#can I just sit here and behold you? would you mind terribly?

[purple-raspberries]

Ehehehe~

Eddie pretty —v—

[bloodsuckingfiends]

i think reading about switch astarion would be rad. where he would start in a dom headsapce but then ask his partner to take the lead saying that he trusts them to be his dom and not hurt him/ listen if he asks them to stop.

bonus points if he does and is in utter shock when she stops and asks what aftercare he needs.

Sorry this took so long to get to! I hope you enjoy! xx

Also, I am once again spreading my agenda of "play with that elf's nipples!!!" and I am not sorry about it.

His brain hadn't flipped that switch in a very long time, and he certainly hadn't been with someone he trusted like this, in a long time either.

As of late, Astarion had preferred to be the more dominant one while intimate. He and Tav had agreed that it would be in his best interest if he had the control during sex for as long as he needed to. They had also agreed on a safe word to use, should anything become too much. Through re-discovering sex with a safe partner, he had come to realize that he enjoyed being in control. He liked holding Tav's thighs open as he fucked into them. Liked telling them how good they were being, taking every drop he had to give, and pinning their hands to whatever surface they had decided to fuck on.

But now, as Tav sat atop him, rocking themselves on his cock, as he gripped their thighs, he realized that he wanted Tav to take the reins. Fully take the reins, with him falling quickly into subspace.

The way he says "please" is enough to catch Tav's attention and clue her in on what it is that he wants. They bounce on his cock faster, bringing their hips down onto his with a slap of skin, and their hands slowly crawl up his chest. Tav's fingers begin toying with his nipples, the pink buds hard and aching.

"Look at you, such a pretty boy" Tav purrs, hands moving up toward his neck where they trace delicate fingers down his straining muscles.

Astarion whines, his head fuzzy with pleasure. As his eyelids fall shut in bliss, he feels Tav begin to run their fingers down his arms, taking his wrists in their grip and pinning them down.

He panics, his chest squeezing tight, the air leaving his lungs as his eyes fly open. For a moment, he is back in a dingy inn room, and it's not his Tav on top of him bringing him consensual pleasure.

"Beholder." the safe word he and Tav had previously agreed upon, leaves his lips easier than he thought that it would.

Tav stops immediately, dismounting themself, and sitting off to Astarion's side.

He attempts to catch his breath, to clear his foggy mind that's clouded with terrible memories that he'd rather forget.

Tav knows not to touch him when he panics like this, and says quietly so as not to frighten him, "Do you wanna talk about it, Star?"

"When you grabbed a hold of my wrists, it wasn't you." he says shakily, one hand coming up to brush his curls from his forehead.

Tav immediately understands, "What can I do to help you right now? Do you need anything?"

Astarion smiles a little at that; Tav, always being a fixer.

"Just come here and lay with me. It helps when I hold you." he says honestly.

Tav moves forwards, curling into his side, their head on his chest as he fills his senses with them.

Taglist: @lynnlovesthestars

[animeyanderelover]

What about platonic yandere Rachel and Vincent Phantomhive if they survive au? With reader who isekai'd from our world that miss her family?

I added their children in here too.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusion, manipulation, guilt-tripping, sabotage, clinginess, imprisonment

Isekai reader

🍓 🌓 Rachel's kindness is what saved you on that day where her husband and her children found you. A day where both her asthma and the asthma of her youngest child were better and the whole family was able to go outside. Strays and homeless aren't uncommon to be seen in the darkest streets of London or begging somewhere for money but it's the first time for both of their boys to see someone homeless. You're just sitting in one of the corners, ragged clothes hugging your form as you just sit there with dull and lifeless eyes. The youngest son sees you and approaches you with his childish curiosity, pities you. Vincent, slightly alarmed, is quick to follow him just in case. When his son asks you why you're sitting outside like this, he quickly hushes him and apologizes for the insensible question of his child. You just stare at him with a stoic expression before you look away. It's truly a pitiful sight to behold.

🍓 🌓 Pitiful enough to soften Rachel's heart as she realizes how young you are. She isn't able to go outside that much due to her health so she doesn't see how hard the life of people tends to be. She asks her husband if they can invite you for just one meal and her youngest son agrees as he also wants to do something good for you. Vincent and Ciel hesitate for a while but in the end can't reject the pleads of those two. You just trail quietly behind the family, don't speak much when Rachel and her son try to talk to you. Rachel respects that though, she doesn't know what you've gone through after all. You stop shortly before you arrive in front of their mansion, look at the place in a mix of awe and horror. You turn to them and ask them flabbergasted why they would let you inside, they've basically picked you up on the streets. Vincent reminds you coldly that this is only one time only to be interrupted by his wife who tells you kindly that she wants to help you at least a bit.

🍓 🌓 The servants look at you in shock but quickly comply when they hear what the wish of their mistress is. You are given a new set of clothes and are pushed to take a bath since you reek. Well, you haven't been able to take a good bath in quite a while. In the meantime Vincent questions Rachel if she's going to invite every homeless person over now but she is vehement to insist that she knows that she can't help every person who suffers. But she just couldn't ignore you, you looked so frail and lost. When you are led to the dining room, you grow slightly nervous to be in the presence of those people. Rachel compliments you for looking fine now that you wear fresh clothes and are cleaned. The meal you have is better than everything you've had since you've arrived here but despite that you mind your table manners since you're in the presence of nobles in here. You surprise Vincent a bit with that since you're far more mannered than he initially thought you'd be.

🍓 🌓 What really ends up shocking him is your educational level and your insight on certain things. You keep quiet throughout the whole meal, are far too ashamed to even look at this family. It isn't until Vincent and Ciel start a insightful conversation about something that perks your interest. All it really takes is one comment from you in regards of their conversation that suddenly earns you the earl's attention. You quickly apologize, terribly ashamed and embarrassed that you just butted into their conversation like this. But instead Vincent encourages you to join the discussion they have and even if you are more careful with your answers, he can clearly sense that you are smarter than you might let on. You know more than the basics in things like maths and physics and prove to have an educational level which not everyone has. Not to mention that you seem to be very insightful. It surprises him to discover just how knowledgeable you are.

🍓 🌓 The meal takes longer than intended which is mainly because your answers and guesses push Vincent to chat with you longer and the whole family joins in at one point. You definitely have their curiosity now which embarrasses and flatters you all together. When you've finally gotten to the end of it, you stand up and bow deeply, thank them for their hospitality and that you'll leave now. Instead Vincent tells you to stay here for a while longer since he wants to discuss something with Rachel. The children are sent to bed by the servants whilst you are led into a huge room where you sit down on the couch and just wait awkwardly. You feel terribly out of place. The couple returns after a while and before Vincent can even start to explain, Rachel asks you if you'd like to work for them. You just stare at both of them surprised and then your gaze turns to the earl. Didn't he tell you that you would leave as soon as the dinner would be over?

🍓 🌓 Vincent then explains to you that he wouldn't just take any stranger into his house and he'll certainly make sure that Rachel won't take every homeless person in. The only reason he's offering you such a position is because he thinks your knowledge would be wasted in the streets. He has a distinct feeling that you're special and he intends to trust his intuition on this one. You mull over their offer for a while with Rachel awaiting your answer eagerly. You don't have anywhere to go anyways and you have no idea if you can ever return. You should at least make sure that you have a roof over your head and can take care of your own life by having a job and earning money. Considering all of that makes your answer obvious. You agree and within the same night you're given a bed and a room which you have to share with some of the other maids. You're happy though that you finally can enjoy the comfort of a mattress, a pillow and a blanket again.

🍓 🌓 At first some of the servants are unsure how to feel about you since you're still someone who came from the streets. Vincent asks you sooner than expected about what exactly happened in your past, something Rachel chastises him for since he shouldn't push you. You have probably led a bad life so far. He should be more sensible and give you a bit more time. You just stare at him for a while and he can see in your eyes that you're reliving some bad memories right now. The only thing you tell both of them then is that you're entire family is gone and that you'll never be able to see them again. You ask Rachel after that if you can leave and she excuses you, apologizes to you for having to recall such sad memories. Vincent could dig deeper but knows that he probably should let it be, he has seen the pain in your eyes. He's still a bit curious to know where exactly you were taught so much.

🍓 🌓 Luckily you manage to blend in quickly with the rest of the servants who soon accept you. They see how hard you work and when they catch glimpses of your educational knowledge they understand why their earl offered you this place. You are always ready to help and are quick and willing to learn new tasks you apparently haven't done before. Rachel asks you almost every time how you're doing and if you've grown used to this place yet and her youngest son seems always eager to talk with you for a bit. Vincent and Ciel like to chat with you since you surprise them sometimes with your wisedom, especially Vincent is fascinated with your answers and predictions you sometimes make. Everything is almost good but Rachel gets told that you often just stay in your room, that you suffer often nightmares at night and that some of them have caught you silently crying somewhere before. Your past still makes you suffer greatly apparently.

🍓 🌓 Rachel seeks you out, worried for you although you tell her that she shouldn't concern herself too much with you. It's true that you miss your family but you can't do anything about it since they're gone now. She still tells you that you can always come to her if you need to talk with someone. You're touched by her kindness, know that you can most likely never tell her the truth about what really happened though. The whole family is rather fond of you at one point though. You become pretty much Rachel's personal maid at one point and she spends much time with you when she's bedridden due to her condition. Vincent often asks you about your opinions on certain topics since he trusts your advices since you always consider things from a different perspective than him and sometimes seem to know how a certain situation will end. Ciel likes talking with you too due to your occasional humor and knowledge and his younger brother is really clingy and you often look out for those two when their parents are busy. Both don't mind a bit though and actually come sometimes running to you when they have a problem.

🍓 🌓 You don't talk much about your past and the little pieces of knowledge the household has lets most assume that your family was better of than the average citizen but died in a tragic accident and that that is the reason why you are so knowledgeable and have ended up on the streets. Something doesn't sit right with Vincent though. He has tried to do his research on you but couldn't find anything. There is no family with your last name you admitted accidentally to him at one point, there is no history with a family of that name who died for some reason. There is no family at all with that name in London. He doesn't believe your family to be the average citizens, the deepness of your education must mean that one of your family members must have been a teacher, a doctor or just richer. Then there is something else that arouses his suspicion at times. The way you behave and talk is rather eccentric at times, certain words sometimes leave your lips that he's never heard and your predictions, when you share them with him, are spot-on at times. As if you know what was going to happen.

🍓 🌓 Ciel sometimes also tells him that you tell his younger brother and him weird things at times when you're somewhere else with your thoughts and always try to cover it up afterwards. Son and father both feel like there is something you keep hidden from them and both want to know what that is. They can agree on the fact that whatever you keep a secret won't harm them though, you would never do something to hurt them. They just want to know because whatever it is you tell no one is a weight pulling on your heart. The distant and sad look at times, that one time Ciel and his brother caught you crying and your silent and sometimes downright depressing behavior. They can't bear to see you like this, they care too much.

🍓 🌓 By now your lifestyle has undergone a little change as the Phantomhive family might have grown a bit too attached to you. You have been working less and less in the kitchen or cleaned the house. Instead you spend a lot of time with Rachel and her husband, read stories to the youngest boy and are even allowed to help the twins with their education since you know enough to teach them. Ciel's younger brother also demands your presence a lot since he has asthma too and is often too sick to go outside which upsets him. So he wants you to play with him or read him some stories. Most of your meals are taken together with the family even though this isn't something that should happen considering that you're just a plain servant. You tell them so too but they just laugh it off and tell you that they want you to enjoy your food together with them. You even get your own private room instead of sharing a room with the other maidens.

🍓 🌓 Vincent doesn't want to threaten you even if he could do that with ease. You've become a part of his family, of their family by now. He knows that everyone feels the same way too so he can't force you to tell him. Not to mention that Rachek would never fully forgive you if he would use force against you. Instead him and Ciel try to coax you into telling them what your full story is. You know that they care for you so much after all, you can always come to them if it becomes too much for you alone to carry. Rachel and the youngest son are not informed about their plan for now though since both are much more purer and kinder. Rachel and her youngest are really clingy with you and especially the little one is often right next to you and hides behind you when he feels shy. Rachel gushes over both of you since you two are so adorable together, feels happier than ever with you as the lovely addition to this family. She often tells you that she views you like her own family too to let you know that she loves and cares for you.

🍓 🌓 You find yourself at times overwhelmed with all the affection that is thrown your way and the way Vincent and Rachel dote on you and their children. There is guilt embracing your heart too since you can't shake off the feeling that you're betraying your own family because of this situation. They aren't dead, just in a world so far away from where you are right now and this guilt gets the better of you at times when you abruptly try to distance yourself from the Phantomhive family to feel like you're loyal to your own. You can't do that for too long though since Vincent will order for the servants to get you if he realizes that you try to avoid them. He doesn't want Rachel and his youngest son to know since they'd be heartbroken and reminds you of that in a chiding tone too. He knows you could never be the cause of happiness for those two. Weirdly enough he sees right through you and even asks you if you isolate yourself because you can't let go of your own family. You give him a terrified and exposed look.

🍓 🌓 Vincent and Ciel are both slightly unhappy with your emotional inability to accept them as your new family. From the ways you act your family is either dead or will most likely never return to you so there shouldn't be a problem. Emotions have never been rational though and both are aware of that. At times you do seem truly happy though, feel like you really are part of their family and nothing brings Rachel greater joy than seeing the happy smile on your face when you interact with her youngest or joke around with Ciel. She wants you to always be like this but knows it's selfish from her to ask this of you, especially since you lost your real family which still affects you at times. She tells Vincent her dream nevertheless and he promises her that you just need time to recover. He will make sure that her dream will become a reality.

🍓 🌓 Months pass by where you still don't tell anyone about your past and grow more torn apart between what you used to have and still want and what you have now and have learned to treasure. Your guilt holds you back from truly acknowledging the Phantomhive family as your new family in this world and your heart breaks every time when the youngest son tells you that you're like an older sibling to him and that he loves you a lot or when Rachel gives you a gentle hug and smiles at you with this fond look of hers. It fills you with guilt and the emotional gaslighting that Vincent and sometimes even Ciel do to convince you to tell them only hurts you more. Until one night, after another nightmare of yours, the guilt kills you and you go straight to the chambers of Rachel and Vincent. Both are still tired when they wake up and see you standing there but as soon as they notice your tears and the sobs you try to hold back, both are awake. They both know that you most likely had another nightmare but this is the first time you've sought them out after one.

🍓 🌓 You slump down on the bed next to you, still distraught after your nightmare and both of them try their best to comfort you. Rachel embraces you with her warmth and Vincent caresses your hair. Both wait for you to tell them what has happened and you sob out that they probably won't believe you anyways if you tell them everything now. Rachel cradles your face in her hands carefully and promises to you that they'll believe you and the look in her eyes is what finally breaks you. Everything just spills out of you as you tell them that you came originally from another country but were somehow transported into this world and you have no way to come back home, don't know of any at least. Both of them share a short glance with each other and they know exactly what each other is thinking. They both believe you. Rachel because she knows you would never lie to her and Vincent because he is very good in telling whether someone is lying to him or not. He doesn't believe that you're lying to him and somehow everything makes perfect sense to him now. Your weird words and how you know so much. Both comfort you for the rest of the night.

🍓 🌓 The parents decide to tell their children nothing for now although they'll have to do that at one point. Ciel most likely suspects that something is going on and approaches his father who just tells him that he has to wait for a bit but promises to him that he'll definitely be told soon what has happened. Rachel grows more paranoid now that she knows the truth and it leads her to suffer under insecurities. It must be torture for you to know that your real family searches for you and hopes for you to return to them without knowing that you're stuck in a completely different world. She starts doubting if she can really make you happy and Vincent has to comfort her when she's distraught like this. She's more clingy and affects her youngest son too. He doesn't know what's going on but realizes that his mother is terrified for you which makes him more clingy and terrified too. He suddenly constantly wants to be with you and his mother since she'a afraid to leave you alone so he grows afraid too as soon as he can't find you.

🍓 🌓 Vincent is slightly disturbed. As fascinating as it might be to know that there are more worlds than the human eye will ever be able to see, he's a bit unsure. You've told Rachel and him that you don't think that you'll ever be able to return to your own world but there is no guarantee for that. You didn't know after all what triggered you to be sent to his world in the first place. There's no guarantee that the same won't happen again. It's frustrating since it's one of the few times where he is unable to control the situation and the lack of information makes it all even worse. It's ridiculous but the only thing he can do now is hoping that you truly will never return. He knows that this is selfish but Vincent is a egotistic man to begin with. His wife and children love you and he does too, he won't lose a precious family member. They're your new family after all, they can make you happy. Enough for you to stop being often so sad about your family in your original world.

[blondeboyfriend]

𝐖𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] Yoshikage Kira x f!reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] I'd be lying if I said American Psycho didn't inspire bits of this fic. [ SYNOPSIS ] Against his better judgment Kira takes you up on your offer to grab some dinner after work. [ WORD COUNT ] 3k [ CONTENT ] Canon AU, POV switching (though most of it is written from Kira's POV), he is so goddamn mentally ill, y/n is crushing hard, masturbation, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, handjob, murder, angst without a happy ending.

Yoshikage Kira never intended to go out to dinner with you. He was already fantasizing about a quiet evening at home as he finished up his work. He could picture it so clearly: sitting at his dinner table eating leftovers from the night before, eventually making his way to the couch to watch mindless television until the early stages of slumber enveloped him, then he would drink a warm glass of milk and do some light stretches before snuggling up under his freshly washed linen sheets, sleeping soundly until morning came.

But for reasons unknown to him, he felt compelled to take you up on your offer. Maybe it was how you walked by his desk six times before getting the courage to actually speak to him. Or maybe it was your feeble attempt at acting nonchalant about it and how cute it was when your desperation trickled through.

“I haven’t had the chance to try shabu-shabu since I moved here and I cannot be seen doing it alone. Think of what that’ll do to my ego.”

He chuckled even though he didn’t find your comment particularly funny. “Find a time when no one is around and go. Then no one will see you.”

“But I’ll know I’m alone. Like, I’ll have to live with that memory for the rest of my life.”

“What if the food is so good you forget about that part?”

“Kira,” you whined. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

“I can’t; I have to return some library books. Why not ask someone else?” He leaned back in his chair, trying to see who was still toiling away in the office. “Ah, Natsumi would be a good choice. I bet she eats food.”

You attempted to quiet your laughter with your hands which annoyed him to no end. Who were you to put yourself on display in such a manner?

“I barely talk to her,” you finally said after reeling in your laughter.

“I don’t know what to tell you then. Maybe another night,” he suggested though he hoped you’d never follow up.

“I’ll pay! Please?”

He sighed, denying a cute thing like you was too cruel. “Will you have me home before 8?”

You reached out and put your hand on his shoulder. “Of course I will,” you replied, your tone comically serious. “You can count on me.”

He brushed your hand off of him while making note of how gentle your touch had been. Your hands were a sight to behold, just looking at them made all his blood flow straight to his cock. He crossed his legs and smiled sweetly, trying to maintain a veil of normalcy.

Kira knew he would be testing himself by going on a social outing with you. But it wasn’t as if he was an amateur. There had been plenty of times he didn’t let his urges get the better of him, even when presented with the perfect opportunity to indulge. He was more than capable of exercising self restraint. Besides you were his coworker. Killing you was far too risky. That in itself was enough of a deterrent.

“Do you have somewhere in mind?” He asked.

You nodded. “There’s a place not too far from here. It’s a few blocks down.”

“Have you heard good things about it?”

“No, terrible things. A guy got food poisoning and died in the bathroom with his pants around his ankles. They say his ghost haunts the restaurant to this very day with his dick hanging out.”

“Oh I love that,” Kira said quietly as he shut down his computer.

“Thought you would.”

He cleared his throat and looked up from his monitor. “I’ll meet you out front. I need to take care of a few things before we leave.”

You nodded and strolled off, unaware of the mental anguish that plagued him. Kira glanced down at his lap, watching as his cock fought against the fabric of his pants. He slowly got up, careful to obscure his erection with his quivering hands. Dizzy and humiliated, he skulked into the bathroom and quickly relieved himself. As he squeezed the shaft of his cock he fantasized about how your disembodied hand would feel stroking his tender flesh.

“Stop it,” he mumbled, hoping verbalizing his morality would make it appear.

Misery enveloped Kira as he washed his hands. He was careful to not look in the mirror, unable to bear the sight of himself. He breathed deeply as he unlocked the bathroom door, pulling it open only to be greeted by your expectant presence.

“I felt weird standing around in the lobby.”

He couldn’t follow your logic, but your earnest demeanor was precious so he didn’t think too hard about it.

“Great,” he choked out.

There was a sense of relief once the two of you were out in the world, away from the office. The air seemed lighter, the lights not so blinding and unforgiving. He was at ease as he walked beside you, your hands brushing up against his on occasion. Your disruption was more harmonious than he previously surmised. It was wrong to assume you were a woman of strife and discord. You were more benign than that. You were like petting a kitten that had been napping in a puddle of sunlight. Your presence carried the weight of a reassuring hug. He wanted to melt in your arms and drown in your sweetness.

Everything was painted in a blushy-orange hue as the sun slowly set. It gave your face an angelic quality as it danced across your face. To say you looked picturesque was an understatement. Nothing could shit on this moment; nothing could annihilate his peace. He was sure of it.

“This is… it,” you said sadly, noticing that the restaurant was in fact closed.

Suddenly everything came crashing down. Kira felt like he was going to vomit into his shoes.

“What a shame,” he said, voice straining. He was convinced he could cry at any moment.

Your eyes darted around. “We could get udon,” you said, pointing at a restaurant across the street.

Kira spun around and nearly moaned as relief filled his chest. It was directly across the street, its existence a good omen. He could have kissed you for pointing it out.

“Yes,” he said, wiping his eyes. “We can get udon.”

You gave him a confused look. Damn, he must really love udon.

Dinner went well. You both ordered the same thing, but that was only because Kira wanted to mirror you and what he perceived as your moral superiority. You talked about work, expressing similar grievances. He rarely voiced his discontent to anyone, let alone his coworkers, but you disarmed him. Everything he knew and held dear was now flexible; he didn’t mind bending a little for you.

You upheld your part of the bargain and covered the bill without a second thought. He contemplated paying for everything while you weren’t paying attention, but you were too quick.

“You could have at least let me pay for half,” he said as you signed the receipt.

You smiled. “Nah.”

The sun had set and the streets were not bustling with as much life. The sidewalks were practically empty. Eight o’clock was growing near, putting Kira on edge. His confidence in his self control was waning. It was time to go home.

“Well I’ll see you on Monday. Thank you for dinner. It was nice.”

“You don’t wanna hang out for a little longer? Maybe grab some tea? Pudding? Anything?”

He clenched his fists, nails piercing his palms. Your company was now a burden to bear. He knew you wouldn’t make it out alive if you stuck around.

“You know you wanna have tea with me,” you purred. 

A playful grin adorned your face. It was true. Kira did want to have tea with you, but not like this. He wanted to be with you under the warm gaze of a perpetual sunset. He wanted perfection, but the circumstances made it impossible, sullying it all. The longer he was around you like this, the more he wanted to hurt you.

“I doubt anywhere decent is open,” he said firmly.

“We can go back to my place! I actually have this really good genmaicha if you’re into that sort of thing.”

Fuck, he thought to himself. I am into that sort of thing!

“Alright, a cup or two won’t kill me.”

“Me neither. Let’s gooooo.”

He could control himself; he could show a semblance of restraint. Maybe spending more time around you would let him realize your true value. If he liked you enough, surely he’d want to keep more than just your hand around. And it would be nice to have a friend at work, someone to make him seem like a typical guy.

He sighed and convinced himself everything would be fine.

And it was. When the two of you arrived at your home, Kira was pleasantly surprised by its comforting warmth. It was no sunset. But it was close enough, disarming him all the same. He made himself comfortable on your couch. You prepared the tea, blethering about your interests. He watched you intently, taking in every little movement you made.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” you said, placing a cup of tea in front of him. “But you have the eyes of a hunter.”

“What?!”

Suddenly he was trying to look as doe-eyed as possible. He couldn’t believe his mask was already slipping.

“It’s not a bad thing,” you laughed, nervously scratching the base of your skull.

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh my god, don’t be,” you cooed as you took a seat beside him. “It’s not a bad thing. I—I, uh…”

You cut yourself off by taking a big sip of tea.

“What was that last part?” He asked, taking off his Valentino jacket. 

He carefully folded it and hoped the wrinkling would be minimal. He then rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to feel less constricted, a little freer.

“Uh,” you mumbled, staring at his toned forearms. “It’s, like, attractive. I’m saying that objectively.”

You were courting him in the shadows. He wanted to shake you and beg you to stop, to end this nonsense, to kick him out of your home for his predator eyes. All the time Kira spent trying to shield you from it didn’t mean a thing. It made him ill. And it wasn’t as if he could tell you to stop being flirtatious because it made him want to kill you. If you knew that he was a demon with a thin veneer of sanity, he’d lose you forever.

“Thank you,” he said, sipping his tea.

“I’m surprised someone hasn’t scooped you up already.”

“I don’t really like to make myself… scoopable.”

“Fair enough,” you said, scooching closer to him. “So, you’re not seeing anyone then?”

He paused. “I am not.”

You placed your hand on his thigh, fingers grazing the inside of it. He stared down at your hand like it was a grenade.

“I’m not seeing anyone either,” you said bashfully.

Kira felt like he was going to implode.

“You know… I’ve always had a bit of a,” you coughed nervously, “crush on you. I don’t know why. I just feel drawn to you.”

His cock throbbed under his pants, begging to be freed. His carnal needs were taking over. He couldn’t remember the last time he actually fucked someone, and seeking solace in your cunt sounded endlessly appealing.

“Is that so?”

You nodded and squeezed his thigh. His body ached for you, all of you. He wanted to have every bit of it in his mouth and cover your skin with his cum.

“I need you, Yoshikage,” you said, pulling yourself into his lap. Your hands gripped his shirt.

He didn’t know what to say. You were seeing him too clearly. Hearing you say his name made it all too real. But still there was some allure to it. Rarely did Kira ever feel desired and it was clear as day that you wanted him. It stroked his ego in ways he never thought possible.

“Tell me how much.”

Your hands were now unfastening the buttons of his shirt.

“I’d rather die than be without your touch,” you mewled, rolling your hips against him.

Kira felt like his heart was caught in his throat.

You kissed his cheekbone. “Let’s go to my room.”

He followed you to your room and watched as you removed your work clothes. Your body was incredible, delectable, and he wanted to consume it. It was like a sun ripened peach, dewy and glistening under a full moon. He wondered how it would feel to sink his teeth into your flesh, how sweet your arousal must taste.

Kira did the same, carefully undressing and making sure his clothes wouldn’t look like crumpled paper once he put them back on. His ego sang as you took in his naked form. He knew he was physical perfection, a body in the image of a Bernini sculpture. Your eyes were wide, eager, and starving.

You crawled onto the bed, resting on your back with your legs spread wide. He had a perfect view of your slick cunt, one that nearly made him drool. Unable to contain himself, he got onto the bed and buried his head between your thighs. He lapped at your folds, the tip of his nose brushing up against your swollen clit.

He looked up at you and watched as you grabbed your breasts, pinching your nipples between your fingers.

“Feels s’good,” you mumbled in a blissed out daze.

Kira gave your clit slow, languorous licks, savoring the sweet taste of your arousal. He found himself rutting against the mattress, desperate to feel some form of friction. The sounds of your breathy moans sent him spiraling into a pit of pleasure and despair. His urges were creeping around him, whispering in his ears.

I wonder if she’d make the same noises if you sliced her up a bit.

He closed his eyes and focused on kissing the inside of your thighs while he slipped his fingers inside you. Your moans grew louder, more comely, as he curled them.

“More,” you moaned as you laced your fingers in his wavy, flaxen hair.

Show her the real Yoshikage Kira.

“I want your cock,” you whimpered.

He got on top of you, his blue eyes lost in your haze of ecstasy. Lust radiated off of you, drawing him in. There was no way he could deny you.

He guided his cock inside you, tossing his head back as it was surrounded by the plush heat of your cunt. You locked your legs around him, clinging to his body like your life depended on it. He loved every minute of it; feeling wanted and needed was the best sensation in the world. He was sure of it.

His thrusts were languid and sensuous. Kira liked to take his time while fucking. He was never plagued by the overwhelming reflex to come as fast and hard as possible. He preferred to focus on the needs of his partner, slowly drawing out their transcendent moans. He was hypervigilant in his awareness. You couldn’t hide a thing from Kira. He noticed every muscle twitch, every gasp and groan, every gloriously enraptured expression.

“How does it f—feel?” You asked.

He didn’t want to speak. He felt safer with his mouth shut.

You tightened your cunt around his cock.

“Shit,” he choked out as he bottomed out.

You let out a deep moan and dug your fingernails into his shoulders. Your orgasm flowed through your body, replacing your blood with unadulterated ardor. Your sweet sounds filled the room, overwhelming him.

“I can’t,” he spat out abruptly.

He pulled his cock out of you and rolled gracelessly off the bed.

“Huh?” You were in a fucked out daze.

“I have to go.”

“Is this about the library books?”

He shook his head. “No. I j—I have to leave.”

“Can you at least tell me why?”

“I’m afraid if I stay I’ll do something to you.”

You gave him a confused glare. “What are you talking about?”

KIra stared down at his hands, hoping they would have an answer.

“There is something terrible happening inside me and I don’t want it to interfere with my work life.”

You sat up, your annoyance was tangible and took up space in the room. Your eyes were fixed on his erect cock.

“No one has to know.”

“But—”

“Come on. Let me make you happy before you leave, hm?”

His eyes darkened. “You want to make me happy?”

“Yes. I wanna be filled with your cum,” you begged.

He walked over to the bed and grabbed your right wrist.

“Jerk me off.”

“Uh. Okay,” you said, squeezing his swollen shaft.

Precum dribbled out from the tip, coating your hand and you serviced him. You didn’t look enthused, but you gave it your all.

“Good girl,” he choked out as his cock spurted cum over your chest.

Kira looked down at you, trying to memorize your face since this was the last time he’d see it. He would miss your goofiness and your sweetness, but living without it wasn’t impossible. Life would just go back to the way it was before, the way it should be. Home by 8:00 PM. A glass of warm milk. Stretching.

Surely you would understand why he had to do it.

“Whoa,” you said suddenly. “Wha—what’s that fucking pink thing behind you?”

He panicked and Killer Queen vaporized your body, leaving nothing behind. Kira fell to the ground and buried his face into the side of the mattress. The pain in his chest was sharp and raging. He wished he could go back in time and never agree to dinner. He would have forced Natsumi to go with you. He would have insulted you to your face. Anything to keep you away from him.

Kira was at a loss, alone in your home. He had no idea if anyone saw him come in or if anyone at the office knew you two had gone out. He cursed himself for being so reckless and began to sob. His hubris has gotten the better of him.

What a waste. But don’t worry. There will be another one.

Before you ask: yes, y/n was a stand user. Her stand was Baby One More Time and she could bring plants back from the dead.

[stevebabey]

❤️🔥 hiiiii!! here to request a number 23 from prompt list 1: “fumbling with their hand as you tell a story.” i feel like you’d make it so soft and sweet <3

can u tell i was feeling so bad when i started writing this <3 nothing bout this prompt says angst but low nd behold, here's some hurt/comfort !! thank u for requesting alice m'dear :") this is like extra for u considering how sweet u are to me <33 1k+

It’s terribly late.

Really, the both of you should’ve wandered upstairs to bed at least an hour ago. There’s work tomorrow, early for you, less so for Steve, but it’s work all the same. He’ll grumble in the morning like he always does, tired and yawning all through his morning coffee.

Despite knowing this, Steve doesn’t even think of suggesting to turn in soon. Not when it’s one of these nights. 

Sometimes, Steve finds it takes gentle coaxing to get you to unwind from your day. When you spend so much of the day tense, reining in reactions and biting your tongue, he knows it takes more time, more touch. It’s worth losing the sleep, staying up to talk it out. Worth it to know he’s giving you peace of mind. That he can protect you from even restless nights.

Most of the time, you won’t even realise you’re wound up — it’s impossible to sift through feelings when all you feel is down. It’s not until after Steve’s worked his magic that you can tell how long the day has really been. When the stress leaks out of your shoulders and you slump into him like a puppet with its strings cut.

It’s one of those nights tonight.

You’re up on the kitchen counter. How you ended up there is lost in the haze of your tired night. You faintly recall tumbling through the door, somehow after Steve even though you started work before him. Overtime is a bitch.

Between then and now, you’re certain you’ve managed to shovel some food into you but mainly, you’ve been watching Steve fuss about the kitchen. To you, there’s no better remedy that the sight of your lover.

He’d already made dinner by the time you’d gotten in the door, some simple pasta dish, cheesy and delicious. He’d insisted on doing the cleaning up as well, seeing your low-lidded eyes and curled in shoulders. The fatigue rolls off you in waves. It makes Steve’s heart ache in an awful way.

So, he had kissed you sweet and ushered you up onto the counter, his warm hands helping under your thighs when you’d groaned and barely made a move to jump up. He mumbled something soft into your hair, ‘my tired, sweet girl’, and sealed it in with a kiss.

It had been soothing just to watch him, sleeves rolled up while he scrubbed at the soapy dishes. Rinsing the plates and working instinctively, letting the story about his own day come out in quiet rumbles, just letting you listen. You hum from time from time to let him know you’re listening, even if you feel a bit hollow.

But now, dishes done, Steve’s onto his most important job — drawing out the burdens of the day from his you. The cups of tea he’s fixed for both of you are beside you on the counter, long forgotten. Steam stains the air, just a hint of peppermint. 

Steve’s moved between your legs, hips leaning against the counter. He’s close enough that an inch forward and your head would rest against his collarbones. One hand sits on your knee, feather-light touches of his thumb against your skin. The other is held between yours, letting you fumble with it as you talk. Your hands work his fingers, playing with it idly as you talk.

“Yeah? And what’d she say?” He asks, voice low and head tilted to show he’s listening. 

“Y’know, just the usual. It wasn’t what she said, just like,” You sigh wearily, drawing a line down the middle of Steve’s palm with your finger. Your eyes stay fixed on your motions, his hand in your own. Your voice is smaller than you intend as you try to recall the rude memory of your manager today. “The way she said it? I don’t know, does that even make sense?”

“It does,” Steve assures, his hand giving your knee a quick squeeze. When your head remains bowed, still fiddling with his hand, Steve flips it over, his hand covering both yours to still your fidgeting.

“Hey,” He says, soft. His head ducks low, trying to catch your eyes. It’s alarming to see a sheen in them, glossy in a way he knows means tears. Something tears in his heart, his concern doubling in an instant. “Sweetheart, woah, woah, hey.”

You let out a pathetic sniffle and that’s all it takes for Steve’s instincts to kick in, pulling his hand out of your grip to bundle you into his arms. You cave, crumbling into his chest and burying your face away — one of his hands cradles the back of your head, loving strokes along your scalp. The other provides consoling sweeps along the curve of your spine. It all really just makes you want to cry harder.

“S’okay,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss into the side of your head. It’s warmth seeps into your skin, a silent comfort through your tears. "It's okay, honey."

It feels so utterly stupid to fall apart over something so little, just a bad day that’s crept under your skin, made its home in your nerves. It feels unbearable, trying to unwork it from your blood. You’re not sure how long you cry, just that Steve’s there the whole time.

When you finally pull back, shuddering breaths, Steve’s fingers make quick work to wipe your tears. Calloused fingertips that sweep across your under-eyes, tender and kind.

There’s a light kiss against your forehead, another against your damp cheek, gentle as ever. Steve doesn’t speak, his eyes just searching your face — though you can’t tell what he’s looking for. You’re too dead tired, exhausted by your own emotions, to give any semblance of a smile, even though you feel a bit better now.

“Bed now?” He suggests, voice soft and low. The clock on the wall ticks loudly in the lull of words, a reminder of how long ago you both should’ve been asleep. You nod, pitiful and small. Steve trails the both of you upstairs, sets out your pajamas while you brush your teeth, then waits in the bathroom doorway til you’re done.

It’s close to midnight when you both finally crawl into bed. Steve’s arms are around you the moment you’re beside him and you find immense comfort with your head against his chest. The echo of his heartbeat plays like a lullaby beneath your ear.

“Sorry for keepin’ you up.” You whisper in the dark.

Steve’s arms tighten around you. He shifts around for a moment, then his hand��sweeps back the hair off your forehead, and he gives a soft kiss there. It lingers for a few seconds, and when he pulls back, he snuggles closer, resting his cheek atop of your head.

“M’sorry you had a bad day.” He counters. You know he means it completely.

“I love you,” the words slur a bit, feeling yourself already dropping off closer to sleep. It’s impossible not to when you’re this warm and this damn tired.

You’re asleep before you hear his response but it doesn’t matter, you heard it in every kiss, know it from every sweet gesture and moment of the evening. He loves you, and he takes care of you. The sleep is a peaceful one.

[bowieandqueen11]

Being Scotty’s Best Friend Would Include...

Request: I'm so excited you brought up Star Trek! I was wondering if you could do some hcs for having Scotty as a best friend. I'm such a big fan of your writing. I hope you're having a great day!

Oh my gosh I’m always here for a little Scotty love and it’s been far too long since I wrote for Star Trek! Thank you darling :)

Warning: mentions of drinking alcohol, and mentions of injury/needles! 

(I do not own Star Trek or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @whoophoney.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

I love my Scottish icon so much but since he takes on literally 100% of the stress for keeping this beautiful old ship afloat, he is on the brink of an exhaustion induced mental breakdown 24/7. Sometimes you have to go down to Sickbay and rope Bones into helping you; the look of panic on Scotty’s face when the two of you step out of the turbo lift and come literally sprinting towards him is something behold. With only minimal squirming, the two of you manage to rope yourselves around his arms and drag him down to his room just to get a few hours of bloody sleep. You stay, flopping down on his sofa because you know Scotty too well, and in two jiffs he’d be making a beeline straight for those sliding doors again. Bones even decides he can finish off his last bits of paperwork in the corridor, helping you keep watch. 

You and Scotty manage to finally come to a halfway point: he’ll stay in his room, but only if he can curl up onto the settee next to you, and fall asleep with his chin smushed against the side of your face. He has a massive crick in his neck when he wakes up the next morning, stretching his arms out past your head while you shake a glob of his slobber off your shoulder, but it’s worth it to see how bouncy he is back down in engineering. 

Sometimes when things are a bit slower on the Enterprise the two of you will have drinking competitions down in his office. Chekov happens to wander past one afternoon, and comes in laughing when he spots you desperately trying to hold back your laughter as Scotty wiggles his eyebrows on you. He nearly jumps out of his seat in a fit of giggles when you accidentally spray half of the whiskey in your mouth out over his uniform, but poor Chekov decides to wander over to your desk right then and gets most of it on the side of his face. 

To be completely honest, the joy the two of you bring to each other is so infectious, that most of the Enterprise’s crew seem to gravitate towards the two of you at one time or another. One night, you and Scotty were sitting in a couple of desk chairs in the recreation room, nothing but the pearls of picked starlight whirling in the open expanse behind your head to keep you company in the dim room. The two of you are trying to speak over each other, gossip and idle chatter passing easily between the two of you as you unwind after a very long week down main engineering. It’s a very chill, warm, and comforting vibe that Jim walks in to: your legs are slung over Scotty’s lap as you nod at whatever topic his mind has jumped onto now, and he stops every so often to over you his whiskey bottle and steal it back once you’ve taken a sip. Jim likes to just sit in the same room as the two of you, because the constant stream of familiar chatter immediately drowns out and calms the storm of anxiety that brews up slowly in his head.

This man has an absolutely abysmal sense of humour, and you adore it. The ship could be in the middle of an intense attack, sweat dripping down both your faces as you make a run to the engine, trying to stop a couple of the blades from spinning off in a fiery blaze that would destroy half the cabins. Despite you literally hauling his ass through a small shaft, your grip on his legs tenuous at best as you try to dangle some equipment out from the loops of your belt, Scotty decides it’s the best time to try and crack terrible jokes to alleviate the tension. Well, he says��‘tension’, but to be completely honest he knows how afraid you are, and it breaks his heart to think that he could die without even trying to help you. 

Well, he tries to crack jokes until the ship lurches sideways, and then you’re dangling from the railings around the engine while Scotty holds onto your shoulders ‘scooby doo’ style.

This man is seriously, genuinely, incredibly protective over you. He sees you as his sibling: the closest thing he has to family (before he gets close to the rest of the crew as well), and so if he finds Spock to be a little too... demeaning towards you, even though he doesn’t mean to be, he will 100% shove you behind his back. The incorrectly filled out paperwork Spock was trying to hand back to you flutters down to the floor, and Spock raises an eyebrow in measured surprise as Scotty’s fingers encircle your wrist. Then the pointer finger comes out wagging, his mouth goes off running, and you’re pretty sure you can hear him yell ‘go ahead, fire me! You bet your arse you won’t be able to find two better engineers in all the universe, laddie!’

Spock, frozen in place and confused with the interaction, just turns his head to you and offers an apology once Scotty finally cools down a little. Once he heads back to the bridge to recount what happened to an incredibly amused Jim, Scotty’s tight grip onto your wrist turns into a bone crushing hug. He mutters his own sincere apologies for letting that happen into the top of your head, hefting your feet off the floor and spinning you around, his face burning red as his chin bumps against your forehead.

He has this little check in he likes to do with you (well, mainly to check in, but also to tease you a little in the proper brotherly fashion.) You know you should probably run away when he starts slinking over to where you’re tinkering with your wrenches, with a sly smile on his face. He’ll come leaning against the wall beside you, running the back of his knuckles down the side of your face fondly, before gently slapping the side of your cheek a couple of times. You always do your best to try and poke him on the shoulder back, but that little bugger is fast as lightening as he ducks away from you and runs down towards the corridor. Sometimes Bones has wandered tiredly into one of the medical supply closets, nearly being knocked down onto his ass as you run past him with a little goblin grin and a big wave. He should have known rightly, as he opens the door, that Scotty would be hiding in here. Scotty, however, is incredibly surprised, and falls down from the pipe he’s hanging onto from the ceiling down onto a stack of shelves. 

Bones just sighs and heaves him up, his tricorder already out and scanning his head as he leads him down to Sickbay. He knows to get on his comms immediately and notify you because: 1) the two of you have this kind of sixth sense where you know when the other is in trouble, so you’re already perched on the edge of Len’s desk, immediately yelling at Scotty before the two of them have hobbled through the door. And 2) Scotty, like Jim, absolutely does his best to escape Sickbay at all costs and it drives Len insane, so he needs your help to keep him in his biobed. Bones does his best to stitch up the gash in Scotty’s leg as you loop your arm around his left and haul him back down. Between muffled swears, Scotty trying to jerk you off, and you patting the beads of sweat away from his forehead gently to comfort him, Scotty begins to ease into it. 

I feel like the two of you would be the type to try and tease Jim any chance you got. Say, if there’s some huge ballroom event held down at base that the crew all go to? You and Scotty are definitely on the dance floor, having a competition to see who can stand on the other’s feet the most, and waltzing terribly back and forth in front of poor Jim and whoever he’s currently trying to hold a conversation with. Eventually he just gives up, and the two of you are beat in your terrible dancing only by Jim and Spock, who he’s managed to coax to the edge of the floor and is currently just doing a slow box step in place around Jim’s arms lmao.

Sometimes you’ll head back to your quarters after a long shift to find Scotty’s bent over behind greeting you. Turns out, once he turns around in surprise with a sheepish grin, that he has spent his break fixing bits and bobs around your room. Eh, there’s a few concerning bolts scattered around your floor, and your shower now has an extra knob that you’re far too terrified to turn, but he’s so sweet bless his heart. He gets this massive, sunshine filled, proud grin on his face when you thank him for helping out, and comes clambering over towards you to engulf you in a bear hug. He has a hard time telling the people that he cares about that he loves him, so acts of devotion are definitely this man’s love language. He’s just trying to show you how much he cares in the only way he knows how, so please squeeze your arms around his waist and grip onto the broad expanse of his back, because it’s the best way for him to understand that you return the sentiment.

The two of you usually spend your shore leave together: either the two of you find a random, deserted planet and do your best to spend the time curled up asleep on the shore of a serene beach, or he takes you back to Glasgow to visit Fran since she loves you so much.

He pretends, fervently, that he’s not incredibly dependent on you being around, but bruh. If the plans ever need to change, or you receive a message on your communication device about an emergency situation back at Starfleet you’re being sent for, Scotty will act really mopey and upset for the rest of the trip because he truly misses your company so much.

[mintytealfox]

Fool's Gold being reluctant about cuddling cause he's afraid he'll accidentally crush Alice. So she props blankets and pillows between them to solve this

AH AAAHHHHH speaking my language with that 'big, but worried about big with smol, so accommodations are made for peace of big's mind' -BANGS TABLE- 😭😭😭😭👏👏👏👏👏👏👏

And then being worried that his rocks are hard and uncomfortable, and Alice reassuring him that they are surprisingly smooth and cool to the touch so its actually not so bad lol but he likely heavy as frick PFF Sitting on a couch or laying on and bed and it just creeaaakkksss and sags down terribly 🤣 Alice just sliding towards him cause the bend is so bad LOOOL So those pillows and blanket barriers would definitely be needed for that alone 🤣🤣

Gosh though, them practicing how to show affection thouuugghhhh and to be soft?????? likeeee???? Alice: "lets start with holding my hand, here" -puts hand in the one that is gloved and is a hand for the most part lol- Fool's Gold: "..........." Alice: "go on" -Fool's Gold slowly closes his hand around hers- Alice: "there. see? You are plenty capable of being gentle" -Fool's Gold feeling only sort of a little relieved- Alice: "now how do you feel about picking me up so I can get rid of those cobwebs in that impossible to reach corner, they have been bothering me for weeks" -OCD cleaning can fully be ACTIVATED now loool-

But the pillow and blanket barrier would be so nice 🥹Just them laying there and staring at the ceiling in peace AAAHHH

The only time I can think of that we have seen Norton sleep was in that live action and he seemed content as hell sleeping on his side so I am going to go with that and be thinking he is a chronic side sleeper, fetal position sleeper. So all them rocks just crumpling together in a fetal positioned ball. While Alice is over there sleeping on her back and still as a board. Norton waking up and being like 'is she....breathing?' then watching closely to make sure LOOOL Its so obvious when Norton is breathing he breathes so hard cause of that black lung business but even without it I think it would be obvious lol So this quiet breathing business could be wild to behold LOOOL 🤣

anyways, what was I talking about? LOL OH YEA -SLAMS DESK- THEY NEED TO CUDDLE!! They both deserve CUDDLES 😭😭and them BIG cuddles would be AWESOME 👏👏👏👏👏

[chibi-celesti]

Entering->Phase 02-Book 01: Dia rosa rudje (pt. 1)

A/N: Welcome to Phase 02 everyone! We are FINALLY getting started to the official encounter with the main cast proper with our Reyvateil! Hope you all are enjoying things so far and I'll see you in part 2!

~???~

“Milady, look! She’s awake!”

Melenas gasar mean-

“Good. She seems to be ok. And there appear to be no signs of any severe scratches or marks on her.”

Was apea ra chs yuez yorr-

“We shouldn’t keep calling her ‘baby’. She needs a name.”

Hymme yanje sos bautifal ciel sasye mean

“How about [REDACTED]?”

“Yes. It suits her well.”

Wee toukawa ra chs hymmnos an harton khal omnis.

~Ramshackle Dorm: Meryu’s Room~

*Knock, knock*

“Hmm?”

A knock on the door aroused Meryu from her sleep. Who could that be at this hour?

She got up, donned the jacket for her official Night Raven uniform on, and went down the steps to answer the door.

And lo and behold, it was Ace Trappola. Wearing a heart shaped collar on his neck. “I’m staying here.” HUH?! “I’m never going back to Heartslabyul!”

~Twisted Tonelico~

~Ramshackle Dorm: Main Lounge~

Grim, groggy from being woken up in the middle of the night, stared annoyingly at Ace as he, the aforementioned redhead, and Meryu were all sitting in the lounge. “What are you doin’ in our dorm?” he said irritably.

“...I ate a tart.”

“? A tart got you collared?” Meryu wondered. Who gets this mad over sweets?

Ace began to relay to the duo about what had happened shortly after they went their separate ways for the night.

~Flashback~

He had returned to his dorm after the fiasco back at the mines. “Can’t believe I missed dinner…” His stomach growled in protest. “Hopefully, there’s something in the fridge I can eat real quick.”

Like a thief in the night, Ace snuck over to the Dorm Kitchen and with steady steps walked towards the fridge. Completely unaware someone, who was guarding the halls, was following him.  Opening the door to the fridge, his jaw nearly hit the floor at what he saw inside.

Three Humongous tarts were on display, each one a unique flavor from the last!

“Whoa! This is a lot of tarts! Surely they wouldn’t mind if I ate just one!~” Carefully, the ace of hearts snagged a piece of the strawberry tart and took a bite. The flavor sent him to the heavens. “DELICIOUS!! This tart is out of this world!”

“As it would. It was Trey’s hard work that made these tarts exquisite.” Ace’s stomach plummeted to the ground. He slowly turned his head to the source of the voice, and came face to face with his Housewarden.

“H-hhh-Housewarden!?!?” he squeaked.

The ruby haired boy crossed his arms, anger written all over his face. “You have some nerve sneaking about at night. AND to be feasting on one of my tarts.” He walked towards the First Year, like an executor ready to kill his victim. “Rule Number 89 of the Queen of Hearts’ Laws: One shall not eat a tart unless they have had the Queen’s Consent!” Pen raised, Riddle commanded his spell. “Rule breakers like you deserve to be punished!”

“OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!!”

~End of Flashback~

“...” The duo were left speechless.

The silence stretched for a second before Grim spoke. “So, basically, you both are terrible.”

“Hey! I’m a victim here! Cut me some slack at least!”

“To be fair, Ace,” Meryu added. “You ate something that wasn’t for you. And with the way he reacted, it’s possible it was for a special occasion.”

“But he shouldn’t have to collar me like this!” he whined. “Please let me stay here, I refuse to go back!”

The Reyvateil thought about it for a moment. “Ok. you can stay the night-” Ace got up and fist punched the air with a ‘YES!’.

“-However,” she points towards the boy in front of her. “You’re sleeping on the couch.”

Ace deflated at the girl. “Aww, c’mon. Let me sleep in your bed, please? I promise I won’t take up too much space.”

“No.” She gets up to find blankets and bed sheets that weren’t chewed on by moths, and brings them back for the heart to use.

“Fine,” he dejects. “...Y’know, the offer still stands~”

“Night, Mr. Ace.”

~???~

“Hey, you ok, miss?”

-Was yea ra chs hymmnos mea-

“...who…are you…”

-Was apea ra chs ar tonelico-

“I’m Oswald. Oswald Rabbit! What about you, Miss?”

-Was granme ra dea ciel sos yor-

“...Meo. My name is Meo. At least, I think that’s my name.”

-Geeow gauzewiga kil gyas tes wael grandus yos oure-

“I see. Here, lend me your hand. There are WAY better places to nap than in the middle of the park!”

“Don’t let go, not even for a second!”

~End of Dream~

Who was that little rabbit? I’ve never seen him before. Meryu woke up, a bit confused by what she had dreamed just now. I’ll worry about it later.

She turns to the furball who looks five seconds away from falling off the bed. “No, dat’s my chicken leg!” She giggled at his mumble.

“Grim~~ wakey-wakey~” she gently shakes him. “Don’t wanna be late for your big day, do you?”

Grim snorted before blinking in his sleep. “Oh, it’s morning.” he falls back to sleep before immediately jumping up from his sleep. “IT’S MORNING!!!!”

He jumps right off the bed and books it for his ribbon collar. “IT’S REAL!! IT WASN’T A DREAM!! YAHOOOO!!”

I'm so proud of you, She thought to herself before donning her school uniform. 

~Ramshackle Dorm: Main Lounge~

*Knock, knock*

“Eh? Who’s knockin’ on our door now?” Grim asked.

Meryu walked to the entrance and opened the door. To her surprise, it was Deuce Spade. “Good morning, Melenas-san.”

“Morning, Mr. Spade” she stepped away. “Please, come in.”

He slightly bowed before walking inside. Meryu closed the door before ushering him to the lounge. Ace and Grim looked to see the both of them arriving, and Deuce fixed a look right at the red head.

“I had a feeling you came here,” Deuce said. “The Housewarden wasn’t too pleased about what you did last night.”

“Can it, Deucey. Did you just come here to rub it in?” Ace asked, annoyed.

“I came to bring you back so you could apologize.”

“...seriously?”

“Yes.”

Before things could get a bit heated again, Meryu quickly intervened. “That could be a good place to start, Mr.Ace.”

The duo looked at her as she continued. “If you go back to your dorm, and apologize to your housewarden, maybe he’ll take the collar off.”

Grim chuckled at his ‘minion’s’ idea. “You’re such a pacifist. It’s funny.”

The girl pouted. “I was trying to think of a simple solution.”

“She does bring up a point, though.”

“Ok! Ok, I’ll go say sorry.” Ace concedes. “But, YOU’RE coming, too!”

“Huh!?” The Ramshackle duo said in unison.

“Why us?!”

“This is YOUR idea, so YOU’RE coming with me.”

Grim grumbled under his breath ‘Not our problem’ while the Reyvateil shook her head. Dreading the migraine and unwanted stress that’ll come from this encounter.

~Night Raven: Hall of Mirrors~

The quartet made their journey into the school before classes were to start. Traversing the long halls, they made their way to a hub of sorts further into the school. This was the Hall of Mirrors. Each corner of the room had seven uniquely made mirrors with an emblem of the dorm etched above the Mirror’s rim.

The Heartslabyul duo walked right towards a mirror with a Hearts shaped emblem above the rim. As soon as they were close to it, a light began to emit from it, ready to let them in. Ace went in first and Deuce, holding his hand out like a gentleman, allowed Meryu and Grim to go through before him.

~Heartslabyul Dorm: Main Entrance~

Grim and Meryu were blown away once they landed on the grounds of the two boys’ Home Dormitory. The building in front of them appeared to be an all Red castle surrounded by a huge, rosy maze. The trees that line the main street were all heart shaped as well. Red and white roses decorated the trees leading up to the main building.

It felt like something straight out of a storybook! 

“Wow. This school becomes more and more of an otherworldly place,” Meryu said in awe.

“Pretty neat, huh?”

“Does your world have magical institutes, too, Melenas-san?” the spade asked.

“No. Nothing close to this, from what I remember. Then again, I was mostly homeschooled.” she admitted.

“Ooof. Sucks to be you, I guess.” That earned Ace an elbow to the arm from Deuce. “What?”

Grim ran from the group to look up at the roses. “This place is huge! Way bigger and neater than our dorm- I’m mean. OUR Dorm may be crappy, but we’re WAy better than this place.” Suddenly, a drop of red paint landed on his head. “NYAH! What was that?” he moved his paw, and saw that it was all red. “AAAAHHH!!! I’M BLEEDING!!”

‘Oh Grim…’ Meryu shook her head at the feline while Ace and Deuce chuckled at his distraught state.

“WHY ARE YOU THREE STANDING THERE?!?! I HAVE BLOOD ON MY BEAUTIFUL FUR!!”

“Hey, Grim. You might wanna take a better look at that ‘blood’ of yours.” Ace points to one of the roses in the tree. They appear to be half white and half red…

“Wait a second.” Grim looked down at his paw, and, upon close inspection, the ‘blood’  is actually paint. “IT’S PAINT!” 

Ace picked up on the sound of someone talking:

“Gotta paint these roses red. Every single one down to the nines!”

The rest of the group picked up on the voice and followed it further into the hedge maze. A few turns left and down the bend, they came across an opening where many white roses bloomed in the trees. And in the middle of this garden was a student donned in what appeared to be the Heartslabyul uniform. Seemingly humming to himself.

“Paint the roses red! Or else it's off with my head!”

~Phase 02-Book 01: Dia Rosa Rudje, Tes Biron~

Hymmnos (Rough) Translation:

*Was yea ra chs hymmnos mea- I’m happy to become a song.

**Was apea ra chs ar tonelico- I’m blessed to become a tree of life.

***Was granme ra dea ciel sos yor- I want to help to protect this world with you.

****Geeow gauzewiga kil gyas tes wael grandus yos oure- No matter what, I will protect you from everything evil. I want you to be happy more than anything.

[tworoadsandapenny]

What You Wish For: Chapter 18. Before the Dawn

It's taken three years to finally figure out this ending. Three years. Not out of a loss of muse or life getting too busy or forgetting about the story, no! But due to rewrite after rewrite after rewrite after rewrite! Ugh.

I warned you all in my first story, I’m terrible at endings. But at last, I think I’ve finally managed to stumble into a proper finale for this angsty beast.

To those who are still reading, I appreciate you more than I can say. And I apologize for the wait. Just know you weren’t forgotten, I’ve been working on this story the whole time. But I needed to find a resolution these poor brothers deserved that didn’t feel forced or overly “neat” (because nothing about grief is neat).

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The walls of the lair were eerily quiet. And there were a lot more shadows and random squeaks and squeals in the sewer at this hour. Perfect setting for a horror movie, Raph couldn’t help but think as he wandered through the empty lair. He wasn’t used to being awake so late. Normally when they got home from patrol he’d cool off with a quick work out, maybe a small snack, then put head to pillow and pass out immediately.

His routine had changed lately.

He had to do the rounds. Inform Splinter about events on patrol, check in on Mikey (he’d come home with a bad cold the other day and was taking full advantage of the pampering his illness allowed), and make sure Don actually slept for at least a few hours every night. All chores that had become his responsibility since Leo left three months ago to go on a mission with the Ancient One.

Three months without Leo.

It had been more of an adjustment than Raph expected. The first few days were no different than any of the other times he’d been away, and it was nice being the “responsible” sibling for a change. Made Raph feel important. Needed. But by the end of the second week, responsibility had become a hefty burden. Almost too much. Like weight training; the first few lifts are easy, but as you keep going, it gets heavier and heavier. And the weight of Leo’s absence was one he didn’t think he could carry for much longer.

Though, it wasn’t just the chores. If Raph was being honest with himself—only here, in the confines of his mind where no one else could hear—he would admit, he missed his brother’s presence. Didn’t miss getting bossed around or being coddled, but it was comforting having Leo nearby. On missions and at home. Having that sense of someone always being at your back was reassuring. Especially when it was someone like Leo who always seemed to have a solution for when things went wrong. Not to mention he was more entertaining to poke fun at than Mikey. And he certainly made for a good sparring partner.

Yeah, Raph liked having big brother around. Even if he was a pain in the ass.

He'd never say any of that out loud. But he would quietly think it the next time he saw their fearless leader.

Whenever that was.

Shaking the thought away, Raph continued on his rounds for the evening. He had one more chore for the night: make sure Donnie actually got some sleep. The egghead had been getting lost in another invention of his and ignoring his bed for several weeks. Raph had to force him to sleep for the past three days now. How Fearless ever dealt with this with any amount of patience was beyond him, but he channeled his best Leo impression and walked to Don’s door.

Low and behold, the tall turtle was still sitting at his desk.

Raph couldn’t help a quick roll of his eyes as he entered. “Don, how many times I gotta tell ya—” He cut himself off as soon as he got close enough to hear the light snore whistling through the room. A grin split his lips as he rounded his brother’s shell to see him passed out in his chair, arms pillowed under his head, a half-drained cup of coffee beside the keyboard, a pencil precariously balancing on his slack fingers, his purple mask half raised on his face so it only covered one eye, and a small trail of spit drooling down his chin. Probably fell asleep mid equation.

Raph shook his head. Why is it smart people never take their own advice; how many times had Don lectured them about the importance of sleep for both body and mind?

Taking a moment to snap a quick photo (for future blackmailing purposes of course) Raph debated whether it was worth waking the night owl to get him to a proper bed. He’d probably just start working again, and Raph was too tired for an argument tonight.

Don coughed lightly, shifting his head on his arm as his brow furrowed in his sleep. Was he getting sick, too? All these late nights with nothing but coffee and pizza to sustain him, it wouldn’t really be surprising. And it’s not like Mikey was careful about not spreading germs. Chancing a brush of his brother’s forehead, Raph felt a definitive heat radiating under his hand.

“Dammit, Donnie.” He mumbled to himself.

Deciding it was too risky to wake him, Raph stomped over to the bed and yanked the blanket away to drape it over Don in his chair. Guess he wasn’t going to sleep much tonight, he’d be up checking on his idiot-genius brother every few hours. Maybe he should go get the thermometer to make sure the fever wasn’t—

“Leo…” Don was mumbling in his sleep. His frown suddenly deepened, his face twisting into a pained grimace before his eyes shot open and his body spiked upright quick as a lightning strike. “LEO!”

“Whoa, whoa, easy Don.” Raph calmed, waiting until his brother’s eyes focused a little more before continuing. “You alright?”

“Yeah…” Don puffed a few rapid breaths as his mind finished separating reality from specter. “Just a bad dream.” He took a final long exhale, releasing the rest of the fear from his eyes. Almost. There were still a few remnants that Raph could see.

“’Bout Leo?” When Don looked at him with surprise he explained. “You were talkin’ in your sleep.” He looked almost embarrassed, especially as he wiped the drool from his face, but Raph was still curious. “Why are you havin’ nightmares about Leo? You know something I don’t?”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that.” Don waved off. “I just… you know…” At Raph’s curious cock of his brow, Don sighed. “It’s been a long time since he’s been away like this. I’m not used to not having him around. My mind keeps concocting new ways that his mission could be going wrong and the terrible things that could be happening to him. I know—” He cut Raph off before he could interject. “—it’s not likely. I know he’s probably fine. I guess… I guess I just miss him.”

Raph couldn’t object to that. Though a few things were starting to add up now. “Is that why you’ve been staying up and working on projects?”

Don nodded timidly. “It’s easier to ignore the irrational fears when I’m focused on a project. And it has the added benefit of keeping me from sleep and therefore keeping me from dreaming. But I guess even my body has it’s limits when it comes to sleep deprivation.” He looked at his half-filled cup of coffee. “I must have fallen asleep while working on—” He paused, turning to eye Raph curiously. “Wait… I know why I’m up, but what are you doing awake? And in my room? And—?” He finally took note of the blanket around his shoulders that certainly hadn’t been there when he fell asleep. A coy, affectionate, smile crawled across his lips as he turned to his brother. “Were you checking up on me?”

Raph folded his arms to hide the embarrassment of being caught being protective. “I was just making sure you and your bed were still on speaking terms.”

“Wow. That’s… That’s so—”

“If you say ‘sweet’ I’m gonna put you to sleep the old fashioned way.”

Don chuckled lightly, raising a hand in surrender when his brother cracked his knuckles. “I was going to say that’s very Leo of you.”

Huh. Raph wasn’t sure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult. Before he had a chance to make up his mind, Don started coughing again. It was worse than when he’d been asleep, it sounded wet and heavy. “That’s it Egg-Head, time for you to rest that big brain of yours.”

Don gave no protest, rubbing his temples as his eyes started to ache. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

Raph waited for his brother to actually get in bed and under the covers. “If I come back here in a few hours and find you at your desk again—”

Don raised his hand in surrender once more. “I know, I know. I’ll sleep, I promise.”

True to his word, when Raph returned ten minutes later to check in, he found Don fast asleep in his bed, no lights on or books nearby to indicate he’d tried to continue working. Good. Raph nodded his approval before heading for the kitchen. Staying up this late made him hungry.

Quietly as possible—so as not to wake the endless food-pit that was his youngest brother—he heated up some leftover pizza and headed for the couch in the living room. If he was going to be up checking on Donnie in a few hours, may as well stay awake with a movie or something instead of trying to sleep. And wouldn’t you know it, there was a Rocky marathon on TV. Perfect.

But it didn’t take long before exhaustion set in. Despite his many demands that his eyes remain open, he passed out before the end of the first movie.

His senses slowly came back to him as his eyes opened before he told them to. How long had he been out? Groggy as he was, it took a minute to realize he’d been covered with a blanket and the television had been turned off. Who had—

A noise come from the med bay. Raph looked at the clock and sighed heavily. Don must be up and about again. How many times did he have to be told that four hours a night wasn’t enough sleep?

Cursing aloud, Raph rubbed the lethargy from his eyes and forced himself to stand, sluggishly stomping toward the med bay. “Dammit Don, I swear I will smother you with a pillow if you don’t get your shell back in—” He stopped short as he entered the room and was greeted by a different sibling.

“You’re up early.”

“Leo!?” His excitement caught him off guard and he wasn’t able to catch the smile that split his lips. “When did you get home!?”

“About half an hour ago.”

“Well why didn’t you say any—” As he stepped closer, Raph noticed the needle and thread in his brother’s hand. His arm was bleeding.

Leo was quick to reassure. “It’s just a scratch.”

But his words fell on deaf ears. ‘Just a scratch’ with Leo could mean anything from an actual scratch to a fatal stab wound. The blood was coming from the back of his left arm, right near the shoulder. Twist as he may, the older turtle was clearly having trouble reaching it. Raph huffed and walked over, grabbing the needle and thread and sitting on the stool behind his brother. “I got it.”

First making sure the cut wasn’t actually life threatening, Raph cleaned it and began sewing small stitches as he’d seen Donnie do many a time. “So who’s the lucky SOB that actually managed to cut ya?”

“A giant lizard creature with a heavy battle axe and a real bad temper.”

Raph snorted a quick laugh. “You get to have all the fun.”

Leo quirked a smile. “How have things been here? The other two felt like they had fevers, are they sick?”

So big brother had already done the rounds and checked on everyone. That explained the blanket. “Mike’s on the mend, but I think Don’s caught it now. He’s been workin’ himself too hard.” With only a hint of accusation, Raph added. “He was worried about you. They both were.” From behind Raph couldn’t see his brother’s face, but the slight bow of his head meant the guilt was settling in. Good. He should feel bad. “You could have called.”

“Sorry.” Leo shrugged and reached behind his back to pull out his shell-cell, busted in at least three different places. “The Ancient One is great at many things, but fixing cell phones isn’t one of them.” He paused, glancing back at his brother over his shoulder. “Seems like you had everything under control though.”

“I don’t think you can use the word ‘control’ when Mikey’s involved.”

“I’m serious. I’m glad you were here. It’s…” He paused like he wasn’t sure he wanted to finish his thought, and when he spoke again his voice was much more somber. “It’s comforting to know you can handle things if something ever happened to me.”

That halted Raph in his tracks, his hands pausing as his eyes snapped up to his brother’s. “You in some kinda trouble that I should know about?”

“No.”

“Then what the shell is that kind of talk for?” It was putting Raph on edge and he didn’t like it.

Leo shook his head—humorously or in annoyance Raph couldn’t tell—and waved his brother off. “Just had a lot of time to think lately. That’s all. I was trying to pay you a compliment.”

“Well you suck at it.” But there was something his brother wasn’t saying, and Raph wasn’t sure he wanted to know what. With two more quick stitches, he cut the thread and placed a bandage over the wound. “Done.”

“Thanks.” Leo gave an experimental roll of his shoulder, testing the feel of it with stitches now in place. He gathered his weapons and headed for the door.

“Hey.” Raph waited till his brother’s shell was to him before speaking. “I got them.” Leo turned, eyeing Raph curiously as he continued. “Not that it’ll ever be necessary because we all know you’re harder to kill than a cockroach on steroids, but if it ever did—I mean if something ever happened—" He paused awkwardly, rolling his eyes at himself and this whole ridiculous conversation. “I got them.”

There was a long moment of silence, like Leo wasn’t sure how to reply, which only made Raph feel like more of an idiot. But his brother suddenly stretched his hand out expectantly, his eyes intensely serious. “Promise?”

Raph returned the look with one of his own, taking his brother’s hand with a good firm grip. “Yeah.”

And then Leo smiled and Raph had no idea why but it made him feel instantly proud of himself. How did he do that?

That was big brother for you.

A whine from down the hall snaked it’s way into the room, and both siblings easily recognized Mikey’s voice crying out for Raph. The red-banded turtle shrugged his shoulders emphatically and began walking away. “He’s your problem now, Fearless. Welcome home.”

Leo chuckled lightly. “No place like it.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It's been a year now since we buried him. A year since he was placed in that peaceful spot by the trees. A year since that rock became the last marker of his life.

Feels like decades. Feels like yesterday.

Being that this is our first "vacation" up here without him, we're all a little wary as we step out of the truck. It's not as heavy as it was when we came up to burry him, or when we visited six months ago after my run-in with Hun. But it still feels wrong.

Everything feels wrong without him.

I'm doing my best nowadays to not cause trouble, so I wait by the trailer and see what the others do. Mikey doesn't even hesitate, bounding over to the grave, shouting something about "saying hello" and pulling Don along with him. Splinter and April only smile as they follow, and Case shoots me a knowing shrug as he walks along with them.

I tell my legs to follow, but they suddenly feel like led.

It's not a big deal, it's just a grave. Ain't no different than talking to his picture back in the dojo.

But I... I can't move toward it.

Maybe it's talking to him around other people. Or talking to that cold stone instead of a picture. Or maybe it's knowing that his body is here, six feet under, decomposing and covered in worms and dirt and--STOP. I'm gonna make myself hurl if I don't change the subject.

A long, heavy sigh escapes me as I stare at the ground a moment longer.

Just a grave.

I force my legs to move.

By the time I'm finally able to meander over, Mikey is already yammering on about the drive up and everything that's been happening since that nightmare of a night. He says something about me, but I don't quite catch it. My focus is drawn elsewhere. One look at that stone, at the name etched in it, and I can feel old instincts returning. Old instincts to run from the pain. From the guilt. From everything.

Breathe through it. Splinter says to breathe and ground myself by remembering what I have to stay for.

I glance around at my family in front of me, eyeing each of them in turn and trying not to be distracted by the sadness that's sprinkled into their demeanor.

Running didn't solve anything. I ain't going down that road again. I couldn't do that to my family again. My eyes clock the name once—

A chill runs down my spine as I freeze in place, staring at the watery puddle of red that’s slowly crawling towards me.

Leo’s staring at his stomach. There’s blood dripping down his fingers.

“Leo—!"

“…M’Sorry.”

Suddenly I'm back on that roof, with the rain on my shell, the blood on my hands, and Leo's cold body laying still in my arms.

Panic rises with the instant intensity of an erupting volcano. My fingers curl into my palms and dig into my skin, my eyes snap shut--as if closing them will take away memory--and it's all I can do to hold my breath so I don't scream.

No. No, breathe. Sensei says breathe through it. Don't block it out, but don't let it take over. Just breathe.

"Raph?"

Damn. Mikey noticed. I open my eyes to see everyone staring at me with the same concern on their faces they've been suffocating me with all year. I'm glad they're here, I don't want to block them out like I did before, but damn what I wouldn't give to go a day—just one day!—without making them all look at me like that.

"You okay?" Mikey finally asks. "Was it something I said?"

"Just enjoying the fresh air." I breathe deep again, a little more dramatically to really sell my next quip. "Six hours in a windowless trailer with your B.O was making me dizzy."

That seems to abate their worry. When in doubt, insult Mikey. Works every time.

"Why don't I go make us some dinner?" Casey changes the subject abruptly. "I've been itchin' to use the barbecue out here, it makes the best hot dogs you ever ate!"

"No pizza?"

"There are other foods, Mikey." April adds with a twinge of a giggle.

The conversation drifts off as they all head back to the cabin, leaving only me and Don at the grave.

I cast a glance at my younger brother, watching closely as he kneels before the stone. There’s a somberness in his movements that goes beyond grief, stretching to something dangerously close to guilt. I should know.

"Leo..." He kneels down and looks at the stone, running his hand along the carved katakana.

He's still grieving. I mean, we all are, but Don most of all. He's been so busy worrying about everyone else--about me, mostly--I think he's forgotten to deal with his own pain.

Sounds like another brother I know.

"You okay?" He asks as he stands up, looking me over like he's trying to get a bead on where my head is at.

I fold my arms in front of me and meet his eyes with a stern look of my own. "Yeah. You?"

"Just tired from the trip." He's a terrible liar. "Are you coming inside?"

"Not yet."

He pauses, worry jumping into his features faster than a lightning strike. "You want some company? I don't mind staying out a bit longer."

"Nah." I try to sound as casual as I can. "You better go inside and make sure Case doesn't set the joint on fire." He remains still, flitting between looking at me and the grave, clearly unconvinced I'm as chill as I say. So I make eye contact and add emphatically, "I'm fine, Don. Just got a few things I want to say. Alone."

That was what he needed. "Okay." He's still reluctant, but he heads towards the house.

Shit, I should say--"Don," He stops far too quickly, like he was hoping for me to ask him to stay. I don't turn to look at him, but I make sure he can hear me. "I'm... I'm here for you too, you know. If you need to talk... or something... I'm here."

I can almost hear the smile that creeps across his face at my bumbling attempt to comfort, but before he walks away I hear a surprisingly sincere "thanks Raph" roll over his shoulder.

Well, I said something. No idea if he'll actually follow through, but I guess so long as he knows... that's enough, right?

I sigh heavily again.

I’ll check in with him later.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Slowly. Take it slowly. One step at a time.”

I breathe deep, tapping down the annoyance flaring in my chest as I focus on my slow and pitiful walk up the stairs. I know Don’s just worried I’ll push too hard and tear my stiches open, but he’s got to realize how condescending he’s being.

Not that I’ll say anything about it. I ain’t got no right. Not after what I put him through. All of ‘em.

“You sure you don’t want someone to carry you? Casey’d probably do it if you asked.”

I might have actually cracked a smile at that one if Mike’s voice didn’t sound so forcefully happy. He’s afraid he’ll say something that’ll make me run off again. Can’t blame him.

My side burns as I make the third step, but my grimace isn’t from the pain.

I hate this. They’re so worried about losing me, they don’t see it anymore. Don’t see my guilt. Don’t see my shame. Too worried about keeping me healthy or making me smile.

And I don’t deserve any of it.

I keep trying to tell them. For five days now I’ve spent every waking minute trying to work up the courage to tell ‘em the truth. Tell ‘em what really happened.

Tell ‘em why our brother is dead.

But I can’t do it. The thought of Mikey’s eyes filled with hurt and hatred, the memory of Don screaming at me in pained anger… I just can’t do it. I can’t hurt them anymore.

I can’t lose them. They deserve to know but—

“Dee, he’s bleeding!”

I don’t even get the chance to register Mike’s words before Don is examining my side and stopping my march up the stairs.

“He popped a stitch. See, I told you it was too soon to be moving! It’s only been five days, you should be bed-ridden for at least another nine! Come on, let’s get you back in—”

“Donatello, calm.”

Sensei mercifully steps in.

“It is only one stitch. Your brother will be more comfortable—and therefore more likely to rest—in his own bed. It is not much farther.”

“But—”

“We’re basically half way there, Dee. It’d take just as long to go back.”

I wait as patiently as I can as the three talk, keeping my mouth shut on the matter. I’d prefer my own bed, sure. But I ain’t gonna kick up a fuss about it.

“Fine. Just—”

“Slow. He’s got it, Dee.”

I see Don shoot Mikey an annoyed glare, which makes him grin. A real grin.

It’s almost like it’s possible for things to get back to normal around here.

By the time we finally make it up the stairs, I’m already exhausted. Donnie was right, my body ain’t ready for movement yet. I only make it a few more feet before I need to take a break and catch my breath. Don doesn’t miss a beat.

“See, he’s already tired. He shouldn’t be up and moving yet!”

“Dude, we’re like five feet from his room. I think he can make it five feet.”

They continue to squabble and I’m losing patience by the second. But just as I’m about to butt in, my eye catches sight of the door we’re stopped in front of. Perfectly made bed, books alphabetized and orderly, and the smell of incense drifting through the air.

Leo’s room. Exactly as he left it. They haven’t touched a thing…

“Raphael.”

Sensei’s gentle voice catches the attention of my brothers, and I assume they notice the room too because everyone is suddenly silent. Solemn. Still.

Leo…

“Come on.” Don clears his throat as he touches my shell. “Almost there.”

No one says another word.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Alone in the grass at last, I take a moment to look at the sunset. It ain't no New York skyline, but it sure ain't ugly either. I suppose I can see the merit in watching a good sunset across the trees.

Leo always preferred sunrises, I think. He liked the fresh start of a new day.

I close my eyes and enjoy the fresh air around me, but it isn’t long before my gaze is pulled back to that grave. To that name that I’ll probably never be able to say without a sharp twinge in my chest.

“Leo...”

I breathe out the pain like stretching a sore muscle and try again to settle myself. I shouldn’t just stand here, they’ll worry.

“There’s… there’s some stuff I want to say. Stuff I… I probably should’ve said when you were…”

The past tense pulls me up short. I hate talking about him like he’s gone. It makes it all too real.

But it is real. And I need to start accepting that.

Just gotta say it and get it over with. “Look… I just want you to know that… that I don’t hate you. I could never. You pissed me off sometimes—a lot of the time—but it’s only because I hated that you never trusted me to take care of myself. I hated that you felt I wasn’t enough on my own. And more than anything I hated…” I don’t know who this is harder to admit to, him or me. “I hated that I could never be like you. I was never gonna be Sensei’s perfect student, or the ancient one’s protégé, or even the guy that Mikey and Donnie look up to. It made me feel inadequate. Like I wasn’t good enough. But it never meant that I hated you. I shouldn’t have—"

“I don’t need anything! I don’t need your orders! I don’t need your leadership! I DON’T NEED YOU!”

I shake my head and try to let the memory roll off my shell. This moment isn’t about my guilt, I got the rest of my life to wrestle with that. This is about saying what I never did. About telling him the truth.

“I love you, Leo. You were… are… a good leader. And an even better brother. And I…” Tears are stinging the edge of my eyes as an ache sits on my chest and makes it difficult to breathe. “I miss you. A lot. I—”

“Tell them…”

No. No, we ain’t doin’ this now! “Leo—!”

“…M’Sorry.” He whispers something haltingly with the last of his breath but I’m panicking too much to really let it sink it.

Dammit, dammit, dammit!

“Don’t you—” But his eyes close and his hand falls to the ground and I realize it wasn’t his hand that was shaking, it was mine. The rain seems to freeze in it’s downpour as suddenly everything goes completely silent. Still.

Empty.

I feel the last of his breath escape through my hands on his stomach and the ache in my chest turns to intense pain. I close my eyes to it, focusing on calming the quake of my legs, but the memory floods my every sense without warrant.

A chill runs down my spine as I freeze in place, staring at the watery puddle of red that’s slowly crawling towards me. For a minute, my vision blurs. Everything seems to shut down as I slowly look up, tracking the blood to it’s source.

Leo’s staring down at his hand by his stomach, eyes wide.

There’s blood dripping down his fingers.

It can’t be… there’s no way… “Leo?”

“Leonardo!”

Dammit! Breathe. Just breathe through it. Don’t stop the pain but don’t let it take over.

I give in to the shaking of my legs and fall to a knee, clenching my fists tighter and sucking in a deep gulp of air to steady myself. When I finally find any measure of control, I reach forward and touch the stone as reverently as I know how, my face intensely serious. I want him to know I mean this. “I know I’m the one who caused this, but I ain’t gonna be selfish anymore. I made you a promise, and I ain’t gonna break it. Ever.”

The conversation bubbles to the surface, mercifully pushing aside all other memories for the moment. I cling to the reprieve as I swear my oath. “I got them. Mikey, Don, Sensei, all of them. I got them.”

And then Leo smiled and Raph had no idea why but it made him feel instantly proud of himself. How did he do that?

That was big brother for you.

The memory of his smile brings one to my face, albeit sad and full of regret. But it gives me the strength to speak again. To say something I’m not sure I feel yet, but I want him to know. “Thanks… for saving my ass back there. I owe you one.”

I choke on the last words and give in to the tears, letting myself grieve openly for the first time in a while. My hand stays on the grave, finding a small measure of connection to my brother that I cling to with fervor.

Damn, I miss him.

I wish he was—

“I wish you were here, Leo. I wish I hadn’t run off that night. I wish I’d seen the sniper or noticed the trap or stopped the bleeding. I wish you were—”

“Still here...”

The voice floats around me, nothing but a whisper outside my peripheral. It always will be from now on. A piece of my brother that’ll always remain just out of sight. Out of reach.

But still there. Always.

I close my eyes and let his voice surround me, let his presence—faint as it is—comfort the way only Leo knows how. The way only big brother can. He lends me his strength and I accept hungrily.  

Then I square my shoulders, wipe my eyes of any trace of tears, and stand. Time to step up.

“Thanks Fearless.”

The wind kicks up and blows leaves against my shoulder and I swear it feels like Leo’s signature shoulder-pat.

I smile.

I take one more long look at that name in the stone, let myself feel the weight of it on my shoulders, and then turn back to the house. Just in time too. Mikey comes boundin’ out the door shoutin’ something about turtle speed stereotypes that gets a humorous head shake from Don who emerges behind him.

We’ll be okay. For the first time in a year, I’m positive we’re gonna be okay. Not the same. Not ever. But okay. And that’s enough for me.

“Raph! Come ooooooooon!”

I sigh, hiding the smirk that tugs at my lips from hearing Mikey whine like a child. “Keep yer shell on, I’m comin’.”

I take a moment, looking at my family as they gather around the BBQ with smiles on their faces, and feel my oath etch itself into my very soul.

“Raph, don’t… shut them out. They’ll need…”

I got them, Leo. I swear.

I got them.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Previous < - > Epilogue 1

And at last, it is done. Holy cheeseballs.

This story has consumed me for years now. I don’t think I’ve ever had this much trouble and this much excitement in equal measure while writing.

Technically there’s still an epilogue (or two) of sorts to come, but they’re more connected tangentially than a continuation of the story.

I hope this short ending was worth the wait (even if half of it was a random flashback). Let me know what you think.

End of Line.

-TRAaP

*Katakana is a type of lettering in Japanese. They have Hiragana, Katakana (used mainly for foreign words) and kanji. Leo's name, being foreign, would be written in Katakana like this:レオナルド

[little-peril-stories]

"stay with me"

Guess what, I 100% thought I didn't have anything for this prompt. But I do! And it's new-to-you!

If you've read The Prince of Thieves, then all you need to know is that it follows from Ending B, "it ends with a promise," not the other ending.

If you're just scrolling and seeing this, these two (Will and Bree) were in prison and tortured together! Yay! But they're both out now! Yay! Oh, and Jamie is Will's older brother, and Baden Hatchett is the constable who was Really Mean to them both. Those two characters are only mentioned.

And if you're wondering why she's all upset about what she's wearing, the time period is vaguely 1800s (pick your fave decade and run with that).

"stay with me"

Words: 848 | The Prince of Thieves masterlist

Contents: angst, post-nightmare stress

How long she stood in the cold, she wasn’t sure. It couldn’t have been terribly long; snow still blanketed the ground, and it wasn’t long before her toes and fingers began to sting. But the sky was clear, and stars glittered above, gazing back down at her as if they knew she watched them, too. You have some choices to make, they seemed to say.

As if she didn’t already know that.

So many nights in the past year, she had looked up at the sky and remembered another night when she stared at the stars, balancing on a rickety stool, entire body screaming in pain, choking out a description of the beauty in the sky above, certain it would be the last time she would ever behold it.

Her digits grew numb, and finally she turned to go back inside. She didn’t truly want to be back indoors, about to face a day of labour that would be both exhausting and monotonous, but the cold was too much to bear. At least working kept her warm.

She faltered to a stop moments after stepping through the doorway.

“Will?”

Will Wardrew, the last person she was expecting to see sitting alone in the dark, deserted tavern sitting area.

His head jerked up at the sound of her entering. “…Bree?”

“What are you doing out here?” Her stomach twisted. Part of her mind stuttered and stalled on the fact that it was still early, and that she should still be in bed, and that if she was to be out here talking to one of the tavern guests, she should be dressed in more than merely a shawl and nightdress. Another part of her mind, though, fixated on the arguably more important question:

Why was he sitting alone in the dark?

“Um...good morning.” It sank in that he had not answered her question. “Are you all right?”

He nodded, silent, and Bree knew.

“What’s wrong?” Still, he said nothing, and a shiver ran down her spine. “Will. What’s wrong?”

She took a few steps toward him, and that’s when she saw it—the flinch. Halting her steps, she squinted through the dark, trying to discern what she could of Will’s expression. “Can I come near?”

At first, she was certain he would ignore her again. After a moment, however—after a long, shuddering breath, Will said, “Yeah.”

Bree forgot, as she inched closer, trying to keep her footsteps soft, that her fingers and toes were frozen. Forgot that she was quite indecent and that she was already on thin ice with her bosses. Forgot that soon Stella and Celeste would wake up, and any minute now, they’d come downstairs to ready the tavern for the day, and the first thing they would see when they did was her sitting alone in the dark with one of their guests, scandalously underdressed and shivering.

“What happened?” she asked, keeping her voice soft, and for the first time, Will glanced up to meet her gaze. “Why are you down here? Couldn’t you sleep?”

“I was sleeping.”

Every syllable sounded like it pained him—wrenched from behind tightly clamped, unwilling teeth. It took her a moment to understand what he meant.

Before she could say anything, he kept talking.

“Do you ever…” Will swallowed, and Bree watched his throat bob in and out. The grey light of morning seeped through the windows, and as it did, the unfurling dawn threw the beads of sweat on his brow into sharper relief. “Do you sometimes…”

He looked away and fell silent.

“Do I ever have nightmares?” she guessed.

His hazel eyes didn’t meet hers again as he nodded; instead, he squeezed them tightly shut.

“Sometimes,” she said. Goosebumps tickled her arms as she watched him, waiting for a response. He sat so still—like a statue, the picture of sorrow immortalized in chiseled stone. Minutes seemed to ooze past, agonizingly slow. “Why don’t I go find—”

Jamie, she was about to finish, until his hand shot out and grasped hers.

“Please don’t leave.”

Bree froze.

“Will,” she said, trying to quell her rising panic, “I don’t know how to—”

“Please. Don’t leave. Please stay.”

Had she ever heard his voice sound like this? It was difficult to remember now. Her mind had trained itself at first to concentrate only on the memories that brought her the most joy or the most comfort—moments when Will had faced Baden Hatchett with nothing but humour and defiance and spite, when he’d shown himself again and again to be the bravest person she had ever met.

Then, when those memories hurt too much to recall, Bree had tried not to think of Will Wardrew at all.

All but impossible now that he was sitting there, shaking and distraught, right in front of her.

“Please,” she said, “I really don’t think I’m the best person to—”

“You’re the only—”

His voice cracked and stopped. The pressure on her fingers lightened.

“Sorry,” Will said. “You should—It’s fine.”

Without another word, he pulled his hand away.

[crypticjackal13]

Mk x shy GF Reader, with the Mk clones? set during the episode Duplicatnation where Mk is dealing with the fact he accidently got carry away with making clones, but not only that, he has to now deal with them fawning all over his girlfriend in their own ways and getting her EXTREMELY flustered and embarrassed, And are our poor boy is getting REALLY jealous.

“Too Many”(1244 w.c.)(Romantic one shot)

MK/Clones x Shy!Fem!Reader

pronouns: she/her

CW: slight possessiveness

One second, y/n was enjoying some quiet time at Pigsy’s because hey, there was a little too much chaos in her life at the moment, and the next, she was apparently texted to meet her lovely boyfriend at Sandy’s boat. This she didn’t mind. Sandy was such a sweet guy, and she’d be lying if she said spending time with the therapy cats wasn’t one of her favorite things to do. 

It was what happened when she got there that was a problem.

The boat was not only a new color, but she could see that familiar red bandana and messy brown hair hard at work painting it. She smiled knowingly, hopping up onto the deck to greet him. 

“MK, hey!” She went to hug him like she always did, but when he turned around, something was terribly off. His eyes had a crazed fire dancing in them as he wielded a paintbrush. But he still returned her affection.

“Y/n! Good, I was hoping you would be fast! I want to paint you!” He explained. She wasn’t opposed to the idea, but she certainly was thrown off by his mannerisms. 

“Like, right now? I’m not sure—“

“All you have to do is sit and be pretty. You’ll look perfect at any angle!”

Even if he was a little unhinged, she was still blushing at his comment. She went and sat on the stool across from a canvas he’d set up, choosing a simple pose that wouldn’t take long—theoretically.

“Beautiful! Yes, you’re the perfect muse!” He beamed, getting to work on an underpainting. Her heart was racing and she felt her face grow hot at his compliments. She held as still as she could, out of worry for what might happen if she shifted even a little. A solid half hour must have passed by now…But her arms were getting tired in the position she was holding them, so she mustered up the courage to say something.

“Hey, can I just take a quick break? Have you got a sketch down?” She asked. The artist stepped away from the canvas, humming while he looked at her. 

“I suppose…just hurry back, okay? This will be a masterpiece as long as you’re here.”

She hopped off of her seat and gave him a quick kiss as she exited the boat, choosing to head back into the city and get something to eat, maybe even stopping at the arcade…Mei was there, right? They hadn’t gotten to hang out lately.

Walking into the building, she could tell once again that something was wrong. But she pushed that feeling aside and continued in, getting some tokens and enjoying some of the games at the front by the entrance. But the music was muffled, like it was only coming from the back of the building, so y/n went to the back and saw two tall guards in front of the door. Once they saw her coming, they immediately opened the door for her, and she hurried past them with a quiet “thanks”. 

Gods, being in that space was already overwhelming—it smelled like soda pop and smoke machines. The music reverberated through the floors that lit up with each beat. And it was crowded past capacity, most likely. Someone was yelling from the DJ booth, but she couldn’t make out the words. 

“Y/n, thank goodness. You need to talk to your boyfriend.” Mei emerged from somewhere in the crowd, taking y/n by her arm and practically yelling to get her point across. 

“But I was just with him on the boat!” She yelled back.

“Then who’s the guy wearing leopard print sitting in the booth?!” 

The two girls got to the front of the room, and lo and behold, there was MK. Y/n was beyond confused. If he was here, then who was the artist she’d just spent time with? He peered through his slitted neon glasses at her, reaching over the turntable and yanking her into the booth with him. It was only a little easier to hear.

“Aw yeah, the life of my porty is here! It’s good to see you showed up!” He exclaimed, giving y/n a kiss. 

“Porty? MK, what are you talking about? What about the painting?”

“Huh? What painting, yo?” He shook his head with a smirk. “Whatever, anyways, c’mon, join in! Let’s make some sweet tunes to get these guys moving!”

“No, hang on, how long have you been in here?” She stopped him, trying to figure out exactly what was happening.

“No idea, babes, all I know is I’m throwing the best porty this arcade has EVER seen!” He put one of the headphones over his ear, before pressing some buttons that changed the music and got things going again. Now that y/n could see the whole crowd, she could also see that they all looked like zombies…some were slumped on the floor, others were trying to keep dancing but stumbled and dragged their feet. Some were even hiding from MK’s sight. Mei was standing by the entrance to the booth, and she didn’t look too hot either. 

“MK, you need to chill out a bit, okay? Let’s go play some games, just you and me.” Maybe if y/n played her cards right, she could get him to be distracted long enough that the crowd could disperse. 

“Not right now, sweet cheeks. After this set, definitely!” He responded. 

“What do we do? He’s lost his mind!” Mei took y/n’s hand again to get her away from the crazed DJ. Y/n shrugged, racking her brain for solutions. 

“Let’s get out of here! There has to be an exit!” She said. 

“Sorry, sweet heart. No one’s leaving this porty!” The DJ came up behind the pair, yanking them both deeper into the booth.

Hours passed as Mei and y/n were stuck inside a giant claw machine. On the plus side they weren’t stuck on the dance floor, but on the downside they were trapped in a much bigger problem than before.

That is, until the skylight broke. Their saving grace was here, hopefully the REAL one. They couldn’t make out what Real MK and Porty MK were saying to each other, but y/n was just overjoyed that MK was okay. What scared the crap out of her were the countless evil clones that were trying to fight him and how she couldn’t really tell who was where doing what. Golden light was everywhere, and before they both knew it, y/n and Mei were out of the claw machine and out of harm’s way. But they were back in the booth, standing behind Real MK. 

“Wait, how can you tell who’s who? He might be the porty clone!” The DJ said. 

“It’s ‘party’!” Mei said.

“Aw man, I played myself.”

And then he disappeared. Y/n was still comprehending the fact that all of that just happened, but of course the explanation was three simple words: “mystic monkey business”. 

“Y/n, are you okay? He didn’t hurt you, did he?” MK approached y/n, pulling her into a hug that she recognized as his hug. She leaned into him, trying to calm down a bit.

“No, I’m not hurt. Just…frazzled, I guess. Promise you wont make any more clones, okay??” She pulled away from him, grabbing his arms and shaking him back and forth. He laughed the whole time.

“I promise, I promise!”

[meg-moira]

I did the thing. Based on this writing prompt!

.

.

What am I, you ask?

It was a question I, too asked myself, once upon a time. I ask it no longer, because I don’t much see the reason in dwelling upon questions which have no definitive answers.

I can tell you what others think I am. Will that satisfy your curiosity?

An aged deity they call me. A minor one, of course. For they know I never laid claim to the vast domains of the Great Gods. War, Knowledge, Death are all grand pursuits, but they are not to my tastes.

Besides, I would never claim anything so specific. To those who live in the village beneath my humble temple, I am the warmth of a tended hearth, the safety of home - and the joy of returning to it.

It is a quiet village, you know. And I know my people by look and by voice. They take turns climbing the steep hill to tend my temple.

I settled here for a reason.

Did you notice my temple? It’s nice, is it not? Wooden, round, and short enough that the adults must bend to enter. Inside, two rows of candles illuminate walls lined with dangling shells dug from deep within the earth. Shelves are stacked with pebbles, feathers, twigs, and flowers. Gifts from my followers and requests I planted in the minds of my most devout.

At the center of it all, bathed in the candles’ butter yellow light sits a gleaming stone. It is opalescent and a pretty enough sight to behold. It was recovered generations ago, a layer or two beneath the dug-up shells.

The humans believe that I reside in the Everstone. That’s what they call it. Everstone. It’s got a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?

I don’t. Live in the Everstone, that is. I don’t believe I live anywhere in particular.

Occasionally I sit in the stone, just for fun. I warm it sometimes when my followers’ reverent fingers brush the grooves. I like the sound of their surprise and delight. Other times I perch upon the temple’s roof, and drink up light from the first and second sun. And on rare instances, I expend the energy to make myself just corporeal enough to walk upon the hillside and feel the grass between my toes. I only allow my most favorite devotees to see me like this. It is strange and awkward to have limbs and take up space. I only do it because the sensation of touch is so entirely captivating.

Those who glimpse my walking form see someone who looks human in the same way that a painting of an ocean resembles the cold, untamable tides. I take up space, and within that space is the suggestion of personhood. They see a figure draped and hooded in ethereal white, brown skinned and with a face whose features are vague and changing. Human faces fascinate me, and I cannot always make up my mind about the features I want for my own. I-

Why would you interrupt me?

Did you not trudge your ugly boots up this steep hill to seek me out? And if you’ve come, as you say, from lands afar - why would you not want to make conversation?

...Could it be that it is not me you seek, but the one who, even now, lies crumpled and half dead upon my temple floor?

That is the truth of it. I can see it in your terrible war-bright eyes. You are no more human than the one who bleeds ichor on my nice wooden planks.

No. No. Don’t go lifting your ugly spiked weapon just yet. I’m not done talking. I can’t talk with the humans. At least, not like this. And the god currently bleeding in my temple wasn’t much able to make conversation.

He staggered up the hillside not an hour before you arrived. He had taken far more care in the crafting of his physical form than I, and I’d guessed right away that he was one of the visible gods. Likely in possession of both power and desire enough to parade himself about for his followers. To drape his body, wrapped in opulent cloth, across the velvet couch upon his temple dais.

Yes, I made the last part up. I don’t know that he liked to drape himself across couches like a subject waiting to be painted, but with his raven black hair, muscles sculpted by an undoubtedly delicate hand, and a pretty face which did not shift like mine was wont to do, he fit the part well enough.

His fine clothes were ripped and bloody when he staggered up my hillside. And his hair, which looked to have once been drawn back in a sleek braid, was mostly dragged loose, falling in wisps and tangles. His pretty face was cut and broken, and when he pressed a shaking hand upon my wooden walls, he left a smear of ichor, brutal and golden beneath the suns.

“Sanctuary,” he murmured, and his voice was cracked and broken as the rest of him.

I could have barred my door. He might have once been powerful, but it had been cruelly beaten out of him by something.

You, I presume.

No. Enough with the weapon waving. I said I was talking.

I let him in. Don’t ask me why. Maybe stripped of his power, he reminded me of my village devotees. Or maybe I just didn’t want his divinely made flesh to stink up my lawn.

He stumbled in as soon as I opened the door, and immediately collapsed, one hand clutching what was surely a severe wound in his side. If he was as human as he appeared, I’m sure he would have died.

No, he’s not dead.

It was touch-and-go for a while. But, as I’m sure you know, gods are not so easy to kill.

I helped him, pouring some of my own energy into his form. It was like feeding oxygen to a faltering flame. As I worked, he lay limp as a doll, lips half pressed to my wooden floor as his voice rasped, filling the room.

His people call him Praesaro. He told me of how you killed a great number of them, cutting a path so you might reach him. His tears of saltwater and gold dampened the temple floor as he spoke, and where they slipped between the slats of wood, wild clovers sprouted from the soil. His throat was dry and grief-wrung, but I did not need to hear him to feel his overwhelming, aching loss. He’d seen his followers cut down, all while he, their glorious protector, was powerless to stop you.

You smile. Does pain amuse you?

I see. It is not just any pain you seek, but a god’s pain. You cared not for the city you slew, did you? You only wanted the god who protected it. So are you the God Devourer of which the wind has been whispering of late?

I hear conflicting tales of you. The wind says that you came from the skies - or perhaps the heavens. The rocks deep within the earth say that you are not of this world. And the oceans say you smell of strange waters. But all of them are in agreement on this point: You come to consume. And you will not leave until your boundless appetite has feasted upon this world.

And now you do lift that monstrously spiked weapon. You intend to destroy my temple and crush the last of the divine life from poor Praesaro - I can see it in the set of your jaw, the way you bare those sharpened teeth.

You intend to devour me too. In my little temple on this little hill, I probably seem nothing more than a snack to you. But before you unhinge your salivating jaw, dear god eater, let me ask you this:

Do you know why I remain here, on this little hill, above this little village?

It is because I like it here.

Do you feel that? The way the earth trembles beneath your bloodied boots? Or perhaps you’ve noticed the wind and how it nips at your skin. And what about the clouds that darken, bearing down upon my little temple on this single, lonely hill.

I was not entirely honest when I told you that I do not know what I am. Or rather, I have a guess.

You see, I remember when oceans covered these hills, and I remember when tiny creatures filled the shells which are strung up in my temple. I knew where each had burrowed, because they were buried in my soil. The feathers collected for my temple were carried here on my wind. And the pebbles smoothed in my streams.

To these people, I am a minor god, because that is how I wish to be perceived.

But for you, Devourer of Gods, I will deign to stretch out, unfurl.

You came to feast upon gods, little one. I wonder, how will you contend with a world?

.

You can support my writing on Patreon!

[alcinadimitrescuwu]

So a prompt! This is my first time asking for something like this so im a lil shy heh...

Basically fem reader riding Alcina's strap, while the Lady is sitting and the reader is facing her. Most of the work is being done by Alcina as she praises and coos at the reader. Just soft and passionate.

(Also if you can/want i wouldn't mind a bit of mommy kink sprinkled in)

Sorry for the long wait! I hope you enjoy!

You pause before your Lady’s bedchamber doors and draw in a deep breath. You had gotten a summons from her to come to her bedchamber immediately. You wring your hands nervously as your mind races, wondering why she would have sent for you so suddenly. You don’t remember doing anything wrong or anything that would have upset her.

Well, no point in worrying about it now. Might as well just find out. You slap your cheeks to muster up the courage and knock on the door.

“Come in,” says a velvety voice on the other side of the door.

You open the door and Alcina smiles at your reflection from where she is sitting at the vanity. “I was wondering when you would arrive, pet,” she purrs. “Come sit on Mommy’s lap. I’ve a surprise for you.”

You can’t help but be shocked. She called you all this way just to give you something?

Alcina frowns a little in annoyance at your hesitation. “I said, come here, dear. You aren’t going to make me wait, are you?”

“No, Mistress,” you say as you head over to her waiting arms. She presses a kiss to the sensitive nape of your neck as she holds you by the waist. You try and fail not to notice the neck of her dressing gown gaping so you can make out the shape of each breast.

“You’ve been working so hard of late,” she says, pressing kisses all up and down your neck. “I figure such hard work warrants a reward, don’t you? Here.” She hands you a velvet box bound in silk.

You look at the box and back to her. The corner of her crimson mouth is upturned in a sardonic grin as she nods encouragingly at you. You open the box with trembling hands and behold a strap, much bigger than the ones you are used to.

“What do you think?” Alcina asks, snaking a hand down to cup your breast under your uniform. You let out a little gasp as your nipples harden through the stimulation. “Do you like it?” “Yes, Mommy,” you rasp as you feel your thighs start to dampen with your arousal. “I love it.”

“Well, then” she says huskily, running a marble hand up your thigh as she works to unhook your garter. “Shall we perhaps test it out?”

You nod your consent enthusiastically and she chuckles. “So eager, pet!” she says as she sets you gently on the ground and stands up. She loosens the sash on the belt of her robe and it falls to the floor in a coil of silk, her heavy breasts tumbling out. “Would you be a dear and help me put it on?”

“Yes, my Lady,” you say as you take the strap and harness and secure it around her wide hips. She scoops you up in her muscular arms and presses her ruby lips to yours. You can taste the faint trace of tobacco on her lips. She settles back into her chair, settling you on her lap as she deepens the kiss, gently coaxing your mouth open with her tongue. You reach a hand out and stroke the areola of her now uncovered breast, eliciting a soft gasp from your Mistress.

She peels back your panties, still dripping from your arousal. “So wet for me, pet,” she croons. “Good. That should help things along nicely.” She takes your hips in her large hands and moves you down to her strap. You pause for a moment, hovering over the cock.

Alcina can sense your hesitation. “What’s wrong darling?” she asks, moving a sweaty strand of hair behind your ear. “Why do you hesitate? Would you like to stop?’

You shake your head. “It’s not that, my Lady,” you say, trying to choose your words carefully. This is terribly awkward. “It’s just that it’s so...big. Do you...do you think it will fit?” You feel your face redden in embarrassment.

Alcina leans in and kisses your reddened cheek. “Not to worry, pet. It will fit. We’ve had enough stretching sessions. I think you should be suitably prepared.”

You nod silently, and she lifts your chin up with her hand, her golden eyes serious. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes. I trust you.”

“Yes, what?’

“Yes, Mommy.”

She smiles. “Good girl.” She guides your hips down to her strap and you plunge in, letting out a sharp gasp as the cock fills your walls.

“You can take as much or as little as you want, dear,” Alcina says gently. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“No,” you choke out. “I can take it.” You push further in until the cock fills you completely. You can’t help but let out a cry of delight. You weren’t quite sure you would be able to do it. Alcina smiles indulgently at you.

You rest your hands on Alcina’s shoulders as you begin to ride your Lady’s cock. She gently turns your face to the mirror and you see your face is bright red from your exertions, your forehead clammy with sweat. “Look at you,” Alcina croons. “You’re taking me so well. I knew you could do it!”

You ride her faster as you feel your orgasm begin to build. You feel your thighs begin to get sore as you try to maintain a steady rhythm. “You’re doing wonderfully, dearest,” Alcina purrs. “Just keep at that pace for me. You’re doing so well.” She turns you back to face her. “Now keep your eyes on me, do you understand?”

“Yes, Mommy.”

Alcina runs her long fingers up and down your body and slashes open your blouse, taking a nipple from your exposed breast in her mouth and suckling greedily, the tip of her fangs faintly grazing your areola. That sends you over the edge as you climax into her lap. You lay your head on her shoulder, fully spent, breathing heavily.

“You performed beautifully, my dear,” Alcina praises, running a hand through your sweaty hair. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you,” you gasp out, still trying to catch your breath.

“Do you want to know something?” Alcina asks, running a finger along your cheekbone. You sigh and lean into her touch.

“Yes, my Lady?”

“You’ve always been Mommy’s special girl.”

[lovelikedestiny]

Destati, my beloved, destati. Nicky’s whispering voice is sweet and golden like honey in Joe’s ears.

With his eyes closed he feels for his soulmate, hand sliding over silk-soft sheets which lack Nicky's body heat.

Destati.

He keeps his eyes shut, wanting to maintain the illusion before he blinks slowly and searches Nicky’s gaze. As Nicky sees he’s awake he smiles from where he is crouching next to the bed, arms propped on the mattress, head resting on one hand. He is so near and yet so far away, out of Joe’s reach and his beauty lets the deep, dull ache in Joe’s chest almost fade away into the background. Almost.

“Come on, my heart,” Nicky summons him and his accentuated voice curls like a protecting layer around Joe’s severely wounded heart. His still bleeding heart. “It’s time to start the day.”

In the kitchen the table is empty and Nicky leans against the door frame, watching Joe with an attentive quiet. “I already ate,” he explains and Joe nods, strangely numb, preparing himself a small slice of toast. Contrary to Nicky’s words it doesn’t smell like coffee and there are no used dishes in the sink.

While he chews endlessly on one bite, he stands close to Nicky but they’re not quite touching, never touching.

It is throbbing and pulsing in Joe’s rib cage as if his pain would live and breathe and try to escape its prison of bones and he doesn’t know how much longer he will be able to endure it.

“We could watch the sunset today.” Nicky looks distant and somewhat celestial as if he were far, far away from Joe and Joe wants to scream and beg and hold him to prevent Nicky from disappearing but all he does is give back the smile Nicky is gifting him with.

The crooked corners of Nicky’s wonderful mouth burn themselves into Joe’s mind and for one second he is falling: unstoppable and fast, without seeing or feeling anything other than this piercing burn his heart sends with every beat through his veins, tearing him apart from the inside. Thump - thump - thump…

They walk together on the beach and as Joe beholds how the salty sea air of Malta cards its windy fingers through Nicky’s hair, Joe tells him, “I miss this.” And so much more. But he can’t bring out the words, poison on his tongue and icy splinters in his blood.

In Nicky’s terribly warm gaze is nothing less than eternal empathy and glowing affection. “I know.”

When the sky turns orange like blooming day-lilies Joe thinks about taking Nicky’s hand. It would be so easy: just reaching out and interlacing their fingers as they always did. By the time the setting sun draws symphonies of colors at the horizon Joe is gritting his teeth, fighting the urge to simply pull Nicky closer to his side but then the sun is gone and Joe lets Nicky and his hands be.

The next day Andy calls and Joe toys with the idea of not answering, so he can continue to draw Nicky to endure the agony but in the end he answers nevertheless.

They have found a new mission and Andy sounds gentle and caring but also determined and wary when she asks him like she did all the time before. “It’s been over two years, Joe,” she notes and Joe hates how soft her voice suddenly is. “We would be happy if you would come back, alright? That’s all I wanted to say. We’re here for you.” A pause. “How are y-”

“I will think about it,” Joe cuts her off and ends the call, his hands shaking so bad he drops the phone.

“Yusuf.” Nicky is sitting in one of the armchairs, opposite to Joe, pure understanding in the illuminated pools Joe loved. Loves. Will always love. “You are ready.”

Joe wants to protest and argue, the lump in his throat prevents him from doing either of that. “No, it doesn’t feel like it,” he finally chokes out, eyes filling with hot tears. “Nicky, you...I don’t…”

Nicky shushes him softly, a gossamer breeze of love Joe soaks up like divine ambrosia. “I will be there with you every step of the way, habibi. Have faith in yourself.”

How can I? After all that happened? How can I fix this?

“Trust me,” Nicky says with a lowered voice as if he would tell Joe a secret just between the two of them and it has a pleading undertone. He beckons Joe to him like a siren to a lost sailor and Joe sinks down on his knees next to him.

“Nicolo…” Joe doesn’t know what to say to express the devastating, raging storm inside him.

“You underestimate your strength, my love.” It is a lie. For Joe it is a lie but he can hear Nicky’s honesty in every syllable. And that makes it so much more painful. His fingers dig hard in the armrest he clings to with all his might and although he wants to avert his gaze he can’t stand to lose sight of the love of his life. 

“And you are biased,” he accuses Nicky half-heartedly, looking up to him, full of wonder and incredibly heavy yearning for something that dissolves like morning mist on a field.

Nicky laughs and Joe doesn’t sob but it is a very close call. “Maybe I am. Maybe I just know you better than anyone else on this earth.”

You do, Joe thinks without saying it out loud because he is not strong enough for that. 

“They miss you.” Nicky lifts his hand, palm to Joe but before Joe can press his face in his touch Nicky withdraws and Joe bites the inside of his cheek so hard he tastes copper. “They mean you no harm, Yusuf. They want to help you because you’re family. They’re family.”

This time Joe says, “I know.” The words taste like dust. 

The kiss they exchange is light and Joe puts all his despair and love into it but it is like kissing air. 

They meet in Prague.

Booker hugs him tight but avoids eye contact, Nile smiles at him but she can’t hide her sorrow and Andy kisses his forehead which she only does when she is secretly worried. 

As promised Nicky stays close behind Joe, not leaving his side and this knowledge helps lift the weight on Joe’s chest a little. 

The bullet hitting Joe while covering the others with Nicky hurts like a bitch and he curses, spitting blood, dragging himself behind a cover. Inspecting his chest he realizes the wound doesn’t heal, searching for Nicky’s gaze.

When the others find him he is laughing, all crimson teeth and more blood than saliva on his lips. 

Booker frantically tries to stop the bleeding, talking in French to him that Joe doesn’t understand because he only looks at Nicky, kneeling on Booker’s left. Andy, in her protective vest, is holding Joe’s face, patting his cheek in a way showing him how scared she really is. It doesn’t matter that Nile yells into her phone, ordering Copley to get them help because it won’t be much longer. 

“Stay awake, Joe!” Andy shakes him, forcing him to look at her but soon enough his gaze is drawn back again to Nicky.

“Hold on, buddy.” Booker grabs his hand, slippery with his blood and tears starting to drop on their clasped hands. “Nile is talking to Copley. We will get you out of here.”

Joe is not really listening, his lips still curved into a smile. “Nicky is here…”

“Joe…” Booker starts, voice thick with emotions. “Nicky is not here.”

“Y-Yes, he is.” His mouth is filled with more and more blood but Joe couldn’t care less. His Nicolo smiles sadly at him, fingers moving to caress Joe’s blood splattered cheek, hovering an inch about his skin. “I c-an...s-see him…”

“I never left.” Nicky’s presence is a ghost of his former warmth and Joe shouldn’t be able to smell his rich, familiar scent but he does and it is wonderful. 

“Oh Yusuf.” Andy’s eyes are glistening, deep pain in her ancient eyes and she cups his face as lovingly as a mother. He knows he doesn’t have to explain for her, knows she knows and sighs. “Go to him, okay? We’ll be fine here. Go to Nicolo.”

“Fuck…” Nile sniffs and Joe hopes he gives her, his youngest sister, a reassuring look.

“It won’t hurt,” Nicky promises and Joe believes him with every fiber of his being.

I missed you, he tells him without words and Nicky’s eyes go all soft. 

He takes Nicky’s hand, finally touching, and laughs wetly as his heart heals and the all-consuming ache in his body subsides because his other half is there.

“You waited for me,” he breathes, claiming Nicky’s lips in a kiss which echoes in his very soul. 

“I will always wait for you.” Nicky brings their interlaced fingers to his lips, placing a kiss on each of Joe’s knuckles. “And whatever lies ahead of us, we will find out together.”

Joe likes that word - together. Together in life and even in death. Like it was always meant to be.

[nat-20s]

fill of @jonmartinweek day 6 prompt- flirting AND jealousy, though much heavier on the jealousy than the flirting. Set in a classic “season 5 jmart time travel bac to season 1″ au

~*~

“Mr. Blackwood-Sims, if I didn’t know any better, I would assume you’re trying to proposition me.”

“Mr. Sims-Blackwood, I would never. For one, neither of us are inclined towards those sorts of activities, for second, we’re both married men. What would my husband say?”

“I believe your husband would say he never specified exactly what you were propositioning, and he would be more than amenable to kissing, preferably sometime in the next few seconds.”

“Mmm, suppose I’ll have to find him and take him up on that, then. If that’s really how he feels.”

“Trust me, it most certainly is.”

Christ, would those two shut up already? Granted, it’s late enough that they probably think they’re alone in the archives, but, still. This is, technically, a work place, and Jon would’ve preferred not to have accidentally gotten an eyeful as he made his way past the open door in the breakroom. Now, the image of (supposedly) a future version of himself sitting on the couch, with (supposedly) a future version of Martin straddling his legs, using one hand to cup his face, and the other to run his hands through that Jon’s longer hair, was seared into his mind, and he hated it. Look, contrary to what people who don’t know him very well seemed to believe, he’s hardly a prude. He’s more than fine with descriptions of physical intimacy, as well as public displays of affection. If he’s being honest with himself, deep down, he doesn’t even care all that much about professionalism, especially considering it is after hours.

But of course, he’s not being honest with himself, because then he’d have to admit that it bothers him that it’s them. He doesn’t know what to call the acrid burning in the pit of his stomach, the too tight ache in his chest, that’s present whenever the fun house mirror versions of himself and Martin are besotted with each other, but he knows it’s there. It doesn’t help that he’s the only one that seems to be bothered by it, the only one that frowns at the flash of wedding rings or the orbit those two always seem to occupy around each other.

Or, no, he’s not the only one. Occasionally, while witnessing the two of them being...the Two of Them, he can’t help glancing over to Martin. Lo and behold, Martin also doesn’t look thrilled about all of this, usually skewing more towards confusion or, oddly enough, resignation. At least, that’s what Jon thinks he sees there, it’s one of the few times where he can’t fully get a read on Martin.

Still, as much as Martin might share in being somewhat perturbed, as anyone who meets their “future selves” should be, Martin doesn’t seem nearly as upset as Jon is. That brings him back to his current predicament of feeling that level of upset, but not being able to determine the root cause of it.

It is not that he’s jealous. It’s not! He does not feel a pang of envy at seeing someone who looks extremely similar to himself loving openly, and being openly loved in return. He doesn’t find his thoughts drifting to the imagined feeling of lips pressed to his temple or arms around his waist or fingers running through his hair. He certainly hasn’t looked down at his left hand and been disappointed by the fact that its bare. He doesn’t even want those things, as he’s been telling himself for a number of many lonely years. One of these days he might even believe it.

Fine. Fine. Maybe, but only maybe, there’s a part of him that’s jealous. Maybe there’s even a part of him that despairs, because try as he might he can’t connect point A to point B, can’t see the steps he would have to take to be like that other version of himself, and he knows his Martin (well, not his Martin, but..) will never look at him like that, will never see him in that light. And, damn it all, it hurts, so if they could kindly stop ru-

Oh. Wait. He can’t hear them outside his office door anymore. Huh, perhaps they-

“Knock knock.”

Startled out of his...contemplation, Jon looks up to find himself looking back. Sims is leaning against the door-frame, with mussed hair, swollen lips, and pupils blown wide. Jon loathes him and wishes to be him in equal measure. In a move he usually would’ve thought more characteristic of Tim, Sims doesn’t wait for a response, instead sitting himself across from Jon and saying, “Figured you’d still be here.”

Trying not to sound too much like he’s speaking through gritted teeth, Jon asks, “Did you now?”

Sims gives a lackadaisical shrug. “With any luck, you’re not going to become me. I not sure you can become me, at this point, diverging paths and all that. However, we do share the first 28 years of our lives, and I certainly didn’t believe in the concept of a work life balance, so why would you?”

“Is there something you wanted?”

“Yes, actually. I want you to ask out Martin, your moping is getting insufferable, and considering how much of our misery has been entirely outside of our control, you shouldn’t put up with what is in your power to fix.”

Jon blinks. Jon processes. Jon stammers. “I-what?! I am not, you can’t just-. Martin doesn’t even like me, and if you really were the same person as me, you know I’m not all that keen on him either.”

“Uh-huh. Is that why you can’t stop thinking about his hands?”

“I do no-”

Sims puts a hand up in surrender, though the smirk doesn’t entirely drop. “Sorry, sorry, I know that’s rather unhelpful. What I mean is, you’re already loved, right now, as you are. No, that love is not coming from Martin, but it could be,t because he doesn’t dislike you.  He doesn’t know you, because you have done everything in your power to make sure he doesn’t. You also don’t know him, even though you’re interested in him, because you’ve been trying not to be. It’s stupid. Get to know each other. It’ll probably work out.”

“I...is that how you did it? Because this seems like an objectively terrible idea.”

Sims snorts. “God, no. It took a coma before I was able to untangle my own feelings. The whole point is that you won’t have to take the same looping, painful path that I did.”

Jon wants to reject it outright, almost does, and yet. “Fine.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, really. Why?’

“Nothing, just. We’re usually a more stubborn on these sorts of things. I was expecting more of a fight.”

“Mm. Normally, I would be, but I’ve been forced to watch two rather obvious proof of concepts waltzing around in front of me, and agreeing will hopefully get you the hell out of my office.”

Sims studies him for a moment, then a surprised smile spreads on his face. “All right then.”

Jon makes a dismissive hand wave, and Sims obliges, and he spends the rest of the night trying not to think about what he’s agreed to.

~*~

The next day, about half an hour before the end of the work day, Jon calls Martin into his office. From his tight shoulders and carefully blank expression, it’s clear Martin very much does not want to be there. Great. This is going to go so well.

Jon gestures for him to sit, Martin does, and he dives in. “As we both now know, I don’t have the ability to fire you. In all reality, even though I am, on paper, your boss, I truly don’t have any power or authority over you.”

Martin leans back in his seat, letting a heavy pause fall between them before saying a stilted, “Okay?”

“So, I want you to know that I am about to ask you a question, and you have complete freedom and choice over your response, without fear of any negative consequences. Alright?”

“Um. Sure.”

Jon takes a breath, slowly lets it out, and bites the bullet. “Would you like to get dinner sometime?”

Martin stares. Then he squints. Then he studies. “Oh. Jon, you...we’re not them, you know that, right?”

“I’m aware.”

“So..why?”

Jon lets out a sigh, and tries to gather his thoughts in a way that makes sense to either of them. “Well, though I myself have some trouble with the concept, they’re not..entirely removed from who we are, and there’s enough foundation there that I have reason to believe we might...get on? Maybe we don’t, maybe we end up being friends, maybe we end up like them. That’s already enough to pique my own curiosity, but, alternate future versions of us aside, I mostly would just like to get to know more about you, and I’m hoping you might like to get to know me better as well.”

Martin’s shoulders relax, and he chews on his bottom lip for a moment before replying, “Okay. Yeah, why not?”

“Oh. Oh! Great! Does this Saturday work for you?”

“Works perfectly. Let’s give a shot.”

The first date is..fine. A Bit of a mess, but fine. The second date, however, is the best Jon’s ever been on. It’s so wonderful, in fact, that he doesn’t even mind when he catches Blackwood passing a fiver to Sims the day he can’t stop smiling at work.

[siswritesyanderes]

Ok but yandere carlise x reader x yandere esme

(Not as detailed as I’d hoped to make it, but I quickly realized that if I went into detail then this thing would become very long. Hopefully avoided making the characters too OOC. Let me know if you like it, and how I did!)

…

You first met Dr. Cullen when you spent the day volunteering at the local hospital for one of your college classes.

There was a whole group of students there to help out, and you honestly weren’t sure why he seemed to notice you in particular; it certainly wasn’t because you were doing such a great job. Your work speed, in restocking the closets, was roughly average, and you kept having to ask your fellow volunteers where things were supposed to go. Granted, you at least weren’t one of the students who was transparently doing the absolute bare minimum to get the credit, but you wouldn’t exactly consider yourself a shining star of competence either.

Still, Dr. Cullen approached you personally to say, “Thank you for your help. You’re really doing us a great service.”

He was a beautiful man, with warm eyes that seemed to be beholding the goodness in your soul, for how amiably they glimmered.

“I don’t know if I can take any credit,” you said, admittedly flustered by the attention. “It was our teacher’s idea.”

He smiled kindly. “Nevertheless, we’re glad to have you here.”

You smiled back. “Glad to be here.” Then you continued working.

When Carlisle walked away from you, he carefully kept the reluctance from showing in his expression. He sent Esme a quick text warning her that they might have another soulmate in town: a human. His initial thought was that this would be the end of it; so long as Esme avoided meeting you, she wouldn’t feel the awful desperation currently clawing its way up Carlisle’s throat, and so long as Esme wasn’t suffering, Carlisle was confident in his own ability to let you live your own life, just as he had done with Esme, at first…

But then, he knew how that had turned out for her: years of pain, mistreatment…The thought of anything of the sort befalling you…The world was so dangerous, between humans and vampires and other such things, and you, so small in comparison, so vulnerable…

Carlisle regained his composure (though, to the untrained eye, he hadn’t lost it in the first place). The world could be dangerous, yes, but his awareness of that fact was informed, in no small part, by the fact that he wanted justification for keeping you. And he couldn’t give himself such license; it wouldn’t be right.

He wouldn’t drag you away from your human life.

Perhaps he could keep watch over you, and do you small favors every now and then, but that was the most he could afford to indulge.

He heard your stomach growl from across the room; he detoured to a vending machine and bought you a light snack. (Perfectly timed, Alice texted him your preference. No doubt, she was scouring the future to see how you might fit into it; he would have to have a talk with her, to be sure she didn’t go overboard. And deciding to have a talk with Alice functioned in the same way having a talk with Alice did.)

Dr. Cullen handed you a snack from the vending machine, which puzzled you at first; it didn’t seem like the hospital was handing out food to anyone else, and even if they were, why would one of the doctors take the time for such a thing?

He answered your unspoken question with a polite smile and the words, “You were looking a bit faint; I thought you might need this.”

Had you been looking unwell? You didn’t think you felt that bad, but a doctor would recognize the signs if something was wrong, and you were pretty hungry. “Thanks,” you said, and he dipped his head in your direction. Then he and his kind smile departed.

That wasn’t the last time you met Dr. Cullen.

Your paths crossed in all sorts of places: in the grocery store, he tapped you on the shoulder once to ask if you’d dropped a hundred dollar bill, and he urged you to keep it even once you’d told him it wasn’t yours; you saw him in your school’s science building, one day (He was there to speak to one of the professors, and he asked you if you had drunk any water recently.); and you even ran into him at the library. All incidents spaced out over weeks; not close enough together to really be coincidences worth thinking about. You figured that you had probably crossed paths just as much before meeting him, but only noticed now because you knew who he was.

Anyway, the two of you remained acquaintances. He was a nice man.

When someone slammed into your car, a few months later, he was the doctor who cared for you.

“A hit and run?” he murmured, tutting in displeasure as he moved a light across your eyes. “People should be more considerate, and careful with other people’s lives. You could have been seriously hurt.”

“They probably just made a mistake and were scared of the consequences,” you offered, because the doctor genuinely seemed somewhat upset. You were trying to assume the best about the other driver, because the alternative was getting angry about something you couldn’t change. You had barely even seen the car that had hit you. You just knew that it was some shade of yellow, and apparently much stronger than yours. “I wish we’d gotten to trade insurance information or something, though; my car is apparently totaled.” Despite your best efforts, your voice wavered.

“Don’t you worry about that,” Dr. Cullen said, and you were probably delirious, but something about the decisive way he said it made it seem, to you, as if he himself planned on helping you get your car fixed. “Follow the light with your eyes.”

You did.

“Have you...” The doctor seemed to choose his words carefully. “Have you called anyone, to let them know what happened, and that you’re alright?”

“No, I guess I haven’t. The ambulance got there so fast, I guess I didn’t have time to think about it.” You weren’t terribly concerned, though; if your relatives hadn’t been made aware of the crash, then they didn’t know to be worried yet. No need to call them now.

Dr. Cullen stilled at your words, though; the light in his hands shone in the spot between your eyes and did not move. It was as if he was deep in thought. No, as if he were at war with himself.

“Dr. Cullen?” you prompted.

He quickly smiled, setting down the light. “I think you should call them. Now, if you can. I would...just feel better if someone knew where you are, and that you’re alive.”

You called them (as awkward as that felt with the doctor right there in the room, patiently waiting), and Dr. Cullen seemed to relax.

Once you were released from the hospital, you went back to only seeing him every once in a while, around town.

Your car was mended seemingly overnight, under mysterious circumstances, and a part of you jokingly wondered if Dr. Cullen was some sort of fairy godmother, or guardian angel.

Then, another month after your accident, a stranger approached you while you were walking back from your last class of the evening.

“Hi,” the stranger greeted you, somewhat apologetically. She was shorter than you, with a lovely face and spiky black hair and a spritely disposition. “I’m Alice. I’m so sorry to bother you, but could you help me carry something to my car? It’s getting late, and I really don’t want to be here after dark.”

“Oh, sure,” you answered, feeling so at ease that you forgot every warning that would normally flood to your mind about the danger of following a stranger to her car. So at ease that your mind somehow just failed to observe the taller guy standing right next to Alice, well in your field of vision. You saw him, but you didn’t really think much of him.

You followed Alice to a bright yellow Porsche, and the shade of yellow stirred something in your memory, but you couldn’t say what; you were too busy looking for what you were supposed to be helping her lift.

A lovely woman with a long blond ponytail leaned against the car trunk, staring at something that she was holding in her hand, and there was a figure sitting inside the car, too; you couldn’t see them through the tinted windows, but you saw enough to be confused as to why you had been called here to help when it seemed Alice had many potential helpers, here.

Your panic, as you began to realize the ruse, had only just begun to climb when the blond woman suddenly moved, swift as a bird, behind you, and there was a hand over your mouth and a feeling like a pinch in the side of your neck.

The thing she was holding. It was a syringe.

The tall guy (the one you hadn’t thought much of, at first) moved to open the nearest door of the Porsche; he moved the passenger seat forward, to access the back row of seats.

“Wait, stop,” you slurred against the hand (the stunningly cold hand) over your mouth, as the woman who had syringed you began to maneuver you into the Porsche with surprising strength. You were already losing control of your limbs.

“This is officially the worst thing I’ve ever done,” the woman griped as she slid you carefully inside, then climbed in behind you. You were sandwiched between her and the person you’d seen through the tinted windows: a sulking young man with bronze hair. Four strangers total, and you were in the back seat of their car.

“Thank you, Rosalie, for your help,” Alice said resolutely. “Will you drive, Jazz?”

The tall one nodded, climbing into the driver’s seat while Alice occupied the passenger side.

You struggled to find your voice, or your fists, through the haze of sedative.

“It’s okay,” said the sulking young man at your side, in a surprisingly gentle voice. “I’m able to hear you, even if you can’t speak. I can read minds.”

“The human is still awake?” Rosalie said.

“Not for much longer, but yes. You have time to apologize.”

“Sorry about all this,” Rosalie said, gently nudging your mouth closed (as it had fallen open). “Don’t be scared; we just…have to bring you to Carlisle and Esme. They’re pretty great people, and they’ll treat you really well. And these guys were going to do it anyway, so I had to come and make sure things went smoothly. Alice and Jasper can’t even administer a shot; they probably would have chloroformed you or something-”

“Wouldn’t’ve had to,” said the tall guy in the driver’s seat- Jasper, apparently. “Could’ve just lightly flicked the back of their head at the right angle. Provided Alice checked the future to make sure we did it right.”

“…and didn’t cause a concussion, or worse,” the bronze-haired one deadpanned.

There was a brief silence. You were sinking against the self-proclaimed mind reader, unable to support your own weight. You were about to sleep. You actually wanted to sleep.

“Don’t worry, Rose,” Jasper added. “I’ve made sure the human isn’t afraid.”

You supposed you weren’t. Why weren’t you?

You fell asleep before you could figure it out.

…

You awoke to the sound of agitated voices, outside the (closed) door of a bedroom that was not your own.

You were in a bed, and it was obscenely soft and pleasant, but it wasn’t yours, and you weren’t home.

Where am I?

You felt weak, and tired. Heavy, confused. But you had to stay awake, and regain your wits, because you had been taken somewhere, and you didn’t know where or why. There was a window across the room. It was nighttime outside the window. Maybe if you could make it over there, you could climb out and run for it, but you didn’t yet have the strength to even get the bedcovers off of you.

“Because it’s been awful to watch how badly it affects you to be away from your mate,” one of the voices outside the door was saying. “All five of us agreed, and we never agree on anything!”

“And it’s not like it wouldn’t have happened eventually,” another voice agreed. “Just like with Esme.”

“Exactly! You were only prolonging your own suffering, for no reason.”

There was a sigh, and a familiar voice said, “Are you all finished?” It was Dr. Cullen; that much you knew, even though you had never heard him sound so tired.

“We did it for you, because you deserve happiness.”

“And now that Esme has seen them, there is no way to undo it, is there?” Dr. Cullen asked rhetorically. “Edward, is the human awake?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll bring some food up, Carlisle,” an entirely new voice suggested. “The children have been…underhanded, today, but there’s no reason we shouldn’t make the best of it.”

“It was for the best.” (Your head was clear enough, now, that you recognized this unabashed voice as belonging to Alice.) “You’ll see.”

Footsteps approached the door, and shortly a woman entered the room. She was soft-looking, with caramel brown hair, and she held a dinner plate in her hands.

“Good evening,” she said, soberly. Sitting on the edge of your bed while you struggled to sit up. “I’m so sorry the kids did this; we didn’t ask them to, but they thought they were doing us a service. I’m Esme Cullen, Dr. Cullen’s wife. Here: eat something.”

You ate a forkful of pasta only because it was too close to your mouth to refuse. “Why ‘m I here?” you asked hoarsely. “Take me home.” Another forkful slid into your mouth.

“I’m very sorry,” Esme said. “I’m so, so sorry, but you see…the trouble is…” Her eyes scanned over you, and she smiled a seemingly involuntary smile and didn’t finish her sentence. As if looking at you was simply a much better use of her time.

“I want to go home,” you said.

Esme sighed, pressing her lips together contritely. “The trouble is, I can’t bear to relinquish someone who is so important to Carlisle, and Carlisle can’t bear to relinquish someone who is so important to me. I promise you, though, we will make it up to you.” She fed you more pasta.

It tasted delicious, but that did nothing to assuage your terror. “You don’t even know me. What do you mean, I’m important to you?”

Esme clicked her tongue softly and rhythmically against the roof of her mouth, as if to soothe. “Carlisle can explain that better than I. But rest assured, everything is going to be alright.”

Your skin crawled, at the dissonant cordiality. “Where is Dr. Cullen?”

You heard a flutter of what could have been footsteps, if people were capable of moving that fast. Then, the bedroom door opened again and Dr. Cullen entered.

“Hello again, dear heart,” he greeted you, and his demeanor was about the same as it was in public, or in the hospital. Respectful, polite. Maybe just a bit...off. Too much of something, maybe too polite and kind for the circumstances. “I’m terribly sorry about all of this.”

The apologies were making this worse. “You don’t have to be sorry,” you said. “Just please take me home.”

“I can’t do that, angel,” he sighed. He did appear sorry, but not as sorry as he should have. “But I can explain everything to you now.”

He sat down on the other side of the bed, opposite Esme, who was still feeding you. And he did explain everything, in such expansive detail that you fell back asleep before he even got to the part about mates.

…

“You can pretend with them, but not with me.” The voice was quiet, and not so much accusatory (despite the pointedness of his words) as reminding.

“I know that, son.” Dr. Cullen sounded positively serene.

“You knew how much time you were spending with Jasper, in your saddened state.”

“Yes.”

“You knew that we would do this.”

“I…suspected.”

“You meant for us to do this.”

“That’s enough, I think. Thank you.”

Silence fell.

You opened your eyes just a crack. The pillow beneath your face was awash with yellow light; the sun had risen, since last you’d fallen asleep. None of it had been a dream. You were still trapped in a house with these people who thought they were vampires. You closed your eyes again. The two voices had been speaking from the direction you were facing: Dr. Cullen at your level, perhaps in a chair at your bedside; and the other above, as if standing.

“One month,” the first voice suddenly added, and you weren’t sure what it was in reference to. It was as if an inaudible question was being answered.

“That’s her optimistic guess, or her pessimistic?” Dr. Cullen inquired.

“If all goes well, it will be one month. Poorly, and the longest she’s seen is three months.”

“Well, that is good to hear. I’ve waited much longer with hope for much less.”

“I know.”

You turned over, so that your back was to them, and began to open your eyes again, but then you heard Dr. Cullen rise from his seat, take up the chair, and move around the foot of the bed. You kept your eyes shut as he set his chair down on the new side and sat in it once more. He did all of this matter-of-factly, as if he’d changed sides every time you’d turned over during the night.

The thought of anyone wanting to see your face that badly made you shiver a bit.

“Awake?” Dr. Cullen inquired casually. You didn’t hear an answer, but the other man must have nodded, because Dr. Cullen continued, “Good. Esme will be done with breakfast soon. She’s so happy to be cooking again.”

“Jasper is in the kitchen with her,” the other said, as if that was a related statement somehow. “I’m going hunting. Good luck.”

You weren’t sure why, but you felt as if he was talking to you as much as Dr. Cullen.