#but since youre asian yourself i hope this is coming from genuine curiosity

[floralovebot]

Alright... I'm going to assume that you're coming from a place of genuine curiosity and not asking in bad faith.

I answered an ask a while ago about Helia (and Nabu) where I mentioned the pacifist thing! But essentially, there's a very,,, weird stereotype about asian men (specifically east asian and seasians but I do occasionally see it with south asian men as well!) that depicts them as Very Calm and Pacifist and Anti-Violence and usually Feminine (by western standards). This often goes hand in hand with colorism and classism, wherein this stereotype is mainly seen with pale-skinned, upper-class asian men as opposed to darker skinned and/or poor asian men (who usually get the dirty/aggressive/abusive treatment instead; Nabu was actually a very big subversion of this but he did unfortunately get the south asian magician stereotype instead so... wins and losses i guess).

As Helia and Nabu are the only asian coded male main characters in Winx and they both fall into this stereotype (with the fandom then treating them wildly differently based on their coded ethnicities)... it gets really awkward. You have to consider why no one ever headcanons Nabu as a pacifist when the two of them are introduced similarly and have similar personalities and backstories. This paired with the fact that Helia is definitely not a pacifist in canon (he canonically is very down with violence) and this pacifist comment was made once off-hand by a white coded character who didn't know him or like him at the time... it gets nasty!

When the fandom headcanons that Helia is a pacifst, they're almost always directly ignoring and going against canon to hold up a huge racial stereotype that didn't affect him in the first place. There's nothing wrong with disagreeing with canon or having contradictory headcanons, but when you have one that is very much a racist trope that's also been disproven by canon and fanon alike,, it's not great, to say the least. It takes a huge shit on what Rainbow actually did right with his character (and the other asian characters) by reducing him to a racist trope that doesn't work with his characterization at all (seriously, why would a pacifist go to a military school?). And in order to make him being a pacifist make sense, people often end up completely changing his personality and goals to a point where he ends up being a different character.

Examples of this would be, Helia genuinely liking Red Fountain and enjoying being a Specialist to hating the school, Saladin (his grandfather), and also not really liking the other Specialists at all (even when Helia directly implies that they're his found family... in canon...). Or him going from the Best Specialist who only flip flops between RF and art because he enjoys art to being completely clueless about fighting or defense. Or Helia being a relatively "masculine" man in the traditional sense but then people make him hyper-feminine or a literal cis woman instead (which goes into the emasculation of asian men by non-asians).

Like,,, I'm never trying to just shit on people's headcanons yknow? But the winx fandom has always had an issue with extremely racist headcanons that literally never get called out or get completely ignored when they do. (I've literally seen white people in this fandom call fans of color "fandom police" for calling out racism. It's not as bad on tumblr as it is on twt or insta but it is still there and noticeable.) When people headcanon that Helia is a pacifist, it's always from that racist trope in mind, even if they aren't consciously aware of it. It's wrong because they see an east asian coded man with long hair and an interest in the arts and their brains immediately go "well he obviously hates masculinity and this white guy said he's a pacifist so it must be true so literally every single thing they show in canon that goes against that is actually ooc based on this one thing that a white guy who didn't know him said. obviously".

And while we're here! About the Musa thing, I think it highly depends on who's doing it. When a non-asian person defeminizes Musa, I get very suspicious because there are still tons of stereotypes about asian women that don't fall in line with the hyper-feminine ones. For instance, the Super Cool Motorcycle Martial Artist With A Colored Streak In Her Hair stereotype! When an asian person, and especially an asian woman, headcanons Musa to be less traditionally feminine, I don't think it's as bad because they're usually aware of this trope and they're coming at it from a place of resonating with her and understanding her feelings about femininity and traditionally feminine things in a way that non-asian people wouldn't understand. Musa's non-femininity directly ties to her culture and her father, so while non-asian women can understand not wanting to be feminine, they won't understand the specific cultural and racial aspects of it that Musa goes through. Really, only other woc would understand that, but if they're not asian themselves, they can still fall into stereotyping asian characters.

While Rainbow did get a lot wrong in regard to Musa and Melody, her characterization was actually really solid. She's one of the few asian characters from that era that doesn't fall into either of the two extremes (ie hyper-feminine vs hyper-masculine). So when non-asian people then ignore that... it's always super weird. They ignore the fact that she does like certain traditionally feminine things and doesn't feel awkward experiencing them (and actively chooses to engage in it herself) to headcanon her as the Cool Tomboy Who Hates Feminine Things. Or they ignore her more masculine side and constantly deck her out in traditional clothing. But again, this really only happens with non-asian fans; most asian fans do understand her because they've likely felt the exact same thing at some point in their life.

oh are we talking about racism rn? cool cool i have thoughts

the defeminization of the other winx can definitely be rooted in misogyny however the defeminization of musa and aisha are 100% rooted in racism.

stop making musa a walking festival in your redesigns. her entire thing was prioritizing her comfort and dreams rather than her father's wishes. she literally only wears more traditional dresses during formal events and when she wants to dress up. her magic winx or any other transformation being traditional wear doesn't make sense and is usually racism from the fandom.

nabu is indian coded. him being dark skinned and dating aisha doesn't mean he's automatically black. it's cool if you're a black fan who thought he was black because of rep but 1. please recognize his coding and 2. if you're not black or asian please reassess why you immediately thought he was black and continue to ignore his blatant coding.

trans helia headcanons are still largely problematic, especially from cis fans. insisting he's a pacifist is still racist. making him extremely unemotional is also racist.

while nabu's death is problematic in its own right, aisha not moving on would make it worse. either keep him alive or let her move on. keeping her single is never good rep.

editors and gifmakers are still whitewashing. stop that.

and stop liking and reblogging content that's whitewashed. it's been years. we talk about it constantly. it takes one fucking second to double check that a character isn't bright white. stop giving excuses and do better. take the damn L and delete shit if you notice it later. confront the op and stop making us do the dirty work.

yes we notice when you leave out the entirety of asia except for china, south korea, and japan in your melody headcanons.

joking about galatea being white is still weird.

viewing musa as a tomboy is fine. completely removing any feminity she has (and canonically is okay with), making her violently reject her culture, and making her dad much worse than he ever was is still bad.

stop giving aisha extremely straight/vaguely wavy hair in your art and redesigns??? it's shitty animation from the early 2000s yeah but her hair is absolutely meant to be textured. she has defined curls and it holds shape. it's not fucking beach waves. (hint: it's anywhere in the 3 to 4 range. stop doing 1 and 2 hairstyles.)

if a poc tells you you're being racist, getting defensive and insisting we're the bullies is just proof that you are.

learn what whitewashing is and stop thinking it's just making someone's skin tone lighter.

yeah it's weird when you make flora specifically not latina in your redesigns. that's not rep or a fun headcanon. it's erasure.

yes, it's a little weird when you redesign riven to be dark-skinned. this highly depends on you and how you're portraying him. if you continue to portray him as hyper masculine and problematic or even downright abusive (an issue on its own), then yeah keep him white <3

white people: you do not get to decide what is and isn't racism and you sure as hell don't get to argue with us about it. you may not understand, you may disagree, but you don't get to come into our spaces and argue about how you think we're wrong about racism.

fans of color: don't feel bad about blocking racists. don't feel bad about soft or hard blocking mutuals because they crossed too many lines. don't give up your safe space and integrity in the hopes of changing their minds.

this.

[sserpente]

A/N: Heyho there my lovelies! I’m finally back! I missed posting so much! This Imagine is based on a TikTok I found and what can I say? It inspired me! After this, next up, will be the 20k Special! Enjoy everyone!

Words: 3205 Warnings: colour-blindness

“What if I never find him?” You murmured, glancing at the fruit bowl with a saddened expression. Yellow bananas, green grapes, red apples. To you, they were all different shades of grey. Dull and boring, like you had been sucked into a 30s black-and-white film. Only you didn’t get a cheesy romance out of it.

You had been born with what doctors today would call a ‘remarkably rare, complicated and fascinating condition’, for you had lost all of your colour vision at the age of twelve. You still remembered what the world had looked like before—bright, rich, intense—then someone flicked a switch overnight and all you could still see was grey, grey, grey and greyer. The colours would only ever come back to you once you found the love of your life—your soulmate.

A sigh escaped your lips. Only a few people still existed with this… defect and to make things worse, you had had no idea you were one of them. Not until your twelfth birthday. Society admired and pitied you all the same and yet, being a hopeless romantic, at the end of the day, you longed to finally fall in love.

Tony chuckled. “Heads up. You’re too young to worry about settling down anyway.” He responded cheerfully and pointed at you with a screwdriver in hand. He had been trying to fix the dishwasher for a solid twenty minutes now and for a man who had built himself a pretty much indestructible suit that could fly, it was utterly amusing he couldn’t figure out why it had stopped working.

You were not an Avenger, mind you. The sole reason you were, as of right now, in the Avengers’ kitchen munching on grey chocolate chips was that your best friend, who in turn was friends with Clint’s wife, had managed to flood your shared flat over the weekend. It was utterly inhabitable now and it would take quite a while for the landlord to get it all dried up again—and since insurance would not cover the cost for staying in a hotel, for the time being, Clint’s wife had suggested you’d stay with them—right until Tony Stark had shown up and you had graciously offered you’d come hang out at the Avengers Tower. Okay, technically you had begged him but either way and needless to say, you had jumped at the opportunity and somehow even hoped that you would learn some dirty superhero secrets—but so far, nothing. Nothing but what superheroes did when they were not out and about saving the world. Truth be told, seeing Thor in Hello Kitty pyjamas and witnessing Natasha Romanoff of all people scream watching an Asian horror film had its perks but you had somehow expected for them to be called in for an urgent mission where they required a skill only you had and then they would rely on your help and you would fight and become an Avenger and… your fanfiction had always sounded too good to be true.

“Are you still there? How is that fruit bowl so interesting?” Snapping yourself out of your thoughts, you blinked.

“Sorry. What were you saying?”

“I was saying that…”

“Tony?” It was Bruce who interrupted you two, peeking his head into the kitchen almost timidly. You waved at him and he nodded, yet he failed to reciprocate your smile. Uh-Oh.

“Did something happen?”

The scientist nodded. “You might wanna put on your suit.”

“What happened?”

Bruce pursed his lips. “We’ve located Loki.”

-

Your eyes were still widened by the time you rushed after Tony even after he had told you explicitly (three times, to be exact) to stay put and hide until he had been put in custody.

The Loki. God of Mischief, Thor’s brother, Frost Giant, the I-tried-to-take-over-the-planet-guy. It was exciting, somehow, meeting a villain and oh, would it fuel you for your fan fiction. You almost bumped straight into Thor when they all came to a halt all of a sudden, his body a wall of flesh and muscle and making you grunt in pain—you might as well have hit a brick wall. With his hammer in hand, he ensured no one would approach his dangerous brother closely enough for him to try anything funky.

But the fact that Loki was even more handsome in person and the first villain you ever saw in person when he turned around the corner with a proud and arrogant expression on his face despite his shackles, was not what startled you to the core.

All of a sudden, there were colours. Everywhere.

Your lips parted, the impact of all the pigmentation around you making you dizzy. Loki’s armour was black, his cape was green, his eyes were blue, and his hair reminded you of the plumage of a raven. And your surroundings... The compound was silver now, the sceptre they had taken from him golden. Nauseous, you held on to Thor’s muscly arm for support. The God of Thunder frowned in concern. His eyes were blue too, his hair blonde, his cape red… too… many… colours. You suppressed a gag, overwhelmed by the sudden return of your colour vision.

“Are you okay?” Thor asked.

“G-guys… I can see colours.”

Every single head in the room, including Loki’s, turned in your direction so fast you flinched. Tony’s face was the first to fall in response.

“You are joking, right?”

Mutely, you shook your head. Your eyes locked with Loki’s, electricity rippling through you when they did. His blue irises froze you from the inside out, like each and every one of your limbs failed to resist the magnetic pull you felt towards him, and your cells longed for you to throw yourself into his arms—despite the fact he was handcuffed... and for a good reason too. Swallowing thickly, you forced yourself to look away.

Loki was your soulmate. That was impossible; and quite frankly, the god in question appeared to be thinking the exact same thing.

You chewed on your lower lip, anything to distract yourself from your predicament all the while everyone was still staring at you like you had grown two more heads.

“Take him to the cells, I’ll stay with her.” Clint’s hand on your shoulder did little to console you. Part of you still barely resisted the urge to start at Loki like a succubus, the other… the other was terrified and meant to hide in the archer’s embrace.

You could feel Loki’s blue gaze still resting on you when he led you away from the scene, staring daggers into your back and rendering you speechless until you were finally out of sight and Clint shook your shoulder gently.

“Are you sure it’s not one of the security guards that helped bring him in?”

“No… no, I saw them first. Loki was behind them. It’s… I don’t know how to explain it but somehow, Loki was in colour first, you know what I mean? First him and then, a split second later, everything else was colourful too.”

“And now?”

“Now what?”

“Do you still see in colour now?”

“Of course I do.” Clint sighed and buried his face in his hands.

“So what happens if you don’t… act on this soulmate thing?”

“Nothing. Nothing happens.” You said.

“So you don’t have to… stay close to Loki or anything?”

“No. Not that I know of. But Clint—“

“Good. Because he might find a way to use you against us. Stay away from him. Thor’ll take him back to Asgard soon enough. All we need to do first is find the Tesseract.”

Your lips were pursed when he turned to check on them and if Loki was wreaking havoc while they were trying to get him imprisoned.

Stay away from him? Of course… it was the most reasonable thing to do. Loki was dangerous, a criminal… but was that right? Now that you had found your soulmate in him?

-

You couldn’t get him out of your head that night. Screw the danger, you had to see him. And eventually, your curiosity and that inexplicable and strange pull you felt towards Loki got the better of you. With a deep breath, you threw your covers back and let your bare feet hit the cold floor before quietly tiptoeing out into the dark and empty hallway.

Your blood was rushing in your ears, making you hear things your paranoia and imagination cooked up to the point your heart was pounding in your chest so hard and fast you feared it might jump right out of your ribcage. No one could know, of course. Clint would positively kill you—he, along with Tony, somewhat considered himself responsible for you here. You couldn’t really blame them. If something happened to you, they’d never forgive themselves. You were an innocent civilian, after all.

And now you had been tossed into the greatest fanfiction yet. Shivering, for the cold slowly crept into your bare skin and through the tanktop and shorts you were wearing to sleep, you finally reached the corridor leading to the elevator. The prison cells, a rather new addition to Stark Tower, were located at the very bottom, the cellar, or… what you preferred to call it, a modern dungeon.

You found Loki with his back turned to you in his cell, looking pale through the glass pane. Your heart skipped a beat when he suddenly spoke up.

“I expected you would find a way to come and see me at some point. I’d dare say the Avengers have taken quite the precautions to keep you as far away from me as possible.” He mused. He lifted his chin, approaching the glass window.

It was quite ridiculous to assume that this tiny and meagre prison would keep the Trickster at bay after everything he had proven to be capable of. If only he wanted to, he could shatter that glass with but a flick of his wrist or break the heavy metal door posing as the only barrier between you.

If you were to just… unlock that door to touch him… it would be so easy. Blinking rapidly, you shook your head to chase the thought away.

“Who are you?” He asked and for just a brief moment, you believed to see genuine interest and curiosity sparkling in his stunning blue eyes.

“No one, really. You already know my name, I presume but that’s all there is. I’m not special—I mean, I don’t have superpowers. I’m just a regular human with a rare condition.”

“Oh, I see. Surely you had not hoped for a criminal of all people to be your soulmate then? A murderer? A monster?” His expression hardened.

Yes. But you were not going to tell him that. He was still the person to have made you see colours again, regardless of who he was and what he had done. There must have been a connection between you, you felt it after all! And you were certain that he felt it too.

“Thor will take me back to Asgard and the great King Odin,” he continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “will surely have me executed. You will never see me again. So do not worry.”

“I don’t want that.” You finally chirped, barely daring to look him in the eye. His gaze was scrutinising and intimidating… almost as if he was able to see right into your soul with but one single glance.

Loki frowned.

“I bet you’re not happy about this, are you?” A desperate scoff escaped your lips. “I’m not sure I am…” You confessed and sat down on the chair in front of the window. It creaked a little under your weight, the unpleasant sound echoing through the empty hallway.

This man right in front of you was not be trusted and yet, the desire to pour your heart out to him was so strong you felt it like a sea of emotions attempting to drown you.

“You know ever since my twelfth birthday I wondered when I would finally meet my soulmate. Who they would be, what they would be like… and then so many years passed I was beginning to worry I might never see colours again. That I’d be alone and grey for the rest of my life.”

Loki licked his lips and glanced up at you, listening intently to every single word you said.

“Now I met you and they all tell me not to trust you. I mean… I know who you are, I know what you’ve done. I can’t say I’m happy about the fact my soulmate is…” You stopped yourself, breathing in sharply. “What was the universe thinking? You are a god and I’m just… me. We live light-years apart!”

Eventually, after a moment of surprisingly pleasant silence between you, Loki hummed. “The Norns do have interesting ways.” He said, locking his eyes with yours, almost as if he was pondering if… if what? If he could imagine being with you?

“So what should we do? Never speak of it again? Pretend we have never met? I can’t just… come to Asgard with you.” You held your breath when you realised what you were considering here. Loki must have thought the same. He smirked in response—not mockingly but bitterly. “Odin would never allow a mortal on Asgard. If I was to survive my trial, that is.”

“Don’t say that. I don’t care you’re a criminal right now, I just found my soulmate, and I don’t want to lose him again right away, regardless of what happens between us.”

With a start, his face fell. “Nothing will happen between us. That would be unnecessarily cruel, would it not? Your life in the nine realms is but a heartbeat compared to mine.”

“So… this is goodbye?”

Loki hesitated. You noticed by the way his lips slightly parted without a single sound escaping them just yet.

“Yes. This is goodbye.”

-

The fruit bowl had become your new best friend. In the morning, tired and rather absent, you sat at the kitchen table holding on to a steaming mug of coffee all the while studying the different colours of the fruit before you like a complicated Maths formula.

“Did you have a good chat last night?” Clint barked at you when he entered the room, skipping the ‘Good morning’.

“Huh?”

“With Loki?” He probed, raising his eyebrows in an I-already-know-what-you’ve-done manner.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You said, shaking your head and focusing your gaze on the fruit bowl again. Yellow bananas, green grapes, red apples. In colour.

You flinched when Tony spoke your name. “We saw the footage on our security cameras. You sneaked to his cell last night knowing fully well why you should stay away from him, especially with… with… you know.”

Fuck… the security cameras. You had completely forgotten about those! Of course the legendary Tony Stark would have had security cameras installed all over the damn place!

Busted, you shrugged your shoulders as nonchalantly as you could muster. “I just wanted to talk him. I had to talk to him. I know what you’re all thinking—that he’s evil and brutal and cruel and ruthless… and… and you’re probably right? I… I don’t even know but… he is still my soulmate. I can see colours again because of him for Fuck’s sake! I can’t just… ignore that.”

“I get it. We don’t know what it must feel like. But it’s for the best. We don’t want him to hurt you.”

“I am his soulmate, too. He wouldn’t dare hurt me. You know maybe he’s not the monster you all think he is.”

“Are you saying that because you know him so well after last night or because that is what you want to believe?”

Both. “I just… have a feeling.”

“Right.” Tony clapped his hands. Your name left his lips almost like a plea. “You have to trust us.”

Thor nodded. “Loki is dangerous. You should stay away from him at least until we know he is not still plotting the domination of your planet.”

“What do you mean ‘at least until’? You can stop staying away from him when he’s back on Asgard and out of your reach.” Tony snapped.

“We’re just trying to keep you safe.” Steve intervened. You sighed.

“You know what? I’m getting a headache and I’m still tired, so I’m gonna go back to bed.” That wasn’t even a lie—well, at least the fatigue bit wasn’t. Besides, the blackout curtains in the room Tony let you stay in were heaven-sent.

That was until a loud tumult in the Tower woke you up again, even though you were not sure anymore you had actually fallen asleep once your head hit the soft pillow.

“W—“ Your scream of protest was muffled by a cool palm covering your mouth. You struggled briefly, ripping your eyes wide open in a weak attempt to make out who was assaulting you in the comforting darkness of your room when you suddenly heard a soothing voice shushing you.

“It’s me…”

“L-Loki?” You choked out when he removed his hand again. “Did you… did you break out of your cell?”

“It would seem so. Come.”

“What?”

He tilted his head. “I don’t have much time.”

You stood, throwing the covers back when he already reached for your hand and held it tightly, pulling you with him into the hallway and towards one of the more hidden exists of Stark Tower, a flight of stairs illuminated only by emergency lights.

“W-what are you doing?”

“I am proving to you that I am more than just a criminal.”

“Oh… but… um… where are we going?”

Loki smirked. Your eyes widened when he pulled out the Tesseract seemingly out of nowhere, its blue light glowing brightly in the dark and throwing artistic shadows on his face.

“Hold on tight.”

“Loki…”

The God of Mischief pulled you close, making you gasp. Your chest hit his, his arm wrapping around your waist. With his face only inches from yours, you could feel his warm breath on your lips, and suddenly longed to kiss him.

“You are my soulmate. I am not leaving you behind.”

“What happened to ‘goodbye’?” You chirped.

Loki tilted his head almost threateningly. “You are mine. Don’t you think I wanted to leave this place without looking back?” His expression softened. “But I couldn’t. Because of you.” And you might just be the only woman to ever love me in this way, he added silently.

“B-but… Y-you said Odin will never allow me on Asgard and… and…”

“I never said we were going to Asgard, now was I?”

Your lips parted. Could you trust him? The stranger who had finally made you see colours again? If you told him No, would he let go of you? Would he let you run to Tony and Clint and Nat so they could protect you from him? Swallowing thickly, you met his intense blue gaze and nodded.

Loki smirked and winked. “You are in for an adventure.” And you knew he wasn’t lying. Next thing you knew, you were both hurtled through space and into a shared future.

-

A/N: ☕

[thomaslightwoodenthusiast]

hello all!

as many of you know, i mentioned that i was working on a thomastair fic. well, recently i gained the confidence to finish the chapter and i finally have! i’m going to upload it here first to get some opinions, and after that it will all be going on wattpad. if you like what you read and don’t use wattpad, please let me know! without further ado, here it is;

ethereal - thomastair, ch1

Thomas Lightwood did not enjoy parties. However, he was attending this one. One of his best friends, James Herondale, was celebrating his engagement to his long term girlfriend, Cordelia Carstairs. Thomas was happy for them; of course he was. But deep down, he wanted something like what they had. A love so strong, so beautiful.

He would never comfortably get it.

"You ready then, Matthew?"

Matthew was bubbly as usual. Something about him felt slightly...off, though.

"Of course! Yes. I can't wait!"

Thomas grabbed his cousin Christopher and the three left. James was already at the Devil's Tavern with Cordelia and Anna, Thomas's other cousin. Anna had given Cordelia a dress -surprising, as Anna herself never wore them.

The celebration was to be small; The Merry Thieves, Cordelia, Anna, Tessa & Will, and Sona, Cordelia's mother. Elias Carstairs was not going to be there, as he was still 'unwell'. As for Alastair, Cordelia's permanently MIA brother, he was still not going to be there. He never was. Cordelia had been sad; she loved her brother and would have loved him to come. But there was something 'odd' about him. She'd explained it in short once before:

"I do have a brother -Alastair. I love him dearly. But none of you will ever meet him- at least it's highly unlikely. He has sworn off ever socialising with anyone other than family."

"Why?" Christopher had asked, with genuine curiosity.

"He hasn't told me exactly what it is. Until a few years ago we were close, but now he just shuts everyone out. He's always been terrified of emotions. Acting like love is a weakness. I want him to meet someone, to fall in love and be happy, but any time I ask him if he's met anyone he just replies with 'To love is to destroy'. It's like his mantra or something."

"He isn't possessed is he?" asked Matthew.

"Of course not you idiot! But he might as well be. All I know is, whatever this damn curse is I don't have it."

Thomas had become fascinated. He played around with the theory that Alastair was one of those ethereals he'd always heard about. He knew the stories, and to be honest had always wanted to meet one. None of the other Merry Thieves believed in them, so Thomas usually kept quiet.

"Guys! You're here!"

The trio of boys were immediately absorbed into hugs.

"Wouldn't want to miss it. Congrats!"

"Thank you," said Cordelia, blushing.

"Your dress is...beautiful. Where did you get it?" asked Matthew.

"Me. I gave her it," Anna responded, with a smirk. "I have them lying about my apartment. Never would wear any, but I like to keep them in case," she ended with a wink.

"ATTENTION, ATTENTION, I DEMAND YOUR ATTENTION," came a loud voice from the other end of the room. Thomas sighed and smiled when he saw who the voice belonged to.

Of course it was Magnus Bane.

"NOW THAT THE BOYS ARE HERE, I BELIEVE WE MAY BEGIN THE PARTY!" he said, ringing a bell.

"Why does he have a bell?" whispered Thomas.

"Seriously. You looked at him and the first question you asked was about a bell?" Anna replied.

She had a point. Magnus was well known for his outlandish and elaborate dress sense, and today was no exclusion. Somehow, he managed to look incredible no matter what he wore. Which in today's scenario, was a dark purple velvet jacket, some (leather?) trousers, a pair of extremely glittery boots, and a satin shirt of baby blue.

Matthew stared at him. "I can't tell whether I want to be him or be with him. I-"

"Adore him, we know. Why don't you go talk to him?" Thomas proposed.

"Absolutely not. I am not going to risk embarrassing myself, especially after the river incident with James that one time. I believe I will mingle with the ladies instead," Matthew concluded, approaching Sona. She began laughing.

"Christopher you haven't spoken a word. You okay?" asked Anna.

Christopher looked shocked someone had even spoken to him.

Even though Anna was his sister.

"I'm fine. You know I don't really like parties though. Too many people," he said, nervously laughing.

"You can stay about with me if you want?"

"No! You love partying. I don't want to be a hindrance-"

"Hindrance! Chris you're my brother! I can sacrifice one party for your sake. And besides," Anna cleared her throat, "I know all the girls here. No one interesting or single."

Christopher shrugged. He and Anna started talking to each other. Out of the corner of his eye, Thomas could see Cordelia glancing towards the opposite end of the room, and almost immediately darting towards it. Had she seen something?

Someone?

➿➿➿➿➿

Alastair Carstairs did not like hurting his sister. Unfortunately, he felt like he had. So that was why he went to the Devil's Tavern. He'd snuck inside through the back room, and was standing to the side, hoping to go unnoticed.

Alastair loved his sister. He was so fiercely protective of her -had been ever since childhood. So when that fateful night occurred four years ago, it had been hard for him to come around to.

Alastair thought about what had happened. Why his life was so different now. He was so scared and confused at the time -just fifteen years old. A man had come knocking at their family home door, asking for him. Sona was terrified -who was this randomer to come to her door and demand to see her son? But Alastair had woken up and had agreed to speak with him. He was tall, very very tall, Asian, and...beautiful. So beautiful. He didn't look too much older than Alastair himself, which was odd.

But the beauty.

It struck you in the face.

It was indescribable.

Alastair had recalled feeling unnaturally comfortable with this man, like he was a brother or some other male relative. He told Alastair that he was special; that there was something slightly different about him. He told him of the 'ethereals' -a community of people all across the world. They were a beautiful people. Not majorly different to normal people, but nowhere near the same. They had an immediate attractiveness that made them literally impossible to resist regardless of a person's feelings towards them. This, however, proved bad at times, and often ethereal relationships did not work out. They loved with their entire soul; if this love was not returned, their loved one was, well, it was awful really. Ethereals could have relationships with each other and they could even be with normal people if they wished. However, that was not recommended nor respected by other ethereals.

Alastair faintly recalled the man telling him how he felt about that rule/idea.

It was clear he did not like it.

But he assured Alastair that he was okay, and that he was there for him. One thing Alastair thought was unfortunate was that he couldn't remember his name- it was a unique one anyway.

As if thought became reality, Alastair returned from his daydream to see that the man he'd met all those years ago was here. At his sister's party? Odd. He thought he would've seen him again at least once if they were friends. He thought about talking to him, but he still wanted to stay unnoticed.

You can't always get what you want, though.

"Alastair?!? My brother?!"

Cordelia was standing right in front of him.

———————

Cordelia threw her arms around her brother, hugging him tight. "Why did you come?"

He gave her a glare, but couldn't help but smile. "I felt truly awful. I thought I would upset you, and so I snuck my way here. I still wish to remain unseen by the others, however."

Cordelia's smile faded a little. "Couldn't you meet them? Just introduce yourself? Please. Just once?"

"No. I am not quite sure they would like me anyways," he said, tailing off a little.

"Alastair. What are you afraid of?" Cordelia inquired.

For a moment he was silent.

"That man, the Asian one, he's the man who came to our house."

"Magnus Bane?"

"Yes, him. I wish I could ask him questions."

Because lord knows how many I have.

"I can bring him over if you like?" The younger girl offered.

"No," said Alastair, shaking his head. "I don't want to make anyone suspicious."

"Daisy? Where'd you go?"

"Oh, I am so sorry. That's James. I have to go. But thank you, Alastair. Thank you for coming. And hey; loosen up a little, alright?"

Alastair only smiled in response.

————————

Thomas was still standing chatting with Christopher and Anna, although he hadn't entirely been paying attention to the conversation. He was watching Cordelia. He could definitely see her talking to someone, but whoever she was talking to was extremely well hidden. Then he heard James call out for her, and she turned and dashed off, returning to him with a smile. He tried his best to see if he could make out a person, but it was virtually impossible.

"What's got you staring off into the distance? A pretty girl?" joked Anna.

Blood rushed to his face immediately. Thomas wished to tell Anna the truth; that he did not care for pretty girls. That he cared more about pretty boys. Anna was his cousin; and not only did he know she would support him she was also, for lack of a better word, the other way inclined.

But something was stopping him, and he wasn't quite sure what.

"I was joking, by the way, in case that's why you haven't replied," she said, raising an eyebrow.

"I- yes. I mean not as in yes I was looking at a pretty girl, I mean- actually I'm not quite sure. I'm too tired."

That was partially true, however Thomas wanted an excuse to investigate Cordelia's secret friend.

Christopher looked delighted. "If you're tired, we could leave together?"

"Oh my! Christopher, mine own brother dear, do not sound so excited to be out of my presence!"

Christopher panicked. "I didn't mean it like that!"

"I know you didn't kid. It's fine. You two leave, we'll see you tomorrow."

Thomas and Christopher left, waving to Anna. Once outside, Thomas turned to Christopher.

"Hey, there's one last thing I want to do before going back. Do you want to wait here for me, or do you wish to walk home alone?"

Christopher shrugged. "I can stay here and read."

"Are you sure? It's quite cold."

"I'll stay here for as long as I can, but if I begin to think you are taking too long I shall vacate the area and make my advances toward home and a warm bed."

Thomas laughed. He adored his family; and Christopher was no exception. He may seem odd to others, what with his obsession with science and lack of social skills, but Thomas didn't care. He and the Merry Thieves would stand up for him even if it meant losing their legs.

Thomas gave him a reassuring smile and snuck back inside the Tavern.  This time, he decided to sneak in via the back in case anyone saw him entering and re-engaged him in conversation.

He certainly did not expect his chest to collide with someone's head.

"Oh! I'm sorry! I didn't know that anyone- hey!"

The boy he'd collided with shoved his way past Thomas angrily. He was significantly shorter than him, but to be fair so were the majority of people. Curious, and to be honest- slightly offended, he followed him.

He called out to him, only to be met with an intense glare and for the boy to continue walking away. 

Thomas got a glimpse of his face. It wasn't much, but the glare lasted long enough for Thomas to figure out who it was. He looked incredibly similar to his sister, save that he had pitch black hair compared to her ruby red. He called out again, this time using the boy's name.

"Alastair!"

Alastair's head snapped back to face Thomas again, like a deer caught in headlights. Thomas approached him. "Hey! You're Alastair, aren't you? Cordelia's big brother?"

Alastair spoke for the first time. "I do not see why that is of any worth to you. Also, your chest collided with my head, and now it hurts."

"I'm sorry! I didn't think anyone would be there. I just wanted to-"

"I have no reason to be concerned with what you are about to say, so if you may allow me I shall be on my way. I have places to go and things to do and talking to a stranger is not one of them."

“Alright, no need to be rude. I'm only trying to be friendly-"

"With all due respect I don't care."

Thomas was getting frustrated. "Listen, Alastair. Your sister told us that you aren't a people person and I get that, but being unnecessarily rude is not the way to go. You could at least pretend to care about your sister-"

"You have no right to talk about me like that. You know nothing about me. I do care. I care a lot more than you think. Now, I will be taking my leave."

As Alastair turned to leave, Thomas still called out to him. "But aren't you curious who I am? Don't you at least want to know my name?"

"I know your name. I do actually talk to my sister, you know."

"Then why are you never here for her? Why do you never bother to make an effort to talk to her friends or to get to know any of us? I think you're-"

Alastair was seething. "Thomas Lightwood, I suggest you stop talking and leave me alone. You have no idea what you're speaking of and I intend to keep it that way."

Thomas changed the mood of the conversation, and spoke softly. "What are you afraid of? Why are you so scared to talk to people? Are you afraid of falling in love? Is that it?"

Alastair opened his mouth to make another snarky reply, but instead he bit his tongue.

"I'm cursed, okay?! I have this thing, this burden that was put on me when I was just fifteen. It makes me weird, and I hate it. I hate everything. All I wanted was a normal life and a normal life I did not get. Goodbye, Thomas. Enjoy the rest of your night."

In his mind, that was an answer to the question Thomas had been thinking about for  several years now.

“You’re not weird. You aren’t cursed either.”

“What do you mean?”

Thomas paused, and Alastair turned to walk away.

"Ethereal," he whispered. 

If Alastair was surprised Thomas had said that it did not show.

"I don't know what you think you know about me, Mr. Lightwood, but what I do know is that it's best I never see you again."

Thomas felt a small pain in his chest as Alastair finally started walking away. He was so curious about him. 

And still offended. He started walking back to Christopher.

"Oh and Thomas?"

"Yes?"

"If any single one of you even thinks about hurting my sister, you'll have a spear through your neck."

Thomas raised his eyebrows. 

Spears were an odd weapon choice, especially to have lying about the house.

[destiel-love-forever]

15x13 CODA

Read below or on AO3 HERE

Fake Dean - the name Dean has given this other-worldly, pompous man that shares his face - is getting on Dean’s nerves, and he’s only been in the bunker for two minutes. Those two minutes give him plenty of time. He points out that Dean could probably make himself look “more attractive” by “classing up his wardrobe.” He asks Dean if he has a significant other and huffs at his response that he’s single. Then he follows that question up with, “are you bisexual, too?” as if he has no idea how crippling that could be. When Dean had barked a resounding “no,” he had made some side comment about how his father was so supportive. It makes Dean’s blood boil. John had dragged Dean by the scruff of his neck to a strip club when he found Dean at 14 jacking off to a gay porn mag. He made Dean sit there and watch every girl, bought him lap dances, and even sent Dean off with some girl he doesn’t even remember the name of, stuffing a wad of bills in Dean’s hand and telling him to “go learn how a real man behaves.”

Then they turn the corner and enter the main room where Castiel is sitting at the map table, rubbing at his forehead in that way he always does when he’s feeling overwhelmed. Fake Dean pastes on a stupid fucking grin that’s clearly his flirting grin - Dean would know… it looks just likes his - and says, “There’s my hero. Thanks again for saving us from wherever the hell that was.”

Castiel’s eyes snap up, looking at Fake Dean, then Dean, then Fake Dean. He gives Fake Dean a genuine smile and it hurts for Dean to look at it. “You’re welcome. How are you feeling?”

“A little shaken… but okay. How are you?”

The look on Castiel’s face hurts Dean worse than the smile had. He looks genuinely surprised and flattered that Fake Dean would care enough to ask. Does Dean not ask enough? Should he ask that more? Should he show how much he cares more?

When he focuses back on the conversation, Fake Dean is chuckling and Castiel is blushing. Castiel flicks his gaze at Dean before down at the table. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“Say what?” Dean asks, feeling off kilter and wishing Fake Dean would just go the fuck away.

“I told him you’re lucky. I wish I had someone like him to look at all day long while I work. He’s beautiful.”

Dean turns to glare at Fake Dean. “You don’t just go around saying shit like that to people.”

“I do.”

“Well… not to him.” Dean looks between the two of them, feeling his face heating up. He hurries out of the room to escape. “I need a drink.”

----

Castiel has his head tucked toward Fake Dean, looking at a photograph Fake Dean has saved on his phone. It makes Castiel laugh. Then Castiel pulls his own phone out, talking away as he searches for a picture of his own. Fake Dean stares at him in awe. Dean just watches from the doorway, one shoulder up against the doorframe as he takes a sip of his whiskey.

“Ya know, you could go sit with them,” Sam mutters, coming up to stand behind Dean so he can watch too. “They’re just talking while we wait for Jack to be ready.”

“I’m fine.”

“Suit yourself.” Sam waits a minute or so before sighing. “Stop staring at him like a jealous boyfriend.”

“I’m not jealous.” It’s not convincing. Dean didn’t even try to make it so. He’s drained just from watching this, watching Fake Dean make Castiel smile more times in a matter of minutes than Dean’s done in the past few weeks. “It’s not like he’s mine to be jealous over.”

Sam scoffs. “He could be. All you’d have to do is ask.”

Dean doesn’t acknowledge that. Instead, he drains his glass and walks away to get a refill.

Twenty minutes later, they’re in the impala on the way to the supposed location for the occultum. Despite his protests, Sam is sitting in the back with Jack. One look from Dean had shut him up on the matter. He pretended he didn’t see the way Sam had smirked when Dean’s hand had settled on the small of Castiel’s back as he told Castiel wanted him up front tonight.

He even let Castiel pick the radio station.

If that ain’t love, then what is?

----

“Can we talk real quick?” Fake Dean asks, pulling Dean aside as Fake Sam searches for his missing scarf.

“What?”

“Maybe somewhere more private?”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Um, why?”

“I doubt you want me to talk about what I’m hoping to talk about in front of the rest of the people here.” That gives Dean a sick feeling in his stomach. He jerks his head in a nod and walks away, knowing Fake Dean will follow. When they get in his room, Dean closes his door and gestures in the air as if to say ‘go on.’ Fake Dean gives him a tentative smile. “I just want to remind you that you said I could use your laptop.”

“Okay.”

“With no restrictions.”

Dean swallows hard, trying not to show his growing fear. There’s a lot on that laptop. There’s… so much on that laptop. Shit. “What’d you see?”

“Well, I saw Busty Asian Beauties.” Dean’s about to ask why that’s a bad thing when Fake Dean continues, his voice lowered like they’re sharing secrets. “Which brought me to your porn folder, out of curiosity, and I saw… what was in it.”

Gay - or, more accurately, bi - panic doesn’t begin to describe what Dean feels. He feels like he’s drowning underwater. Those videos…

“Listen, man, I’m not gonna say anything to anyone, okay? And you guys are sending us off to Brazil, where I doubt anyone would give two shits if I told them Dean Winchester back in Kansas has a folder full of hot guys fucking other hot guys, but I just wanted to make damn sure, you know… that you know it’s okay. It’s okay to like that stuff.”

“I know,” Dean snaps, feeling attacked.

“We’re not getting any younger, man.”

“Your point?”

“The porn isn’t that big of a deal.” He shifts, looking more nervous. “The fanfiction, though…”

Dean puts a hand up. “Stop.”

“I just think it’s a shame. You live with him. He’s right here, and you clearly love-”

“Get out.” Dean grabs Fake Dean by the bicep and opens his bedroom door, nearly dragging him down the hall.

They make it halfway down before Fake Dean says under his breath, “Let me go or they’ll ask what’s wrong.”

Dean sinks in on himself, letting go of Fake Dean and stuffing his hands in his pockets so no one will see how hard they’re shaking. He gathers himself just enough to turn the corner, seeing Sam and Castiel waiting with Fake Sam. Jack is nowhere to be found.

Things only get worse when Fake Dean announces that they drove Baby.

After that, Dean’s just… he’s done. Good Riddance, Fake Dean. Good Riddance.

----

Dean lies awake all night, staring at the ceiling.

I just wanted to make damn sure, you know… that you know it’s okay.

He thinks about Castiel in Purgatory, waiting against that tree even though he was risking being trapped there forever. He remembers the pure relief as his eyes met with blue. As he took Castiel into his arms. As Castiel said that he heard him, that he understood, that it was all going to be okay.

It’s okay to like that stuff.

He thinks about Castiel coming home with Jack, smiling at Dean over their son’s shoulder. Castiel had such a hard time that night being too far away from the boy. He had made up reasons to touch him, just gentle taps on his shoulder or their arms brushing together at the table. When Jack had excused himself, Castiel had started doing the same with Dean, seeking touch. Seeking someone. Needing someone.

We’re not getting any younger, man.

Dean had excused himself just minutes after Jack, his heart in his throat, his skin sweaty. He didn’t trust himself sitting there with Castiel again. They had been so close to something more before their fight. Then Dean was able to hide behind his anger. Now that they’ve made up, each day is like wading through muddy water, trying desperately to reach nightfall clean.

The porn isn’t that big of a deal

He remembers the fear that had strangled him when he had come back from Hell only to find the man he loves - because he does, doesn’t he? Dean fucking loves him - nearly dead on that chair. Jack couldn’t get him back soon enough. Every second that passed was a second without oxygen.

The fanfiction, though…

Dean smiles as he closes his eyes and pictures Castiel on the ride to the church tonight. He had abused his sudden power over the radio, jamming out to some song Dean wishes he could scrub clean from his mind. Surprisingly, it wasn’t the music itself that Dean wanted to erase. It was the lyrics. It was the way Castiel had looked at him from the corner of his eye as he, Jack, and Sam sang along with the woman on the radio.

I just think it’s a shame.

Black curls bouncing as he lets himself dance, hitting that giddy 3 a.m. slap happy mood the angel has always hit since his grace was weakened. His dry lips curving into a smile that took Dean’s breath away when they stopped at a stop sign. The way his voice shook and trembled as he sang, sounding awful but beautiful all at once.

You live with him.

“If you don’t want to see me dancing with somebody, if you don’t wanna believe that anything could stop me,” he’s pause his singing, wagging a finger at Dean as he laughs softly. Jack’s singing in a purposely high voice. Sammy’s actually holding a pretty decent tune. “Don’t show up, don’t come out. Don’t start caring about me now. Walk away, you know how. Don’t start caring about me now.”

He’s right here.

He sees Castiel in the kitchen tonight, telling them Jack got his soul back. Looking at Dean in desperation. Then relief, overwhelming relief, when Dean had hugged Jack tight and told him of course he forgave him.

And you clearly love-

Dean gets out of bed on determined yet shaking legs. He tries to breathe evenly, but he’s still panting when he reaches the angel’s room. There’s a chance he’s not even in there. He could be with Jack. Or doing something else. He doesn’t sleep often, usually only when his grace is feeling depleted.

Dean’s not sure if he wants him to be in there or not, but he knocks, and Castiel answers, and his knees weaken with the sight of him.

“I love you,” he blurts out, unable to hold the words in for a second longer. He takes a deep, shuddery breath. Eyes locking with Castiel’s, Dean says in a much calmer, even voice, “I love you.”

Castiel’s nostrils flare as he sucks a breath through them. The angel parts his lips twice before finally making sound. “You love all of us. We’re family.”

“No.” Dean takes a chance, bringing a hand up to cup the side of Castiel’s face. It startles Castiel, and Dean wonders if he should pull away, but then Castiel is leaning his weight into the palm of Dean’s hand, and Dean’s never felt better. Here he is, standing with the entire world in his hand. “I’m in love with you.”

“Like… like in the movies? Like in The Notebook?”

Dean groans, but he’s unable to lose his smile. It’s sticky and not going anywhere. “Sure. Like The Notebook. Or, ya know, literally any other movie… like… any movie Cas. The Notebook is kind of a terrible movie.”

“It is not!” Castiel huffs, still with his face in Dean’s hand. He’s fighting a smile. Dean’s still grinning. “It’s an epic love story. One for the ages.”

“No, Cas.” Dean leans in, tilting Castiel’s head up so their lips are almost pressed together. Dean whispers, “That's our story you're thinking of,” and kisses him.

Please consider buying a kofi to support my writing during this crazy time of not being able to work (stay healthy folks!) : My Kofi

Or become a Patron for only $3 a month to see all bonus content/regular content early: My Patreon

@destielshipper221b & @la-random-fangirl here you go! (:

[exidtotheleft]

The Tattooed Lady | 02

Pairing: Jin x Reader

Genre: Circus AU/Fluff

Summary: When a circus from Korea takes their act to America for a better audience, a certain audience member, who happens to be the daughter of the owner of New York’s first tattoo shop, catches the performers’ eyes. Since the circus is in need of new help, they decide that their consistent audience member would be a good candidate. Unknown to them, their choice to hire an unusual woman in the year 1871 would invoke mixed reactions from all over America. 

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

You eagerly grabbed a dollar from your savings before leaving your house the next night. Luckily, the circus had been set up locally, so walking to the event was no problem. You still had no idea what to expect from this. You didn't even know what the outside looked like, but you had a feeling you wouldn't be able to miss it. You had heard that the traveling circus went city to city by train and set up a huge tent for the week while they performed, only to tear it down and set it up again in the next town.

So you wandered down the street of Manhattan, not sure what the target you were heading for looked like, but you knew you would find it. The flyer had told you the general area of the circus, so you didn't doubt that you could find it. And as your short heels tapped across the brick pavement, you saw what you expected. A red and white striped tent with the name Kim’s Ring of Fantasy spread across the front sign. You couldn't help but smile, it was almost exactly what you had imagined. Whimsical and unexpected. As you walked closer, you could hear a boisterous voice shouting. But it wasn't aggressive, rather entertaining and enticing. As you got ever closer, you could make out what he was saying. “Step right up! Step right up ladies and gentlemen to become the first crowd in all of New York to see, ringmaster Kim Namjoon and his fantastic performances with your own two eyes. Witness stunts like you wouldn't imagine and acts that will have you wanting more! Only a dollar ladies and gentlemen, only one dollar!” and he continued. Handing out flyers and almost harassing everyone that walked by. You loved it, you loved it because it was probably throwing the New Yorkers that were walking by on a normal day for a turn they never expected. It was like they were entering your world, because this was already right up your ally. The bright lights you could see from miles away, the excitement that radiated just from the outside of the tent. You eagerly waited in the short line and paid for your ticket.

As soon as your ticket was handed to you, you hurried your way inside. Walking past the tall man that had been outside the tent and walking into the atmosphere you had been so excited for, and it lived up to what you expected. It was loud because of the amount of people speaking, but not because of the amount of people there but rather the volume of their voices. The crowd that went to see a show like this was the less classy and reserved kind of people. They were naturally loud, and mostly men. That being said, you got a few looks as you walked in. You didn’t have to be an attractive woman to get attention from these kind of men, though you were, you just had to be a woman. They would make comments on anything. You just ignored the stares and whispers and sat down in the front row. A spot had been available there, so you took it. Wanting to get as close to the action as you could.

You looked around the tent and smiled to yourself again. The show hadn't even started but the parallel white bars suspended across from each other over the sandlot in the middle had your interest peaked. Wondering what they could do with such an odd set up. As you looked around, someone sat next to you. It was a family, a married couple and their child who appeared to be about 7. “What brings you here alone?” the wife asked after she had sat her son next to her.

“Just curiosity.” you replied simply.

“Really? I’m not too sure about this myself. I don’t think the crowd is my type, but, my son wanted to see this so I didn't see the harm in giving it a shot.”

“I’m excited. Things like this don’t normally do well here but that’s why I came. I have high hopes for it, I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“You can say that again.” she nodded, before turning to her son who was making a fuss about something. “Excuse me.” she turned to you and said before turning back to her child.

“Of course.” You turned back forward and bounced your foot in anticipating. Sometimes you wondered, how would woman like that react if they knew saw what was under your sleeves. It amazed you how quick people could judge by appearance, she probably only sat by you because you looked perfectly normal and approachable. Oh how that would change if you invested in short sleeves.

As you thought about it, the lights began to dim before it went almost pitch black. “Ladies and Gentleman.” a loud voice said, and you saw a man in a unique red suit step out into the sand part of the arena as a light fell upon him. “People of Manhattan, New York. Welcome to Kim’s Ring of Fantasy, a night of acts you could only imagine await you. And the unimaginable for your own two eyes.” as he said these words, you sat on the edge of your seat. Seeing what appeared to be about six other performers appear from the shadows as music began to play. And they sure did make an entrance. Not a single one walking in normally. They were all doing a combination of flips, some of them jumping over each other, all of them doing something to catch your eye. You heard the child by you let out a big “wow!” and you giggled a bit. Wanting to do the same.

“My name is Kim Namjoon, I will be your ringmaster, your leader, if I may, for the night.” with that, the small audience applauded and cheered, ready for more. “The performers you see around you will be the ones to steal your eyes as well as your heart, I guarantee you will want to be back for more after tonight.” The performers around him froze in there spots after his words obviously in a set arrangement. Your position in front and center allowed you a fantastic view of all the performers. That was when you noticed that they were all men, all Asian. Though that didn't surprise you. Many people from outside regions came to America in hopes of fulfilling their dreams. Or what was commonly known to you as “pursuing the American Dream.”

“Without further adieu, I present to you, the show you’ve all been waiting to see.” the Ringmaster then took off his hat and bowed forward with an almost smirk. The lights then dimmed and you could slightly make out the outlines of the performers running off except for one who was making his way forward. As the lights came back on a man clad in a black suit with a cane and a top hat stood in the center. He was on a platform, with his cane on the floor and the fingertips of his left hand, poised on the brim of his hat.

“I advise you,” he said before sliding his fingers across his hat and looking up. “Don’t look away for a moment, don’t even blink. Or you might miss something.” he began before quickly snapping his hand away from his hat and to his side. Once his hand was out by his side, a deck of cards was fanned out in his hands. A deck that wasn't visible before. Your jaw almost dropped, along with the rest of the crowd. The show had hardly even started and you were already so sucked in that you wanted to come back the next night.

“Now.” he started before flipping his white cane under his arm so he could shuffle the deck of cards. “You see here a normal deck of blue cards, correct?” he asked before fanning the cards out again and showing it to the audience. “You’re right, it is a normal set of cards, but it’s what you can do with the normal,” he shuffled the cards again, bridging them before showing them again to the crowd again, but this time they had turned to red cards. “That makes it magical.” he finished, the crowd letting out more 'oohs’ and 'awes.’

He walked closer to the front of the crowd where you were, a smile on his face that had your heart melting. It was so charming an genuine, like he was enjoying himself. And the smile fit his face perfectly. “Now, I’ll need a little help for this next trick. Let’s see.” he explained before the smile slipped from his face and he walked close to the audience, seeing who he should choose before he stopped in front of you. “Perfect.” your heart almost melted. You didn't know why, but he came off as attractive to you. You smiled as he held the deck of fanned out cards to you. “Pick a card, doesn't matter which one, I can work my magic no matter which one you chose.” you looked at him before looking down and picking a card that was on the right side, holding it to your chest. “Now, you can look at it but don't tell me what kind of card it is, and show it to the lady here next to you.” you took it away from your chest and showed it to the women after you looked at it yourself, it was the 6 of spades. “Once you have it memorized put it back in the deck.” He instructed and you followed, putting the red card back. “Now. Let me work that magic.” he said before shuffling the cards again, they all turned blue again, right before your eyes. He looked at the cards, as if confused. “That’s odd.” your heart was pounding, had he messed up? You hoped not, that would be embarrassing and add to the circuses bad reputation. “It should be here.” he pushed the deck back into a pile rather than a fan and put them into the inside pocket of his dress jacket. “Let’s see, it must have ran off somewhere, where is it.” he checked the other side of his jacket, closing it when it wasn't there. Your eyes were glued on him, so fascinated to what his next move would be.

He then took off the top hat that was on the back of his head and looked inside. “Aw, here we go.” he reached inside and pulled out a red playing card. “Now, tell me miss. Is this your card?” he asked once he pulled the red card from his hat and showed the suite to you.

“It sure is.” you assured and the women next to you did as well for confirmation. He laughed triumphantly, showing the card in his hand to the crowd.

“You can keep that card, my gift to you from our Ring of Fantasy.” He handed you the card back and you took it before putting his hat back on and taking the cane out from under his arm. He turned to the rest of the crowd and threw his arms out with that heart melting smile again. The crowd applauding and cheering.

“Ladies and Gentleman, you're opening act! Hoseok the Magical!” Namjoon came out to say again, taking the man now known as Hosoek by the wrist and bowing. “Remember, it’s a new show every night, if you want to see a new magic trick, come back a second night and I guarantee you will see something just as amazing.” The lights went down again, and some music started up again, it was intense and driving, you were anxious to see what was next. As the lights came up, there were two more performers in the ring, both of them on their knees on separate sides of the ring, the one with his back to you had raven black hair but was clad in white, and the one of the other side of the ring had orange hair and was wearing all black.

You watched as the two danced and mirrored each other to the music as the two white bars that had caught your interest lowered to their level. The two men met in the middle of the ring and spun around each other, switching sides before running and jumping onto the bars. Swinging in perfect unison as they pulled themselves up. They both turned on the bar while in a vertical handstand so that they faced each other. The one with orange hair that was in front of your side of the ring made a smooth transition so that he was hanging onto the bar by his knees.

You gripped the card tightly in anticipation. Not knowing what they would do next. But you nearly yelled when the man in white let go of the bar and effortlessly flew towards the other, grabbing onto his wrist and swinging. He kicked one of his legs through his arms before bringing it down and using the force from his kick to land his feet on top of the bar between the other’s knees while the other let go. The man in white grabbed onto the ropes holding the trapeze bar up. While the other grabbed onto the bar around the other’s feet and let his knees go so that he was swinging by his hands. Once he was at the height of the swing, he let go, flying and grabbing onto the other bar that has slowed to a standstill. He then quickly pulled himself to the top of the bar and sat on it as it lowers from the frame it was assembled on. The other bar doing the same as the act came to an end. The two performers dismounted from their bars and took their individual bows. You noticed then the makeup across the man in white’s face. He had a black slit running over his left eye. The two then walked to the middle and bowed together. You could see a bit of white makeup on the others face. What looked like a diamond over his right eye.

The crowd had been applauding and cheering since the second the bars began to lower. You really were amazed by all of that. Like you said, things like these didn't come to your town, but you were glad this one did. Never had you seen anything like that. As the two trapeze artist left the arena, rather than the lights dimming out to introduce the next artist, the Ringmaster came back out to speak. “I hope our audience isn’t afraid of reptiles.” he said with a small smirk. “Our next act is something new to us, and new to America.” as he spoke, a white haired male with only half of his hair down walked behind him, holding a black box in his right hand. He had a creepy demeanor, and his make up certainly added to that. He had black slits running down over his eyes and a pale complexion. “This is Reptilian, and, though he doesn't talk much, he’s here to do something we guarantee you’ve never even imagined.” he closed his eyes and tilted his head to the side as he spoke. His expression blank. “I’ll just leave you to it then.” he said after a small pause. The audience laughed a bit at that comment as he awkwardly walked away, leaving the man called Reptilian in the ring alone.

The lights went dim, and you could see the performer kneel down on the sand. The only thing you could focus on was the box and what was inside of it. The lights stayed dim, so that you could just barely make him out but enough to see him clearly. Some music faded in as he opened the top of the box, reaching in and leaving his arm inside. You could see something slither up his arm. The audience gasped when they recognize it as a snake. A fairly large yellow python. It slithered up his arm perfectly, as if it had been trained to slither around the back of his neck and down his other arm.

He held the head of the snake up that had stopped in his hand for everyone to see before putting the head by his hip where it then slithered down his leg and nestled itself in front of him before he danced off to another box that had been brought out during the darkness, opening it and doing his acrobatics over to a third box, opening that one and walking up towards the yellow snake. Two more pythons from the other two boxed following him over.

He did a kickflip over the yellow snake and it then uncoiled from his spot and followed behind him like the other snakes. Once he had lead them to the center of the arena, he turned to face them then they stopped in their tracks. He did a turn as a transition to a kneeling position with his right arm and leg straight out on the floor. The yellow snake climbing up his arm stopped once it had crossed the back of his neck and rested on his shoulder. The one on his leg coiling around his thigh and resting on his hip. He then reached out for the third snack and it wrapped around his arm.

He stood with the three snakes hugging his body. A smirk rose to his face hearing the impressed sounds from his audience. But his act wasn't over. He tilted his head to the opposite side of the yellow snake and it slithered down enough for him to put his hand under it’s head and hold it to his face, looking into its eyes before quickly pecking where the lips of the snake would be.

You were so fascinated by how he was able to hold the weight of three fairly sized snakes. Also with how well they wrapped around him. It was almost sexy seeing the reptiles wrapped to his black uniform. He looked into the audience, almost directly at you with the serpent still by his face. The lights faded down and he lead the snakes off of him as Namjoon came back out. “I supposed you had never seen anything like that?” he asked and the audience cheered again. ���Since you seem so invested in our animal acts, we have another one for you. Once our Reptilian is done putting his friends away, another kind of charmed wild animal waits for you.” the crowd cheered again, totally invented in the performances.

As the snake charmer took his boxes out of the arena, the lights went dark again, and you could see someone carry out a fairly large ring. Others rushed out and set up various obstacles it seemed. Behind him was another man with a large beast next to him. The crowd gasped as they saw the figures walking into the arena. The ring was handed to the man with the animal and then the lights came back on, the animal figure you had seen was a tiger. “Before I even think about doing an act, I must tell you.” the blonde man with the Tiger began. “This is no force to be reckoned with. This, ladies and Gentlemen, is a Siberian tiger. The most dangerous of the large cats.” he explained before cracking the whip in his hand towards the back of the wild animal, causing it to sit as he walked away from it. “It can never be domesticated, so I assure you, I am putting my life on the line for your entertainment.” he said confidently, the crowd laughed a bit, including you. “So please, be entertained.” he said before cracking the whip in his hand again.

The tiger then sat up and walked over to the tamer as he walked backwards. He walked next to a ramp and sure enough, the tiger walked up and down it, following his tamer. He went where he was lead and when the performer held out the ring he had been given the tiger jumped through it, getting an applause. He held out the hoop in several different spots, the tiger jumped through everyone of them. Before his act was over, he put the ring on a stand and someone ran out to him and struck a match before holding it under the ring, causing it to catch on fire before he stepped back, and let the tiger do what it had been trained to do and jump through the fire. He bowed after the trick and the audience cheered once again, equally impressed with each act.

The people who had set up the stage came to put out the flame and tear it down, as well as Namjoon. He spoke again as the performer lead the tiger backstage. “Give it up again for Taehyung the Tamer!” he said before everyone cheered again. “We have one more act for you, but before we close, all of us want to thank you for being our first New York audience. Without you, our acts and work would be in vain.

“Now, our last act is of another breed, but were afraid it’s not fully completed.” the crowd let out sounds of disappointment, but you couldn't help but be intrigued. In what way was it incomplete? “We’re missing a person in the act due to a lack of numbers. But I assure you! The act is still worth staying for, and will certainly be completed by the next time we come to your lovely city! So, the moment you’ve been waiting for, your closing act, Killer Blade!”

The ramps and hoops had been replaced with targets of different heights and sizes. And a tall man wearing a suite with a frilly and pinstriped undershirt with sleeves that flare at the end walked out. He threw his arms out to greet the audience as Namjoon passed him. “Now, what you see here,” he started before pulling a knife out of a holster he had on his pants. “To you is just a weapon, to me, is a form of art.” he said before throwing a knife backwards and hitting a target without looking at it.

That action really shook you for some reason. You found yourself gripping the card again. The idea to you of using knives in such a way caught your attention. Such a thing had never even crossed your mind. You found yourself wondering why there was a missing person, and what they would do in this act. You watched the performer walk pass the remaining three targets, throwing a new knife as he passed each one and hitting them every time almost right in the center. The crowd applauded as he grabbed more, larger knives from his holster. “Please, we’re just getting started.” he said before throwing a knife straight in the air and doing a roll under it and catching it as it fell. He then threw the knife at another target as soon as he caught it. Doing the same thing 2 more times but doing a different trick under the blades each time. Hitting the same target but the knives clustered in a triangle on the target. He threw his arms out and bowed before taking the last knife on his hip and hitting one last target, almost as if that was his encore.

The lights went down and you found yourself wanting more. You were upset that that was the end of the show, you wanted to see more. But as the lights came back up, the six performers and Ringmaster all came out with something from their act. The magician with his cards, the trapeze artists were both sitting on a single trapeze as it lowered from the metal frame, Reptilian had the yellow snake on his shoulders, the tamer with the whip and the hoop and Killer Blade holding a knife. They all took a group bow and the audience roared in applause. Some people around the arena stood for them and you joined them as you clapped. A real smile across your lips. The magician who had approached you looked at you as you stood, flashing you his winning smile which made you giggle.

You didn't want to leave. As you saw some people leaving their stands and hurrying out of the tent, it upset you a bit knowing that you too would have to walk back out onto the dull streets. But maybe you would come back tomorrow, or if not, the next night. They were in town for five days so you had a few chances to see it again. You hoped the word spread and they got a larger crowd as their stay carried on.

As the waved goodbye and the lights went down, you followed behind the family who had sat next to you. Walking behind them as they headed out. You let out a breath as you stepped outside and onto the pavement. You walked in silence back to your home, playing over what had happened in your head, deciding that you would go back for sure.

[spectrekalenko]

Let me live

Here’s 4k+ of Hanzo fluff and smut I’ve written over the past two days. It’s post killing Genji but pre Overwatch in which you help Hanzo decide on a bridge piercing, have a bonding session with alcohol then get down and dirty. You can also read it on AO3, if that’s your thing.

You’d long lost interest in the different piercings lined up on the stands, and were more interested in the stranger who had spent the last few minutes with his fingers tentatively pressed against the glass, appearing weary of the small pieces of metal. He had an undercut with a short pony tail, dark circles under his eyes, a beard that despite the rest of him was trimmed and kept in place and he wore a black jacket that looked shabby and just a touch too big, adding to his distressed appearance. But perhaps the strangest thing of all, the thing that drew your attention the most, was the fact that slung over his back was a bow, which the other hand clung onto. Unable to keep your curiosity any longer, you wandered over to him.

“It’s hard to choose, isn’t it?” despite the amount of people drifting in and out of the shop and people talking among themselves, your voice still made him jump, and he angled himself away from you before replying. “Yes… this is only my second piercing and I am very unsure of what to get,” he offered you a small smile. “I want something on my face but…” He trailed off and stared wistfully back at the rows of piercings. You looked at the ones he was looking at. They were mostly for the nose area – nostril, bridge and septum.

“If I were you, I’d go from a bridge. Supposed to hurt less,” a smile played on the edge of your lips. “Plus, I think it would look really cool on you.” A small chuckle came from the back of his throat. It was a low, rumbling sound that sent a wave of tingling heat through your chest.

“Then I will get a bridge piercing.” His voice was louder now, and he seemed to straighten up, like resolve had been fired in him. He looked at you and smile danced on his lips. “You’ve been very helpful so far… Would you mind staying with me while I had it done?”

A part of you chirped up and told you that this was a strange situation to be in – sitting with an unknown man while he had a piercing done. But the other part of you considered this stranger, with his bow and his tired eyes, and the way he had seemed to brighten up when you took an interest in him – and you decided that this would be your good deed for the day. You smiled and nodded, and his eyes seemed to gain a spark of life in them.

“I appreciate it, and you have my thanks. I am Hanzo, and you are?” He had turned to you now, with his hand extended. You took it into yours and shook it, liking the way his hand felt strong and slightly calloused against yours. You told him your name and he smiled again, a sight you could get used to, and he bowed slightly. “Nice to meet you. Shall we?”

You followed behind him as he told the receptionist what he wanted and sat beside him. The chairs were along a wall and pressed close together, and as you both sat down to wait his leg pressed against yours. It was a feeling that sent a shot of warmth through you. You scolded yourself – this man was a stranger! – But you made no move to separate your leg from his. He crossed his arms and you mirrored him, a strange feeling of awkwardness settling on you. You peeked a glance beside you and if the way he sat told you anything, he wasn’t feeling the same as you. He actually seemed quite relaxed, although his eyes did keep looking back and forth over the shop front and the door. This close, you could see how tired he truly was. In addition to his dark circles, his cheekbones seemed a little gaunter than normal, his lips dry and his face was tinged with redness and small blemishes. You wanted to run a finger over his skin, to feel the different textures and to see if you could smooth of the furrow in his brow. It was then he glanced over at you and you froze, unable to decide between trying to quickly look away or standing your ground. He didn’t seem to mind, though, or pick up on why you were looking. A shy smile twitched up at the corner of his mouth.

“You are probably wondering why the Asian man is in a piercing shop in America with a bow on his back, are you not?” You blushed slightly, wondering if your staring had made you seem ignorant. He looked away from you and leaned back, his head on the wall, looking at the ceiling. He resumed talking. “All my life I have been moulded into who I am by other people. They made me do things I did not want to do until I could not take no more. This,” he gestured to himself. “Is I suppose my way of trying to make myself into who I want to be, one piercing at a time.”

A tension seemed to settle over Hanzo as he spoke, his body becoming rigid and the furrow in his brow deepening. By the end of his sentence his speech has sped up so much it took you a second to register what he was saying. Before you could even think to respond, he was called up and he stood, making his way over and you walked over with him, thinking how much more eager he seemed to get it done.

Hanzo’s piercing passed without incident. He showed no pain and made no fuss, and in fact seemed to almost relax when he felt the piercing being slid in. You saw the sparkle in his eyes as he examined his new piece in the mirror, and you could swear that there was a glimpse of a mischievous smile on his lips. He seemed to be in a good mood, and any darkness that had arisen from his earlier confession had gone. You were only too happy to accept when he asked you to go for drinks in a nearby bar. This handsome stranger had intrigued you, and you wanted to get to know him more.

You both sat at the bar, and was surprised when he took his bow off his back and placed it on the floor in front of him. You noticed, however, he kept one foot firmly on it, and made sure he sat facing the door. He ordered two glasses of whiskey and you gave him a raised eyebrow. He grinned at you, flashing a full set of teeth that was almost primal. The lighting of the bar was only adding to his appeal, and you hope the lighting was having the same flattering effect on you.

“I want to celebrate my new piercing and my new friend. Come, drink!” He raised his glass and you raised yours. You both took considerable gulps and winced in response to the strong burning taste. You coughed slightly while Hanzo only seemed to relax more. This change was surprising to the timid man you had come across only an hour ago, but you were glad for the change.

You continued drinking, taking it in turns to buy each other a round. You talked and talked but you treaded carefully around the topic of his recent past. He seemed interested in you though, asking you where you had grown up, what you did for work and for fun. In turn, you mostly asked him about Japan and its traditions, and how it compared to Western culture. The drinks flowed and you found yourselves leaning more and more into each other whilst sliding into the bar, until you were both hunched over and near face to face.

“So,” you began, gesturing to the bartender for another round. “I know you’ve had some trouble in the past,” you waved your hand in the air as if to dispel any bad mood the mention of your earlier conversation would bring, “but what brings a handsome man like you to this small town?”

He chuckled at that, that same low sound and the boldness of your compliment brings a warmth to your cheeks. “I want to rebel! I don’t want to be told what to do anymore, what to look like, how to talk, anything. I am my own man!” With that he raised his glass in the air in a toast to himself, before downing his drink. He shuddered at the taste then turned back to look at you.

Your head had since came to rest in your arms on the bar and you were looking up at him, the mixture of the alcohol and the warmness of the room staining your cheeks a faint red. He mirrored you and that big grin was back, crinkling the corners of your eyes. A hand slowly raised and hovered near your face. “You are so endearing when you blush, rōzu” he murmurs, brushing some of your hair out of your face to behind your ear. You lift your head up straight onto your arms, your gaze unwavering. The alcohol must be increasing your braveness, you decide as Hanzo lifts his head too but now looking down.

“I must be honest with you. I am unworthy of your company. I have done something that puts so much shame and dishonour on me, that someone such as you is far too good for me,” he scoffs. “You would be under normal circumstances.” The dark mood is back now, the speech fast but slightly slurred. He’s glaring into the bottom of his glass now, as if he can channel all his anger and fill the cup with it. Your heart hurts to see him hating himself like this, and you lift your head onto his shoulder. You wrap your arms around his one arm and hug it tightly. He tenses slightly and looks down at you in surprise. You meet his eyes and long to see the same carefree spark back into his amber eyes.

“Hanzo… How can you be you, how can you let yourself go and be free if you put all these restrictions on yourself?” Your voice was soft and genuine, and it seemed to do something to Hanzo. You were so close you could see his breath hitch and that spark came back into his eyes, and your own lips fell apart in a gentle gasp. His eyes dropped down, his hand coming up under your chin to tilt your head up. He leaned in and the next thing you felt was his lips softly pressing against yours, gentle at first but a soft hum in surprise from you prompted him to press harder. You pulled back after half a second to take a breath put also aware of your surroundings. Hanzo’s eyes were still trained on you, the alcohol and the thrill tinging his cheeks a deep red. His lips were still parted, breaths coming out soft and frequent. You offered a small and nervous smile.

“My apartment is close by…?” You began, unsure, but as soon as you had begun to speak Hanzo had jumped up from his stool, the bow back in place over his back. He held out a hand for you and you took it to get down from your seat, linking your arm with his as you made your way out of the bar. The air was cool and crisp outside and served to sober you up a bit, but the coolness only served to add to your excitement. You turned to glance at Hanzo and his sparkling eyes seemed to mirror your feelings.

It didn’t take long to reach your apartment which was only a few blocks away. As soon as you got in and managed to tackle the task that was the door with your shaking hands, you pulled your coat off and threw it over the sofa. You turned to face Hanzo who stood unsure of what to do next. A wave of braveness washed through you and you grinned, leaning up to grab the collar of Hanzo’s jacket to pull him into a kiss. It wasn’t the sweet, gentle exchange like at the bar, but a harsh opened mouth affair, allowing the taste of alcohol roll between you.

You pushed yourself away from him and grabbed his hand, pulling him into the bedroom behind you. It was there he seemed to spring into action, removing the bow from his back and placing it at the foot of the bed. He hastily undid his jacket and you helped him, undoing the last of the zip and pushing it down his arms. He completed the task and threw it onto the floor. You could now take in his body. He was wearing a simple black fitted t-shirt. You could see on his left arm there was the start of a tattoo, a blue dragon that still needed colouring and the start of a pattern in some places. He was toned and had some muscle, running your hands down his chest over his top seemed to reveal that he had recently lost some weight, indicating that the man in front of you was a shadow of a former self. Your eyes roamed down his body and back up to his face where you could see he appeared to be running the same evaluation on you. He must have liked what he saw, as he pupils had grown wide with lust. He met your eyes and placed his hands on your hips to pull you into him, leaning down to press his mouth harshly against yours. The kiss didn’t last long before he had pulled back slightly and had taken your bottom lip between his teeth and bit down slightly, not enough to cause any real pain. You moaned slightly and he let out a rough huff of breath that could resemble a groan. You pulled back and wasted no time in trying to claw your own top off. Hanzo assisted you and fell down to his knees, grabbing you by the backside and pulling you close to him.

You gasped in surprised as he started to place soft, wet kisses along your lower stomach. This sudden intimacy surprised you, but you didn’t have long to think about it as he started to suck slightly on your skin. His hands worked on the button and the zipper on your jeans, pulling them down halfway to allow him more access. You kicked them the rest of the way off with your socks as he started placing teasing kisses along the waistband of your panties. You squirmed, a combination of the light teasing and him being clothed making you impatient. You grabbed a handful of the shoulder of his shirt and pulled on it, prompting him to get up.

“We should definitely get these off” you started pulling at his shirt and he chuckling as he helped you take it off. That chuckle went straight to your core, the low rumbling gravel-like sound was fast becoming one of your favourite things to hear. Your early evaluation of his body state was correct – he was toned, but the points of his rib cage were just starting to show. You ran your hands over and down his chest as you leaned up to press gentle, open mouthed kisses to his neck. He groaned and rolled his head back slightly, the soft sigh that escaped his lips telling you that he enjoyed this soft attention. Your hands had made their way down to his jeans and had finished unfastening them, pushing them down along with his boxers. You glanced down and his cock was half hard, but you could see he was going to have an impressive girth on him. You looked up, a hand on his chest to gently push him back.

“On the bed.”

The simple command made Hanzo widen his eyes and he let out a soft, half strangled moan that expanded the grin on your face. He did as he was told, backing up to the bed and lowering himself down onto it, resting up on his arms to watch you. You decided, or rather the alcohol that still lingered in your system decided, that you were going to put on a bit of a show for him. You reached behind you to unclip your bra, fumbling slightly but managing to get it undone. You slide it down your arms, which then raised to allow your hands to rub over your breasts, fingers teasing at your nipples. A groan turned your attention to Hanzo, who had his cock in his hand and was stroking himself slowly. The sight only fuelled you on, and you made a show of hooking your hands into the waistband of your panties and slow shimmering them down over your hips. They fell the floor and you stepped out of them and over to Hanzo, crawling onto the bed and over to him. His hand fell to his side in anticipation of what was to follow. You rested one arm onto his thigh and came face to face with his cock, which was now considerably now more hard that when you removed his boxers. You gave a testing lick up the length of his cock and he groaned, the contact making him buck slightly. You grinned and repeated the action, a little more pressure this time, but he seemed to be in control of himself as he stayed still and pushing out air harshly through his nostrils. You lightly spat in your hand, giving you some moisture to work with as you slowly started to pump his length with your hand. It was crude but Hanzo didn’t seem to mind, giving an appreciative hum as you got to work. You teased the head of his cock with your mouth, licking his slit which allowed you a tasted of his salty pre-cum and occasionally sucking lightly.

This passed for a minute or so in which Hanzo’s hand had found its way into your hair and tugged slightly, pulling your attention away from his now throbbing cock. He was a sight to behold – eyes blown wide, cheeks flushed, and his chest heaving. “Up here, now. I want to taste you,” his speech was harsh and low, almost a growl, and it sent a spark of arousal to your core. You climbed up his body and as soon as your backside was in reach he locked onto it with his hands, pulling you up over his face. He placed licks and kissed to each of your inner thighs, the added sensation of his beard only adding to your rising anticipation and making you quiver. He gave a preliminary lick up your slit and you gasped at the sensation, only serving to tighten his grip on your backside. He went back in again, mirroring your actions from before as he added more pressure this time, but reaching up further to your clit, sucking gently. You let out a loud gasp and tilted your head back, one hand reaching to massage a breast while the other clung onto the headboard for balance. He gave another suck and this time you couldn’t help but calling out.

“Ah Hanzo, fuck!” Your outburst prompted a pleased growl from Hanzo which felt good against your sex, and you could feel him smiling against you.

“I want to make you cum like this. Continue playing with your breasts.” His voice had become low and commanding and only added to your pleasure as he gave your slit one last lick before pressing his tongue into you. You gasped as you felt the muscle push into you, and you were wondering how he thought this was going to make you cum when the grip on your backside tightened. With this hold he started to rock you back and forwards so you were riding him, and you moaned in pleasure at this new sensation. He alternated between doing this and withdrawing his tongue to pay your clit attention before pushing back into you. It was sloppy, and the pace started off slow, but as you both got accustomed you could feel your climax growing as the pace got faster and faster. Your moans of pleasure only seemed to prompt pleased growls and hums from Hanzo which rumbled through you. This added to the heat in your belly. You felt yourself getting close and you vocalised this to Hanzo, who groaned against you.

“Good,” he mumbled, moving you closer to him as he manovered a hand under your thigh to harshly rub at your clit while his tongue went back to moving in you. The sudden pressure sent you over the head and you tensed up, chanting Hanzo’s name like a mantra as your orgasm washed over you. You felt yourself slowly coming back down and your hand dropped from your breast to stable yourself on the headboard, lifting yourself away from Hanzo slightly as he placed gentle licks along your slit. You were still sensitive, but the sensation was nice. You shuffled backwards so you were sat on Hanzo’s lower abdomen and grinned at the state of him. He was flushed and his lips were slick from you. If he looked like that, you dreaded to the think what you looked like. He bit his lip and placed his hands on your hips, fingers gently massaging your skin.

“Are you okay?” He asked slightly breathlessly, and a smile spread across you lips as you nodded. “Ready for more?” You nodded more enthusiastically and he let out a throaty chuckle, one hand moving from your hips to your neck to pull you down to him and the other wrapping around your waist as he flipped you both over.

He kneeled in between your legs and moved them to around his waist. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips, deep and passionate as you worked against each other. The arm from your waist moved to his cock, taking himself into his hand and giving himself a couple of pumps before lining up the head with your entrance. He pulled back and the hand from your neck moved to the side of your head to balance himself.

“Ready?” You nodded, scared your voice would give away your level of arousal. He gave a soft smile which made your stomach flutter. He pushed himself into you and you tilted your head back slightly as you focused on taking him in. His length was average but he had a wide girth but made you feel full as he slowly pushed into you. Once he was in to the hilt he groaned, leaning down to placed gentle kisses down your neck, reaching your collarbone and biting down slightly. You let out a gentle moan and he sucked, making his mark on you and giving you a reminder of this night. He started to move in you, his hips slowly pushing backwards and forwards. You gripped onto the arm beside you, your other hand resting on your body as he starting working faster. You tilted your head up to look at him and bit your lip at the sight. His mouth was parted, letting out soft groans as he moved in you. His eyes were focused on you, altering his movements when he hit a spot that made you moan or tense up. You soon felt your climax rising again, and your grip tightened on his arm, another arm moving to his shoulder to dig your nails in. He moaned, a low, attractive sound that made you whimper.

“Not…. Gonna last!” He managed to choke out and you gasped his name in response as the low sound made your muscles tighten, spurring your orgasm on. He moved a hand to our clit and rubbed with the same harshness as earlier, forcing you over the edge and tightening around him.

“Hanzo, fuck!” You felt his cock pulse and at the last second he pulled out, spurting hot come onto your stomach. You shuddered from your orgasm and saw Hanzo’s arms quiver as the last of his orgasm rolled out, you pulled him into you and to the side, burying your head into his neck as you both recovered from your highs.

“Thank you,” he murmured when he recovered his breath, kissing you on the head. You chuckled weakly.

“You’re welcome, although I can’t say it was entirely selfless.” The next thing you felt was a hand under your chin tilting your head up to face him. His face was serious, but a soft smile played on his lips.

“I mean it. You’ve made me feel like me, like I can be normal person, for the first time.” You smiled softly and he pressed a kiss to your lips.

He pulled away, and you summoned the energy to get up and to get up and retrieve a washcloth. After you were both cleaned up, you settled back under the duvet, face to face as you both drifted off. Hanzo was the first to give in and close his eyes, and as he slowly fell asleep you couldn’t help but thinking about how younger he looked. The furrow in his brow had gone and he looked much more relaxed, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he got the first decent nights’ sleep he’d gotten in a while.

The last thing you thought before your eyes forced themselves shut was damn, he really did look good with that bridge piercing.

[readbookywooks]

“Tommy, are you even listening to me?”

Thomas snapped out of his daze and focused on Newt, who’d been talking for who knew how long; Thomas hadn’t heard a word of it. “Yeah, sorry. Couldn’t sleep last night.”

Newt attempted a pathetic smile. “Can’t blame ya there. Went through the buggin’ ringer, you did. Probably think I’m a slinthead shank for gettin’ you ready to work your butt off today after an episode the likes of that.”

Thomas shrugged. “Work’s probably the best thing I could do. Anything to get my mind off it.”

Newt nodded, and his smile became more genuine. “You’re as smart as you look, Tommy. That’s one of the reasons we run this place all nice and busylike. You get lazy, you get sad. Start givin’ up. Plain and simple.”

Thomas nodded, absently kicking a loose rock across the dusty, cracked stone floor of the Glade. “So what’s the latest on that girl from yesterday?” If anything had penetrated the haze of his long morning, it had been thoughts of her. He wanted to know more about her, understand the odd connection he felt to her.

“Still in a coma, sleepin’. Med-jacks are spoon-feeding her whatever soups Frypan can cook up, checking her vitals and such. She seems okay, just dead to the world for now.”

“That was just plain weird.” If it hadn’t been for the whole Ben-in-the-graveyard incident, Thomas was sure she would’ve been all he’d thought about last night. Maybe he wouldn’t have been able to sleep for an entirely different reason. He wanted to know who she was and if he really did know her somehow.

“Yeah,” Newt said. “Weird’s as good a word as any, I ’spect.”

Thomas looked over Newt’s shoulder at the big faded-red barn, pushing thoughts of the girl aside. “So what’s first? Milk cows or slaughter some poor little pigs?”

Newt laughed, a sound Thomas realized he hadn’t heard much since he’d arrived. “We always make the Newbies start with the bloody Slicers. Don’t worry, cuttin’ up Frypan’s victuals ain’t but a part. Slicers do anything and everything dealin’ with the beasties.”

“Too bad I can’t remember my whole life. Maybe I love killing animals.” He was just joking, but Newt didn’t seem to get it.

Newt nodded toward the barn. “Oh, you’ll know good and well by the time sun sets tonight. Let’s go meet Winston—he’s the Keeper.”

Winston was an acne-covered kid, short but muscular, and it seemed to Thomas the Keeper liked his job way too much. Maybe he was sent here for being a serial killer, he thought.

Winston showed Thomas around for the first hour, pointing out which pens held which animals, where the chicken and turkey coops were, what went where in the barn. The dog, a pesky black Lab named Bark, took quickly to Thomas, hanging at his feet the entire tour. Wondering where the dog came from, Thomas asked Winston, who said Bark had just always been there. Luckily, he seemed to have gotten his name as a joke, because he was pretty quiet.

The second hour was spent actually working with the farm animals—feeding, cleaning, fixing a fence, scraping up klunk. Klunk. Thomas found himself using the Glader terms more and more.

The third hour was the hardest for Thomas. He had to watch as Winston slaughtered a hog and began preparing its many parts for future eating. Thomas swore two things to himself as he walked away for lunch break. First, his career would not be with the animals; second, he’d never again eat something that came out of a pig.

Winston had said for him to go on alone, that he’d hang around the Blood House, which was fine with Thomas. As he walked toward the East Door, he couldn’t stop picturing Winston in a dark corner of the barn, gnawing on raw pigs’ feet. The guy gave him the willies.

Thomas was just passing the Box when he was surprised to see someone enter the Glade from the Maze, through the West Door, to his left—an Asian kid with strong arms and short black hair, who looked a little older than Thomas. The Runner stopped three steps in, then bent over and put his hands on his knees, gasping for breath. He looked like he’d just run twenty miles, face red, skin covered in sweat, clothes soaked.

Thomas stared, overcome with curiosity—he’d yet to see a Runner up close or talk to one. Plus, based on the last couple of days, the Runner was home hours early. Thomas stepped forward, eager to meet him and ask questions.

But before he could form a sentence, the boy collapsed to the ground.

CHAPTER 12

Thomas didn’t move for a few seconds. The boy lay in a crumpled heap, barely moving, but Thomas was frozen by indecision, afraid to get involved. What if something was seriously wrong with this guy? What if he’d been … stung? What if—

Thomas snapped out of it—the Runner obviously needed help.

“Alby!” he shouted. “Newt! Somebody get them!”

Thomas sprinted to the older boy and knelt down beside him. “Hey—you okay?” The Runner’s head rested on outstretched arms as he panted, his chest heaving. He was conscious, but Thomas had never seen someone so exhausted.

“I’m … fine,” he said between breaths, then looked up. “Who the klunk are you?”

“I’m new here.” It hit Thomas then that the Runners were out in the Maze during the day and hadn’t witnessed any of the recent events firsthand. Did this guy even know about the girl? Probably—surely someone had told him. “I’m Thomas—been here just a couple of days.”

The Runner pushed himself up into a sitting position, his black hair matted to his skull with sweat. “Oh, yeah, Thomas,” he huffed. “Newbie. You and the chick.”

Alby jogged up then, clearly upset. “What’re you doin’ back, Minho? What happened?”

“Calm your wad, Alby,” the Runner replied, seeming to gain strength by the second. “Make yourself useful and get me some water—I dropped my pack out there somewhere.”

But Alby didn’t move. He kicked Minho in the leg—too hard to be playful. “What happened?”

“I can barely talk, shuck-face!” Minho yelled, his voice raw. “Get me some water!”

Alby looked over at Thomas, who was shocked to see the slightest hint of a smile flash across his face before vanishing in a scowl. “Minho’s the only shank who can talk to me like that without getting his butt kicked off the Cliff.”

Then, surprising Thomas even more, Alby turned and ran off, presumably to get Minho some water.

Thomas turned toward Minho. “He lets you boss him around?”

Minho shrugged, then wiped fresh beads of sweat off his forehead. “You scared of that pip-squeak? Dude, you got a lot to learn. Freakin’ Newbies.”

The rebuke hurt Thomas far more than it should have, considering he’d known this guy all of three minutes. “Isn’t he the leader?”

“Leader?” Minho barked a grunt that was probably supposed to be a laugh. “Yeah, call him leader all you want. Maybe we should call him El Presidente. Nah, nah—Admiral Alby. There you go.” He rubbed his eyes, snickering as he did so.

Thomas didn’t know what to make of the conversation—it was hard to tell when Minho was joking. “So who is the leader if he isn’t?”

“Greenie, just shut it before you confuse yourself more.” Minho sighed as if bored, then muttered, almost to himself, “Why do you shanks always come in here asking stupid questions? It’s really annoying.”

“What do you expect us to do?” Thomas felt a flush of anger. Like you were any different when you first came, he wanted to say.

“Do what you’re told, keep your mouth shut. That’s what I expect.”

Minho had looked him square in the face for the first time with that last sentence, and Thomas scooted back a few inches before he could stop himself. He realized immediately he’d just made a mistake—he couldn’t let this guy think he could talk to him like that.

He pushed himself back up onto his knees so he was looking down at the older boy. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly what you did as a Newbie.”

Minho looked at Thomas carefully. Then, again staring straight in his eyes, said, “I was one of the first Gladers, slinthead. Shut your hole till you know what you’re talking about.”

Thomas, now slightly scared of the guy but mostly fed up with his attitude, moved to get up. Minho’s hand snapped out and grabbed his arm.

“Dude, sit down. I’m just playin’ with your head. It’s too much fun—you’ll see when the next Newbie …” He trailed off, a perplexed look wrinkling his eyebrows. “Guess there won’t be another Newbie, huh?”

Thomas relaxed, returned to a sitting position, surprised at how easily he’d been put back at ease. He thought of the girl and the note saying she was the last one ever. “Guess not.”

Minho squinted slightly, as if he was studying Thomas. “You saw the chick, right? Everybody says you probably know her or something.”

Thomas felt himself grow defensive. “I saw her. Doesn’t really look familiar at all.” He felt immediately guilty for lying—even if it was just a little lie.

“She hot?”

Thomas paused, not having thought of her in that way since she’d freaked out and delivered the note and her one-liner—Everything is going to change. But he remembered how beautiful she was. “Yeah, I guess she’s hot.”

Minho leaned back until he lay flat, eyes closed. “Yeah, you guess. If you got a thing for chicks in comas, right?” He snickered again.

“Right.” Thomas was having the hardest time figuring out if he liked Minho or not—his personality seemed to change every minute. After a long pause, Thomas decided to take a chance. “So …,” he asked cautiously, “did you find anything today?”

Minho’s eyes opened wide; he focused on Thomas. “You know what, Greenie? That’s usually the dumbest shuck-faced thing you could ask a Runner.” He closed his eyes again. “But not today.”

“What do you mean?” Thomas dared to hope for information. An answer, he thought. Please just give me an answer!

“Just wait till the fancy admiral gets back. I don’t like saying stuff twice. Plus, he might not want you to hear it anyway.”

Thomas sighed. He wasn’t in the least bit surprised at the non-answer. “Well, at least tell me why you look so tired. Don’t you run out there every day?”

Minho groaned as he pulled himself up and crossed his legs under him. “Yeah, Greenie, I run out there every day. Let’s just say I got a little excited and ran extra fast to get my bee-hind back here.”

“Why?” Thomas desperately wanted to hear about what happened out in the Maze.

Minho threw his hands up. “Dude. I told you. Patience. Wait for General Alby.”

Something in his voice lessened the blow, and Thomas made his decision. He liked Minho. “Okay, I’ll shut up. Just make sure Alby lets me hear the news, too.”

Minho studied him for a second. “Okay, Greenie. You da boss.”

Alby walked up a moment later with a big plastic cup full of water and handed it to Minho, who gulped down the whole thing without stopping once for breath.

“Okay,” Alby said, “out with it. What happened?”

Minho raised his eyebrows and nodded toward Thomas.

“He’s fine,” Alby replied. “I don’t care what this shank hears. Just talk!”

Thomas sat quietly in anticipation as Minho struggled to stand up, wincing with every move, his whole demeanor just screaming exhaustion. The Runner balanced himself against the wall, gave both of them a cold look. “I found a dead one.”

“Huh?” Alby asked. “A dead what?”

Minho smiled. “A dead Griever.”

CHAPTER 13

Thomas was fascinated at the mention of a Griever. The nasty creature was terrifying to think about, but he wondered why finding a dead one was such a big deal. Had it never happened before?

Alby looked like someone had just told him he could grow wings and fly. “Ain’t a good time for jokes,” he said.

“Look,” Minho answered, “I wouldn’t believe me if I were you, either. But trust me, I did. Big fat nasty one.”

It’s definitely never happened before, Thomas thought.

“You found a dead Griever,” Alby repeated.

“Yes, Alby,” Minho said, his words laced with annoyance. “A couple of miles from here, out near the Cliff.”

Alby looked out at the Maze, then back at Minho. “Well … why didn’t you bring it back with you?”

Minho laughed again, a half-grunt, half-giggle. “You been drinkin’ Frypan’s saucy-sauce? Those things must weigh half a ton, dude. Plus, I wouldn’t touch one if you gave me a free trip out of this place.”

Alby persisted with the questions. “What did it look like? Were the metal spikes in or out of its body? Did it move at all—was its skin still moist?”

Thomas was bursting with questions—Metal spikes? Moist skin? What in the world?—but held his tongue, not wanting to remind them he was there. And that maybe they should talk in private.

“Slim it, man,” Minho said. “You gotta see it for yourself. It’s … weird.”

“Weird?” Alby looked confused.

“Dude, I’m exhausted, starving, and sun-sick. But if you wanna haul it right now, we could probably make it there and back before the walls shut.”

Alby looked at his watch. “Better wait till the wake-up tomorrow.”