#and the lady lead has wolf ears!!!! (uh sometimes)

[thepatronsaintoffilth]

FOUND IT

(its a manga not a show but i'll take it!!)

Muttsuri Akazukin-kun kara wa Nigerarenai

can anyone recommend me an isekai show where a modern person suddenly has an overzealous, overly devoted knight following them around? (additional note: I would not turn my nose up at a noticeable size difference between the knight and their beloved, but its not strictly necessary)

[magalidragon]

Silent Shadows | Chapter 14: the journey | a teaser

"How are things with you and Arsehole?"

That was pretty not at all subtle. She rolled her eyes. "Arsehole?"

Arya shrugged. "He's been a total toolbox the last few days, I wanted your take on why." She wagged her tongue and eyebrows. "You not putting out or something?"

"Arya!"

"What? Maybe he just needs to get laid."

She rolled her eyes, her turn now to be irritated. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the exam table, wrestling with telling Arya the full truth. It wasn't like she didn't know. By now, six months after she'd gone to Essos for her surgery, things had shifted, enough so that the ones closest to her and Jon were fully aware of them.

It had gone around town rather quickly, the vet moving in with the deaf wolf owner. It took a few months, her possessions slowly migrating from the apartment above the office to Jon's house-- their house-- until one morning Jon just asked her flat out if she wanted to move in. He had been very Jon about it all.

He was brushing his teeth, while she washed her face, side-by-side sinks, very domestic, and after he spit out the toothpaste, met her gaze in the mirror and signed: "Do you live here now? If not, you should." Then he turned around and walked out.

Dany raked her fingers through her hair, letting it fall out of the messy braid she'd tugged it into that morning, in a rush to get out and to the clinic in time for her first appointment. The distance between the house and the clinic had been the only thing she didn't much care for when it came to moving in with Jon. She began to rebraid her hair, quietly speaking to Arya. "It's jus tbeen hard, the last few months."

"I know," Arya murmured.

They were referring to Ghost's attack, the terrifying moment when they thought that all would be lost. She had been more scared than any moment in her life combined, focusing on every ounce of training in her bones, healing the animal that gave her loved one his voice. Without him, Jon could not speak, and with everything else in their life, losing Ghost was not an option.

Thank the gods that had not happened, he was recovering well, still weak and slow, but healing. So was Jon, his heart having been ripped from his body at the sight of his beloved companion bleeding in the snow, and lying in the operating room while she stitched him together. They had been through too much to let it get to them, but it had been exhausting.

Six months of constant upheaval, they were still there. She figured Jon was allowed a few days to be an arsehole, even if it pissed off Arya. "I told him I didn't want to do another round yet," she mumbled, digging her toe into a groove in the tile. It was aged, desperately needing replacing, just another thing on her 'to do' list.

Coat rustling, Arya moved back from the window, and went over to stand next to her, lightly touching her hand. "I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"It is what it is, you know?" The surgery had been successful, Mel said, removing scar tissue and other adhesions, and so with the first round they hoped it would take, but she was prepared for the worst. It hadn't, which had been devastating for them both.

She blamed herself for getting Jon's hopes up too. He was all in, from the moment he'd appeared in that hospital hallway to the way he'd 'artfully' proposed he'd be her donor. They didn't speak much about another round, until two months later, and that hadn't worked. This time she was saving up for another go, knowing Jon could afford it but not wanting his trust fund to be depleted because her stupid body couldn't do the one thing that it should do as a female.

Arya quirked her lip. "It just isn't time. Ghost's attack, moving in together...perhaps it's for the best right now."

"Yeah, I tell myself that too." They didn't bother to prevent it, didn't stop, but she was growing weary of 'scheduling' their lovemaking to when it was most conducive to pregnancy. She chewed her bottom lip, thinking of the box that was in her bag, waiting for when she went home, just in case. She was late. Maybe this time...

She didn't want to tell Arya just yet. She didn't even want to tell Jon. Sometimes she didn't even want to tell herself. It was a constant struggle. She chewed on her bottom lip a moment and then forced a smile, when Arya gave her a furrowed frown. "I'm fine," she lied.

"Uh-huh."

Of course Arya would not believe her. She was so protective. It was a blessing and a curse. She patted her hand, reassuring. "Seriously. Things will be fine. We're also getting used to things."

"Like what? Can I help? Gendry moving in with me was the weirdest thing ever. I thought I knew all his strange habits but then..." Ayra shuddered. "Men."

Dany laughed. She shrugged and knelt down to pet Lady, needing something to do with her hands. "Oh just all kinds of things. I had to get a sleep mask for his light alarm. Learning how to approach him so I don't scare him. Sometimes the silence can be a lot. I don't watch much TV but it's odd."

"He doesn't care about that, you know."

"I know, but I do." There were also the flashing lights on the microwave, the oven, and some other assistive devices she hadn't realized were even there until she moved in. Strobe lights in place of smoke and carbon monoxide detectors. Red blinking light over the door if someone was there, motion detected. There was also a vibrating device in the bed, she'd discovered, that could be hooked up to alarms to wake him, but he didn't use it.

"Freaks me out sometimes," he signed, when she asked why not. He smiled lecherously. "But we can find an alternative use for it."

Jon, always the resourceful one.

She clipped Lady's leash to her harness, standing and passing it over to Arya. "Then there's just the weird habits. You're right, men are weird."

"Jon has to be the weirdest."

"I don't know about that, but he does have some quirks." He hated laundry, waited way too long to do it, and it drove her insane. There was also the way he sometimes 'pretended' not to hear when she knew damn well he'd seen her signing, feigning surprise when she asked why he wasn't 'listening.' Usually when it was related to chores. Otherwise they had settled into a routine.

Arya walked out of the room with her, allowing Lady to lead the way to the door. "Well if you ever need a drink, let me know. Tormund misses you."

"I know, I have to stop by and see him."

"Rickon also says he wrote a song about you, he wants to send it to you, but needs your email." Arya rolled her eyes. "I shudder to think what he says in it."

Dany laughed. She liked Rickon and it seemed Rhaegar did as well. He had connections to the music industry in Essos and was looking into getting RIckon's band a few gigs. "I'll let Rhae know."

"Your hottie brother is so weird."

"Ew! He is not a hottie!"

Arya shrugged. "Sansa has a crush on him, don't tell her I told you that."

Dany pretended to gag, opening the door for Arya and Lady. She gestured for her to leave, with a flourish. "And with that, I bid you farewell. I also need to burn out my eyes, because my brother is not hot." Annoying and melancholy, yes. Hot? No way.

"Whatever. I think he's hot."

"Arya!" She made a face, sticking out her tongue. "Well, then let me tell you that your cousin is super hot and kept me up all night long last night with his..."

"Ew! Shut up!" Arya slapped her hands over her ears, closing her eyes tight. "La, la, la, la!"

She smirked. "Two can play that game."

"Goodbye bitch."

"Later." She made another face and waved, Lady hopping off excitedly towards the truck. She leaned against the door frame a moment longer, watching Arya drive away. It was nice to have someone close. Someone to joke with when things got tough. Her friendship with Arya had been a constant for her to rely on during her time in the North, even during those hard times with Jon. Missandei was so far away. Even if Dany was still trying to convince her to move there, her best friend hadn't budged, citing the cold was too much for her.

After a few minutes, she closed the door and flicked the sign, closing up for the Friday afternoon. Gilly had already left, to go deal with some sort of school drama involving her sons. Dany finished up and did some paperwork, trying to distract herself from what lay ahead at home

[mangolover]

Christmas Get Together - Ikevamp Mozart fanfiction

Title: Christmas Get Together

Prompt: “Oi! That’s my hot chocolate!”

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire  / Ikevamp

Pairing: Mozart X You (F!Reader)

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: cringy fluff

Spoilers: No spoliers that would ruin Mozart’s route. GO READ IT, I LOVED IT AND I JUST FINISHED IT YESTERDAY!

Word Count: 1900+

Description: You suggest that residents and Will have a little family get together on the Christams day since it’s a modern tradition and after a fun snowball fight, you decide to make yourself some hot chocolate.

Enjoy!

Merry Christmas to anyone who celebrates it! I wish You a wonderful day and some amazing gifts!  💖

It wasn't a common tradition to celebrate Christmas in the 19th century France like it is in present time. But since it was your first December in Le Comte’s mansion, you decided to propose the idea of having a little “family get together” to Comte. You were even ready to invite William Shakespeare, even if some of the residents like Theo and Leo weren’t too happy with that idea. Comte was aware of the celebrations that were happening in the present and he was more than happy to help you organize your little gathering.

You, Comte and Sebastian discussed everything that was necessary.

“Is there any way we can get even a fake Christmas tree to decorate? It’s a common tradition for families to gather together on the Christmas Eve and decorate it, putting the star on the top and then place the presents under it, telling kids that Santa put them under.”

“I’m sorry ma chérie, that might not be possible on such a short notice,” Come de Saint-Germain said with an apologetic look on his face. That was understandable, after all it’s not a tradition yet. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a little sad.

“So, we will have to discuss all the meals we need to make. Not to mention baking all the cookies,” Sebastian was making a mental check list and mumbling to himself. That really sounds like a lot of work, though.

Half an hour late, you three have planned everything and the only thing left to do was inform all the residents and send an invitation to Will. As you were walking down the hall, collecting dirty sheets to wash, you heard the melody of piano coming for the music room. It was a new composition, that was for sure. It was a happy melody, filled with love and leaving a warm fuzzy feeling in your chest. Playing the piano was none other than your lover, a talented and famous Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. You knew that you had work to do and that he wouldn’t mind you coming into the room to listen to him playing, but you decided to sneak up closer to enjoy that feeling just a tad bit longer. You put the basket with laundry down and crept up to doors to music room on your tippy toes, holding your breath and trying to make as little sound as possible.

But like any other time, Mozart heard you and stopped playing. That startled you and you tried to get away unnoticed, but failed miserably as Mozart opened the door with a raised eyebrow. You turned your head around and gave him a sheepish smile. He just let out a little sigh, shaking his head with a smile on his face.

“How many times do I have to tell you meine liebe? You’re always welcome to stop by and listen, no need to try sneaking up on me.”

“Sorry, I kind of get lost in that melody you were playing. It’s perfect for this winter time.”

“Why do you think so?�� He asked, a puzzled expression on his delicate face.

“Well, in future we celebrate this holiday called Christmas on 25th of December. And all the Christmas songs leave a fuzzy and warm feeling in your chest, just like this one.” You explained with a smile on your face. Christmas was your favorite holiday ever, “that reminded me! We’re having a little get together in the mansion that day. Everyone will be there, even Shakespeare.”

On mention of William’s name, Mozart made a bitter face, but he knew you were getting along just fine with him. You respected him and you would sometimes go hang out with him and Vincent when either Vincent asked you to accompany him or when Theo asked you to look out for him so that, and I quote, “Snake”, can’t manipulate him.

“So, can I count on my lover to be there as well?” You asked sweetly.

“You know I can’t leave you alone because you would end up doing something stupid.”

“That last part was uncalled for!” You pouted, “but I’ll love you, so I’ll forgive you if you give me a kiss.”

Mozart happily obeyed your wish and kissed you tenderly on your lips, placing his hands on your cheeks. When he pulled away, you quickly bid him farewell with a quick embrace and then you went to do your usual work, excited about the upcoming event.

And so, preparations started. Everyone has been informed and most of the residents were eager to help you prepare for this, dear to you, modern holiday. You even got shy Isaac to join you, but under one condition. You, Arthur and Dazai are not allowed to make fun of him. And Theo was only helping and attending because Vincent made him and Napoleon bribed him with his pancakes.

When the 25th of December finally arrived, you were ready to eat till you were sick and then relax in the living room where Mozart would his new composition that left you feeling so warm and fuzzy the last time you heard it. Of course, you had to beg him and bribe him with chocolate, but he promised that he will play it, only because you are the one that asked him to do it.

That morning you woke up before the dawn and got out of Mozart’s bed, trying not to wake him up. You silently got ready for this special day and got down to kitchen to help Sebastian with the breakfast and slowly started making the special lunch menu you and him have settled on. Residents slowly started piling up in the dinning room as they woke up, getting their rouge or blanc and some breakfast if they wanted.

Fast forward to lunch time. You helped Sebastian serve everyone a meal and then grabbed yourself something. All 13 of you sat down at the table and everyone silently turned their heads toward you, staring.

“Uh, do I have something on my face?” You asked nervously and gently outstretched your hand towards a napkin.

“Could you all not stare at her, please?” Mozart lowered his gaze, “you’re all clearly making her uncomfortable.”

“My apologies Mozart,” Comte chimed in with a polite smile, “we’re all wondering what we should do next.”

“Oh, I forgot about the traditional toast, I’m sorry everyone!” You apologized and slowly rose to your feet, gently raising your glass and softly calling: “I wish you all a merry Christmas, I’m really happy I have this amazing opportunity to celebrate this holiday with my family, and that includes you too William. So, I wish you all a pleasant rest of the day and I would once again like to thank You all with all your help and for this opportunity, I love you all”, you finished with a smile on your face and everyone smiled, even Mozart, Jean, Isaac and Theo and followed your lead, rising their glasses and wishing each other a merry Christmas.

After the wonderful lunch, you all moved to the living room where the piano from the music room was moved so Mozart could play for you all.

“Remember, you owe me a chocolate,” he whispered in your ear before walking and settling down at the piano followed by the applause of the audience. His fingers flowed from one key to the other, a soft smile on his lips. He was in his own world now and you started at him in awe. No matter how many times you watched him play, you were always fascinated by it. You’re sure you will never get bored of his playing.

Few nice comments and one more applause arose from the residents and yourself as the last note faded and Mozart dipped in a little bow, announcing the last part of this get together. Qualitly family time!

“Okay everyone, settle down” you spoke, “now is the time for some Christmas stories and hanging out.” And so, you told them of many modern Christmas stories, some happy and some sad. And when you noticed the sunset begging to appear, you suggested to go out and have a snowball fight in the garden.

“Got you Hondje!” Theo called out as he hit you right in the face with a snowball. The impact made you stumble backwards and you fell on your bum. You quickly wiped the snow of your face and opened your eyes only to see Mozart’s worried face a few inches away from yours, tinting your cheeks a slight rosy color. “Are you alright, meine liebe?” Mozart asked, his voice full of affection and worry.

“Yeah, I’m alright don’t worry Wolf” you smiled and he got to his feet, only for Theo to make his way to you and hold out his hand, “I’m sorry hondje, here.”

He helped you to your feet and you laughed, shoving some of the snow you picked up before you took his hand, right in his face. This irritated him and you had to start running for your dear life as other residents laughed. “I’m sorry Theo, please don’t kill me!”

“Come here Hondje, I just want to talk!” He shouted behind you, throwing some snowballs your way.

“Theo, be gentle!” Vincent yelled out of concern for you even if he knew Theo wouldn’t hurt you.

“Eeek! Let me go!” You screeched with surprise as Theo caught up to you and picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder. He had much longer legs after all. He carried you back to the group of residents that have all scattered around as Comte and Leonardo teamed up and dominated over them, throwing seemingly endless number of snowballs their way.

“Well Theo, that’s no way to treat a lady” Arthur said with a teasing smile, rising from his hiding place only to get hit by a snowball.

“You’re going to make our little Wolf jealous,” Dazai chimed in, giving away his safe spot, only he managed to avoid getting hit.

Theo put you down and you couldn’t stop laughing, clearly having the time of your life as you ran to Comte and Leo and joined them in shooting other residents.

And so, your little snowball fight continued on late into the afternoon. You all only returned back in to the mansion because you were all freezing and your hands felt numb. Some of the residents decided to go and warm themselves in thermae while some decided to go back to their rooms, seeking a change of clothes. You however decided to go change into some warm and dry clothes and then head to the kitchen.

You wanted to make yourself some hot chocolate since that would definitely warm you up and you always remembered drinking it as a kid in the winter. But just as you poured the hot beverage into your mug, you felt someone’s warmth against your back and saw a delicate hand reaching for it.

“Oi! That’s my hot chocolate!” you turned around ready to fight anyone who might try and take you favorite drink from you, only to see Mozart with a smirk on his face.

“As I already said, meine liebe, you owe me some chocolate, so I’ll be taking this now” he said and stepped to the side.

“Whatever, I’ll just make myself another one” you said with a little sigh and a shrug.

After you put the milk on the stove you stole a glance Mozart’s way, only to see him with a childlike grin on his face as he slowly sipped his hot chocolate. You had to place a hand over your mouth to stifle a giggle back and not ruin that adorable sight that surely warmed your heart and made this Christmas the best one so far.

 The end!

[dragon-of-dreams]

Pieces

My Masterlist

 Part four to Cracking a Code; Previous Part

 Pairing: dark!Steve Rogers x Reader (fem)

 Warnings: Swearing, gaslighting, stalking, aftermath of noncon, noncon touching

 Summary: The next day can’t be real, can it? Or where y/n goes into work and gets hit by a strong sense of deja vu.

 Word count: 2k

 A/n: I’m so sorry that this a) took so long and b) has so much plot not much else, but well I promise it’ll get creepier next chapter!

 ~*~

The next morning you woke before your alarm clock, which was good because it gave you time for the world’s longest and most thorough shower.

And was also terrible because you woke up and it was still real.

It happened.

 The intensity with which you scrubbed down your body was straight out unhealthy and you only stopped when you realized how close you were to breaking skin. He’d hurt you, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hurting yourself over him. You were hurting enough as it was.

While that mindset stayed with you, you were also shaking the entire time it took you to put on clothes and get to the office. Leaving your apartment was harder than you had ever imagined it being. For the first time in your life, you could understand those people you sometimes saw on the television, who hadn’t left their homes in years. You’d give anything for a reprive of having to live what was now your daily life. You knew it wouldn’t end and hiding in your apartment sounded oh-so-appealing, if – in your case – completely useless.

You used the short elevator ride down to your apartment lobby for some breathing exercises, put on a smile for your doorman, and in front of the double doors leading out into the Brooklyn sunshine you froze.

You knew Steve wouldn’t be there to follow you around. No, he wouldn’t stoop that low. But then again, he didn’t have to. You were terrified as his words rang in your ears: Good thing I had Buck accompanying you home. As you stared out into the busy street before you, you knew without a doubt, in your heart, that Bucky Barnes, the fucking Winter Soldier, was out there waiting for you. Watching you. Never leaving you. You were fucked. There was no running away.

“Miss? Are you alright?” You turned your head to the porter approaching you from behind his desk where he kept guard over his proverbial sheep, unknowing that you’d been torn by the wolf already.

You forced a smile: “Yes, thank you, uh, “ your eyes flew to his name tag, “George. Work has been keeping me so busy lately I’m turning into the weird professor guy from the movies!” you laughed and George chuckled but eyed you worriedly. “I’ll see you later, Miss. Please take it easy at work today. Tell Mr. Stark to cut you some slack!” You smiled and nodded at him: “Will do. See you tonight” and with that, you pushed through the doors and the pit in your stomach. Out into the bustling life of New York City.

You didn’t look behind you as you briskly walked down the street to the subway, but you could feel Bucky’s eyes on you like the fog creeping in in early October. It was an all-consuming feeling, creeping in from the sea to swallow you whole.

But you kept your head up high. You weren’t a stranger to being afraid, to being bullied. You had been the smartest student in every class you had ever taken and men didn’t appreciate being beaten by a woman. You hadn’t backed down when you were a kid, you wouldn’t bow down now, not to Captain America and most certainly not to the Winter Soldier! You knew you were putting up a façade but if you didn’t you wouldn’t have made it out of bed this morning, maybe never have left it again, but that wasn’t you.

‘Oh yes, the times are changing and those boys better get with the program’, you thought grimly as you stepped into a subway car and crossed your arms, staring at the open doors, waiting for your shadow to make an appearance.

Bucky entered through the doors to your left. You almost missed him, but now that you knew you weren’t looking for blond and beefy but brunette and murdery it was a lot harder for him to play invisible. He was good, but you were better.

But by God was he confused when you approached him. “Good morning, Mr. Barnes. I don’t know what Steve told you about me, or what your involvement in all of this is, but here is what I am telling you: Fuck off. I don’t want to see you or him again, so make sure he gets the message?”

Before Bucky could reply you moved away from him and slumped down in between two elderly ladies, the perfect shield from anyone getting close to you. Even Bucky knew not to harass a woman in front of two NYC ladies. They’d beat him to death with their shopping bags. You smirked at the mental image you had created in your mind, escaping reality even if getting away was only temporary.

Once you were sitting, the pain you had ignored so diligently came back with force. Your lower half was cramping and sore and you wanted to cry from the pain of it, but no, not while Bucky was there. Not ever again, while any man could see. ‘When had you turned to hate men for what one had to you?’ you wondered.

Bucky disappeared one stop before the tower and you were relieved that he seemingly had realized how dead-serious you were.

The second you entered the tower, you were utterly, abnormally calm and finally stopped shaking. You didn’t have a plan yet, but you knew you’d have to get away, away from this place and Steve and all the pain he’d caused you. After all, you could barely move without hurting.

You could go and teach at any university in the country. They’d love to have you. All you needed to figure out how to quit without seeming suspicious. That was going to be difficult because Tony knew you loved your job. But you couldn’t tell him the truth. No one would believe you if you told them the real reason and you had worked too hard to now be labeled as a crazy fangirl/stalker-lady. You huffed. If only they knew who the real stalker was.

You smiled at your secretary, thanked her for the coffee she had bought for you on her way to work. You squared your shoulders and open the door to your office ready to start your day.

When you entered your office you were hit with a strong sense of déjà vu, you started to shiver again and felt all color leave your face. You almost dropped your coffee.

Steve was in your office again. But luckily – blessedly even – so was Tony. What the actual fuck? You cursed in your mind but tried to smile. It didn’t work judging by Tony’s expression.

“Y/n, are you all right?” he asked while crossing the room towards you. “You don’t look too good.” Before Tony’s outstretched hand could touch you, you took half a step back. “I think I’m coming down with something. The flu, I guess,” you mumbled.

“Then why didn’t you stay home?” said a sincerely concerned voice – Steve’s. Sincerely concerned? No, it couldn’t be! Your creepy-man-radar must just be off, right?

“I… I… I promised Jarvis to teach him about the code. I forgot yesterday” you murmured turning to the super-soldier, whose brows were drawn up in concern and he was leaning forward, looking you over as if to check for injuries or signs of your alleged flu. ‘What was going on?’

“Is there anything I can do for you gentlemen?” you asked. Steve smiled at you at that. His smile was stunning. So… open and kind. And WHAT THE HELL??? No! His smile wasn’t kind! He was your rapist! Except that it was. There was no denying that. If your entire body hadn’t been hurting maybe you would’ve started talking yourself into the fantasy that yesterday hadn’t happened, but it did. But his smile was nothing like yesterday. His smile made you want to trust him. 

“Well, y/n, I just wanted to congratulate you and Stevie here wanted to thank you for your speedy work. We were able to arrest 20 people yesterday because of the intel you decrypted.”

“Yeah? That’s great” you forced out and turned back to Tony, but your eyes kept straying to Steve.

“Were you working late again, Gaia?” Tony suddenly asked. Shit. Tony had been on your ass to get a life. “No, no, why?”

“Because you look, and please forgive me for being frank here, worn out and really sick. I told you to take better care of yourself. Work isn’t everything, you know?”

You were about to call Tony out on that, after all, he was famous for his work benders, but Steve never gave you the chance.

“Jarvis, when has Ms y/l/n left her office yesterday?” Once more he sounded concerned. ‘Oh, that bastard’ you thought. Steve knew - of course - that you’d lied to Tony. “At 9 p.m., Captain, 4 hours after her workday usually ends, Sir.”

You wanted to strangle the AI at that moment. 

“Well Tony, if you don’t mind I will take y/n home, then. She obviously needs to rest and I need to head to Brooklyn anyways to meet with Bucky.” Steve sounded offended that you’ lied, so righteous.

“Yes you do that, champ” Tony agreed, absentmindedly, not noticing that Steve had no right knowing where you lived. “Say hi to Buckeroo for me, will ya?” Steve nodded and added “Tony, you can’t work your employees that hard. We talked about this.” His voice was imploring, and a little disgruntled. What was happening?

“Well with this one it isn’t my fault” Tony replied flippantly as he walked to the door. “Take care of yourself y/n, okay?”

“Tony, I’m fine. I’m an adult, I can decide if I am fit to work or not!” You wanted to sound assertive, but you were rather aware that you begged. Tony just smiled at you and grinned: “What the Captain says goes, young lady, trust me it’s for the best.” And with that, he’d left your office, leaving you alone with your tormentor.

You were done for. You knew it. Steve would now pounce on you and break you to pieces and… fuck. You were getting wet. Your brain knew that this was a self-defense mechanism to your body, but your heart felt ashamed. There was no denying that the sex had ended spectatcularly.

You jumped a mile when you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder, ripping you out of your thoughts. “y/n?” Steve’s voice was soft. “It’s time to go home, come on.”

“Don’t touch me” you replied, your voice hoarse with unshed tears. 

“Don’t worry, I can’t catch the flu, you could even cough on me, doll.” Steve joked, as he took your coffee from you and placed it on your table. “Any aches, pains or other flu symptoms?” For the first time since Tony left you, you dared look into his face. He seemed so concerned that you couldn’t help yourself and nodded. “Yeah. “ You sounded defeated even in your own head. “Both.”

“It’s okay, angel. I’ll take you home and take care of you.” Steve wrapped his warm, strong arm around you and moved you out of your office. Everything started to blur together, as he called out to your secretary that you were sick and he was taking you home and he moved you into an elevator and finally maneuvered you into a car. You let him. You let yourself be manhandled. You still didn’t understand what was happening. Where was the man who had almost fucked you to pieces yesterday night? At the thought, more wetness gathered between your thighs and you blushed scarlet as Steve got into the driver’s seat next to you. If any of the rumors about his enhanced senses were true, he’d be able to smell you by now.

As Steve pulled into the crazy Manhatten traffic he said: ”Bucky told me about your little argument this morning” His voice was so soft it lulled you in even more, “and quite frankly darling, I don’t appreciate the language you used nor how unappreciative of my protection you are. I know this must all be difficult for you, but there will still have to be consequences for your behavior,” ‘he sounds like a well-meaning teacher’ you thought confused. “but for today, I think you earned yourself some aftercare for taking my cock so well yesterday.” You felt like you’d been hit by a truck. Steve still sounded absolutely casual, but you froze at the slight mention.

His right hand settled on your thigh. “Breathe, darling, deep breath. It’s gonna be alright. I’m gonna take care of you from now on out.”

[falcon-eye]

Part 3? of the story for my OCs for @inexplicifics Accidental Warlord AU! I intended to only write like the opening paragraph for this today but now it’s two hours later and the whole thing is typed out. Oops.

At some point this will all be on AO3, I promise! But until then, should I do a tag list? Would people want me to tag them as I write these in the meantime? Please let me know!

(Also points to whoever can guess what Veko’s talking about when it comes to colors and smells and things! I also have it, though not exactly like Veko does)

(Also bonus points to wherever can figure out what real life goat Ren is based on lol)

———————————————

Unfortunately, Veko wasn’t able to return to Eloise for a few more years. Between simply not being in the area, not having time between hunts, his brother Hamra almost being disemboweled one year, and his own injuries, he just hadn’t been able to make his way to her little town in Temeria.

This year, he was determined to go back, though he wasn’t sure why. He chalked it up to being able to stay somewhere comfortable, with actual good food, for free, but even he knew that was a flimsy excuse. Eloise fascinated him, for lack of a better word. She hadn’t been afraid of him—quite the opposite! From the get-go it was like she had tried to intimidate him, and godsdammit it worked. But she was so nice to him, and despite what she said, her food was quite good. Or maybe everything Veko had been eating recently was just that awful.

Veko swung down off of Nine—his new gray mare after Eight became wyvern food (rest in peace you prick)—and hitched her to the fence post outside Eloise’s house. For some reason, he was nervous to see her again. Was it because it had been so long (for a human anyway) since he’d been here? He didn’t want her to think he wanted out of their deal or anything.

Veko brushed as much dirt and grime off of his armor as he could before knocking on the door. A moment later, it swung open and Eloise stared up at him with wide eyes.

Veko scratched his burns. “Uh, hello Elo—“

Eloise threw herself at him, arms around his neck. “Oh my gods!” she cried. “You fucking prick! Where have you been?!” Veko faltered for a moment before tentatively wrapping his arms around Eloise’s, but she immediately pulled back, giving him an icy glare. “Well?!”

“I, uh, I’ve been... busy,” Veko replied, but for some reason, Veko felt awful despite it being the truth.

“Busy!” Eloise exclaimed. Holy shit, she’d really been upset about this.

“I’m sorry,” Veko said, staring down at his boots. “I really am. And—and I really was busy. I don’t want you to think I was trying to get out of the deal or anything, cuz I wasn’t—“

“You think I’m upset because of the fucking deal?!” Eloise shouted. Veko blinked at her and she pinched the bridge of her nose. “For Melitele’s—get in here!”

Eloise pulled Veko into the house and slammed the door. Despite the few years that had gone by, not much inside had changed. There were more paint supplies strewn around the house than last time, but that was about it.

Veko scratched his scars again and Eloise slapped his hand away. “Sorry,” he said automatically.

“I thought you were dead!” Eloise shouted, poking a finger into Veko’s chest. “You’re a bloody Witcher! That’s what happens, isn’t it? You fight monsters, and then you die. Well godsdamn you I thought you died!”

Veko was horrified when the salty smell of tears began tickling his nose; something must have showed on his face, because Eloise rubbed her eyes quickly, not letting any of them fall.

“I’m sorry,” Veko said again.

Eloise glared at him again before suddenly hugging him. “Fucking git,” she hissed. “Send a letter or something, at least! I don’t know how to get ahold of you but I’m always here!”

Veko hesitated again but hugged Eloise back. This time, she didn’t pull away. “Sorry,” he said into her hair. “Just, every time I was in the area, something would come up, or my brother was hurt, or I was too injured to travel—“

“Are you ok now?!”

“Oh yeah, all healed up now.”

“And your brother?”

Veko smiled sadly, remembering the blood on his hands and the horrifying look of resignation on Hamra’s face. “Touch and go for a bit, but yeah, he also made a full recovery. I just couldn’t leave him like that.”

Eloise finally pulled away and crossed her arms. “Well damn,” she grumbled. “How can I be mad at you now?”

Veko chuckled, feeling like a weight had lifted off of his chest.

—————

During lunch, Eloise filled him in on how things had been going since they’d seen each other. Lennart was still a bastard, but after being slapped in front of the gods and everyone by a lady at the tavern, he’d been officially removed from his position. A local woman had taken the title of alderwoman now, and things had been a lot better. A few of Eloise’s goats had had multiple babies, though a wolf problem last year had taken a few of them. She still had one of her original nanny goats, though, and apparently this particular goat was about as stubborn as they come.

“She actually chased one of the wolves off, even!” Eloise explained. “Charged it head on. I’ve never seen a wolf roll like that in my life.”

“Remind me not to piss your goats off, then,” Veko chuckled.

Eloise seemed to pause for a moment. “I actually have to go feed them,” she said. “Plus, your horse has just been... well, outside tied to my fence. Come with me?”

So that was how Veko found himself leading his horse to the tiny barn behind Eloise’s house. He could see a couple goats that were obviously youngsters immediately rush over to the fence, bleating loudly. From within the barn, a huge tan goat trotted out and fucking screamed.

Veko flinched and even Nine pulled back. “Sorry, sorry,” Eloise said. “That’s Georgina. She’s... special.”

“I’ll say,” Veko grumbled. “This our wolf chaser?”

Eloise shook her head and pointed to another goat on the opposite side of the paddock. A little black thing, shorter than the others, with huge, curled horns. Eloise whistled and the goat immediately charged—and slammed horns first—into the fence.

“Ren,” Eloise said, crouching down to scratch the goat between the ears. “She’s harmless. Mostly.”

Veko looked at Nine and seemed to almost share a stare with the horse. A ‘can you believe this shit?’ moment that got Veko chuckling despite himself.

“Whatever you say.”

Eloise led Veko and Nine into the barn and into a small empty stall. “This was my father’s horse’s stall,” she explained as Veko began undoing Nine’s tack.

“Where is your old man, anyway?” he asked as he heaved the saddle down.

Eloise looked away. “He, um,” she cleared her throat. “He passed, um, a few months after you left.”

Veko dropped the saddle. “Fuck,” he said. “I’m—I’m so sorry. Fuck, if I’d known—“

“Veko,” Eloise put a hand on his arm, “my father was sick. Even I didn’t realize how badly until a week before he went. But it was... it was peaceful, at least. I’d made him dinner, he wished me goodnight, and I found him in the morning.”

Veko honestly didn’t know what else to say. Death was a weird subject for Witchers, after all. He continued grooming Nine while searching desperately for something to say that wasn’t ‘sorry’ again.

“Did he have... a funeral?” Veko asked. He could’ve slapped himself. Of course he had a fucking funeral.

Eloise seemed to sense Veko’s fumbling, because she smiled gently and nodded. “A very nice one, too,” she said. “I’ll go get some water for your horse.”

As Eloise walked away, Nine looked at Veko again. What was it with this horse? Veko pointed a warning finger in his face; Nine simply huffed and turned away. Somewhere, Hamra was laughing, Veko was sure of it. His brother had always had a good relationship with his horses.

Eloise returned a moment later with a bucket of water. Veko immediately took it from her and poured it into the empty trough.

“What’s her name?” Eloise asked. If he could blush, Veko would’ve been scarlet.

“Nine,” he said.

“‘Nine’?” Eloise repeated. “Does that mean something in another language or like, the number?”

“The, uh, the number.”

Eloise slapped Veko’s hand as it reached for his scars. “Why?”

“She’s my... ninth horse.”

There was beat before Eloise burst out laughing. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Veko smirked to cover his embarrassment. “So I’ve been told.”

Eloise rolled her eyes and headed over to the opposite end of the barn. The far wall was lined with bales of hay. Before she could even reach for one, Veko rushed over and hoisted one over his shoulder. Eloise put her hands on her hips.

“You know I’ve been doing this for years even before you showed up, right?” And she had a point; what was wrong with him?

“I, uh,” he looked anywhere but at Eloise, trying to find an excuse. “I figured it’s... been a while since I’ve been here so I, uh, owe you. I guess.”

“Are you telling me or asking me?”

“Yes.”

Eloise laughed. “Ok then,” she said, heading back out of the barn. “I’ll get the gate at least.”

Veko followed Eloise to the paddock and held Ren by a leather strap around her neck while he made his way through the gate. The other goats immediately began following him. As soon as the hay hit the ground, the goats descended. Eloise let Ren go and the other goats parted to let her through.

“I never realized how scary goats were,” Veko said as Eloise latched the gate closed.

“To be fair, I have quite the herd of characters,” she replied. “Most people have a rooster to wake them at sunrise; I have Georgina and her screaming. Ren is like my own personal guard hound. Sometimes she gets out and chases off anyone who gets near the house. The others are still young, yet, but they’re slowly starting to show their personalities.”

“I’ll stick with horses, I think,” Veko said. “They’re enough trouble as it is.”

“Apparently!” Eloise laughed as she and Veko made their way back to the house. “Seeing as you’ve had nine of them!”

“This is a dangerous job!” Veko defended, but the tone was joking. “Plus in the grand scheme of things, nine horses hasn’t been a lot for how long I’ve been on the Path.”

Eloise’s brow furrowed. “How old are you?”

“Old.”

Eloise scoffed and started gathering some of her paints. Veko followed her into her art room, not sure what else to do at this point, and found the walls covered in different paintings than the last time he’d been here. One in an ornate frame was her father, exactly as real as if he was standing before them.

Eloise picked up a few leather straps from one of the tables. “Help me with something,” she said. “I’m going to repaint the goats’ collars and I don’t know what color to give who. I want you to help me decide.”

“Ok?” Veko said, taking a seat. “Why?”

“Something you said to my father, when you saved him,” Eloise replied. “It always confused him. He told you he lived in the house with the blue roof and you said it suited him. Why?”

Veko went to scratch his scars, but instead balled his hand into the fabric of his pants. “Well, it’s, uh,” he hesitated. Of all things for that old man to focus on!

“My father was always fascinated with color,” Eloise said, as if sensing Veko needed a minute. “That’s how I got into painting. He was never content with something being the original color it was. Hence, the blue roof. He said that you saying the blue suited him kind of, I don’t know, validated him.”

Veko’s chest felt tight. Now he felt fucking terrible for not being here before. Maybe Eloise’s father would’ve understood, or at least found it interesting that—

Veko cleared his throat. “So, sometimes,” he began, staring down at his hands. “When I think of things, or names, or... well anything, really. I get these senses.” When he looked up, Eloise was enraptured. “Like, your father, just looking at him, the color blue came to mind. I don’t know why.”

“Just colors?”

Veko shook his head. “Smells, sometimes. Like when I think of you... I, uh, I think of the smell of your paints.”

“That’s... that’s fascinating, Veko,” Eloise said. “Tell me more?”

Veko gestured to the collars. “Well, you’re trying to figure out what color for what goat. As soon as you said Georgina, green came to mind. I don’t know why. And Ren is red, but not because the name and word are close. Uh, sometimes when I picture my supplies in my pack, I see them like they’re all laid out on the table, lined up side-by-side, despite the fact that I know damn well they’re a jumbled mess in my bag. And in my head, the order is always the same. I kinda do the same thing with months. I see them lined up like squares on a wall.” Veko grimaced. Fuck. “No, ‘see’ is the wrong word, cuz I don’t—I’m not hallucinating or anything!”

“I believe you,” Eloise said softly, taking one of Veko’s hands in hers. And she was telling the truth. Veko felt the tension in his body release.

“It’s weird, I know,” he said. “So I don’t normally say anything. When I was younger the trainers thought my head got fucked up by the mutagens but it’s just the way I’ve always been.”

“Does your brother have this too?”

“No,” Veko chuckled. “But he’s been the most receptive to it, even if he doesn’t understand it. Like, his favorite color is green, but when I think of him I think of like an indigo color. And I’m red, but I don’t know why.”

“What about me?” Veko met Eloise’s gaze and held it. The look on her face was one of honest curiosity and interest. She smiled at him and squeezed his fingers. “What do you see when you think of me?”

Veko swallowed. “I see turquoise, like the color your dress was the first time we met. I don’t know if it’s because that’s what you were wearing or what, but when I think ‘Eloise’ I think of that faint turquoise color.”

“Does it work for family names?”

“Sometimes. What is your full name, anyway?”

“Eloise Calold.”

Veko cocked his head to the side. “Yellow,” he said. “Calold is yellow.”

“But not because of anything I’m wearing,” Eloise said, gesturing to the paint-stained brown smock she was currently wearing.

“Guess not.”

“Veko,” Eloise breathed. “That is the most fascinating thing I’ve ever heard of. So you see colors? Or, think in colors? I wish I had that. I wonder how it would affect my art. I wonder how it would affect your art.”

Veko pulled away and put his hands up. “Hey, whoa, who said anything about me being an artist?” he said.

Eloise laughed. “I bet you’re better than you think,” she said.

“I bet not.”

Eloise smirked. “Tell you what,” she said. “I’ll drop the subject if you do something for me.”

“Name it?”

“Let me paint you.”

Veko again was struck silent. She wanted to paint him? Apparently his mouth was hanging open, because Eloise tapped his chin to close it. “Why?” he managed.

“Because,” she replied. “We’re... friends. Or I like to think we are. And in case... in case something happens to you...” she gazed at the painting of her father, smiling down warmly at them, “I want you to be immortalized with him.”

What the fuck could Veko say to that? “Oh. Ok,” he said dumbly. “Uh. How do you want me?”

Eloise jumped up and ran for a blank canvas. “Whatever’s comfortable!” she called. “It takes a while.”

Veko just... sat there as Eloise began setting up. He turned this way and that, never quite settling, before Eloise huffed and dragged an armchair over. Veko abandoned the stool he’d been on and sat back into the warn leather.

“Better,” he said. He turned, scar facing away, and immediately Eloise’s hand reached out to turn him back. Her fingers grazed the puckered mess that was his cheek and he flinched.

“I’m sorry,” Eloise said gently. “I just—I want to see it.”

“Why?” Veko whispered.

“Because it’s a part of you,” Eloise replied. “And gods know I’ve kept you from scratching it enough.”

There was a moment where neither of them said a word. Veko’s heart sped in his chest like it hadn’t in many years. Eloise gazed over his burn scars and gently brushed her fingers over them again. Veko didn’t flinch this time, but just barely. Her fingers were cool against the phantom heat of his burns, and as she traced the expanse of them along his jaw, he couldn’t hold back the full-body shiver the touch elicited.

Eloise pulled back and Veko scrambled to find something to say before she said anything else about them. “So—so how does this work?” he asked. “I, uh, I just sit here?”

Eloise nodded and finally pulled back. “Yes,” she said, not meeting his gaze. Now that he was out of his own head, Veko could hear her heart hammering in her chest. “Just, um, get comfortable, relax, and um, don’t... don’t move, if you can help it.”

Veko grinned. “Ok.” Eloise nodded and began mixing a few paints.

Veko just... watched her. As brush met paint and paint met canvas, he could almost see the cogs turning in her head. Instead of sticking her tongue out, like he’d heard some artists do, she made faces. A stroke here and her mouth pinched to the side; stroke there and her mouth opened in a little ‘o’.

Veko wanted to slip into meditation, as that would be the best way to sit still for her, but he found he just couldn’t. As much as Eloise was watching him for her painting, he wanted to watch her. He couldn’t help but think of the last time they’d seen each other, and what he thought of her then. She wasn’t all that attractive, merely plain by any standards. Her laugh was unladylike and jarring. She intimidated him. She swore. She—

She made him dinner. She let him sleep in her home. She told him stories and listened to his in turn. She wanted his opinions. She found his mental crap fascinating. She worried for him. She cried for him!

She called them friends.

As Veko sat, watching Eloise paint his portrait, a warm weight settled in his gut. He didn’t want to leave in the morning. Hells, he didn’t want her to ever finish this bloody painting. And although emotions aren’t exactly a Witcher’s strong point, he had a sinking suspicion that what he was feeling...

Fuck.

[lu-undy]

Chapter 81 - SBT

Here it is.

"Oh man, maths is so hard…"

"I know! But Prof L's nice."

"Yeah, makes it almost easy."

Lunch time came and Mundy smiled. He was on soup duty that day with the poor, and the kids were rushing out of their class with none other than Prof L. 

"Hey, M!" 

"Hey, guys. So how was it with L? Borin' again?" 

The kids laughed as they lined up and took a bowl each. 

"Non, it was not." Lucien went behind the counter and lent a hand to Mundy. "Was it?" He asked the children.

"Nah!" They answered as they were served by either Lucien or Mundy. 

"You see, M? My classes are never boring." 

"Pfff, of course you'd say that…!"

When the soup was served to everyone, Lucien and Mundy helped themselves and shared some bread together. Winter was gone and now was the time for spring. 

"How was it with the kids this mornin'?" Mundy asked as they both sat on plastic chairs not far from the tables that had the pots.

"Someone said it was boring." Lucien answered with a smile. 

"So I've heard, eh." 

"Pff…" Lucien nudged him with his elbow playfully and they both chuckled. 

"Nah, seriously, how was it?"

"As usual. I think some of them at least will become very good human beings, and maybe even more. Seeing them everyday fills me with joy."

"Alright then, I see you don't need me, eh?"

"Don't be jealous. I need you, you fill me with another kind of joy…" Lucien winked at his lover. 

"Not so loud. The kids are gonna hear you…!"

"They are far away and busy." Lucien answered with a chuckle. 

"Still have some classes this afternoon?" Mundy raised a bit of bread to his mouth.

"Oui." Lucien bent on his side and bit in the bit of bread before Mundy had the chance. 

"Oi!"

Lucien chuckled and left a quick kiss on his lover's cheek. 

"Someone told me that I looked like a thief."

"Whoever that is, they're right!"

"Ages ago, a lifetime ago. I was a different man back then, and I had come to meet with a scruffy - some would say dirty - hunter."

Mundy raised an eyebrow. 

"Back then, I used to have short hair and a clean shaven face."

"Now you're the scruffy one, eh?" Mundy joked and Lucien chuckled. 

"I guess so, oui. And back then, I used to wear a mask."

"Ah, yeah, the balala-thingy. I remember." 

"Oui. And the hunter said to me that I looked like a thief with my… balala-thing."

"Balala-thingy, not balala-thing, Professor Ski." 

Lucien's eyebrows jumped and he turned to look Mundy in the eye. 

"That's how I called you when we met, remember?" The Aussie asked. 

"Of course, I do." 

They finished their soup together and the time had come for afternoon classes. 

"I shall go."

"Yeah, don't wanna be late for your own classes, eh."

"It sets a bad example for the children." Lucien answered.

"Ooh, listen to you now, an example you are, eh?"

Lucien smirked proudly. 

"You should take notes, mon amour."

"Pfff, yeah, well, too late to change anything in me, eh."

Lucien stood up and took Mundy's hand. 

"It is never too late." He put Mundy's hand on his lips and left a kiss. The Aussie stood up and pulled Lucien's hand to his own lips.

"Go ahead, Prof L." He kissed it and Lucien blushed.

"Fine, I shall. Take care and see you tonight?" Lucien headed away.

"Yeah, see ya. And uh, Lu'?"

The Frenchman stopped and turned. 

"Je t'aime." Mundy said, with his own Australian twist to the pronunciation. 

[I love you.]

"Moi aussi, mon loup."

[Me too, my wolf.]

Mundy spent the afternoon going through donations. Clothes, toys, sometimes even pieces of furniture. Of course he wasn't alone and other volunteers helped. He took a break at some point and took a walk around the few blocks. But curiosity won over when he saw the silhouette of a man in his late forties with long, silver hair through a window. 

Mundy got closer and watched. Lucien was too absorbed explaining whatever bit of maths was on the blackboard for him to notice that he had an extra student outside, shyly observing him. Mundy saw him go to the kids, boys or girls, from one table to the next. He would crouch down to be at eye-level with them and spend a few seconds there. Sometimes he would take a pencil and scribble something on their copybook. But each time, he would finish his explanations with a smile and a pat on the shoulder or ruffling the blond or brown hair of the child he was addressing.

Mundy smiled. The cold-blooded snake of a spy did have something of a father's instinct. And even if his past job had tried to strip him off of his emotions, Lucien's heart always won. 

"Such a ball of repressed romance you are…" Mundy whispered to himself and chuckled before turning and heading back where Maurice needed him.

The afternoon flew by at the speed of light. 

"M, you can finish this tomorrow, it will start to get dark and L has finished classes a long time ago now. He will wonder why you come back home so late…!"

Maurice came to Mundy who was busy trying to repair a toy. He had a screwdriver in his hand and an allen key behind his ear. The king of beggars removed the allen key and tapped Mundy's shoulder.

"Oh, hey, Maurice."

"How is it going?"

"Alright. Just a few tweaks and a new battery ought to do the job on this little car."

"Great. Now, please, go back home or L will tell me off." Maurice chuckled. 

"Yeah, true." Mundy put away his tools and tidied up his working bench before standing. "Alright, thanks Maurice, I didn't see the time fly."

"It is alright. I should have a clock installed in this workshop. But yes, please, we'll see each other tomorrow." 

"Yeah, see ya."

They exited the workshop and Mundy locked it before heading home. His walk back home wasn't too long but as he put his hand on the front door handle, a noise surprised him. He leaned his ear on the wooden door to listen better. 

"Is that…?"

Yes, it was. It wasn't any odd noise. That particular kind Mundy could recognise anywhere. He unlocked the door and pushed it open as silently as possible before slipping in. He walked to the living-room and peeked through its door.

The flames of the fireplace made the Burgundy walls glow in warm shades of red and orange. Perle and Soot brushed themselves on Mundy's legs before slithering in the room. Lucien was sitting in the middle of it, on a piano. He had tied his hair in a messy bun but some locks of hair fell beautifully around his face. Mundy's heart swelled in his chest and he didn't even wonder where the piano had come from.

The halo of the dancing flames cut Lucien's black silhouette poetically. He was playing with the ivory keys confidently. Mundy removed his aviators to see him better.

{To the reader: the song is "Star Triste" [Sad Star] by Juliette Armanet. Some of the lyrics have been changed.}

"Accoudé à mon piano,

[Leaning on my piano]

Je fais le beau

[I play it cool]

Je veux qu'on m'aime,

[I want to be loved]

Qu'on m'aime dans la peau."

[To be so loved.]

Lucien was dancing on the piano, his hair followed the movement of his head that he swung in rhythm.

"J'voulais pas devenir chanteur,

[I didn't want to become a singer,]

Lady crooner,

[A lady crooner]

J'rêvais d'une vie plus claire,

[I dreamt of a more simple life]

Peut-être plus sincère."

[Maybe more true.]

Perle and Soot jumped on the piano seat and then on top of the piano itself and they laid there, spooning each other. Soot bathed the white cat and no doubt they were purring, even though Mundy couldn't hear them.

"J'sens que je vais finir en idole,

[I feel I'll end up an idol]

En bourreau des coeurs,

[A heartbreaker]

Le king des baby dolls,

[The king of baby dolls]

Le bureau des pleurs."

[The bureau of cries]

Gosh, what a sight. Mundy had almost forgotten that Lucien could sing that well. It was gentle, delicate waves of air that he blew between his thin lips. It was sensual and soft to the ear.

"Je cherche des yeux

[I look with my eyes]

Quelqu'un pour que le monde s'écroule

[For someone to make the world crumble and fall]

Quelqu'un pour être deux

[Someone to be two with]

Et là parmi toute la foule

[And there, amongst the crowd]

Je n'en vois pas deux

[I can't see two people]

J'suis seul pour lui tout entier

[I am alone for him entirely]

Seul sur la scène

[Alone on the stage]

Juste pour lui"

[Only for him]

Lucien raised his head off the black and white keys and looked at the door. Nothing. Hm. He could have sworn he felt as if he was being watched. 

"Il n'y a qu'un seul moyen de le savoir."

[There is only one way to find out.]

Lucien dived back in his bubble of concentration. He knew what he should play next, to lure his lover out of the shadows.

He placed his fingers on the keys and took a deep breath. Lucien started much slower than the original version. But he needed to remind himself of the chords and arpeggios. Ah, oui, it was coming back to him now, his fingers knew what they were doing and he started to sing. 

"Time can never mend

The careless whisper of a good friend.

To the heart and mind,

If your answer's kind,

There's no comfort in the truth.

Pain is all you'll find.

I should have known better, yeah."

Lucien looked at Perle and Soot. They were sleeping peacefully, their limbs were intertwined in a beautiful mix of black and white fur.

"I feel so unsure

As I take your hand and lead you to the dance floor.

As the music dies,

Something in your eyes

Calls to mind a silver screen,

And all is sad goodbyes."

A breathy line of saxophone resonated from the corridor and Lucien smiled. He went on with the music, nothing shall interrupt them!

"I'm never gonna dance again!

Guilty feet have got no rhythm!

Though it's easy to pretend,

I know you're not a fool!

I should have known better than to cheat a friend!

And waste a chance that I'd been given!

So I'm never gonna dance again,

The way I danced with you!"

Mundy had entered the living-room and was now playing that oh so famous saxophone tune from the well known 'Careless Whisper', by George Michael. He joined Lucien and leaned on the side of the piano. 

One tapped ivory and ebony keys while the other played with gold. The flames of the fireplace lit the black varnished, grand piano and the golden saxophone beautifully. 

Both improvised on the piece and it lasted much longer than it should. The piano answered the saxophone and the saxophone answered the voice. Hammers hit strings more passionately as Mundy blew in his golden dragon, the flames of what his voice couldn't sing springing vividly to Lucien.

After a length of time that none of them knew precisely, they stopped. Mundy had ended up sitting next to Lucien on the piano seat. He put the saxophone on top of the piano next to the cats and took a deep breath. 

"That… was epic." He said and leaned his head on Lucien's shoulder. The latter chuckled. 

"We should do this more often." 

"What? Play Careless Whisper for hours?" Mundy asked as he dearly held Lucien's arm in his.

"Playing together. After all, that's all we've ever done, hm?" Lucien put his hand on Mundy's thigh and brushed it gently. He leaned his head on Mundy's. 

"Yeah… Playin' together weird games, eh?" 

"Oui, but I wouldn't change anything."

"I'd change the bit where you made me believe you were dead." Mundy teased. 

"Ah, oui, that. I almost forgot about it." Lucien found Mundy's hand and laced his fingers around his. 

"I didn't. It felt awful."

"To this day I am surprised that you did not beat me up for it." Lucien said. 

"To be honest with ya, I couldn't. It didn't even cross my mind."

"How come? I thought I was your favourite punching bag." Lucien kissed his lover's head and leaned on it again.

"Ha, yeah, 'course you are but…"

"But?" 

"But I was so happy to see you. I was over the moon…!" Mundy answered. "And uh… If you think about it, coming out of your hidin' is like refusing to lie. It's like you had the choice between continuing to lie or coming to me, and you chose to take the risks and come to me. Means a lot to me." 

Lucien smiled, albeit sadly. He wished he had met Mundy much earlier in life.

"Now, the more I think about it, the more I… Uh… I mean I love you." 

Lucien bit his lip. Something was gnawing him on the inside and had been for days now. 

"Mundy?"

"Yeah?"

"I have something to confess, yet again."

Mundy straightened his back and looked at his lover next to him. 

"What is it?"

"I fear you might want to beat me up after all." Lucien lowered his head. 

"Why?" Mundy took Lucien's hand in both of his. He looked him in the eye but Lucien was staring down at his thighs.

"Because there is a lie that I need to clear up."

"Go ahead."

Lucien took a deep breath. 

"Tomorrow I shall take you somewhere, if you agree. But you shall face it without me."

"Face what?" Mundy raised an eyebrow. 

"The lie that Maurice has been nurturing for years and that he shared with me for days now." 

Mundy frowned. 

"Alright… Uh… I must say it doesn't explain much but I guess that's all I'm gettin' for tonight?" 

"I am sorry." Lucien hid his face in his hands.

"Hey now, it's fine." Mundy hugged him.

"Non, it is not. You will hate me when you find out!"

"No! I can't hate you, luv', whatever it is, I won't hate you. I can't!"

"Mundy… Please…?" Lucien removed his hands off his face and looked up at Mundy. The Aussie saw the flames of the fireplace dance in the guilty pupils of his lover.

"Yeah?"

"I promised to stay with you and I will." Lucien said. "You will need to face this lie and look at it right in the eye. It will be painful and it will shock you beyond what you have lived so far."

Mundy's breath accelerated. His body was tense as he started to measure the seriousness of Lucien's words. 

"I will not be with you because you have to do this alone. But I will be nearby."

"Lu', you're startin' to scare me…"

"I will be nearby but…"

"But what?"

"But I will understand if you don't want to talk to me for a while, if looking at me hurts because I have overstepped the mark and did something wrong to you, again." 

"Lu', don't talk nonsense, I love you too much for that."

"Mundy…" Lucien headbutted Mundy's chest softly and buried himself there. "In my defense, please understand that since the day Maurice told me the truth, I have been unable to sleep soundly, I felt like I was lying to you and God knows that I never want that to happen again. It pained me so much that… I sometimes even found it hard to look at you in the eye because each time I did, I would hear a voice in my head screaming that I was lying to you. It was unbearable!" Lucien clawed Mundy's jumper on his chest. 

"Whatever it is, it's gonna be fine and I won't be mad at you. Don't find excuses like this. I… I'm sure that if you lied, you had good reasons to, eh?" Mundy cupped Lucien's face and made him look up. "Ok?"

"Non. I was just too cowardly to tell you the truth, and too afraid of your reaction." Lucien answered sadly. "And now I am ashamed." 

"Luv', there's no harm done, ok? I love you way too much to hold a grudge or anything." 

"You say that now, but tomorrow shall test your love for me brutally." 

Mundy hugged Lucien again. 

"Whatever it is, we've fought worse." The Aussie said. "We've fought worse and we made it. Every bloody time, however hard it was, we made it together. Now I don't know what you've been hiding from me and why you're so terrified of my reaction when I'll find it out. But I can't afford to lose you, not again. I know how hard it is to be without you. So don't worry, I won't let go of you." 

"I fear that you might reconsider everything tomorrow." 

"Don't. There's nothin' in the world that'll change the fact that I need you in my life." 

"So do I, mon amour, so do I…" 

Lucien closed his eyes and clung to Mundy. That hug lasted for minutes and to the Frenchman, it almost seemed as though it would be the last.

[mileycfan4eva33]

Fandom: One Chicago and SVU

Title: Silence Equals Death

Chapter 1: Dear Diary

P O V: Sylvie Brett

A/N: Boy, I am getting sick of these things. But, I'm too paranoid not to write it down. Here are the usual disclaimers, I do not own any of the One Chicago/Or SVU characters that glory goes to Dick Wolf and NBC. Trigger warning for a sexual assault/ rape towards the end. Whose Point of View would you like chapter two to be in; Kelly's, Matt's, Stella's or Kat's, Or Hailey's? This fic will be told through multiple views and be a joint between PD/ Fire and SVU. Reviews are fires to my soul; please leave one. Thank You.

Gaffney Chicago Medical Center

Dear Diary, today is January 31, 2021; it is 12:56 am; I am in Chicago Med. I have to write this all down before it becomes a twisted blur of fragmented memories. Tonight was a nightmare, and a dream all rolled into one. Sitting here now on this cold steel trap of a bed, I am in disbelief that any of this happened, but it did, and it shouldn't have; if I had been smarter, more robust, less drunk, none of this would have happened. I only have myself to blame. It all started so innocently.

Now everything is such a mess; how did this happen? I am not a lovesick teenager, and I shouldn't be making these types of mistakes. If only I could turn back time and not get so damn drunk, but I can't, so here it is, the sick truth of what will surely end my career. The authentic story as only someone who lived it can ever tell it. No Disney fair-tales here, just honest raw truths, every word you will read is what happened to the best of my recollection someday I will gone, and I want my truth out there, so no woman ever has to bear witness to the pain of being raped, and thrown away as if she is the villain.

I am not the villain, but can I say I was a victim?

Sofitel Chicago Magnificent Mile

20 E Chestnut St, Chicago, IL 60611

January 30th 2021 9:35 pm

"My money's on you finding exactly what you want."

Matthew Casey's rugged, sexy voice purrs in my ear. I can't remember when he said that or why the hell he said it; my mind is toasted with the large amount of alcohol I have poured into my body. I can remember what he said after, though, because it's what I deserve. Matt had no idea back then that all I wanted was for him to say he loved me, to tell me I am beautiful. To reassure me that these butterflies I have been feeling forever are not just in my stomach, not only carrying my heart away, but they are in his as well.

He didn't, not then and never since it's been at least two years since he said those words to me. Two years since I felt a brief flutter inside my heart telling me that my feelings for Matt had changed from friendship to something a little less platonic. "God, there ain't enough alcohol inside this damn hotel to take my memory away from this pain."

"I hear ya' sis." Stella Kidd motions for the bartender to bring us two more rounds as she settles against the counter inches away from me, her elbows propping her up. "You look flushed, Brett. Are you feeling okay?" Stella's gorgeous brown eyes are wide in concern as she glances at my body my cheeks are burning, I can feel the heat descending from my head to my face making me sway in dizziness a little as I try to remember how to breathe. Funny how a normal body function can sometimes take so much damn effort it hurts. I need a minute to do nothing, not to feel, think, talk, react or breathe, but of course, I can't have that minute, not with Stella on the case. "Yeah, girl, why wouldn't I be okay?" I fake a laugh, which I don't think fools her even for a second.

"Uh, I am so over these damn things Sylvie, I thought with COVID we would escape this bullshit this year." Stella slides down my shot glass to me as she tilts her head back and chugs her shot of whiskey with one gulp. "Yeah, I would have thought so too; nothing I hate more than a bunch of grown-ass corporate men in suits pretending to give two craps about us little people."

"Amen, sister." Stella clicks her empty glass against mine before I tilt my head back and swallow the rush of warmth that leaves me dizzier; maybe I shouldn't have skipped two meals today before coming here after having no food yesterday. "So what's up with you and Kelly?" I turn my head to my right to catch Stella's eyes, glued to her boyfriend Kelly Severide, chatting with District Chief Steve Walker. Fire Commissioner Carl Grissom and the Deputy Director of Finance Gail McLeod. "Kelly's looking dapper Stella; I think someone is going to get lucky tonight." I hold my hand up to signal the bartender for another round; he fills our glasses quickly, much to my pleasure. "Yeah, from your lips to Kelly's ears, please, he's barely touched me ever since he found out that some people may take offense to me being promoted because we're together."

"Aw, man, I'm sorry he's probably just worried Stella, he loves you Kelly doesn't want to be the reason you fail because we all know you deserve this promotion. At least he cares enough to say the words out loud." I swallow the shot feeling my eyes burn badly as tears filter out. "Aw man, this shit is strong. Phew!" shaking my body out, I signal for another, hearing Stella laugh. "Still regretting telling Matt how you feel?"

I pause for a moment before I answer; how should I respond? Do I regret telling Matt how I feel? "Hey bitches." I'm saved from answering as Leslie Shay comes stumbling over, wrapping her arm over my shoulder and squeezing between us, holding her phone up with her left hand. "Smile bitches." Stella and I hold our full shot glasses up. I love this bartender; he is on his game tonight; we smile and lean into Shay, who is reeking of Tequila. "Give me some love, sugar babes." Yeah, she is drunk, sugar babes? Where did she even come up with that one? We smile brighter even though neither one of us feel happy at this moment; her eyes are on Kelly, who isn't even looking our way, and I lock my eyes on Matt, who is dancing with some woman I have never seen in my life.

The woman is drop-dead gorgeous though five-foot-nine inches is my guess she appears to be Lebanese or Latino with long caramel hair flowing down her back past her waist the silk wrap dress she is wearing clings to every unique curve on her flawless body. Matt's arms are wrapped around her waist he's dancing close with her, my heart races so fast I feel the room sway. "Love is a journey, Sylvie, don't give up yet. I know this moment sucks. I get it hurts worse than anything you've ever experienced. When it gets too heavy, when it feels like the weight of this pain is crushing you, remember the pleasant moments, the breathless enthusiastic moments. Matt's alive, and so are you as long as you live, there is hope."

I wish I could smile at Shay as a thank you, but I can't muster the strength even to attempt a smile. Seeing Matt dancing with this woman is killing me slowly; who is she? Where did they meet? Why did he choose tonight to bring her on a date? Knowing I would be at this stupid First Responders training shit, is he trying to make me jealous?

"Your Casey is out there, Sylvie, but you don't have to change who you are to find him." Gabby's words from five years ago come back to me; she did not know just how right she was when she said them to me; hell, I didn't even know back then that the man who I would want to be by my side forever, the man who I would spend countless sleepless nights crying my heart out over was her Casey. Talk to God, Sylvie, get your head straight; this is crazy pinning over a man you pushed away yourself.

Sometimes I feel so cold the way steel must feel left outside to fend for itself against the weather elements. Some days I feel broken, I forget what living is for, I forget how to breathe or even why I should keep living. Today is one of those nights; seeing Matt with this woman is breaking me; I can feel every string of my heart aching, pulling, and twisting as it stretches my entire inside into a giant trampoline my stomach turns and painfully contracts reminding me.

I am alive

Every ache and every pain reminds me I am breathing, but why I can't seem to grasp it. I'm not suicidal, but I'm finding it hard to find a reason to keep my head up when my brain is screaming at me to run away, to bury myself in Tequila and cuddle under the covers till all of the daylight fades away into a blur of a drunken haze.

"Another shot, bartender."

"Name is Josh." I turn away, not caring, seeing only Matt as he lifts his finger to wipe out a stray hair off the woman's face. I can barely breathe every effort is a raspy painful burn that leaves me gasping, trying to fight off this fresh wave of tears. "Close your eyes, Sylvie, and fucking hold it together for a few more minutes; for God's sake, don't let the man see you cry."

Shay slips her arm around my back under my armpits, quickly leading me out of the ballroom where the music is playing louder than what you would expect at a training seminar. "Remember what I said to picture the pleasant moments." "I can't, Shay..I... can't breathe." "Shh, hey, it's okay. I got you." Shay gently settles me onto a couch inside the ladies' room, handing me a cold bottle of water, which she's already taken a few sips out. Still, she lifts to my lips before I can stop her; the cool liquid splashes over my chin, dripping down what gets inside my mouth is refreshing and helps cool me off, allowing me to breathe easier. Leaning back against the wall, I close my eyes, trying to regain some gravity; my knees are trembling, leaving me feeling as if I will collapse if I try to stand.

I want to kick myself for falling so hard for a damn guy who I knew would never love me back. I knew I shouldn't have pushed Matt, yet I ignored every one of my instincts and went full sped ahead. God, I will remember that day forever- I had been avoiding Matt for days ever since the accident. Mainly because I had my suspicions that Matt hadn't just been lucky in getting to me so quickly, part of me hoped and yes, as vain as it sounds prayed that Matt had raced to me, that the thought of me being in peril had somehow overcome Matt's heart running his blood in fear.

I told myself I was crazy even to think such stupid school girl thoughts. Matt is our captain; it made perfect sense he would be worried about Gianna and me; we're part of his team, nothing more. The job of the captain is to make sure all of his team comes home safe at the end of every shift; Matt's lost too many people in his days, he fears losing anyone, so of course, the entire team raced to us when they heard 61 was in an accident.

I had myself convinced Matt came to me out of loyalty out of duty, not because he was in love with me, I am stupid for even thinking for one mil-la-second that Matthew Casey would ever love me as anything except a friend. I was doing so damn well, too, until Blake Gallo blew up all my rationalization with his account of how Matt jumped out of a moving truck to get to me. Me, not myself and Gianna but only me. Brett, I have to get to Brett, that's what Gallo recalled Matt saying.

Shattered

Read more and please leave a review at https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13807832/1/Silence-Equals-Death

[agrinsosardonic]

Unused CSB Chapter

Our third year attending Camp White Wolf in the Catskills. I was a shrimp approaching thirteen and my bones always hurt from growing. Sephiroth hit his first growth spurt and towered over me like one of the mountains that surround that camp. And no sooner did my parents pull away from us- not to be seen for six weeks- Sephiroth abandoned me for the older boys he made friends with last year. Leaving me alone. I expected it. I knew he would do this. A common thread, but it didn’t change the crushing rejection that I felt. That I carried on my shoulders as I grabbed my bag and found my cabin. 

My time there remains a blur. I remember the smell of the still lake later and wood wet with Summer. Bugs sang songs in whispering trees in between attacking my skin. The hot sun, humidity, that muffles the sounds of camp. The disturbed water from rowing. The shouts of competition. The mess hall and the static of conversations I could never find myself to become a part of. I sat alone. Strangled by my thoughts. My lack of self-esteem even though my braces had just come off. 

Your teeth look big now. 

Sephiroth had said. I ran my tongue over them instinctively every-time I remembered that comment. 

I never attempted to make friends in that place. All the boys just seemed so much more put together. And handsome. And I cringed every time that thought floated into my head. I wasn’t supposed to think that like; pinched my eyes shut and tried to think about anything else. Video games, or comic books. Horror movies were a great relief, because it’s fucking real hard to get a boner thinking about a girl getting sawed in half. Everything is ten times more difficult at thirteen. Body always tense with pain. My dick constantly tried to give me away. My brain just then started hearing that voice that whispers in the shadows- all the solutions to my problems. 

By the third day, I wanted to call my mom and beg her to pick me up. The boys in my cabin, often secretly led by Seph, decided I was an easy target and tortured me every morning. Traps I would step into like a fly to a web. And my best friend, the one my parents asked to watch me, nowhere to be found. Alone. The kind of alone that I can actually feel. Like I’m being crushed between two walls closing in- suffocating. No way out. 

Sat by the lake and thought about hurting myself for the first time. At the time, the thought seemed logical. Injure myself in a way that would get me sent home. Burn myself on a fire, or cut myself with a blade. In reflection, this was the first time I considered self-harm as an outlet. One I would end up returning to time and time again. But, then, twelve years and eleven months, pissed look etched upon my face while I thought about all the ways I could destroy myself, someone sat next to me with a loud hmph announcing his presence. 

Did the lake do something to piss you off?

I no longer can remember the sound of his voice.

But I had turned my head and saw him sitting next to me, knees up to his chest and arms listlessly draped over them. I recognized him from the previous years. His deep black hair wild like the forest at midnight. Blue eyes that glimmered like the moon. He wore the white camp shirt they gave us and black swim trunks. I knew his name. Zack Fair. But I had no idea why he decided to sit next to me.

Well?

I stuttered through my words, still not used to the absence of metal in my mouth. Uh, w-what?

You look like you’re about to fight the lake.

I brought my eyes back to the green and blue rocky body of water. Zack was two years older, just shy of his fifteenth birthday which would have him working at the camp as a Junior counselor, instead of a participant. We didn’t hang with the same group- well. I didn’t have a group. He did. And all I could think about was those friends lurking in the shadows waiting for my guard to drop so they could play a cruel prank on me.

You know, this lake sucks. He continued, it attacked me my first year here and I’m not over it!

He showed me his foot, by practically shoving it in my face so I could see the faded pink scar on the sole. Attacked by a rock! First week too. Never forgave it. So, if you’re trying to fight the lake, I got your back.

I cracked a smile. A small one but showed my teeth. And I remember the way he tilted his head. Like a puppy. You’re kinda cute when you smile. You should more often. You’ll have all the ladies chasing after you!

My stomach flipped.

Actually, that never happened before and I thought I was going to throw up and started getting nervous. But his smile, bright and comforting, kept me from fleeing to the coldness of my cabin. 

You’re Cloud, right? And I remember being shocked he knew my name. He revealed he was captain of the opposing Volleyball team in that afternoon’s game. Which saw my pathetic attempts at being useful in a sport rewarded with a ball to the face, the stomach, and somehow my legs much to the resentment of my teammates; who slung every vile slur they had learned in their young lives. 

I felt a wave of hot embarrassment. Tried to bury my face in my knees but he pressed on. Complimenting my attitude despite the failure. I shot pointed glares at my teammates and continued to play despite their displeasure with me. That takes balls, man he smiled. 

We sat together at the lake while the sun descended over the water casting a fiery glow against the water. He informed me he came from New Jersey, mocked me gently when I revealed I’m from Staten Island. We argued over which state has the better pizza. What life was like back home. He was entering Sophomore year of high school-and I always forget that fact when I reflect on our relationship...if I could even call it that. 

Zack became my friend first; guiding me during those dark weeks of camp. He invited me to sit at his table in the mess hall with his two other buddies. He taught me how to throw a football in a perfect spiral. Took me rowing on the lake during free time. Picked me first in every team sport, including capture the flag which saw Sephiroth on the opposing team. 

And we won. 

And I do sometimes remember the sensation when Zack threw his strong arms around me, cheering my success. How it felt like a million needles pricking my skin and my heart thundered to a halt. And I was so caught up in the fleeting moment of pure euphoria, I barely acknowledged the strange look Sephiroth shot threw his silver bangs as he cocked his head to the side and watched Zack and I be ushered off to revel in our victory. I recall it at times when he gives me that same look. The same look he gave when he asked about Reno the first time. And I get sick just thinking about how far back he planned everything. 

The night of the victory, after dinner with our team and sharing scary stories over the campfire, Zack walked me back to my cabin late. And pulled me into a hug I didn’t understand at the time. And another feeling pooled in the pit of my stomach when he ran his big hands down my back, stopping short of my buttocks before bringing them back up. Nerves. He felt so much bigger than me. Maybe at the time I felt safe in that embrace. But it’s tainted now but what happened after. And while he whispered Good Job, shorty in my ear like a supportive friend, I think I knew there was something else he wanted to say. Something he communicated with an extra squeeze before he released me into the damp darkness of my cabin. 

I laid in bed that night thinking only of Zack. 

Recalling the last few weeks of our budding friendship. Calculated every time he found an excuse to touch me, whether it be a playful push or messing up my hair or kicking me underneath the table. His defense of me to the few friends he had, who hated a tiny kid running around behind them like Peter Pan’s unwanted shadow. Counted on my fingers how many times he gave me this look, the same look Tifa would give me under the covers. 

And I realized between the obvious fucking tent in my pants and the rush of butterflies in my stomach- I was in pre-pubscent love with Zack. 

My friend. 

The older boy who took pity on me. 

And maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way. 

I laugh about it now, when I’m throwing back shots of vodka to numb myself from the trauma of it all. But then, I couldn’t help the smile that stretched across my face that remained there until one of my cabin mates discovered my issue and called me out in front of everyone. 

I forgot how easy rumors start. 

But I hadn’t considered that fact

And maybe history just repeats itself.

Zack became my first in almost everything..

My first real kiss under the moonlight after we snuck into the lake after hours. Jumped in with our clothes on- and despite the heat that hung in the air, the water felt like frost. But he was warm. When he ran his hands against my cheek. When our lips met. And I thought this was the most beautiful feeling I could ever experience. The height of human emotion.

And one night, after sneaking out successfully for almost a week, we went to where they stored the canoes- and I never found out how he accessed the shed. He whispered promises in my ear. Told me I was beautiful. 

I played a dangerous game; followed his lead. Accepted acts I offered in return without understanding the consequences. Curse of childhood is short sightedness. And I mistook his acceptance of me as loyalty. And I got myself wrapped up in him that I forgot the person I was before he engulfed me in his gaze. I wanted to be Zack as much as I wanted Zack to love me; like the love they show in movies. Artificial passion. 

Playing these memories back, only three and a half years later, it feels like a different life. And as soon as I feel those rough reminders, my brain shuts down. I’ve drank him away so many times, I find him to be more of a phantom than a tangible being of meat and bones. Who took my innocence away.

And then like a switch flipped-

I approached him at our usual spot in the mess hall. He ignored me. 

When I tried making strain conversation, he offered one word answers. 

The judgmental eyes of his friends drilled into me. And I left with my head low; wondering what I did wrong. Thinking he got tired of me just like Sephiroth did. 

Sephiroth, I found him in the cabin reading one of the comics I brought with me. Lounging in his bunk. Eyes darted to me. And all he said I heard a rumor. 

Apparently someone discovered our actions in the canoe. And that someone threatened Zack he would tell the whole camp. But that someone felt so inclined to tell Sephiroth what he saw. My stomach dropped out of my body. The hazel-eyed boy just stared at me as he vacantly recalled the information he received from his source. And followed with how disgusted he was to be associated with me. 

And I denied.

Denied

Denied. With increasing alarm. And with every crack of my voice, his lips curled. Twitched into a smile. 

And I denied until I started believing in my own words. 

And I blamed Zack-

But I don’t think I’m entirely wrong in that. Which adds another stone to my back that crushes me. One I should have started cracking when I went to therapy and maybe I wouldn’t be such a confused, chaotic, disaster of a person. Any self-confidence I had captured crumbled and turned to dust that year.

I tried to bury all those memories instead of actually addressing them- and now here I am. Presented with a similar situation. An enemy, under the guise of a friend, had weaponized a personal part of myself for his own selfish pleasure. And I stand alone. Bailed on by a person who claimed to care-

And maybe it’s time to change the narrative. 

[oxnardsart]

New update!  Also, the website has most Lesbini's chapter's pages up, aside from the finale:

http://boxerbeats.thecomicseries.com/comics/26 After defeating the Nameless Bird, Lesbuni heads to the stadium, passes a Boxer Briefs protest, and has to fight Don Badger, her romantic rival!

-----

    Lesbuni was ready for another day at the boxing competition. Things weren’t going as great as she’d expected. On her way there, she noticed a protest going on - it was small, but the few people protesting were huge. As Lesbuni walked closer, she saw that they were all boxers!

    The shy rabbit walked across the street so that she didn’t have to be on the same side of the road as them, but she perked an ear up to hear what they had to say.

    “Hey! She looks like a boxer!”

    “Well she’s gotta come over here some time.”

    Lesbuni saw the muscle-heads looking right at her, and she realized, she was dressed in her boxing uniform - gloves and everything! She remembered hearing how professional boxers were upset about the competition not focusing on pure boxing anymore. This must have been the group, and no doubt they’d start trouble with someone enjoying the new Boxer Beats competition.

    “Come on! Show us how to get in there.”

    Lesbuni gasped - WHERE exactly did these guys want to get into?

    “M-Maybe we have to ask the bunny nicely...” a strong, white wolf suggested. “Little bunny! How do we get inside the Box-o’-Briefs?”

    Lesbuni was thrown off by that, “You mean Boxer Beats?”

    The white wolf bent down and lifted up a cardboard box with ‘Box-o’-Briefs’ written on the side of it. “Nope, it’s Briefs! Not Beats. See?” he held up the cardboard box, “We want to get into the competition and express our feelings.”

    “YEAH! Like my fist feeling Oxnard’s butt!”

    “And my butt expressing a kick with my foot on his butt from mine!”

    More of the protesting boxers started to yell out obscene, violent things. Lesbuni didn’t like that. She raised her snout and kept walking away - she knew bringing the professional boxers to the Boxer Beats competition would cause trouble. She made sure no one followed her there, feeling bothered and paranoid.

Round 2

    The little rabbit made it to the stadium safely and enjoyed the show with Nishi and some of his friends. It looks like after a few days, she had some new friends-of-a-friend! She met Gaydar, the glue-loving gator from the other day - he was an absolute sweetheart. They were both sitting with Macaroni Penguin - a kind old lady Lesbuni had seen fighting earlier. Lesbuni had fun hearing them all talk together - she didn’t say much herself, she usually needed time to open up to others. They all wished her luck as she headed off for her next fight.

    “Good luck, sweetie!” Macaroni waved, “Never quit!”

    “Show the nextht boxther what you’re made of, girl!” Gaydar cheered for her.

    Lesbuni couldn’t help but smile, showing her big bunny buck tooth. It was nice feeling like someone out there was rooting for her.

    BZZZ-KT! A loud, sharp buzz blasted out the speakers as Lesbuni got on stage.

    “Aw shoot, sorry guys! And non-guys.” Oxnard chuckled, “Some technical difficulties going on...”

    “Shorry shir, almosht ready.” The husky voice of a nervous technician could be heard in the background.

    “Hehe, your voice is so cute! Did you guys hear her accent?” Oxnard gleamed over the microphone, “Say something else!”

    “Uh-uh. Jusht let me finish up here and I’ll be on my way.” The technician sounded a little panicked.

    “Alright, al-”

    BZZZ-KT-KT! The mic fizzled again, causing everyone to groan from the noise.

    “Gosh dangit Bushy, what was that?” Oxnard yelled.

    “I’m shorry, I’m shorry! Jusht ushe thish mic inshtead.” Bushy sighed, “You kept the shecond one up here?”

    “Well, you didn’t wanna be my co-host, but maybe I’ll have someone up here chatting with me sometime!” Oxnard started to sound flirty, “Technically, you’re up here with me~”

    BZZZZ-ZZZ-KT-PLUNK!

    “Eeeeek!” Oxnard squeaked.

    “Aaaahhh!” the audience yelled. Weird. For a crowd that hated noise they sure made a lot of it.

    “You know what - while we fix this issue, let’s watch Lesbuni fight Don okay bye.” Oxnard’s voice disappeared quickly as the audience focused on the boxing ring. The referee counted from three on his fingers to avoid any more noise.

    “What’s the rule for this fight?” Lesbuni whispered to the referee. The hummingbird shook his head while pointing to his beak. Lesbuni had an idea!

    “What is it?” Don Badge looked at the two, clueless.

    Lesbuni smiled and pointed to her mouth, shaking her head.

    “Don doesn’t understand.” The badger looked around. “No one is. Telling Don.”

    “You’re not supposed to talk...” Lesbuni whispered, “It’s the quiet game!”

    “Don will use. This quiet moment. To talk about.” he paused, “Foxy.”

    Lesbuni gasped! She knew that name. But she eyed the video screen showing their scores, and Lesbuni was in the lead with her silence...

    “Special Foxy Lady.” Don began, “If you see. Don here. Don must say. How Don feels.” Lesbuni eyed him suspiciously as he continued, “Don is bound. To you. By his heart. Forever”

    Her jaw nearly fell open.

    “Foxie!? THE Foxie?” Lesbuni screeched, demanding an answer.

    “No. It’s Foxy.” Don corrected her.

    “Foxie, yeah. Foxie Farewell.” Lesbuni nodded.

    “Saying it wrong. Her name. Is Foxy Farewell.” Don started to sound snooty.

    “Foxie.”

    “Foxy.”

    The two argued back and forth. The ref tried to point towards the screen.

    “Are you saying... you like MY Foxie?” Lesbuni bared her bucktooth.

    “Don has liked. Special Foxy Lady. For many years.”

    “Well...” Lesbuni cracked her knuckles, “You can’t have her.” She took a quick swing at Don, and hit right at his stomach. The badger rolled backwards. She went in for another hit, but he raised his spiked bracelets to defend himself in time.

    “Ahhhhh!!” Lesbuni screamed. Those spikes sure hurt when you hit them!

    The ref was flapping his wings all around, pointing at the video screen so Lesbuni would see. She saw she was about to lose the quiet game! It wasn’t only about being quiet and saying the least, but noise level too! Don always talked calm, but Lesbuni’s painful scream nearly pushed her over the limit.

    She realized she had to use any words wisely. It would be tricky making Don yell louder than her. However, she had something that would work - the truth.

    “I dated Foxie,” Lesbuni whispered - Don looked disgusted, “I kissed Foxie.” The bunny continued, the badger’s mouth hung open in awe, “I love Foxie.”

    Don began to scream.

    “YOU CANNOT.” He ran after her, chasing the rabbit around the ring, “DON DOES NOT. ALLOW FOR SMOOCHIES. ON HIS FOX. UNLESS DON KISSES.”

    Lesbuni smiled as she saw Don’s noise level catch up with hers.

    “DON’S LOVE. CAME FIRST.” His raspy voice whined in desperation, “FOXY AND DON. HAVE SECRETS TOO. WHEN FOXY. WAS A NURSE. WITH DOCTOR DON. THEY-”

    The buzzer went off! Don had officially lost the game. All his all-caps screaming pushed his volume over the edge.

    “We have a winner!” the referee jumped up happily. “Lesbuni won!” The little rabbit jumped for joy. As nosy as she was about Foxie’s past, she was more happy that Foxie’s future was one step closer to involving her instead of Don.

    “NO. NO NO NO.” Don screamed. His guard came on stage and removed the upset badger from the ring. “DON’S STORY. IS NOT OVER. DON WILL. HAVE HIS FOX.” Don glared his rabid, unblinking eyes at her as he was dragged away.

    “Wow, that guy’s seriously distressed.” The announcer chuckled, amused, “Great job Lesbuni! Not only did you win the quiet match, but my microphone is all better now! Thank you, my bushy technician.”

    “Not’a problem, bossh,” Bushy beaver casually replied before exiting the booth.

    In the audience, a particular tanuki and flapinko team were talking up a storm. Nikki, who had been through multiple resets in the boxing competition remembered Bushy Beaver being a co-host. For some reason, she was now a technician. It seemed like a small detail, so why did Bushy’s job change?

    Nikki remembered Bushy Beaver and Sweaty Beaver both went missing near the end of the last reset... could they have encountered Dawn as well?

    That wasn’t the only change either! Nikki noticed tag-teams like Team Dino Pubes, Team Arthbound, and The Quick & The Angry were all gone! The boxing competition itself changed to one-on-one matches. Lesbuni was no longer on a team with Foxie, and Don wasn’t paired with Anger Mouse. Why were parts of Boxer Beats changing during the reset?

    Nikki and Thanks left backstage to start investigating. Meanwhile, Lesbuni smiled as Nishi, Gaydar, and little Macaroni gave her a cheerful group hug. (She didn’t mind them touching her!) She opened up about herself on stage, and her friends-of-a-friend became her friends. They were all rooting for her to meet with Foxie!

[judehayward]

lady gaga voice slowly fadin in: ju-Das juda-ah-ah… this depressed goblin bastard is honestly my fav male muse like i dnt typically stick w male muses tht long i struggle bt................. i’ve played him the longest of them all n always seem to return to him. jst cnt stay away. way 2 attached to this absurd little man. it’s nai btw!!!! (josefine on the main). launches right in to jude’s intro without further adieu..... (u can also find his playlist here) 🧙‍🎨

「douglas booth & cis-male」⇾ hayward , jude, the senior radcliffe student’s records show that he is a pisces and 23 years old. he is studying ART, living in moris and can be protective, laidback, nonsensical & apathetic. when i see him i am reminded of wearing a faded smiley face sticker on your forehead while receiving a serious lecture, saying “fuck off” to inanimate objects, lead marbles instead of eyes. ⇽「nai & 23 & gmt & she/her.」

he pinterest:

me in the voice of a card magician performing on the street: round up round up pick a pinterest any pinterest!

ta-da it’s aesthetics:

lead marbles instead of eyes, a stolen hearse careening down the wrong lane, wearing a faded smiley face sticker on your forehead while receiving a serious lecture, bags under the eyes that are so big they could pack enough clothes for a three week vacation, a cigarette wobbling from your bottom lip as you squint against the sunlight, passing out on a stranger’s rooftop, placing sunglasses over the eyes of a biology lab skeleton, gangling around the place like shaggy minus his scooby snacks, saying “fuck off” to inanimate objects

about tha Bitch:

born in sheffield in england, bt they went back and forth between there n san fran a lot

jude was an unhappy accident. his parents never rly used protection bc they were super Liberal n Au Naturel n believed in the pull out method bc… they were maniacs. bt then the ONE time they used a condom in an effort to b safety conscious it broke n hence…. jude was born

they just kind of ran w it bc they had such a passionate relationship tht they were like What The Hell…. may as well! itll be fine we’ll learn to be good parents n love him like normal ppl do

spoiler alert: tht didn’t work out

they were ok to him like they weren’t fully Bad bt they just found him to be a massive burden n hindrance to their plans. pretty absent n irresponsible. they literally….. had sex all day every day n acted like a pair of teenagers. it ws a super weird environment for a kid to grow up in bc he literally had no role models or… guidance or…. anything rly. occasionally they’d joke around w him or pretend they properly knew what grade he was going into but for the most part they just Didn’t Care the way parents shd. they lost his birth certificate n dnt remember what they put as his middle name so he’s jst kind of like hmmmm............. n gives himself a diff one every time ppl ask. past variations hv included: jude pauly hayward, jude maureen hayward, jude van winkle hayward. says all of these w a very straight face

despite this he does hv some nice memories w them. usually he definitely sees them fr holidays. frm being rly young their christmas tradition hs been to get a bunch of chinese food like a Banquet Feast n spend all day smoking n drinking into the early hours. perhaps not the healthiest or most responsible bt 😔 jude rly likes it it’s kind of the one time of yr he feels he has a proper family

they r both suuuuper into the arts. rly good sculptors bt they paint too n they actually own a successful gallery in sheffield n san fran

(trauma tw) as a result he grew up around a lot of creative n sometimes pretentious ppl. the friends of his parents were more present in his life than his ACTUAL parents bc they were always jetting off to diff countries to scout out new pieces fr their galleries n just have a gd time in beautiful places without…. the annoyance tht ws being responsible n looking after someone. tbh some of his parents friends were rly damaging too bt….i won’t go into that just yet. it doesn’t rly…need properly explaining bc jude never talks abt it anyway n it….is rather triggering so i’ll jst….leav it for now tbh. basically they just were Not Nice n jude had a lot of bad memories he keeps repressed bt he also??? has some gd ones..... it was a strange environment bt he’s a survivor

(death n grief tw) he hd to do community service bc he kind of… hd a bit of a breakdown before the funeral of his elderly neighbour who bsically raised him bc her kids rly didnt care abt her they jst wanted her inheritance?? so he… stole the hearse w her casket still in it n ws jst like… drivin around the place sort of… tryin nt to cry…..KJJFHSFKJGHKFG i mean. it isnt funny its actually sad bt :/ in a very bizarre n jude way. he gt caught n taken in fr questioning bt her son kind of realised hw… broken up abt her death jude ws n had a heart n didnt press charges. regardless he stil hd to do community service bc it ws like taken seriously even tho it ws his first proper offence. doin it rly exhausted n depressed him so when he wsnt doin tht he ws just hibernatin in his room……. this ws like 4 months ago nw............ just some fun lore fr u all

bc of how he ws raised he has a p cultured taste. he luvs classic lit n p much anything artsy. he can play piano 2 n sometimes gets rly high n thinks he’s mozart level gd at composing he’s jst going fking wild on the keys in a trance...... i mean he’s gd bt… chill

he’s rly sarcastic n so deadpan like he’ll say smthn completely ridiculous bt he’ll say it w his whole chest so sincere.... it’s rly hard to tell when he’s joking or serious honestly. has an overflowing secret sketchbook n if he cares abt someone he’ll probably secretly draw them. does NOT share these drawings w the person he hates being openly sentimental. at heart he is jst a very Sad Boy w lots of repressed issues like depression genuinely just does NAT giv him a single break bt he plasters over this w wise cracks n never discusses his emotions ever. he’s actually p decent or at least tries to b. he’s kind of like tht bit in superbad where michael cera gets rly drunk n makes a toast to women like tht energy...........

he has rly bad insomnia so he like never sleeps idk how he’s Alive straight up. please go to bed sir............. he always has rly sleepy eyes n rubs them tiredly mid conversation. he smokes a lot of weed to try n compensate fr this n make him tired bt he still struggles a lot

ANYWAY that aside he’s at radcliffe doing art, focusing on fine art like painting is............... the thing he luvs most...... his style is kind of.......... taking normal things n painting w surreal colours.... he likes A LOT of colour in his paintings which is kind of a stark contrast to his personality bc his world’s so.... washed out n grey............ lovs art n philosophy n literature n photography n music.... 

ummMMMMmm honestly idk i’m blankin on what else to say. ull find him smoking weed reading an american classic or gnawing at his thumbnail n getting charcoal smudges on all his clothes. wandering the streets in plaid pj bottoms n dr martens eating frm a cereal box without care in the world. he’s p broody n scruffy n he’s mostly here fr a laidback time....... doesn’t rly like when ppl take themselves too seriously........ likes strange ppl thinks the world is mde richer by them n likes when ppl can jst bounce back jokes at him without being like erm. u dont make sense mate. bc frankly he can come up w some strange stuff sometimes.............. talking to him cn b like navigating a dark n bendy road without a flashlight....... 

(drugs tw) once did shrooms n woke up naked in the woods curled up in a pile of leaves. to this day he recounts this as his werewolf transformation. hs no idea hw he ended up there n when ppl r like are u not. concerned jude. tht is so strange? he jst shrugs like.............. dunno....................... suppose i’m jst a werewolf upon occasion. so casual abt it. jst truly does Not care abt most things at all..... almost to the point tht it’s concerning (sometimes way past the point tht it’s concerning too :/)

this is the desc on an aesthetic i mde of his style once n sums it up well!! ‘additionally: too many pairs of trousers, a hideous amount of white t-shirts all somewhat stained with charcoal, a jumper so thinly knit it almost looks sheer, chipped teale nail varnish, a cream corduroy jacket with a cigarette hole singed onto the cuff, vintage wiry reading glasses he almost never wears, a freshly rolled cigarette behind his ear, a thrifted t-shirt with a warped bart simpson wearing a stethoscope with the caption ‘bard knwos cardiology’ and two crops hacked that way with kitchen scissors that he sometimes wears to paint.‘

EXPERT at rolling spliffs like jst. mkes them so precise n neat....... it’s his super power. his fav thing to smoke frm is banana flavour papers.................... linking 2 this he’s like. bad w emotions bt he does try..... once his friend (maggie) ws sad so he brought her a spliff wrapped in grape flavoured paper bc it’s her fav fruit n jst like. wordlessly gave it to her. it’s the thought tht counts.....

PLOTS!!!!!

plays bass in a band which cld b a fun connection to get together??? i picture the music being like surf rock type like........... mac demarco...... bt he also luvs elliott smith n glass animals n the cure n metronomy n neutral milk hotel n talking heads n radiohead n mazzy star n wolf alice...................... idk jst like.... within tht ballpark i suppose i imagine it being................

mayb ppl he shares classes w?????? i’d like someone tht does a similar course n they hang out tgether when it comes to trips fr the module to museums or exhibits or wtever................ they both stand in front of paintings analysing it rly wrong n saying stuff like hmmmmmmmmm....... i do declare i see a, uh..... large phallus protruding from the centre of this image...... moves something in me.......... n some elderly person looking at it besides them is like Ergh. sickened n disgraced. leaves w a brow severely furrowed

someone he smokes w on the moris rooftop late at night when he cnt sleep??? mayb they’re up n cnt sleep either fr whtever reason n it’s become an unspoken kind of ritual where they always clamber out n find each other there n jst wordlessly keep them company

jude is kind of like. protective almost to a fault sometimes........... mayb some guy he’s punched......................... if they hurt someone he cares abt........... typically it wld hv been a girl he ws kind of like. affected by his first relationship bc she had a bad home situation n ever since jst wnts..... to Protect it’s kind of like an automatic instinct ingrained in him nw 😔 all sounds very noble n well bt sometimes it cn b a bit of an escalation i wnt lie

perhaps a few hook-ups??? jude doesn’t tend to sleep w ppl he rly knows bc he just..... likes it to b an impersonal thing doesn’t like getting attached fr various reasons so mayb they only kno each other via this OR mayb he bent his rules a bit..... cld either work seamlessly or hv added drama if one side hs mre feelings or whtever

currently living in moris w 2 roommates bt i’d love some neighbours perhaps..... mayb someone tht lives directly nxt door to his room n is like ://// bc he plays music loud n weeds always drifting frm his window n mking their room smell if theirs is open too................. or mayb they get on..... mayb there’s a rly mean seagull tht lands on a branch n poos on pedestrians n they both commentate on it frm their windows like david attenborough...... they’re like he’s at it again. they’ve named him n everything

HONESTLY anything if u have an idea hmu i’d love 2 hear it.......... rubs my hands tgether in excitement to plot up a storm w u all

[wincestisasincest]

2000 Man (A beatle!reader story) - Part 3: Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better

“Okay, I said fluff, so here it is. I mean, there’s like hints of sex, but really it’s mostly fluff. I also said more John. Here he is, in all his glory.

I was absolutely fascinated with the concept of our reader being bisexual, so here’s a fic that plays around with it, and since the beatle!reader fandom has been very accepting of that idea, a lot of this will be more taking from head canons, and I will list the ones below that I use, as usual. 

Also, as is the drill, credit to @casafrass for everything, though I doubt that you would find my blog if you didn’t already know hers, if that happens to be the case, please check her out. All the head canons are from her blog and its lovely anons. 

One more thing, my dumbass finally realized that italics don’t actually appear on the Tumblr mobile app, so in the near future I will re-edit the two previous entries in this series to help out our mobile readers. 

Description: It’s the year 2000, and y/n, the fifth member of the Beatles, is advertising her new book, Madam Beatle, in her first interview of the year. We see snapshots of her life, from when she joined the band, to the trials and tribulations, to the death of the band, and everything in between. Loosely inspired by Slumdog Millionaire. 

Part: 1, 2, 3

Head canons: Beatle!reader being bi as fuuuuuuck, beatle!reader’s got game, female fans having a fat crush on our bi reader(also this one), beatle!reader stealing all the lad’s girls

Words: 2,747

Pairings: Okay, lowkey there is some John x reader here, though you super duper have to squint and, like always, you can look at it as friendship if you want to, and of course, there’s also groupie x reader

Warnings: S E X, like it’s implied, but they totally did it

“Alright, now, I’d like to move on to a slightly more... promiscuous topic. Y/n, and the audience, I’m sure you’ve heard about what’s become something of a phenomenon in recent years, more and more ‘groupies’, as they were referred to in the day, have been coming out and telling their stories of what their life was like back when rock and roll fan culture was born. Some of them share their thoughts and experiences on certain rock stars of their day, and you have not been excluded from it. We’ll come back to specifics later, but in general, what do you have to say on that?”

“Well, Harold, I think it’s a wonderful thing. Groupies were and still are an important part of the business that we reside in, and honestly, they made as much of a splash in the 60s as some celebrities did. I haven’t really heard any groupies mention me yet, but I suppose all I can hope for is that they were... positive reviews?” 

“Indeed. Though, you do seem to have the most, let’s say, gender-equality in yours.”

“Well, it was the 60s. The skirts were getting shorter and shorter, women and men were becoming more expressive, and people just really stopped caring about the bullshit taboos that surround sex and gender. Though I may have been more well-known for it, it really affected all of the musicians that I knew on some level.” 

“And how does it reflect in your own life story?” 

“Well, I think especially in the early days, it had something of an effect on the fans. I was one of the main reasons why we drew a lot of male fans, but sometime later I discovered that I was also responsible for drawing in a lot of female fans. As time went on, and both our group and our fans got more daring with each other, one thing lead to another, and the next thing you know conservative Christian mothers are telling their daughters to stay away from girls like me, lest they succumb to their own feelings and not their parents need to be accepted.” 

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

“...in fact, some people are even comparing the Rolling Stones’ popularity to your own. Can you perhaps, tell us how you feel about that?” Like rats to cheese, the nosy reporters held their microphones and tape recorders up to the table where you and the lads were sitting, trying to comprehend the sea of petty attention that your career had garnered you.

“Well, there’s not really much to say,” John began, “They’re doing well for themselves and we’re doing well for ourselves. That’s really all there is to it, now. It’s not like we’re competing or anything, we’re on rather good terms.”

“Yeah,” Paul interjected, “And, I mean, I can’t speak for them, but all we’re here to do is make music that people will enjoy. If they enjoy us or the Stones, that’s not for us to decide.” That goddamned liar. Even the press had to know that they weren’t being completely genuine at this point, though the point that John and Paul had really been trying to make was clear: we’re not gonna give you what you want so stop asking. 

Something chaotic woke up inside you.

“That Mick Jagger is pretty cute, though.” You commented into your own microphone. The crowd laughed, and you smiled, proud of yourself, and getting grunts and mock-angry looks from the lads. 

You and the lads knew the truth of course. You and the Stones had a deep respect for each other, and were even close to becoming friends, but that wasn’t how this game was played. You couldn’t give the press anything too positive, or anything too negative. Just answer vaguely, and misdirect. And Paul did totally want people to like their music. 

Brian muttered something to John on the side.

“Well, I’m being told that that’s all we can answer for now. Thank you all, and we’ll see you ‘round.” 

You five cleared out of the chairs single-file and hustled out one of the side-doors. A small cloud of fans had already gathered, looking for either autographs, or touching or grabbing, or pictures, or just to tell the group that you were going to marry them one day. Brian had already told you that you would have just a few minutes for fans. 

“Two girls coming directly for you.” George whispered in your ear, and you spun around to find a redhead and a blonde looking at you eagerly. 

“Well, hi, girls! What can I do for you?” 

“Oh my goodness, erm, hi y/n! We just wanted too, uh...” the redhead trailed off. 

“We just wanted to say that we think you’re really cool, and you’re really pretty, and you’re a really good guitar-player, and um, we wanted to ask you to sign something for us.” They both stuck out a pair of white sneakers, which was admittedly something that you hadn’t been asked to sign before, though you weren’t complaining. 

“Aww, well thanks, ladies, and it’s no problem,” You began to pull a sharpie that you always kept with you out of your jacket pocket, “Do you want me to sign both shoes, or just the right one, or...?”

“Um, both, if it’s no problem!” The redhead’s voice squeaked a little. 

“Of course, why would it be a problem? Here.” You scrawled your signature on all four sneakers in the efficient manner that you were so used to be now, before looking back up at the girls and giving them a smile. The blonde one was beaming. 

“Thanks, y/n, um-” it seemed as though she instantly stopped considering her actions, and in that moment, the blonde leaned in and kissed you right on the cheek. 

You had to fight to hold back your blush.

“Aww, thanks girls, enjoy the sneakers, that’s a very stylish look if I do say so myself.” 

“Y/n, get a move on!” John called at you as he was retreating from his horde. You could sense the disappointment in the mob that was following the girls, as they were all clearly waiting their turn to see if they could speak to you, but alas, time was too short. 

“Wait, y/n, I-” someone behind the girls called. 

“But I-” You had to evacuate. 

“See you round, girls.” You flashed your million dollar smile before darting off to join John and the rest in your typical, sleek, black car. 

Slowly, the mob began to speed up behind you as you were the last, sprinting towards that open door like it would be the last one you’d see in a while. As you reached the open car door, a pair of hands quickly pulled you in and another shut the door. You piled yourself next to George and Ringo, and directly across from John and Paul. 

“I see y/n got some action, then.” Ringo poked your cheek. You noticed your reflection in the car window. That blonde had left you with a bright, red lipstick mark where your cheekbones looked their cutest.

“It seems I did.” Your cheeks flared up a little. 

“Y/n, haven’t you heard, a marriage is between a man and a woman.” John snickered. 

“Come off it, John. It’s not like that.” 

“I’m not sure if I believe that, y/n.” Paul was joining in on the teasing, following John’s lead. 

“Well, Paul, I don’t believe that I’m the only one of us who finds Mick Jagger attractive.” You shot back. George, Ringo, and yourself were the only ones who found it amusing. 

“Very nice move you pulled there, by the way. Distracting them from the Beatles vs Stones debacle to have them writing about the Romeo and Juliet thing that you and Mick have going on. Quite the strategy.” John had put his glasses back on.

“Why should I care? The only newspapers that’ll be writing that are the same ones that say the Queen is actually a man.” You peered out the window, the mob of fans looking much like a collection of dolls now. 

“And people read ‘em anyway.” George put his hands behind his head and leaned back in the seat, oddly relaxed. 

- time skip because this is a thing that I do now - 

The five of you had settled in a gentleman’s club for the evening. The club had a name, you were sure, but you hadn’t really bothered to check, as you were just here for the booze.

Even the lads weren’t really sure why we were here, but apparently, success had made us a part of the upper class, and this is what upper class people do. You’d think they would get a hobby or something.

You took a long sip of your Proseco, and through the liquid you could see a blurred scene of all of the lads’ attention suddenly grabbed by something to the left. You set the glass down. 

John wolf-whistled. 

A tall, slender brunette stalked up to the table. She was wearing a long, green velvet dress with a slit that allowed her right leg to creep out, while at the same time perfectly hugging her curves. Her lips were pursed, but still full, and her eyes had the longest lashes that you had ever seen. 

“I thought I smelled a rat.” Her voice was like chocolate, both sweet and luscious. 

“Awwww, c’mon love, don’t be like that, have a seat.” John slid a little to the side and patted the vacancy next to him. 

You took a drag out of your cigarette and made eye contact with her. Green, just like her dress. 

“Johnny here forgot that you introduce yourself before sexually harassing someone.” She half-smirked, half-smiled, and you felt pride, of all things, so much that you didn’t notice John’s side-eye.

“Well, if he’s John, then that must make you Paul,” her manicured nails were parallel with Paul’s chin, “George”, parallel with his mouth, “Ringo”, parallel with his nose, “and (y/n)”, directly down the center of your eyes, as if she was aiming to kill. 

“Well, now that we’re all familiar, I don’t think you’ll mind joining us for a drink.” John called the waiter over as she took a seat. 

“I wouldn’t say entirely familiar, for I haven’t the pleasure of knowing your name.” You swished your drink around in your glass. Paul, George, and Ringo pretended to be caught in a different conversation while you two chatted, though you knew full well that John wasn’t the only one with side-eye. 

“I don’t know, I’m not supposed to give that out to strangers.” 

“But you know ours. It’s only fair.” 

“All’s fair in love and war, dear. I’ll take a sweet Vermouth on the rocks with a twist.” The waiter must’ve always been there, because you did not see him show up. 

“Well, now that that’s settled, tell me about yourself.” John put an arm around her shoulder, which just didn’t seem to match with her perfect, clear, skin. 

This would be a long night. 

- time skiiiiiiiiiiiip for the hot brunette, also if you don’t find the type of person i described hot, imagine her as anything you like, you’re the reader after all- 

The tango that you and John were dancing for this brunette’s attention was certainly not the most graceful. You only felt satisfied when her gaze was back on you, and preferably when she was smiling. Something about her, if you will, made you want more and more of her. Know everything about her. John wanted the same thing, and for once, he wasn’t going to get it. 

“Well, I must go powder my nose, but I’ll be back shortly.” 

“Better keep to that, or I might have to go looking for you.” John and you watched her leave, the clacking of her heels on the hardwood floor slowly faded out as she disappeared into the hallway. 

Oh, yes, you’d forgotten about the rest of the world. George, Paul, and Ringo had already disappeared with intentions of partying at some of the more lively places. 

“Alright, (y/n), what are we going to do about this?” John’s eyes weren’t like hers. 

“About what?”

“Oh, don’t act all innocent. You’re the only thing getting in between me and the best bird in town.” 

“What if I enjoy her conversation? I have just as much of a right to that as you. There are thousands of girls who would sleep with you, and none of them are as engaging conversationalists.” 

“What the hell are you on about? I don’t bloody care about conversation, I want her.”

“If you think that making me angry is going to convince me, then you don’t know me half as well as you think you do. Not all of us are here to fuck, John.”

“Concerning that, I suggest that you go find someone to sleep with to take your mind off of things. You’re not winning this.” 

“Let’s just see who the lady picks, John. Waiter, excuse me, some whiskey please.” 

The lady picked someone else, you guessed. After 20 minutes of waiting, she hadn’t returned, and though John would never admit it, his mood and confidence was not nearly as high as he would’ve liked. Your whiskey bottle was completely empty.

“If it makes you feel any better,” you offered as John stared into his drink, “I lost too. There are other birdies in the sky, y’know.” Normally, John would’ve been angry, but after he’d passed a certain drink threshold, he became sad drunk rather than angry drunk.

“Yeah, you’re right, (y/n).” 

“But you should know I’m not going to-” 

“Don’t waste your breath. I’m not apologizing either.” 

“I guess Paul is right. We are both assholes.” 

John chuckled, before ruffling your hair. 

“Wanna head back to the hotel, birdie?” 

“I think I will, but the night is still young, John, I’m sure you can find someone else. That girl over there in the black has been starting at you all evening.”

“Yes. I’ve noticed. Well, I’ll see you, (y/n).” John sauntered over to the bar counter, and you gathered your purse before exiting down the hallway. 

You felt morose, though you really couldn’t tell why. It was just a conversation, and surely not the most interesting ones that you would ever have. Hell, you hadn’t even known her name. 

“Took you long enough, (n/n).” 

There she was, leaning against the wall voyeuristically, her fingers laced around a cigarette holder. You could’ve sworn the smoke was in your eyes. 

“What are you waiting for?” 

“I think you know.” 

“Would you like to, um, continue our conversation back at my hotel?” You never said ‘um’, what was going on?

“That would be agreeable.” Her heels clacked closer to you, and she put her hand on your shoulder.

Oh. That’s what that feeling was. 

- Last time skip maybe - 

You made your way downstairs, wearing clothes that were way more comfortable that whatever fancy thing you had put on last night. Your feet were still sore from the heels. 

You pushed open the door to the conference room, breakfast already laid out, with the rest of the band and Brian already munching. 

“(Y/n), at last, you’ve decided to join us.” Brian really did not feel like not being sarcastic this morning. 

“Sorry, I slept in.” 

“What’s new?” The lads snickered.

“Busy last night, hm?” Paul’s eyebrows flickered. 

“Well, weren’t we all?” You sipped your orange juice. 

“Not Johnny ‘ere.” Ringo’s head was resting on his hand, amusedly staring at John.

“Look, I would’ve, if she didn’t get offended so damn easily.” John really wasn’t in the mood, which was, of course, reason to tease him more. 

“She slapped ‘im. Across the face. While wearing a ring.” George was on his fifth piece of toast. 

“That first bird wasn’t married. ‘Other birdies in the sky’ my arse’.” He gave you a look.

“Oh yea, whatever happened to her?” Paul was all here for this drama.

“Left, without even telling us ‘er name. Bi-” 

“Her name was Carla, John.” You cut him off. You loved John, but man had you had enough of his bullshit. 

Paul had already put the whole thing together, a look of half-shock, half-waiting for John’s reaction, which at the moment was just puzzled. George nudged Ringo and whispered something. You smiled, and got up from the table to refill your plate. 

John’s sharp voice cut through the room: “Wait a minute!”

[rosywrites]

The Tale of the Lunar Kingdoms, Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Mortal Realm Fandom: League of Legends Ship: Jinx/Lux AU: Lunar Revel, Warring Kingdoms, Immortal Journey, Blood Moon

[AO3]

Word count: 4086

A figure slinks through the shadows of the kingdom, sticking to the walls and ducking under rails whenever an attendant passes by. They run across the wooden floor, a rhythm to their feet as if they’re dancing. But there’s a misstep, and a floorboard creaks. They freeze when they hear the sound of a howl nearby and breaks into a sprint, no longer minding all the creaking of the floorboards.

Around the corner just outside of the hallway, a white-maned wolf skids to a stop before continuing his pursuit. At the other end of the hallway, he sees Lux running away faster and erratically. “Get back here!” he snarls. 

“Already?! How?!” Lux cries, picking up the pace. But it’s useless as Warwick catches up in seconds. She groans. “I’m sorry, Warwick!” With a swing of her wand, a golden light shoots towards the guardian and roots him in place. 

“You!” he howls. 

“I said I’m sorry!” Lux cries again as she gains distance from Warwick. She turns several corners to shake him off her trail. She pauses for a few seconds to catch her breath. But she knows she can’t rest for long. Warwick has the best sense of smell among anyone in the kingdom. Surely, he would find her within a minute. 

One more breath, and she takes off again. Just as she’s close to exiting the outer palace, she sees the familiar dark mane of her other guardian. 

Oh no. 

Nasus appears from around the corner with a manuscript in hand, a scepter in the other. Without even sparing a glance, he swiftly tucks his scepter under his arm and extends his hand out to grab her by the collar. 

“No!” Lux whines. “How did you know I was heading this way?!”

“You’re easy to read,” Nasus answers. He finally looks at Lux with a raised brow. “Not to mention, you’ve been trying to sneak out of the palace frequently nowadays.” He releases Lux, who slumps in defeat. 

She glances at Nasus grabbing his scepter again. His scepter. Her wand. Her old wand. She doesn’t remember when it happened, but one day, Nasus had awakened his powers through her wand. Lucian must have seen it, since he’s the one who requested the wand to be crafted into a scepter. It looks completely different from what it used to look like.

Lux, in the meantime, was given a new wand. A two-sided wand with a sculpture of Nasus and Warwick on either side with a gold plating at the center of the rod. Her new wand was much lighter and easier to use, and it was still crafted at Azir’s kingdom.

“Warwick, you’re late,” he says as Warwick slides to a stop before them.

“Hey, it’s not my fault she rooted me!” he protests. “I almost caught her three times today.”

“Then you should be faster.”

Warwick rolls his eyes and scratches the back of his ear. “Yeah, yeah, at least you caught her.” He huffs in annoyance when Nasus grunts in acknowledgement. “What are you reading this time?”

Nasus shuts the manuscript and holds it up. “Names and mentions of demons.” He flips it in his hands as if he’s examining it from cover to cover. “It’s rather short, but this is all I can find.” He then sighs. “Lux, don’t think we don’t know you’re trying to sneak out again.”

Lux, who was trying to tiptoe past them, twirls around with a nervous smile. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was just, uh, thinking of heading to the training grounds!”

“You’re going the opposite way,” Warwick says, pointing at the hallway in which they came from with an expectant look. “Get going, or I drag you there with you in my teeth.” He shoots Lux a toothy grin. 

She hangs her head in defeat. “Okay…” She trudges back to the inner palace with Warwick and Nasus following closely behind. She blows a stray hair strand out of her eyes.

Why wasn’t she allowed down to the mortal realm yet? All her predecessors were able to take the carriages there. Why couldn’t she ? She sighs. She was just so curious about the kind of lifestyles humans had there. Being a demigod and raised in a palace in the heavens, she can only imagine what new and fun adventures would await her.

“Lux, we know you want to visit the mortal realm. But you can barely protect yourself,” Nasus states. “What if something happens down there, and we’re not there to protect you?”

She pouts. “I know, I know… It’s just,” she pauses with a sigh of exasperation, “There’s a festival going on down there, and I want to join in on the festivities! I just want to take a peek and have some fun, even if it means I’ll be watched for every second I’m down there.” Her eyes suddenly light up, and her pace slows to a stop. “What if the three of us go? Lucian would allow it if my two guardians would come with me, right?” She bats her eyes innocently with her hands clasped together.

Warwick and Nasus exchange looks.

“No.”

  Lux lies in bed, buried under her blanket and listening to the sounds of the night. Just as she thinks the silence is getting heavy, the click of her door catches her attention. Thump. Thump. Oh, it’s Warwick. She doesn’t poke her head out of the blanket. She then feels a weight by the side of her bed. Curious, she peeks out and sees Warwick’s head beside her own.

“What are you doing, Warwick?” she asks.

“Watching you,” he answers. “I can’t have you running off again.”

Her lip juts out in a pout. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” She reaches to pet his muzzle, at which his tail starts wagging happily. “Where’s Nasus?”

“In the archives.”

“Hm,” Lux hums in acknowledgement. 

Though she doesn’t remember when it all started, she somewhat recalls Nasus spending more and more time in the archives when they were younger. Not to mention he became a lot more mature earlier too. She tried asking Lucian about it once, Nasus’ change being sudden and all. He only smiled and told her that he’s probably settling into his guardian duties now. 

She remembers how small they used to be. They were so small, and she could carry the both of them in her arms so easily. But they grew bigger so fast, they were already towering over her by the time she turned sixteen years old. She thinks they stopped growing since then.

Probably her too. She feels like she’s been the same height.

Ah, her eyelids are getting heavier. Her hand soon relaxes atop Warwick’s head as she dozes off. Warwick patiently waits for the steady breathing before he gently nudges her hand back and pulls the covers over her. He huffs and steps out the room, sitting in front of the doors.

Soft crickets fill the room. Lux sleeps peacefully under her blanket. 

Or so she pretends.

Her eye cracks open and peers around for her guardian’s presence in the room. So far, so good. But the problem is getting out without Warwick catching onto her. She turns in bed and inches closer to the other side. She freezes up when her door is slid open. 

“Hmph,” Warwick grunts when he sees her sleeping figure. Guess she was just turning in her sleep. He closes the door again.

It takes her much effort to stop herself from sighing in relief. Warwick would have heard it. She quietly steps out of bed and stuffs a pillow underneath the covers. She removes her robe to reveal a casual outfit underneath. This way, it should be easier to move around in. She folds it up and places it on the floor, hidden.

She peers outside her window to make sure neither of her guardians are patrolling the back. She lifts herself up and slips out, careful not to step on any creaking floorboards. Once the coast is clear, she picks up her pace and heads towards the outer palace. It’s a little far, but it’s never stopped her.

Just as she’s about to reach the outer palace, she spots Nasus from the corner of her eye. He seems preoccupied with another manuscript from the archives. She hides behind a pillar and waits for him to pass by, holding her breath as he approaches her hiding spot. Once he walks past, she ducks and continues on.

Nasus stops and turns. Though faint, he sees Lux’s shadow crawling towards the exit of the inner palace. He rolls his eyes and sighs. He closes the manuscript and walks towards Lux’s room, where Warwick is standing guard.

“You saw her?” Warwick asks boredly.

“Mhm. She’s not that great at stealth.” Nasus lets out a loud sigh as he shakes his head. “Ready to go?”

“Whenever you are.”

They find an empty carriage in front of the outer palace. The two squeeze into the driver’s seat, a pair of reins materializing in Nasus’ hands. To drive a carriage in the heavens simply requires magic and control, which Nasus excels the best among the two. 

They ride the carriage out to the gates, where a pair of guards seem to be expecting their arrival. “Good evening, Guardians,” they greet. “Chasing after Her Majesty, we assume.”

“As always,” Nasus answers calmly. “Even if she decides to go alone, we must fulfill our duty as guardians to protect her from the shadows.”

“If I had to be honest, I just want to see her embarrass herself because she’s never interacted with mortal humans before. They have different traditions down there.” Warwick quietly cackles when Nasus elbows him in the ribs. “While we’re here, I’m surprised you even let her through. Why’s that?” he asks the guards.

The guards exchange looks and smile. “The Lord requested that we let her through tonight. He overheard your conversation this morning, it seems.” 

“His Lord is too soft on Lux sometimes,” Nasus mutters.

“Actually, he was counting on you to chase after her,” one responds happily. “We think that’s probably why he was willing to let her go.”

“Guess he’s not wrong,” Warwick says. “Well, we got a little lady to chase after for trying to push her luck. Can we go through now?”

“With pleasure, Guardians.” The guards hold up their scepters and insert the tip into two locks in the gate, turning them until two orbs glow turquoise. The mechanics of the gate twist and turn until the gate opens to a golden path that leads down the clouds. Beneath those clouds is the mortal realm. 

“Do you know how to get down there without being seen?” the guard asks. 

“Is it the same as traveling to the other kingdoms in the heavens?” Nasus asks.. He’s never driven the carriage down to the mortal realm before, but perhaps it’s the same with every other place in the heavens he’s taken Lux to. Don’t stray from the golden path, and you shall reach your destination.

“Almost. In the mortal realm, they have an element called ‘wind’. Once you reach the veil between the heavens and the mortal realm, you will feel a gust of air blowing around you. It is benevolent, for it will hide your presence as you descend from the clouds.”

Nasus nods. “I see. It seems I still have much to learn.” He bows his head to the guards. “Thank you for the information. We will come back with Her Majesty before sunrise.”

The guards bow as the carriage rolls out to the path. “Have a safe trip, Guardians.”

As Nasus and Warwick descends down the golden path, they realize: they have never interacted with mortal humans before either. If anything, they might be just as lost as Lux would be. Worse, they may be recognized as heavenly beings instantly. There are beings similar to them in the mortal realm, but wouldn’t they stand out?

“Perhaps next time, we should bring a change of… casual clothing,” Nasus quietly suggests.

“I mean, isn’t it a festival down there? I think we’d fit in,” Warwick says. “I heard that humans like to dress up as dragons or something during festivals.”

“I guess we’ll see.”

As they approach the veil, they feel a slight breeze picking up around them. It brushes against their fur as it swirls around. Warwick sticks his head out and sniffs the air. 

“Weird,” Warwick says. “I thought ‘wind’ would have a smell, but it just smells like… like nothing.” He sniffs again. “Wait, I’m starting to smell  a lot of different things now.”

Nasus looks around. He notices there’s magic embedded in the currents as it wraps around them like a mother protecting her offspring. “We’re here.”

The clouds slowly part to reveal the lands of the mortal realm. Clumps of lush forests, lines of tall mountains, and specks of light in various areas spread throughout the regions. From afar, they spot establishments from the well-lit regions, presumably the “cities” the mortals inhabit. Despite the dark night, the moon offers its light to guide them through the sky. Everywhere they look, there’s something new to see.

But more importantly, the wind feels really, really nice. Warwick sticks his head out and visibly relaxes as the wind strokes his fur, his tail wagging faster and faster as the wind picks up. Nasus’ grip on the reins tightens. His muzzle stiffens up as he tries his best to avoid sticking his head out of the carriage and enjoy the wind as well. 

Focus, Nasus. We need to find Lux, even if the wind feels so nice . 

But it doesn’t stop his tail from wagging just a little bit. 

“So that’s where Lux went,” he says, as they approach the outskirts of  a city below. “Lord Azir’s kingdom. I suppose she would choose his kingdom over the others.” 

“Look,” Warwick calls, pointing at something beneath the trees. Between the gaps, they spot an abandoned carriage from their kingdom. “Lux already went ahead. We should settle here too.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Nasus directs the carriage to the trees and leaves the carriage next to Lux’s. 

---

Lux tugs at her shawl as she approaches the bustling street by the forest—the aroma of fried, steamed, stewed, or grilled food, the laughter and the ever growing volume of voices from the crowds ahead, the sound of vendors luring another customer to try their game or their food, and lanterns and lights that seem to go on forever. Her eyes widen at the sight. She’s heard the cities were much bigger than the kingdoms, but this was a whole new world for her.

“Outta the way, shorty!” someone calls as they nearly knock Lux down from the tree she was hiding behind. A teenager runs ahead while two children follow closely behind. 

“Sorry!” one calls with an apologetic wave before disappearing into the crowd of people and vendors.

“Well, so far, so good. No one’s noticed who I am,” she mumbles to herself nervously. She takes her hood off, letting her silver hair fall in place. She takes a deep breath. “Okay, Lux. Act natural. You’re a human being just like them.” She steps out from the shadows of the trees and into the lights. She holds her wand tighter when she feels a couple eyes turn to her, but they immediately carry on with their stroll through the streets.

“Hey miss! You look new here. Just visiting?” an older vendor asks. 

Her head perks up, maybe a little too fast, and nods, maybe a little too fast. “Y-yes! Just visiting! I’ve never been to a festival before, so…” Was that too much information? It should be fine, right?

“A first timer! Well, you’re in for a treat! The vendor leans against the counter and ushers Lux over. “So, we got some pretty good places to visit ‘round here. You’re currently in the south side of the festival. If you head north, there’s a little place where people go through a series of physical challenges for the “Strongest Being Alive” title for the year until the next festival.”

“D-do any of them get hurt?”

“Some do, but usually it’s because they push themselves too far or bite off more than they can chew.” She pats her shoulder in laughter. “I wouldn’t worry about them much. They’re a tough and rowdy bunch, but they play fair.” She points to another street. “If you head west, you’ll see where they hold entertainment like plays, comedy skits, and whatnot. If you ask me, it seems more like a talent show, to display their skills to the people.”

“That doesn’t sound that bad. If people laugh or are fascinated by what you do, I think whatever you practiced for is a success.”

“I like your optimism, miss!”

“What about the east? What’s there?”

“Oh! That’s usually off-limits to common folks like us, but that’s the Kingdom of Rooster, where His Majesty Azir resides. Don’t be surprised, but some say he actually comes down to the Lunar Revel festival dressed like a common folk to enjoy the festivities.”

That… kinda sounds about right, actually. “Really?” she feigns surprise. “I heard he’s rather tall. Wouldn’t he stand out?”

The vendor smiles and shrugs. “Who knows? All I know is that it’s a rumor. But he doesn’t come off as the “cooped up in his kingdom all day” type of guy, so I wouldn’t be that surprised if I happen to see him roam around.”

“It’d be an honor to meet him then. I wonder what he’d be like trying to blend in with the crowd.” She almost can’t imagine it.

“Why don’t you walk around and have some fun then, miss? You might just happen to meet him.”

“Aw, thanks! I appreciate it!”

“Hey, y’know what?” She reaches for a bamboo basket behind the counter and lifts the top. A burst of steam rises from inside, and the vendor reaches for tongs and places a giant bun on a paper tray. She pulls it apart in half, a sweet and savory aroma wafting from within. It makes Lux’s mouth water almost immediately. “Here, try it. My own recipe.”

“O-oh gosh, I didn’t even bring any money. I don’t think I have anything else I can pay you with either.”

“Naw, on the house. I appreciate you taking the time to listen. I don’t get many customers, being all the way out here, but I like to chat with anyone who stops by.”

“Thank you so much.” Lux accepts, though hesitantly. She should have brought some money on her own, but she didn’t know what kind of currency they used in the human world. Gold… would seem suspicious, probably. She bows in thanks and heads north, where the brawls are.

She takes a closer look at the tray, and it seems like a pork bun. She blows a few times before taking a bite. “Hot!” she exclaims, covering her mouth to blow the hot steam out. She starts chewing, and a combination of sweet, salty, and savory flavors burst in her mouth like a firework. Her eyes light up and sparkle like it’s the best thing she has ever eaten.

Because it is. It’s the best thing she has ever eaten.

“Hey kid, where’d you get that?” someone asks.

With her mouth full, she hurriedly points at a vendor towards the forest and give them a thumbs-up. The stranger smiles kindly, thanks her, and heads for said stall. She swallows the food and peeks over, seeing the vendor smile happily at the new customer.

Lux giggles and continues her way north, occasionally stopping a lost stranger to guide them to the vendor. The moment she manages to squeeze through a crowd of people, she’s greeted by a spark that flies towards her. She yelps and ducks, evading the spark just in time, as it lights a nearby box on fire.

“Damn, I needed that!” a faint voice complains. “Stupid thing can’t even hold its fire correctly, ugh!”

Lux opens her eyes and looks up to find the source of that spark. Just beyond the crowd in a darker area, away from the vendors, lies a giant firecracker of bronze shaped like a dragon. She spots a girl, around her age, kicking the side as if she expects it to work by doing that. The girl seems petite, though a little taller than Lux, with black hair and braids in red wraps. Looking closer, she even has dragon tattoos around her right arm.

She wonders if she’s one of those ‘rapscallion’ people she hears about from the lords in the mortal realm.

The girl suddenly meets her eyes, and a moment passes before the blank expression on her face lights up with an idea. “Yo, moonlight! Care to help me out here?”

What? Her? “Me?”

“No, I mean the rat that’s scurrying behind you. Yes, you! This thing’s heavy, ya know!” The girl tries to lift the firecracker herself, but it does seem too much for her to carry on her own.

Lux looks around before making her way over, catching the other side before it collapses on the girl. “Hey,”  Lux calls, peeking over the top of the rocket with a scowl of her own. “You know you could’ve hurt me back there. That spark, or whatever it is, almost flew into my face!”

The girl rolls her eyes and waves her off dismissively. “Oh please, it’s just one little firecracker. It won’t kill you.” Her lip juts out in thought. “Eh, I guess it’ll hurt. But hey, not my fault if these things have a mind of their own.”

“I’m pretty sure they don’t,” Lux mutters. “What is this for anyway?”

“It’s for the party, duh!” the girl exclaims. “You can’t have a party without something big and fun as this .” She extends her arms out to the firecracker with a big grin. “Made it myself actually. Pretty proud of it.”

“This whole thing?” Lux is impressed. It doesn’t look easy building a firecracker as big as this. “Wouldn’t you need a lot of flash powder for this?”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” the other girl answers proudly. “I got my resources, hon. Anyways, help me angle this thing on this doohickey.” She points at a small wooden block with an arc carved into it. “I gotta make sure this thing flies as high into the sky and throughout the city!”

“Well, when’s the party?”

“Eh,” the girl hums in wonder. “Dunno? Usually it’s at the end of the festival. Sometimes at the end of the brawls. It’s kinda different every time.” 

Lux can’t help but hum in curiosity. “I see…” They set down the firecracker on the block and position it so that it will be shot over the crowd. “So… is that it?”

The girl’s head shoots out from the other side of the firecracker with an incredulous look? “Is that it ? Oh, no, no, this is just the beginning, moonlight! We gotta get more stuff! Wanna join me? I promise it’ll be lotsa fun!”

“Oh…” Lux hesitates for a moment. “This is my first time at a festival, so I was hoping I can see everything first.”

“Uh-huh, I am definitely listening. We need firecrackers. LOTS of them. We can get them from different places all around the festival. I’ll go south, and you head west!” The girl is about to take off into the crowd before she’s pulled back by Lux. “What now?”

“Don’t we need money to buy those? I don’t think they’d give them out for free.”

The girl’s lips purse into a crooked line. “Ugh, why’d I have to ask a little lady for help…” she mumbles to herself as she reaches behind her and brings out a small sack. “Here, moonlight. Go crazy. We don’t have much time!” She tosses it into Lux’s hands and runs off before Lux can ask about her share of the money.

“What did I get myself into…?” Lux asks herself. She looks into the sack and see a small pile of coins inside. She takes one out and examines the engravings. “Okay, so this is this much…. And this is this much... I think I got it. West, she said?” Lux hurries off with the sack of coins strapped to her belt under her shawl.

A shadow looms over where she was standing, eyes watching her weave through the crowd. Found her.

[sevngmin]

riding in distress; y.j.i

a/n; this will be my first ever fic im writing for straykids,, and im pretty nervous too ;-; this moodboard was done by @chaeyolks, thanku bby

During the winter break, you would always go back to your hometown to visit your grandmother, who babysat you when you were younger when your parents were too busy. You loved her dearly, but also concerned about her. Mainly because, she lives in a town that was infamous for having hybrid werewolves in the area. Wolves are usually docile beasts until they set their eyes on a prey, they would turn into ferocious beasts with no mercy, taking up the prey’s meat to the bones. You were once told to never interact with the children outside of your kindergarten, in fear that you might be in danger of being hunted by a wolf. You only nodded silently, playing with the kitchen playset your grandmother bought for you for your 4th birthday. As you grew older, you were wiser to differentiate the good and the bad better than your innocent 6 year-old self. You definitely grew smarter, but humans can only detect that much danger. This was where your best friend, Yang Jeongin comes in. You met Jeongin in your early years of kindergarten, being your “partner” in class. The ever so smiley young boy stole your young heart, but all the adults always wave it off as something platonic, and so did you, under the influence of your grandmother. Jeongin was a fox hybrid, and to cut a long story short, you discovered his fox self when you mentioned that foxes was your favourite animal, Jeongin turned into one right away, hazelnut-brown fur which contrasted his white furred belly. You would change your favourite animal everyday, but Jeongin would only turn into a fox, nothing else. Of course, Jeongin received scoldings from his parents when he told them about it, but the young boy assured his parents that his good friend was nothing but a harmless and unfortunately helpless  human. Foxes do not prey on humans, they actually are allies to protect the fragile humans against predators. And that includes the werewolves.

“Could you go get the door, Y/N?” Your grandmother shouted across the kitchen. You hummed a sound of approval before opening the door, being greeted by a tall boy who looked around you age, holding a tupperware box. Your heart accelerated, the boy was not only tall, and also very very handsome. He had jet black hair which was parted to a comma style, his skin flawless, as if he stepped out of a drama. “Hello, I just moved in next door,” the boy bowed, handing it to you, “they’re rice cakes, my mother just made them this morning.” “Ah, thank you!” You smiled, “And you are…?” “Oh! I can’t believe I didn’t introduce myself,” the boy scratched his head sheepishly, “my name is Lai Guanlin. I’m turning seventeen this year.” “I’m Y/N,” You blushed, “I’m turning seventeen this year too.” “You know, I was hoping if you could show me around sometime.” Guanlin smiled, almost smirking as he put his hands in his jean pockets, “I have yet to familiarize myself with this neighbourhood.” “A—ah yeah s—sure!” You stuttered, mentally slapping yourself, “Just pop by whenever. I hardly go out anyway.” “Then… What about later? Like after lunch.” “Yeah, that’s fine.” “Then I’ll see you later!” Guanlin waved to you as he knocked into Jeongin, who was right behind him. “I’m sorry!” Guanlin apologised to Jeongin, who was frowning at the taller boy. Guanlin scoffed, as he went back into his neighbouring house beside your grandmother’s. “Hey,” Jeongin pushed you back into the house, locking the door behind him, “that boy, he’s dangerous.” “What? You just met him, Jeongin, how can you say that?” Your brows knitted to a frown, as this was quite unlike of Jeongin to act this way. “Just listen to me, Y/N,” Jeongin grabbed your shoulders, shaking you lightly, “you and grandma will be in danger! He’s a werewolf!” You stifiled a giggle, as Jeongin pouted, “I’m serious!” “Guanlin? A werewolf?” You giggled, “Jeongin, have you seen the boy? He’s way too cute to be a werewolf.” “Precisely. He’s way too cute to be one, and is one when you least expect it. Besides, he might use his looks to get what he wants…” Jeongin’s eyes turned dark, almost pleading you. “Just trust Jeongin,” your grandmother nagged as she set down the dishes for lunch, “He’s much more sensitive than us anyway. And his instincts never lead us wrong.” “But grandma!” You whined, “Guanlin’s reaaaaaaally good looking! Like, I can actually see the galaxy in his eyes and his sincerity! That’s like…” Jeongin shook his head, as he took his seat at the dinner table quietly. Chewing on the chopsticks, he could only listen to you love-strikenly drone on about the werewolf with absolutely no fear of being in danger. He knew that no amount of nagging nor persuasion will make you change your mind, or feelings for anyone. And that includes himself.

“I’m heading out!” You shouted as you slipped on your vans, shrugging on your coat. “Where are you going?” Your grandmother raised her head from knitting. “The supermarket, I want some snacks.” You mumbled, quickly heading out before your naggy grandmother and best friend interrogate you further. “Young lady,” Jeongin blocked the gates, “Are you sure you’re going to the supermarket?” “Yes, I am,” You nodded firmly. “With?” The boy quirked his eyebrows, “Guanlin?” You bit your lip, as Jeongin sighed, “I told you,  he’s dangerous.” “How can someone like him be dangerous?” You fumed, “You’re ridiculous.” Jeongin could only watch your figure storm off, then linking arms with the cunning werewolf waiting just a few steps in front of the house. The boy shook his head, also worried for his best friend.

“Why do you need so much meat?” You nearly snorted, looking at the amount of fresh bossam piled high in Guanlin’s basket. “I have a big family,” Guanlin lied through his teeth, “and they’re having a celebration for my sister for getting into college.” “Ahh I see,” you hummed as you browsed through the snack section, as Guanlin let out a sigh of relief. “What’s your favourite snack?” You looked up at Guanlin, which made his heart palpitate wildly, “I’ll help you find it.” “Uh— I like the no-brand snacks.” Guanlin lied nonchantly, “Especially the cheese pops.” “Ah, but they don’t carry them here though,” Your face fell slightly, “We can go to the one further down the street to check if they have it.” Guanlin only nodded in agreement, planning the cunning scheme of capturing you in his brain. It hurt him to hunt for such a cute human, but it has been long since he had hunted one, and was hungry for one too. As the both of you shuffled in the winter snow to the next supermarket, Guanlin pulled you to a dark alleyway, face turning dark. Fear gripped your senses, why was Guanlin suddenly like this? “Y/N…” Guanlin suddenly had grey ears popping out of his head, “I’m sorry.” “W-what do you want?” You stepped backwards, ready to sprint. You could only watch in sheer shock and fear as Guanlin turned into a furious werewolf, with dark grey stiff fur and sharp canine teeth. Its paws were large with sharp claws, and a tail strong enough to send you flying with one whip. You sprinted to the opening of the alleyway, but the werewolf was faster, clawing on your coat and bringing you down to the plush snow. Tears brimmed your eyes as the werewolf approached you, wanting to believe tht his was all a dream, not wanting to believe that Guanlin made friends with you just to hunt you. Just as the werewolf was about to sink its teeth into your skin, it was harshly yanked away, and to your surprise, it was a fox. The fox looked all too familiar, but you couldn’t put your mind to what it was. You watched the fox bark at the werewolf, despite it being 2-3 times smaller than the werewolf. You could barely recover from the shock as the two animals fought rebelliously against each other. The werewolf lost to the fox in the end, as the fox pulled tricky moves on the seemingly less smart werewolf. The werewolf could only lie lifelessly in the snow, as the fox slowly transformed to a human form. “J—Jeongin?” You gasped, wisps of smoke escaping from your lips due to the cold, “H—how…” “You jerk,” Jeongin charged at the werewolf- now Guanlin, painted with battle scars, as the smaller boy grabbed the werewolf by his collar, “How can you do this to Y/N?!” “She looked delicious—“ “Delicious?!” Jeongin yelled, “Is that what Y/N is to you? Food? Prey?” “Jeongin—“ You tugged on his cardigan, as he shrugged you off, “You werewolves have no sympathy,” Jeongin pushed Guanlin harshly, as the werewolf fell into the snow once again, “treating humans like toys, disgusting.” “What did you say?” Guanlin seethed, now charging at Jeongin. “I said—“ “Jeongin.” You back-hugged your best friend, heart thumping wildly, “Let’s stop. Grandma will be worried.” The fox huffed, trudging away with his arm around your waist.

“You could’ve just called the animal control center or something,” You sighed as you dabbed disinfectant on Jeongin’s wounds, “I thought you were smarter.” “I— Ow!” Jeongin winced, making you roll your eyes, “That’s what you get for fighting, Yang Jeongin.” The boy shook his head, as he patiently let you dress his wounds. The both of you sat in comfortable silence, only the sounds of groaning and splashes of disinfectant filling your room. “Do you have anymore wounds?” You dusted your hands, as Jeongin nodded, “Yeah it’s under my shirt.” “Well—okay.” You stuttered as Jeongin shrugged off his shirt, toned torso decorated with battle scars. “You can do it yourself…” You mumbled, looking away. “Why?” Jeongin teased “Like what you see?” “N-no!” You refuted, “I’ll do it.” You timidly used the cotton tip to spread disinfectant on the wounds, the tips of your ears redder than the blood on Jeongin’s wounds. “Y/N, thanks for today.” Jeongin spoke up, as you looked up at him, “I really appreciate it.” “What…” You trailed off, “I should thank you. For saving me.” “Then, you can thank me with something.” Jeongin sat up, suddenly smirking. “What’s with you?” You shifted back, then clearing your throat, “with what?” “Your lips.” “Uhh…” You bit your lip, “You—“ “Yes, I like you.” Jeongin confessed, “Not a friend-way, but like, you know? Like-like.” Your heart melted, your best friend could be tough at times, but he was endearing most of the time, which made you grateful for him. Now, he made you discover a part of your heart you never felt for him, it was making you nervous. All of the sweet things he did now made sense, he would never do that to a platonic friend, like leaving random sweet messages and encouragement letters, and random skinship in the middle of nowhere. Jeongin could sense your nervousness, nonetheless, he closed the gap between the both of you, breath dangerously ghosting above your lips. “Kids!” Your grandmother knocked on the door harshly, as the both of you jumped, “It’s time for bed! Stop your funny business and go to sleep already!” “Okay!” You quickly tucked the first aid kit away, switching off the lights, “Goodnight grandma!” “Goodnight grandma!” Jeongin chorused from your bed, flickering off the bedside lamp. The both of you laid in still silence until no sounds of faint footsteps could be heard. You sighed in relief, facing Jeongin. “So?” Jeongin pulled you closer, “What about you?” “I like-like you too.” You smiled, nestling in your now boyfriend’s arms, cradling you to blissful sleep.

[mayhemories]

Braids & War Paint (Part 2)

Notes on:

Part 1:

Part 3:

Part 4:

Rowan Whitethorn had been many places, he’s traveled to every direction, climbed a plethora of mountains, has lived in cities that are nothing more than dirt now and nothing he’s seen will compare to the wildness of Terrasen and it’s people. Wild in the fact the citizens of Terrasen have such a connection to their home, the air is cleaner when everyone cares for it. It reminded him of Mistward. 

 Galan Ashryver had not expected Rowan’s presence on this journey, Queen Maeve wanted to send someone wrapped in her flag, to try and “mend broken relations” between her and her kin across the sea. Rowan Whitethorn was utterly sick of Doneralle and volunteered to leave. He was so anxious to see the capital that Rowan pushed their traveling party forward with intense wind. Their horses made it in record time, apparently. 

 The Galathynius’ were…nice. Orlon and Rhoe were very charming, very warm to their guests- Rowan included. But it was the Terrasen Ashryver’s that surprised him, Evalin had all the same features that Galan too carried. Save for hair. Aedion Ashryver was a spitting image of Galan, though his hair was fair like his Aunt. And Gods, the two bloodlines that made Aelin Ashryver Galathynius of the Wildfire. Tall, lean, extended fae limbs. She was impeccably beautiful, she knew it too. Long golden hair, golden skin, chiseled features. She was all muscle under velvet skin… and those eyes, the Ashryver eyes of legend old, blue with the core of gold. Rowan decided that she wore those eyes the best. 

As the kin talked throughout luncheon Rowan kept quiet, eating cocktail sandwiches and drinking bubbled water. He’s focus seemed to stray from the conversation a lot, his eyes wandered and they always found her again. Sometimes she would catch his gaze, smirk and return back to the conversation. Rowan has had serious lovers in the past, he’s had flings and one night stands but never has he felt the feeling of intrigue. She intrigued him, it wasn’t even in a romantic way. The way the Crown Princess conducted herself was like nothing Rowan had ever seen, her opinion was there to be heard. She laid her deck of cards for everyone too see, even a chosen warrior from a broken kin. He’s never seen so much metal strapped to a royal so casually, no Terrasen guard seemed alarmed. A belt of daggers were strapped around her waist, a golden sword at her left hip, cuffs of small knives sat snugly at her thin wrists. Rowan was taken aback by how much of his thoughts were revolving around the princess. Though, Rowan didn’t try to change his train of thought. 

“Your quarters, Prince Rowan.” Rowan thanked the young maid before she quickly skited off. 

 They weren’t modest quarters, the bedroom was airy and decorated with whites, greys and rich greens. Rowan ran his hand across the light stone walls that reflected the sun around the room. He dropped his luggage on the dark wooden floors with a thud. A large four poster bed sat against the eastern wall, a desk, an eating table and a large armoire were placed in the room, all made out of the same dark wood. The washroom was double the size of his Doneralle one, a large tub made out of light stone that had been polished so that Rowan could see his face in it. Large basin, large mirror… everything was oversize and grand and overwhelming. 

 Satisfied with his new quarters, Rowan sat at the writing desk and began to pen a letter to his queen. It was a short synopsis about travel, the cities he’s seen and of course the royal family. He couldn’t have been more than two paragraphs in until a laugh like a crackling fire in the winter filled his ears, it was warm and inviting giggle that he could only peg to one woman. 

 Rowan ripped open the curtains by his shoulders, white doors that lead to a balcony stared back at him. Before Rowan knew what he was doing the balcony doors opened and he stepped out. No more than five feet away sat Aelin Galathynius, reading on her own balcony. Her room was directly across the way from Rowan’s. Mab, Mora and Maeve burn him.

“Hello neighbor! No one has been in that room in a long time.” The Princess said, folding a corner of her page down and placing the novel on the table near her. A massive golden hound was curled at her feat, the both of them soaking up the last few hours of the late afternoon sun. 

 "You might be disappointed, I have a reputation of being a bad neighbour.“ Rowan quipped, leaning against the railing. They would have to be at least sixteen levels up. They were the top, there were no other balconies overhead. 

"I’ll be the judge of that. I’ve never lived in close quarters with a brooding fae warrior.” To his dismay, Rowan smirked at her charming voice…more the comment than her but the lines blur somewhere. 

“I would argue that your cousin seems to be of the brooding type.” The banter flowed effortlessly between the two, she laughed again at the blow of her cousin, Aedion Ashryver, The Wolf of the Wild North. 

“Wait til’ dinner, there isn’t room for two Ashryver males in this castle.” Her long legs were clothed in tight black pants, they seemed to go on for miles as she walked closer to her own railing, leaning against it, mimicking Rowan’s earlier actions. 

 "I don’t think I can handle a pissing contest.“ 

"Are you sure you won’t join in? After all, it’ll be a contest over my attention.” Rowan rolled his eyes, he forgets how young they all are; Galan, the oldest out of the bunch was a steely twenty-five, Aedion was twenty-three and Aelin was only just eighteen. He expected her to be much older. It embarrassed Rowan how little he knew of Terrasen and their rulers. 

 "I’m your neighbor now, aren’t I? I’ll have your attention more often.“ Aelin’s eyes burned with something Rowan hadn’t seen in a long time, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Pushing off her rail, the princess collected her book and whistled up her hound, Fleetfoot and walked to her door. Rowan stayed dead still, as if she was a doe he’d scare away. She turned and faced him at the twin of his door. 

"It’s been interesting, Prince Rowan. Terrasen welcomes you.” And Rowan didn’t know whether it was him or the moment or his tiredness, but he called out to her before she crossed into her threshold of gossamer curtains. 

“Rowan. Just Rowan.”

 The last thing he saw was her heart cleaving smile. Rowan decided that he would own a letter to Fenrys too, let him know of the golden jewel he found in the antler crown of the Wild North. 

Aelin loved fashion, adored fabrics and dresses. Just enjoyed dressing up, even when there was no real event to get dressed up for. But now, Aelin had her excuse, they had company. Important company that she should impress, Galan’s trip is very diplomatic after all. Fixing severed ties and all that… It didn’t help that a very handsome fae warrior was on her door step.   

When Aelin was in Eyllwe learning more about the country she met the Crown Princess, Nehemia Ytger. Nehemia is only a year older than herself, they had become best friends instantaneously. For Aelin’s recent name day, Nehemia had sent a dress for Aelin, she was saving it for something big, but Aelin had very little self restraint.   

She dressed in the emerald green of Terrasen’s forests, it was intricate dress that had been hand made for her. Chiffon that fell into small pleats, the waistband had a large metal embellishment to draw your eyes down from the ropes that held the bodice together. It was art, physical art that Aelin draped over her lean body.   

Aelin’s chambermaids braided her long hair, she wore it like this when she went into battle or was training, though, she supposed, the dinning room would be as tense as a battlefield. All the lords and ladies sweating bucketloads under the gaze of Rowan Whitethorn. 

“Well don’t you look devastating.” Aelin’s best friend, Lady Lysandra of Caraverre stated, linking the two girls’ arms as the walked down the winding halls to the dining room. Lysandra was a young shapeshifter who Aelin hated grotesquely when they were younger, until the battles against the Yellowlegs did Aelin and Lysandra connect. They fought side by side, for a long while Aelin suspected the carranam bond between them. Nothing came to pass besides a beautifully strong friendship. 

“As do you, who are you impressing?” Lysandra had her dark locks curled and pined up in a cornet, wearing a navy embellished dress, that flowed to her ankles, her lips were painted a dark scarlet. 

“I’m not impressing anyone, just causing Aedion to fall in love with me all over again.” They laughed together as the dining room’s massive oak doors opened, they were the last to arrive. 

Aelin’s uncle sat at the head of the table, her parents on either side of him. To Aelin’s Dismay, Galan was sitting in the seat opposite her own, the Far prince was further down the table, near Lord Allsbrook and Lady Elide. 

Aelin took her seat, and the serving began.

“You look lovely.” Galan smiled at her from across the table. She thanked him, the sound of boredom dripped off her tongue and soon after Aelin felt the little pinch on her leg, her mother retracted her hand from her thigh liked nothing happened. It was a warning Aelin had since she was a child: Play nice. 

Playing nice wasn’t Aelin’s forte.

“Your journey must have been long.” Aelin stated, Galan looked almost confused that she was making direct conversation with him. She placed her elbow on the table, propping her head on her open palm.  

“I-uh…yes. The ocean became very isolating.” Galen stuttered, Aelin leaned forward, almost urging him to go on without words. Her parents and her uncle’s attention were now peaked by the topic. 

From the corner of her eye a certain fae prince had the tips of his sensitive ears twitching. Listening in on the blandest conversation Aelin had anything to do with, Dorian Havilliard’s cooking had more godsdamned flavour than this dinner party. 

“We had an Mycenian escort off the coast of Terrasen.” Galan smiled again, his dark eyebrows shot up when doing so. 

“Our precious Aelin stitched up the Terrasen ties with the Mycenians, if it weren’t for her you would’ve had no escort.” Orlon quipped, the whole table was listening now, even though the loudest noise in the room was the cutlery. 

Aelin realised that Galan expected her to be…embarrassed, blushing maybe?

Smug was a better word for it, the princess leaned back in her ornate chair, she’d encouraged the talk about her, besides, ‘Aelin’ was the best topic Aelin could think of. 

“Oh really, that must have been a very tense conversation.” Aelin shook her head, Galan was too much of a politician.   

“I used threats and force. It wasn’t a conversation at all.” 

With that statement, Aelin looked to her right, Rowan Whitethorn raised an eyebrow.  

Aelin winked back. 

AN: this is slow and boring but I really want to take my time with Aelin and Rowan in this fic, I’m so sorry if they seem OOC but… too late now I’m committed to this story. Yeah, The whole thing will be from alternating POV’s. Please tell me your thoughts and ideas about this fic, message me, let me know! Anyways, thank you for the support. Much love, 

-El.

[bren-sanity-blog]

Brensanity Part 5: School Ties

M: Top billing for our boy. Good start.

C:  though it already looks tragic...

M: He's a good damn gem.

C:  He's adorable.

M: DICK WOLF?! LAW AND ORDER DICK WOLF?

C:   Why don’t people keep ciggarettes behind their ears anymore?

M: Street toughs!

C: daaaaammmmnnnn Bfras!

M: He fought for honor!

C: His dad just wants his son to have a better life! “Make us proud”?! I’m already in tears omg! He’s just honestly a really good actor.

M: He just got in a car with a stranger. What even are these times?!

C: I’m already tense waiting for the shoe to drop!

M: I don't trust a high school campus that nice.

C: Aaan here it is... “diet problems”?

M: Diet problems? Weird way to ask him, dude.

C: Chapel three times a week?! Fuck. When they gonna do their homework?

M: The WASPyness is killing me.

C: Already a bitch Matt Damon.

M: God damn it, Matt Damon.

C: Oh wow...a “tribunal of fellow students” what could possibly go wrong...

M: The Head Master guy is an ass.

C: “Jewed him down” ?? Dude how you gonna keep it together around all that?!

M: Do white guys often sing and dance without shirts on?

C: oH AND here’s the RA or some shit “music too JUNGLE” for you huh? OMFG what a racist prick...I mean I can’t be surprised.  And Bfras FTW!

M: He's a God damn gem.

C: Taking off his star of david necklace...*sob* my heart if breaking!

M: Now he has to lie to his Dad AND miss temple?

C: DOES HIS DAD NOT KNOW WHAT SORT OF SCHOOL HE SENT HIM TO?!

M: I kinda hate the head master.

C: Headmaster looks PISSED. Oh yeah, but David got him with that answer! “Sometimes we have to be sir” Ballsy.

M: I hate that God damn French teacher.

C: Leary is a douche.

M: Save room for Jesus.

C: Dillon is just a bomb waiting to explode...what you doing David?!

M: Does B-Fras just have it out for Matt Damon?

C: DAMN Bfras can DANCE.

M: I assume B-Fras swing dances on the reg. He does it all the time.

C: “My Girl” uh-huh Matt Damon, her face says “NOPE.”

M: B-Fras coming in to steal yo girl, Matt Damon.

C: Idk French but that teacher makes it sound like shit. OHMYGOD MCGIVIN IS GONNA KILL HIMSELF!!! OH nononnononnononooo!!!!!

M: I'm so glad that guy didn't die. I just knew he was going to kill himself.

C: Holy shit whew...

M: Way to twist turn to this cheery scene.

C: Heart to heart with the enemy...

M: He's a God damn gem, lady! He's not just too good!

C: He’s too good for all these WASPs!

M: They play football all weird.

C: God damn Matt Damon is just a grenade of a person!

M: God damn it Matt Damon.

C: It’s not his fault he’s better than you.

M: He has to win, Matt Damon. It's the whole reason he's at that school.

C: OMG...

M: Damn B-Fras is smooth in this movie. Matt Damon is gonna kill him.

C: FUCKING OLD FUCKS NOW IT’S ALL OUT! MATT DAMON KNOWS!

M: Oh here it goes. Matt Damon is gonna kill him.

C: *gasp*

M: Matt Damon is gonna tell everyone. Here it goes.

C: OH god!

M: They are all in the shower. It's gonna go down.

C: Kick his ass!!!!!!

M: Naked fight.

C: Swastika those sons a bitches! Did none of their dad’s fight in the war this is like 1950!!

M: Like I knew it would happen.

C: How naive are you roommate kid?

M: You have no idea what you're talking about roommate guy.

C: Obvious what is happening here. Fucking obvious.

M: Thank you, Voice of Reason guy.

C: OH MY GOD SERIOUSLY.

M: Is Brendan Fraser gonna kill a guy? He has every right to.

C: They’re all cowards!!!!

M: You're too good for her, Brendan.

C: Oh too emotional Sally? Your friends are awful. And so are you. You don’t need her David!!!!

M: God damn it, Matt Damon.

C: OMG DILLION YOU TOTAL BITCH!

M: Rip, my Dude, you have got to tell that Matt Damon was cheating.

C: RIP YOU COWARD!

M: God damn it, Rip. God damn it, Matt Damon. I hate this fucking school.

C: The headmaster already hates him..damnit!

M: "What do you want us to think, Rip?" Lead us, Rip.

C: You gotta say something Rip, you saw!!! You saw him cheat!

M: Rip, my Dude, you have this one last chance to be cool.

C: Come on RIP you know the right thing to do!

M: YES! RIP! MY DUDE!

C: FINALLY!!!

M: Good for you, Brendan.... little maudlin with the speech and everything, but good for you.

C: Whew....Brendan gonna say all that to the headmaster - go you.

M: That's it? It's over? Who put up the swastika flag? Why was Sally such a bitch in the end? 

C:  C: Seriously was it Matt Damon or that blonde asshole with the little nazi glasses?

M: Why didn't Brendan spit in Matt Damon's face? Because he's a God damn gem, that's why.