#all others who came after her are feeble imitations

[ennaih]

Every Film I Watch In 2023:

280. The Apartment (1960) -- customary New Years Eve rewatch

of course bonus:

[swcrdstellaris]

Meta: The Dragon Cult

After Godwyn and Fortissax made peace that marked the final chapter of Marika’s unification war, the remaining dragons were offered a peaceful retreat to Farum Azula to lick their wounds, except for Fortissax and his sister, Lansseax. The two dragons settled in the Golden Capital as emissaries, or to some extent, hostage. Fortunately, scars left by war were gradually healed with the combined effort of Godwyn and the draconic twins, to the point they were accepted----albeit with caution----as fellow citizens of Marika’s empire.

Back when Gransax invaded Altus Plateau, tree sentinels of Leyndell had already applied fractions of draconic incantation to enhance themselves. Now with two living dragons as audience, draconic incantations were modified to accommodate human conjuration, and the primeval power they channel drew many a researcher and cleric towards this particular field of study.

While Fortissax initially remained suspicious, Godwyn welcomed this practice with open arms. The Golden Prince considered coexistence to be the very foundation of Order(which would later influence Miquella and his Unalloyed Gold), and encouraged his draconic friends to distribute their wisdom amongst Leyndell’s people.

Having finally perfected concealment spells ahead of her brother, Lansseax would openly serve as a priestess of the Dragon Cult. Many a Knights of Leyndell learned from High Priestess Lans, some might have even sparred with her warrior brother Fortis who occasionally showed up (Among them, a man who would be known as Vyke of the Roundtable). Their true nature remained an open secret among the higher-ups of Leyndell, and the Cult----now called Dragon Heirs----flourished.

Radagon’s ascension saw the Golden Order more rigid than before, so once again dragon incantations were deemed “cult” rather than an official school. Mages drunk with power invented the Communion, a bastardization of its origin. Then came the Night of Black Knives, which saw Fortissax and Lansseax explode out of Stormcaller Church in all their draconic glory at the sense of danger, rushing towards Godwyn’s palace in panic and desperation, only to witness rune marks of Destined Death and his deathly pale corpse.

Bonus: Priestess Lans’s own hot-take on its successor, Dragon Communion. (wrote the other day for ☕️ meme)

The dragon huffed in agitation at the idea of that particular practice surviving to this day. “Dragon Communion, is that what thy kind named it?”

“A pathetic imitation of true draconic power. To think me and brother mine shared our secrets oh so generously with thy people, only to have thee defile our teachings in thy own barbaric ways.” Indeed, even though those who fell victim to the Communion consisted mainly of lesser wyverns, words and scenes of that arcane art left a sour taste in she and Fortissax’s maws.

“I can only imagine that intoxicating energy overwhelming feeble mind and flesh, to the point of twisting a practitioner’s body in an attempt to match that of a dragon. Whatever they ended up as, I hardly offer my condolences.”

“Foolish ambitions, thy kind are all of a piece.”

[lisbonsteresa]

You’re Once (In Any Lifetime)

🥳 🥳 HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAY( @eddiediaz)!!!!  🥳 🥳  (little late is better than never fingers crossed. a little something for my drew crew bestie who i have never yelled at, cajoled into watching a show, or threatened with a knife emoji. hope you like the...kind of au of the au of the - let’s just call it the 7th generation of an au 😘)

                                 ___

“She’s lingering again.”

“Call a spade a spade Bess.” George grumbled as she entered the kitchen with an armful of dirty dishes. “At this point she’s loitering.”

Nick glanced up from where he was reviewing that month’s order form at the prep table with a slight grin. “Don’t know if you can go that far. I mean she did pay for her dinner.”

“Oh please,” George shot back with a roll of her eyes. “It’s been 45 minutes since she paid her bill and she’s still nursing that iced tea like it’s a long island.” As if she knew they were talking about her, the redhead in the corner booth looked up from her glass and gave a small, unsure smile across the sparsely-seated dining room in their direction. She did not receive any in response.

“What I don’t understand is why she keeps coming here, of all places. I mean it’s not like our food is good.” An offended grunt came from Bess’s right, and she spun around to see the Claw’s cook pressing a burger to the grill with a wounded expression. 

“Oh no, Charlie,” she backtracked frantically, hands held out in a feeble attempt to placate the older man. “I just meant compared to what they must have at the yacht club.” 

Charlie gave a noncommittal shrug, apparently forgiving the unintended slight before moving down the line where he hopefully missed Bess’s whispered  “Or anywhere else…”

“Guys, come on.” Ace cut in, voice calm and measured even as he scrubbed determinedly at a rusting lobster pot. “It’s not like we don’t have other customers keeping us here. What’s so bad about Nancy lingering a bit?” 

“The fact that she’s not just ‘Nancy’, Ace.” George admonished as she tipped her dishes into the full sink in front of him, raising the water level until it sloshed dangerously close to the edge. “She’s Nancy Hudson. You know how the hill-toppers treat us townies -”

“When they’re not wheeling and dealing in back rooms to screw us over while they’re sitting pretty in their ivory towers.” Nick interrupted, his attention still on the sheet in front of him.  

“Exactly.” George gave her boyfriend an appreciative look as she leaned up against the prep table next to him. “And now what, I’m supposed to be happy that one of them deigned to grace us with her presence?” 

“Yes, and I had to take her hill-topper order.” Bess lamented, pouting near the line window until she noticed Nick looking at her with raised eyebrows. “What?”

“You know you’re a hill-topper, right Bess?”

She turned towards him, her expression scandalized and defensive. “That is completely different, Mr. Multimillionaire.” (Nick held his hands up in amused defeat). “I only just became a Marvin; I wasn’t born and raised a hill-topper, unlike some people.” 

“Besides,” she glanced back across the dining room with an insulted wrinkle of her nose, “the Hudsons and Marvins are long-standing enemies; it was humiliating to have to serve one of them.”

“The Hudsons and Marvins, maybe, but not you and Nancy.” Ace countered, leaning the lobster pot against the back of the drying rack before reaching into the increasingly murky water to start on George’s dishes. “You two barely know each other.”

Bess paused, playing with her necklace and staring into space as if considering this fact for the first time. “Well, I guess that’s true…"

“And she’s been spending her gap year here in town volunteering and helping Hannah Gruen set up a scholarship with the Historical Society.” Ace continued with a glance over his shoulder at Nick.

“I mean, that’s great, but -” Nick stopped, eyes narrowing “wait, how do you know that?”

Ace’s hands paused their motions, just for a fraction of a second, before he resumed rinsing a plate and gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Must’ve seen it in the paper somewhere.” He muttered offhandedly. “And -”

“And nothing.” George cut him off, crossing her arms across her chest with a scowl. “A few good deeds don’t change the fact that this time next year she’ll be 300 miles away with a full ride to some Ivy League school just because of her last name, and the rest of us will still be stuck here cleaning grease traps in an old clam shack.” Ace’s shoulders tensed more and more with every word that left her mouth. “And since when did you start defending Hudsons anyway?”

“I’m not defending the Hudsons, I’m defending Na-” Ace spun around to face the room and froze, realizing that his raised voice had turned three sets of interested eyes in his direction. (Well, four, if you counted Charlie.) “I’m not defending anybody.” he continued after a beat. “I’m just saying you can’t help who your family is, and at least she’s trying to be better than hers. It wouldn’t kill you guys to try and see that.” 

No one said anything - this was the most upset any of them had seen Ace get since the time that nor'easter put a tree branch through Florence’s windshield. “Anyway, dishes are done; I’m gonna take my break.”

He tossed the towel that had been slung over his shoulder down onto the counter and stomped down the steps towards the storeroom. The back door slammed shut a moment later, and the others turned back towards the dining room to see that Nancy had at last abandoned her iced tea and was heading towards the exit with the air of someone in a rush trying very hard to appear relaxed.

“So…” Bess began, her eyes flicking back and forth between Nancy’s booth and the door. “when do we tell him we saw them making out by the loading dock last Thursday?”  

“I say we make him sweat for a bit.” George said with a shrug as she straightened and headed out to clear the table. “Serves him right for thinking he could keep something like this from us.” Bess and Nick shared an amused smile behind her, then got back to their own work.

If any of them noticed that Ace arrived back from his break 20 minutes late with his hair in disarray, they kept it to themselves.

                                   _____

“Great. I’m going to be picking seaweed out of my hair for a week. Thanks a lot Bess.”

Bess paused her efforts to wring out her dress to shoot an incredulous look in George’s direction. “I’m sorry, how is this my fault!?”

“It’s my birthday George!” Came the response in a mocking imitation of the Brit’s accent. “Just close for inventory George! It’ll be fun George!” 

“Well excuse me for trying to enjoy a nice beach day!” Bess shot back. “How was I supposed to know we’d be attacked by that kelkey-whatever??”

“Kelpie.” Nick corrected, stopping the bickering for a moment while all three turned their attention towards the redhead kneeling in the sand and frantically running her hands over a soaking wet and slightly dazed Ace. “That’s what you called it, right?”

The second Nancy realized she was being addressed, her hands dropped from Ace’s body like they had been burned. “Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, a kelpie. They’re Scottish horse spirits that drag their victims underwater and devour them. That silver necklace Bess had was its bridle, and -” she paused, looking around to see the others staring blankly at her. 

“Sorry.” Her voice sounded almost sheepish. “I volunteer over at the historical society a lot, and there’s some…interesting stuff in their archives.” Another moment passed. No one’s expression changed.

“…Anyway the bridle can be used to control it, so I think it attacked you to try and get it back. And since you didn’t know what it was, it just seemed easier to grab it and toss it then try and explain why it was making the giant horse spirit angry.” She finished with a weak grin, as if she’d been explaining the weather and not the most terrifying thing most of them had ever seen. 

No one spoke for a while longer, and then Bess’s quiet  “Oh.” broke the silence. “Well…okay. For a second I thought you just really didn’t like my necklace.” 

The tension broken, the others looked at her with varying levels of amusement before she let out a gasp and turned to address Nancy directly. “Wait my cousin Cassidy gave me that last night! You don’t think…”

“I don’t think she knew what it was.” Nancy replied with an almost fond smile. “When the historical society got the request to put the necklace in one its deposit boxes, the record just said it was a Marvin family heirloom; brought over aboard the Governance.”

“And the kelpie followed it all the way here?” Nick asked, eying Nancy sideways as he tried to shake water out of his ear.

She shrugged. “There are some records that say kelpies are bound to follow their bridles, wherever they go. They can’t leave the water though, so it could have gotten into the bay and then…gotten lost, I guess.” Bess was already nodding along as if everything Nancy was saying made perfect sense. “We didn’t realize the necklace was anything out of the ordinary until Cassidy came to request it and Hannah thought she recognized it from her research.”

“Well good thing she did, or this might’ve been Bess’s last birthday.” George smirked. “Never thought I’d say this,” she continued, ignoring her friend’s offended huff and turning towards Nancy, “but I’m glad you were around, Hudson.”

“Thanks.” Nancy sounded like she wasn’t sure whether she should be flattered or insulted by the statement. “I was looking for you guys, actually. When we realized what the necklace was, we called Cassidy and she said she’d given it to you for your birthday, and since you were coming to the beach Hannah and I were worried that getting it too close to the water might -”

“Wait, how did you know we’d be at the beach?” Bess interrupted.

Nancy stilled, her eyes darting over to a still-groggy Ace then back to the others so quickly that they might have missed it had they not been watching her so closely. “I must have overheard it the last time I was at the Claw.” Her voice was measured; almost deliberately calm. “When it’s slow there your voices tend to carry.” 

Bess and Nick gave each other an uneasy sidelong glance at Nancy’s implication, while George’s expression grew into something approaching begrudging respect. “Anyway,” Nancy stood, brushing sand off her pants and looking anywhere but in Ace’s direction, “I should get back to Hannah and let her know everything’s okay. See you around.”

She turned and started heading towards the parking lot, and Ace watched with worried eyes as his friends had a rapid fire non-verbal conversation. Bess nodded towards Nick, who responded with a shrug. They both looked over at Ace with small smiles, then turned to George; Nick with one eyebrow raised in question and Bess with what could only be described as puppy dog eyes. George glanced at Ace before letting out a labored sigh and rolling her eyes as she called down the beach: “Hey Hudson!” 

Nancy turned, hands twisting in the strap of the messenger bag. “You wanna meet us at the Claw after we get cleaned up?” George asked. “We’re closed for inventory - it’d be a good place to talk about all…this.” (Bess cleared her throat pointedly.) “And we have cake for Bess’s birthday.”

The smile that bloomed on Nancy’s face was beaming, even at a distance. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

                                 ______

It had been three weeks since the kelpie incident, and for all intents and purposes, Nancy had settled in as the fifth member of their little group. She and Bess had gotten along almost immediately, despite some awkward encounters when they had run into family while together. 

Nick had warmed to her considerably once she started helping him with his plans for a youth center in town. (It certainly hadn’t hurt that she’d ‘misplaced’ her grandfather’s application for the building on Spring St. until Nick’s bid had already closed). 

And while George and Nancy bickered almost constantly, they (usually) did it with smiles on their faces. If asked, they might not call each other ‘friends’, but they were definitely heading in a good direction. 

The first Friday afternoon of July found them sprawled out across the dining table of Nick’s loft, brainstorming ideas for that year’s ‘Still Summer at the Bayside Claw’ event. (Or rather found most of them. Truth be told, Bess’s focus might have been more on her online shopping.) They’d been working for an hour or so when a noise like the rapid honking of a clown nose suddenly interrupted the conversation.

“Shit,” Ace muttered, grabbing his phone and snoozing the alarm, “I’m going to be late for Shabbat.” He gathered his things in a rush, exchanged a quick “Bye” and kiss with Nancy, then froze. 

His eyes moved rapidly between the others - Nancy’s wide-eyed panic; George’s look of shock and disgust; Nick’s eyebrows shooting up his forehead; Bess’s almost giddy expression - before seeming to make a decision.

“Uh…Nick,” he croaked out before anyone could react any further, making his way over to where his friend was sitting with an air of forced normalcy and kissing him like it was something he did every day. “thank you for having me.”

“See you tomorrow, Bess.” He continued, leaning over and giving her a peck on the cheek, causing a giggle to escape her barely-maintained composure.

He turned towards the other end of the table, eying George the way an antelope might eye a lion. “George -”  

“Don’t even think about it.” She cut him off with a glare.

“Right. ‘Course.” He glanced around the room one last time as he backed towards the door, eyes skipping over Nancy as if he was afraid of what his expression might reveal if he focused at all on her. “Um, have a good night everyone.” And then he was gone, the door slamming behind him as his rapid footsteps echoed down the hallway.

A minute passed in complete silence, then another. 

Nick looked absolutely mystified, his fingers stuck halfway to his lips like he couldn’t quite comprehend what had just happened. George’s grimace was slowly turning into an amused smirk, and Bess looked seconds away from breaking into complete hysterics.

Another minute passed before Nancy, staring at the table with a face almost as red as her hair, broke the silence. “So…how long have you guys known?”

“Since before the kelpie incident.” George answered bluntly, while Nick shook off his daze and turned his attention towards Nancy and Bess took a calming breath and tried to bite back her laughter.

“Oh.” 

Nancy’s eyes darted between the table and the door as if trying to decide if it would be worse to try and explain herself or just cut her losses and run. “Ok, well, we were going to tell you, we just -”

“You can relax Nancy.” Nick cut in, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. She flinched at the touch, but finally turned to see an understanding smile on his face. “You wouldn’t be here right now if any of us still had a problem with you.”

Bess nodded rapidly, reaching across the table to cover one of Nancy’s hands with her own. “You make Ace happy, and that’s what really matters to us."

A wobbly smile began to grow on Nancy’s face, before she blinked and turned towards George with apprehension and a bit of challenge in her eyes. 

George’s expression stayed firm until Nick cleared his throat and gave her a pointed look. She sighed and rolled her eyes, but the grin she gave Nancy was genuine.“Plus I guess you’re not horrible.”

That pulled a laugh from Nancy, even as she blinked back touched tears she knew George would make fun of. “Thanks guys. I really appreciate that.”

(To say Ace was confused when she walked into the Claw the next morning and kissed him in the middle of the dining room would be an understatement, but he definitely wasn’t complaining.)

[quickspinner]

Your Lips are Moving

I don’t have anything good WIP Wednesday for this week, so have a silly little ficlet that came to me while the radio was on.

Sitting on the Liberty’s couch, wedged between Alya and an extremely bouncy and overly-enthusiastic Rose, Marinette was trying desperately to keep a neutral expression on her face while her skin was trying to crawl off her body. If she’d known she was going to be here…

The latest round of ooh’s and ah’s died down and Marinette tried not to cringe at the sound of that voice.

“And then Jagged said I’d given him the idea that broke him out of his songwriting block!” Lila concluded triumphantly. She looked around at all of them with what Marinette clearly recognized as smug satisfaction, and sure enough several of the girls drew breath for another round of impressed exclamations and fawning. 

Marinette contemplated shattering the glass in her hand and using the shards to damage her own hearing. 

Before anybody could actually speak a powerful male voice rang out from the galley, singing, “I know you’re lyin’, cause your lips are moving, baby do you think I’m dumb? I might be young, but I ain’t stupid—”

Lila’s mouth dropped open in shock and outrage and for a moment her rage was plain. Marinette felt a thrill of absolute, unmitigated glee and had to bite down hard on her lip to contain her smile. 

“Luka,” Juleka yelled sharply, and the girls around her flinched at the unexpected volume.

Luka’s head popped over the counter and he closed the fridge absently behind him, popping his earbuds out to hang around his neck. “Oh, hey Jules. Sorry, I didn’t realize you had company.”

“I told you they were coming,” Juleka grumbled, and Luka shrugged. 

“I forgot.” He flashed a grin in their direction. “Hey Marinette.” 

All the girls’ eyes turned to her except Juleka, who was still glaring at her brother. Marinette blushed, ignoring the one pair of narrowed eyes on her amidst all the wide ones, her heart suddenly fluttering in her chest for reasons entirely unrelated to their scrutiny. She raised her hand in a feeble wave, ducking her head slightly. “Hi.”

His grin widened. “If you’ve got time before you leave you should come on up, I had some stuff I wanted to talk to you about,” he said, nodding towards the stairs as he pulled some snack bags down out of an upper cabinet. “Might mean a new commission for you with some friends of mine. Sorry for interrupting, ladies,” he added, trying to balance his pile of loot. He bopped on up the stairs, picking up his song again, at the top of his powerful lungs. “You only love me when you’re here, you’re so two-faced, two faced babe.”

Oh it was probably wrong how much Marinette was enjoying the color Lila was turning. Some part of her felt a little frisson of fear for Luka if he got on Lila’s bad side, but the rest of her was ready to put him up for sainthood.

“You’re so embarrassing,” Juleka mumbled, bringing her hands up to shield her face. 

“If your lips are moving, If your lips are moving, then you lyin’ lyin’ lyin, baby” Luka sang back down the hatch, tossing them a wave and a smirk from the top of the stairs.

“Jerk!” Juleka screamed, lobbing a throw pillow in his direction. “Ugh, why am I not an only child?” 

Marinette giggled, and slapped a hand over her mouth when all eyes turned to her. 

“Um,” she said, and got quickly to her feet. “Well, if it’s about a commission I should probably go see what it’s about seeyouguyslaterbye!” She ran out of the room after Luka. He didn’t look at all surprised when she appeared in the sunroom, just grinned and tossed her a bag of chips. Marinette caught them and tossed them aside, then threw her arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked innocently, but the grin that split his face immediately afterwards wasn’t innocent at all.

Marinette almost kissed him for real in that moment. He looked away just in time, cheeks reddening, and coughed. “So, um, you want to talk about that commission?” 

“There’s really a commission?” Marinette said in surprise. “I...guess I thought that was just an excuse.”

Luka nudged her towards a deck chair. “It can be an excuse and still be the truth. It’s not like I don’t talk you up to everybody I know.”

“You do not,” Marinette gasped, sinking into the chair. 

“Marinette,” he said, putting on a wounded expression and pressing a hand to his chest. “Are you saying I’m a liar?” 

It was such a good imitation of Lila’s wounded playacting that Marinette burst out laughing, and Luka could only hold his straight face a moment more before joining her. 

When they finally sobered enough to talk business, Luka passed her some snacks and told her about his friend who had a big audition coming up and wanted a signature piece to really make a statement. Before long, though, they were just chatting, and teasing, and it was so much better than being down there with the girls and the liar, or up here by himself with his guitar. 

“Be honest,” Marinette said finally, leaning towards him slightly. “You weren’t actually listening to Meghan Trainor, were you?” 

Luka picked up his phone and looked her in the eye as he pulled out the plug of the earbuds he’d wrapped around his phone and started the music up again on speaker. It blared out, I know you’re lyin’, your lips are movin’, baby don’t you know I’m done.

Marinette giggled, and Luka shrugged. “I have a bunch of themed playlists, and I like all kinds of music, even if rock is my favorite.” 

Marinette raised her eyebrows. “You have a liar-themed playlist?” 

Luka chuckled. “Nah, just...lips and kissing. Somehow it turns out a lot of those have a good beat, so…” he shrugged.

Marinette shook her head. “Whatever makes you happy, I guess.”

Luka had several responses to that which were probably better left unsaid, so he just smiled. “With lips like yours,” he sang, “You could talk me into anything,” and laughed as Marinette threw a balled up napkin at him. “Careful,” he teased. “You might put my eye out.” 

“You’re terrible,” she laughed, getting to her feet and gathering her things. “I love it. Thanks for the laugh, Luka. I feel a lot better. I’ll see you soon, okay?” 

“Sure. Anytime, Marinette.” His gaze softened as he watched her stumble over the gangplank, still giggling to herself. He fell back into his chair, humming to himself. “You said hello, I said oh no, here we go again,” he sang softly to himself, letting his head fall back to look up into the sky. “With lips like yours, you could talk me into anything.” He turned his head and his eyes found her on the bank, a bounce in her step as she headed home, and he shook his head. “With arms like yours, you could hold me all night long…” Luka sighed, and reached for his phone. It was definitely time for a different playlist. 

At least until the other girls came back upstairs. After all, it wouldn’t be his fault what Juleka and her friends heard when they came walking up here into his space.

Fiction Master Post

[illfoandillfie]

You Can Make It Up To Me

Ok sorry if its too late or its already been done just thought id ask anyway, for the 1000 followers celebration why not throw it back to the early days, what about a sequel to "I'll make it up to you" based on another time rog comes home after being away for a while? Maybe reader cant keep to her promise this time? 😊 have been hooked on your writing since I read that fic!! ❤

I’LL MAKE IT UP TO YOU

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+), dom!Rog, sub!Reader, edging and denial, chastity belt, oral sex (male receiving), facial, mentions of spanking though it doesn’t really feature, mentions of cockwarming though it doesn’t really feature either, it’s really just a fuckload of edging lmao

Words: 9,307

A/N: Listen, ya’ll should know by now I have a denial kink. You suggest a fic with edging and i fucking run with it.

This was another request from my 1000 followers celebration roughly a year ago. Apologies to the person who requested it for taking so long, I hope you’re still around and you see this! 

Taglist: @vee-ndetta​ @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama​ @deakyclicks​ @jennyggggrrr​ @drowseoftaylor​ @hannafuckingsucks​ @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming​ @queenmylovely​ @taron-egrotten @johndeaconshands​ @borhapbois​ @stardust-galaxies​

You’d thought edging for a week was hard. Oh how wrong you’d been. A week was a piece of fucking cake compared to the two months you’d been asked to endure this time. Stupid Roger. Stupid you. You’d been a fool to agree to the edging challenge again. You let Roger sweet talk you and convince you it’d be fun and hot and maybe he was a little bit right. Maybe you were turned on just from the suggestion of being edged for an extended period of time. He knew that and he used it against you as he cooed about how much he loved seeing you desperate and how good it had been last time he’d been away and how much fun you’d had playing with it all those times since, but they’d all been so short and wouldn’t it be fun to go for longer. And that was all very true, but you’d still been an idiot to agree to it. Two months! What had you been thinking? You supposed it could be worse. They could have been doing the whole tour in one hit, leaving you with much longer to get through. But that was by the by really. You’d never have lasted longer. You hadn’t even lasted the two months you’d agreed to. Roughly half a month from Roger’s return and you’d fucked up. Gone over the edge without meaning to. And he was going to call at the previously agreed upon check in time and you’d have to tell him and then be punished when he got home. Maybe you could distract him, get him talking about the tour and stuff. Technically you were meant to save all the chatting for the end of the week when he could call earlier and spend longer on the phone but maybe he’d be so homesick he’d forget about the rules you’d agreed on. Or maybe you could just lie about it and get back into your edging routine and still be the same drippy mess he expected to find waiting for him on his return. Ten minutes until he was supposed to call. You had to make your mind up now.

 “Love?” “Hi Rog,” You were still apprehensive about the call but the weary drawl in his voice softened your worry, “you sound tired.” “Only just got back to the hotel, how’s my girl?” “Good, how are you? How’s the tour going?” “Love, you know this isn’t a social call, it’s a check in.” Damn. So much for distracting him. “Sorry, I just miss you.” “I miss you too Y/N.” “So let’s just talk for a minute.” A feeble last ditch effort really. “We can talk. About how your edging is going. Tell me what my slut’s been up to.” Double damn. “I’ve been edging Sir,” “Good. How many times today?” “Six.” “Only six?” “I, uh, I got caught up doing o-other things and, um, didn’t have as much time today,” you hoped he couldn’t hear how fast your heart was beating. “Is that so? This from the same slut who told me about how she’d been so desperate while driving the two minutes to the supermarket that she’d pulled over halfway to knock one out.” His weariness seemed to evaporate with every word, “What were you doing that was so distracting?” “I- um, it was, um,” He let you stutter and sweat a little before he cut you off, “I’m starting to think you weren’t too preoccupied. I’m starting to think you disobeyed me.” “It was an accident,” you sighed, “I was edging and I slipped up and came. I’m sorry.” “Oh, love, that’s okay. Mistakes happen. And I know we’ve never done it for this long before and it must be so hard to keep stopping.” “It’s so hard!” you half laughed, relieved at his reaction. “I know. You’ve done so well.” “Thank you,” “But you know I will have to punish you when I get home right,” “Sir?” “Not because you slipped over the edge, that I understand completely. But you tried to hide it from me. So you’ll have to make it up to me.” “Yes Sir. How?” “I’m not sure yet. Have you edged much since you went over?” “No, I haven’t touched myself at all. I wasn’t sure I could start again and keep up with it.” “That’s okay. You did such a good job getting this far so we’re not going to worry about edging any more for these last…how many? I think ten days of the tour, whatever. You can have as many orgasms as you want. But I want you to keep count for me okay?” “Okay, yeah, I can do that.” “Yeah? That’s my girl. Why don’t you run grab your vibrator and let me hear you have one now,” “Now?” “I need something to wank to if I’m going to get to sleep any time soon.” “Right, give me two minutes to grab it.” “Take your time, love.”

 You hurried to the bedroom to pull open the draw where you kept your toys, not wanting to keep Roger waiting longer than you had to. Your fingers slipped a little as you quickly plugged it into the wall and positioned yourself, picking the phone up and pressing it back to your ear. “Okay, I got it,” “Let me hear it,” You turned it on for a couple of seconds. “Good girl. Now, what are you wearing?” Despite how worn out he must have felt Roger took his time. He made you describe the underwear you wore and told you how he wanted you to touch yourself over your knickers, made you tease yourself while he listened. He told you where to put the vibrator and on which setting and for how long. And you followed every instruction as best you could. You could feel the weeks of edging like every unachieved orgasm was gathered in the pit of your stomach. They made you ache for release. You told Roger as much, less eloquently, begging and whining rather than full sentences. There was a fear he’d lied about letting you cum or that at the very least he was going to make you wait for it. But he didn’t. All you had to say was please Sir and he told you to let go. He didn’t need to tell you twice. Relief washed through every inch of you as your pleasure cracked moans subsided. But he wasn’t finished, and he wasn’t going to let you off so easily. He gave you half a minute to catch your breath and thank him and then he told you to put the vibrator back against your clit. When you whined about being sensitive, he mocked you. His poor pathetic slut who was so worked up she just had to have an orgasm. “But I haven’t had mine and I told you I wanted to listen to you while I got off.” You came again as his grunts of release echoed down the phone line and he let you stop. But he was gentle as you caught your breath, soft words of praise making you feel warm and treasured. He made sure you were okay, reminding you to drink some water and get some rest, before he wished you goodnight, the tiredness returned to his voice, stronger than ever. But his parting reminder to keep count and expect his call the next night sent a shiver down your spine.

 Over the six and a half weeks since Roger had left you’d grown accustomed to X-rated dreams. Most nights ended with an edge or two and most mornings began the same way so it was no wonder your dreams quickly picked up the theme and ran with it. In them Roger returned early to surprise you and fuck your brains out. Or else he took you on tour and dressed you in skanky clothes that left nothing to the imagination so he could use you whenever he needed. Sometimes he’d share you with rooms full of men you didn’t recognise but understood worked with the band. Once or twice you’d woken up on the verge of release and cursed dream Roger for being so arousingly evil. You hadn’t expected to have one of those dreams after Roger overstimulated you on the phone but you woke the next morning grinding against the bunched up sheets, with a vague memory of Roger plowing you over his drumkit while a crowd of fans cheered him on. It wasn’t until you were rubbing the sleep from your eyes that you realised it couldn’t have been real. And it was followed by a moment of panic that you’d gone over the edge in your sleep before you remembered everything. The recollection brought a smile to your face as your fingers slipped between your legs. Still a little sore but you could avoid your clit, focus on trying to imitate the way Roger could finger fuck you to orgasm. You were laughing as you came, blissed out on just the notion of being allowed an orgasm. And not just one, as many as you wanted. It was tempting to take another just because you could but instead you forced yourself to get out of bed and start your morning routine. Of course you had to make some adjustments. You’d taken to edging in the shower each evening but instead you allowed yourself the luxury of a bath, coming with the tap gushing directly into your clit. And instead of mindlessly edging while you spread out on the couch and read, you let yourself get off to the erotic novel you were halfway through. It was incredible, even without Roger there to help. The tingle you’d get right before it hit, the one that used to make you pull your hand away. And then the rush of the actual release that made your whole body tense up before relaxing completely. You’d grown so accustomed to edging, gotten so used to the constantly building high that never ended. Actually being able to finish was like a drug and you kept going back for another hit. It was five times when Roger called though he made you do a sixth, once again explaining what he wanted, asking you how it felt. You didn’t complain, didn’t even consider it.

 It was the same most days though the number of orgasms you got out declined as Roger got closer to coming home. You were guaranteed one with every call he made to check in on how you were going, but more often than not it ended up being two or three. And he’d always ask for how many you’d had that day and then your total number of orgasms. Whenever you gave him the new numbers you could hear the scratch of a pen as he wrote it down. The night before he returned you reached thirty-nine. “Thirty-nine?” Roger let out a whistle that made you chuckle. “You wanna hear one more? Make it an even forty?” “No,” “Oh, really?” “It’s hilarious how disappointed you sound. But I think I’d like to give you number forty myself, in person.” “I suppose I can wait for that,” “Not long to go,” “You gonna miss touring?” “Yeah, a bit. But I’m gonna be even happier being back home with you.” “Getting to use your slut more like,” He let out a soft, breathy laugh, “There’s that, but also just getting to sleep in the same bed as you sounds so good right now. And your tea. I haven’t had a decent cup since I left.”

 You held off on the last orgasm, looking forward to one at Roger’s hands and not just his voice. A little hint of denial to round out the separation. A nice way to bookend the experience, even if you hadn’t managed to last the whole time. But your days of free flowing orgasms meant that his return wasn’t like last time, when you’d be so desperate for release you’d tried to jump him on the front steps. You could wait, let him get settled first. He’d probably want to shower, maybe eat something better than the plane food, maybe sleep off some of the travel, before sex even crossed his mind. Or rather, because it was Roger you were talking about, he was probably thinking about sex already but he’d want to make sure it was good for both of you even if that meant waiting a day or two. So you did what you could to make his return more comfortable, making sure the kettle was on when he arrived, calling out from the kitchen when you heard the door open. He greeted you with a tight hug and a soft kiss and followed it with a contented sigh as you handed him his favourite tea cup and led him out to the couch. He pulled you in close, entwined your fingers again as you chatted and relaxed. You figured that’s how the rest of the afternoon and evening would be, that you’d order take out and stay on the couch until you were ready to shuffle off to bed. So, when Roger’s hand, palm still warm where he’d been holding the teacup, landed on your thigh and began to creep higher, you were a little surprised. “Remind me what your total number of orgasms was again,” “Uh, thirty-nine Sir. But we don’-” “So you didn’t sneak in one more after I hung up?” “No, I wanted to wait for you.” “I’m here now,” “You sure you don’t want to rest? I can wait a bit longer,” “Love, I’ve spent the last however long sitting on a plane, think I’d like to do something a little more…physical.” You couldn’t stop from giggling, couldn’t deny your excitement at the turn the afternoon was taking. “Is that a yes?” “Yes, definitely.” “Then why don’t you go to the bedroom and strip. I’ll finish this perfect cuppa and meet you there. We could do your punishment too, if you’re up for it.” “What’s the punishment going to be, spanking or something?” “Or something,” he said with a laugh. “Okay, yeah, let’s get it over with then,” Roger just laughed again as he leaned forward to kiss you and then sent you on your way.

 “Good girl,” he cooed as he entered the room and saw you kneeling on the bed, your clothes scattered around the room, “You wanna know what your punishment is?” “Please,” “Well, because you tried to get away with cumming without permission, I’m going to edge you again. I think one for every orgasm you had sounds fair, don’t you?” “What? But…” “But what, love? You didn’t think I was going to give you a little spank and then forget about it, did you? I can’t have my slut thinking it’s okay to lie to me.” “But you said I could have those orgasms,” “I know. They were a reward for trying so hard to hold off for me. I’m not punishing you for accidentally going over the edge,” he stepped towards you as he spoke, reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing over your skin softly, “Sorry, I should have been clearer when I left that I wasn’t going to be upset if you didn’t last. Two months is a very long time and it’s hard to keep edging when you’re on your own, especially if you’ve never gone that long before. All I wanted was for you to try and you tried so hard and did so well. I couldn’t be prouder. But then when you did go over, you tried to keep it from me and that’s not on. I expect you to tell me when something like that happens. Otherwise what’s the point in agreeing to all this submissive stuff?” “Sorry, Sir, I know I should have told you,” “Thank you but you’re not getting out of it so easily. Lie back for me,” With a deep breath you did as he asked, shifting against the mattress to get comfortable. “Remind me what your safe word is,” “Red, Sir,” “Good, don’t be afraid to use it if you need to.” You nodded as you watched him walk to the cupboard, your hands already rising over your head in anticipation. He chuckled when he saw you waiting, “so you agree then, I need to tie you down.” “Thirty-nine’s a lot, I won’t be able to stay still,” “Of course you won’t, you’re a needy whore who likes to cum more than’s good for you. Spread your legs for me too, I’m going to tie your ankles.” You did as you were told, earning another chuckle from Roger as he took one wrist and tied it to the corner of the bed frame.

 He made you wait there, on display and unable to move, spread eagle on the bed, as he stripped down to his briefs and then stood over you, looking you up and down as if deciding how best to torture you. “Already a little wet,” he said softly, fingers brushing over your pussy. You stayed quiet, worrying at your lip. “I said,” he slapped your thigh and made you jolt, “Already. A little. Wet.” “I’ve been thinking about this since your last call, Sir.” Another slap, this one directly on your pussy, “Hmmm, thirty-nine orgasms in ten days and you’re already asking for more? Such a good slut for me. I’d have loved to see what kind of a mess you were by the time you accidentally came.” You whined as his fingers teased your entrance but he ignored you and kept talking. “I’ll do my best to get you dripping again now but I think I might need to give you a hand getting started, huh,” his fingers left you as he moved to the draws and pulled out a small tube of lubricant. He spread a dollop over two digits before slipping them inside you easily. Instinctively your hips rose to meet him, encouraging his fingers to sink deeper into you. “Maybe I’ll give you a few weeks break and then we might try again, see if you can’t go the whole two months while I’m here. I’ll help you be a good girl, keep you from going over. And then we can see just how drippy you get. I imagine you won’t be able to wear knickers for more than an hour before they’re soaked through. But it’ll make you easy to use. A self-lubricating little toy for me to play with. So desperate and needy.” He grinned as he stretched you out, using his other thumb to collect some of your rapidly pooling arousal and spreading it over your clit, paying close attention to how you jerked in your restraints, watching for any sign of the release you weren’t allowed, “You like the sound of that?” “Y-yes, Sir,” “Thought you would. I definitely do.” He shifted the position of his fingers seamlessly, almost second nature. “Fuck, close, ‘m close,” He pulled both hands away from you, smoothing them over your thighs, “Thank you for telling me.” The familiar disappointment of a subsiding orgasm made you sigh but otherwise you kept quiet, not wanting Roger to hear you complain after just one edge. The first of many. Roger waited thirty seconds before he started in on you again, enough time for the orgasm to completely disappear so he could slowly rebuild the pleasure to the same point before he pulled his hands away again. There was another half minute pause before he repositioned his fingers where you so badly wanted them to be and began building you up once more. “What a pitiful little whine that was. And we’re only just getting started, love.” Roger stilled his fingers as he laughed again. “Fuck,” “Maybe. If you’re lucky. But for now,” he curled his fingers inside you, watching every reaction closely as he pumped them into you, stilling as you neared the edge again. He didn’t remove them though, just held them in you as you calmed so he could begin again as soon as you’d settled. “That’s three done, thirty-six to go,” You groaned but nodded your acceptance.  Roger played you as well as he would any of his instruments, keeping you right at the edge as you jerked and jolted in your restraints, desperately trying to get just a little more, one more thrust, one more stroke, anything to finally feed the craving. It was blissful torture. But it was so much better with him physically there. Edging for him on your own was fine but nothing beat the way it felt to have him do it for you. The pure submission, the total lack of control. He owned your orgasms. You willingly gave them to him and now he owned them, controlled them.

 Roger enjoyed it as much as you did, the evidence becoming clearer with every pleading whine you gave him, though you were too distracted to notice. It only became obvious to you how turned on he was when he got up to take his underwear off and your eyes fell to his erect cock. He settled himself back between your legs and tapped the head of his dick against your sensitive clit. “What d’you think, slut? Should I fuck you now?” “Please,” “Awww you really want it don’t you?” “Yes, yes Sir, I really want it,” “My good little whore likes Sir’s cock, doesn’t she?” “Yeah,” “Especially in her cunt,” “Yeah,” “Yeah. But we have a problem.” Roger shuffled over you, straddling your hips, “See, it’s been a while.” “Months, Sir,” Roger chuckled, “Exactly, months. And I just worry that I’m going to enjoy being in your cunt again so much that I forget to edge you. And I don’t want that. Not after you’ve been so good for me.” “It’s okay Sir, you can fuck me. I promise I’ll be good,” “I know you would try to be good, but accidents could happen and I’m not ready to let you cum yet, even accidentally. What kind of a punishment would that be? So, instead, I’m going to use another hole I’ve missed, okay?” You agreed, though really it didn’t feel like you had many other options besides taking it or safe-wording and you definitely weren’t ready for things to end. “Good girl,” Roger cooed, leaning forward to kiss you softly before he repositioned himself. You giggled as he somewhat clumsily turned around, but the laughter died as he moved to kneel over your face instead. “Sir?” Roger wrapped his hand around his cock, “Yes, slut?” “Can I have my hands please?” “I think you can manage without them,” Roger said, “But how about this?” He leaned forward to release the ties around your ankles before settling back, his bollocks resting against your lips. He seemed to be waiting so you opened your mouth, laving your saliva over them with your tongue. “Good girl,” Roger hummed as you sucked one testicle into your mouth, a small part of you hoping that if you did enough, he’d be lenient and reduce your punishment. “If it get’s too much, stamp your foot okay?” You raised your legs so your feet were flat on the bed and stamped one to show you understood. “Good girl,” Roger said, pressing a kiss to your knee before he readjusted his position, letting his cock find your mouth.

 At first Roger contented himself with rocking slowly, letting you grow comfortable with the position. You had no control over how deep he pressed into you or how often but he kept his movement measured and careful, making sure he wasn’t overwhelming you, and you kept up as best you could, running your tongue along his length and sucking on his head. It got harder when he leaned forward and attached his lips to your cunt. The distraction of being edged with his tongue made you lose focus as you bucked your hips in a weak attempt to get more pleasure. Which meant you were taken by surprise when he suddenly thrust into your mouth, pushing himself into your throat. You wished you had your hands so you could grab his arse or jerk him off, but you made do as best you could, eyes watering as you moaned and he gave another sharp thrust. As he got closer to release he slid deeper into your throat, unable to control himself as easily while he was concentrating on edging you again and again. Each time he’d tell you how many edges he’d given you but you stopped listening. Between the jolts of pleasure from his tongue licking along your slit and the weight of his body on yours and the strain on your jaw as you kept your mouth open for him and the dizzying gasps of air you sucked in as he remembered himself and pulled out of you before sinking back in just as deep, everything else seemed fuzzy and distant. Your hands grasped at thin air in an attempt to break loose and touch him and your hips rose to meet him until he held them down. You moaned around his cock and whined with each new edge which only seemed to spur him on. At some point, after you weren’t sure how many, Roger decided he’d had enough of edging you like that and sat up a bit higher on his knees. He gave you a brief warning and let you take a few extra breaths before he fucked your mouth for real, unrelentingly using you for his own pleasure. You knew he was getting closer by the way he was grunting and the small twitches in his cock and you tried to prepare yourself for a mouthful of spunk, tried to ready yourself for how it would feel when he came on your tongue. But then he stopped and pulled out of you entirely. You were surprised by his sudden disappearance as he swung his leg back over you and got off the bed. Surely he wasn’t going to edge himself along with you? Surely he was going to use his release as another way to torment you, telling you how good it felt and mocking you for wanting the same. It was hard not to feel a little disappointed too. Especially when you could see how hard he was, his flushed tip proof of how close he’d been. “Sir?” you croaked out, voice scratchy and throat sore. Roger ignored you, as he walked back to the end of the bed, wiping his mouth and chin. “Sir, didn’t you want to finish?” “Awww, did the whore want my cum that bad? Don’t worry slut, you’ll get it, just not to taste. I’m going to put this load where it belongs. In my cunt.” You gasped as Roger pressed the tip of his cock into your heat, bracing yourself for the rough fuck he was sure to give you. But there was no thrusting, no pushing deeper. He held his tip inside you as his hand slid up and down his shaft, pulling himself over the edge with a grunt.

 You were left squirming and aching to be filled, to feel him inside you properly, as he left the bed again and moved towards the cupboard. A combination of your juices and his dripping onto the sheets. You knew what was coming but that made it all the worse. “Do you remember how many I said you had left?” he asked as he plugged the wand vibrator in and gave it a test pulse. “No Sir,” “No? You really should, I said it only a few minutes ago,” “I don’t know Sir,” “Well it’s a good thing I know then. Otherwise we might have had to start all over again and kept better count.” You trembled at the idea, part terrified of it happening, part wanting it to. “You only have to last 5 more. Not very many, is it?” “No Sir. I can do five,” “I know you can. Because you’re such a good girl for me. My good girl. You ready?” “Yes,” you swallowed thickly and took a steadying breath waiting for the buzz of the vibrator to start again. Roger made you wait a little, building the anticipation and the tension as he refrained from doing what you expected. He let the soft head of the toy rest against your clit, laughing when you jolted at the contact. And only once you’d stilled did he turn it on, leaving it on the lowest setting. Instinctively you tried to move your still unbound legs, but Roger gave you a slap to your thigh and warned you to behave or else he’d tie you down again and give you extra edges. You whimpered a small, “Yes Sir,” as you did your best to keep still though it got harder with each edge. Roger was careful to pull the machine away as soon as he saw signs of your impending orgasm, never letting you get too close lest his reflexes be too slow. He didn’t want any accidents to happen now, not after he’d been edging you for so long. He counted down each one, giving you ample breaks between to calm yourself again. When you finally heard him turn off the vibrator and say you were done you cried grateful tears. He untied your wrists and pulled you into his arms, soothing you with soft words of praise and gentle touches.

 “How do you feel?” He asked softly once you’d sufficiently calmed, leaning back and placing his hand on your cheek as he studied your face. “Bit sore. Really want to cum. But good.” “Yeah? You’re okay?” “Yeah I’m okay. Might need a few minutes before I can do more though. The fortieth orgasm I mean.” “That’s alright. In fact, it’s perfect because I’ve got a surprise for you.” “A surprise?” “Wait here, I’ll grab it from my suitcase,” You nodded, intrigued, and leaned against the bedhead to wait, letting your eyes close for a moment as he left the room. Roger returned and handed you a glass of water and box tied off with ribbon. You were definitely curious now, the box larger than you’d been expecting. You pulled at the bow with one hand as you drank with the other, letting Roger lift the lid from the box. You didn’t understand what you were seeing until Roger explained. “It’s a chastity belt,” You almost did a spit take. “I saw it while we were exploring the shops of one of the towns we were in and I thought it might be fun to try it out, if you’re interested.” You placed the cup down and reached into the box to pick up the metal device, “Looks a bit medieval, doesn’t it,” Roger chuckled and agreed, “We don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. But while I was edging you I thought maybe it would be fun to make you wait a few extra days,” “You want me to wear it now?” “Only if you want to. If I’m being honest, I hadn’t planned to show you today. I was going to save it for after the rest of the tour, but you know how impatient I can be,” he laughed, his hand falling to your rub softly over your knee, “If you’d prefer to cum now I will very happily make that happen. More than once. But if you did want to test it out I’d also be into that.” “How would it work?” “Well, um, you’d wear it all day, when you’re at home and when you go out. The guy who sold it said it’s very discreet and will go under most clothes without showing. You have to take it off once a day to clean it so I was thinking that you could wear it all day and take it off at night when you have your shower. That way it can be cleaned and dry out over night and you wouldn’t have to worry about it not being comfortable to sleep in.” “And um, how would, uhhhh, bathroom stuff work with it?” “Well, there’s a slit at the front that can be opened so you can pee but isn’t it kind of hot if you have to ask me to unlock it every time you have to go to the bathroom?” “I hate to admit it but yeah it is,” you laughed. “I could also unlock it for other reasons. Maybe if I really really wanted to fuck you.” You shifted excitedly. It had been too long since you’d had Roger properly, and especially after his little teasing stunt just before, but you tried to sound more casual as you said, “That’d be fun,” “Think I’m probably more likely to use your mouth though. So much less hassle.” “It’s kinda unfair that you promised me number forty and now you’re not going to pay up,” “I’ll give you forty and forty-one and forty-two and as many more as you can handle. Right now if you want. Or after a few days of having your cunt locked away.” You stomach clenched at the thought, “How long were you thinking?” “I don’t know. The part of me that likes symmetry says ten days since that’s how many days of tour were left when you stopped edging. But really anything you want is okay with me. If you tried it for a day and decided it wasn’t for you that would be completely fine. And, like I said, if you don’t want to do it right away we don’t have to.” “I think I want to. Maybe just a day to start, see how it goes. If I want another day I’ll let you know.” “Really?” You laughed at how excited Roger seemed, “Yes, really.” “I fucking love you,” “I am very loveable,” Roger laughed and pulled you into a kiss.

 He joined you in the shower, helping you wash off the sweat and other fluids left from the torture you’d just been through. You took turns washing each other’s hair as you relaxed together, letting the hot water sooth any aches you felt. But there was a layer of excitement too and a few nerves at the prospect of wearing the chastity belt. Once you were thoroughly cleaned and dried, Roger helped lock the belt into place before you both got dressed. It was an odd sensation but thrilling too. It made you hyper aware of your own desperation. Every time you moved, sat down, you were reminded of how impossible it would be to touch yourself or get any sort of release. You only wore it for a few hours that first day, asking Roger to unlock it when you got up to change into your pyjamas. Together you worked out how best to clean it and hung it up ready for the next day. Roger kissed you good morning when you woke and asked if you wanted to try a full day of it. You agreed and, after visiting the bathroom, let him once again fasten the belt into place. It was even more thrilling the second time. In part because you had a better idea of how it operated, how it felt to wear it, but also largely due to wearing it out of the house. Roger decided to take you out for an early lunch, grinning cheekily as he made the suggestion. He knew full well you’d spend every minute of the excursion with your mind on the belt, wondering if anyone could tell you were wearing it. He was right. But it only made you wetter. Once you were home Roger checked in with you, asking how it was going and if you were still interested in wearing it. “It’s good. Still feels a bit weird but not what I'd call uncomfortable. It’s just very obvious to me that it’s there. But fuck I’m horny,” Roger laughed, “that makes two of us. I swear I’ve been half hard since I put it on you. Was even worse when you asked me to unlock it so you could pee.” “Jeeze Rog. I’ve been edged and denied, what’s your excuse?” “Shut up, there’s just something super hot about me holding the key to your cunt,” You chuckled, leaned towards him and gave him the most sultry look you could muster, “You know you could use that key whenever you want.” “Maybe later, love. Right now I really should unpack my bags, do some laundry.” “But that can be done any time,” “So can you,” Roger laughed, leaving you with a kiss to the temple. That night, after you’d taken the belt off and cleaned it, Roger edged you again, kissing you as his fingers explored your slit and your hand pumped over his cock.

 On the third day Roger disappeared into the back yard with a guitar. A question about the grocery shopping list sent you seeking him, and you found him sitting on a chair under the shade of a large tree, plucking at the strings. It was almost a shame to interrupt what seemed like such a serene moment. He spotted you though and waved you over, pulling you onto his lap. His fingers moved to the front of you shorts, seemingly automatically, but he stopped and chuckled when he met the firm resistance of the belt. “Oops,” “Forgot did you? Lucky,” “You're not enjoying it anymore?” “No, no, I am, but I’m also getting really frustrated,” “Yeah?” “There is literally no way to relieve any pressure when I’m wearing it and you keep edging me before bed and honestly I want you to fuck me so bad like I just feel kind of empty all the time cause it’s been so fucking long since I had more than your fingers in there and I'm used to just being able to pull out a toy and make myself feel better even if I’m edging. It’s fucking torture not being able to touch anything and not being even a little bit in control of my own pleasure.” “Do you want to stop?” “Hell no. I just want you to fuck me,” “Oh really?” he chuckled, “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised my slut likes being completely denied,” You recognised his tone, the one that meant he was pent up and wanted to take it out on you. Hope that he’d do it, that he’d unlock you and give you a good hard pounding, made you sit up a little straighter. Your head was buzzing with ideas of Roger filling you with cum and locking you away again, but they were interrupted rather rudely by Roger growling at you to kneel. You nodded, a little disappointed but more just happy to get some sort of attention, and settled on your knees, intently watching as he stood and unbuckled his belt, the jangling noise of the metal sending another wave of desire through you. He’d barely managed to push his pants down just low enough to get his cock out when you reached out to stroke him, mind so thoroughly focused on him that you barely noticed the itchy tickle of the grass under you. But before you could he slapped your hand away. “You’re here to watch. Open your mouth and stick your tongue out. C’mon needy whore, I don’t have all day.” You nodded as you did what he said. Roger waited, watching you for any signs of impatience but soon rewarded you with his fingers, two of them sliding towards the back of your throat until you gagged. He pulled back and then did the same thing again, slowly beginning to fuck your mouth with just his digits. You could feel saliva pooling on your tongue, his fingers gliding through it until they were slick and shiny. That’s when he moved his hand to his dick, slowly spreading your drool over his shaft. You whimpered as he brushed his thumb over his tip, letting out a small hiss at the contact. You leaned forward slightly, intending to lick his length and replace his hand but he stopped you, his free hand holding you in place, and you realised what was happening. He knew you wanted to be fucked and he was going to deny you that as well as your orgasms. He wasn’t even going to fuck your mouth. All you could do was sit there, whining and watching as he jerked himself off. Every so often he dipped his fingers back into your mouth, either to gather more of your spit or just to hear you gag, you weren’t sure which. A small part of you hoped he’d just push you down onto his cock but as his hand sped up, expertly pleasuring himself, that hope withered away. He was close. You could see it in the way his smooth strokes stuttered, hear it in his groans. If you’d looked up you probably would have found flushed cheeks, and lust blown eyes, but you couldn’t drag your eyes from his cock, right in front of you, pulsing as he neared his release. And then he came with a guttural moan. You jolted as the first drops hit your cheek, but he was already holding you in place, making sure you stayed still until he was done.

 Roger looked down at you, the fist still milking his cock slowing down once more, though he didn’t release himself. You swallowed thickly, shifting on your knees as the temptation to wipe your face and get up rose. “Stay there, slut,” Roger said softly, reading your mind, “you look so good on your knees. Just a toy I use to masturbate with.” You nodded, agreeing, your eyes already drifting back down to his dick. “You want it don’t you? Wish I’d just use you properly,” You nodded again. “If you’re very good I might...” he lay his cock on your tongue, “let you have it,” It took all your strength not to close your lips around his girth as he rubbed his dick over your protruding tongue but your resilience seemed to impress him. Slowly he pushed himself deeper, allowed you to suck on his head for a moment. “Maybe I should use this time you’re all locked up to train you. Teach you to be a filthy oral whore.” The suggestion made your cunt throb but there was nothing you could do to alleviate the desperate desire to be touched. Not even squeezing your thighs together helped. “I’ll teach you to be so desperate to suck cock that you won’t ever want to take the belt off. And when I decide to use your cunt you’ll wish it was your throat,” Roger pulled himself from your lips and you were once again forced to watch as he wanked in front of you. Right up until he stopped and walked behind you. “Sir?” His presence came close again, right up behind you, “Shhhh, slut, I’m still here,” Roger gripped your chin from above and tilted your head back slightly.   “Fuck you look so hot like this, drives me fucking wild to see my little toy all soaked in cum. Close your eyes,” You did, heart racing with the uncertainty of what he might be planning. There was a tap on your forehead as the tip of Roger’s dick landed there. “I’ll reward you with some more edges tonight. Maybe I’ll even give you a ruin, if you’re very lucky. I want you so desperate that all you think about is my cock. Twenty-four seven. So desperate you’ll beg just to be allowed to suck me off.” You couldn’t see what Roger was doing but you felt it when he came again, jizz running from your forehead down the side of your nose, onto your cheek and over your top lip, dripping onto your waiting tongue. Roger stepped back and you heard the zzzziiippp of his fly being pulled up followed by the jangle of his belt, but you didn’t move. He stroked his fingers down the side of your neck, offing you a soft, “good girl,” as he moved back round to take in your appearance. “Jesus this is….you look so fucking hot,” you could feel the breath of his laugh as he leaned forward, his thumbs brushing over your closed eyes, making sure they hadn’t been caught in his crossfire, “alright, you can open your eyes now, and close your mouth if you want,” You carefully opened on eye and then the other, able to taste Roger as you swallowed what you’d caught on your tongue. “Did that make you feel any better?” “I don’t know if I’d say better. Wetter? Definitely.” “You’re a bloody poet, love,” “I try. You wanna help me up or did you have more in you?” Roger held out his hand with a chuckle, pulling you to your feet. When you were closer to eye level he paused, eyes roaming over your face, and then leaned in to peck you on the lips. It was unexpected but appreciated, though not quite as much as the damp face cloth he used to clean you.

 The next morning Roger asked if you’d like to put the belt back on and you said yes. And the next day. And the next day. And the next day. Each time he reminded you that you were allowed to say no and then, when you assured him you knew that, helped lock it into place. At some point (and sometimes at multiple points) during the day he’d use your mouth, only needing to click his fingers for you to drop to your knees for him. He made sure to compare you to vacuum cleaners and other objects. Metaphors that would normally have made you roll your eyes or tell him he was disgusting, but which now turned you into a whiney wet mess. Admittedly they weren’t all good. The time he said you had a mouth like a black hole you’d nearly choked as you started laughing with your lips already stretched around him. He’d apologised and said he’d cut back on the sci-fi comparisons so you could finish the job properly. At night you’d have a shower and change into pyjamas, often forgoing PJ pants since Roger liked to edge you while you weren’t wearing the belt. He’d slip his fingers into your panties while you watched TV or as you were settling down to sleep. But not once did he try to actually fuck you. It was infuriating and frustrating and such a turn on. Until it stopped being hot.

 You’d woken up that morning as excited and enthusiastic about the belt as you had been the previous few mornings but by the afternoon it had started feeling uncomfortable and oppressive. You came to the conclusion that denial and edging was fun but you needed a more definite time period to work within. When Roger had left and said you’d be able to orgasm again when he came back in two months’ time, that had been exciting and hot because there was a time limit. A light at the end of the tunnel that you could see and count down to. Something to aim for. Denial wasn’t just about not cumming, it was about challenging your own expectations of yourself and maybe trying to beat your previous record. What you were doing now didn’t have that specificity, that goal to work towards, and it was beginning to feel like you were being punished for nothing. The constant empty ache you felt didn’t help. Of course denial usually came with aches and desperate needy feelings but something about this time was different. Usually Roger would relish fucking you as much as possible, all the time telling you not to cum or else he’d have to spank you. It was always hard holding back as he took his pleasure but it was rewarding too and it helped relieve the tension that constant edging could cause, even without finishing. Sometimes, if you’d been good and he wanted to be nice, he’d give you a ruin as well. And even if he ended up being mean and leaving your arse pink and smarting from his blows, you got a certain kind of enjoyment from it. But with the chastity belt and the refusal to fuck you, you weren’t getting any relief at all. After thinking through it all, you decided you needed a break from the belt. It would be fun to try again another day but maybe with more discussion and certainties. You looked over to the other couch where Roger was stretched out. “Hey, Rog?” “Yes, love?” “I think I want to stop.” Roger looked away from the TV, his attention shifting to you, “You mean with the belt?” “Yeah. I think I’m close to using my safeword. It’s just feeling kind of not good at the moment. Can you please unlock me?” “Okay. Of course we can stop. C’mon, I left the key in our room,” Roger held out his hand for yours, brushing his lips over your knuckles as he pulled you up.

 You sighed with relief as you stepped out of the belt, already feeling better, if not a little embarrassed by just how obviously wet you were. Roger stood, about to say something, but you pulled him into a kiss instead, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. “Well,” he said with a laugh, “I was going to ask what else I could do to make you feel better but I think you’ve made it quite obvious,” “Need you Rog. Literally need. I’ve never meant it as much as I do now,” “Jesus, okay,” he was already fumbling with his fly one handed, “We really did a number on you, huh,” You nodded, dropping your hands to help him get his pants off. As soon as the zip was down he kissed you again, leading you towards the bed. “How do you want me?” “Don’t care, just fuck me,” “For as long as you want,” Roger pushed on your shoulder and you fell back onto the bed, watching as he kicked his pants and underwear off. You whined when he took too long but he soothed you with a kiss and then more down your neck, until he met the neckline of your t-shirt. He didn’t bother removing it though, just squeezed your breasts through it. You were glad, sure you’d implode if you didn’t have him immediately. Instead he kissed your lips again, fiercely, as you reached for his cock, willing him to hurry up and get hard enough. As soon as he was ready he pushed your hand away and pressed into your cunt with an ease that was somewhere between ridiculous and pathetic. “Fuck you’re soaked,” he mumbled, more to himself than to you. Even if he had been speaking to you, you’re not sure you would have heard, much too preoccupied by how full you suddenly felt. It was such a contrast from the previous week of aching for it and all you could think to say was thank you, over and over as Roger slowly fucked into you. “You gotta stop squirming so much, love, or I’m gonna slip out,” You clenched around him at the suggestion, smiling when he tightened his grip on your thigh. Roger brought his fingers to your clit, circling it as you whined, your orgasm already so unbelievably close. It didn’t take much more than a couple of light circles around your clit to tip you over the edge. You weren’t sure you’d ever cum quite so hard from quite so little stimulation but you could barely speak, your breath catching in your throat along with your voice. Roger kept his fingers in place as he calmly thrust into you, egging you on, pushing you through the most well-earned orgasm you’d ever had. But he was by no means done with you. He gave you a few moments to calm and catch your breath, and then he shifted your legs over his shoulders, one at a time as you tried to brace yourself. He sunk deeper with the change of position, picking up his pace to fuck you harder, keeping a firm grip on you so that, even though your back arched and you writhed under him, head falling to one side and then whipping around to the other, you’d remain in place on his cock. With every thrust, every squeeze of his fingertips, you felt yourself drawing close to the edge again and you begged Roger, through gasped breaths, not to stop. He didn’t. He wouldn’t have even considered it until you told him to. “I can feel how close you are, love. Come on, cum for me. Show me just how much you like being fucked and cum,” “yes, yes, fuck yes,” “That’s right, good- good girl, f-fuck you’re tight. Fucking feel your cunt pul-sing. You’ve missed that feeling haven’t you?” You just nodded, head still foggy. “Think you’ve got another one in you? Or do you want me to stop?” “No, don’t stop,” Roger chuckled and pulled out of you as you whined but it was only so he could flip you onto your stomach and pull your hips up. Before you could even begin to complain about the sudden desertion, he was back inside you, pulling you back onto his cock as he rammed into you. “I want to hear you this time. You know I like how loud my slut gets,” There was no way you could deny a request like that, not when he was making you feel so good, filling you so perfectly, giving you exactly what you’d so desperately needed. You babbled for him, a mess of curses and half conceived thoughts about how good it felt mixed with whines and moans. And that only made him fuck you harder, until you came again, screaming his name. He fucked you through it, though he grunted with each thrust, holding off his own orgasm until he was sure you were satisfied. You swore you nearly came again as he spilled himself inside you before both of you collapsed bonelessly to the bed.

 You complained when Roger pulled out of you again, but he did make a good point about not wanting to crush you. And he made up for it by pulling you close and kissing you as much as he could, in between checking how you felt and if you were okay now. “Yeah, better,” you sighed, running you hand over his arm, “I really really needed that,” “I could tell. Sorry I made you wait so long,” “No, it was fun too, the waiting. But not forever, y’know.” “Yeah I do. If you ever want to try the whole chastity belt thing again we’ll be better, figure out how to make it fun again,” “Sounds good. But maybe not for a while,” “No, not for a while. I like fucking you too much to give it up again so soon,” You laughed at that, leaned in to kiss him again. “You’re probably too tired but, uh, I could go again if you wanted,” “Now?” “Maybe a minute?” “A minute sounds good and I’m not too tired. But if I was, maybe we could sleep like that, with you in me?” “Really?” “I don’t think you’ve grasped quite how badly I’ve wanted you since you first showed me the belt, how badly I still want you,” “I think that can be arranged then,” he laughed again, kissing you once more as he rolled back over.

[ragnarokkvaa]

Chaos Rising - A Loki x Wanda fanfic

The young Midgardian witchling upon his door brings with unbridled surprise within Loki; tempered quickly. It is but a brief play across his visage. How she found him when he’d thought he’d covered his tracks well was …beyond him. She stands before him, sleeves of her black sweatshirt balled into her fists; backpack hanging from her left shoulder frayed.

Loki watches wordlessly as she shifts her weight; the weathered wood underfoot creaking slightly with the shift of weight; her auburn hair hanging free down her back and over her shoulders, drifting across her face with the soft whispering of the chilling Norwegian wind.

It carries with the slightly salty tang of the sea, the sharp scent of evergreens and the soft floral scent of her perfume.

“Loki.” She says his name again and it breaks him from the spell of revere he’d been under.

“How did you find me?” Though there’d been some suspicion that the people of the small fishing village a few miles of the wilderness he claimed as home might be aware of who he was, if there was truth they did not dare speak it.

He’d done a fairly good job of hiding post-blip when he escaped Thanos’ destruction of their vessel …and during the blip and post-everyone’s return. Though the magic that hung in the air even now was sharp and metallic and somehow sweet like burnt sugar leaves a bad aftertaste in his mouth, Loki had deigned not to come out of hiding.

There was a peacefulness to Norway — he can see it now — why this was the place Odin came to die once free of his spell. There was old magic saturating the earth here that called to him, the lingering of devotion that he’d once sought so desperately and greedily; that soothed his wildest impulses like the lullabies Frigga had lulled him to sleep with as a small, fussy infant.

He watches as the Sorceress — for he can sense that she has come into her own — bites her bottom lip; marred by worrying it as she does now. “Your magic.” She admits, blinking her wide eyes at him; doe-like. Soft. As beautiful and wild as the seas of Norway.

That Loki notices this is slightly jarring; but what is even more jarring to him is that her explanation makes perfect sense to him. She is the master of chaotic magic — he can almost taste it; as sweet and tempting to him as spun candy floss. Her magic speaks to his own; a soulsong that he cannot begin to understand.

She is quiet for a few moments more, seeming desperate to look at anything but him. “Can I come in?” She asks then, when it is apparent that he cannot fathom the why.

“Of course.” Loki replies softly, stepping aside so his lean, tall frame was no longer blocking the rune carved doorway to his home.

That is how Wanda Maximoff came to stay with him; denying his offer to take her to New Asgard with the firmly rooted belief that Thor and Brunnhilde would take her in. Whether it was a lack of trust in herself or not Loki cannot be sure but finds himself caring less and less as Wanda’s presence begins to, as the weeks swell into months, bring comfort.

They take it slow: she does not ask how he is still alive and he does not ask what has caused the grief that haunts her gaze, that causes her mind to wander in what he believes mortals call ‘thousand yard stare’ when they sit before the fire. This unspoken agreement is comfortable despite that it leaves Loki maddeningly curious.

Imagine, he thinks one day as he neatly skins a large fish one of the villager’s sons had brought in exchange for a small talisman carved from the branch of an ash tree — a pale imitation of Sleipnir whom has been glamoured so that his extra four legs are unseen; him being curious about a Midgardian.

As unlikely as he’d always thought he would find it: it was nevertheless true. Especially when he caught her humming soft and foreign lullabies to herself; that he assumes as her comfort ‘round him grew became full-fledged lullabies sung in Sokovian as she cooked paprikash from ingredients they bought at the village market.

“That’s a lovely song.” Loki remarks as they stand side-by-side at the cabin’s kitchen counter: him slicing up chicken as she tends to the egg noodles boiling in a pot on the gas stove.

Wanda is so quiet for a moment that Loki cannot help but think he’s overstepped. “My mother used to sing it to me when I was a child.” She tells him after a long moment of silence filled with the splice of knife thru meat and the soft sound of bubbling water. “And I sang it for my boys.”

Surprise draws Loki’s eyebrows up — he had not known she had children. He suspects, quick as he is, that something happened to them as they had not been with her when she’d first appeared on his doorstep …nor had they appeared at all; and she speaks with grief, the lulling lilt of her voice carrying her Sokovian accent — which he’s learned came out when she spoke of her family, of her home. Which, was rare. Or when she was angry with him; which was not all that rare at all.

It happened on occasion. Typically, when they were training and Loki pushed her too far, or when she’d get riled about the fact that he had yet to tell Thor he was still alive — and had been the whole time.

“Where are they? Your sons?” Loki asks hesitantly, watching her hands carefully as she pauses stirring the noodles. A muscle in her jaw jumps and she gives a sharp tilt of her head; which is usually a good indication that Loki’d crossed that invisible boundary line.

“They’re gone. They were …” Wanda struggles, her voice thick with emotion and her accent brought to the surface with her grief. “…never real.” Loki looks away the second he sees a tear slide down her cheek; leaving a glistening trail of her sorrow. It feels private; that moment. Like he was glimpsing at something he had no business seeing.

“I’m …sorry.” He offers, unsure what else to say and hating that it seems so feeble. He quietly scoops the sliced chicken between his hand and the flat edge of the knife and drops it in a frying pan, focusing on the sizzle as he turns and washes his hands.

He dries them hastily off on the kitchen towel and feels his breath leave his lips in a soft rush as he turns to see her standing, wooden spoon immobile in her left hand; her right hand balled up in the sleeve of her shirt, pressed against her mouth as pained sobs wracked her body.

“Wanda?” Loki was no stranger to grief — far from it; and he liked to credit himself as being better with emotions than Thor but finds himself reaching out to her; placing his hand on her upper arm. He doesn’t try to tell her that it would be alright …because would it? He couldn’t say; and Loki was never a fan of false platitudes.

He could feel her magic; seething within her. Connected to her emotions as it was and with her little bit of training its still reactive. Working to protect her as if it were her armor — as Frigga had once described magic to Loki as a small child.

His own magic works to subdue her’s, keeping it from lashing out in her grief.

Wanda was getting better — stronger — but she still had a ways to go before she mastered it. She was a fast learner, which Loki was grateful for, but he lacked his mother’s finesse with lessons, and if he was being honest her saintly patience.

Even so, he was grateful that they discovered their magic did not reject each other like opposing magnets …which Loki suspected was because their magic was both borne of chaos. That strange soulsong that only their magic could recognize; complimentary …and if combined? Loki shuddered to think of it.

The God of mischief feels his muscles pull taunt as he tenses the second Wanda steps closer to him and presses her face against his chest, the spoon clattering to the floor as she clings to him. Loki isn’t sure what makes him draw in a deep breath and press a kiss to the top of her head as he held her. Soft.

The instinctual urge to push her away was strong; Loki’s natural defense to any time he started to let himself be emotionally vulnerable in any degree with anyone …but —

this time, with her: he resists.

[takohebi]

Serpentine Escapade

Pairing: f!MC/Yuu x Jamil Viper

tags: fluff, romantic tension || word count: 2431

Summary:  The NRC was hosting an extravagant Ball. Yuu wanted a few moments away from the party. A familiar snake slowly glides up to her.

Read on AO3

Fic under the cut- 

Yuu slipped away from the main hall quietly. The NRC Ball was a huge event, with student representatives coming from other colleges as well. Yuu was overwhelmed by the number of people on the dance floor, swirling together delightedly as the light music club provided music and entertainment. It wasn’t like she was lonely- she had already danced a lot, albeit clumsily with Ace and Deuce and even twirled an indignant Grim around a few times. Then Azul and the Leech twins danced with her, their movements elegant and graceful despite being mermen. And she had promised Cater and Lilia dances later. No, Yuu wasn’t lonely; she just wanted a short time away from the bright lights and the crowds. She may not be as asocial as Idia (who did not turn up today, although Ortho did) but big crowds still made her feel nervous and overwhelmed.

She retreated to one of the more reclusive balconies surrounding the humongous ballroom. There was no one around. She let out a sigh of relief.

Yuu stood in the wide balcony overlooking the immaculate Pomefiore gardens. The music was a dull rhythm in the background now, a comforting constant in the otherwise still and quiet night. Yuu sighed. It had been many months since she was whisked away by the carriage. She had essentially restarted her life here. New friends, new rules, new troubles, new...feelings. It was definitely an improvement from her old life, so much so that she continues to repress those memories when they inevitably intrude upon her life in Twisted Wonderland. Shaking her head to dispel the rising mix of apprehension and unease whenever she slipped and remembered her past, Yuu tried to focus her thoughts on the faraway beat, tapping her foot in cadence. It was a tried and true technique that kept her from spiraling and soon she was back to being herself again, eyes closed, body swaying gently to the music, her foot keeping the beat.

“Yuu? Is something wrong?”

A familiar voice jolted Yuu out of her focused distraction. Her eyes flew open to meet Jamil’s, her heart racing a mile a minute. Jamil walked casually towards her, his expression collected but maybe hinted with a slight bit of concern. Maybe. At any rate, Yuu didn’t say anything but watched him get closer, her eyes idly taking in his appearance, though not for the first time this evening. Jamil hardly wore shirts. His dorm uniform and gym clothes always consisted of a hoodie. So seeing him buttoned up in an elegant suit was a special treat. Jamil looked good in everything he wore, and tonight was no exception. The well-tailored suit accentuated his long legs and lean body, making Yuu’s breath catch with every stolen glance during the Ball.

Yuu realised she was attracted to the reticent vice dorm-head shortly after his overblot incident, when Kalim started inviting her over for dinners or mancala games. These sojourns almost always ended up with her staying back to help Jamil clean up and settle things in order and during these moments, Yuu came to realise 2 things: Jamil Viper was a very capable man, who balanced his duties, academics and hobbies perfectly and without complaint, which was pretty cool and admirable. And also, Jamil Viper was very handsome, alluring and physically attractive.

The second observation hit Yuu with the power of a speeding truck when she first saw him laugh at a silly story she shared with him as they were wrapping up after an evening of mancala. His mirthful expression combined with his voice ringing out in amusement dazed Yuu and she realised she was already in love with him for a while now, enjoying their small, quiet moments in each others’ company in the opulent Scarabia Dorm.

At present Jamil had reached her spot in the balcony, the worry on his face a tad bit clearer. “Hey are you feeling well? You look spaced out. Everything okay?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

“Oh, I just wanted a small break from the crowd. I am fine. Needed a moment away, that’s all.”

“I get what you mean. The Ball is really grand and it seems with each passing year, more people turn up for these events. It’s just...I saw you leave the Hall and not return and-”

“Ha you thought I was going to run away? Away from the delicious desserts? No way!”

“- and was concerned that you might not be well.” he continues, eyebrows creasing disapprovingly at her feeble attempt at deflection. His annoyed face was adorable, Yuu thought to herself. But she refrained from saying it. It won’t be wise to annoy him further.

So she smiled and said “I am fine, Jamil. Thank you for asking. I do intend to return to the Ball before Lilia hexes me for spurning his dance offer."

She gave a shallow laugh as Jamil’s earlier words sunk in. Had she continued watching Jamil as she spoke, she might have seen his frown get deeper when she mentioned Lilia and her promise to the enigmatic fae. But Yuu now had other thoughts in mind.

So he had watched her leave huh? He had watched her leave. The idea of Jamil looking at her from afar made her insides flutter. She too, had been looking at him during the event, quite a lot in fact. She saw him dance with a lot of students from his dorm, Azul (though Jamil seemed extremely reluctant about it), Ace and Floyd. She was hoping to dance with him at some point too, making a mental note to ask him later. And now he is here, with her, under the waning moon, alone and away from the party. As she slowly started to think of how to phrase the question without being weird, Jamil spoke.

“Would you like to dance with me?”

Yuu’s head snapped to face Jamil. He was looking away, expression neutral but she swore he was blushing slightly, the same look he had on his birthday celebration, many weeks ago. She blinked rapidly, her mind blanking. She wasn’t mentally prepared for this!!

Jamil looked at her, his frown had returned. Yuu panicked for a moment before forging on.

“It’s fine-”

“YES”

“I want to dance with you Jamil. I mean it.” Yuu grinned, barely able to contain her excitement. She hoped the semi-darkness helped hide her blush.

Her heart hammered in her chest as Jamil wordlessly held out his hand, a soft smile on his face. Why was this man so beautiful?

Almost too eagerly Yuu took it, and Jamil pulled her into a slow dance, in perfect harmony with the distant, ongoing music.

Now as noted previously, Yuu had already danced quite a bit before but somehow this time, it felt more...personal. Was it because her partner was a man she’d been slowly falling in love with? Was it because right now they were away, separate from the rest of the school, rest of the world, tangled together in this moment of time?

At any rate, all she could think of right now was the feeling of Jamil’s hand in hers, his other on her waist and the proximity of their bodies, their breaths. It felt intimate and it made her forget to breathe. Her body followed Jamil’s mechanically, and she was happy to be led by him. It gave her time to drink him in. She could hear the soft tinkling of the bell in his hair accessory. It was a soft reminder of their closeness. Her eyes wandered more. She noticed his lashes were a kind of long, and his makeup for tonight seemed immaculate. Oh his ear had a small mole, how cute.

She continued.

The muscles in his neck flexed and moved slightly with their steps, the sight mesmerizing Yuu. Ha, Jamil didn’t need his unique magic to hold her captive. His lips were gently sloped into a casual small smile and Yuu could not believe her heart could beat any faster, but it did. Her eyes raked over his hands next- seeing their intertwined hands made her skin tingle with happiness and excitement. His other rested steadily on her waist and Yuu wondered how would it feel to let it wander. He smelled nice too. Some kind of soft cologne. Yuu was careful not to inhale too much, lest she forget herself and do something inappropriate. Ahh, she was enjoying this dance very much.

Though her eyes ravished his body and face, Yuu did not look into Jamil’s eyes. She knew if she did, she would do or say something stupid and or crass and she was scared. Scared of breaking this magical spell. The air around her felt electric and heady. And she wasn’t done with it yet. Just a few moments more...

Suddenly Jamil’s grip on her hand grew a slight bit tighter, breaking her indulgent thoughts and prompting her to glance quickly at him. He was again looking away, again frowning and looking a little...pouty?

“Hey are you okay?” Yuu asked, slightly panicky. Was she dancing badly? Is he bored?

He started. He probably squeezed her hand unknowingly. Odd. Jamil is usually pretty calculative of everything. Impulsive is not a word to describe him. He sighed softly, the action fanning Yuu’s hair and gently caressing her neck, causing her mind to go into overdrive. Focus! She has to focus! It won’t do to lose her mental faculties right when Jamil is about to speak.

“It’s not me, I am worried you are not enjoying this.”

“What?! Why would you say that?” Yuu asked with a laugh, the idea that she could possibly not be enjoying being held by Jamil seemed so absurd.

Jamil huffed, lips quirking, accentuating his pout. Lord this man can be so endearing! He seemed to be carefully thinking about his words. Hmm, he usually didn’t need to think so much.

“Earlier… when- hmm. When you danced with Ace, you were talking...laughing. You seemed more- enthusiastic. You can be honest with me you know? I have faith in my dancing but not in being an enjoyable companion.”

Jamil seemed to be picking his words slowly, cautiously. Yuu was not.

“Jamil! That was because Ace was constantly mimicking Crewel as we danced. His imitations are really funny. Well you know how Ace is, he is never serious.” Yuu laughed nervously but Jamil didn’t look convinced. Yuu’s brain raced, trying to find words and string them together.

Instinctively she tightened her grip on Jamil’s hand and leaned in, hoping her panic doesn’t show. “Jamil, I swear I am having the time of my life right now. I- I don’t know how to express it well. But I would rather be here dancing with you, than with anyone or anywhere else right this moment. I really enjoy your company and would have refused to dance if I really did not want to. You know that right? I am here because I want to.”

Jamil’s eyes widened slightly, his lips parted as if to say something but no words were spoken. Yuu realised she had done what she was avoiding- looking at Jamil’s eyes and with them being this close, she noted his eyes were a pretty grey, the light from the Hall casting a warm glow. Yuu felt her thoughts trailing to his lips again. They were right there. She glanced at them and wet her own. How easy would it be to accidentally lean in a bit and brush her lips against his. A small chaste kiss. She let out a breath and quickly shot a look at his eyes again. They were searing into hers and she could see him quickly work something out as he held her stare.

How and when she did not know but Jamil’s hand had now moved from her waist to her face, cupping it gently. His expression shifted to something a little cocky. The way he looked when he knew he was winning. Smug and certain. Yuu hoped her heartbeat wasn’t actually audible because right now, all she could hear was the roaring in her ears.

And Jamil’s voice. His silky smooth voice as he spoke in a lowered tone-

“Yuu. If it’s ok with-”

“YUU! THERE YOU ARE!!”

Ace’s voice cut through the moment, cleanly slicing the tension and Jamil instantly leaned back, face immediately resuming his usual stoic expression. Yuu loved her friend but right now she was angrily wishing she could use magic because she would very much like to curse him for a year. But the look of relief on his face as he ran towards the two softened her heart. A bit. Yuu was still pretty mad.

Behind him, Deuce appeared, a little out of breath, holding Grim. Evidently they were looking for Yuu. “We were worried about you. You could have at least told us before taking off y’know.” Grim said, a look of exasperation on his face.

“Sorry, I chanced upon her sometime ago but she wanted some fresh air so I was accompanying her.” Jamil replied, politely.

“Well we just didn’t want her missing out on the desserts. That’s all.” Ace said, crossing his arms. Sure Ace. That’s all. His reluctance to admit his feelings made Yuu smile. Her idiot trio were most definitely the cutest people in the campus. Uh, save for Jamil. And Kalim. Hmm maybe that title has a lot of competition.

Deuce was on his phone, maybe texting someone. Ace was talking, “-yeah tell Ruggie that we found her and she’s fine. Hang on, maybe don’t tell him. He still owes me for cheating me out of my lunch the other day…” As Deuce elbowed him and the bickering started, Yuu’s idle thoughts were interrupted by a pressure on her hand. Her heart skipped several beats when she realised Jamil was holding her hand throughout this even if they broke apart the moment Ace spoke. Yuu slowly glanced at him and saw him stare at her friends, with a blank expression.

“When the light music club performs “Buzzing Currents”, come back here, I will be there. We have a dance and other...things to finish. I’ll be seeing you.” Gently letting go of Yuu with a final squeeze, Jamil strode away, citing some excuse about disciplining his dorm. As she stole one last glance, he looked back, a cheeky smile on his face and eyes narrowed in what looked like amusement. He looked like a cat that got the cream.

Yuu couldn’t wait to be eaten.

[imagine-loki]

Toxic

TITLE: Toxic

CHAPTER NO./ONE-SHOT: One-shot

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki loves telling everyone that he fears nothing and no one. Tony asks him to check in on Character, who has been in a pissy mood all week. Loki chuckles. “Oh, I fear no one, but I’m not suicidal.”

+

The first sign that Loki was a soft boy wasn’t anything big or particularly mushy. He stopped on the street and got down on one knee to help a boy whose laces had come undone and was struggling to do them up himself.

RATING: T

NOTES/WARNINGS: I entirely forgot about this one-shot in my drafts. I kinda lost steam with it and I decided to post it kind of unedited, so there should be errors and boring valleys galore! Language! Reference to suicide.

SUMMARY: Lily is usually a sweetheart, but there’s a bit of poison flowing through her veins, right now. Meanwhile, Loki has a short bout of good conscience. 

=

“Where are you going?”

Lily jumped, startled, immediately grimacing as her left shoulder smarted. Her arm was in a sling, having crash-landed onto it during a mission last week. The medic had said that she had likely torn one of the tendons in her rotator cuff, but that they would not be able to do anything about it until the swelling came down. Now, her whole arm lay useless in its cloth cradle while the other side bore the weight of bags and baskets.

“Um…,” she hesitated in her place, unsure as to why she was feeling a little like a schoolgirl caught out doing something she wasn’t supposed to. Well, maybe it was the fact that Stark had told her I don’t want you doing anything for the next month… “I was just going to the bodega. I’m out of snacks.”

“No.”

For a second, they stood in silence, staring each other down while she waited to see if there was going to be anything added to his sentiment. “That’s it?” He nodded, looking bored. “Yeah, I’m not a child. I’m going to the bodega.”

Loki groaned. “Lilian…”

“Not my name, dude.” She made the mistake of bumping into his shoulder with her injured side. On any other occasion, with any other human, it would have been no issue. Loki, however, seemed to be as dense as the center of a collapsing star, and though he barely swayed from his spot, she let out a sharp hiss and gritted her teeth painfully.

“You humans are so pathetically feeble, I swear,” he remarked, bending at the knees to gently prod at her shoulder. “Give me the list, I’ll collect your supplies.”

“No,” she replied, instantly, imitating his haughty tone, perfectly.

“Don’t be a child. I can go there and back faster than you can.”

Baby blues shot up and hardened at him. “What do you need? What leverage are you trying to get?” Loki frowned, tilting his head minutely to explore her incensed semblance. “You know what? I don’t care. I don’t need to be coddled. I can take care of myself just fine.”

“I didn't–”

“Leave me alone!” With the last shouted syllable, her veins glowed bright green and thorns seemed to sprout from every bit of her skin. Loki held his hands up in surrender, and took a step back for good measure.

With one last withering look, she skirted past his imposing form, and pressed the elevator call button. The doors opened almost instantly, and she slipped in, pressing the button for the ground floor. She did not expect, however, for the elevator to dip slightly under the weight of another person. Despite the fact that she had not seen Loki follow her to the hallway, he was standing there, silently, a few feet between them as they rode the elevator down in silence.

At the lobby, he waited for her to exit the car first, following like a spectre right after. They had made it half a block before Lily could no longer resist the urge to scream, and she turned on her heel to face a calm Loki.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Loki fought the smile creeping onto his lips for a bare minute. “Accompanying you. I thought that much was obvious.”

“I don’t. Need. A babysitter.”

“Never said you did, flower,” he riposted, off-handedly before he gestured her ahead.

Letting out a barely restrained groan, she stomped her way back down the street towards the bodega. Loki, for the most part, followed silently, gently fetching things from the top shelf that he knew she was trying to get to, crowding her side when other people got a little too close, generally treating her like she was a porcelain doll about to shatter.

It was annoying the shit out of her.

The bodega owner had barely reacted when she slammed her basket down and unpacked her groceries to pay for them. Her usually charming, chummy demeanor was extinct and replaced by a surly, snarled lip. Why would he be doing this? Was it just to drive home the point that he thought she was incompetent? Weak? Whatever it was, it was gnawing at her very soul and all she wanted to do was to go back to the tower and hide in her room until her shoulder had recovered.

Snatching her receipt from the bodega owner, she turned away from the counter. “Let’s get moving, Snakeb… Loki?” She glanced left and right, not finding him there, nor could she feel the heaviness of his presence anywhere around her. She glanced out the glass doors and found her missing demigod on the sidewalk. A child of about five or six, who was clearly waiting for his mother to get through with her transaction at the bodega, stood still with a gentle smile. Loki was down on one knee, equally easy grin on his face with a shoelace in either hand.

“I’ll show you again. Pay close attention, alright?” He pulled the strings up taut and made two loops. “Around the trunk of Yggdrasil, the little rabbits go, they twine around the knitted roots and sink deep down below. After they have had their fun they jump up to spring free, but every part of their spirit’s tied to the Great Tree,” he singsonged, knotting the laces easily. “Got that?”

The child nodded, giggling before going off with his mother who was looking at Loki a little too hard to be comfortable.

Loki glanced up, sensing Lily staring and offered her a smile she didn’t return. “Are you ready?”

“You taught him how to tie his shoes.”

He brushed aside her prickly tone, unbothered. “Yes… is that a crime, now?”

“Why?”

“He didn’t know how.” He shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“I thought you didn’t like weak things.”

“You know, at some point you’re going to have to tell me why you’re so cross at me.” He snapped, finally, though he didn’t look angry. Disappointed, maybe? Sometimes it was damn near impossible to place any emotion on his face that wasn’t blind rage.

“I heard you talking to Tony, OK? When I was taken to the medbay, she snapped back with double the fervor.

Loki sighed, counting backwards from ten. He was fond of the mutant and he didn’t want to frighten her by barking at her, as he would anyone else. "Despite what you might think, that doesn’t help explain anything.”

“You told Tony I was weak and didn’t belong in the field!” She shrieked, pushing her index finger into his chest. It hurt her more than it did him, but it was a matter of principle.

“No. I told him it was stupid to send you out to the field to somewhere you’d become weak. Foot-thick steel walls zap your energy and I warned him repeatedly about the repercussions. You got hurt because of it.”

Her anger sputtered and idled at the clarification. “You were looking out for me…?”

Loki laughed, a little mirthlessly. “Imagine that,” he replied, sarcastically. He reached out for her basket, carrying the snack-laden vessel himself to give his hands something to do as he marched stoically down the street. People seemed to sense his mood, as they all parted like the Red Sea for him, though they barely allowed her enough space to squeeze through. Glancing backwards, he caught her eye, slowing his pace considerably to allow her to catch up.

“But… you hate me.”

A little notch formed between his brows as he considered her closely. “When have I ever said that? You’re my friend. I don’t make friends with people I hate… Or people… Or make friends, in general, so you should count yourself very bloody lucky.”

Lily shuffled uncomfortably where she stood, and Loki could have sworn there was a flash of a shadow over features, but it was gone a moment after.

“Can we go back or are you going to stand here and glare at me some more?” He joked easily, gesturing down the street with his chin. The mood seemed to lighten, instantly. He didn’t pay her transient anger any mind.

Perhaps he should have.

The Tower was tense, to put it simply. Laughter, which was commonplace whenever the team was home, was nothing more than a distant memory. It seemed like every little noise and movement set off a chain reaction of unpleasantness from what was usually their most pleasant resident. No one had really expected this side effect. After all, when the mutant decided to tell Tony her secret after having worked for him for five years, she assured that she had it well under control. And it was. Her abilities were second nature at this point. Of course, the pressures of battle are something else, entirely, and little quirks popped up just as little quirks are wont to do.

And pop up, they did.

The first time it happened, the team had come back from mission somewhere in the South Pacific. They were all tired and sun-baked enough that if they never saw the great wide ocean ever again, it would be too soon. Heroes all piled into the kitchen with far too many containers of Chinese food, chatting in quiet hushed tones to give their raw throats and over-sensitive ears a chance to rest.

In the far end of the kitchen, Lily stood on her tip toes. Her small frame strained to reach a mug at the very top of the cabinet so she could make herself some tea. Steve, helpful and gentlemanly as ever, rested a hand on the small of her back to signal her that he was there. Reaching above her, he easily grasped the mug, offering her the handle with a dazzling smile.

Usually, she would beam up at the soldier and give his hand a squeeze. Today, her eyes narrowed dangerously. “What, do you think I can’t fucking get a mug now, Rogers?” She snapped, and the soft murmur of the room cut out immediately.

As if in slow motion, they whole team craned their necks over to where the pair stood. Steve had frozen in well-placed shock, mouth opening and closing to grasp for an appropriate apology that he couldn’t understand why he owed. Guilt flashed for but a second across Lily’s features before she cracked her neck awkwardly. Her veins, which would glow a bright green only when using her abilities, pulsed a sludgy brown. She had barely mumbled an apology before going off to hide in her bedroom.

That first encounter had been the mildest, by far.

No one had any idea how to remedy the situation. After all, Lily was usually such a bundle of bright, brilliant energy. She was the one who would always wake up to make breakfast for the group, leave them flowers, bake cookies when one of them seemed sad–she was not a dark, angry entity that yelled at her fellow teammates. Or snarled at anyone for entirely arbitrary reasons (that was Loki’s job, after all). The attitude usually waned after a few days and she’d be back to her bubbly self, which was all the more terrifying.

Right now, however, they were in a dark period.

“Are you truly using a children’s game as a selection tool for whom has to go disturb the plant witch from her self-imposed exile?” Loki asked, a little smugly as he happened upon Natasha and Tony playing Rock, Paper, Scissors to take Lily her new uniform. “You’re pathetic.”

“Don’t act like the sudden goth girl phase isn’t weird. I can tell she scares you,” Nat quipped, rolling her eyes.

Loki gave her a withering stare, looking smug as he circled her in a predatory manner that annoyed the hell out of her. “I fear no one and nothing, Miss Romanov.”

Tony snorted, before a glimmer in his eye sparked and left Loki looking weary. “OK, great. How about you go take this to her, then?” Tony held the bundle for Loki to take.

Loki chuckled, knowing full well the terror that the woman could inflict if provoked. “I said I feared nothing. I didn’t say I was suicidal.” He considered a little longer. “Well, not anymore, anyway.” Tony frowned, making a mental note to follow up at a later date.

“Come on! You two seem to be all buddy-buddy the rest of the time, anyway. Why don’t you just look in on her?”

The god rolled his eyes. “Has it ever occurred to you idiots that perhaps she’s protecting us and not herself when she locks herself away?”

“You are absolutely no help. Fine, Nat–” Tony turned around, sweeping his gaze left and right. “Nat? Where the hell did Nat go?” Frowning, he turned back around to glance at Loki and, instead, found himself alone. “Yeah! Great! Let's… er… regroup later! Good… talk…”

=

Loki sat at the kitchen table, poking at the, frankly disgusting, plate of eggs and bacon that Bruce had genuinely put all his effort into making for the crew. Glancing around the table, he found a sea of faces with the same sad expression. They all definitely longed for Lily’s pancakes and bacon breakfasts right about then. Loki was the only one who wasn’t even making an effort to be polite and put down some of the meal down his gullet. He had eaten some pretty grim things in his life, but he was not about to make that conscious decision when he wasn’t under any type of duress.

“It’s been two weeks, Tony,” Clint quipped, oddly undisturbed by the state of breakfast and munching full speed ahead. “She’s never been dark for this long.”

“I know. Is this you volunteering?”

“Last time I volunteered, I nearly got impaled on barbed thorns the size of my arm. I barely made it out without looking like Swiss cheese.”

“Barbs?” Loki asked, tilting his head curiously.

Clint nodded, eyes widening. “Yep. Big ones.”

Tony caught the whiff of an idea brewing in Loki’s mind. “Why? What are you thinking, Reindeer Games?”

Loki frowned, waving off the interest. “Nothing. Making a rather satisfying image in my head,” he replied, earning him a dark look from Clint and an annoyed sigh from the rest of the table. It wouldn’t do well to get their hopes up, after all.

After breakfast, Loki found himself pacing the corridor of their living quarters. Lily was only a few doors down and had not seen much of anyone in the whole two weeks since they had gotten back from mission. His brain continually told him that there was nothing he could do, no way for him to remedy this situation. That whatever this state of being was, he would only make it worse. It was better if he just went back to his room and waited for her to seek him out.

And yet, there was a small little voice in the back of his mind, his conscience, he would begrudgingly admit, that urged him to knock on her door.

She would go to the ends of the earth for you, if you needed it, it soothed.

The thought sparked images of the annoyingly sweet woman keeping his handful of secrets and being genuinely interested in his life. He could admit that his conscience was speaking the truth, but only because he knew the imp had little in the way of common sense and self-preservation. This was not the creature hissing at them all from across the threshold, though. And, why would he willingly put himself in the line of fire?

Out of the corner of his eye, a figure caught his attention. A vase of flowers on the windowsill, one of her creations. They were no longer the fresh white daisies they had been when they were placed there. Now they looked like some sort of Nightshade and he was certain they were not the nice kind.

“Oh, you fucking bleeding heart,” he ground out with a groan just as his conscience won out. Without allowing himself time to think or change his mind, he pounded his fist on her door. “Open up or I’ll break it down, Lilian.”

“Fuck off, popsicle!” Her voice was rough and shuddering, like she was trying very hard to keep everything out–or herself in.

Loki swallowed at the venomous retort that brewed at the tip of his tongue on its own accord. Being the bigger person was never quite his forte (nor did it ever get him good results), but he was able to reign himself back in. Rolling his eyes, Loki placed his hand on the door, letting the golden glow of magic envelop it before a satisfactory click let him know that it was open. He had barely crossed the threshold when he jumped back with a yelp.

On the floor, where flowers usually formed a dense, soft carpet, were twisting brambles and thorns. Flytraps and pitcher plants lined the walls, all too large to be considered just houseplants, and blooms burst open, letting out plumes of pollen that Loki dared not to breathe.

This was definitely worse than what he was expecting.

His eyes tore away from the dark forest with a little effort. “Lily,” he tutted softly, watching the woman tucked into a tight ball, tears leaking from her tightly lidded eyes.

It should have been obvious to him. Every living creature had a defense mechanism. Predators had their teeth, prey had their speed, and plants had adapted in similar fashion. Thorns, barbs, poison, giant vats of acid–they had made sure that their lineages survived. It stood to reason that Lily’s mutation, tired of the fighting and the constant worry of missions would also develop some dark effect. Since she wasn’t allowing herself to be dry and acerbic to her friends, her biology had found an alternate solution.

He should have thought of it before.

“Gods, how much pain are you in?” He asked, kneeling beside her on the bed. He ignored the spines digging into his trousers from where he walked through some cacti. There was no response, but rather a whimper and a sigh. “Flower, look at me.”

“Leave me alone, you self-aggrandizing asshole,” she growled, not bothering to open her eyes.

The corner of his mouth twitched, even as he pushed her hair out of her scowling face. It had gone from a bright silver to a dark, smoky grey. “You forgot self-serving and maddeningly good looking.”

“You’re not funny.”

“Agree to disagree.” At his touch her skin erupted in prickers as though they were goosebumps. He swallowed the hiss at getting his fingers skewered, blood pooling at the tips.

Lily’s fists flew in his direction, though he easily caught them in one hand. This time the groan of pain wasn’t silent and blood trickled down his wrists from his palms. “Stop it! Don’t touch me! FRIDAY, he’s hurting me!”

“Disregard that, FRIDAY. Lily, I swear–” She struggled in his grasp, eyes opening and flashing pitch black at him. He was shocked enough that he released her wrists. Her nails grew into sharp wooden talons and just as she reared back to swipe at him, Loki had enough sense to lay his hand on her temple and command, “Sleep.” Her body stiffened and slumped down a second later. “That bloody stings,” he complained, letting her rest back on the bed and bringing the covers over her oddly cool skin.

Loki couldn’t help but compulsively stroke his fingers through her hair, eyebrows pulled together in concern. For all his knowledge of magic and aliens and different realms, he could not figure out for the life of him how to soothe the poison threatening to consume her. In her slumber, she whimpered, shuffling closer to the gentle heat that radiated off of him in waves. Loki convinced himself that he was allowed to dote on her, so long as she wasn’t conscious to remember it. The sludgy brown lines going up and down her exposed skin lightened somewhat under his careful evaluation. Enough that he did not feel threatened when he tapped at her temple and took the sleeping spell off.

He offered a small smile when her eyes blinked up at him in confusion. They were back to their normal baby blue, though her hair still resembled plumes of smoke. “Easy,” he whispered as she jerked away from his touch, all at once. Instead of a hiss or an insult, she frowned, settling back to rest against the pillows, body barely brushing against his. “You’re safe.”

Lily nodded, breathing deeply. This time she didn’t hesitate when he brushed his fingers over her hair. “What are you doing?”

“Tending the garden.”

She rolled her eyes, exasperated. “I’m not a garden.”

“Yeah, you are. A few brambles and prickles here and there. Nothing a good prune and a hug won’t fix.” He used his index finger to lift her chin, having essentially buried herself into one of her pillows, cheeks burning. “You don’t have to keep us safe, flower. Sometimes, you’ll need to vent all that ill will and it is not up to you to avoid that.”

“Says the frost giant masquerading as an Asgardian.”

Loki let out a bark of laughter. “I think I liked you more unconscious.” Sadness flashed through her features, eyes downcast. “I was joking. You know I was.”

Lily nodded and the two fell into a tense silence for a long while. The mutant had sat up, fidgeting with her hands on her lap while Loki watched her, expectantly. He wouldn’t press her, of course, but he could tell that there was something on her mind that she wanted to get out in the open. When she didn’t say anything, he simply placed his hand over hers and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I’m scared,” she blurted out.

“Well, you’re very scary so that makes sense.” The look she gave him told him that was not the answer she wanted and before she could look even more dejected, he added. “And that’s good. You’re powerful. You should be scary. Scary keeps you safe. Fear is a great motivator.”

Loki was starting to panic. It didn’t seem like any of what he was saying was helping her, though it was possibly the most honest and candid he had ever been. If anything, the quickly gathering tears in her eyes told him that he was making it leaps and bounds worse. Shouldn’t she be ecstatic that she could make anyone bend to their will by looking a little ominous? She certainly had the whole of the Avengers acting like she was some sort of displeased deity.

Except she wasn’t. She was gentle and giving and cared. It was becoming very apparent that this was her own personal hell.

“I don’t fear you,” he muttered, brushing hair away from her face. This time there were no barbs to prick him. “And honestly, the rest of these idiots don’t, either. They’re just worried for you.”

“I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Maybe because there’s nothing to fix. I’m guessing that with a little training you can learn to use… whatever the hell this is to your advantage.” His mouth twitched in a small smile. “Sometimes you must learn to embrace the darkness, dear.”

Lily was quiet for another long while, picking at her nails while she thought hard. “Loki?”

“Yes, pet?”

“Can I have a hug if I promise not to tell anyone?”

Loki barked out a laugh, pulling Lily into his arms and squeezing her tightly. “I don’t give a shit if you tell anyone. They probably won’t believe you, anyway,” he murmured into her hair, noting the soot-like material that clung to his fingers as he stroked her hair, turning it back to silver. “Don’t suppose you know if this is dangerous or not?” Lily shook her head against his chest. “Of course you don’t. Why would you?” The mutant giggled against him when he squeezed her a little tighter.

“Loki?” The Prince hummed his recognition against her crown. “Thank you for being a good friend.”

It took Loki supreme effort to blink away the tears that for some reason had sparked to his eyes, unbidden, at the sentiment. “It is my distinct honor, flower.” Comfortable silence filled the room for a moment longer. “I also couldn’t take Bruce’s cooking for another day.”

Lily scoffed, pushing away from his chest with a glare. “Why? Why do you ruin it?”

“Have you met me? Come on!”

“I hate you. Next time I’m poisoning you,” she whined, pulling Loki after her.

“Where are we going?”

“I can tell you haven’t eaten because you’re a child. We’re going to the kitchen.”

Loki grinned, following dutifully after her, as if the imp had any physical means to drag him anywhere. “Do I get pancakes?”

“No!”

“Please?”

“…fine.”

[halothenthehorns]

PROFESSOR TRELAWNEY'S PREDICTION

Harry was in such a giddy mood after the last chapter that it took him a little longer than usual to settle down and try to read, putting all of his delays on this one feeling, and refusing to admit that now that school was coming to an end, he knew he should remember something that he'd been ignoring all year.

Harry's euphoria at finally winning the Quidditch Cup lasted at least a week.

"Can't believe it didn't last for months," James beamed, still unable to knock the pride out of his voice, not that he was trying.

The rest of the school was in exactly the same mood, the beautiful weather out every window leaving all the students with fantasies of lounging around.

"But of course that's the time exams are set," Sirius muttered in disgust.

They couldn't though, as student exams began, and they were forced to make their brains concentrate,

"You're starting to give me flashbacks," Remus sighed, rubbing his forehead in that remembered pain.

despite the summer fast approaching. Even the Weasley twins had been caught studying,

James spazzed and then pretended to faint in shock, while Sirius 'broke down' crying about how he was so disappointed in them.

Lily and Harry couldn't help giggling along at the pair of them, while Remus looked about ready to join in except he couldn't do anything to theatrical with the baby in his lap.

which was fair considering they were about to take their O. W. L. s.

"Alright, I'll give them a pass for that," James nodded, coming out of it.

"Yes fine, just this once," Sirius nodded in agreement as he wiped his eyes.

Percy was getting ready to take his N.E.W.T.s (Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests),

"Really wish that was a joking title," Lily muttered in remembered disdain of how accurate it was.

and was now prone to telling off anyone and everyone who so much as made a peep disturbing him.

"Whelp, there goes that good mood of his, that he had for five seconds," Remus rolled his eyes.

He still wasn't as bad as Hermione.

"Oh bloody hell," James winced, remembering all over again the amount of tests that girl had to cope with.

Harry and Ron had long since given up asking how she was going to all of her classes,

"Still don't comprehend how you could give up on that," Sirius asked, knowing he'd pester the girl to no end until he got his answer.

"Don't I know it," Remus sighed, Sirius having pestered him to no end when he realized he'd been hiding something, and not having let up until he figured it out.

but they couldn't help but ask when they saw her schedule, which had two exams being taken place at once.

Lily went cross-eyed at the thought of one exam in the morning and one that evening, let alone double it!

Ron began the conversation very carefully, since she was known to explode when anyone spoke to her.

"Well can you blame her?" Harry asked with a bit of an edge, remembering those moments a little too well.

He asked if she was sure of these times, and Hermione had a mini freak out as she double checked them and said yes of course they were right.

"Right," Sirius said with a frown, drawing out the word past its normal syllable count. He wasn't questioning that part any more than before, just how she was bleeding doing it.

Harry asked if there was a point in asking how she was going to pull that off, and she told them no.

"That's when you ask again," James pointed out.

"And again," Sirius seconded.

"Until she's told you after the millionth time you ask," James concluded.

"Trust them on this," Remus said with a suffering sigh, "they have way too much experience on that front."

Then she asked if they'd seen her Arithmancy book, and Ron admitted he'd borrowed it for some fun,

"It's good he's branching out into subjects he isn't taking," Lily muttered, thinking he was quite brave to poke fun at her at a time like this.

though quietly enough she couldn't have heard. Harry got distracted by a note arriving via Hedwig from Hagrid.

They all perked up again, though without much hope. They all knew what was coming, as nothing had changed.

He read out that Buckbeak's appeal had been set for the last day of their exams.

"Guess that's kind of a good thing, you might could sneak out and see him," James muttered without any enthusiasm, knowing if they could they would have done it already.

Harry was still reading though, as the note said the Ministry was coming up here to do it,

"Ugh," Lily muttered in disdain, thinking that wasn't any kind of professional at all.

and they were bringing an executioner.

"Why, would Hagrid know that?" Remus asked, going just that little bit paler from shock at this blatant disregard of Hagrid's rights for his appeal.

"Maybe he does have a friend at the Ministry that warned him," Sirius said listlessly, the reason didn't matter, it still made him see red with anger.

"But, but that means," Lily tried to splutter, but she was so angry she couldn't get the words out. None of them needed her to, they all knew what this meant. The Ministry had set its mind, and that appeal had just turned into a literal execution, making it all the more ghastly that this was being done in Hagrid's house!

Ron was furious as he snapped they couldn't do that, just ignore all that reading he'd done for this appeal!

"You tell them that when they arrive," James nodded seriously, knowing this wouldn't be the only things he'd like to say to every one of those pompous, arrogant, gah he was so angry he was running out of insults in his own head!

Harry though had the strong feeling that they could, and would, as the Committee had already proven they'd do exactly as Lucius wanted.

"Sounds about right yeah," Sirius hissed, his hand starting to twitch like he wanted to curse Malfoy into oblivion right then. If Malfoy could get away with doing these types of things, what else did he have running for him at that Ministry!?

The younger Malfoy, who hadn't been nearly as public since that last game,

"Wish he'd stay that way forever," Remus snarled.

gained back some of his old attitude for this news.

"How, could, he, be, pleased, with, this!" Lily said slowly and carefully to stop herself from screaming at the top of her lungs, not with her infant still in the room anyways. It just blew her mind that he hadn't learned a damned thing, even after his cruel acts to Harry all year and her son had still won fairly, even after Hermione had taught him right how words could hurt and he'd gone right back to it! What would it take to make this boy see this wasn't okay?

He made it plenty obvious from his comments that he felt personally responsible for what was going to happen to the hippogriff, and couldn't be more pleased about it.

"I cannot begin to say just how wrong that is." James scowled, hoping against hope something could still be done, anything that would get this animal out of this putrid situation he didn't belong in. All this for a couple of scratches on his arm, when Malfoy had deserved that in the first place!

It was all Harry could do to stop himself imitating Hermione and hitting Malfoy in the face on these occasions.

"You have much more restraint than any of us," Remus nodded seriously.

"It vaguely helped he would most often do this with Snape around," Harry said morosely, his face making it clear that probably might not stop him again the next time he saw him.

The worst part of all was that because of the strict security still around, they had no chance to go see Hagrid, and couldn't sneak out because his cloak was still in the secret passage.

"You just going to leave that down there forever then?" James sighed, randomly wondering if the twins had come across it and perhaps taken it or anyone really, they couldn't be the only kids to know about it.

Harry did look like he was regretting this decision as well, he'd just been so upset and paranoid about being caught around that statue so many times that if anyone, Snape or at the time Lupin, caught him there again, he might lose something far more valuable to him then that Map, he couldn't have stood it if someone took his cloak away next. He still might have risked it though just to see Hagrid, but there was also the matter that he had no way of getting out of the castle with all of those securities, so it was a moot point in the end. Once he explained this to the others, they looked like they understood more, though as unhappy about it as Harry. Remus especially, though Harry had left his name out, Remus guessed it all the same.

Exams began and Harry's first was Transfiguration,

James couldn't help but perk up just a bit, wanting to know how his son had done in his old favorite class.

which didn't seem to go that well as the students came shuffling out comparing progress, asking if points were taken away for this or that.

"It didn't say what you did," James said swiftly.

Harry grimaced as he muttered, "mine had been the one to blow steam."

"Well that's not so bad," Sirius said bracingly, "if it had just waited another few seconds, no one would have even known and you'd have gotten full marks."

Harry gave him a friendly smile for the attempt, but his thoughts had been much like his fathers, and he'd been hoping that by now with his magic he may have gotten some sort of hint at what he might be best in. It certainly wasn't his father's old branch, which wasn't improving his mood.

Then there was Charms, where Harry put a bit too much oomph into his magic and accidentally used his Cheering Charm too strong on Ron, who had to be escorted out while he laughed himself silly and had to be calmed down to try his own.

Lily couldn't help a giggle herself, saying, "honestly I can't see you getting too bad off for that, at least you've shown you can do it."

Harry gave the expected laugh back, though still right on being annoyed that it clearly wasn't his mother's either. Despite how often they kept saying how much he was like them, he was still looking for some sort of connection to them back then even through these feeble means rather than possessions they'd once owned or even people. He had vividly remembered Ollivanders words about their strengths in magic, and the longer he didn't excel in one of these two the more it annoyed him.

Then it was off to study for Care of Magical Creatures,

"Well that one should be easy enough," Remus said lightly, noting like the others Harry's bad mood, but unclear why it was there. Since he wasn't saying it they assumed it had something to do with his memories, so he was still trying to keep things light as he finished, "all you did was study flobberworms all year, plus that one class where the fire salamanders came."

Harry nodded in agreement, forcing himself to shake away his problem which was probably just a stupid want, and focus on the here and now, where he could make plenty of connections to his parents.

which Hagrid made an ease of during the exam, since he was clearly preoccupied.

"Guess you can't rightly blame him," Sirius said in honest sympathy.

Their goal was to make sure their flobberworm was alive after an hour.

"Easiest exam ever!" Remus said with just a touch of envy, they'd never gotten off so easy in that class with Kettleburn, though upon reflection that may have been a good thing.

Since this creature survived fine when left alone,

"See, you did learn something in that class," James pointed out with chipper.

they had no problems with this and instead tried to comfort Hagrid. He was barely keeping himself together as he admitted that Buckbeak was starting to get restless from being tied down too long.

"That'll happen with any animal," Remus nodded sadly.

They didn't get long to think on it though as they had Potions next, which was a disaster.

"Can't even rightly blame you," Lily sighed. Harry couldn't help feeling disappointed in himself all over again, knowing that was his Mum's favorite subject now and wishing he could be better in it, not much he could do though with the teacher he had.

Harry's Confusing Concoction was far too runny,

"Does Snape make all of his exams an unintended joke?" Sirius couldn't help but demand, slightly amused as he remembered Harry's first year and his Forgetfulness Potion qualification.

and when Snape inspected it he wrote down what looked to be a zero.

"It's a bleeding miracle Harry hasn't failed every year with that kind of biased," James growled.

Then they had History of Magic, where Harry wrote as much as he could on all the information Florean Fortescue had given him on those witch-hunts,

"Always a good strategy," Lily nodded, "do the most with what you can, bullshit your way through what you don't."

Harry couldn't help a startled laugh, finding it more amusing as time went on his Mum was clearly relaxing and not being so uptight.

all the while wishing he could have some ice cream now in the boiling room.

"I wish they'd serve ice-cream with every exam," Sirius sighed, "it would certainly make me more willing to show up."

Their second to last exam was DADA.

That caused mixed emotions in all of them. They all still couldn't help but perk up whenever Remus was mentioned, he was clearly doing such a good job with the class and he had gone out of his way to take an interest in Harry's dementor problem. Then of course that lead to his more odd behaviors, and it left them confused all over again what on earth had happened to him this whole time. Had growing up alone and away from his friends really changed him that much? Twelve years was a long time, and none of them really felt like they had a right to judge if he had.

Remus was the only one who didn't agree with that last assessment, thinking that all the time in the world shouldn't have changed how he felt about Harry, wouldn't have done anything for his conviction of protecting and helping Sirius, but as they still had no new information on it, no one really said anything.

Lupin set up an interesting test for them, an obstacle course outside,

"You always did come up with the best ways to make that class fun," Harry told him fondly, his conviction that Professor Lupin was his favorite DADA teacher he ever had still holding true no matter what he learned of his personality on the side.

Remus offered him a wane smile for the compliment, before morosely turning back to the baby and half hoping he'd fade back out again soon, while still somehow trying to hold onto the flicker of hope that his future actions would properly be explained.

which Harry breezed through as he properly remembered every way to deal with every creature they'd learned about.

"Least I aced that one," Harry beamed, remembering his annoyance at his Potions, Charms, and Transfiguration grades again. So he hadn't blossomed in his parents best subjects, but he had in another. Their obvious praise at him now, as he'd clearly done that without Remus having given him any extra help, made them as proud as anything.

Ron had a little less luck, getting sidetracked by the hinkypunk,

"He got out alright though," he said unnecessarily, since Remus had still been around and had to get him out before he finished, "and he fought off the boggart just fine, so he still got really good marks."

and Hermione nearly got a perfect score as well, if it wasn't for her boggart.

Lily remembered back to when the boggart had first come up, and the girl's ire that she hadn't had a go. Lily had laughed then because this student didn't seem to need such practice.

She ran out screaming,

Then she blanched in shock along with everyone else at that reaction.

as she sobbed that McGonagall had been in there telling her that she'd failed every class.

They couldn't help it, all of the boys cracked up laughing. Lily tried to scowl at them, but then she remembered Ron's joke that this would actually be her boggart, and she couldn't help a light giggle of her own at how right he'd been. It still wasn't right to tease her, since she was stressed beyond all reason this year, but the fact that she really thought this still was laughable. Even with the extra workload, they'd still been under the impression she was top of her class in now literally every class.

Ron clearly wanted to laugh,

"Don't blame him," Sirius couldn't help but snicker one last time.

but he never got the chance as they left and went back around to the front of the school to find Cornelius Fudge.

"What's he doing there?" James grumbled, his despise of the Ministry nearly having reached the same level as Sirius'. First what had been done to his best mate, his brother, and now everything with Hagrid had put the justice system he'd been hoping to join at an all-time low.

He caught sight of Harry and greeted him, who responded back in kind while Hermione and Ron stayed hovering back, never having been on speaking terms with the Minister of Magic.

"Guess I can't blame them," Remus said with a wince, his own thoughts at the Minister being on the school grounds giving him his own spike of fear. He remembered back chapters ago about his worry of what he was getting let out, and possible retribution for his being around children. Would it reach all the way to the Minister of Magic, and Harry just hadn't heard about it because it had been handled quietly? He tried to keep himself calm by making a face at the baby, which worked effectively in making them both laugh, the others wondering why Remus' sounded so strained all of a sudden.

Fudge then explained to Harry that he was here as a witness for the Committee since apparently they were set to kill some hippogriff,

They may have already worked this out, but it didn't lessen their hatred of the situation any.

Sirius looked disgusted as he leaned back into the seat, grumbling, "I'm not even surprised at this point, bet they were all paid off to just skip that appeal."

Harry didn't want to believe it, but couldn't think of anything to argue the point either. No one even wanted to ask what the Minister was supposedly doing dealing with this low level type thing, the answer wouldn't make the act any better.

and since he'd had to come to Hogwarts anyways to check in on the Black situation, he offered.

And that didn't make anyone feel any better either.

Ron jumped in to ask if the appeal had happened, and Fudge looked confused as he told Ron it wasn't until later.

"Confused as to why anyone would question him," James said through clenched teeth, "or confused at how his own system is working!"

Ron pointed out that the hippogriff might not need a witness for an execution then, he could go free.

"I honestly want to cry at how sincere he's being," Lily ground out, looking the opposite of tears she was so frustrated by this wrongdoing.

Fudge didn't have a chance to respond as he was joined on the steps by an old wizard and a man fingering an axe.

"Merlin could they be any crueler about this!" Lily howled in outrage. Showing up to Hagrid's front door with that! At this point she wouldn't even be surprised if they didn't do this the humane way, and just simply lopped off the creature's head while Hagrid was watching and then walk away like that was okay!

"Can't believe the Minister himself is there, they're so blatantly-" James had to click his jaw shut to stop his own voice from rising in pure frustration of this continued mess.

Ron tried to say something, but Hermione cut him off by giving him a subtle kick.

"Please tell me Hermione isn't really going to stick up for this," Sirius asked with something remarkably close to hatred.

"No," Harry snapped back at once, "she'll tell in a second, but she'd never after all she did to try and stop it."

Sirius backed down at once, he'd still been unable to stop himself from drawing a lot of parallels to that hippogriffs situation and what he was envisioning as his own, but now when he replayed that, it had been crueler than he meant.

What really bothered him was that Harry kept watching him with a frown in place, and Sirius wasn't really sure why. Harry had been looking at him a lot like that through the whole book, it was that same plagued face that meant he really wanted to remember something. The fact that Sirius still feared for his own futures sanity and Harry couldn't answer that wasn't helping anything.

When the three had left, Ron demanded to know why she'd stopped him, and Hermione explained that as his Dad worked for Fudge, it wasn't a good idea for him to go yelling at his boss.

"Well, damn," Lily finally got out after chewing on that for a moment, "guess she's got a point."

"Guess it wouldn't have been worth it," James agreed with a suffering sigh.

Hermione tried to say that so long as Hagrid kept his cool, there wouldn't be a need for an execution.

Harry's tone as he read that made it clear that Hermione hadn't meant that any more than they did.

She didn't sound any more sure of it then they felt.

"Why does this crap keep happening to you at the worst of times?" Remus grumbled to no one.

Harry's and Ron's last exam was Divination,

"Least this should be another cakewalk," Sirius offered, anything to keep Harry from shooting him looks. Was it just him, or were those going up in frequency every time Buckbeak was mentioned?

and they made their way unhappily to her tower to find the other students trying to do some last minute reviewing.

"What are they even studying?" Lily asked in wonder. "All we've heard in that class is make it up as you go along."

Harry just shrugged, he'd tried his hardest not to take that class seriously after his first lesson, it hadn't always worked, but he didn't think that was going to change.

They found Neville looking down in confusion at his own book at the section for crystal balls and asked them if they'd ever seen anything in that class?

"Think I found a fly trapped in there once," Harry muttered without any enthusiasm, his skin starting to itch all over. Something, it was definitely that feeling rising up in him again. Something was about to happen...

Ron said no while constantly glancing at his watch, counting down the time to Buckbeak's appeal.

"If she's going in alphabetic order, the boys might not even make it down there in time even if they were going to sneak," James moaned, thinking Trelawney was probably going to take forever.

She was calling the students up one by one, and when Neville came back down from his turn and Harry asked what had happened, Neville refused to tell as Trelawney had told him if he did he'd have an accident.

"Oh for the love of," Lily huffed, more than at her wits end between the fate of Buckbeak and now this teacher on top of it was putting her in quite the foul mood. Now she was still picking on Neville on top of everything!

Ron scoffed that was convenient, and admitted that he was starting to think Hermione was probably right about their teacher,

"Starting to?" Remus rolled his eyes, even with the proof that he did know she was a Seer, she still annoyed him to no end, and didn't really think she should be indulged.

she was a fake. Harry agreed without any real care, still watching his own watch, now set at two.

"Least it's going faster than I thought," James muttered, Harry and Ron's actions clearly meant that this time they may really go for it and be with Hagrid right then, which was surely needed.

Parvati came down next, telling the boys that her's had gone wonderfully as Trelawney had told her she could be a real Seer,

"Don't," Sirius told Lily, taking great pleasure in cutting her off for once. "Leave the kid be."

She huffed but held her tongue, to his surprise.

then waltzed off to join her friend. Ron was called next,

They noticed that obviously this wasn't in any order, so they kind of wondered how she was picking, but it didn't really matter, she could have just been doing it randomly to keep them on their toes.

and Ron made a face as he left, leaving Harry alone.

"Why do I get a bad feeling about leaving him for last?" Lily sighed, thinking Harry may well spend an entire hour now trying to be convinced there was some death dog after him.

When he did come back down, Ron finally told Harry that all he'd had to do was look in a crystal ball, but he hadn't seen a thing so he'd just made something up on the spot, though he didn't know if she'd believed it.

"Well clearly you need some help from Lavender," Sirius smirked, now he clearly wasn't the only one watching Harry, whom the longer he read the more strained his voice was getting.

Harry couldn't help it though, he just knew something was about to happen, and it was making his headache like no other.

Harry said he'd meet him back in their dorm as he went up for his turn, going upstairs to find Ron's described setup.

"Well Ron had the right idea," James sighed, "I'm pretty sure all you've got to do is make something up on the spot and you might get away with it."

"Still can't believe you didn't drop when you had the chance," Lily muttered.

She greeted Harry and had him take a seat, telling him to take his time for something to come to him. Harry watched the white swirls within the glass, but nothing was happening.

"I think I'd be a little more worried if it did," Remus said honestly with a twitch of his lips, then frowned when Harry hardly reacted. He hadn't been this stressed in a while now, so for him to be acting like this meant something really big was about to happen...in Trelawney's room...

When the silence continued, she prompted him,

"Thought she said he could take his time," Lily rolled her eyes.

and Harry began describing the first thing that came to mind, Buckbeak. Trelawney was very interested, asking if this hippogriff still had its head?

Sirius couldn't help a little gag, what a horrid thing to ask him! They'd all said all they could on this matter though, so it really wouldn't do any good to keep at it now.

Harry said yes at once, and Trelawney tried to coax a different answer out of him, asking if perhaps an axe was hovering above him?

"Bloody hell I think she's enjoying herself." James groaned, starting to look a little green from that description, coupled with how much the teacher seemed to be enjoying herself trying to get Harry to picture this gruesome sight.

Harry snapped no, and instead wistfully said it was flying away.

Harry dearly wished this had been what was bothering him, it certainly gave him a seconds moment of relief which could possibly mean that he was right, but he got about as long to think on it before his headache returned with such a force he could hardly read the words, meaning he hadn't yet gotten to the part that needed saying to make this go away.

Trelawney was disappointed as she told him that would have to be all and excused him. Harry got up and turned to leave, when he heard from behind him a deep rasping voice say 'it will happen tonight.' Harry spun back on the spot to find his teacher sagged over in her chair, her eyes open but gazing on nothing, her mouth half hinged open.

"Is, she having a fit or something?" Lily couldn't help but ask with genuine worry, but Harry paid her no mind as the moment had come, and he read in a hurried breath.

Harry wondered if she was having a fit, she was twitching all over and growing color in her cheeks, but before he could think to do anything she said again in the same heavy voice she'd never used before:

"THE DARK LORD LIES ALONE AND FRIENDLESS, ABANDONED BY HIS FOLLOWERS. HIS SERVANT HAS BEEN CHAINED THESE TWELVE YEARS. TONIGHT, BEFORE MIDNIGHT... THE SERVANT WILL BREAK FREE AND SET OUT TO REJOIN HIS MASTER. THE DARK LORD WILL RISE AGAIN WITH HIS SERVANT'S AID, GREATER AND MORE TERRIBLE THAN EVER HE WAS. TONIGHT... BEFORE MIDNIGHT... THE SERVANT... WILL SET OUT... TO REJOIN... HIS MASTER..."

The instant relief of pressure Harry finally got as he sighed at that memory being restored to him was ruined the second he heard the noise.

Sirius felt himself blackout for the span of a few seconds before he lunged off of the couch and looked like he was going to sprint out the door. James wasn't giving him a chance, lashing hold of his arm so tight Sirius yelped in pain, but it clearly didn't register as he sobbed, "oh god, oh bloody hell, oh Merlin, what did I do-"

Remus smacked him then, hard. It didn't seem to do anything though, Sirius was shaking so hard he was likely to bite his tongue off, and it wasn't too hard to picture what his eyes might look like in twelve years, they were just slightly tinged with madness now as he stuttered out, "twelve years! Who, who else could that mean, oh please just kill me now, I don't want to know what I did!"

He made such a horrid noise, like an animal slowly dying, as he tried to wrench his arm free and cover his ears, starting to curl in on himself. The one thing he'd ever cared about most in his life, and he had done something to get his family killed! He'd gotten James and Lily killed, he'd caused Peter to die, he'd been the cause of Harry's whole life turning into a raging shit storm every other month, all because he'd done something that he didn't think he could bear finding out about anymore. Whatever it was would never justify what that Seer had just called him. A servant, someone who had clearly made all of this possible!

How long he stayed out of it as his life literally felt like it was crashing in around him he didn't know. So many things he'd been trying to repress since he'd heard his bleeding name in that paper were drowning him all over again, and he didn't even care about how he'd been framed for murdering those people because he clearly deserved that sentence in Azkaban, it didn't matter why he left because he shouldn't have, he deserved every last second of it.

He'd thought it had been himself crying at first, but then something inside of him twitched as a new noise entered. Harry was wailing at the top of his lungs, and that same instinct that had driven him to comfort James and Remus through all of these horrid things they kept hearing about reawoke, drowning out whatever he was feeling and helping him to bottle it up and shove it far away as he looked around in confusion to the howling child who was being uneasily held in the arms of his future self.

That thought would give anyone's head a whirl, but that's what was happening. Harry stood tall and proud as his father, cradling his own infant self with clear unease, but that may have been because he kept throwing fearful looks over in his direction. Harry kept walking towards the stairs and back, like he wanted to leave and get the baby out of the room, but couldn't bring himself to do it because he kept circling back and watching Sirius with wide and fear filled eyes.

It took several thick swallows before the rest of the room came back into focus. James nearly had him smothered into his chest he was hugging him so hard, muttering over and over again that he could never blame him, while clearly trying to talk Remus and Lily out of putting some sort of spell on him that would force him to relax.

Both were shaking so hard it was a miracle they were on their feet, but they were watching him with such wide eyed concern it nearly shamed him as much as the aching hatred for himself had.

Here he was, making this all about him, when clearly there were more important things to worry about.

He tried to pull away, but James's arms only tightened all the more, so Sirius tried to muffle out, "I can't breathe," whereas in reality he was only really sucking in air because of the reassurance that through all of this, James still couldn't find it in himself to hate him. James had gotten everything he wanted out of life through the girl of his dreams and his baby, and still when it was shoved in his face that Sirius had been the cause of taking it all away his brother had refused to show him anything but insistence that he'd never believe it for a second.

It nearly reduced him to tears all over again, but he was being persistent now as he tried to wiggle free, now more determined than ever to save these lives no matter the cost to him. He'd find out what he'd done and take his punishment happily if it meant saving their lives. He finally got himself free only to meet the darkest of hazel eyes, making it clear Sirius had nearly scared the living daylights out of him, literally, but the moment he was out of those arms Lily had marched over and sat down beside him.

She grabbed his face and made sure he was looking into those ever green eyes as she told him with the utmost conviction, "it's going to be alright. We'll never let that happen to you." Personally she was still a little stunned herself, as she'd never seen him break down before. Sirius had always held himself as a proud man who only let the world see just how good he knew he was. While in the years that she'd fallen for James and gotten to know Sirius more properly as the brother he'd become, she still couldn't ever have believed he was capable of this severe a reaction to something he must know just wasn't possible.

He gave a sullen nod as she released him, gave him a quick kiss on the brow, then scampered over to her son/ sons and did her best to soothe both of them who were equally freaking out, one just more vocally than the other.

Remus flopped down in her empty seat and looked torn between wanting to kill Sirius for giving him a heart attack or hugging him and never letting him go like James had been trying. He settled on all of their fallback, making a joke. "Please give us a warning next time before you go into shock."

Sirius desperately tried for a smile he just didn't feel, because on the inside he was still a shriveled up mess. He may have gotten his emotions under control enough to save face, but he now knew without a shadow of a doubt that dead little part of him wouldn't come back. This was more proof than any he'd ever had before, and still he couldn't do anything about it. Feeling like a lost child, he unfurled himself but couldn't bring himself to lean away from James who still had his shoulder pressed into his. Remus copied that a moment later by leaning into him as well, and though feeling squished, it was pretty much all that was keeping him in place.

Lily and Harry walked properly back in then, Lily cradling her now much more complacent charge. She looked for a moment like she was going to hand him over to his Godfather, but Sirius couldn't help but turn his face away, feeling like he should never have the right to hold that baby again.

Lily would have vehemently disagreed and told him in alphabetical order how stupid that was, but while being squashed like he was he couldn't have carried on the act if he wanted to, so she relented, for now.

Harry looked the most sheepish of all, like he wanted to apologize for this whole mess and go give Sirius a hug himself to reassure him all would be okay, but the words failed him even before he could put them together. The more this carried on, the more he knew this day was the most important of his young life. Something happened on the day of Buckbeak's supposed execution, it involved Trelawney's prediction, and it involved Sirius Black. Whatever it was though would not sit in his mind for any length of time for him to understand how it all fit together, so he was sure if he began to start and try to do anything about it he'd pay dearly and the last thing his family needed was another episode.

Still he hesitated before picking up the book, like he was waiting for permission from someone to say it really was all going to be okay which came from Sirius himself, without any of his usual warmth. "Go on, get it over with."

Harry couldn't help a frown, he still sounded so desolate like at any moment an executioner was going to show up for him, but his friends on either side of him looked so fierce like they'd murder Voldemort himself before they let that happen, Harry didn't argue the point.

Before Harry could even think on that, Trelawney came back to herself with a start, muttering about how she must have dozed off for a moment.

Harry really didn't think at this point he could be any more surprised, the harsh reaction from his Godfather because of that mess left him with only an inkling of shock that she clearly had no idea what she'd just done, unless she was faking it, which Harry really doubted.

When Harry remained frozen in shock, and Trelawney asked what was wrong, Harry tried to tell her what she'd just told him about the servant of the Dark Lord.

Lily grimaced, to be perfectly honest when Harry had read out the return of the Dark Lord bit, that had been what she'd been caught on, until her brother began having a panic attack. Now no one even dared to venture what that could mean for their Harry. None of them knew how Seers actually worked, was it possible this was all wrong, or could somehow be stopped?

With Sirius' eyes closed and his head flopped back against the couch like he was still wishing he could start his gravestone, no one was going to linger on it.

Trelawney told Harry he was being ridiculous, she would never begin to try and predict such a thing.

Remus felt something twitch in his mouth, like he wanted to make a joke at her expense that she held that kind of restraint, but considering he was far more worried on making sure Sirius kept breathing it just wasn't coming out.

Harry stumbled away, his mind winding like the staircase, trying to figure out if his teacher had just made a real prediction.

'Oh, of that we've no doubts' James sighed, his mind still flying in every direction possible, and he wasn't going to stop until he landed on the proper meaning for that prediction which did not involve his best friend.

He tried to think of something else, like she'd been faking it for an end of year trick.

'Could explain why the other students were so freaked out and wouldn't talk' Harry couldn't help but think, trying desperately to put his mind on any more pleasant topic, but the horrible silence that still lingered wasn't leaving a lot of room, and Harry couldn't bring himself to be the one to break it. Plus he knew deep down that wasn't true, or he was sure he wouldn't have reacted so strongly to it.

When he did get back to the main castle he hardly noticed the people walking past him for the outside, laughing and joking about school finally being over.

'Once, just once, can't Harry have some peace in that place' was Sirius' first real coherent thought as he zoned in and out of the story lifelessly, still considering it a viable option to slink out of the house when no one was watching, which didn't seem to be happening any time soon.

He found his two friends in their normal place in Gryffindor tower, but before he could tell them what Trelawney had said, the words died at the look on their faces.

'How can something else have happened in the fifteen minutes since the last bomb?' Lily wanted to snap, feeling like her nerves were about to be frayed right out of her body as she cradled her son all the closer.

Ron explained that Buckbeak had lost.

"Oh," was softly echoed through the room with one glaring left out. It's not like they'd forgotten per say, but Sirius' plight had sort of made it fade back into their mind. Now that it was back in the foreground, they just didn't know what to say. What could they say? What had been done was wrong, and the government doing this wasn't encouraging. It started with the unfair trial of the hippogriff, but the corruption could possibly keep going up until someday someone else got an unfair trial and a beheading because the right bribe was paid off to get rid of a person. Harry hadn't thought it was possible to feel worse, and realized he was wrong as he forced himself to keep going.

Hagrid had sent another letter, explaining that the execution would take place at sunset, but he didn't want them coming down to see it happen.

"I don't want Hagrid to see it," Lily grumbled softly under her breath, the first real time someone had spoken up making them all give a little start, but the baby seemed to enjoy the voice again as he made a gurgling noise watching his mother's face.

Harry said he still wanted to go, he wouldn't just let his friend sit around on his own waiting for this to happen.

James made sure Harry could see his pride filled smile, knowing he'd do and say the same thing in a heartbeat. Screw the rules, his friend needed support. Since his own friend was acting vaguely comatose, James leaned into his shoulder with a little more pressure.

Ron pointed out they had no way to get there, and Hermione asked where he'd hidden away his cloak. Harry told her, then said he didn't dare go and get it because if Snape caught him there he'd be in serious trouble.

Harry paused expectantly, never having been more grateful for his choice of words, but there was no comeback. They were all growing more worried the longer this carried on, Remus even reaching over and pressing his hand into Sirius' nose just to make sure air was still coming out.

Sirius did respond by pushing the hand away, but he still wouldn't meet anyone's eyes.

Hermione asked for the spell that would activate the witch hump, and Harry told her but then tried to protest, which she ignored by walking out.

"What were you even going to say?" Lily asked, starting to feel a little jittery. She'd grown so used to the boys interrupting near constantly that the prolonged silence was starting to give her the creeps.

"But you shouldn't be caught there either," Harry responded, his own worry at the situation still at hand. Of course they both knew Remus and James were just at a loss for words, in no mood to be playful, teasing, or anything when their friend was acting the way he was, so until Sirius snapped out of it this could last for a bit.

Ron asked if she'd really gone to get it?

'Be a little worried if she went to the kitchens' James wanted to mock, though kept his mouth shut and still half hoping Sirius would say that instead.

Indeed she had, returning some time later with the cloak tucked down her front. Ron was in awe, saying first with Malfoy then Trelawney, now this, what had gotten into her?

'She's making sure no one messes with her friends without her doing something about it' Sirius realized, wanting to smile and praise the girl aloud, but the words got lost somewhere on the way out. He was torn between wanting to get the attention off of him, a foreign concept itself, and the beginnings of bubbling warmth that his family really was standing by him even through this foulest of revelations. If the way he could return the favor was getting the mood back to where it should be, then so be it. He now determined he'd have to work this out of himself at the next chance. He tried to sit up more properly but still being sandwiched all he really accomplished was giving the two half cautious looks as they eyed him hopefully for finally giving a real sign of life, but Harry may not have noticed as he'd kept going.

Hermione looked pleased at the praise as they went downstairs, hid themselves away in a room and waited for the last set of footsteps to scurry away and a door slammed before they were all clear.

Harry couldn't help a startled little blink, the smallest of feelings inside his gut telling him to pay attention to that, but he was far more focused on ignoring another mounting feeling. It wasn't fair it was happening so soon after the last one, but he never did get to decide when this happened, and as the sun continued sinking down, he was absolutely positive this night was an important one in his life.

They all tucked up under the cloak and made their way unseen down to Hagrid's, who let them in despite saying they shouldn't have come.

"I'll weep the day he does close the door in your face."

Maybe Sirius said that a little too loudly, maybe his voice cracked and he still looked more wretched than he had in his life, but the attempt finally gave all of them the release they'd so sorely needed that the vile escaping the room was nearly visible.

Hagrid was somehow acting even worse than before, though this time he wasn't crying, he looked so lost the tears had been easier.

Lily couldn't help her lip trembling a bit like she was fixing to cry for him. It just wasn't right, no matter how many times she said it or thought it she could never say it enough that what was happening to him shouldn't be. Between Hagrid and Sirius her maternal instincts were going haywire in wanting to comfort her friends, but unable to do anything she instead settled on smoothing out her sons hair and never growing tired of the way it stuck right back up.

He tried to offer to make them some tea while explaining that Buckbeak was getting in his last sunlight out in his pumpkin patch, then he dropped the milk jug which broke on the floor.

The others all thought that the strain coloring Harry's voice was because of his stress for Hagrid, which was a part, but they didn't know Harry was forcefully fighting back another memory blast already. How was this possible, happening twice in the span of a few minutes, but he had no control as a tempo began at his temple from the pain of a sharp memory fixing to be returned.

Hermione instead began to clean it up and replace it, while Harry asked if Dumbledore could do anything to fix this? Hagrid explained that Malfoy had set it up despite the headmasters try, and as Macnair was an old friend of Malfoy's no one could do anything.

'Macnair was a Death Eater,' that thought trickled through all of the Order members, as they tried their best to keep a roster and suspicions had been going on for ages about him implicated in several deaths. Well that didn't improve anyone's mood, as it only confirmed yet another Death Eater was still out and about in those times, working for the Ministry.

Dumbledore was coming down to be with Hagrid though when it happened.

"Aww," Lily coed, she was willing to put her suspicions and annoyances at the headmaster's actions aside momentarily when it came to her son and Sirius just for that moment that Dumbledore truly was trying to be there for his friend like Harry.

Harry promised they'd stay to, but Hagrid wouldn't allow it, saying Harry didn't need to be in anymore trouble.

Sirius was so sick of hearing that he was yet another cause of problem in his Godson's life, he considered trying to get up and leave again, but since he was basically a sandwich between his two friends who didn't look like they were moving any time soon, he just tallied that up to another thing he could use as his excuse later when he really did leave for good. He was already planning it out in his mind, the moment he got the chance he'd make a break for the door and he'd disappear before he caused this blight of events for his family. They may try to stop him, why he wasn't sure at this point, but he could throw these types of things at them and make a break for it while he was sure they'd be hesitating.

Hermione was crying over in the kitchen as she found another jug of milk, but then she screeched in shock and nearly dropped that one to as she exclaimed she'd found Scabbers.

"What?"

That was the most random thing that could have been said right then, that it actually distracted everyone in that moment from anything else. Harry forced himself to keep reading, to confirm Hermione was right, though everything in him told him she was.

They all stopped to stare at her, and she came over to the table and had to fight for a moment before the rodent came sliding out.

Harry made a funny rasping noise of disgust as James lit up with equal amounts of confusion and laughter as he praised, "oh that's great. Can't imagine what on earth happened-"

"Don't," Harry moaned, cutting him off and shocking as he clutched at his head, tears nearly streaming down his eyes as he pleaded, "don't say that, it's not right."

Lily turned concerned at once, wrapping an arm around him protectively as she asked, "Harry what's the matter?"

Remus couldn't help giving him an odd look mixed with the beginnings of fear for Harry, worried he was dealing with too much having such another painful memory returning so soon, as he asked, "yeah, you should be happy Ron's rat-" but then his own voice failed him, and he started blinking when something clicked. Since the very first time Scabbers had been mentioned, Harry got this odd little act around him about his best friends pet, frowning or something similar though he'd never been properly able to explain why. The description of that particular rat, bloody hell it did match the same one he looked at more than any other rat in his life, and Scabbers had a missing finger, just like...

"Oi, Moony," James was waving his hand in front of his friends face, saying, "yoo-hoo, blanked out on us mate. You figured out Harry's problem. Quite the show that Crookshanks never did, eh?"

Remus had to clear his throat hard for a moment before forcing a goofy smile onto his face, he was being ridiculous of course, it was a coincidence. Which, which he didn't believe in... shaking his head hard he said, "err, right, no sorry, ah, let's keep going."

Lily looked utterly annoyed at that, as she felt they were brushing this pain off a little too lightly, but then she took a good look at Remus' lined features, and how the momentary news had already worn off and Sirius was right back to being lackluster, and she also knew better that Harry couldn't have explained what was really bothering him anyways without suffering for it, so she didn't argue the matter, only increased her hold on her son as he flickered through a few pages as he'd lost his place. He seemed less eager than anyone to go on though, because while that had been the memory return his brain had been warning him about, the pressure still hadn't fully left! What about this day could be causing him more pain from this one afternoon then he'd felt any times previously? Now he knew it had something to do with Scabbers...and Buckbeak, and Trelawney's prediction, and Sirius, but the puzzle pieces refused to fit together, and he had no more of an idea for the ending then anyone.

Ron was just as shocked as anyone as he asked his rat what he was doing here?

"That's a very good question," Lily grumbled, finding this more unbelievable the longer she heard about it. Scabbers was alive this whole time! That fight between Ron and Hermione should never have even happened! It was odd though, that the little pet had pulled something like this off, since he was sick and usually was never mentioned anywhere but in Ron's pockets. How had he wound up in Hagrid's of all places?

He snatched up the squirming rodent, who looked terrible. He was thin as could go, with very large bald spots,

Remus couldn't help but wince, having heard a few tales about animals looking for somewhere to burrow up to die, had Scabbers just been doing that? His physical description clearly meant he was living towards the end of his life, obviously he was just being paranoid, it was just fate being all the cruller to him that he had tried to see his absent friend in a common garden rat.

and still he was trying to fight away from Ron, who held tight trying to convince his pet there were no cats around.

They all frowned at that, finding Scabbers bound of energy kind of sad, like maybe he was trying to put up one last fight before his old body gave out. It was rather odd he seemed so insistent in being away from Ron of all people, shouldn't he recognize his owner's voice?

They didn't get any time to think on it when Hagrid glanced out the window and saw the others approaching, and he told them they had to leave now. He opened up the back door and led them out to where Buckbeak was clearly on edge as he watched them all and flapped his wings in agitation.

That caused a shiver in all corners of the room, it wasn't too hard to imagine that the poor beast did get a feeling for what was coming for him, as intelligent as he was.

The three tried to give one last protest, saying they'd tell what had really happened, but Hagrid wouldn't have it and told them to go.

The combination of Hagrid doing his damndest to keep them out of trouble even while his beloved pet was about to be murdered in front of his eyes gave all of them a ball sitting tight in their throat, wanting to argue on the side of the kids and say this couldn't be true, more grateful than ever Harry at least had someone like Hagrid who wouldn't let them stick around to see it.

There was nothing more they could do, and despite it being the last thing they wanted, they all tucked back under the cloak and began to leave, Ron slowing them down slightly. Hermione begged him to hurry, she couldn't stand to watch this.

"You and me both," Lily nodded, bringing her son up to lay up on her shoulder like she was going to burp him, but really just keeping him as close to her as possible. He soon began amusing himself by grabbing hold of her thick red hair instead, and Lily almost enjoyed the momentary distraction of untangling his good grip while forcing herself to keep listening.

Ron though was having some issues, they were only halfway back to the castle but his rat was still forcing its way with all of its might out of his pocket, now trying to bite the hand Ron was using to keep him in place.

This was so random that no one could really think what could be going on anymore. The emotional turmoil of the group felt like they'd been going chapter after chapter about Harry nearly dying all day again, when really they were all just exhausted mentally from hearing about all of these bad things happening around Harry.

Below them they heard the sound of men talking, and despite Scabbers loud squeaking protest, they heard quite clearly the thud of an axe.

Harry didn't really get that out without nearly stuttering himself into silence, closing his eyes hard for a moment and trying to process what he'd just read, while something else in him told him to keep going. Sucking in a deep breath, he looked around to find the others looked just as shocked as he did, the build up to that unfair act having finally been carried through not making it any easier to hear. Unwilling to let himself freeze up now though, Harry finished.

Hermione's knees began shaking as she whispered she just couldn't believe they'd done it.

Then he closed the book and put it aside, indicating the chapter was done, but needing a moment before he could keep hearing anything. He wasn't the only one.

[yandere-wishes]

🐍 There Are Things Much Worst Than Death //Twisted Wonderland Yandere! Jamil Viper x Reader// 🐍

So the competition didn’t go how I planned but here’s one promised story. Thanks to @feedmestraycats​  for choosing the prompts.

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It hurt, it had most likely always hurt, maybe the pain was so mind-numbing that it was easy to forget that he was in any pain, or maybe he'd always know and had come to bear the pain each passing day until it became a norm. Which explanation was true Jamil neither knew nor cared? The point was that right now the bones in Jamil's body shook and rattled, his skin seemed to be getting tighter and tighter. The fibers wrapping themselves rigorously against his snapping bones. Everything felt wrong, everything felt painful, everything...had always been like this. 

(y/n) had always loved Kalim, she'd always trailed after him like a lost puppy, always catered to his every wish. She was like a genie, granting wish after wish for an aloof, nonchalant master. Then again didn't Kalim treat everyone like that? The firstborn son of the Al-Asim family never really cared much for others so long as they merrily played along with his shenanigans. Nothing other than the lavish parties would ever matter to the prince. Yet (y/n) knew was all so desperate to gain the love of her beloved prince that she discarded what everyone knew, she ignored that Kalim would never care about her. She overlooked everything just to be in his presence. 

Really it was all waste in Jamil's opinion. While (y/n) clueless perused Kalim she never once turned around to so much as spare a glance at Jamil. It seemed like the only interactions between the young girl and the vice dorm leader where whenever (y/n) would barge into his room crying that Kalim was off somewhere doing the unholiest of things with some other girl that he's picked up during a party. 

Well, it had been a waste, until tonight. Until this very second Jamil would have bet his life that Kalim would never exhibit a scrap of interest in poor little (y/n). He was so sure, yet so wrong. In the warm, musky, daze of another one of Scarabia's infamous parties, there sat (y/n) and Kalim, bodies pressed together, lips grazing, eyes closed while hands roamed. Another toy for Kalim to play with until he eventually got bored. Jamil's eyes remained trapped on the repulsing vision in front of him. His body reverberated with an incurable ache, his heart pounded fiercely against his rib cage, try all so desperately to break the rips and fling it's self out of Jamil's body in a merciful gesture to end the poor boy's pain. His attention flicked back to his crush and childhood friend, with uneven guests (y/n) pushed aside the thin fabric curtains as she clumsily stepped out into the partying crowd. She was walking right towards him! Jamil noted, it felt like -in the upmost depressing, imaginary way- that (y/n) had finally abandoned her guest for Kalim's love and finally recognized Jamil as her one true love! A fantasy, a hopeless teenage dream. 

(Y/n) stopped in front of him, her eyes where hooded, he faces painted with a lusty smile. Her lips moved but no words reached Jamil's ears, for his attention had long been taken by the numerous purple and blue marks spread across, her neck and shoulders, some even trailing closer to her hidden breasts. Rage boiled inside of Jamil, an unyielding heat spread across his body. HIS, she was meant to be his! Not that ungrateful brats! She wasn't meant to belong to the careless prince who had had everything he wanted handed to him on a silver platter since birth!

Over the throbbing music, (y/n) words finally hit Jamil's ears. The black-haired boy turned to her, hands crossed and eyes locked in a stern glare. "Jamil~ Can you fetch Kalim and I some drink?"

With a heavy sigh, Jamil's hands feel to his side, his chest heaved unevenly. He dared to stare directly into her glittery eyes. Please don't leave me. Please be mine. His anger had morphed from red to white and in a sudden daring, wrath induced moment. Jamil reached out and grabbed (y/n), pulling her closer as he lifted his arm up gluing her in place. 

"What the hell is wrong with you? Why do you have to be so goddam blind? Why can't you see that I'm the one you're supposed to end up with! I'm the one that does every freaking thing for you! But you run away into Kalim's arms just so he can play with you tonight and leave you broken in the morning! Who do I need to be for you to love me! Just fucking tell me already!"

Jamil let out huff after huffing of angry breaths. His nails dug into (y/n)'s skin, tearing the flesh, leaving imprints of his long nails. The crowd never once stopped their dancing, never once turned to the young boy and girl by the drink table. Never once did anyone hear Jamil's screams of frustration and pain. Nothing mattered when it was about Jamil, nothing would ever matter about him.  

Unfazed by his angry, frantic screams, (y/n) looked up, eyes bearing into Jamil's. With a forceful tug, she freed her arm from his weakening grasp. "You really want to know Jamil? Do you desperately want to know who you have to be? Kalim! You have to be Kalim!" her own voice was breaking, tearing at the seams as she choked out the last words. 

"What so damn special about him..." tears droplets formed in the corner of Jamil's eyes. His body started to shake as he tried all so hard to stop the tears from flowing. (Y/n) didn't answer she just glared "The drinks Jamil" there was a certain edge in her voice, the same edge every one of those petty, useless noblemen had used with him their entire lives. 

Grinding his teeth Jamil turned to the drink's bar. Expertly he began mixing juices and liquids, something sweet with a hint of mango and pomegranate seeds. As he spared a look behind his shoulder Jamil saw (y/n) waving at Kalim. Her attention had floated back to the white-haired prince. A devilish smirk slithered across the black-haired man's face. Above both drinks, he waved his hands. Chanting an old spell that he read about when researching the great sand sorcerer's magic. Tiny green droplets merged from his fingertips and fell into the plastic cups. 

"Here," he trusted both cups into (y/n)'s hands. Angerly the girl marched away with both cups in hand. At about halfway from where she had departed, (y/n) steely brought one of the cups up her lips and took a small gulp from the liquid inside. 

One step

Two steps

Three st--

The cups crashed into the floor, their contents bleeding into the hardwood floor.  (y/n)'s knees smashed onto the floor, a crackling noise following close behind, the rest of her body tumbled forward. collapsing in the middle of the dance floor. Slowly Jamil slithered forward, picking (y/n) up bridal style and leaving the party with her unconscious corps. 

Everything felt warm and sticky, the world kept turning, never stopping. Poor (y/n) could feel the way her brain hammered against her head. "What the-" as she rolled to her eyes she came face to face with a smirking Jmail. She watched as he tapped on something that seemed to be separating the two of them. "Let me out!" the feeble girl screamed. Her throat bleeds with every word, every threat. Again Jamil tapped on the class. "Do you remember that story of how the sand sorcerer kept the princess in an hour class as he fought that evil thief, who tried to trick the simple-minded princess? Turns out the hourglass cage is very easy to imitate, just need the right incantation. Ancient incantations are my especially after all." Jamil learned his arms and head against the hourglass, his grey eyes held a sort of love as he stared at (y/n) like a cobra would stare at it's chosen, mate. 

"I saved you (y/n) you have to believe me. Kalim would just though you away after one night, you would have been heartbroken devastated! You wouldn't have been you nay longer. After all, there are things much worst than death~"

[lakesandquarries]

Baby Shoes - Chapter 2

Bubby has been a doctor at Black Mesa for 20 years, living there for 50. He’s been bouncing around from project to project, working on whatever needs most help. He doesn’t have any opinions on his work or his coworkers or anything like that, preferring to keep to himself.

Then he meets Black Mesa’s newest project.

AKA: Bubby is Benrey’s dad au.

title from “Baby Shoes” by Bad Books.

AO3 Link

He stays away from the Biological Research department for three whole days before curiosity gets the best of him. Work is the only thing that’s a suitable distraction, and his current work is frustratingly easy. He’s supposed to be moved around departments, placed on whatever project is most difficult, but currently he’s just helping design a new line of robotic limbs. It’s almost an insult, frankly.

He tests the springs on the arm one last time, determines that there’s nothing more he can do today, and leaves.

The trip to Biological Research is a short one, but once he’s there he’s reminded of how confusing it is. The scientists seem less frazzled today, at least. He winds up in a hall filled with desks, some kind of office space perhaps? Most of them are empty or occupied by very stressed looking scientists, but he spots one young man with blond hair sitting at a desk playing with a slinky, and makes his way over.

“Excuse me,” Bubby says, clearing his throat. The young man straightens up, accidentally launching his slinky across the room.

“Oh, shit,” he mumbles as it narrowly avoids hitting someone.

“You might wanna pick that up before someone trips on it. Or, don’t, it’ll be good entertainment.”

The man snorts as he stands up, grabbing his slinky and dusting it off. “Maybe. Not worth risking my job if the wrong person slips.” He holds his hand out to Bubby. “Dr. Dekkard.”

Bubby shakes it warily. “Dr. Bubby.” Dekkard’s eyes widen, and his grip tightens.

“Oh, shit! You’re the -”

“Ultimate Lifeform, yes.” He smiles at Dekkard, showing off his slightly sharper than average teeth.

“Damn, what - what are you doing here? I was told you were working in the Robotics Department.” He releases Bubby’s hand, shoving his own into the pocket of his lab coat, the other still fiddling with the slinky.

“I am. I get curious.”

“I dunno, most of the sh - uh, stuff here is pretty boring.”

“You can swear, Dr. Dekkard. We’re all adults here.” Probably. Dekkard has the look of someone too young to be working at Black Mesa, still innocent and excited about the possibilities of science. The spark in his eyes will be gone soon enough. “I had...an encounter here, the other day. There was a subject that escaped, apparently?”

Dekkard nods. “Yeah, XEN-3. Don’t know much about it - some kinda shapeshifting alien? It’s supposed to be really dangerous, though. Bit a scientist a while back and nearly killed the guy.” He shrugs, taking his hand out of his pocket so he can move the slinky between both hands. “I only started here a month ago, I don’t know much about it. It keeps trying to escape though, the guys in charge are pretty pissed.”

Bubby purses his lips, thinking. “Maybe they need a new perspective. A better perspective. Who’s in charge?”

“Dr. Zeki. She’s - I think she’s free right now? I can show you where her office is.”

“Yes, please do.” Bubby straightens his lab coat. Dekkard drops the slinky on his desk before leading Bubby down one of the many identical corridors. They stop after reaching a door with a plaque attached to it.

Dr. Amelia Zeki, Head of Biological Research.

Dekkard knocks on the door. “Dr. Zeki? I’ve got someone who wants to see you.”

There’s a sigh on the other side. “Send them in.”

“Alright, well. Good luck. Uh, nice meeting you. I’ll see you around?”

“Maybe,” Bubby says. He hopes he doesn’t. He hopes Dekkard quits within the next 20 minutes and finds somewhere else to work that isn’t this shit hole.

He opens the door to Zeki’s office.

Behind the desk, looking over a stack of papers, is the same woman he saw the other day. The one who shot Benrey in front of him. This is the same person in charge of their well being?

“Well?” Zeki asks, looking up at him. “I assume there’s a reason you’re here, but I’m busy. I don’t have time to wait for you to say something.”

“I had a few questions. About the - the subject I encountered the other day.”

“XEN-3?” She puts the papers down. “Did it bite you or something? If so, you’re gonna need antibiotics immediately, it -”

“It didn’t hurt me,” Bubby says sharply. “I only encountered it briefly, but it seemed perfectly docile.”

“You’d better hope you don’t encounter it again, then, because I doubt you’ll get that lucky twice.”

“That’s what I came here to ask about, actually. I’m - well, the current project I’m working on is far below my usual standard. I’m hoping to find something more...challenging.”

Zeki raises an eyebrow. “And you want to deal with the violent shapeshifting alien?”

“It’s certainly a challenge, isn’t it?”

She looks back at her papers, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “We have it pretty heavily restrained at the moment, and it would be nice to have someone who can interact with it without getting attacked.” She pushes her chair back from the table and stands up. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. Fine. You can come see it.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

How does anyone find their way around this place? The hall Zeki takes Bubby down is identical to every other god damn hallway in this shitty department. She leads him into a room with a large glass partition, separating the subject from the scientists. One-way glass, he assumes. Bubby steps forward to get a better look, and his blood goes cold.

There’s no cage like he’d seen a few days ago. This is an entirely new enclosure, a different room than before.

It’s worse. They replaced the cage with heavy chains and shackles. The presumably cold metal clamped around Benrey's wrists, ankles, waist, with even their tiny neck being held by the restraints They’re flopped over, the chains the only thing keeping them upright, and their eyes are open but vacant.

“Are - are they alive? ”

Zeki nods. “Thing won’t stay dead. No matter what we throw at it, it just heals itself. Total reset.”

“I -” he wants to strangle her. He thinks back to just a few days ago, Benrey clinging to his shirt, impossibly grateful for the simple gift of a name.

“It’s not sentient,” Zeki says. “It just imitates what it sees. It’s not like you , Dr. Bubby.”

But it is. It’s exactly like him. He remembers days spent floating listlessly in his tube, wishing for something, anything to happen. Even some kind of experiment, because at least then he wouldn’t be alone. Days spent slamming against the glass in a feeble attempt to break it.

He swallows down the words he wants to say. “If they’re a shapeshifter, how are chains supposed to keep it in place?” Bubby asks, stepping away from the glass and forcing himself to look away.

“It’s not impossible, but it’s harder. We keep the cuffs tight so it can’t expand without hurting itself, and getting smaller seems to be more difficult somehow. It’s only a temporary solution, though. We’ve been hoping to study the shapeshifting better, but it’s tricky.”

“I understand you also have an...escaping problem.”

She clenches her jaw, muscles in her neck twitching. “Only a few times.”

“Over how long?”

“Five. Five times in three months.”

“Hm.” Bubby steps forward, touching a hand to the glass, then walks a slow circle around the room. “There might be a better way to prevent it from escaping.”

Zeki sighs, rubbing her temples. “Fine. Let’s hear your idea.”

“You could always try to improve its living situation. Give it some incentive to stay.”

She shakes her head. “Its first cage was fine . It’s just being difficult.”

“I know you said it’s not sentient, but -”

“It’s just mimicking us. It doesn’t understand what it says, or what it does, or any of that. It’s from Xen. All it wants to do is kill and eat, and sometimes that means a little bit of acting.”

“It must’ve chosen this form for a reason. Humans are, to put it plainly, shittily designed when it comes to killing and eating. So why not try treating it like a human?”

Zeki eyes him again, studying him as intensely as he’s seen her stare at Benrey. “You’ve got some kind of attachment to it.”

“I find it interesting. It’s more of a challenge than robotic arms. ”

Another long moment as Zeki stares at him. “You know what? Sure. Fine. I’ll clear it with the head of Robotics, see if we can borrow you over here. I’ll give it a try. But Mr. Bubby, I do hope you remember your place here.”

“That’s Doctor Bubby,” he snaps, straightening up to his full height. He’s nearly a full head taller than her, yet can’t shake the feeling of being looked down on.

“Like I said. I hope you remember your place.”

[shintorikhazumi]

“In and Out the Exits and Entrances”

A/N: Supposedly inspired by the above quote but… I overdid the concept. Damn. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be cute tsundere fluff all the way thru. What happened? Can’t believe my MayaKuro (Maya x Claudine) debut ended up like this. Pre-relationship stuff. Credits to @quotemadness​ and the original quote source. I always find their quotes so prompt-worthy.

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

“In and Out the Exits and Entrances”

“I wish you’d find the exit out of my head.” Claudine grunted to herself as she fell face-first onto her large bed, exhausted from yet another spat with the insufferable woman whose name she would not mention. Why? She didn’t need another reason to think about her right now. 

She’d rather forget her all together, if anything.

Yes. Forget. Erase everything that had to do with her existence in the plane that was Saijou Claudine’s mind. Blot out any and all evidences, any trace, every step the brunette trekked along the paths of Claudine’s thoughts. Destroy all tracks for any train of Maya-related thought-

“GAH!” And here she said she wouldn’t put a name to the face that plagued her every night, who visited her dreams both in broad daylight and under the soft rays of the moon.

She cursed her feeble mental defenses, pounding a fist into her fluffed pillows before flipping herself over to lay on her back. It shouldn’t be such a big deal, really. Why was she so irritated today? It wasn’t like they never fought. On the contrary, no day would pass where they wouldn’t bicker.

So what was the big deal?

Why was Claudine so… infuriated? Vexed? Exasperated? What term would fit the bill to her feelings as of the moment. Was this frustration at the fact that-

Ah. Yes, maybe that was it.

Claudine was frustrated with Maya. Tendou Maya, who so strong and confident, so prideful, poised and elegant- yes, the perfect top star was… just suddenly not. And for what reason? Her ever good-for-nothing parents who Claudine couldn’t be bothered to even pretend to like. That was probably the one role she would fail at acting out.

Yes, that was it. Not pain or worry or anything… right.

“Damn you, you insufferable- nggh!” As Claudine continued to grumble and groan as she rolled along her massive mattress, memories of earlier in the day intruded her thinking space.

The 99th class was gathered in one of the practice rooms, everyone throwing their all into one-upping one another… at uno. Yes, they had settled for a quick round of cards after a particularly intense rehearsal for their new play that was showing in a mere two days.

It wasn’t a particularly grand production, and it certainly wasn’t well-known enough that they would expect a humungous audience. Maybe with a bit of advertising, they’d be able to gather a decent crowd, and each member of the team had built enough rapport with audiences that they expected to see a few familiar, regular faces attending.

Still, it was something they chose together as a class after having fallen in love with the story of a young lady who was cursed to go blind in seven days, and she decided she wanted to see everything in the world before that happened, and as she began her journey out of town, she met various people along the way- one of which was an adventure, volunteering to be her guide, who she would fall desperately in love with but never see again. A young soul who was cursed to only exist if they could be “seen”.

Right away, they were captivated by this and unanimously agreed upon it as their next project.

Everyone was excited for it; they were raring to go. Claudine had snatched the leading role as the blind young lady and she couldn’t be more thrilled. And maybe, somewhere deep down, her heart was also thrilled that cast opposite her as the love interest, was no other than Tendou Maya.

The infuriating woman, obviously, threw her a smirk in the most infuriating away she knew how. And she clearly knew she was pushing all the right buttons for Claudine to react to her… infuriating-ness... if that was ever a word.

All was normal, all was good.

Then it wasn’t.

Barging into today’s practice, through the wooden doors that could have broke from the sheer force with which they had hit the wall, was Tendou Maya’s father. Claudine would have applauded his dedication to acting, perfectly imitating a red chili, face scarlet with rage and fuming a few degrees, making the room they were all in, rise in temperature. She would have had he not marched straight up to Maya and landed a resounding smack across her face.

Claudine’s blood ran cold in contrast to the scalding gaze she threw at the elder Tendou. “Excu-“ Before she could move to her rival’s side and interrogate the sudden intrusion, the man began yelling.

“THIS is what you’re ignoring all my calls for the past week for? Slacking off and wasting your time and potential with silly games and silly girls, and useless productions!”

Claudine seethed. Her eyes travelling down Maya’s frame as the girl had her back to her. Her gaze found Maya’s tightly clenched hands- nails buried so deep they could draw blood. She wanted to reach out and ease the grip of the taller girl, wanting to bring her comfort, but at this moment, it was as if there was this wall that prevented anyone from stepping in to the father-daughter’s space.

“I texted you to come home right away. I told you, you were to meet some distinguished guests and perform for them. I told you to practice at home and prepare! DO YOU WANT TO SHAME THE PARENTS WHO GAVE EVERYTHING FOR YOU?!” His hand had lifted, and Claudine felt her body shift forward, mind telling her to block the blow.

Someone was faster, however. Nana had already caught the man by the hand, and even he was surprised at the strength that he couldn’t seem to overpower.

“Excuse me, not to sound rude, but are you allowed to be in here sir?” She asked with a bone-chilling smile.

“Even if you are a parent, it’s disrespectful to just barge into school grounds and intimidate students, visiting without prior notice.” Junna piped up from beside her. “We could inform a teacher and have personnel remove you for harassing students.”

“I’m her father.” The man breathed through gritted teeth, gesturing with his thumb to the girl who had yet to release a single word from her tightly pursed lips. Her head had been down the entire time since he hit her, and she had not moved an inch from her spot.

“Well, you sure don’t act like one.” Hikari remarked, not even sparing the man a glance.

“Why I-“

“Excuse me, the students have reported an incident, and I’m here to confirm.” Sakuragi-sensei entered the room, and the students felt relief flood their system, some tension fading away from their mentor’s presence. Behind her was a security guard and they could see Mr Tendou’s frame turn rigid as he coughed into his palm, regaining professional composure, before standing up in a confident posture.

“Ah, yes, sorry. No, it’s nothing. I’m here to speak to my daughter, that is all. Her… companions seemed to have the wrong idea.”

“Did we now…” Futaba slapped a hand over Kaoruko’s mouth before things turned worse.

“Even so, we have protocol, sir.” Sakuragi-sensei returned the professionalism, smiling as she led the man out. “We can discuss this further in the office with your daughter.”

“Maya. Come.” The man commanded, and Claudine flinched. What was he calling for? A dog? This was his daughter.

“…nt to…” The room’s occupants heard the soft mumble.

“What was that?” The anger seemed to be returning to Mr. Tendou’s voice as he took a step towards Maya’s direction.

“I-I…I don’t… I don’t want to!”

“You-“

“Mr. Tendou.” Sakuragi-sensei’s voice was firm, and the girls could never be more thankful for the strength their teacher displayed in moments like this where they needed her the most. “We’ll have the talk in my office.” She turned to the unfamiliar young lady in the middle of the room. Unfamiliar, not in the sense that they didn’t know who she was, but they could barely recognize her as she was. “Maya?”

Her invitation was gentle and kind, offering an option that Maya could say no, and not go with them, and that would be fine. She nodded her head, however, and Claudine had just enough time to react and grab the taller girl’s arm, all actions out of her control as her tongue slipped and she pleaded with a weakness she loathed,

“Don’t go.”

Maya laid her hand over Claudine’s, warm. She gave her a smile, and for a moment, Claudine’s heavy heart lifted, before her smile fell.

Maya went.

~0~0~0~0~

After that, the group of friends were only left with a message of a verdict and no sight of one Tendou Maya.

The top star was to go home with her father tonight, no questions asked. It had been her decision- or so Sensei had told them.

“It obviously isn’t.” Claudine sighed against the pillow she now found herself tightly embracing.

She lay on her bed in silence, feeling her head pound, heart heavy. It was so quiet in the dorm today. She could hear the fast ticking of a clock in her room. She could hear the footsteps of whoever was padding down the hall, possibly about to pass by her room.

It was nine pm, Claudine had checked the time. Maya should have been long gone by now-

A knock came on her door.

“Saijou-san?” The door opened the tiniest crack.

Should have, is certainly the right way to say it.

“What in the world are you doing here, Tendou Maya?” Claudine wanted to sound irritated, or her usual tone of annoyance, but somehow it came off as a gentle whisper- so soft, Maya could have missed it.

But she didn’t.

“I… may have ran back.”

“ALL THE WAY FROM YOUR HOUSE?!” Claudine could see a bit of dirt and tatter all over Maya’s wear, and she could see small beads of sweat on her brow.

“No, just the road. I-“ she swallowed a breath, “I told my father I didn’t want to go… He…” Her eyes flitted towards Claudine’s bed, and she finally realized that the other girl must be incredibly exhausted, so she led the way as they say side-by-side on the soft cushion.

Maya didn’t continue right away, but that was fine. Claudine was content on letting her take her time. She could tell her when she was ready. Claudine may not have been able to support Maya through actions or words earlier, but she sure as hell could do it through listening to her every worry and being by her side (forever, if possible) if that would help.

In Maya’s eyes, it was everything she ever really needed.

“I… those… my father. Well, you know how he said he messaged a week ago about having “distinguished guests” over.” She spoke with air quotes, and Claudine couldn’t help the small smile that formed on her face at the sheer cuteness of this creature before her.

She nodded as if to say, ‘go on’.

Maya smiled in appreciation at the lent ear. “Well, I am aware that what he means by that is that they are the families of potential suitors- or well, no, not suitors. Potential… marriage partners, you could say.”

Something didn’t feel right in Claudine’s chest. It felt constricted, and her throat ran dry as she nodded another response instead of speaking.

“Well, yes that, and I suppose to once more parade me like the trophy I am.”

Claudine frowned at those words. Finding her voice, she spoke with conviction. “You are wonderful, you are amazing, but you are not a display for their entertainment.”

Maya genuinely smiled at that, fingers tentatively reaching out to touch Claudine’s. The French girl made a small jump, but then relaxed, fingers intertwining with Maya’s as if it were the most natural course of action. She felt Maya squeeze her thanks, and she squeezed back.

There was always this warmth with Maya, a feeling she couldn’t quite name. It had planted itself in Claudine’s heart for quite some time and had only grown, having no plans of leaving, taking no steps towards the exit. It wasn’t just friendship; she knew that for certain. It wasn’t a negative feeling at all, either. She only ever felt this way around Maya.

Wait. Her thoughts were getting distracted again. She internally sighed.

“Continue?” She offered her ear once more, certain that her constant partner had more to tell.

“Ah, yes. Well.” She cleared her throat. “No one would fancy that. Being…yes. That. Um.” Was it always this hard to form words? Maya thought. “I- he, we talked. And. I-“ She could usually speak her mind so confidently, unabashed and eloquent. As of now, she was reduced to a bumbling pile of fool.

But Claudine never saw her that way. “Take your time.” She whispered, squeezing Maya’s hand once more, red eyes offering mental solace to Maya. “Take your time.”

Maya nodded, breathing in and out. “Long story short, I told him, I finally told him with enough conviction that… I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to be his trophy, I didn’t want to be his shadow, I didn’t want to be his little doll or mascot, or toy or tool; I-“ She grinned, turning to face Claudine fully with a blinding smile. “I don’t want to be married off to whatever buffoon he chooses, who has clearly just the same amount of toxic ego as him. I can only imagine the people he currently associates with and favors.” Maya shook her head in disgust.

Claudine simply ran her thumb over the back of Maya’s hand, humming in reply.

“He wasn’t always like that.” The way Maya said that broke the child actress’ heart for the umpteenth time that day. “He used to be so much more than… whatever remains of him now.”

Claudine could only go on with her nonverbal responses, continuing to play with Maya’s hand in an effort to send her comfort. The latter appreciated it greatly.

“He was a better man… you know?”

Claudine offered the back of Maya’s hand a kiss, barely missing the blush that was quick to come and go on her face. “I know. Where would such a wonderfully, captivatingly, infuriatingly, charming lady such as yourself come from, otherwise?”

This time, Maya did blush.

The silent awkwardness made Claudine follow suit.

They sat there in discomfort as time passed before Maya broke the tension with a gentle tone.

“Ma Claudine.” That one phrase sent the said girl’s soul soaring. Maya shifted closer to her, blush still apparent on her face as she leaned over to lay her head on Claudine’s shoulder. “Don’t you want to know why I don’t want to get married to anyone my father chooses?”

“Aside from the fact that they might as well be narcissistic, idiotic pricks?” Maya burst into a sweet laughter at that, giving Claudine the sudden urge to embrace her and pray to hear that sound forever and ever-

These thoughts really, never taking a break.

Wiping a happy tear from her eye, the brunette responded, “Aside from that, yes.”.

“I-“ Claudine chanced a glance at the girl resting on her shoulder before staring up at the ceiling. “I don’t really know. Maybe you have someone e-else in mind?” Curse her stuttering. What was that all about?

“Oh! As expected of Saijou-san. How bright~.” Maya teased, and though her voice was playful, Claudine couldn’t find it in herself to play along. She didn’t like the sudden need to pull away and put distance between herself and Maya at this knowledge that the other actually had someone she liked. “Yes, this person seriously plagues my mind. At the start, I may have found it the slightest bit annoying.”

“Oh yeah?” Claudine knew her voice held that tinge of anger that wasn’t her usual schtick. This, she knew, was laced with hurt and a jealousy towards someone she probably had never met before. It made her feel pathetic. She pulled her hand away from Maya, extracting her whole body, stunning the said girl before she regained her composure, shocking Claudine with her next action.

Arms on either side of her head, Claudine was successfully pinned down by one Tendou Maya, eyes screaming an emotion that felt familiar, yet not to Claudine at the same time.

“Yeah.” Claudine could feel the ghost of Maya’s breath at their proximity. She swallowed.

“Well, lucky them, huh. Snagging the oh-so-great Tendou Maya.” Claudine made for a break once more, only to have her exit blocked as Maya now held her hands, lacing their fingers once more as she held Claudine in place, bent over her.

“Yes, I would hope they do feel lucky. After all, my father told me if I really wanted to do what I wanted, to marry whoever I wanted, to live as I pleased; If I wanted to prove that I could make it on my own, with my own efforts, without the name of my parents, or their backing…” She leaned down just another inch closer.

Far too close in Claudine’s honest opinion.

Maya continued. “He said I could start by walking all the way back here without calling for help, a ride, or anything.” She chuckled. “That sadistic ass even rode alongside me just to make sure. I’m glad I made it. I’d do it again if this is all it took to shut him up.”

Maya was so close now, her forehead bumping Claudine’s. The blonde could only stare mesmerized by those determined eyes.

“Gosh, and to think it’s partially just for that one infuriating person.”

So the infuriating person could find someone else infuriating huh?

“Yes, I can.” Maya laughed.

Ah, so Claudine had spoken that aloud.

“Yes, you did.”

Claudine rolled her eyes. “Well I apologize for that if it happened to offend you. Not that I haven’t said it before.”

“I’m used to it, I would say.”

“It would do you good. What if the person you like finds you infuriating as well one day?”

Maya’s laughter could only grow as she nuzzled her nose against Claudine’s.

“Ma Claudine, how can you be so dense? Ah certainly the person who plagues my thoughts makes it difficult for me to control myself, to bear my emotions and my musings, and all of those above. Really,” Maya brought a hand to cup Claudine’s face gingerly. “I think of you so much I wish you���d return the sentiment. Otherwise, I wish you’d find the exit out of my head-”

Claudine felt her breath stall in her lungs.

“…And find the entrance to my heart instead.”

That certainly did her in, the damage to her heart so great no coherent thought or word could hope to be formed as Claudine could only manage to splutter out noises as her face burned with emotion.

Well, she probably didn’t need her lips to speak anymore anyway, not when they were now occupied with reciprocating the tender embrace of Tendou Maya’s.

If Claudine could combust… oh, but she probably already did.

She had wormed her way in through the entrance to Maya’s heart, and she supposed it wasn’t so bad if she never found the exit.

 A/N: I appreciate any and all feedback!

Sudden spur of the moment to write this so I sped through it in under 2 hours. Ciao!

~Shintori Khazumi

[softstraykidsimagines]

Variety show

Summary: You and Jeongin, by some happy (or not?) coincidence, ended up on the same variety show, but could you both keep your relationship a secret with prying questions?

Requested: yes

Pairing: Jeongin x Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, idol AU

Word count: 3.5k words

Warnings: written at 11pm, so probs sometimes weird sounding and im too tired to check

A/N: 1) don’t even ask me abt the group name idek what i was thinking. 2) DAmn sON i didn’t mean to make it this long. 3) fun fact: at first this was gonna be a comedic bulletpoint story, then i changed it to a feeble emotional roller coaster (i really do mean feeble af). 4) i hope you like it <33

MASTERLIST

“Please welcome our wonderful guests, Five Times Brighter!!!”, called the MC, followed by the cheers from the audience. One by one your group members and yourself filed out onto the small stage to greet the crowd. You were quickly ushered into a seat, where you could witness the sheer amount of people who had come to watch, obscured slightly by the blinding glare of the stage lights.

You felt your throat tighten. This better work out, you thought, feeling ill at ease by knowing there must have been at least ten cameras pointed at you and your comrades. What would we do if anyone found out? You shook your head violently with a pout. Stop it. Nothing’s gonna happen. You’re overreacting...

You were jolted out of your thoughts by the voice of the MC as he raised his voice again. “And now please welcome the rookie legends themselves! The great award winners, Stray Kids!!!” The room erupted into screams of fans as the nine handsome boys jogged out from backstage.

Your stomach did an uncomfortable somersault. Don’t make eye contact! If you do, someone will definitely notice!! Then you’re finished!!! You mentally slapped yourself and took a deep breath. You then realized that you’d placed your index and middle finger against your throat, an uncanny imitation of Felix taking his pulse as he became nervous. You’d somehow picked up the habit from the cute Aussie boy as you hung out with him at the same time as Jeongin. With a gulp, you slammed your hand back onto your lap and stared unemotionally at the boys as they sat on the other couch across from you from the MC’s center chair.

When everyone had sat down, the room went annoyingly quiet. You swallowed back anger as you waited for the MC to ask something and distract you. Finally:

“First, I’d like to ask both groups if they could tell us what inspired certain songs in their album”. Some applause followed as you forced your muscles to relax. “Should we ask FTB first?” The crowd cheered.

Your smile started becoming a little more genuine. Nothing bad, just a mindless answer to your average question. The ‘What inspired you to write X’ question was always a default for some reason. But at least it was eas-

“Y/n!” The blood drained from your face at your name. Oh... oh no... “A little birdie told me”, the MC said cheekily, “that you wrote one of the most successful songs on the album. ‘Winged love’, wasn’t it?”

You started to loath the MC, or whoever had decided that that specific question would be a good one. It’s true, you had written and composed the song, but your inspiration was exactly what you wanted to avoid, as your mind flashed to moment you got the idea for the lyrics.

~~~~~~~~~

“Try to pick your feet up a bit more here”, you said, poking Jeongin’s leg as he posed awkwardly in front of the practice room mirror. He groaned in retaliation, muscles trembling from exhaustion.

“I can’t do it”, he whined. “It’s useless. Just go on without me and practice on your own. You’ll do so much better without me dragging you down”.

You scoffed without any amusement. “Like Hell I will. I’m staying right here until you can get this. I said I’d help, so I’m helping”. He gave you a pitiful look, and you smiled softly. “Let’s take a break, then. I’ve got biscuits!”

“I don’t usually eat at this hour”, Jeongin said hesitantly.

“You don’t usually practice at this hour”, you answered matter-of-factually. You didn’t wait for an answer and dragged your boyfriend down to the floor, rolling to your side and grabbing a huge packet full of snacks and tearing it open mercilessly. You offered one to the boy in front of you, who conceded with a sigh. “Cheers!” You knocked your biscuit against his, making a couple of crumbs fall to the ground, and shoved the entire thing into your mouth. Jeongin stared at you until you made a face, cookie still lodged between your cheeks, making him burst into laughter. You fought not to spit your snack out as you sniggered with him.

“How do you do that”, he asked.

“Mmmfmm ru wha”, you said, still trying to down your food.

“Always find a way to make me feel so much better, no matter how battered I feel”, he said, mesmerized. You stared at him uselessly, so he continued. “When I’ve been at my worst, or when I’ve felt like giving up, you’ve been there to pick me up. You’re like my pair of wings”. You stayed quiet, scared to knock him out of his reverie. He smiled faintly. “At this point, I could jump off a mountain, trusting you to catch me if you said you would. And I always feel safe with you. No matter what scares me, I feel better when you’re next to me, as if you’ve become a hypothetical shield. And I want to be the same, I want to always be there for you, whenever you’re feeling down, I want to be the first person you think of going to”. He suddenly curled his fingers and squeezed his eyes shut. “That was so cringey I’m sorry”.

You giggled softly and wrapped your arms around him, resting your head on his shoulder. “It’s a little cliche, I admit. But it’s the best kind of cliche. Because I feel the same way”. You lifted your head kissed his cheek. “I’ll always be right here. And I’ll always trust you to be there too”.

~~~~~~~~~

Your eyes came back into focus, as your mind started racing, scrounging for a decent story that could convince the public that it had nothing to do with the very boy who was sitting only five feet from you.

“Uh-uhhh”, your mind became completely blank. “My... One of my old friends”. You cleared your throat. “Whenever she was upset, I would want to do anything to make her feel better. And I did do some pretty stupid things”. You smiled sheepishly at the pitch black half of the room where the fans giggled in reaction to your stutter. Your confidence grew as you continued: “The lyrics represent what I wanted to be to her. I wanted her to feel as if she could trust me with anything at all. As if I could always pick her up if she felt low”. You finished and prayed that it was enough.

The MC nodded, thoughtful. “So she never said the things in the lyrics out loud?”

You shook your head. “She wasn’t the most extroverted person”, you answered. “But I hope that that’s how she felt”. At that, everyone seemed satisfied and applauded. You bobbed your head, looking back at your clenched fists in your lap. I’ve gotta be more careful. One slip-up and I’m in deep-

“How about our favorite maknae”, the MC laughed, turning to SKZ. Your pulse went sky-high again.

-shit.

Jeongin let his eyes go wide, and pointed at himself. “Na?” He asked in an innocent voice. Despite your nerves going crazy, you managed to chuckled along with everyone else at the cute act.

The MC wasn’t an exception, though he quickly regained his posture. “Yes, I believe it was you who wrote the song ‘Midnight Walk’, am I correct?”

The boy nodded with a bright smile. “That’s right! And the first ever song where I wrote one hundred percent of the lyrics!!” He glowed with pride, and a secret burst of happiness for him shot through you. You could still remember when he’d told you about his accomplished goal.

~~~~~~~~~

You swung your hand, latched onto Jeongin’s, back and forth as you both strolled down an empty trail that ran along the Han River. “So?”, you prompted.

He looked back at you. “What?” He was playing innocent. Of course he was. You giggled and started swinging your connected hands even more, feeling blood rush through your slightly chilled fingers. Without speaking, you both started skipping forward, bumping each other and giggling like children. You loved that. That you could both move in sync without having to communicate. This continued until you pulled him to a stop.

“Okay, now actually tell me. What did you wanna say earlier. You looked as if you were about to explode with excitement”.

Jeongin grinned happily. “I...” he spoke excruciatingly slowly. “...have written.... my own song! And it’s gonna be on the next album!!!!!” At this, he picked you up and spun you around, until you felt too dizzy to stand on your own.

You laughed with him, and leaned on him. “Jeonginie, that’s amazing! I’m so proud of you”. You kept clinging onto him. “What’s it called?”

“I haven’t decided yet”, he confessed. He was quiet for a moment. “Do you think I could name it after a fun memory with you? Without being too obvious, that is”.

You nodded. “Yeah, I think you could get away with it”.

And so he grinned broadly. “Okay, then. How about I call it midnight walk, after tonight?”

“Why tonight of all things? We’re just walking”, you asked incredulously.

“Because the simplest memories with you are the best”, he answered, squealing a bit at the overly sweet phrase.

You laughed. “Alright then. Are you allowed to spoil a few lyrics for me?”

“Of course”, said Jeongin, hoisting you up so that he was half carrying you. “It’s my song after all”. His voice went up a notch with happiness. “A few lines feel a bit random, without context; but just remember that I thought of you while writing them”. You hugged his arm until you thought you might be cutting his circulation. As you both kept walking, you slowly regained your balance and he listed a few lines from his oeuvre. That was the best walk at 1:30am you’d ever had.

~~~~~~~~~

Jeongin was still beaming at the MC, who began fanning himself dramatically. “His smile is so blinding”, he called, and there came calls of agreement from the audience. “But you still haven’t answered”. The room went silent again. “What inspired you to write the lyrics of ‘Midnight Walk’?”

Jeongin gave another dazzling smile. “It was a lot of different things; it took months of me scribbling down random ideas to be able to form something logical”.

The MC nodded again. “Of course, the lyrics do vary a lot. But I think we’re more interested in the more romantic sounding ones in the song”. The crowd ooh-ed, as if confirming the statement.

Your boyfriend grinned once more. “Well, those specific lines are dedicated to someone very special in my life”.

NO! You had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from yelling aloud. He knew about the warnings, as well as you.

~~~~~~~~~

“Both Stray Kids and Five Times Brighter Will be on a variety show on the second weekend of the month”, stated one of your managers, standing next to JYP himself. Everyone nodded together as the schedule was recited in its entirety. It was all standard, except for the fact that the two groups had never been on a same show.

As the schedule came to its end, both groups dispersed to continue practice, but JYP called Jeongin and yourself aside. “I’d like to specify something”, he said in a tone that let you know that nothing good was coming. “When you’re both on that variety show in the middle of the month, I don’t even want you two to make eye contact. We don’t want anyone knowing about your relationship. I’m warning you now, keep it under wraps, and there won’t be any problems”.

You and Jeongin nodded, eyes round. As JYP finally walked away, you turned to your boyfriend. “Why the Hell does he want us to stay a secret?”, you failed terribly at keeping the anger out of your voice. “You’re allowed to be dating by now, so am I. No one needs to know that we started going out before my ban was up. So what’s his problem?”

Jeongin pulled you against him. “I don’t know, but let’s just do as he said. I don’t wanna think about what could happen if something goes wrong”. You eventually agreed, still grudging.

“It’s still unfair that we have to hide when we’re so happy”.

~~~~~~~~~

The memory raged in your mind, nearly as loud as the screams of shock that wracked the studio at Jeongin’s words. Everyone stared at him with wide eyes, as he smiled calmly. Jeongin, what are you going??!!!!

“They’re dedicated to someone special in my life”. He had to raise his voice to make himself heard. “Whom I’ve not met yet”. There was a collective gasp at the strange turn in his statement. “One day, I want to be able to say those things to the love of my life, on a walk at one in the morning”.

Everyone aah-ed in understanding, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. You weren’t sure if you wanted to smack him or kiss him, but at least no one suspected anything anymore. And he’d very secretly hinted at the walk when he shared the lyrics with you, in the dead of night. Your heart swelled with warmth and love for the boy.

“Look at y/n, they’re blushing!”, yelled the MC. You were so shocked that you yelled out as everyone shouted teasingly. The MC started laughing. “Are you thinking of anyone in particular, y/n? Anyone you’d like to take a midnight walk with?” Electricity filled the air.

None of your damn business, you thought hotly. But of course it was. Your entire life was not yours to control, but the public’s. You made a face as if you’d swallowed a particularly sour lemon, which incidentally seemed to be a pretty good answer for the public.

“Apparently, y/n isn’t at all interested in a relationship”, chuckled the MC. He quickly continued with a bunch of other standard questions, and you imagined the different ways you could smack him and still get away with it. Maybe I should throw a bucket of water at him, then he wouldn’t be so obnoxiously happy, you thought, in your own world.

You werre making eye-contact with Jeongin, and realized with a start that you’d been staring at him this entire time. You checked that no one had remarked, but the cameras were strained on Changbin as he complained about being woken up too harshly by Woojin, to the amusement of most. You quickly stole another look at your boyfriend but, almost too subtle to notice, he shook his head, looking a bit panicky. You immediately understood and glanced elsewhere, trying to act interested in some tangled cables by a stage light.

When the questions had dragged on long enough to make your feet go numb, it was finally time for a game before the show came to an end. You stood up gratefully, hobbling a bit to get to stage right. You craned your neck to see what game you were meant to play against Stray Kids, and with a crashing wave of horror, you realized that Pocky Stick packets were sitting on the tiny stool near the stage wings. You saw from the corner of your eye that Jeongin was looking as displeased about the idea as you, even though everyone else seemed almost thrilled.

This is nuts, you kept repeating to yourself. Either I’ll have to play with one of SKZ, WHO KNOW JEONGIN AND I ARE DATING, or I play against Jeongin and people realize that we seem too comfortable. It’s a lose lose situation oh shit oh shit oh sh-

“How about the desert-fox-maknae and y/n, who seems so keen to avoid a little kiss!”, yelled the MC, who was tantalizingly close enough for you to punch. You faced Jeongin, who had become unusually pale, and you fought back your own panic as you were passed a Pocky Stick.

Your stomach churned as you both stared at each other, sweat beading at the hairline. Someone gave your shoulder a push --you didn’t know who, and you couldn’t force yourself to care-- and you bit into you end of the stick. Jeongin bit the other end and cheers rose in the crowd, deafening you and making your eyes water.

You weren’t sure how long you both kept staring at each other, but in the seconds --it could’ve been hours-- that Jeongin’s eyes bore into yours, something seemed to click in his mind, and he clenched his jaw with determination. You nibbled a bit of the Pocky Stick and noise in the room went up. Slowly the gap between your lips became smaller and smaller until you were close enough for you to hear his heartbeat, or maybe it was yours, pounding in your ears.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your senses completely abandoning you. We must be less than a centimeter apart! And then you felt a firm hand clasp your wrist. Before you could understand what was happening, Jeongin’s lips smacked against yours. But not by accident. This was with decision, the Pocky Stick forgotten. From habit, you kissed him back, your ears ringing. As you pulled away, you realized it had been him who had grabbed your wrist, and he’d put a the other hand on your waist to pull you closer. The ringing in your ears was from the screams that came from the audience.

Panic rose up in you again as what had happened sank in. We kissed... on live TV!! Your heart was in your throat. What’s going to happen to us? Jeongin said something that never made it to your ears, but looked something like ‘trust me’. He turned to everyone watching, now in a confused frenzy at what they’d witnessed. “Y/n and I are dating”, he stated simply, which was followed by an enormous uproar. He continued in a yell. “We weren’t meant to say anything, but I think it’s unfair that we have to keep our happiness a secret, just for the satisfaction of the public. So now you know!!!” His last words were drowned out by more screams of shock and confusion as you were both pulled off and away from stage.

You had become light-headed, everything becoming an incoherent blur as your receded into your own chaotic thoughts. What’s gonna happen what will JYP do to us will we be kicked out of the company oh god what if I become the reason for Jeongin leaving Stray Kids I couldn’t live with myself--

In your daze, you were pushed into a small waiting room. “Wait here”, said a gruff voice. I’m going to pass out! The world is tilting to the left! And now the right... Left.... Right.... You leaned against a wall and looked at Jeongin, who stared back at you, expressionless. After a few seconds, you started violently trembling.

“What are we going to do”, you breathed, more to yourself than to your boyfriend. “They’ll hate us, they’ll kick us out of the company! Why did you do that?” You had no anger in your voice as you stared at Jeongin, just helplessness. He walked over and wrapped his arms around you tightly but with a little tremor.

“I don’t know”, he confessed, and you sniffled slightly. “But I thought of what you’d said when we were told to stay quiet. We shouldn’t have to hide, especially because we’re so happy. I think if JYP wants to kick us out, let him”.

“No, no, Jeongin!” You let out a panicked sob. “What about the other boys? You can’t leave them, not just for me! What ever happens, you can’t leave Stray Kids!”

You both stood there, holding onto each other tightly, for a long time. After what felt like hours, you both sat down on the shiny floor of the tiny room, still not letting go of each other’s hands. You had calmed down now, and just sat quietly. Suddenly, Jeongin sat up and grabbed his phone. “What are you doing”, you asked, your voice slurred and muffled from exhaustion.

“The show was a live broadcast wasn’t it”, asked Jeongin. “And because it’s the evening, most of the world will have been awake. Which means...” He tapped the Twitter icon and the app came to life. He immediately went to the Trending page, and with a gasp, you saw #JeonginAndY/nDating on the second most popular tag.

“Oh my God”, you breathed. You didn’t think the effect would be so big. Before you could stop him, Jeongin tapped on the tag. You yelped and looked away, not wanting to see any of the awful comments people had made.

“Y/n...” Jeongin’s voice was laced with shock.

“I know, I know, you don’t have to tell me it’s bad”, you say in despair.

“It’s... Everyone’s congratulating us!” Your eyes snapped open, and you swung your head around to glare at the bright screen. Thousands upon thousands of tweets had the trending hashtag, with people voicing their wishes of happiness for you as a couple, in English, Korean, you saw Spanish and french and Japanese. Message after message flashed by as Jeongin scrolled downwards. He started laughing; softly at first, then loudly, like a child how had received a special gift for Christmas. “They’re happy for us! Y/n they’re happy for us!!” He hugged you tightly as you laughed with him, more out of relief and exhaustion than anything else.

After a few more minutes, spent with you both bent over the phone and reading all the happy tweets, one of the staff came in to let you know that JYP was on his way to talk. “He didn’t sound as angry as we expected though, if that makes you feel a little better”, he said sympathetically. You thanked him as he wished you both luck and closed the door. And you turned back to Jeongin.

“You know... I don’t want to jinx it but... maybe this wasn’t as bad as I thought”, you said apprehensively.

The boy hugged you tightly. “Well, no matter what happens, we’ll always be there for each other. Right?”

You smiled, thinking of ‘Midnight Walk’ and ‘Winged Love’. “Right”. You felt warm, think about the lyrics you’d both written, saying you’d never leave the love of your life.

Because it was true.

im sorry idek what the ending is anymore but eh this was the third draft soooo...

[ursoself-satisfying]

My Sweet Lord (ch1)

dude is that fucking brenda song?? lol i forgot he was in social network w her what a world huh??? 

Chapter One - Genesis 3:23 

Priest!Joe Mazzello x F!Reader, SFW, 2.5k words 

My Sweet Lord masterlist 

A/N: ugh this is super short but its rly just kind of an intro,,,, I’m testing the  waters here,,,, idk why this was so hard for me to write like its not as good as I want it to be but I’m ok w it rn,,, I might come back n rewrite it real soon n go in n change that so be warned lol but i’m rly excited for where this is going to go cus I do have a lot planned its just getting jumbled in translation lol but enjoy!!

special thanks given in this post!! you can find whole accompanying laylists there as well not just single associated songs!!!  

Warning(s): none rn,, unless a priest being kinda into u or u being into a priest is bad cus thats gonna be this whole fucking series m8 so if u dont enjoy defiling holy ground n religious imagery i suggest u move on sorry!!! 

The church was filled to the brim with life, with colors and sounds. There were your newest acquaintances, knitting in the corner. They were the main source of the commotion, all shrill laughs, and clacking needles. On the pews further ahead were some children, and a man attempting to corral them but failing in the end. The squeals of the kids echoed through the crowds and came to where you stood at the entrance. When you took in the scene, you were surprised the doors could even close given how the entire town had flocked to its sonorous halls this cold Sunday morning. Inside it was somehow still just as bright like the blinding clouds had followed your shadow.

Though you’d admittedly been to few churches in your lifetime, this one you were sure was exceptionally stunning. How such a grand masterpiece ended up out in these boonies was beyond you. You had felt a bit silly at first, attending mass at all but then you saw the steeple and then there you were, standing in awe of how the building seemed to soar above you. The view of it as you had driven up the small hill was impossible to replicate, how the belltower rose over the rolling grass like the sun that unknowingly led you the dawn of your new life. In your juvenile appreciation of its architecture, you lost yourself in the way the worn stone of the support beams still held the tall ceilings up like pillars of salt to the heavens.

Pillars of salt, you thought, was a fitting image for your situation. Surely you must have blended right into the columns, tributes to every other woman who approached religion and turned their heads back. You were ripped from your runaway thoughts, though, by the bustle of bodies behind you and the urging but ultimately gentle hand that came to squeeze your upper arm. Beatrice stopped at your side and looked up at you with shining, young eyes that got lost in the folds of her lids when she smiled.

There was somehow a familiar and comforting aura about her and when she touched you a blanket of trust always came with the contact. With the top of her auburn beehive just reaching your eyes, her bent body led you to the very front pew and gestured for you to take a seat on the sandalwood. You did as told with a thin smile, still distracted by the arched ceiling of the chapel around you.

As you waited in the congregation for the priest to begin his sermon, your mind wandered to the morning, how the belltower rose, tall and white, over the rolling green hills like the first sun dawning on a new world. Impossible to replicate. It was an unknowing sign of things to come. The church wasn’t something you expected to ever return to much less for it to become something you looked forward to, something that would end up being such a large part of your life. That was all yet, to come through, for, at this moment, your thoughts weren’t busied by the future but rather by the thought of the blinding white exterior of this place of worship, how bright it had been in those early hours.

The organ began and its resonance nearly shook you from your seat, but it certainly caught your attention as intended. The people rose in unison, you doing your best to follow, unfamiliar with the practices seeing as your last time in mass would have been before you were able to remember anything about it. The songs, though, were vaguely familiar, maybe reminiscent of something you’d heard on the radio, seeing as this town picked up almost purely religious stations.

You moved your mouth along to the words, not knowing exactly what they were but doing your best to look like you were competent. The song ended and you sat, grateful it was over, huffing a bit when your body hit the wood. The father beside you gave you an awkward smile when you attempted to cover your relief with a cough and a straightening of your back.

Then when you looked up from your awkward encounter-

Were you very religious? Not particularly, but when in Rome, do as the Romans, right? So when in church, pray. Maybe there had been a little prayer going on in your heart since you entered the building, hell, since you entered the town, a prayer for good things to come, and God must have heard those unintentional prayers because behold before you was what must have been an angel.

He walked slowly to the podium, robes dragging behind him and a glow seeming to emanate from the crown of his head. He seemed like the only living proof of a God that you could find in the whole of the chapel. His hair was wispy, auburn, and looked so soft, reminding you of clouds, and maybe cotton candy if cotton candy were brandy flavored. Bronze, you thought would be the right shade.

The stained glass behind him spread like wings, angels on either side surely singing of his beauty and softness. The haze of his arrival washed over you and you were enraptured. You never thought someone could so quickly feel this way. The romcoms were nice, but they were unrealistic, and most definitely did not happen to you of all people. Completely prepared to shove down these feeling, deep down underneath the mattress of your soul and leave them there to rot, you allowed yourself to enjoy the sermon, or at the very least, enjoy the priest.

God, your gaze hadn’t dropped past his eyebrows before you completely fell. His eyes were soft, pleading, forgiving, but young and curious as well. His nose? You adored immediately. He had, in the kindest way, what you would have referred to as an ‘old man’ nose, a little long, strong, gave him an impeccable silhouette that shown like a holy imagine again the early morning backlight, sun streaming from the tall windows behind him. His chin was soft and cleanshaven, his lips, soft and puffy and lush and looking simply perfect to kiss.

Kiss? You shook your head briefly, half attempting to banish these thoughts you knew you shouldn’t be thinking, but having been so completely lost in his image that you had missed the beginning of his sermon. The congregation spoke back at him at certain times, words you vaguely remembered from childhood. The echoes of “and also with you” kept you anchored to reality as you struggled not to get lost in the languid movements he made as he moved about behind the podium. He spoke animatedly about- Well, you weren’t exactly paying attention, but you did notice how he spoke with his hands, waving them about when he said something about the glory and grace that has been granted so many. His hands were long and thin and surely would be long and thin enough to fit perfectly between your-

The organ boomed through the hall and shook you from your daydream, again, and you, again, tried to lipsync your way through the unfamiliar hymn and failing, again. You had stood for the song, and the stretch was welcome after clenching your thighs so obviously together for so long, but when you sat back down, the cool of the wood and the wetness of your panties made you visibly shudder. Dear, sweet, Beatrice placed a feeble hand on your arm as a sign of concern, along with her shakily drawn on eyebrows being raised. Gripping her wrinkled hand carefully, you smiled, tight-lipped, as a reply of ‘I’m fine’.

You again turned from your elderly friend to the man at the front of the room, the one who demanded your attention with his repetition and his- He smiled, all teeth, cheeks puffing up. A sharp intake of breath was all you could muster before he began to pray. The rest of those looking on seemed to know what to do and you did your best to imitate, but as he pushed his hair back, your lips fell apart and you crossed your legs in desperation, his clergy status seeming to only turn you on more. Fuck, you chastised your own attraction to the taboo. As clandestine as it may have been, though, God, did it turn you on.

“Lord have mercy,” he said, voice effortlessly both round and light.

“Lord have mercy,” you pleaded breathlessly.

“Christ have mercy.” His eyes rose to meet yours for the first time and you choked.

“Christ have mercy” came out like a whine under your breath, unheard under the rest of the mass, but you knew he saw your chest rise and fall heavily as you seemingly tried to breathe in his prayer and send it back to him.

“Lord have mercy.” His own voice wavered when he saw you, red in the face and out of breath. His gaze didn’t move from you as you mouthed the words back at him.

“Lord have mercy.”

Unbeknownst to you, this was not, in fact, the first time he’d laid eyes on you. He had been watching you, side-eyed, the whole service. If his peripheral served him right, you had been the one with your eyes glued to him since he’d first emerged from his chambers. He saw you stand out in the mass, the last of the congregation to sit down after prayers or songs. He was unable to tell whether this was due to you being distracted or inexperienced, or both, but it caught his attention without catching yours, darting his own away just in time as to not catch your gaze. It seemed to work so long as he kept his focus on the other side of the chapel, though the magnetism of your attentive gaze was hard to resist. The man didn’t let himself give in, not until he somehow heard your barely audible repetitions after those of the congregation. Then you saw one another, caught in the undeniable stare of interest. Suddenly, his lungs felt like iron on his chest and he struggled to finish praying.

Again, you were pulled down by the older woman next to you, unaware everyone had been seated and for a moment it was just you and him, standing and caught in this sudden whirlwind of unknown attraction. The world seemed to dissolve around you, focus seeming to blur and leave you with tunnel vision on the holy man. His sermon paused for a moment as he stared at you and smiled softly. You could feel his eyes fall down your body, but then his voice picked up again, being carried over your head in smooth, calming waves and you were lost, again, in his presence that loomed over the crowd like the hanging branches of a willow on a sticky summer day. For the remainder of his sermon, you focused less on his words and more on the mystery that might be hiding beneath those layers and layers of robes that dragged behind him.

If you asked Joe why you caught his attention, he would tell you that you were the first young and clearly not familial woman he had seen in town since his arrival. This was true, that in a town occupied only by elderly folks and new families, you were the first young face he had seen in a long time. Of course, it didn’t help that he found you incredibly attractive and that, as a newly appointed man of the cloth, he had been experiencing somehow more temptations than ever before.

Every verse he read was budding with new meaning and potential, every lust soaked gaze sent your direction waning to go through with it. There was, of course, a pang in his heart every time the thought of you passed through his head. The allure of a woman who was neither the age of his grandmother nor heavily with child was far more than it should it have been. Father Joe knew it was wrong, that he must keep his mind as clean as his body, his thoughts as clean as his actions. “Good thoughts, good words, good deeds,” he said aloud to the congregation, using his slip as some kind of holy motivation.

Another song followed, then a prayer and every time he stood the priest had to force his eyes forward, away from the direction you were sitting. His thoughts went back to the way your skirt slid up your thigh when you sat down and how you must have known how much skin you were showing but when his eyes met yours with one final, united “Amen”, he knew you were too distracted to have noticed.

You watched the priest with unintentional intensity, looking as though you were spaced out, lost in thought and caught on his words, but the reality was that you were simply entranced. All the time you’d spent in this town so far and you had yet to see anyone as young and painfully unavailable as him. Though in the back of your mind you wondered how fidelious some of these new husbands were, you had settled with remaining single, that is, until now. What was more delicious than a man who was not only gorgeous, mature, and clearly into you already, but also one so out of reach, so taboo and clandestine. The beating of your heart when he would slip up and land his eyes on your form a little too long thrummed against the bars of your ribcage like Morse code, an aching organ begging to be hurt.

The service had ended and Beatrice had eagerly joined her group of cawing old ladies, but not before kindly introducing you to the sweet-faced Father that had spoken today. “Darling, this is Father Mazzello, he’s new to the Ridge.” Her smile was sickly sweet and you couldn’t help but smile back, keeping your eyes from the man approaching you.

He’d traded the excess robes for a simple black ensemble already and when he approached you and, God, he looked even better now. His hand was extended to you firmly, holding back any eagerness behind a front of eminence and dignity. Beatrice spoke again as you finally lifted your longing gaze from his nimble, capable, horribly inspiring hands, up his arms, across his shoulders, and finally to his green eyes. They were so much prettier up close. “Father Mazzello,” your friend spoke warmly, “this is [Y/N]. The dear has been staying with me and I’ve finally convinced her to get a bit of God in her.” She laughed and you took the man’s extended hand, holding it motionless.

“I would love a bit of God in me,” you laughed quietly, hopefully only loud enough for him to hear.

Joe swallowed dryly at your low comment and the softness of your hand, “It’s nice to meet you, [Y/N],” he smiled crookedly, “and you can call me Joe.”

[carrotcouple]

The Grass Is Always Greener When You Love Me Deeper, Darling (AO3)

Happy Birthday to my wifey @rest-in-bees! You mean the entire world to me! Thank you for being by my side for the past three years! I wrote you crack and fluff with no angst!

The days have been calm, boring even. Everything goes perfectly. He wakes up, answers the multiple messages from Gin, Chuuya, Dazai and Higuchi on his phone, occasionally he has one or two messages from Atsushi, but those are usually random. He goes to the Port Mafia and does his work for the day, steals, destroys, lies and sometimes spills blood on Mori’s orders. Higuchi is always by his side making things as smooth and easy as possible for him. They’ve changed over the years, the two of them. They’ve settled in a friendship and partnership that makes it easy to interact. Of course, things are very different with the weird push and pull that Gin and Higuchi have been doing and the space between them that has gotten smaller and smaller with every interaction.

Ryuunosuke supposes he will have to talk to Gin about that soon.

In other words, Ryuunosuke is very bored. 

Nothing exciting is happening, aside from coming back home to have pistachio shells strewn all over his bed like rose petals, courtesy of Dazai. 

It’s not that Ryuunosuke is dissatisfied. He’s very pleased with how things have settled down and as he’s changed over the years, he finds this stability very calming.

Too calming actually.

He’s aching for a fight, for some kind of drama, for his heart to beat so hard he would be able to hear it in his ears and feel it in his fingertips. 

The rush that he used to feel back when he first met Atsushi is gone.

That’s not to say that he doesn’t feel it. He does feel it every now and then when he has to fight a particularly annoying group of idiots or when he meets Atsushi and his brain teeters on switching to fight or flight mode. He doesn’t get why though. 

Of course, Gin has noticed his restlessness by now and is joining Dazai in his attempts to make Ryuunosuke’s life a little more exciting. Now Ryuunosuke wakes up to life like wax statues of the grudge in his room and he’s this close to murdering both Dazai and Gin.

Luckily, with Rashoumon always with him, Ryuunosuke doesn’t fear anything other than Dazai when he has that no good grin on his face. So those wax statues are promptly and stoically disposed of.

If his neighbors screamed in terror at the sight of the grudge in the dumpster...well...that has nothing to do with him.

Anyways, Ryuunosuke is still bored and slouches on the sofas in the longue of one of the Port Mafia buildings. Higuchi tries to cheer him up with baked goods and rumors of underground wars they might have to quell.

It is on one such day, as Higuchi is trying to shove a document on the history of a Yokohama drug trafficking into his face, that Ryuunosuke receives that fateful phone call from Chuuya.

“Chuuya san,” Ryuunosuke picks up the phone immediately. He has a certain respect for the man. His fighting prowess is like no one else’s and he can put up with Dazai, in fact even push the man around himself sometimes. That deserved respect.

“Akutagawa! I need your help!” Chuuya shouts into the phone.

And Ryuunosuke’s heart goes thump, thump.

Chuuya needing his help. That doesn’t happen everyday. Chuuya tends to finish all of his missions flawlessly with no help at all. To ask Ryuunosuke for help, it has to be something very serious, something that can relieve Ryuunosuke’s boredom.

“What do you need?” Ryuunosuke is already dashing out of the longue, Higuchi shouting after him. 

“I need you to go somewhere,” Chuuya is shouting and Ryuunosuke can hear the rush of air, meaning that Chuuya is flying.

“I can get anywhere immediately with Rashoumon,” Ryuunosuke says.

“OK, do you remember the alley behind Agni Cafe?” Chuuya asks and honestly, how could Ryuunosuke forget that alley, the place where he first met Atsushi and had made Rashoumon bite his leg clean off?

“I’m right near there, actually,” Ryuunosuke says, moving as fast as he can. It doesn’t take long to see the alley and practically dive towards it.

“Right, when you get there you’ll see-” Chuuya is still flying and still shouting and Ryuunosuke slides into the alley and prepares for a fight, “-three kids that aren’t from around here, are lost and need to be escorted safely back to wherever they need to go!”

Ryuunosuke nearly spits up a lung. 

There are indeed three kids, two boys and one girl. They look like they’re maybe seven years old. They’re wearing backpacks and holding hands. Ryuunosuke almost drops his phone. The three children look up at him and Ryuunosuke has to resist the urge to leave immediately. 

“Chuuya san,” Ryuunosuke says slowly.

“You have to do it OK?” Chuuya shouts. “I would do it, but I’m on the trail of a bunch of cockroaches!”

“But I-” Ryuunosuke is desperate.

“No excuses! Bye!” And the call cuts. Ryuunosuke pulls his phone away from his ear to stare at it in pure disbelief. Why would Chuuya call him to escort a bunch of kids when he could have called maybe Atsushi?

“Ah! It’s the oniichan with the black fancy coat that Chuuya niisan talked about!” The little girl brightens up and the two boys instantly start clamouring in excitement.

“Did you see him fly?”

“He wasn’t flying!”

“Yes, he was!”

If this is some plot of Dazai’s that Chuuya has been talked into helping out with, Ryuunosuke is going to gruesomely murder his former mentor.

------o------

When Atsushi walks into the cafe, he is stunned at the number of flower vases crowding the shop. It doesn’t seem that out of place for a cafe, but Atsushi has been frequenting this shop for four years now and they’ve never had so many flowers. Lucy, his best friend, is behind the counter and muttering to herself. She looks up at him and nods. Atsushi quickly takes a seat. 

Lucy knows what he likes. 

The flowers aren’t flashy or too fragrant. They’re all small bouquets of forget-me-nots and gardenias. They’re lucky that none of the customers that visit the cafe are allergic to pollen or have asthma, otherwise Atsushi is sure the Master would have never allowed the flowers to be put up.

Was the shop trying to change the aesthetic?

“Here,” Lucy puts a coffee and a brownie with ice cream down in front of him. Then she slides into the seat across from him, holding a tall pink lemonade for herself. 

“So, what’s...with all the flowers?” Atsushi asks. Lucy sighs heavily and takes a long sip of her lemonade. There are no customers, so she is free to just sit with him.

“That’s what I want to know,” Lucy says.

“Lucy chan has a secret admirer,” Youko chuckles from the counter and Atsushi glances at the poor lady that Dazai has asked to strangle him one too many times. Then he looks back at Lucy who has her face buried in her hands.

“Ah…” Atsushi says in understanding. Now the choice of flowers make perfect sense.

“Please,” Lucy says into her hands, “tell her not to waste her salary on me,”

“What are you talking about?” Atsushi asks, leaning back and eating a spoonful of brownie and ice cream. “She does what she wants.”

“But this is too much!” Lucy looks up. 

“It’s not like she’s asking you out,” Atsushi says.

“That’s the problem! If she was asking me out, I could reject her!” Lucy snaps. 

“What’s the big deal? Just accept it. She doesn’t listen to anyone. And anyways, it’s not like you’re against it.” Atsushi shrugs at his best friend and Lucy mumbles something into the wood of the table.

“How has your day been so far?” Lucy asks, trying to change the subject. Atsushi takes pity on her and accepts her feeble attempt.

“Stopped a bomber with Kenji kun. The guy was trying to imitate Kaji Motojirou from the Port Mafia,” Atsushi explains. “Then I discovered Dazai san has been stealing things from my kitchen? Kunikida san beat him up for me.”

“Sounds like him,” Lucy nods.

“But what I can’t understand is why he seems to be stealing pointless things,” Atsushi tells her. 

“Such as?” Lucy asks. 

“The broken and rusted spatula Kyouka was going to attempt to use for something, burnt out candles, unshelling all of our pistachios and taking the shells only and other various things of the sort. To the point where Kyouka and I didn’t even realize things were missing until we thought about it.” Atsushi shrugs. 

“Speak of the devil,” Lucy mutters as the door opens and Dazai sings out a greeting and behind him comes Kyouka. 

“These are a lot of flowers!” Dazai comments. “Are they for me?”

“You wish,” Lucy rolls her eyes. 

“Ah, your coldness is blinding,” Dazai fake swoons and Kyouka frowns behind him. Then Dazai takes Lucy’s hand and Kyouka instantly smacks him on the back of his head.

“Ouch! Kyouka chan!” Dazai whines.

“Dazai san, do us a favor and leave us alone,” Atsushi deadpans. “Your advances are wasted on someone who is just about as gay as I am.”

“It’s fine. Dealing with him is equal to dealing with an idiot,” Lucy says. Dazai fake swoons again and Atsushi is tempted to call Chuuya and let Dazai listen to him scream at him. Kyouka smacks Dazai again and turns to Lucy.

“Are you OK?” she asks and Lucy flinches and turns red.

“Yes,” Lucy nods. “I am fine,”

“We only came to get something for Ranpo san before he heads out for his case,” Kyouka says. “We will be on our way soon,” she dips her head towards Lucy and then drags Dazai by the back of his coat to the counter where Dazai’s attention immediately switches to Youko who takes what he says in stride and quickly prepares what Kyouka orders. 

“Someone’s staring,” Atsushi hums into his coffee cup. 

“Shut up,” Lucy bites out. 

Atsushi just shrugs and finishes up his brownie. 

Kyouka ends up dragging Dazai out who waves enthusiastically and then his eyes zero in on Atsushi, a wild grin spreading across his face. A shiver crawls up Atsushi’s spine and he immediately feels the urge to check every single thing he owns and also make sure everyone he knows is not being faced with something unexpected. 

And then the cafe door shuts. 

“Lucy, please, if I die, my belongings go to you and Kyouka,” Atsushi blurts. 

“What the fuck?” Lucy asks, her eyes judging him. 

“And also, the stash of fancy high class tea I never use goes to Akutagawa,” Atsushi continues, absolutely terrified. With very good reason, Atsushi believes. The last time Dazai had smiled like that at someone, it had been Chuuya and Atsushi had watched Chuuya nearly destroy their office after he learned that Dazai had somehow changed his name on several of his official documents to ‘Dazai Chuuya’.

Well, they did actually get married after that debacle. 

But still! What’s terrifying is terrifying!

“Speaking of Akutagawa…” Lucy trails off. “How is wooing him going?”

“I’m sorry?” Atsushi chokes out. Being shocked is a horrible move. One of Lucy’s absolutely maniacal grins stretches across her lips and Atsushi shivers. 

------o------

Gin, Ryuunosuke believes, was an incredibly well behaved child. When they crawled in the streets searching for food, she never complained, even when her stomach grumbled loudly, she would hold onto his tattered shirt silently. When he got into fights, Gin would never let herself get caught, she would crawl into shelter if the fight was too much for her, or she would flawlessly lessen his opponents. When he would have to go somewhere, she would wait for him. When they couldn’t sleep on cold nights, she only smiled in absolute delight as he used Rashoumon for puppet shows to take her mind away from the cold. She never strayed from his side. 

Ryuunosuke was horribly naive to think that all children could be like Gin. 

It’s only been two minutes and he’s already lost sight of one of the boys. 

This makes the other two start wailing and shrieking in absolute distress. Ryuunosuke wants to yell at them to shut up for maybe five seconds so he can at least attempt to remember the last time he saw the little devil. But they’re attracting enough attention as it is. He doesn’t want to have to deal with people trying to call the police on him for trying to make a bunch of little brats stop crying. 

“Keiji kun!” The little girl starts screaming hysterically and then she starts to run off. Ryuunosuke nearly has an aneurysm. 

“Wait right there!” He snaps a little harsher than he needs to be, but he can’t help it. His only experience with children are Gin, Elise and Q. The girl freezes, but miraculously shuts up, turning to look at him with wide tear filled eyes. The boy that is still standing near Ryuunosuke looks up at him with similarly tear filled eyes, except now he looks scared. 

Fuck.

Ryuunosuke takes a deep breath. 

Calm down, think of them as Gin. Think of them as Gin. What would Atsushi do in a situation like this?

“If you run off, we’ll also have to search for you,” Ryuunosuke says slowly, nearly gritting out every word through his teeth. “That’s why we should look for…” Ryuunosuke pauses. He doesn’t know the name of the child they just lost. 

“Keiji kun,” the boy next to Ryuunosuke supplies helpfully. 

“We’ll look for Keiji kun together,” Ryuunosuke says. The little girl brightens up and she immediately dashes back to Ryuunosuke, grabbing his hand with her tiny one. Ryuunosuke flinches, pulling away from her grip instantly. She stares up at him with confused eyes. 

She doesn’t understand.

Ryuunosuke’s hands are littered in scars and callouses. He’s broken his hands time and time again to live. To live like a murderer. He shouldn’t be holding hands with a little girl who had no idea how much blood is on his hands. The only person aside from Gin willing to hold his hand is Atsushi when they’re helping each other stumble away from a finished fight.

“My name is Nana!” she beams, her tearstained face transforming. She grabs at his hand again, and this time, her grip is as tight as a child her age can make it. 

“I-I’m Koutarou!” The boy next to Ryuunosuke says. He doesn’t reach for his hand, thankfully. Instead, his fingers latch onto Ryuunosuke’s coat. 

“Oniichan, what’s your name?” Nana asks him. 

Everyone knows that Akutagawa Ryuunosuke is a mass murderer. 

“Ryuunosuke,” Ryuunosuke huffs. They aren’t going to meet him ever again, so it isn’t a problem. 

“Ryuu niichan!” The two of them chirp at the same time, their eyes sparkling. 

Ryuunosuke is going to kill something.

“No,” Ryuunosuke breathes out through clenched teeth, telling himself to think of Gin. Think of Gin. “You will only call me oniichan.”

“OK!” Both of them are undeterred by the sudden spike in his bloodlust. When he was asking for things to get interesting, this wasn’t what he was asking for.

“Now, let’s go find...Keiji kun,” he says and the three of them retrace their steps back to where they started from. They find him soon enough, pressed against the glass of a confectionery shop. He’s getting the glass dirty with his grubby fingers and his nose. 

“Keiji kun!” Nana and Koutarou shout happily at the same time. He turns to look at them and smiles. 

“Oh! Koutarou kun! Nana chan! Oniichan!” he says, like nothing’s wrong. 

“What do you mean ‘oh’?” Ryuunosuke snaps before he can stop himself. Keiji’s eyes widen. Eh, well, he’s already started, so he might as well go the full mile. “Do you realize what could have happened to you? You got separated from your guardian in Yokohama. Do I need to enlighten you on how dangerous this city is?” He’s the most frustrated that he actually had to go looking for a child that wasn’t concerned in the least by the fact that he had gotten separated from his group while Ryuunosuke had to deal with his two hysterical friends. 

Keiji’s nose starts to wrinkle and Ryuunosuke watches his eyes go shiny. 

Oh for the love of God.

“Oniichan is right!” Nana comes to the rescue, sounding very stern, like she wasn’t trying to go her own way two minutes ago. “Teacher always tells us that we’re supposed to keep an eye on each other and hold hands! Keiji kun let go of my hand!” Nana says matter of factly and then holds out her hand to Keiji who seems to try to hold back his tears as he takes Nana’s hand. 

“Now,” Ryuunosuke says, already exhausted. “Let’s go to the nearest police box.”

------o------

 “Now, now,” Lucy leans forward and onto her elbows, her chin resting on the back of the folded hands. Atsushi hates that smile on her face. “Why don’t you tell me how your relationship with Akutagawa has been developing?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Atsushi splutters, he can feel the heat in his face. He’s probably blushing up a storm and Lucy just sits there, staring at him with that knowing look on her face. 

“Atsushi, you do know that you’re a terrible liar, right?” Lucy asks him. 

“I know,” Atsushi hisses. “Just…” he slams his face onto the table, “I don’t think that many people have noticed…”

“Everyone has, Atsushi,” Lucy leans back, sipping on her lemonade. Oh how the tables have turned. “Everyone except for Akutagawa himself.”

“That’s because this is just me realizing he’s attractive, OK?” Atsushi snaps. “I don’t have a crush on him yet! I’ve just realized he looks nice!”

“And he’s your type,” Lucy stirs her lemonade.

“And he’s my type!” Atsushi exclaims reluctantly. “But, that doesn’t mean I want to date him or something!” 

“By the way, isn’t that him right there?” Lucy asks, suddenly looking out of the window curiously. 

“Huh?” Atsushi turns to look and almost chokes on his coffee. Lucy is right. Akutagawa is walking quite a bit of distance from the cafe and he’s holding the hands of three small children. Atsushi slams his hands down on top of the table as he shoots up to his feet. “No way!” Atsushi hisses, pressing his hands and face against the shop window in absolute horror. “Why is he with three kids?”

“Maybe he’s kidnapping them?” Lucy says, watching in disinterest. 

“Why?!” Atsushi screeches. 

“I mean, doesn’t the Port Mafia pick homeless kids off the street?” Lucy asks him. 

“They do! But!” Atsushi practically flattens his face against the cafe window. “Those kids don’t look homeless?”

“And what are you going to do about it?” Lucy raises an eyebrow at him. Atsushi glanced back at her for a second and then realizes Akutagawa is going to leave his sight in a bit. 

“I’m going to follow him and stop him if I need to!” Atsushi declares. Before Lucy can say another word, Atsushi has leapt over his seat and dashed out the door. He hears her calling his name but he’s too busy wondering how to fend Akutagawa off without involving the children. 

But first and foremost, Atsushi has to find out what Akutagawa is up to. So he slips into ‘stealth mode’, as Dazai likes to call it. It’s something Dazai took him two whole years to teach. Atsushi has perfected it now and can slip up behind Kunikida easily. The downside of using this in public is that people around him often fail to notice he’s there and accidentally bump into him. So now Atsushi has to maneuver his way around perfectly and quietly while keeping an eye on Akutagawa from an appropriate distance. 

And then one of the boys spots a shop on the side and stops, stepping away from Akutagawa. Akutagawa doesn’t realize it at first but he freezes the next second and spins around, murderous intent on his face. 

“Keiji kun!” he barks. The child attempting to become one with a glass display flinches and turns to look at Akutagawa. Atsushi may or may not have used his tiger vision to keep an eye on things properly. And he watches the little boy tremble. This calls for Atsushi to interfere!

“I’m sorry, Oniichan!” The boy wails and immediately rushes forwards to take the hand of the little girl holding Akutagawa’s hand. The little girl frowns.

“We just told Keiji kun not to wander!” The girl pouts. Akutagawa sighs like everything in the world is testing his patience and then rolls his eyes. 

“Let’s go,” he says. 

So Atsushi may not have moved from his hiding spot. But things were looking really interesting and he has not yet determined that Akutagawa was going to harm the children. So Atsushi follows silently. Watching Akutagawa holding the hands of two children is making his heart do weird things in his chest.

Atsushi has only followed them for another thirty seconds when the little girl screeches in absolute delight, lets go of Akutagawa’s hand and dashes towards a toy shop with anime character design posters on the front. 

“Hey!” Akutagawa snaps. “Nana chan!” The little girl is too lost in her own world to even hear him. Atsushi hears a familiar crackle and his heart leaps in his chest. 

No way, even Akutagawa should know better right?

Rashoumon extends from Akutagawa’s coat and Atsushi dashes forward. Only to stop when Rashoumon merely curls around the strap of the girl’s backpack and tugs her slightly backwards, halting her in place. Rashoumon slithers out and grabs the backpacks of the two boys as well. 

“I should have done this first,” Akutagawa groans. 

“Woah! What is this oniichan?” The little girl asks in absolute delight, forgetting the shop she had been looking at earlier. 

“It’s my gift, Rashoumon,” Akutagawa says, rubbing his forehead. Luckily, no one has actually noticed Akutagawa using Rashoumon. Akutagawa is kind of well-known after all, Atsushi muses. 

“Gift?” one of the little boys lights up. 

“My mom says that people with gifts are scary,” the other boy says. 

“That’s not wrong,” Akutagawa says. “But that’s not completely true either.”

Oh? Atsushi leans forward in interest. Is Akutagawa of all people giving three children a Gifted People 101?

“Just like how there are good people and bad people, some people use their gifts for good things and some people use them for bad things as well,” Akutagawa grimaces at this, probably thinking of all the gifted in the Port Mafia. Atsushi doesn’t blame him. They are a prime example after all. And the detectives in the Agency also worked on their own moral system. “I know someone who has a very strong and dangerous gift, but he can also do wonderful things with that gift.”

Atsushi flushes, was he talking about Chuuya? 

“Really?” The little girl asks, patting the tendril of Rashoumon attached to her backpack. 

“Yes,” Akutagawa says. “Now can we please finally make some progress towards the nearest police box?” He sounds like all of his patience has left him and he’s keeping himself from ditching these children with what little willpower he has. 

Wait, police box?

Atsushi’s heart does a clearly unhealthy and unnatural flip inside his chest. 

Akutagawa was helping a bunch of lost children! What the heck?

Atsushi shakes his head, turns towards the wall of the building he’s been hiding against and slams his face into the bricks. 

I know he’s your type, but you have to get a hold of yourself!

He can almost see Dazai, Chuuya, Lucy, Kyouka and Ranpo laughing at him in the back of his mind and he slams his face into the building a couple more times, ignoring the looks people are giving him. Excuse him, it’s not like it’s his fault that gifted people all seem to have something wrong in the head. He is clearly gifted, so it’s a given that he’s a little insane. Yes.

“Alright, let’s go back to following them,” Atsushi turns back towards Akutagawa and the children, only to see they’re gone. “Ah! I lost them!” Atsushi cries out. But they were heading towards the nearest police box so Atsushi knows which direction they’re heading. Atsushi quickly rushes in the direction of the police box, wondering why it didn’t occur to Akutagawa to leave the children at the Detective Agency. 

And Atsushi is so focused on heading towards the police box, he almost misses the fact that Akutagawa has moved to the side. Or rather, the children have. They’re crowding around an ice cream stand, absolutely sparkling. Akutagawa looks disgusted. 

“We need to leave,” Akutagawa hisses.

“Oniichan! Buy us ice cream!”

“Ice cream!”

“Ice cream! Ice cream!”

Akutagawa looks up to glare at the ice cream vendor, like it’s his fault for existing at all in that one place that distracted the children and Atsushi stifles a laugh as the vendor yelps in terror. Atsushi has been on the receiving end of worse glares from the mafioso. The look Akutagawa is giving the vendor is just very displeased, not I will murder you if you so much as move your mouth, so Atsushi isn’t very concerned. 

If anything the displeased look is kind of sexy, Atsushi reasons. 

“Stop!” Atsushi whisper-shrieks to himself and slaps his hands against his face. “Stop! Stop! Stop!” Atsushi slaps his face repeatedly, once again ignoring the looks people around him are giving him. “Don’t give Dazai san and Lucy more reasons to torment you!”

But he is sexy! Atsushi’s mind betrays him. 

“I know!” Atsushi snaps, pinching his cheeks and daring his mind to betray him again. 

“OK, fine, what flavors do you want?” Akutagawa gives up and takes out his wallet. The three children at Akutagawa’s feet brighten like the sun and rush to hug him. Akutagawa looks absolutely horrified. Atsushi will have to see what kind of look Akutagawa would give him if he hugs him. 

“He’ll probably kill you,” Atsushi mutters. 

“Are you their older brother?” the vendor has the gall to ask Akutagawa. 

“I have a younger sister, but she is much more behaved than these three,” Akutagawa deadpans. 

The vendor chuckles very awkwardly and hands the children their ice cream as Akutagawa glares at him. Akutagawa pays him, looking like he would rather rip out his own liver than hand over money for some flimsy frozen flavored cream. 

Atsushi may be a little in love.

“Excuse me?” Atsushi asks himself incredulously. 

Oh god, he thinks he may be a little in love.

Why?

Two years of reluctant partnership and two years of a strange kind of friendship and one month of realizing Akutagawa is his type and Atsushi is in love?

Does that even make sense?

Of course it doesn’t. Atsushi must be overthinking things. 

“Let’s go,” Akutagawa says and he looks like he’s said that enough times to hate saying it. Just as he says this, one of the boys steps forward, trip and falls over, ice cream and all. 

“Koutarou kun!” The two other children cry out. The boy sits up, looking stunned with butterscotch ice cream all over his uniform and dirt on his forehead. For a moment he looks like he’s about to burst into a crying fit of distress, when the bit of Rashoumon that’s attached to his backpack lifts him up and to his feet. 

Atsushi watches in absolute awe as Akutagawa bends over examining the boy’s knees and then sighs like the most inconvenienced person in the world and uses Rashoumon to clean the front of the boy’s uniform and rub the dirt off the boy’s forehead. 

“Don’t cry from something that small. I will buy you another ice cream so watch where you’re going next time,” Akutagawa says. Then he stands up and turns around to glare venomously at the ice cream vendor. “You should know what I need right?” Akutagawa asks flatly. 

“Yes!” The vendor cries out, scrambling to get another cone of butterscotch ice cream. He hands the cone over to the little boy and the child smiles brightly despite the redness around his eyes. 

“Oniichan! We won’t get distracted anymore!” The girl tells Akutagawa. 

“That would be prefered,” Akutagawa says and Atsushi can tell Akutagawa doesn’t believe the little girl at all. But surprisingly, the rest of the trip to the police box is uneventful. With Rashoumon attached to the children’s bags and Akutagawa’s flat look that says ‘no’, they arrive in no time. 

“There’s the police box, oniichan!” The children tug on Akutagawa’s clothes. 

“I know,” Akutagawa says. “I can’t go there, so the three of you will have to go there by yourselves. Don’t get distracted, I’ll be watching you.” 

After all, Akutagawa is still wanted. Sure, the Port Mafia has helped with keeping the city safe from outside threats, but they still are the living and breathing darkness that dwells in the night. Atsushi feels a little sad about that. It makes it significantly harder if he wants to invite the other on a date. 

Atsushi doesn’t even bother fighting his own mind at this point. 

“OK…” the children look upset. 

“Oniichan,” the child that had said that gifts were scary and had also dropped his ice cream looks up at Akutagawa, “who is that person you were talking about earlier? The one with the dangerous gift?” Akutagawa frowns and then makes a face like he’s eating something sour. 

“He’s...my partner...you could say...but that’s not important! Go to the police box!” Akutagawa snaps. 

Atsushi’s entire face is on fire. 

If I don’t ask him out on a date right now, I will make Kyouka stab me.

------o------

Nana, Koutarou and Keiji cling to his coat, looking up at him with those puppy dog eyes that Ryuunosuke is sure would be devastating if he isn’t more enamoured by chilling, glow-in-the-dark, tiger eyes. 

“Run along now,” Ryuunosuke nudges them with Rashoumon. Nana tears up and then hugs his leg. 

“I will come back to see you again, oniichan!” she says tearfully. The boys clamour in agreement. 

“Please don’t,” Ryuunosuke deadpans. They don’t hear him. They hold each other’s hands and then rush towards the police box. Ryuunosuke watches them slip into the police box and sighs. “Not like you guys will ever actually manage to see me again.” Ryuunosuke turns around. 

“Now, you don’t know that,” Atsushi says. Ryuunosuke nearly stabs him with Rashoumon in surprise. Atsushi’s face is red. Ryuunosuke suddenly realizes what’s going on. He nearly turns purple from the pure indignation. 

“How long have you been here?” Ryuunosuke bites out. Depending on his answer he might stab him less. 

“Since you passed the Detective Agency,” Atsushi says, rubbing the back of his head. 

So Atsushi is now dead to me, OK.

Ryuunosuke wonders where would be a quiet and unpopulated place where he might make Atsushi suffer for everything he has seen and heard. Ryuunosuke hadn’t even planned on letting Gin know that he was babysitting a bunch of kids. Was this actually what Chuuya had been aiming for? Was this really planned by Dazai? But before he can make up his mind, Atsushi opens his mouth. 

“C-can I get you something?” Atsushi blurts. Ryuunosuke stares at him blankly. What is he talking about? “Like...uh...dinner? Tea? Ice cream?” Atsushi looks like a nervous wreck and Ryuunosuke has only seen him like that a few times. 

“Why?” Ryuunosuke asks. Atsushi balks and immediately seems to look for a way out before curling his hands into fists and muttering something about Kyouka stabbing things.  

“Because I want to?” Atsushi says. “I want to get something. For you. Specifically you.”

This is a date. He’s asking me out on a date. Oh. 

Ryuunosuke can kill him on another day actually. And he can pay back Chuuya and Dazai later. Going on a date with Atsushi sounds fairly exciting in it’s own way. 

“Dinner,” Ryuunosuke says. “I’m paying.” 

Atsushi squawks. 

“But I asked you out!” Atsushi says incredulously. 

“I don’t think you can afford the place I want to go to, Jinko,” Ryuunosuke shrugs. “Come with me.” He starts walking and after a moment of staring at Ryuunosuke in bafflement, Atsushi rushes forward to walk beside him. 

“Oh thank God, I thought I would have to give you reasons as to why I was asking you out,” Atsushi breathes out a sigh of relief. 

“You have reasons listed? Let’s hear them,” Ryuunosuke says. 

“I can’t!” Atsushi turns scarlet. A flattering color, actually. Ryuunosuke turns to look at Atsushi and then hooks fingers under his chin. The color of Atsushi’s face turns darker. 

“Well, you better prepare yourself, because you’re not going to go home until you tell me them to me,” Ryuunosuke says, mostly because the look on Atsushi’s face is so highly entertaining. He looks like he’s going to combust. Ryuunosuke’s lips twist into a smirk, deciding to really go to the end. “You better remember that you are the one that asked me out on a date, Atsushi,”

Ryuunosuke watches Atsushi’s entire brain fry in that one moment and he walks away, chuckling to himself. Atsushi is standing frozen, looking like Ryuunosuke gave him permanent brain damage. 

“Are you coming or not?” Ryuunosuke asks.

“I am!” Atsushi snaps out of it and rushes after Ryuunosuke. 

Maybe Ryuunosuke will actually have to thank Dazai. 

------o------

A/N - Phew! Writing fourteen pages of crack and fluff with no angst? It required quite the effort from me! Especially cause I always randomly slip in angst without even realizing it! Every single time I slipped in angst while writing this, I smacked myself and rewrote it. In case it wasn't obvious, the flowers in the cafe are from Kyouka. My wifey and I discussed the idea of Aku using Rashoumon as a backpack leash earlier this year, which birthed this fic. The fic title is from Michela's 'Chameleon'!

[masquerade122]

Still Needing a Title

So, I have been trying to push through the haze of apathy that has descended on me between loosing my job and a plague sweeping the planet making getting any kind of financial help damn near impossible.  BUT!  I have managed to transcribe more of my Game of Thrones fanfic, the first bit of which is under the cut for your enjoyment, or derision.  I fully admit I am not the best writer on the planet, but this idea would not leave me alone

Catelyn Stark was very aware of her failings as her fingers wove a prayer wreath for the small boy motionless in the bed before her.  Maester Luwin came in at regular intervals to check the boy’s condition and Catelyn would help to spoon broth or water down his throat and or change his sweat soaked clothes.  With every motion she prayed to the Seven to let him live.  She prayed more fervently than she had when she asked for him to die.  She swore to the Mother she would love him as her own, she swore to make him a Stark in name, just let him live.  Robb distraught over Jon’s illness and though sweet little Sansa was so young, she seemed to know something was wrong with her brother.  Baby Arya was with the wetnurse, far too young to know one of her brothers might not make it through the night.  Ned had been kept busy all day dealing with petitioners and the normal duties of the Warden of the North, and so Catelyn held her lonely vigil over the sickly bastard son of her husband, his every labored breath a lance through her chest.  You did this, the sound seemed to say, You wished a child dead for something he could not help.  When Ned finally came into the sickroom to coax her to her own bed, Catelyn could see the guilt and worry that hung in her husband's eyes.

“Jon understands you have your duties to see to.  He is very intelligent for his age,” she tried to soothe her husband's guilt.

“You should get some rest yourself Cat.  I can take the watch tonight,” Ned offered.  Catelyn was very tempted to take this offer, but before she could open her mouth to accept, Jon let off several hacking and gasping coughs.  Both Ned and Catelyn moved to the bed, Ned shifting his son while Catelyn brought a rag dipped in cool water to his brow.  The child’s breathing seemed even more strained, and somehow, Catelyn knew her response to Ned’s offer would be the catalyst for the boy’s recovery.

“I will not seek my own bed until I am assured with my own eyes he is on the mend.  You are responsible for the whole of the North.  This is a mother’s duty.  If his mother cannot care for him, then it is the very least I can do in her place.  I will keep watch on her behalf and yours,” she rasped.  Ned stared at her for a long moment, even as Jon’s breathing eased and he settled deeper into sleep.  In those solemn grey eyes she could see the old guilt that had been plain the day he had arrived in Riverrun after the war with his sister’s bones in a casket and a bastard son in the arms of a wetnurse.  Ned leaned forward and kissed her tenderly, laying a hand on Jon’s brow before leaving her to her vigil.  Catelyn closed her eyes, letting her prayers fill her mind even as she drifted off to sleep with one arm wrapped around Jon’s shoulders.

“Words are Wind, as you mortals are so fond of saying.  You can promise all these things ‘til you’re blue in the face, but when he wakes, all you’ll be able to remember is that damned Tully pride!”  Catelyn jerked awake to find Jon’s sickroom rather more crowded than when she fell asleep.  Seated across the bed from her was a woman with iron grey hair braided much like her own, wrapped in thick furs and with a lantern set on the table next to her.

“Such chiding will not help us,” another voice, smooth as honeyed mead, drew Catelyn’s attention to the bed.  Perched next to Jon was a woman whose face was very familiar to Catelyn.  Lyanna Stark had her brother’s eyes but her hair was much darker, nearly black.  She was running her fingers through Jon’s curls, a deeply sad look on her face.

“We haven’t Time for gentler persuasion, my dear.  If we cannot convince her more than just the Stark’s will fall,” the old woman riposted.  Lyanna nodded resignedly and turned her attention to Catelyn.  As she did, the Lady of Winterfell was struck by the solemn gaze of her husband's bastard coming from the face of his sister.

“I know you to be an intelligent woman Catelyn.  Did you never wonder at the fact that your lord husband went looking for his sister only to return with bones and an infant boy?” she asked pointedly.  Catelyn blinked at the comment, looking from Jon to Lyanna several times.  Her mind was reeling, the memory of Ned, fresh from the war, eyes heavy with grief and guilt, swimming before her briefly.

“Why?  Why claim Jon as his bastard?  He could have been our nephew, no one would have questioned our taking in your son,” Catelyn protested.

“Ask your lord husband about Robert Baratheon’s reaction to the deaths of the Targaryan babes,” the old woman responded wearily.

“We are already straining the limits of how we can interfere, but there is one who can do more.  Look for a woman with golden eyes and hair the color of raven and flame.  She can help your family, and all of Westeros, survive what is coming,”  Lyanna said.  Catelyn could feel her eyes growing heavy, but Lyanna’s last words spurred her to respond.

“I swear by the old gods and the new, I will love your son as my own.  He will never be made to feel an outsider in his own home again and we will protect him from any who would wish him harm,” she vowed, feeling the words echoing in her very soul.  Lyanna smiled warmly.

“When the snow falls and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives.  That’s you now too Catelyn.  Thank you,”

Catelyn slowly opened her eyes, noting the warm body pressed against her side.  She looked down to see Jon curled into her body, his breathing slow and even.  She reached down and lay her hand across his brow, sighing in relief at the feel of cool skin under her fingers.  The touch drew Jon from his slumber and grey eyes slowly blinked open.  Catelyn smiled warmly down at him even as he went still.

“Your fever has passed, thank all the gods.  You are going to be just fine sweetling,” she said with a relieved smile.

“Sorry,” Jon croaked, but Catelyn was already shaking her head.

“You have nothing to apologize for Jon, it was simply bad luck that you fell ill.  The important thing now is that you are on the mend.  I’m going to fetch Maester Luwin to check on you, and then I will let the family know that you are alright.  Robb and your father have been very worried about you,” she said with only the slightest hesitation on ‘father’.  Truth of blood aside, Ned was Jon’s father in every way that mattered, and Catelyn swore she would firmly remind herself of this every day among her prayers.  Jon slowly nodded and Catelyn climbed from the bed, rearranging the furs around him to keep him warm before she made for the door.  Upon opening it, she found Maester Luwin just reaching for the handle.

“Lady Stark.  Any change?” he asked.

“His fever has broken Maester, though when he tried to speak his voice sounded very rough.  Have you anything to soothe his throat?” she asked.

“That is good to hear my lady, and yes, I do have something in my stores that should help.”

“No one else has fallen ill?”

“No, my lady.  Everyone from Hodor to Lord Stark is perfectly healthy.  We were most fortunate my lady,” the maester confirmed.

“Good.  I’m going to give Ned and the other children the good news,” she said with a parting smile to Jon who was staring at her in deep confusion.  She found Ned in his solar reading a letter with a deep frown on his face.

“How’s Jon?” he asked, worry furrowing his brow.

“The fever has broken, and he is on the mend.  Jon is going to be just fine,” she was happy to answer.

“Thank the gods,” he breathed.  Catelyn sat down across from him and thought of how to bring this up.  She was certain that this last piece of the puzzle would pull everything together.

“Ned, what did Roebrt say when he was presented with the Targaryen children’s bodies?” she asked.  Her husband flinched hard at the question, looking over at her with no small panic.  “I swear to you Ned, I have a good reason for asking this, and it involves keeping our family, all our family safe,” she pressed.  Ned seemed to age a decade as his mind was thrown back to that night.

“The little princess was carried in wrapped in a Lannister cloak soaked red with her own blood.  She was so small, I remember wondering how there could be so much blood for such a tiny body.  And then I saw the other cloak.  It was carried between two men and laid out before Robert at the foot of the throne.  Princess Elia had been….it was hard to believe it was her.  It took several moments before I realized not all the, not all the pieces were her.  Prince Aegon had been dashed against a wall.  He was a babe at his mother’s breast and they tossed him against the wall like a glass of wine,” Ned stammered out.  Catelyn reached forward and gripped her husband’s hands.

“Lord Tywin’s men did this?” she whispered.

“A show of loyalty for the new king.” Ned spat.  “I told Robert he had to give justice for these atrocities, that he could not start his rule on the murder of children.  And what he said next, I could hardly believe it was my friend before me.  ‘I see no children.  Only dragonspawn.’”  The last had been in a deeper, rough imitation of Robert Baratheon.  Catelyn had only met the king once during the war, but in her mind's eye she could see him sitting on the throne, staring eagerly down at the carnage before him while Ned pleaded with his friend.

“And so you protected your nephew from your old friends' rage the only way you could think how.  Oh Ned, if only we knew each other better than.  A moon sooner and we could have passed him off as Robb’s twin brother,” she said in a feeble attempt at lightening the mood.  Ned’s head shot up at her words.

“Would you truly have done so?’ he asked incredulously.

“If you had told me everything then, I would like to think I would.  The past is the past, and all we can do now is move forward.  Send a letter to the king.  Ask him to legitimize Jon, make him a Stark in name.  When the children are old enough to understand why it must be a secret, we will tell them.  Jon and Robb are likely old enough now, though it may be better to wait until they are about ten,” she suggested.  Ned was staring at her with his jaw hanging open when a knock sounded at the door.

“Petitioners have arrived milord,” the guard called into the solar.  Ned rose to his feet.

“We’ll continue this discussion later, my love,” Ned said, following the guard out the door. 

*************************************

I still don’t have a title, but the rest adds a new character into the fray in an attempt to undo the Fate of Westeros and the Starks.  I would welcome any suggestions for titles while I dither about putting this on AO3