he forgot, otherwise you might’ve been stuck there all night. 

which is why you had to face the music and realize that this wasn’t the way to go about it. 

he had made quick succession in making sure that you were okay as soon as he was exiting the rink and saw you passed out on the ice. 

he panicked, frankly, but he made sure to get you off the ice and on a bench before calling yuuko over to tell her to call victor.

everything was moving fast, and he swore he could feel his heart racing in his ears as he saw you still on surface.

you looked pale, a weird mix of purple-blue and green, and the image left him speechless.

victor and yuuri rushed over to the rink as soon as they could, and when yuuri saw you his jaw fell to the floor

victor, on the other hand, ran to your side and picked you up.

he was able to notice the way you fell limp.

long story short, you looked dead.

it scared him senseless, and yuri could understand the sentiment. 

over the time that he had spent in Japan, he had grown to appreciate the amount of work that you had put forth to succeed.

sadly, even he didn’t know that you would push yourself to this extent.

and he now knew why he became even more drawn to you.

you took pride in your abilities, but he never knew that you pushed yourself this far to achieve whatever goal you had set for yourself.

this event was what forced him to become aware of his feelings for you. 

he could now realize why he always watched you, mesmerized at the way you carried yourself.

and he now understood why he wanted to make you feel safe.

after you were taken to the hot springs and taken care of, victor and yuri stayed by your side as you were still unconscious.

a warm towel was resting on your forehead and you were covered with a blanket. 

for extra measures, they had even kept a small heater beside you to make sure that you didn’t freeze while resting. 

“yuri, can i ask you something?”

“ah- what is it. victor?”

“if she decides to go back to yakov, watch over her for me.”

“...”

“i can tell. she has taken a liking to you, and i know you have taken one to her.”

“...”

“she trusts you, yuri. and after this, i fear that this could happen again, so please. make sure she takes a break.”

“...i promise, victor.”

“...thank you, yuri.”

victor left after that, patting yuri on the back 

(he wondered what he failed to notice, despite his overprotective nature when it came to you.)

yuri sat there, overnight and into the next morning.

yuuri and victor came in to check on you, brought him breakfast, but everything the next day seemed to slow down.

eventually, you woke up, but you were lost. you were even more disappointed than you were before. 

if you needed the cloth on your head changed out, yuri did it.

if you needed the heater turned on, he did it.

if you needed literally anything, he did it or got it for you. 

otherwise, he’d just be silent and act as a safespace for you if you ever needed it.

similarly to how he might handle insecurities that you may have, he would be very careful with the subject.

he’d be a little awkward, though he’d power through for your sake. 

after a few days of just relaxing and stretching, doing some light exercises (and i mean E X T R E M E L Y light exercises), he’d do some slight skating with you to calm you down.

if you wanted to see something from him on the ice, he’d do it for you.

hell, he even did his developing competition piece for you so you could have entertainment in analyzing his technique and ability.

he loved seeing the way your face would light up when you would watch him perform.

eventually, the time passed by.

you came to realize yuri plisetsky as himself completely, aside from just facing the persona that he projected to the media, people he worked aside, and to his fans. 

it made you realize what you had been feeling the whole time. 

you had been put on light work by victor, as he didn’t want to see this happen to you again, so weeks had passed before you went through your intense debut routines. 

it was only on the night that the competition for who victor would coach came up that you were able to go through even a snippet of it. 

yuri, following his loss, was distraught.

he still powered through the night, though. 

when you saw him after the event, you asked him to join you on the ice.

you had a speaker set up on the edge of the rink, playing some lofi music to make sure the mood had stayed calm.

you two just skated around, no real reason as to why except to settle from the day.

“hey, yuri.”

“hmm?”

“you were amazing. as usual, but...”

“...but?”

“...i wanted to thank you.”

he stayed silent to let you continue, but you knew that he was listening. his skating had ceased just the slightest as he had been slightly ahead of you in the rink.

“i...i made a stupid mistake by failing to pay attention to my health, and i wanted to thank you for helping me.”

the silence that followed was comfortable, and as the both of you were very hesitant to say what loomed over your hearts, you were both already aware of what the both of you did meant.

‘i love you.’

the rest of the time in the rink was passed by you and him holding hands and making rounds around the rink 

he even slipped some fancy ballroom moves in, making you flush and laugh. he did the same alongside you.

the next day, there was something melancholy in the air.

and even though you had told him that you wouldn’t be returning to yakov for the season, you did emphasize that you wanted to continue talking to him. 

“hey, yurio!”

“how many times do i- don’t call me yurio!”

“not gonna happen. either way, before you leave, promise me something?”

“what is it?” (it was gentle, and the scene made victor, yuuri, and yuuko gush)

“i better see you on that pedastal kissing that gold medal, plitsetsky.”

“only if i see you up there as well. though you better be careful, or i am going to ignore it.”

“got it, got it. now...promise me?”

“i promise.”

[orsuliya]

Guess what, it’s time for more married!Awu/XQ headcanons, part 2 of who knows how many. Beware of the sappiness!

Once it becomes clear that Xiao Qi and Awu have wildly different ideas about educating children, the denizens of Ningshuo Fortress draw a collective breath. Amusingly enough, it never comes to an all out fight like the one people have been expecting… but still a rather interesting time is had by all.

See, there is no doubt that raising a legion of soldiers is as much out of question as raising a glasshouse of tropical flowers… or root vegetables. That much everybody – from Ah Li Ma to Tang Jing who were both asked to consult on the matter – can agree on. The devil lies in the details. Reading and writing is paramount, but is calligraphy really necessary? Sewing is obviously a must for all, but is fanciful embroidery? Every child should be competent with at least one weapon, but ought they also learn to play instruments, even those with no particular talent for it? At least rudimentary drawing is useful all across the board, no argument to be had there.

The problem is not that Awu and Xiao Qi cannot find a compromise in each of those cases – they absolutely can. Or rather they could... if they were not so careful of offending each other. There comes a time when Xiao Qi blurts out that a princely education is no guarantee of a clear mind or an honourable heart… and then spends the next day or two being strangely apologetic. Which Awu certainly notices, for all that she has no idea what might have caused this sudden development. Yeah, that comment didn’t really register, at least not in the way Xiao Qi fears it did. And yes, Zitan is that much of a non-entity in Awu’s mind.

At the same time Awu might have been dancing around certain subjects, loathe to admit that her husband’s writing is sufficient for the purpose, but would absolutely prevent him from pursuing any kind of serious career in civil service. And since they want their kids to have options, maybe they should think about employing a calligraphy master after all.

Don’t worry, they come clear on both issues! What else are their nightly hug-discussions for, if not resolving potentially painful matters in a relaxed, constructive and mutually satisfying manner?

______________________________

Why would Awu be dancing around certain subjects related to Xiao Qi’s level of education? It’s not like he was ever particularly sensitive to such matters as class difference, right? No sign of inferiority complex there, that’s for sure. Well…

When Awu and Xiao Qi were preparing to leave the capital, Asu made an entire production out of his sister’s upcoming departure. Ningshuo, for all that it may be paradise itself – if one listens to the locals – is rather… provincial, right? No decent wine to be had, no silks, golden bathtubs, first-class inks, high-quality perfume or incense and if there is one decent guan to be had out there, then Turnip will eat his own most decorative one!

Not that Turnip ever comes out and says that Ningshuo is his idea of hell, but still. There is a reason why Xiao Qi prefers not to take part in this whole packing rigmarole; he wouldn’t want to distress his brother-in-law too much… or rather more than he already does at court. Awu takes this brotherly care with good humour; Asu is Asu and it’s true that he would never be able to make it in Ningshuo, but they’re very different Wang breeds and she has no doubts that she will absolutely thrive once there.

The thing is that once they settle in Ningshuo, Xiao Qi starts making those little comments. Nothing really overt and really, they’re made in jest more often than not… But it’s concerning all the same. Self-deprecation is not a good look on Awu’s husband! Well, it totally is, but there are much better ones, so it’s time to stage an intervention.

The next time Awu hears that a Princess like her could have never imagined she would be forced to toil in the field, she snaps. Not like they were toiling anyway – marking out the best pastures is hardly a back-breaking work! So what does she do? Well, first she waits until the evening… and then she immobilizes her husband. True, he may still try to get up while she’s in his lap, but this way he would be forced to take her with him! It’s truly diabolical.

As her second step she asks – very seriously – who is always right in their household and is it true that it’s Princess Yuzhang. Prince Yuzhang, unaware that he’s entering a trap and also rather distracted with what’s in his lap, admits that readily enough.

If Princess Yuzhang is always right, declares Awu, and I am Princess Yuzhang, then what I say must be the absolute truth. And what I say is that you are a silly, silly man. There is nobody else that I would ever wish to call my husband and nowhere that I would rather live but here, by your side, building a future for us and our children. Why, I wouldn’t exchange our current life for any crown and I am something on an expert on those.

It works rather well, that’s as much as I will say on the matter.

______________________________

They do end up employing a calligraphy master for the children. And a painting master. And a slew of other masters as some of the kids get older and develop specific talents. Besides, there is nothing that says they need to limit their educational efforts to their own legion. Ningshuo’s population is booming and there is no better time to found a school or twenty for local children.

Of course most established scholars are very used to comfort and not really used to long trips. In short order, Ningshuo becomes the number one destination for young adventurous men of letters, most rather lacking when it comes to illustrious family background. But they are not the only ones interested in moving to Ningshuo: a good number of respectable old masters also decide to do so.

Turnip Wang tries to warn his sister that she’s playing host to a whole host of dangerous free-thinkers, some of them openly critical of this whole idea of monarchy. Oh, the horror! Awu simply looks at her harried sibling with a perfectly straight face and says that she hasn’t noticed any danger other than the danger of having exceedingly eloquent dinner-companions, which sometimes means that food grows cold before anybody even starts on it. Xiao Qi is very pointedly suppressing a smile in the background.

______________________________

Xiao Qi and Awu are that unbearably cheesy married couple who remains staunchingly and embarrassingly in love even after twenty, thirty years of marriage. And they have absolutely no qualms about public displays of affection. Which leads to some rather amusing moments while at court, but that is an entirely different story.

Now, their kids – both bio and adopted – think it’s the bee’s knees that their parental units love each other so much… but could they tone it down? Just a little? Would a tiny smidge of dignity be totally out of question? There is nothing fundamentally wrong with Father picking Mother up… but must he do it in the middle of the courtyard? And let us not even speak of farewell hugs. And the teasing. Oh, the teasing!

It gets much, much worse once the kids grow up and start pairing off. See, only now do they start to realize what some of their parents’ little quirks actually mean. And most of them mean that Awu and Xiao Qi – grey hair and all – are not that far removed from a pair of newly-weds. More that one son-in-law gets absolutely flustered – some into speechlessness – by the ever-powerful hearteyes. For some reason daughters-in-law deal with this situation much better, although approximately every second one develops… certain expectations.

______________________________

Awu and Xiao Qi do not get it on nearly as often as those poor horrified kids might think. That is they do get it on quite a lot! But it’s far from the only way of marital closeness they enjoy.

The first time Awu and Xiao Qi take a bath together establishes a routine that lasts for the rest of their lives. Dressing and undressing is Awu’s time to be petted and made much of, but bathing? Ooooh, that’s a wholly different matter.

That first time they get into a tub together it’s actually Awu who sits behind Xiao Qi and starts washing him. At first he is more than a bit bashful about it and tries to turn the tables on her, but she is relentless. Finally he starts to relax and once Awu gets to washing his hair, his state can only be described as utter contentedness. There might be some neck kisses and soothing scratches to be had as well, both of which only draw him deeper into a dreamlike trance.

After the water grows cold, Awu dresses them both in soft nightime robes and leads Xiao Qi, still pretty out of it, to bed. Not to have sex, mind you. Just to lie down and breathe together, as close to each other – bodily and mentally – as it is even possible. I am not saying that Xiao Qi cries at any point… Well, of course he cries! It is the first time he’s been treated with this kind of overwhelming tenderness; experiencing such absolute depth of care and love for the first time is an earth-shattering experience for a man who had known so little of both in his life.

They take care to repeat this experience at least once a month; after the first several times Awu no longer has to propose taking a bath together. The first time he actually asks? Her heart grows two whole sizes from sheer pride.

[squeeneyart]

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 20

AO3

Beta reader as always is @thesnadger!

Simon and Martin have a chat.

Martin accepts some advice.

When Martin passed the front gate the world behind him disappeared, replaced by cold, grey mist and stone.

Staring back the way he came only made it harder to remember what had been before, and his head felt the pressure of distance with no point of reference. Something deep inside him knew the perils of walking anywhere but the path leading him to the Fairchild house; to step anywhere else would see him tumbling out and away from the only landmark he had left.

Waiting for him at the front door was the woman who’d taken the sketchbook from him, this time without the veneer of professional courtesy. The hooded jumper, worn jeans, and disinterested wave announced to the world an interrupted day off. If his damp, miserable self was an affront to her sensibilities, she wasn’t showing it, so the wet jacket stayed on.

In his nerves he hadn’t really registered her appearance during their first meeting, too focused on getting rid of the evidence of his crime. She was older, maybe in her 60s, with long grey hair tied back into a low ponytail. He hadn’t seen her about town before, had he?

They walked inside without any chitchat, so Martin glanced about in silence. The interior felt right if his memory served, the same skinny halls and windows stretching from floor to ceiling. The most striking aspect still was the mural at the top of the central staircase. The rest of the house was dwarfed by it, as if the grand building was no greater than his hometown’s silhouette tucked into the corner of the canvas. 

Approaching it, the colors were more. More intense, more bold, all the brightness stolen from the world outside siphoned into an impossible sky. Maybe anything would look that much more  when contrasted with where he’d been. He was at the top of the stairs standing at its center wondering if there was any distance that could give him a proper view of the whole. 

From behind him the woman cleared her throat, though she didn’t seem irritated. He pulled himself away from the spot where he’d stopped to stare, leaving slippery footprints in his wake.

Glancing up at the mural, she only said, “Some things demand attention.”

She led him to the same room from his first visit with its outward wall of glass. Across the room sat Simon, his back facing those large, unbelievably clear windows that now overlooked the fog-covered landscape. Martin heard the woman’s retreating footsteps and the click of the door.

Martin breathed out, keeping a few feet between himself and the old man. He waved stiffly at the windows. “It’s a bit late. I was expecting this to happen last week.”

With that pleasant smile unmoving, Simon motioned for Martin to sit in the chair across from him. “Don’t be ridiculous. That event will be much more exciting. I wanted to put this meeting together, and needed a good mix of quick and fun.”

“Starting to question my understanding of ‘fun’,” Martin mumbled. He took the seat offered to him and crossed his arms over his chest, the rainwater he carried in seeping into the plush fabric. “It seems like I’m always on the losing side of someone else’s.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Simon hummed, leaning back comfortably in his chair. “So you’d prefer something more exciting in your invitations, so you’re not left out? Did my little errand turn you into a thrill-seeker already?”

“No.” A shiver ran through him, not of fear but of an awful, biting cold. The wet of his hair sapped the heat right out of him and pulled his ponytail down heavy onto his neck. “What do you want?”

“Oh, a bit moody today, aren’t we?” The smile was still sitting idly on Simon’s face. “Peter’s been around more often, I can tell. He does that to people, sucks all patience and goodwill out until they’re… well.” He flicked his eyes over Martin with something like pity.

Martin pressed his arms tighter into himself. “So what, you push people into the sky, and he does that?”

Simon laughed without a hint of shame. “Goodness, no. Peter is just like that, no strangeness needed. I’ve often left his company feeling completely drained and irritable, though I’ve found ways to ensure the feeling is mutual.”

“Good friends, then.”

“As much as he can have them.” Simon leaned forward, no hint of bitterness in his voice or expression. “A very close-to-the-chest type, I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

With a sharp exhale, Martin said, “Look, if you’re going to ask me for a favor I’m not-”

“Now, now, I’m not one to drag on a favor forever, and you’ve paid in full. Besides, Peter is much too jumpy right now for anything to be done.” Simon turned his gaze toward the window. “I’m afraid all any of us can do now is wait.” 

A jolt of disappointment shocked Martin to silence. All of this dramatic nonsense just to be told to wait and see? He hadn’t had any specific expectations, but deep down he’d believed Simon to be plotting something soon. That even if it was a horrible outcome Martin wouldn’t be left in suspense from every angle of his life. 

Whatever shoe was meant to drop, it hadn’t, and it wouldn’t for some unspecified amount of time.

Simon regained his easy tone and continued, “And I greatly dislike this weather, all of these things clouding my view. Soon I’ll be going weeks without a clear day, and it can feel so… so claustrophobic. So little to work with on a day like this.”

He wasn’t the one who needed to walk in it. “You’re not going to explain anything, are you?”

“No, I’m not. You know how these things are. Business.” Reaching into his pocket, Simon pulled out a small envelope. “Speaking of, like a pouting child Peter has been avoiding me, and as far as I can tell you’re the only person who actually sees him.”

With a deep sigh Martin leaned forward, elbows resting on knees. Not only was he getting nothing out of Simon, but- “This is all so I can be a messenger boy?”

“Just the one time, if Peter can be reasonable.”

“I don’t- Wait. Why not trap him like you did me? Just force him to your door.”

With a sudden laugh that made Martin jump, Simon replied, “Not everyone is as easy to find as you. And anyway, it’s not wise to do that to friends, is it?” 

It wasn’t a way to keep friends, no, and he took the message from Simon without further comment. On the other side of the room, the door opened to reveal that woman. Not needing prompting he stood, looking back one more time at the other man.

Simon remained seated and swung one more friendly smile in Martin’s direction. “You’ll be seen out, then. I must thank you for your previous help, Martin. The personal significance alone can’t be overstated. It’s not my only sketchbook, of course, but several of my best works had their beginnings in it.” Was that glint in his eye one of creative pride, or was there some joke Martin was missing?

The tiniest desire to stay and hear more itched at the back of his mind, but the dismissal was clear and he let the woman lead him back through the house. Once outside he saw the weather had taken a turn for the worse into a complete downpour. The high wind would certainly blow his hood down, making for a wretched walk ahead of him.

“Ah.” He’d been taken to the Fairchild house on an impossible route, but the way home was entirely real. “I have a long way to walk.”

“Inconveniences all around,” the woman said, shutting the door behind him.

Once he was alone he ripped the phone from his pocket and and bent over it to delete his dramatic messages before they could be seen, replacing it with:

Martin: talked with simon (didnt really have a choice), dont think anything will happen with him for a while

Martin: said all we can do is wait? really cryptic

Then he pocketed it once more and walked out the front gate into the reinstated town.

The greatest relief was finding other unlucky pedestrians doing their best to stay dry along with him. Even without the ability to stop and talk he felt the silent commiseration. It wasn’t joy in the suffering of others but rather the knowledge that other people were there at all to share in the cruddy weather. He could see where a person ahead of him was avoiding puddles, and found residual warmth in the lights of nearby shop fronts. It was the kind of melancholy atmosphere that could make rain a little more bearable.

The walk down the cliff however was designed to kill him, the slope slick with mud and abandoned by an early setting sun. No waterproof phone, glasses blurred and splattered with droplets, Martin made his slow way home in the cold, in the dark. More than once he stopped to make sure he hadn’t gotten turned around by forces supernatural or otherwise, but then the ground flattened and he could finally hear the sea over the rain beating against the ground.

He was late of course, but besides some comments about tracking water into the house and forgetting his umbrella his mother had left him well alone, and even took his word when he described the weather as unsuitable for her health. He was grateful. After the last few days anything worse might’ve sent them into a screaming match to surpass any bouts they’d had in years. Maybe the day had taken as much out of her as it had from him.

Instead, after a necessary change of clothes on his part, they ate dinner and watched television, her in her chair and him on the couch. It was some old game show he vaguely remembered, not something that aired in his childhood but that he’d experienced first as reruns, the saturated colors and fuzzy image granting it a multilayered nostalgia. Someone on the screen had just answered a question and was hoping their spouse would come up with the same response.

In his pyjama pants and old t-shirt he felt little, his feet tucked under him because he hadn’t wanted to waste another pair of socks. It was as if he’d just come out of the bath with his wet hair and drooping eyes and was waiting to be told he was up too late. As if he wasn’t responsible for watching the clock himself.

His phone vibrated in the middle of the program, but if his mother noticed she chose to ignore it. Tapping the phone awake, Martin saw a notification from the group message.

Tim: ok check-in time what the hell 

Tim: just saw this 

So they hadn’t seen his initial messages. He breathed out in relief and typed out a reply.

Martin: some weird stuff, but everythings fine. simon made it so i had to go talk to him

Martin: whatever simon mentioned before its not coming yet. seems like he isnt in control of when whatever it is happens? also peter is avoiding him so i need to give him this letter

Tim: weird but

Tim: good? more time for us

Sasha: one less thing to worry about. glad it went okay.

Tim: ^^

He’d successfully avoided any panic or weirdness that his original messages most definitely would’ve caused and patted himself on the back for a job well done. No one needed that as a distraction.

Martin: oh right weird topic change but jon mentioned it, do you really all use a cot at work

Tim: oh yeah lol love that thing

Tim: jon is on it right now actually will pass on simon info when hes awake

Martin: youre all still there??

Tim: oh martin dont you know weve Never Left

Tim: we should get going soon tho now that you mention, will drag jon out of the archives while passing on simon info

Martin: good idea

Tim: and keep those eyes down!

Martin bit his cheek and looked past his phone at the television screen. No doubt it was karma for his rash behavior at the lighthouse, having “just wait!” shouted at him from all corners. The universe was making itself very clear. Simon could’ve just been telling him to let something terrible happen, but even if that was true Martin wasn’t in a place to stop anything.

But it was a great quality of Tim’s, rounding them all up and trying to save them from regrettable decisions. The least Martin could do was make that job easier and stay out of trouble. It was also the most he could do, as much as it irked him.

Martin: dont need to tell me twice! 

And with that Martin pocketed his phone, accepting his fate of inaction.

When he finally put his mother to bed the goodnight between them was not warm, but it was closer to normal. If he’d been told that one of the most pleasant parts of his day would’ve been watching the telly after dinner with his mum, he would’ve… well, it wasn’t that strange. Really it emphasized how bad the rest of his day had been.

Meanwhile the most pleasant event felt fake, even when he checked his call logs to confirm it. What a strange start to a day, he thought as he laid in bed. At least it made up for Jon not being around that evening, that and knowing Jon was getting some sleep. The man clearly needed some prompting during an intense work period to take care of himself, and Martin silently thanked Tim for doing something about it when he couldn’t bring himself to initiate a phone conversation. He knew it was ridiculous for him to be so nervous about the idea, but…

But.

Hopefully Jon didn’t think he was rude. It was one thing to chat in person, but calling without a specific topic to discuss while the others were hard at work? Because he was bored? Best to let Jon reach out when he felt it necessary, even if it meant being woken up at odd hours on a work day and otherwise sitting on his hands. Eventually this would all be behind them and he could stop being racked with guilt over the thought of making a social call. 

Martin’s stomach twisted. Yes, things would be dealt with, and he would move on from this strange period in his life.

He moved to place the phone down for the night when it buzzed in his hand, with a message in another, private chat.

Sasha: we should talk more later about what simon told you specifically. if something big is coming having someone on the inside of things might not be the worst. not saying you should seek him out, he seems perfectly of capable of contacting you, but if it happens again it could be an opportunity

Martin: you think he could be on our side?

Sasha: i think letting people say their piece can lead to understanding, even if the other person is the worst. something is going on between him and peter lukas and the more we know the better

Martin: right…

Sasha: again not saying to run into anything. wait for us etc etc but trust your gut

Martin: so your opinion on staying put?

Sasha: sometimes you cant, thats all im saying

Martin: okay, i think i get it

Sasha: good. now get some sleep, weird things tend to drain you

Martin: goodnight

Sasha: night

Well, she wasn’t wrong. He didn’t believe that Simon was a good person, not with how he’d treated Martin thus far, but that didn’t make him evil, either. And his advice was the same as what everyone else had already been saying: stay out of trouble as best he could and wait for the right moment. Even Sasha still conceded to it being the best option for the present. If Peter told him to wait as well, then Martin would be truly lost on what to do, but until then he would follow the advice of all the people who knew more than he did.

And if Simon called him to his home again, he would try to be less… difficult. And he would buy a better jacket, just in case. 

--

The next morning, he listened to a voice message left shortly after he’d fallen into a blissfully dreamless sleep.

Jon’s groggy voice drifted from the mobile. “Hi, sorry I missed things. Wasn’t expecting Fairchild to be so forward, and my sleep schedule has never been- anyway, Tim convinced me to go back to my flat, but since I slept at the institute earlier I’m currently following a few threads to see if they lead anywhere helpful. I think I’ve reached something, but time will tell.”

He continued after a brief pause. “Seems you’re already asleep, as you should be, so I’ll let you go. Let me know if you have any questions about our other… shared interest. Good night. I hope things stay quiet.” 

[stillness-in-green]

Spinaraki Week Level 2, Day Four: Control | Edge

A return to a scenario I brainstormed up last time with/for @codenamesazanka: the “Shigaraki and Spinner Karma Houdini their way out the end of the series and run off to be vigilantes in BNHA!Macau” AU.  That and, “Shigaraki’s hanging onto Mr. Compress’s quirk while he lays low,” is all the context you really need for this, but if you want more, it’s here.

Of course, back in August, there was still a lot we didn’t know yet about Shigaraki and vestiges...

(Content Notes: sleep paralysis, some body horror, AFO being Too Close.)

———–      ———–      ———–      ———–

“So how are things going with you?” Compress asks him, the wind snapping so loud in his coat that he has to raise his voice to be heard over it.  Somehow his hat doesn’t blow off, though, despite the fact that they’re having this conversation on top of New Oumun’s high-speed monorail.  “Putting me to good use, I trust?”

Shigaraki sits sprawled across the roof of the train car, watching the buildings blur past, old alternating with new.  It’s too bright out, but that’s how Compress’s dreams usually are—all vivid colors and frivolous moving parts to distract from what’s going on below the surface.

He shrugs in answer.  “Used you to help us jump a high roller in his own suite last week.  Threw all his chips out the window when we were done.  We figured it’s what you would have wanted.”

Compress laughs, twirling his cane.  “I hope you saved enough for a lobster dinner.  I would have considered that an important component of my evening.”

“Would’ve had to pay for dry cleaning first,” Shigaraki replies, the smile tugging at his face still feeling strange after all this time.

“Ah, yes, the spectacle of you in a dress suit.  You—”  

Shigaraki looks up when the vestige breaks off with a hum of dissatisfaction.  “What?”

Compress tells him, “Hold on.”

Movement in the corner of his eye, something broad-chested but quick, and then the cane’s hitting him dead in the chest.  Pushed over the side, he plummets, catching just a glimpse of the form as it jumps after him.  Overhead, the train flickers by, light rebounding off the windows, the sound of it a high, sibilant humming.

There’s a flash of black; the wind dies.  

In the dark, the whistling movement of the monorail transitions to the long, even sweeping of a blade over a whetstone.  There’s a familiar heavy sensation in his chest.  Shigaraki’s eyes flick open.

Sensei.  Ass planted on Shigaraki’s chest like it’s just the nearest patch of clean ground available to sit on.  The weight burns, clips his breath short.  Sensei looks down at him, head wreathed in smoke that doesn’t quite cover the edges of his hair, the brightness in his eyes.  He smiles—a fitful, twitching little quirk of his lips like he’s trying not to laugh at something—and raises one finger to his mouth.

Get out, Shigaraki tries to tell him, but his lips won’t move.  Sensei just reaches down and brushes at his hair, combing disarrayed strands out of his eyes.  The boundaries of the room throb in time with his depressed heart rate.  The cool rasping of metal on stone continues unabated.

Shigaraki’s body pulls up into a sitting position.  His head swims with vertigo.  Sensei’s sitting behind him now, chest to his back, arms wrapped around his shoulders. The edge of the cologne he used to wear back before All Might collapsed his skull worms its way into Shigaraki’s nostrils, warm musk and a hint of sage.

“A little walkabout, Tomura,” he breathes.  A gnat in Tomura’s ear, one he can’t lift an arm to swat at.  “For old time’s sake.”

Get out.  Shigaraki’s eyes burn; his shallow breathing stays regular, level, even through the rising of frantic anger in his throat.  His heartbeat roars low in his ears, rattling through the walls of their tiny apartment like a tidal wave about to make landfall.

All For One stands him up, tugging his loose shirt into place from where it got twisted around in his sleep.  His heart pounds harder, but still so damn slow; dull clouds of red afterimage drift around the ceiling as his arms stretch up, fingers kneading at empty air.

Sensei fists his hand in Tomura’s shirt—his flesh twists in the grasp; he can’t breathe—and pulls him forward, and finally the whetstone sound scratches to a halt.

“Shigaraki?”  Surrounded in knives and polishing cloths, Spinner looks up at him from the low table in front of the couch, his favorite katana fallen still mid-stroke halfway across the stone.

“Be it ever so humble, hmm?” Sensei asks, his tone amused as his glance takes in the peeling paint, the uneven floor, the clutter.  Shigaraki’s eyes move away from Spinner and over to the window.  “Ah, Tomura; what to do with you?”

Let me go, old man!  You lose this every time!  He tries to force his eyes closed, to focus, but between All For One and the damn sleep paralysis, he’s apparently not authorized for use of his muscles right now.  As his feet walk him over to the window, the smells of the city spin free association images across his vision—the tired smile on the woman running the gai daan jai stall on the corner; Spinner working polish into his and Toga’s blades in their downtime during those weeks against Machia; Sensei sitting down beside him in his old bed and rubbing his shoulder until he could move again, winding a supportive arm around his back as he shook through the remnants of panic afterward.

In the distance, the casino towers climb over everything, obelisks stamped black against the sunset, periodically caught in the sweeping beam of their own spotlights.  Sensei leans in from behind him, fingers knitting together over the top of Shigaraki’s head, elbows on his shoulders, and sighs appreciatively. The vibrations of it buzz through him in a steady thrum.

“We should be up there, you know,” All For One says.  “And that’s just for a start.”

Spinner says something behind him, specific words muffled by the blood rushing in Shigaraki’s ears.

The feel of the sword resting on the side of his neck is a lot clearer.

All For One chuckles, and Sensei slides his arm down Shigaraki’s clavicle, fingers hooking in beneath skin and bone, flesh melting into flesh.  He pivots them around to meet Spinner’s stare, steady at the other end of an outstretched sword-arm the apartment only barely has room for.

“Still so dedicated, Iguchi-kun,” All For One drawls, the grin stretching wide to show teeth.  “But are you really satisfied with the one you chose to follow just scraping by in a place like this?”

Like the Doc’s lab was any better, Shigaraki thinks at him with all the vitriol he can muster. The katana isn’t quite turned all the way in, the flat of the metal cold and grounding, its freshly honed edge just a reminder of a promise.  

“We have our own kitchen and enough space to curtain off the bedroom.  That’s luxurious compared to how some people here live,” Spinner answers, curt anger in his eyes.

“But fear, too,” Sensei says, easy bordering on idle even as All For One is responding using Shigaraki’s tongue, Shigaraki’s mouth.  Sensei’s broad fingertips trail one at a time over Shigaraki’s ribcage, and if Shigaraki couldn’t breathe before, he barely wants to now, trying to keep his lungs from so much as brushing up against those probing hands even as pain starts to clang between his temples.  “He’s never been able to hide how afraid of us he is.”

And that’s not even worth arguing with.  Shigaraki stares into Spinner’s eyes—the anger, yeah, the fear, sure, but there’s awareness there, too, because they talked about this before, and Spinner knows what he’s doing, beyond just keeping himself out of grabbing distance.

Spinner’s mouth moves, and the motion of it doesn’t match what Shigaraki hears—“Shigaraki, you got this?”—but it’s what his eyes are saying anyway as the edge of the blade turns in.

It’s barely anything, hardly even enough to raise the white line of a papercut, much less draw any blood. But, hyper-aware of his locked-up body, Shigaraki latches onto it, the impossibly fine variegation of the blade pattern pressing into his skin with as much clarity as Spinner’s open hand, the scales a rough, insistent comfort.

He reaches up and closes his good hand around the bare blade.  Pain, sweet and hot and real, scores his palm and the insides of his fingers, and there’s a tsk of annoyance from Sensei as All For One falls away under the sudden sensation of slick wetness oozing past his knuckles.

Spinner catches him as his knees give out and the sword clatters to the floor.

“Shit,” Spinner breathes, and, “Let me see.”  He lowers them down to the ground, one arm clutching Shigaraki tight around the waist.  With his other hand, he gingerly turns Shigaraki’s palm towards the light.

“S’fine,” Shigaraki mumbles, rubbing at his face with his left hand.  He’s trembling, which is annoying, but typical of coming out of a sleep paralysis spell—all that strain he was putting on muscles that couldn’t respond right until just now.  The pain’s already fading, his regeneration kicking in just like it was designed to.

Spinner watches the wounds close up anyway, and conspicuously exhales once they do.

“He still talking?” he asks in an undertone, knitting their fingers together and dropping their hands back into their laps.  His thumb rubs absently over Shigaraki’s knuckle, claw scratching across his skin.

“Nah,” Shigaraki answers, tucking his head up into the curve of Spinner’s neck.  “He’s pretty quiet these days.”

“Not quiet enough,” comes the grumble, and Shigaraki huffs in agreement.  They sit that way for another minute, quiet as the noise of the city carries on around them.  Shigaraki breathes it in, lets it ground him—as he’s been finding for the last couple years, the more he’s got to ground him, the better.  Wanting to tear down everything doesn’t give you a very stable foundation to fight for control from—go figure.

Finally, as the first moth finds its way in to start fluttering around the lamp, he straightens up, tugging free of Spinner’s hands.  His partner gives him a plaintive look, at which Shigaraki grins.

“Scum of the city’s not gonna off themselves, Spinner.”

Spinner shakes his head, but he’s already fighting off a grin himself.  “Yeah, yeah.  Let me clean my sword off and I’ll be good to go.”

[the-stubborn-exchange-student]

Pride Cometh Before the Fall (Part 2)

Part one can be found here

Pairings: Lucifer X Alexis (...?), bits of Mammon X Alexis if ya squint

Summary: People don’t always make the best choices when upset.

Notes: Originally, I’d intended to write this big ol’ dramatic confrontation, specifically among the brothers, but when I started writing that wasn’t really the direction the story was heading in. So instead, we have....//gestures vaguely whatever this is. Maybe not quite as angsty as the first portion was, but as I was writing it seemed like I wanted to focus less on the hurt and more on (eventual) comfort, and the ties between the characters.

Tagging @kcabyap​ because I know they were interested in the hypothetical part 2, hopefully I don’t disappoint aaha;;

“Alexis, wait--!” He’d called, body rooted to the spot. Even as his previous words had come out, he’d known they were wrong. He’d wanted to take them back.

But it was too little, too late, it seemed. Alexis was in no mood to listen to another word.

Lucifer couldn’t blame her. She was just trying to protect the heart he’d broken so easily. All the same...there had to be a way to fix this. A way to make this up to her. A way to go back to how things were, how he wanted them to be--

“Lucifer? Is everything alright?” Diavolo frowned. “You seem distracted...”

“No. I’ve broken up with the love of my life, over a stupid matter. And I may never be able to repair the damage.”

“I apologize, my Lord. My brothers have merely caused a good deal of trouble today.”

“I see. There truly is never a dull moment among your brothers.” Diavolo chuckled. “But tell me, where is Alexis? I was looking forward to her joining us.”

“Alexis...sends her apologies. She isn’t feeling her best, and I assume she’s returned home.”

“‘Assume’?” Barbatos asked, looking up from the tea he’d been pouring. Even so, not a single drop was spilled. His expression was as neutral as ever, but something unmistakably concerned flickered in his eyes. “It isn’t like you to not know where Alexis is.”

Ah. Yes, there was that. Lucifer had been very adept at keeping track of the exchange student, even before he’d had any real emotional attachments to her. It was unlike him to fail at that...or to be almost dismissive of it.

“...Lucifer, are you certain you’re all right?” Diavolo asked again. “Tell me, please. Perhaps there’s something I can do to help.”

It needled at his pride like few other things did; he didn’t need help. And Lord Diavolo had far better things to do than help an underling like him settle a squabble...

...No. this was more than a mere “squabble”. And it was his damn pride that had caused this problem in the first place.

“Alexis ran off. I can only hope she ran home, but I don’t know for certain.”

“But why? She knows the dangers the Devildom can pose to a human, even one with the pacts that she’s made.”

“We...fought. I’ve upset her. Hurt her badly.”

“You...after everything, you’re...you’re dumping me because you think I make you look bad??”

“Oh...Lucifer, what happened?”

“No one worth your time is going to condemn you for having a heart, Lucifer!”

Lucifer was spared from answering Diavolo’s question when his D.D.D. went off. And then went off again. And again.

“Your brothers?” The Prince asked, even as Lucifer irritably tapped the screen to bring it to life.

He knew it was a slim chance, but a part of him was nevertheless disappointed that none of the missed calls or texts were from Alexis.

The brothers’ group chat, on the other hand, had flared to life, and it took a bit of scrolling to figure out everything that had happened.

[Lucifer: Beel, tell me you didn’t actually tear the kitchen apart.]

[Mammon: Yeahhh, he totally did.]

[Beelzebub: I’m sorry...]

[Beelzebub: I was hungry. No one’s made dinner yet.]

[Satan: Well, now no one is going to be able to make dinner for a while.]

[Mammon: Dammit, and it was Alexis’ turn to cook, too. Why’d ya keep her stuck at RAD, Lucifer?!]

The last message sent a bit of anger spiking through his chest, although it was almost immediately quelled by a fearful tightening.

They thought she was still with him.

He’d thought for sure that she’d gone home.

...Where was she?!

“I apologize, Lord Diavolo, something’s come up,” Lucifer said. The panic beginning to course through his veins had already propelled him out of his seat. “Alexis never made it back to the House of Lamentation.”

Similar expressions of alarm flickered across both Diavolo and Barbatos’ faces, and the former gestured to his right-hand man that there was no harm done.

“Barbatos and I will search the castle and surrounding grounds, just in case. Keep us posted, Lucifer.”

The firstborn nodded, quickly striding out of the student council room, gloved fingers flying across the D.D.D.’s keyboard.

[Lucifer: Alexis left RAD some time ago. She should be back at the house.]

[Mammon: Hey, hey, wait a sec! You just had her go back on her own?!]

[Satan: I never thought I’d say this, but Mammon’s actually right. Why wouldn’t you walk her back?]

[Belphegor: I guess he didn’t want to keep his precious Diavolo waiting.]

[Lucifer: That’s enough, Belphegor.]

[Belphegor: Tell me I’m wrong, you can’t. What, you just decided Alexis wasn’t important anymore?]

It must seem that way, especially to Alexis herself. But she was important to him. More important than his pride.

So why...why had he hurt her so badly?

[Lucifer: Belphie, do something productive with that energy and help me find Alexis.]

[Belphegor: Hmph. Fine, I’ll give you a hard time after we find her.]

[Mammon: I’ll get my crow familiars and have ‘em check out town!]

[Asmodeus: I’ll call Solomon!]

[Leviathan: I’ll wait at home in case she comes back!]

[Satan: Lucifer, as far as I’m concerned, whatever happens to Alexis while she’s gone is on your hands.]

He said that as if Lucifer didn’t already know.

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

When this sort of thing happened in movies and books, the weather was always almost storming. It was as if it was nature’s way of showing how the character’s world was ending, crumbling down around them.

No such weather was accompanying Alexis as she walked aimlessly along. It was a clear day in the Devildom, and if anything, the silence only drove home just how badly she was breaking.

At least if it was raining, like a movie, she’d be able to use the sound to try and drown out everything else running through her head.

Truth be told, Alexis had no idea how long she’d been moving, or how far she’d gone. She’d run for a good while longer than she would have thought herself to be capable of, and when the burning in her lungs and her legs forced her to slow down, she’d found herself pushing on at a slower pace.

Her D.D.D. vibrated in her bag, again and again--some part of her wished she’d left the damn thing back at RAD. After it rang for the fourth or fifth time, she let out an aggravated noise, pulling out the offending device.

[Mammon: Yo, Alexis! Where’re you at?!]

[Satan: Alexis, please let me know when you get this. I’m not sure what happened, but we’re all very worried about you.]

[Beelzebub: Alexis, please come back home. I’ll treat you to Madame Scream’s. Anything you want, just let me know you’re okay, please...]

[Solomon: Asmodeus just called me in a panic, asking if I know where you are. What’s happened? Are you okay?]

[Mammon: Darlin’, answer your phone, please. Ya don’t gotta tell me what’s wrong, just at least lemme know where you are so we can come get you.]

Her screen was filled with messages, a new one popping into existence almost faster than she could read the previous ones. Each new one made her heart ache--they were all so worried about her, probably losing their minds trying to find her, and here she was just...running off like a child, in a place she knew could still pose a very real threat to her.

[Lucifer: Alexis, please, talk to me.]

...God, she wanted to.

Newer messages were already taking its place, but Alexis didn’t seem to even register them. Her vision had blurred, hot tears rendering the phone screen nothing more than a blur of color and light.

She wanted to. She wanted to talk, to understand, to forgive, to forget this entire day ever happened...

...but she couldn’t. She couldn’t let herself.

[Alexis: No.]

[Alexis: You’ve already made your priorities clear. I’m not interested in anything you have to say.]

[Lucifer: Alexis, tell me where you are. Now is not the time for spite.]

She glared at the screen even as she let out a disbelieving noise. She wondered if Satan, somewhere, could feel the traces of wrath that had flared up inside her when she read that.

[Alexis: Are you fucking kidding me? You dumped me and now you’re mad that I’m upset? What right do you have to be upset??]

[Alexis: I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to even look at you right now.]

[Lucifer: I’ve made a mistake, love. Please.]

Oh...that was...

Even when they’d started dating, Alexis knew apologies did not come easily to Lucifer. When he’d admit he was wrong at all, it was through actions. Never exactly words. He...he was really being sincere...

...No. No, she couldn’t assume that. She’d thought he’d been sincere when he told her he loved her, but with how easily he’d just...cut her off...

[Alexis: Let me guess. The “mistake” was leading me on.]

[Alexis: Like I said, you’ve made your priorities clear. There’s nothing left to say.]

[Alexis: I hope you had your fun, at least.]

Even as she backed out of the chat, Lucifer was already typing, and Alexis was choking back another sob.

It was be easier if she could bring herself to hate him. Easier still to simply not care at all. But she couldn’t. She’d never be able to.

She loved him, truly and deeply, and that hurt most of all.

Alexis knelt down on a patch of grass, hands shaking as she opened another chat.

[Alexis: I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking and just took off, I’m so sorry I made you worried...]

[Mammon: Alexis!! You’re not hurt, are you?!]

A difficult question. Physically, no. But the rest of her was a very different matter.

[Alexis: No, no...I’m not hurt. I am kind of lost, though. Some forest-y looking area.]

[Alexis: I just want to go home, Mammon...]

[Mammon: Okay, treasure. I’ve got my familiars out in full force, we’ll figure out where you are in no time. Sit tight, the Great Mammon’ll be there before ya know it.]

Alexis set her D.D.D. aside, leaned against a gnarled tree, and listened for the sounds of crows.

[brbtherescookies]

The thing about it is, Crowley will never admit it, much less ask for it. Aziraphale has known him for 6000 years, and knows this to be so true he could write it in the stars without a second thought.

The other thing is, Crowley needs it sometimes. And since he’ll never ask for it (see previous point), Aziraphale has to make it happen without making it obvious. Crowley is cantankerous at the best of times, and these situations are not even close to being the best of anything.

Aziraphale knows something is brewing as soon as he gets off the lift in Crowley’s building. He could just miracle himself at the door, but he likes Crowley’s building; there’s something just slightly intoxicating about it, like opening up a favorite book for the thousandth time. So even in the dead of winter in London, he takes a walk to visit his oldest friend.

As soon as the lift doors close behind him, he can hear a raised voice which only grows louder as he approaches the door to Crowley’s flat. Aziraphale struggles for a moment with the key, damned modern locks, and by the time he gets the door open the voice has been replaced by a high-pitched whining, accompanied by a guttural grinding.

Oh dear. Something must be terribly off; Crowley hasn’t put any of his plants down the garbage disposal since the day several months ago when he returned from the kitchen to find Aziraphale lovingly comforting his (remaining) greenery. Crowley hadn’t said anything about it, but Aziraphale had noticed that no more had gone missing, so to speak.

Aziraphale takes a left to the kitchen instead of a right to the greenery room; something must have set Crowley off, and until that is remedied the plants will have to wait to be consoled.

He finds the demon just shutting off the switch for the disposal; he looks up at Aziraphale with a slightly guilty expression.

“Leaf spots again?” Aziraphale asks lightly, tugging nervously at his coat. He doesn’t like seeing Crowley upset.

“Nah, bugger shed leaves all over the carpet,” Crowley replies, still standing at the sink, arms braced on the counter.

“Well, can’t have that then.”

Aziraphale takes a moment to study Crowley. He’s wearing black, which is no surprise, and he looks tired, which is also not a surprise. Demons might not sleep, but they can still feel weary. Much like angels, really. But while Aziraphale recharges with a good reread of his Wilde collection and a hot cup of cocoa, Crowley seems to just barrel his way through fatigue until he makes it all the way back around to hellraising. That only works for so long, however. Miracles can take a lot of energy, and it only gets worse over time.

Crowley is wearing a black turtleneck sweater with black wool trousers, and black socks. It’s January, so none of that is particularly out of place, but now that Aziraphale is actively tuning in to the surroundings, he can tell that the air is rather chilly. Ah, so there’s the problem.

“It seems cold in here,” Aziraphale says with a tentative smile.

“Heat’s out,” Crowley replies shortly. He has a sour look on his face. “I’m done forcing it to work; the building supervisor is going to have to fix it himself this time.”

Most people know that Crowley is a demon, that part is easy, but they often forget what kind of demon he is. When you get right down to it, Crowley is a snake. And as much as he takes a human form and wears clothes and has houseplants, there’s still some things he can’t change about being a snake. He’s gotten better at temperature regulation over the last several thousand years, but he’s not great at it, and certainly not able to stay warm in January in London with no heat.

So now Aziraphale has to figure out how to help his friend. More specifically, how to help his friend without getting his head bitten off by an extremely cross fallen angel. Also, he’d like to prevent the building supervisor from being cursed within an inch of his life (quite literally in this case).

“Well. May I make some tea? That will help warm me up.” If Aziraphale talks about warmth in relation to himself, it makes it easier for Crowley to acquiesce.

“Of course you can make tea, why would I care?” Crowley snaps. He looks contrite immediately afterward, still standing awkwardly by the sink.

“Why don’t you go sit? I’ll be there shortly,” Aziraphale says gently, ignoring the outburst. He understands where it’s coming from now. That poor deceased plant.

Crowley slinks over to his (black) couch and throws himself in the corner. Within a few minutes, Aziraphale has two mugs of tea ready. It was only a minor miracle to boil the water in the kettle, hardly an effort at all. Crowley likes his on the sweet side, so Aziraphale loads up one mug with sugar and carries them both over to the sitting room, where he places himself in the center of the couch. Not touching Crowley, of course, but close enough to easily place the tea in his hands.

“Oh, what’s this? I didn’t need any tea,” Crowley mumbles, but then takes a sip and holds the mug in both of his hands.

Aziraphale doesn’t think a verbal response is necessary.

They sit quietly for a few minutes, looking out of the windows of the flat at Parliament, drinking their tea.

After a while, once it appears Crowley has calmed a bit, Aziraphale scoots over so he’s closer to him, not quite touching. It’s probably his imagination, but he feels like he can sense the discomfort that his friend is in. The thought is disturbing enough that he gathers his resolve and slowly brings one white wing around Crowley’s body.

Crowley doesn’t say anything, which is promising. If it’s going to go badly, this is the point at which that usually happens. Aziraphale would rather not apologize for trying to help, but he will if necessary.

He leaves it there for now, the feathers of his right wing gently wrapped around the dark form still gripping a mug of tea.

Eventually, Crowley leans in ever so slightly. It would be nearly imperceptible, except that Aziraphale has been watching and waiting for this very moment. He follows Crowley’s body towards him with his wing, and then very gently nudges him further, while also leaning the opposite way. The whole process unfolds incredibly slowly, but Aziraphale understands that Crowley still needs some plausible deniability at this point.

After what seems like an eternity, but is really only several minutes, Crowley finally gives in. With a put upon sigh, he lays his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder and brings his feet up onto the couch. Aziraphale wraps his wing tightly around Crowley’s form, and moves his arm to rest around Crowley’s shoulder. For comfort. Yes. Comfort.

More minutes pass in now comfortable silence as the sun slinks across the sky in pursuit of late afternoon.

“Thank you, angel,” Crowley says eventually, voice low and eyes closed.

“You are most welcome,” the angel murmurs, taking the tea mug from Crowley’s hands. He lets it go without argument.

Perhaps later they’ll go out for dinner, maybe the Vietnamese place with the fantastic pho, and Aziraphale can see about putting the fear of God into the building supervisor. Just a little bit. For now, they rest quietly.

[therubyjailcell]

The Ring in the Dark Blue Velvet Box - [Angst with a Happy Ending]

A/N: I had a very sad and upsetting idea, and I have a lot of feelings about weddings (both good and bad, I won't go into specifics), and I thought "hey, let's write this very upsetting scenario and put some of my fave characters through it". And this is what happened. I hope y'all will enjoy it :3

Summary: Janus wanted to propose that night. So did Logan. Something went wrong, and it was nobody's fault.

Human AU, TS Spoilers because usage of Deceit’s name.

Ship: romantic Loceit, background romantic Logince, background romantic Moceit

TW: denied proposals, angst hurt/comfort, self deprecative thoughts mention

WC:  4652

Link on Ao3

~~

Janus stared at the dark blue velvet box in his hand for a really long time. It was open, and in it laid a silver ring, encrusted with black and blue stones. A wedding ring.

Now, Janus was far from being the kind of person to get married. He honestly had never thought it’d be something he ever wanted. He had a lot of issues about the whole marriage thing, mainly because of all the failed marriages he had seen throughout his entire life - his parents being a prime example of bad marriages turning into a prison with no escape. He had, all his life, been convinced that he’d never get married, and that marriage was bad, something that brought so much negativity… And yet here he was. A velvet box with a ring inside, about to propose to his boyfriend of several years now. His boyfriend was different. Logan had always talked fondly about marriage, and how it seemed really good and how lovely it seemed, to have a ring on your hand stating that you were married. Not that you were taken - both of them were polyamorous, both of them had other partners -, but that you were with someone you loved, that your fates were intertwined. Logan seemed to hold marriage dear, and at first, Janus hadn’t understood why. It made no sense to him - but now… Now it did. An eternity together felt like heaven, and a ring truly didn’t even begin to show how much he wanted this with Logan. How he wanted everything with him. It wasn’t that he didn’t want it with Patton, his other boyfriend - it just was different. Patton and Janus had never really talked about these things, they’d never thought about the future as much. Patton felt like an open field, freedom, a nice weather. Logan felt like an old library, tea mugs and cuddles while the storm raged outside. Not to mention that Patton and Janus had widely different goals in life - and while they could make it work for a romantic relationship, Janus feared it would become harder if they were to get married. He was fairly certain Patton agreed, too.

Janus sighed. He heard the entrance door open and closed, and he quickly stood up, pocketing the box. He’d ask over dinner. He had everything planned, and even prepared a small speech - although he could already tell he’d forget about it and wing the whole thing, because that was always how it went with him. He headed to greet his boyfriend, smiling when Logan pecked his lips.

“Hey there love. How was your day? - It was good, thank you dear., Logan answered with a smile. - I’m glad then.”

Logan hummed at that, putting his bag down and hanging up his coat, before looking at Janus with a grin.

“You have that face on., Janus commented. - What face? - The face you make when you have an idea you want to talk about. - Damn., Logan chuckled, You’re good at reading me. - Well, I would hope so, we’ve been living together for a while now. Not to mention that we’ve been dating for even longer.”

Logan smiled and pecked Janus’s lips again.

“You’re right. I do want to talk about an idea of mine - but it’ll have to wait, because I need a drink first. - Alright., Janus laughed, Go get hydrated love!”

Logan laughed as he headed to get himself some water. Janus slid his hand in his pocket, holding onto the box that was that. His boyfriend gave him a grin, and he felt his heart swell - god he loved this man so much. Logan finished his glass and put it down, before grinning excitedly at Janus.

“Alright, so, I have something to ask you. - Oh really? So do I., Janus chuckled. - Oh? Well, do you wanna go first? - Oh no, do go ahead, my question can wait - you seem way too excited to share your thoughts, and that definitely peaked my interest.”

That got another wide grin from Logan, and Janus had to say he’d give anything to see his favourite nerd smile like that all the time. It was so beautiful and lovely, so… Perfect. He smiled and nodded for Logan to go ahead.

“I’ve been thinking about it, and I think I’m gonna propose to Roman.”

Janus froze at that. Then he felt the blood drain from his face, and he couldn’t tell how come he didn’t drop on the floor with how weak he suddenly felt. He gulped, and internally thanked all the entities that Logan was too excited to notice, because he was sure that his face must’ve dropped. He took a deep breath before forcing a smile back on. Logan looked so happy though. He looked excited and happy and delighted, and it was all that Janus ever wanted. He squeezed the velvet box in his pocket and forced a giggle out, focusing back on what Logan was saying.

“I saw the ring, you know? And I knew for sure it was the ring I’d want to propose to Roman with. It was it! And I know he and I only talked about marriage a few times, but… It’s perfect for him. So I bought it! And I’m gonna propose to him on our next date. I already planned everything-”

Janus tried his best to focus on the conversation, but his thoughts kept taking over and Logan’s voice sounded like Janus was under water.. Did he know about the feeling of finding the perfect ring to propose to someone? Yeah. That’s what he had felt when he had seen the ring that was in the box, in his pocket. He had hesitated for so long that he was almost convinced that, when going back, he’d be told that the ring had been bought, which would’ve meant no proposal, nothing - but no, the ring was still there. And so was his feeling that it’d be okay, that him and Logan would be happy if they got married. He gulped and tried to focus back on what Logan was saying.

“-and you know, I know you don’t want to get married, so, I knew it wouldn’t be an issue with you, you know. So-”

Ah. Yes. Obviously. Janus was bad at expressing his feelings, especially when it came to correcting himself. He wasn’t sure how to express anything. He’d tried to tell Logan that he had changed his mind - but he didn’t know how. Visibly, he hadn’t managed to convey his change of heart at all. That was all on him then. Failed on that too, eh? Janus gulped, trying to hide how he felt like he had taken a very cold shower. He either managed very well, either Logan was too excited to notice that too.

“So, what do you say? Because, you know. I’m a bit stressed, what if it’s not perfect? Do you think he’ll say yes? I mean, I don’t know. What if he doesn’t?”

Logan was obviously a bit stressed, and that snapped Janus back to reality. He chuckled and kissed his boyfriend’s cheek, letting go of the box still in his pocket.

“Roman loves you, Lo. He’ll say yes, and you’ll have the most beautiful wedding. - And you’ll help us prepare it, even though you’re not a huge fan of them?, Logan asked with a hopeful sort of tone. - Of course I’ll help. Anything for my favourite nerd.”

And he meant it. His heart was kind of in pieces, but he’d help. Especially with the wide smile on Logan’s face right there.

“So… What did you want to ask?”

Janus managed not to flinch at that and he grinned.

“Just wanted to know if we could order pizza instead for tonight? - Oh, of course! I’ll call them if you want? - That’d be really sweet of you love.”

And with that, the subject was over. Janus headed to their bedroom, kneeled in front of his nightstand, all the way to the bottom drawer, and he put the box there, to the back of the drawer. Where nobody would find it unless they were searching for it. He sighed as he closed the drawer, sitting on their bed. It’s not that he didn’t want Logan to marry Roman. He was truly happy for Logan and Roman, they were lovely together… But it still kind of hurt. Because they couldn’t all get married. Because he’d worked really hard on getting over his fear of commitment, because it had taken a lot for him to manage to make peace with his wishes, a lot for him to get the ring, a lot for him to work out the courage to ask. And because his insecurities were always around, saying all sorts of mean things, all sorts of fake things. Except this time, he refused to tell Logan about them - Logan didn’t need that right now, it’d only stress him out even more, or likely would lead to him second-guessing himself. Janus refused to do that to him. The box would stay in the nightstand, and everything would be alright. Logan would have a perfect wedding, Janus would make sure of it. Regardless of who would be waiting for him at the altar.

~~

Janus was on the couch, his computer on one of the chairs that he had put facing him, his tablet in his lap as he doodled. He was alone in the flat, Logan being on a date with Roman. Well, not a date - Logan was on THE date. He was proposing tonight. Janus had done his best to help his nerd get everything done and perfect, and try to keep Logan from panicking completely. It had worked, and Janus really hoped everything would go according to plan. It had already almost been ruined by the rain, but luckily it had stopped before the beginning of the date. Supposedly, the date would end in a couple of hours, but Logan would most likely want to spend the night with his then fiancé - he’d text Janus, and Janus would have the night to mope over not being the one to wear the ring and get over it. It was such a stupid thing to be upset about though. He wasn’t sure why he was upset even. He had never dreamed of a wedding, never fantasized about it. Never even saw himself get married. Never hoped for a proposal, never really thought about it until he had seen that ring. Until he had known Logan could mean forever. Until he had realized he trusted Logan with everything. He sighed and focused back on his drawing, his phone waiting by his side.

When the doorbell rang, about 30 minutes after, Janus frowned. Who the hell would come to their flat in the middle of the night? Patton didn’t live in the city and hadn’t managed to free himself the weekend, or he would’ve been there - when Janus had told him the story, Patton had immediately made sure that Janus’s bad thoughts would stay away. He was really not interested in getting married, and when Janus had apologized for wanting to marry Logan, Patton had laughed and waved it off with a “Never saw myself in that position, never thought that far ahead. The idea of getting married definitely makes me anxious, hah.”, which did make Janus laugh. But back to the doorbell - Patton not being an option, the person who frantically rang the bell was definitely worrying Janus. He went to answer the door and he froze when the answer was a choked up Logan. He opened their flat’s door, closing it once the other got in, before grabbing the tissues and leading Logan to the couch. Why was his boyfriend crying…? Janus was definitely worried. He waited for the other’s sob to quiet down though - Logan would speak when he felt up to it.

It took a few minutes before Logan stopped sobbing, even though he kept hiccuping for a while. Janus had put an arm around his shoulders, rubbing circles in his back, trying to soothe him. Logan leaned against him and Janus kissed the top of his head. They stayed silent for a while, before Logan choked out a small quiet “He said no.”. Janus froze, before squeezing Logan’s shoulder, holding him closer. Roman had said no? The questions started popping up in his head, but he managed to keep quiet. Why would Roman say no? Why would he not want to marry Logan? Had something happened? Did Roman hesitate? Was it Janus’s fault? Maybe Roman had been worried that it’d hurt Janus, maybe Janus just needed to call and reassure him, even though they’d only talked a few times at Logan’s birthdays and other festivities…- He looked at his boyfriend and bit his lip, shaking his head slightly to get rid of the thoughts..

“He said we were too young. Said he wasn’t ready for that. Said it wasn’t really something he’d want right now.”

Logan’s voice was more of a whisper at this point, but Janus could hear him clearly in the complete silence of the flat. He whispered a quiet apology, and Logan sniffled. Janus handed him another tissue.

“He said that when we’d talked about it, he didn’t think I was seriously considering it. Said he didn’t even know if it was something he wanted. He said I hadn’t made it clear enough- Of course I didn’t, I just thought- I- - It’s okay, I know., Janus whispered.”

Logan nodded, burying his face in Janus’s neck. They stayed like that, silent, for a bit.

“I don’t know what to do now. I don’t know what I want anymore. - It’s okay love.”

Janus kissed Logan’s temple. His boyfriend curled up, and he pulled him into his lap. Logan clung onto him, and Janus’s heart ached. He hated not being able to help. He didn’t know what could be done to help. Didn’t know if there was any way to help even. He held Logan close.

“I thought he knew- I asked him if he wanted to get married at some point in his life and he said yes! I asked him how he’d want to be proposed, I asked him what kind of marriage he wanted, whether he wanted to propose or for someone to propose to him… I thought it was clear enough, I don’t understand how he didn’t get it, am I too unclear, am I- - I’m not sure how you could’ve been clearer than that. I’m sorry love.”

Logan fell quiet, and stayed there. Janus held him tight and hoped it would be enough right now.

“I love him so much… - I know. He loves you too, you just are at different points in your life, it’s okay. It happens. - I… Yeah. You’re right… - Always am., Janus joked, his tone soft.”

That got a quiet chuckle from Logan, and Janus counted it as a win. It was enough for the night. They stayed in that position for a while, Logan in Janus’s lap, curled up. Logan clang onto Janus the whole time, and Janus felt even worse than before. He didn’t know how to make his boyfriend smile again - all he wanted was to make his boyfriend smile again.

Once Logan’s breathing slowed down significantly, Janus picked him up and carried him to bed, helping him out of his clothes and into his pajamas. After turning all the lights off, he joined his boyfriend in bed, and Logan curled up around him. Janus hated to see his boyfriend like this… It felt like the world had ended. He sighed, and started to think of ways to make him smile again. He just wanted Logan to be happy.

~~

Logan stared at the dark blue velvet box he had found in the bottom drawer of Janus’s nightstand. He had been searching for a very specific picture that he knew Janus kept preciously somewhere when he had seen that, in the back of the drawer. That looked like a jewelry box. A box for a ring. Which was strange. It’s not that Janus didn’t wear jewels. Janus actually wore tons of them - Logan often joked that the man was addicted to them, and Janus always poked fun at himself for always stopping in front of jewelries. Logan would never complain about it for real - Janus looked great with all these jewels. It fitted him. He looked like an heir, with all of these. No, the weird thing was that Janus kept all his jewels in a very specific place in his study, and nowhere else. It was part of these things Janus always put at the same place, one of the constant - so it made no sense for this to be there. Logan frowned and opened the box.

The ring inside the box was the most beautiful thing Logan had ever seen. Silver, chiseled, encrusted with black and blue stones. Nothing “too much”, quite discreet, but oh so precise and clearly meant to be an engagement ring. Logan felt scared to touch it, as if it would vanish if it came into contact with anyone but the person this was destined to. And Logan’s stomach kind of dropped at that thought. Because clearly, this was a ring to propose to someone. And that someone had to be Patton.

It wasn’t that Logan thought he was the secondary there. He knew Janus loved both of them equally, and that they both meant so much to him - but Patton made so much more sense. Janus and Patton had been dating for longer - granted by only a couple of months or so, but still. Patton was also better with feelings, and if anyone was to manage to get Janus to want to propose, surely it would be him. Which brought Logan to the reasons why this hurt. Janus had always been so sure he’d never get married. Always made it clear that he wasn’t a fan of weddings, always stated that it wasn’t him. Sure, he listened to Logan ramble about weddings, and even gave opinions, but that was it. He’d repeatedly said that he’d never propose to anyone, because he wasn’t the kind of person to do that, even! And yet, here he was, planning on proposing to Patton. Despite saying repeatedly that he and Patton weren’t all that interested in getting married. And not only did that feel really painful for Logan because of his own insecurities, it also reminded him that he hadn’t gotten his boyfriend to marry him, while Patton would definitely say yes. Of course Patton would say yes. Logan sighed.

He closed the box and let out a chuckle, composing himself back.

“You didn’t tell me you were planning on proposing to Patton!, he called out jokingly.”

That was the other thing. Making this decision had most likely taken some time, knowing Janus and how he took decisions - balancing pros and cons, comparing everything, double checking every single detail… Had he kept quiet because it was around the time Roman had denied his own proposal? That would make sense. Definitely hurt though. Another reminder.

“What are you talking about?, came Janus’s answer, tone obviously confused. - The velvet box? In your drawer? With the wedding ring in it?, he said teasingly, Don’t tell me you already forgot about an engagement ring!”

The silence that followed was tense, and only made Logan more certain that Janus had kept quiet about it because of the whole thing with Roman. He forced out a laugh.

“You know it’s okay right? It’s not because Roman told me no that you’re not allowed to get married, my dear.”

He hoped his voice wasn’t too hesitant. God, he hoped it wasn’t, because he was literally feeling like his heart had been shattered and stepped upon repeatedly, and he could feel the anxiety and panic attack creeping in. Logically, he knew this should be okay, and it wasn’t against him, he did, but… It didn’t feel like that at all, alright? Janus stood in the doorway, and Logan’s eyes snapped to him. Something was off, but he couldn’t pinpoint what exactly. That is, until he could and he frowned a little. Janus was really pale. Sure, he was generally quite pale, but right away, he looked somehow paler. He was tense, and looked generally horrified. Logan tensed a little. This couldn’t mean anything good…

“Why did you look in that drawer?”

Logan froze at that. Janus’s voice was a quiet whisper, and it was definitely not a good tone. He sounded like he was about to start crying and was barely holding himself together, and that was really scary, because Logan hadn’t heard his boyfriend sound like this in ages. Not since Janus’s last big meltdown. He bit his lip before clearing his throat.

“I was looking for that picture you have of our first anniversary together… I don’t know where you put it, but I’ve seen look in your drawers a few times, so I assumed that was where you might’ve put it. - O-oh…”

Janus looked away and shook his head, before pointing to the trunk in the corner of the room.

“It’s in there. That’s where I put all of the important happy memories.”

He kept his eyes away from Logan, and that definitely made Logan feel like his heart had stopped and his blood had gone cold. Janus never looked at people in the eyes, but he always kept an eye on his partners. Except when he was in a really bad place and couldn’t visualize any faces, of course, but Janus wasn’t having a meltdown, and Logan was worried. He thanked him, before going to him slowly, hoping not to startle him and that his boyfriend would let him come close. Janus didn’t move away, just kept his eyes on the floor. Logan was fairly sure his worry was written all over his face.

“Baby, what’s wrong…? - Everything’s fine, Logan. - That’s a lie, and we both know it., he whispered, taking one of Janus’s hands softly.”

When Janus didn’t pull away, Logan brought the hand up to his lips and kissed Janus’s knuckles softly.

“Please talk to me? There’s nothing I can’t hear, I promise.”

Janus kept quiet for a while. Logan waited patiently. He’d wait until the end of the world if needed too - he just wanted to help Janus.

“I bought the ring 2 months and 6 days ago., Janus whispered.”

So barely a couple of days before Logan had told Janus about his plan of marrying Roman. Alright… That didn’t explain the secrecy though. Was it because Janus hadn’t been willing to steal the focus…? That didn’t sound right, Janus never kept secrets from Logan before, not on things this important.

“Why didn’t you tell me about it? I would’ve helped you plan the proposal, dear. You helped with mine… I would’ve loved to help with yours.”

Janus kept his eyes down and his mouth shut. Logan felt kind of worse minute by minute. 2 months and 6 days and the ring was still there…

“Did you try and he said no? Is that why you still have the ring? Or did you not find the right time, and- - The ring wasn’t for Patton, Logan.”

Janus’s voice was quiet, but Logan heard it clear as day, and he froze. What…? But - if it wasn’t for Patton, then that meant that… Janus only dated the two of them, and the realization dawned on Logan really quickly. And the only way he could describe the feeling that crawled on his back and slid between his ribs, wrapping itself around him was “dread”. Strong, ensnaring dread.

“It wasn’t?, Logan choked out.”

Janus shook his head, and Logan felt his heart shatter again. Because that wasn’t good at all, was it? It could only mean one thing. He had denied Janus’s proposal without meaning to.

And god, that felt awful. He knew the feeling that receiving a “no” gave you. But this wasn’t even a “no”, this wasn’t even a proper denial, this was just… Indirect and painful. Then he thought about how Janus had helped him plan his proposal. And how much that must’ve hurt so much more. Logan felt his chest tighten, and he kissed Janus’s knuckles again, squeezing his hand slightly. Janus squeezed back, softly.

Janus looked at Logan, and Logan could see how hurt Janus was, all the pain he had kept quiet. Not only did an indirect “no” must’ve hurt, but that coupled with Logan not knowing and Janus not wanting Logan to know meant that Janus must’ve bottled up all his feelings again, even though he and Logan had been working on not doing that to each other. That and the fact that Janus must’ve used a lot of courage to buy the ring, make the decision… And then to be shut down immediately. That was worst. Logan gulped.

“I’m sorry - I didn’t mean for you to find out…, Janus whispered.”

Logan froze and looked at Janus in astonishment, and a bit of horror. Why was Janus apologizing?

“I didn’t want you to feel guilty when it was on me. I was too afraid of commitment, and I had the whole thing with… You know. Bad role models, bad memories… I made sure that wedding wasn’t even an option - that’s on me. But I knew you’d blame yourself - please don’t blame yourself -, so I didn’t say anything… And when Roman said no… Well. I didn’t feel like that was the right moment. Didn’t think it’d be a good idea. I was worried you’d think I was pitying you or something, or that you’d say yes as a rebound, or…, Janus sighed, Or that you’d confirm the feeling that you’d rather be with Roman and didn’t want me at all. - Oh, darling…- - No, I know, you love me, I know you do. You never made me feel like you didn’t love me. But you know how my brain works… What ifs, and you seemed so happy to marry Roman, and so crushed when he said no, I was terrified you might be disappointed, or… Or simply that you wouldn’t be as thrilled because of the change in plans. I don’t know. It’s not logical, but when is my brain ever?, he said with a weak chuckle.”

Logan squeezed his hand and Janus squeezed back. They stayed quiet for a while, and Logan could see the tears filling up his boyfriend’s eyes, and slowly rolling down his cheeks. He stepped closer and leaned their foreheads together, taking Janus’s other hand in his own. Janus closed his eyes, and so did he. They stood there for a while more, before Logan smiled slightly and mumbled.

“The ring is beautiful by the way. It’s very… Me. Very us.”

Janus let out a quiet, wet giggling noise at that, and Logan squeezed his hands. He prefered that to the hollow tone Janus had before that.

“You think so? - Yes. I love it.”

There was a small silence, before Janus whispered quietly.

“Enough for you to wear it, maybe?”

Logan paused, his eyes opening immediately, as he stared at Janus with a mix of shock and awe. Janus looked a bit hesitant, worried too, but he wasn’t backing off of this.

“Definitely., he whispered; - Really? - Really., he nodded.”

Janus looked at him in awe, a lovestruck expression on his face, and Logan felt like he would melt at any moment. Janus let go of his hands and cupped his face before kissing him softly. Logan leaned into the touch and in fact melted, kissing Janus back. Sure, it wasn’t taking away the pain of the previous denied proposal, but it was a start, and it felt nice. Janus had always had a good eye to pick ring sizes, and jewelry in general. It fit Logan perfectly, and it looked lovely with all of his wardrobe.

~~

Gen Taglist:

@acid-atlas @creativity-killed-thekitten @sweetsweetemo @ollyollyoxinfree @emologan @theshadow-inthelight @croftered-with-jam

[miracul0us-multishipper]

Welcome to the back (Part 15)

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

- - -

Adrien had never felt this afraid. He‘d been in this building countless times before, as both Adrien and Chat Noir, but he’d either been guided or had simply followed his Lady’s lead. Now he wished he’d paid more attention to the the layout of the building.

He had reached the main studio a minute after the ads had started - this place was a maze! - just to find all his friends gone already. A confirmation of his worst fears. They were up to something!

He had to find Lila! She could get them out of this mess, she knew how to talk her way to safety. If she were to be exposed... Earlier that week, it had only been their class’s harmony that had been at stake.

Now, she would take Adrien down with her. What had he been thinking? Why had he helped her, why had he lied for her? He’d only made everything worse! Damnit, Marinette had been right. This was his own fault- Marinette!

His thoughts returned to their encounter earlier, and he ran even faster, searching for the others. He needed to find her. How she had gotten her hands on his Miraculous, he didn’t know, but the fact it was inactive and on a string meant that she wasn’t using it - yet. Maybe she was simply waiting for the right time to steal his place. He growled and ripped another door open, revealing the room behind it to be empty.

Marinette wasn’t fit to be Chat Noir. She didn’t have what it took to be Ladybug’s partner, and she hadn’t deserved his miraculous like he did! He would convince her to give it back. Marinette wasn’t unreasonable, she’d understand. And she had liked him, Lila had told him once. Maybe if he promised to be a better friend now, maybe even go out together, she’d realize this was his destiny.

His thoughts began to spiral down a slippery slope. He needed Plagg, needed his miraculous. He’d do everything that was necessary, for Paris’ sake, for Ladybug’s sake!

But no need to do something rash, he’d try it the nice way!

Adrien knew this would work.

Adrien knew that it had to.

Adrien-

“...really is a bitch.”, a familiar, although muffled voice declared from somewhere in front of him. Felix! With his last bit of strength, Adrien pushed the doors to Jagged Stone’s studio open. His eyes widened when he saw what had happened.

He was... too late.

Lila stood in the middle of the room, together with Felix and a man he didn’t recognize, even though he looked vaguely familiar. She was frozen in fear, and she had every right to. There were cameras pointed at her from every side, and her classmates stood at the walls like angry bulls. Jagged Stone was patting a smugly grinning Marinette on the shoulder, and Nadja Chamack held a microphone out to the unknown man.

“This is Nadja Chamack, life from the TV tower, 21st arrondissement!”, she almost screamed into her microphone in excitement. “We just witnessed Chief Editor René Bordeaux admitting to have actively and willingly spread false accusations about an aspiring designer, specifically to harm her career. Will you give us a statement about your conspiring with a minor in order to blackmail your son, famous model Felix Leanne?”

The man - René Bordeaux, he remembered him from the fashion show, now! - backed away, arms raising to simultaneously hide his face and gesture through the air

“Y-You’re not allowed to publish that!”, he yelled at her, panic and wrath merging his voice into a shrill shout. “I have not consented to any interviews! As your superior, I order you to stop!”

“Actually, since you are a public figure and I am a journalist investigating your case of corruption, everything that has just been published is perfectly legal.”, Nadja informed him with a wink. “And it doesn’t look like your position as my superior will last much longer.”

”Also, since Lila has signed a declaration of consent just this morning,” Alya chimed in, holding up a document, “she’s fair game as well! Maybe you should’ve read the damn thing, Liar.”

Lila was only now recovering from the shock.

“Y-You guys did so great!”, she tried to fake a smile. “We finally busted that evil producer! I knew you were there, of course, I was just acting to make him spill his deeds-“

“Oh, shut up.”, Felix rolled his eyes at her and walked over to Marinette. “It’s game over for you, so save your excuses!”

Tears welled up in Lila’s eyes, and this time Adrien actually believed they were real.

“I-It wasn’t my idea! He forced me to, René Bordeaux forced me to help him!”

“I deny any involvement in this affair! I want to speak to my lawyers!”

“Come on, guys, you know me! I-I did so much for you, didn’t I?”, Lila whined on. That’s when she spotted him in the door.

“Adrien!”, she all but sobbed. “Tell them! Tell them I’m innocent; I’m the g-good guy!”

He backed away, wishing she hadn’t brought him up. Now the others had noticed him too.

“Is it true what she said?”, Nino said, brows furrowed in frustration. “You knew everything? And you just... did nothing?!”

“What the hell, Adrien?!”, Chloé spat, towering over him like a hawk. “I thought I was the jerk between the two of us!”

He fell to his knees, exhaustion catching up with him. His legs were wobbly of shock.

“No! No, I... I only wanted... I was just trying to protect you!”

“Protect us?”, Alya snarled. “By leaving us at Lila’s mercy, completely unprepared?! I uploaded a shit ton of fake news on my blog thanks to her! If it hadn’t been for Marinette, this could’ve ruined my entire career!”

“I thought we were friends, dude!”, Nino agreed, looking as betrayed as Adrien felt. “But friends don’t lie to each other! And you sure don’t help others with lying to your bro!”

No, no! This couldn’t be happening, no! Not like this, not now, not him!

“Please...”, he whispered, his hand clutching around the lucky charm in his pocket. “I wasn’t... Lila just...”

He couldn’t think of any excuse that wouldn’t sound hollow now. His friends didn’t care as they turned back to Lila, ignoring his slumped figure on the floor as they continued their petty fight.

Adrien didn’t listen to them, too busy with his own despair. He had... failed. At everything.

At being a good friend in the first place. At being there for Ladybug. And now at stopping Marinette from exposing Lila. Everything he did went wrong, everything he put his mind to-

“Cathexis”, a deep voice called and a purple glow illuminated the darkness of his mind. “I am Hawkmoth.”

Adrien froze. The lucky charm beneath his fingers had grown cold, and he couldn’t lift a finger to throw it away. Its cool prickle travelled up his wrist, his arm, into every cell of his body.

“I will give you the power you need to achieve your goals.”, Hawkmoth whispered into his head. “To keep your loved ones close, and your enemies even closer.”

No. No, he was a hero. He couldn’t let himself be turned into another one of Hawkmoth’s monsters.

“You’ve been wronged, haven’t you?”, Hawkmoth continued sweetly. “Ah, you have tried so hard, yet they keep ignoring your advice.”

His fight with Marinette flashed through his mind.

“Rejecting you, even though you have done so much.”

Ladybug pushing him away, again and again and again.

“If they cannot listen...”

Lila had continued to lie, Marinette had kept on plotting against her, Felix just wouldn’t stop being rude...

“...they must feel.”

Adrien’s head lowered and his lips moved on their own, whispering a word he didn’t mean.

“Yes, Hawkmoth.”

His eyes closed as the purple smoke covered him entirely.

“I will reign them in.”

Cathexis smiled.

“And be the hero they deserve.”

-

“You did it.”, Felix beamed at Marinette and pulled her aside. “I don’t know how, but you did it.”

How had she gotten everyone involved? Their oh-so skeptical class, Nadja Chamack, even Jagged Stone! It seemed impossible, but she had succeeded. He was free, from his father’s lingering shadow and Rossi’s obsessive manipulations. Free, once and for all.

“Of course I did!”, she played it off, cheeks as pink as Rose’s shirt. “I promised you, didn’t I? Besides...”

Her eyes wandered to her classmates.

“It was more of a group effort.”

Felix followed her gaze to the others, who were gathered in the middle of the room. Alya eagerly assisted Madame Chamack in pestering Bordeaux with one cutting question after the other, Nino cheered her on. Chloé led the others in their rage against Lila, who had started to spout every lousy excuse in the book. Sabrina was calling her father at the Police to arrest Bordeaux, who would have a hard time getting out of this one. Juleka and Jagged Stone were comparing the hues of their hair dye, Rose being their obviously biased judge. They were chaotic and loud and ruthless and absolutely amazing.

“I guess I should thank them.”, he said, a smile creeping onto his face. “They’re not so bad, after all.”

Yes. Annoying maybe, but full of loyalty and love for their friends. For Marinette, and after some time, perhaps even for him.

“Still”, he insisted, not here for Marinette not giving herself enough credit. “You are the best. How do you want me to repay you? I could invite you for dinner!”

She shook her head, smiling ironically.

“I think we are past favors and debts, aren’t we?”

Favors and debts, like on their very first day. No, they really had moved on from there. He had moved on, from his obsession with owing nothing to anybody. When he thought back, he could only see fear. That Bordeaux had been right, and every nice thing done for him came at a cost. Now though...

“Then let’s not call it favor.”, he suggested softly. “Let’s call it... a date?”

Part of him was shocked to hear himself even propose that, but rest of him was tired of hesitating. He wanted every second of Marinette’s company he could get, to make up for the days of Lila-induced isolation.

He watched every movement in Marinette’s face, every minute twitch of her lips and eyebrows. At first, her eyes widened and her cheeks turned darker. (Was she blushing? She was blushing! That was a good thing, wasn’t it?)

Then her fingers bolted up to her face, as if to hide it, only to settle for brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I...”, she started, voice two octaves higher then usual. Until finally, her lips curved into a smile. “I’d like that. And I know just the place!”

A mischievous glimmer appeared in her eyes.

“You’ll see when we get there, it’s-“

A scream drowned her voice out and they jumped back. Felix felt his blood run cold. The door had been slammed shut, chained and locked. Where Adrien had kneeled when he’d last checked, a gloomy figure hovered over the floor. It was held up by heavy metal chains that crept over the ground like snakes, apparently not bound by any law of physics. Defying gravity, some of them simply floated next to their wielder, waiting for orders.

The wielder himself looked monstrous enough on his own. His skin was devoid of any color, lifeless and dull like bleached bones. Black stripes ran down his face, like tear stains from his wide, eerie green eyes. His hair shared the stripes’ unsettling color. On top of his head rested a spiked, golden crown that reminded him of a halo.

Knight-like armor adorned with an upside down paw-print protected his torso, and around his wrist was a beaded bracelet of some sorts. From a chain around his other hand dangled a heavy, spiked Morningstar.

The akuma - because what else could he be? - chuckled.

“Much better.”, he sighed. “Now, let’s see... who wronged me the most?”

Without any visible sign, his chains bolted towards Lila, who screamed when her waist was seized by the animated metal. Instinctively, Felix’ hand grabbed Marinette’s. Any fast movement might draw the Akuma’s attention to them, but he needed her to be ready to run as soon as there was a chance.

All eyes were fixed on Lila and her captor, who tapped his chin as the girl quivered before him.

“Oh, you look so scared.”, he gasped. “Poor Lila. It’s just me, good old Adrien! Or... Cathexis, to be exact. Why would you fear me?”

He hummed.

“Maybe... because you know that you used me? Or because you lied to me? Or because you stalked me?” His voice grew louder and louder, and his soothing smile turned into a malicious grimace.

“Or because you ruined my friendships? My school life? My everything?”

Cathexis laughed joylessly, eyes so wide they looked as if they might pop out of his skull.

“Please!”, Lila pleaded desperately. “It wasn’t my fault, I-I only wanted the same thing as you! I promise-“

“SHUT UP!”

Everyone in the room startled, frozen in fear. Marinette gripped his hand more tightly as the chain holding Lila started to glow in the same, cold light Cathexis’ bracelet radiated. It began at its root somewhere behind his shoulder, and slowly spread over the links towards its victim. Lila whimpered.

“See, I am tired of waiting for you to change.”, Cathexis lamented. “I gave you so many chances, but you just won’t listen! So I’ll have to make you a better person myself.”

He grinned, revealing a mouth full of sharp teeth.

“Let’s call it one last emotional investment in you, okay?”

Lila trashed and trembled in her restrains as the glow came closer, tears in her terror-stricken eyes.

“Stop! I’m sorry, but whatever you’re doing, please stop it!”

Marinette twitched, but Felix held her in place. He wouldn’t let her endanger herself for Lila of all people! They could only watch as the light reached its prey. A white flash blinded them, then the chain dissolved and Lila dropped to the floor. She breathed, and her eyes were open, but her gaze was lifeless and empty.

Cathexis sigh broke the silence he’d shocked them into and he looked around.

“So...”, he said with an innocent smile. “Who’s next?”

-

Cathexis felt strong. He felt quick. He felt ready.

His chains dashed through the room the second he thought about giving the order, and as the people in the room broke out in panic, they seized them with ease. Nino, Alya, Chloé, all immobilized and chained to the ceiling with nothing more than a thought. The chain he had lost by fixing Lila was regrowing, and he directed it towards Marinette. His dear friend had started to guide the others to the back of the room and behind a curtain, cherishing the hope they might find safety there. Felix was next to her, but he could wait. For now, his ring was priority number one.

With a flick of his wrist he send the chain flying. It wrapped around Marinette’s wrist before she even noticed he was targeting her, and he had pulled her into the air in a heartbeat. Ignoring Felix’s scream, he retreated to the other side of the room.

Hawkmoth’s approval humming through his head, he sunk on eye-level with her, dodging the punch she’d aimed at his face. Another chain wrapped around her, fixing her arms at her side.

“Marinette!”, he rebuked her with a raised finger. “You should never react with violence, don’t you know that?”

“Let me go!”, his mannerless friend snarled. “What did you do with Lila?”

He knew the question sourced from fear for herself rather than concern for Lila, but he pretended otherwise for the moment. Soon, she’d care about Lila for real. And about him. And about any other person he chose to fix. They’d be a big happy family, with no problems or flaws under his watch. But first...

“You know what I’m looking for, Marinette.”

She froze and his eyes darted to the bump in the fabric above her collarbone.

“It’s fate that brought it back to me, so soon after I lost it.”, he whispered with a blissful smile. “You have it, don’t you? I saw it on you. My little secret, I want it back now.”

Marinette’s eyes narrowed in confusion.

“Lost it... wait, your secret?”

Her jaw dropped as her mind caught up.

“You!”

“Yes, me.”, he admitted happily. “You understand, don’t you? I need it back. Once Hawkmoth is done with it, I’ll be Chat Noir again. It’s my destiny! Surely, you wouldn’t want to stand in the way of a hero.”

Marinette looked absolutely shocked. Devastated even - hopefully at the thought of hindering Chat Noir. But the way her face hardened told him otherwise.

“It’s no longer yours!”, she hissed. “And you’re a fool if you think Hawkmoth would just give it back to you, once he has it.”

He sighed.

“The hard way, then.”

The chains tightened around her as he concentrated, focusing his energy on her. She was his friend. He’d done so much for her; he deserved something in return. But before he could conjure the light into his chains, pain flared in his right cheek and he was thrown sideways.

“Argh!”

More startled than hurt, he rubbed his cheek and looked around. The moment of distraction had been enough to make his chains go slack, enough to let Marinette free herself. His eyes fixated on the culprit. Felix stood in the middle of the room, arm still raised from the punch he’d given.

“Ah.”, the stubborn annoyance of a boy sighed, despite his obvious fear. “That was cathartic.”

“You!”, Cathexis growled, summoning his chains. “I’ll make you regret ever coming to our school.”

Oh, he wouldn’t fix Felix, no, no, no. The rude bastard didn’t deserve this mercy, and Cathexis wouldn’t invest his emotional energy in a guy whose akuma had cost him Plagg! No, Felix would meet a far harsher fate. Cathexis raised his Morningstar and swung it through the air to gain momentum. With a battle cry, he hurled the spiked sphere at his enemy, who threw himself aside just in time to avoid getting turned into a pancake. Again and again Cathexis took aim, using his sentient chains to block Felix’ path. Finally, when he had nowhere left to run, the Akuma called his weapon back to attack one last time.

“I should’ve done this sooner!”, he cackled gleefully. “It would have saved me so much trouble, you living nuisance!”

He swung the Morningstar, blind and deaf to anything except his target. A mistake, as it turned out. He couldn’t hear the creaking of metal over his own laughter, couldn’t see the beams for the cameras at the ceiling move. Only when they crashed down on him he realized he should have payed more attention to Marinette.

“No, no!”

Trapped beneath the crashed metal structure he could only watch as Marinette - the crafty pain in the butt - climbed down from the bars of the supporting column, pulling Felix with her. The two of them vanished behind the curtains at the back, and when he send out his chains to rip the fabric apart, he understood why.

“A backdoor!”, Hawkmoth growled. Of course, that’s why no one had been inside anymore. “Idiot! Now the girl escaped with the ring, our ring!”

Groaning, Cathexis pushed the beams and bars off of himself and stood up.

“I’ll hunt them down!”, he swore and called his chains back to him. “They can’t run from me!”

“No.”, Hawkmoth stopped him. “No, wait. The Cat Miraculous is already close, but Ladybug is still missing. Call her here, then go after the ring.”

Cathexis nodded as the violet glow faded from his face. His Lady would be here shortly! Until then, he could bring Chloé, Alya and Nino under his contr- supervision. They were still struggling with their restraints, but not much longer.

“Lila!”, he barked for his new ally and the brunette stood up. “Get the camera working. I need to alert Ladybug.”

“Of course!”, she obliged with a smile. “Then I can apologize to her. We’ll be great friends, with your help!”

Cathexis grinned and bared his fangs as she got to work. Soon, he told himself. His chained friends looked at him in fear.

Soon.

[okaybutlikeimagine]

Ticklis

Ah yes… Ticklis……. Beautiful. ♥

(just kidding, dear, you’re so cool and so sweet for liking and reblogging so much of my stuff and i love you♥)

Here’s the REAL ask:

And honestlYYYYY I WAS THINKING ABOUT THIS RIGHT BEFORE YOU ASKED. And i just…… i jUST

Hi, Billy is ticklish. ♥

I debated it a bit in my head when i was thinking about this before this ask got sent. Bc I’m like….. So ticklish it’s actually ridiculous?? and it’s bc my skin is just really sensitive and we don’t need to go into this but yEAH i was thinking about how maybe after all of the abuse he went through he got kind of desensitized? but then i was like maybe he got even more sensitive, y’know??? Like…. He’s very large and in charge and brazen, yeah, sure, but i get the feeling he doesn’t like random, soft touches. They confuse the fuck out of him and he just doesn’t trust them. I’ve said it before but i’m gonna say it again, i think this boy flinches at any and all contact people make w/ him that he isn’t prepared for.

And actually, y'know what?? Doesn't tickling elicit a fight or flight response? So I think the sensitivity Billy has already would definitely go from him flinching at touches he can't see to being ticklish as FUCK by touches he can see and trust.

Like, he'll be leaning up against the kitchen counter, drinking his coffee, standing right in front where they keep the glasses, so when El needs to get past him she'll poke his stomach and-

Billy squeaks.

Like… full on squeaks.

El jumps a bit bc she’s never heard that sound come out of Billy before. She looks at him w/ wide eyes and a little smile and he looks back w/ fear bc guys, being tickled is scary, esp when you’re insanely ticklish, so he’s freaked and El giggles and reaches out to tickle him again and he moves so fast to get away from her. El just gets her glass and pours herself some milk.

And i just??? AUGH. Hop will put his hand on Billy’s shoulder when he passes behind him on the couch, just bc, and one of his fingers will accidentally brush Billy’s neck and Billy will shriek and jump and giggle just a little and Hop is scared to all hell bc he thought it was okay to do that but maybe he scared the boy??? And Billy will just wave Hop off when Hop goes to ask what’s wrong.

Billy will be helping Joyce w/ dinner and she’ll do that thing where she puts her hand on his back lightly so he knows she’s passing behind him and he’ll squeak and giggle a little and get super close to the counter to get away. She puts her hand on his shoulder to ask if he’s alright and he’ll say “I’m fine!” in a real high voice through a small giggle. Joyce just smiles but lets him be.

El will brush his hair out and try to braid it but her fumbling fingers will brush the skin of his neck and he’ll squeak every. time. His shoulders will be up by his ears and he’ll start to giggle so much that he’s bent over where he’s sitting, laughing too hard and begging her to stop. And El’s concerned, wondering if she hurt him or something bc Billy like… almost never laughs. Not like that. So she leans forward to look at his face and ask:

“Are you alright?”

He nods. “Yeah… just… tickles.”

“Tickles?”

He nods again, face flushed real hard bc, even though this is El, he’s still embarrassed. “Yeah. Like… it feels funny.”

“Feels funny?”

Billy nods and turns around. “Yeah, like this.” he says before reaching out and tickling her arms and stomach. She laughs a little, kicking out and reaching out to tickle his arms but literally the slightest touch has him keeling over with laughter, jumping away and putting distance between them. She laughs harder at that than she does at the tickles.

The next time that Max comes over and they’re all doing their hair together, El begs and pleads Billy to let her do his hair. He’s reluctant to say yes, but he does. And when she does, fumbling fingers once again brushing his neck, Billy ends up wrapping his arms around Max in a hug (foregoing the braid he was giving her) and squeezing her in a tight hug. She shrieks, pushing away.

“Billy get off! What’re you doing, hugging me?”

Billy shoves her instead, scrambling to get off the bed and away from El, who’s giggling like crazy.

“What’s wrong with you, you spaz?” Max asks to Billy, but El answers.

“Tickles!”

Max is confused. The Billy she knows is not ticklish.

“What?” Max asks. Billy’s giving El a scared as hell look, shaking his head at her, but she doesn’t understand.

“He said it tickles when I do that.”

Max looks to Billy with confusion. “You’re ticklish? Since when are you ticklish?”

Billy shrugs and shakes his head at the same time. “No. Nope. Stop.”

Max is grinning hard now. “Seriously?” She asks, devious as all hell, walking towards Billy with her hands behind her back. Like she’s hiding something.

“Stop, Max, no-!” Billy shrieks in vain because soon Max is attacking Billy with tickles and Billy is wriggling like a little kid, running away and trying to hug the wall as he runs out of El’s room and towards any kind of safety but the thing is, the cabin is small and there’s just not a lot of space to run so he’s running around the coffee table and he’s trying to avoid any traps like the couch or his bed. He ends up running Max around the outside of the house and loses her, only to get caught on the couch when she finally heads back inside after searching for him. He punches her arm enough times to get her to stop. (you fucking bet she’s gonna use this against him though)

Jonathan laughing quietly when he passes the joint to Billy and their fingers accidentally brush a little too much and Billy pulls his hand away fast, flinching with a little giggle.

“A little ticklish there?”

“Shut up.” Billy growls, huffing on the joint.

Will sitting on the couch w/ Billy and kicking Billy’s ankle with his foot (which is propped up on the coffee table) bc he wants to ask him a question and Billy jumping and giggling a little, moving away. To which Will smiles real wide and Billy shoves his head away lightly.

And then STEVE. Ohmygod guys Steve.

With Steve, it doesn’t always get too bad bc he’s used to Steve’s touches. At the very most just feels really intensely good. But sometimes Billy is near cackling, wiggling away and bending over with laughter.

Steve notices it first when they kiss. Bc he wraps his arms around Billy’s neck and his bare forearms are touching Billy’s skin and Billy’s knees bend and he’s shaking from his giggles and Steve is honestly worried??? Like????? His boyfriend just broke. He’s 100% sure the boy is broken. So he bends down to look Billy in the eye and ask if he’s alright and he finds Billy’s breath is a little labored and he’s like: “Fine. I’m fine.”

“You sure? ‘Cause-”

“I’m fine.”

But then the next time when Steve wraps his arms around Billy’s waist and Billy’s got his arms around Steve’s neck, Steve squeezes at Billy’s sides with his hands and Billy’s gone. Giggling up a storm, moving away and rubbing his sides to get the sensation to go away and Steve is like: “Seriously! What’s wrong?”

Billy’s facing away now, forcing his giggles to stop, and that’s when Steve notices.

“Oh my god, are you ticklish?”

Billy turns on Steve quickly. “If you tell a single soul.” Billy growls, as if his family hasn’t already caught on. Steve laughs.

“I won’t, I won’t!”

And he doesn’t tell anyone. (except Robin, who makes a point to tap Billy’s shoulder to ask a question, or poke his side when she walks past to “bother him”. She’s incredibly entertained by the way this big, touch, muscled dude giggles.)(When Billy gives Steve a harsh look for going back on his promise, Steve just shrugs with a “we all know best friends don’t count!”)

Anyway, we also all know Billy and Steve get into tickle fights. it might only be when they’re alone but I’m fuckin serious here, the boys are tickle fiends and it’s the cutest thing. Billy says he hates it when they first happen but really, he ends up loving it and instigating it because it’s a rush and we know our boy is a thrill seeker. And being tickled is honestly kinda thrilling!! So it’s a lot of wriggling and laughing and hands flying everywhere and in all sincerity, it’s mainly Billy getting tickled and Steve laughing just bc he loves Billy’s laugh and will never get enough of it, but that’s also part of why Billy loves this. Because Billy laughing makes Steve laugh and Billy loves Steve’s laugh. ♥

(also just FYI, this might get a bit NSFW here so beware: in being this ticklish also means that Billy is sensitive as f u c k. I’m talking Steve grazes his fingertips across Billy’s bare chest and he’s goddamn gone. He’s breathing hard, heart beating faster, pupils dilating bc every touch is a spark. And Steve could honestly get drunk off of how responsive Billy is. Billy can come from just having his nipples played with and it’s an absolute gift for Steve. There’s nothing more erotic for him than Billy getting off just from being touched. Like, there are specific erogenous zones on people, sure, but for Billy suddenly everything is an erogenous zone. Steve runs his fingers up and down Billy’s forearm up to his bicep and back and Billy is shaking, breath getting light and airy, whining a little because it feels like his body is turning to molten gold or something. He’s strung up and melting at the same time. Like… fuck dude, Billy being hypersensitive is like a dream for both of them)

ANYWAY I just?? GUYS. Ticklish Billy!!!! ♥ I! Love! it!

[plutoswrath]

horror for each sign

(Warning: explict description of violence and disturbing scenes.)

Aries: Gruesome:

I sit in the living room. The TV is turned on but there is no sound but the endless noise of the static. Black and white orbs mix into my vision and the walls are painted red. It mixes beautifully with the minty wallpaper, now adorened with red roses.  Mother was so annoying. Always telling me to move aside from the TV (’Stop watching TV!’). So I took the hammer Mother usues to tender the meat with. She sat in front of the TV. And I smash the hammer towards her head. Tendering her head like a fine filet. (Splatter. Splatter. Splatter. Crimson colored splatters everywhere). Mother is quiet and in my head everything is very loud. But then my favorite TV show comes on and I sit in front of the big, static scene. I forget Mothers now very well tendered head behind me. I am not bothered, being just by myself. 

Taurus: Tragic:

This appartement is a nightmare to sell. I’ve had some tough cases and some tough clients, but this is...nothing I was prepared for. Nothing about appartement 26 seems off at frst. It’s rather small, I could even say it has the potential to be cozy and warm, but there is something eerie clawing on your back, as soon as you enter it. Not to mention the figures I see in the corner of my eye and in the mirrors sometimes. The carpet is old and smells like somebody desperately tried to clean it over and over again in order to cover something up (murder maybe?). The bed always looks as someone just sat on it, even though I made it minutes ago. I learned not to put my keys on the shelf because they will go missing and reapear on strange places (behind the shower curtains). I am doomed because I am bound to this appartement. There has been a number that keeps calling me and asks if it’s still avaible, we made an appointment for a visit, but no one appeared. I can’t call them back, the number isn’t avaible (that’s what the voice of the Lady at the other side of the receiver whispers). But this number keeps calling me, every Friday at 12pm. I know something happened there, but at this point I don’t dare to search for answers.

Gemini: Disastrous:

Once there was a man, with a house big enough for him to live, too small for a family to grow. The man drew a picture of his family every day - 4 people. Happy and smiling, eating dinner at the kitchen table. The man brushed his teeth every night before lying down to sleep and combed his 4 puppets hair.  Humming, humming. He loved his puppets, dear companionship they were always there for him where did my family go? No need for a family I told her to stop shouting at me as his house is too small to grow one. Because he is alone and forever and will be and will not seek out for a real life company what do you mean they aren’t my children? Ding dong. I open the door and see a child a child that is not mine. I will refuse to accept that they aren’t mine I am alone and will keep me company, yes come in, I will buy some cookies, sit down on the couch, you want to look at my puppets?

Once there was a man, with  a house big enough for him to live, too small for a family to grow. But enough space for a small family of puppets, now combing 5 heads every night before lying down to sleep. 

Cancer: Cruel:

It is 08:30 pm. in the deepest of winter. The sun has set a long time ago and the world outside is warpped in a thick blanet of glistening snow. Four children brush their teeth before lying down to sleep, as they hear someone climbing down the stairs and opening the door. 

“Children, lie down, will you? Uncle Vitja will tell you a nice story before you go to sleep, okay? Since your mother and father are still in that restaurant they mentioned earlier they told me to help you fall asleep. Of course I prepared a nice story from Russia, what kind of question - oh, just hear what I have to tell, okay? Have you ever heard of Baba Yaga? No? Ha! I thought so, now, listen closely..never, never go alone into the forest and be disrespectful to nature, you hear me? Baba Yaga has her eyes and ears everywhere and somewhere she will watch you when you try to pick all the flowers from the fields or demolish the trees with a knife; yes I am looking at all of you! You are closeby teh forest, so pay attention! Her hut can’t be found since it stands on chicken legs and wanders around. Also you can’t enter even when you find it, because it turns around when sensing intrudors. But you’ll notice if its her shack even when it looks normal because the garden is adorned with human skulls since she likes eating us. Huh? What are you looking at me? I only tell the truth! She is one with the earth and one with life and death; she decides who needs to die and who doesn’t but this all...makes her hungry at times, it’s exhausting you know and the flesh of humans is so tender....”

Uncle Vitjas eyes run across the room as he turns to the opened window. 

“Rule number one: never leave your windows open when your parents aren’t home. Yaga smells the bad spirit of mean children!”

And his eyes turn red and his nose long. His back shrinks and his skin turns to bark. The teeth long and metallic. The children are in shock and fear grips them tightly as the old womans long finger hover over to them. They can only hope for their parents to come home soon. 

Leo: Mad:

“Manot? Dear, is that you? (.....) Dear, don’t be mistaken, I am sorry for troubling you with my calls lately, but I am so far away and I needed to hear you voice (.....) Oh silly, have you forgotten how to speak? I called your mom yesterday because I read that you couldn’t bring yourself to look her in the eyes after stealing the money she put aside for your fathers surgery (...) Oh- so sorry, I know you told me not to read your diary, but please, put those dangerous pills aside and come to me - no rehab needed, just my ever lasting love that heals you (............) Manot...now, don’t be mean. I wouldn’t break into your home if you would just give me the keys like I asked you to in my last love letter!! Pay attention to my words and you wouldn’t be so troubled all the time!! Stupid bitch, igoring me and my love as always, why do you think you’re higher than me? (.................) Can’t say something? (...............) Hello? (.......crrk.........) Hello? Are you recording this? Just wait till I come home! Hope you don’t fall asleep without me, hehe, mind it if you could put on those sweet mint colored panties you wore back than as you graduated? I loved these...ha..... (....). Well then, I need to go to work now. See you soon love. Bye.”

Virgo: Cold:

Our Grandmother used to tell us stories about her old school. Stories I like to tell my friends when we sit together for a drink after work. She has always been a funny woman, she’s been a clever kid that liked to trick her teachers at times and told me she never got into trouble because of the ‘funny’ old man (a monk to be specific) that apparently no one saw except her. The school (having been a monestary in the past) was old and full of history. And the kids gave the dead walls new life. And so did my Grandmother to this dead man who never talked but stood in the corner, pointing to opened windows  she snook out when her teachers turned away. Or directing her to the funny old photobooks of former students in the big library. He never left the grounds of the school though. She was young - 8 years old maybe - and felt special to have made such an ‘unique and special friend’, that she never thought about the fact that it could’ve been a ghost. So I asked her if he was nice. Her smile turned crooked and she looked out of the window as she answered: “I think he was once, but he was lonely for too long. One day I walked down the hallway and he pointed to staircase to the cellar or our school - something we were forbidden to go to under any circumstances because of the gigantic oven that stood there. Well, as idiotic as I was I followed him, but right in front of the doorway I stopped. His smile was off and he pointed into the black room where the giants red and orange mouth of the oven smiled at me. I felt the chance in the air and left, shaking my head. He looked angry and sad at the same time. Later that day one of our students went missing. And they found him. 2 days later, his ashes and bones in the oven. I am glad I was smart enough not to walk into the room that day and I never saw that monk again.”

Libra: Erroneous:

‘I love you, I love you’, I whisper as I turn the knife in your chest and stab into you heart for more than a thousand times. All the times I told you I loved you, I revisit those memories and breath heavily as I remember our first kiss. ‘Ah, your eyes are beautiful..’ So I plunge them out and put them in a jar, I place them on the top of my bookshelf so I can look at them and you can look at me when I lie down to sleep.  I  f e e l  t h e  w a r m t h  o f  y o u r  b l o o d  o n  m y  b o d y  G  o  d   y o u  f e e l  s o  g    o      o         d. I love the way you looked at me and you loved my smile so I engrave it into my skin, on my face - forever. I place my hand on your chest and the open wound allows me to toucg your heart. I smell you and feel you.

          I                                         l  o  v  e                                                y o  u. 

Scorpio: Demonic:

‘It is him who writes the names behind our wallpaper, when our little daughter tells me to look behind it. He is the nightmare that keeps her up at night, the monster underneath her bed, the long black hair that is tickling me in the shower. There is a shadow I feel standing behind me, someone breathing in my neck; the wind that is closing and opeing our doors and the force that drags me from the couch every time I try to sleep there. The feeling of someone standing behind me and watching how the blood begins to pump under the constant pressure in our own precious four walls.  There are eyes inside of the dark- A pair of two red eyes accompanying me everywhere. They are placed in every little black corner in our house. I see them in the reflection of the TV and the computer screen. They are bloody and since weeks our sleeping room smells foul. And it is I who brought him here in order to bring you back, my dear, and I brought sin over our love, over our home, over the one I swore to protect. And I will continue protecting her - in heaven.’

Love, Helena

(To whoever finds this: leave the ruins of this home and never come back.He will follow.)

Sagittarius: Bloody:

I once visited this town on one of my trips. It was small and far away from the next bigger city, but people from all around it swooned over the restaurants that has been there for several generations - apparently it served the finest meat in town. So naturally, I ordered a table for one the following day and tried a steak myself. Indeed, it was fine - very fine, tender and beautifully pink colored in the middle. I am confused though: I haven’t seen any fields with cattles or any farms on my way to this city. Nor do they have many tourists here; so how does this restaurant survive over the years? Then again, my uncle is an ivestigator and told me that near the next biggest city that is two hours away have been reported people that went missing over the past 50 years. And seemingly, they never reappeared. But they cases went cold since there were almost no hints or tracks. 

Oh god .

.

.

What am I eating?

Capricorn: Sinnful:

Day after day he cared for the old cathedral, being the only Pastor to talk to for the old village, in the dark times of WW1 being the voice of sanity that bring clarification for the desperate citizens. “God”, he asked one day, knees on the ground, “why does his happen to us? What did we do, our small village, to deserve being conflicted in this war?” God -  knowing that the higher sense of the things happening aren’t for this man to understand, the pastor knowing for sure that it is evi, tempted people creating chaos on earth - kept quiet and knew this was an inner war he had to fight for himself. The devil - listening as well - being sneaky and answering the man instead: “You want to know?”, he asked alluring. The pastor cried. “Yes..all this blood and murder..” Content the devil whispered into the ear of the Pastor, telling him all the sins of the people in town, showing him that there is no such thing as innocence.  No, every time someone dared to go to the confessional, it was not the Pastors voice answering him. Something dark devoured his soul that night, letting him lose hope in good and moral. And he shamed them. And he pushed their souls to the cliff in times of gruesomeness. And no one dared to put a foot into the church, even after the war. Because an old, bald man with bloodstained eyes wrote hieroglyphics on the wall at night, talked in gibberish and dared to haunt everyone who stepped into this holy place with their sinfull souls. 

Aquarius: Immoral:

24.11.2017. Day 23. I didn’t leave the labor for almost a month now. I am not interested in eating. I don’t want to sleep. I just...can’t stop hearing those screams of this...abstrusity the doctor shot two days ago.  I think he lost his mind. He thinks creating live is like cooking: grabbing some ingredients that seem to get along together and putting it all into one mixing bowl - hoping for the best. But that’s not it. That’s against nature, that is...disgusting. He is whispering names to those dead mutated baby animals. (Sophie, wasn’t it?) He hopes for them to live, but how are they supposed to live if they can’t even move their limbs? I wonder now, how far will he go? I am afraid he will test on me. I am a female, perfect to give birth to whatever he wants me to. I need to find a way out of here, before I become one of his subjects. He looks at me always a little too long at times. And he complimented my wide hips once.  I will hide this letter somewhere safe, so he won’t find it, but please, if someone’s gonna find this and me, nurse ▇▇ ▇▇▇ is no more, please, stop this madness. He has a cellar I am not allowed to go in, God knows what he is keeping in there, since I already know where he is keeping the animals. To whoever reads this, stay safe, don’t be fooled by easy money making like me.

Pisces: Otherworldly :

Mom doesn’t believe me.

She doesn’t believe that there is a Boogeyman in the closet, with yellow eyes and long, long fingers that tries to grab little children in their sleep. She doesn’t believe that when I close the door behind me, I can hear someone scratching at the other side of it. She doesn’t believe that there is someone standing in front of the window at night, that’s why I close the curtains always for her and force her to look away when the dark figures in the mirrors try to scare her. Mom hates the footsteps at night, but I just try to catch those bats that get into our attic every night. He sends them and tries to scare her so much so that she falls down the stairs and breaks her neck. 

Mom didn’t believe me back then and years later after I died in this house she still tries do deny the evil in it. But I am here to protect her. Even tho she is afraid of me, I love her and will forever be by her side. 

[perspective-series]

Vampire Perspective (6/17)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: Just the usual death threats

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

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Virgil paused. “Wait, seriously? You’re just giving up?”

 Logan took a deep breath before opening his eyes back up and looking at Virgil’s upside down face. “What else do you expect me to do? You are in control here. If you want to drop me, you will drop me. If you want to eat me...you will eat me. I die no matter what. I see no point in trying to fight when I know that it is...pointless.”

Virgil blinked. “...oh.” Not for the first time, the borrower surprised him. Virgil cleared his throat, trying to get back into his fear-sona. “Well, that’s just pathetic. Look at you, a borrower who clearly wants to die. Such a little disgrace to your kind.”

 “I do not want to die.” Logan said firmly, glaring up at his captor. “Far from it, in fact. But, honestly, what else do you expect me to do? Try and escape? You’ll just catch me.”

“Well, yeah, but I expected you to do it anyway.” Virgil admitted. He dropped to a crouch, still dangling the borrower.

 “Because you see me as nothing more than a timid animal? I loathe to break it to you but I am no such creature. I possess far more intellectual intelligence than a creature who acts on pure instinct.” Logan explained. He took a deep breath, starting to feel dizzy from being held upside down for so long. He started massaging his own head.

“Okay, yeah, you’re not a timid rabbit, but you’re basically a tiny human and those are pretty stupid too.” Virgil deadpanned.

 “Well…” Logan adjusted his glasses, surprised they hadn’t dropped from his face. “I like to think of myself as even more intelligent than them.” He allowed himself a slight twitch of his lips. “After all, humans are stupid enough to miss things going missing and if they do, they simply chalk it up to something as trivial as a forgotten memory. Or a ghost. Although…” He looked over at Virgil. “I am to assume if vampires are real then…”

“What, are you asking me about ghosts?” Virgil arched an eyebrow, caught somewhere between amused and annoyed as he sat down properly and set Logan on his knee. “As an undead I think that’s racist.”

 Logan let out a sigh of relief as he was finally put down. He sat down, seeing no use in trying to escape, especially when he was on Virgil’s person. His eyebrows furrowed. “My apologies...although I am a bit confused on how you found that racist. I was simply asking a question.” He tilted his head. “Also, wouldn’t that be more specist?”

Virgil snorted. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Point is ghosts aren’t in my family tree. Well, they are, but only because my relatives haunt me. Any real ghosts usually keep their distance.”

 “Ah, so they are real.” Logan noticed, humming in thought. “Fascinating.” He never would have guessed these supernatural creatures actually existed.

“They’re really not; they’re just humans who are whiners. Oh, and also dead.” Virgil added the second bit as an afterthought.

 “Couldn’t that technically be said about you and other vampires? After all, you were all human before too, weren’t you? And now you are technically ‘dead’ though undead is a better description.” Logan asked.

Virgil narrowed his gaze. “Now that is definitely species-ist, and offensive. I advise you to never imply a single drop of me was or ever has been a filthy mortal again.”

 Logan blinked. “You...have always been a vampire? I did not even know that was possible.”

“There’s purebreds, like me, and then there’s halfbreeds, like Patton.” Virgil’s eyes widened in slight horror, realizing what he said and stumbling over his words to correct. “I mean, ah, Patton’s not less of a vamp; well he’s weaker, but… no, shut up. Patton’s as vampire as the rest of us and anybody who says otherwise isn’t worth their fangs.”

 Logan raised his hands in surrender. “I didn’t say anything. And though I haven’t met this Patton, I believe him to be as much of a vampire as you.” ...Especially if that was the vampire that had eaten Roman.

“...Good.” Virgil sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry, I’m just...defensive, when it comes to Patton.”

 Logan hummed. “Is it because you were the one to turn him?” He guessed. He didn’t know what other reason Virgil would care so much.

Virgil tensed, looking down at Logan with confusion and slight suspicion. “How’d you know that?”

 “From the way you spoke of him and the fact you live together, it was a logical conclusion to make.” Logan explained, glad to know he was right. “If you don’t mind me asking, why did you turn him in the first place? You do not strike me as the type to enjoy company.”

“What makes you say that?” Virgil looked almost baffled at the insinuation.

 “Well...maybe it just feels that way to me, seeing as how I’m meant to be prey at not another being of which you would want to converse with. But you spend a lot of time alone here and I have not heard you speak of anyone else but of Patton. You also give off this...stand-offish aura about yourself.” Logan explained his reasoning, which he took as pretty solid evidence.

“Huh, yeah I guess.” Virgil shrugged. “I just found it weird because I do like company, just… very specifically company. Or exclusively Patton.”

 “Is there some sort of bond that happens once a vampire turns a human?” Logan asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.

“Usually, a Turned vampire has a sort of… mentorship with the Vamp that turned them.” Virgil explained in kinder terms than others would. “Sometimes it’s more of an apprenticeship and you leave when you’re trained, sometimes it’s more of an eternal life servant if you can control them, but usually it’s just another way of growing your… family, I guess? I don’t know if that’s the right word. I just know eternity is lonely and I didn’t want to be alone.”

 “I...see.” Logan said. He had never thought much of eternity, after all, he was not eternal but he did not like the sound of it. “That makes sense I suppose. Did you choose Patton randomly or was he someone you...for lack of a better term, stalked and chose?”

Virgil tensed, knowing the truth was a bit of both. He had chosen Patton, yes, but only as a quick dinner back in the days when a non-lethal drink was considered poor taste… but then, looking into Patton’s eyes, Virgil felt guilt pool up in him. Not a common occurrence when you’re a horrible monster born to suck the life out of humans and suffer until one plunges a stake through your heart.

“I just knew.” Virgil snipped, not willing to spill his life story.

 Logan bit his lip. The tone Virgil used told him to not try and ask any further questions about that. He looked around the room and out the window, noticing the moon still high in the sky. “If...If I am to not die tonight, may I have something to eat or drink?” Logan asked, only slightly hesitant.

“Oh, right.” Virgil inwardly cursed himself. He was exceedingly bad at this… even if it didn’t really matter, Virgil felt like he was failing anyways. Maybe some of Patton’s hosting instincts were rubbing off on him, wanting to make sure his ‘guest’ was taken care of. If that were the case, it was certainly weird that those instincts had decided to kick in now, with what was supposed to be his food.

“Alright, come on then.” Virgil set the borrower on the ground, standing up to his full height.

 Logan blinked, straining his neck as he looked up at Virgil. “I-I’m sorry?”

Virgil didn’t bother replying, instead disappearing into the familiar black cloud. When his bat form emerged it dove for Logan, sweeping the borrower off his feet by grabbing both arms with its claws.

 “Ah!” Logan screamed as he was suddenly lifted into the air. He tried to look up and saw a portion of Virgil’s bat form from his perspective. He forced himself to cease his struggling, knowing it would do him no good to fall from this height. 

 “Wh-Where are we going?” He asked instead, wondering if Virgil could even talk in this form.

Squeak!

The bat gave a noise about as annoyed as a bat could sound, rolling its eyes as it glided up through the open window and down towards the forest.

 Logan was going to take that as a ‘no’ then. He shifted slightly, trying to keep the nails from scratching him. He supposed he would just have to wait and see where they went.

Once out of sight of the house, the bat unceremoniously dropped Logan onto a tree branch, before with a puff the vampire had reappeared, grinning down at the borrower.

 Logan yelped, gripping onto the branch below him as he warily looked up at the vampire. “Was it really necessary for me to come with you?” He asked.

“Yeah- if I’m doing your boring food gathering, you have to come too.” Virgil grabbed up the borrower, placing him on his shoulder. “Besides, now I don’t have to guess what you can eat, and the fresh air will do you some good.”

 “How will fresh air do anything?” As a borrower who never went outside, he didn’t get it. He gripped the fabric beneath him in order to stay on Virgil’s shoulder.

“I don’t know- you’re the one that needs to breathe.” Virgil reminded him, walking further into the forest. “Patton just uses that expression a lot. I assumed it was a thing.”

 “I have heard humans use it as well but it doesn’t imply to me, as the outside is dangerous for borrowers.” Logan explained. He had only been outside a handful of times.

“Okay, well, pretty sure a vampire coven is more dangerous for you.” Virgil argued.

 “...That is a fair point.” Logan admitted. It had certainly been for Roman and soon him.

Virgil stopped, squinting down at the first berry bush that he came across. “Can you eat these?”

 Logan looked them over. “I am unsure about these, so I would say no.”

“You could just test them.” Virgil suggested, taking one off the bush and holding it out.

 Logan sent him a deadpanned look and pushed the berry away. “Again. I do not wish to die.”

“So picky.” Virgil rolled his eyes, even if his tone was mostly teasing as he tossed the berry back into the bush and continued his stroll.

 “Why must we go searching for berries anyway? Could you not just go to a store and buy some food?” Logan asked, warily watching the setting around him. After all, he had never been in the forest before.

“Why should I have to deal with mortal currency? They’re just going to change it again in a few centuries. Plus, there’s like a couple hundred kinds now. Nobody just accepts gold, it’s ridiculous.” Virgil was grumbling now, clearly annoyed at the turn of modern civilization. “Not to mention I’m terrible with glamors, so even if I had a strange desire to stroll through down it would certainly be accompanied by screaming. Humans are bad at minding their own business.”

 “I...see.” Logan hummed. “So, you just stay away from humans, period, unless you’re feeding from them?” He asked.

“Why else would I interact with them?” Virgil shrugged lightly.

 “Fair point. Humans really are worth only what they can provide, aren’t they?” Logan said. He lived off of humans, sure, but he never wanted to interact with them. Even if mostly because it would probably be fatal for him.

“Oh yeah, you leech off them too.” Virgil mused. “I like the way you think, half-pint.”

 Logan felt his lips turn up into a smile despite himself. Were they...actually getting along?

 No...no Virgil must simply just be playing with his food. The vampire still planned to eat him after all. His smile dropped and he focused more on looking around him. “There are some berries over there that I think are good.” From this distance, they looked like blackberries.

Spotting the bush, Virgil took some extra strides at vampire speed to hasten the process. He gathered up some of the fruit, cupping it so Logan could take from his hand. “Can you eat these or are you going to deny my charity again?”

 “No, these are perfect.” Logan said, grabbing one. They were indeed blackberries and he took a large bite from it. “Thank you.”

“I mean, I was the one accidentally starving you, but you’re welcome.” Virgil accepted his thanks.

 Logan ate another bit before biting his lip. “May I have some water, as well? If that’s possible?” He was quite thirsty despite the berry’s juice.

“If you’re not picky.” Virgil knew some humans wouldn’t drink anything but that bottled plastic junk. “There should be a stream this way.”

 “That should be fine.” After all, he was used to drinking rainwater.

“Good, cause that’s all I got.” Virgil’s adept hearing picked up the babbling brook. He broke through the overgrowth, spotting water source. Virgil crouched down on the mossy shore. The vampire reached up, gathering Logan in his hand and placing him on the stones.

 Logan took a moment to catch his balance before kneeling down and sipping the stream water. He took generous sips, sighing in relief as the cool water washed down his throat. He had been thirstier than he had initially thought. He took a few more sips before standing back up. “Thank you, that should hold me over.” Until his death tomorrow, Logan thought sorrowfully.

“Wait, frick, how often are you supposed to drink water?” Virgil asked, realizing he hadn’t given the borrower any before now.

 “Well...really, it should be several cups a day. But I can also go three days without water. It isn’t healthy but it’s possible.” Logan explained.

“Well yeah, obviously, because you’re not dead.” Virgil’s face pulled into a concerned grimace. “Ugh, now I wish I’d brought a bottle or something...why didn’t you say anything?”

 Logan blinked. “I did...not think it mattered.” And he did not see how it mattered now either. “I will be dead by tomorrow night anyway, right?”

Virgil blinked, slowly remembering who he was talking to. Yeah, this was the borrower he captured as a powerful snack. It didn’t matter if he stayed hydrated because by tomorrow evening Virgil would be starving and willing to eat anything and completely able to get over this stupid hesitation.

“Right.” Virgil muttered, his voice so gravelly it was nearly a growl as he scooped Logan back up into his fist. “But I’m not going to have a little thing like you cheating and trying to kill yourself off early.”

 Logan just bit back a yelp as he once again found himself in the vampire’s fist. He didn’t bother to struggle though. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Then you’re going to tell me all the things you need so you don’t accidentally die on me either.” Virgil ranted, storming off into the forest. “No more keeping me in the dark.”

 “O-Okay?” Logan said, confused by how worried Virgil seemed, despite how he tried to cover it up. “Really though, I should be fine for the rest of my time with you.”

“Don’t make assumptions about how long you’re with me; I’m the one in charge here.” Virgil glared briefly down at the borrower in hand. “If I wanted I could just eat you now. No rules about having to do it in the house.”

 Logan felt his heart skip a beat at the glare. “I am...well aware.” He ducked his head. “My apologies.”

“...I’m not going to, though.” Virgil conceded, ducking beneath a branch as he neared the edge of the woods. “Like I said, not tonight.”

 Logan nodded and then paused. “...May I ask a question?”

Virgil stopped for a moment, his curiosity piqued. “Uh, sure I guess.”

 “Have you...have you ever eaten any other borrowers before?” With how old Virgil was and how he had already known about his kind, it honestly would not surprise him.

Virgil tensed, feeling his mind wander uncomfortably close to the dark days of his past.

“Nope, changed my mind, no questions.” Virgil didn’t even wait for the borrower’s reply, setting Logan roughly on a branch before switching to his bat form.

 Logan found that odd, definitely. But the question left his mind once Virgil changed into a bat. Knowing what was to come next, he sighed and lifted his arms up. Might as well make it easier on himself.

The bat swooped in, gathering up Logan and flapping its wings at a much faster pace than before so even by vampiric standards the duo returned to Virgil’s room in a matter of seconds. The bat flew up to the top of the room, dropping the borrower then transforming back and catching Logan before he could hit the ground.

 “Ah!” Logan screamed as he was dropped, only to let out an ‘oof’ as he was caught. He panted at the scare, looking over at Virgil. “You don’t want me to die early and yet you pull stunts like that.”

“I just don’t want you to die not by my hands.” Virgil corrected, opening the cage. “Besides, you’re fine. I didn’t drop you.” Virgil considered the stunt to be adequate payback for the borrower’s question.

 “You technically did, you just caught me as well.” Logan said but there was no bite to it. He glanced at the cage and sighed. Back in there again.

Virgil gave a chuckle at that, caught off guard by the borrower’s dry wit. “Okay, fine, I didn’t not catch you. You’re fine.” 

 “Fine is a relative term, but I suppose I am.” Logan agreed, somewhat.

With a satisfied nod at the borrower’s approval, Virgil put Logan back into the cage. He gave a two-fingered salute, heading back to his coffin. “Whelp, see ya tomorrow night.”

 Logan sighed, slumping against the cage as he watched the sun start to rise. “Good...morning.” He said, after a second thought. It was strange to think that this would be the last morning he would ever see.