#anyway yeah. Ever think about your clothes becoming your flesh and when you rip them it exposes muscle underneath?

[artblock-tm]

OC moment :)

Without lighting under cut!

[the-melting-world]

Strength | Side B: “Chasing Dials”

Art by @ligiawrites

~ In which a secretive barhand brings in the new year…

The Trio Appearances: Kipling | Khleo | Ozy

Arcana LI appearances: Asra | Nadia | Lucio | Valdemar

Track Origins: “Chasing Dials” by Blanco White

Not sure if this is the right track? The full album can be found here: Strength

Khleo is Non-binary and uses she/they pronouns interchangeably

cw: alcohol, implications of vampirism, mentions of blood

~  2.3k words

***

Fireworks broke and rained hot glitter over the southern border of Center City and Goldgrave. A handful of bartenders were off duty and on the move.  

Khlee von Heine walked among them. She was the only one who hadn’t taken the time to change out of her work clothes. Her coworkers were loud, merry, and prone to recklessness as they stumbled from one pop-up bar crawl to the next. 

“Another year,” Gabe managed to roar over the next round of fireworks. “Can you believe we fucking did it?” He took a deep swig from the communal growler. The night was far from young and the barhands had lost track over how many times they refilled it. Gabe reluctantly handed it off to the next coworker so they could say their piece.

Khlee hung back in order to stand under a wooden arch whose sign was eclipsed in dead vines. But Khleo had committed its message to memory years ago.

Der Biergarten.

The plot of land overgrown in weeds and other invasive species was still up for sale, to Khleo’s relief. Though it was out of the way on most of her delivery routes, Khleo did her best to stop by every now and then. Just to make sure no one had bought up the property.

The barhand checked to see that her coworkers were distracted as she stepped up and snatched a flyer with the lot info off the gate. She folded it up and quickly tucked it in her pocket before the arm of a good friend looped around her neck. 

Basil leaned on Khleo as he pressed the convex surface of the growler against her sternum.

“Your turn.”

Khleo playfully shoved him off of her, but kept the growler. She took a sip. Basil and the other barhands chided her — she was supposed to make a toast.

“Fine. Fine.” Khleo held up the bottle. “To progress.”

They made a show of peering into the depths of the amber glass. “Maybe this year we’ll get lucky and actually make some, yeah?”

Someone snatched the growler out of their hand. Gwendolyn? Max? The streets were too dark to tell.

Khleo’s friends were off. They blended in with the city’s bar crawlers as they chased down the next booze cart. People wanted refills that night, not whatever Khleo was about to say next.

Later when Khleo had returned to her apartment, she traded her work clothes for something softer and more comfortable. Then she dug through the pocket of her discarded jacket and retrieved the folded up flyer.

It was a short walk from her kitchen to the bedroom. There was no bed frame or vanity, just three lumpy mattresses stacked on top of each other that she rescued from the alley when she first moved in.

The room was already small, but it felt even more congested thanks to the uneven piles of text, of which there two types — loose leaf recipes or pages ripped out of cookbooks and cheap serial novels with depictions of bejeweled dragons on the covers.

The only piece of real furniture around was an antique dresser, the drawers of which were broken and jutting out like crooked teeth.

All except one.

Khleo took a deep breath before crouching and using both hands to work the bottom drawer open. Like always, it did not come quietly, but with a little patience and a lot of swearing, Khleo managed to pull it out.

Most of the drawer’s contents belonged to her late adoptive father, Hans von Heine. However, it was an unmarked jar that Khleo reached for. She screwed it open and tucked the flyer for the piece of real estate between old flyers and newspaper clippings back when the garden used to host events. The jar had cash in it too. Whatever Khleo could spare went into the jar. Most of it came from what was left of her tips after paying rent, bills, and whoever she needed in order to keep certain people off her back and out of her business.

Khleo sealed the jar and did her best to ignore the tightness in her chest as she struggled to get the drawer to shut all the way. Once she had, she found that her breathing had become more than a little unsteady. It only got worse when she heard the fireworks going off outside.

Khleo shut their eyes and leaned their forehead against one of the crooked drawers, trying not to dwell too much on where they were this time last here. As it turned out, they were right here, drunk and crying at the foot of this very dresser.

Khleo curled up on their side. Yes, tonight their head was buzzing from the alcohol, somehow both heavy and light. Yes, the tears had found their way to the surface again. Khleo was never one to hold them in as long as they could find the space to spill them. 

Things would be different this year, Khleo told themself. They would make sure of it this time.

***

(Lucio’s POV)

Lucio hated the smell of this place. Rotting and damp. It was hard to believe that they were still in Vesuvia.

“You always have such a sour expression on your face whenever I come to feed. Why so, my Count?”

The silky, sardonic voice belonged to Lucio’s host, Quaestor Valdemar. 

“Don’t call me that,” Lucio snapped. He wanted to fold his arms and stifle some of the shivers running up his back, but he couldn’t as long as he was hooked up to Valdemar’s device.

“My apologies, Lucio,” Valdemar corrected themself coolly.

Another shiver climbed up Lucio’s neck as he bit back the urge to say, I don’t want to be called that either.

“Tell me, what plagues you?” They added with a chuckle. “Don’t you like your living arrangement?”

Ever since cutting a deal with the scientist turned demon, Lucio had been living out his days in the lowest cellar of the Lazaret. When he was first brought back from the Devil’s realm, he had been too weak to demand anything else. At the time, all he cared about was that he was alive and wouldn’t be devoured by the courtiers.

Lucio glanced at the tube looping around his forearm, its transparent pathways already inflated with his blood.

But at what cost?

Lucio grinded his teeth. It was too late to consider that now. 

This was how it always went anyway. Lucio would be presented with an opportunity — a way to improve what he could not on his own. He would leap at it, no questions asked.

Why, after all this time, after all those treacherous dealings could he not bring himself to stop and think things through?

As the last of Valdemar’s toll left his body, Lucio started to wonder what his mother might say about all of this. But he’d rather eat another shitty bargain than go down that road right now.

“Your contribution to our arrangement hasn’t been as satisfying compared to when we first began.”

“What are you trying to say?” Despite his nasty tone, Lucio was grateful for the distraction. “My blood’s not tasty enough for you?”

“It used to be,” Valdemar said. “I’ll be honest with you, Lucio, I agreed to keep you around as an energy reserve primarily for that reason. The notion of devouring you in one sitting and having to share with my dear contemporaries was not nearly as attractive as the possibility of having your flesh to dine on whenever I needed to during this indefinite campaign in your current reality.”

Lucio hissed as Valdemar unceremoniously removed the needle from his vein. He wasn’t sure how to react to what he had just heard. Thanks to Valdemar’s mask, all Lucio could read from their expression was the growing crow’s feet at the corners of their blood red eyes.

“So?”

Valdemar applied a cotton wad to the puncture wound and dug it in with their thumb.

“Ow! Hey – Owie!” Lucio yelped.

“So, my Count,” they sweetly clarified as they kept up the pressure, “I need you to find a way to restore that vitality you once possessed. Technically, you’re in peak physical health. I don’t know if you’ve looked in the mirror lately, but the evidence of your tussle with the plague has all but disappeared from your eyes. Your hair has been growing…” they took a moment to scan their critical gaze over the pale blond patches clinging to Lucio’s jaw. “You could easily blend in with the citizens.”

Lucio swallowed. “B-blend in? Why the devil would I want to blend in?”

Valdemar made a less than human sound as they peeled back their mask and bared their needle-sharp teeth at the former Count. 

“Right now you taste like a boneless, gutless, gill-infected inferior breed of mackerel. And I prefer to have rare, mercury-rich, vinegar-glazed bluefin tuna. Captivity is poisoning your blood. So I’m giving you permission to get out there in your beloved city and find a way to sweeten it.”

The Quaestor gave Lucio a not-so-gentle shove in his chair. They replaced their mask as they straightened up. The former Count’s eyes widened as he covered his hand over his arm. The last thing he wanted was to piss off Valdemar. But he didn’t know the first thing when it came to what they were asking him to do. 

“What happens if I can’t, erm… make my blood taste better? What if spending time in the city doesn’t work?”

The Quaestor sighed, their emotions back in check. They were already half occupied with cleaning their instruments and storing the sacks of Lucio’s blood in a portable cooler for later.

“Then I will have no choice but to invite my courtier companions over for a nice potluck dinner.” They glanced up. The crow’s feet were back. “And you’ll be the forgettable appetizer that no one asked for.”

Later, when Valdemar was kind enough to row Lucio across the stretch of water to the mainland, they suggested, “You should find some people who are very healthy. Outside of captivity, fish are the most robust when they’re in competition with other capable anatomies.”

Lucio hugged what was left of his royal uniform – a tattered speckled cape – around his shoulders. He grumbled, “Would you, for fuck’s sake, stop comparing me to a fish, Quaestor?”

Unperturbed, Valdemar said, “We’ve arrived.”

Lucio lowered his hood and blinked out at the morning overcast sky. His top lip curled into a distinctive snarl as he recognized where they were.

“Not here. Anywhere but here.”

Valdemar gestured to the nearest dock. “Get out, Lucio.”

The former Count wanted to blot out the images of the slumped architecture and purge his nostrils of the stale watery stench. 

“Not the Flooded District. I can’t stand this place. Can’t you see that it’s a failure that I don’t need reminding of?”

“Lucio, don’t be so foolish,” Valdemar said almost tenderly as they nudged him out of the boat. “The entire city is your failure. Much of which is hard to see. Oh, but it’s there. Now go on,” they said as if encouraging a child at the fairgrounds, “go find someone healthy. I’ll come to retrieve you in a fortnight’s time.”

Lucio couldn’t believe he was watching Valdemar row off into the mist. He tried to take a deep breath, but the air was so bad that he just ended up coughing. 

Even though Valdemar had been correct about Lucio’s appearance, looking nothing like he did in the days when he was the Count, he still found himself trying to crowd off his features with his hood any time a resident passed him by on the floating, rickety streets. But to his relief, no one seemed to know or even care about who he was or might be. 

As soon as Lucio relaxed his shoulders and began walking with more confidence, the inner walls of his stomach suddenly contracted. Then he remembered. He had just given blood. Lots of it. Usually, the Quaestor supplied him with something to eat, but this time they hadn’t.

“Damn them,” Lucio hissed. He cradled his abdomen like it was made of glass as he tried to make his way towards some kind of common plaza. He had no money, but perhaps he would be able to find a dumpster to rummage through.

He was passing by a narrow alley when he caught a glimpse of the impossible out of the corner of his eye.

A lion.

Its coat was creamy and short all over. Its size was nothing short of mythical. 

Lucio was tempted to shout at the two idiots occupying the alley with this beast on the loose, but they seemed both aware of its presence and entirely calm about it.

One of them was slumped against the wall of the grimy building. Despite their threadbare attire and weary expression, they were smiling at the other. 

“No, Khlee. Please don’t. You’ll be late for work.”

The person squatting before the first seemed to be focused on the task of sewing up what appeared to be rips in a heavy cloak. Even with their short jacket, Lucio could detect the shape of their arms. Their brown curls had enough volume to hide most of the details in their profile.

“Nah. I’m already late. This’ll only take a minute.”

There wasn’t much time to take in the rest of their features before the big cat stepped up, blocking Lucio’s view of them.

< Can I help you? >

Lucio ran. He nearly tripped over himself getting out of there so fast. But he didn’t go far. He gripped the edge of a building and poked his head out, waiting for the lioness and her human to emerge. When they finally did, Quaestor Valdemar’s words from earlier echoed in Lucio’s mind.

Go find someone healthy.

Well, the individual strolling confidently down the street with a full grown lion at their side was definitely looking like the healthy sort.

At the moment, Lucio wasn’t really thinking about what would happen to him if he failed Valdemar’s taste requirements.

Right now, his stomach was hurting. 

If the body of this lion tamer was any indication, they knew where Lucio could find himself a meal.

[choco-mark]

First Time

pairing: boyfriend!renjun x oc

genre: fluff | smut

warnings: language, explicit sex, established relationship, oral (fem. receiving), body worship, protected sex (be like junnie!!), loss of virginity

summary: you and your boyfriend finally decide to take your relationship to the next level with sex.

words: 2k

note: there isn’t really much plot, it’s just smut 

requested by anon

23 September

You and Renjun had been dating for the past seven months, and to be honest, it had been your first long relationship. Renjun was the first guy that you had given your heart away to, and thankfully, he held it with all fragility as he gave you his own.

The two of you were head over heels for each other, and all of the boys didn’t fail to notice how the both of you were constantly all over you. It seemed to surprise them (especially Donghyuck and Jeno) that he was soft with you, being so caring and loving.

Yet, it did occur to you that the two of you hadn’t gotten too intimate past making out. It wasn’t really a topic that the two of you ever talked about, and it made you wonder a little bit, on whether he was as pure as you. And the answer was yes, when you had shyly asked him after a date in the safety of his car. Renjun had nearly ran a red light at the sound of your words, but he didn’t hesitate to tell you about how he felt.

Now, you were back in his apartment, sitting splayed across his lap as you kissed him hastily, trying to take as much of him as you could. It was growing heated as his hands snaked around your waist, squeezing the sides slightly to make you gasp.

He pulled away at the sound, scanning your eyes deeply. “Do you...” his voice faded, watching as you bit your lip in a little hesitation. “We don’t have to, babe—”

Humming, you shook your head slowly, putting your arms around his neck as he watched you. “I—I want to. I mean, only if you’re—”

“Yes, yeah, of course,” Renjun rubbed at your sides again, the feeling sending shivers down your spine. His hands fiddled with the hem of your shirt, his eyes never leaving yours. “Can I?” You nodded, allowing him to pull off your shirt. The exposure of your skin to the air made you cover your body, feeling self conscious at the same time. He pulled away your hands, pushing them to the side.

“Don’t cover yourself, please,” his lips moved to your neck, kissing down to your collarbone. “You’re so beautiful,” his fingers tingled on your shoulders, moving to your bra clasp.

A sigh left your mouth as the material slipped off your chest, exposing yourself to him. Your heart almost burst from the way he looked at you with so much love in his eyes as he took one of your breasts into his mouth, sucking softly on the flesh. He took a moment to push you off of him, laying you down on his bed just to hover over you again, laying pressed kisses to every inch of your body as he could.

As his lips moved south, they brushed against the skin of his lower abdomen, stopping at the fabric of your jeans. With every move he made, your arousal increased, the heat between your legs growing fast.

You had touched yourself before, you couldn’t admit you were that pure, but the way Renjun was lowering your jeans with every pull made you anticipate so much, you thought you might burst.

His hands ran up the smoothness of your legs, lips following shortly after them as he finally kissed at your inner thighs, making you squirm. Hooded eyes fluttered up to your face, watching you in lust as he moved his mouth to your now soaked panties.

Just the feeling of his lips on your clothed heat caused you to shut your eyes tightly, savoring the soft pleasure that came from it. A whine bubbled at the bottom of your throat, coming out as his teeth found the ends of your panties, lowering it down your soft thighs.

“You’re perfect,” he mumbled against your skin, rubbing your thigh to gain your attention, making you look down at where he was. His position was so close to your most sensitive area, watching you intently as he spread out your legs widened, giving him a better view.

He didn’t waste time to bury his tongue into your folds, savoring your taste without a warning, causing you to cry out. It was a cry of his name, urging him to continue as you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling at his locks as he continued. The tugging made him moan, moving your hips up to angle towards his mouth, his lips sucking on your clit with all attention on you. The feeling was so high, giving you so much pleasure that you tried to find some control yourself as he continued.

Considering this was the first time he had ever used his mouth like this, he was doing pretty well, though you didn’t really have anyone else to compare him to anyway. Renjun pulled away almost as quickly as he had given himself to you, looking up at you with a face glistening with your juices as he gave you a guilty look, rubbing your thighs lovingly. “I’m sorry, I just—really wanted to do that, for a long time.”

You felt yourself turn flustered from his confession, a giggle that couldn’t be helped leaving your mouth as you watched him become equally embarrassed. “Hey—no, it’s okay! I mean—that was more than okay.” Renjun scrunched up in face in mock anger, smiling softly as he hovered over you, pressing kisses all over your face. “There’s just a bit of a problem.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re still wearing all of your clothes,” you held him by the nape of his neck, pressing slightly to bring his lips down to yours. “I-I don’t really like that,” your hands slid under his T-shirt, feeling the burning flesh under your fingertips as he hissed at the feeling. “I-I want to see you, Junnie.” You watched as he flushed from your words, the entire situation turning from super hot to super adorable as you let out a little giggle from the way he was giving you an innocently shocked face. “C-Can I?”

Renjun nodded at your shy question, letting you pull off his shirt. Your hands danced across his toned body, eyes wandering to his jeans as you continued feeling every inch of his skin, not getting enough with each touch. His eyes were on you, looking at his body, and it was probably the best thing he had seen in a long time; his girlfriend awing over his body in a way he wouldn’t had imagined before.

Your fingers met the belt on his jeans, glancing up at him momentarily before yanking it off of him, throwing it onto the ground before you started to get a little impatient. The pooling of wetness around your core was growing at an embarrassing rate, and Renjun helped as you lowered his jeans, and then his boxers, leaving both of you bare on his bed.

You let your hand touch him, slowly enclosing your palm around his member as he let out a choked sound at the feeling. As much as you wanted him to make love to you, you couldn’t help but think that his massive dick would not fit inside of you. It made you nervous just at the thought of him not being able to enter you (if that was even possible), but you let your finger press against the tip of his member, eliciting another sweet sound from him. “What if you don’t fit?” Your thoughts made its way to your mouth, making your boyfriend open his eyes to your slightly glowing face. A small smile spread over his face before he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“We’ll have to see then, won’t we?” Renjun reached over to his nightstand, pulling the drawer for a condom. He rolled it on as quickly as he could, looking up at you once as he positioned himself in front of your hole. “Ready?”

The initial stretch was painful, your walls expanding more than it ever had with any previous—fun with yourself. He went slowly, entering with caution as he watched your expressions, making sure that you were uncomfortable. “Is this okay? How do you feel?”

You took in a strangled breath, your eyes shutting tightly from the feeling as he went in completely, filling you up fully. “Please—just don’t move yet,” he heard the pain in your voice, letting his hair brush against your forehead as he kissed you again, trying to distracting you. Your lips moved against his slowly, focusing on the taste you were getting on your tongue as the pain slowly subsided, leaving you with a fulfilled feeling.

“You can move now, Junnie,” you whispered out, locking your arms around his neck as you bucked your hips up. His cock dragged on your walls as he thrusted into you again, a groan leaving his lips as he tried to control his pace, the tightness of your pussy making it harder and harder with every move he made.

You eventually felt the rush of pleasure wash over your body, the initial pain of the stretch slowly being replaced by the euphoric feeling that your boyfriend was giving you. Your fingers dig into the skin of his back as he picked up his pace, realizing that you were getting used to this.

“Fuck, that—” your words were cut off by a loud moan leaving your lips, his cock having thrusted so deep inside you that you saw stars. “Feels so good...”

Renjun couldn’t quite control himself either, not from the way you were scratching down his back, probably leaving very bright marks that he definitely would love to see from you. He tried to contain his sounds, moving down to your neck as he sucked on the supple skin instead, leaving his own marks.

His teeth grazed against your slightly salty skin, his tongue moving to lick the area after every mark he claimed. You weren’t too focused on to however, his cock taking up more of your mind as you felt yourself building up a huge knot, begging for a pleasurable release. You could tell Renjun was close too, from the way his lips parted to let out gasps and the way his hips faltered into messy thrusts.

“I’m gonna—” you couldn’t even finished your warning as you felt the wave being thrown over you, a loud cry ripping from your throat as it happened. Renjun felt himself as he came into the condom, nearly collapsing over you at the feeling.

The orgasm was mindblowing, sending you off into another dimension for a second too long, your eyes staying shut as he slowly pulled out of you, discarding of the used condom. The emptiness of your pussy made your eyes flutter back open, a little whine bubbling from the back of your throat.

“You okay?” Renjun slipped beside you, throwing the covers over the two of you as he pulled you closer, letting his hot breath paint your skin. You gave him a short nod, burying yourself in the depths of his chest, suddenly feeling aware on what had just happened.

But it eventually passed over you when you felt his fingers drawing slow circles on your back out of adoration, his sweet confessions blessing your ears as he continued whispering his love for you. There was no more reason to be nervous about what had just happened, you had loved every single moment, and it made it even better that Renjun was the one that gave you your perfect first time.

“I love you,” you mumbled against his skin, cutting him off in his now slow singing, your lips brushing against his soft skin as you spoke. “I—just love you, Renjun.”

He chuckled at your matter-of-fact tone, kissing your head in response, his arms never loosening his grip around your body. “I know, babe. I love you—hmm, so much. I promise.”

“You promise?” You looked up at him from the depths of his chest, your heart swelling from the way he looked at you.

“I promise.”

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness Chapter 34

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I was a part of something bigger, made of something bigger. When I opened my eyes, Ruby was there. All of RWBY was there in fact, JNPR too. And CRDL even. Everyone I had ever met and, you know what, everyone I had ever not met was stuck too. Not just humans but faunus too. All Cetra in one giant groaning mass.

It was everybody. It was everything and at the center of it all was a mad god and the distant sound of flute playing. Out of tune. Out of beat. It was a horrific whistling sound like if somebody tortured the wind and made it shriek wildly in the abysmal mass.

And we were made out of it. And we were trapped in it.

We were all there and made and trapped in this stuff. I tried to move but I was stuck in it. Like I’d been cemented into place in this wall. But the stuff wasn’t cement, it was flesh. It was both human and Grimm flesh and I was stuck inside of it. When I looked out beyond there was only one thing that wasn’t stuck in the goo, only one person.

A woman.

I knew her. Her straw-blonde hair and pale skin stood out to me. Her sharp facial features were a match for my own. I had her nose and eyes a few shades darker than hers.

“Mother!” I called out. “Mother save me!” With pale eyes, she turned towards me.

She walked towards me and cupped my chin with ghost white hands. “Of course, my child. I will save you. Hush now.”

With one gentle pull she ripped me free of the wall into her ghostly white arms. I shuddered as she cradled me.

This isn’t what I wanted. This wasn’t what I had in mind. I was a tentacle. I was merging in my flesh with my mother and becoming one with her. I wasn’t saved here. I was just as trapped.

When I woke up, Ruby’s arms were tight around me. Her face held the exact same soft expression it had when she was stuck in the wall. I couldn’t look at her. Especially as she sighed softly and nuzzled her face into my shoulder.

There had been cries for help. People sobbed in the wall. But I knew that no one made it out of the four and a half billion year deep corpse pile. I screamed and something had looked at me. I called out in pure instinct for my mother and something had answered. It was alien, foreign. It was not like us.

My mouth opened in a silent scream in the real world, I’d drooled all over my pillow and sheets. I flipped the pillow over and laid my head back but I knew I’d never get any sleep now.

All I could think was that she wasn’t my mother.

Ruby hushed me and rubbed my chest softly. Harsh red and orange scars stood out across it. She mumbled softly in her sleep. I watched her adjust her position across my chest, her hands taking mine in hers as she did.

I relaxed but only slightly. The sight of the woman’s eyes were burned into my mind.

I checked my scroll. It was three thirty in the morning. Way too early to go about waking Ruby or any such nonsense. I slid out of bed carefully, avoiding any movement which might wake Ruby and slid my pillow into my place. She adorably wrapped her arms around it and I couldn’t help but brush her hair back and kiss her forehead.

I made my way over to the minifridge and helped myself to some of the icecream Ruby had bought and binged to make herself feel better. Strawberry sherbet. Fitting. And for breakfast no less. I sighed and wiped my forehead.

“Jaune…” A quiet whisper. I’d failed and been caught. Ruby came up behind me and wrapped her arms around me. There was a mirror which ran across our wall in which I’d failed to notice her creeping up behind me within. Her tight pjs pressed against my back and her fingers traced about the scars on my chest.

“It’s nothing, just a bad dream.”

“You’ve been having a lot of those.” She almost scolded me. But if it was a scold I wanted to be scolded again, it was so gentle.

“They’re nothing,” I tried.

“Not nothing," she denied easily. "Tell me about them,” she murmured. Her voice like a shallow creek. “Are they about Tyrian?”

“Who? The scorpion?”

I felt her roll her eyes against my back. “His name was Tyrian.”

“He doesn’t deserve so much as a name. Calling him ‘The Scorpion’ is already too good for him.”

“Tell me about your nightmares, Jaune.” She was impossible to distract, it would seem. That’s why I loved her; I think. Not only was she a sweetheart, she was unrelenting. It was unbelievably attractive.

I told her about the mound of human and faunus flesh. But I didn’t mention my mother pulling me out of it and into her arms. I didn’t mention how I became one with her instead. I told her about how I saw her sleeping in the massive wall. Just another person shaped tentacle.

I shuddered as she ran her hands through my scars, the warmth of her fingers rocked me to my bones. The feeling spread across my ribs as I turned around and wrapped her in my arms. Her arms stayed tight within mine and she leaned her head against my chest again.

“Jaune...”

“I’ll be okay Rubes. Pinky promise.”

She wrapped her hands around my neck and kissed me.

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Ruby went back to bed. I could not. I was awake and out and about. And if I had another dream like that one I never wanted to sleep again.

Weiss was the first one up. It was early too when she joined me in the living spaces. As in, it was like five in AM. She must be an early riser. Maddening.

“Jaune…” she murmured my name sleepily. “What’s got you out of bed so early.”

“Bad dreams. Family problems probably. Couldn’t get back to sleep. Why are you up so fucking early?”

“I’m always up this early.”

“Why?”

“I like the mornings. If you’re up early you can get a lot done. Coffee?”

“I made a pot already. Help yourself.”

“What a gentleman.”

“I guess.”

“So, family problems,” she muttered. “I know a thing or two about that.”

“Ruby mentioned you did. Not any of the specifics,” I said hurriedly when she turned swiftly in my direction. “Just that your parents were mean to you.”

“Well. ‘Mean.’” She managed. She thought for a moment. “My father was physically and emotionally abusive. My mother was a drinker and was totally absent in any way that matters.”

“Mean,” I leveraged. “My parents were… I don’t know how to describe it. They didn’t believe in me. For one thing. My father especially didn’t. He thought I didn’t have a prayer. Especially at being a huntsman.”

“But you showed them. You’re quite the huntsman now.”

“Yeah. I guess. Wait until my sisters find out. That will mean something.”

“How many sisters did you have again?”

“Seven.”

“Seven?!” She asked as she sat down on the couch opposite me.

“Seven. I’m the oldest. They matter to me. Are you close with your siblings if not with your parents?” I asked.

“Maybe with Winter. So maybe one. But she’s distant. It’s a part of who she is. It’s also a survival trait in a family like mine. My brother on the other hand…” she trailed off but I just waited. “My brother is like my father,” she decided.

“Bad, then.”

“Bad,” she agreed.

“I was the oldest by quite a bit. And I was the only guy. So… I was excluded from stuff. But not intentionally. You know? It’s just how that goes.”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed. It was a pleasant sound in her throat. I stared at her neck for a moment. Her early morning clothes were a soft grey and blue gown that showed off all the way down her collar. I glanced away as my eyes trailed a little lower than her collar.

Girl’s in their pajamas, man. Something about it… What was I to do?

“But I’ve got Ruby now. She believes in me,” I continued. “I mean you and I both do?”

She choked a little on her coffee. I stared. “I’m sorry?” She wondered. “What do you mean?”

“She’s your partner. You two are like, besties or whatever. I’ve never really had that either.”

“Oh. That’s… that’s what you meant. Yes, I suppose. We’re good friends. I… I never really had that before Ruby. A best friend.”

“Me neither. I’m none of my best-friends’ best friends. It’s a bit of an insecurity of mine. Yeah I’m dating Ruby but…”

“But that’s different,” Weiss whispered. “What you and Ruby have is different from what Ruby and I can have…”

“Yeah. I mean, I guess. What is friendship anyways? I was close to Pyrrha but I wouldn’t say we were best friends like you and Ruby are. We also were never a couple. And Ren has Nora so while he’s definitely my bro, he’s not really my best friend.”

“When did you find out that Pyrrha liked you?” Weiss murmured.

“She… she kissed me before she went to fight Cinder. So… she had to be pretty obvious. With Ruby, too. It was that way. Or I never would have found out. I’m… for someone who is… I don’t know… I’m kinda smart. Right?”

“Yes, you’re smart. You fight in a way that’s about the mental battle as much as the physical. Like your empty hops. You’re always trying to psych your opponent out. You’re pretty smart. We pretty much all go to you for plans.”

“Right,” I agreed. “But holy fuck am I dumb. You get what I mean?”

“Well…”

“I mean I went after you instead of Pyrrha who was right there in front of me. I didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell with you. But my dumbass just kept tryin’.”

“ Well …”

“So man, am I dumb. You feel me? I’m too fuckin’ dumb to be this smart.”

“A little , but what makes you say you didn’t have a chance with me?” Weiss rubbed her coffee cup and stared into the liquid distantly.

“Did I have a chance with you? You can answer that.”

“Not when you were putting on that act, no.”

“There you go then. Not a prayer. And Pyrrha was right in front of me. Am I blind? What’s the matter with me?”

“Well, yes. Okay. So you don’t have experience with girls…”

“No experience with girls-I have seven sisters! What the hell are you talking about?” I demanded. “Seriously what’s my excuse? I’d like one.”

“I… I have nothing for you. You’re pumping in a dry well.”

“Yeah. So that’s what’s wrong with me.”

“Oh is that all?”

“Probably not but let’s say it is. So what’s eating you?”

“Nothing. Why would you say something’s eating me?”

“Okay. Nothing’s bothering you.”

“No seriously was it something I said?”

“Well a little. Something seems up with you. You’re actually talking to me.”

“You’re actually talking to me,” she pointed out. “None of the fake stuff.”

“The fake stuff got me nowhere fast anyway. Good riddance to that sweet trash.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

“Things aren’t looking good, Oz.” I overheard Qrow from the kitchen beside Ruby.

“Ever the optimist. Even with the strides in progress we’ve made with you recently.” Ozpin was in control so I suppose it was he who I heard take a sip of coffee rather than Oscar. “While I would not say our current predicament is ideal I think we can both agree the situation could be much worse. Humanity is a resilient force.”

“Oz. Pro-huntsmen don’t just bite it like that all at once. Salem’s powerful and it seems like her reach is growing by the day. What does that say about humanity?” I shuddered. I thought of my mother and sisters who were out there somewhere right now. Ruby set her arm on the small of my back and I gave her a firm nod. She sighed and turned around and paced away from me.

I hated to see her leave but I loved to watch her go.

“That there are indeed a misguided few who have filled their hearts with malice. It doesn’t take a great number of people to cause harm but I believe there are far more people in this world willing to prevent it.”

Ruby paced over to join her uncle and Ozpin for their discussion. I loomed in the doorway, against the garden glass. “Um excuse me?” She was still a tad shy where her own leadership was concerned when things weren’t in the heat of battle.

“Ah Ms. Rose and Mr Arc, join us.” I snorted and stayed standing. Ruby took the red love seat next to her uncle. “We were just about to gather everyone to discuss our next steps.”

“Oh, uh, great.”

“Something on your mind kido?” Qrow asked.

“Well if it’s okay to ask…” Ruby trailed.

“Of course,” Qrow encouraged.

“Well we’ve been talking about the relics, Jaune and I that is, and if they have the fall maiden…”

“Cinder,” Ozpin clarified.

“Doesn’t that mean that they already have the Beacon relic?”

"Very astute Ms. Rose. I was wondering who would be the first to ask. It's true that the Haven relic, the relic of knowledge, is very much at risk, and for now that should remain our primary objective. Let's just say I made finding the relic at Beacon a bit more challenging than at the other schools."

"Ah, that's good to hear."

"It is. But let's not forget the challenges that still lie before us."

"Oh well I did have one more question."

"No my cane is not a relic."

"I have no more questions."

They shared a polite laugh and I snorted again at my girlfriend's antics from my spot in the corner. Arms folded I still eyed Ozpin warily.

"Yes while this cane is indeed very precious to me it is only that, precious to me. And while it still has a few tricks up its sleeve, I can firmly say being a relic is not one of them."

"Now why don't you run and get the other students."

Ruby gave me an indecipherable glance as she walked past me to gather our friends.

"Now something we can help you with, Mr Arc?"

"You let me into your school." It wasn't a question. "I have to know why. Why you took that risk over other applicants. I can't trust you otherwise."

"Yes. You did stand out to me at Beacon. Glynda, too. Your records indicated someone with shall we say more skill than you displayed."

"That charade should have lasted all of five minutes into initiation. I didn't even have aura."

"I took a calculated risk."

"You thought I was Salem's. My records didn't fool you."

They shared a glance. "Now is this the source of your hostility towards me. I thought it had its origin in my selection of Pyrrha as the new fall maiden."

"That too. Her blood is on your hands." I looked to where I wore Pyrrha's banner on my bicep. "How many others have you gotten killed that I don't know about? How many people have you had die? How old are you really? And why did you let me get past you?"

"Very well, if you'll allow me to tackle the questions in order?" He seemed to be actually waiting for me to answer so I nodded. "Many. Too many to count for the first two. I suspect you know something about that. It has escaped me." I shuddered again and nodded. The exact number of people I have killed has run from me, after all. "I am very old. I predate modern Remnant by a few thousand years. And yes I thought you were an agent of Salem's. I'm glad to see that you aren't given the alarming competence you've shown me these last few weeks. I took a gamble and I'm happy to see it paid off."

"So you didn't know what I would become? This… this thing?"

"I saw potential in you, if that's what you're asking. I was hardly the only one. You were willing to put in the work to catch up to your peers. And you're hardly a monster, Mr. Arc." He gave a little laugh.

"I could have been one of Salem's agents and you still let me in. I could have killed someone. I could have been anything. You made the wrong choice."

"Even with the benefit of hindsight?"

"I could have been anything. You took too serious a risk where my friends are concerned. I think you have a bad habit of playing fast and loose with other people's lives, given that immortal perspective and all."

"Perhaps I did.” He confessed, maybe conceding the point. “What would you have me do?"

"Be more careful. We're counting on you."

"You don't seem pleased by it."

"I don't have any other choice."

Qrow's scroll buzzed. He'd been watching our exchange with a sort of jealous attention. I had the feeling I'd asked questions he himself wanted answers to, like I had said things he wanted to be said. He looked at the device.

"It's Leo, hang on." He opened the communication. "Yeah? Okay. Yeah, we'll be there."

"And?" I pressed.

"He says he had a break-through with the council. Said he might just be able to put that raiding party together and that we should join him tomorrow evening to talk about it."

"Perhaps time was all Leo really needed." Ozpin sounded like he didn't believe it.

"But you doubt it," I said.

"I do. Leonardo disobeyed direct commands I had given him. You yourself are suspicious of him, rightfully so. As am I, as you were suspicious of me."

"Are,” I corrected. “I am suspicious of you. Do you really think you’ve won me over. I know you have designs for my friends as pieces in your game.”

“And what about your role in the games I play?”

“I can eat shit, and die. And I totally fucking will. My friends. They actually matter. Their lives have real value.”

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

-WG

[petri808]

@fuck-yeah-nalu Naluween week 2020 Apocalypse prompt

Lucy POV

The further I run, the softer the screams become, dying away into garbled choking and haunting ripping sounds as the zombies tear away at the flesh of their hapless victims. I wipe away the tears that cloud my vision, don’t look back Lucy, I cry a mantra in my head, don’t look back and see your family... it’s too painful to know you are the only one who made it out alive. I can only be grateful that my mother never lived to see this day or become one of the undead. Oh god, please don’t tell me corpses will reanimate too! I shake the thoughts away. Don’t you do that!

How did this happen? I have no idea what is going on because it came on so suddenly. A plague that washed across our town, the state, is the world like this? Where do I go? Is there anywhere safe? Is there anyone I know that’s still alive? I call these creatures zombies because it’s like a horror movie come to life! I saw with my own two eyes a servant killed by one of the creatures, literally her throat ripped out and blood spurting everywhere, suddenly come back to life! Then they both went after our butler...

It was only by the grace of skill that I escaped with my life. Years of running track and a conditioned body allowed me to out pace these ravenous beings. They weren’t slow nor fast, yet deadly focused on their unquenchable hunger. Is that all we have left for our futures? Whether today or 60 years from now to turn the moment I die into a zombie? I have no idea. Is it just in the bite? Was it an airborn virus unleashed into the world? Has Mother Nature forsaken us? And can we blame her for it?

All the sounds of carnage have ceased and I’m left to my own thoughts as I walk the back roads from our country estate. I have no clear direction except to avoid areas of population. It was a good thing that we lived outside of the city itself where there are less people. The heart of town must be crawling with zombies by now. Yet distant gun fire or explosions, and occasional screams remind me to stay focused at least until I find somewhere safe to hold up in.

I hear a car approaching from behind and turn to look. As it gets closer, the vehicle looks awfully familiar... It grinds to halt a few feet before reaching me and I hear the best sound I’ve heard all day!

“Lucy!”

“Natsu!”

I run to his open trucks door and launch myself into his arms. “You’re alive!” The tears stream down my cheeks as I bury my face into his chest.

“I’m so glad I found you baby! I went past your house looking for you, but it was over run.”

“Everyone’s gone!” My sobs increase. Dead or undead, no longer the people I cared about.

“At least we’ve got each other.”

“But... your family?”

“Gone too,” he grits out.

His voice tells me he’s trying to hold himself together for my sake. “I’m so sorry Natsu.”

“Can’t be helped at this point. Come on,” he ushers me, “let’s get out of here.”

I jump into his truck and we take off again. “But where do we go?”

“No idea. Right now my main concern is doing what ever I need to keep us alive.”

Ever wished you’d watched more horror movies when you had the chance? Before today, it’s not something I would have ever considered. But it sure would be handy! As Natsu drove, different scenarios ran through my mind. Would this be like a 28 Days Later type zombie that eventually starves? Or more like a classic George Romero, never dies type, that finally stops because their body has completely rotted away? But let’s just hope it’s not a Resident Evil plot line with mutant zombies and a corporation behind the whole thing. Government... maybe... The current President does have a screw loose. Anyways, I guess the cause could be irrelevant at this point. We needed to figure out ways to survive this, however long it would last.

What are the common ideas in the movies? Find a secure building, preferably easy access for scavenging food and water. Avoidance as much as possible... Oh! And weapons! Guns, ammo, a big knife. Hmm, tactical clothing, comfortable and durable. But wait?! What if the outbreak came from contaminated food?! Ugh! This is so frustrating!

“Do you still have your cellphone Natsu? I wasn’t able to grab mine.”

“I do. Sent out a group text but so far no one’s answered.”

“At least that’s still working... for now.”

We drive and drive searching for supplies if we’re lucky enough to come across them. Gasoline, food, water, weapons, clothes, and bedding. Natsu’s truck is a blessing to have in times like this to use less travelled dirt roads or even no roads at all. These zombies are everywhere! How did it spread so quickly?

I use his phone to Google what’s happening and sure enough this pandemic is sweeping across the Americas but has not yet jumped across the oceans. The world’s response was to immediately shut down borders. Planes were turned around and grounded and ports grind to a halt. Military vessels from Asia and Europe were on their way to create blockades to stop boats from leaving either American continent, and fighter jets in the sky ordered to shoot down any planes...

“Oh my god...” my hands fly up and cover my mouth. “Natsu were trapped.” The world has turned its back on us. “This really is an apocalypse for our country.”

So many theories and stories about the cause of this infection fly around the internet. Best anyone can tell it started somewhere near Maryland and quickly moved across state lines. Several articles mention a government research hospital called Walter Reed as a possible link. We’re they working on something that caused this outbreak? Why doesn’t this surprise me?

“Why? What are you reading Luce?”

“In order to keep the pandemic from jumping continents, the world is basically cutting us off. I mean I can’t blame them, but what about survivors? Is no one gonna help us to escape?”

Damn! It could be like the 28 Weeks Later scenario! Are they going to bomb us, try to eradicate us! Oh look, at least the President is confirmed dead. That useless fat bastard was a plague of his own on this country.

Ping.

“Omg Natsu, Gray answered! He said he and Juvia made it out of the city, as well as Erza, Jellal, Levy, and Gajeel too! Right now they’re holding up at an abandoned warehouse in Clover. Natsu that’s the next town from here!”

“Should we go?”

“I think so, there’s safety in small groups.”

Natsu takes my hand and kisses the back of it. “Then we have a plan.”

What the future will hold is still to be seen. Will we survive it? You know what? I shut off Google and realize no one else is going to protect us but ourselves. We have to work together if we hope to live another day, but at least we have each other and our friends.

I smile back, he was right. “We have a plan!”

[inkribbon796]

Forgotten Light Ch. 2: The House that Thomas Built

Summary: The heroes get some information from an unlikely source.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3

Spade’s projection made an eerie, glitchy chuckle. “And Ranboo and Bing call me overly paranoid.”

“Is this a projection or some remnant of this psychopath,” Nate demanded. “What else did this asshole leave in our base?”

“I’ll be brief, while you are no doubt demanding questions of me,” Spade began talking, his form occasionally glitching. “Around our fifth reset, everything went so poorly that it compelled me to start making some precautions. One of them was to ensure you idiots keep your hands off of Thomas.”

“Thomas is fucking dead!” Joan told the projection. “When are people going to listen to the fact that my friend is fucking dead?”

Spade glitched, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Give me a moment, I had to make a whole program to respond to your rather inane questions. How I ever did this before is beyond me. Anyway, ask your question again if you would?”

“I didn’t ask you a question,” Joan spat. “I’m asking for some decorum for the dead, you shitbag.”

The hologram glitched. “Oh, Joan, if I’d registered you were here before, I would have been gentler.”

“What do you want?” Joan demanded.

“To stop all of you from doing something idiotic. These spells can only be undone by myself,” Spade gestured to himself with a smug smile. “Or at least your out of date version of myself.”

“So that’s why you took the camera, Logan told me that Deceit hadn’t been the one to give it to us,” Nate spat.

“My conclusion for our failures to save people is because of your ineptitude and recklessness.” The hologram’s expression crashed into a frown. “My Thomas was corrupted by the deaths of three of the Sides, I wouldn’t have killed Orange if I’d known it had such an adverse effect on him. If you are even hearing this message, I can only assume we were successful in saving Roman and Virgil. A cause to be celebrated.”

“You killed Orange?” Joan balked in horror.

“He made a couple crass remarks about Roman and Virgil, while I was still metaphorically raw, one too many times and I was already in a foul mood, so I beat him to death and absorbed his aura.” The hologram had a dark look in his eyes, his tone chillingly calm.

The atmosphere went terrifyingly quiet.

After some pause, something in the hologram’s programming was directed to say something. “Thomas is not violent, despite what the situation at hand would lead you all to believe,” Spade tried to convince. “I am more than capable of dissecting flesh from bone. Roman’s and the Duke’s weapons can kill with ease. But Thomas has been trapped for years, the camera has kept him asleep for years. I believe that is worth mentioning.”

With that the projection disappeared and the nanites that were in the camera swirled into a small cube that Jackie immediately picked up and raced over to Bing who accepted it immediately.

Jackie was back as the heroes were discussing the situation, Joan picking up the camera and looking at it.

“Trusting a demon who murdered a hundred people is a shit idea,” King shouted.

“The guy could have left an explosive charge and he didn’t,” Mare reminded, walking over to get a good look at the camera. “Pixels here didn’t even try to hurt us.”

“Yeah but a demon not trying to kill us at this second doesn’t mean that it’s lying,” King reminded.

“This doesn’t change the fact that we need Logan, but they won’t be back until Sunday,” Joan cut into the argument as they studied the camera. “There’s nothing we can do about it right now.”

King let out a frustrated groan, “You do realize that if this thing gets out it will kill the Sides as we know them. For all we know, the only reason future Logan was probably able to think for himself was because there were already so many of the Sides dead and something else probably happened to the legate. There’s a lot we’ll never get to learn about the guy because of bullshit time travel.”

“I’m not saying we shouldn’t drop kick this thing into the closest ocean,” Joan shot back, holding the camera to their chest as if they were trying to protect it. “I’m just saying we should wait until the Sides get here to decide.”

Looking away, King was quiet as the heroes put it to a bit of a vote. They all decided to wait, mostly because Joan refused to hand over the camera until they decided to wait. Nate put it back into holding and Jackie went to discreetly check on the Sides in his normal clothes. They seemed fine and greeted Jackie warmly.

Everything was fine, and if they suspected something was wrong, then they never even hinted that there was anything off.

So the heroes waited until the Sides came back from their vacation. As they suspected, Logan knew someone had been in their home the instant he was through the door. When they rushed over to the base, there was white-hot anger in his eyes.

“I think it’s time we had that talk,” Nate told Logan.

Logan stiffened before he started stomping over to King. “Get your hands off of that.”

The logical Side slammed into a barrier as Virgil nervously took a step back and his back collided with a magical barrier that had triggered when they all passed through it.

The anxious Side let out a sharp gasp that immediately drew his three teammates’ attention. Only when Logan was sure that Virgil wasn’t being harmed, did his head sharply whip back to the other heroes.

“What is the meaning of this?” Logan demanded. “Did you all go through our house without permission?”

“Depends,” King’s fingers drummed on the camera and Logan seemed to become angrier. “If we’re talking to Logic, Morality, Anxiety, and Princey then it was for your own good. If not, this conversation is going to turn real nasty, really fast.”

“Worry not,” Roman smiled as he pushed himself in front of Logan. “None of us are that dastardly neerdowell, Deceit.”

“Oh, trust us,” Jackie scoffed. “We’d be havin’ a much different conversation if he was here. Might e’en get better answers, ‘cause yeh all sure as shite ain’t givin’ us any.”[1]

Logan pulled Roman back and the creative Side glared at him and yanked his arm away. “There appears to be some kind of misunderstanding, dispel the barriers and hand over the camera and we can talk.”

“You do know the archives and storerooms have cameras, right?” Nate reminded Logan. “We know you have long conversations with him, so start telling us what you’ve been talking about.”

“What are you talking about?” Logan glared at them.

“Is his name still Thomas or is he telling you to call him something else?” Nate demanded.

“Thomas is dead,” Logan’s tone was especially snappish. “If I could have been in communication with him I would have been years ago.”

“But yeh have been, yeh make yer way inta the storage room an’ yeh talk ta this thin’ but whene’er we try an’ get the audio it’s just a garbled mess,”[2] Jackie accused. “So either yeh tell us, or we’re gonna have ta force a conversation.”[3]

“I have not been talking with that thing, it is an inanimate object not worth talking to,” Logan denied.

“You do,” Virgil informed.

“You kinda do, Lolo,” Patton told him.

“It is a touch unsettling, but I always rehearse lines in the mirror and I hear nerds talk to a rubber duck, so who am I to judge?” Roman shrugged.

“No, I do not talk with some useless object, my coding duck is a completely different matter,” Logan defended, as Joan was loading up something on a PAD. It was a time lapse of Logan casually sitting in the storage room, his mouth moving but the audio coming out a garbled mess.

Logan felt an uncomfortable weight settle in his stomach, “I have no memory of this.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” King scoffed. “It also explains why you don’t have any aura. All the other Sides have aura but you never had any to spare.”

Logan stared at the camera and hazy memories of feeling something in him getting drained away and nothing but empty silence in his head. “I . . . I . . . What is that thing?”

“It’s a very dangerous demon, and when Thomas was spilt he did so incorrectly,” King explained. “And voila, you became his Sides. If this demon gets out or wakes back up it will turn you all into his proper thralls. A legate’s thralls only exist to bring their legate aura and mindlessly serve it.”

“And it’s trapped in that thing?” Virgil asked nervously. “No wonder Dee hated it. How do we keep it from getting out?”

Logan was quiet, just staring at the camera.

“If it is a foe to be vanquished I won’t go down without a fight,” Roman declared, drawing his sword.

“Maybe we could just talk to this legate?” Patton suggested. “We could try it.”

“What part of: if it gets out, you’ll become mindless thralls, didn’t you understand?” King demanded.

“Is it conscious?” Logan asked, silence crashing around the room. “Because if what’s in there is awake, I will rip that camera apart with my bare hands.”

“You’ll free it,” Nate reminded.

“I don’t care,” Logan decided. “Not too long ago I was in the same position. I was trapped in that drive for only eighteen hours, and I was made to suffer in my inability to move and speak. I would not wish such a fate even upon my worst enemies.”

“He’s gonna[4] get out eventually and then he’ll just be more pissed,” Virgil agreed, more than a bit of fear in his voice.

King groaned, “Yeah, you two have a point.”

“We should make a barrier, break the camera and if he attacks, we fight back,” Silver suggested.

“I think instead of the weapons and the magic,” Joan cut in, “the first thing he sees should be me.”

“An unacceptable risk,” Logan told Joan. “If this demon is even a fraction as dangerous as you all insist, you cannot be allowed near it.”

That got Joan a little upset, that Logan was so dismissive about something that was still a part of his old friend. “No, I don’t care. The others aren’t here, and I was one of the last things Thomas saw before he died. If there’s a chance he’s still in there, I want to try it.”

“We’ll be here to move in if he even tries to strike at him,” Silver promised. “Powerful or not, we outnumber him.”

“Fine,” Logan barked dismissively. “Since I’ve unwittingly had the most interaction with him, I should be their bench test for how this demon will react to the other Sides. If it proves to be non-violent or will not consume me, it will be safe to let the other near as well.”

“No!” Virgil shouted in blatant fear.

“Absolutely not,” Roman balked. “What if he hurts you.”

“I would rather him hurt me than you,” Logan decided.

Patton had a determined frown on his face.

“You think you throwing yourself into harm’s way makes it any better?” Roman spat, pointing at Logan. “I am capable of defending myself.”

“I will not watch you die again!” Logan shouted, his glasses glitching for a second and Roman flinched, fear flashing in Roman’s eyes. “You and Virgil are to be protected at all costs, whether than threat comes from hunters, demons, or anything else.”

“Lo,” Roman said, his face a mix of terror and shock. Virgil ducking behind Patton.

“The first thing he put in my head,” Logan clutched at his temples, “was the sight of your dead body, of your lifeless eyes. It is a sight I never wish to see again. Not your death, not Virgil’s, not Patton’s. It would be my undoing. I—”

Patton cut Logan off by hitting him with a hug and held him in a vice grip. “Lo we’re here together and we just wanna[5] help you.”

That finally stopped Logan’s screaming tirade. The warm, physical reminder that someone he loved was still here. Logan’s eyes turned back to normal and Patton held Logan to him. “Hey, come on big guy. We’re all still here and we’ll do this together.”

Logan, stubborn to the end, commented, “This individual has been feeding off of me for years, if I have not been taken as a thrall yet, there is the possibility that it will recognize me and I can convince it not to harm anyone. Will you give me a chance to reason with it?”

“No risks, you wait for Joan, and you run before it can hurt you,” Roman ordered.

“There are too many variables to—” Logan began to refuse.

“The only variable that we care about right now is your safety,” Roman told Logan. “Maybe you trust us for once, yeah?”

Logan looked conflicted, turning away.

Taking his hands, Roman tried to position his head so that he could look Logan in the eyes. “We’re a team, we do things together.”

Finally Logan let out a reluctant, quiet exhale, and closed his eyes. Then he gave a shallow nod.

Patton hugged Logan tighter. “We wait for Joan and the others, and when it’s safe, we all go out together.”

Then we’ll all die together. Logan thought morosely, but he didn’t say anything. His attention instead turned to Virgil who was not doing well with the situation. Between the undercurrent of fear in the room, it was having an adverse effect on his own crumbling mental state.

He was crying, and shaking, little anxious noises coming from him. To try and offer what comfort he could, Logan let go of Roman and gently pulled Virgil towards him.

Immediately Virgil bows his head forward to hide it in Logan’s chest.

Logan leaned forward and kissed the top of Virgil’s forehead. “My darling nightshade, I would let nothing set their finger on you if I were capable.”

Virgil’s stressed shaking began to get worse and he tried to press his head further into Logan’s chest. Logan’s free hand rubbed comforting circles into Virgil’s back as he tried to be as soothing as the situation would allow.

When Virgil stopped shaking as much, Logan could stand to take his attention off of Virgil.

Jack walked over. “Maybe yeh four shouldn’t be in the room when we pop the seal, we get some ‘a yer aura Logan, an’ we can try ta keep yeh guys safe.”[6]

Logan nodded and the other three Sides let him pull away long enough for King and Nate to use his aura to undo all the enchantments Spade had placed on it. Leaving the camera, at last, defenseless. The Sides were allowed to pass through the barrier.

Roman and Patton pulled Logan back into their group as they walked down the hall, turning out of sight.

It left the other heroes to get ready in the somber mood. Joan was finally left alone with the camera and the spell to crack open the camera. Everyone else who wasn’t Joan or a side was behind a protective barrier that Nate and Mare enchanting to keep them invisible until they needed to defend Joan or the Sides.

Nate stepped out to double check the barrier before walking over to Joan. With a heavy sigh he looked down the hallways, “Ready?”

Joan nodded, Nate catching the movement out of the corner of his eye.

“Alright,” Nate took a deep breath as he readied his magic. “3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . Behind the wall!”

Nate pulled and severed the line as Joan took the camera and it shook before it began to glow. Then the camera cracked and a soft white light came from the old device as a person dropped out of the light.

Joan immediately recognized Thomas’s face and they tried to listen for any signs of life. “Thomas” was deathly quiet and still eyes closed before his eyelids twitched and he groaned.

“Thomas?” Joan urged gently, keeping out of direct arm’s reach but moving closer. “Are you okay buddy?”

Thomas blinked open his eyes and began to weakly pick himself up, looking up at his old friend, “Joan?”

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

Accessibility Translations:

1. We’d be having a much different conversation if he was here. Might even get better answers, because you all sure as shit aren’t giving us any.

2. But you have been, you make your way into the storage room and you talk to this thing but whenever we try and get the audio it’s just a garbled mess

3. So either you tell us, or we’re going to have to force a conversation.

4. going to

5. wanna

6. Maybe you four shouldn’t be in the room when we pop the seal, we get some of your aura Logan, and we can try to keep you guys safe.

[artificialqueens]

Come Home to My Heart, Chapter 5 (Lemyanka) - Plastiquedoll

read on ao3 ✨| previous chapters

A/N: remember when call me maybe played on the radio? also, when I was writing this I found myself missing Denali a lot so I included her in the story from now hehe & after this chapter, there are no more time skips, now we are at the “present” part of it Enjoy & thanks for reading <3

-5-

At the age of twenty-two, Priyanka felt like she was invincible.

She was living in Toronto where she went to college with a broadcasting major. She worked in a record store downtown and rocked it as if she was the main character of High Fidelity. She still had the car she bought in her teen years but it worked perfectly and she couldn’t complain. She also shared an apartment with Scarlett who turned out to be a better roommate than expected.

Yeah, life was good. Finally, things had fallen into place.

Now she was on her way back home to spend the first proper vacation with her family she had ever had since moving out and although she loved her new life, she found herself missing the old times when everything seemed simpler.

Scarlett had returned a few days before Priyanka but they had agreed on meeting with the entire group to have some shots as soon as they all were there.

The sun was bright and yellow in the sky when she arrived home. As soon as she set a foot in, her nephews and nieces pounced on her. She spent the whole day playing with them –Priyanka liked to think she was not a regular aunt but rather a cool aunt- and ended up so tired that she went straight to bed after dinner –and for goodness sake, she had missed homemade food.

Going back to her old room was weird. It felt wider now that her sister lived in Australia and spent most of the year touring with a great orchestra. Most of Priyanka’s stuff was in Toronto and the remaining ones were inside boxes somewhere in the basement; the walls were empty and there were marks where the sticky tape was on gluing posters and photos, same old curtains, and even the same lamp on the nightstand. Her luggage was untouched, clothes folded –kind of- inside it. She’d unpack in the morning and until then she would put on whatever she found on the drawer as pajamas. Luckily, she had a Totally Spies! old t-shirt with a hole in one of the sides that would do just fine.

Before turning off the lights, she saw the picture of her graduation, smiling while she hugged her friends and a good feeling invaded her body.

The moment her head touched the pillow she fell asleep.

It wasn’t until the morning after things went downhill.

Priyanka didn’t know yet, she had a great morning drinking coffee and catching up with her mother before getting a text from Kiara asking if she’d like to have brunch with them –don’t judge her, a mimosa sounded delightful- plus they mentioned something about waffles discounts.

She had grabbed the first thing her hands picked from her suitcase, a pair of grey sweatpants, sneakers, and a tank top; the morning was still chilly so she put on a light jacket and tied her hair into a ponytail.

She texted Denali as well; she was a friend Priyanka met one winter she came to town from Alaska for a skating competition and ever since then, she would visit once in a while to hang out with them and practice with one of the local coaches. They got along instantly because Denali was fun to be around, she was also a very talented skater and a great drinking buddy to have next to her any night.

She replied shortly after, something about meeting them there.

It was nice to be in her hometown again, driving around with the same car she bought there, knowing exactly where to turn and where to go. Call Me Maybe played in the radio on repeat and she let it be, even sang along with her windows down.

She passed by Lemon’s old house -the one where she lived before moving to New York- her parents had sold it a few months after splitting up and a new family lived there already, Priyanka sometimes saw little kids playing around and couldn’t help but think of them sometimes. Those days most of her memories with Lemon were nostalgically tinted more than angry like the day she left.

Lemon’s father had re-married a couple of years ago, he met a French-Canadian woman in one of his business trips; she had an older daughter called Rita that Priyanka had met a few times in town. Although she had never spoken to her, according to her friends, she had a charming accent and funnier than she looked in her classy exterior.

Lemon had returned for the wedding that time but their paths didn’t cross.

They hadn’t met in seven years now.

When Priyanka arrived, the dining was flooded with people and waiters going back and forward with pots of coffee and flying orders. She quickly found her friends among the crowded tables and made her way to the table without bothering other customers.

“Hello, ladies!” She smiled widely. “Missed me much?”

Scarlett shook her head. “I saw you like three days ago, you clingy bitch.”

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Priyanka hugged Kiara and then Juice who were sitting on the other side of the squared table.

“Well, I did miss you.” Juice said.

“See? Even your girlfriend is happy to see me.”

“Again, we’re not dating…”

“Yeah, yeah… we’ve heard it before.” Kiara complained and Scarlett crossed her arms on her chest. “Anyway… have you eaten yet?”

“No, I had coffee with my mom and now I’m starving.” She perused the menu and finally set her mind on the cinnamon waffles. “We should wait for Denali to order, though.”

“Priyanka…” Scarlett called her name with a particular tone.

Very particular.

She suddenly took a closer look at her friends. They all seemed secretive; in possession of some valuable knowledge, Priyanka wasn’t. Juice avoided eye contact, Kiara continued fidgeting and Scarlett was nicer than ever.

It had to be bad.

“What’s going on with you guys?” She was a little scared of asking.

“I think we should wait for the food…” Juice scratched the back of her head.

“No, we have to do this fast and effectively, like ripping off a Band-Aid.” Kiara disagreed.

“Uh… guys, you’re freaking me out. What the hell is going on?”

Scarlett followed Kiara’s advice.

“Lemon’s here.”

Priyanka was perplexed and for once in her life didn’t have a witty comeback. She had gone blank.

“Is she broken?” Juice waved right in front of her trying to catch any movement in her eyes.

“Give it a moment, let it sink…”

Priyanka looked at her roommate. “When you say she’s here you mean…?”

She pointed at Kiara.

“Okay so, she’s still close with some of the girls… you know, Boa, Tynomi…” Priyanka nodded, mechanically. “I bumped into Tynomi the other day and she casually mentioned that Lemon’s in town for a few weeks.”

“Weeks?!”

Great. Just great.

“What is she doing here?” Kiara opened her mouth to reply but Priyanka shushed her. “You know what? I don’t wanna know… I don’t care… I couldn’t care less.”

It didn’t make sense. Lemon hadn’t been back in five years since the wedding and she chose that particular summer to make her triumphal returning. Priyanka was starting to believe she’d become a ghostly memory of her childhood days but somehow she was there in flesh and bone.

Her hands were sweaty.

“Hey! Sorry, I’m late,” Denali’s voice took them out of their bubble. “Wow… you all look… somber… Should I come back later?” You didn’t need to be an expert to perceive the environment.

“No, it’s not…” Priyanka shook her head.

She wasn’t letting her ruin her vacations.

“Sorry. Hi, Nali…” She stood up and hugged the girl tightly. “Remember everyone?”

“Hi everyone,” She greeted the girls one by one and then sat next to Priyanka. “Seriously, if you need me to leave…”

“No need.” Priyanka assured.

“Then what’s going on? Cat got your tongue? You’re usually the loudest table wherever you go.”

“Priyanka’s first crush is in town.” Juice filled the blanks.

“Aw, that’s cute… are you meeting her soon?”

“Not if I can help it…” She muttered.

“She’s also her former best friend…”

“Oh…”

“…Who hadn’t seen her in the past seven years. It’s like her own Envy Adams.”

“Oh, no… Okay… that’s… I’m going to sit here and pretend that I’m reading this interesting menu…” Denali covered her face with the said item.

“Don’t bother, Nali. You have nothing to worry about.” She put her hand over her shoulder. “I’m totally fine with it.” Priyanka sounded convinced.

“Yeah… about that…” Kiara started. “Did we forget to mention she’s in this establishment right now…?”

Priyanka almost choked. “I beg your pardon?”

“She’s here… here.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Well, that’s…” Priyanka was feeling dizzy. “Would you excuse me for a second? I need to use the bathroom.”

“Pri!” One of the girls called her name but she didn’t turn back.

Priyanka locked herself in the first free booth she found.

She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t imagined this moment before, years ago when the wounds were still fresh and her heart had been broken, but now… after all that time, she wasn’t prepared. Her mind refused to let the memories go away but she had managed to live a life without Lemon, a life that was good and where she achieved everything she wanted. Now she felt like she was walking back to a place where she was overexposed and it was too much to handle.

She took a deep breath. No.

She wasn’t that little girl anymore, she had endured worse and by no way, she’d give all that power to a single person that wasn’t even part of her life anymore.

Priyanka lifted her head and heard the sound of the water running from the sink diverted her attention. She couldn’t see the reflection in the mirror but that silhouette, a hint of blonde hair and a floral dress, the pastel nails shaking the water drops…

It had to be…

She grabbed a paper towel and tossed it in the trash before leaving the bathroom.

Priyanka’s blood was rushing and some type of instinct made her open the door and get out of the bathroom.

She had to know.

Her eyes traveled around the dining, trying to distinguish among those faces but she wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

Priyanka returned to the bathroom as if the sugar rush diminished and threw some cold water on her face. The reflection on the mirror stared back at her, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes looked bigger than ever. She took a deep breath before going back to her table with her friends; they’d get worried if she stayed there any longer.

She walked back, shaking the feeling with every step, she only slowed down when she started getting closer and saw her. She saw her right in front of their table; her hand touching the top rail of the chair where Priyanka was sitting, her frame was still petite but she wasn’t either a sweet little girl or an adolescent teenager, she was a young woman now.

She had curves and toned ballerina legs, her hair was longer and blonder than before and it looked silky and wavy, even her posture was different, relaxed, matured, she was lively talking to her friends even laughing at something Kiara said.

What had happened there?

Juice spotted Priyanka right behind, the others did too and suddenly all the eyes of the table were on her.

Lemon turned around.

She was wearing a buttoned dress with short sleeves and a daisy design in white, yellow, blue, and green; her hair had two pins holding away from her face and there were rosy hints on her features, the tip of her nose, from her cheekbones to her cheeks; her lips in perfect pastel pink lip gloss, her lashes had mascara on and her signature eyeshadow had the right amount of spark to make her eyes pop –Lemon had worn contact lenses since she was sixteen because she was practically blind without glasses, Priyanka knew.

She blinked a couple of times and then smirked.

She smirked.

“Well, that’s my cue to leave.” She smiled at the people sitting at the table. “It’s nice to see you, guys. I hope we can hang out sometime.”

It was like a slap on Priyanka’s face who had said nothing yet.

Scarlett’s eyes were playing ping-pong, going from Priyanka to Lemon non-stop; Juice was nervous but she kept smiling, Kiara was still in disbelief and Denali hid behind the menu again.

She walked next to Priyanka like a breeze.

Now the anger built over the years had resurfaced and made her blood boil under her skin.

“Hello to you too.” Priyanka spat loudly enough for her to hear.

Kiara mouthed oh shit.

Lemon stopped and looked at Priyanka over her shoulder.

“Oh, so you can speak now…” She nodded.

Her face remained inscrutable it was annoying. Priyanka had her nails pressing the inside of her palms so hard, her knuckles were turning white.

“If that’s it…”

“It’s not.” Priyanka was fuming.

“How unfortunate because it is for me.” She walked away with the last word, leaving Priyanka behind.

She followed her figure until she was out of the dining and then felt the hand of Juice grabbing her wrist.

“Pri…?” She tested.

“It’s fine… I’m fine.” She sat back on her chair but the image of Lemon’s fingers touching it didn’t help.

She internally thanked the waitress that approached to take their order because she didn’t want to talk about it.

Priyanka didn’t want to admit that even after all those years, her heart kept running wild in her presence and there was nothing she could do. All those years of being apart hadn’t done a single thing for her hopeless, stupid little heart.

[treasurestation]

high school au with junkyu & yedam

thinking about you makes his throat dry

It's a cold day; thin cloud and the white flat color of the morning sky overlapping – grey, colorless; the streets are quiet and cold, the wind is sharp and snapping.

junkyu is thinking about how today is such a lifeless cold day, feeling empty.

“too cold,” he says, wind biting his face, he tucks his hands further into his pockets.

doyoung – a friend, close yet not really – bumps his shoulder into his, voice is warm and kind, “here, i'll block the wind for you,”

junkyu still thinks, until he can't; instead, he watches doyoung's steps, how each step is lingering, waiting for him – “thinkin' of joining the basketball team again?” he asks, shifting his gaze to doyoung's head, watching as he turns to look at him, eyes unseeing. he shrugs, “hear about mashi? i heard he injured his knee,”

“yeah, he's okay, don't worry... – you should join,” junkyu says, still watching doyoung, “i, actually, – i was thinkin' of doing something else,”

doyoung's neck reddens, “a friend, – yeah, wanted to join the flower arrangement club... i couldn't say no,”

junkyu smiles, doyoung can never say no, “flower arrangement club? haven't heard of it,”

doyoung's pace slows, shoulder pressinv against junkyu's, heat seeping through, to junkyu's skin, “you should join, – there aren't a lot of kids, just a few... it'll be cool, to have a senior there, – to have you there,”

he shrugs in his coat, closing his eyes, he listens to their footsteps, – a long road, a cold day, he feels empty.

“i'll think about it, yeah?” and junkyu does, until the cold days turn to warm ones, heat sticking to the air.

doyoung guides him there, fingers pressing against his skin, grounding into his flesh.

doyoung's hand burns his skin, “there is a friend, – we've been friends for a while, i really want you to meet him,”

junkyu, with this feeling, searches doyoung's face; he listens to him with this untouched feeling, it squirms inside of him.

they stop, a sliding door; wooden, battered, doyoung slides it open, it creaks, echoing into the room. the room appears cartoonish, unreal; like a class, but less, with pots and flowers; they bloom amidst the summer sun.

junkyu's eyes adjust to the light, sun filtering in through translucent cloth.

a boy stares startled, he stands from a desk, his thighs pushing the desk, the chair squeaks against the hardwood floor, then a smile births; spreading against his face, fond; “we were waiting for you,” his voice is too kind, he walks to them, bowing slightly, his attention is all on junkyu.

“welcome, um, – to the flower arrangement club!”

junkyu bows, smiling... he feels empty despite the warmth, he still smiles.

something looked familiar about the boy, it takes a few moments for junkyu to recognize him – yedam, an underclassmen, apart of the student council; a boy who lived on the same street as him; they walked the same root, he was a fast walker, often walking past junkyu in the morning to get where he was going...

“you're yedam?” though it isn't a question, yedam nods, face burning... he hums, turning away.

yedam gazes at him again, “and you're junkyu, doyoung told me about you, – how you wanted to join, you're very welcome here!”

he is; doyoung drags him to a desk, beside yedam's; clutter atop, he's studying – yedam, that is.

junkyu talks, and they listen, then they talk and he listens – it's after school hours, the sun is beginning to set, doyoung leaves first.

“is it your last year?” yedam asks, his dark head turning toward the window; the sill is with two cups; handmade, painted; they're full with dirt, soil, watered... junkyu shakes his head, though yedam doesn't see, “no, almost... you?” he already knows the answer.

“er, not quite yet,” he laughs, quiet, focus going on junkyu, “are you... –”

the door creaks, you bloom when it quiets, unease settling in the room.

“i, – i, sorry for the intrusion,” you bow hastily, your eyes on yedam... “i'm late...”

yedam stands, gesturing to junkyu, “this is junkyu, he was thinking of joining,”

junkyu watches you, frozen, his throat drying – you fill a gap in his stomach; the room is suddenly too warm, too–

you nod, a smile blooming on your face, he burns.

“you're very welcome here, – i, i'm (name),” the kindness in your voice is unbearable.

“h, hi,” quiet, he shallows, adam's apple bobbing.

you make his throat dry, like how petals dry in autumn, just before they die.

he thinks of you, though he doesn't know you yet.

it's days later, and he hasn't gone back to the club room; he's with doyoung again, walking toward a tree outside the schoolyard at lunch; it's alone, in the gates of the school; green, alive, standing.

he sits, asking, “yedam... how did you two meet?”

“oh,” doyoung says quietly, thinking, “i don't really remember, i guess –” his face twists, taking a bite of a sandwich, junkyu's; he's willing to share with doyoung, “we've always known each other,”

“really?” junkyu tilts his head, “i'm your favorite friend though, right~”

doyoung scoffs, teasing, “yeah, right,”

junkyu smiles, until he sees yedam.

your by his side, shoulder pressed against his; he carries your bag, your books... junkyu stares, doyoung lifts his hand, waving, yedam hurries over, slowing his steps just for you.

“hey, was lookin' for you,” yedam says, “we were thinking of doing something this weekend,” junkyu stares at you, at the way you sink into the ground, your knees grounding into the grass, you settle beside him, atop your legs, flesh bright against the green.

yedam settles too, beside you; crossing his legs, knee pressing into your leg, close.

“like...?” doyoung asks wisely, aloud. “like... a movie? roller blading? i don't know, something fun.”

“junkyu, will you be joining us?” you say his name, so softly... he nods, only seeing you.

you smile, “good,”

“oh, we should try karaoke!” doyoung says, yedam shakes his head, “we can't,”

doyoung shrinks, “why not?”

“because i said so,” yedam says, fist bumping doyoung's shoulder, pushing him lightly, “let's figure it out later, remember, flower arrangement club has a meeting, upcoming,”

“it's thursday, be there, please,” yedam raises, nodding at your words, reaching his hands out for you, – junkyu watches, you grab his hands, fingers tightening around his skin, he pulls you up, lingering, just a bit.

you both begin to walk away, “we'll be seeing you,”

he watches as you both walk away, junkyu thinks of the pots with tulips in the clubroom, he feels them blooming in his chest.

it's sunday and he waits at a bus stop, it's a hot day; blistering, burning his skin, he runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back; strands stick to his skin, he closes his eyes – maybe he should have stayed home.

he goes to settle in the shade, leaning against a wall, eyes closing, “are you okay?”

it's you, startling him.

his heart pounds, “you, you scared me,” he doesn't answer your question.

you smile, “i didn't mean to,” your voice is aflutter, echoing in his ears.

“you're here early,” he hums at you, throat is suddenly dry. “i, i didn't know what time we were supposed to meet,”

you lean against the wall too, back pressing against it – your presence fills him, it's too–

you turn to him, he looks away – burning under your gaze, “i haven't seen you around before, are you in any clubs?” junkyu's heart races, loud in his ears; he shakes his head, peering at you through the corner of his eyes, “was, not anymore.”

he sees you hands wrap around each other, your fingers knotting, “which one?”

“um, i, – drama,” he turns his head, “i didn't do much though, just background stuff,” he explains, and you ask, “why'd you stop going?”

he shrugs, feeling full, “i, i don't know... it didn't feel right,”

“okay,” you say easily, your gaze shifting toward a bus coming, “maybe that's yedam,”

“i don't think i could ever be on stage,” you say, he looks at you just for a moment, spring erupts.

“you, – you look like you could be,” you stand, back straightening, face turning pink, you look at him quickly, wide-eyed, “really?”

he nods, junkyu doesn't look at you, but he flushes anyway.

it's still spring, and the heat still makes him sit in unease and so do you and yedam.

you're suddenly everywhere, and yedam isn't far behind.

it becomes clear; the way you act with each other, it's unreal, whispered; he constantly thinks of it, while walking the steps to school, while sitting on the bus on the way home – it becomes clear, and it leaves him searching for something.

it's a constant thought, and he supposes he's always known – it feels shameful, innocent pink and stems ripping his heart. he thinks of you, and what it would be like to be your first love.

he thinks it'll be the way you are with yedam; close, skin touching – knees pressing against each other, fingers knotting beneath desks, eyes lingering.

secrets, it'd be a secret – that leaves him wondering why you and yedam hide, and it makes junkyu ache just wondering why.

he's alone in the clubroom, resting.

it's untouched, cluttered – he sits in a desk, his cheek pressed against his arm, rubbing his face against it a few times, lifting his head, he stares blindly.

his cheek is pink, rubbed raw, he wonders how long he's been asleep.

the door creaks open, then the air becomes thick, then he is filled with something, warmth spreading across his chest, filling the hollowness of it, filling everything.

“hey...” junkyu says, quiet, “hi,” you say simply, and it makes his heart race.

“are... are you okay..?” he asks carefully, watching the way your knees bend when you walk, there's something unpleasant in them; you sit beside him, fallen, hands rest on your lap limply.

you look to him, “i like coming here,” you admit, you're tying a knot around his guts, and you are tugging on a string.

you look at him, seeing him.

“i think... i, hic, – i think yedam broke up with me,” then you press your hands over your face, hiding, wilting.

he watches, hand on your shoulder – he feels guilty, why isn't he happy? “hey, hey...” he's leaning in toward you, “come on, don't cry,”

junkyu is tender, pulling your hands away from your face, he holds your wrists in his hands – you stare at him for a moment, hot tears streaming down your face.

i'm there when yedam isn't – he thinks though it makes his gut clench; when you wilt away beneath his fingers, he realizes he isn't right for you.

“he... he loves you,” junkyu shallows, adam's apple bobbing, he rubs over your wrist, thumb pressing against your skin.

“but... he – hic, – he said...” you lean in toward him, head pressing against his chest, you wilt – whimpers ripe open silence, echoing.

he stills, junkyu stops moving.

the door slides open, yedam is there; his fists balled, and he enters, uncertain.

he stands still, just seeing you.

you move away from junkyu, wrists pulling – he can't move, watching as you leave.

yedam is quiet, “i, i'm so sorry,”

when you arms wrap around his, body pressing against his, hands grounding into his shirt, gripping – junkyu never stood a chance...

it's too tight in the room, too much – too imitate for him to see, you being held by someone that isn't him.

he raises, gathering his things – “can, can you keep this a secret...?” yedam asks, he nods, he smiles – junkyu is too kind...

when he slides the door closed, he stands still, tulips begin to die – he listens.

once you're alone, silence.

you don't need to speak, junkyu thinks, it's no one's fault; he listens to your voice and how you apologize, and how your voice dies and all there is static in his ears.

junkyu leaves, walking the halls, it sudden reminds him of winter – colorless, grey, empty.

junkyu realizes it's easy to watch yedam because they're both watching you.

it's almost over – spring, and the end of it brings rain, he still feels uneased by you and yedam and everything else.

he's alone in the clubroom, after school, after club practice – his coat is hung over a chair, his books left littered on the desk; he's aching, absently staring out the window at nothing in particular.

he catches himself; shrugging on his coat, he leaves, gathering his things – he leaves the clubroom untouched, like he was never there.

he finds you, pulling on your shoes – white and black and grey in your uniform and coat, you don't see him.

“hey,” junkyu says, curiously staring at you, “you're still here,”

“hi, oh – my meeting ended a little late,” you explain, gesturing for him to follow you to the doors, “and you're still here...?”

“i, i had something i needed to do,” he didn't, he just wanted to smell the tulips in the clubroom – you nod, smiling.

“um, do you want to walk home together?”

“yes,” you say immediately, pleased. junkyu walks beside to the doors of the school, gently holding it open for you to walk passed, it makes you smile.

it rains, the schoolyard is empty; you gesture for him with your books, junkyu takes them, fingers brushing against your knuckles – his stomach tightens and he can't take his eyes off of you.

“we'll share my umbrella...” you look to him, “is that alright?”

junkyu smiles, still looking at you, “it's fine,”

he doesn't realize he's carrying your books, though he doesn't mind – he listens to the rain and watches you from the corner of his eyes.

“where's yedam?” he asks absentmindedly, you shrug, “he's not feeling well today,”

you look to him before continuing, “he usually gets sick around this time, strange...”

your lips curl and his stomach begins to burn.

you turn a corner and junkyu follows, – he doesn't live this way, but he follows you, the walk home will be longer but this is a chance to be with you...

“i... i have to tell you some, – something...” it's whispered.

you nod, your eyes unmoving from the street.

“i...” i'm in love with you, “i... i waited for you,” i'll always wait for you

you say nothing, he studies you closely.

“it was kind of you to wait,” you smile and no, he wishes you to hate him.

in moments he's at your street, and you offer him you umbrella in exchange for you books, your fingers brush against his and please... just hate him.

but you're too kind, and he watches you run to your doorsteps, turning to him, you wave, and you disappear into your home, and he waves home, holding your umbrella, wishing you would hate him for being in love with you.

(you don't know, and he doesn't realize he's crying until he's curling into himself in his bed).

summer comes, and he spends it in his bedroom; emptied out, hanging his organs to bask in the sun – drying out like petals.

heat sticks to the air, and the air conditioner breaks that last week of summer – he sits in the heat of his room and thinks of flowers – innocent pink and sinful scarlet, and he thinks of you...

junkyu remembers spring and how close he was to you, but never again he tells himself.

he doesn't cry anymore, instead he lets himself dream of what it'd be like to be with you – if you'd love him the way you love yedam, if you'd just love him.

it only hurts more.

it's his last year, and he's scared of leaving.

you know something's wrong when you slide open the door to the clubroom, something is wrong and something is strange.

yet the room is untouched, just as it was the day you left it when school had ended for break – empty and unmoving.

something is wrong and you don't know what.

junkyu can't handle the way stems bruise his skin.

“can i walk you home?” he asks, and he sees the way you freeze, the way your eyes drift to yedam – “i... i don't –”

“it's okay, (name), i have a meeting,” yedam doesn't see how your fingers tighten together, bone white, “oh... oh... okay then, sure. let me grab my things,”

they watch you leave.

“sometimes, i think i should just...” yedam begins, and there's something completely wrong about the way he looks, “i always want to walk them home, but...”

the air thickens, i'm a bad person junkyu thinks, “but i'm always being pulled away from them.”

“i'll get them home safe,” he says instead of i'm going to confess to (name).

before no boyfriend wants to hear that, especially from a friend.

then he leaves the clubroom, leaves yedam to tidy it – i hate the way stems make me bleed.

junkyu's quiet when he walks along side you, thinking hard.

he stops abruptly, “i...” he can't look at you, not when you make his face burn, not when you fill a space in his heart.

you stop too, too kind to hurry him.

“it's nice... like this...” he says instead, it makes you smile, “just us...” then it falters, but you still smile.

he then walks again, slow, steady – though, he doesn't feel that way.

junkyu stops, and his face twists, “i've, actually – i've been thinking about something a lot...”

it's sudden.

“i mean, can we, – i want to talk to you about something.”

“okay,” you say curiously, your eyes are full of concern.

then he looks at you and he sees only you, and guilt is recoiling inside of his gut.

he opens his mouth and nothing comes out, junkyu closes his eyes – he can breathe but he can't, this is painful and–

“junkyu...?” you step forward but it's out of concern and nothing else, “yes. i just, – it's hard to say...”

worry is stirring inside of you, and, “junkyu –”

“no,” his voice is loud, “no, i just. i like you.”

“i like you –” you begin, and he can't breathe, not when you make his throat dry.

“no,” he says again, whispered, “i love you. i love you, i'm in –”

“i...” you take a step back, “i love you, i love you,”

his voice gets louder and he can't look at you, “junkyu...”

“listen,” he says, loud. “that's how i feel about you, i... i have those feelings for you,”

“oh,” you say, voice still.

“you don't have to say anything,” he wants you to, “or, or do anything, i know, i know you don't – i just, i needed to tell you,”

junkyu isn't staring at you, and he breathes like he's about to cry, or like he can't breathe, like he's breathing but he isn't.

“oh,” you say again, and he starts to cry as he hears your voice, tight and small, “okay, oh, i'm your friend,”

it only hurts, “i know...”

he presses his hands to his face, voice muffled, “you don't have to say anything, i just – it's my fault, it's my problem, not yours, i'm sorry, i didn't mean to cry, or... or say anything, i just needed – you should go,”

he looks at you, and he smiles, “go on without me,”

you don't move, you're stuck – “it's okay, i'm sorry about this, it's my fault, not yours – your parents will be worried, yedam will be worried – just... go, please.”

“but,” you watch him uncertainly, you stay where you are.

“it's fine,” his voice is wet, “please.”

you walk away, and he watches, bringing his palms to his chest, he hurts – gripping his shirt, he cries, shoulders rising and falling quickly – this is the something that was wrong, that was strange...

the next morning, he drags himself to school – when he sees you, you tug yedam by the hand and turn, you pretend you can't see him, yet you do.

after school, after class, he finds you in the clubroom.

“(name),” he says at length, “are avoiding me?”

“i have classes...” you say, unsure. you don't look at him, it only makes him want you to hate him.

“yes,” he says immediately, laughing it off, “sorry.”

you look to his shoes, you feel he is unhappy, “how did you know?” you ask.

“i'm sorry?” please stop i can't – he asks, head tilting, eyes stirring.

“that...” that i'm in love with you? “how did you know you were in love?”

he looks at you sharply, “i can tell,” it doesn't answer your question, only leaves you with more – “i just know.”

“we shouldn't – we can't talk about this, it isn't, it's not –” he's trying to let it go, but – “but it's important to you.”

your firm, and your voice is arise; you sound unfamiliar, like your angry, or something close to that but your face, you look so kind.

“it was.” you make his throat dry, “it isn't anymore,” you make his heart bleed, “i'm sorry that i –”

yedam slides the door open, looking uneased, unsettled.

“sorry...” and junkyu can't stand the way it makes him feel.

junkyu goes, and he hears yedam's voice calling him, but he doesn't go back.

“can you take back a confession...?”

junkyu asks yedam one day when the stifling heat makes the plants and flowers in the clubroom dry – when there is air less thick, when you aren't there.

“i...” yedam is thinking hard, brows furrowed, then he looks at junkyu, “i don't think you can... you can't, you can't once you've said it aloud... but i think it's different with everyone.”

it settles something in junkyu hearing that.

he tells you he takes it back, that it didn't happen – but you remember it, so it did happen...

junkyu then tells you you're only one person and you belong to one – it isn't him, never was, and it never will be (and you tell him he doesn't know that, that makes him burn).

junkyu tells you it was a joke, it was a dumb joke, and you tell him it didn't make you laugh – because you always knew he loved you...

junkyu then asks how you confessed to yedam – “i... i never confessed, we never confessed to each other... we just knew... that – that we were meant for each other.”

it makes his throat dry, and thinking about you makes his throat dry – like spring falling into autumn.

(he graduates, you and yedam go – and he holds you both for the first time, he realizes you and yedam are one; it makes his stomach turn, and you both make his heart twist).

[myaekingheart]

The Hazards of Love

Part 1: The Prelude

@naruto-fantasy-week Day 1: Witches + Familiars / Soul Bonds [Kakashi Hatake x Rei Natsuki (OC)] Sometimes fate has a funny way of bringing people together. And sometimes Mother Nature has a funny way of ripping them apart. [Inspired by the Hazards of Love by The Decemberists] read on AO3

               It was dusk when Rei departed, the sky a watercolor portrait overhead. The young woman, with red hair haphazardly tied back, rode down mossy pathways upon a large, white horse. It was in these moments that she felt the most free, as if the woods were expanding her lung capacity and finally allowing her to fully, unapologetically breathe. She, bred for battle, the little assassin, Rei Natsuki. She gripped her horse’s mane tightly as they weaved between towering trees, her heart pounding in sync with his hooves. If only she could melt into the forest floor, become one with the wilds, liberated from the strict convention of her career.

               Amid her daydreams, her grip on Toshio’s mane had loosened and so when a white flash of something startled the steed, she flew off his back and effectively slammed into the dirt. Rei spluttered into the crook of her neck as she tried to catch her breath, glaring at her horse. “What the fuck?!” she called to him, pushing the long bangs back out of her face. Toshio stamped his feet and shook his head, nostrils flaring. In the near distance, crumpled at the base of a large tree, lay a mass of white fur.

               Rei was, at first, understandably cautious. The wolves were vicious in these parts and she knew better than to apprehend a dangerous animal. Her curiosity, however, overpowered her logic. With sword drawn, she inched ever so slowly nearer, praying for the woods to keep still so as not to startle him. And then she saw it: blood.

               The wolf’s chest rose and fell tumultuously, his mismatched eyes searching this way and that. His right was naturally dark and ominous but his left shone red, bright as the blood on his flank, with a nasty scar straight down the center. He growled softly as he watched Rei approach.

               “I’m not going to hurt you” she murmured. “I just want to help.” When it was clear he had finally at least tolerated her presence, she sheathed her sword and knelt down beside him. The wound was deep and intense but had not severed any important ligaments. The outlook, should he let her treat him, was bright.

               The wolf watched with a wild, alert gaze as she pulled a flask of water from the belt at her hip. She popped the cork and poured the cool liquid all over the wound, a stream of diluted blood rushing into the dirt. Then, grabbing her dagger, she sliced away a strip of cloth from her skirt and began to bandage him up.

               He snapped his jaws at her as she wrapped his leg, but she did not flinch. “I know it hurts!” she fired back at him. “But it has to be done. It’ll only take a minute, so suck it up.” A confused expression flitted across his face before he ultimately accepted his fate. Once she was finished, she stood back and motioned for him to get up. “Make sure you can walk on it” she insisted. The minute the words fell from her lips, however, she felt stupid and childish. There was no way a dumb wolf would understand her human commands. And yet somehow, he did. She watched him rise slowly, testing his back leg with a strange sense of concentration. When he had grown more comfortable and agile, she knelt down to begin gathering up her supplies. As she did so, a heavy shadow suddenly stretched over her, growing with every second. Her hands grew unsteady, and then she heard it.

               “Thank you.”

               A man’s voice. Rei’s heart leapt into her throat as she slowly lifted her gaze. The wolf had disappeared. Standing before her now was a human man.

               Rei whipped her dagger out and stumbled backward, narrowing her eyes at the stranger. “Come any closer and I’ll hang you from that branch by your intestines!” she threatened. He recoiled, his mismatched eyes widening. She studied his every move, every feature. If she was to die right here—or worse—she at least wanted to thoroughly recognize her assailant.

               First and foremost, he was attractive. Frustratingly so. His silver hair fell into his eyes and stuck up in all directions, wild and unkempt. Second was that he was naked. Completely and utterly naked. And in his nakedness, she could not help but notice he was also lean and fit. Her cheeks burned at the mere sight of him.

               “What business do you have wandering around the woods like that, anyway?” she asked, dropping her eyes. “If you’re looking to take advantage of innocent girls, you’ve targeted the wrong person.”

               The man blushed, clearly embarrassed by his own immodesty, as if he hadn’t even noticed until it was pointed out to him. Rather than apologize, he replied, “It’s nice to know your hospitality is limited to animals.” The statement was so strange, it warranted another look at him. A cocking of the brow and a search of the face for any signs of intoxication, or if he was simply a hallucination. Instead, all she saw was a bandage around the thigh and a sharp red eye cut down the center by a nasty scar. No…it couldn’t be…

               Rei tightened her grip on her dagger as she scrambled to her feet. The sky overhead had grown inky black, the stars poking through the darkness to shine down upon them. All Rei knew for certain was that she needed to go home. She needed to get as far away from here as humanly possible. And yet her feet refused to move. If anything, there was an unnerving grip in her chest pulling her ever nearer to him. All she could manage was to pull the ragged cape from Toshio’s flank and shove it into the man’s hands.

               “Put this on” she commanded. “I can’t stand to look at you.”

               The man took the cloak and did as he was told, tying it around his waist like a makeshift hakama. “Sorry” he apologized, rubbing the back of his neck. “I hate when that happens.”    

               Blinking, Rei asked in sharp disbelief, “Does…does this happen often?”

               The man paused a moment before asking, “Which part?”

               Unbelievable. Shaking her head, Rei turned to mount her steed and disappear back home. This man was testing her patience—a man she was unsure was even real. No, she needed to remove herself from this situation before she sank too far into her own insanity. Perhaps if she climbed into bed with a cold towel to her forehead, then come morning, this would all be a hazy memory.

               He wasn’t sure why but the sudden threat of her departure struck him with a desperate yearning. He couldn’t afford to let her leave. Not yet. Not now. Acting on impulse, he reached out to grip her wrist. “W-wait!” he called. “I’m sorry” he continued. “I didn’t mean to be so abrupt. I don’t often find other people out here. Nonetheless women as…as beautiful as you.”

               Truthfully, Rei wasn’t buying it. If he was aiming to erase the predatory undertones of his appearance, then this was not helping his case. “Well, maybe that’s for the best” she muttered. There was a fire in her gaze that almost made him back down. Almost.

               “Please…tell me your name” the man then asked.

               Rei considered his question for a moment. She wasn’t sure if it was information she ought to give out. But then again, there was no harm in telling very real things to very fake people. “Natsuki” she replied, her voice breathy as if releasing the pent-up pressure within a balloon. “Rei Natsuki.”

               Rei Natsuki. The name enveloped him in a strange, titillating comfort. “Rei” he repeated, paying close attention to the way her name fit in his mouth. He said it again, nodding. Rei. “That’s beautiful.”

               For a moment, with her hand clasped in his in the moonlight, she suddenly felt as if their flesh was melding into one. She never considered herself particularly beautiful. The thought of someone else thinking of her as such felt foreign and displaced. And whatever was foreign was immediately terrifying. “And what about you?” she asked. “What’s your name?”

               The man cleared his throat before answering, “Kakashi.” The name brought Rei a similar sensation of comfort and anxiety. It seemed so familiar, like a vague echo of childhood nostalgia that she couldn’t quite comprehend. She felt her hand grow clammy in his grip and she knew in that moment that if she did not leave soon, she was likely going to be sick. Kakashi felt her wiggle her way out of his grasp, saw the nausea painting her face, and knew he had made a terrible mistake. “I’m sorry” he said again. “I never meant to scare you. It’s just…you remind me of someone.”

               “Oh yeah?” Rei asked. “Who?” The thought of her resembling a stranger to a man with limited social connections was unnerving and, quite frankly, inconsistent. Her curiosity piqued.

               “I spend most of my time reading” Kakashi started.

               Before he could say more, Rei interrupted. “You read…?” she asked. It wasn’t that she considered him illiterate, necessarily, but rather was simply shocked seeing as so many people these days had given up on books. The thought of having found someone else who thrived within the nooks of narratives piqued her interest that much further, though she was also admittedly unsure of how this factored into the original topic.

               Kakashi nodded in reply, noticing a significant change in the way Rei carried herself. She seemed more open, more accepting, and in that, he could breathe a sigh of relief. “Have you ever read the works of Master Jiraiya?” he asked. “You remind me of his heroine, Junko.” Then, slightly more sheepishly, “She’s actually my favorite.”

               “Oh?” Rei asked. Toeing the dirt, she asked quietly, “What, uh…what do you like about her…?” She couldn’t bring herself to look at him now. She was unfamiliar with the books he spoke of, but she was deeply intrigued by how he could so firmly assess her character after only knowing her for an hour or so.

               Kakashi went on to name off the traits he admired in a woman, exemplified by Junko in the novels. Unbeknownst to him, so many of them paralleled Rei’s personality. She felt stripped down, exposed and terrified. How obvious was she that he could pin her down so clearly? His rattling only further convinced her this had to be a dream. But his grip felt so real, so soft yet strong. Was she really capable of dreaming up something so vivid? She didn’t know. The more she questioned it, the more she feared that perhaps she truly was losing her mind. And all the while, her mind harkened back (on its own accord) to the idea of fate. The idea that everything happens for a reason, that there is a destined companion for everyone. When she looked at him, that strange, shapeshifting man, she somehow saw home. She only wondered if he felt the same.

               Dark storm clouds rolled in overhead to blot out the moonlight.  The moment she opened her mouth to speak, a crack of lightning illuminated the sky followed by thunder so intense, it shook the whole wood. A cold slap of reality.

               “I have to go” Rei said abruptly. She had no clue what time it was but that didn’t matter anymore. Danzo would certainly be searching for her now, seething and strict. She could not let him know what she was up to in the woods.

               Kakashi watched her approach Toshio, who had since become rather impatient, but not without a deep ache in his chest. “Rei, before you go” he called. She turned to him as he approached her at Toshio’s flank. He tenderly brushed the hair out of her face and she felt her cheeks enflame yet again.

               “What is it…?” she asked, her voice small and meek. She was terrified of what he was about to offer.

               Kakashi stammered a moment before motioning toward the makeshift clothing tied around his waist. “What about your cloak?” he asked.

               “What about it?” she rebuked.

               “You should take it with you” Kakashi said. “It’s yours, after all.”

               Rei glanced down at it, the way it cinched at his waist and fell in tatters to the forest floor. Panic rose in her throat as she feared watching him undress. She rested a hand upon his forearm and whispered, “Keep it. You need it more than I do.”

               A small smile touched Kakashi’s lips as her hand lingered on his arm. “I’ll return it to you tomorrow. Come back and see me at sunset. Please.”

               She considered the request for a long moment. For Kakashi, that stretch of time felt eternal. He rested his hand atop hers, a silent prayer that she would say yes. And looking into his mismatched eyes, the way his jaw clenched in anticipation, and his toned chest and strong arms—“Yes” spilled out of her mouth on it’s own accord. Delighted, he kissed her hand delicately before encouraging her back home. His lips stung against the soft flesh and she felt her mind spinning as Toshio raced back to the village.

               Kakashi watched her depart as the rumbling sky intensified. A sinister feeling, like smoke on the moors, crept across the forest floor. He knew what was coming but he did not care. He would deal with the forest’s wrath later. For now, his focus was her.

[impala-dreamer]

Give

SPN FanFic

~Misha and Jared relax after work one night and things get a little...steamier than usual.~

Misha x Jared

2,984 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Friends to Lovers. Fluff, Smut, Angst. Oral and lots of kissing.

A/N: This is for my Size!Kink square for @spnkinkbingo​ and honestly I'm super proud of this and I hope you give it a chance. It will also be continued in two or three more parts because my brain is spinning. Anyway... Hope you enjoy :)

2019 Kink Bingo Masterlist ~ Feedback is Gold ~ My Masterlist ~ Become A Patreon

“She wanted me to sign her boobs…” Jared paused for dramatic effect, eyeing Misha over the bottle as he tipped back the dregs of his beer. His friend simply sat back on the sofa, seemingly unshocked by Jared’s statement. “Her boobs,” he tried again, emphasising the Bs. “Boobs.” Last attempt, he motioned with his hands, cupping them in front of his chest.

Misha finally laughed and took a swig of beer. “You expect me to be shocked by that?” He shook his head and leaned closer to Jared as he dropped his voice to a husky whisper. “In Chicago three years ago, this woman insisted on giving me a lap dance for her photo, then slipped her hand down my pants and said, ‘I want you to be my baby daddy’.”

Jared choked on his last swallow, nearly spitting it out in shock. “Fuck, dude, what did you say?”

“I said, ‘no thank you’ and Chris helped me shoo her away. I think she’s banned from cons now,” Misha said with a shrug. “But we still email occasionally.”

That made Jared lose it and he laughed loudly, his body shaking, hair falling out of place and down into his misty eyes. “Holy shit, people are so fucked up.”

Misha sighed, watching Jared’s amusement, somewhat tranced by the redness of his cheeks and the sheen of beer on his lips. “Yes, yes they are.” As Jared calmed, Misha tore himself away and stood up from the tiny couch, reaching for Jared’s bottle. “Another?”

Jared nodded and handed off his empty. “Yeah, sure, why not? What’s a case of beer amongst friends?” He laughed again and stretched out over the cushions, tan fabric soft under his hands and the back of his neck. “I like this couch,” he murmured absently, enjoying the way the plush back cradled his head.

“Thanks.”

“Wait, wasn’t this Jensen’s?” Jared pondered drunkenly as he realized how easily his body sank into the sofa, as if the fabric remembered his weight.

Misha returned from the tiny kitchenette with two more beers. “Yeah, he was gonna get rid of it when he redid his trailer last year, but gave it to me instead. I think it works in here.”

Jared chuckled. “Dude gives you his old shirts, now his furniture…”

“So what? I like free stuff.” Misha popped the caps and handed Jared his drink. “Besides, it looks good. Goes with my decor.”

Mid-sip, Jared looked around the small room, wondering what he could call Misha’s decorating style besides ‘Flea Market’. “Yeah… right. Dude, this place is small.”

Misha scoffed, taken aback. “It’s not.”

“Yeah, it is,” Jared teased, swallowing half his beer. “It’s like a third of the size of Jensen’s.”

“Shut up. This is fine, thank you. I don’t need all that space anyway.”

Jared frowned and finished his beer. “Smaller than mine, too. Mine’s is like...so bigger.”

Misha rolled his eyes. “You’re drunk.”

“So what?” Jared shrugged and then pointed at Misha with his beer. “Ya know… it’s probably smaller than Alex’s…” Jared laughed and started to singsong his way through insulting Misha’s home on set. “Your...trailer is… tiny…”

Misha bit back a laugh. “Shut up.”

“Teeny tiny Misha trailer…”

“Are you done?”

Jared leaned close, long body covering most of the space between them. “My trailer is bigger than your trailer.”

Misha sneered and leaned towards him. “Well, my dick is bigger.”

Jared grinned so fully Misha thought his lips would rip. “That’s ridiculous.”

“You’re an ass.”

“You’re an ass!” Jared shot back, rather ineloquently, and snapped his wrist, slapping Misha in the arm, hard.

Misha looked down at the red mark on his left arm, shocked to be struck, and then blue eyes shot up to hazel. “Whoa! Jerk!”

Before Jared could yell back, Misha punched him straight in the chest.

“The fuck?” Jared gasped and then attacked, grabbing at Misha as beer bottles went tumbling to the floor.

Misha followed the bottles, hitting the thin carpet with a grunt as Jared tackled him. They fought with drunken hands that slipped into uncharted territories; bodies rolling back and forth on the floor, hard muscles pressing into backs and sides, bellies and shoulders.

Out of breath, Misha relented, laying flat on his back as Jared pinned him down. His hands were caught by the sides of his head, hips squeezed tight between Jared’s thighs. He looked up in awe as Jared smiled, chest heaving, sweat beading on his brow.

“You give?” Jared asked, not willing to ease up until he won properly.

Misha struggled beneath him, twisting his wrists and wiggling his hips, but there was no escape; Jared had him. Misha’s heart stilled to a thundering beat as his eyes traveled down from Jared’s. His throat was thick and pulsing, his chest was huge and rocking with labored breaths, his arms, so big and strong, keeping Misha locked in place. His legs, wrapped so firmly around Misha’s waist, his ass...firm and pressing so hard…

Jared swallowed loudly and looked down in shock. “Dude, is that your dick?”

Hazy with booze and arousal, Misha blinked slowly up at him. “Hmm?”

“Mish-” Jared sat up a bit, unsure of whether or not to move, “you’re… your dick is…”

Misha smiled and jerked his hips a tiny bit, pushing his erection up against Jared’s ass. “Yeah. Does that bother you?”

Jared gaped and stammered, not sure what to say. “I...I don’t know...It’s just-” His hold on Misha relaxed and he sat back, allowing Misha to sit up as well.

“I’m not sorry,” Misha told him with an honest and sexy smile. “You’re… fucking gorgeous.”

Heat rushed through Jared’s entire body, settling in his already rosy cheeks. He struggled not to smile and looked away bashfully as he dismounted his captive. “What? No.” He sat on the floor with his back propped up on the couch, overcome by Misha’s obvious interest.

Misha sat up slowly and scooted back to sit next to Jared, turned inwards so that he could face him. “Yeah,” he assured him, “you know you are. Beautiful…” Misha lay his hand gently over Jared’s, relieved when he didn’t flinch away. “...and big.” He closed his hand around Jared’s long fingers. “These hands…” Misha bit his lip as he lifted Jared’s hand and placed it on his own chest, flattening the palm and splaying the fingers. “I want them all over me.”

Jared sucked in a quick breath and his eyes flit around the room, slight panic rising in his gut. “I… What?”

Misha lifted his free hand to cup Jared’s chin and bring his eyes back to focus on the moment. His cheek was stubbled and warm; Misha’s hand barely covering all of it. “You telling me honestly that you’ve never thought about it?” Misha smiled sweetly, leaning in to peer up at Jared through thick black lashes.

Jared’s heart stuttered, skipping more beats than the thought was possible. His eyes grew darker, pulled in by the sapphire; too much beer and Misha’s forwardness knocking him off balance. “I-I guess maybe. I don’t know.”

“Because I have,” Misha said quickly, running his rough though gently over Jared’s stunning lips. “Thought about it a lot. Can I kiss you?”

Jared’s breath caught. “W-What? I-”

Misha smiled and leaned closer still, dropping his voice to a sultry whisper. “Haven’t you ever been with a man before?”

“No.”

He could see the fear in Jared’s eyes as clear as the want in his parted lips. “So don’t think of me as a man,” Misha suggested, “think of me as your friend… and it’s ok for friends to kiss isn’t it?”

“I guess.”

Misha’s thumb moved away, replaced by the faintest brush of his lips and Jared gasped at the touch, his eyes rolling closed as Misha’s big lips pressed into his. The hand on Misha’s chest tightened, fingers curling into his t-shirt as Misha’s big tongue slid into his mouth.

“Fuck…” Jared sighed when Misha backed away, his eyes still closed, lips still moving with the ghost of his kiss.

“Not too bad, is it?” Misha asked, coy smile on his lips.

Jared shook his head and opened his eyes, zoning in on Misha and taking over. He pushed him back against the couch, hands rising to once again pin Misha down. He gripped his shoulders as he kissed him back, unsure of where to put his hands or what in the world he was even doing. All he knew was it felt good. Misha was solid, compact, every inch of him firm but somehow soft, and all Jared could think about suddenly was running his lips over all the velvety spaces on Misha's skin. He sucked at his lips, marveling at the scratch of Misha's heavy stubble against his cheek, wondering what the rest of him would feel like.

Misha lay back and let Jared explore; giant hands moving tentatively over the bumps of Misha’s torso, long fingers dipping into the sharp cuts of his hip bones. Misha wanted to grab him, force him onto his stomach and rip the loose jeans down his legs, but he held back, enjoying the heaviness as Jared lay into him, the bulk and size of him dwarfing Misha, making him feel so small and delicate.

“You feel so good,” he finally whispered, careful not to break Jared from the spell.

Thankfully, Jared was still caught and licked into Misha’s open mouth. “You do too,” he hummed. “Taste good too.”

Misha moaned, cock leaking in his jeans. “Fuck, Jare…” He couldn’t hold back anymore and grabbed Jared’s face between his hands, kissing him hard as he pushed back and tangled his fingers in Jared’s long locks. Jared fell back against the couch with a grunt, wind pushed out of him by the hard foundation. He stumbled to keep up, befuddled kisses landing wherever he could reach, hands clawing at Misha’s firm flesh through his clothes.

When Misha climbed into his lap, Jared all but melted, his head falling back against the seat, long neck exposed and glistening. Misha bent to it and sucked hard against his pulse, making Jared growl and mindlessly buck his hips. He reached up and grabbed Misha’s ass, digging his fingertips into the firm globes and squeezing as Misha bit down on his throat.

“Fuck!”

Misha smiled against his cheek. “Yeah. Shoulda done this a long time ago.”

Jared was stunned back into silence by the lust in Misha’s voice; how in the world was this even happening? How could he be OK with Misha slowly rubbing his tight ass over his cock? How the fuck did it feel so amazing?

“I...Jesus, Misha,” he panted, sliding his hands up underneath Misha’s shirt. “I- fuck, I need you.”

Misha rocked backwards a bit, pressing down just enough to make Jared suck in his bottom lip and moan. “Like this?” he asked, licking at Jared’s ear with the very tip of his tongue.

Jared’s fingers tightened on Misha’s back. “No...more…” It was the deepest whimper Misha had ever heard and his cock twitched at the sound.  

He pushed a hand down Jared’s stomach and popped the button on his jeans. “This?”

Jared breathed a heavy ‘yes’ against his lips.

“This?” Misha went on, sitting back an inch so he could lead the metal zipper downwards.

“Yes.”

Misha snuck his hand inside the open denim and rubbed his thumb down the top of Jared’s cock. “This?”

“Fuck! Please.” Jared’s bottom lip trembled and his head fell back again, overcome by the warmth of Misha’s hand, the feel of his calloused thumb pad running down his sensitive shaft. “Fuck. More.”

Grinning, Misha slid back, inching his way down Jared’s legs with a devilish gleam in his blue eyes. “How much more?” he asked while slowly lifting the hem of Jared’s blue and white plaid button down. He blew a stream of hot breath across the exposed flesh of Jared’s tight belly and lifted his eyes to see his reaction.

Jared shivered. “M-more…”

Misha ran his tongue across the black elastic band of Jared’s Saxx. “This?”

“Please…”

Misha wanted to strip him right there and bathe Jared’s cock with his tongue, but watching him crumble like this was far better. Something about seeing this giant of a man weak and begging turned Misha into a maniac. He tugged at Jared’s jeans, pulling them down off of his hips, but refused to move the briefs away, instead, running his open mouth up and down over the hefty outline of Jared’s massive cock.

Jared’s palms slapped the floor when Misha’s wet tongue pulsed against the head of his dick, pushing it down into his inner thigh. He moaned in pained frustration and jerked his hips, hoping Misha would take the hint. He did, carefully peeling down the damp fabric and humming in lustful admiration as Jared’s cock sprang up, free of the tight briefs.

“Fuck...you were right,” Misha laughed softly, his mouth watering, eyes wide and dark.

Jared hummed in question, eyes out of focus and glassy.

“You’re huge,” Misha growled, leaning his lips to kiss the beautiful cock presented to him.

Jared blushed but had no time for a cute comeback, damn near howling with pleasure as Misha’s lips ran over him. He held his breath, hands hovering over Misha’s shoulders as big pink lips spread around his cock.

“Oh, fuck.”

Misha shifted on his knees between Jared’s legs and sat up a bit, using both hands to pick up the slack as he swallowed what he could.

“Goddamnit, fuck!”

Jared grunted when Misha gagged and moved his hands up to fist through Misha’s hair; long fingers tangling in the black mess, grabbing tighter with each flick of his sinful tongue.

“Misha, fuck…”

He pushed down on the back of Misha’s head, forcing him to hold still while Jared thrust his hips upwards, fucking into his hot mouth as deeply as he could. Tears welled in Misha’s eyes but he held still, letting Jared have a moment to feel in control.

As Jared’s grip loosened, Misha pulled away; long, thick line of spit strung between his lips and Jared’s throbbing cock. He wrapped his fist around him, pumping quickly as he reached up for a kiss. Misha’s hand was hot on the back of Jared’s neck and he whimpered pitifully into his mouth, near to cumming, close to losing his mind entirely.

Beer bottles rocked next to him as Jared came, his right leg twitching terribly as Misha milked him dry, ruining the pretty blue and white plaid button down.

Misha kissed his moans away, tongue pushing into his mouth with every inhale; hand strong on his neck and gentle around his softening cock. He was savoring every second, memorizing the feel on Jared’s giant body beneath him, his soft lips against his, the heat, the smell of him.

Tomorrow when the beer haze had evaporated and Jared’s eyes were clear of the fog, Misha would only have this mental picture to look back on.

Finally, slowly, Jared pushed him away, his cock too sensitive for anymore contact. He hissed as Misha bit down on his bottom lip, sucking it hard as he backed off; a final goodbye.

They sat in silence for a moment, shoulders touching, backs against the couch. Misha was hard as a rock, but he wasn’t going to push; he could take care of it later and a thousand nights to come with the image of Jared’s eyes rolling stuck in his head.

It was Jared who spoke, mind coming back after a long pause. He tucked himself back in his jeans and wiped a bit of cum from the back of his hand on his already splattered shirt.

“Well, um…”

“Yeah,” Misha said with an awkward laugh. He chewed his lip and watching Jared from the corner of his eye, momentarily terrified of what he would say.

Jared raked a hand through his hair and exhaled deeply. “That...was…”

Misha’s phone rang, interrupting Jared and breaking the moment. He rushed to grab it from the little side table, nearly falling over Jared in his haste.

“Hello?” He was watching Jared as he answered but turned away now, hiding his face while he listened. “Yeah, I’m still here...no, no, had a few drinks with Jared is all…”

Jared watched Misha’s back tense as he spoke, his entire body tightening with nerves. He cocked a knee and stood up, using the sofa to hoist himself up.

“No...yeah, I’ll come meet you. That’s fine…”

Misha curled into the phone, trying to hide from Jared without obviously whispering. Jared took the hint and tiptoed towards the door.

“I’ll be right there. It’s fine. Ok... Yes.”

Jared’s hand was on the door knob as Misha hung up, rushing to catch him before he left.

“Hey, I’m sorry.” Blue eyes were sad suddenly, filled with guilt, yet searching.

Jared gave a half smile and shrugged. “It’s cool, man.” He nodded and looked away, ready to leave and forget everything. “Jensen done in editing?”

Misha sighed and looked down at the phone. “Yeah, he’s… he’s waiting for me.”

A rush of cool Vancouver air filled the trailer as Jared popped the door open. “So…”

Misha’s stomach churned painfully. What was in Jared’s voice? Disappointment? Guilt? Regret? “Jared, I-”

“See you in the morning.” Jared smiled as if nothing had happened and turned, hopping down the short staircase and away into the night before Misha could finish his goodbye.

“See you.”

But he didn’t see the confusion in Jared’s eyes as he stumbled up the lane towards his car. Didn’t hear the questions rattling around in his head, didn’t feel his heart so close to bursting.

He saw the overhead light go on in Jared’s truck. Saw a flash of blue.

Heard his phone ring again.

“Yeah, Jensen...I’m coming.”

2019 Forever Tags:

@akshi8278​ @amanda-teaches​ @arses21434​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @because-imma-lady-assface​ @burningcoffeetimetravel​ @colagirl5 @cosicas-cuquis​ @cosmicfire72​ @courtney-elizabeth-winchester​ @covered-byroses​ @crashdevlin​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @deansenwackles​ @deansgirl215​ @deanmonandnegansbitch​​   @dolphincliffs​ @dubuforeveralone​ @emilyshurley​ @emoryhemsworth​ @ericaprice2008​ @eternal-elir​ @feelmyroarrrr @feelmyroarrrr​ @focusonspn​ @gayspacenerd​ @hella-aj-the-trickers-son @herbologystudent252​ @hobby27​ @ilsawasanacrobat​ @justcallmeasmodeus​​ @katymacsupernatural​ @lastactiontricia​ @maddiepants​ @mariekoukie6661​ @meganwinchester1999​ @missjenniferb​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @mysticmaxie @onethirstyunicorn​ @our-jensen-ackles-love​ @peridot-rose @pisces-cutie​ @risingphoenix761 @roonyxx​ @roxyspearing​ @sandlee44​ @shadowkat-83​ @spnbaby-67​ @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​ @spnficgirl​ @supernaturaldean67​ @supernatural-took-me-over​ @thehardcoveraddict​ @tmiships4life​ @wegoddessofhell​ @winchesterprincessbride​

[lovemesomesurveys]

1. When you have a container of Neapolitan ice cream, what flavor do you leave for last? Chocolate. 

2. Would you rather be caught in a thunderstorm without an umbrella or a snowstorm without boots? Snowstorm without boots. As someone in a wheelchair, boots wouldn’t make a difference for me.

3. Let’s say you have access to a time machine, but it can only go either backward or forward. One or the other. Which do you choose and where do you go? Backwards. I would probably go just a few years back so I could change some things that are affecting me now.

4. If you could choose to have any superpower ever, what would you pick? Time travel would be pretty dope.

5. Tomorrow morning, you wake up in the body of a celebrity, like in a ’90s body-swap movie. Who is it? How do they react to your life? What do you do when you’re “them”? Would you choose to switch back? Hmm. Maybe Oprah. She’s a billionaire and lives a pretty low key life. Ha, not sure how she’d react to waking up as a 31 year old paraplegic who is dealing with physical and mental health issues and spends most of their time in bed, not doing a whole lot, and is certainly not rich. Maybe she’d be able to catch up on rest if needed? ha. As for me, I’d like to just go to a nice private getaway somewhere. Buy a house for real me and my family to have when we switch back and furnish it. If we weren’t in a pandemic, I’d love to travel. I’m sure she has a private jet. I’d have to remember I’m Oprah, though, so I couldn’t just go out and about freely without being bombarded. I’d figure out something. Anyway, I definitely would switch back, but it would be fun for a little bit. I could feel what it’s like to be successful and a functioning adult with a very comfortable income.

6. Any allergies? Just seasonal ones. 

7. What would you be more embarrassed to buy: sex toys or adult diapers? Sex toys.

8. Did you get enough sleep last night? I never do.

9. You’re the sole witness to a Mafia murder. Witness protection has to set you up with a whole new life in a totally new country. You have to leave everything behind, but you can pick where you move to. Where do you go? Uhhh. Wow, I have no idea. That would be horrible.

10. If you could star in a biopic about any famous person ever, who would it be? I don’t want to be in a movie or TV show.

11. What’s the biggest animal you’ve ever killed? I’ve never killed any animal.

12. Would you rather have millions of dollars but always feel nauseous when you go outside, or be dirt poor forever but never get sick again in your entire life? Oh man. Not be to sick ever again sounds amazing, but... that’s tough.  Can I take Dramamine for the nausea? ha. 

13. A wizard offers you immortality in exchange for your two front teeth. Do you take it? No.

14. Could you win the Hunger Games? Absolutely not.

15. What was your favorite Halloween costume as a kid? How about as a teen/adult? Hm. I was a witch or a vampire a lot as a kid. As an adult I was a vampire a few times, but a “cool” one cause I had a leather jacket. haha.

16. Do you bite your nails? I pick at and clip my nails. Constantly.

17. What was the first movie you remember seeing in the theater? The first one I remember is The Rugrats Movie, but I know that’s not the first one I ever saw.

18. Do you prefer music with male or female vocalists? I enjoy a variety of music from both.

19. You and the love of your life are having a baby, and you get to choose the name! There’s only one catch: your partner INSISTS that it be the name of a place, real or fictional. What do you name your baby? Sydney. 

20. If you could reboot or remake any movie, what would it be and who would you cast? I don’t know, man.

21. If you could automatically know how to speak any language or play any instrument, which would you choose? I’d love to be able to play the piano. I took lessons when I was younger, but was just alright. I think I had potential had I taken it more seriously and practiced more. But yeah, I’d love to be a fabulous pianist. 

22. For you, would getting amnesia be a good thing? Um, no.

23. If you curse loudly and then realize that there are children nearby, what is your reaction? I don’t curse very often as it is and I’m pretty good about who’s around when I do, but I’d just be like, “whoops, sorry.”

24. Of what animal are you most afraid? I have this irrational fear of killer whales. I never encounter them, thankfully, but the fear is still real. I can’t even look at a photo of one. However, I don’t really have like an active fear of animals, if that makes sense. I just avoid any photos or videos or anything of killer whales. And like, there are many animals that could rip me apart and that’s terrifying, but it’s not as present or active or whatever as my fear of bugs, which I do encounter and are much more likely to.

25. Pizza or oral sex? Odd combo, but I’ll take the pizza.

26. Without looking them up, can you explain the rules of football? How about Quidditch? Nope.

27. You’re in the car, switching channels on the radio when you hear a song that makes you go “OH SHIT, THAT’S MY JAM!” What song is it? It could be a lot of songs, from something more recent to something from back when I was growing up. 

28. Have you ever paid to see a Step Up movie? No.

29. If you were being executed tonight, what would you choose for your last meal? I really don’t think I’d have an appetite. 

30. Have you ever bought an item of clothing because it reminded you of something a fictional character would wear? No.

31. If you were invisible for a day, what would you do? Would I be immune to the virus if I were invisible? If so, then I’d travel.

32. Have you ever been punched in the face? No.

33. How do you take your ramen noodles? I like to add shredded cheese to mine. It’s so good.

34. Do you ever rehearse or plan conversations before you actually have them? Yeppp.

35. How much black do you wear on a regular basis? That’s a lot of my wardrobe.

36. Do you have any tattoos? Do you want any? No. I’ve kinda wanted one for years, but I really don’t see myself ever getting one.

37. If someone offered you a free pet snake, would you take it? NOOO.

38. Do you know how to pronounce the word “pinochle”? I don’t know if I’m saying it right, I’m not familiar with the word.

39. Can you think of anything more boring than bird watching? Watching paint dry.

40. Are you better with numbers or words? Words, definitely. 

41. At the movies, do you stay for the credits? Only for certain movies that have end credit scenes, like the Marvel movies.

42. Is morality universal or relative? Hm.

43. Let’s say you’re getting married to someone you absolutely adore. The only catch is that you met them through a Craigslist hookup ad that was supposed to be just for one night of casual sex. Would you tell your friends how you and your fiance met? I might leave out it was just supposed to be for one night of casual sex.

44. What’s the worst name you’ve ever been called? I’ve said the worst things to myself.

45. Would you eat human flesh if it had been harvested and prepared humanely? Um, HELL no. It would make no difference to me how it was prepared, it’s not happening.

46. At what age did you stop believing in Santa? I think I was 8.

47. Do you get along better with old people or little kids? Older people.

48. If you had to choose, would you rather become a nun/monk or a drug dealer? None.

49. What’s your best bodily feature, objectively speaking? I hate my body, I’m very self-conscious about it.

50. Who is your favorite late night talk show host? I don’t have one anymore, but back in the day I used to watch Jay Leno and Conan O’Brien. I was around for the whole late night TV drama that went down years ago between them.

[nightowlfandom]

The Kings’ Pet Princess- Royal! BTS x Reader Series Part 3- Jungkook 1

REQUEST FROM PROMPT LIST- RIGHT HERE! (I do anime stuff toooo)

READ PART ONE | READ PART TWO (NAMJOON)

SURPRISE!! THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO COME OUT TOMORROW BUT DECIDED WHAT THE HECK

YOOOO CHECK OUT THIS SICK AF COVER. I SCREAMED WHEN I SAW TO BE HONEST LOL! THIS COVER WAS MADE BY @kpop-ruined-my-social-life 

AAAH thank you thank you THANK YOU. Okay I gotta stop fangirling and get to the writing but AAAH LOOK AT IT IT’S SO COOL I LOVE IT!!!

Leggo!

...

You peeked around the corner, making sure the coast was clear before you bolted down the next hallway. All you had to do was make it to your bedroom then you would be fine.

You could still feel the effects from earlier’s...sequence of events seeping in and all you wanted to do was take a bath and clean the guilt from your body.

You also might need some tea due to all the screaming.

You shut your bedroom door behind you, letting out a harsh exhale. You squeezed your legs together. You were a bit twitchy, off edge. What were you thinking?! You let yourself submit to that...beast!

So what if his finger’s were that of a god, so what if you could still feel his lips burning every area of your body. So what if-

ARGH GET IT TOGETHER.

“I need a bath...or a flamethrower.” you scolded yourself. “From now on, no allowing yourself to get seduced! ...No Matter no good it might feel.” you crossed your arms.

....

The next morning, you awoke not feeling any better. Before you could sit up, there was a knock on the door.

“Who are you and what do you want?!” you groaned.

“It’s me.” you heard Rina’s small voice. Upon hearing her, you sat up. “Good Morning Y/N! I was told to inform you that breakfast starts soon.”

You rolled out of bed, feeling your head pounding as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes. “Great.” you mumbled. You didn’t know how you were gonna face Namjoon, especially after your little activity from yesterday. You had made sure to literally soak yourself in the bathtub for a good while, just to wash away the guilt...not that it worked but it was the thought that counted.

You pulled a sweater over your head, hoping to cover the newly made marks and bruises that were now your new body decor.

You readied yourself to head down to the dining room, crossing your arms and staying completely silent. It looked like you were the first one awake, so you chose the seat closest to the exit where you could book it for your room need anything happen.

One by one they all walked in. It gave you a chance to really study their faces. You looked back down at your fingers, just wanting this to be over.

Curiously, just out of wonder...you looked to your right. Jungkook was staring at you with a smug and wistful look on his face, as if he has an idea. Almost as if he had a plan slowly unraveling in his head. He smirked as soon as your eyes met and gave you a wink, making you look down at your plate. You felt your cheeks heat up. He was really close, so your that if you had moved a little, your leg would brush against his knuckles.

Jungkook had intimidated you and he knew it. Ever since you laid eyes on him, you knew that he had made sure to establish his dominance over the kingdom, especially seeing that he was the youngest king, he had to show out more.  Of course you would be the youngest queen, but also the only queen...with seven villains to call your kings.

You were quiet, you couldn’t be bothered to respond to Hoseok’s snide remarks about the type of queen who would wear jeans shorts as day clothes. Or Seokjin taking some more of your favorite side dish off your plate.

“Y/N...What’s that on your shoulder?” Jungkook got your attention. You had looked down. Your sweater had fallen off your shoulder a little and right there was a bruise. Fuck! Think damnit! You felt his fingertips ghost over your exposed skin, leaning his face in to get close.

“I uh-...er...I tripped?” you trailed off. “Yeah I was walking to my room and I...just fell?” You didn’t believe your own words because you know good and well how you got that bruise.

You could still feel the imprint of Namjoon’s teeth sinking into your flesh, it made your toes curl.

“Is that so?” Namjoon, who had been sitting across from you smirked. “Perhaps you should be more careful next time, you never know what else could happen if you aren’t careful.”

“Thanks for the tip.” you clenched your teeth. “So thoughtful.” you mumbled. “If you guys are finished making fun of me for my clumsiness, can I go now?”

“You may.” they all chorused.

Little did you know, Namjoon had kept your diary, and had passed it along to the next man who wanted a taste of your secrets. (As if the title wasn’t spoiler enough smh) and who planned on using to to his advantage.

...

“I’m sorry what?!” you stared at the horrible eyesore of a dress Rina held up in front of you.

“It’s for your Welcoming Party.” she repeated herself.

“No I know what you said but I refuse to wear that!” you shook your head at the floor length midnight blue gown, “That think doesn’t look like it covers anything!”

Apparently there was a gala tonight to celebrate the merging of your two kingdoms as allies, that part you were fine with, but the dress that was made for you to wear...

“It’s backless, it’s supposed to look like this. “ Rina giggled at you. “It’s definitely dramatic, but it was specially tailored for this event.”

“YOUR POINT BEING?!” You stared at the eyesore. It didn’t look anything like any of your dresses, especially with the unsightly slit going up one of the legs. “Rina I can’t wear this...look at that then look at me.”

“Come over here.” she grabbed your hand and pulled you to the mirror. “Imagine you stand at the edge of the stairs, everyone is waiting for their new queen to arrive, they look up and they see your in your new custom made crown and this bad boy.” she held up the dress. “ With a little bit of jewelry and the crowd won’t be able to resist you.”

“...Are you sure about this?” you sighed, although you admit the dress did look familiar, like you’ve seen it in a dream before.

“Trust me.” she put an arm around you. You and Rina seemed to have already become good friends, and while you thought the idea was crazy, you trusted her. “I may be a maid but my family owns a dress shop, I know what looks good on someone and Midnight Blue is one of those things that any woman and wear and feel amazing in it.” she held it up to your body. “Plus this thing cost almost as much as the room you’re standing in so for you not to wear it would be an insult to the dress maker.”

“Okay then.” you nodded.

...

“Y/N stop moving!” Rina scolded you.

“Listen the earrings I can deal with, but is the choker necessary?” you asked as a thin leather strap was placed around your neck.

“You’re gonna look fine, calm down.” Rina rolled her eyes at you. “Are the people from your kingdom all like this?”

“Well I don’t really wear a lot of dark gowns...I never got the chance to-”

Rina pushed you in front of the mirror. The woman staring back at you was wearing black strappy heels. Your dress was tight around the waist and did and Rina said it was and almost completely backless. Your hair was decorated with a diamond encrusted hairpin that matched the single pendant hanging from four necklace choker.

“Ah! I have just the thing to make this even better.” she grabbed a jar and what looked like a thin paint brush. “This is called magic tattoo ink, it’s almost like henna but instead of waiting and crumbling it off, this goes right into the skin.”

“What are you thinking of doing back there?” you asked in horror as you felt a cold sensation wash over your back.

“Covering up your bruises with flowers.” Rina casually commented. “Flowers are a huge thing here in Bangtan, especially red and black roses. How did you even get so beat up anyways?”

“You wouldn’t believe me.” you shook your head, almost shuddering. “How many people are showing up to this party anyways?”

“More than half of the kingdom and some people from neighboring ones too. Everyone’s dying to see the girl who is going to end this big feud and you...are going to wow them. They’ll be expecting the least of you, so you have to show them way more than you think.” she replied. “This is course is your welcoming party.”

“More like pity party” you mumbled.

...

The men of Bangtan welcomed their guests as men of their stature do. They casually made small chats with their friends from other countries.

“Where do you think Y/N went?” Jimin whispered to Jungkook and the rest of the boys.

‘Probably hiding from us.” Jungkook scoffed, allowing an obnoxious laugh to rip from his throat. “I don’t think these kids of parties are herstyle.

“Do you think she’s not gonna come?” Taehyung whisper. “Maybe she’s hiding under her bed while the maid convinces her to come outside.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Seokjin’s jaw dropped, pointing to the stairs.

The lights dimmed slighted and everyone averted their eyes to the stairs. You stood at the top, gazing over the scouring the room. Rina was right, there were so many people here. They were all looking at you. Rina had done a fantastic job using that ink stuff to cover up the bruises Namjoon had made on your skin. Your hair, neatly styled almost shimmered against the hanging lights. You stood at the bottom of the stairs, not knowing where to go. Everyone was staring at you. They definitely didn’t expect someone, especially from YOUR kingdom of all places to dress as you were dress right now. You shyly walked down the little aisle that was cleared for you. Geez had no one seen you in a dress before?

“Looking for someone?”

You turned around to find Jungkook standing in front of you, a smile etched on his face.

“Not really?” you scratched the back of your neck. You took note of how he was dressed head to toe in a black tuxedo. “I don’t think...”

“Well then will you do me the honor of giving me the first dance?” he held out his hand for you to take. “Come now, I wouldn’t do anything sneaky. We’re in public after all.”

Jungkook led you to the middle of the floor. Other women seemed to stare at you, beating themselves up for not thinking to wear such an eye-catching number. It seemed as you were the only person wearing that very color in the room.

“I think this is a good damn to mention I can’t dance” you narrowed your eyes at Jungkook who placed his hand on the curve at the bottom of your back. “It wasn’t in my studies.”

“Then shut up...and follow me.” he whispered in your ear. Slowly you let Jungkook lead, until it began to feel eerily natural how well you could follow. “You sure know how to make an entrance.”

“You sure how how to pick a dress.” you mumbled as Jungkook dipped his head into the crooked of your neck and inhaled, your back froze and you felt a sting shoot up your spine.

“You’re wearing perfume, it’s nice.” he commented, letting his nose linger to inhale your scent even more.

“It’s native to my kingdom.” you replied. “It’s rare amongst my people since only 14 have ever been sold and I just so happen to have six of them.” you chuckled. You were taken aback when Jungkook began kissing up your neck. Since you two were so close, it might have only looked like he was leaned his head on your shoulder. You felt his teeth graze against his skin and you didn’t dare move. His hips hovered over your ear.

“Seeing you look like this makes me wish we could do more, but I’d prefer us be alone when I take you.” he whispered. Your eyes widened and his fingertips traced up your back. His lips traced up and down your neck as you two moved against each other. You tilted your head to the side a little, almost mocking him.

“Oh really, you don’t enjoy PDA.” you said in a joking manner, but you were only referring to his inability to keep his hands off your exposed back. “Are we done here?”

Suddenly you were turned around and your back hit his chest. His arms wrapped around your waist as you two moved. 

“Not really.” he chuckled. Your ass was right up against his groin. “Although,” he began. “I think your fellow kings are a bit jealous...I wonder what would happen if I kissed you right in front of them, do you thing that would driv em crazy?”

“What makes you think I’d let you?” you seethed, glaring at him the best you could.

“You haven’t tried to push me away yet.” he replied.

“I would comment but I’m sure that would cause a minor disturbance.” you shook your head, only wishing you could fire back. “I really wish I could kick you right no-”

Jungkook’s teeth sunk into your neck, making your gasp and shake under his touch. How bold was he?! He tongue glided over your newly formed bruise, making you shut your eyes. You were turned towards him, meeting his dark eyes as he connected his lips with your, sliding his tongu ethrough the gap in your mouth for dominance.

He didn’t care about the stares he received, or the head shakes of disapproval. This was his castle damnit, if anyone had a problem he would kill them without another word.No one dared comment, or try to pull you away. The kings of Bangtan were very territorial and it would only be a matter of time before you were marked by the rest.

“This feels right.” he commented. “You belong here...in this castle, in my arms while everyone stares in envy.” he whispered into your ear, his lips hovering over the shell of your ear.  you could hear a mocking pout in his voice. You could feel the eyes of the other kings on your. Jealousy laced their gazes seeing you melt into Jungkook’s touch so naturally, Lucky bastard, not only did he get the first dance of the night, but you looked like you were enjoying it no less! Jungkook looked up at he friends, making a shrugging motion. 

“I wish I could see the look on your face right now” you almost growled. 

The party didn’t bore you to no end like you thought it would, you actually ended up meeting a few people who seemed nice enough. However the evening was going on and your feet were starting to hurt. You decided to make yourself scarce to avoid being told how ‘brave you were’ for the 27th damn time. You ended up walking into a strange room away from the festivities. As soon as the door closed, it got completely quiet. It felt nice, the silence was relaxing. You could finally sit down and breathe-

“I thought I’d find you here.” a voice made you turn around. Before you could react, your back had found a wall. You looked up and found Jungkook towering over you. “Not having fun?”

“I wouldn’t say th-” you stopped yourself from speaking when you noticed Jungkook getting closer and closer to your face. “i don’t know.” you mumbled.

“Hm, then how can I make tonight exciting for you?” he raised an eyebrow in interest, a smirk teasing his lips as he waited for your answer. He would have to remember to thank Namjoon for loaning him your diary that you seem to love leaving in random places. ”Because I might have an idea” he replied, tilting your head up with his fingertips.

“What are you ta-”

Jungkook kissed your lips, trapping your body against him and he wall. The slit up the side of your dress gave Jungkook the perfect opportunity to slide his hand up your thigh, digging his fingers into your flesh. You leg had hooked around his hip, which caused you to feel the pressure of his groin right up against your stomach. Absentmindedly, you had grinded against him, sending a low groan ripping through his body.

“Hm, while I’d love to rip this dress off you right now, I’m sure people are wondering where we’ve went, but something tells me you wouldn’t mind.” he breathed, pressing himself further against you.

“Um, I can’t confirm nor deny.” you tried to make yourself sound convincing, and Jungkook’s tongue traced down the length of your neck. Jungkook hiked up your dress even more. he gathered the fabric in his fist, his knuckles turning white.

“Since you’ve been so well behaved tonight.” he grabbed you leg and hooked it around his hip. “Why don’t I treat you to something.”

“Like?” you trailed off. To be honest, you were a fool. As if your escapades with Namjoon didn’t teach your anything, you were totally oblivious to Jungkook’s words.

“Hm, well let’s start by-” Jungkook ripped the slit up your dress, making the slit stop at your hip instead of your thigh, once more inch and your dress would be completely opened at the seams. “Getting that out of the way. “

“Umm don’t you have a party to get back to?” You asked, whilst your movements when against everything you were saying.

“Oh Y/N....the party is just getting started between us.”

(It took me a while and I skipped a night of sleep but I DID IT, I am not 100% proud of this, but I plan on redeeming myself in the next part. Also yes, no smut, but only because I am preparing for something and it might make sense later on, it might not, who the fuck knows but just wait for it.

We’re only on part 3 and we have a long way to go.

I’m thinking about making this more than 8 parts, so like two rounds of imagines for each guy in this series, so that gives up 14 parts in all not including the prologue. That good with y’all, great because I was doing it anyways.)

[hillnerd]

Waking Up - Chapter 1

Rating PG-13      A03   ff.net      Chapter word count- 6791  

fic summary: The war is over, but there’s still plenty of battles ahead for Hermione and Ron. Her parents are still in Australia, Ron is hiding secrets, and she has to wonder when she’ll wake up and it’s not from a nightmare. My version of an ‘Australia fic’ - Romione abounds Thank you to @abradystrix for the betaing and birtpicking! :) Thanks to @amysthefardareismai for a quick look over as well! 

Chapter warnings:  cursing, graphic descriptions of violence, romantic touching

Chapter 1-  Hiding Spots and Whisks

The spell ripped through her. She was sure that muscles tore away from bone. She was flayed, raw and screaming. Ropes cut into her skin. Her back arched unnaturally. All she could feel was the pain searing through her, again and again. Unrelenting pain. 

Please kill me...

And then it stopped, and she let out a pitiful cry, rocking back and forth as much as the ropes would allow. 

“I think the Mudblood enjoys it. Otherwise it wouldn’t continue to lie.”

She brokenly sobbed. Every muscle spasmed, and all strength left her. She couldn’t even twist her face away as Bellatrix Lestrange’s nails cruelly dug into her jaw.

“That filthy goblin will reveal your lies, and when he does, nothing will be able to save you,” Bellatrix whispered in her ear. Hermione whimpered, trying to repeat that the sword wasn’t theirs, but she couldn’t speak. Her tongue was slack and nerveless.

“The sword is the true sword of Gryffindor,” the little goblin declared.

An unholy shriek wrent from Bellatrix. She roughly pulled Hermione to her feet and snapped back her neck. All Hermione could see was the chandelier. A knife was brought to her neck and painfully pressed into her flesh.

“Let’s see how filthy that blood is.”

The knife tortuously sawed through her larynx. Blood was choking her, and gushing down her body. Was she was dying from the wound, or from drowning in her own blood?

With a gasp, Hermione woke up, hands going to her throat. 

Her throat had not been slit; it was whole, with only had a small scar marring the otherwise smooth skin. She wasn’t in Malfoy Manor being tortured. She was at the Burrow, probably one of the safest homes in all of England. 

She gave a cold shiver. The patchwork quilt was wet through with perspiration, and her clothes clung to her. Her throat felt raw, which meant she had been screaming in her sleep again. 

The silencing charm seemed to have held for another night, as Ginny was sleeping away in the bed beside hers. She puckered her lips to give a small whistle, but no sound came with the blow of air. Good. The charm was still working perfectly. With a wave of her wand she undid it. 

There was no point in trying to fall asleep; she never could after a vivid nightmare like that one. She snuck out of the room and walked down the wooden steps to the sitting room with practiced ease. Making the journey almost every night, she had quickly learned how to avoid the creakiest floor boards. Her path along the hallway was pitch black, but the last bit of moonlight illuminated the sitting room, along with the earliest tinges of morning light. 

In the darkness at the end of the sofa sat Ron. She wasn’t surprised to see him. He’d been down there almost every night the past few weeks. It didn’t matter if it was midnight or four in the morning, there he’d be, as if keeping watch for the house. She didn’t think anyone but herself and perhaps his parents knew. She'd heard his mother admonishing him for his poor sleep habits, having come across him early in the morning.

From what Hermione gathered, he almost never went to bed until someone else was up, as if he were still taking watch outside that horrid tent. He would hold his wand and stare out the window, for hours sometimes. On a few nights where she hadn’t felt like talking to anyone, she’d sat on the steps from the first landing and watched him pace back and forth, occasionally taking breaks to sit and bounce his knee. He didn’t even have much of a lie in the following morning. He looked exhausted, but continued on as if nothing had happened, waking early and tending to everyone in the house like he was fine. 

Tonight he was hunched over his chessboard. He grimaced in pain as he rubbed at his left shoulder. Fingers dug along his trapezius, before he gave a rough roll of his shoulder, stretching it around a bit. He let out a hiss, whether in pain or relief she couldn’t say, until he gave a small smile and stretched, rotating his hand with a satisfied look on his face.

Hermione slid her feet along the floor a little louder than necessary to announce her presence. She knew better than to startle him, otherwise she would meet a wand pointed in her direction. Of course, this was true of almost everyone after the war. Harry was the fastest draw, but Ron was a close second, with equally flayed nerves and fast reflexes. 

“You should be in bed,” Ron chastised, but his actions belied his admonishment. He budged over and patted the sofa for her to sit beside him, which she happily did. 

“Have you even been to bed yet?” 

“Yeah, but I can only sit and listen to Harry’s snoring and moaning about my sister in his sleep for so long.” Ron had great purple bags under his eyes, but he skillfully changed the topic and she was too groggy headed to pursue it further.

“Well, you shouldn’t have to sit in the dark like this just because you’re having trouble sleeping. It can’t be good for your eyes.”

“I don't want to wake anyone with lights,” Ron said with a tight shrug. “Past few nights Mum has scurried down the second I turned them on. She needs the sleep more than anyone. Plus, I wanted to be alone.”

“I'm sorry I intruded,” she apologized. She knew how hard it was to be around people anymore. Of course he needed an escape. Especially from her! She was rotten company anyway. “I'll just scarper back— ”

She moved to get up, but he put a staying hand on her arm and gave her a faint smile.

“I'm happy to be alone with you, though,” he said, smoothing a bit of her hair behind her shoulder, his hand lingering around her jawline.

“Oh!” she replied, a smile breaking across her face. Her cheeks burned as she settled in and leaned into his good shoulder. It wasn’t as bony as it had been even a few weeks ago. He was back to having a deceivingly solid build for one so tall and thin.

He was always handsome to her, but the hunger they had experienced while they were runaways had made them all rather emaciated. During the war it was hard to take in the gradual changes they had gone through physically. In the fleeting moments they’d changed clothes in front of each other there wasn’t the time to take in each other’s forms. They were too focused on getting warm, and surviving, to even spare a glance much of the time. 

It wasn’t until they were at the Burrow, scrubbed clean of all the muck and dust that Hermione could finally see how hollow they all were. Ron had looked the most normal of them. He had always been tall and thin with broad shoulders, so no matter how much weight he lost, the width of his shoulders basically stayed the same size. He looked almost his usual self when dressed.

Normally Molly Weasley would practically be force feeding them, but the loss of her son kept her out of the kitchen. She stayed sequestered in her bedroom, sobbing for well over a week, barely leaving the room except for the myriad of funerals. Ron and Fleur had taken over the task of feeding everyone during the first weeks after the war. 

A few days after Fred’s funeral, Mrs Weasley finally started taking an interest in her remaining family again. She had little energy for cooking, but enough to start working on healing them all up a bit more properly. 

One by one she sat them down and used a number of spells and tonics on the scars they’d picked up. Hermione thought Mrs Weasley’s ministrations would be wasted, given how long ago their injuries had been, but she was able to achieve great progress on a few of the burns and scars. 

One morning Hermione had come downstairs to see Ron shirtless in the living room, his mother tending to his shoulder to see if she could heal it any better.

“You did a number on yourself, Ron, splinching yourself like this,” she heard the matron tut at him. It was Hermione’s fault he’d been splinched so horribly, but he said nothing to correct his mother. 

Hermione had quietly tried to read in the corner, but her eyes kept going to his body, specifically his left shoulder and the terrible scarring that was all her fault. She realized that day how skeletal he’d become. 

His ribs, even the ones near his collar bones, were all apparent, the knobs of his spine far too pointed, and his hip bone, just visible from his sagging jeans, stuck out like a handle.

After that, his mother seemed to see it as her personal mission to make them plump up again. The boys were able to tear into her meals with fervor and pack on the pounds quickly, but Hermione found it difficult to eat much of anything. 

Eating Molly Weasley’s cooking for weeks had Ron filled out almost magically fast, and with it Hermione realized that he was broader of shoulder and taller than ever before. His threadbare clothes were all far too small for him, and no stretching charms could make them fit him much better at this point. She quite liked it when his jeans were a bit too tight, but she had never dared tell him that. 

For all the ways their relationship had changed and brought them closer, there were still boundaries she hadn’t dared to cross. She’d been able to cover up her nightmares from him for weeks. She didn’t want anyone to know, but she especially wanted to keep the nightmares from Ron. 

It was not just her that he was always watching over. He was watching over everyone. He was carefully watching Harry and prodding him to come out of his shell. He was watching his mother and making sure nothing disturbed her when she was in a somewhat calm mood. He was watching his brothers and making sure they got along. He was hunting down George and making sure he got home in one piece after drinking a bit too much. He was watching his father and making sure he had privacy when he was about to cry. He was looking after his sister, to make sure Harry and she were getting on. And he was suspiciously watching any stranger who came near them whenever they ventured from the confines of the Burrow.

He’d watched his brother die right in front of him, and he was doing his best to comfort everyone. He was so overwrought, she didn't want to burden him further. 

“You’re being quiet,” Ron commented, not for the first time in the last few weeks. 

She gave a sigh. Her mind was buzzing, but blank. She felt like her mind had been put through a french press, and all that was left was the grounds to be thrown out with the rubbish. 

Even if she had her wits about her, it's not like she could sit and tell him about the fascinating day she’d had. Most days she sequestered herself in a dark corner and pretended to read until she nodded off. Anything interesting he’d probably seen, as they were quite joined at the hip. Under no circumstances would she tell him about her nightmares.

She gave a shrug, and wove her hand into his. 

"I suppose I'm just tired.”

And she was. Her whole body ached and she longed to curl up where she sat for a long nap. She wasn’t even missing out on that much sleep in the scheme of things. She might have been woken by horrible nightmares, but she was getting so much sleep during the day she didn't see how anyone could still be so tired. Of the two of them, it was Ron who didn't sleep, yet he seemed more capable than ever.

Ron hummed in response.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

“A walk? It's four thirty in the morning!”

“And who doesn’t enjoy a good early morning walk?” He rose and offered a hand to her. “Personally I think they’re meant for a comeback.”

“You do love an underdog,” she replied, taking his hand, which pulled her to standing with ease. 

He grabbed jackets and wellies from the scullery. They had a small collection of weathered canvas jackets, all smelling of hay and bonfires. She felt quite dwarfish when she put on the heavy jacket and its sleeves fell past her fingers by nearly a foot. 

Ron laughed as she struggled to fold the heavy fabric back from her hands.

“Here, let me.” Ron folded the fabric up her arm in a sweet doting way.

“Merlin, you’re tiny. This is the smallest one they have!” he said, as he finished the job and held her hand in his own.

“Why don’t you have a small one for Ginny or your mum? Neither of them are taller than I am.”

“Oh they just wear the same ones we do if they happen to need them. Plus it’s not like Ginny was made to shovel chicken coops, or dig up fence posts. Her chores were always more domestic.” 

The tiniest bit of morning light was beginning to peek from behind the hills, catching a few clouds and staining them pink.

“We can watch the sun rise soon,” Ron said, seeing where her eyes were looking. 

“It's funny. Technically I know when sunrise is, but somehow it always surprises me how early it starts getting light.”

“I think that’s because you grew up in the city.”

“Why would that make a difference?”

“Well, when you grow up in the country you get pretty familiar with getting woken up early to do the chores before it gets hot.”

“I don't remember you waking up early for anything,” she teased.

“Course I did. We all had to at least a few times a week. We had a chart and everything for whose turn it was to feed the chickens, check the fences, get eggs and veggies. I never was a morning person, of course, so half the time I’d just go back to bed as soon as I was done with my lot.”

"I never once noticed.”

“Well you were asleep, weren’t you, city girl?” Ron cheekily grinned as he easily hopped the wooden three rail fence they’d come upon. She struggled with her footing and awkwardly tried to climb it rail by rail. She’d never been particularly athletic or balanced, and found getting her boot over was a predictably unsteady affair. She had just managed to awkwardly straddle the fence when Ron put his hands at her hips, taking most of her weight and guiding her to the grass.

She gave her thanks and gave him a shy, but pleased, smile. He’d become more and more bold with touches here and there, but also a bit more tender and gentlemanly in how he looked after her. He’d always been chivalrous when it came to defending her, of course, but now he was practically gallant on a daily basis, putting out a hand to assist her, pouring her tea, holding an umbrella for her as they walked outside. 

He had his elbow out for her to hold as they journeyed through some longer grass that hid a bevy of roots that she nearly lost her footing on. If it weren’t for his heavy cursing and deep dose of sarcasm, he could easily fit into a historical romance novel from the way he doted on her. 

“Where exactly are we going?” she asked, looking around at the unfamiliar bit of field. 

“To get a better view of the sunrise.” 

Ron got to a tall tree and began hoisting himself up its branches.

“Ron! I can’t climb the tree in—in wellies! I can’t bend my ankles enough to do that in these and I’m not much for climbing, if I’m honest.”

"I know that,” Ron laughed, his upper body disappearing among some leaves. “Stay there a moment.”

“Oh don’t worry, I'm keeping my feet firmly on the ground! I don't care how good the view is, I'm not climbing that tree!”

“As fun as it’d be to see you try, that’s not the plan.”

In the twilight the upper branches were still blue hued and hard to make out. If not for the loud rustling of the branches, Ron would be easy to miss.

“There it is!” he cried in triumph. His feet dangled, as if he’d taken a seat. “Stand back!”

A wood and rope ladder clattered and unrolled itself from the tree before magically becoming rigid and straight as any staircase, complete with rope handrails. 

“Come on up!”

She smiled as she easily ascended the stairs to join him. There was a little wooden platform, not much longer or wider than a bench. She wasn’t afraid of heights, she liked to tell herself, but she also didn’t enjoy them and would avoid them whenever she could. 

Seeing her hesitation Ron rolled his eyes.

“There’s a barrier around the edge I just reinforced. You couldn’t fall off if you tried.”

He flicked a twig at the edge and it fell no further than the edge of his trainers.

She sat beside him and leaned against his shoulder.

“I imagine that spell was your mother’s work?” 

“Dad’s. We have a couple of these tree blinds hidden around. We’d sort of half-arsedly build them, then Mum or Dad would put protective spells around it so we don’t break our necks or something. This one was usually Charlie’s getaway place. And the- the twins… They were always trying to follow him up, so Dad put in some spells to make it safer if any of us weaseled our way up, but still afforded Charlie some privacy.”

“I can just imagine you all now: sticky fingered,muddy knees, running about the property, climbing any tree you come across and throwing rocks into the pond to watch the ripples.”

“It was pretty nice, yeah,” he said with a pained smile. 

“It sounds like the idyllic wild sort of childhood that I’d only been able to wish for.”

“Your childhood never sounded so bad to me.”

“It wasn’t bad at all, really. I had everything I needed, and it was quite lovely most of the time. It just afforded very few places to commune with nature. I remember loving the local hardware shop my father would take us to when he had some home project to take care of. They had a wonderful garden area I loved to get lost in. I’d pretend I was in the jungle like the Swiss Family Robinson, and wanted a house like theirs so badly.”

“So are these, like, famous Muggles or something?”

“They’re a made-up family in a book. They got shipwrecked on a tropical island and had to make do. They built an amazing treehouse in the film, and we watched it every Christmas. It wasn’t a particularly Christmassy movie, but it was a tradition of sorts for us.”

“Dad would fish out the ornament boxes from the attic, cursing the whole time as he crawled in the cramped attic. Mum and I would make hot chocolate and hang the lights on the tree. It was a tradition that the tree would remain clear of everything but the twinkle lights until the whole family was together. Then we’d put the ornaments on together. We’d try to time it out so we’d put the star on top of the tree as the song ‘O Christmas Tree’ played in the film.”

Hermione could remember her father trying to time it out year after year and they made it a sort of family challenge to get it right. They’d only properly managed twice, but the large whoops of glee they’d given had drowned out the film. 

The last time they’d done it, was the Christmas of her sixth year. One by one they’d each hang ornaments. ‘Baby’s first Christmas,’ woven lolly stick stars, fine German ornaments, and a few ugly old plastic electric ornaments from the 70s. Those had little child figures spinning in them that would short out the room if they were all plugged in to the same power strip. All the ornaments were placed on the tree with equal care. Her family grinned ear to ear at one another. 

They were so happy. What had her parents done this year? Hermione had left the ornaments in the attic as she didn’t have time to sort out the ones connected with herself, or that had their former names on them. Had she ruined their Christmas? Had they continued the tradition without Hermione? It wasn’t like it was their first Christmas without her. She’d skipped four in a row, from ages thirteen through sixteen. 

“That sounds loads nicer than Celestina Warbeck,” said Ron. “I’ve never seen a film. Was the Swede Family Robins alright?”

“Swiss Family Robinson. It’d probably be slow paced for most people, as it’s an older movie that came out back when my parents were just kids. It made quite the impression on me nonetheless. I begged and begged for a treehouse like the one in the film, but they said I’d grow tired of it too quickly and that it wasn’t worth the danger of me falling. I tried to make myself a secret fort under a large rhododendron bush and got a good scolding from my nanny for it when she saw I’d dragged a nice table cloth in there. She tried to get me to leave, and I wouldn’t. No matter how she grabbed for me, she couldn’t get a hold of me. It was one of my first bits of magic. She thought I was wiggling out of her grasp somehow, but her own arm had gone rubbery and useless every time she thrust it into my little fort.”

“How old were you when you had this little adventure?” Ron laughed.

“Oh, four or five. And don’t make fun!”

“I’m not! I just like picturing that angry little look on your face. I can see it now, so tiny with hair twice as wide as your body, curled up with a book in your little fort, all excited for a piece of adventure and rebelling against nannies,” he said, with a warm smile. “Did any of your friends have a playhouse or something you got to adventure in?”

“Oh… Well, I didn’t… There weren’t many children in my neighborhood, and I attended a small Church of England primary school, so even if I had friends, it was quite a lot of work to see anyone, make arrangements to be driven over and everything, so I didn’t.”

“So it was just you and some posh nanny?”

“Well don’t think me a terrible snob for having a nanny. Both my parents worked, so there was no one else to tend to me until I was old enough to attend school all day,” she rattled off, a bit embarrassed by her relative privilege. She felt silly complaining about it now. The poor little rich girl who didn’t get a tree house!

“Sounds a bit lonely,” he said, with a sympathetic look.

It had been lonely. Sometimes it felt like he could see right through her. Until Hogwarts Hermione had never had any real friends. There were a few children here or there that she’d gotten to play games with, but no real friends. Her parents were very loving and gave her every opportunity, but it wasn’t like the loud warm familiar household of the Weasleys. In some ways her somewhat distant parents made it easier for her to leave for Hogwarts. You couldn’t miss what you didn’t get to see much of. She never resented it. It was just how things were. It also made it much easier to lie to her parents. She lied and lied, then finally just erased herself from their minds, and they’d never forgive her for it.

Hermione shivered at the thought and brought her knees to her chest.

“Well, that’s enough about me,” she said, trying to center herself. She plastered a smile on. “Did you have a hiding spot like this tree house?” 

Ron jerked up sharply. The warm smile and deep eye contact he’d been giving her broke.

“No nothing like this.”

He stared down at his hands and began to fidget and pick at his cuticle. She wondered what could have caused such a change in him, but perhaps it was just memories of Fred. She hated how good memories could become so painful. She gave his hand a squeeze and after a moment his big warm hand squeezed back.

“There it is,” said Hermione as the sun began to peek over the hill. The puffball clouds became a lovely mix of peach and coral. “This really is a spectacular view. Thank you for— Ron, you’re bleeding!”

Ron blinked before confusedly looking about himself. She grabbed his left hand and inspected it. He’d ripped the cuticle so deep it made her wince in sympathy. It had to sting with how deep he’d torn it and how much blood there was.

“Your thumb...”

“Oh…” He blankly took his left hand from her hold and sucked the blood away. She gave a tut. 

“Don’t put your mouth on it! Your mouth has all sorts of bacteria!”

“It’ll be fine. It doesn’t hurt at all.”

And now he was pretending it didn’t even hurt, and he was bound to get it infected.

“Well I don’t care how fine you think it is, you shouldn’t mutilate your finger like that then introduce bacteria to it.”

“It’s really not a big deal.”

“You’ve messed up your fingers enough,” she admonished, taking hold of his hand to point to his missing fingernails. “You don’t need to mess up your thumb too.”

“Just leave it, Hermione!” he snapped, ripping his hand away and marching down the ladder, shoulders tight and high. He was a few meters away from the tree when he sighed and turned around.

“I’m sorry. I’m just…” he shook his head. “I don’t have a proper excuse. I was just thinking about— And you were pushing me and I… I’m sorry. Do you wanna continue watching the sun rise or did I bollocks it up?”

Hermione was about to shout back that he’d bollocksed it up pretty well, but stopped herself when she saw how pale he was. He was biting his lip and his hands were so clenched the knuckles had gone bone white. Something had rattled him, she just wasn’t sure what.  

“Are you alright?”

“‘M fine,” he said with a shrug. 

The magic of the sunrise had been a bit tainted. She left the light of the sunrise and stepped down the wooden steps to hold his hand. 

“How about we fix up your thumb, and then you show me your morning chores I’ve never gotten to see?”

“And I’ll try not to be such an arse.”

“And I’ll try not to be so pushy about something so minor.” 

They walked in silence, hand in hand, back to the house before Ron gave her his lopsided grin. “Was that our first fight?”

“Of course not! We’ve fought loads of times!”

“Well yeah, but never when you were my girlfriend… At least I don’t think?”

A thrill passed through her. Girlfriend! It felt silly, but she quite liked hearing him call her that. 

“You’re right,” she agreed. She was sure she had a goofy smile on her face, but she didn’t care.

“I guess I owe you a make up kiss.”

“Yes, I’d say you do.”

He gently pushed her up against a nearby tree and leaned over her. She stood on a root that helped narrow the height gap. His uninjured hand trailed up her arm before cupping her cheek and stroking it. His eyes were trailing all over her face and she couldn’t bring herself to look directly at him. The intensity of his stare made her tremble.

“Aren’t you going to kiss me?”

“I’m thinking about it,” he said with a crooked smile. He leaned down, but missed her mouth entirely, his lips finding their way to her jaw and slowly working their way to her neck. She let out a small moan as he sucked at her pulse point, and her hands went to his copper hair. His kisses trailed back up her neck to finally find her mouth. A flush went through her as he kissed her deeply, one hand cupping the back of her head, another trailing up her side. She was just starting to kiss back with equal furor, hands on his hips when he pulled back with a hiss and jerked away from her.

“What’s wrong?”

“Er… My hand got trapped,” he explained, flexing his hand a bit.

“Oh right! We really need to fix that up.”

“Sounds good,” he said, turning away from her. “I think Dad has some Dittany and plasters in his shed.”

“No argument?” she said, following his long strides.

Ron gave a shake of his head, before giving her a tight smile.

“I figure sooner I’m fixed up, sooner I get to kiss you again.”

She beamed at that. He helped her over the gate again, and by the time they reached the shed she was quite grateful to be indoors. The morning dew had seeped through her pajama trousers and she was shivering. The shed smelled of musty wood and dust, and the floor wasn’t paved. They called it a shed, but it more resembled a small barn. Ron turned a knob and the lamp above them glowed warmly, lighting up the dark space.

She’d never been inside Mr Weasley’s shed before, and it was a fascinating sight. As Ron went to find some plasters, she took her time looking about. Everywhere she looked there were collections of Muggle paraphernalia she couldn’t imagine anyone else in the world wanting to collect. She found boxes of twisted up slinkies, wires, batteries, holographic stickers, magnets and even a box of old fashioned rotary whisk.

She’d not ever used one of the mechanical whisks before and took it out to give a quick whirl of the handle.

“Found one of Dad’s collections have you?” Ron asked looking at the whisk with a mix between embarrassment and distaste.

“Yes. I hadn’t seen one of these in a while.”

“What’s it for? No, lemme guess! Looks like it could be  a hair curler or something, doesn’t it?” he said taking another whisk from the box and haltingly moving the handle. It gave a terrible rusty clatter. “God, do all muggle things have to make such terrible sounds?”

“No they do not,” she laughed, demonstrating her own whisk. 

“Oh, hand over the good one then,” he said with a grin, giving it a test. “So is it something so people can get hair like yours?”

“Nobody would make a device to purposefully have hair like mine,” she replied with a shake of her head. She could just make out her reflection in the mirror and frantically started to comb her fingers through it. “Oh no! I look like I’ve been snogging!”

“You have been,” he laughed.

“Yes, but I don’t want to look as though I have! Your mother will be up any moment and then she’ll think I’m ghastly.”

“I doubt she’d notice.”

“How could she not! I look like a bramble patch.”

“But a very attractive one.”

“Oh! You’re no help!”

“How am I supposed to help? Use this thing?” he said holding up a whisk.

“Don’t you dare!” 

He pointed the whisk at her and gave a pretend menacing look. She gave a laughing shriek as he gave chase. She weaved and ducked out of his way as he pursued her, twirling the handle all the way. When he’d finally cornered her, she was quite breathless as they smiled at one another. His grin faded into that same piercing look from earlier. 

Her eyes fell to his lips, and she gave a rough swallow. He slowly wrapped a free hand around her waist, leaned down and kissed her again, this time so deeply she thought she might pass out from the pleasure of it. Their tongues began to dance with each other, and she felt a deep hunger growing within her that had nothing to do with food.

Her hand trailed up under his shirt and stroked against his solid frame, and his hand was making a similar journey up her top, just grazing the underside of her breast when the door to the shed burst open with a resounding crash.

They wrenched their lips apart, practically making a popping sound like a cork from a champagne bottle. 

Mrs Weasley was pointing her wand at them in a menacing fashion, but upon seeing their intimate hold her eyes went wide and she dropped her wand to her side. It took considerably longer to retract their hands from each other’s shirts.

“M-Mum!” 

“I was feeding the chickens when I heard what sounded like screaming,” she explained, face red. The sheepish look on her face quickly turned stern. “You two shouldn’t be doing that with all sorts of dangerous Muggle things about… Skulking about in the dark. You’re lucky neither of you ended up eklecktrified or worse! You should know better, Ronald Weasley. And what in the world is that?”

She said pointing to Ron’s hand. 

“Er… Hair curler?” Ron said.

“Well neither of you has use for that, now do you? Put it away before you poke out an eye or something.” 

Ron mutely nodded and put the whisk in its place, face a flaming red. Hermione imagined her face was a similar color, given the heat she could feel burning through her cheeks.

Mrs Weasley stood in the door and opened it, ushering the teens out and towards the house. They walked ahead and she marched behind them, until they reached the kitchen step. Ron made to open the door but Mrs Weasley gestured them to sit on a pair of weather worn wooden chairs beside the door.

“Now, you two, I understand something of young love and all that. Arthur and I weren’t much older than you when we got married. I won’t delude myself and think you’ve not… done certain things. After all you were off alone for months with no supervision, and you’re of age—”

“Merlin, Mum!” Ron bleated, face the shade of an overcooked radish. He seemed to know where his mother was going with this. Hermione was in pure denial. Surely Mrs Weasley wasn’t inferring that she and Ron had…. Had relations during the war? They’d barely snogged more than five or so times at this point. Hermione was mute with mortification.

“Honestly, Mum! We weren’t doing— Doing that.” 

“I saw you two not minutes ago! I have seven children, and I know where that sort of snogging leads! If you’re going to be taking things to that level of intimacy you really must make sure to use all the correct charms and potions.”

Hermione’s cheeks flamed as she closed her eyes tight in embarrassment.

 “Now Hermione, I know you won’t have learned them from your parents, of course, but do you know about contraception charms?”

“Mum! Please stop— We weren’t—!”

“If you’re caught snogging like that by your mother, you have to put up her making sure a pair of unwed teenagers don’t make a silly mistake!” She turned again to Hermione. “Ron and all his siblings were taught this, but I want to make sure you know them too, dear. You need to use it every single time. I know some people will say it feels better without it, but that’s complete rubbish! Do you know—”

“I know them, Mrs Weasley, thank you!” Hermione said, voice unnaturally high and loud. 

“We both know them, Mum! Now can you please stop!”

“Fine! But don’t make me catch you like that again!”

“Believe me, no one wants a repeat!” Ron said with a rueful shake of his head.

“Well, that’s said then. Why don’t you tend to the chickens and get some eggs, and I’ll start on breakfast. Sausage and egg sandwiches?” Mrs Weasley asked lightly, not waiting for an answer as she went back into the house.

Hermione sunk her head into her hands. 

“So….” Ron began. “That was— ”

“I don’t want to talk about it!” Hermione squeaked from behind her hands. Ron gave a laugh.

“Thank Merlin the twins didn’t hear tha—” Ron cut himself off and blanched. Hermione quickly made a movement towards him, but he’d already risen from his chair, shoulders tight. She didn’t know what to say in these moments. 

Ron took a rattling breath, and Hermione was fairly certain he was stifling a sob. What would Ron do if the situation was reversed? He’d put an arm around her, let her say anything she needed, then distract her or make a joke. She was no good at jokes, but she could hold him and distract him.

She gingerly put a hand on his arm and gave it a squeeze. He wiped at his eyes.

“For a second I honestly forgot…” Ron said with a shrug. “What kind of bastard forgets their brother’s dead?”

She bit her lip. Seeing him hurt like this was painful. It would be so easy to start crying alongside him, but she refused her body’s instincts. The last thing he needed was her sobbing all over him.

“I think it was more a behavioral habit than you actually forgetting. You’re used to saying ‘the twins’ and noting what they’d find funny. It doesn’t mean you did something bad. It will take a while, but eventually your habits will change.”

“I don’t know if that’s not worse…”

Hermione didn’t see how that was worse, but thought it was best not to argue the point. 

“Well, if I want an egg sandwich, I’ll need to get Mum some eggs, won’t I?” Ron gave a deep sniff and smiled.

She hated the brittle smile he’d put on in these moments. 

It had been weeks since the Battle of Hogwarts, but Fred’s loss was still raw and painful for everyone. She couldn’t imagine the family would ever really recover. Fred and George were always ‘the twins.’ It wasn’t the first time someone had forgotten for a moment that Fred wasn’t alive and referred to the twins this way. It was probably why George had been holed up in a Muggle hotel for weeks. At first she thought he’d want to be home, surrounded by family. He hadn’t. 

The morning of Fred’s funeral George went missing. They looked all over for him, but no one could find him. When it was time for the funeral itself they kept waiting for George to arrive, or for him to pull some sort of prank in Fred’s honor, or do something like set off some fireworks, or turn the somber event into a joyous wake. He hadn’t. 

Angelina had tracked him down to a Muggle hotel and informed the family with a Patronus. A few of them had wanted to track George down, but in the end they decided to honor his wish to be alone. They thought he’d change his mind and come home, or start up the shop again. He hadn’t. 

Ron had looked so lost that day. The whole family had, but seeing Ron look so devoid of focus had been disturbing. Even on the Horcrux hunt, when all of them were dazed from the locket, he’d managed to be a bit sharp. Yes, he’d complained and been aimless as she and Harry, but he’d been present. It was the one day Ron had taken to see to himself. He’d gone to the funeral, then spent the rest of his day in his bedroom unable to talk. She’d held him for hours as he stared off into space. The next day he was back to catering to everyone and fixing everything. He was back to hyper focusing on everyone’s needs, and keeping himself so busy that he didn’t have time to mourn.

She couldn’t very well make him stay still, so she followed him to the chicken coop. She might not be able to fix anything for the Weasleys, or for anyone, but at least she could get them some eggs.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thank you for reading :) If you enjoyed it please reblog or review :) 

[NEXT CHAPTER]

[crqstalite]

Little Something. [Koth Vortena/F!Sith Inquisitor]

Based on Koth's idle dialogue - 'Got a little something on your...there you go'.

Set Post Knights of the Fallen Empire, Pre-Knights of the Eternal Throne.

-

Oh what had she done to deserve this? A beautiful evening out, little to no threats to speak of...it seemed that things were finally turning up for the young Sith -- or Commander, as most addressed her these days.

Yes, they were in the middle of what seemed like a never-ending war against a galactic superpower. Yes, there was a new problem every damn day. Yes, the star fortresses would need to be dealt with at some point. Yes, her family and more importantly, her father was still missing and assumed dead. Yes, Senya and Arcann were out there somewhere after her failed murder attempt. Yes, the Gravestone was still under heavy repairs and wouldn't be ready for weeks more. And yes, SCORPIO and Vaylin were still very much at large and probably planning her demise from their fancy little Spire.

She hated SCORPIO with a passion. Arcann would always top that list, but SCORPIO was a close third after Vaylin.

But today was not a day to reflect back on their failures, on what was wrong. Today was a day to celebrate. And celebrate the Alliance would. Arcann was off the throne, and the Alliance was growing larger by the day with new recruits from across the galaxy. She may not have been the most perfect commander in the galaxy, Sith rarely were, but she was passable. She wasn't dead yet, which was a plus by itself. Odessen has finally hit it's summer cycle, just in time for their little party. The evening on Odessen was just beautiful, the day beginning to end but the party just starting. The valley is painted in colors of gold and pink with the lights sending shadows every which way. For now, she's not afraid of them.

Well, nothing with the Alliance was ever little. It had become such a widely anticipated and attended party that she and Lana had to move it down into the wilds below the main base to keep things from getting too out of hand. Corsha is very happy that after her little debacle with Valkorion, they'd sent a team down to clear out the forest from the little beasts that seemed to have a taste for flesh. It was very satisfying to watch as they were essentially exterminated, and she figures HK would've had a field day. There was no trace of Satele and Marr though, to Theron, Lana and her disappointment. She was beginning to think she may have imagined the whole thing, seventy-two hours of pure hallucinations as Valkorion played games with her mind. Wouldn't put it past him.

But now, they had a beautiful valley to be in tonight. All that was well would end well.

She just barely avoids getting knocked into by a Mandalorian, who ignores her for the most part and continues arguing with another of his brothers or sisters. She chuckles, today wasn't a day to be upset about the little things. Getting here in the first place was the good part. Senya wasn't here to sing for them like she'd promised, but there were plenty willing to take her place. It wasn't a particularly formal event, which is why their most recent and more violent...excitable allies were still in their armor -- beskar'gam according to Torian -- but some others had taken the opportunity to dress up a bit. She herself, itching to get back into her formal clothes had swiped at the chance, managing to find a dress somewhat like her favorite one that was surely still in her apartment on Dromound Kaas. A beautiful dress that hugged her hips, a dark red bodice with lacy sleeves up to her elbows, and a small slit that only ran about a third of the way up her thigh. She'd had to go for a style that cut off just below her knees, just in case a beast just managed to breach their little sanctuary, which was rather sad, she always adored trains. Her mother's planned wedding dress had one that was beautiful and lacy, which she hopes she'll wear one day.

Her face heats as she thinks of the man she hopes has to wait to see her in it.

She walks a tad faster to find the rest of the inner circle of the Alliance. In a small overhang decorated with string lights further away from the action, she finds that Theron hasn't forgone his red leather jacket, but has changed into clothes that aren't ripped or stained with blood. A little dressier, she'll give him that. He still wears his blasters, maybe expecting trouble, but the ever present datapad isn't anywhere to be found. Hopefully confiscated by Lana, who stands nearby and is surely joking with him, a rare smile on her red-painted lips. Her outfit has also been forgone for the most part, instead choosing a lightly armored forest green set.  Green had always been her color, the shade one would compare to the grass at night, striking against her pale skin. Her blonde hair had been pulled up into a ponytail at the base of her neck. She says something else that makes Theron roll his eyes, though a smile becomes evident.

They've relaxed into their roles well, her right hand man and woman. She wonders how the Empire and Republic have been able to get on without them, she surely wouldn't have won as many battles without Lana's battle prowess and Theron's admirable ability to retrieve intel as fast as he does, "Commander. Surely you're enjoying the festivities?" Lana asks, a smile in her voice as she turns from the disgruntled ex-SIS agent.

"Of course, you did well, Lana. I couldn't have done this on my own," She responds, praise evident and mirroring her smile. It's genuine, the aesthetic is beautiful and the mood is high. Lana is extremely talented, and she's very lucky to have her by her side (and not on the opposite faction), "Thank you for all the work you put in."

"It's nice to be appreciated. Thank you, Commander." She nods in acknowledgement, before doing a once over. Her expression changes into one of curiosity, "Were you expecting us all to dress as you have? I apologize for the lack of dress code."

Corsha laughs as she sees the Sith dart her eyes to the armored men and woman nearby, "No, I simply enjoy the finer things in life. Arcann hasn't exactly allowed me much time to wear things like this, so I'm taking advantage of the lull in activity. Maybe one day I can get back to being myself, but for now I'll take the small victories."

"I'm sure there's someone who appreciates it more than we do." Theron says, rather matter of fact as Corsha waves him off. She knows exactly what he means, and when her gaze leaves his, he chuckles quietly, "I don't know where he is."

"You could at least say I look nice before you tease, Theron," She rolls her eyes, feigning offense, and though he gives her the universal 'alright I'm done' gesture with his hands, the mischief twinkling in his eyes gives him away entirely. She doesn't know when he became such a joker, or why. He's enjoying this a little too much, but she lets it slide -- he isn't working for once. And, who knew he had a sense of humor anyway, "So rude. They were right when they said chivalry was dead in the Republic."

"Hey, don't have to bring factions into it, this is an Alliance," He says defensively, before leaning over to Lana as if Corsha's forgotten he's there, "Do they actually say that?"

Lana stifles a laugh herself, "Always. It's a popular saying, mostly among young women describing agents like yourself."

"Whatever they say, Hylo did amazing at bringing in the food," A shiver runs up her spine as she turns to the arrival of the final member of their original quartet. Koth has his dreadlocks tied up, a nice look that makes her blush a bit. His jacket isn't absent, but he's instead left it open, a black shirt and darker blue pants underneath it. His goggles are gone from their typical place on his head. Maybe he doesn't immediately see her, but when his dark eyes do land on her, they widen in a way she hasn't seen out of him before, and sets something ablaze within her, "Whoa, if I'd known there was a dress code --"

"There isn't. Corsha has simply decided to impress us all," Lana answers for her, and Corsha is sure that she's turning the same color as her lipstick, "Rather nice, don't you believe?"

"Yeah, definitely," The answer is clipped, but it's clear he doesn't mean it that way. There's so much hidden beneath that one sentence that she isn't immediately able to say anything else. Out of earshot of anyone else, she'd probably get his real opinion, anything else he wanted to say to her. Koth had admitted over and over again he was horrible with words, which she didn't believe, and was even less likely to say much else in front of anyone else. Unfortunately Theron and Lana had very quickly realized their relationship had grown serious after the interaction days ago when they'd gotten back from Arcann's flagship (so maybe she had launched herself into his arms and had kissed him hard, completely high on adrenaline and forgetting there was anyone else present, but that was no one's business but her own) Lana had apparently suspected since Asylum-- and the pair acted accordingly. Like small children, of course. The teasing was well-hidden and far and few in between even before then when they were with the rest of the Alliance, at the very least, but it still annoyed her to no end when they'd gotten less subtle about it in the days past. One of them had better catch someone's eye soon, just so she can turn their actions on them and force feed them their own medicine, "Hylo's got a cake. Don't know where she got it from, but if you don't get any now, chances are you won't at all. Jeez, those Mandos have torn through Hylo's poor buffet."

"Considerate of you, Koth. You didn't just eat it all yourself first?" Lana teases. She really does want to ask what happened before her release from carbonite, as there are so many inside jokes the two have. Or whatever happened to the pair that made Lana faux paranoid about him literally eating everything. Surely a situation like the one on Zakuul, when the infamous three minutes phrase had been banned from any com channel while they were on missions.

"Hey, I'm not that big of a douche," He responds, a grin on his face. He's not offended, and Corsha doesn't understand why. Personally, she would be. Theron gives her a knowing look, as if he's just as confused. Lana nudges him gently a moment later, barely noticeable if you weren't paying attention, and starts off toward the rest of the congregation of the Alliance. Theron hesitates for a moment, before maybe picking up on what she was doing and follows after in a brisk pace.

"You said there was cake?" Corsha turns to him, brushing a curl behind her ear, "Hylo mentioned managing a few treats for the Alliance, but I wasn't expecting one."

"It's been a while since I've had cake instead of field rations," Koth responds, scratching the back of his neck before holding out the napkin covered package he had, "Brought you a slice."

"I thought you said there still was some left? I could've gotten my own." Corsha says, though gratefully takes the cake. It looks so sweet, like something she would've enjoyed immensely as a child. Her sweet tooth couldn't be denied, even in a moment like this, "Did Hylo say what it was?"

"Cake?" He shrugs, "Anybody's guess what flavor, don't think we can really afford to be picky, yeah?"

"I can afford to be picky if I wish, Vortena, not to mention the influx of credits we've received lately has been very helpful with getting supplies in. We've got escrow for once," She responds, a chuckle on her voice as he grins sheepishly. The cake is terribly sweet after she takes a bite, even enough that she has to keep from balking at it. It's some sort of fruit, not one she can name off the top of her head, but it's good. She'd have to go back for another piece, or see if they can get it more regularly.

"Cor," Koth catches her attention again after she's finished, and she turns to him, confused, "Got a little something." He says, lifting his hand to his cheek, surely to mirror where the offending crumb of cake was. She brushes just about everywhere near that spot, getting more and more frustrated as time passed, and he eventually gives up, growing closer and wiping it off himself. Her heart pounds, even though he doesn't linger long, "There."

"Thanks," She nearly squeaks, and he drops his hands to his side. They sit in an uncomfortable silence for a moment, though they watch as the party rages around them in a quiet roar. She smooths her skirt out after she finishes with the cake, careful not to get a trace of it on the immaculate crimson skirt. It hasn't been particularly long since they'd become a lot (a lot was saying a lot, more that just Lana and Theron could put their assumptions to rest and Torian, Major Jorgan, Gault and Vette knew now) more public with their relationship, if not also more comfortable with the idea of one (Koth had become her very first boyfriend, and she was sure that with as nervous as he was, that she was probably the only one who stuck around this long or had gotten this personal), yet she still fumbled in these situations. She wasn't extremely suave, and her social meter was very easy to deplete . Skytroopers didn't try to find out more about you or take you places they thought you'd like, all they did was chase after you and shoot at point blank range.

Boys weren't like that, unfortunately. Well, according to every holonovel she'd ever read on the subject, they weren't supposed to be. At least Koth liked the silence sometimes. He had a lot to say when he did get really fired up about things, but most of it didn't require a response from her. She could sit in the co-pilot's chair of the Gravestone and just listen.

Still, it was odd trying to be more than just friends. They'd kissed a few times, she'd nearly died in his arms, but there was something different about it now. Like there were expectations to how she should've been acting once they unofficially put the titles of boyfriend and girlfriend on each other, but this time there wasn't anyone to ask for help going forward. This wasn't a battlefield with clearly labelled maps and tactics. This was a new experience entirely, and she felt so horribly lost.

Well, there was, but not anyone she'd want to get help from.

"You do look...really nice, Corsha," He says, quiet enough that she has to strain to hear him, "Real pretty."

"Thank you, Koth," She plays with the lace on the sleeves, but makes the effort to make eye contact with him. And regrets it nearly immediately. Stars, who had the audacity to let his eyes be this pretty in the setting sun? Or make him this pretty to begin with? The way he looks at her...it makes her feel more safe than anything else, more loved than anyone else, "You clean up well."

"Good to hear it," He answers, his expression softening considerably.

She turns his own tactics on him, "You've got a little bit of cake...there." She states, moving her hand to where it would be on her own face, an invisible crumb on his jaw. He raises an eyebrow, surprised maybe as goes to wipe it off. Again, and again and just once more on the other side before he sighs in defeat.

"You've got me, blasted cake is staying there for all the trouble it's worth." He shakes his head, just before she grows closer and after a moment of hesitation, presses a kiss to his jaw. He's a lot taller than she is (there's over a decade separating them, but unfortunately Corsha wouldn't ever be as tall as either of her parents, or her boyfriend), but she's glad she doesn't lose her balance as she stands on her toes to reach. He stiffens, surprise evident in his expression as she steps back. She considers saying something, but decides against it.

"I'm sure someone needs me somewhere, seems that's all there is to life these days," She says, playing with the curls that barely graze her shoulders. Great, now she's hot and she can feel sweat beading at the top of her forehead. Where did all that confidence go, staring down Arcann for the second time only a few weeks ago? How she feared a man's reaction versus her own death would be lost to her.

"And if that's me?" Koth asks her, gently pulling her further into the alcove by the wrist, "You know I'm not good with words, but I'd be lying if I said I wanted to spend the rest of the party with anyone else."

"Not a fan of the noise?" She asks, still completely aware of him loosely holding her wrist. In his hands, she figures it must be rather thin. SCORPIO had a larger body than she did, the skinny girl who'd never really grown into her armor. Gah, it was always so easy to find her own flaws with him. She might've been the Commander of the Eternal Alliance, but it didn't immediately mean that she deserved him, "There are plenty of places to relax at further away from anything else."

"Do you really have anywhere else to be?" The world fades around her, pushed out of view of the rest of the party goers she's sure, "Because if you're going to pull something like that, you might as well do it right."

Do what right? She wasn't about to waste any cake on him, she might be head over heels but to waste such a treat on him? She hadn't lost her mind yet, to Valkorion, love or otherwise.

He fills in that blank for her, gently growing closer and tilting her chin up. It isn't forceful, not nearly as passionate as the last one, but still undeniably sweet. She leans into the touch, resting her hands on his chest, his arms resting around her waist. That sweet taste is back on his lips, but it is so very desired this time. She wouldn't go as far as to say all that cliche stuff she'd read about in the holonovels, but a shiver runs up her spine when he pulls away.

Okay, she'll say one cliche. She desperately wants to get lost in those eyes.

And, she wouldn't mind him holding her like this a lot more often.

"Beginning to think maybe we need cake more often," He says, mischief in his voice as she leans her head against his chest for just a moment. Her heart is beating in tandem with his, and for someone that makes her want to take him so far away from here, "What do you think?"

She nods, grinning as she looks up at him. She tries something new, the word playing with her mind before she says it, "I'd second that, love."

His smile only grows, and it's the first time she's ever called him by the term of endearment. He presses another kiss to her forehead, and she laughs quietly, lifting her head to kiss him again. Stars, maybe inviting him to live with her in her apartment wouldn't be so bad after all.

He stills a moment later, mouth still open to say something else, a concerned look on his face, "What? Is there something wrong?" She asks, more curious than worried, but Koth usually had a good reaction time that she trusted.

"Don't look now," Koth shakes his head, a groan sounding. Not particularly caring, she turns over her shoulder anyways. It isn't immediately obvious what has him so worried, so she's about to go back and say it really was nothing until she spots Lana in the crowd. Talking with Gault, yes, but every once and a while her golden eyes dart back to them. She scans routinely for Theron, who's hidden better and is leaning against the table that used to be laden with food, but still a smirk on his face. Either he's planning on bothering her again later, or he's started a bet with Lana. She didn't have much hope on it not being the latter.

She gives a disappointed look to Koth that's mixed with annoyance, "Beginning to also think we need to find more hiding spots on base before Lana never lets us live this down."

[grumpyhedgehogs]

Cosmic Waste

I’ve lurked in the Star Wars fandom for years and I’m finally going to change that tonight. Also, the working title of this is ‘obi-wan suffers forever and i love it.’

~

Vader can be forgiven for not realizing the fact that this is, in fact, reality and not a dream purely based on the fact that half his nightmares start on Tatooine. The shift of sand beneath his boots, the heat trapped against his skin underneath his dark robes, the light piercing into his retinas; it’s all exactly as he’s dreamed ever since Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi saved him from this pitiful planet. He’s striven to tear away from the terrible excuse he had for an existence ever since he left and now here he is, back where he started.

Or, not exactly where he started. Anakin Skywalker never once tread foot in the Sand Wastes, the stories his mother was willing to let slip enough to terrify the stupid child he had been away from the edge of unknown territory. Maybe if he’d been here long as a young man, maybe if he’d come back after the Jedi Order fell, maybe then he would have--

But that’s not true. Vader knows it as soon as he turns his thoughts to the concept; he’d never out of his own volition enter the Sand Wastes. It was one piece of advice his mother gave him that stuck with him through his Fall. 

‘The Sand Wastes can drive the sanest man mad.’

Vader can still hear his mother’s voice when he looks about him; the dunes stretch on for miles as a glance, and heat rises off them in sickeningly thick waves. As he wipes sweat from his brow, Vader watches in fascination as the drops of moisture simply evaporates right off of his glove. This desert wrings a person out like a sponge, and the Wastes are the worst of it.

If he touches any part of his own skin with his mech hand, Vader muses, he might burn right through to flesh at this point. He’ll have to get out of the heat soon or risk heatstroke and an addled mind from the sun.

If only Master could see me now he’d laugh himself into a heart attack, the old fool, Vader thinks and must resist the urge to hiss in anger. He’s not sure exactly what’s happening here, why this dream has lasted so long, but he’s had enough of these games. His Master is manipulative at best and sadistic at worst (not that that’s a very far stretch) and he knows if anyone is behind his consciousness’s sudden ability to produce truly vivid horrors, it is his Master.

Obi-Wan used to keep our quarters close to freezing, says a traitorous little voice in the back of his mind, one that has persisted in becoming louder and louder these few weeks, and Vader smothers it with righteous vigor. But it always comes back. 

He’d keep blankets on the couch for when you were cold; he’d say-

“It’s easier to come in out of the cold than to escape the heat within,” Vader mutters. “Yeah, yeah. Fat lot of good that wisdom did him in the end.”

The old ache in his chest throbs with new life at the thought and Vader crushes that ruthlessly, too.

Presently, he stops. His thoughts are too emotional and he’s not looking where he’s going and by the Force, will this blasted sand ever end? The horizon seems to stretch for miles.

Focus. Pull yourself out of this.

He’s had enough of this game. When he wakes up, he and his Master will certainly have words.

The old man’s getting to be too much trouble than he’s worth anyway. 

Vader closes his eyes, breathes deeply and lets the Force roll over him. In his sleep it should at least be muffled, but his connection is as loud as ever. The Force pulls at his mind, swirling around and through the Sith. Vader almost smiles, but some strange feeling simply refuses to let him sink into the Force.

What--

The Force is dark, as it has been since that fateful day all those years ago-- but this darkness is true. It feeds into his anger, his pain simmering too close to the surface and instead of reflecting it back off of the Light of a surviving few, swallows Vader’s emotions with a hunger that speaks of a deep wealth of rage, an all-consuming pool of Dark that threatens to devour the world. 

Vader almost jumps at the revelation, his training sessions with his new Master the only thing that stops him from stumbling back in shock.

The Force has never belonged so fully to the Dark when he has been alive; it has been very grey, of course, but the few lights left in the galaxy-- Yoda, for one, although Vader also suspects Mace Windu and Shaak Ti might have made it out alive, to say nothing of Ahsoka-- are bright and burning, lighting the path of the Jedi through the darkness. 

Or they were bright. This Dark is something completely unfamiliar. It licks at his consciousness, seeps in and twists about Vader’s heart, trying to whisper poison in his ears. He feels his own power in the Force surge in response and knows without seeing that his eyes flare orange where they are usually gleaming yellow. 

Vader forces the Dark Side back, ripping free of its seduction as he physically thrusts himself forward, only his years of experience stopping him from falling face first into the scalding sands. He has never felt this way; he has never needed to separate himself from the Force, Light or Dark; he has always been in control, always had the ability to bend the Force to his will, has never been overwhelmed by its power. Now, Vader feels very close to an edge he previously never would have considered existed. 

There’s something wrong here.

This is not home.

You’re not dreaming.

“Yeah, no banthakark,” Vader mutters to himself. The Dark sings around him, responding to his ample connection to the Force, and Vader is left with no choice but to accept that this is reality. Something has happened when he wasn’t looking-- possibly the meddling of his Master, or possibly Vader was too deep in his meditation to recognize a Force nexus opening close by, and wouldn’t Obi-Wan get a laugh out of that--  

Obi-Wan.

An old instruction, given with a sense of safety and comfort, floats through Vader’s mind. ‘Search your feelings, padawan. Trust in the Force.’

Without a second thought, Vader does. Ready as he is now, the Force cannot make the Sith falter underneath it’s pull. He resists the undertow, searching, looking, hoping to find what he has not in all this time.

A brief, bright spark in the Darkness. A star about to go out, a candle burning too low, guttering. A warmth that melts the ice in Vader’s bones, a sense of such grief it chokes him.

The Force sings in Vader’s heart and the Dark Side recedes in a way Vader has not felt since-- since--

Where? Where, after all these years-- 

In the end, he is so very close.

The Darkness Vader thought just moments ago to be all-encompassing is banished even further from the Sand Wastes as he locks eyes with the man Vader had thought all but lost.

He crosses three sand dunes in a matter of seconds, his childhood memories making it easy for him not to sink into the sands that want to suck him in, wring his bones dry. But as he bounds across the Sand Wastes, Vader cannot appreciate the deadly nature of his home, cannot think about his new Master’s mechanisms, the fact this may be a test or a punishment or a dream--

Because here he is. Here is Obi-Wan Kenobi.

He is almost exactly as Vader remembers; his hair shines copper and golden in the light of twin suns Vader never wanted to shine upon his old Master. His eyes are the brightest blue Vader has ever seen. His palms are worn but soft and Vader knows what their weight will feel like when they rest on his shoulders. His robe is dusty, but underneath all the dirt, it is brown and familiar and comfortably threadbare.

He is almost exactly as Vader never wished he was; his mouth is a thin line, his brow is wrinkled and strained, his face is gaunt. His shoulders hold some great, terrible weight he cannot let slip, even for a moment. There is tragedy etched in his every line. He is battle-worn and tired and so very alone.

Obi-Wan, who had up until the moment Vader moved been watching from a distance, startles back now as Vader lands before him. Sand sprays out from beneath his boots and Obi-Wan jerks in surprise as the dust billows between them, head turning as if looking for somewhere to run, somewhere to flee. Vader steps towards him again, hands coming up to waist height-- he doesn’t know what he wants to do just yet-- but Kenobi throws his own hand forward.

“Don’t,” he rasps and oh, but his voice is just as Vader remembers it, “I know-- what you are. You’re not him. You can’t trick me into thinking you-- that you’re--”

His Master never stumbled over his words. Poised, precise, Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi could cut a man to pieces with a few well-placed words. This man--

This is not your home.

This is not your Obi-Wan.

Isn’t he?

“You’re not Anakin Skywalker,” the man who could be no one but Obi-Wan Kenobi says. His hand never strays towards his lightsaber even as Lord Vader approaches slowly. His eyes are sharp, though, and follow the Sith’s every move intently. “You are not my Anakin.”

“No.” Vader takes a great risk to rest a palm as gently as he can against the Jedi’s face. The black of his clothes looks so dark against his pale cheek.

“But you,” Vader decides, feeling the Dark in him swell with a roar of satisfaction, “are my Obi-Wan.”

[holidaywishes]

Tease Every Goosebump

  Summary: conclusion to Sweaty Betty’s

  Author’s Note: I’ve resorted to listening to an audiobook for my homework instead of reading the actual book, which is the only way I can write anything. I promise, the daddy series will continue, as will my break up sex series, but this was just on my mind for some reason. It’s not my best work but I hope you like the second half of this short, little two-parter!

  Warnings: smut, light swearing, tiny bit of fluff 

  masterlist

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  “I wonder how the rest of you would feel against the rest of me…” The words almost taunted Freddie and he rushed to press his lips onto yours; plumping your lips with each twist. He moved his lips slowly down your still clothed body, taunting you as you had taunted him with your words, stopping only when he got to the tattoo you had discussed earlier; you looked at him evaluating it

  “He’s a shit artist anyway…” he laughed and you nudged him to continue roaming your body; your breathing slowed when his hands found their way to the hem of your dress, pushing the fabric slowly up your thighs and his breath covered the skin that became exposed. He stopped suddenly and you were forced to look at him, catching him laying his chin on your stomach, hands still holding the light fabric of your dress at your sides. You couldn’t bring yourself to speak, choosing to bite your bottom lip instead, and Freddie let go of the dress; kissing up your body and letting the fabric lift as he moved upward. He gently pulled the floral patterned dress over your head and let it fall delicately onto the floor before bringing you up to meet him; your lips met his as if by magnets and the last bits of clothing were ripped from his body and thrown carelessly across the room. You closed the gap between the two of you, attempting to straddle him once more but he stopped you; placing his finger in front of your lips and directing your back against the pillows before a smirk appeared on his face. His hand roamed down as he attached his mouth to the sensitive flesh behind your ear and your eyes shot open when you felt his finger creep into your core; letting out a moan when you got used to ministrations.

  “Fuck..” you rasped, digging your nails into his skin as he continued; you couldn’t tell which stimulation you liked more -- his beard tickling your neck as his tongue glided across your skin or the way his calloused fingers caressed every inch of you. He whispered in your ear, but it was so low that you didn’t catch it and you moaned in response, finally feeling him adjust his position to thrust into you; a surprised scream escaped you and Freddie stopped to check in with you

  “Are you okay?” he asked and you hummed, wanting him to continue but he didn’t move. Instead he began to tease every goosebump that crept across your skin underneath his fingertips and you reached out to tangle your fingers in his hair, bringing him back to you, and he spoke softly against your plump, pink lips, “we don’t have to do anything.. I don’t want to hurt you…”

  “I’m fine,” you giggled, “trust me.” You kissed him once before running your hands down his back and pushing him into you; he moaned into you, his breath warm against your face. You encouraged him to fuck you deeper by keeping your hands pressed against the small of his back, letting out breathless moans as he let his tongue trace down your neck until he dropped his head into your chest; leaving it there while his hips pumped in and out of you slowly. The moans that left your mouth were mirrored by him and you pushed him into you once more so he was as deep as he could be in you. 

  “Fuck” he moaned, bringing his face back to yours and your hands cupped his face, catching his eyes before you kissed him; smiling against his lips before letting your head drop back against the pillows. 

  “Fuck me Freddie..” you moaned with your head thrown back and your neck exposed for Freddie to kiss. He left marks as he suckled at your skin and you noticed him quicken his pace; thrusts becoming a little more shallow to match. With every move he made, you let out little whimpers as your orgasm slowly starting to build within you. Freddie began nipping at your skin playfully while his hips crashed down over and over again; his head lobbing carelessly in the crook of your neck and against your chest every so often. Your whimpers had disappeared, leaving only your breath to fill the room and the space between you and Freddie until you couldn’t take it anymore. You let out a loud moan, Freddie’s thrusts hard and fast as you exhaled loudly in ecstasy; the stillness in your apartment finally caught up with you, forcing you to bite your bottom lip to quiet yourself in hopes that you wouldn’t disturb your neighbours.

  “Scream for me, (Y/N),” Freddie whispered against your skin, “I wanna hear you scream my name as you cum.” His movements were harsher now, to match his words you were sure, and you whined reluctantly, still trying to keep yourself quiet. You ran your nails up his back until they found his broad shoulders, digging them in as he continued to pound into you. There was no way you’d be able to stand after this. It wasn’t long after that your orgasm washed over you, your legs wrapping around Freddie’s hips to allow better leverage; his climax hitting soon after as he trailed kisses along your neck to the top of your right shoulder.

  “Jesus Fuck…” you breathed, letting out a giggle when his eyes found yours, chests heaving against each other. He kissed you gently before eventually rolling off and laying next to you under the bulky, galaxy-patterned duvet. 

  “That was fun,” he replied just as breathlessly with a laugh creeping onto his words; you laughed and brought a hand to your forehead. Hell yeah, it was fun. You weren’t sure where this would go now though, or where you wanted it to go, and the fun slowly turned into a round of 20 questions in your head as your laugh faded away. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah…” you said, drifting away from the conversation. You always did this and you hated it. You lay beside Freddie in complete silence for a while before finally squeezing your eyes shut, thinking to yourself ‘why can’t sex ever be just sex? Why do you have to make such a big deal about everything, (Y/N)? You don’t need to be in a relationship…’

  “(Y/N)?” Freddie asked, finally breaking the silence

  “I’m sorry,” you said, “I’m good. Everything’s good. Do you want some water? Something to eat?”

  “Talk to me,” he stopped you, “something’s going on in that head of yours…” You hesitated, thinking how to break the news to him that you were this way

  “I don’t really know how to say it…” you started, turning your body to face him, “it’s definitely a bad time. The wrong time…”

  “I can handle it” he smiled 

  “I’ve never really been good at the one night stand thing. Not that I expected anything more to come from you coming here tonight and I don’t expect you to want to take me on a date or anything but I knew. I knew that I’m more of a relationship person and not a ‘casual sex’ person…” you said, trying not to make eye contact as you bared your embarrassing personality trait, “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have said anything or I should’ve said something earlier.. so we wouldn’t be in this position…”

  “What if I said I wanted to see you again?” he asked, leading surprise to take over your features

  “You do?”

  “I mean, I’m not done seeing you now…” he smirked, “but yeah. If you were up for it, I was gonna suggest we go out for brunch or lunch or supper tomorrow..”

  “When did you come up with these plans?” you smiled

  “Somewhere between taking off your dress and telling you to scream my name…” he admitted, “which you never did by the way…”

  “What?” 

  “Scream my name…” he teased

  “I think I did my fair share of screaming, thank you very much…”

  “I should be thanking you,” he smiled, “you just gave me one of the best nights of my life.” You felt your cheeks rush with heat and you smiled back at him, slowly getting lost in his dark eyes; it was at this point that you knew you were probably going to fall in love with him but you’d try everything you could to prevent it for as long as possible. 

  “Well then,” you quipped, “I guess you’re welcome.” He pulled you in, tickling you as you laughed and jokingly tried to get away until you craved his lips too much, stopping to press yours against his. 

  “Let’s just keep doing this…” he joked, “never leave the bed. Stay tangled together in the sheets, breathless, panting, craving each other’s taste…”

  “That sounds like something I can do.” You replied before kissing him back, small force behind it, and tangled your fingers in his curls; pulling back briefly to smile against his lips. 

  “I like you, (Y/N)...” Freddie said softly, “I think I’ll keep you around for a bit…”