#are slow journeys made even slower by them being stupid

[muzsmocsing]

Liushen is probably my favorite ship in svsss (right after Tianlang-jun x his hot wife + an ao3 account). But if I'm being honest with myself, while their feelings for each other are decently plausible in canon, the chances of them ever getting together even if Luo Binghe wasn't in the picture would be close to zero. Why? Because they are both so oblivious and in denial about everything I can only imagine their courtship looking like this:

[quietwings-fics]

Accidents Happen

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Fandom: Pokemon Ship: Gen Additional Tags: Animal Death, Saint Annu Gou || S.S. Anne (Pokemon), Children, Broken Friendship, Angst Wordcount: 808 Summary:

The fate of Blue’s Raticate.

Notes:

alsjfjflsj yeah for today’s prompt, alternate prompt 2 actually: aftermath of failure, i am digging up that old pokemon urban myth about why blue’s raticate “mysteriously” disappears from his team. i always loved those stupid gen 1 legends and i hope i did it justice with a bit of angst <3

A pokéball containing a pokémon was always warm. Even those containing an ice type were a few degrees hotter than an empty ball. It was an intentional part of the design and had been for decades. Blue knew this because he’d been handling them since he could barely wrap his tiny fingers around to press the release button. Nowadays, his team of four was his constant companion, humming with energy and waiting to be thrown out into battle.

He wasn’t really that much older than he’d been the first time he’d ever held a pokéball. He just felt it, powered by bravado and a win streak only ever dampened by one boy. 

They were both so very young. Most kids were when they went on their journeys.

Accidents happened.

Blue had blinked. That was all the time it had taken. Raticate’s bristling fur was laced with vines by the time he looked again, squeezing, choking. It twisted and bared its teeth, but the vines clamped shut around its muzzle. 

“Hey, Red,” Blue started, casual at first but then his Raticate met his eyes with sheer panic, and Blue got louder. “Red, knock it off! I’m gonna call it back! You win!” He snapped his head over to his friend, usually so calm in a battle, but Red looked as scared as Blue’s Raticate as he pressed the return button on his Weepinbell’s pokéball and nothing happened. 

Blue heard a sickening snap. Red flinched. “Stop it!” Blue yelled at Red’s Weepinbell. It ignored him. All of Blue’s other Pokémon were exhausted from battling Red's team. They couldn't help. He could hear his Raticate gasping for air through its nose, too harsh, like it hurt. Blue tried to call it back, but his pokéball wouldn’t work either. You couldn’t recall a pokémon in the middle of being attacked. That was a failsafe, intentional design, and Blue wanted to hit whoever had decided on that.

Without thinking, he ran forward and tried to kick the Weepinbell. More vines turned on him as he got close, making him skid to a stop and fall to the floor, crawling backwards to get away again as the vines lashed out.

A roar of flame burst in front of Blue’s face, so close it could have burned him had he been a little slower. He shut his eyes tight to block out the light, but when he heard a couple of thuds a moment later, they shot open again. 

Red’s Charmeleon's mouth was pouring smoke. His Weepinbell had stopped attacking, many of its vines left scorched and brittle as it lay dazed on the floor.

Blue scrambled over to his wheezing Raticate. “Raticate, return.” He felt the pokéball warm with his Pokemon’s energy, finally safe in there again.

Red had crept up behind him. Blue felt his hand on his shoulder. 

He shot to his feet and turned on his heel. He'd already begun the slow climb of height over Red as they got older. He glared down at his rival. “Get away from me!” he yelled, and Red jumped back. Blue could see on his face that he was sorry, but he didn’t care. He could still hear that awful crunch echoing in his ear, and none of this would have happened if Red had better control over his stupid pokémon! Blue’s hands shook with anger, and he shoved Red to the ground. “This is all your fault!” Red ducked his head, hiding under his hat. Charmeleon growled. “You always have to show me up! Well, now your pokémon are so strong they don’t even listen to you!” Blue’s throat ached, and his eyes were watering, and all he could do was yell and hope that made it stop. “I hate you!” There were other passengers peeking out of their rooms now to watch on. “I hate you!” 

Red didn’t say anything. He never said anything. Blue ran past him. He needed to get Raticate help.

The ship was like a maze. He couldn’t find his way out. He kept bumping into people, and they shouted at him for running in the halls and he shouted back at them, for being stupid, or old, or in his way.

He found his way to the deck, and he was about to turn back. He knew he'd took the wrong flight of stairs, if he could just-

Viridian City was moving away. 

Blue stared at it. The ship cut through the water away from the shore. Away from the pokémon center.

Blue could see the red roof growing more and more distant.

He swallowed. Someone on board had to be a pokémon doctor, right? They had to have a nurse to take care of people and their teams. Yeah. They had to.

He reached down to Raticate’s pokéball. “You’re gonna be alright, I’m-“

It was cold.

(Enjoyed it? Any interaction is welcomed. You can even support me on Ko-Fi <3)

[draggingthedregs]

Hello! I love your writing so much! Can you write some kanej with Kaz being protective of Inej? If not that’s completely fine :) thank u!

a/n: okay so I always really struggle with “protective Kaz” things because I feel like he knows that she can most definitely take care of herself and he respects her for that. So this is what I came up with to try and meet in the middle. There’s that scene in Six of Crows where Kaz sends Inej to get rid of Rojakke (is that how you spell it? Idk he was in one scene, his name is not the point) and then when they’re back in his office that night he asks like “Did he put up a fight?” and she says “Nothing I couldn’t handle” and he says “Not what I asked” so thats where the idea for this came from, thank you bye. 

word count: 2634

There was something about the floor of the Crow Club that set Kaz at ease.

Its endless cacophony of coins bouncing from table to floor, the spinning of Makkers Wheel, the laughter floating onto the street, and, his personal favorite, the flipping that only accompanied a deck of cards. Somedays he thought he’d be content to shuffle at a table forever.

It was then that Inej pushed through the entryway, shaking off the rain that rarely ceased to pour over the crowded city. She pulled her hood down, her inky hair braided into a long rope laying against her shoulder. Kaz traced every inch of her, as he often did when she entered a room: the slope of her nose, the smile she flashed to the greetings shouted in her direction, the knives strapped to her hips. He tried to ignore the voice in the back of his head that reminded him he’d also be content to be with her forever.

There were times he hated the things that he would notice, hated how his brain slipped past the innocent intention of watching to a sinister place of touch and consequence. He flipped the thoughts over in his head, studying them from every angle like he would a card trick, trying to mold them into different pictures. But the images froze in place anyway; the feel of her skin against his burned like fire, even in an illusion.

Most of all, he hated that he couldn’t force these delusions into reality, couldn’t touch her how he wanted, couldn’t force the bile down and only feel Inej’s warmth.  

As she approached him, nodding to the private game rooms at the back of the club, giving him a clear view of her, he saw that something was amiss. Scarlet bloomed through her vest and onto her sleeve, trailing down to her thigh. He followed her, shutting the heavy door behind them and turning its complex series of locks. She’s upright. That’s all you should care about. 

“The Exchange was crawling with Stadwatch. Security must be tight since the incident.” 

“Did they see you?”

Inej practically scoffed, leaning her weight against the wooden table. “No. But I’m sure they’ll find someone who fits their bill. You know as well as I do, the council will want this quieted soon.”

Kaz nodded. Two weeks ago, the Exchange had been robbed, and though it was never publicly released, Kaz knew exactly what was stolen. After all, he had all the stocks and shipment papers locked in his safe as they spoke. 

Roeder had been the one to pull off the job originally, this being one of the few things Kaz had required a spider for while she was busy at sea. He had done a mediocre job, but he was sloppy with locks and leaving the place as he’d found it. Going back to the scene of the crime seemed too risky a gamble but when Inej returned, she knew she could scrape it. And Kaz wasn’t going to start doubting the Wraith’s abilities now. 

He flipped through the file she handed him. To anyone else, it may have looked useless, just pages and pages of numbers and times, scratchy handwritten tables filled with nonsense. But to him, and to a mercher with half a whit, this was key to investing. With the talleys and dates in hand, he would know what shipments to bank on and where to place his shares for the next few months. 

“As always, the Wraith pulls through.”

Inej nodded and pulled her hood up once more. “You’re welcome.”

Kaz gave her another once over, slower than intended. “What happened?” He blurted, his voice sounding like a low growl in his throat.  

Inej looked down at herself, brows knitted, studying the blood on her trousers. “Bullet or two from a guard just shooting at shadows.” With her brief summary of events, she took her weight off the table, readying herself for the journey back into the wet.

Kaz felt a sinking in his chest at the thought of her walking away from him, even if it was just to her apartment, and he hated himself for it. Now especially with her covered in blood, he couldn’t stomach the thought of her leaving. Without meaning to, he had taken himself back to before she had left.

It had been Inej’s last night before heading to sea when they had tried to pretend they were normal, that there wasn’t still so much between them. Kaz sat next to her on his bed, bad leg out in front of him, avoiding her gaze. 

“We don’t have to do this at all.”

But he did. Kaz had to prove that he had come further than this. I can best this… 

When she set sail the next morning, the feeling of failure settled deep within him, right beside the feeling that this time, he may never get her back from the sea. 

Now, he couldn’t help but stop her. “Inej-” he began. 

She turned, her hand resting on the doors heavy handle.

He made up the steps between them to stand beside her. Kaz forced himself to give any semblance of explanation, knowing that he’d promised to give her what she deserved and knowing that he was currently failing. “Let me walk with you.”

Inej nodded, dropping her hand as Kaz unlocked the door and opened it for her. He felt awkward, and quite frankly stupid; opening it as if she was some pretty girl that couldn’t handle the difference between whether to push or pull. She strided through anyway and he followed, silently cursing himself and hoping the grimace on his face looked normal for his temperament. Once they’d made it to the street, she slowed to walk beside him. 

At first, neither of them spoke. Then, in her gentle and hushed tone, perhaps to avoid his inevitable questions about her evening, “Am I getting a personal escort through the Barrel?”

Kaz needn’t look down to feel the smile in her voice. “Is that what you’d prefer to call it?”

“It isn’t exactly an evening stroll down the canal, is it?”

“I suppose not.” He cringed at the sound of his own rasp, smashing against the lift of her voice like waves against stone. Though from what he could tell, she didn’t do the same. Inej only shrugged, tugging her hood forward against the drizzle. 

“I only meant that I should feel lucky to get the King of the Barrel to myself for the night.”

Kaz thought he might keel over. “I am a busy man, but I still find time to survey my kingdom.”

Inej only rolled her eyes and kept her gaze straight forward. A moment of silence nestled between them, leaving only the sound off the East Stave hanging in the air. After fighting with himself for what seemed like far too long, his gaze settled atop her.

“Yes?”

Kaz swallowed hard, “Did you miss Ketterdam?” Did you miss me? 

She considered his question, and to him, the silence stretched through the air like a rubber band about to break. 

“I did. More than I thought I would.” Inej finally relented. Her voice had drifted to a somber place, a quiet stillness replacing the humor she’d had minutes before. 

They had turned down a back alley, the darkness consuming them in sore contrast to the dazzling lights of the Stave. Their footsteps echoed in a syncopated rhythm, his awkward gait and cane paired with her near-soundless steps. 

Maybe it was the high of having her back, walking next to him through Ketterdam as they’d done so many times before, but he hadn’t realized the direction they’d been walking. They approached the Slat, its crooked frame jutting out from the foundation at a welcoming tilt. He glanced down to Inej once more, watching as she took in the building, trying to see it through her eyes, as he wished to see much of the world. 

“Is the Captain afraid of her old nest?”

If he had intended it as a jab, she didn’t take it as such. Inej shook her head once, “It just feels like home…” 

She moved before he did, taking a deep breath of the stale air inside as she stepped through the threshold. There was movement, as there always was, but the Slat was quiet this time of night and Kaz was thankful. It meant that, selfishly, he could keep Inej upstairs and to himself for as long as he could come up with things to talk about. Perhaps they’d even sit on his bed and she would allow him to make up for the last time they’d found themselves there. 

Kaz marveled at her as she took the creaky stairs ahead of him, the steps creaking beneath his weight after seemingly not registering her. His eyes once again wandered to the blood stains that covered her. He felt a hair-pin trigger go off in his chest and suddenly, there was anger. 

Stop that. She isn’t yours to save. 

Inej waited for him to open the door, sidestepping as they both now stood on the landing. If Kaz hadn’t just been studying her, he might have missed her change in demeanor and the way she shifted her weight to the wall behind her.  

“Inej.”

“Hm?”

Kaz attempted to even his tone. “How bad are they?” 

“What?”

His voice sounded like stones grinding against one another, “The bullet wounds.”

She shrugged but he could see the stress of the evening in her features. Her limbs seemed heavy and her eyelids fought to open with every blink. With a shove, Kaz unlocked his office door, forcing the warped wood open and, without hesitation, Inej followed him in, taking in the room as she clicked the locks back into place.

He leaned his cane against the makeshift desk and shucked his gloves off as he approached the cabinet beneath his wash basin, digging through its drawers for gauze and shears. Behind him, he heard the familiar creak of his window opening. The smell of rain against the cobblestones wafted toward him. 

“Your window seat has felt neglected. Your crows too.”

“Does that mean you stopped feeding them while I was gone?”

No. They reminded me of you. I couldn’t let another piece of you go. “They’re scavengers. I’m sure they managed.”

It was then that Kaz turned to see her standing by his bed. Inej looked up, her cheeks flushing red like she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t have been. He only walked over, setting the bandages on the thin mattress. “So I don’t have to find a heartrender for you.”

“They really aren’t that bad-”

“You’ve bled through your clothes. They’re bad enough.”

Inej cleared her throat as she began removing layers of knives and clothes. Kaz’s eyes roved over her, the pounding in his chest growing louder. He hated it. 

 Her arms and shoulders were covered in fresh scars, some of them still red and scabbed, and the bruises on her ribs were still deep purple. 

“Slavers don’t give up their cargo easily.” Inej’s voice came out with caution, as if she was waiting to see his reaction. 

His gaze met hers, voice carving into the air like a rusted blade. “Where are they all now?”

“Dead.”

A sense of pride cracked through him as a rare smile settled on his lips. Kaz nodded. “Good.” 

She picked up a strip of bandage, wrapping it around the bullet wound on her bicep, silence filling the space between them. Inej didn’t need to look up to feel the weight of his eyes on her. A flush crept to the tops of her ears. “I didn’t want you to see.”

It was rare for Kaz Brekker to be confused and yet, here he was. 

“I thought you might kill someone. Or start to doubt that I could handle myself.”

“I could never doubt you. Only a fool would.” It was only after he said it that he realized it had been aloud. 

Inej tied off the bandage then glanced down to the blood on her pants.  

“I can-”

“No.” She said, finally making eye contact with him again. “Stay.”

For his sake and hers, Kaz turned his head to avoid staring as she shimmied out of the bloodied fabric. 

She sat on the edge of the bed and poked around for any bullet fragments, the muscles in her thigh tensing, the dried blood on her skin looking black. Inej was just as strong as ever; all her limbs built of corded muscle coated in the lithe grace of an acrobat, just as he remembered. Despite his better judgement, Kaz took a long look at her. 

It’s shame that eats men whole. He could feel it gnawing at him as he attempted to push away the image of her bare thighs against his sheets. 

“Kaz, can you-?” She nodded to the scissors, her hands stuck at an awkward angle around her leg, the apprehension on her face clear. 

He picked them up and took a deep breath before sitting down beside her. When he leaned over, he was careful not to touch her. Her breath stirred the hair on the back of his neck. One turn of his head and their lips would have been inches apart. This reminded him far too much of the hotel washroom; he only hoped it would end better. 

Kaz cut the bandage gently, taking the end from her and tying it, his knuckles grazing against her skin. Panic hit him before anything else, afraid he had overstepped. It took him a moment to realize there was no revulsion roiling through him. 

“Inej-”

“It’s alright… Thank you.”

He nodded, grabbing what was left of the bandages and the shears and placing them on top of his dresser. Then he opened one of his drawers, rummaging through the mess of clothes until he found what he had been looking for. 

Kaz handed her a pair of cotton sleep trousers. “I can’t imagine yours are salvageable.”

Inej smiled, sliding them over her legs. They were huge on her. And though they hadn’t discussed her sleeping arrangements for the evening, it appeared she would be staying there. 

He sat back down, staring at his bare hands; the hands that had just graced her without trouble or hesitation. She reached over, threading her fingers through his, and studied him, watching for the shift. But it never came. 

“Will you lay with me?”

At that, he looked up. 

In front of him was a girl who deserved so much more than Dirtyhands. A girl who made the sea cower and made the sun look dull. A girl who could have done anything she wished in life with ease and grace. And yet- she was sat in his bed, holding his hand, and patiently waiting for the semblances of affection he could provide. 

Kaz felt himself nod. 

She pushed herself back until she was against the wooden headboard. They both moved slowly, carefully placing their limbs so there was no overlap. 

Then, he was laying beside her; both of their heads turned to study each other.

“Thank you.” Inej’s voice nearly a whisper. 

The minutes stretched into hours, and Kaz lay listening to her breathing. I will have you without armor. 

Well after twelve bells, the cadence of sleep seemed to grab hold of him, weighing heavy on his body. As his eyes drifted shut, he hoped that there would be more nights like this: nights with Inej close by his side and stillness in his mind. 

He reached for her hand in the dark and promised he would not let go come morning. He would never let go of her again. 

[sconnie-doesnt-know]

Ransom’s Hallmark Moment

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Word Count: 4300

Warnings: Language, drinking, smut including unprotected sex (imagine that birth control), Ransom's bad attitude and Ransom being soft (what?!)

A/N: written for the Hoelentine's Day Challenge hosted by @chrissquares @amythedvdhoarder and @drabblewithfrannybarnes

My giftee is Heather @hevans-angel and I hope I've been able to fulfill some of your wishes you sweet lady!

So much appreciation for @stargazingfangirl18 and @drabblewithfrannybarnes for helping me and being so supportive and creative! Now, on to the fic!

Aside from the date on the calendar, it feels like a typical Sunday. You got a lot done around the house, allowed yourself some time to relax and baked enough for a small army. Wiping the last of the crumbs away, you proudly look over the pile of treats ready to be given out the next day at work - all sweet and sprinkled and festive in pink and red. Spending the day baking, relaxed and comfortable with old episodes of ‘Bewitched’ on for company is just what you needed before starting another week. Plus, you aren't really alone. There's always Andy.

The wind suddenly blows hard, shaking the windows. You glance outside at the darkened sky, noticing the heavy sheets of snow falling to the ground.

“Shit,” you hiss, making your way to the back door and opening it, “Andy!”

You wait a moment and shout again, “Andy! Come on in!” followed by a series of whistles.

Nothing.

“Oh no, no no please no, not again,” you whine, heading back into the kitchen to find your phone already ringing. You scrunch up your face in a grimace as you answer as sweetly as possible, “Hello?”

“Missing something?”

You roll your eyes, “Yes, I was just about to call you.”

“Yeah, well, he’s here of course. If you don’t get here soon, I might call animal control.”

“You always say that, Ransom, but I know you like him. I’ve seen the water bowl and that old tennis ball by the front walkway.”

“That’s from the housekeeper.”

“Mmhmm, sure. You know I’ll be right there. I’m sorry.”

“Sure you are, see you soon angel.”

You scoff at the nickname. He’s always using a sweet one on you, while calling your dog something far less endearing like hellhound, or fleabag, or even Cujo. The first time he said that one, you looked over at your Lab/Husky mix, with his ears perked at attention and tongue lolling out from his dopey dog smile and laughed like you hadn’t in a long time.

Ransom was less amused.

For some reason, when you moved to the little cottage house set back into the woods, your dog decided to treat himself to adventures which almost always ended with him in front of the wall of windows at Ransom’s home smearing his nose, and drool and mud all over the panes of glass. 

That first pickup was not encouraging. You’d been out searching and going down the long driveways of your neighbors to search until you found him at Ransom’s, sitting and thumping his tail against the ground and staring at Ransom through the window, who for his part, stood with his arms crossed and scowling down at your dog.

That was the first time he told you to keep him contained or he’d call animal control. 

You gave him your number, begging him to call you instead if it happened again. After a few weeks the promise of calling animal control was more of a joke than a threat.

Half the time you were already on your way over, having noticed the dog had taken off, but the other half, it was a grumpy call from Ransom, complaining about being harassed by some wild beast. Apparently the ability to spin a tale was a family trait.

By the time you got there, Andy would usually be tired out from his little journey and be waiting for you to leash him, allowing you and Ransom to get caught up in conversation. And so began an awkward-sometimes tense-sometimes flirty almost-friendship with the man. You were equal parts grateful and pissed at Andy, because of course he would go out of his furry little way to make an ass of you in front of the most handsome man you’ve seen in real life. Tall, broad-shouldered, stoic and reserved, plus cocky to top it all off - the man was checking boxes left and right.

Weeks later, Ransom was still those things, but also sarcastic, witty, a bit playful and very charming when he was in the mood. You caught the appreciative looks he gave your body when you approached (not that he really tried to hide them), and you allowed yourself moments to linger on his features as well. Your little conversations on his front walkway almost always turned flirty, at least until Andy made his impatient presence known by tugging at the leash or barking to get your attention. 

You pack up some cookies, cupcakes, and truffles you made to make some sort of peace offering, grab the leash, and head out to retrieve your little trouble-maker. The thick, wet flakes are heavy, and make the journey down the wood-lined roads slower than usual.

You pull up, squinting through the falling snow, unable to see Andy in his usual spot. You see Ransom walk through the house and to the door, waving you inside, so you hurry from the car, head ducked down to try to avoid the chill and wedge your way in, shaking away the snow once you feel the warmth inside.

“He’s in my garage,” he tells you in lieu of an actual greeting, moving away as you shake off the snow.

“What? You let him inside?”

“Not inside-inside, but yeah. I know better than to leave a pet out in that. Christ. And you know, I keep telling you, princess if you want to see me, you don’t have to keep sending that mutt over as an excuse.”

“Yeah, sure. But what a waste of all that training,” you quip back. It’s almost a routine at this point.

You roll your eyes when he gives you an over exaggerated, proud smile. You immediately want to roll your eyes again because of how good that stupid smile looks on him, too. Your gaze can’t help but travel up and down the length of him, long legs, slim hips that go up to those broad shoulders, all encased in a heavy sweater...with holes torn at the lower hem and at the stomach.

Without thinking, you rush forward to grab the frayed yarn cringing at the idea of needing to replace the expensive garment, “Oh no, did he do this? I know he gets jumpy when he’s excited.”

“No, he didn’t,” he wipes at the front of this stomach. “It’s fine. It’s just like that.”

He can’t even say anything else before you start with more apologizing and rambling, “I am so, so sorry. I swear I only left him out there for a few minutes so he could play in the snow, and he’s been so good. And here,” you thrust the package at him, “I made some food and I hope you have a sweet tooth, and I know it doesn’t make up for the inconvenience and-”

“What’s this?” he asks, shaking it slightly and breaking up your word vomit.

“Uh, it-it’s just like some cookies and stuff that I made.”

“What for?”

“For Valentine’s Day. I made a bunch of stuff because at work we’re doing a thing tomorrow, so-”

“No, I mean why are you giving these to me?”

“Oh,” you hadn’t thought you would need to explain, “Um, neighborly kindness? Gratitude? Because it’s Valentine’s Day?”

“Huh. Does this make you my Valentine?” He laughs and turns on his heel, walking away toward where you can see is the kitchen area. 

“For some reason, you don’t strike me as the sweet and cuddly Valentine type,” you call after him, hearing him chuckle in response.

You wait in the foyer for what feels like too long, just listening as he moves around, opens and closes cabinets and goes on like you’re not there. You look around uncertain what you’re expected to do since you usually don’t make it past the doorway until you decide to pull off your boots and hang your jacket over a chair set near the door. You follow the path he made into the kitchen.

“Sooo. Like I was trying to say, I don’t want to bother you,” you say quietly, “I will just grab Andy and head on home.”

“You really wanna drive with that going on?” he gestures to the window. When you look, it’s practically a blizzard and your car is covered in a fresh, thick layer already.

“Shit,” you rub at the side of your face, nervous at the idea of navigating the roads, but just as anxious to not irritate the man staring you down from across the counter. “Not really. Where’s Andy? I wanna check on him.”

He points to a door down the hall. “Garage is through there.”

You make your way through the house with your jaw clenched, unsure with what you might find knowing that Ransom’s not exactly a fan of dogs. So opening the door he pointed to and finding your dog curled up on an old tarp with that familiar worn-out tennis ball, a full water bowl, all cozy and warm inside the otherwise empty garage is not what you expected at all. 

Your dog lifts his head, tail thumping against the floor as you approach, but he seems worn out from his romp through the snow, so you let him settle down after making sure he’s alright and head back to Ransom in the living room. A small smile in place of your grimace from a few moments before.

“The garage is heated,” Ransom tells you from his seat on the couch. “Figured he’d be alright in there. Can’t do much damage.”

“That’s...that’s really great.” You’re caught off-guard by the thoughtfulness of it. “Thanks for setting him up. I’ll just wait until it slows down and head back out, don’t want to mess up any plans you had.”

He laughs at that, hard and loud. “No, in fact you and the mutt gave me the perfect out from a family thing.”

“Oh really, don’t let us keep you.”

“Oh no, I’m too busy being a hero during the snowstorm,” he answers dryly, letting silence hang in the air for a few moments afterward. “Drink?” he offers.

“A hero? That’s the excuse you’re giving them?” You try to wave off the drink offer, but then he points back outside. 

“I think we’ve got some time on our hands. And yeah, makes for a great story, doesn’t it?” he chuckles to himself. 

You glance back to the wall of windows, seeing nothing but swirling white and sighing, “Sure, might as well. But just to let you know, Andy might not be thrilled that you’re using him as an excuse.”

He smiles and gets up from the sofa to pour you each a glass, then turns back and holds yours out to you, “I know a girl, I think she might be willing to put in a good word for me.”

You take a sip of your drink to hide your grin and sit on the sofa when he does.

A little while goes by and despite the somewhat awkward start to the situation, he’s not bad company. Andy is still content with his set-up, nearly ready to tuck in for the night when you check on him again later. When you return, Ransom’s opened the box of goodies, happily making a dent in the whiskey dark chocolate truffles you piled in there.

“So, you’re sure we’re not interrupting anything? No lady or ladies or even gentlemen you planned to entertain?” You ask as you settle back onto the sofa, closer to the center. Ransom had ignited the fireplace while you were up, dimming the lights and letting the orange flames illuminate the space in front of you.

“Will you drop it already? Nothing aside from the usual family obligation to show up, deal with passive aggressive bullshit, then some outright aggressive bullshit, and watching the show when it all implodes. I am happy to let a pretty girl and her big, messy dog give me an excuse to stay home.”

You laugh, trying to brush off the compliment thrown in there, “Hard to believe you want to miss out on all that. Sounds like a real special time.”

“Very special,” he drawls. He wipes some crumbs off his fingers as he shakes his head before adding, “Trust me this is much better.” He tosses his arm over the back of the couch, letting it fall on your shoulders and force you to lean a bit further into him. 

“Yeah,” you mutter as you look down to your feet and fumble a string of syllables of incomplete words as you try to remind yourself to not read too much into what he’s saying.

“Oh, come on.” He picks up the slack in the conversation when you still don’t manage to say anything else for a few moments, leaning into your space as he breaks the silence. “So, I finally have you all to myself and you’re gonna be shy for me?”

You look up at him, eyes wide and heat rising in your cheeks and chest. “What?”

The hand not wrapped over you reaches out and pushes your chin up, closing your mouth which dropped into an ‘o’ of surprise. His thumb slides up to trace at the pout of your lip.

“Please, baby girl. Neither of us is very subtle. I don’t really do romance, but we’ve got a fire going, we’re stuck in a snowstorm, and I’ve been wanting to get you all to myself since that mutt first showed up over here. If that isn’t some panty-soaking Hallmark crap right there, then I don’t know what is.”

That makes you laugh, which makes him laugh right along with you. The tension has shaken loose and your smile is uncontrollable. It’s ridiculous - the scenario, his words, that he can read you so well, that he isn’t wrong. 

“Hard to believe you don’t have women knocking down your door with all that to offer.”

“Just one woman, and her very stupid dog.”

“Hey,” you start in offense, but still move in when he does, smiling into the kiss. It’s chaste and soft for brief seconds before lips part and your tongues meet. His hands waste no time to pull you closer, tugging you along and making you shift on your knees until he pulls you over him to straddle his lap.

You’re grabbing at everything you can, bunching his thick sweater in your hands, then sliding up and down over his shoulders and biceps, appreciating how solid he feels beneath you. Until finally, you rake your fingers into his hair, ruffling it a bit and then grasping it tightly at the crown to pull his head back, drawing a short moan from his throat.

He tilts back into the pull and you lift yourself up higher on your knees to keep your lips together. When your hands finally let go, allowing him to ease the arch of his neck, you take your time sliding your body down against his torso, pushing your core over the hard bulge in his slacks.

“You gotta ride me, baby.” It sounds like an order, not an option.

Yes. You aren’t sure if you say it out loud, but you feel the air leave your lungs in a rush and your body quivers at just the thought. You don’t care if this is quick, or rushed, or frantic - it’s exactly what you want rightfuckingnow.

His palms rest at the edge of your hip bones, fingers spread and digging into your sides and just slightly pushing and pulling you to get some pressure where you feel that he’s hard.

You reach down, covering his hands with yours and pull them up your sides under your sweater, not so much encouraging as demanding that he move things along. He gets with the program quickly and pushes the sweater up, separating your lips long enough to take it off then pulling you back as quickly as he can. His hands find their own way to the clasp of your bra, making quick work of removing it as well and eagerly touching every inch of bare skin.

When you both start to pant, breaths coming out hard and shaky, he moves his lips to tickle the skin on your cheek, down to your jaw, along the curve there and onto your neck. He sucks at the sensitive skin, nibbling and dragging his teeth when he gets focused on a single sensitive spot that makes you whine out loud. 

Your head hangs down to the side, letting him work his way down the column of skin there and sinking into the loose, ragdoll feeling as your body just gives in to every sensation of pleasure. His arms squeeze you against him while he keeps pushing his hips up and into you, teasing you with hints of pressure where you are starting to feel empty and needy.

“Yes,” you gasp, definitely out loud this time. “Yes,” over and over, every time he does something whether it is with his tongue, or his fingers - his blunt nails digging into the sides of your ribs to hold you tightly in place, or the twist of your hips as he lifts his own up against you.

It’s so much, and you’ve only just lost your shirt. It’s not worth waiting anymore. Your mind is set now to just get what you want.

You push away from him. He slowly comes to, eyes glazed and unfocused, a low mutter of “the fuck” slurred from his lips. Before he can reach for you, you lift off him. Your legs are shaky, but you stand as steadily as you can, undoing the button and zipper and pulling down your jeans and panties in a single push.

He watches for a second, then reaches behind him, gripping the neck of his sweater and hauling it up and over his head. He reveals almost exactly what you were hoping for - solid, defined muscles and smooth skin - but there’s more. Hair across his pecs and in a line down the center of his abs, and freckles dotting everywhere on his fair skin. You want to caress and trace every one, run your fingers along imaginary paths and press against him - but it can wait. It’s got to wait.

Impatiently, you kneel, kicking the legs of your pants away and shuffling forward to reach for his belt. His hands settle at his side, flexing, but letting you do what you seem to be compelled to do. You fling the ends of the belt apart and pull at the button and then the zipper, already salivating at the mingling scent of his cologne and sex.

He straightens his hips, lifting from the couch to allow you to shove his boxers and pants down his legs, his cock pulling with them, then bouncing back up once freed. It throbs, slightly bobbing with a rush of arousal and you can’t help but admire the thickness of it, the swollen head that glistens with smeared pre-come.

Heat burns over your skin, and when you look up at Ransom, he’s clearly feeling the same. His cheeks are flushed in patches of pink, his lips red, swollen, and parted as he lets out short, shaky breaths, hair hanging loose and disheveled. It’s more than you hoped for, and it’s disgusting how perfect he looks. 

As much as you want to tease, to keep this view while you swallow him down and taste him, your pussy throbs. You promise yourself again to take more time with him later, to lick and suck and taste him the way you want, but you can’t resist at least a taste. You grab his shaft, leaning in to swallow him deeply - just once - and draw a shocked moan from him before pulling off and pushing up from your knees, humming at the taste of him.

“Damn, princess. I thought I was going to ruin you, but fuck, you’re good.” He reaches forward as you’re moving up, his hand grabbing at the back of your head to guide you. He pulls a bit at your hair when you’re back up to the couch and spreading your thighs wide over his. His free hand reaches between your legs swirling through your wet, sensitive slit and pressing the heel of his palm hard against your clit.

“Later,” he promises, “I’m gonna taste your pussy. Gonna lick it all up.” He pulls his hand away and sucks away your juices as they drip down his fingers. The promise is so dirty it makes your breath shake in anticipation. You stare into each others’ eyes, admiring the wreckage between you and moving without guidance to seat yourself on top. 

You gasp when you finally feel the hot, hard line of him pressed against your pussy. It feels so thick, and you’re eager to feel the stretch of him pushing inside. You lock your arms around his neck, pushing your breasts together, nipples peaking as they drag along the coarse hair on his chest. 

The lips of your pussy spread over his cock, coating him with your slick. His cockhead rubs over your clit, making you shudder and suck in stuttering breath, and that’s it. You can’t take it anymore.

“Can I have your cock?” Deep down, you know you don’t really need to ask. 

“Yeah,” he adjusts his hips, scooting himself out a little further to give you more room to settle against him. “You’re gonna fucking ride me, princess. Come all over me.”

“Uh huh,” you breathe out, high and airy.

He takes one hand off you, using two fingers to angle his cock toward you. You lift up on your knees, tipping your hips until you feel him against your entrance. You pause for a brief second to ready yourself, then sink down, taking him all in at once.

The stretch makes you groan, the static-like buzzing mix of ache and pleasure spreading all over and making you throw your head back and deepen the moan.

He huffs out a few quick breaths. “That’s it, oh that pussy is so good. So fucking good, princess,” he mumbles.

Then his hands are back on your hips, warm against the bare skin and strong when he digs the tips of his fingers in to pull you further down, “This cock filling you up? Huh?”

All you can manage is another high-pitched, “Uh-huh,” while you start to roll your hips, barely lifting as you shift back and forth to grind against him, your walls still squeezing him tight.

“Come on, let go, baby,” he whispers, his mouth tight against your ear. Your arms loosen their grip around his neck and you place your hands instead on the muscles flexing at the tops of his shoulders. 

You move your knees to get them comfortable and then finally push yourself off him, sliding and gasping as you feel the head of his cock catching just at your entrance again, and after another silent beat, you slide back down, taking his hard length again.

With the space given, he dips his mouth to your breasts, swirling and suckling at your nipples, Harsh, fast sucks followed by quick nips when he catches the hard peaks in between his teeth until you gasp and moan. Only then does he switch it up, his tongue gently rolling over the bud, soothing the stinging ache.

All the while you roll your hips and the burn, the push, the fullness of him inside you is drugging. Your eyes fall closed as you focus on the steadily growing tingle low in your belly.

You start to chase it with slow, dragging strokes, easing up only to drop down and have him bottom out deep inside. It builds fast, making your thighs burn and knees ache as you try to keep your position; one knee has managed to wedge into the corner of the couch and the rhythm needed to build your orgasm conflicts with the concentration needed to keep yourself steady.

“Just take it, babygirl. I got you,” he whispers, feeling your body getting tired on top of him.

He shifts his legs, placing his feet on the ground and pushing up into you, letting you settle on his lap and rock yourself forward and back while his cock stays buried in you. He adjusts his hands to rest just at your tailbone, pressing you steadily against him and giving the pressure needed to your clit when you press against his pubic bone.

Cries start to escape from you, first quiet and breathy, but then building as the air gets pushed out in hard breaths. Your body inches closer and closer to that release, your body hot and burning and there’s a slight moment of too much just before it hits...and then it’s rushing over you - all liquid fire and bliss. You clamp down over him, legs straining over the tight muscles of his thighs.

He pushes up into you, his hands pressing harder at the middle of your back to keep you moving through your release as he works to find his. He hisses through clenched teeth, broken praises coming out on hard breaths.

“Yeah...There...Righthere...God...Fuck.”

When he curls into you, nails digging into your soft skin and breathing heavy against your chest, you know he’s right there.

“Come for me,” you whisper.

“God - yeah!” With one final, hard thrust, he does. You can feel him throbbing and pulsing inside you when he releases, his hips jerking up slightly to keep pushing into you while the tense features of his face soften with relief.

For a moment it’s nothing but panting breaths and the racing beat of your pulse in your ears. Then it’s slow, dragging hands across naked skin and muscle, soothing the tense muscles and tickling sensitive spots and whispering praise to the man beneath you while he hugs you tight to him.

His voice is low and quiet as he asks, “Is the mutt gonna be mad that I stole his Valentine?” 

“You like me,” you smile against his neck and tease him with a sing-song voice, “And you like my dog.”

“I like you,” he agrees. “The dog’s okay, too.”

“Does that mean Andy should come harass you again on Friday night?”

“I’ll even get a dog-sitter.” He says with a smirk. “Let him know that 7 would be good.”

Tags: @jtargaryen18 @ozarkthedog @wi-deangirl77 @angrythingstarlight @donutloverxo @navybrat817 @saiyanprincessswanie  @sweeterthanthis @sagechanoafterdark @tuiccim 

[orangefoxes]

Hey, so I've been trying to submit a prompt but it won't work so here it goes I know this will be sad but what if Neil gets really sad and depressed (the reason is up for interpretation ex: bullied by jack or is haunted by PTSD) and so he becomes full of self hate and becomes anorexic and cuts himself #andreil (this would mean so much since I've been through similar circumstances and was strong enough to pull through and keep living, this book and your Tumblr have helped me so much)

Hi @soph-ie21 I am so sorry this took a whopping 4 years for me to post. I’m terrible for not checking my inbox as my notifications have been turned off for tumblr since I was like 13. I’m so glad to hear that you recovered from your ED, you must be so strong and I’m so proud of you as I know how difficult that is to do. I’m hoping this is the sort of prompt you were looking for, if you’re even looking after this long, as it’s not very dialogue heavy, but here you go.

TRIGGER WARNING: EATING DISORDER, SELF LOATHING, ANOREXIA.

When in high stress situations, to cope, the brain releases a hormone called cortisol. It’s alright in small doses, helpful even. It triggers your fight or flight response and readies the body to do something, fast. Constant exposure to the hormone however, has some not so good long term effects. Effects that include, but are not limited to: high blood pressure, heart disease, type 2 diabetes, osteoporosis, and, arguably the mildest, weight gain.

Cortisol results in weight gain for two reasons. The first is because it slows your metabolism, and the second is because the drop in blood sugar from constant high blood pressure means that you start craving fatty, sugary foods, which leads to overeating. Neil’s memory is not nearly good enough for him to recall what foods he had craved over the years, but he and his mother shied away from sweets and chocolate for dental reasons, it probably would have been a hardship for many kids growing up but Neil had never much cared for sugar anyway. However, what he and his mother did indulge in is a lot of fatty, fast food. Partly because it was cheap, partly because it was something they could eat while on the move, and partly because no one would look twice at two sketchy people in a Burger King or remember a beaten up old car briefly pausing in a drive thru.

While never giving much thought to how he looked (short of checking for ginger roots and the bruise on his cheek from where his mother had slapped that smile from his face), Neil does remember his weight fluctuating a lot when he was younger. The more stressful the months, the chubbier he got. It was in the quiet periods as he and his mother settled down and didn’t dare to venture into the supermarket too often that he began to lose it again. It was a cycle.

In Millport, Neil was at his lowest weight yet. There was only a solitary McDonald’s in town and Neil wasn’t about to become a regular. He stocked up on tinned food from the supermarket in his first week in town instead and meticulously made his way through them, heating the can up on the hot plate he had bought for four dollars from the thrift store in the high street.

He gained weight again once he started at Palmetto, he gained muscle mass too. This, of course, was thanks to three free meals a day and a new training regime with daily exercise. It was to be expected, but if, perhaps, he gained weight quicker than his teammates and muscle slower, well, he had bigger things to worry about.

Then he knew he was going to live.

Then everything with the Moriyamas was…well, not gone, but resolved.

That’s not to say there was nothing to stress about. There was the influx of reporters wanting to catch the Foxes’ attention to ask about Nathaniel Wesninski. There was Kevin’s impending break down as Riko’s funeral came and went. There was Aaron’s trial. Honestly it probably would have gone as stressful situations for Neil always go - here and gone just as quickly - except it turns out that Nicky cooks when he’s stressed, and Neil, well, he’s a stress eater.

After Aaron is declared innocent, Nicky resumes as normal. Neil…not quite. He’s constantly opening the cupboards to look for something to eat only to close them again when he finds nothing of interest. Without Nicky cooking, there’s nothing he can easily dig into and Neil, while accumulating many skills over the years, had never been a hand in the kitchen. The only things ready-eat that were consistently in the dorm were ramen and ice-cream. Even the thought of ramen makes Neil want to vomit and Neil wasn’t so desperate that he would resort to eating something as sweet as ice cream. Not that Andrew would let him if he did. (Andrew wasn’t a sharer).

He started to feel hungry.

He was always hungry.

The first few days he started to skip meals, he didn’t even notice he was doing it. Surely he didn’t notice he was doing it.

It’s just -

Here’s the thing.

Maybe he stress eats. Maybe his mother did too. They spent long car journeys with a family sized bag of potato chips resting by the gear stick and they spent half the time stuffing handfuls into their mouths and the other half checking the mirrors for cars that stayed behind them a touch to long. So maybe he stress ate, but it was never because of hunger: it was because of craving. It was because it gave him something to do with his hands. It was only when things quietened down, when the weeks turned long with the monotonous almost-existence that took up the majority of Neil’s life growing up (here’s something no one tells you about life on the run, in between the moments of sheer terror, it’s very very very boring), it was only then, that Neil actually began to feel things like hunger.

So when the hunger pangs began to curdle in his stomach, well, he didn’t mind. It meant he was safe enough to feel the hunger.

Maybe for the first couple of days he didn’t notice it. But then he noticed it.

He noticed enough to avoid things like rice and bread. Danger foods that packed on the calories and that made him bite the inside of his cheek until it bled at the mere thought. He noticed enough that he began to watch the others train and saw their muscles flex and couldn’t help but track their muscle growth and measure it up against his own. He always found himself lacking.

That’s when it started to get worse. If Allison spent 20 minutes on the treadmill. Then Neil would do 30. If Kevin did 40 push ups. Then Neil would do 50. If Renee had a salad for lunch, then Neil would just have a fruit pot.

The first time Andrew noticed that he skipped a meal, Neil just blinked. Being who he was, Neil didn’t do stupid things like stumble for lies and this time was no different. When Andrew asked about him not eating Neil just blinked like he hadn’t even noticed until Andrew brought it up.

He blinked and said “oh, you’re right. I got so caught up in watching exy reruns i didn’t even notice”

He said, “thanks, I’ll grab something in a sec”

Andrew breathed a scoffing breath down his nose, rolled his eyes and called him a junkie. He didn’t look at all surprised, as though Neil was only confirming what he had already guessed. Which of course is the trick all good liars employ.

Neil wondered if he would be surprised if he were to find out how impossible it would be for Neil to forget a meal time. He could never forget. All he thought about was food. It was all he thought about.

Food began to feel like it was all he cared about. Cared about more than school. Cared about more than exy. Is it terrible of him that that more than anything else feels like the worst thing?

And then, as things do, it got worse.

It turned into Neil stood in front of the mirror (looking at his body but not his eyes, never his eyes) and pinching the flesh between his fingers. Noticing every part of him that didn’t harden into muscle like the others. Noticing all the scars that had stretched strangely over a waist and thighs that are no longer as small.

He begins to peck at his food. Rip it into tiny pieces. Andrew looks down at his plate and glowers at him. Neil gives him a cheeky grin. He knows what he’s thinking. That this is just another one of those Andrew-mannerisms that Neil is taking on for himself. Like the sarcastic salutes and the blank, waiting stares. It’s so much easier to hide how little you’ve eaten when it’s all in pieces.

He didn’t know how to explain it. He just knows he needs to be thinner. He needs to weigh less. It’s not about looks. It’s never been about looks. He just needs to do this. He needs to be smaller. It will be alright then. Because then…then…

Well it will be alright then.

So here’s the thing about guilt and self loathing: they’re useless emotions. Andrew would be quick to agree. (Though Andrew is a hypocrite and is chock full of the both of them). His mother would agree too. How many times had Neil slipped poison into someone’s drink, stole from someone just as desperate, shot someone who maybe or maybe-not deserved it? And how many times after that did his mother pinch and prod at him and repeat the same mantra of “don’t you dare let guilt slow you down, you slow down and you’re dead”

Well, Mum, he’s slowed down. He slowed down so much that he’s stopped altogether and guess what? He fucking hates himself.

He replays it all in his head like a terrible loop. The boy in Switzerland that he tricked into taking his jacket so His fathers men would go after him instead. The old women he and his mother tricked into housing them and then slipped something in her tea until she slept and never woke up again. The homeless man who had broken into the house they were squatting in that Neil had shot on instinct. Seth.

Seth. Seth. Seth.

He fucking hates himself. Honestly the hunger pains kind of feel like the best thing he’s ever felt after that. The pain, the ache, he deserves it.

Then it gets worse. Then comes the worst part.

Andrew’s meds change again. The others had begun to make him irritable and he always had an energy crash by about 5pm and a terrible headache. The new ones wouldn’t be of much note as they did nothing groundbreakingly different, short of getting rid of the headaches and not sapping so much of his energy.

Except for one key side effect of the meds.

They suppressed Andrew’s appetite.

More and more Andrew is missing meals. He won’t even eat more than a tablespoon of ice cream. Neil watches him and adjusts himself to suit. He doesn’t know why, but he just can’t be eating more than him, he can’t.

The frustration he feels about Andrew’s meds soon turn to resentment. He hates that he has to watch Andrew not eat and not seem affected by it at all. Andrew lessens his exercise under Betsy’s advice and yet nothing changes. His weight stays the same. He probably even loses some thanks to the loss of muscle. Neil watches and Neil hates. He hates that if he skipped out on training he would pack on the pounds, he hates that his stomach hurt and hurts and Andrew doesn’t spare a thought on food at all.

He starts to avoid the roof. He starts to dodge Andrew’s gaze the same way he does his own in the mirror.

The next time they’re alone and Andrew leans in, more hesitant than he’s been in months, Neil jerks back and snaps “No.”

It isn’t even completely because of the resentment. The majority of it is because he feels disgusting and fat and he can’t bare Andrew touching him right now. Can’t bare him looking at him.

Andrew’s face closes off and he slides back to the other side of the couch. He’s searching Neil’s face, trying to find the misstep, trying to find what he did wrong.

Good, let him think he did something wrong.

Now that’s the resentment.

It’s immediately one of the worst things Neil has ever thought. He remembers sitting, trembling, on the roof, Andrew refusing to touch him saying “I wont be like them, I wont let you let me be”

And Neil’s trying to make him think, wants to make him feel -

Jesus Christ. He’s a piece of fucking shit.

He slams his way out of the dorm and runs and runs and runs.

He sleeps in the locker room and slumps out in the morning so he’s first in the main room for the meeting with Wymack. He sits on a chair that’s as far away from every other seat as it can get while still completing the make do semi-circle around where Wymack usually stands. When the others begin to filter in they take in his new seat, but don’t comment when they see his storming expression.

When Andrew sees him he pauses for a beat in the doorway before continuing to his usual seat on the couch. He stares at Neil blankly, but his hands are clenching and unclenching in his lap. Wymack hesitates but doesn’t say anything. The others play at being uninterested and only Aaron openly looks between Neil and Andrew with a steadyingly darkening expression.

Neil slams his locker and gets changed in the cubicles for the first time in months. He’s vicious in practice. Throwing in as many dirty moves as he can. Andrew stands in the goal and does nothing. When it’s only Wymack’s sharp whistle that stops Neil bringing his racket down on Matt’s arm when he attempts to steal the ball, Neil is benched.

He yanks off his helmet and slumps down on the bench and tries to remember how to breathe through rage.

He’s sat, pinching at the skin on his thigh, for ten minutes before Allison joins him. She holds out a breakfast bar and Neil stiffens.

“Eat, it might help you stop being such a raging asshole,” she says.

Neil takes the breakfast bar and when she doesn’t immediately leave he opens it and snaps a bit off with his fingers.

He stares down the rolled oats and nuts and grimaces at the sticky feeling of the syrup that holds them together. He feels sick.

“Are you going to eat?” Allison says.

Neil looks at her and huffs a bitter breath through his nose. A wry smile pulls at the corner of his lips.

He remembers that Allison battled bulimia for years.

You can’t lie to a liar.

She looks at his face. Concern trying to become anger that she’s trying to force to stay concern. She looks at his face and then over at Andrew, who is stood in his goal watching them as Kevin shouts at him to fucking do something already. She looks back at Neil.

“You know, relationships are hard enough without mental health problems in the mix. Seth and I were a terrible combination for many reasons and that was one them. I’m not saying it can’t be done or that it shouldn’t be done, I’m just saying it makes it so much harder. He used to try to make me eat. I hated him for that. Hated that I had to hide my own habits in my own room. One day, after he stopped me from going to purge one too many times we got into an argument. I said some disgusting things to him. The next day he was in the hospital because of an overdose. He had to get his stomach pumped. You know what the worst thing is? I don’t even remember what it is I said. I don’t know if what I did triggered him or if it would have happened anyway, but it couldn’t have helped. You’re always going to trigger each other at one point or another, it’s unavoidable. But if you know that and you don’t do anything to help yourself…well that’s when every shit thing you think about yourself starts to become true. So tell me, are you a piece of shit that’s going to drag everyone down with you, or are you better than that?”

Neil looks down at the breakfast bar. He still can’t make himself eat it.

He swallows harshly against the lump in his throat. He has to swallow two more times until he’s sure he can talk without crying.

“What’s betsy’s number?” He asks.

Allison doesn’t smile, but she nods like he’s done the right thing and pulls out her phone.

SIDE NOTE: I’d like to point out that Neil is very flawed and toxic in his thinking and Allison is harsh in what she says to him just because she’s a harsh person. If you have an eating disorder I know sometimes help and recovery seems like the worst thing in world and something you really don’t want, but please, please seek help. You can do it.

[alittlebitgoofy]

the only proof i need is you (taywhora)

it is finally done, i've been wokring on this since the ukd tour started but we don't need to talk about that, it's kind of a sequel to my older canon compliant fics but can be read sepereatly. love my dear mina for always betaing shit I send them, an actual icon

title from proof by Paramore bc that song got stuck in my head as I was tryna get a title, enjoy :)) ao3 link

Tayce relished in the energy she got from this, after so long away from gigs the euphoria wasn’t lost on her. They were lucky, finally able to experience the dizzying highs of such public notoriety.

The heat didn’t help things— of course, they’d get stuck in a heatwave during a cross country tour. The amount of sweat, makeup running by the end of the show, outfits sticking in places they shouldn’t. It was a nightmare, but she wouldn’t trade it for anything

Her attention was pulled back to reality by the laughter of her friends, using silly Instagram filters on each other to amuse them. They stumbled towards her in a flurry of giggles, knocking into her arms and almost sending her falling over into the crowd. A’whora raised her phone to Tayce, erupting into laughter at the way the screen contorted her face into something unrecognisable.

---

“Are you done with those?” Tayce asked, gesturing to A’whora’s fries while his attention was laser focused on his phone.

Before he could answer, Tayce plucked a chip anyway, putting it in his mouth much to A’whora’s chagrin. He huffed, eyes narrowing at such an act of treason.

“You hound!” He swatted at Tayce’s arm as he reached for another. “What happened to yours?”

Tayce lent in further, smiling fiendishly and chewing obnoxiously loud. “Ate them, like, ten minutes ago. You’ve been staring at your phone for the past hour and they’re gonna go cold, missy.”

“I’m eating at my own pace!”

“You eat slower than Lawrence picks up choreo.” Tayce grinned, his heart warming at the way his friend pouted, arms crossed — he was too cute when he got all riled up.

“Don’t involve me in your lovers' spats!” Lawrence hissed from across the table, laughing at the way Tayce’s eyes narrowed. He knew Lawrence was only having one of those stupid more-than-friends jokes, but any implications of their relationship being anything other than professional made the room seem a little too tense for his liking.

“She’s right, you two argue like an old married couple.” Bimini chimed in, resting their head on their hands like this was an everyday event.

“This isn’t an argument, a crime has been committed and you two are bystanders letting such an act go unpunished!”

“It’s a fucking chip.”

A’whora glared at Lawrence for such a comment. It was his chip. Tayce had his own, he could deal with himself. He had a bad habit of eating things that weren’t his and flirting his way out of any repercussions. He’d buy A’whora more of something most of the time but the annoyance was justified after a year of having his food stolen.

Bimini let out an exasperated laugh, the idiocy of the pair never failing to be both amusing and tiring. They bickered like children sometimes but there was a layer of deep connection under it, two people so strong in their unity that nothing could break them apart.

Except a chip apparently.

They slid their own half eaten pack over, not likely to eat the rest anyway. It would be worth the quiet of Tayce settling down with more food for a little while. They missed the peace of them all being passed out from a long night’s show.

“Tayce, you can have the rest of mine, just leave her alone.”

“Let the whore have her own food, you hound.” Lawrence huffed, Tayce snickering at the moniker. It made him raise an eyebrow, nodding before turning his attention back to his fries.

It was hilarious seeing him get so riled up but there was a small pang in Tayce’s chest, he genuinely was a bit upset about having his food taken, it was a constant that always riled him up no matter how much Tayce replaced. He slid a few fries over, secretly enjoying the bright smile that took over A’whora’s face, giving a thankful nod.

---

Tayce felt the repetitive movement of the car slowly lull him to sleep, they were all too tired to do much of anything, passing out in the back of the tour bus in full drag, not even the energy to take it off before going to their hotels. A’whora was next to him, head leant against his shoulder. He looked so peaceful, making it hard to believe he’d been performing in the horrid heatwave an hour ago.

Bimini was on the other side of them, by the window. They’d curled in on themself, contorted in a way that couldn’t have been comfortable. She’d have to laugh when they complained of back pain the next morning. Lawrence was beside them, stretched across the seat between him and bimini. It was strange to see everyone so low energy, though Tayce himself felt it. So many shows in such quick succession, his body wasn’t ready no matter how much preparation went into it.

A bump in the road jolted him back to attention, though the rest of them were long gone from consciousness. At least he thought. His attention turned back to A’whora, taking in all of his features without the prying eyes of anyone. Something about the sight of him, head reclined on Tayce’s shoulder looking like it was the most comfortable thing in the world, it made his heart warm.

Those feelings still went unsaid, he wasn’t ready for a lot of things, A’whora knew that. He knew with time he would open up, it just took patience and love.

---

Tayce’s energy was electric, his constant bouncing and talking leaving the others in the tour bus in a similar state.

Long drives were boring, he had to make it more interesting somehow. A’whora and Lawrence exchanged a look as Tayce set up an Instagram live, mentally preparing for the chaos that would surely follow.

Lawrence was half amused and half mortified at the act that followed, A’whora cheekily shaking her ass on the camera, much to the amusement of the viewers, Tayce slapping it as if it was no big deal. He’d probably come to regret that later but the moment buzzed with the excitement for their next show, the tour in general, and the euphoria of touring with some of his best friends.

The rowdy energy kept up for the rest of the day, Tayce rarely lost his buzz as A’whora had come to learn, it was a blessing until it was late and she was ready to go out when all he could do was pass out in the hotel room.

They had to share this time due to availability, acting like it was a minor inconvenience when it was all they wanted now, to feel the comfort of someone going through the same grueling thing as you, waking up next to Tayce was euphoric. Something about him took the best, happiest feelings out of A’whora and left him a gooey mess of love and laughs.

Though Lawrence was catching on, or so Tayce claimed he thought, confiding in A’whora knowing even he could keep this secret. He knew better than to say something like that, Tayce’s vulnerability was difficult to keep, any sign of trouble and he’d close right back up for a long time to come.

“Oh, there are the lovers.” He boldly prodded the pair, erupting into a laugh as Tayce scowled. The atmosphere was too tense for 9 am, the previous night out leaving him in a precarious state of trying to balance a normal act and a vicious headache that only a kiss from A’whora had managed to vanquish.

“Well what crawled up your ass and died?” He followed up, Tayce’s glare frosting over in a way that truly worried A’whora. He was not happy and he didn’t want to sit in a car all day full of tension. Where was Bimini in this mess?

“It’s too early for this shit, settle down.”

His voice seemed to reason more with Tayce as he got into the car, quickly pulling a’whora beside him. Bimini came out a while later, apologising for the wait. None of them ever seemed to be on time, it was almost as if they took it in turns this tour.

Their presence brought some much needed peace as Tayce started perking up through the journey, still oddly quiet but much better than wanting to bite Lawrence’s head off this morning.

---

“A’whora! God, hurry up!” A shout came from Bimini as they prodded her to change faster. Damn costumes, never easy to get off in a hurry.

Tayce watched it with muffled laughter, the misfortune not enough to need intervention but much too amusing to leave alone.

Lawrence shared in her amusement, though had no problem commenting on her time wasting.

“I thought I was the slow one, the whore’s got us all beat.” She commented, the room erupting in laughter much to A’whora’s annoyance.

“Stupid fucking outfit! Tayce?” The complaint was followed by a pleading whine, her eyes starting to tear up with sheer frustration.

Tayce obliged, walking over and unzipping the outfit to let A’whora out, grabbing her new one and sliding it up her body, slowly as to allow her to get in without rushing.

A’whora felt herself almost quiver, the feeling of Tayce’s hands running down her back taking her back to—

Nope. She couldn’t do this, not during a show. Keeping this secret would eat her alive by the time they got finished with this tour but she could enjoy the little moments they had, as inconspicuous as possible.

“Talk about sexual tension.”

“Oh fuck off Lawrence.” Tayce shot back. Before any more words could be exchanged they were rushed back on stage for a group number.

Thank god for Tayce.

—-

Tayce let himself fall onto the bed with a loud groan. It was incredible being able to perform for huge crowds and meet their fans but this was a new kind of exhaustion. He felt the need to hibernate for the next week. Beside him, A’whora flopped down, a similar sigh leaving his lips.

“I can’t wait to get home, I’ve got a face mask and a few packs of percy pigs waiting for me.”

“Is that all you ever think about? You better share, missy.” Tayce teased, a tired grin spreading across his face, elating his boyfriend who rolled over to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Only if you ask politely, or maybe you do something nice for me.” The last part came out in a purr, their faces so close Tayce swore A’whora could feel the heat rising off his face at the insinuation.

It wasn’t like he couldn’t play along, flirting and calling his bluffs. But this was more intimate, the two of them, together. No one else, no need to worry about keeping it down so their roommates wouldn’t find out. It was a flash of a possible future. The pair of them working, joking, and loving together.

It dawned on him then, cuddled together without a care in the world after the most exhausting two weeks of his life. This was what he wanted, he didn’t care what other people thought. Something melted away without him realising, leaving his heart bare and ready for the taking though A’whora always let him set the pace.

“I love you, George.”

He froze. Did he hear that right? Did Tayce just say he loved him? Tayce, the one who could never let himself be vulnerable, much less admit his deepest feelings.

“I love you too.” He choked out, sounding more shocked than he knew possible. Tayce couldn’t help but laugh, he wasn’t expecting it but that reaction was nothing less than adorable. He pulled him into a soft kiss, enjoying their closeness before they both drifted off, hardly ready for the travel and fatigue of tomorrow but safe and cosy in the presence of each other.

He could get used to this.

[ethanharli]

Requested: Nah.

Pairing(s): Asra x Top Male Reader

Warning(s): Some Angst, Flashbacks, Mentions of heartbreak, Sudden confession, Cliffhanger, Long, Sister Nadia.

A/n- I brought this over from my Wattpad, and I edited it a bit but this is the longest One-Shot I've ever made, just fifty words away from three thousand :")).

_______________

A frustrated groan slipped past my lips as I fumbled with the sleeves of my costume, it may sound silly but its true. I refuse to wear anything that could reveal my torso, besides my face of course but that's only because its not covered in ink. Now don't get me wrong, the art adoring my body is nothing but beautiful, yet some of its a bit much for the public eye, and I hate attention. Guess Muriel and I are the same in that regard. After adjusting the sleeves I slipped on my rings and emerald necklace that clung tightly around my throat, which didn't bother me in the slightest bit as I drag my pierced tongue over my bottom lip. Finishing up with a few things I quickly locked up my house and headed on my way to the palace, Nadia had invited me over for the Masquerade this year since the last one ended with Lucio and the Devil trying to take over.

I really have to admire that apprentice, their magic is quiet fascinating. With a small smirk I slipped on my wolfs mask, nothing original but the black and vibrant neon of purple and green helping it stand out, even if only by the slightest. The journey to the palace was quite fun, watching people light up fireworks and drink to their hearts content without a worry in the world. Yet it was a whole new world once I entered the palace gates, making my way towards the ball room in hopes to run into my sister, but Nadia is nowhere to be found. "Should've expected as much, she is the Countess after all" I muttered with a proud smile, if only my familiar where here to keep me company but sadly having a grey wolf in this crowd isn't such a good idea, poor thing would be trampled despite her large size.

Taking a glass of wine I sipped it slowly, enjoying the bubbly feeling of it going down my throat. Yet a slither around my ankle caught my attention, and I froze at the sight of a familiar snake, looking up at me with their cute tilted head. "Friend!" Faust cheered, happily slithering up my body to rest on my shoulders, "Yes Faust, it's good to see you again" A pained smile forced at my lips, scratching softly under Faust's chin. If Faust's here then Asra and his apprentice must be close by, I should've expected as much. "Miss you" My heart tightened at the words, forcing the breath out my lungs painfully, and here I thought I could enjoy the Masquerade without running into anyone else, but I guess even an over packed Masquerade can't hide me from them. "I missed you too Faust-" My words were cut off by a familiar voice, merely a couple feet behind me, yelling for the beautiful creature wrapped around my shoulders.

"Im sorry Faust but I really should be leaving, please don't tell Asra I was here alright?" I asked as worry started to pool in the pit of my stomach, however Faust simply tilted her head, watching me curiously. Nevertheless I made a slow pace to the exit, not wanting to rise any sort of suspicion as Asra yells a bit louder. And there he is, my savior. Putting on a small smile I took a drink from a waiters tray, walking up to Julian without seeming any bit out of place, then once the right moment hit I brushed my shoulder against his and shrugged Faust onto him, not once turning back to look at them. However I knew I wasn't out in the clear just yet since a pair of eyes followed me as I left the room.

Being out in the hall felt a lot better then being so close to him. Especially when I'm not ready to face him just yet, hell I don't even think I have the power to look at him without freezing up, how stupid of me to think I could come back here. "[Y/n]?" The sound of Nadia's voice finally got me to relax a bit, letting the tension in my shoulders drop, "Hey Sis, it's been a while" I smiled down at her, watching as her eyes soften before pulling me into a tight embrace that I gladly returned. "Where'd you go? You told me that you were going to talk to Asra after what happened with Lucio and the Devil but it was only him that came back, he said he didn't know where you ran off to and when I tried to ask what happened he'd never answer!" Her crimson eyes glare up at me as they slowly fill with tears that I quickly brushed away.

"Its okay Nadi, Im back now and I plan to stay, I missed my little sister way to much to be gone for so long" I chuckled, trying to lighten up the mood even only for a second, before she looks at my costume with not very well hidden disgust. "You've really never had an eye for fashion have you?" She sighs, taking my hand and dragging me down the hall where Portia was standing. Once her eyes met mine her face lit up in realization, "[Y/n]! You're back!" She jumped up to hug me, which I returned with a ruffle of her long hair.

"Portia could you please get my dear brother to one of the guest rooms so he can change?" Nadi smiled and Portia couldn't have answered any happier, "Yes milady! Now c'mon [Y/n] lets get you a new costume!" She cheered, dragging me away by the sleeve of my shirt. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew this wasn't going to end well, and by the time I was pushed in the room with a new set of clothing I knew I was right. The clothing was way to revealing for my liking, even though the color and fabric made me look elegant and right at home. The top exposed my arms and most of my chest, the 'V' stopping right above my waist which the pants hugged tightly, yet the rest of it was baggy except the bottom of it, which also hugged my ankles nicely.

But my tattoos and scars were out in the open. The skulls, flowers, and chains that decorate my body glowed a faint blue color, as if cheering that they were finally free from my always concealed clothing.

I didn't want to wear it, every part of my mind was screaming to tear it off but I couldn't. My sister picked this out for me and this is her party, I'll do it for her if not for myself. Sliding my mask back on I headed out the room, looking down at Portia with a nervous smile as she stared at the art in wonder, "I never knew you had these!" She pouted, looking as If I had betrayed her somehow. I could only reached out and pat her head, trying to ignore the eyes that locked onto me, "Im not very fond of them, so I always hid them, Im sorry for not telling you sooner." She merely rolled her eyes and smiled at me before realization yet again broke on her face, "I need to go tell the rest you're here! Stay put!" My eyes widened as I tried to stop her, but she was already out of reach before I could, and the slithery presence was back at my feet.

"Friend!"

Fucking hell.

At that moment I felt the fight to run away slowly drain from me, I knew I couldn't avoid him forever, no matter how hard I tried. Even so, with what resistance was left in me I headed towards the garden with Faust resting peacefully on my shoulders, and stayed put by the fountain, letting my eyes flutter shut for a mere moment.

_____

My palms started to sweat as I looked down into those mesmerizing lavender eyes that watched me with an amused glint, "Asra I-" The words got caught in my throat for the millionth time now, and even I was getting impatient with myself. But can you blame me? Asra looked so majestic under the moonlight, with the stars that practically glowed in his eye's, I don't think I've ever thought it was possible to feel so relaxed and intimidated at the same time.

"[Y/n], are you okay?" He asked, his voice barley above a whisper as he slowly reached up, softly brushing his fingers against my cheek. A flutter in my chest caused the chains on my body to recoil slightly, and thankfully he didn't notice the change, "No, I just can't hold it in anymore Asra" My hand clenched tightly on my sleeves, nearly causing them to rip while Asra brushed a lock of hair of of my face. "Hold in what?" He smiled, but my eyes drifted to his chest, looking where the mark on his heart is hiding, causing me to reluctantly pull away from his touch.

It was a simple friendly gesture he's always done to calm me down, to bring me back from whatever clouded my thoughts. So when I pulled away he reached out again, slower this time, as if any rushed movement would send me away. "Asra stop" He looked a bit shocked when I grabbed his wrist, but my grip was gentle, cause I'm more afraid of hurting him than anyone else. However the negative thoughts practically swallowed my mind whole as I rejected his magic from flowing into me. The mark on his chest was the only thing I could look at, cause it reminds me everyday that he gave up some of his heart for his apprentice, to bring them back. Jealousy truly is a cruel thing.

"Nevermind, it was foolish of me to think I even had a chance" I whispered with a bitter chuckle, taking a step back I crossed my arms, turning my broken gaze towards the sky. "Forget it, just go back to your apprentice, they need you more than I do" I don't know why my words came out laced in such malice and sorrow, but they did, and that seemed to earn a glare back from him. "What's wrong with you? Ever since you found out about my deal its like all you want to do is run away from me and push me away, if you have something to say to me then go ahead and say it, but do not drag them into this."

The chain around my neck tightened, slowly crushing at my windpipe as I clenched my fists and smiled softly to myself. I knew I'd regret what I did next, I knew it would weigh on me forever, I knew it would cause me much more pain then it did right then, but I did it anyway. Ill have to thank Ilya if this works, putting on my best face I turned towards Asra and scoffed, tilting my head a bit, like I usually do when pissed off, even though this is just a lovely facade. "Don't even bother, its not like you'd care anyways, would you? All you care about is that apprentice of yours, you even gave up part of your heart for them" I let the words flow, nearly letting the tears pool in my eyes when I spat them out.

"Is that really what you think?" He hissed, knuckles turning white from how tightly he was grasping his sleeves, but I didn't let myself falter under his gaze. "Asra I don't have to think it when I know its true, we've known each other since we were kids, you can't fool me" I scoffed, glaring back into his lavender eyes, keeping that gaze was a lot harder then I thought it would be. Before he could speak up I made sure to cut him off, "You love 'em, that's the only reason you'd do it right? Because you love them? Let me guess, you couldn't live without them could you?" I rolled my eyes, looking off to my left, practically feeling his breath hitch for a moment, confirming what I needed to know.

Im sorry Asra.

You don't have to forgive me.

Because I highly doubt these chains will go anywhere, I can never be free. Even with you by my side, the one person that keeps me together, the one person that I'd risk everything for.

Im so sorry.

"Just leave already, its not like you want to be here anyways right? So just leave me alone, I don't want you here."

_____

I don't remember much after that, but I do know he left, and I was left alone to wallow in my own despair. The chains got tighter over the year, so tight that the only thing keeping me breathing is all the techniques I've learned, and the fact I learned how to hold my breath for a long while. A few tears slip past my [E/c] eyes, that Faust happily wipes away with her tail, rubbing her face against my cheek, "Friend!" She smiles, curling against me, it felt so good to have her around again. Even if this'll be the last time.

The chains tighten a slight fraction, forcing me to hold my breath. "[Y/n]?" My body tensed at how my name rolled off his lips, it felt like a distant dream, like this isn't actually happening, but one look at him and I know its real. My god has he always looked so gorgeous? Or am I going crazy? Probably both. Once [E/c] met Lavender I knew I was done, his hairs pushed back like last year though the mask kinda looks the same, with only a few added touches, and his costume definitely gets him to stand out above the rest, just a beautiful array of bright colors clashing against his mixed skin, it hugs his figure perfectly. He looks like a god amongst the light of the fountain.

"Its me" I sighed out, reluctantly turning my gaze back to my feet. I couldn't help the surprise when he moved in front of me, placing both hands on my cheeks, looking into my eyes with such relief that I could hardly believe it. His touch sent shivers down my spine, slowly I started to breathe again as the chains retract a bit, I had clearly forgotten how revealing my clothes are, cause once the chains pulled back Asra's eyes shifted to them.  "How long have you had these?" He asked, trailing his hands down to trace the marking with a soft touch, "Asra wait-" Yet the mark appears, the same one he has, just mine glowed a faint blue in the center of my chest.

His eyes widened seeing the mark, keeping his eyes on it as if it were to attack at any moment, "You've never had chains, its always been your skulls and flowers, is it because of this? Why didn't you tell me about this?" He looked hurt, the same hurt in his eyes that he had a year ago when we last talked.

"What was your deal?"

Oh how I wanted to tell him, but the chains tightened at the thought, yet I pushed through it, Im tired of lying, I'm tired of keeping everything in, Im tired of it all, "That I couldn't be open anymore, that I wouldn't be able to speak my mind freely like I once did." A small cough ripped out my throat as a blue glow tried to burn past the chains, failing miserably. "What? Why?" He looked stunned, I don't blame him, I've always been one to speak my mind and tell everyone how I'm feeling, to be honest to myself and them without a care about what others thought.

But..

"I was scared, there's something I've always wanted to say, but I never could because I've always been so afraid about what would happen after, what if it went wrong? What if I messed up? What if I said something wrong? What if you-" My mouth snapped shut as quickly as it could, now I certainly can't avoid this, cause those lavender eyes stare at me with such intensity I might just burn away. His hands slowly moved up to my neck, letting his magic aid in pulling the chain away from my neck, allowing me to breath freely. "What about me?" He asked softly, keeping his gaze fixed on mine as my hands unconsciously travel to his hips.

I guess it's now or never..

Building what up whatever courage I had left, I pulled Asra against my chest, using one hand to push his mask out the way, before claiming his lips with mine.

[aikrus]

Far From Freezing

Fandom: Boku No Hero Academia, My Hero Academia Warnings: Fire, Cold Weather, Passing Out, Reference Nudity, Reference to Sex, fluff Words: 2k388 Requested By: Anon Summary: Winter’s here, not that this effects the doting girlfriend of the half hot half cold idol of class 1A

      The bus ride had always been Y/n’s least favorite part of any given day. Attending the most prestigious hero school was a dream come true- but it came with prices big and small. One of which was the half-hour commute from the L/n house to the building. Her parents were both long gone by five thirty in the morning- and, not wanting to wake up at dawn to be ready on time, Y/n settled for the six thirty bus ride to Musutafu. 

Had it just been the rocky streets which pestered her journey she’d be fine- cursed with headaches and vertigo, but fine. She could take the annoying passengers which surrounded her as well; they kept their distance, and headphones worked wonders nowadays. Y/n could suffer all of this- she could handle it all, except the cold. 

Born with a temperature dangerously below what the human body required, Y/n’s parents knew early on what quirk she would have. Absolute Zero- the ability to slow the kinetic energy of anything she touches. Having a naturally cold body temperature meant she was constantly in layers and searching for a heatsource in anything she touches. While it wasn’t a serious issue, it was a constant bother to the teen girl. 

So there she was, sitting alone in the back of a shaking bus, with a scowl on her face as the familiar ache in her fingers came back. Desperate for relief, Y/n ignored the self-inflicted pain and rubbed her covered hands together. This bus ride went on far too long.

---------------------------------

“Stupid bus, stupid cold weather, stupid freaking shoes,” soft muttering fell from Y/n’s lips as she swapped her winter boots- which excellently trapped the heat from the heating pads her socks concealed- to the thin indoor shoes the school mandated. She took two steps away from her locker before deciding the ache already taking over her heels was far from worth it, and she swapped back to her large and fuzzy winter boots; dress code be damned. 

Y/n couldn’t help but glare softly at the other students of class 2-A. While she loved each and every one of them dearly, seeing her best friends happily chatting away the warm air in their chests left her with undying envy. It didn’t help the cold that freezes over her heart come winter either. Her classmates, who she typically hangs off of and adores, had a tendency to ignore her come november. 

They meant no harm, and Y/n’s pretty sure they do is subconsciencly. She slows the air around her, causing the temperature to cool- whether her classmates noticed or not they steered away from her. In addition to that, Y/n had a very different atmosphere in general come the holidays. Blame the ache in her bones, her abandonment issues, her parents who were always too busy to celebrate festivities, blame anything you’d like- but the only thing Y/n enjoyed about winter was the beautiful moments of solitude.

While she was normally very outgoing and attentive to others, Y/n took the frozen season as a time for herself. She cherished the heavy blankets and knitted sweaters- fuzzy socks and fireplaces, watching television with a mug of hot chocolate, ten layers of wool and heating pads while music for only her played. Y/n loved the rare alone time the snowy season provided, but the biter-sweetness of it all never seemed to fade. 

Can you really blame her for the blood-freezing glare she sent the class representative? Don’t get her wrong, Y/n follows the rules and get’s some of the best grades in the class. She was a threat to whoever opposed her, but she was very stubborn. Perhaps that was the only feature she inherited from her spit fire of a mother. 

So there she was, perched at her desk, arms folded, ignoring one of her friends. Iida glared directly back, lecturing her on the importance of following the dress code and how it’s their not only for aesthetic purposes but for their own good. Once she realized he couldn’t understand why she was wrapped in five layers in the heated room, Y/n stood from her seat and walked over to him. Noticing the shivers that coursed through his spine as she approached, Iida took a half-step back from her. She confidently placed her hand on his blazar covered shoulders.

“This is what I feel like right now,” she spoke- her voice a whisper which replicates a howl in the wind. Iida- now much colder than he once wan- nods and lets her off with a warning before returning to his seat, discreetly starting his engines in order to heat up once again.

She wishes for many things- but above everything she wished her hero-phobic parents would have allowed her to stay at the dorms. Anything would have been better than this. The cold from the metal walls still nipped at her skin an hour later, and Y/n was ready to tap out and go to the nurses office so she could lie atop a furnace to heat up once again. 

Sadly, Mr. Aizawa refused to allow that. Quirk training had officially started, and he considered this endurance practice for the aspiring female hero. While the other students worked on pushing their quirks to the limits and beyond, she did the same. Stripping of her wool layers down to her uniform- taking of her shoes and socks. 

Her quirk worked through thermal equilibrium, her body needs to be colder than the object she touches to slow the atoms in it. While she could slow her body at will, she lacked the ability to speed it up again. This is a bridge she couldn’t cross any time soon. So, instead, she was told to focus on slowing her body as much as she can. While her body is meant to withstand cold temperatures, the coldest she has ever gotten was negative one hundred and sixty degrees degrees before falling asleep. While that was a remarkable feat, she was sure she could go lower.

That’s how she got into her current predicate. With Aizawa’s encouragent, Y/n breathed slowly and steadily, attempting to reach or break her current record. The time she had gotten that cold was under extreme stress- a fire had started in the daycare her little brother attended. She and the teacher were the only ones there who weren’t children- and they hadn’t been informed of the newest quirk-manifestation. This child was the first in the school to gain their non-mutan quirk, and it had been a complete surprise. 

The child was playing with her brother and didn’t want Y/n to take him away- thus he accidentally sent flames in her way. While he wasn’t very strong, Y/n’s little brother had been born with their mothers quirk- Enhancer. He naturally multiplied the quirks strength of whoever he touched. When he tried to move his friends hands away from his sister- he greatly increased the heat of the flames. Y/n was quick to respond and she was left unscaved- with only a minor fear of children from that day forward. 

Now, she was determined to gain that kind of control again. The air in the building began to drop and Y/n relaxed her body. Once it had dropped ten degreed in a matter of seconds eyes looked over at both Todoroki and Y/n. When Shoto shook his head, showing he had made no ice, all eyes fell on the so called ‘Winter Hero’, Frostbite- as the tabloids happily referred to her as. 

Aizawa kept a trained eye on her figure, noticing the increase paleness of her skin. While she was typically much paler than the average person due to her resting body temperature of 75 degrees, a noticeable blue undertone started to form. 

As the room became colder and colder, all practicing stopped. The students shivered in the freezing room, as their body heat no longer kept the temperatures up. The one a-little-warmer-than-comfortable 90 degree room fell to fifty degrees and showed no sign of stopping as the girl kept her focus. As she continued she opened her eyes, becoming aware of the silence now surrounding her. She had become much stronger than last year. She scored very well on all quirk testing, but she could only get her body temp to around negative ninety degrees. Now, with all her practice, she reached that in no time. 

As he watched his other students begin to shutter at the sudden cold and rub their hands together for warmth, he wonders if he should stop Y/n for the day. Still, he needed to know her limit. This is what the day was for, to determine who needed extra supervision and would need immediate assistance in case of a vilain attack. He’d just have to deal with the consequences of his decision after she was done.

Still, despite how rigid her posture, despite the blue hues taking over her skin, despite the ice which froze in the air around her, she kept going. Colder and colder until breathing became difficult for the other students. The ground turned to frost, and the students became slower and slower until they too were stuck in place. Standing next to the thermostat, Aizawa watched as it rapidly declined. Once her eyelashes had frozen together Y/n’s annoyance only fed her need to grow stronger. 

So wrapped up in her own world, she finally snapped out of her inner monologue long enough to realize a hand was on her shoulder. Aizawa could only touch her for a moment before hissing in pain and withdrawing it. Even through her blazer the cold attacked him, and the skin on his hand had ripped and cracked. He shook his head at his own stupidity. Still, Y/n stopped lowering her body temperature. 

“You beat your record by one hundred and ten degrees, you can stop now.” Y/n couldn’t understand what her teacher was saying, but she knew he was talking to her. Swaying in place, Y/n only recognized a sudden heat before passing out.

------------------------------

Waking up in the infirmary was something Y/n had a love-hate relationship with. While she despised the idea of either losing control or being injured, the nurse always turned up the temperature unreasonably hot in her office whenever she was admitted. It always made Y/n feel a little special, knowing a faculty member would withstand an above one hundred degree room just for her comfort. It was nice. 

Still, the heat felt different than the other times she awoke in the medical bed. Shuffling closer to the warmth, Y/n finally opened her eyes to find a beautiful sight. Shoto was asleep next to her, wearing a baby blue turtleneck and looking angelic. It wasn’t rare for the two of them to cuddle with his fire side against her- he was well aware of the downside of Y/n’s quirk. He was a little cautious at first, but he soon linked her to the stray cats which followed him during winter. They would constantly sit against his leg once the cold air came back- finding comfort in something he was once scared of.

Now, he loved it. He adored that he could help his beautiful girlfriend. She had once told him that the only time she went extremely low in temperature she had entered a coma, and it took two weeks for the hospital to find someone with a fire quirk strong enough to comfort her. Now, he was there. 

Sure it was a little awkward, after all, she had been stripped by the nurse so he could send fire at his unconscious girlfriends body. It was more than a little questionable, and had not both parties and their parents consented to this being a solution (and this not being the only circumstances he’s seen Y/n naked in before), Shoto always felt guilty, like he was taking advantage of his sleeping girlfriend. While he never touched her, and her figure was obscured by the flames, he always covered his eyes. Yet, he still felt guilt chew away at him until she woke up. Until she reassured him she was fine with it, he felt like without her verbal consent he was destroying her trust in him- and it was an emotional wrecking ball every time. 

No matter how many time’s Y/n tried to help him understand her appreciation for him, Shoto always felt the desire to dote on her for at least a day afterwards. It was his own special was of saying “I’m sorry,” despite Y/n feeling like he was never in the wrong. 

Either way, Y/n wasn’t gong to complain- especially today. Watching him stir awake, Y/n moved slightly away- only for Shoto’s arm to wrap around her and pull Y/n back into his chest. 

“I’m sorry,” his lips rested against her hair while he spoke- eyes clenched tight as he tried to preserve the sweet atmosphere.

“Thank you,” Y/n responded, looking up to his face and kissing his noes. 

“I called your parents,” he explained, hugging her close and snaking his arms around her waist. 

“Yeah?” She smiled- already knowing how that conversation probably went. Her parents loved Shoto; the already treated him better than either of their biological children. They were hesitant at first, hateful on their worst days. While they generaly were distrustful of heros, the L/n’s were known to despise Endeavor.

That said, it took two visits to her house for Y/n’s parents to adore Shoto, their opinions of him completely switched when they learned of the mutual hatred the tree of them held towards his father. It was a cute family bonding moment, one Y/n can’t help but wish she caught on camera. Ever since then, Shoto was their favorite child. He was the one who they couldn’t say no to. 

“They said they’re okay with you spending the night in my dorm,”

“Of course they are,” Y/n linked her hands behind his neck and peppered kisses across his face, “they love you. If I get pregnant they know you’ll most likely propose, and that’s what they want more than anything else.”

He hummed in a light hearted response, nuzzling closer to her and kissing her quickly. “Are you still freezing, love?”

“Trust me,” she moved her lips against his again, losing herself in his heat in his scent, “I’m far from it.”

-------------------------------------------------

I hope you all liked this! The first day of December is coming to an end- only 24 days left till Christmas!

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[queenof-literature]

Hey! Your writing is superb! May I request angsty Time being scared out of his wits by Wild and Twi being reckless in dangerous situations?

Hi thank you for the request and the kind words! I’m so sorry for the slow updates I hope you enjoy!

At this point in his life, Time expected the unexpected. Time travel? Fine. Magic masks with spirits trapped inside? Okay. Meeting his descendant? That sent him for a loop but he supposed it made sense when looking at the big picture. Coming to be the leader of eight boys who gave him at least one heart attack a day? Even he still got stumped when he thought too much about it.  

It was his protege and his protege’s protege that truly scared him more than anything. He cared for all his companions more than anything, and felt personally responsible for every single one of them. They were all loving in their own ways, and selfless and kind. 

But there was just something about Twilight and Wild. He knew that with Twilight it was because they were family. Not just by bond like with the others, but by blood as well. He supposed that with Wild, it was because his pup and taken him on as a protege. 

No matter how it ended up this way, these boys made his heart stop far more than was healthy. 

Wild wasn’t anywhere near stupid or incompetent, but his name fit him perfectly. He was untamed and although he cared deeply for his Hyrule and loved his Zelda, he was a free spirit. A free spirit who jumped off cliffs, dived into water for Korok seeds, rode deer and bears, and was overall a ‘feral gremlin who should not be allowed near fire’ as Legend put it. Wild always made sure to serve everyone dinner before himself, sleep with the rest of them even though Time knew he was used to sleeping in the huge trees of his Hyrule, and put up a huge fight about having a bed when others in the group didn’t at stables and inns. 

Twilight thought that Wild was bad in the pushing himself too hard department, Time always failed to see how Twilight was any different. The amount of trips Time had taken to trek into the woods and drag Wolfie back from scouting was astounding. Time would have to force him to go to bed when one of the others was injured, especially the younglings of their group. That’s just how Twilight and Wild were. And he loved them both for it. 

It was Malon who taught him after the Kokiri that love hurt sometimes, but it was worth it. It hurt, but the moments of happiness helped make life what it was. 

He had dreams sometimes. Simple dreams of the boys spending time on the ranch, sometimes with their loved ones from their worlds. after their quest. It left a bittersweet ache in his chest everytime. 

Time found himself praying for the first time in so long, that it would all come true. That he and his new family would not be separated forever. He wouldn’t let Hylia do that to these boys. Not after all they had been through alone and together. He would keep them alive, and he would keep them safe.

Although Twilight and Wild were certainly making that difficult. Pushing each other out of the way of danger, taking hits for the others, as far as Time was concerned neither of them could bitch about the other being too reckless. They had calmed down slightly after Time had talked to them, but they were still reckless in protecting the others.

They had been separated in the middle of the night. Again. At this point Time wasn’t sure if Hylia had any control on where they went, because separating them was a surefire way to get them all killed. Time was completely alone in a wasteland covered in snow. He didn’t know what Hyrule, he didn’t think it was anyone’s in the group. All he knew was he hadn’t seen a trace of the others yet. He hoped beyond anything they were in groups and safe. Whenever they were separated, they would usually at least end up in the same area or kingdom. This was convenient most days, but now Time was desperately worried the others were stuck in this weather and far worse off than he was. Time at least had his bag, the others might have been separated from theirs. It had happened in the past. They were sucked into a portal and separated without their bags. It turned out that all the bags had gone with Hyrule and Four. Their stuff was always around at least one person, sometimes those people just got mixed up. Epona somehow always ended up safe somewhere, something they all were extremely grateful for.  

Time continued to stumble along in the deep snow. His bag fortunately had some things to keep him warm. Not enough to stave off the cold completely, but he had some coats and a pair of pants to at least help him continue on. The best option with him being alone was to find some shelter, start a fire, and hope the Master Sword would lead Sky to everyone. He had seen what looked to be a cave etched in a small mountain. He would search for the boys until he physically couldn’t anymore, then take a break in the hopefully animal free cave. 

Time stopped. He heard something, he swore he did. He listened more carefully. There it was again! He couldn’t tell what it was yet, but he cautiously moved towards that direction whilst unsheathing his sword in case it was an animal of some sort. Once he got further, he noticed a speck in the distance. Soon enough, he noticed the speck was a creature of some sort. Growing closer still, Time’s heart leapt in hearing the sound again, louder now.

“-body!” The rough cry was drowned out by the cold winds. Time rushed as fast as he could towards the now confirmed Hylians in the distance. The first thing he noticed when growing closer was that the two figures were stumbling through the snow, leaning against each other, desperate for balance. The second thing he noticed was his protege’s fur wrapped around the taller figure. The third was the shorter figure’s long blonde hair. 

“Pup! Cub!” Time shouted, finally close enough to see their faces. Both faces were as pale as the snow below them, bodies quivering and shaking. Twilight was leaning heavily on Wild, unfocused eyes opening only once in a while, although he looked relieved to see Time. Looking down, Time’s heart stopped once again at his pup’s bent ankle he could see even through the man’s boot. Wild’s wide and frantic eyes landed on Time, brain finally realizing who was there.

“Time!” Wild cried out in relief. Looking at the cub, Time noticed he was missing his cloak, realizing it was peeking out from under Twilight’s pelt. Wild himself looked awful as well. Dull blue eyes stood out even more against his sickly pale skin and deep dark bags from exhaustion. When they went to bed last night, Wild was wearing a thin shirt with short sleeves to counteract the slightly hotter region they were in. Wild’s bare arms clutched desperately to keep his mentor standing. Wild’s legs shook under the weight and stress his and the pup’s bodies were under. Both boys were soaked to the bone. 

“What happened?” Time asked hurriedly, rushing forward to help support his protege. Upon putting one of Twilight’s arms over his shoulder, Time saw the cut on the back of Twilight’s head. It was bleeding substantially, but head wounds did that most of the time. It didn’t seem overly deep. Wild’s back, however, was a whole other story. The cub had deep slash marks across the whole of his back, the backside of his shirt was covered completely in blood around the holes. 

“We l-landed near a-a river.” Wild stuttered out, slurring his words together slightly. “A-a beast, I d-don’t know what it was.” Wild struggled to get his words out between the cold and the bloodloss. “It… it p-pushed me in. Twilight broke his a-ankle. Don’t know… what h-happened. P-pulled me out. Hit his head… I-I-” Wild trailed off more and more, eyes becoming unfocused by the blood loss by the second. Time needed to get them back to the cave. Right now. 

“Help me get him on my back.” Time demanded in a strong voice, hopefully covering his fear for his boys. Wild’s weak and shaking hands tried to help, but Time did most of the work getting his pup situated. Time wished more than anything in that moment he could carry both boys to the cave, but together they were both too heavy. Time wasn’t sure Twilight even knew what was happening with that head injury of his, not even mentioning how awful his ankle looked, so he was the one that had to be carried. Twilight was pure muscle. Time guided Wild’s hand to his shoulder that didn’t have Twilight’s head on it to provide at least a little support.. “There’s a cave not far from here. Just a little further, Cub.” Time encouraged as they kept walking. 

Time thanked every God there was that Twilight and Wild were still shivering. They weren’t in the far stages of hypothermia yet, but they certainly weren’t out of the woods. 

The trek back to the cave was much slower than Time appreciated with two injured Links that severely needed medical attention. Time went as fast as he could with a protege on his back and snow up to his knees. Glancing at Wild once again, once frantic eyes had become complacent as Wild shuffled along. It seemed Wild was keeping himself going on mere adrenaline before, desperate to get his mentor some help. Time was supporting as much of Wild’s weight as he could, but the boy was still trying to walk almost completely on his own. He tried to hide it, but Time could see the slow oozing of blood on Wild’s twitching back. 

Finally, Time could see the cave’s opening in the distance. Wild had slowed down to the point of looking half asleep, and Twilight’s hold had tightened over the journey. Wild stumbled again, hand slipping from Time’s shoulder as he fell into the snow. 

“Come on, Cub, only a little more to go.” Time leaned down as much as he could and pulled Wild to his feet. “Look, it’s right there.” Time’s hand guided Wild’s chin to the opening of the cave. Normally the boy would rush towards their new shelter and start preparing a fire, excited to cook their meal. Now though, Wild’s dim eyes just lit up in recognition for a moment, before shifting over to check on Twilight once more, just as he had been the entire trip over here. 

Finally, after their long trek, they made it to the mouth of the cave. It was relatively shallow for a natural cave in a mountain. Time could see the back of the cave clearly from where he was standing. There were thankfully no creatures within that would harm them. Time gently crouched down and deposited the pup against the wall. Twilight groaned softly and Time felt a pang in his heart. 

“P-p-otions?” Wild murmured, sitting next to Twilight’s ankle. 

“No, Cub. I’m sorry. We really have to pack at least one in all our bags, yeah?” Time joked wryly. 

“B-bandage?” Wild asked, gesturing to Twilight’s ankle. Time rolled his eye. 

“That we do have, but you’re laying down.” Time ordered sternly. Wild and Twilight would ignore their wounds for days if it meant putting the group first. Wild huffed, but did as he was told with no argument. Now that had Time worried. Wild bit back a whimper as his back stretched, before finally settling on his stomach, still aggressively shivering.

“Why did you give Twilight your cloak?” Time asked, taking an extra coat from his bag to drape over the boy. 

“H-he… wasn’t responding. His head. I could r-rub m’ hands together n’ stuff. He couldn’t.” Time sighed, hating how right the cub was. He stayed quiet. Not wanting to lecture Wild for protecting his brother, but not wanting to exactly say it was okay to give up his cloak either. Time reached to lift the coat and take care of Wild’s back. The sooner he was able to cocoon the boys in anything warm they had, the sooner they would hopefully thaw out. 

“Him first.” Wild slurred, not even having the energy to open his eyes.

“Wil-” Time began to lecture.

“No. H-his ankle. Bone needs to heal right. And head wound. M’ fine.” No matter how nervous Wild’s injury and lack of coherent words scared him, Time knew he was right about Twi’s injuries. 

“Don’t fall asleep yet. We need to get you warm first.” Wild hummed in confirmation of Time’s order, which was probably the best he was going to get. Time gently laid the coat back on Wild, trying to ignore the hiss as the fabric brushed against the wound on his back, before turning back to his pale protege. 

Twilight’s bones thankfully hadn’t shifted enough to require his ankle to be set, so Time just steadied it with a tight bandage. Twilight whimpered and winced at the manhandling of his injured ankle. 

“Sorry, Pup. Almost done.” Time reassured the younger. Time wanted more than anything to take Twi’s pain away in that instant. Getting a monster club to the chest was less painful than seeing one of these boys hurt from their quest. Satisfied with his work on Twi’s ankle, he moved on to his head. The wound was just as minor as he thought, just requiring a bandage and good cleaning for now. It was enough to do him in if he was alone out here, but now he would just need sleep and potions. Thank Hylia Wild was with him… Wild! He needed to stay awake!

Time hastily finished checking his pup’s injuries, deeming him out of the woods for now. Time whipped around to face Wild, still laying with his back facing the cave ceiling. His eyes were still closed, and his breathing was still uneven as shivers wracked his body. 

“Wild? Wild you’re still awake yeah?” Time asked in a steady voice, not even being met with a noise from the boy. “Wild? Wild!” Time snapped louder. The body beneath him jumped slightly, a noise of indignation rising up. It was then Time noticed Wild’s hand tucked underneath him. 

“Wild, let me see your hand.” Time demanded. Wild either didn't hear him or didn’t listen. “Wild, Cub, I need to see your hands.” Time said far gentler, reaching under Wild’s body to grab one of his hands. Instantly, Time felt his own hand grow colder, even under his gloves. Wild groaned at the loss of support under him that caused his back to twitch. 

Looking at Wild’s hands, Time was struck with the realization that Wild wasn’t wearing any gloves. How could he have not noticed? Internally Time was yelling at himself for being so foolish. Glancing over at Twilight, Time barely resisted the urge to bang his head on the cave wall. Idiots! Both of them! He recognized the dyed blue edge of Wild’s warmest gloves. Why were they even out without Wild’s slate? How? Time resisted the urge to groan in frustration. He would have to ask Wild later. 

“Why did you give Twilight your gloves?” Time almost yelled in frustration. 

“Coun’n stop fross-frosbite like m’. Needed gloves.” Time rolled his eye.

“Awful, the both of you. You’re the same person I swear to Hylia!” Time staed gruffly. “I need to move you to take care of your back, then we’re taking care of your hands. I have an extra pair of gloves in my bag.” Time explained, pulling Wild’s upper half into his lap as gently as he could. Time winced at the groan Wild let out against his will.

“Cub?” Twilight murmured, bleary eyes opening a sliver. 

“He’s fine, pup. I’m taking care of him now.” Time reassured him, reaching out and placing a hand on his protege’s forehead, the way he did when Twilight was hurt or feeling under the weather. It always helped to relax him. 

“Needs me?” Twilight struggled and fought to stay awake.

“No, Twi. Wild is fine. Just needs some bandages and warmth. Everythings okay.” Twilight let out a hum and finally succumbed into sleep once more. If Time said it was okay, it was okay. 

Time began to bandage Wild’s wound, managing to clean it with the few supplies he had, at least until the others found them. Wild tried to hold in his shivers and hisses of pain as Time cleaned and wrapped his wound. Finally, the wound was dressed.

“Okay Wild. We need to get you warm again.” Time stated softly before lifting Wild into a sitting position. Wild let out a low grunt of pain shaking hands twitching in the direction of his back. “Sorry bud. Almost there, then we can get you warm and you can rest.” Time picked up the spare coat and wrapped Wild carefully and tightly within it. Wild finally seemed able to relax, snuggling closer to the warm fabric. Time felt his lips twitch as he carefully extracted Wild’s hands from within the coat, closing any gaps in the fabric this motion caused. 

Time rubbed Wild’s frozen hands within his own, creating friction and hopefully enough heat to prevent frostbite before he gave Wild his extra pair of gloves. ild winced slightly in pain before relaxing further into Time’s side. There was nothing Time could use to make a fire, so this would have to do.

“Wild. I need you to tell me the truth. Are your feet or toes or anything else cold?” Time questioned.

“No. Good boots.” Time huffed out a small sigh of relief. He knew Twilight had good boots for the snow, but with all of Wild’s items and what he wears and doesn’t wear around camp, it was hard to keep track.

“And your legs?” Time eyed the thin pants Wild wore, already knowing the answer.

“Fine…” Wild was an awful liar when he was out of it.

“Wild, I need both you boys warm while we wait for the others or there will be trouble later.” Time chided, causing Wild to huff.

“A little cold…” Wild murmured. Time huffed a small laugh before using one hand to reach into his bag and pull his last spare blanket. Time managed to wrangle it under the legs of Twilight and tuck it under the legs of Wild, sticking him in the middle. As much as he wished one of the boys were in the middle to receive the most warmth, he needed to have easy access to both of them to make sure they were warming properly. Falling asleep with a body that was too cold might lead to never waking up…

Time felt Wild’s hands again, deeming them warm enough to put into the gloves. He double checked that the boys were warm enough before wrapping an arm around both of them. Wild and Twilight curled further into him, breathing peacefully. Time made sure to stay awake, continuing to check the boys for shivering, frostbite, and any other signs of hypothermia. At some point the boys had locked hands over Time, as if assuring themselves the other was okay. These boys constantly gave him heart attacks by being reckless and putting others before themselves, but in this moment, Time knew they would be okay. 

Plot twist: Time is literally just as bad as Twilight and Wild and this entire fic is him being a hypocrite.  

[s-creations]

Return the Flames - Chapter 5

All at Dead Bird Studios knew of Amos' (The  Conductor's) ability. How the owl could suddenly erupt into flames if  angered enough. When the studio first opened, Dominic (DJ Grooves) was  told that Amos had his ability under control. Nothing to worry about. No  possible loss of anything from an open flame.

A few years later however, and that control seems to have lessened to a dangerous degree.

It should have just been a simple, week long drive to fix the problem. It really should have been.

Dominic should have asked a lot more questions and should have been prepared for a twist ending.

_________________

Fandom: A Hat in Time   Rating: General Audience   Relationships/Pairings: The ConductorXDJ Grooves   Warnings: Eventual depictions of violence, slow burn relationship, named characters, attempt of an accent, being hunted down, a race against time (sort of).

Dominic counted the next two days as a sort of quiet blessing. The 48 hours passing with relative calmness that made the penguin think something bad was about to happen. Learning from the first night, Domini bought a large cooler. Along with a few bags of ice from whatever convenient store they were close to before arriving at the hotel they were staying at for the night.

 The penguin had planned for the first night. A way to  hopefully relax before fully diving into their journey. He was not expecting it all to turn out like it had.

 What worried him the most was how subdued Amos had suddenly become. He would either be asleep or completely quiet as they traveled. He would push Dominic to use the bathroom to clean the day’s travel smell off before filling it with ice and hiding himself away. It was such a stark difference to the owl’s regular, bombastic personality.

 Dominic honestly missed that loud and confident version of his ‘used to be’ rival. Because the bird before him now just gave off the air of surrender. Which Dominic just hated. But he was unsure how he was supposed to help.

 So, they just traveled in silence. Taking in the surroundings, which quickly became dull. The same woods could only be that interest for so long. Even if there was now an incline added to their travel. The valley below just offered more trees.

 They were traveling down such a road the afternoon of their fourth day when they approached something strange. It appeared over the crest of the horizon and gave the penguin driving a moment's pause before he realized what he was looking at. A blockade, a strong line of crows stretching around the road that were dressed in black trench coats. Dominic slowed the car down as they reached said blockade, confused as to what was happening. The slower speed woke Amos. The owl furiously scrubbed the sleep away as he looked around. No doubt expecting to see some buildings.

 “Are we there?” The owl grumbled weakly.

 “Ah, no… We’ve come across something strange.”

 “What are ya- What the peck is this?” The owl exited the car to get a possibly better look at the wall of crows before them. “Oi, what are ya peck necks doin’ in the middle of the road!”

 “What yourself Amos.” Dominic warned as he joined the owl. “Funny question. Those aren’t your actors, are they Darling?”

 “No. They don’t live this far out from the desert. Those peck necks...they don’t look right…”

 Dominic didn’t like this. But he had a feeling that just turning around wouldn’t help this situation at all. He put on his best performance smile and addressed the crows before them with his charm. “Good afternoon Darlings. Is there a problem here?”

 There was no response. Dominic’s smile slowly slipping away as the silence stretched on.

 “Grooves…” Amos’ quiet utterance of his name made Dominic’s worry grow. Turning to face the owl, he saw the other’s attention directed behind their car. The situation became further dangerous when another blockade appeared there as well. Same crows, seeming to double the numbers that surrounded them.

 Dominic was now angry. This was, for whatever reason, a trap and nothing that the penguin wanted to be a part of.  “Alright gentlemen, I’m not feeling very welcomed here. Is there something we can help you with.”

 “We are not here to be welcoming.” A crow finally spoke from the crowd standing at the front of the car.

 “Then why are you here. If you don’t mind me inquiring.”

 “We are here to ask you to stand down and to hand the Phoenix spawn you have over.”

 Both directors were shocked to hear the sudden request. But Dominic wasn’t going to play this game. He placed a hand on Amos’ shoulder. A silent request for the owl to remain quiet.

 “Rather bold of you and your team to make such a demand. We are not a ‘Phoenix spawn’, as you say. We’re just pn a break from our jobs to take a small vacation. See the different sights that this world has to offer.”

 “We request you to be silent penguin. We are C.A.W., the Crypto-hunters Advocating for Well-being. We know your vehicle was near and fled the fire that was created at the dinner. A fire that can only be created by a Phoenix. No one who is ‘innocent’ would flee. Now, for the safety of others, turn over the Phoenix spawn to us.”

 “I’ll show you spawn.” Amos growled dangerously.

 “I don’t believe we have any reason to go anywhere with you.” Dominic argued, tightening his grip on Amos’ shoulders. The crow who had spoken shook slightly, his neck seeming to expand. Dominic assumed their feathers were puffing out in frustration.

 “The being you are so determined to project is dangerous. He is not allowed to have this freedom if he is going to harm others. He must be put down before he can cause any more damage.”

 That was not a welcoming response. Even Amos seemed to have lost some of his bravado hearing that.

 “...I will have to politely decline that request.” Dominic answered, pushing the owl back towards the car.

 “This was not a request. You will be handing over the Phoenix, now.”

 Dominic didn’t respond. He had a feeling they weren’t going to talk their way out of this. It was unclear what this group was capable of. Dominic, however, wasn’t planning on sticking around to find out.

 “What exactly are ya planning here?” Amos asked, actually sounding nervous as the penguin joined him back in the car.

 “Something possibly stupid. So, you should enjoy this.”

 “What are ya-” Amos yelped when they suddenly shot forward. The murder of crows before them diving away as they zoomed by. “Are ya peckin’crazy!”

 “Do you want to go with the quite literal murder group? I don’t know about you, but I would like to survive this.”

 The owl didn’t reply. Instead, he turned to the rear window to see if they were being followed. His stomach dropped at seeing the numerous black cars. All gaining ground quickly.

 “Uh, Dominic… I don’t want ta pressure ya, but they’re gainin’ ground.”

 “Peck.”

 If they weren’t running for their lives, Amos would have revealed in the fact the penguin had just cursed. As it was, he wished Dominic would have been a bit harsher with his word choice. Because the owl had a few words of his own to say. If only his mouth would unstick with the fear running through him.

 “How close are they.” Dominic voiced through gritted teeth.

 “Uncomfortably?”

 “That’s not helpful Amos!”

 “I don’t know what ya want ta- Back! They’re gonna ram us!” Sure enough, a hard hit landed on the back driver side wheel. Both winced at the sharp change in direction before Dominic corrected themselves. “Peck necks! Can’t this thin’ go any faster?”

 “I’m already pushing hard.”

 “Fine, then try and keep it steady.”

 Dominic looked over quickly, mouth dropping as Amos partially crawled out of the window, sitting on the car door. “What are you doing!”

 “‘M goin’ on the offensive, just drive!”

 The penguin did as requested, his heart hammering in his chest. So focused, Dominic was startled when one of the chase cars was actually blasted away and consumed by a large fireball.

 “Amos!”

 “Just drive!” The owl scrambled to remain upright as the car was hit again.

 “Would you please get rid of the one that’s hitting us!”

 “They’re too close, I could hit us too!”

 Dominic’s retort died in his throat when he noticed the warning signs of a sharp turn approaching. It became more worrisome when the penguin realized the car wouldn’t turn. “Amos, we have a bit of a problem...”

 “Yer tellin’ me!”

 “We have a new problem! The care won’t turn and we’re coming up on a curve!”

 Amos turned towards the front of the car, seeing the warning signs they were passing. Over the horizon, the curve itself was starting to grow closer. “Uh...do we have a plan?”

 “No, and we’re coming up on it fast!” Dominic winces as they were hit once again. “And our new friends aren’t letting up!”

 “I don’t know what ya expect me ta-”

 One final hit and they were sent over the edge. Breaking the guard rail, Amos winced as he was hit with the small pieces of flying shrapnel. They flew a few feet in the air before landing hard among the trees and rocks. Amos was flung from the car, hitting the ground and only stopped rolling when he ran, back first, into a tree. Dominic hit his head against the steering wheel from the first impact before being knocked around as the car flipped over. Which it only did once before being halted by trees as well.

 Amos was the first to move. His body loudly protesting at being moved. But his mind screamed that they were still in danger and that Dominic might be dead. As quickly as he could, Amos limped his way over to the crumpled car. Wrenching the door open revealed an unconscious Dominic. A wave of relief hitting Amos when he felt a pulse from the penguin. The owl was also happy that he was able to free said penguin from the wreckage with ease.

 It was uncomfortable to carry Dominic on his back. But Amos didn’t know how else to move the other to safety. As he started to slowly treck away from the destroyed car, Amos caught movement from atop the hill they’d just plummeted from. The C.A.W. agents were crowded around the destroyed portion of safety rails. All scrambling to find a way down. Without the express route the duo had taken.

 Amos didn’t dwell on it. He needed to get away and hopefully find a way to heal them up. His feathers ruffled feeling eyes narrowing on his back as he moved further into the forest.

 ____________________________

 Dominic felt absolutely terrible as he rejoined the waking world. His head was throbbing as he attempted to move.

 “Ye’re awake?”

 Moving his head, Dominic slowly realized he was resting on Amos’ back. The owl carrying him through the slowly thinning forest.

 “...Amos?”

 “Aye. How ya feelin’?”

 “...Wonderful. Like I just got a massage.”

 “Good to see yer wit is in full force. ...Seriously, how are ya feelin’?”

 “I don’t think anything’s broken. But...I hurt everywhere…”

 “We’re nearin’ a town. We can take a better look when we get there.”

 Dominic’s eyes quickly scanned the area, only to find more trees. “How can you tell? It all looks the same.”

 “Hear cars and people. If it’s not a town, hopefully we can get a ride ta one.”

 It was, thankfully, a town they approached. With a lot of watchful eyes and raised brows as they made their way to the first convenient store they came across. Dominic would have been angry that no one was stepping forward to help. If he wasn’t more concerned about being in constant pain and wanting it to just stop.

 Dominic let out a small grunt as he was sat down on a bench outside the store. Amos bending down to examine the penguin, who in turn saw how rough the other appeared.

 “You look like how I feel.”

 Amos snorted, hands gently running over Dominic’s limbs, chest, and back. “Yer not lookin’ too great yerself, so don’t count yerself out. But I’ll take it as a compliment. ‘M not feelin’ anythin’ broken… Goin’ ta get some supplies. We’ll ya be alright out here?”

 “Yeah… I think people are keeping their distance. For some strange reason.”

 “Alright, Mr. Comedian, sit tight.” Amos departed, Dominic seeing a predominant limp as the owl moved to enter the store.

 The penguin wasn’t sure how long the other was gone. Dominic nodded off a few times before Amos returned, plastic bags full of supplies resting on his arms. He silently sat down on the bench next to Dominic and started to patch the penguin up. Amos was gentle as he administered the medicine and wrappings. It hit Dominic that the owl was probably used to patching up his grandchildren. Not injuries of his caliber, the penguin hoped, but no doubt getting the same care and attention he was receiving.

 “There...ya made it out pretty well. All things considered.” Amos commented, breaking an ice pack and pressing it against the knot forming on Dominic’s forehead. The penguin let out a hiss of discomfort, Amos starting to put the supplies away.

 “Thank you. Let me take a look at you now.”

 “‘M fine.”

 “We don’t have time for your self-sacrificing nature. Let me take a look.”

 Amos huffed and pushed the materials closer to the penguin. “Fine.”

 “...Thank you, Amos.”

 Dominic was gentle and moved slowly as he checked the owl over. He wasn’t sure if it was Amos’ given heritage, but the owl was surprisingly in tack for being thrown from a moving car. A lot of cuts and bruises, but no broken bones or close to death injuries. Even the leg appeared to just be bruised with Amos needing to remain off it for a while for it to heal. All seemed fine.

 At least, until he checked Amos’ back. The owl winced when Dominic touched the wounded area. “Bruised ribs?”

 “Possibly.”

 “Let’s not take the chances and act as if they are. Shirt off,” Dominic held back a smile as Amos’ feathers puffed out, “Come now, don’t argue with me.”

 “Peck neck.” Amos grumbled, but did as was requested.

 Dominic was careful as he wrapped another ice pack gently against the owl’s back. Trying not to invade to close into Amos’ space. The owl practically looked anywhere but at Dominic.

 “There...you’re all set. We’ll need to change out that pack every few hours.” The penguin advised as he poured a few pain pills out and handed them over. Amos downing them quickly.

 “...Thank ya…”

 “You’re welcome...Darling. Now, let’s find some place to eat. We really need to talk about what happened.”

[7-wonders]

How about Xavier and the reader smoking (weed) in his van and y’all just start making out? (It can lead into whatever you want lol)

Let’s try this again!

To many, the van parked in the back corner of the aerobics studio parking lot would barely warrant a second glance. If somebody were to look again, it was often to chuckle at the license plate proclaiming the van the “Vanta-C,” or to wrinkle their nose in disgust at such a junky old van. It was inconspicuous in all the right ways, which is what made the Vanta-C the perfect place to unwind after class…and sometimes before class.

Xavier, you have to admit, has some of the best weed you’ve ever had the pleasure of experiencing. Luckily for you (and everybody Xavier’s friends with), Xavier believes in sharing his stash, claiming that smoking alone is too depressing for him. At least once a week, some variety of your friend group will pile into Xavier’s van, listen to music, and share a couple of joints. It’s a fun time no matter who’s there with you, but your favorite days are when it’s just you and Xavier in his van.

You’re sitting in the back of Xavier’s van, leaning against the cool seat and allowing the air conditioning to cool you down after a heavy aerobics class. A joint lies beside you, unlit, as you flip through Xavier’s extensive collection of cassette tapes. The man in question leans over the center console, switching out one tape in his cassette player for another. He’s mumbling under his breath as he stretches his lithe arm towards the play button, finally hitting it and starting the tape.

The familiar sounds of Journey’s classic synth music fill the air, and you eagerly bob your head to the rhythm as Xavier sits down opposite you. “Finally, some good music,” you note approvingly.

“What, you don’t like the regular music we play?” He holds out his hand for the joint, striking a lighter and expertly getting it started as he takes a few quick puffs.

“Correction: I don’t like Ray’s music.” You gratefully accept the joint, letting the sweet smoke fill your lungs and watching as it filters above you in delicate shapes. “His idea of a mixtape is just different George Michael songs, and I’m pretty sure I’ll end up cutting my ears off if I have to listen to ‘Faith’ one more time.”

“What do you have against George Michael?” Xavier asks jokingly, watching with hooded blue eyes as you take another hit and hold the smoke deep in your lungs before exhaling through your nose: a trick you had learned from Xavier himself.

“‘Dunno, probably the stupid earring,” you tease, flicking Xavier’s cross earring that’s a direct imitation of George Michael’s.

Xavier whistles lowly, stealing the joint from you and holding it between his slender fingers. “Harsh, (Y/N). I share my stash with you and make you a mixtape, and this is how you repay me?”

“You made me a mix? Is that,“ you point to the speakers at the front of the van, “what this is? My very own mixtape?” You’re laying the teasing on pretty thick, but you can’t help it when you know it makes Xavier’s cheeks flush a beautiful shade of pink.

Lately, things have been different between you and Xavier. Not in a bad way, but just in an unexpected way. Ever since the night last winter where you had found him throwing up in some dingy bathroom at a house party, unknown troubles that you didn’t both to ask about sending him straight into the arms of alcohol poisoning, your dynamic had changed.

Suddenly, he wasn’t just Montana’s cocky ex who you only tolerated because all of your other friends adored him. He’s funny, and introspective, and a lot smarter than you originally gave him credit for. You can talk with him for hours about almost anything, although your conversations usually deviated towards music and pop culture. He understood you on a different level than any of your other friends.

He’s also devastatingly handsome, which doesn’t help the small crush you’ve developed on him.

“It’s nothing, really,” Xavier shrugs nonchalantly. “You have a really good taste in music, and I wanted to make something for you to listen to.”

“Thanks, Xav.” You’re touched by this unexpected display of friendship, the man in front of you not really known for doing nice things for people.

Xavier fidgets with his earring before thrusting the joint in your direction, not quite sure what to say to fill the silence. “Here, it’s your turn.”

You both fall quiet as you listen to the music and pass the joint back and forth, your movements getting slower and more languid as the drug begins to take effect. You can feel your veins thrumming with the relaxing heat that begins to spread through you, watching Xavier through the hazy smoke that fills the van.

“What are you thinking about?” you ask quietly, leaning your head back against the side of Xavier’s van.

What Xavier wants to say is that he’s thinking about the way your eyelashes flutter as you try to follow the smoke with your eyes, or how pretty your lips look wrapped around the rolled-up paper. Instead, he plays it safe. “Mmm, just life. Plans for the summer.”

The blue of Xavier’s eyes is nearly swallowed whole by his blown-out pupils, giggling at how freaked-out his dilated eyes make him look. Staring at the smooth planes of his face as your fingers tap out the beat to an AC/DC song, an idea starts to form in your mind. Normally, if you weren’t high, you’d never even consider what you’re thinking. Being high, however, silences the part of your brain that reminds you how disastrous your ideas can be.

Flipping the joint so the cherry faces you, you slowly place it between Xavier’s full lips, smirking lazily when his breath hitches at the contact. His eyes are glued to your hand, watching as your fingers linger against the soft skin of his lips. Breathing in deeply, he makes a move of his own when the warm smoke escapes his mouth as he blows it in your face. You stifle a cough, looking away like you didn’t just try to come onto Xavier.

Across from you, Xavier is internally freaking out. Was that unintentional, or were you trying to seduce him like he hopes you were? For his sake, he really hopes that you were attempting to make a move on him.

“Can I try something?” Xavier asks suddenly, making you look down from the ceiling.

“Sure?” Your eyes are pleading with him for answers, but he refuses to budge.

Xavier takes a couple of deep breaths from the joint, filling his lungs with as much smoke as possible. Winking at you, he shuffles forward and places his hand on the nape of your neck, pulling you towards him and pressing his lips to yours in a heated kiss.

There’s hardly a moment’s hesitation as you eagerly reciprocate the kiss. The smoke travels from Xavier to you as he slips his tongue inside your mouth, giving you no choice but to breathe it in. Your hands, desperate to grab onto something, tangle in Xavier’s beautiful hair. He doesn’t even complain about you messing up his precious locks, instead setting down the joint on a stray ashtray so it doesn’t set the van on fire and wrapping his other hand around your waist so he can lay you down against the floor.

Your back meets with the carpet of his van, and you stare at Xavier through the hazy air in ecstasy as he slides your shirt off of your body. Rolling his hips against yours, you can feel his sizable bulge already through his shorts.

Xavier’s hands, large and veiny, pull your bra down your chest to expose your breasts. “I fuckin’ knew your tits would be gorgeous, even when you’re wearing your workout clothes I just knew.”

He continues to kiss you as his hands explore your body, moaning his approval as your hands start to mimic his actions. His lean body fits perfectly against yours, and you take your time to explore each and every curve of his muscles as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and pulls slightly.

You need more, crave more, and you begin thrusting your legging-clad hips against him to the heavy, slow beat of the song booming from the speakers.

“Fuck, Xav,” you pant from under him, kissing him again. “I want you.”

“Yeah? Tell me what you want.”

“Want,” you pause to moan when he begins to suck a hickey against your neck, “want you to fuck me.”

Xavier nods, lifting away from you to allow you to sit up on your elbows so he can unclip your bra. He winks at you as he seems to move in slow motion, kissing you once more and humming along to “Still Loving You.”

“It’s a good thing you like The Scorpions, ‘cause this is a perfect sex song.”

“Actually, there’s no ‘the’ before Scorpions. A lot of people think there is, but the band is just Scorpions.” The words escape before you can even think to stop them, your eyes widening in embarrassment.

“Fuck, it’s so hot that you know random shit like that,” Xavier leans down to kiss you again, fingers playing with the waist of your leggings.

You’re both so wrapped up in each other, the weed and the euphoria of the situation making it almost impossible to focus on anything else, that neither of you notice the door to the van sliding open until an excited squeal has both of you scrambling away from each other. The sunlight filtering in does nothing to reveal who’s standing in front of you at first, the two silhouettes taking a moment to become a smug Montana and an embarrassed Chet. Xavier covers you with his body, but you still grab your shirt and hold it in front of your chest for some semblance of modesty.

“I’m so sorry, guys, I just needed to pick up my gym bag?” Xavier’s eyes flicker to where Chet is pointing, seeing the red, white, and blue gym bag that Chet had asked to stash in the van prior to class. Xavier nods slowly, avoiding eye contact with everybody as he pushes the bag with his foot, allowing Chet to snatch it up.

“Well, I guess we’ll let you two horny lovebirds get back to it,” Montana says gleefully.

“‘Tana,” you whine, pleading with her to stop as you wish for the ground to open up beneath you and swallow you whole.

“Alright, alright.” She holds up her hands disarmingly, grabbing at the handle of the door and winking at you as she starts to close it. “Wrap it before you tap it, babes!” Montana shouts before the door closes.

Xavier’s only able to mutter a stunned “oh my God” as he stares at the space where his friends occupied only moments ago. Turning to you to make sure you’re okay, he’s momentarily concerned when he finds you with your head in your hands and your shoulders shaking. When he hears your near-hysteric laughter, he can’t help but smile.

“What the fuck just happened?” you gasp out between peals of laughter, tears nearly streaming from your face as you begin to put your bra back on: a sight that makes Xavier worry.

“Y’know, we don’t have to stop just because of a little interruption,” Xavier trails off, placing his hand on yours in an attempt to get things back on track.

“How did that not kill the mood for you?” you chuckle, pushing his hand away and sliding your shirt over your head. “Aw, don’t look so sad! There’ll be another chance for you to score, I’m sure.”

Xavier sighs, picking up the joint and sadly taking a hit. “Fuckin’ Montana.”

//

Quick Tag List: @ccodyfern @1-800-bitchcraft @divinelangdon @lvngdvns @wroteclassicaly @tcc-gizmachine @xavierplympton @michaelsapostle 

[ineffably-good]

Prompt: Road Trip

Summary: A look at three memorable road trips over the course of an ineffable friendship. 

This is part of the Good Omens 30th Celebration Prompts - see all of the ones I’ve completed on AO3. 

---

 Outside Thebes, 1500 BC

“Imagine running into you here!” a familiar voice said on the docks of the Red Sea port of Elim, in the kingdom of Egypt.

Crawly blinked and turned around, trying hard to not show how much he wanted to kneel down and kiss the ground, now that he was back on dry land. “Angel!” he said. “Did you just arrive as well?”

“I did, yes,” the angel said, peering at him closely. “You look a little green around the gills, Crowley. Are you all right?”

“Oh,” the demon demurred, trying to be cool. “You know. Boats and me. I’m fine!” He waved a hand and swallowed hard, fighting a wave of nausea.

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes, not fooled in the least. “You’re headed for Thebes, I expect? Come travel with my group, I’ve got a camel just for you.”

“A camel!” Crawly said. “I’d prefer to walk, thank you.”

“You’re not walking from here to Thebes. It’s the desert. You’ll die.”

“Well then I’ll fly!” Crawly said. “I can wait until nightfall.”

Aziraphale made a face filled with compassion underlain by the tiniest bit of mockery.  “Oh, I’m so sorry, Crawly!” he purred. “I didn’t realize you were afraid of camels! How foolish of me to offer. They are rather terrifying beasts, I can see how a demon would be put off by one. I’ll just see if I can arrange for you to be taken over on an ass, would that be better?”

Crawly rolled his eyes, his bluff having been successfully called. Now that the angel was calling him a coward, there was no way he was going to do anything other than ride a freaking camel from here to Thebes. How wonderful, to have a reputation to uphold.  

This led directly to Crawly finding himself bumping and rolling along in a group of about twenty on the world’s surliest camel, several hours later, holding desperately to the saddle horn in front of him and trying to find a rhythm which did not exist in the animal’s god-forsaken gait. The camel was draped in blankets and tassels and other accessories which served to make it look cute and harmless, but its appearance didn’t match its demeanor. Every chance it got, it turned around and bared its teeth at Crawly.

Aziraphale pulled up next to him for long stretches of the journey, offering him encouragement and advice. “Try scratching behind her ears!” he shouted helpfully. “Isn’t the scenery gorgeous?”

Gorgeous, the demon thought sulkily. He tried Aziraphale’s suggestion and the camel turned around and tried to bite him, causing him to wobble and almost lose his seat.

The camel (whose name was Sheba, of all things) came to a dead stop and looked him straight in the eye, assessing something. Crawly frowned and concentrated, pulling up every ounce of demonic threat he possessed and allowing his eyes to darken to a gleaming red for a moment, trying to convey the sense of immediate damnation if the bloody ungulate didn’t pull itself into line and immediately. The tar pits of hell were perfectly sized to fit a few dozen camels, after all.

The camel was completely unimpressed. Hell didn’t frighten Family Camilidae – they had met demons before, and there wasn’t a demon among the bunch who didn’t find camels to be meaner, trickier, and less trustworthy than their fellow inhabitants of the lower circles. Most demons would rather be roasted on a spit than end up in a one on one fight with a dromedary, no matter what they were armed with.

Crawly kept up the glower and bravado for as long as he could, and was somewhat relieved when the camel broke the stare-off first. Had he won? He sat up straighter in his seat, pleased with his courage – he had won! He was fairly sure he had won.

The camel had other ideas, breaking free of the path and heading directly for the cliffside overlooking the Red Sea.

“’ziraphale!” Crawly shouted, losing all pretense of being in control of this situation as he held on for dear life. “She’s trying to murder me!”

The camel lopped along at a surprising rate of speed until he got directly to the edge, then skidded to a halt, performing a complicated bucking maneuver that sent Crawly flying over her neck and down over the edge of the ravine.

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale murmured, calling the caravan to a stop. “Stupid Sheba! This can’t be good!”

He dismounted and ran to the edge, to look for his friend.

Crawly was alive, about 20 feet down on a small rocky ledge that had broken his long fall to the river. He waved a hand weakly at Aziraphale but seemed unable to get up from where he was lying, a cloud of dust around him obscuring the extent of his injuries.

Somehow his words drifted up to reach the angel’s ears.

“Bloody…. Camels…” he moaned. “Can’t anyone invent something better than this?”

Aziraphale put a slight miracle on the entire party, distracting them from what he was doing as he flew down to rescue his companion and “help” him back up to the party. Time to put Crawly safely on a litter and with a substantial pain block for the rest of the journey. Once they reached Thebes, he would nurse the demon back to health.

 --

 Scotland, 1730

Usually, Crowley and Aziraphale traded duties whenever they could when their assignments involved long stretches of travel, but sometimes they had no choice but to carry out their duties themselves, even if they were headed to the same area. And so they found themselves both called to Scotland, on their way to Edinburgh to attempt to influence a series of rich nobles to their own aims.

Nothing said they couldn’t travel together, though. They took a rough carriage as far as Northumberland, then were handed a set of fine horses by one of George II’s lords to take them the rest of the way.

“Can’t we just – you know, snap our fingers and show up in a nice, cozy inn in Edinburgh?” Crowley groused.

Aziraphale looked somewhat sympathetic. He wasn’t a huge fan of horses either, although he had to admit that having some extra padding in his hips and thighs probably made the ride a lot more comfortable for him that it was for a bony specimen like Crowley. And he did enjoy the fresh air and the scenery.

“I don’t think we should,” he said. “It would definitely draw the attention of Above if I miracled myself directly to the castle three days early. And then they might notice that I had a demon with me for the whole trip, which could lead to questions, and that could be –”

“Oh, all right, all right,” Crowley snapped, knowing he was right. He did, though, magic himself up a little extra blanket on top of the saddle of the large thoroughbred he was riding. She was a mare, high spirited and a lovely dark brown. Although better than a camel, she obviously objected to having a snake demon on her back, which she showed by rolling her eyes and wickering madly whenever he came to mount her, and then either plodding along at a maddeningly slow speed or racing at breakneck pace ahead. She outright refused to do anything Crowley asked, but would, infuriatingly, obey like a sweet little lamb whenever Aziraphale intervened.

The angel’s horse, a large chestnut stallion in fine form and fettle, gave him no trouble whatsoever. And don’t think that Crowley didn’t notice how smug Aziraphale appeared about this sometimes. He did. He filed each and every instance of smug away in his mental files, to be revenged upon later.

After the horse threw Crowley for the third time in three days, Aziraphale had to admit defeat. They were simply going to have to find another form of transportation before Crowley ended up discorporated on the side of the road.

“Shaddup, angel,” the demon said irritably as he picked himself up out of the ditch and brushed off a combination of sodden vegetation and rot. “It’s not my fault, she just hates me.”

The gorgeous mare stomped her front hooves and made a noise of agreement. She did hate him. She really did.

“I can see that,” Aziraphale said. “Shame, really, you and horses. They’re such a convenient way to get around.”

“For you, maybe.”

The angel moved to take the reins of both horses and began leading them down the road. “Can you walk, my dear?” he asked.

Crowley grunted his assent and began limping down the road, putting Aziraphale’s broad form between him and the animals. If he was lucky, they could make it to the next town without one of the horses kicking him in the head.

“Great,” he sighed. “Walking. Even slower and more tortuous.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Aziraphale said pleasantly. “I rather enjoy walking. And it’s only an hour or two until the next village. Then we will try to get you onto an ox cart or something.”

Crowley was not to be mollified. He leaned back and spread his arms. “Could someone please invent something to make these fucking horses obsolete?” he shouted at the sky. “I’d consider it a personal favor!”

--

London, 2020

Crowley pulled up in front of the bookshop and, feeling insouciant, laid on the horn instead of going up to the front door to knock. He hopped out of the car and leaned against the bonnet, grinning broadly as Aziraphale appeared at the front door, frowning and looking affronted.

“Is this what we’ve come to now?” the angel asked acerbically. “The romance is over? No more coming in to greet me, you just blurt the horn until I come outside?”

Crowley grinned and produced a bag of pastries from behind his back.

“Oh, well then,” Aziraphale said with a wriggle. “You’re forgiven!”

“Let’s go for a drive, angel,” the demon said enticingly.

Aziraphale pretended indifference. “I’m not so sure about that, my dear,” he said. “You’re such a frightening driver, after all. Why would I want to do that?”

“There are three excellent reasons for you to go on a drive with me, angel,” Crowley said, his mood too perky for the angel’s game playing to make a dent. “Number one, it’s a beautiful day! Number two, I know an excellent place in the country where we can get crepes, about two hours north of here. Right where that really interesting inn used to be in the 18th century – do you remember? Rosie and Violet and their roadside inn?”

Aziraphale cast back and encountered the memory of good stew, cool ale, and excellent company. “I do!” he said. “That was such a lovely place.”

“Well now there’s a restaurant there, same plot of land. Shame you’ve never been there,” the demon said coyly. “Should really do something about that.”

“And reason three?” the angel said, smiling.

Crowley walked over and swung open the passenger door. “Reason three? It’s a CAR. An automated vehicle with horsepower but no horses!” He gestured at the leather interior. “Sitting comfortably, a tin of biscuits in your lap, while we zoom through the countryside with nothing to bite you or buck you or try to kill you with its bad temper?”

“Crowley, my dear, you know I’ve seen your car approximately a thousand times before,” Aziraphale pointed out.

“Shaddup, I’m having a moment here!” Crowley said. “Can’t we just stop and appreciate now and then that we are not on the back of animal when we have to get from point A to point B?”

Aziraphale laughed. “I see you woke up in quite a mood today.”

Crowley grinned at him. “Get in the car, angel. Places to go, people to see.”

Aziraphale stopped feigning resistance and allowed himself to be ushered into the car, his door to be carefully shut behind him, and his seat belt to be adjusted for maximum comfort. The demon was in rare high spirits, and he wasn’t truly going to resist participating in them for anything in the world.

[turningintomalfoy]

Draco Malfoy and the Obnoxious Stone

Rating: All Audiences

Tags: Time travel, AU/Canon divergence, Redemption, Character growth

Chapter: 3/9 [complete]

AO3: Read Here

“You better have a good reason for not writing back to most of my letters last month.” Pansy Parkinson announced the moment her head made it through the threshold of the train compartment. Draco couldn’t push down a feeling of guilt and let himself get distracted enough to lose a round of exploding snap against Goyle. He had barely just calmed enough to look in Crabbe’s direction, thank you very much, and did not want more reminders of the future mistakes he would make.

“Well, they were rather dull. I didn’t think my input would change how the weather ruined your plans,” his friend bristled, but that’s how they always worked best together. “You remember weather spells exist, don’t you? Why do they have to be natural thunderstorms?”

“It’s not the same.” she stretched the vowels, petulant. Draco shifted closer to the window to make room for them both. The train only set off a few moments prior, and were he to peer out the windows, he would still be able to catch the last parents waving goodbye to some student he would have probably seen tortured or killed if Draco paid any attention to anyone’s suffering in the war.

“You got to play quidditch with your cousins, nothing to complain about. Did you work on your catches?”

Pansy, in fact, did not practice her catches this summer, and told Draco exactly what she thought about spending precious time with obnoxious and spoilt kids. This time, Draco stopped himself for pointing out she should fit right in with that crowd. She really did seem put out.

Instead, Draco reached for the abandoned book on obscure age altering potions he pocketed at Flourish and Blott’s while browsing for non-incriminating books that could still be useful. There wasn’t as much choice at the store as he hoped for, but the library at Hogwarts would definitely have an answer, he couldn’t accept anything else. The dusty, in all likelihood outdated, tome had yet to provide a good lead on his situation. On the bright side, if he wanted to remain in this 11 year old body for much longer than a year or return to a more adult form, he now knew half a dozen ways of making it happen and the side effects of each one.

With a sigh, Draco rejoined the discussion about exactly how much cheating in chess is permissible before it’s embarrassing even if you don’t get caught. He hated playing against Pansy on days she decided there was no limit. The other boys somehow ended up entertaining them with all the misadventures they ended up in over the last month, not sugar coating their own ignorance or stupid ideas in the slightest. Before long, though, the conversation died out, probably because no one was used to Draco not vying for the spotlight at every opportunity.

Draco climbed up onto the seat with his book in hand to find his school robes and less frustrating reading material. Everything was going well until he forgot he wasn’t tall enough to step back to pull his trunk down without tumbling down. The trunk avoided squashing him by an inch, but that wasn’t enough to soften the blow to his ego (or his behind). The other kids bursting into laughter definitely didn’t help the issue one bit.

“Ahaha maybe you need to pra-haha practice more swan dives off a stage!” Pansy’s tone couldn’t even reach mocking, she was too busy trying to hold back her laughter. “You were so graceful before .”

“Maybe it’s puberty.“ Crabbe choked out, visibly preening at the rare opportunity to berate him. Goyle laughed so hard he started a coughing fit. Draco would never hear the end of it at this rate. He had to clear his head and recover whatever dignity he could.

He got up with as much poise as he could, considering the burning in his cheeks and ears, and slammed to door on his way out. The food trolley witch would be doing a round by now, he figured, he could buy some sweets for their silence.

He almost reached the front of the train by the time he caught up to the trolley. While the lady counted out change, Draco could have sworn he saw a green chocolate frog jump out of a wrapper and onto her shoulder, but the woman didn’t react. The return journey was slower both with residual embarrassment and the weight of bribes filling his pockets. He pushed past a few groups of older students, who seemed to be debating if Harry Potter was on the train, one of them claiming the boy must have gone abroad to hide from vengeful Death Eaters and will definitely be attending Durmstrang.

Draco almost ran into Hermione Granger as she marched out of a compartment with enough determination and energy to trample right over him.

“You haven’t seen a toad around, have you?” She asked. “A boy called Neville is looking for one, its name is Trevor.”

Draco wasn’t ready. Potter was one thing, he could still hate the Chosen One. But here stood Granger before he belittled and demeaned her in front of most, before he teased and bullied her for being smarter and more dedicated, before witnessing the torture she endured in his home. He felt sick.

“Well? Have you seen one around or not?” Granger prompted again.

“What’s the point of looking? The toad must have taken one look at him and realised it was a lost cause” what was he doing? He wanted to fix things, or to run away from all those he hurt before. Not preemptively insult them. Draco couldn’t tell whether he felt ill, angry, or just tired.

“How dare you. You can’t say things like that!”

Their heated exchange drew attention from the compartment beside them, it’s door opening to show a tall ginger (definitely Ron Weasley), and Potter. This settled it, Draco had to be stuck in his personal hell.

“Oi! What’s going on?” Weasley grumbled. “Can’t you question him somewhere else?”

“Hey, it’s you again. Draco Malfoy?” Potter chimed in, sounding out his name as though it was difficult to remember.

“You know him? Ask him if he’s seen Neville’s toad.” Granger put Potter between her and Draco with a couple steps back.

“It’ll be a public service to let the toad go. It belongs with a proper wizard.”

Apparently, Draco just couldn’t help himself.

“Of course the git would say that. Forget about it Harry, Hermione. Don’t expect any good from a Malfoy.” Weasley exclaimed with pride. The worst part was it wasn’t completely wrong. Still, Draco was already worked up and past the point of no return.

“I don’t even need to ask your name, Weasley. Father says your parents have more children than garden gnomes. Figures Potter would take pity on a charity case like you.” Weasley’s face turned scarlet, and both boys seemed ready for a fistfight, Draco realised a little late with a sinking feeling in his stomach. “Anyway, I have better things to be doing.”

He swerved out of range just in case one of them decided to go for a punch, and carried on. He wouldn’t admit to feeling guilt about coming full circle when it comes to these three, but something pushed him to mention the food trolley witch to Granger as he passed. The toad was probably long gone by then, anyway.

His friends greeted him somewhat remorsefully, and they spent the rest of the way to Hogwarts playing cards and enjoying his snacks. Not long after sunset the train came to a stop. Draco couldn’t contain his excitement. They followed other first years to the lake shore, where Hagrid packed them into boats. A breathtaking reflection of the stars spread around them on patches of still water. They cut through it, gentle ripples appearing around them like a gathered shimmering silk. It was a real shame only first years got to experience this sight.

“Has someone forgotten a toad?” Hagrid helped an embarrassed Longbottom climb back into the boat. They must have found it on the train, but the amphibian seemed to know what it wanted.

Draco kept to a group of pureblood students and away from the soon to be gryffindors, only slightly preoccupied by a possible continuation of their argument on the train, but Professor McGonagall didn’t make them wait long.

He lost focus, staring at the teacher table. He felt faint, palms sweating, and couldn’t tear his eyes away from Severus Snape and Dumbledore. Here they were, alive and unaware. A song reached him more like wind wailing outside tightly closed doors, he couldn’t join in if his life depended on it. McGonagall repeated his name twice before anything broke Draco out of thought. It was his turn. He pushed past a smaller kid out of his way to the Sorting Hat.

“My, my... this should be the first time we meet, young man. Yet, I see you have already found yourself amongst loyal snakes.”

“Just put me where I belong, it’s been a long day already,” Draco thought, grinding his teeth in frustration.

“Now, let’s not be hasty... It’s true you still have Slytherin on your mind, but is it truly where your heart lies?” The Hat carried on. “Gryffindor could hone your courage and quench a thirst for justice, child. You could make a bigger difference than you ever thought possible.”

Draco looked up at his godfather, at the headmaster, at the faces of all these children doomed to take part in a war they didn’t want. If he could slow Voldemort’s return, maybe they could all be safe. The war could be stopped before it even began. He caught Potter, staring at him with a mixture of worry and disgust.

“Forget it, I wouldn’t be caught dead with that lot. Even Hufflepuff would be better than Gryffindor.”

“Another difficult one, I see. Have it your way...”

The Slytherin table cheered at the Hat’s decision, as Draco took a seat opposite Crabbe and Goyle, who were too busy trying to stare food into existence on the empty plates between them.

The rest of the sorting went as expected. Nott, Theodore and Pansy joined them with a lot less fanfare than Draco or Potter, who ended up causing an uproar by landing in Gryffindor. Weasley followed suit, and finally Zabini, Blaise sat on Draco’s unoccupied side.

“I’m Draco.”

“Blaise. Does the Hat actually listen to us? I thought I saw you talking back to it.”

“It does, when someone is good enough to be in two houses. I hear it’s rare for a real hat stall to happen. It has to take more than five minutes.”

“Sweet! Which house did you turn down for better company?” He asked with a grin.

“... Ravenclaw.”

“Well, then it’s settled Draco. That puts you in charge of making sure we all pass!” Pansy joined in on his other side with a laugh. She gestured with a tilt of her head, pointing out Crabbe and Goyle. “We’ll definitely need a miracle for those two to make it.”

[iamalivenow]

It's quiet.

Hades opens his eyes slowly, prompted more by the light drifting through the curtains then the sound of dogs and thats- weird. Weird and suspicious. Because they are never this quiet. His room is rarely this quiet.

He sits up a little too quickly, mostly concern and a slow building panic in his gut, when sharp pain shoots through his head. Massive headache- no not just a headache- a hangover- ugh. He falls back and that's enough to kick in the vertigo.

Not off to a good start, this day. Why did he drink so much last night- Where did he drink so much last night-

He blinks.

His phone is charging on the nightstand, next to a glass of water and pill on a small plate. Did Hecate stop by- did he call Hecate last night? He fumbles his phone and turns over. No urgent emails, that's good, that's a good start. The news app doesn't tell him he's done anything embarrassing- at least not publicly. Okay, okay, okay. Maybe not that bad of a day.

His texts are a little less stellar, mostly a lot of stupid spelling mistakes and grammatical abominations sent to Hecate at three in the morning but a shocking amount of restraint on his part with just one smiling emoji to Kore.

His phone buzzes in his hand, a new text from-

He sets it down on the nightstand and rolls back over again, sitting up significantly slower this time and popping the pill. The water is cool.  

Still, it does leave the question of where his dogs are.

He gets up after a minute when the dizziness slows down. He wasn't so plastered he slept in his shoes- he even got his pants off with out breaking anything. He should shower first- where is Cerberus though- he shifts his weight from left to right before finally deciding on tracking his dogs down first. Walking takes a bit but once he's got a handle on the basic fundamentals of upright mobility he heads into the living room.

A few steps through it is when he starts hearing the sizzling. A few more steps is when he can smell what is probably literal ambrosia. Or might as well be.

Did someone break into his house to cook him breakfast? Creepy- very creepy-

“Oh, you're up.” Persephone glances over her shoulder- there are his dogs now- rushing up to lick at his hands- why is she here.  “I was going to bring you breakfast in bed but... uh...”

“Right.” He mumbles. “I was going to- shower. But I lost my dogs. And you found them. They're here. So thank you.” She laughs a little, light and beautiful and it really feels like any remainder of a headache he might have had is long gone.

“Pleasure.”

The light is way brighter in the kitchen, but he can't bring himself to mind. His dogs finally calm down- they really seem to miss him.

“Not that I forgot-” He starts and clears his throat. “But what are you doing here this early?”

“Oh, it's- It's noon.” He glances at the clock on the wall. It is. It is noon.

“You're making me breakfast at noon?”

“I just got here! Morning classes. And excuse you. I'm making Us breakfast.”

His stomach makes a pointed sound and his face definitely doesn't tint purple.

“That would be nice.” He mumbles, staring down at where Cerberus is still licking his hand. “I should go walk them.” He receives a once over in return.

“You Should go put pants on.” And she doesn't even wait a beat while he looks down at his bare legs as if only just now being aware of the whole half dressed thing. “I already walked your dogs.”

“But you just got here.” He's already inching back to his bedroom, trying not to dwell, trying and failing not to dwell on the look she gave him.

“I walked them before class? You asked me too remember?”

No, no he really doesn't. And even if he did, who gave her the keys, did he give her the keys, did she already have a spare, is that something he would do-

“Yep. For sure of course.” He nods, maybe a little too vigorously for the hangover. “Pants.”

He rounds the corner without looking at her. Definitely doesn't trip over his own two feet when he hears her laugh. Not at all, not at all. His phone is buzzing on his nightstand, a journey that seems all too far at the moment but he does brave it.

“You better be alive.” Hecate's voice feels like an icepick. He'd complain if he hasn't called her at the worst hours of the night.

“Why is Persephone here-” He whispers.

“I sent her, your welcome.”

“She said I asked her to walk my dogs-”

“I spoofed your phone.”

“Ah.”

“Listen, remember this when the holidays roll around is all I'm saying.” And while he's in the middle of trying to say 'You write your own bonuses.' she caries on, steadfast. “Don't think this is a reward for your binge drinking. You have four meetings at four, and if you're late I'm going to throttle you. They're important, Hades, I'm not joking. I'm not kidding. If you're not here I absolutely know where you live. ”

And then the phone clicks off.

Hades rubs his eyes.

Okay, shower, get dressed, be a normal person in front of Persephone who made him breakfast, go to work.

That's all he has to do.

She made him breakfast-

God she made him breakfast.

By the time he's dressed and clean Hades is more or less ready. Emotionally prepared. Gathered. Held very firmly together.

Everything smells so good- everything looks so good too.

“Hi Persephone.”

She looks up from where she is, crouching to pet his dogs.

“You clean up good.” She says.

“I try.” It comes out a little quick and she laughs and that's just everything in the entire world.

And then they eat breakfast together. It's nice. It's so nice. They talk about nothing, he asks about how class has been going and she asks him about work. They start talking about his dogs, about his house. Any plans for the weekend, what are you going to do for dinner, when was the last time you went shopping- until they finally ran out of topics and just enjoyed each other's silence.

Hades has to go to work at some point, Persephone has a mall date with Eros, they're both busy Later but.

But for now Hades can focus on what's more important.

Like the sound of her laugh.  Or her smile.

Or the fact that she was ready to make him breakfast in bed.

[nega-aria]

Gyro and Mark visiting a cemetery at night

Ok, I suck super hard at keeping things short, so these may go slower than I expected, but I’m having a lot of fun with this so thanks for the request!

“You First”

Rating: SFW

Characters: Mark Beaks, Gyro Gearloose, Falcon Graves, Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera

Ship: semi Beaksloose but not very shippy

Warnings: mild swearing

“You go first.”

“Like hell I’m going in there first! What happened to youproving how oooh so much better you are than me?”

“Pfft, don’t gotta prove facts, bitch.”

“That’s literally how they become facts.”

“Look just go already!” Mark yelled, his voice quivering andshrill in the cool night air as he finally turned to face Gyro. “Unless you’drather go back to the party and tell everyone you were too chicken.”

Damn that party, and damn that smirk on Mark’s face. Gyroscowled at the outstretched arm that was extended towards the gate, hiding hisown nerves behind a demeaning attitude. “For the love of Mewton, you are such ababy!” Gyro scoffed, pushing Mark aside roughly enough to completely relocatehim. The frustration fueled anger lasted long enough for Gyro to throw themetal gates open dramatically, but he cringed in that entryway when the ironrods gave way to the inky abyss before them.

The obvious click of a phone camera went unnoticed as Gyrostarted wide eyed at the scene before him. Trees twisted in seemingly unnaturalways, their shadows casting an army of demented branches, muddled up into aportrait of madness. The hints of moon that could be seen in the cloudy skydisplayed as nothing but an ominous slice of light: a mere tease in theterrifying darkness. It was like a set, something unreal plucked out of themost cliché of horror movies, but it was real and that was enough to make tiredtropes truly terrifying.

“See, just a depository for dead people erected solely to appeasethe irrational religious beliefs of society,” Gyro stated matter-of-factly,crossing his arms over his chest casually as though his heart wasn’t literallyabout to leap right out of it.

Mark rolled his eyes at the pompous display. “Whatever yousay, professor,” he mumbled. He jumped sharply when a soft rustling in the darkthat answered him instead of Gyro. “Did you hear that?” Mark squeaked.  

“What, you scared or something?” Gyro taunted. Quitefrankly, it made him feel better about his own fear to bother Mark about his.

Mark’s feathers puffed on cue. Gyro knew they would, thesmug bastard, but that didn’t stop Mark from going on the defensive. “Of thislame spooksville? As if!”

Gyro didn’t say anything, not so much as a hint of laughter,but he might as well have been cackling manically. He didn’t even look back ashe began a slow trek into the foreboding landscape, and that crude brush-offinfuriated Mark more than a real retort ever could. He didn’t retaliate –that wasexactly what Gyro wanted, after all—but his silent seething provided more thanenough satisfaction.

They occupied themselves with investigating the tombstones,argument pushed aside to allow frayed nerves to settle on something less agitating.Just to the far wall and back and this stupid bet would be satisfied.

The age of those markers shifted like fluid with each stepfurther into the cemetery, as if stepping back through time itself so smoothlythat one couldn’t even tell they were no longer in the right century. The olderthe graves got the more ominous they looked and the more it felt as if theiroccupants would simply rise from the ground and drag any trespassers with themto hell. The rows of crumbling stone were no longer organized and well caredfor. Any people who might wish to visit long were ago buried alongside theirkin, leaving nothing behind but markers of stone and iron to indicate they wereever there at all. A mossy pile of decaying rock was all that was left to markthe final resting place of many poor souls, while others still boasted toweringmonuments, guardians with their angelic features twisted by time into abstract monstrosities.

Mark swallowed at the terrified knot in his throat, but nomatter how hard he tried it proved too tremendous to gulp down. He clung to hisphone with trembling fingers, pointing its flashlight ahead of his every steplike a cross to banish evil. A boring bunch of rocks didn’t make for the bestdistraction, but Mark did his best with what he had.

“What do you suppose this dude’s story is?” Mark asked,pointing down at the grave near his feet.

“Sorry, I left my Ouija board at home,” Gyro said with anexaggerated roll of his eyes.

He scoffed at Mark when an investigation of his silencerevealed the other man to be currently predisposed with yet more social medianonsense, using a tube of red lipstick (that Gyro truly did not want to know whyhe had) to turn the dearly departed’s surname from “Buttshide” into “here liesButts”.

Gyro had never felt second hand shame so intensely in hislife. He could swear the entire graveyard was judging him from bringing such aloser into their domain. “What are you, five?”

“Yeah, wellll I wish you were five!” Mark snapped back. “Youwere actually fun when you were five! Was before you had that ginormous stickup your butt,” he concluded, turning his beak skyward in a very snottypunctuation.

In an instant the snooty demeanor was dropped to allow Markhis oh-so important task of documenting the journey via selfie timeline. It madeGyro scowl harder as he watched the parrot demean himself even further bygiving bunny ears to a headstone. “I loathe you, you know that right?” he said,but those words were not demonstrated in what came next.

A soft snap echoed in the dark. A twig rustled by an animalmost likely, but the logic of that couldn’t quite stick; in that fog filledevening, it was most certainly the breaking of bones, some animal gnawing inthe night, perhaps even a creature of such unknown horror that they couldn’teven fathom its likeness even in the most heinous of nightmares, but it was mostdefinitely something wicked.

Be it stick or monster, it had Gyro in full flight responsemode, cringing close to Mark as the other man did the same to him. “What wasthat?” Gyro squeaked.

“Totally not a horrendous monster,” Mark whimpered. “I mean,that would be super lame, right?”

Gyro actually tried to be comforted by Mark’s absurdlyinadequate attempt at a dismissive laugh, but it proved quite foolish to eventry. “It’d be preposterous.”

The night mocked him with a far more disturbing sound, likedeath itself clawing at a grave. They stood shoulder to shoulder, wanting torun but too terrified to move.

“Gyro?”

“Y-yeah?”

“Is it bad that I reallywanna hold your hand right now?”

Yet another eerie sound pierced the night, and Gyro’sfingers answered for him, quivering digits entwining tightly with Mark’s. Hegripped tighter when a dark shadow darted through the misty graves, but Marktook it one step further by clinging to Gyro’s entire arm when that same inkyfigure got closer and its hideous noises along with it.  

“What the hell isthat thing?!” Mark hissed in a panicked whisper.

“N-nothing, because it’s not real!”

That entity swept closer, moved faster, and growled louder. Theywere being surrounded, voices whispering from all directions and death droolingdown their necks, famished for their flesh. A typically effeminate scream burstfree as Gyro launched himself into the embrace of the man beside him, holdingon as if his life truly depended on it.

“WHAT?!” Mark asked, the pure terror seething from his voiceas he frantically scanned their surroundings with wide, petrified eyes.  

“It touched my butt!!”

“Oh, great a horny ghost! Just what we need. We can get laidbefore we die!”

Gyro did not appreciate the sarcasm. “Hey, don’t get pissyat me just because my ass is so fine that the even the afterlife can’t resistit!”

“THAT pathetic thing? It’s already living in the afterlife!”

“What does that even mean?!”

“I don’t know! I’m nervous, okay?!”

Another sound, this time louder and more sinister than allthe others, had Mark crying pathetically. “Gyro, if we die I just want you toknow that I never hated you as much as I said!” he wailed as he cowered intothe other man. “I just wanted you to think I was cool!”

“That’s stupid,” Gyro replied in the calmest tone he couldmuster, “We’re not gonna die…and I’m physically incapable of thinking you’recool.”

All at once the graveyard grew silent. Mark and Gyrostiffened in the eerie quiet, both feeling the presence behind them but neitherdaring to face it. They could hear it drooling, feel its breath, sense itsfamished growls, but it couldn’t really be there… could it?

It was Mark that actually looked first, turning slowly ashis eyes widened and his entire body quivered. It was large and menacing, andin that inky darkness it was easily eight feet tall and capable of breakingthem both in half. Blood red eyes pieced through the night and wet fangsglistened. Mark could swear he saw it lick its drooling maw, but he wasn’tabout to stick around and find out what that meant. He took off before he evennoticed that Gyro had thrown himself into his arms, but the hitchhiker didn’teven phase his stride, and they clung to each other, screaming in unison theentire way out of the cemetery. Gyro had to give Mark one thing, he was prettysure he’d win the fleeing for your life contest.

Behind them the monster cackled, maniacal laugher quickly devolvinginto elated gasps for air that struggled to allow enough room to actuallybreath.

“I can’t take it,” Falcon wheezed as he watched them, flee. “They’retoo adorable.”

Falcon pulled the mask from his face, slipping from theoversized ratty mass of fur that he normally wouldn’t let anywhere near him ashe dropped himself to the ground beside the smaller man who had been assistinghis deception. He lit a cigarette, leaning against the large gravestone behindhim and still chuckling lightly as he released the fumes into the cold night. Callit foolish self-indulgence, but when this opportunity had presented itself,Falcon couldn’t resist, and he was sure he had never laughed so hard in hislife.

“Dr. Gearloose is gonna killme when he finds out about this. You know he will find out about this right?!This was a terrible idea!!” Fenton answered, his tone growing more franticuntil he was waving his arms hysterically by the end of it.

Falcon chuckled at his partner in crime. He would likely beforever grateful that Fenton had been steamed enough at his boss to even offertechnical assistance and tipsy enough to actually go through with it. “No itwasn’t,” he answered simply.  “This was bloodybrilliant.”

Immediately outside the gate both Gyro and Mark were pantingfor air, the latter asking himself how Gyro was so out of breath when he hadbeen doing all the running.

Gyro was oblivious to the annoyed look as he smoothed hisjacket and cleared his throat. “Now, when everyone else asks-”

“Oh, dude we were total badasses. Hashtag crushed it.”

“Very good.”

The wind let forth a gust, laughing at the irony as it movedthe heavy iron gate behind them just enough to make both Gyro and Mark shriekin fear and back a good distance away.

Mark gulped nervously. “…Gyro?” The other bird looked hisway uncertainly. “Will you hold my hand on the way back?”

Gyro sighed. “You do realize this is supremely pathetic.”

“…does that mean yes?”

The second sigh was even more pronounced. “Yes.”

They instantly linked fingers, both holding tighter thanthey would like to admit as they braved the dark walk back to the party. Patheticit may be, but it sure did make them both feel better.

[littleplebe]

Something Wonderful - Part 2

For @mee2themoo‘s Marvel Summer Fun and Fluff Fest.

A continuation of +this.

About a year and a half ago…

It was a month after Steve had been discharged from the S.H.I.E.L.D. facility, deemed fit to start living by himself in this new world. A small living space had been assigned to him in Brooklyn along with a free gym membership that he abused without shame, also something called a computer that stayed boxed in a forgotten corner of his room along with a few other modern techs that Steve was afraid to use. One of the nicer and chattier agents at S.H.I.E.L.D. had hinted that all modern technology could be hacked. Steve took it to mean everything could be traced to its owner. He didn’t know what that could mean for him but he wasn’t about to take risks considering he didn’t trust anyone and anything in this century yet.

He often felt paranoid. Being a man out of time wasn’t an easy situation to handle. He had difficulty coping as a result of practically everything being different. People were loud and always in a hurry, fashion was downright outrageous, everything was expensive—at the rate he was spending money these days, he would go bald within a year—and he didn’t think he would ever get used to some of the words he had heard on the streets. Amazeballs, awesome, chill out and… badonkadonk? They stumped him. He had been called a dude a dozen times and, while he wasn’t unfamiliar with the word, it was hardly the right term to describe someone like him.

The amount of history and culture to catch up on was overwhelming and it made his mind spin. Frequent nightmares, dark thoughts, and his overall frustration at waking up to a world that had moved on without him eventually led him to consider a road trip out of the city. Maybe getting away from the hubbub of New York would help him calm down and feel a bit better about his unfortunate situation.

He packed some clothes and snacks in a bag and rented a pickup truck. He would travel south, spend the night in whichever place he’s reached by then, and there he would decide if he wanted to keep going or return home.

Couple of hours in, the journey was quiet and smooth, and without anything to distract him except the dull drone on the radio, Steve fell back into the addictive world of what-ifs. What if he had given Peggy his coordinates before he went down? What if Howard had found him with the coordinates and he was alive in his own time like he was supposed to be? What if he killed himself now? Would that make a difference to anyone at all?

Hours later and still completely owned by his morbid thoughts, he was passing through a small town just outside of Virginia when the car cruising ahead of him slowed abruptly and ran into an oncoming vehicle. Steve slammed his foot on the breaks to avoid another collision.

“Holy shit!” His exclamation was buried under the screech of tires as the truck skidded to a dangerous halt in the middle of the road, just a few inches shy of the car before him.

The reason for the accident, it turned out, was a naked woman who was presently eyeing the crash with caution. She wasn’t entirely naked, but even in this century, Steve knew that people walking around in their unmentionables was not a common occurrence. He stared in open-mouthed shock as she casually walked past the two ill-fated vehicles and approached Steve’s truck.

“Um,” he said when the passenger door opened and she slid in beside him without any explanation.

“Let’s go.”

“Where?” he asked her dumbly, eyes flickering to the road ahead to see the owners of the crashed vehicles engaged in a verbal fight. “I… need to help them.”

The woman shot him a look. “They can take care of themselves. I’m naked. Get me out of here!”

Steve turned to her, careful not to let his gaze wander. She was wearing black lace. It was fogging his judgment. “Um…”

The question of her identity or if she was to be trusted didn’t even cross his mind, so caught up was he in figuring out what would be the right thing to do in that instant. Her words echoed unevenly in his mind, registering a bit later than they should have and Steve realized she had a point. He wordlessly put the truck in reverse and drove around the crash like a careless civilian. A worried glance at the rearview mirror showed that the two men were still arguing.

“Relax,” drawled his new companion. “They were both perverts, more interested in checking me out than actually stopping to help.” She ducked her head out of the open window and screamed, “Assholes!”

Steve blinked and nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “Why… why are you…?”

“Why am I half naked on the road?” She pulled her legs up into her body and wrapped her arms around her knees in a display of defiance and, perhaps, in an unsuccessful attempt to hide her assets from his gaze. “Well, if you must know,” she continued stiffly. “I quit my job and they asked for my uniform back. I was angry and feeling petty, so I took it off right there and threw it at their faces.”

People really do that? Steve wondered. Apparently, they did.

“I mean, it wasn’t a job. It was an internship. I was supposed to work in HR or public relations but for whatever dumb reason, they placed me in security instead and gave me a stupid uniform to wear.” She paused and shook her head in defeat. “Now I’ll have to find somewhere else where I can earn my six college credits. God, this sucks!”

If she were fully clothed, Steve would think about offering some comfort in the form of a light pat on the knee. Since she wasn’t clothed, he settled for a small smile that came out more confused than sympathetic.

“Where am I taking you?”

“Willowdale. Culver University.”

“Oh. That’s where I’m headed.” He had planned to stop in Richmond but Willowdale wasn’t far. He supposed he could spend the night there instead.

The woman gave him a skeptical look. “Yeah, right.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he awkwardly introduced himself. “I’m Steve.”

She fidgeted, looking uncomfortable. “I’m Jane… uh… Foster.” She glanced behind them at the empty backseat. “Do you have a jacket or a blanket or something in this old metal contraption?”

Steve started. “Shoot, yeah! I have… uh…” He pulled up on the side of the road and gave her an apologetic look. “I have clothes. I’m sorry I didn’t think to offer sooner.”

“Yeah, that’s a shocker,” Jane deadpanned.

He tried not to get upset by her sarcasm and her skepticism to believe that he wasn’t one of those perverts out to get her. He would take her home safely and prove that he was a gentleman of the best kind, which he wasn’t—not completely—but she didn’t need to know that.

“I’ll get you a shirt,” he mumbled, hopping out and going to the back to retrieve one from his bag. She seemed to approve of it and snatched it from his grip to quickly put it on. It fell well past her thighs and Steve, who had been too busy not staring at the pale expanse of her skin, noticed for the first time how tiny she was. The shoulder line of his shirt hung over her biceps and the sleeves were longer than her arms.

She burrowed herself into the fabric and whispered, “Thank you.”

Steve nodded silently and restarted the truck.

She seemed to open up after that. Not a lot, but she told him about nicking a taser from the security vault of the firm she had recently quit and about her friend who worked in the same firm, who normally drove her to and from that place. But since she had quit, her friend couldn’t come to her rescue and she had to stand half nude on the road, hoping some kind soul would give her a lift.

Steve could sense some awkwardness seeping into her demeanor now that she had probably realized he was a nice fella and had no intention to do anything except help her. She pulled the collar close around her neck and said, “I’m not usually like this. I don’t rip off my clothes in public and walk around in my underwear.”

Steve kept his eyes on the road. “I’m sure you don’t.”

 It was quite late when they reached Culver. Steve realized they should have reached half an hour ago but he had been driving slower than he normally did. For… for Jane’s safety. The woman in question got out at the gates of Culver University and thanked him for bringing her home.

“Where are you staying at?” she inquired casually.

“I’m staying…” He trailed away because he had no idea. He would have to ask around for a cheap inn. Or perhaps he could still make it to Richmond.

“Do you have a place to crash at night?” Jane frowned when Steve nodded uncertainly. “Seriously, dude?”

“I’m sure I’ll find a place nearby.”

“This late?”

“Recommend me a hotel, maybe? Some place not that expensive?”

“Jesus Christ! Look, there’s no such thing as ‘not expensive’ in this place unless you’re a student, which you’re not.” She paused and ran a hand down her face. “God, I can’t believe I’m doing this… just leave the truck here and come with me. My roommate’s in Chicago for internship and her bed is free.”

Steve shook his head immediately. “That’s very kind of you, but I think I can manage by my own.”

Jane rolled her eyes. “Can you scale a wall?”

He blinked, confused at the turn in conversation. “I…”

She wasn’t interested in waiting for an answer and pointed ahead to her left. “Around the corner, second building, third floor. I’ll switch on the lights and stick my head out so you know which window.” Then she walked away, taking his shirt with her, her dark hair glistening in the moonlight.

“Shit!” cursed Steve, staring as she disappeared into the campus premises.

Did he have a choice?

He did. He could drive away and find a place to stay till morning and forget all about the woman he had met on the road. But he couldn’t leave her waiting at her window, could he? Plus, he needed his shirt back. He could go there, tell her he was going to be fine on his own—hell, he could even sleep in the truck if he didn’t find anything suitable—he would take his shirt and he would leave. And that would be it. Simple and easy.

He felt like a thief sneaking around in the shadows as he followed the directions she had given him. Like she had promised, the lights were switched on and she waved at him. “Come on up.” Then she disappeared.

“No, I can’t…,” hissed Steve. “Ma’am, wait! Jane!”

He turned and peered to his left and then to his right. Oh boy, this wasn’t good. He was going into a woman’s room. A student’s room. It was forbidden. Wasn’t it? He cursed again, then stepped forward to grab the pipe going up the building. It took him two quick leaps to reach her open window.

“Woah, you’re fast,” she remarked, looking up from the refrigerator. His shirt was still wrapped around her and she had thankfully put on a pair of jeans. “That’s Lily’s side of the room. You can make yourself comfortable.”

“Wait, listen—”

“Bathroom’s over there. I hope you brought your own toothbrush.”

“Ma’am…”

“Are you hungry? I have a club sandwich in the fridge.”

“That’s not what I…”

“And beer.”

Steve sighed in resignation and stepped fully into the small room. “Yes, thank you.” He was a little hungry. He would eat and then leave. What could go wrong?

Read Part 3