#as the fanfics say...the way you can see his heart shutter behind his eyes in the second gif...devastating

[hotcinnamonsunset]

'I wouldn't mind doing this again' -> 'we just have to keep it very casual, of course'

[carters-things]

I Trusted You

Matt Murdock X Reader

Summary: Matt promised he would stay home for the night, but you woke up to empty bed to find he broke that promise.

TW: Some violence, mentions of blood, fighting

Note: This is my first ever Fanfic! It went on longer than I expected and I feel like I kinda got lost in the plot line so I'm sorry for that... But here is a little piece I wrote at work one day when I wasn't busy. Let me know any feedback you guys have!

Masterlist

You are sitting on the couch wrapped up in a blanket trying to distract yourself from the ever building fear inside of you. You woke up about an hour ago only to find Matt had left, even though he said he would stay home tonight. Your mind is racing with thoughts of the worst possibilities of situations he could be in right now. Did he leave or was he taken? Is he unconscious somewhere? What if they captured him and he can’t get away? Your thoughts are interrupted by fumbling of the door handle. The door swings open to reveal a bleeding and limping man in a mask.

“You know most people’s boyfriend’s stumble home drunk. But not me- I’m lucky- mine comes in HALF DEAD!” You say getting up off the couch.

“I thought you’d be asleep” he groaned as he collapsed into the couch in pain.

“Oh so that makes this ok!?”

“No… No that’s not what I meant..” he says trying to ease your racing heart.

You scoffed at his response and walked towards the kitchen, avoiding his outstretched hand searching for your touch. “Honey..” he said softly “please-”

“Don’t” you snapped, cutting him off. You grabbed the ice pack from the freezer and threw it on the couch next to him. You grabbed your coat from the hook and started putting it on.

“What are you doing? Where are you going?” He asked worriedly but without response you left his apartment.

__________________

You had been walking the streets for who knows how long just trying to simmer down. You decided it was time to go home and turned the corner onto your block. You saw two men drinking on the front steps of an apartment building, when they started catcalling you.

“What is such a precious treasure like you doing out so late sweetheart?” one uttered. “Why don’t we take you out of this cold and bring you into our place?'' the second chimed in. Paying no mind to them you kept walking, hands clenched in your pockets, rushing your steps without bursting into a full on sprint.

“Don’t act like you can’t hear us!” the first man said standing up to block your path. “Don’t you know it's rude to ignore people?”

“Listen, I'm not interested in your drunken invitation. Now get out of my way before I make you move”

“Easy now babygirl, we just wanna have some fun!” the second man said coming up behind you brushing your hair away to reveal your neck. Your body shuttered in disgust at his touch. “Don’t touch me!” you said elbowing his ribs behind you. He bent over in pain and you started to run but the first man grabbed you before getting away.

“Playing hard to get tonight I see. Don’t think you’re getting away after treating my boy like that.” he says, putting one of his arms around your neck and pinning yours behind your back with his other “An eye for an eye right?” he nods at his buddy who has caught his balance after your blow. “Right” he smirks back before giving you a hard and swift kick to the ribcage. You let out a yell in pain as the man restraining you drops his hold.

Scrambling to your feet out of breath you take a swing at one of them but miss. The first man strikes you across the face splitting your lip, causing you to fall into the swing of the second man hitting your eye. You fall to the ground bleeding when sirens sound nearby. Startled by the sound growing closer, the two men take off running leaving you on the sidewalk crying out in pain gasping for air. You crawl to the stairs and pull yourself up getting steady on your feet before you start moving as fast as you can back to Matt’s apartment.

Upon arriving you’re filled with rage, irrationally blaming Matt for being the reason you're hurt, but you know even with how mad you are and how hurt he is the safest place right now is inside with him..

“Where the hell have you been!?” Matt exclaims as you enter the room.

“Pilates- good for the abs you know?” you spit back at him.

“What happened? Are you ok?” Matt says, trying to stand up.

“Stay down devil boy, I'm fine, nothing happened.”

“I can taste the metallic in the air, you’re bleeding” he groans, finally getting to his feet, joining you in the kitchen. Matt opens the freezer and grabs the bag of peas. Turning and reaching to place it on your eye causes you to flinch. The thought of him helping you right now fuels the fire inside of you. Why on earth would you want his help when he is the reason you left.

“Get away from me.” tears start forming in your eyes. “I need to take a shower” you choke out rushing to the bathroom. From the living room Matt can hear your cries in the shower. Half of which are from pain and the other half is processing what happened as you come down from your adrenalin high. The hot water eases some pressure on your ribs as you watch the dried blood from your face wash down the drain. After getting out of the shower and wiping away the condensation from the mirror you see the damage up close. Bloodshot eyes from crying, left eye half swollen shut and a gash across your bottom lip. You slip on some loose fitting pajamas and make your way out of the bathroom. Matt is sitting on the couch with his head low in his hands hunched over. You sigh before walking over and finding a seat in the chair across from the couch. You sit down gingerly clutching your burning rib cage when you see a tear roll down Matt’s cheek.

“How bad are you hurt…” you say, breaking the silence.

“I’ve lived through worse.." He is still in his black suit that is now soaked in blood. the silence continues for a few moments as you try and find a position that doesn't cause seering pain in your ribs.

"Please let me help you..” he says with a shaking tone.

“I’m fine, it doesn’t hurt.”

“If your heart beat wasn’t enough to give it away, the grinding of your rib is. I have to set it in place or it's going to cause a lot more problems.” he says as he stands over you. He places his hand on your ribcage before giving it a swift force of pressure causing it to pop into place.

“OW! SCREW YOU MURDOCK!” You cry out in pain doubling over yourself.

“I’m so so sorry sweetheart… this is all my fault..” Matt says holding back tears. He sits as far away from you as he can. Seeing him broken like this is worse than any physical pain though. Swallowing your own pride you make your way over to him. “No Matty it isn’t… I never should have left. I know better than to go out alone in Hell’s Kitchen at 3am.” you sit next to him wrapping his hands in yours.

“You left because of me though” he says interlocking his fingers with yours.

“Matthew, I left because I was scared. I woke up and you were gone. I didn’t know if you had been taken or if you were ever coming back. You could have been dead somewhere and I would have had no way of knowing. You told me you were staying home tonight and I trusted you. I was angry and hurt that you broke that part of me. The part of me that tries to trust you even knowing what you do.”

“I can’t stop being the man in the mask… you know that..” he says rubbing his thumbs over your hands.

“And I’m not asking you to stop. But if I can’t trust you- then what are we doing here?” you sigh.. “Listen.. I don’t want there to be a next time, but I know there will be. Just give me a warning, ok? Tell me you’re leaving. Let me kiss you goodbye, let me see you before you go because god forbid it be the last time I see you…”

“I think I can do that” Matt assures you. “How did I get so lucky to have you in my corner?”

“Let’s be real pretty boy... You’ll never deserve me.” you smirk, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Now it’s my turn to patch you up.”

"You're going to make this hurt aren't you.." he says nervously.

"Only a little" you laugh back getting the first aid kit

[sketchy-rosewitch]

When Your Soft Hands Hit the Jagged Ground: Bo Sinclair x f!little!reader

Warnings: Little space (is that a warning idk), blood, crying.

A/N: not gonna lie this is my first little space fanfic. That’s why it’s short.

Masterlist

“Puff! Puff! Bo!”

Your body slouches forward in an annoyed way as you draw more on the gas station concrete. You could smell the smoke from the garage, he said he’d stop doing it. Just didn’t tell you when.

“Yeah I know hun, but Bo needs a break from workin’! It’ll only be one I promise.”

You look back and glare at him, he leans against the frame of the garage and he blows the smoke into the air. “Now don’t go lookin’ at me with them eyes girl.”

You huff and turn back to your work. “You should come play! Let’s play a game!”

You hear Bo’s boots coming closer and closer and your grin widens. You hold a piece of chalk out to him and he takes it drawing out a tik tak toe board as that’s usually what you meant by playing a game. You draw a circle.

“Awh you’re not gonna let me be an “O” this time?” Bo teases, you scrunch your face.

“No, cause you smoke. Smokers don’t get to be a circle.”

He marks an X.

“Harsh.”

You mark an O

He blocks your O

You block his X

“I wanna play tag.”

You drop the blue chalk you were holding and stand up. Your chalk covered hand taps his shoulder getting dust all over it. “You’re it!” You smile, and run off where the town meets at a cross roads.

It takes Bo a minute to get himself up and running after you but once he does he’s quick. Which means you have to think quick. You look around before deciding to run towards the theater having a really good plan.

The doors swing open and shut right behind you. You wave politely at Miss Ambrose before making your way to the wax figure in the booth. “Don’t tell Bo where I am okay?”

The dead blond man doesn’t respond. Only a little voice in your head saying, “Okay!”

You smile and crouch behind the booth, knowing how Bo works, he’ll look around and then go into the screening room. Then you’ll have enough time to get up and run for the exit.

The doors swing open again, you see a cap with curly hair underneath it stalking around and you cover your mouth trying not to giggle. Your body crawls its way around the booth. He looks around the concession stand before shaking his head, smirking thinking he has you corned in the next room.

He swings open those doors and once they shut you make a quick exit, giggling.

Your yellow sundress flows behind you as you giggle more running away from the theater. You run back to the gas station.

“Awh come on! That ain’t playin’ fair!”

You look back, Bo’s behind you. Well now that wasn’t fair either. Should’ve shut the doors more quietly.

You stick out your tongue playfully but that quickly bites you in the butt.

Your foot rolls on a piece of chalk and you slip falling forward onto your hands and knees.

You let out a cry and your body curls in on itself a bit. Your knees are busted up and so are you hands. It stings so badly.

Bo runs up to you. “Hold on baby, let me get the first aid kit and we’ll get you patched up okay?” Bo is quick to go into his garage, grab it, then come out.

You cry holding out your hands in the air. “Bo!”

“Shhh… S’okay babygirl. Bo’a taking care of ya. Shhhhh.”

You hiccup and your breath shutters. His voice and shushing soothes you as he opens up some alcohol wipes and wipes away your bloody hands and knees before putting purple bandages on each of your boo boos.

You sniffle more.

“Gotta be more careful yeah?” Bo says as he takes his rag that’s always in his pocket and wipes your snot and tear stained face. You nod your head.

“Y-yeah… gotta-gotta be more careful!” Your voice cracks.

“S’okay baby. C’mere…” Bo takes you in his open arms and legs, your back against his chest. He kisses your cheeks a few times and rocks you back and forth humming softly.

You love it when he hums, even more when he sings. You smile and lean easily into his touch.

Once Bo can tell your heart beat has calmed down he smirks against your neck before giving you light ticklish kisses while squeezing your sides.

You squirm and wiggle. “Bo! St-ahp!” You giggle more and lean into him pushing him onto the concrete below you. You turn your body and sit on his lap looking down at him before going to lay your head on his chest.

He holds your hands.

“Thank you Bo.” You mumble.

“For?”

You look up at him thinking he’s joking and just wants to feed his ego. But nowhere on his face does it read that. He looks more confused than anything.

“Cause you’re amazing. You always play games with me and you feed me and you tuck me in and and- and you just care for me!”

“Well that’s what I’m supposed to do ain’t I?”

“Yeah but you do it better than anyone else.”

Bo hums at that and nods his head.

The sun sets, your heart beat slows and Bo stares at the gas station ceiling. He plays with the strap on your dress with one hand, the other hand he uses as a pillow to keep his head comfortable.

Bo thinks about that compliment all night. Better than anyone else? He had been thrust upon with this position of being your caregiver and he had done a better job than anyone? Maybe it did feed his ego a bit.

That’s not what mattered though. What mattered was he was finally doing something right in his life. In fact he was doing it better than right. It made him happy knowing that. Cause some days he didn’t know if his life even had a proper meaning.

Now his meaning was being one of the best caregivers in the world.

[voxmortuus]

Caged Dove

Pairing: Dracula x F!Reader | Dominant!Dracula x F!Reader | Dracula x Touch-Starved Female!Reader

Universe: BBC Dracula (Netflix) Fanfic

Words: 2.4K

TW: Que Opera Singing voice SMUT | Smut-time language | Female Masturbation | Oral Both Male and Female Receiving | Male and Female Ejaculation | Unprotected Sex | Mild touches of voyeurism? | Some Fluff

GIF Credit: Not My Gifs or Image

My Masterlist | REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN

What are you but a bird in a cage? As days go by it's like your eyes are looking through a kaleidoscope, colors are vibrant, but the shapes are abstract. Only it isn't a kaleidoscope, it's the stained glass window behind you casting such color it gives you some sort of hope that maybe one day you will see some sort of relief. You don't hate Dracula for keeping you, he feeds you, allows you to bathe unlike the others he keeps in cages, you have no further worries from the outside, he's been kind to you. But why does he keep you in a cage? Like a Dove, as he would call you as he visits you at night, he watches you sleep, at times you have a true genuine conversation. You would stay if he asked you to, you would be willing to let him feed on you if he asked you, but he keeps you in a cage.

You're sitting there, resting your head against the bars, your eyes closed your breathing is soft, arms are wrapped around your bare knees. You hear footsteps approach and you look up, giving him a small smile you tilt your head.

"Good evening, Count." You whisper softly.

"Good evening, My Dove, how are you feeling?" He asks with a kind smile.

"Like I could use the company." You state honestly.

"Well, I can keep you company." He suggests.

Nodding your head softly. "Yes, please."

He walks to the bars and puts his hands in his pockets and looks at you, tilting his head he smiles. You look over his face and let out a small breath and crawl over and place your delicate dainty hands on the bars, your fingers wrapping around the cold steel bars. You look up at him, your heart picks up beating, the moon hits the stained glass window, illuminating his face, and you feel this urge, an urge to touch, to feel him, to let him touch you. You've hit the point of being touch-starved, you're craving some sort of affection.

You reach your hand out to touch his leg, and you keep your gaze on his face, he looks down at your hand and he knows your heart has picked up pace, watching you as you work your hand up his pant leg you bite your lip and let out a soft breath.

"Did you read the book I gave you last week?" He asks.

"I did, though I wish I had more light, I would read it all day, and all night." You say softly as you move your hand further up his leg, his jaw tightens a moment before he steps closer to you inviting for more, your hand is within inches of his phallus. You could feel the tension in the pants, you begin to wonder if he's touch-starved too, you look over his face making a big move and placing your hand on his phallus over his dress pants. He lets out a soft breath. Looking over his face his eyes glued to you, hearing your heartbeat he rotates his head and licks his lips.

"What do you need My Dove?" He asks you.

With honest eyes, you let out a soft breath. "I need to be touched. I need affection, I need to feel... wanted." You whisper. "You. I. Need. You." you state with a jagged breath, feeling yourself get wet as you rub your hand along his member, feeling your core muscles performing Kegels, it was more wanting than you realized.

You had grown fond of Dracula over the months of being here, could it be Stolkholm Syndrome? Possibly, but you two had built this very unique connection, he has never given you a reason to hate him. He looks at you and bites his lip. Your other hand moving between your legs, under your white dress as you begin to play with your sensitive bud. Your breathing shutters as your other hand grips him through his pants, moving your hand along his length. Your eyes close as you rest your head against the bars. Between your soft moans, your heart beating, and your hand on his cock, his feelings were going into overdrive. He let out a soft groan, and his hands moved to grip the bar.

You unzip his pants and move your hand between the zipper and unbuttoning the front of his boxers you reach your hand in and feel his flesh in your hand and you let out a bit of a louder moan, the others in the area glued to their bars, quietly watching. Your fingers running circles just above your clit and a bit on, a bit heavier pressure. You begin to pant as you pull him from his pants and look up at him, your hand gliding over the length, you move to kneel up your hand still between your legs as he steps closer and your mouth overs over the tip. His jaw slacks a bit feeling the warmth of your breath as you lick the tip of his cock. Letting out a soft groan you take him into your mouth, but just the head. Your pussy quivers hearing him let out a moan, which only encourages you.

You take more of him into your mouth as you slip two fingers inside yourself moving them in and out as your thumb rubs your clit, your fingers soaked, this need was far beyond what you could imagine and it was starting to get to you. Your head moves faster, more with a need and desire, an agenda in your mind, but it wasn't to use, it was to be used, to feel like you have a purpose here. You let out a soft moan against his stiff cock as you take what you can into your mouth, your fingers working you the best you can wet and dripping, he smells it. With a soft exhale he looks down at you.

"Stand up, and turn around." He tells you.

Looking up you say nothing, you stand up, turn around, he puts his hand through the bars and bends you over, taking your hips into one hand he lifts your dress and shoves his cock into you while he pulls you flush against the bars. You let out a heavy moan as you reach behind you and grip the bars tightly as he begins to thrust into you. Your moans filled the attic, your moans bounce off various objects and you hear the others around you touching themselves, gasping and laughing, but you feel so many eyes on you. Your jaw slacks and your hips buckle with every thrust.

"Fuck." You whimper softly as he thrusts harder into you. Using every bit of you. He lets go of your hips and moves to grab your hands as he moves you to use you sliding out to just the very tip only to slam you back into the bars and him. Feeling him fill you to the point of a breaking point a painful pleasure, you scream as he picks up speed.

"Fuck!" You let out.

"You're not allowed to finish, not until I say." He tells you.

"Yes, Sir." You whimper, it was no problem to say what you said, you cherished the word, it was a word you felt was special, and it was so easy to say it, in your mind, this was what your purpose was, to please the Count.

With a moan and a grunt he pulls from you and spins you around and shoves his cock onto your mouth, gripping your hair in his hands, his nails scrape along your scalp and your fingers shove themselves right back where they were, only this time you're more drenched in your own juices as he uses your mouth to fuck himself with your warm wet mouth. He growls as he lets out a load into your mouth. Not even second-guessing you swallow and look up at him when he lets you go. Giving him a set of puppy dog eyes he smirks.

"Good Dove. How about a bath?" He asks you as he puts himself away and adjusts his pants.

Nodding you look up at him, dripping your own wetness down your leg he smiles and unlocks your door and picks you up, carrying you as you keep your eyes on him, your arms wrapped around his neck as he carries you with such care. Resting your head against his shoulder he carries you down a set of spiral stairs and down a long darkly lit hallway and into a large candlelit bathroom. He sets you down on a bench and takes your dress off, setting it on the counter and looks over your face, and smiles as he moves to start the water, adding a few special oils and salts to the water to make it bubble, smell good, and to make your skin soft.

As he undresses, you look him over and you give a soft smile as he lifts you into his arms and he climbs into the bathtub and holds you against him, his flesh against yours and you're not even scared of what he is, it doesn't even cross your mind. What matters most at this moment is that you feel oddly complete. Leaning against him he reaches outside of the tub to grab a sponge and begins to wash you. His other hand pulling your hair back and you relax, letting out a soft breath as he washes between your breasts and trails down your stomach to reach between your legs. Your body quivers at the touch. Letting out a soft breath you close your eyes. But it was never more intimate than when he washed your hair, the care he took in paying attention from root to tip, sitting there with you, it was silent, but the silence was welcomed due to the company.

After you were washed and cleaned he helps you out of the tub and wraps you in this enormous fluffy red towel and he looks at you. You're expecting him to tell you to go back to your cage and lock yourself in, but he doesn't, not this time, he drys you and looks over your face.

"Follow me." He tells you.

Nodding your head you let out a soft breath, almost a breath of relief as he escorts you through a door into a large bedroom with a bed in the middle of the room, candles were lit everywhere it was like a dream, some sort of fantasy. You look up at him and he looks down at you and he smiles. He takes the towel from you and places you on the bed. Looking down at you he hovers himself over you, kissing you passionately, moving his way to your jaw, your neck, where he hovers. Licking his lips he closes his eyes and moves to your chest, paying attention to your breasts for a while, lightly nipping and toying with your nipples before moving down your stomach, and your hips, hoving over your center he looks at you kissing down your thighs as he parts your legs and moves back up and places himself between your legs peering up at you he kisses your sensitive bud softly before he begins to lick at you, lapping slowly.

You arch your back and close your eyes your hands grip at the fluffy down blanket and your breath shakes as your hips buckle up. He wraps his arms around your legs pulling you closer to his face as he moves his tongue between your lower lips and feeling the slickness of your entrance and groans into you as he moves his way to pay attention to that sweet bud. You let out a jagged breath as he becomes more aggressive with the act. Your body shakes as he pays attention to you like no one else has. This is a moment where you feel like you owe him the world for the feelings he is giving you.

Your body rushes, feeling hot and warm as your panting turns into a steady set of moans and whimpers as your legs start to shake and close. Sticking two fingers into you he begins to move them in a come-hither motion as he licks and sucks on your clit and your hands ball into a fist gripping the blanket as your hips begin to move up and down as he moves with you.

"Not yet." He demands.

"Yes Sir." You whimper.

Returning to his previous activity he feels you shake and quake, a smirk crosses his lips and moves up and without any warning, he slowly starts to press into you again. Arching your back your breathing hitches and your moan echoes in the room. His acts were that of a fiery passion that wasn't what you were expecting. He was slow, he was careful, he was passionate, as he runs his hands over your body nipping at your neck you whisper in his ear.

"Feed if you desire."

Though tempting he doesn't. "I want you warm and beautiful, that is what the others are for." He whispers back as he moves to his knees lifting you with him as he continues to thrust holding you close you wrap your legs around him.

"Fuck." You moan. "My god you feel so good." your moan turns to a whimper.

With a smirk he gives constant thrusts feeling himself pace himself he growls as he holds you close and leans in and whispers into your ear. "Cum for me." He demands as he picks up speed.

You let out louder moans, your body shaking and quaking with this aching urge. As he moves you back to laying down he slides his cock in and out with such ease and great want for your finish he growls getting close to his own release you tremble and let out a heavy scream and claw at him.

"FUCK!" you release and begin to shake.

"FUCK! Good! Good Girl, my Dove." He growls with his own finish.

Falling beside you he pulls you close and you place your head against his shoulder and your hand on his chest. He looks at you and kisses you softly.

"Don't leave me." He states.

"Never." You whisper back kissing him again. "I've grown fond of you. You have given me my purpose. Please don't put me in the cage again." You smile softly nuzzling into him your hand on his chest playing with the hair you start to drift into a slumber, a much-needed rest.

"I promise." He whispers but you're too asleep to hear him. He lays with you covering you both as you sleep ever so peacefully against him.

[smallish-viking]

Hiccup the Third, King of the Wilderwest - a HTTYD book fanfic

A year after the war, Hiccup struggles with the pressures of kingship.

3000 ish words

Hiccup struggled to focus on the pages in front of him, eyes growing weary of letters, maps. Forcing himself to conjure solutions to problems as old and complicate as the Archipelago itself.

‘Hiccup?’

Camicazi peered around the door of the hut, flooding the room with the golden pink of dusk, her hair illuminated like a halo.

‘You spend so long in here we are beginning to forget what you look like.’

Hiccup looked at her, everything in him was aching to step out those doors and into the light of the evening, but his work tugged at the edges of his mind.

‘The Meathead land claims will be there in the morning. Come on, Hiccup’.

She was right, Hiccup thought. What use was a King who couldn’t think straight? He reached his aching, ink stained hands to his head and carefully lifted the crown and placed it on the table. Despite its weight, the crown fit him better than ever.

Camicazi grinned as he followed her out into the summer evening.

The golden light hit Hiccup like a physical blow. He stretched out his arms like a bird before flight, feeling the sea air flow between his fingers and blow back his hair. He breathed it in, almost desperately, and closed his eyes, relishing this feeling of weightlessness.

On the clifftop sat a small collection of huts, nicknamed ‘King’s Corner’, built flat and squat to survive coastal storms. Some were lined with books for reading or study. Others were used as meeting chambers where the Council of the Wilderwest gathered for discussion and meetings were held with representatives of the tribes. Hiccup had his back to them as he looked out to the sea. The last of the fishing boats were returning now, and their long shadows were etched into the dazzling blue and golden water. It was low tide and a few small figures could be seen setting out nets on the wet sand among the waders and gulls. Some dragons flew overhead with the cormorants, heading home to roost. There were other dragons, too, who scampered through tall grasses which were ablaze with the day’s final effort of sunlight.

Hiccup and Camicazi began to walk along the clifftop together. Wordlessly, Camicazi handed Hiccup his helmet. It was bashed and scratched thing, scarred by a lifetime of adventure. Unlike the Crown it was weightless as it sat upon his red hair. She reached up and adjusted it on Hiccup’s head, moving aside a lock of hair so the Dragon Mark was visible.

‘That’s better.’

‘Thank you, Camicazi,’ said Hiccup, his voice hoarse from hours of silence.

She flashed him a smile. ‘No problem’. Her eyes met his. There was a fierce warmth in her gaze, like a bonfire in winter, but, too soon, it was gone. She ran ahead of him and swiftly performed a few cartwheels on the grass.

‘So’, Hiccup ran up to her, ‘what have I missed?’.

‘Well,’ Camicazi breathed as she sprung upright again. ‘Tuffnut Junior won a friendly axe fight with Dogsbreath the Duhbrain.’

‘Uh huh’.

‘Gobber beat Baggybum in an arm wrestle. So Baggybum stole his trousers and they called it quits’.

‘Right.’

‘And my mother and your father had a bet on who could rustle the most sheep.’

‘And who won?’

‘My mother of course, she’s the undefeated champion! Better luck next time, Hiccup my boy!’

They had reached the tavern. The familiar sounds reached Hiccup from within, the ambient noise of scraping chairs and chinking glass, of dragon shrieks, laughter and fights about to break out. Camicazi went in first, peering around the corner as she did. She held the heavy oak door open for Hiccup and he stepped in. The shutters were open, so the dying light of the day cast golden beams over the Vikings eating and drinking at the tables and illuminated those who talked and swayed at the sides. Hiccup lingered at the back with Camicazi as he watched them.

Even though the tavern was bustling, Stoick looked up when the door opened, face lifting at the sight of his son. With a single motion of his head, he beckoned Hiccup and Camicazi to join them. Stoick the Vast sat among many of the old warriors of the tribes; Valhallarama of the White Arms and Chunky Thighs, Gobber the Belch, Big Boobied Bertha and several others. Hiccup slid down next to Stoick as Camicazi went to join her mother. The impressive stature of his father loomed beside him. Hiccup nestled into his shadow, a wave of comfort coming over him as he slipped into the role of his father’s son, a boy again.

‘How’s it going, Hiccup?’ said Stoick as he clapped Hiccup on the back.

Hiccup let out a heavy sigh. ‘Tiring’.

‘You’re doing a fine job son. A fine job.’

A large tankard of mead slid down the table and came to a stop by Hiccup’s hands, its contents spilling over onto the oak wood table. Gobber flashed a wink in his direction as Hiccup glanced upwards, and he raised the tankard in thanks. The drink was sickly and burned as Hiccup swallowed it but he welcomed the way that it warmed his insides.

Raising a little on the bench, Hiccup peered over the head of his father to scan the faces of those gathered in the tavern. He was looking for someone; a mop of curly chestnut hair, a pair of glasses beside a placid vegetarian dragon. He found him. Fishlegs was sitting in a secluded corner of the tavern, head bowed in conversation with Barbara the Barbarian. Old Wrinkly’s new allergy remedy must be working as Barbara's cat was prowling along his shoulders and, if anything, it looked like Fishlegs was enjoying it as he ran his long musicians fingers through its black fur.

Hiccup smiled to himself and slid back down into his seat. He was there for a while, basking in the conversation of the old warriors. They spoke of old battles won, and lands lost to fire and time. Some were old stories that Hiccup remembered being told when he was a child. They seemed strange to be spoken here, they belonged to a different age, Hiccup thought, the boy he was when he first heard them seemed so far from him now. He felt like an outsider among his company. Marked somehow. Their faces were all brandished with the Dragonmark, scarred and aged by war. They laughed together but there was a shadow of grief in their eyes; everyone had lost something to the dragon flames.

‘Excuse me, King –.’

Hiccup was pulled from his thoughts as a voice from behind him cut through the others. The bench squeaked as he wearily pushed back from the table and stood to face Baggybum.

‘I’ve been talking to Thuggery, fine lad, who says that the Meathead islands to the East that were destroyed last year need to be rebuilt so that they can move back there. I was thinking that we could take some supplies, wood and iron and such, over there on a few ships and help them out. The tricky thing is the lands lie just south of the Winter Wind of Woden -’

A sudden weight dropped in Hiccup’s stomach. A tangled memory arose that was too sharp to touch. He took in a long breath and stared intensely at his uncle, trying to prize himself away from the fogged window to the past. Baggybum had a scar that stretched over his left brow. Hiccup knew it. The Battle of Flashburn’s School of Sword Fighting, the first of many dreadful days.

‘– you see, and Mogadon wanted the village to be positioned on the West side of the island. That way the harbour will -’

The scar was little more than memory, a shallow wound compared to the tear in Baggybum’s heart, the absence where his son had been torn away, first by betrayal, healed, then broken again by flaming arrows and deep water. The hero that never was.

‘- four Hooligan ships should be enough, I think, but we might be able to borrow some Peaceable supplies along the way - ’

The eyes of Baggybum were the same as his son’s. The stormy blues that Hiccup grew up dreading the sight of, and the inevitable onslaught that soon followed. There it was again. The sudden assault of guilt, a raw wound reopened.

‘What do you think, Hiccup?’

He forced his mind to resurface, to the present, to the words of his beloved uncle. What was he saying? Hiccup felt sick.

‘I, um…’

Words clogged in his mouth.

Useless.

His thoughts weighed like rock.

Hiccup the Useless.

Stop it, please.

You aren’t the King that we wanted, but maybe you are the king that we need.

Snotlout appeared in Hiccup’s mind. Not ghostly, through the fog of memory and heartache, but clear, as if he was standing in front of him. Bruised and tear stained, the Black Star glistening on his chest.

‘Don’t you dare lose it. That Star is very important to me.’

There was a hand on his shoulder. Comforting, gentle. Hiccup obeyed its pressure without really thinking about it. Only as he walked blindly through the crowd did he realise that it was his Grandfather who was leading back outside.

The sharp sea wind collided with Hiccup’s body. The tavern doors swung shut. He walked back along the clifftop, followed Old Wrinkly until they came under the shelter of one of the few trees that were scattered among the heath.

‘It’s ok, Hiccup. Breathe. Just breathe.’

Hiccup hadn’t noticed his rugged shallow breaths. His shoulders tense and jaw set. Away from Old Wrinkly, he withdrew, throat and eyes stinging.

‘I – ’

He tried to speak, but the words got caught in his throat. Old Wrinkly reached out, his withered hands held Hiccup’s face, and when Hiccup met his gaze, he saw the pride that glimmered in his tired, bright eyes.

‘Oh Hiccup, my dear boy.’

They drew their arms around each other. It was not a gentle thing, that embrace, Hiccup held onto his grandfather as if he were the only stone structure in a violent storm.

‘This is the hard way,’ said Old Wrinkly after a while, ‘to become a King.’

They broke apart and his hands clasped Hiccup’s arms.

‘You’ve already done what the sagas will sing of. You’ve defeated a great enemy and saved the Barbaric Archipelago.’ Hiccup noticed that in the fading light, Old Wrinkly seemed to blend into the silvery wisps of cloud that blew towards the ocean. ‘Now comes the hard bit. Kings are remembered for the glory of battle, the might of the sword but great leaders, Hiccup, the leaders that are truly revered, are known for the love and devotion that their people show them and the better world that they work together to create.’

‘But that’s exactly it!’ replied Hiccup, ‘everyone is looking at me to be this perfect leader.’ He threw his arms into the air. ‘Not long ago I was Hiccup The Useless, the bottom in every class. Let’s face it I was a rubbish Viking, and now I expected to be this great King. Wherever I turn there are people there expecting me to do the perfect thing. To live up to their hopes.’ His arms came to rest on his head then he dragged them down over his face. ‘We all lost so much in that war, so much, and I’m expected to put it all back the way it was.’

‘The truth is, Hiccup,’ Old Wrinkly took out his pipe and begun to fill it. ‘The world will never be as it was. It grows and evolves like a living thing.’ He lit the pipe and drew in a long breath. ‘It’s your job to be like a father to it, to guide the world, to care for it, and set it off in the right direction.’ And then he smiled. ‘Just like training a dragon. You’ve ventured to the perilous Wild Dragon Cliff and you now have a wriggling and smoking basket under your bed, and the adventure has just begun.’

‘And maybe you can train a dragon better by talking to it then yelling at it,’ followed Hiccup, ‘yes, I remember.’ He laughed wearily. ‘Well, that’s certainly easier said than done. Sometimes yelling does seem to be the only language this lot understand.’

Old Wrinkly let out a smoke filled chuckle. ‘Yes, it has always been the way.’

They stayed there in silence for a while. Old Wrinkly smoked his pipe and Hiccup watched the dragons that scuttled and squabbled along the shoreline.

‘Hiccup!’ There was a shout from behind. Fishlegs and Camicazi were coming towards him, Camicazi struggling to keep up with Fishlegs’ long strides without breaking into a run.

‘That’s where you are!’

Old Wrinkly gave Hiccup a knowing look and patted him on the shoulder before turning and heading back towards the village. He raised his pipe in greeting to the others.

‘I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, Fishlegs.’

‘Yeah, see you then.’

‘What’s happening tomorrow?’ asked Camicazi.

‘Old Wrinkly has been teaching me how to be a healer.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘I reckon it’s a pretty useful skill to have. It’s been days since I’ve seen you Hiccup

Before Hiccup could reply, Camicazi cut in, ‘that’s because you spend all your time with Barbara the Barbarian.’

Fishlegs blushed a deep crimson.

‘I really think she likes me you know.’

‘I think she does, too,’ said Hiccup. ‘But more importantly I know her father likes you as well, he seemed genuinely impressed with that letter you wrote to her.’

‘Really? How do you know?’

‘I was in a meeting with him last week and he mentioned it. He was saying how he wanted to get rid of the “old fashioned notion” of parents dictating their daughters marriages. He was certainly hairy, but not as scary as I previously thought.’

‘Wow’ Fishlegs swung his arm around Hiccup, then the other around Camicazi as he faced the sea wind. ‘Love. You just can’t beat it.’

Camicazi wriggled out from underneath him. ‘Fishlegs, have you been at Tuffnut Senior’s home brew?’

‘No,’ said Fishlegs indignantly, ‘well, maybe a little, but the point still stands.’

Hiccup laughed and put his arm around Fishlegs. ‘Are you alright, though, Hiccup?’ Fishlegs said as he searched his friend’s face.

‘Yeah, its just this King business.’ He sighed. ‘It really weighs me down sometimes.’ Hiccup was feeling a lot better after his chat with Old Wrinkly. Mad as he is, he is certainly good at giving advice.

‘Hmm... I know what you need.’ Said Camicazi. And then she cupped her hands to her mouth and called out, sharp and piercing. ‘SHADOW!!’

A few moments later, as if Thor himself had chiselled out a part of the sky, the enormous Deadly Shadow dragon burst through the air, turning visible just as they touched onto land. Hiccup and Fishlegs stumbled backwards, but Camicazi, defiant as ever, stood firmly as she stared with glee at the beautiful dragon.

‘Hello there, Shadow,’ said Fishlegs as Innocence went to nuzzle his shoulder. He put his cheek to the side of Innocence’s head and stroked down his neck, now the green of the heathland.

Hiccup’s awe of the Deadly Shadow had never faded, and as he walked around them a swelling of immense gratitude rose within him for this beautiful creature, and for the dragons who flew in flocks overhead, for Stormfly, Wodensfang, The Windwalker and little Toothless. Camicazi reached out her hand for him, he took it and hauled himself onto Shadow’s back.

‘Where to?’ asked Patience.

Hiccup smiled. ‘Upwards.’

Shadow extended their enormous wings, which turned a dusky grey in anticipation for the awaiting sky. Hiccup braced himself and with a jolt, Shadow was off. Up, up, up they soared, wind rushed through his hair and he spread out his arms, tilted up his head, and gazed at the clouds which neared ever closer. Camicazi whooped and punched the air and soon, she too was reaching upwards to catch the clouds above their heads. Fishlegs had his arms around the neck of Patience and was peering round him, looking towards the ground that was disappearing rapidly beneath them.

For how long they remained there, Hiccup could not tell. He forgot all else. His world narrowed to this friends who sat in front of him, the gentle beats of Shadow’s wings, the sea below and the sky above. The air was sweet as he breathed it in. Very sweet. Hang on, is that drinking chocolate? Hiccup spun to look behind him and there, gliding along in the slipstream behind the Deadly Shadow, was the Windwalker!

‘Hello Windwalker!’ Hiccup called, beaming.

The Windwalker loop the looped in excitement and glided to position himself as close as he could to the enormous, sky coloured dragon. With the ease from a childhood on dragon back, Hiccup slid from the Deadly Shadow and onto the back of the Windwalker. And off he flew. Hiccup looked behind him to the others, a shadow of grey was rising in the east as night was beginning to reclaim the earth. Camicazi had positioned herself on Shadow so she was lying on their back, gazing at the sky above and Fishlegs was talking to Arrogance, but Hiccup couldn’t make out the words. He waved to them and they smiled and waved back at him, before the Windwalker climbed further upwards.

There is a moment, when a dragon ascends and soars upwards. When the land falls away and the world stretches wide, nothing but sky and cloud and freedom. It was Hiccup’s favourite time, when anything could happen and nothing yet had. He sat on the back of the Windwalker, and the wild night opened its arms. Tomorrow can wait.

[sweetpxxches]

To tame a beast.

MAG!Hank x AFAB Reader

Reader uses gender neutral pronouns

This fanfic contains the following:

Smut

Gore

You guys asked, and even held me at gunpoint, therefore HERE IT IS, FOLKS! I hope you guys enjoy this shot. Because honestly why wouldn’t you.

The sounds of steel being scratched by heavy claws was one of the first things you heard down the halls of the AAHW building, you were looking all over for Hank in hopes that he hasn’t went too far ahead of himself again. You paced down the hall as the sounds of screams and splattered blood grew louder, knowing that Hank would be the one responsible for it. As soon as you slid into a stop at the broken sliding door, you saw Hank in the corner, ripping an agent by his throat with his metal jaw and canine teeth. To most people, this would of been a horrific sight to see, but for you, this is nothing new. Instead of a shriek in fear, you only shouted out at Hank. “Dammit, Hank! This isn’t where we’re suppose to be right now!” You stomped your way at him, and as you approached he slowly held his head up, dropping the meat of the agent out of his maw. He snarled at you, speaking up to you. "Who gives a shit? I'll do what I want and right now I want to fuck shit up." You squinted, grabbing the scruff of his jacket. "No, we need to go and look for Sanford and Deimos!" Hank shoved you off, towering over you. "Fuck off, I want to do what I want to do, and it's not that! They're probably still alive for all I know." Hank stepped away from you, and you got yourself up, dusting yourself off. "Hank, you usually act like this when something is bothering you." You started.

Hank paused, his head turning to you. "What do you mean by that?"

You crossed your arms. "You want something out of me." Hank faced you completely, unsure of where you were going for. "Where are you going with this..."

You stood your ground, looking up at the monster before you. "Hank, be honest. Have you been rebellious with your attitude because you want my attention?" As you asked, you knew the awkward silence will fill in. Hank made a frustrated hum, and you only squinted further. "Hank..." You spoke up, and Hank grunted. "Fine, fine! Fuck! I just got frustrated because you've been ignoring me too much!" He barked back at you, and you raised a brow. "What in the world are you going on about? I'd never ignore you on purpose!" You walked up to him, tugging on his arm. "Come on, Hank. We don't have time for this-" You huffed, seeing his isn't budging. Sometimes you hate it when he's stubborn, because it wouldn't be easy to convince him to do what you want him to. The MAG side of his mind has turned him more demanding, somewhat selfish to himself since now he desires to 'work' more often, so you have to try and think ahead so you can figure what you can do to have him satisfied. You sighed, looking around the room to see what you could use to lire him out. But with not much you could offer, the last thing you had at the back of your mind was...

Ah, no. You'll regret it if you do it, just look at him. He's a ruthless brute who would destroy you in seconds. And yet... it's not like you wouldn't like that. Hank was already making his move down to the next room, but as soon as he stepped away, you grabbed his arm again. "Wait! I think I know what will convince you to listen to me."

He turned his head to you, staring. "And what do you think will make me take orders from you like some dog?" You blinked, and grew awkward, humming in place of thought as you gulped. "Do you want to just use me? For today? Maybe that will give you something good to feel?" That was an even more awkward approach. He didn't even know what to say at that request, other than a simple head tilt. But he seemed curious, and even faced you completely as he stepped up towards you, towering over you. "You're seriously asking that? Of all places?" He questioned, and you began to step back from the plan, embarrassed and thinking you made a mistake, but the moment you attempted to, Hank's large claws gripped onto your hips and held you into place. You held your breath, assuming Hank was getting annoyed with you, but you saw him lean close to level his face with yours, you can see the glint in his eye.

Yes, yes he does want to. And now you'll have to endure his strength. "You know, I'll make it worth while. Let's just hope your legs last." He teased, as he picked you up and placed you by the wall, bending you over which had your upper body against it as he gave you a lift up on your hips. It seems he didn't want to waste time, seeing how he practically ripped away what was on your pants and undergarments. You cursed under your breath knowing you'll have to walk around with your ass out now, if you'll even be able to walk after this, that is. Though, the feeling of being exposed like this hit a certain need within you, and his snarling only grew louder as he had a tight grip on your ass, spreading you open to have a taste of you. You tried to have a grip on the brick wall against you, but it wasn't as easy as it seems, especially with the fact that Hank was eating you out. Though, it wasn't a long session to your dismay, for all he was attempting was to lube you up for what's coming. You looked over from behind, puffing your cheeks at him. "Oh, come on, not even going to do it more on me?" With that statement, he curled his fingers around in your hair, and pushed you back against the wall, shutting you up. "This is my choice and I'll do whatever the fuck I want to do here, understand?" He snarled into your ear, and just with that alone made you drip with anticipation. Hank didn't want to keep wasting time, with how you are now, and his hard on only growing he needed you now. You bit your lip as you heard the pants zipping, and it wasn't long until you felt a familiar thing making it's way against your slit. Eyes widened however, as the moment he slid inside your cunt, it felt as though he was stretching you out. You made a moan that ended with a yell, realizing that his size was far more challenging than his original. Though you can tell this bastard was smirking from behind, knowing you were having a bit of a hassle trying to have it all fit inside you.

"Th-This isn't going to fit..." You shuttered, hands against the wall.

Hank could only chuckle, his hands sliding down back to your hips to hold you. "Then I'll make it fit." As Hank stated that, he slammed his whole length of his cock within you, reaching at your limits against you. At this point the Agents from the twelfth floor probably heard you, because as that moment his cock hit you against your cervix, you felt your mind break, almost as though Hank has turned something on within you. Your eyes lifted up, tongue hanging out as you felt Hank thrust into you, your walls already clenching at his efforts. But you knew he wasn't gonna stop until you get your fill. Hank could feel a bulge forming every time his shaft hit against your edge, knowing you're enjoying every single second of it. You couldn't help but move your hips with him, and he laughed lowly as he sees you helplessly ask for more. "Whatever happened to you being the one to order others around, huh? It didn't take long until I made you my bitch." He leaned over and bit your shoulder, making you smile through the pain and pleasure that waved through. "Remember your damn place next time, and maybe I won't break you." He lifted you up by under your thighs, you gasped as he had you in the air. He leaned against the wall, and continues to thrust inside you. Your cunt began to reach it's climax, coating his cock with your own cum. He growled at the feeling, your scent alluring him. "You couldn't even last long... pathetic." He huffed, though he didn't stop, and he wouldn't stop for something as minimal as that.

You felt his cock throbbing eventually from what felt like days, you noticed he was picking up the pace. His growls only to ene it with a roar, slamming you down on his cock balls deep inside you, filling you to the brim. His warm cum forming a bulge inside you, and as soon as he lifted you up off his cock, his seed poured out of you. You couldn't even mutter a word, you were dazed. He could tell that you had enough, as well. It was a moment of silence, and he placed you onto the floor, seeing that you were trying to keep up with your heart racing.

"Hah, maybe you'll need help out of here now, huh? Wait-" It clicked.

You just tricked him into being convinced to get you out of this place. And he squinted down at you seeing you had a smirk under that mess of hair covering your face. "You bitch. Fine! We'll leave! But only because you have to anyway." He muttered and cursed under his breath, lifting you over his shoulder as he stormed out the building.

In the distance however, two agents were standing there with plate sized eyes after witnessing whatever the hell happened there.

"... So how are we gonna explain this to the Boss without it sounding like a porno?"

[flesheatinglette]

----It's been a long while but I wrote a fanfic

Enjoy! ----

-Fuugen-Intoxicating Moments

The warm sticky air hung heavy in the night making the three traveling companions grateful they were able to pull together some cash to afford some decent lodgings. Fuu was very grateful to be able to sleep without being eaten alive by bugs. The few odd jobs helped them accumulate a small savings before setting off again in the morning.

Mugen arrived at the room with several pots of sake in his arms kicking his sandals off.

“Hey!” Fuu screeched “ we aren’t supposed to be spending money on that!”

“Calm down we have plenty left over.”He rolled his eyes, sitting in the center of The room.

Placing the booze in front of him, he removed his red oversized over shirt. “ it’s our last night here that’s enough of a reason to drink for me. Maybe you should have some too it might make you more tolerable to be around.” He teased popping open the quark of the first bottle.

She huffed watching Jin settle in across from Mugen retrieving a small saucer cup to enjoy some of the sake as well.

In a show of reluctant compliance, Fuu plopped down next to Mugen with a huff.

Grabbing her saucer cup and the neck of the bottle she tipped it over slightly letting the liquid trickle out into the cup.

————————————

The moon hung high as the sounds of crickets and frogs hummed outside.

After a few hours, empty discarded jugs were spewed across the floor. Poor Jin, now propped up against the wall, his head had been spinning and couldn’t keep conscious.

“Damn you two drank up a lot of my booze...Did Jin pass out? Good grief...” Mugen grumbled as he swished around the last jug to hear the half-empty sloshing noise it made before pouring himself another cup.

Fuu swigged back what was left in her cup and let out a dramatic sigh after the liquid slid down her throat. The once burning sensation has long become numbed out with a lot of her mind. All she could feel was how warm her face had gotten.

“ Don’t complain, I worked for that money too! I wanna celebrate~” she slurred reaching for the jug in front of Mugen sloppily pointing herself another drink.

“ Not what I would call a celebration. There’s not even any women here to get things going.” the crude man complained lowering his cup from his lips.

“Well then, what would you call me...” she blurted out glaring over at him.

“Pfft! A plank of wood that’s a pain in my ass.” He cracked without any hesitation.

Fuu’s eyebrow twitched as a thought crept into her mind. “I got it...You just can’t handle a woman like me.” She said in a snooty tone, lifting her drink once more to her lips, sipping half of it down before lazily placing the cup to the side.

“Teh, there’s nothing to handle.” He stated bluntly shooting a look over to her flushed face in time to see her grab at the neck of her kimono revealing the pale skin of her shoulder and collarbone.

“So you’re telling me you’re not a man. “ she challenged with a sly smirk on her face.

“Fuu that’s enough.” Mugen said in a low tone.

Slightly stumbling, the inebriated girl leaned over on her knees. Supporting her weight on her right arm. She reached out with her free hand gently grabbing onto a tuff of wild hair beside his face.

“Awe don’t be scared I don’t bite~” she giggled. Twirling his hair in between her fingers, a sense of pride bloomed as she assumed he was becoming flustered.

In a quick movement, Mugen grabbed her hand from his hair and lunged her back pinning her to the ground with a thud. He towered over her, engulfing her form in his shadow, as a wicked grin came over his lips.

Clutching tighter he looked over her small frame, tracing each detail with his eyes slowly up to her face.

“You know what kind of man I am you little bitch. You should be the one who’s scared.” He growled as his hand shifted from pinning down her arm to clenching around her throat. “Are you really that clueless about what kind of monster I am?”

The quick movement made her head spin. Her eyes looked over his face as her fingertips slid slowly over his scarred knuckles around her neck.

“After all this time, I know exactly who you are...” her voice hitched, sliding her hand to the top of his hand “ I’ve seen you fight, steal, and even kill recklessly..but..” Fuu’s soft fingertips left his hand and softly brushed against Mugen’s stubbled cheek. “But I know you won’t hurt me because we care about each other.” the stubborn girl said with no doubt behind her eyes.

His face couldn’t hide the small shock those words caused. Feeling this soft warm touch brought flashbacks to the blood-soaked riverside and the words from the blind assassin.

“Inside of you looms a simmering storm of hatred and rage. But perhaps what I’m actually sensing is sadness. It’s as if you’ve never once been loved by anyone. It’s as if you’re just like me.”

Memories of this headstrong girl, throwing herself between him and the assassin’s almost killing blow, had been tucked into the back of his mind. Along with the cold upsetting rage of watching Sara die at his hands.

Mugen’s hand loosened, adjusting to rest on Fuu’s collarbone. Feeling the thump of her heart under his palm, he slowly leaned over, gently placing his forehead on hers.

Her heartbeat raced as her finger danced up the side of his prickly face brushing into his hair.

“Mugen..” she whispered feeling his warm breath on her face.

“I can’t take this shit.” He murmured as his dark eyes closed. Hearing his name said so sweetly sent a chill through him. Removing his hand from her heaving chest Mugen got to his feet and swiftly made his way outside.

She laid there for a moment stunned by his reaction. Before she could fully think about what she was doing, she was fixing her kimono, running out the door after him.

“H-hey! What's your deal Mugen?!” she yelled out snatching onto the back end of his shirt.

“My deal?! What about yours? Are you messin’ with me? Your little brain is filled to the brim with sake, it's making it hard for you to think!” He shouted turning towards her.

With watering eyes, Fuu tugged harder at his shirt “Are you an idiot? Are my signals not strong enough to get through that thick skull of yours?!” her voice shuttered as she exhaled.

Mugen stood there silent for a moment studying her face, looking at the reflection of the moon’s light in her eyes. His mind was a buzz with her words but a tugging feeling in his gut held him back. “Look girlie, I’m not here to be your drunken mistake that you end up regretting. You wouldn't look at me with those doe eyes for a second if you were sober..so I’m out of here till you can get your mind back to normal. “ the stubborn man snapped.

With furl brows Fuu pushed Mugen into the support beam of the awning over the walkway. “Listen here mister morals!”She stumbled against him keeping eye contact. “Even when my mind is ‘normal’ I still finding myself looking for you or thinking about you.” her eyes stayed serious as she grasped the neck of his white sleeveless shirt. “I use to think it was because of how much you annoy me. But the more I watched you run off after women with lust in your eyes, I felt this endless clench in my throat that would spread to my chest. I can’t make these feelings stop. I can’t help it...”

Before he could proses what she was saying the girl pushed up on her toes yanking his collar towards herself. Soft lips pressed against his. The warmth of her mouth begging for him to consume her made his head blank out for a moment. His hands raised to his sides before he gave in. Grasping at her shoulders, adjusting himself, he pulled her light body into his chest. Pushing off the post, almost lifting her feet from the ground, he stepped forward shifting the control to him.

The sake taste of his lips was intoxicating on their own. Releasing the shirt her arms slid up around his neck. Feeling his big hands wander over her back as his body pushes against hers made her whole being as warm as her face. As his tongue slipped through her lips her eyes became alert. Fuu had never kissed like this before. Only small peck to childhood crushes. Feeling his experience made her heart thump with excitement as his hands reached and grasped her hips. The blush on her cheeks intensified making her head burn as her eyes narrowed offering her tongue to his.

The wild-haired man’s desire began to boil as he felt her give in to him. A grunt slipped feeling her slick tongue encouraged him. He slowly pulled away looking from her kiss swollen lips to her longing eyes. Mugen’s calloused hands went from her hips to cup her pale face as he pulled his mind together.

“Mugen..p-please...I wanna kiss you more.” Fuu said in a soft whimper. Her mind began to go white as she clung to him trying to keep her focus between his eyes and lips. Her legs were like jelly mostly holding herself up by his neck.

“I’m going to regret this in the morning... I know am... We need to go back to the room.” Mugen groaned placing his hands on her arms putting her back on her feet. Watching her stumble in place he let out a frustrated sigh. In one motion he lifted her into his arms. Without another word, Mugen walked into their room where Jin was still passed out. Squatting down he placed the girl's small frame onto a premade futon. “You need to get some sleep.” He said looking at threw half-lidded eyes.

The moments between being tasting Mugen’s fiery kisses and laying down on the futon were blank in her mind. Seeing him over her with that look sent pain through her heart. As he shifted to stand she reached out grabbing onto his arm. “P-please don’t go... Stay with me.” Her voice was almost a whisper as she tugged at him weakly towards the futon. Fuu's grip slightly clenched looking over his face.

Truthfully he didn’t want to restrain himself. Seeing her in front of him made it harder not to lose all control and devour her leaving his mark and scent throughout every fiber of her being. A small nagging fear kept him in its grasp making his mind reconsider his basic instinct. “Damn it... Fine...” he growled flopping down on his side next to her propping his head on his hand supported by his elbow. “But we are going to sleep...”

Fuu looked him over sliding into him lacing her arms through the triangle opening of his supporting arm and over the other side of his neck. Planting small kisses up his collarbone to his neck, she could feel his blood rushing under her lips warming them with each pump.

Mugen reached over with his free arm pulling out her hair sticks one by one letting the strands fall free under his nose. Her sweet smell mixed with the small impact of each kiss threatened to fog his mind. He looked down at her tossing the hair sticks to the side as their eyes connected.

Fuu lifted her jaw to his, planting a delicate unsure peck on his bottom lip.

Mugen’s free hand found itself running through her hair, as he leaned in closer, holding her lips to his for a moment longer. They slowly broke the kiss pulling back without words.

Her head nestled down in the space between his arm and his chest. The mix of the alcohol and his scent relaxed her mind enough to fall asleep. Her arms went limp retreating to the space between them, feebly grasping at his shirt to make sure he didn’t leave.

Watching her chest softly rise and fall as she slept lulled his tired mind to sleep soon after her.

—————————————

Day brake began to creep in as the outside creatures began to wake. Jin’s head throbbed as he made it to his feet completely out of it. The hungover samurai left the room to make his way to the public bathhouse to freshen up before they would have to continue their journey.

Mugen hadn’t moved all night keeping his back to the door as he listened to Jin leave. Hearing the door close he leaned a bit to peak over his shoulder.

A small lazy hand lifted touching his face turning his attention back to the half-sleeping girl next to him. “M-Mugen..” a faint breath escaped her lips as her eyes stayed closed.

He let out a huff before adjusting himself to a more comfortable position. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her close to his chest feeling her give in to him. Feeling the warmth of her body snuggle on him, their breath sank together as they fell back asleep.

[kiapet2]

The Heaviness We’ve Known

Patton had a lot of ideas for what he might do for his weekend by himself, but having his ex-husband’s son show up on his doorstep sure wasn’t one of them.

Pairings: Parental Moxiety, Divorced Moceit, Parental Anxceit

Word Count: 2016

Warnings: None

Crossposting this to Tumblr since there seems to be a good Sanders Sides fanfic community here.

AO3 Link

Patton had a lot of ideas for what he might do for his weekend by himself, but having his ex-husband’s son show up on his doorstep sure wasn’t one of them.

It was supposed to be a quiet night, just Patton and his empty house. It’s the twins’ week with Janus, which wouldn’t be so bad except that Logan is off at another one of his conferences. Patton knows they’re a great opportunity and all- especially considering the university usually pays for them- but do there really need to be so many?

But Patton should support his little brother’s career, so he told Logan it was fine, he’d just watch rom-coms and catch up on sleep. He’s settled in to do just that when he is interrupted by the hammering at his door.

“Hey,” Virgil says when the door opens, giving a lopsided smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Can I come in?”

Patton blinks. “Oh, um, of course,” he says, and Virgil barely waits for the response before he’s stalking past Patton and into the house.

It seems like every time Patton sees Virgil the boy has shot up another few inches. His hair, purple this time, is half-hidden under a hoodie pulled up against the spring night’s chill, and as Patton watches he heaves a bulging backpack off one shoulder and onto the foyer floor.

“Virgil,” Patton says, “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but what are you doing here? Janus never told me he was going to-”

“He didn’t bring me,” Virgil snaps, kicking his shoes off with more force than seems necessary. His socks are mismatched, as if put on in a hurry. “I came here myself.”

“You walked all the way here?” Patton says. “Virgil, that’s not safe.”

“I took a bus.” Virgil flops down onto the stairs. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m fine.”

Patton opens his mouth to argue, but a closer look at Virgil makes him hesitate. The boy is slumped against the wall, his hand rubbing up and down his arm as if trying to soothe himself. Virgil isn’t one to risk something like this for no reason- whatever happened, it must have seriously freaked him out.

Patton sinks down to the stairs next to him.

“Talk to me,” he says softly.

Virgil turns his face to the wall. “I just- I can’t stay there anymore, alright? I can’t. ”

“At home?”

Virgil nods.

Patton shifts so he’s kneeling in front of Virgil and places a hand on his knee.

“Virgil, could you look at me for a moment?”

Virgil nervously turns to face him, and Patton meets his eyes.

“I’m going to ask you something, and I need you to be completely honest with me, alright?”

Virgil nods again, his eyes widening.

“Did your dad hurt you in any way?”

Virgil reels back in shock. “What? No!”

Patton feels his shoulders sag in relief, and he sits heavily back down on the stairs.

“Okay. That’s- that’s good.”

Virgil runs a hand through his hair.

“Look, it wasn’t anything like that. I just... we were arguing again and I couldn’t stand it anymore so I just packed up my things and- and left. And I’m not going back. I want to stay with you.”

His voice cracks at the last part, and for a moment Patton has a flash of the Virgil he first met all those years ago- a timid, gap-toothed little thing who had glared at Patton fiercely from behind his father’s leg. It had taken all of two seconds for the kiddo to lodge himself securely into Patton’s heart; the whole step-dad thing hadn’t seemed to matter, back then.

Then his marriage fell apart, and suddenly it mattered a whole heck of a lot.

“Kiddo...” Patton says, pained.

Virgil jumps to his feet. “Look, I won’t be, like, obnoxious or anything, all I really do is listen to music in my room anyways, and I know taking care of a kid is fu- is freaking expensive but I can get a job and I babysit the little terrors all the time so I can do that here and-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Patton says, knees creaking as he also stands, “None of that. I’d love to have you live here. But I’m not sure Janus would approve.”

Virgil scowls. “He can go choke for all I care. I’ll never know what the hell someone like you saw in that bastard. ” He spits the last word out, eyes flashing.

“Now kiddo,” Patton admonishes, “I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but there’s no need to use that kind of language. He is still your father.”

Patton knows it’s the wrong thing to say when Virgil’s face shutters closed, shoulders hunching as he draws back into his hoodie.

“Whatever Dad, if I wanted a lecture I would’ve stayed home.”

Patton holds back a flinch at the mocking title. Virgil doesn’t mean it, he reminds himself. The kiddo’s just having a hard time right now, and Patton’s the nearest target.

He forces a smile onto his face. “Well, this is a cookie situation if ever I saw one. Gimme a sec.”

Patton goes into the kitchen and grabs his cookie tin, the one Virgil used to teasingly call his “old person box”. He brings the tin into the living room along with a jug of milk and some glasses, laying everything out on the coffee table.

A slight smile pulls at the corner of Virgil’s mouth as he runs a hand over the tin. “I didn’t know you still had this”.

“Of course!” Patton says seriously. “Cookies are a vital part of any household.”

He nudges the tin closer to Virgil, giving him a wink. “Go ahead, take as many as you want. I won’t tell on you.”

Patton keeps up a steady stream of idle chatter as he and Virgil drink milk and eat more cookies than is probably healthy. Finally Virgil lays the cookie he’s nibbling down and glares at it like it’s the source of all his problems.

“You’re going to tell my dad, aren’t you.” It isn’t a question.

Patton sighs. “I’ve got to, kiddo.”

He holds up a hand to forestall Virgil’s protest. “I know you’re not on good terms with him right now, but he’s still your legal guardian. Keeping you here without his okay is kidnapping, and I’d rather not lose our visits.”

Patton can see Virgil’s shoulders rising nearly to his ears, the boy retreating into himself despite all of Patton’s efforts to draw him out.

Patton smiles again in what he hopes is a comforting expression.

“I’ll just call and talk to him, alright? We’ll try to work something out.” And maybe Janus will be able to tell him what the heck is actually going on.

He reaches forward to pat Virgil’s shoulder, freezing and withdrawing when Virgil pulls away from the touch.

“Why don’t you finish your milk and cookies, alright? I’ll be quick.”

Patton carries his own glass back into the kitchen and then reluctantly pulls out his cell phone. The number isn’t in his contacts, but he still knows it by heart.

“Hello?” a familiar voice says after the first ring.

“I have something of yours,” Patton says.

Janus hums, nonchalant. “I take it Virgil arrived safely then?”

It’s been a while, but Patton still recognizes Janus emotionally deflecting when he hears it. He puts on his Dad Voice, perfected over years of dealing with the twins.

“What’s going on here, Janus?”

A sigh. “There’s been a... slight disagreement.”

Patton runs a hand down his face. “I take it he ran away? I can take him back, but first let me-”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Janus says flatly.

“Please tell me you didn’t throw him out.”

“Of course not!” Janus hisses. “You of all people should know I would never.”

“Of course I do,” Patton says, “But what am I supposed to think here, Jan? Nothing about this situation looks good.”

Janus sighs again, heavier this time. “I’m aware.”

Patton waits as the line goes silent, Janus clearly thinking over his next words. Finally he says, smooth and matter-of-fact,

“Virgil has made it quite clear that I am a terrible excuse for a parent and living with you would be preferable to our current arrangement in every way.”

His voice takes on a bitter edge. “It must be comfortingly easy to idolize someone when you only see them at their best.”

Patton’s stomach drops. “Janus, I’m so sorry, I never meant to-”

“Oh, do be quiet.” Patton can almost hear Janus’ dismissive hand wave. “It’s hardly your fault he’s behaving like a naïve child.”

Patton winces at that.

“Nevertheless, while I absolutely adore Virgil’s current actions, he’s old enough to make the choice of guardians for himself. Of course, if you are unable or unwilling to provide for him I will pick him up immediately, but-”

A note of vulnerability creeps into his voice. “I think this might be what he needs, right now.”

Patton’s heart clenches.

“Of course,” he says softly. “He can stay as long as he wants.”

Janus lets out a relieved breath. “Thank you.”

“Janus,” Patton says hesitantly, “I’m not entirely sure what’s going on, and I know it’s not really my place, but, if you need someone to talk to...”

“That won’t be necessary,” Janus says, and it’s the sound of a wall slamming back into place. “Virgil should have an overnight bag with a change of clothes and his anxiety medication. I’ll bring over the rest of his things tomorrow.”

Patton closes his eyes against a familiar pain. “Alright. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“I guess you will.”

The silence stretches between them, raw and gaping.

Then, so quiet Patton almost thinks he imagined it: “Take care of him?”

Patton smiles sadly. “With everything I have.”

“Thank you, Patton.”

The line goes dead.

Patton leans his head against the wall for a moment and lets himself breathe. He turns when he hears Virgil’s footsteps, hastily scrubbing at his eyes and putting on a bright smile.

“Looks like you’ll be living here for a bit, kiddo! You can stay in Logan’s room for now.”

“I’m sure he’ll be happy about that,” Virgil quips, smiling slightly as he tries and fails to feign cool nonchalance. He looks so much like his father that Patton nearly bursts into tears again.

He winks instead. “That’s what he gets for going off sailing!”

Virgil raises one eyebrow. “Sailing?”

Patton grins. “You know, since he has that scholar-ship!”

Virgil’s smile comes out completely and he quickly covers it with one hand, only managing to make himself look more adorable in the process.

“Guess I’ll move my stuff up, then,” he says, grabbing his bag and dashing up the stairs.

“Don’t touch the chemistry sets!” Patton calls after him.

This could be good for both of them, Patton thinks, smiling as he hears Virgil rummaging above. The house has seemed so much emptier since his baby brother went and grew up on him- not that Logan hasn’t always acted like someone ten years Patton’s senior, he thinks fondly. And of course, any time he gets to spend with Virgil is a blessing.

Virgil’s footsteps are slower coming down the stairs, and they come to a halt as he reaches the bottom and nervously meets Patton’s gaze.

“So... what happens now?”

“What happens now is that I’m ordering pizza and then we’re watching a movie,” Patton says, holding up his phone. “What toppings do you want?”

Virgil’s nervous expression resolves into a smirk. “Hawaiian.”

“Heresy, from my own stepson!” Patton gasps, letting a hand fly to his breast.

Virgil snickers, and this time he doesn’t pull away when Patton closes the distance between them and draws him into a hug. He’s so much taller than Patton remembers, but despite everything he's still Patton’s little boy.

“It’s gonna be alright, kiddo,” Patton whispers. “I’m here for you.”

Virgil’s arms tighten around him.

“I know, Dad. I know.”

[enchantcdstories]

Always There

Words:  1379 Tags: Just some fluff! Summary:  V's suddenly a little suspicious that Johnny hasn't popped up to do his daily nagging, she isn't sure how to feel about that. A/N: so here it is! My jump back into the world of fanfics and hopefully the first to come! @killed-by-cas-confession​ convinced me to post it and I hope this doesn’t let anyone down!  Find it on AO3 as well! The morning was like any other morning. Any morning that was in Night City usually wasn’t a pleasant one. It usually started with the shouts of angry neighbors, or the moans of the same neighbors having sex. Sometimes both, combined. V rubbed at her eyes as she lounged over the side of the bed, legs hanging off and aching from having rubbed against the bedside all night. Her head was screaming, but when wasn’t it? When wasn’t she experiencing some sort of physical or mental pain lately? She never got a break. Slowly she got up, a groan croaking out of her throat as she stretched her aching bones out. The sun streaked into V’s apartment, the bright colors of the skyline just catching the corner of V’s eye. She slowly made her way to the little bathroom that she could barely call a bathroom if you really thought about it. Rubbing at her eyes again, V slowly looked into the mirror- watching as it turned on slowly. She was relieved to see her normal reflection staring back at her- albeit a bit more tired-looking than normal.

Lately, she hadn’t been seeing herself, but none other than the parasite that occupied her brain. She splashed some water onto her face before stepping into the shower, feeling the burning hot water ease away the previous day’s aches and pains, at least for now. Who knows what the day ahead of her would entail. She only had so many days left, gotta make them count. Her current outfit both made her smile and scowl. A retro Samurai shirt that had made Johnny roll his eyes when he first saw it. Distantly she could hear the bangs of gunshots and screams, followed by the sound of her stomach growling.  “Food. Definitely food first.” V mumbled to herself, making her way out of her apartment. She glanced around. Normally Johnny would pop up and make some crude remark right about now, it was usually when she turned her back- or it was a prime opportunity to scare the shit out of her. But today? Nothing.  V didn’t complain, but the silence in her head sure was...odd. She didn’t particularly like him, but having a friend around after...well after Jackie.. It was a change of pace. It was warm outside that day, as V made her way down the stairs to the ground floor. The smell of pad thai and ramen filling the air and only making her more hungry. V decided that it would be a spicy ramen type of day. The champion’s breakfast, something Jackie always said. 

“Gimme whatever the hottest thing you got is.” V said, leaning onto the food stall’s counter. She was greeted with a bowl of steaming hot noodles and broth that just screamed ‘pain’. It was a good wake up call that wasn’t a cup of coffee or anything that would send her brain into jitters. The food burned her mouth and stomach, both from the spicy-ness and the heat of it. Johnny and V shared senses. The spice would normally send Johnny glitching into existence, swearing and complaining about her choice of food. But this time? Nothing. V looked around. It had been at least a few hours since she woke up by now, and Johnny was nowhere to be found. It was different. It was quiet. It was…lonely. That was something V made a point of never saying, that she was alone. Growing up on the streets you just didn’t say something like that. For the longest time, V was perfectly happy being alone. She had Jackie and Misty if things were horrible for her. But now, all she craved for was human touch. Someone to hold. She shuddered, cleaning up her dish and wiping her face.  V looked up as she stepped into the sunlight, arching her neck to look up at the skyscrapers that loomed overhead of her. For the first time in a while, she had nothing to do, and the world was seemingly quiet. At least, the engram in her head was.  “Okay, what gives?” She mumbled out loud, knowing Johnny could hear her. Nothing. 

“Helloooo?” She looked around. Sometimes he appeared behind her, scaring her most of the time.

“What, are you giving me the silent treatment or something?” V said, a little louder. A sudden pang of pain shot through V’s head, her eyesight blurring and glitching out as she brought a hand to her head. “Fine. Fine. You win.” Johnny’s gruff tone came into her head, his form rippling into view. V rubbed at her temples, easing the pain in her head. “What the fuck was that for?” She growled, shooting her annoying little brain parasite a glare. Johnny rolled his eyes, removing his aviators. “I finally give ya some peace and quiet and that’s how you thank me?” He scoffed. V straightened up, shifting her neck a bit. “So that's what you were doing? Bein’ nice to me for a change? Got kinda worried about you, gotta admit.” V shrugged, turning her attention away from him to start back up the stairs to her apartment. Johnny flickered out of view before appearing again at the top of the stairs.  “You? Worried about me? I’m honored. Not.” He said, flickering away yet again. This was the extent of their relationship. She’d be snarky to him, he’d be snarky back, rinse and repeat until it was time to go to bed. V reached the floor where her apartment was located, giving a sigh out into the open when she was greeted by Johnny’s mug yet again. She had to admit, the personality on that guy was less than ideal, but looks-wise? He wasn’t half bad. The way the tank top hugged his torso’s curves.. “Can’t get me out of your head, can ya?” Johnny smirked. V shot him a look, going over to her little sitting area and flopping back. Johnny shuttered into her field of view, lounging on the back of the little couch. V shot him a little annoyed look, though she was more than a little relieved to have him back. She flicked on the little tv that was hooked into the wall, the daily news causing almost an instant headache to her. Johnny groaned, flickering to sit next to her.  “You know, I can see inside your head right.” Johnny stated, after a period of silence washed over the pair. V shrugged, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. “Don’t remind me… actually, why are you bringing it up?” She questioned, opening her eyes to look at the rockerboy. Johnny leaned back, throwing his arms behind his head. V tried not to let her eyes linger on the bulging muscles of his arms as he flexed. “So you know you aren’t alone.” He simply stated- a slight...smirk on his face. V winced. So he heard that.  “Oh.”  “Yeah.” Johnny flickered away again, reappearing next to her on the couch. V jumped slightly. “You gotta stop doing that, it keeps freaking me out.” Johnny chuckled, crossing his arms. “You love it.” He said, a matter of factly. V didn’t know what to do besides grunt, so she kept her eyes fixated on the table in front of Johnny. The engram moved, tossing his arm over her shoulder as he would to an old friend. V remembered when they first met, when he took over her body so he could slam her head against the glass. When he wanted to kill her. Now V couldn’t stand the silence, couldn’t stand it when he wasn’t in her life. How things change. V couldn’t feel his arm around her, and something about that...hurt. She’d never be able to feel his touch for real.

“I mean it, ya know.” Johnny’s voice crackled. It sounded so...comforting, in the worst way possible. V rose an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” “I’m always here. You aren’t completely alone.” His words shot a pang through V’s heart, in the most...touching way. “Thanks. That means...a lot more to me than you know.” V said, her voice gentler than before and timid. She wondered if she was scared of showing affection. 

“Anytime, Sweetheart.” 

[sinnabonka]

Hey Hun! Lots of love to you. For starters I wanted to say that there should be no cell in your body blaming yself in any way. You and your blog were hope for so many people. You were the "you are not crazy" of the final weeks, and I'm forever grateful to you. Instead of dying of anxiety I managed to have a blast in this time of waiting, thanks to you. I passed my master thesis, because you gave me strength to see past the fear. I laughed in those weeks more than in last 5 years, and all of it because of the hope you gave me.

The rest of the msg is going to be pretty emotional rant about the awfulness of it all, and I know my opinion doesn't matter to anyone but I wanted someone important to me to hear my thoughts, if that's ok. It's also ok if you don't want to read it ofc. It's like my breakup letter to the show.

I hear many people cheering for the finale and i find it really hard to deal with. I always considered myself an open person who fights for healthy love as the only redeeming quality of the universe. I could see people's point of view, even if it didn't sit well with mine, and I would always try to hear them out respectfully until they weren't being respectful themselves. That said, I'm fully unable to understand cheering for this type of spiteful content and hearing those cheers makes me feel like the entire world is listening to "this is how you treat your fans, this is how to abuse your power over naive sheep, this is how to keep dumb, hopeful minorities in check" and taking notes.

It also upsets me that the people who gave this show all of themselves and tried to understand it to the core are given no resolution, are spitted on and buried under the rug for doing their best to appreciate the art and the story it was telling. Yet people, who just hang around and watch the show doing the dishes, with no consideration to it's story or characters, got as nonsensical ending as their whole idea of character development in SPN.

I know people say that it was good enough, because it leaves space for guessing and own interpretation, but I feel it's really undermining the extend to which the finale was awful and hurtful to the fans. There is no end that realistically could stop fanfic writers from finding way around it in the world of Supernatural, so saying it was thoughtful of them Is like excusing abusive partner because "they could hit me harder, but they didn't. That means they care"

Lose ends, characters being written in a way that is totally not true to them and their development (personally my biggest allegation), dismissing years of story development, proving that it was all 'queerbaiting' in big part in the end (hell, even the whole "Cas is in heaven so do with it what you will" is a shameful way of appalling to LGBTQ community after using them so hard.

In the pie scene, the roles should be swapped, it's Dean who should say that Cas is on his mind and Sam explaining him that it's only right to keep on living doing good in their name. That's what Dean told Sam at the beginning of the season, when Sam lost Rowena, so it would be at least a bit poetic. This would at least give us some truth from Dean for once, but he died how he lived, in shadow of his fear to be true towards his feelings and needs. And as he died, he bound his little brother to the hunting till the end of his days, by guilting him into it on his deathbed. Guess Dean took after his father.

Have you realised what that emotional "love speech" from Dean to Sam resulted in? It was writers taking back Cas' confession after they didn't need our viewership anymore.

They basically gave us love confession to get us to follow the finale and when they didn't need us anymore, not only they didn't commit to the confession, but they undermined it by having Dean's speech to Sam go the way it did with obviously higher emotional charge, successfully taking back the value of Cas' confession and making it about a bait for "Tumblr idiots"

Finale killed my feelings towards Destiel, not because it wasn't confirmed canon, but because from what I see in the episode, they canonically confirmed that

- for Dean, Cas was only means to an end, which is such an awful way of ending Cas' character arc. They gave him everything he was scared of and nothing close to consolation price and they dare to tell us he had a happy ending, "because they said so". Well, I didn't see him being happy, and knowing what i textually know i can empathise enough to say that he faced a miserable finish. Even Chuck got an end that was better than Cas' fate.

- Dean, given power to do anything he could dream of, chooses to not even greet Cas, after Cas gave his whole life to Dean, told him he loved him and died for him. I know some people consider the little smirk of Dean confirmation of his feelings, but let's be real for just a second. If someone you deeply loved for years confessed to you, told you they thought you don't love them back, you would be freaking running to see them and tell them how much you love them. That smirk to me reads as "I'm relieved to know you're not going to spend eternity in mega hell that i left you in" and we really need to stop giving credit to writers for scraps like this when it's the last episode ever and we know this isn't going anywhere.

Not to mention that by having Jack bring Cas back behind the scenes it just highlights the fact that Dean didn't ask him to do that in episode 19.

As result, I'm unable to look at any Destiel scene and not think "in here Cas already loved him and in here Dean already abuses the power he had over Cas, because of his one-sided love"

And yet, the episode and endgames for everyone (maybe not Sam, but he was seriously pinning for Dean his entire life. Wincest much?) managed to be so bad, that not even bringing Cas back or following up on Destiel would make a difference in my eyes. I know you believe that Destiel would save it, but for me as much as it would be a redeeming quality, it wouldn't be enough to save this awfulness that writer doomed characters with.

And all the Wincest scenes in the finale... I low key expected them to make out and it made me feel physically sick. Also, cutting Misha out because of coronavirus is a cheap excuse. We all know better than to believe that, so let's not fall for the self pity play from the abuser.

If you managed to stay with me till this point, thank you so much for hearing me out. I hope i didn't anger you with my monologue. I will always think of the lamp when i think of you. The reality is that you were the lamp for so many of us in this darkness.

Love you so much, wish all the best to you, take care of yourself and stay safe!

Oh my god, if I didn’t cry with the final, I definitely am crying now. And now I have to explain my partner why I’m staring at my laptop and sobbing ugly. What have you done? 

First of all, I hear you pain, my friend! I share it! I didn’t spend a second after the final without the feeling of my heart being shuttered into million pieces, being stitched back just to break again, and so on and so on. 

I had my first panic attack in two years yesterday, when I kept thinking about the message the show sent to the fandom via Dean’s fate. I have a few posts in my draft on the matter, but I am not sure I will ever share them, because it is one strong depresso, and I don’t think people following me should see how fucked up it really is (if they didn’t get it by themselves, of course). 

I want to remind you, my gentle soul, that the story belongs to us. We know Dean, we know Cas, we know Sam and others. We know that the final is not who they are! I know it’s hard to ignore the text, the canon, because it’s kinda godsent, but the truth is essential. And the final is not the truth.

The truth: 

Cas loves Dean, he sacrificed himself for him, he saved his life on multiple occasions, he told all those beautiful things and he meant every word.

Dean loves Cas, he was on his lowest every time he lost him, Cas was his “big win”, his best friend, his brother, his white light that lead him out of his anger, hatred and despair. He took a dog and called it Miracle, he was looking for a job to retire from hunting, he didn’t kill Chuck - all of that, because the sacrifice Cas made was not in vain! The message was clear. 

I choose to ignore the “Carry on”, the only attention it is going to get is me creating 20 more mails just to put a one star review there and to drop some more salty or bitter comments with it. Maybe I will read through some reviews, too, add them to my collection. 

Maybe I will one day write here an article from scriptwriting perspective how fucked up in was, because that’s what I can do about it, without throwing up. 

If you can’t ignore it, I understand it. It is painful, it is disrespectful, I hate it as much as you do, probably. 

If there’s anything I can do for you to feel better, just drop me a message, we can talk about it. I am on the lowest, too, but maybe we can help each other.

You say I was your lamp. Let me lead you our of the darkness one more time <3 

CW can suck my metaphorical dick (I’m tagging every angry post with it), but Supernatural is not just the show on CW, it’s a big family. 

And you can’t give up on it! You can’t give up on Dean and Cas, you can’t give up on Destiel! It’s so much bigger then the show itself.

Rediscover the show for yourself, remind yourself that Dean and Cas are real, it was never one sided, it was always something amazing. 

What is real? We are.

Don’t you ever change.

I rather have you, cursed or not.

It’s love, hun, and love always wins. 

[captain-emmajones]

Love, Emma (6/7)

(Art by the wonderful @carpedzem​ <3)

Loosely based on Love, Rosie (2014).

Killian and Emma are best friends and neighbors. They’ve always been – until he leaves for the Navy when his brother dies. When he comes back, nine months later, summer has begun and childhood is ending. Emma can tell something is changed in him, but she doesn’t know what. Until she does. He’s fallen in love with someone else.

And then, suddenly, they’re kissing on her nineteenth birthday. When she asks him to forget their night out, and never talk about it again, Killian thinks she means to tell him she regrets the kiss they exchanged. Except she has no memory of it.

Killian and Emma will dance around each other, until their heads spin and their legs hurt, and everything becomes blurry and it has to stop – for both of their sake.

A huge thank you to @profdanglaisstuff who beta’d this and gave me her precious thoughts <3

Friends to Lovers - Mutual Pining - Angst - Fluff - 6000 words - ao3

Part 1 - MIRRORBALL, Part 2 - AUGUST , Part 3 - HOAX, Part 4 - PEACE, Part 5 - THIS IS ME TRYING,  Part 7 - INVISIBLE STRING

Note: Everyone gives a lot of love to @carpedzem​ who drew this wonderful art for this fanfic :’)) 

Quick Summary: Last chapter ended on Neal finding Killian's love letter to Emma. This chapter opens on Emma, a week after Killian and Emma's kiss.

Reminder: Present time is Emma’s wedding to Neal, and that scene on the balcony during which Killian congratulates Emma on her wedding -- although he’s mostly dying inside. The words “I love you” slip out of his mouth, however he’s quick to add “as a friend” which leaves us with two very sad individuals who are both committing a grave mistake.

PART 6 - CARDIGAN

Six months before Emma’s wedding, a week after Emma and Killian’s kiss.  

Emma tosses and turns in her bed. She does not want to glance at the clock sitting on her bedside table. It’s probably joyfully, painfully displaying a horrendous number set between 1am and 5am and Emma wants nothing to do with it.

 There is not a spark of light in the room she shares with Neal, the heavy window shutters closed down.

 Emma wishes there was some kind of light. Perhaps then the weight over her chest would feel less terrifying, would feel less like the terrible, dark blue waves of a tormented sea she watches swallow her alive and spit her back onto the sand. 

 She’s battered between the waves, back and forth, back and forth, skin rocking against water, until she manages to reach the surface and breathes in deeply.

 But she’s only inhaling sea water and it fills her lungs and brings her to tears and it’s bitter, and it’s shit, and she cannot forget the taste of Killian’s lips.

 Another turn, a grunt of anger and despair.

 How dare he kiss her and let her leave him when he was in pain. How dare he.

 It was inevitable, whispers another part of her, but that part she ignores diligently. 

 Nothing is inevitable. Especially cheating on her future husband. With her friend whose feet were barely out of the surgery block.

 Well, she didn’t properly cheat if he was the one to kiss her…that would have been true, had she not furthered their kiss.

 Had she not backed him into his chair and sucked his breath away and marked his scalp with her fingers and tugged on his hair and filled his entire being with her, and her only. It was long overdue, after all.

 She turns, more aggressively this time, nearly knicks Neal out of the bed, her right foot whizzing past him. 

 She kissed him back because he was clearly seeking support and comfort and because a part of her will always love him, has always loved him and there’s nothing wrong with that.

 Horseshit.

 It is wrong. Utterly, completely, wrong.

 Nobody deserves to be cheated on. Nobody. Period.

 She’s just a piece of shit, now, is she?

 She glances on the side. Neal is still laying on his back, peacefully snoring, one arm flung across his face. She nearly hates him for it. She totally hates him for it.

 His chest raises up and down, comfortably, peacefully. What would Emma give for just an ounce of peace in her veins.

 Her breath is coming out in short puffs.

 It was inevitable, stammers once again her inner voice.

 “NO.”

 And the scream she thought only existed in her mind causes Neal to startle next to her, and this time she’s thankful it is complete darkness in their room, because he cannot see the flush on her cheeks.

 She can make out the shadow of his head lifting in the dark, and she imagines his features groggy with sleep. “You okay, Emma?”

 She turns back, grumbles. “Yeah, don’t worry. It’s just a nightmare.” And she definitely sounds like she’s blaming him for it.

 .

A long, tortuous week flies by. Emma’s under-eye circles darken with each passing day, and she is alarmly pale when Graham asks her in a weary tone: “You’re sure everything’s okay, Emma?”

 She nods and glances down at where Graham has been looking, and she realizes she’s been holding the files upside down.

 Well.

 “Shit. Yes. Sorry, Graham. I’ve been having a rough couple of days, is all.”

 And then Graham does this thing where he leans into her space, with his big brown eyes, and this kindness in his smile, and he inquires again: “Everything okay with Neal?”

 And Emma nods a bit too abruptly for it to be believable, and she knows Graham is smart enough to see it, but she nods harder, it’s the only movement her brain seems to know. “Neal? It’s never been better.” And a quick, lively chuckle to seal the deal. 

 And really had she laughed harder she would have choked on her fears.

 (Her fears have blue eyes and are missing a limb now, and she does not dare to send him a text, to ask him “How are you?” because he must be feeling like shit, and in part it is because of her, she left him, but he had no right to kiss her like this and she had no right to kiss him back.)

 .

 She has David on the phone later this week.

 “Hello, Emma. I’ve arrived in Portsmouth. I’ll be spending the week with him.”

 She hates the feeling of guilt that circles her heart, even as she sighs her biggest sigh of relief. 

“Thank you, David, it means the world. I would have come, you know, but I’m so busy with the wedding and the sheriff station and—”

 “Sure thing, Emma,” he blurts out and Emma thinks he sounds so accusative, it nearly knocks her out. She is convinced she deserves it. “I’ll take care of him, don’t worry.” A few words more, and he hangs up.

 For the first time in ages, Emma feels like Killian and she are on opposite teams, and David has chosen his.

 She swallows a lump down her throat. 

 .

 Emma caves in on Saturday night. Outside, the rain is pouring heavily against her windows. The wind is also howling, curling around the walls of the house and threatening to crush it under its strength. 

Neal is out at Granny’s watching a soccer game with friends when Emma sits down on the hard wooden floor of their living room. Her legs are crossed and her heart is drumming in her ears, and she calls him. There’s a bottle of red wine in front of her, and it’s looking at her with a lot of judgement in its glassy eyes but Emma doesn’t care.

 She cannot go on like this. She needs to know that he is alright, and that this was all a grave, stupid mistake, and she needs him to say something like “I’m fine, Emma, I’ll survive this” but also “I meant to do that for years” and then it would be her cue to nod under the ceiling light, tears in her smile and she’d say some stupid shit like “Oh god, I’ve been waiting for you to say that” and then she’d drop everything to fly back to him and they’d be happy together or some shit.

 Ring, ring, ring.

 That’s a lovely dream indeed.

 Ring, ring, ring.

 And just as Emma gets impatient, not to say she gets scared, a voice answers her. It’s a groggy, foggy voice, and it does not belong to Killian.

 “Hello, what is it?” The voice echoes, chuckles, as music resonates behind it, and it is the voice of a woman.

 Emma figures they must be in some kind of pub, just like Neal is.

 “Is this Killian’s phone?” attempts Emma, fingers clutched onto the phone, and heart on her sleeves.

 “Yup...” Another giggle. Emma decides she hates the voice. “But he is currently unavailable. Do you want me to give him a message?”

 And then Emma hears his voice, emerging from a twirl of songs and other talks. “Why are you using my phone, Tink?”

 Emma thinks Killian’s voice irrupts into her empty house just as a gust of wind rattles her shutters. She flinches. And for a minute, glances above her shoulder, afraid that he might appear behind her back. 

But silence is her only companion. And this house is so impressively, distinctively silent. 

 Something clicks inside of Emma’s brain. Tink. She knows Tink. What’s her real name? Mary something. They went to high school together, and she had a disgustingly big crush on Killian, and, and –

 “I dunno, some chick.”

 And Emma barely has time to hear Killian’s “Which chick?” before she hangs up on a whim.

 She heaves, hands trembling around the phone, and something grotesque disfigures her face.  

 She was worried about him and he’s been having the time of his life with this Tink, and, and – what was she expecting?

 She stares at the floor as though she is able to distinguish the broken bits of her heart spilled there, and the bloody marks they leave, and it’s such a goddamn mess, and how could she allow herself to feel this way after all these years, after having been shown all the goddamn reasons why Killian Jones will never love her back a hundred fucking times.

 .

 Rose-Mary, of her surname Tink, tosses and turns in Killian’s bed. He is fast asleep next to her, one hand thrown across his face. He snores lightly.

 Tink has this tingling desire deep within her, this desire to grab the phone he left on his nightstand and delete Emma Swan’s call from it.

 “Give me the phone, Tink!”

 Back in the bar, she was quite lucky to find out in the shape of his raised eyebrows that Killian Jones wasn’t actually serious, that he was seriously hammered and couldn’t have cared less for his phone if he had tried. As her only answer, she had simply locked her lips to his and pressed his phone’s home button to switch it off.

 Because Tink knows Emma Swan.

 Killian Jones was already in love with her when Tink asked him out, during their senior year. She cannot forget the look on his face, as she was standing in the middle of the hallway, risking her heart. Behind her, Emma Swan was leaning against a locker with Mary Margaret and Ruby, and Killian simply, positively wouldn’t look Tink in the eyes.

 “I’m sorry, love,” he said, “but my affections lie elsewhere.” And Tink remembers thinking he surely didn’t have to sound like he escaped from one of Shakespeare’s plays, and she turned to discover the pretty blonde smiling at Killian, waving with mischief, and his arm around her shoulders as soon as he reached her.

 Some things were truly unfair.

 As luck would have it, Killian’s path crossed hers years ago – when he moved to Portsmouth to join the Navy whilst she began Nursing school. But even then, he didn’t seem interested, was dating an older woman.

 And then, finally, two days ago, their paths crossed again in a bar. He is missing a hand now, but he is still the same handsome guy she crushed on in high school. Perched on a stool, he looked disheveled, desperate, nose in his rum glass, and he welcomed her into his warm, solid arms.

 “Still in contact with Emma Swan?” she asked, and it wasn’t like she cared. She didn’t want more than he could offer. But still, she asked.

 “Emma? Who’s Emma? I only see you.”

 Although she knew that to be a lie, she still decided to kiss him back, knowing the instant Killian Jones heard Emma Swan’s name again, well then, he would find a very gentle, delicate way to make her go away.

 And that’s fine. But if she can prevent it, well –

 Tink stands up as silently as she can, and like a feather in the wind, grabs his phone. He casually gave her his pin number earlier during the night — change this bloody song Tink will you — and Tink deletes Emma’s call in the blink of an eye.

 Satisfaction sparkles in her heart. No one will bother them anymore.

 .

 As Neal and Emma go on tasting wedding cakes, Emma thinks about how Killian never called her back. Not the morning after her conversation with Tink, not the night after, not the day after, he did not call. Period. It’s the only answer he is willing to give, and she accepts it.

 He doesn’t care about her. Not like she cares, anyway.  

 “The chocolate one,” Emma mumbles, trying not to spit crumbs of cakes out of her mouth and failing, “it’s perfect.”

 Delicacy remains a skill she has yet to learn.

 But Neal doesn’t seem to mind when he chuckles and kisses her cheek. Emma grabs his face and doesn’t care that there are still chocolate chunks in her mouth and she kisses him, hard, to forget the taste of Killian Jones’ lips.

 .

 Killian stares at the picture of Emma and himself on his fridge. It’s been a month, stammers his heart. She will not call, now.

 Tink is still sleeping in his bed. He needs to call things off with her as well. She’s too attached, he’ll break her heart. That’s one too many hearts to be responsible for.

 He swallows stone, but he takes the picture off the fridge. It’s too painful to stare at what ifs.

 .

 A few minutes before Emma and Neal say “I do”.

 Taking a picture off a fridge is simple enough. Not racing towards the town hall of Storybrooke to try, one last time, and stop Emma’s wedding, isn’t nearly as easily done.

 Hope and denial are, after all, two very close kingdoms and both of them inhabit Killian’s heart.

 At least he’s got that going for him. However, Mary Margaret and David – who are also running beside him – really have nothing going for them except for their foolishness.

 How dare they show up in his home and tear him out of his cobweb of misery and self-pity. How bloody dare they.

 “There’s no use arguing, I’m not going!” he yelled, and then Mary Margaret had this very dangerous smile, and before he knew it, his ass sat on a plane between the two of them and he was wearing his most expensive tie.

 “And look sharp, Killian.” 

 Which is why, as Killian races down that street corner, and up that small hill by Granny’s, and then down again Main street, towards the town hall, Killian no longer expects Emma and Neal to come out of the building, holding hands, married. 

 But that’s exactly what happens.

 They come out as a crowd of strangers surrounds them, and they look like the sun has set all of its rays of sunshine on them, they are shining, shining, much like the waves of fear down Killian’s belly because he is too late. Of course he is. 

 And he wants to turn around and hit David in the face. 

 But what’s the use of fighting anymore? The war is lost. Lay your weapons down. Bring the soldiers home.

 And in that moment, as the sun seems to align with some divine power and its golden beams shine on Emma’s eyes, glittering green lakes, she gazes at him and he holds his breath. In spite of everything, he still thinks she is the most beautiful woman on earth. He smiles, as his heart shatters to the ground, as Neal kisses her open mouth. 

What is there else to do but smile?

 “Fuck,” exclaims Mary Margaret next to him, and Killian sure does nod.

 “Aye. Couldn’t have said it better myself.”  

 .

 Present day – Neal and Emma’s wedding reception.

 Neal watches as Emma shuts the large French windows that lead to the balcony behind her. He puts down his glass of champagne on the white table in front of him. The bubbles fizz inside, as if to mock him.

 For there’s not the shadow of a smile on his wife’s face. In fact, she looks utterly devastated. Her complexion is pale, her cheeks have lost all the colors they gathered during their dances, and there is not one sparkle of happiness left in her green eyes.

 A frown. Why does his wife look devastated at their wedding?

 He sees her glance down, seemingly lost, and she does this thing when she doesn’t know where to put her hands, so she folds them in front of her. And she plays with the bracelet around her wrist, twists the little charms, twists, twists his heart.

 And then he realizes. She’s waiting. But for what? Or rather, for whom?

 He wishes the answer didn’t come quite as soon, not quite as sharply, he wishes the room did not start spinning as Killian Jones leaves the balcony in his turn – devilishly handsome as he’d say and looking entirely like a mess.

 What a picture. They both look devastated. They look like the bride and groom, him in his white shirt and her in her white dress. Two bleeding snowflakes under a golden chandelier.

 Neal watches as Emma risks a glance back, but Killian doesn’t look up, only stares at the hard wooden floor, Neal watches as she presses her lips together and straightens her back, but still glances back at him.

 Always back at him. Of course. 

 And that’s when one realization hits Neal quite hard.

 His wife… His wife is in love with someone else. He just married someone who is irrevocably and for all of eternity in love with someone else.

 Why did he do this to himself? For the longest of times, Neal thought it didn’t matter that Emma’s gaze was filled with green, shimmering clouds of pain whenever Killian Jones’ name was mentioned in a conversation, he really thought it didn’t matter that her cheeks would always flush whenever she received a text from him, because he was the one kissing her lips and sleeping between her sheets.

 He was such a fool.

 He married a woman in love with someone else.

 Such a fool.

 Neal grabs his glass of champagne again, downs it in a few angry mouthfuls, and gathers courage and legs to stand and stride towards his wife.

 Emma might be in love with Killian, but she loves him too, surely she does, or she wouldn’t have agreed to this marriage, right?

 And there is something very scary vibrating in his chest, fear, a green and viscous fear, he’s losing her, she’s slipping between her fingers…

 “Neal,” Emma’s voice is very soft as it greets him, but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

 How dare she, how dare she be in love with Killian, when Neal gave up everything for her, when he…

 From the corner of his eye, Neal can see Killian lean against the wall. He is looking at them. Perfect. Now watch, you little fucker.

 “Hello, baby,” two words, and Neal dips Emma and savagely presses his lips onto hers.

 A burst of applause rattles the crowd. 

Neal tries his best to muffle the voice inside his head that sneers that the only thing their guests are cheering at, is the end of their love.

 .

  “I’m going back to our room, I’m really tired” mumbles Emma over her empty mojito glass.

The sea whispers behind her back. Neal doesn’t look up from his piña colada. 

 On the terrace of this luxurious hotel by the French Riviera, Neal and Emma are sitting and everything sucks.

 It is the third day of their honeymoon, and for Neal, it is the last straw. There is no way in hell he can keep up this charade. They both deserve better than this.

 She’s been looking miserable since they arrived here – it isn’t for a lack of trying to conceal it. Actually, no, it’s worse than that. She’s been looking miserable since Killian Jones left their wedding without a look back at her. Should have seen her face, Eurydice left by Orpheus in the depths of hell.  

 It’s killing him to see her like this, to know there’s nothing he can do to make things better. Purely and simply because, as much as he’s tried to, Neal Cassidy will never replace Killian Jones in Emma Swan’s heart.

 And as she bends towards him to give him a quick peck on the lips, a very vicious sentence tickles his tongue and he lets it out without a second thought.

 “Bet you looked more eager to kiss Killian.”

 It is a dick move, yes, but after all he isn’t the one who cheated on her, and Neal thinks she deserves a little karma.

 The look she darts on him then would have probably killed him, had there not been empty glasses standing between the two of them to shield him.

 “What the hell are you talking about?” she spits out in a sharp, defensive tone. 

Neal is surprised she tries to deny it all.

 “Your lover sent you a letter,” he hisses back.

 Satisfaction sparkles in his heart at the sight of her face turning crimson under the moonlight.  

 He watches as she angrily gulps a last mouthful of rum, watches as her knuckles whiten around her glass and her jaw clenches. “Who are you talking about?”

“Who the hell do you think I’m talking about?” 

And then the god forsaken, sacrilegious name. “...Killian sent me a letter?”

 And from guilt to anger, there is only one, treacherous step. And she seems eager to jump it.

 “Oh yeah, he did. Said it all about your kiss and loving you, and I nearly vomited…”

 And then it is really upsetting because he wants to be mad but her face does that thing where it just freezes, mouth open wide and eyes even wider, and it would have been funny had he not been putting an end to their short-lived marriage.

 “He…he loves me?”

 She cannot possibly not know it. She can’t be that oblivious to reality.

 “I’m telling you I know you cheated on me and that’s your only reaction?” A roll of eyes, his voice coming out shriller, to mock her, mock her pain, because he wants to hurt her like she hurt him. “ “He loves me?” Of course he loves you, Emma!” he blurts out, because the entire world knows it except for her, apparently.  

 He can’t have married someone as oblivious.

 Well, you did marry her knowing she was in love with someone else.

 And she stands up, cheeks hot and burning and red, and she isn’t making any sense anymore. “What the hell are you talking about? Killian doesn’t love me, he never has.”

 And seeing her wrath, the way her body trembles and shakes, he knows she is truly convinced Killian Jones isn’t in love with her.

 But how…

 “You really don’t know, do you?”

 “Where is that letter?”

 “I got rid of it, of course!”

 “Then you have no proof! How convenient.”

 He wants to stop her then, to yell “Hey YOU cheated on me,” but he can tell that in her grand order of things, her cheating on him has nothing on Killian Jones possibly loving her.

 And then a small, mad chuckle jolts out of her mouth. “Killian would never write a letter. You made that up.”

 “But how would I know about the kiss?”

 “I don’t know, and I don’t care, and I, I—” A turn, and then she is gone, disappearing in a tornado of anger and guilt and sand.

 Neal doesn’t try to hold her back, remains very still on his seat, lets her go, much like he should have years ago. He glances down at the empty drink between his fingers.

 The waves crash against the sand, whoosh, whoosh, and Neal feels terribly lonely.

 But at peace.

 But mostly lonely.

 Damnit, she is stubborn, and she is lucky he’s in love with her. That he’ll always be, somehow, even if he is a fucking idiot who probably blew his only chance at love when he stole those watches.

 .

 Later that night, Neal finds her sitting on their king side bed and its perfectly white blankets, hands folded in front of her like he knows them to, shoulders down and head bent towards the floor, and Neal desperately wants to hug her.

 There is not an ounce of anger left in his body. Only sadness. 

 There’s not a flicker of light in their room as he sits down by her side. The rustle of the waves can be heard from their room. It’s the only reason why he chose it. He knows she loves that sound. 

(He doesn’t know she loves it because of him, but that’s fine.)

  “Hey…” he begins softly, and his shoulder gently bumps against hers. “You okay?”

 She’s twirling her wedding ring around her finger. Of course she is. She always has been. And that should have been a clue, too.

 “Are you being sincere right now?” she asks, and her voice is nothing like the voice he’s grown to love.

 Emma’s voice has always been soft, but vibrating with a very triumphant confidence as well.

 “What do you mean?” he asks, because precisely he doesn’t know what she means.

 He’s never understood her like Killian can, in spite of how much he loves her. And while he spent most of the beginning of his adulthood hating him for it, he realizes now it is simply a battle he cannot win.

 She lifts her face up, and he makes out her shimmering eyes in the darkness.

 “I cheated on you. Aren’t you mad?”

 A gigantic sigh shakes his shoulders as these past six months flash before his eyes.

 “I was angry, Emma. But it’s been too long, I’m not anymore.”

 “Too long?”

 Oh, right, that. She’ll hate him, but well, she deserves the truth. He winces, fidgets with the collar of his shirt.

 “I might have been hiding this letter from you for a good six months now…” he whispers, and forces a smile on his face as an apology. 

 “You what?”

 She doesn’t sound nearly as angry as he expected her to. In fact, she doesn’t sound angry at all. She sounds defeated, hopeless.

 “I was so scared that if I confronted you, you would just run and never marry me, and I thought I could hold on to you by not telling you…But I was wrong. There was no holding on to you.”

 And something terrible rattles her body then, as she cups her face and disappears even more in a small, scared puddle over the bed.

 “Fuck. I’m sorry Neal. I ruined everything.”

 And he shakes his head then, grabs one of her hands. “There’s no need to apologize, Emma. We both fucked up. I should have let you go a long time ago.”

 His throat is tight, but he knows this is the right thing to do.

 “What are we going to do now?” she whispers, just as one of his arms comes to wrap around her shoulders.

 She muffles a sigh in the crook of his neck while he gently brushes her hair.  

 “I don’t know. Is there some kind of three weeks wedding notice?”

 She chuckles then, but he can clearly imagine the tears rolling down her cheeks as she sniffles into his neck.

 “You’re an idiot.”

 “I am.”

 Silence. By then, it’s somehow raining in the room and his shirt is soaked.

 “I���ll always love you. You know that, right, Emma?”

 She nods in the darkness, her hand clutching onto his shoulder, and she seems to him a firefly caught between a child’s chubby hands.

 “I know, Neal.”

 “Good.”

  .

 Moving out of this house is one of the weirdest things Emma has ever had to do.

 “Emma, you’re not coming?” calls David’s voice, and Emma looks up to see his head peering from the driver’s seat of his old, orange truck.

 Safely packing all of the pieces of furniture was a collective effort. Mary Margaret, Ingrid and Ruby also came to help, and Emma is quite thankful. It’s such a blinding, sunny day of August, and if not for the fresh breeze that swirls between the tree branches, it would be unbreathable.

 Emma simply shakes her head. “No, don’t worry. I’ll join you guys later at Granny’s.” 

Her right foot nearly knocks out the small cardboard box at her feet, sending a loop down her stomach. 

This one she’ll carry herself.  

 Neal and Emma agreed to sell the house and the furniture, and Neal – well Neal decided to move to Boston, and Emma cannot quite blame him.

 This last month has been…weird, on so many levels, and Neal wasn’t the weirdest thing about it.

 “Alright. Call us if you need anything.”

 As David drives away, Emma stares back at the house. Her feet seem buried into the doormat, the door still open wide, and her fingers clutch onto the keys.

 It is a bittersweet sight, those empty walls.

 She thinks life has a funny way of coming around. She thinks she thought she’d have a family there, with Neal, she thinks she thought this was what she wanted, what she could bear to have and risk losing.

 She’s glad that Neal showed himself braver than she ever could. That he refused to settle, for both of their sakes.

 She inhales deeply.

 Exhales.

 And lets it go. All of it.  

 Click, she locks the door, and turns her back on her past.

 A summer breeze greets her face, swirls around her legs and tangles her hair, and she closes her eyes into the warm embrace. It carries childhood smells, this smell of burnt wood, and Rocky Road ice-cream, and Killian’s cologne.

 “Heard you needed help moving out?” Her eyes snap open. Her heart skips a beat.

 It’s August in Storybrooke, Maine, and anything is possible again. 

 The wind carries the first fallen leaves to her feet and his scent to her heart. Something mystical splits her face as she takes a step towards him. She nearly trips on the cardboard box at her feet, again, grunts and picks it up in a blink, and she hears it – his laughter in the wind.

 As she looks up, a flower blooms in her chest, carries blood to her heart and her face with its roots, and her lungs are soon filled to the brim with petals. 

 “Yeah.” A quivering whisper, it is hard to breathe when the sun drops golden and blue beams into his eyes. “Thank you, Killian.”

 And in a few strides he imprisons the cardboard box she held against her chest, the one containing memories of her childhood, and his eyes are so warm on her face that he steals her breath away.

 “Any baggage left?” he asks, and it is a hoarse whisper as well. 

She swallows hard.

 She shivers beside him. She’s a fallen leaf herself, caught in a whirlwind. Her eyes are open wide and she feels completely swallowed by his gaze but it is a wonderful kind of fear.

 “Not at all.”

 And he smiles then, and it is one of the most gentle smiles she’s seen on his face, and at last, he is Killian and she is Emma.

 “Good.”

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

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[whattodowithace]

We are Glass (Jun)

Title: We are Glass

Pairing: Reader x Jun (A.C.E)

Genre: Angst & Fluff

Word count: 1474

Writer: Kpopmadness (Ju)

A/N: ⚠️Warnings⚠️ Reader has undergone Sexual Assult and confides in Jun about it after he asks her why she’s distant from him. Also, I wrote this fanfic out of personal experience of mine. So this is only from my point of view and not everyone’s. Others go through much worse with assult than I ever did. ~Ju

Sweet smells fill the small local coffee shop as people filter in and out on a bleary day in December. Gentle snow falls from gray swollen clouds, the snow sticking to the sidewalks and trees. Making the outside world look like something from out of a fairy tale.

It was on these types of days that Park Jun couldn’t help but stare at her from her spot beside the large cafe window. A thick sweater covering her warmly and her hair falling down her back as her eyes caught the snow flakes outside.

Jun had seen her at the coffee shop where he worked for three years now. Her presence oddly soothing to him as the months turned into years. She came in alone usually. If she brought friends it was only a few and usually the same ones over and over. Mostly though, it was just her.

They exchanged small talk every time she visited. Her personality always bright and happy when they talked, making his worst days seem like good ones. The more they talked, the more Jun really started to like her.

And then that day in December with the snow falling outside, his heart thudding in his chest he encouraged himself to ask the long awaited question that burned in his mind.

“Would you go out with me?” Jun blurted out upon reaching her table. His face immediately turning red, feeling like an idiot.

She laughed at him, not a rude kind of laugh. But a sweet kind. It made him meet her eyes in shock.

“I always wondered if you were going to ask that question.” She said, still smiling up at him.

Jun smiled widely at her, “Does that mean you’ll do it?” He asked hopefully.

Jun didn’t know why, but he saw her smile falter slightly, her eyes going sad for just a moment. Then she shook her head and smiled again like nothing had happened.

“Of course I will.” She answered, making Jun almost drop his full tray of cups full of hot coffee in delight.

~~~~

Six months passed, the two steadily drawing closer. Jun felt comfortable enough to open up to her about things close to him. But he noticed how she stayed quiet, simply listening. Not offering any information on herself. And when she did it was small.

When she finally opened up about something from her past Jun had to keep himself from leaping with joy.  But he restrained himself and kept his joy inside so she didn’t lock up on him.

Their dates were relaxed and pleasant, but Jun noticed that when he would walk her to the door, she wouldn’t let his lips rest on hers for very long. She would pull away quickly and say Goodnight, shutting the door behind her. Making Jun feel lost.

He wanted more from their relationship. Not that he wanted to take advance of her. He would never do that to her. But he wanted to be able to kiss her longer and hold her and have her open up like a normal girlfriend does.

Then he couldn’t keep it locked up anymore. They sat in her apartment one night watching TV, enjoying a night in together. She sat beside him with her head resting on his shoulder as she watched the events play out on the screen.

“Do you not like me?” Jun blurted out. Making her tense beside him.

“What?” She asked, lifting her head to meet his dark eyes.

Jun shifted uncomfortably in his chair, avoiding her eyes he knew would be filled with hurt.

“We’ve been together for a few months now. And you still won’t let me kiss you for long. Or open up to me for that matter.”

She looked down at her hands, rubbing them together nervously. Jun looked over at her, her hair falling over her face casting dark shadows.

“Do you not want to be close to me?” He asked quietly. He wasn’t mad, or even annoyed. Curious was a more fitting word for this questions.

She continued looking down at her hands, not moving. Jun thought maybe he had overstepped his boundary and was going to offer to leave when she took the remote and turned the TV off. Leaving the room dark except for a softly lit lamp in the corner of the room.

“It’s not that I don’t want to be close to you.” She said quietly. “But I don’t think you’ll want to be close to me if you knew my past.”

Jun gaped at her, not sure how to take her words. He snapped out of it, however, and quickly took her hands in his. Holding them gently.

“You can tell me anything, sweetheart.” He said gently, making her meet his eyes with her watery ones. Immediately making Jun more worried than he already was.

She looked down at their intertwined hands, softly running her thumb along his as she gathered her thoughts.

“I don’t exactly have a normal view of people, Junhee.” She said quietly, making Jun lean closer to her.

“You’ve always been sweet and gentle to me. And I’ve always appreciated it and been drawn to it. And I know you want to be closer to me, but I can’t let you in like how you want.”

Jun noticed the shake in her hands as she said the last part. His voice cracking. It made him tighten his grip on her hands slightly.

“Why not?” He probed softly. Patient for her reply.

“When I was younger,” she starts. “I had a friend that took advantage of me.”

Jun felt his heart shatter. Immediately hating himself for being selfish and thinking it was something petty like her not liking him.

“The abuse went on for years. Most of my childhood and into my teens, actually. Then the abuse turned from physical into emotional. I would cry or show the smallest crack of emotion and was immediately  told to shut up or that I was a Drama Queen. And then they would turn around and touch me in some way or another.”

She took a shuttering breath, a tear falling from her eyes onto their joined hands. Making Jun’s chest tighten and his own eyes mist.

“I love listening to you talk about yourself, Junhee.” She continued softly. “But my view on friends and boyfriends isn’t exactly normal. I expect them all to want something out of me and to hate my emotions when they surface. I don’t like being touched or letting people see the vulnerable side to me. It scares me.” 

Her breath hitched as she choked out the last words, “And I’m not one of those girls that had a fairy tale first kiss with the love of their life. Mine was forced.”

Jun immediately wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest as she cried. Tears escaping from his own eyes as she cried bitterly into his shirt, dampening it.

When her tears had slowed Jun cupped her face in his hands, making her meet his eyes. Hoping they would reflect the care he had for her.

“I would never do that to you.” Jun whispered, her eyes swelling with new tears. “You didn’t deserve that. I will never force you into anything you don’t want.”

He kissed her forehead gently, making her cry again. This time Jun kept his forehead leaned against her, his hands encasing her back.

He took her face in his hands again before slowly kissing her mouth. Her lips salty from the tears she had shed. She tensed beneath him, making him take his hands away from her face and place them back on her hands. Giving her ample room to pull away from him.

Jun was surprised when she wasn’t the one to pull away. Her lips stayed connected to his until he pulled away gently. Her body trembling beneath his touch.

He kissed a trail of soft kisses along her face and jaw as he whispered between kisses, “You deserve to be treated gently. And no one should ever tell you to shut up or that your opinion doesn’t matter. Because it does to me. And hearing you tell me this just makes me want to treat you even better than I was and be more gentle. And when you are close to me I’ll know you’re being genuine and you want that.”

She let out a mix between a sob and a laugh, a smile splitting her face at his words. She slowly wrapped her arms around his shoulders, his arms tightening around her waist as he held her. Her tears drying slowly as she buried her face in his shoulder. A feeling of relief and great fullness washing over her that he understood. And that he would treat her the right way.

[justlookatthosesausages]

“In the eye of the storm” ◊◊◊◊ a post-Frozen 2 fanfic ◊◊◊◊ CHAPTER 2: Twister

"Morning."

"M'ning." Muttered Anna, rubbing her eyes as she entered the room.

She noticed not only that Elsa was already cleaned and dressed – though that last step took only a couple of seconds when you were the Snow Queen – but that she had helped the servants to prepare breakfast, easily guessed by the way she was standing by the table and arranging everything to be at the exact place. Anna preferred to keep her remark about her sister's perfectionism for later.

"You're already awake? How the heck?"

Elsa chuckled lightly at her vocabulary, and her smile filled Anna's soul with as much vitamins than if she had started to eat.

"I'm used to wake up at the first lights of dawn." Said the blonde. "And as you don't have shutters at the windows..."

"You saw light passing through the clouds? All I see is a gloomy weather. With such a storm, the sun is hidden all day."

Elsa realized she didn't register the second half of her sentence.

"You should put shutters or panels at the windows. I know it's not the season to do so, but soon the glass might shatter. I can feel that the wind only will blow more and more in the following days."

"M'kay." Murmured Anna, hugging her then sitting down.

She bit in a yawn to at least have a minimum of decency in front of the maids, even if most of them had known her since she was a child.

The Queen then remembered at the word 'season' that she wanted to talk to her sister about something related to it. But she couldn't grasp what it was. She blinked and shrugged, stretching out her hand to get a slice of bread.

Elsa sat in front of her, like they always did back then when she lived in the castle.

"Thanks for preparing breakfast." Said Anna after she swallowed her third toast.

The blonde smiled behind her mug of tea. "You're welcome. It's the least I could do to thank you for sheltering me on such short notice."

"Sheltering you?" Repeated the younger with shock and amusement in her voice. "Do you hear yourself? Elsa, this is your home too, you're always welcome here."

Elsa smiled, and resumed to drink her black tea. She recognized in Anna's words the ones of her husband, and was touched to see that unconditional hospitality was one of their numerous common traits.

"Where's Kristoff? Don't you wake up at the same time?"

Anna pointed at the door with her thumb while she gulped her coffee with the ferocity of a beast. "He went to Eydis' room to wake her up. She takes like, ten minutes to get out of bed, so he helps Gerda."

Elsa laughed. She remembered well the state and posture of her niece when she had left her bedroom earlier in the morning. "Well, the apple doesn't fall far—"

Anna hit her leg with her foot.

"Ouch!"

"Yeah, don't even dare."

The blonde giggled as she massaged her tibia, now sore, but it was all worth it.

"Good morning darlings!" Smiled Kristoff as he entered, a robe on his pajamas while Anna didn't bother wearing something above it.

He rubbed a hand in Elsa's back and then walked to Anna to kiss her.

"What's that 'darlings' about? You don't call me honey today?" Teased the redhead.

Kristoff smiled. "There's a pot of it on the table already. I didn't want to bring confusion."

Anna eye rolled, but her sigh was also tender. "You really are the worst at puns on mornings."

He sat next to her, shrugging. "You know my brain doesn't work as long as I haven't drunk my coffee. Just like you."

They scrunched their noses staring at each other, teasing with glances.

Elsa smiled looking at them, her cheek laying on her fist.

"AUNTIEEEE!"

"Oh, the little star is here." Commented Elsa, not even turning around.

They all giggled and Eydis hugged her idol powerfully. She then did the same with her parents, and Kristoff almost swallowed his coffee the wrong way.

She ran around looking for the cushion she used to take to sit on a chair and be at their level, and then she ran back to the table once she found it. Eydis was exhaling so much childish joy on mornings that Elsa couldn't help but melt at the sight.

She comically climbed on the chair that was at the end of the table. "Auntie, do you think that Nokk and Gale will make up?"

Elsa blinked as she bit in a cookie. She did not expect that question as the first thing of the day.

"Uh... I don't know, sweetheart."

"Can't you sense it?"

Eydis insisted with her gaze, but her tone hadn't been sarcastic. She was fascinated by the connection the Spirits had between them, and now Anna and Kristoff had lifted their eyes to her to know the answer too.

Elsa felt ashamed to not have what they were looking for.

"I don't... Sense anything else than the fact they put all their power in a conflict. I'm sorry."

Anna frowned with emotion. "Hey, don't apologize. You did nothing wrong."

Elsa gulped.

"And I suppose that it's the first time ever that you feel anger emanating from them, isn't it?" Guessed Kristoff.

Elsa nodded. "Indeed. And it's..." Her right hand clenched on the table. "...really unpleasant."

Anna reached for it with her own hand. "It's gonna be okay. It will all end up well, eventually. We'll find a solution today."

The blonde smiled back, and Eydis bounced on her chair.

"Yeah, it will all be okay!"

The adults smiled at her genuine positivity. The girl exclaimed:

"When Nokk will be happy again, will we ride together, me on my pony and you on Nokk?"

Elsa smiled, ruffling her already messy hair. "Sure. I miss them just as much as you do."

She especially loved those rides with her, because she always spent a joyful time with her niece, and also because it drove the Water Spirit nuts to see how slow Eydis' pony was.

=======

Later in the morning, they all sat down in the living room to discuss about solutions. Mattias had joined them, much to Elsa's satisfaction, because she saw him rarely. Either she only had time to come for game nights and go back to the Forest right after, so she didn't get to visit him and Halima in the village, either he was busy training with the Arendelle's army.

"General Mattias. It's always a pleasure."

The man nudged her a bit as they embraced. "Please. Don't tease me. Just go for Mattias."

Elsa giggled. "I still think that this grade suits you well. It does have a ring to it."

Anna entered in the teasing game. "Oh, I only made him general because of how it sounded. Not because of his skills and wisdom. Of which he has none."

The black soldier looked at the dorky sisters with a smirk. "Are you two done?"

"And the fact he's my counselor only is for personal reasons." Kept going Anna, grinning along Elsa. "Not because he helps me in strategic meetings."

"Yeah, I heard you help Anna pick her dresses, is that right?"

They both giggled, and Mattias, even if he was amused, eyed the King from where he was.

"Kristoff, how can you even deal with those two?"

The blonde shrugged. "I don't. I actually plan to murder them with Olaf's help next week. But shh, don't tell anyone."

The sisters laughed even more, now holding to each other.

"What is going on?" Asked Eydis, entering the room with a book under her arm, finally getting out of her morning lesson. She had heard the word 'murder', which she didn't know, and would love to find out.

"Nothing", chuckled Mattias. "How are you, little Princess?"

"Great!" Beamed the little girl. "We started a new course today!"

She showed the book she had been holding.

"It's called trigged... Trigo..."

"Trigonometry?" Helped Elsa and Mattias with one voice.

"Yeah!" Exclaimed Eydis.

"Ooooh, I loved trigonometry when I was your age." Beamed Elsa. "You know, triangles are fascinating. The sum of their angles always equals—"

"Oh my goodness, please someone stops that nerd before she starts talking about fractals." Eyerolled Anna behind Mattias.

"Hey!" Grumbled the blonde, standing up after bending to her niece.

Anna stuck out her tongue as she sat on the couch next to Kristoff.

Mattias bent to Eydis. "You know, it's a really interesting and important class. I'm sure your aunt uses its rules when she crafts structures in ice. In fact, we use knowledge of it in military as well."

The princess' eyes sparkled. "Awesome! And is it practical in handiwork as well?"

The man nodded. "Of course. It's where it's the most useful, I think."

As she jolted along him, Elsa looked at her sister while she sat in the sofa by the couch. "Handiwork?" She repeated with a frown.

Anna waved her hand in the air. "She plays handiwork a lot lately. It's more 'pretend' than actually building anything, but she loves it. Craftspeople all around the village offered her tools so she could have a little kit."

"That's adorable." Smiled Elsa.

"Yeah, well, when she taps against door frames and stairs railings late in the night saying "this needs to be fixed!" and then mimes to bang nails in it or saw some parts, it's less fun."

The blonde giggled, sorry for them but deeply amused.

"This is as cute as dangerous", said Anna, "but don't worry, she hasn't broken anything on purpose. Yet."

"Lately she said she got a new hammer, and I suspect Oaken to have given him. Let's hope she'll not use it soon." Smiled Kristoff.

"I'll maybe confiscate her toolkit..." Sighed Anna, looking at her daughter talking with Mattias.

Kristoff frowned.

"Don't, that would break her heart. She loves handiwork just like you love to read novels, Anna. It's her passion."

They smiled at the father's wisdom.

"You're right." Admitted Anna.

"And I know someone who was just as dangerous when she was her age..." Teased Elsa.

The Queen lifted her eyebrows. "Who? Me?"

The blond chuckled, turning to her. "How many times did you say you made the armors fall apart again?"

She pushed him away, but her tiny hand on his muscular chest didn't make him move an inch. "Alright, alright. I was a constant mess and she inherited from me. Here, is that what you wanted to hear?"

The two others laughed a yes.

Mattias joined them and they started to think about all the possibilities to compensate the magic storm. The discussion went on for a full hour, and as Elsa now was nervously fidgeting with a cushion as she declined all of their suggestions because of how impossible to do they were, Anna was just as nervously standing up. Pacing back and forth in front of the lit fireplace, she searched for a solution to help her sister, but also her kingdom which was starting to get impacted by such a weather condition. Arendelle had known many terrible natural events in its history, but this one had been going on for many days without a pause. It started to tire the people and reduce the resources. She turned to her elder.

"Elsa, you know the best way is to get to Ahtohallan and get their opinion on this."

The blonde lifted her eyes to her, a bit annoyed.

"And Anna, I told you a dozen times already that I can't cross the sea."

The Queen agitated her hands. She wasn't going to give up easily.

"We should try together. We'll cross the Dark Sea despite the storm. We're the Bridge, nothing can stop us! I'm going to ask to prepare a ship from my private float..."

Elsa widened her eyes.

"Anna, no. That's out of question."

"Why? I should help you! I want to help you!"

Elsa now frowned.

"You will not go in a ship to Ahtohallan!"

"What?"

"Especially with a weather like this."

"WHY?!" Erupted Anna, enraging.

"BECAUSE I DON'T WANT YOU TO GO IN A STORM ON A SHIP!"

Elsa's voice filled the room with force as she suddenly stood up. Kristoff and Mattias turned to her with shocked faces. Eydis retracted on the couch, holding her knees against her chest in fear. All got startled by how Elsa had suddenly raised her tone, something she very rarely did. Breathing heavily, she locked her eyes with her little sister.

Anna definitely was the most stunned of them all. Standing still by the fireplace, her lips trembled. She stared at Elsa intensely, but unlike the blonde's eyes which were panicked, hers eyes were sad, and filling with tears turning her vision blur. She saw that Elsa's eyes were teary as well.

She could also tell that, in that gaze, was almost printed the mental image of an Arendellian ship grimly lit by a lightning bolt and sinking in giant waves, never returning home.

The redhead gulped, gasping in a breath she had been holding.

"Elsa, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to..."

The elder sighed. "Yes, I know..."

She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. "But still, please never bring up that suggestion again. Ever."

The room remained silent, and she picked up the cushion she had made fall to the carpet when she stood. However, she didn't sit to hold it against her. She put it back on the sofa, and walked to the door.

"I... Sorry, I need a break. I'll meet you guys later."

Anna gasped.

"Elsa..."

Her voice was weak and devastated, and she bit her lip in a pout as the blonde left the room.

The two men exchanged a look, not daring to add a word, and Eydis stared sadly at the spot where her aunt's back had turned to the corridor.

The Queen crossed the room to go after her, but Kristoff held her arm. He stood up to be at her side. He shook his head.

"Don't push her. You know you have to give her some space."

"Yes, of course." Murmured Anna grudgingly.

She lowered her gaze, and agreed with him. Anna could only clear her throat and change the topic, so they would talk about something else until she felt the time was right to go talk with her sister.

=======

"The past is in the past", Elsa had often said through the years since they got closer again.

The redhead held to this promise with dear life. By experience with her sister, Anna knew that her time alone wouldn't be long, and that she was allowed to gently ask to burst her bubble.

As she walked up the stairs, she felt like it was entirely her fault if Elsa was nervous after their argument and needed to isolate herself. She should never have suggested this stupid idea of going on a ship! Why did she suggest this stupid idea of going on a ship?!

Anna was so angry at herself that her knock on the wood of the door actually was stronger than she meant. However, Elsa didn't respond. Usually, she would say "Come in", or just "Hmm" to indicate Anna was welcome to enter. But here, nothing.

The younger's heart clenched. Persuaded she was the problem, she didn't dare to open the door, even if it looked unlocked.

"Elsa..."

She gulped. Why was it so hard to do that again? She knew that years had gone by, that their relationship was completely different and open now. It was so difficult to dive into this setting once again. Anna had known this situation for ages, but nothing could have prepared her to return to it.

Her hand clenched in a fist against the lacquered wood.

"Elsa, please, answer me. Please."

Without realizing it, her breathing sped up.

"Elsa..."

The Queen was rapidly having a panic attack. Not again. Not this situation. Please, gods, anything but this situation again. She couldn't go through it again.

Her legs felt like cotton, and she fell to the corridor's floor.

Anna's nails rasped the door.

"Elsa, I'm—"

"Anna, what are you doing?"

The redhead gasped loudly, and in the gesture, she swallowed a water drop, which was a tear that had fallen on her face and she hadn't noticed.

She spun around, falling on her butt as she did because of how fast she turned, and saw that Elsa was walking to her with frowned eyebrows and a concerned face, closing the book she visibly had been reading.

"Why are you here crying on the floor? What is going on?"

Anna had to gulp to form an answer, and in the meantime, the blonde's eyes darted to the door. Everything clicked in her mind like a puzzle.

"Oh Ahtohallan, you thought I shut you out?"

The redhead was unable to answer something else than a bubble of cry, her lips twitching in a tearful pout. She nodded, trembling. Elsa urged to go crouch to her.

"Anna... Hey, hey it's okay. Come here."

The younger didn't wait for a second call. She launched herself in her arms and sobbed silently on Elsa's shoulder. The Snow Queen recognized the too-familiar behavior of a panic attack, and she passed a hand along Anna's back and in her long hair to soothe her breathing. Acting like magic, and maybe it was, the redhead calmed quickly, melting in Elsa's embrace. The elder held her tight.

"I'm so sorry. I went to the library to get a register, and..."

She didn't add more. What was the purpose? She felt terrible for making Anna believe she didn't want to see her.

Elsa delicately parted the hug, and looked at her sister in the eyes.

"I would never, ever shut you out, okay? I know I'm still very bad at making it clear on why and how I need time alone, but... It's never to abandon you."

Anna nodded, gulping loudly again, and gasping because she still had her throat twisted by her emotion.

"Sorry for doubting it." Admitted the younger.

Elsa gasped in an exclamation as she rubbed Anna's tears. "You're really not the wrongdoer, you know!"

Anna had a smile at the corner of her lips. Minutes passed as Elsa made sure that her little sister retrieved her normal breathing. Finally, they stood up, and after she cleaned her face, Anna saw the book she picked from the floor.

"That's a register?"

"Hmm-hmm." Nodded Elsa, showing it to her.

As Anna turned the pages and realized what it was meant to take in account, Elsa continued: "Our argument earlier... That actually gave me an idea. Follow me."

The redhead blinked in confusion, but walked behind her elder through the castle, until they reached the servant's room where she knew Kai and Gerda would be at that time of day. Elsa asked if they were available, and the four of them went to a silent spot in the corridor.

"Kai, Gerda... You're the oldest servants we have. What I mean is, you were there when the accident with our parents happened."

The two widened their eyes, and Anna turned to her sister with emotion.

"Do you remember if the storm that happened that night was the same than the one occurring when Mother and Father were lost at sea?" Asked Elsa.

The maid looked at the ceiling as she thought. "Hum... Maybe..."

Her gaze then went from one sister to another. "Can't you tell?"

Elsa had a sad smile. "Anna was too shocked by the loss to remember it in detail, and me too, but I also was locking myself indoors, so I could tell even less about the weather..."

Anna turned to her sister again. She knew how shocked she was? Of course she knew. But that still was touching.

"I see..." Nodded Gerda.

"Well... We can't really know." Said Kai, looking sorry. "It was a stormy night like any other."

Gerda agreed. "I only remember that ships were unadvised to go sail that night and all stayed on the harbor, but the ship of your late parents had already departed an hour or so before..."

Anna lowered her eyes. "The wind had come up after they left. It was just misfortune."

"Yes."

Something held Anna's hand and it surprised her. Elsa squeezed her touch, and the redhead smiled sadly. "It was a good idea to investigate on that. But apparently, the two events don't coincide."

Kai looked at them. "Indeed, the storm which happened that day wasn't magical in any way."

Gerda turned to Elsa. "I have yet to understand fully the nuance between the magic of the Spirits of Nature and the science of meteorology, but the storm that happened that day more than ten years ago truly wasn't the same that we endure today. It was less intense and shorter."

Elsa nodded. She also paid attention to the subtext Gerda gave when she said she still was confused about knowing that there were Spirits associated to elements, and that the soft and shy little princess she had seen grow up had become a goddess able to command them.

"Thank you for your precisions." Smiled Anna.

Once they both bowed and returned to their activities, she turned to her elder. "It was brilliant that you came up with that conclusion."

Elsa looked at her, her eyes a bit lost in a reflection.

"I can't tell if the news that this is not the same kind of storm makes me relieved or worried..."

Anna winced. "Me neither."

=======

Eydis, however, was extremely relieved to see her aunt back after her other class of the morning, jumping at her sight at the lunch table. After the first course, she asked her to make a dome to cover her plate because she heard her mother on the other side of the table say that she was capable of doing everything with her magic. Elsa smirked, and flicked her wrist in the air. A glass-like cloche made of ice fell on her dish with a satisfying 'click' like it was tailor-made.

"Waaaoh!" Exclaimed Eydis, and she clapped in admiration like Elsa just did something utterly incredible.

The Snow Queen grinned however, because coming from her, it was a lovely compliment.

"Eydis, eat your vegetables. If you let it too long under Elsa's dome, it will get colder." Warned Anna.

"Yes, Mama." Pouted the girl, grabbing the cloche with her tiny hands to put it aside.

Elsa bit her lip and wiggled her finger, and in a crisp of frost, Eydis hands got stuck to the ice. She noticed it by the sensation and the fact she now was unable to put it down, and she giggled loudly.

"Auntieeee!"

Elsa laughed openly. Eydis continued to shake the dome up and down to get rid of it, laughing even more.

"Elsa, please let her eat."

The blonde rolled her eyes at Anna being a killjoy, and vanished it. The princess was disappointed, but the Snow Queen pointed at the vegetables to remind her it was important for her to eat them.

Elsa and Anna chatted lightly and after a while, it reminded the little girl of the argument they had a few hours before.

"I can build a ship."

Elsa turned to her. "Pardon?"

"I can build a ship to bring you to At-the... A-tho..."

"Ahtohallan." Smiled Elsa.

"Yeah. That."

"You can build ships? Entire ships?" Teased Elsa.

"Yes I can!" Exclaimed Eydis, thinking she doubted of her. "I've become really good at building stuff! I have all the tools! I even have screwdrivers! And I have rulers, and a new hammer, and I even got a chisel and—"

"A chisel?" Suddenly worried the blonde.

"I took it away from her."

Elsa sighed at Anna's sentence, easily imagining the fiery princess running around the castle with such a blade.

"But I need it to help the village's carpenter!" Pouted Eydis, shocked to know her mother did such a thing.

"You'll help him by assisting him", calmed Kristoff, finding a compromise.

It seemed to work, because the girl grumbled but returned to eating what was in her plate.

"Every Wednesday, she goes in the village and he teaches her some stuff. The architect working with him once said that she's got good pen stroke skills. Apparently, she already got perspective, which is rare at her age."

Anna chew on her piece of cheese and pointed at her elder.

"That is something she inherited from you."

Elsa smiled with delight, and she felt her cheeks get warmer in pride. She looked down at Eydis, and her smile disappeared when she saw that the girl currently was pulling her steak with her teeth. Anna sighed.

"Elsa, could you help the carnivore cut her meat?"

Eydis whined and Elsa complied, giggling.

After she did, she turned to her sister and brother-in-law.

"I'll take notes of the weather's intensity today, and see if it gets worse tomorrow. In the morning, I'll go investigate to see how big the storm is, and to which scale it extends."

"I'll come with you." Announced Anna.

Elsa frowned. "No, don't let me go on how dangerous it is for you."

"I don't risk anything if I'm with you." Underlined the redhead, knowing well what arguments to use with her.

The blonde got speechless.

"Touché." Muttered Kristoff as he drank his glass of red wine.

"Will you request for the other Spirits' help?" Inquired Eydis.

"Maybe I'll ask for the Giants to give us a hand, yes. Quite literally." Smiled Elsa.

"And will you need my help?"

The Snow Queen heard in that question that her niece was desperately asking for her to say yes to bring some adventure to her daily life, and the following day surely was filled with boring classes. However, she had to say no. She would never risk Anna's life, all the more for Eydis.

"No, but you'll be very helpful once you'll learn everything about trigonometry to help the carpenter."

"Really?" Beamed the princess, not even realizing she diverted the topic.

"Yes! And if you're nice, I might buy you a spirit level. It will be your most precious asset in handiwork, trust me."

Eydis' eyes sparkled even more. "Is it magical?"

"What? No, it's based on a bubble—"

She then realized what she had just said, and that she was talking to a child.

"Yes. Yes obviously. It's magical. It's a spirit level, of course it is."

"Awesome!"

Eydis then returned to her plate, and Elsa exchanged an amused look with her parents.

"Spirits magic really is awesome." Muttered Eydis, chewing on her meat.

=======

"Can I sleep with Auntie tonight as well?"

Kristoff snorted. "This is becoming a habit, uh?"

Eydis pushed the storybook he was reading her by the fire in the living room and turned with an adorable pout.

"Pleeeease."

She then looked genuinely sad. "I don't see her often."

The King melted at the sight. "Sure, I'll go tell her."

He stood up and she clamped to him like a baby koala. "No, wait, stay."

Kristoff smiled. "Why?"

As an answer, the wind outside started to blow, making the windows tremble. It made a haunting sound when it passed by the chimney, and the flames danced a bit. They didn't notice the storm much by day when they were inside, because they were busy or talking, but now that night had fallen, the castle was quiet, and it emphasized its violence.

"You're scared of the storm?"

She shook her head to say no, but her red cheeks and glittering eyes stated the opposite. Kristoff held her tight.

"Hey, it's okay. It's just wind and rain. You're safe in the castle."

"But it's magic."

He passed a hand on her hair. "Yes, but this magic will never harm you. I promise."

Kristoff then smiled. "Is it company you look for? Do you want me to sleep with you tonight?"

Eydis grumbled, stepping out of the embrace. "No! I'm a big girl now. I don't need you to take care of me like a baby."

Her father understood that she was referring to him and Anna. "Okay."

She hugged him again however, and Kristoff took note that sleeping with her aunt, even if she was close family, didn't make Eydis feel like she was smothered.

When he joined Elsa later and he told her her wish, he also shared his thoughts.

"Yeah, it's very common for children of her age." Nodded Elsa. "Many Northuldra kids ask for a separate hut before they even are ten years old. It's normal, and it will pass. Trust me. Neither Anna or me were like that at her age, for we had a... Quite special childhood... But I'm certain that it's normal for Eydis."

"I'm not really a reference either." Chuckled Kristoff nervously, for he got raised by trolls.

"I'll sleep with her and keep an eye on her, don't worry. It makes me happy too."

"Great."

An hour later, Eydis and her were under the sheets, and this time the princess didn't request a chime, for the wind had calmed down to the benefit of rain, now a downpour. Thankfully, the drops weren't pushed to the windows, so it was a rather calm night, and Elsa smiled when she saw how soundly her niece was sleeping. She soon closed her own eyes and let herself drift to sleep.

=======

Eydis coughed lightly when she swallowed something tiny and cold. She frowned, her eyes still closed, and rubbed her mouth. As she did, the girl felt the familiar sensation of sharp touches of a snowing day and wondered why she felt it on her skin then. It must be a very realistic dream...

She fell to sleep again, turning on her pillow, but was woken up by a second tiny and cold thing falling in her ear this time. With a groan, she shook her head and wagged her arms around to get rid of what she thought were flies. Confused, she opened her eyes, and what her brown irises sparkled at the sight of a billion snowflakes falling in her bedroom.

They magically formed under the ceiling, then dropped slowly to the floor, vanishing just before hitting the carpet and the parquet. Eydis forgot to blink for a moment because of how jaw-dropping she was, and winced with clenched eyelids when she remembered that she had to. She kneeled then stood on the bed, watching what was happening in awe. Like silver dust, the snowflakes started to form a forest, and two people running around the trees. They didn't look very real, thought Eydis, and it reminded her of the illustrations in the storybooks her father read to her. She wondered if she were dreaming, and pinched her arm. After a wince, she noted that she definitely wasn't; as awesome as it was, what was happening in her bedroom really was happening in her bedroom.

Eydis hummed. She had heard multiple times from her mother that Elsa would sometimes conjure snow when she's upset. The little girl felt sad for her, and looked down at her aunt's face, but she was sleeping peacefully, even smiling. Everything clicked in the princess' brain: Elsa's smiles and moans were in sync with what was happening in the air. Was she controlling that show? Was she pranking her? No, she looked like she was genuinely sleeping, even if she had a calm breathing, just like her father when he had naps on the couch.

Eydis stood up, admiring the scene, not daring to touch the little characters at first, but then interacting with them with her fingers, following the trail of the forest that got drawn here. She squinted as she tried to understand who the two persons were. One looked just like Elsa, and the other, she couldn't quite understand, because they kept jumping on tree logs while the magic-drawing-Elsa clapped at her. She heard them both laugh, and it sounded weird, like it was distant and pitched like a bell.

The princess turned around the room to see more. The two were playing 'catch me' and giggling louder and louder in the forest. Eydis turned when she heard Elsa laugh slightly in her sleep. Suddenly, the magic-drawing-Elsa got caught by the other person because they had been hiding behind a tree, and Eydis finally recognized who it was when they talked, still with a bell-like voice.

"I won! Told you I could get you in no time." Laughed Honeymaren.

"Okay, okay, one point for you. I'll do the dishes."

Eydis heard Elsa laugh again in the bed, and she beamed at the scene. So it was Elsa and Honeymaren playing! She saw the mini-Elsa picking up pots and spoons and walking to what looked like a river, wide and going through the whole bedroom. It flowed like actual water with all its tiny snowflakes strolling in one move, and Eydis couldn't help but touch it with a "Woaaaw..."

She had to show this to her parents. She ran to the door, her forehead going through ice projections of branches, and she blinked with a giggle when it fell to her eyes. Eydis shook her head and ran in the corridor to her parent's bedroom.

"Mama! Mama!"

Anna grumbled at the sudden intrusion, noise and weight on her as Eydis jumped on the bed.

"Your daughter is awake", muttered Kristoff.

Anna sighed. "Sorry, but I technically have 'People of the Sun' blood, so before sunrise, she's your daughter."

"Mama!" Insisted Eydis, shaking Anna's shoulders specifically.

"What, sweetie?" Murmured the redhead.

"Elsa does magic!"

"Yes, we're aware."

"She is having visions! She has magic all over! The whole bedroom has ice in it!"

It took Anna a second, then her eyes opened wide.

"What, WHAT, WHAT?"

Those three informations were very alarming.

"Come, quick!"

No need to tell her twice. Anna jumped out of bed, hurrying. She was way faster than her daughter, and opened her bedroom's door wide. She gasped when she saw the scene. Just like Eydis, she couldn't help but contemplate it. She looked at every detail, at the trees, at the rocks, at the way they were made of what looked like a billion of stars. Emotion roamed in her heart and in her guts. It simply was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen in her life.

"Incredible..." She whispered.

Eydis finally arrived, and bumped headfirst into her back.

Stumbling, her mother then walked to Elsa still sleeping soundly, and was about to wake her up, but she looked so happy and peaceful with a smile matching her dream that she didn't dare to.

"Mama!" Exclaimed Eydis, rubbing her forehead. "Why did you stand there? It hurts!"

She had been talking with a regular voice, and Elsa stirred in her sleep. She frowned as something woke her up, and her dream projection softly vanished. The sparkles of magic disappeared, much to Anna's and Eydis' disappointment.

Elsa blinked, and suddenly widened her eyes when she saw her sister and her niece staring right at her in the dark.

"Uhhh... Hello?"

Anna inspected her face, like she was checking for fever signs by a simple gaze.

"...What is going on?" Worried Elsa.

"Are you okay?"

"I... Well, yes. I'm perfectly fine."

A smile even stretched her lips. She actually felt great. She couldn't tell why, but her brain was filled with happiness.

"Why are you two looking at me like this?"

Anna sat on the sheets in front of her sister.

"Elsa... Your dream was materializing."

[impala-dreamer]

My Burning Sun

SPN FanFic

~Sam and Dean go to check out a case of mysterious animal attacks, and Dean finds a blast from the past that is a little too hard for him to handle.~

Dean x Reader (past), Sam, OMC

3,702 Words

Warnings: ANGST. Mentions of smut, kissing. ANGST! Show level blood and angst.

A/N: This is another piece for my Fic Imitating Art Challenge. The title and beautiful graphic was made by @mere-mortifer, fic by me! Hope you enjoy...

~ Feedback is Gold ~ My Masterlist ~ Become A Patreon ~

Dean felt good. Not in a normal, 'Everything is fine in the world and my father didn't just die for me and leave me with an ominous threat to save or kill my baby brother' way, but good nonetheless. The sky was a perfect dark blue, the clouds were crisp and white, the air was fresh, blowing through the open windows as the Impala pushed 60 on the freeway. He felt good.

"OK," Sam said, shifting in the passenger seat, photocopies of newspaper articles scattered over his giant lap. "Lucas Heller, 46, CEO of Stanscorp, the town's biggest job supplier, found dead last Thursday.. Lungs shredded."

Dean shook his head solemnly. "Poor bastard."

Sam went on. "Millionaire lottery winner Micah Bloom, dead of an apparent heart attack, also showed signs of an animal attack."

"What happened to the money?" Dean chuckled to himself, right hand gripping one o'clock on the wheel.

Sam rolled his eyes and sighed. "And this last one, Robbie Hastings, mauled to death in his second floor bedroom. Coroner says it looks like a bear attack. Stomach and internals were shredded while he was still alive."

"Ouch."

"Yeah."

Dean switched hands and grimaced at the thought. "Imagine being clawed to death? Shit." He chanced a look at the black and white paper still dangling from Sam's hand. A happy couple, presumably Robbie and his wife, smiled back at him, and Dean's eyes narrowed. She looked awful familiar…

"You OK, Dean?"

His name snapped Dean out of his head, slamming the filing cabinet of memory inside. "Yeah," he said, clearing his throat and sitting up behind the wheel. "Hungry. You hungry? I need food."

Sam shrugged noncommittally. “There’s half a bag of Combos in the back.” He turned to reach for them, but Dean huffed loudly.

“Food, Sam. I need food.”

“So, you don’t want the Combos?”

Dean groaned and sighed. “Yeah, gimmie the damn Combos.”

Dean was feeling a little less good when they left the morgue. He swallowed down a mouthful of the truck-stop breakfast burrito that was threatening to make its way back up and out, and nearly missed the tiny step after the door as he followed Sam outside.

“You alright?”

“Who puts a stair there!”

Sam shrugged him off and headed to the car, manilla file in hand. “That was harsh.”

“Yeah. Gross.” Dean gagged again, remembering the mutilated body they’d just examined. He paused for a moment and set his hands on the roof of the Impala, late summer sun burning his wrists slightly. “Sam, what kind of bear eviscerates his prey and doesn’t...eat any of it? Dude was torn apart, but everything was there…not, ya know, where it was supposed to be, but…”

Sam shook his head. “Not any bear I know of. Bears don’t normally pick locks, sneak into a dark house, climb a flight of stairs, pull a man out of his bed to do that either.”

“So...not a bear. Gotcha.”

“Check out the crime scene?”

Dean nodded and pulled open his door with a creak of the old hinges. “I guess we could swing by…”

The house was cute. A little white fence surrounded a perfectly manicured lawn, pink rose bushes lined the front of the house, reaching up towards green shutters and big airy windows.

Dean didn’t notice the hand paved walkway or the initials carved into the top porch step. He didn’t see the wooden gnome statue hiding between the bushes or the perfectly faded patina on the antique brass door knob. Didn’t hear the charming bells that sounded through the house as Sam rang the bell. He was too focused on the familiar face he’d seen in the paper, his brain combing through every woman he’d ever known, denying the odds that it could be her. There was no way… was there?

The door opened slowly and a sad but kind smile greeted them.

Dean’s jaw dropped. “Holy shit.”

Beside him, Sam startled and quickly reached for his badge. “Mrs. Hastings? I’m Special Agent Wilson, this is my partner Special Agent Jardine…”

The smile spread as Y/N ignored Sam completely. “Hey, Dean.”

Sam dropped the badge, letting it hang midair as he assessed the situation. His brother was staring at the woman, eyes clouded by something similar to sadness but not quite. Sam couldn’t place it as he’d never seen such a look on Dean’s face before; on anyone else he’d say melancholy, but with Dean, who knew. He cleared his throat, but neither paid him any mind, caught in a moment.

Dean let out a breath that was almost a laugh, pure shock running through him. “I saw the picture in the paper,” he said softly, “but I didn’t think it was really you.”

“What’s going on?” Sam asked to no one since no one was listening.

Y/N laughed and gave a little shrug, her eyes never leaving Dean’s for a second. “It’s really me.” Her smile was big but masking something painful. “You look...really good, Dean.”

Freckles drowned in a sea of pink as Dean blushed. “You look…amazing,” he said quickly, stumbling over his own tongue. “Like… wow. I…”

Sam cleared his throat loudly. “So you two know each other,” he announced, hoping to break the fog of whatever was happening and get back to work.

“You changed your name,” Dean half asked her, still forgetting Sam was next to him.

Y/N nodded. “That happens when you get married.”

His smile fell a bit, but he picked himself up quickly. “Yeah. Right.” He licked his lips, lost in her eyes.

Sam gave up, rolling his eyes. “Should I go?”

Dean jumped. “Oh, sorry. Y/N, Sam, Sam, Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” Sam reached for her hand. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

The mention of her dead husband seemed to jar Y/N back into reality. She squeezed Sam’s hand gently. “Thank you. Do you need to come in, or?”

“If you don’t mind,” Sam said with a professional aire. “We should check out the house, yes.”

Y/N stepped aside to let him in, holding the door open for them both. “I mean, I know you’re not really Feds, but once upon a time I trusted your brother so…”

Sam shot Dean a quick look but his brother was back to staring.

“So you know why we’re here?” Sam asked as Dean dreamed.

Y/N shut the door slowly and turned around. “I assume something strange is afoot, if it brings Dean Winchester to my door.”

Dean walked around as they chatted, spinning a small circle in the living room, peeking into the dining area, straining to see the kitchen. The house was tidy and small, but stuffed with personal items, strange art, and plants here and there.

“This place is so you,” he announced with a laugh, looking at a ratty but interestingly colored afghan slung over the couch.

Y/N looked over her shoulder at him. “Excuse me?”

Dean shook his head and sighed as he picked up a smooth white rock from the coffee table. “Nothing…”

“We only had one slice of apple left,” Y/N said, shaking her hips as she walked back to Dean’s booth.

He looked up from his coffee mug with a frown. “Ah, damn.”

“So I fought Betsy for it,” she concluded, biting her lip as she smiled down at Dean and handed him the plate.

“Oh, you’re the best,” he told her, looking from the picture perfect slice of apple pie up to her beautiful face.

“Whipped cream?” she asked, pulling a can from her apron.

Dean nodded quickly and sat back as Y/N swirled a giant tower of cream on top of his pie.

“A little extra because you’re cute,” she whispered with a wink.

Dean’s mouth flooded and his pants grew tight as Y/N dipped her index finger into the whipped cream and pulled out a dollop to suck between her plump lips.

The pie was good but the view was better. In fact, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. She seemed to float around the tiny diner, plastic smile screwed on tight for every customer, a softer, sexier appearing when she glanced his way. He was only in town for a few days, just in between cases on his was to meet John, but if he could, he’d spend every meal sitting in that booth staring at his beautiful waitress.

“Did you enjoy your meal, sir?” she asked, plugging his ticket into the cash register.

Dean laughed. “Very much, Miss, thank you.”

She looked away and gathered his change, giving Dean a chance to gather his courage.

“So…”

Y/N popped back up and his voice got stuck. “Have a great day,” she smiled, handing over two quarters and a receipt.

Their hands touched as he took the change and Dean nearly grabbed her, pulling her over the counter to taste her perfect lips. But he kept it all inside, figuring he had just imagined all the flirting. What would a girl like her want with a scruffy vagabond like him anyway?

She let her hand slip away and whispered gently before leaving him stunned. “I get off at nine.”

Her number was written on the back of his recept, a quick ‘Call Me’ scrawled on the top.

Dean bounced all the way back to his car, a new spring in his step and a gleam in his eye that wasn’t there before.

Sam journeyed up the tight staircase, careful not to knock any picture frames off the walls with his broad frame as he walked up nearly sideways. The old stairs were not made for giant feet.

The master bedroom was easy to find; second door on the right, crossed with bright yellow police tape that he pulled down to step through.

Y/N stood in the doorway behind him, her toes on the border between hall and bedroom, never moving to cross.

Sam stepped carefully. The room was a mess, dried blood still in pools on most of the floor, soaked deep into the expensive beige rug, painting the walls in splatters, leaving a trail from the bed to the middle of the room where the body had been dragged.

“Wow,” he gasped under his breath, imagining the horror of being ripped apart in the night.

“Pretty bad, huh?” Y/N said sadly, eyes watering as she stared at the ruined bedsheets, the knocked over side table, the curtains sprayed with crimson.

Sam nodded, looking back over his shoulder. “Do you mind if I…”

“Yeah, do what you need to do,” Y/N agreed quickly and turned away, falling back against the wall next to the door. Her breath was shaky, shoulders high and tense. She closed her eyes but the blood remained. She held hummed to herself, but Robbie’s screams were still fresh in her ears.  

Dean saw her panic and reached out a hand, cupping her elbow gently.

She startled, pulling in a heavy breath as she looked up to find him there, brows creased with concern, same old Dean.

“You OK?” he asked, voice barely a whisper.

Y/N shook her head and wrapped her arms around her chest, fingers brushing against Dean’s. “I haven’t been back in there since,” she confessed dryly. “Been sleeping on the couch. Can’t even go in to get my clothes.”

Dean sighed and gave her elbow a squeeze. “I’m really sorry.” He looked up as if there was a pamphlet on how to comfort an ex lover over the death of her husband written on the ceiling, but there was nothing helpful; just a photo of Robbie and Y/N at some party, smiling and happy.

“That him?” Dean asked, nodding up to the framed picture.

Y/N twisted a bit, pushing herself off of the wall to look. “Yeah.” She smiled. “He’s really great. I think you’d like him.” Darkness flashed over her eyes and she bit her lip. “Was. He was really great. Fuck. Dean, what am I gonna do?”

His heart broke as she looked up for an answer. “I don’t know, Y/N/N,” he told her honestly, sadness tightening his throat. “But I’m gonna help you get through this first part, ok? I promise.”

His smile was sad but true and she grabbed his hand, holding it tight.  

Dean was only supposed to stay a week. Just one week to rest and recharge before meeting up with John in Milwaukee.

The week had come and gone, but Dean was still in town, still creeping around the Bluebird Motel, still hanging around with Y/N.

Two weeks of sneaking into the alley during her breaks to kiss until the mood grew desperate.

Two weeks of staying late to walk her home through the dark, hand in hand, fingers entwined, steps in sync.

Two weeks of picking her up early on her days off and driving the winding back roads with the windows down and Zep on the radio.

Two weeks of passionate touches in the backseat, biting kisses in the woods by the lake, inexperienced but eager tongues colliding in every shadow.

Two weeks were slowly becoming three, three faded to four, and as summer began to fade, John’s phone calls to his son became more and more demanding.

Dean had to go.

“You could stay, ya know,” Y/N said softly, her fingers curled around his, her back resting against his chest.

They sat on the hood and watched the moonlight dance across the lake, black still ink split by pale yellow.

Dean bent his lips to her temple. “I can’t, baby. I’m sorry.” His young voice cracked around the hurt. “I gotta go. My dad needs me.”

“I need you, Dean.” Her whisper was bookended by heavy breaths that carried tears.

“You don’t understand,” Dean sighed. “I’m all he’s got.”

She shuddered against him, trying not to give in to the hurt, the pain of him actually leaving. She knew he never meant to stay, but the longer he was there, the longer he was hers, the harder it was to let him go.

Dean wrapped his arm around her tight and held on, burying his nose in her hair, breathing deep. “I’d stay if I could, you know that.”

She didn’t speak for a long while, didn’t move other than to breathe. When she finally returned to the moment, Y/N kissed his arm and pushed away, sliding off of the cool metal and hitting the grass with a thud.

“Come here, Dean,” she said with a smile, turning away even as she called him, facing the lake.

He watched in awe and sadness as Y/N shed her clothes, stripping quickly in the moonlight and dipping a toe into the lake. She shivered and then went for it, running in a few yards before jumping, disappearing beneath the surface like a mermaid in the deep ocean.

“Dean! Come on!”

The water was cold but he made it, swimming over to where she tread water, haloed by the reflection of the moon.

She brushed up against him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him close. Their lips met in a familiar rhythm while she floated against his nakedness, skin on skin, soft in the water.

“I love you, Dean,” she whispered, water pouring down from her hair to hide the tears. Dean kissed them away, holding her tight. “I think I’m always gonna love you.”

They fucked in the backseat; scratchy blanket laid out to catch the lake as it slid from their bodies. It was slow but desperate, out of time and a little bit clumsy. They both needed it to last, needed to remember every moment, but the heat of youth sped up time and soon Dean was dropping Y/N off at her house, midnight moon starting to turn towards the west.

He never went back.

Dean had promised to meet her before work the next morning, just one last goodbye, but he never showed.

Sometimes he imagined her standing outside the little diner; apron slung over her shoulder, waiting, straining her neck to look down the road for him. Did she cry? Did she scream and curse his name? He’d never find out.

He never went back.

Sam’s voice echoed a bit in the hallway. “Uh, Dean?”

Y/N nodded towards the room, letting Dean know that she was OK.

“What’s the deal?” he asked, carefully stepping over the muck and gore that decorated the floor.

“Well,” Sam began, kneeling down to lift the edge of the carpet. “Here’s your animal scratches…” Long gashes were carved into the hardwood, massive claws unlike any bear markings they’d ever seen.

“Ok…”

Sam sighed and popped up, motioning for Dean to follow him to the window. The sill was caked in yellow powder. “Sulfur.”

Dean groaned. “Oh, that’s not good.”

“No, it’s not.”

The door creaked as Y/N leaned against it, barely more than half a foot inside the room.

Dean turned to her. “Y/N? Did your husband… uh…” He didn’t know how to ask suddenly. Looking at her sad eyes, standing amidst the blood of her dead husband, Dean was lost for words.

Sam found them, jumping in to help. “Did Robbie come into any wealth over the last ten years? Maybe a promotion at work, or a miraculous health cure? Anything strange like that?”

Y/N moved away from the door and took a step inside. A chill ran down her spine and she hugged herself, shivering at the scene. When she saw the rug pulled back, saw the deep scratches on the floor, she let out a sob that nearly knocked her over.

Dean rushed to her side, hands cautiously grabbing her upper arms to help her stand. “It’s ok, we can do this later.”

She shook her head and looked up at Dean, taking a deep breath to calm down. “It was his job,” she said steadily.

Dean frowned, wanting to grab her and hold her close. “What was?”

“He made the deal for a promotion at work,” she said simply.

Across the room, Sam jerked on his feet, a little shocked by the new information. “Wait, so you know what happened?”

Y/N broke away from Dean and nodded. “Yeah, I know. He told me all about it when he did it.” She moved to stand in the middle of the room, looking down at the space Robbie’s body had laid. “Sold his soul to a red eyed crossroads demon who breezed into town one night.”

Dean’s shoulders fell and he rubbed at this cheek. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“He knew what he was doing,” she said, quietly. “So did I.”

Sam flinched. “What?”

Y/N swallowed hard and explained. “He made his deal for money,” she said. “I made mine for love.”

Slowly, she turned to look at Dean who hadn’t moved in forever. His lips parted and his eyes went blank as the gears took a moment to turn in his head.

“You did what?” His heart was racing, lungs refusing to do their job.

The wetness in her eyes began to fall, dripping down her cheeks like rain on a window, untouched, unguided. “I couldn’t get over you, Dean,” she whispered. “Robbie was always there, ya know? Even when I was growing up. Always. Always picking up the pieces of my shitty little life,  but after you left, there were just too many pieces. He wasn’t gonna wait around for me forever, and I didn’t blame him. I tried, Dean. I tried so hard to forget you, to get over you, but…” She stopped to breathe, lips trembling as she cried. “He was gonna leave me too, so I…”

“You made a deal,” Sam finished, nodding to himself in understanding.

“I did.”

Dean felt the world moving beneath his feet; gravity was making itself known to him and his stomach couldn’t take it. He slumped forward, hands hitting his thighs. “How could you do that?” He stood back up, panting around the pain in his chest. “How could you do that!”

Y/N crossed her arms and shook her head, looking to the ceiling, to the bloody bed, anywhere but at Dean. “I sold my soul to forget you, Dean Winchester,” she said finally, tears drying as the pain returned. Dean Winchester, my first true love, my burning sun. I sold my sold to a demon to be free of you forever. And yet, here you are, back to haunt me during my last hours…”

Dean’s head rolled to the side and back as his tears fell. “I don’t know what to do,” he cried. “I don’t know how to fix this!”

Sam called to him, hoping to break his brother’s rage, but he once again went ignored.

“I don’t know how to help you, Y/N! I don’t know how to break a demon deal! I…”

Y/N closed the space between them and lay a hand on his chest. “Dean…”

“I don’t know what to do!”

She pushed up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “You do what you did all those years ago. You get in your car and drive away.”

Dean crumbled. “No. I shouldn’t have left you. I can’t do that.”

“You’re going to. I knew the terms when I made the deal. I just didn’t think I’d have to say goodbye to you again. So… please… just go so I don’t have to. Do me that one favor.”

He kissed her hard, hands holding her face still as he pushed every ‘I’m Sorry’, every missed ‘I Love You’ into it. When it was done, so was he, and Dean let her go, turning on his heel and rushing for the door.

Y/N watched them go, standing at the top of the stairs as they reached her front door. Dean paused, hand slipping from the antique knob before following Sam outside.

He turned, green eyes lifting to the top of the stairs. “Y/N…”

She smiled and gave him a tiny wave.

“I’ll see you in Hell, Dean Winchester.”

2019 Forever Tags:

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

[aliceslantern]

Heartlines, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 21--Radiant Garden

Twelve years ago, Xemnas betrayed the royal court of Radiant Garden to his father, Xehanort. Prince Ienzo flees to another city and begins university in the aftermath, hoping the anonymity will protect him from eager eyes with ill intent. The darkness spilling across the country, as well as an individual from his past, cut short Ienzo's new beginning and bring new conflicts to light. Strained between the desires of his magic and his heart, Ienzo's choice will change him forever.

Modern Fantasy AU, Soulmates, Zemyx. Updates Fridays until it's done.

Chapter summary:  Demyx, Aeleus, and Ansem arrive in Radiant Garden.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

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Demyx expected Radiant Garden to be… nicer.

Then again, it apparently once was, if anything Ansem was saying was true. The whole city kind of stunk , a smell that made Amalia cry. Demyx knew by then it was darkness.

The three of them didn’t talk much on the ferry ride over, as though saying too much might give them away. But the workers just ushered them on boredly and treated them as normal passengers, not that there were many this early morning.

“So where are we going?” Demyx asked.

“Not to worry, I’ve got it all straightened out,” Ansem said.

So bizarre still, to think that the king was his father-in-law. He kept looking at Amalia, as though she might disappear. Demyx noticed for the millionth time just how much she looked like Ienzo--the shape of her eyebrows and eyes, her pale skin, her hair. Sometimes he thought she smelled like him.

Ienzo was alive.

Along the waves and waves of longing for him was something bitter and sharp. How could you have left me? Have left us? Demyx tried to squelch those thoughts down--it wasn’t as though Ienzo wanted this to happen--but it was tough doing.

They disembarked from the ferry and walked through the streets. They were eerily empty--the few people they did see narrowed their eyes and walked too quickly. Ansem sighed heavily. “This was once such a beautiful place.”

Demyx could see that too. The flower gardens were everywhere, but a lot of the flowers were limp, brown, dying. The few vibrant flowers they saw turned out to be plastic as they approached. Amalia lay against his chest limply, as though exhausted. While they saw old signs for streetcars, Demyx didn’t see any on the streets.

So they walked. Amalia only weighed a little over seven kilos, but even with the sling Demyx found himself getting achy. After a while, Ansem offered to take the baby from him. “It’s the darkness, making you weak,” the king said out of the corners of his mouth.

Many of the houses were boarded up and shuttered, and in some places there was evidence of destruction--soot from fires, broken glass, rubble. What seemed like hours later, they arrived at an apartment building at the farthest edge of the city. Demyx’s feet were positively screaming. Ansem handed the baby back and took a small skeleton key from his pocket. “This used to be the resistance’s headquarters,” he said, equally as quietly. “Some years ago they got smoked out.”

“How is it safe, then?” Demyx asked.

“Because Xehanort thinks we’re not stupid enough to return to the places we’ve left.”

They walked up to the fourth floor landing. The building was abandoned; Demyx could feel it. It was old, dusty. Amalia sneezed. At least the power still seemed to be on, flickering unsteadily in bare bulbs. They reached a door at the end of the hall and Ansem unlocked that, too.

This must’ve once been a nice apartment, but dust and water damage bloated the silk wallpaper, and dirt permeated every crevice. Demyx could see spots where the resistance must have… resisted the “smoking out”; gouges in floors, cracks in the wall, a chair with one of its legs broken. Most of the furniture left was covered in sheets. Aeleus tried to open one of the windows, but it was stuck and didn’t get more than a few inches. He sighed. “I don’t suppose you know any wind magic,” he said to Demyx.

He shook his head. “Water, mostly. Sorry.”

Aeleus thought. “Actually, that might just work.”

Demyx handed Aeleus the baby. It still felt weird, to use his own power after so long, but he was surprised at how easily it came. He felt like he was doing something wrong, sweeping water off of the floors, the surfaces he could see; the grime was coming up more easily than he thought. He guided the water across the furniture, too, washing it clean, then drying everything back out and dumping the waste out the window. “Would’ve made apartment life in college a lot easier,” he muttered. The place was a different color.

“Can you ward?” Ansem asked.

Demyx felt his face heat. “...No.”

He passed the baby back to him. “No matter.” He started casting the then-familiar barriers at the door.

“I didn’t think you were a magic user.”

“My power is considerably less than Ienzo’s--much like your daughter got his, my sister got our father’s.”

“...Magic is so weird,” Demyx said.

He laughed. “Indeed it is, my dear boy.”

“I’m going to see if I can find some food,” Aeleus said. “Don’t go anywhere if you can avoid it.”

Demyx and Ansem continued to get the apartment ready for living. Demyx missed with a sudden ache his old apartment with Riku, the basement in the townhouse. Reliable clean hot showers. Restaurants, bars. Clubs. Friends.

Ansem rested a hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“I… know I should be glad we’re together, and alive. But…”

“You miss your old life. Of course you do.” He smiled kindly. “I think we all do every now and again.”

“Especially you--I mean, you must’ve had it pretty freaking sweet.”

“Things are just things,” Ansem said wistfully. “I miss mostly… my family.”

“Ienzo,” Demyx said, feeling the now-familiar accompanying stab of pain.

“My son… Even, that dear man… my apprentices. And those members of staff who became family, too.”

Demyx considered the way Ansem said Even’s name. “Do you… love him?”

Ansem looked confused. “My son? Of course.”

“No, Even.”

Ansem looked out the window.

“You don’t have to tell me. It’s okay.”

After a moment Ansem said, “We never… said as such. I’d hoped… things would evolve eventually, and then…”

“...Shit hit the fan.” Amalia cooed as though in response. “Right.”

“...I’m hoping that somehow all this nonsense will be behind us soon. That your daughter can grow up knowing Xehanort as only part of history.”

She made small smacking sounds. Very deliberately, she smiled. “She likes you,” Demyx said. “Well. She likes mostly everyone, but…”

Ansem chuckled. He leaned forward to take Amalia’s tiny fist into his hand. “You’re a seeker, right?”

“...Yeah.”

“From where?”

“Destiny Islands.”

“So you’re--”

“...Yeah.” He swallowed. “She’s got the, uh, scales. You’ll probably see them if you ever change her.”

Ansem sat on one of the covered chairs. “You’ll have to forgive me,” he said in a low voice, knotting his hands.

Demyx knew how he would answer, but he said, “for what?”

“For choosing this life for you. I assure you I did not know your people intended a living person to be behind Ienzo’s protection. I was… woefully ignorant of the cultural implications.”

Demyx considered this. “My parents sold me so they could stay together,” he said instead. “What would the alternative have been? I’d have still always been seeking Ienzo, whether or not I knew it. And I’d never have found him if I stayed where I was.”

“Is that what you sought? A partner, a family?”

“Must be,” he murmured. “I… I don’t know. I feel divorced in a lot of ways from my past self. I didn’t even remember a lot of it until recently. Swiss cheese memory.”

“Darkness can cause amnesia that only time and coincidence can heal.”

“Apparently.”

There was a gentle knock at the door; they all tensed, even Amalia, and Demyx’s heart broke a little more ( she shouldn’t feel afraid like this ). Ansem drew a dagger from his boot and approached it slowly. Then he looked through the peephole and sighed heavily, and Demyx knew that kind of sigh. Longing.

Even was sopping wet as he came through the door. “Don’t ask,” he said, before he caught sight of Ansem. “Oh--”

“Hello, Even,” he said.

Even’s face had gone oddly blank. “Hello... I…” A faint flush spread through his face, and he turned instead to Demyx. “How’s the baby?”

“She’s fine. Want me to dry you out?”

“If you don’t mind.”

Demyx did so. “Nice day for a swim, huh?”

“Boy, I said don’t ask. ” He took off the unflattering parka he wore. He seemed to struggle to gather himself. Then, to Ansem, “I thought we’d agreed to keep you out of this.”

Demyx wondered if now might be the right moment to try and get the baby down for a nap. He stood carefully and eased his way towards one of the bedrooms. “The time for cowardice is over, I think. Lest Ienzo be in more trouble than he’s already let on. At some point my safety becomes complicity. Don’t you agree?”

Demyx eased the door shut. They continued this discussion in low voices. Amalia squalled a little, reaching towards Even. “I know, Li-li. You missed him. But he has to talk to grandpa Ansem.” He washed out the blanket on the bed quickly and tucked it into a larger drawer of the dresser. Before all this, he’d thought the babies-in-a-drawer thing was only pop culture. They used to have a pack-and-play she’d used as a bed, but they’d had to abandon it one night. That was before Isa taught him about pocket dimensions. Either way, she didn’t seem to mind, and he sang her a lullaby until she fell asleep.

He must’ve slept too, draped in the musty armchair; he was only woken by the gentle tapping of nails on the wooden floors. Demyx jerked awake, reaching automatically for the baby, before he saw it was just Isa; moonlight bled into the room. “Your time of the month already, huh?” he asked.

Isa just glared at him with the wolf’s eyes and trotted over to the baby, sniffing her once; she cooed.

“Must’ve been easier to swim this way though, I bet.”

He just bobbed his head once.

“Everyone else still out there?”

Another nod.

“Keep an eye on her for me? I bet she’s starving.”

On shaky legs, Demyx walked back over to the door, which Isa had left open. Ansem, Aeleus, and Even were gathered at the small round kitchen table in the dark, their eyes on Even’s phone, something like horror in their expressions.

He didn’t like the sinking feeling he got. For the first time in a while his own magic pinged unpleasantly. “What?” Demyx asked.

“Oh, Demyx. Let me get you some coffee,” Ansem said. He crossed back over to the pot. “I’m afraid there’s only milk--”

“What. Happened.”

Even just sighed, and it was a sigh of someone about to have a hard conversation. “Why don’t you sit down?” He took off his glasses, but this only made him look more exhausted.

Another unpleasant ping. “Ienzo,” he said, with something like desperation.

“...is still alive. Physically, anyway.” Even guided Demyx over to a chair and pressed the coffee into his hand. He touched his shoulder, once; Even only initiated physical contact if something bad happened. “Take a breath. It may not be as it seems.”

Aeleus just shook his head.

But Demyx had always been smarter, or maybe more intuitive, than the once-scientist thought. “He’s been brainwashed.”

“The picture I have is not completely clear--” He began, then took a moment to compose himself. “The city news has been unreliable, as it’s now owned by the state.”

“Let the other shoe drop before you give the boy a heart attack,” Ansem said. He was still facing the counter.

Even’s lips pursed even more. Without ceremony, he presented Demyx the phone, which was open to a news article.

Missing princess actually prince, voices support for new regime.

He thought he might faint. “Oh, shit .”

[sumsmasterpiece]

Sneak Peek of Iwaoi Fanfic: The Grand King Affair

**EXPLICIT SCENE WARNING**

Different Chapter (tobacco kiss)

The breeze was warm against Tooru’s face, sweeping his bangs from his sweat speckled brow. Using his small hand-fan, Tooru was waving it to find some comfort, but to no avail. The hand fan was made of aqua lace, intricate and beautiful with an ivory handle which has been passed down in the Oikawa family for generations.   

“Why is it so hot?” he whined, laying his back completely against the willow tree behind him. 

The face of his alpha adjusted, opening his beautiful eyes to stare up at his lover, “It’s summer, of course it’ll be hot,” he answered.

The omega looked down at the alpha laying on his lap and grinned wickedly, “so mean, Iwa-chan.” He places the hand fan down on the blanket underneath them.

The General sighed and lifted himself up, “how many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me by that ridiculous nickname?” He leaned in and kissed the omegas ear and whispered in his husky voice, “especially when you whine out much prettier things when I'm inside you,” his teeth tugged at the earlobe and Tooru shuttered.

“So lewd. So dangerous,” the omega panted, licking his pink lips. 

The scent of slick wafted in the hot summer breeze, meeting the alphas nostrils. A grin that shared all the intentions and promises of what he would be doing, plastered itself across the alpha’s face. “You know it,” his finger trail down the pink lips of his lover. 

The omega opened his mouth and took the finger into the warm cavern. His tongue lightly flecked against the pad of the finger and slowly his mouth worked to take the whole digit in. Brown eyes never leaving those hazel green ones. Hajime’s words were forgotten. 

The alpha’s eyes glazed over with awe and amusement. The queen looked breathtaking no matter what he did. Such elegance, yet still, this moment felt so lewd. Tooru’s tongue swirled around the finger, bobbing his head and sucked graciously. After a few bobs of the brunette’s head, his teeth lightly scraped over the finger lightly. All that ran through Hajime’s head was how those pretty pink lips and expert tongue would feel on a different part of his body, his cock more specifically.

Hajime pulled his finger free and an almost whine came from his lover's throat. “Patience, pet. I know what you want, believe me.” The alpha purred. 

“Hajime~” A moan rippled past the moist lips. 

The said alpha lifted his head, moving his body until he sat in front of the omega whose hips were squirming. He lifted the white skirt of Tooru’s sundress and smiled. “No underwear, huh? And you are already leaking, what a good boy.” He praised, his calloused fingers grazing the side of his inner thigh were some slick was. The alpha brought his finger to his lips and licked the salty body fluid, humming in approval. 

“Stop teasing, Iwa-chan. I need you.” Tooru bucked his hips forward, his hands are frantic and bunching the dress skirt around his waist. His right hand trails down to his folds and begins to stroke himself in a frantic manner, eager to relieve some tension. Instead of removing the omega’s hands and doing what his omega demanded, Hajime thought the desperate motions of his omega to be utterly adorable and watched as the hand and fingers inched in more and more inside of the omega’s core. “Iwa-chan!” He pleaded.  

“But you are doing such a good job on your own.” The alpha teased, rubbing circles on the omega’s hips. 

“I do this enough when I can’t see you, but you are right here and I want your huge cock in me right now and--” Their lips smashed together and it was a swirl of tongues and teeth and hands. Both ending and beginning where the other was, perfectly in sync. 

Iwaizumi was the first to part, gazing down in those lust filled chocolate eyes. “If you say more sinful things like that, I won’t go easy on you,” He purred and began to nuzzle and nip at the pink tinged ears of his lover. 

“Who says I want you to go easy on me?” That devilish smirk grew as he spread his legs wide and flipped their positions, so he is now straddling his alpha. “Won’t you let me take charge now, General, sir~” His breath tickled Iwaizumi’s ear as his whole body shuddered. 

Taking that as a yes, Tooru pulled on Hajime’s zipper of his combat pant, now beginning to be stained by Tooru’s slick, and reached inside to grasp the wide girth of the alpha’s cock. The warmth and weight of the cock felt perfect in Oikawa’s hand as he tested it with one stroke before bring it to position at his entrance. 

Iwaizumi brought his hands to Oikawa’s hips to steady him as he began to sink down slowly. 

“Iwa-chan~” Oikawa panted out quick puffs on Iwaizumi’s face. He was losing himself in the stretch and feel of the wide girth of his lover’s cock inside of him. Though Hajime has been inside Oikawa many, many times, something about this switched position made the feeling of his omega all the more new and exciting.

As they began to move to find their releases, Oikawa totally forgot about the humid heat while his heart swelled with adoration and love.

---

Oikawa’s eyes fluttered open. He must have dozed off after their little activity. 

His nose picked up on a smell. It was a sweet smell. Oikawa knew of this scent very well. He knew it because it was always a smell around the house. Images of Oikawa’s father filling up his pipe and lighting a match to then take a few puffs. Tobacco.

Groaning as he stretched himself out, he realizes that he was using Iwaizumi’s hip as a pillow while he slept. Sitting up, he let his head lift to find a cigarette was between Iwaizumi’s lips while the other end glowed and then he released the smoke from the side of his lips, away from Oikawa.   

His gazed found Oikawa’s and his expression froze in panic. “Sorry, I’ll put it out,” Iwaizumi placed the bud between his pointer and middle and moved to place it toward the grass.

Before he had a chance to put the bud out, Oikawa grabbed it and brought it to his lips and took a small drag before the flood of smoke burned it way through his throat and he began to cough. “Hey,” the alpha panicked and grabbed his canteen of water to hand it toward the queen. But Oikawa shooed it away, bring the bud back to his lips and taking another drag, this time it didn’t burn as badly.

Iwaizumi was at a loss for words, his eyes just grew wide as he watched this beautiful creature in front of him do something that was seen as common and lower class, turn into something completely sinful. 

Oikawa was taking another drag when he opened his eyes to look at his lover, “What? Am I doing it wrong or something?” 

Iwaizumi shook his head and curled his finger in a come here motion. Oikawa took another drag and blew it out before coming closer. Closer. Closer. Until his nose was touching the alpha’s. Oikawa leaded in and kissed Iwaizumi’s top lip, sucking it in to his mouth to then release it. Oikawa continued his ministrations of Iwaizumi’s lips, cheeks, jaw, and neck. The alpha hummed in joy as his fingers made there way to what was left of the cigarette and plucked it out of the omega’s fingers. 

He brought the tiny bud to his mouth and mouth and took one last puff and then rubbing the cigarette in the earth. He then lend in and kissed the queens lips, forcing his tongue to open his mouth to him. The taste of tobacco was shared amongst their tongues but they didn’t care as the alpha rolled his omega under him and deepened the kiss. 

When the burning for air was appeal in their noses and throats they parted, panting and drooling. 

“I don’t want to go back,” Oikawa panted against Iwaizumi’s neck and nuzzled against it. “He could never make me feel like you do. Not in a million years.” 

Hajime brought his hands to the silky chocolate hair and began to pet his lover. He knew all too well how Oikawa felt in that house. He knew it to be a prison, and he had to treasure these moments that they had together. He looked straight into the omega’s eyes and placed a chast kiss to his lips and pulled away. 

A lustful haze filled those chocolate eyes. Eyes the same color of chocolates that Tooru and him had bought when they had ran into each other in town and had bought some milk chocolates. Tooru had torched Iwaizumi that afternoon of the melted chocolate that the omega would lick and suck off his fingers. He could remember the way his lips had tasted.

Tooru found his alpha’s hand and intertwined their fingers. “Do you love me?” It was a whisper of a question.

“Yes,” Hajime answered instantly.

“How much,” a smile played on those pink lips.

There was a beat of silence between the two of them, Hajime was weighting the words and trying his best to come up with an answer. Tooru’s heart was beating rapidly. Did he say the wrong thing? Of course he did. What alpha could ever love a marked, taken omega like him. 

Hajime leaned forward and placed his lips to the omega’s ear, “There is not an answer I can give you that can express the way I love you. It is more than words and almost impossible to show with actions. The way I feel, feels as if it is apart of my very soul and being. All I know is that I love you, and I don’t see myself from ever stopping, your highness.”

A new wave of slick pours out of Tooru and he wants to curl his face and hide it away because there is no way he is not red. Who on earth says things like that and means in fully? 

‘You know exactly who’. His conscious tells him. ‘Take what is yours. Keep him. Feel him. Love him.’

“Show me then,” It was barely above a whisper but Hajime heard the words as if they were a loud as cannon fire. “Show me what your love is like. I want to know what love is, alpha.” 

When Hajime showed Tooru what his love felt to him, it was as if the world began anew. Before there lovemaking was fast and desperate and rebellious. But this time, it was slow and patient. Both knowing what made the other needed to go over the edge but ignored it to just enjoy the feel of one another. Igniting new sparks of pleasure and the hint of release in the distance but in no hurry to reach. Oikawa truly knew that this must be what love was like, being slowly pushed to the edge but not being afraid and instead having undoubtable trust and ready to take the plunge or to soar so high that he would never want to come down.

---

“What if we run away?” Iwaizumi was lazily running his hands through the chocolate strands at the nape of his lover’s neck. He thought about the idea of them running away since the very moment he laid eyes of Oikawa, but he never voiced it before. Well, until now.

Oikawa sat up, leaning over his alpha while his hand still laid on the broad chest. “What? Leave with you and become your mistress?”

The hand at the omega’s hair stilled as he pulled them away from the hair and instead found rest at the still pink cheeks above him, “Never a mistress. I would treat you as my equal and as my one and only. I’d never would want you to be something I hide away in shame or to show you off as my prize.”

Oikawa could cry at those words. He always did feel like a prize or an object, given to who his parents seemed fit or who had to most money that they could pocket for him. Feeling like a person, Oikawa never truly felt that way until this perfect man crashed into his life.

But the fantasy of actually running away with his lover came to an end when he felt the weight of the locket on his breast. The locket with the picture of his other true love, Taro. 

“But what about my son?”

Neither of them spoke and Oikawa wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear the thoughts that Iwaizumi was thinking. With nothing spoken, Oikawa laid his head down on the chest where his hand was and just listened to the thump of the heart that he wished would never stop beating.