#drew a whole sheet in under an hour in a blind rush

[nnnnnnnothingtoseehere]

Matz

[unbridgeabledistances]

omg hey I was wondering if you could write something about gallavich being walked in on by someone but they’re like cuddling or doing something really soft and intimate? Can be set any season <3

anon i LOVE this prompt <3 i decided to merge it with another prompt that i just got:

Ian waking up before Mickey, and watching him sleep, and Mickey teasing him when he realizes what Ian is doing.

also, i’m using this as an excuse to once again write the bath scene that we all want but never received (inspired by the intro to 11x05😔), and this takes place just before season 11- i hope u enjoy!!<3

--

It was an early, silent Saturday morning—which was incredibly rare for the Gallagher house, but Ian wasn’t going to complain. The sunlight streamed down in ribbons through the broken blinds, casting a slanted glow onto the bed where he and Mickey were laying. Ian had woken up before Mickey, like he pretty much always did, but today he didn’t get up and put the coffee on or pull on a hat to go on his brisk morning jog like he usually would; today, he curled even deeper under the warm cocoon of his blankets that were staving off the winter chill and wriggled closer to Mickey, leaning into the heat that was radiating off of his body.

Someone had definitely paid the heating bill—thank fucking god—but it was still the dead of winter in Chicago, and the rickety walls of the Gallagher house weren’t known the be the most heat retentive, which meant that most mornings everyone sleeping on the second floor woke up to a drafty chill that sunk into the floorboards until someone decided to crank up the heat when they woke in the morning. But this morning, Ian couldn’t hear the familiar crackling of the radiator in the hall, or anyone bustling in the kitchen like usual- Lip and Tami had some doctor’s appointment for Fred, Debbie had a handywoman job and had left early, Carl was staying over some girl’s house and Liam had slept over at a friend’s. He and Mickey had taken advantage of having a mostly-empty house last night; last night was all skin and sweat and scathing touches, the heat of Mickey’s skin pressing against his. And now there was this- the frigid, fragile silence of the next morning, with Mickey laying there asleep next to Ian, with his mouth half open and an innocence in his sleeping face that was so bare and genuine that it almost hurt to look at.

They’d been so caught up in the flurry of shit going on for the both of them- the pandemic, Ian’s new job, just trying to make ends meet and keep the house running- that Ian realized he hadn’t really sat and looked, actually looked, at Mickey’s face for such a long time. He’d seen Mickey’s face plenty considering they were trapped around each other 24/7, sure, but it was the same catch-22 as when they’d shared a prison cell; being around each other all the time kept them from wanting, kept them from missing, kept them from realizing what was right in front of them. He and Mickey were constantly bumping elbows and getting in each other’s space and pressing against each other to blow off steam, but they hadn’t really sat in silence since this whole thing started- it was pretty impossible to, in the Gallagher house. Ian suddenly realized he couldn’t remember how long it had been since he’d woken up curled around Mickey- usually these days they spread onto their separate sides of the bed, slept on their own separate islands across the mattress. Ian wasn’t really sure when that had started- he remembered that night on the docks, years ago when Mickey had busted out of prison, and how the entire night as they’d slept in the van he had clung to Mickey like the shirt on his skin, like he wanted to soak him up and absorb him into the soft place in his chest that had always been reserved for Mickey, that everyone else just fit into wrong. But at some point after the wedding, between the lockdown and the bills piling up and Lip moving out, they’d just… drifted.

And now, staring at Mickey in the glow of the morning light, all Ian wanted was that innocent closeness again, that swirl of warmth in the pit of his stomach that made him feel completely and totally safe. He inched even closer to Mickey under the covers, draping a heavy arm over Mickey’s waist. He nuzzled his chilly nose to the base of Mickey’s neck, breathing in the scent of Mickey’s warm skin, all cheap shampoo and earthy cigarette smoke. Ian felt a raw ache unfurling in his chest at Mickey’s solid, comforting presence beside him- Mickey had been here all along, but Ian had missed this.

Suddenly, Mickey shifted and rustled the sheets, and Ian lifted his face from the crook of his neck, keeping his arm resting across Mickey’s torso. Mickey let out the gentlest of exhales as he woke, and Ian’s heart ached. Mickey rubbed the heel of his palm to his eyes, disoriented and probably more than a little confused about how close Ian was leaning to him as he watched Mickey intently with wide eyes.

“The fuck are you looking at?” Mickey asked, his voice gravelly and sleep-soft.

Ian gave him a lopsided smile. “Nothing. Just admiring my husband.”

Mickey’s eyes finally fully opened, wide enough for him to roll them as he pushed Ian away, pressing a solid hand to the center of his chest.

“You’re fucking soft, Gallagher.”

Ian just kept smiling a dopey smile, then reached with double the force in to encircle Mickey with his arms, feeling Mickey stiffen and squirm underneath him at first, and then unconsciously exhale into the bear hug of an embrace. There.

“Yeah, but you love me.”

That was the thing about Mickey; sometimes (hell, most of the time) he rejected intimacy like a cat that didn’t want to be pet, like someone that wasn’t used to soft touches or slow advances and only knew hard and fast and now. It had been an uphill battle to get here, so many years of being apart and together and then apart again, but now they were at the point where whenever Ian made advances to caress Mickey, Mickey would roll his eyes and feign resistance just before preening and melting into Ian’s touch.

Ian listened to Mickey’s steady breaths, and felt the vibration of his heartbeat against his chest. Mickey’s eyes were closed again, his lips pressed in a slight, contented smile as he soaked up Ian’s touch. Ian hummed in satisfaction, then pressed his face against the side of Mickey’s neck, breathing him in. The clouds of sleep hadn’t yet cleared, and for a timeless moment Ian let himself inhale the sweet skin at the crook of Mickey’s collarbone as the morning light pooled on their skin.

After a few minutes Ian softly cleared his throat, which was dry and slightly scratchy from the chill of the room. “What d’you wanna do today?”

Mickey rotated onto his side so he was facing Ian, his eyes still half-closed and his expression soft and dreamlike.

“A whole lot of nothing, Gallagher,” Mickey murmured sleepily.

Mickey’s face was millimeters from Ian’s, and Ian tasted his words more than he heard them. And then Ian couldn’t really do anything except slyly smile and bridge the gap between them, pressing a series of chaste kisses between their chapped lips. Mickey quickly escalated the embrace, pressing his mouth hotly against Ian’s and bringing his blazing palms up to the side of Ian’s neck to pull him closer, pressing his hips against the side of Ian’s torso and making Ian feel a rush of heat that zipped all the way down to his toes. And he would have kept kissing Mickey, if it wasn’t for the blitz of heat that drew such a stark contrast to just how cold the bedroom still was, the sharp chill still numbing Ian’s nose and ears and cheeks. Ian pulled away, leaving inches between his face and the face of an eager Mickey that was still clinging to the back of Ian’s neck.

“It’s fucking freezing. No one turned the heat on this morning.”

“So? Who cares? Bet I can warm you up, hot stuff.”

Ian rolled his eyes in what was supposed to be annoyance, but he knew the gesture ended up looking overly fond. “Mick, the blankets barely cover the bottom half of my legs. It’s not my fault you’re a four-foot-tall blanket hog.”

Mickey shoved Ian away again, then playfully rolled onto his chest. “First of all, fuck you. And second of all, it’s not my fault that I’m married to the fucking Jolly Green Giant. Use your new job money to invest in a bigger blanket and quit your whining, bitch.”

Ian grinned, then gently rolled Mickey off of his chest. “Seriously, Mick, give me two seconds, I just wanna turn up the heater and take a warm shower or some shit.”

Mickey sighed defeatedly but accepted the loss, curling himself up in the blankets as Ian rose from the bed. “Whatever. I’m going back to bed.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “Of course you are.”

Ian slowly stretched, then grabbed a discarded towel that was crumpled in the corner beside the dresser. He slid open the flimsy bedroom door and adjusted the thermostat on the wall in the hallway, cranking the heat so at least Mickey could peacefully sleep for another few hours without freezing to death. Then he ambled into the bathroom and turned the shower faucet as high as it could go, the scalding spray immediately raining down.

Ian reached over to the bathroom shelf to grab his shampoo bottle, and his eye landed on the small pink bottle of Franny’s bubble bath. Suddenly, he had the perfect idea. He shut off the shower and immediately turned the tap for the bathtub on, starting to let the base of the tub pool with steaming water.

He turned back down the hallway and peeked his head around the corner into the bedroom. Mickey was probably not asleep again yet, but he was convincingly curled in a cocoon of blankets in the middle of the bed, his face pressed into the pillow and the duvet wrapped half around his head.

“Hey. Mick. You wanna take a bath?” Ian half-whispered.

Mickey groggily poked his head up from under the covers, his hair sticking up in all directions. “A fucking bath?” he asked sleepily, squinting at where Ian stood in the doorframe. “Isn’t that kind of… gay?”

Ian sighed. “We’re gay, Mickey. Calm the fuck down. Do you want to take a bath with me or not? Everyone’s gone, we’ve got the whole day to ourselves.”

Mickey raised his eyebrows, like he was still unconvinced but mulling it over. Then he started to lazily attempt unwrap himself from the layers of blankets around him. “Fuck it. Got too cold when you left the bed anyways.”

Ian smirked. “Water’s running. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

Ian turned back into the bathroom once more, and squirted a few healthy doses of Franny’s bubble bath into the tub that was starting to fill with foamy suds. He undressed and slid into the bath, instantly feeling his tense muscles thaw as they hit the warm water. He leaned his head back onto the rim of the tub, letting himself lay there with his eyes closed until he felt the water inching up his torso, the air thick with the sweet floral smell of the bubble bath.

“Mick, c’mere!” Ian called, praying that Mickey had extracted himself from the blankets and not fallen asleep again. A few moments later a very sleepy and rumpled Mickey was standing in the doorway rubbing his eyes, and then zeroing in on Ian laying in the tub.

“Yeah, this might be the gayest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Ian flipped him off, then scooted so he was sitting upright in the bath. “You coming in?”

Mickey seemed hesitant, but started to fumble with the tie of his flannel pajama pants. “Guess so.”

Ian smiled contentedly. “Come on.”

Mickey dubiously climbed into the tub, one leg after the other, and then slid to settle against Ian’s chest. Ian felt Mickey’s muscles relaxing against him, all of his usual tightness succumbing to the ripples of pleasant water enveloping them. Mickey leaned his head back onto Ian’s chest, exhaling.

“Yeah, okay. This is pretty fucking nice.”

Ian smirked. “Told you. Not too gay?”

Mickey scoffed. “Fuck you.”

Mickey closed his eyes, and Ian couldn’t resist lifting a hand to Mickey’s head and starting to run slow circles through his hair, tracing gentle patterns that he knew always made Mickey doze off. The bathroom was full of steam rolling off of the scalding water, the bubbles foaming and fizzing around them. Ian felt so perfectly content, sitting here with the sturdy weight of his husband pressing him down, breathing in the sugary scent of the bubbles sticking to Mickey’s skin and letting his own eyelids droop…

And then suddenly, Lip came barging through the door.

Immediately Mickey’s eyes flew open, his body tensing up. Lip just stood in the doorframe, his posture casual but frozen on the spot, staring at a very frilly smelling (and a very naked) Mickey and Ian laying in a bubble bath together.

Lip pursed his lips, like he was choking back a laugh.

“Uh. Hey guys. Didn’t think anyone was in here, considering the…silence.”

“Well, clearly we are, so get the fuck outta here!” Mickey was no longer drowsily collapsed onto Ian’s chest, sitting up straight and pointing at the door for emphasis. Ian just put his hand to his forehand and grimaced. So much for having the place to ourselves.

Lip snorted, still undoubtedly trying to hold back an avalanche of laughter, but he turned and started the close the door. As he was shutting it, Ian called after him.

“Lip, I thought you and Tami had some doctor’s appointment with Fred?”

Lip was in the hallway behind the closed bathroom door now, but he cracked it to let his voice in. He cleared his throat, clearly trying to compose himself. “Uh, yeah. Those usually only last an hour, though.”

Jesus. Maybe Ian had just been swept up in all the sappy emotions for the morning, but he could have sworn Lip and Tami were usually gone for hours whenever they had weekend errands to run. Oh well, it wasn’t really a big deal- half of the Gallaghers had seen each other in compromising positions, since privacy was definitely a somewhat foreign concept within these four walls. But underneath Mickey’s bravado when he was kicking Lip out, Ian noticed that Mickey’s cheeks were glowing red. And Ian totally got it; the two of them had been walked in on fucking plenty of times- hell, that was the whole theme of their hookups in the back of the Kash and Grab when they were in high school- but there was something about this, being interrupted in a truly vulnerable moment, that felt more excruciatingly embarrassing somehow.

Ian looked down at Mickey, who was still staring off into space at the closed door. Finally, he spoke.

“We’ve gotta get our own fucking place.”

Ian breathed out a laugh, and kissed the side of Mickey’s temple. “Yeah, we really do.”

[s-c-r-i-p-s-i]

MyQuil™ Cold & Flu: Powerful Nighttime Relief

🖤  🖤   🖤  

Pairing: Laurie Strode x Michael Myers

Rating: Mature

CW:  Incest, nonconsensual cuddling

Word Count: 2,277

Summary:

Textbooks were strewn across her messy bed with good intentions, peppered with crumpled up dollar store tissues that rubbed her nose raw. A full, unopened bottle of NyQuil sat on the nightstand, taunting her; she’d bought it as a last resort but was too stubborn to actually touch the damn thing.

She was already disgustingly vulnerable as it was. No need to sign, seal, and deliver an invitation to the Devil himself.

Notes:

Thank you so much for commissioning me, Beck!!! It was a joy to delve into this ship. 🖤 I think it was kinda taboo to talk about this ship even on the DBB server until you broke the ice and I'm eternally grateful because it's a GOOD one.

& Thank you to Pugge for coming up with this GODAWFUL title, and buying me boba, and keeping me sane ILY MY MUSE, MUAH 😘 🖤 🖤 🖤

Michael had never stopped chasing her. Nor she him.

And that balance was more delicate than she’d like to admit. Always the looming sense that despite everything she did, all the measures she took, she wasn’t completely in control.

Turns out that feeling was right. She just wasn’t expecting that her greatest enemy would be her own body crapping out on her.

Textbooks were strewn across her messy bed with good intentions, peppered with crumpled up dollar store tissues that rubbed her nose raw. A full, unopened bottle of NyQuil sat on the nightstand, taunting her; she’d bought it as a last resort but was too stubborn to actually touch the damn thing.

She was already disgustingly vulnerable as it was. No need to sign, seal, and deliver an invitation to the Devil himself.

You know - she was willing to bet he didn’t have to put up with this kind of thing. But that would be opening up a train of thought she’d rather not have.

It was cold in the apartment. Laurie never put the heat above 60 degrees. And any other day, that would have been perfectly manageable, but she’d soaked clean through her sheets overnight with sweat, and now she was freezing.

Sarcastically, she wished Michael was there so that he could put her out of her misery then instantly regretted it, chastising herself and wondering when her sense of humor had gotten so dark. The answer, though, was obvious. He’d changed her. Morphed her, warped her. She couldn’t even relate to her peers anymore. And they certainly couldn’t relate to her.

She was in some half-state at the moment. Awake enough - the bitter cold made sure of that - but too sore and lethargic to actually do anything about it. Just lying there shivering wasn’t going to be very productive, though. At some point, she’d need to decide what she was going to do, whether that was sleep or study or… what.

Droopy eyes blearily drifted over to the alarm clock. 3 AM.

God. The whole day. Gone.

Her gaze wandered over to the television playing quietly in the background, its soft light playing across the walls. Had she really left that on? Falling asleep on the couch in front of the TV had been commonplace as a kid, or while she was babysitting, but now… Well, she preferred to be able to hear her surroundings.

How unlike her to forget...

Wouldn’t hurt to leave it, would it? She wondered with a shiver, eyes slipping closed. Just this once…?

Impossible to tell if it was seconds or hours that had passed when Laurie awoke with a start at the sensation of the bed moving under someone’s weight. Eyes cracking wide open, she stared at the wall in front of her, the way her heart kicked a crater in her chest immediately sobering.

She knew. Exactly. Who it was.

It sounded ludicrous, even to her. She wanted to doubt. To believe that there was a thin margin it could really just be a very… very foolish burglar. But she knew better than that.

So… what should she do?

The obvious answer was fight, but something told her not to move. Not yet. Wait. See if she could map out her attacker’s positioning first; anticipate what he was going to do. She might only have one chance. Had to make it a good one.

Strategically, she was in a tough spot. Her bed was adjoined by the wall on two sides so that she couldn’t be snuck up on from behind, but evidently, she’d gotten turned around in her sleep - all that feverish tossing and turning. Now she was facing the wall and flying completely blind.

It took all her willpower not to move, scraping, with tooth and nail the bottom of the barrel of her everything. Defying every instinct, every ache in her muscles to do otherwise. She could hear him swiping her textbooks out of the way like a cat knocking things off the table with zero regard for her personal belongings; one of them audibly smacked the floor and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

In the past three years since that one fateful Halloween and everything proceeding it, Laurie had seen him a handful of times. But never this close. Just glimpses, here and there. Hard to tell what was real and what was just… unchecked psychosis. (She refused to do something so foolish as dull her senses while he was still out there - fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. She wasn’t going to let anyone else die if she could help it.)

He seemed to come and go like a stray. Sometimes leaving evidence in his wake. Missing clothes… things in the wrong place. Hard to tell if he was trying to bait a reaction out of her, or if he just… didn’t care enough to try and cover his tracks.

On a dangerous whim, she’d tried to chase him down a couple of times. It never amounted to anything, though. Wouldn’t be seen unless it was on his terms.

To think he was nearly in her grasp now…

She tried to make the move as natural as possible, like she was merely shifting in her sleep as she crawled her hand beneath her pillow and wrapped her trembling fingers around the hilt of the knife stowed away safely underneath. If she wasn’t already sweating, she would have started now.

He seemed to hesitate behind her, as if unsure if she was awake or not - though she knew better than to think it was out of fear. She got the impression that, for whatever reason, he didn’t want her to be awake for this.

Well, fat chance, it was like an elephant stepping onto the bed. He had to weigh some two hundred and something pounds.

For a moment, they were both perfectly still.

Then he began to move again, lifting the blanket up and… keeping it there. She could feel the cold air on her sweat-damp skin, on her bare legs and hip, her nightshirt having ridden up in the middle of the night.

There was a pang in her shoulder, a desperate urge to preserve her modesty and yank it back down over her ass, because she could feel his eyes burning into her.

It drew out too long, and something inside her snapped. “Michael!” Laurie whipped around, the words hissing through her teeth, sharp and scolding, before she could even stop herself.

Her heart dropped to her stomach as soon as she realized what she’d done.

There was a long pause. Odd, how much she could interpret from the silence, even without a real face to put to it. He was definitely… thinking. Contemplating something, staring at her with those mismatched eyes from behind his mask.

She did that to him. It was a point of pride for her, and maybe it shouldn’t have been, but the physical proof she could leave lasting damages on him was… Satisfying.

Whatever he was set on doing, he apparently decided to carry on with it even if she was awake, the weight of his knee pressing into the mattress as he loomed into her space.

Digging her heels into the bed, she kicked herself back until she felt the wall behind her, but he just wouldn’t stop.

She had to strike now.

Fingers tightening around the knife, she lunged for his throat, only to be brought to a screeching halt mid-air as his hand clamped around her wrist. A metallic clatter jarred her, Michael dropping his own knife so that his other hand was free to pry her stiff fingers off the blade one by one, until there was a second clattering as it too hit the floor.

Then he shoved her back onto the bed with such effortless force she bounced on the bedsprings.

Like a snake coiling and striking she reared her leg back and kicked right for the center of his gravity, but he just snatched her ankle, yanking her down a couple of inches.

Her stuffy head was spinning from all this motion, a twinge of pain blooming behind her eyes. And she didn’t know what his end goal was, but that didn’t stop her from thrashing and kicking up a storm as he manhandled her around, her own hair flying in her face, bodies bumping until she didn’t know what was direction was up.

Far too quickly, she wore herself out, the fight slowly leaving her as her body went lax, panting for breath and mind reeling as her brain tried to catch up and physically place herself, because she wasn’t getting anywhere struggling mindlessly.

She was on her side, her back pressed up against what she was fairly certain was his front, in some vicious mockery of spooning, and he was just pinning her there with both arms, waiting it out. A patient boa constrictor.

After a moment of her just lying there, one of his hands moved from around her waist to her arm - she jerked as if to elbow him, but it was a feint, and a weak one at that; she didn’t have the strength to put any real oomph into it. Her whole world was pulsing, dilating and constricting, blood rushing through her ears. No thought. Just raw nerve. A bird that’s just flown into a window.

Gradually, she realized he was examining her scar. Prodding and pushing at it, using his thumb and forefinger to pinch and stretch at the skin. She wondered if he felt the same way about it as she did the marks she’d made on him; satisfied. That same primitive feeling of ‘I made this.’

The number of times they’ve been this close have been few and often far between - and always chaotic, no time to smell the roses, as it were. Maybe that’s what he was doing. Examining her while he had the chance, while she was too weak and tired to yowl and spit and kick and fight. Playing with his food. Pushing the peas around on his plate.

It was strange, feeling him treat this permanent artifact of violence that he put there with such… He wasn’t being gentle, exactly. But something about it felt so antithesis all the same.

Grabbing her wrist and pulling her arm up and out from the blankets, he pressed his thumb into her palm and firmly rolled his giant fingers across her metacarpals neither gently nor ungently, more like he was trying to feel out her skeletal structure.

Strangely, it didn’t feel awful. Something about it redirected straight to her stomach, a light, lurching feeling but not an unpleasant one. It wasn’t that off from a manicure massage thought she knew without a shadow of a doubt pampering her was not his intent.

He was just being a creep. Like normal. Just… a lot closer than usual. So close she could hear his breathing. Feel his breathing, despite the number of barriers that should have prevented it; hot and warm on the back of her neck.

It wasn’t long before she felt his fingers creep into her hair. She allowed it. What the hell else was she going to do? In the same off, incidental way, it wasn’t the worst. Didn’t feel deliberately nice, but that’s because it wasn’t, it wasn’t for her benefit at all. And yet, every movement had tingles shooting down her scalp, it was so unexpectedly good.

A number of things to call him came to mind. Pervert being one of the first, though she wasn’t sure that’s what this was about. Maybe she was the weird one, for feeling anything other than utter revulsion at him touching her like this. He was her brother, for God’s sake.

She began to zone out while he messed around; Michael eventually moved on from her hair, but by the time he did, she was nearly half-asleep from the warmth he was radiating, finding it a whole new struggle just to stay awake. A grope at her elbow, here. A touch of her knee, there. Invasive. Bothersome. But non-threatening enough that she was starting to slip against her will. At one point, her aching eyelids had dropped closed and she hadn’t managed to reopen them since.

Unbothered, he continued exploring, his finger pushing past her lip to feel at the gum of her canine, while she mumbled some vague groan of complaint, gently kicking him in the shin. Everything felt so sensitive. Ooey, gooey, sick and vulnerable, and tired.

And then, his fingers found her hip bone, pressing deeply, and something sharp ran through her, zinging through the fog.

He was all over her, Laurie couldn’t even keep track anymore, her breathing starting to pick back up as his hands roamed over her. The next thing she knew, Michael was running his hand up the column of her throat and the sensation went straight to between her legs. Arching, she shifted in search of friction, only to feel an almost painfully unyielding hardness poke at her tailbone.

Oh.

There was a definite pause before Michael removed his hand from her neck, returning to constricting her in place with both arms so tightly she was unable to move- which was probably the point, but what it felt like, was that he was trying to grind their bones together until she was absorbed into him completely; to solder them, the gap between them only ever arbitrary to begin with.

Eventually, she melted into his hold, the last pale dregs of fight left within her evaporating as she drifted off to sleep.

🖤 ��� 🖤

Thank you for reading!!! Please comment if you enjoyed; I am but a simple goblin who thrives on external motivation. You can find my socials on my carrd! Follow me on Twitter! Or, join the 18+ DBD thirst server 🔞 Dead by Baelight 🔞 here!

[writtingrose]

Mates to More: A Drew McIntyre Fic

SUMMARY; an anti Valentine’s Day date and lightning make for the perfect situation

WARNINGS; The smuttiest of smut.

REQUESTED BY; my baby @biforbecky2belts

BETA’S BY; @xladyxfatex

WORD COUNT; 3,416 (my longest fic)

Drew hadn’t meant to ease drop earlier. He had been walking backstage, after another successful victory when he overheard Melissa and Nikki talking. Naturally, he was interested to know what they were talking about, so he stopped and listened; hid perfectly around the corner.

“I just don’t get the point of it Nik,” Melissa sighed. “Why do we need a whole day devoted to seeing who can spend the most money on extravagant gifts for their significant others? That’s really all it is. A who out did who fuck fest.”

She rolled her eyes as she crossed her arms. Sure she was a little biased; spending another Valentine’s Day alone would do that to you, but she made a good point too. Yet, Nikki didn’t seem to think so.

“Look, I get it but... it really is a special day, Melissa. I’m sorry you can’t see that.” Nikki didn’t give her an opportunity to reply before walking off to join Alexa, going to prepare for their match.

Melissa sighed as she turned, heading for catering. No one seemed to understand why she didn’t like this day. Granted, most of them were in loving relationships. So she understood, somewhat.Yet, it was still frustrating.

Drew had thought about following her for a split second, but didn’t want her to be upset with him for eavesdropping. So, he let her go.

~.~.~.~.~.~

Now, laying back on his bed after a hot shower, Drew held his phone to his ear waiting for her to pick up. Sure, he could have just walked over to her room but calling her seemed so much easier.

A few rooms down the hall Melissa groaned as her phone rang on the side of the tub. Her head lolled to the side as she groaned, reaching to answer it.

“Hello?” She sighed, phone pressed to her ear.

A deep chuckle came from the other end of the line as Drew smiled.

“Catch you at a bad time, Mels?”

Melissa perked up at hearing the deep, masuline voice through the phone and rolled her eyes, hating the nickname he refused to stop using.

“No, I was just relaxing. What’s up?”

Drew bit his lip then cleared his throat.

“Look, I didn’t mean to listen in on your conversation with Nikki earlier but I can’t stop thinking about it. I know we’re both single and not really fans of Valentine’s Day. So, how about a mate’s date? You, me, a couple beers, and a meal down at the restaurant?”

A small smile graced Melissa’s lips as she nodded, even though he couldn’t see her.

“Yeah, sure.” She tried not to sound so excited. “When?”

“Well, I just got out of the shower so, obviously, we both need to get ready. I’ll be at your door in an hour?”

Melissa laughed and looked down at her own bath water. “An hour is great, Andrew. I’ll see you then.”

“Great.” Drew smiles before he hangs up, then sits up on the bed.

He sat his phone on the bed side table before getting up and making his way to his suitcase.

Unlike other superstars and staff, he didn’t usually unpack. There wasn’t really a point when they never stayed in a town for long and it was just less stress when it was time to move on. No, he prefered to just pull what he needed from the suitcase. He pulled out one of the few pairs of jeans he ever bothered to pack and a black tshirt, laying them both on the bed.

~.~.~.~.~.~

True to his word, Drew stood in front of Melissa’s door an hour later. He crossed his hands over his chest after knocking and waited for her to open the door. He didn’t really know why he was nervous all of a sudden, they’d been out a million times before. Yet, he couldn’t hide that over the last few months something had changed. He didn’t really see her as just a friend anymore.

Inside the hotel room, Melissa slid her phone and card into her pocket before checking herself in the mirror. Once deciding she was pleased with what she saw, she stepped towards the door and pulled it open. Her heart stuttered half a beat when she saw what he was wearing and she had to keep from biting her lip.

He looked good. Of course, he always looked good, but there was something different this time. Like she was seeing it, fully, for the first time.

“Ready, lass?” He asked, taking a step back so she could walk past him.

She smiles and nods, grabbing the key card from the table beside the door.

“Hungry, thirsty, lets go.”

Drew chuckles as she steps out and pulls the door shut. He follows behind her, both opting for the one flight of stairs versus the elevator.

“I thought we could just go to the restaurant here, if that’s okay? I figured, if we get too tipsy, it’s easier to get back to our rooms and we may not have to deal with such big crowds.”

He waited for her at the bottom of the stairs and smiled up in her direction as she came down.

“That’s fine with me.” She shrugged, leading the way towards the restaurant tucked away in the corner. “I think I’m going to go with a burger, honestly. Sounds so good.”

Drew licks his lips and nods. “It does; but a steak sounds better. Big, juicy, medium rare.”

Melissa bit her lip and kept walking, but said nothing. Though, there were a few comments she could have made none of the ones that immediately jumped to mind were appropriate. So, she decided to keep them to herself as they made it into the restaurant and got seated.

Once seated, they ordered their meal as well as their drinks; since they had already known what they wanted. They passed the time between drinks and their food with small talk, mostly about how she had been settling into her position with WWE and adjusting to life on the road. Though she had known Drew and Nikki for years, all having grown up in Scotland, she had only been with WWE for a short time.

~.~.~.~.~.~

It was a few hours later Melissa found herself back in her hotel room and ready for bed. Drew had dropped her at her door and made sure she had gotten inside alright before continuing down to his own for the night. She stumbled, a strong buzz throwing her coordination off slightly, over to her suitcase and pulled her sleeping clothes out before changing. Once she had put her dirty clothes in the hamper for washing the next day, she crawled under the thick blankets on the bed.

She laid there for a few minutes, her body relaxing against the warming sheets, sleep pulling her closer and closer before she head it. Her eyes flew open at the rumbling; a sudden, blinding light illuminating her whole room. Melissa froze, body petrified with fear. Since it was only snowing out, she thought she would get lucky and there would be no lightning. However, she was wrong.

Down the hall, Drew had already pulled his shoes on and grabbed his key card. He slipped out of his own room and down to Melissa’s where he knocked gently.

“Mel? It’s me. Can you let me in, sweetheart?”

As soon as he had heard the thunder and seen the lightning himself, he’d jumped into action. It was one thing for her to be home when there was lightning. However, to be in a different roo, let alone country, would only heighten the fear.

“Melissa.” He knocks again. “I know you’re scared, but I don’t have a key to let myself in. I need you to do it, sweetheart.”

It stayed quiet for a few minutes. Then he heard the sound of shuffling, followed by the door slowly open. Drew stepped inside quickly and shut the door back behind him. His arms moved to wrap around Melissa and pull her into his chest. Her body shook gently against his as he kissed the top of her head and rubbed down her back.

“It’s alright, lass. I’m here now.” Worry creased his forehead as he took in her blinds; open just enough to allow even more light to steam in each time it streaked the sky. “Let’s get you back in bed, okay? I’ll close the blinds all the way and lay with you until you’re asleep.”

Melissa pulled back and nodded, as she wiped her eyes. “Will you just… stay the night? Please?” She bites her lip as she looks up at him. “I mean if this keeps going all night, I’d get no sleep anyway.”

Drew smiles gently and nods before gesturing for her to return to the bed. “Pick your side love. I’ll join you as soon as I shut the curtains.”

He smiles and moves past her, to the windows where the curtains were open just enough the lightning brightened the room even. Once there he pulled then shut, ensuring no more light that usual would get past the dense material. .

Behind him Melissa cocked her head and giggled. “Um, Drew?” She bit her lip, sitting on the side of the bed closest to him waiting for him to look at her. Once he did she snorted gently. “You, um… you could pull shoes on but not pants?”

Drew looked down and flushed slightly. In the rush to get to her he had remembered to put shoes on; something not really needed since they were indoors and he could have gone barefoot. Yet, he had walked from his room to hers in nothing more than his boxers and a t-shirt. He groaned and brought one hand up to rub down her face as the other flipped her off.

“Don’t make fun of me woman. I was more worried about getting to you than what I was about putting clothes on.”

“I’m just saying, if there had been fans snooping around they would have got the perfect view of… well, little Drew.”

Melissa’s eyes moved from his face, down his tightly clad chest, to his crotch. Her eyes lingered there for a few seconds and the heat in the room heightened between them.

Drew cleared his throat and moved to the other side of the bed. “Guess it’s a good thing we have a free day tomorrow.” He kicks his shoes off and pulls the cover back. “Come on sweetheart, we need to sleep.”

“Um, yeah.” She nods and crawls back under the covers. Drew followed right behind her, their bodies millimeters apart. Suddenly, the lightning was an afterthought.

Her body couldn’t relax. Something between them had changed, had been changing, but she had ignored it. Drew felt much the same. His body was tense, not wanting to cross a line. It took a few minutes, ones that felt like an eternity, before they started to relax; exhaustion both pulling them closer and closer to sleep.

Melissa was almost there when the next roar sounded, the room lighting up as if it were still day outside. She squealed and jumped, her body curling into his as her arm when around him. Drew groaned gently and pulled her close, kissing her forehead as he rubbed over her back.

“It’s alright darlin’, I’m right here.”

“I’m sorry.” She huffed, her leg hiked over his. “I don’t know why it scares me so bad. It always has.”

“Everyone has something they're scared of, sweetheart, and a lot of them think it's just as pointless or weird to be afraid of it. It’s okay.” He chuckles gently. “Hey, at least if the power goes out we don’t have to worry about freezing.”

“Is that your way of trying to get me naked, McIntyre? Because, honestly, I thought you’d be better at it.”

“Oh no,” He smirkes. “Besides, I wouldn’t have to try very hard. Especially if your knee travels any higher.”

Melissa froze for a whole new reason as her cheeks heated up. Her mind fogged as she weighed her two options; she could lower her knee and pretend the last few minutes had never happened, or she could take advantage of a perfect opportunity.

She chose the opportunity.

She pushed her knee higher, brushing against the length concealed by his boxers. Drew growled gently, his hold on her tightening.

“Do not tease a starving man, Melissa. You may not like what he has to offer.”

She snorted and bit her lip, provoking him further. “More like, he has nothing to offer.”

Things changed suddenly. Drew growls louder and moved to loom over her, body which was now trapped under his.

“There’s no goin’ back after this.” His lips pressed against her neck gently, teasing the skin. “We do this, you’re mine. Just like I’m yours.”

She didn’t respond as her arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer. He smirked and kissed along her neck, his hands moving under her shirt.

“I’ve thought about this a lot, sweetheart. How you would feel under me.” He nipped along her collar bone and smirked when she moaned. “The sounds you’d make for me. I never made a move because I didn’t think you’d want me either.”

Melissa chuckled and pulled on his shirt, lifting it. “Are you kidding me? Who wouldn’t want a sexy Scotsman like you?”

She winked playfully as he laughed and pulled his shirt the rest of the way off. “I could say the same about a woman as beautiful as you.”

“Oh christ, Drew. Stop sucking up and do something.”

He rolled his hips into hers and pushed her shirt over her head. Once it was gone, he did the same with her underwear, sliding them down her legs.

“You’re soaked for me, babe. Made a mess all over your panties and now the front of my boxers.” He shakes his head and kisses over her chest. “Bet you taste great, lass. You gonna be good for me? Let me get a little taste.”

He kept his eyes on her face as his hands came to fondle both breasts. He teased and rolled the nipples under his fingers, pinching them just hard enough to pebble the tender flesh. Then he took turns replacing his fingers with his mouth; sucking and groaning as he kept grinding his hips into hers.

“Feel how hard you make me? Every fucking time you touch me just right.” He growls again, almost as if embarrassed and turned on by the effect she has on his body. The same effect he now knew he had on hers.

“Of course I feel it, daddy.” She bites her lip and raises her hips to meet him. “But I’d really like to feel it in me.”

She reached down and tried to pull him up but to no avail; he wouldn’t budge. She groaned in annoyance as he just chuckled, tongue darting out to flick over her clit.

“Easy, little one. This is happening when daddy says it is. Got it?”

He growled and wrapped his hands around her thighs before pulling her legs further apart. His eyes lingering on hers before moving to look in front of him. He licked his lips in appreciation before leaning forward. He growls, low in his throat as his tongue moves against her clit; flicking up and down as he sucks. One hand comes back around as he slides a finger in to her tight heat and he curses against her, eyes closing.

Her hands came to wrap in his hair, tugging as she moaned and pushed her hips up, trying to get closer. Drew looks up at her through hooded eyes as he adds a second finger, curing them up to find her g-spot. Her body jerks a little harder and he hums as he continues to assault the spot. Kissing his way back up he stops just shy of her lips and licks his own.

“Told you I needed a little taste. I could have stayed down there for hours.” He smirks as she moans and throws her head back. “Do you like that, princess? Do you like my fingers inside you?”

He grazes his teeth over her neck, just above her collarbone before he bites down gently and sucks; not letting up until a purple bruise forms, his fingers moving faster and faster as his thumb comes up to rub against her clit. “Fuck, my cock is throbbing. I need to be buried inside you sweetheart, but I don’t have a condom.”

“It’s okay.” She pants out. “I’m on the pill” She licks her lips and pulls him down into a heated kiss. “Please, Drew, I need it too.”

He nods and pulls his fingers out, bringing them up to hover right over her lips. “Open, princess. Clean my fingers for me.”

Melissa opens her mouth quickly, tongue poking out as he slides his fingers inside. Her tongue swirls around them as her mouth closes and she moans softly. Once satisfied, Drew pulled his fingers away and kissed her. His tongue pushes back her lips and slides over hers; tasting her on her own tongue.

His hands move to her hips once again as he settles between them and wraps them around him. His cock pressed against her entrance as he searched her eyes for any sign of doubt. Not seeing any, he thrust inside. Melissa moaned as he groaned, wasting no time to withdraw and thrust back inside; his cock pulsing against her stretched walls.

“Jesus, Mels, just being inside is enough to bring me to my knees. You’re gripping me like a vice. Almost enough to make me explode already.”

He rolls his hips, pushing further inside her as she dug her nails into his back, leaving angry red whelps.

“You’re… everything I imagined you’d be and more, Drew.” She sucked in a shuddering breath. “So big, can’t believe you fit really.”

Drew chuckled as his cock jerked inside her, right into her g-spot.

“You drive me crazy, in the best way.” He growls as he grits his teeth, his thrusts quickening as his hand moves between them to rub over her clit in time with his thrusts.

Melissa moaned as her hips rose to meet each of his thrusts, her cunt clenching around him.

“Fuck Drew, I’m gettin’ close. Please…” She hid her face in his neck, nipping and sucking the flesh; much as he had hers.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.”

Drew panted gently as he thrust faster, cock pressing deeper inside her as he let out a guttural groan.

“Fuck!” He cursed. “I need you to cum with me, princess. I need you to cum on my cock. Can you do that for me?”

He moved his thumb quickly, pressing harder on her clit as he angled his hips. Melissa gasped and nodded quickly as her legs wrapped tighter around him.

“Oh, Drew…” Her back arched off the mattress as the first wave of her orgasm washed over her. Drew groaned as her cunt clenched harder, setting his own orgasm off, He nuzzled his face into her neck, kissing it gently as he continues to slowly thrust, riding out both of their orgasms.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, neither of them saying a word as they caught their breath.Then, Drew carefully got up and made his way to the bathroom, returning with a rag.

“We’ll have to wash this tomorrow.” He winked playfully and smiled as he carefully wiped their mixed fluids from her thighs, then from himself and threw the rag into the hamper. Once done he crawled back into the bed and pulled her close.

“I um,” She laughed gently. “Guess you really showed me after all.”

Drew chuckled and shook his head before kissing the top of hers. He pulled the blankets back over them as she curled her body into his.

“Maybe in the next city, you can just room with me? Then I’ll already be there to help you through the next storm.”

Melissa smiled as she looked up at him and nodded, then hmphed. “Speaking of, I didn’t even notice it had stopped.”

“That, was the point wasn’t it?” Drew smiled and winked as she rolled her eyes and laid her head on his chest.

She may still have a fear of lightning, but at least she had a pretty good idea how to distract herself next time.

Super fucking late. And I’m sorry. But it’s my LONGEST fic to date! I’m so proud. I hope you guys enjoy! Please, share and tag those you thing will enjoy it.

Much love, Rose xx

@theworldofotps @writing-reigns @xxghostnappaxx @xladyxfatex @sophiewolfheart-blog

[chelsfic]

Say You’ll Be My Baby - Steve Murphy x Connie Murphy - Narcos Fanfic

A/N: Title from “Make You Smile” by Elle King (thanks to my Anon of Music for their consistently awesome song recs). That song is pure Steve/Connie to me. This fic is fulfilling my deep desire to just wrap my arms around Steve and Connie. I tried to capture some of Connie’s sassy nature.

Summary: How Connie and Steve get together. That’s it, that’s the story.

Warnings: Fluff!!, Mention of gun violence

---

“...So it wa’n’t fake...”

And just like that he had me. It was that lazy West Virginia drawl rasping over the phone line and caressing the shell of my ear, smooth as Hershey syrup. And the balls it took to actually dial my number after that stunt at the bar. I was intrigued. And I won’t lie--the DEA thing was hot. I felt my lips quirk up in a pleased grin, my stomach fizzing with nervous excitement. I figured we could have some fun together...nothing serious.

The first date was a disaster. 

We agreed to meet for drinks. Nothing serious, just some casual fun and then...who knows? Only we never came close to “who knows?” because he stood me up. The worst part was that in the days leading up to the date I had truly grown excited about it. The more I thought about that tall, lithe frame leaning up against the bar, his blue eyes focused on me like I was his whole universe, the more nervous energy I felt churning in my stomach. Until I spent an hour sitting by myself, sipping beer and getting hit on by every guy in the bar. I was not the girl who sat around waiting for a guy to show up. Except that night I was. I left the bar with a lump in my throat and my face burning with wounded pride.

I trudged back into my apartment, alone and wearing my best date-night dress. The answering machine glared at me as I passed through the living room. No messages. Fucking hillbilly asshole.

When the phone rang in the middle of the night, startling me from a deep sleep, I figured it was work. I poked my head up to read the time on my alarm clock. 3:32 AM. Jesus.

“Connie, honey, I am so sorry--” the accent wasn’t so cute now.

“Are you kidding me?” I asked sleepily, my voice hushed but steely. “First you stand me up and now you wake me up in the middle of the night?”

“God, I feel terrible. There was an emergency situation here. At work. And I...it just slipped my mind. Lemme make it up to you.”

I didn’t answer for a minute. I could understand work emergencies. I’m an ER nurse, I get it. What I didn’t want to consider was a man who could forget about me until 3 o’clock in the morning after standing me up. 

“Goodnight, Steve,” I sighed, hanging up the phone and falling back into my pillows.

So much for first impressions.

I didn’t see him again for a couple weeks. I sure thought about him enough, though. Why couldn’t I get this guy out of my head? I was ready to dismiss him and never set eyes on him again when he came up to me the night we met. But...somehow he’d wormed his way into my consciousness. I found myself remembering the deep timber of his voice. Every time my phone rang I felt butterflies wondering if it might be him. But he didn’t call.

Finally, fed up and a little drunk after a night out with the girls, I called him.

“You know, the polite thing to do would be to send me flowers or a card or something! You know, really grovel!” I slurred into the phone, cradling it between my ear and shoulder as I stood at my kitchen counter scooping Häagen-Dazs into a bowl.

“Is this...Connie?” he asked, confusion obvious in his tone. “You drunk?”

“That’s besides the point,” I huffed. “I shouldn’t be the one calling you. ‘S not how this works, buddy.”

“And how does it work?” he drew out his syllables, letting his voice melt with intrigue.

“Oh, no you don’t! That stupid, sexy voice isn’t gonna to work on me this time!” I warned him, licking the ice cream scoop.

His laughter floated over the phone line as he responded, “You think my voice is sexy?”

“Shut up! You’re on thin ice. You’re supposed to chase me, beg me for my forgiveness. That’s how it works.”

He infused his voice with mock seriousness, “My apologies, ma’am. I didn’t realize. I’ll get right on that.”

“Good! You better,” I said, hanging up on him and letting the cordless phone clunk onto the countertop. As I stood there, eating ice cream and momentarily congratulating myself, it occurred to me that it was possible I’d regret all this in the morning.

Lucky me, there wasn’t much time for regrets. I was just finishing up my rounds when the Nurse Supervisor dropped a new patient intake sheet into my hands. 

“Gunshot wound. Very minor. Just needs some stitches,” and then she was off, rushing past me and trusting me to do my job. 

My feet were already leading me down the hallway in the direction of the appropriate exam room when I scanned the paper in my hands and saw the hastily scrawled name at the top. Stephen Murphy.

Gunshot wound. Oh god.

He was up on the exam table when I walked in, long Levi-clad legs dangling over the edge. He sat hunched over, resting his elbows on his knees and pressing a handful of gauze to his neck. I cleared my throat as I walked inside, standing momentarily frozen in the doorway as he turned those striking blue eyes on me. I watched his face light up with a smile that even the blood-soaked gauze in his hand couldn’t dim.

“And here I thought I was havin’ a bad day,” he drawled, wincing only slightly as the movement tugged at the wound on his neck. 

“Jesus, Steve!” I breathed, pulling away the gauze and getting my first look at the shallow abrasion along the side of his neck. “This was...a really close call.”

My voice must have betrayed my emotions. I barely knew him, but this sudden, visceral introduction to the reality of his life was somehow pulling me in instead of pushing me away. 

He smirked and made light of it, waggling his eyebrows as he breezed, “I know, just an inch to the left and I woulda lost my sexy voice.”

I narrowed my eyes at him and held up the suture kit I was about to open, “Maybe not a good idea to tease the woman about to stick a needle in your neck?”

He held up his hands in capitulation, his smile blinding me as I readied to close the wound. I could feel his eyes on me, watching me stick out my tongue in concentration as I worked. 

I addressed him without looking up, “So, I guess you’ll do anything to get out of a date with me, huh?”

He huffed a laugh and I put a steadying hand to the side of his jaw to still the motion.

“Be still, honey,” I murmured under my breath, tying off the last suture. Steve went docile at the touch, looking up at me with stars in his eyes as I bandaged the wound. 

“Do we have a date?” he asked, his voice low and unsure. I watched his hands close into nervous fists in his lap.

“I don’t know,” I said, snapping off my latex gloves and dropping them in the trash. “Do we?”

And so our first real date was that afternoon in the hospital cafeteria. Steve insisted on buying my lunch and carrying both our trays despite his fresh injury.

“Eh, it’s nothin’,” he scoffed, but I didn’t miss the wince of pain as he set everything down on the table. 

“Big, strong man, huh?” I teased. 

He arched his elegant, blond eyebrows in response and his lips tugged up into a smile that cut straight through me. He watched me with that intense stare of his while I fidgeted nervously under his scrutiny, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear and looking down at my plate. I’d never felt like this with any other guy. I was always the cool, aloof one. Never shy and lovestruck like I felt at that moment.

“So...is this something I’m gonna have to get used to? Missed dates and trips to the emergency room?” I asked only half joking. I could feel myself falling into something more serious than I’d intended with this man. Something about him just kept drawing me in.

He snorted, not picking up on my somber thoughts, “I promise you, this is my first trip to the ER.”

“What happened?” I rested my head on my hand, watching as he took an enormous bite out of his turkey sandwich and smiling despite myself.

He took a minute to chew, opening up a packet of mustard and drizzling it onto the sandwich as he considered his words, “Streets are more and more dangerous, Connie. I was out with my partner. Followin’ up on a tip. Broad daylight. Son of a bitch pulled out a semi-automatic and almost blew my head off.”

I shook my head in horror, “Did he get away?”

“Nah, my partner managed to grab him,” he answered, then added laughingly, “Musta been a burst of adrenaline when he saw me get shot ‘cause Kevin can’t run for shit.”

We turned to other topics: family, how long we’d each been in Miami, my job as a nurse. My lunch break flew by and before I knew it I was walking him out to the sidewalk. 

“So...I know getting shot and turning up as your patient doesn’t exactly count as wooing you but…,” he broke off with a laugh, ducking his head and looking up at me with those blue eyes I loved already, “You think you’ll let me see you again?”

I crossed my arms over my chest and gave him a stern appraisal, letting my eyes flick up and down his long, long body before shrugging and faking a casual tone, “Sure, you can see me again.”

He grinned, stepping closer and brushing his fingers over my crossed forearms.

“Yeah?” he smirked, holding my gaze until I couldn’t help but return his contagious smile.

“Yeah! If you can remember our dates, that is.”

He put a wounded hand over his heart.

“Ouch! Baby, that hurts! I promise you--,” he broke off, bringing his hand up to cup my face and stroking his thumb along my cheek. I sucked in a breath at his touch. “I promise you, baby, I’ll treat you right.”

He spread his fingers, letting them thread through the flyaways escaping my ponytail, leaning down until our foreheads almost touched. 

“Would you get in trouble with your boss if I kissed you now?” he drawled, his eyes already fixated on my lips. 

I let my own eyes wander to his mouth. His pouty, pink lips were a little chapped and I watched as he darted out his tongue to wet them. He leaned in even closer until I could feel his breath mingle with mine. 

“I don’t think I care,” I answered and then I closed the gap between us and caught him in our first kiss. 

He brought up his other hand to cradle my head, moving his lips over mine and flicking out his tongue. I drew myself up on my tip toes, clutching his shoulders and melting against him. I could feel myself surrendering. To the kiss and to this man. Whatever I might have thought when he first swaggered up to me in that bar...I knew now that my life was changing. I felt myself moving inexorably closer to a future that included Steve. 

I smiled against his lips before forcing myself to pull away. 

“You better call me, Steve Murphy,” I called as I walked away, leaving him standing on the sidewalk with a freshly stitched wound, kiss-swollen lips, and the conviction that he had just had his first kiss with the woman he was going to marry.

Boyd Tags:

@nothing-but-a-comedy @ionlyjoinedforboydholbrook @theplumsoldier @meri47 @lackofhonor

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Mission Accepted {Headcanon}***

Warning: Cursing, SMUTT, NSFW, Tease, Many Words

Words: 2.3k

Note: Thank you all for reading, as always, I appreciate each of you and your feedback. I hope you enjoy it!!!

~~~~~~~~

You and Jason have been together for some time now. It started as an innocent flirtation whenever you saw each other at the same coffee shop for a month straight. Both of you barely spoke verbally, all your talking was done through eyes and smiles. It wasn’t until you bumped into each other at a bookstore several weeks later did he approach you. That day you spent hours in the bookstore just perusing the shelves and talking about what books you liked. 

You fell for his beautiful mind before you fell for his looks. Don’t get it wrong, Jason was Fine with a capital F. You’d have to be blind not to see it and dead for it not to affect you. His eyes were something else, intense and always so complex. He always carried a mysterious air around him, and it drew you in like nectar for a bee. You wanted to keep your relationship under the radar because you found the whole fame thing weird. Jason, on the other hand, wanted to protect what you had, but he wanted to take you to every event and overseas location and truth be told you wanted to be with him all the time too.

Your romance started slow, because of his career but once the two of you established your feelings for one another and confessed them things progressed quickly and effortlessly. It was as if the two of you were made for each other. You understood him and he understood you, there was no need for words and long drawn out explanations. It was something you’d never experienced with anyone else before.

From the start it was clear Jason was an alpha and he came across as a leader who was always in control, part of it was his aura and the other was his 6’ 4 frame. He was massive and the day you found out he was triply blessed in other areas you were pleased but intimidated.

You’d told him you wanted to go slow and he respectfully agreed and never tried to push you to do anything you weren’t ready for. That didn’t mean that everything was off the table. Almost every chance you got the two of you were making out, dry humping, and using your hands on each other to bring the other to the heights of pleasure.

A few times Jason attempted to go down on you, you always stopped him and quickly turned the tables on him. Seeing how big he was always made you want him even more and you showed him just how much you did. He never questioned why you stopped him every time, he just assumed it was something you weren’t comfortable with.

It took nearly two months after uttering those magical three words to each other for you to swallow any fear you held about not being able to take him or measure up to his other exes. The night you were together at your house he’d just gotten back in town from a three-week press tour. You were so happy to see him, and he was equally happy to have you in his arms. 

The two of you were making out and caressing each other things were quickly heating up. You rolled on Jason and straddled his hips. You could feel his hardness pressed onto your already wet folds. The feel of his hardness had you rocking back and forth across his need. Every swipe your hips made he groaned. 

Jason brought his hands to dig his hands into your hair at the nape of your neck and crushed his lips to yours. You moaned against him and ground your hips more forcefully. Jason trailed his hand down your back to cup your ass. As he did, he tore his lips from yours and clamped them on your neck and sucked the skin there. 

“Fuck!”

Jason smiled and bit your neck. You hissed and began lifting off his shirt. Jason sat up and lifted his arms allowing you to pull it off. His hair dropped around his face and he looked so damn good. 

“You’re biting your lip again.”

You smiled. “You look so good.” His smile was wide, and it lit up his eyes. You loved his smile. He moved his hands to the buttons of your shirt then looked into your eyes again asking for permission. You nodded your head giving it confidently.

Jason undid your shirt. When it sagged open revealing your bra it was his turn to bite his bottom lip. 

“God, you drive me crazy.” He connected his lips at your collar and peppered kisses along your clavicle down the center of your chest to each swell of your breasts. When his lips connected to your hardened nipple you hugged his head to you. He moaned as he sucked through the material of your bra. 

Quickly you unhooked it needing to feel his mouth against you. When your bra straps slid down your arms the cups remained where they were. Jason’s eyes met yours and the look in them made your sex quiver. He looked back to your breasts and slowly pulled the material from them to reveal your flesh to his eyes. At the sight of your bare breasts, Jason sucked in a powerful breath before he groaned. 

“You’re perfect.” Jason cupped your breasts and dropped his mouth to one pert nipple and ravished it. There was no way you could keep your moans down, they tumbled freely from you and one after the other got louder and louder. 

Jason then quickly flipped you over and you kept your legs tightly wrapped around him. He pressed forward and the hard ridge of his manhood made you arch backward feeding your breasts to him.

 Several minutes passed with him raising goosebumps across your skin and making your panties wetter than ever. You knew that tonight was the night and you knew if he touched you, you’d come. Jason’s mouth left your nipple and trailed down the center of your body to your stomach and then your pelvis. He looked up to you as his fingers hooked at the waistband of your leggings.

Choosing the nonverbal path, you hooked your fingers in the waist beside his and inched them lower. Jason looked shocked but the passion couldn’t be missed. His eyes dropped to your waist as he watched your actions. He angled to the side giving you enough room to disrobe yourself. Once you kicked the garment free it flicked somewhere across the dimly lit room. 

Jason’s eyes roamed over your body before his eyes landed at your pelvis. Under the heat of his gaze, your skin prickled and burned. You wanted his hands all over you. You spread your legs wider giving him a better view of the treasure he was about to discover. In a heartbeat, Jason hooked his fingers around your thong and slowly pulled it from your hips and your body. When he got eye level with your sex you began closing your legs.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m gonna taste a slice of heaven.” 

As he lowered his head your hand connected with it and gently pushed him away. “What’s wrong? Do you want to stop?”

“No, nothing like that. Just, you don’t have to.”

“I want to—I need to taste you.”

“Jason, it’s okay.” 

Your continued protest had him sitting up and going beside you. “What’s wrong.”

You didn’t want to admit this, but you had no choice. If you didn’t tell him now it would seem strange. “It’s nothing, not a big deal it’s just I’ve never—had that done.”

The way he looked at you made you feel like an alien. “I mean, no-one’s ever—we’ve never gotten--.”

“Wait, wait. Are you saying no one has ever gone down on you?”

You shook your head and tried not to feel like a completely inexperienced loser. It wasn’t something that had come up. Your previous boyfriends hadn’t attempted to, and you never pressed the issue. For years you’d just gotten used to it and went on with life. When you explained this to him, he looked confused then slightly angry.

“My god, Y/N.”

“Don’t make it weird. Please.”

“No, baby girl--.”

Jason moved between your legs again, but he pulled you to him spreading your legs on either side of him.

“The only thing that is weird is that any man would ever think to not take it there. It literally baffles me. Y/N. I want you, all of you, every single part of you. I want to kiss you everywhere, I want you on my tongue, I want to make you squirm, arch and scream my name because my mouth is driving you crazy.”

His words had an effect and just like that you wanted it too.

“If it’s not what you want—genuinely want, then fine I’ll understand, and I’ll never bring it up again.”

With your bottom lip sucked in your mouth you nodded and laid back. Jason watched you, giving you more time to change your mind. He was devising a plan to show you all the pleasure he could give you without his dick. 

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

Once you uttered the words Jason kissed your pelvis and then kissed up along your inner thigh before he sucked your flesh into his mouth. You moaned and watched his every move. He was glad for it, he wanted you to watch him give you the best orgasm you’d ever had.

He lowered himself coming eye to eye with your wet folds, he fought the urge to rush ahead, he wanted to make this last. Locking eyes with yours he placed a small kiss right on your clit. You sucked in a breath then latched your bottom lip into your mouth. He placed kiss after kiss, each kiss was nosier than the one before. On the last kiss, he sucked your bud into his mouth and pulled his mouth back allowing it to slip out. You exclaimed loudly as you grabbed the sheets next to you.

“You taste incredible baby girl.” Jason stuck his tongue out and ran it along your slit from opening to clit. Once the tip of his tongue connected with your clit, he flicked it once then twice and a third. Again, you gasped. He was already enjoying your responses. 

Slowly he repeated the same action. Then he used the tip of his tongue to trail circles around your now swollen bud. Your moan turned deep, and he felt your thighs begin to close. Bringing his hands to them he pressed them apart and pinned them to the bed. He wanted unrestricted access. Every second he tasted you his own desire inched higher and higher. Soon he knew his need would be gargantuan. 

He could feel your body gently quivering but it wasn’t enough for him. Using his fingers, he parted your folds to expose the sensitive part of your sex and quickly flicked his tongue across you. You gasped and lifted up onto your elbows and watched him intently. One of your hands touched the top of his head and remained there. Your moans turned to audible pants and screeches until he felt resistance with your thighs as they tried to press together. 

“Fuck Jasss—on! Aaah!” The way your body shook gave him great pleasure. He pulled his lips from you and blew onto your wetness allowing your body to cool just a bit.

“Oh my god.”

“You have no idea how good you taste.” For emphasis, he licked your slit again. You bucked and tried to pull away.

“Ah, wait.”

“No, not waiting.” Jason licked you again and concentrated his tongue at your opening where he collected your essence and moaned as he lapped every drop up. The feeling was a subtle pleasure, one that felt like a gentle massage, a relaxing soft touch that slowly fanned the flames of a fire in you that had since been spent but was also reigniting that very same fire. You touched his cheek and watched him marveling at how good he was with his tongue. 

Jason’s actions changed from gentle tongue swipes to eager flicks and sucks. Your body quickly went into a frenzy before you felt him suck your clit into his mouth and suck. In a matter of seconds, you felt your orgasm storm through you. Jason didn’t stop he continued until another orgasm was barreling over the previous one. 

When you were sure you couldn’t take anymore you felt his tongue slip inside of you then retreat before doing it again. His tongue sped as he moaned. His thumb swiped your opening before it met your clit again and circled it. Your back arched off the bed and your hands held his head in place. You’d lost control of your body and the part of your brain that controlled speech. Curse after curse spilled from you through your moans and pants. 

“Fuck!” You felt wetness and head Jason’s slurps and you involuntarily moved your sex against his mouth. He didn’t pull away, instead, he took everything you gave, and you received everything he gifted. 

When your body dropped to the bed you were a quivering, panting mess. Jason kissed a trail from the top of your mound across your belly up to one of your breasts until he met your lips. What was to be a sweet kiss turned into a passionate exchange that allowed you to taste yourself. Though your body was completely spent you felt the stirrings of your arousal.

“I only ever want to taste you again. You respond so well to me babygirl.”

You reached down to grip his dick, but he stopped your hand.

“Tonight was for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“My night will come.”

The fire in his eyes could not be missed and anticipation and desire rolled in one and settled in the pit of your stomach. Jason kissed you again and brought you to his chest and that is where you remained as you fell into the best sleep you’d ever had.

[that-one-guy-that-loves-whump]

Missing and Presumed Dead

Alrighty! I gave myself another prompt and made this whumpy fic for you all! Just a reminder that requests are open and I’m trying to post fics more regularly! You can request some prompts here! Anyway, without further ado, I hope you enjoy!

“Retreat! Retreat!” The frantic voice of General Charles Lee was barely audible over the sounds of gunfire, but Hamilton had the sense to run anyway. He swiftly lifted himself onto his horse, digging his heels into its side as it galloped away from where the British were streaming in steadily, attacking his men. He noticed the General on his horse as well, a while away from him. He was being pursued by an overwhelming number of redcoats, screaming like a maniac. Hamilton grunted as his horse stumbled a bit, looking over his shoulder at a few of his men who had the sense to follow him. They fanned out until they were beside him, yelling things into the wind that he couldn’t hear. He also saw a terrifying amount of British soldiers chasing his own steed and he whipped the reins, hoping to make his horse run a little faster.

Charles took a sharp turn, his horse disappearing from Alex’s view. He watched one of his men slip off his horse lifelessly and he held back a cry. The soldiers that had been chasing Lee seemed to lose sight of him as well, instead opting to chase after Alexander as his men darted away from him to follow Charles. He gulped and lowered himself so he was clutching his stallion tighter, ponytail whipping in the wind as bullets whisked by his head, far too close for comfort.

They had been on a mission in Philadelphia, destroying the British supplies before they could reach them. They were about to burn the mill at the village of Valley Forde when they heard warning shots. Before they knew it, they were being chased by British troops, horribly outnumbered. Now, Charles and a few of his men had already reached safety, leaving all the redcoats to chase Hamilton. He saw a river up ahead, slightly obscured by a few trees, and he raced towards it, wincing as a bullet scraped his leg. He grit his teeth as he drew closer to the water, not even thinking about what he would do when he actually got there. All he knew was that he needed to get away from the redcoats, who were getting worryingly close now.

Suddenly, his horse fell, having been shot from under him. He screamed and tumbled to the ground, rolling a little before scrambling to his feet and taking off, running towards the river as fast as he could. He could hear the thundering of the British behind him getting closer….closer…

He yelled out, falling to the ground as a bright, blinding pain flashed in his calf, quickly followed by a similar one to his shoulder. He was shot. He had to run before he bled out. He forced himself to his feet, ignoring the searing pain in his leg and shoulder as he half ran, half limped to the edge of the river, stumbling every now and then. He cast a glance behind him; The British were mere yards away. He noticed a few of his men a ways away as well, watching in terror, hidden from the redcoats. He gasped and looked towards the water, fear and pain trying to stop him as he sprinted. He ran to the very edge, ignoring the current that threatened him below. He threw himself forward, splashing in the river, his shoulder hitting a sharp stone. He instinctively screamed out in agony, water filling his mouth, nose, eyes, making everything burn and god he just wanted it to stop. As he inhaled what seemed like the whole river, being thrown around by the current in the process, he lost sight of the British, his men, the whole world. Everything. His vision got darker and darker until there was nothing but pain. He closed his eyes and let it overtake him.

Washington had been in his study when he heard it. He was sorting through his papers, casting sidelong glances at Hamilton’s desk. He had sent the boy on a mission to Philidelphia, along with Lee and a few footsoldiers. He would be lying if he said that he didn’t miss the boy while he was away.

The truth is, he hadn’t even wanted the boy to go. He knew it was dangerous, but Alexander had argued until he eventually relented, sighing. He remembered giving the boy a small pat on the shoulder and a hair ruffle as a goodbye, the two not yet on hugging terms despite George’s feelings for his aide.

Now, he flinched at the sound of commotion coming from the center of the camp, getting up with an irritated sigh. If Laurens has gotten himself into a fight again I swear to God…

When he exited his tent, what he saw instead made him freeze. Charles Lee and some of the footsoldiers he had sent on the mission were standing in the center of the camp, surrounded by soldiers questioning them about what happened. Lee looked terrified, his gaze traveling all over the place as he looked at all the soldiers, not answering a single one.

“Enough!” His voice was commanding and booming, making everyone stop mid-question and stare at him with wide eyes. Washington rushed over, shoving the soldiers away from Lee as he searched the crowd frantically. His heart leaped in terror when he didn’t see a familiar face among them. He grabbed Charles by the shoulders, his grip gentle but stern as he looked into the eyes of his panicking General.

“Lee, where is Hamilton?” He hated the way his voice broke, his heart shattering at the sudden solemn look his General took on.

“S-sir I’m sorry…” Charles spoke, his voice timid and apologetic. “The British chased us--chased him--t-they chased him to the river and shot his horse. He was forced to jump a-and….we--I--think he...he drowned..” Lee’s breath caught and Washington felt tears welling up in his eyes. No. No no no no no no no no this can’t be happening. Not him. Not Alexander.

“N-no” The word fell from his lips in a whisper, a quiet plea too low for anyone else to hear. He shook his head, trying to make himself look tougher than he felt. “I see. Go to the infirmary immediately, you and your men require medical attention. I am deeply sorry for him and all the other soldiers that were lost in this battle. Men, resume your daily activities. I will be in my study if I am needed”

He dismissed the gathered soldiers with a wave of his hand, his heart heavy. He turned, keeping his head high until he was safely in the confines of his study. He shut the door behind him with a soft click before going over to his cabinet and gingerly selecting a bottle of ale. He poured himself a glass and sat down at his desk, covering his face with his hands in despair as he let himself brake.

Tears were streaming from his eyes in seconds, his heart cracking in his chest when he looked up and saw Alexander’s unoccupied desk. He closed his eyes and let the memories of his boy wash over him as he took a few sips of his ale.

“Alexander, you look as though you’ll fall asleep any moment” George had laughed, getting up from his desk to stand beside Alex as the boy hunched over his work, the bags under his eyes a dark purple. He hummed as an answer, focused on writing whatever it was that laid between his hand and the wood. Washington had sighed as his boy’s blinks became longer and longer. 

He gently removed the poor quill from Hamilton’s grip, placing it in his inkwell. Alexander didn’t even seem to notice as George then moved the paper out from under him. The general smiled softly as Alex let his head fall onto his arms, leaning over on the desk. There was no way that was comfortable. He looked at his already fast asleep son and his smile grew. There was no way he was waking him now. He grabbed a soft sheet from one of his cabinets and draped it over the boy to keep him warm. Washington moved a strand of hair out of his son’s face, a warm feeling spreading in his chest as he looked at his boy. He pressed a soft kiss to Hamilton’s forehead before he exited for the night, a smile still present on his lips.

Now, George was really sobbing. His shoulders shook with each cry, his heart battered in his chest. He downed the ale and poured more, wanting nothing more than to be lost for a few hours; to not have to think about the fact that he would never see his son again. Oh, God…

He didn’t know how long it had been as he downed more ale than he probably should have. His sobs had died down to whimpers long ago, leaving a broken shell of a once proud general. A quiet knock on his door made him flinch. George got up slowly, praying that his face wasn’t all red, trying not to look at Alexander’s desk, and opened the door, surprised at who he was met with.

“Your Excellency?”

“What do you need?”

“I know that you and le petit lion were close. I thought that I should ask you. We are raising glasses in the lost soldiers’ honor. Would you care to join us?” Lafayette’s face was one of pity and loss. He was his friend. George realized with a pang. The sky outside was black, the moonlight dappling onto the two men.

“Yes, of course. I’ll be there in a moment” Lafayette nodded and turned, heading back towards his tent. Laf, Hercules, Aaron, John, and Alex used to share a tent. Used to.

George braced himself and cast one last look at Alexander’s desk before he followed behind his soldier. He ignored the looks he got from some of his soldiers that weren’t raising glasses. He ignored the whispers. He couldn’t ignore the weight on his heart. He entered the tent, the candlelight making him pause for a moment as his eyes adjusted. Hercules, Lafayette, John, Aaron, and many other men were gathered around a table, some standing, some sitting. Burr smiled at him in pity and gestured to an empty chair beside him. Washington sat beside him, nodding thanks.

“They will not be forgotten!” A man had been talking, recalling memories of his friend. Everyone cheered and John stood, waiting until everyone had calmed down before raising his glass.

“Hamilton was a very close friend of mine. I remember one night when we were all drunk off our asses-”

“I was not!” Burr chimed in, making John roll his eyes.

“-and we tried to get him to sing with us. I ended up accidentally slapping him and he was the one who apologized. He would spend countless nights awake, hunched over his desk writing determinedly to his wife, Eliza. In fact, I’m sure I’ve seen him writing to all three Schuyler sisters!” Everyone laughed but it was hollow, George could tell. Laurens was trying not to cry, his voice wavering with each sentence.

“What I’m trying to say is...He didn’t deserve this. None of these men did. I hope they find happiness in their next adventure” Laurens finished, tears slipping down his face. Hercules got to his feet as John sat, gratefully accepting a tissue from Lafayette.

“To freedom!” Hercules raised his glass, followed by everyone who held a drink. “Let their sacrifices not be in vain!”

George was about to say something when the sound of heavy footsteps stumbling into the tent caught everyone’s attention, making them turn. Washington gasped, heart leaping to his throat. Because there, alive and breathing, was Alexander. He was sopping wet, his ponytail flat against the back of his neck. The general leaped out of his chair, running to the boy. Hamilton let a tearful smile cross his face as his legs buckled beneath him. George caught him before he hit the ground, cradling the boy to his chest. He heard the sound of commotion behind him but he didn’t care. He only cared about his violently shivering aide. He looked the boy over, sick at the sight of so much blood. The boy’s lips and fingertips were blue and his eyes were glazed as he sobbed weakly into Washington’s chest, realizing that he was finally safe.

He held the boy close to his chest, barely registering the tears that trailed down his own face as he just held his son. He had truly thought he lost him. His heart twisted painfully in his chest as his boy broke down in his arms, the blood flowing from his wounds not slowing in the slightest. Washington was vaguely aware of people crowding around him, trying to take Hamilton from him. He clutched the boy tighter, not yet willing to let him go again.

“Sir! Please, you have to let go of him so that the medic can help!” That was Burr. Strange. He was not usually one to show signs of panic. George looked up, tears making his vision foggy. He saw the kind and concerned eyes of Aaron and he shifted a little so that he was facing the other man. “I know you must be overwhelmed right now but he will die if you don’t let the doctor help him. Please, it’s alright, General”

Washington managed a small nod, letting Burr gently lift Alex from his arms as the medic ushered him towards the infirmary. George followed close behind, watching Alexander whimper and flinch at every jostle to his shoulder, gasping as his calf brushed against someone. Then, suddenly, he stopped. The boy went lax in Burr’s grip, eyes rolling back in his head, and Washington almost missed the look of absolute terror in Aaron’s eyes.

“NO! NO! SAVE HIM! HELP HIM! DON’T YOU DARE LET HIM DIE!” George screamed through tears, reaching towards the medic and the panicking soldier, barely being held back by Lafayette and Hercules. He watched helplessly as they carried his son to the infirmary. Washington sunk to his knees as Lafayette sat beside him, laying a hand on his shoulder and murmuring words of comfort. Soon enough, John and Herc were sitting with him as well, all four with tears in their eyes. Washington buried his head in his hands as he broke down, his sobs heard throughout the camp. He didn’t know how long he sat there, his soldier’s trying to comfort him as he had a mental breakdown.

He hadn’t even realized that the medic had walked over, making Washington flinch as he looked up at the man. He felt a lump form in his throat as he awaited the news of whether his son was still alive or not. The medic looked at him for a moment as if considering something before smiling gently.

“Lieutenant Hamilton will live, General”

[lethe-distillery-blog]

Au Fait

“Come on, it’s time to wake up.” It took an impossible amount of effort but I managed to crawl my way out of the darkness and turn myself enough to get the sun out of my eyes and finally able to focus on my surroundings. Sensations filtered in, the intimate smell of shampoo, the memory of a perfume floating in the air as though the recipient had yet to apply some today but it was such a standard procedure that it was a permanent feature, and food. I smelled fruit, it was a fresh sweetness, eggs, and a few other things that I couldn’t quite place yet. Softness came next. The sheets. Silken things that rested comfortably against my skin, light and cool. I looked about the room slowly It took a long moment of staring blankly at the light turquoise edged in white for memory to start melting away the thick fog of slumber. Home, technically. I was in my master bedroom. Since I was blind in my dreams sight was often the last sensation for me to register and become aware of. “Come on sleepy head.” The voice was softness incarnate. If I could describe it as a song it would be a ballad, inherently musical, touching, and the bringer of comfort. There was a smile in that voice. There was a new sensation. Again, it was softness, but this was a different level of softness, a different level of comfort. This was skin, light and gentle on my cheek, and it moved, a delicate stroking motion that I couldn’t help but move into.

 Seconds ticked by with the slowness of hours as things started coming back, sensations searing themselves into my psyche in preparation for another day. My body came under the command of my own will with an agonizing slowness. Breathing started fading from conscious effort to the methodical background familiarity. I forced myself to swallow, testing minute motor functions in a standard test that brought me through to the land of consciousness. Still, it wouldn’t likely be fully up and functioning for another while, time, that was a thought. Time. Years, months, days, hours, minutes, seconds. Time. That particular word slid into its definition a bit easier today. “Are you in there?” I turned to look at the voice, the sound.

 Her.

 It was the only word that seemed necessary. It was a title of the universe that was bequeathed to the last of the divine. Beautiful was another word. So many words could describe her and all would be true and yet not the whole truth. Kind. Giving. Loving. Sweet. All things that one could use in description of her character and yet the only thing that could hope to ever encompass it all was a simple word, often unnoticed by poets or by lovers and yet, selfishly, I had latched onto it. Her. “There you are.” Her voice came to me, sweet and warm. She had long ago accepted the lengthy process that came from me trying to redefine myself as something material. I was grateful. I was never quite myself if I had to rush through this process, and I knew from others that it was an unusual and time consuming ritual and yet, she had never condemned me for it, only seeking to understand what made me, me.

 She had listened with intrigue and fascination as I had done my best to explain that my thoughts were entirely made of letters latching onto one another. Forming words, definitions, explanations. These are what I thought in. Not pictures. And so, waking up was a process that for a person who pictures their thoughts would not be unlike waking up and immediately rolling over and having to read and encyclopedia to try and sort out the jumbled mess of pictures inside their head. It was an intriguing thing for us to discover, this difference between us. She helped me to my feet, my entire body screaming in sensation, the only way I could describe it is pain really but yet it wasn’t. It was, awareness, that my muscles moved, that my joints moved in a particular pattern and how my weight effected these things. It was all new, vivid, intense and so it felt like my brain practically exploded each morning. She helped me into the shower, her words providing a steady and soft comfort that though I did not deserve I selfishly gobbled up, telling me about the simplest of things. The cool tile, the warm water, what she had made for breakfast. All of it helped, associating words with the definition inside my head to what that particular item was.

 “Alright, you shower, I need to make sure breakfast doesn’t burn on you sleepy head.” Her voice was teasing and I reached out to touch her cheek. It felt like the petals of a flower, soft and silken, delicate. Her hand touched mine and her smile was tender. “I’ll be back soon.” She stepped away and I missed her immediately, bereft of comfort and sanity in this world that I had to learn yet again. The shower was hot, the tile cool. The dark room helped me from getting overwhelmed by colors and other input. One thing at a time. I focused on each sensation in turn. The temperature differences between water and tile, the way the water felt, how it rained down onto me but also slid over my skin, the way my hair matted down. Everything was carefully assessed and brought back into my version of reality.

 By the time I was shaved and showered, I felt about three quarters human. Which, counted for a lot. Having her here and willing to both understand and to do the small things she did without a second thought really did take a process that could take several hours and knock it down to less than a single hour. Food was still one of those hit and miss things, some days it worked, others it didn’t. I came up behind her at the counter, my own voice was slowly coming back. I had repeated small things in the shower. She would never believe if I told her that her name was foremost among them. I was so terrified of people leaving, especially her, that I wanted to make sure she was the one thing that made sense in my world. I could deal with everything else being wrong. Not her. Anything but her.

 Our lips met and I savored her like wine, my mind sorting through the sensations that provided like a connoisseur would pick up the delicate notes of a particularly pleasant vintage. Softness, like rain. Sweet like honey and yet savory, like salted caramel. There was the harsh taste of coffee, bitter notes, background. Things started slowly coming back, the very world coming into focus and sharpness as we stood there and I experienced all the world around me through her and with her. She truly was all I needed, with her I knew that I would always remember everything else. A cough sounded and though I ignored it she pulled away with a smile teasing those wonderful lips of hers and, without much choice it seemed, I turned to face the sound.

 My son.

 He sat at the table holding a mug of coffee, a smirk on his features as he shook his head though his eyes flashed his amusement. He had come home the other night from college, funny how small details slipped the mind. “Excuse me,” his voice was sarcastic and I could hear his amusement, “that is my mother you are molesting you know.” Yeah. It is your mother, and I would think I am allowed to in my own home. I behaved enough when you were at home young whippersnapper so be grateful you interrupted when you did. The words didn’t come out of course, but I did manage a smile; smiling, up until her that had been a strange and alien thing and yet because of her and through her, it had become regular and yet could never be commonplace. She drew my focus back to her. “Would you like coffee?” I shook my head, the motion causing the slightest tinges of vertigo, I didn’t think I needed it today. Her smile was tender and she kissed me, much to the chagrin and sardonic gagging of our audience. “Go sit, I’ll bring you something to drink. Hot?” I nodded, the movement making me feel muscles and tendons flex and bulge.

 I sat down, and let sensation wash over me. The smell of food, the sound of it cooking, their talking back and forth. Through time it had just been easier to explain that I was grumpy in the morning, it was easier than trying to explain what was actually going on. So I simply let the conversation happen around me, though I did pay attention to details as I nursed a proffered peppermint tea. School had been going well, though there was now a girl he was interested in. I shared a look with her, her smile was knowing. Fate had thrown us together, quite unexpectedly in fact, and we both knew exactly what he was talking about with the frustrations of not being able to separate his emotions from his rational thoughts. Weird that. Must be a universal thing or something. She brought breakfast to the table and I ate slowly, working things through my mouth as they shared and talked.

 Part of me wished I could join in on these early morning talks, it just seemed like the proper family thing to do. But not once had she ever judged me for my inability to be normal. Instead, she would sometimes tell me about her day and what she had planned, or she would sit with me in silence and just experience the incredible reality that was our life. Besides, I could always talk later, after everything had settled a little more. Right now, it took a large portion of my thoughts to focus on chewing and no biting my tongue. Harder than you might think I’ll have you know. Still though, it was a pleasant meal to share, even if I believed that waking up before seven am had to be some form of torture. Her fingers stroked mine from where she rested her hand on mine. I savored those small contacts. For too long I had not had any contact at all, and now; now that I had her, I made sure to savor and cherish each one.

 “I think your dad would be more that willing to help you change the oil in your car later.” I nodded my answer to her statement, not that it was needed but still, it felt like I was at least taking part of it all then. She squeezed my hand lightly and smiled. Yeah, that was why waking up so early was worth it. Her.

 I was putting the final dishes into the dishwasher when I felt her arms wrap around me from behind, I closed my eyes and savored it. I pulled her a little closer, feeling her breasts press to my back and the warm puffs of every exhale. I was coming back to myself, feeling more and more comfortable within my own skin as the morning moved on. Even by the end of breakfast I had started to bring myself around more, it had been nice. She squeezed me lightly, her voice a delicate little whisper that slid over me. “I love you.”

 Mine by comparison sounded harsh, cracked and rough. But I needed to say them. A desire deep inside me would not be denied that, I knew that she knew but I needed to tell her, to make sure that she knew. “I love you too.” Her hands tightened for a long moment and we stood there. In our small home, our little dream playing out before us in ways that neither of us could have ever imagined and yet it seemed to be perfectly what we both wanted. “Always.”

 “Always.”

[wormy-business]

Music’s End

MAJOR spoilers for the end of the campaign.

Avi didn't want to believe that Johann is gone, but there's no changing any of that. He isn't going to let anyone forget who he was, even if he can hardly keep himself from taking his own life. - Avi struggles after Johann's death and gets some much needed support from his dear friends, one of whom understands the pain he's going through.

Read on A03

Word count: 1,636

I know it’s a little rushed and a it rough around the edges but I had a time writing this lol. It took me longer than usual cause I just kept crying.

@ griffin mcelroy turn on your location I wanna talk about what happened to Johann, I just wanna talk

A smile drew itself across Avi’s face, white light blinding him for a moment as it washed over the whole of the world. His arm was up over his eyes, wind whipping through his hair as divinity spread across the world. And then, roars of cheering. He rubbed his eyes and looked out over the edge of the moonbase, at the light that returned to the world and the ash being whipped up in the wind like sand. It was done, it was over and they had won.

The first thing he did was hug Magnus. “We did it, you did it! Johann was right! Oh, oh man I have to go kiss him!” He saw the look on Magnus’s face drop.

“You, oh, oh no, Avi. . .”

In the year he had known Magnus, he had never seen him look like this, and that struck fear into his entire being and he stepped back. “What? Where’s Johann?” Magnus turned his eyes away. “Magnus!” He demanded, pulling on his shirt. “Where’s Johann?!”

The ride to the chamber was silent. Avi was stubborn in his denial, and despite telling Magnus to stay he came anyways. As the doors dinged open, he felt a pit drop in his stomach, and a lump form in his throat. His heart felt heavy as water splashed on his boots as he made his way into the chamber. Broken glass, wet ash, and then there, laying in front of his desk face down in the pool of water, was Johann. He sprinted over and dropped to his knees, water and a small amount of blood soaking into his pants as he turned Johann’s body back onto his back. His hands balled up into fists as tears streaked down his face. He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, and he screamed. The pained, and heartbroken sound echoed throughout Fisher’s chamber, and it collapsed into a sob as Avi held Johann’s chilled body. Fingers tangled in his wet hair, holding his head close to his heart as another pained scream left his body. He was cursing any god that listened, and every being that took Johann from this world. His screams were soon replaced by the sounds of two people mourning, one more deeply than the other.

It would take months for Avi to recover. He hadn’t even shown up at Johann’s funeral, but every day after that he could be seen standing or sitting by his grave. His fingertips lingered on the headstone, caressing his name engraved into stone. His eyes traveled across the beautifully inscribed epitaph, “Never to be forgotten”. And he was going to make damn sure of that. He worked tirelessly to make sure the world knew exactly who Johann was. He wrote about him very often.

Johann was kind. He had the kind of smile that made your day better, and the kind of frown that made you want to hold him tighter. He forgot to eat most days because he would get caught up in his work, and I frequently had to bring him food. He was always tired because he would stay up so late, and there were many nights I would carry him back to his dorm room. Johann had the most brilliantly green eyes I’ve ever seen, and I would get lost in them each time I looked at him. Johann loved sitting on a hill under a tree watching the clouds and the stars roll by. Johann prefered sleeping in, and was never a morning person unless “morning” was somewhere around 12 pm. He loved coffee with a little milk and around a teaspoon of sugar, I could never make it right. Johann was a half elf, but he could still move his ears like most elves can. Anytime someone complimented his works his ears would turn up, as they were usually drooping a bit. He would also get a sparkle in his eyes, and it would stay there for hours after the fact. But he was always so hard on himself, he was always striving to do better without realising he was already the best anyone ever could be. Johann’s greatest fear was being forgotten, and I swear I will never let his name be lost in history. His name is Johann.

Avi set his quill back into the ink well, and walked over to his bed. He was holding Johann’s hat tightly between his hands, and close to his chest. He could only ever write so much at once before becoming overwhelmed by his own emotions. He took another piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it on his nightstand. He had been holding onto it for quite some time, waiting until the moment felt right. Was it time this time? It would be a little awkward perhaps, but the emptiness in his heart was starting to spread. It pained him, thinking he could have, he should have, done something. He should have walked with Johann that day, he should have been with him, he should have been there to save him.

Leaving the hat behind on the bed, Avi stood slowly, hands gripping a strand of rope tightly in his hands. He stood in the center of his room for a few long minutes as tears rolled off his cheeks and onto the floor. He heard banging on his door, and then it opened. He fell onto his knees as Magnus dropped to his side and tore the rope out of his hands, chucking it across the room.

“Avi!” He started as the man broke down in awful pained sobs. “Avi, look at me.” Magnus said as he turned Avi’s face up. “You’re stronger than that. Johann wouldn’t want-”

“How do you know what Johann would want?!” He snapped, cutting him off and pushing himself away from the larger human as two familiar figures loomed in his doorway. “None of you knew Johann like I did! None of you know what Johann would have wanted!!”

Merle was the first of the two to notice the rope that sit by their feet, and he picked it up in his hands. Flowers began sprouting from it where he had touched it with his soulwood arm, and he cast it aside just as Magnus had seconds earlier. Taako strode over, a shimmering purple cape fluttered behind him an he kneeled down on the floor with Magnus.

“Well then whatever with what Johann would have wanted you to do!” He crossed his arms, and Avi looked up at him. “We want you to stay here. We want you to be strong, and to live the best life you can.”

Magnus turned his eyes from Taako back to Avi. “He’s right. Look, I understand what you’re going through and I-”

“How can you understand? How do you know?” Avi curled in on himself, his body shaking.

“I lost my wife.” Avi looked up when he heard this, seeing Taako and Merle both looking away from Magnus as he spoke. “She was murdered, and I can’t remember who took her from me and that’s awful. Every day since she’s passed I’ve wanted to hunt down whoever took her from me and kill them with my bare hands. And every day since she’s passed, I’ve had the thought that I should take myself away, to be with her in the astral plane. But I look deeper inside and I know Julia would never want me to harm myself, because if I took myself away I’d be taking myself away from even more people that care about me. People like Merle and Taako, and Carey, and Killian, and Lucretia, and Davenport, and Lup, and Barry, and Angus, and, well, and everyone.” Avi pulled himself back onto his bed, taking Johann’s hat once more in his hands, not watching as Magnus and Taako both rose to their feet. “I made you something, that I hope can remind you of that.” A small picture frame was placed on Avi’s lap, and he took it gingerly in his hands. The frame was rosewood, and was beautifully crafted, the glass panel was perfectly clear with no damage or smudges to the surface, and the picture it held inside was one that shook him to his core. He had never seen this picture of Johann before. Johann was, smiling. He had his violin in one hand, and was making a peace sign with the other that had his Bureau of Balance bracer on it. He looked so happy. So happy and so, alive. He pressed the framed picture close to his chest, and Magnus retrieved something from his own pocket. “I made one a long time ago.” He turned the frame so Avi could see the picture of a woman with frizzy dark hair smiling back at the camera. “So that whenever I thought about taking myself out of this world, I would have her near me to remind me that there are things in this world worth living for. And to be honest, you have a lot going here.” Magnus was referencing the sheet of paper with ink still slightly wet. “It’s going to take a long time to recover, buddy. But let him remind you that there are better things coming. In fact, I have one for you now.” Magnus whistled, and a dog with a yellowish white coat walked into the room, and immediately put her head in Avi’s lap.

“Her name is Soprano.” Taako told him as he leaned on his new staff.

“She’s for you.” Merle chimed in.

“I knew you needed help, and sometimes people can’t always be there for you.”

Avi hugged the labrador, tightly, and she placed a paw on his back.

“Lucretia agreed that one dog is allowed on the moon from now on.”

[k-i-s-m-e-t]

Secret Santa: Part 2

TianShan Xmas Event: Snow (Day 5) Fandom: 19 days Rating: Mature Status: 2/2 Part 1 Warnings: None Pairing: TianShan Words: 2,903

Summary: The conclusion! For pelliwelli who came up with this amazing prompt idea and has graciously allowed me to write it. 

His legs moved on their own accord, running blind, unsure of his destination, and not fully comprehending why he was running to begin with. He shouldered his way through the crowded mall, tripping over shoppers, shoving bags out of the way. He landed at a staircase that lead up to a rooftop exit and doesn’t hesitate, gasped at the air after shoving through double doors. His mind was still wrapping around the reality that Li Jie was He Tian. Out of everyone in the world, why did it have to be He Tian?

He was overreacting, why did he always overreact? There was no need to leave like that, he could have addressed the matter with He Tian after. Stupid. He squatted, buried his head in his arms. Why did things involving He Tian always get him so worked up?

It took a minute but eventually he got to his feet, head foggy, throat thick and no he wasn’t going to cry. But he could already feel the prickling, burning sensation and scrubbed a hand across his face. Finally, he really took in his surroundings. He was on the rooftop of a parking garage; approaching the edge, there was a decent view of the city. Resting his elbows on the ledge, he watched the flow of activity beneath him. Shoppers hurried in and out of their cars, the busy street a Red Sea of headlights. Breath emitted in foggy puffs as he calmed his breathing. He shivered realizing how long he had been out there, coat forgotten in his haste to distance himself. He jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder, spun around arms up in defense, fists at the ready. He sighed in relief to see it was only He Tian, then choked mid-way because, shit, it’s He Tian.

“What do you want,” he ground out, thankful his voice carried some weight, didn’t sound as high and tight as his chest felt. He Tian looked, for lack of a better word, ridiculous. Still clad in the Santa Claus outfit, though he’d removed the stomach, the beard dangled awkwardly in his hand. “I already know you’re a fraud, so I really don’t see what there is to discuss.” He Tian shuffled, tipping his weight to one side, yanked a hand through his hair. “Look, I messed up, what I did was-“ “Evil and sinister but that’s your general character so I can’t say I’m surprised.” There’s a deep rumbling sound and Mo trailed off because He Tian was laughing; laughing at him. “Evil, Guan Shan, really? Dishonest, oh most certainly but sinister? Let’s cut out the middle school dramatics.” It was true but that didn’t mean Mo had to like it, let alone tolerate it. “Your ego literally knows no bounds,” he shot back. “Middle school dramatics? Says the guy running around in disguise. Says the liar.” “This was my job, I didn’t lie.” “No? Li Jie? You’re honestly full of it.” He shoved off the ledge, not back inside just as far away from the other as possible. This time the arm came, not around his neck but a hand around his bicep, tentative. “Mo wait please,” He Tian said, voice strained. The words spilled out in a rush like he was desperate, giving Mo more pause than any force could. He waited. “I’m sorry.” Mo turned, shook off his hand, “what?” “I said I’m sorry, it was stupid and manipulative, but so worth it. For once I could talk to you with ease, laugh, joke, not have to scale all these walls you put up before I can even get a word in.” “I don’t put up walls,” Mo said defensively. He Tian laughed out loud, it sounded hollow as it echoed around the vacant space. “You are so heavily guarded I’m surprised you’re not a recluse.” “But,” he said seeing the deepening of Mo’s frown, “this week you opened up. Hell you actually asked me for my help, my advice, even when you were in serious trouble back then with She Li you didn’t ask for help.” “We weren’t friends, why would I have?” “Guan Shan, what I’m trying to say is I enjoyed the past week and a half, I know you did too. Maybe because it wasn’t me, as far as you knew, but I wish that it could be in the future. I was wrong but I want to make things right. You liked Li Jie right? Can we start over and this time you can get to know me?” Mo opened his mouth, closed it. Had he enjoyed the past week? Yeah. It was not that he’d spent it with He Tian that pissed him off. It was that aspect of forcing his will, belittling his right to make his own decision. Yeah he had walls up but how else could he buffer opposition? As soon as he let someone in they tried to control him. He peered up at He Tian and it was almost laughable how conflicted he looked, one hand gripping his elbow, face etched with concern. “Okay.” “Okay..?” “What you did was shitty and underhand but we can start over” he held up a finger, when He Tian opens his mouth “but on my terms.” “On your terms,” He Tian repeated slowly, turning the words over on his tongue.

They’re quiet for a bit, Mo considering. “I just don’t get why you put so much effort into this, into us,” Mo said, tipping his head back to look at the sky. He Tian followed his gaze, sighed in content. “I don’t know, sometimes you’re just drawn to people.”

The volunteer job thankfully came to a close and Mo was relieved but also wistful, he’d miss taking pictures, the camera, screaming kids however not so much. He let He Tian walk him home that night, heartbeat speeding up every time their hands brushed together, the touches building up like static. “You figure out what you’re gonna get your mom yet?” He Tian said, breaking the silence. “No, at this point I’ll probably get her a gift card or something.” Mo walked on, frustrated and disappointed, ready to chalk this one up as another failed year. It took him a moment to realize He Tian was not with him, and look back. He Tian was stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, head craned back looking at the stars. Brought his head up when Mo called his name, telling him to stop fucking around. His lips are stretched in a grin, mischievous look on his face. “I have an idea.”

Mid-morning sunlight slipping between the cracks in his blinds roused Mo from an otherwise dead sleep. With the pressure of the last few weeks of school before the new year, combined with the hours of his volunteer job, he would have been hard pressed to say this wasn’t one of the best sleeps he has had in ages. He craned his arms over his head, stretching, his joints popped in response, laying back content. Cautiously he peered over the edge of his bed but the futon he’d set up last night was empty. What the hell? He froze, turned slowly to his right, breath catching at the sight. He Tian lay curled in his sheets, far from where he’d left him the night before, arms wrapped over and around a pillow. From this perspective he looked innocent, face loose and tranquil, the sight not upsetting Mo as much as he thought. When he’d found out that He Tian usually spent Christmas alone something had pulled at him, mouth working while his brain tried to catch up. He’d insisted, despite his better judgement, that He Tian spend Christmas Eve and Day with him. He Tian had brightened and smoothly accepted the invitation. Mo’s mom was delighted that the top student in his class had nowhere better to be on Christmas Eve than her house. Thankfully she hadn’t pressed the matter of why He Tian wasn’t with his own family and had simply welcomed him with open arms when he’d showed up on her doorstep, overnight bag slung on his shoulder. Later that night there was a gift under the tree with He Tian’s name on it, making Mo take a moment to marvel at how blessed he was with the mom he had, she thought of everything.

He was still gazing at He Tian, lost in thought. It took him a moment to realize the other is up and returning his gaze. Mo jumped, almost ended up on the futon below, opened his mouth with the obvious question on his lips. His mother’s voice at the door cuts him off, two sets of eyes darting toward it in anticipation, but it remained closed.

Mo exhaled, glanced back at He Tian, unspoken request hanging between them before he drew back the covers and shuffled to the door to answer.

When he closed the door and turned back to his bed He Tian was on the futon.

Mo cleared his throat awkwardly. “Breakfast is ready, we should go eat, mom gets pissed if I wait too long and the food gets cold.”

They got dressed backs turned, facing away from each other, like they were in the locker room at school. Mo would be lying if he said he didn’t linger on the glimpses he caught of He Tian in his dresser mirror. Eyes traced the neat sculpting of his strong back, broad shoulders funneling to a neat waist tucked in boxers.

He Tian caught his eye in the mirror, paused half turned arms lifted, shirt around his neck.

Mo spun, excuses flying. “You’re not supposed to be looking!”

“Says who? And it’s not fair if only you get a show.” He rolled his hips seductively.

It took Mo a few tries to get his own shirt on.

He Tian laughed from the bed where he sat now fully dressed, watching unashamed. “I had no idea you blush with your whole body, it’s cute.” He dodged the book tossed in his direction, laughter increasing.

At breakfast Mo was mostly silent, pushing food around on the plate. Would his mom like the gift he’d picked? He Tian had insisted she would but he couldn’t help the clench of his stomach when she cleared their plates and ushered them into the living room.

“You first,” she said handing He Tian a slim box.

He Tian’s mouth dropped open a bit. “But I didn’t get you anything…”

Mo’s mom waved a hand in dismissal. “Open it, open it!”

He Tian hesitated a second, then he was tearing off the paper to reveal a white department store box. His hands shook slightly as he lifted the lid, parting the tissue paper. The sweater was a deep grey, soft texture, it matched He Tian’s eyes perfectly. He held it up to himself than pulled it on, turned to face them, and.. damn. An excited squeal left his mom’s lips.

“I knew it’d look great on you! Doesn’t he look nice honey?”

“Yeah,” Mo mumbled, eyes trained on He Tian’s shoes.

“Thank you!” He Tian said embracing her, cheeks tinged pink.

“Okay!” She clasped her hands moved to retrieve a few boxes and dumped them in Mo’s lap, “Your turn.”

When he’s unwrapped the last gift and set it aside finally, it’s her turn and Mo moved to pull out his gift out from behind the couch where he’d hidden it, knowing his moms tendency to peak.

“Sneaky,” she smiled as he handed her the wide, flat gift.

“To Mom, love Guan Shan,” she read eyes twinkling.

“Mom…”

“I’m going, I’m going.”

She gently eased open the wrapping paper, each piece folded carefully and placed to the side. Underneath was a large frame that she flips over to reveal a black background lit up with bright white dots, lines connecting some into different shapes of all sizes, all laid within a neat circle. At the top was written “Your Special Day”.

“I- what is this?” She looked up, confused smile on her face.

Mo gripped his elbow. “I-It’s a star map. You can get a snapshot of what the night sky looked like on any day you want. I-I picked the day you and dad got married. You always told me he was your soulmate and I wanted to get you something special… meaningful this year.”

It was quiet for a bit and when she looked up her eyes were wet.

Shit. Crap he’d messed up.

“If you don’t like it, I think I can return it,” he said hurriedly. “I didn’t mean to make you upset!”

“Honey,” she wiped at her eyes. “This is wonderful, thank you.”

“But you’re crying…”

“Not all tears are bad Guan Shan,” she laughed. “This is just unexpected …but so perfect.” She pulled him down next to her on the couch to hug him tight.

“I know we don’t talk about your father a lot and… I’m sorry.” She wiped at her eyes. “Given the situation it’s hard sometimes for me because of the memories it brings up, mostly good but sometimes bad.” She cleared her throat, “but I know you miss him as much as I do. I know he hasn’t been present but that’s not his choice and he loves both of us so much. Until the time when we can have him fully in our lives again I… I don’t want us to forget that fact.

She stroked a hand down the frame, smiled at him.

“I think this will help.”

Later that night Mo walked He Tian home for a change. It was peaceful, the streets quiet with everyone indoors with their family.

They lingered at his apartment door, neither really wanting to leave but unsure of how to ask the other to stay.

“Thanks,” He Tian said “for everything.”

“It was nothing,” Mo mumbled. “If anything I should be thanking you, my mom loved the gift.

“I told you, it’s the meaning behind the gift that matters most.”

“Yea,” Mo said, though he could feel another blush coming on. “Well, I’ll see you,” he waved, moving to leave, but He Tian caught his arm pulling him into a hug.

His body stiffened at first in surprise, then he relaxed, lifting an arm awkwardly to pat He Tian’s back. They stayed like that for a while, his nose buried in the other’s chest. He Tian smelled good, a mix of cologne (one that was a little woodsy, like cedar), and something else he couldn’t place but thought it must be He Tian himself -a scent that clung to his sheets at home.

A hand cupped his chin tipping his head up, scattering his thoughts. He could see lips inching closer to his. This time he let his eyes flutter shut, mouth parting voluntarily, but the lips fall on his cheek, just shy of the corner of his mouth.

He Tian was watching him, eyes dancing when they part, a final farewell before he stepped back into his apartment and Mo’s feet worked enough to get him to the elevator.

Inside he pressed the button for lobby, his hand drifting up, fingertips absently running along where He Tian’s lips had been a moment ago.

There was a commotion in the corridor as the doors were closing and suddenly He Tian was there prying them open, shoving a bag into Mo’s hand without comment, doors sliding shut before Mo can question him. He was so shocked it didn’t occur to him try and hold the elevator until it had begun it’s decent.

The bag he recognized as the same one from that day at the mall when he’d fallen.

The same one he’d thought had been for an admirer of He Tian’s.

In the lobby he sat on one the benches, curiosity driving him. He upturned the bag, catching a slim flat box about the size of the palm of his hand. Lifting the lid he held his breath, unsure what he would find as He Tian was unpredictable.

Nestled inside was a brown velvet drawstring bag. Opening it, he shook an orange bracelet onto his palm. It’s weighty. He fiddled with it trying to unfasten it’s clasps. It opened like a vice once undone and could be locked back into place. It was… extremely nice, it’s design simple, he had to admit He Tian had good taste.

He thought back to the last time he’d been given a gift, how it’d been forced onto him. Resentment had been his first feeling receiving that gift, though he still had the earrings tucked away in a drawer, he couldn’t just throw them away and his gut told him he’d want them later on. This time He Tian had looked nervous, so unlike the untempered confidence he’d had back in middle school.

Replacing the items he found a note wedged into the box’s corner. He pulled it out, slowly unfolding it.

I haven’t seen your bracelet in a while, I thought you’d lost it.

‘A while?’ Mo scoffed, more like years. How did He Tian even remember that? Did he pay that close attention?

He replaced the note, pocketed it as he rose from the bench, and headed home. He’d text He Tian later, tell him thanks.

As he walked he thought back over the past few weeks and recent developments.

The new year looked promising.

If you’re curious you can see the bracelet He Tian got Mo here :)

I’m playing catch up now lol 😅 I have one more fic for day 6.

I’m literally so glad you guys enjoyed part 1 & hope you liked part 2. Seriously, thank you for taking the time to read & comment! Love y’all!

x

[nebula-starlight]

Corrupt (Part 12 - Halves)

The darkness surrounded her, all too familiar to the corrupted soul as it echoed the lonely isolation she had known for centuries. She hated being alone but wondered if it was better off that way. The constant staticky hum she emitted would drive any sane individual crazy within hours... To her surprise and equal annoyance though was that her pitiful little host had yet to pick up on her return for several days now, only reacting whenever she failed to hide the pain that tore through her own head - a sign of the stirring entity she’d shoved aside not long after coming into being. The attack, for lack of a better term, had split her soul in half and caused the stronger negative emotions to become a separate consciousness that quickly overwhelmed whatever was left of the original persona. Recent events had somehow broken through her iron-clad control to begin rousing the lesser portion of her already weakened core.

Now while she could normally push away the echoes of memory that started her creation as the originally complete soul fractured, the times when she was alone only amplified the emotional pain she’d endured at that moment. Nether’s confrontation with her had divided what was once whole - creating a split in her persona. All the negativity had formed into the glitchy, corrupt entity she’d taken to calling Void while the small amount of positivity was shoved to the back of her mind. Whether it clung to their original name or not was none of her concern, her attention otherwise consumed by the desire for something to do else she feared she’d lose what little sanity she had.

Pestering her naive, former draconian host Naris only really seemed to work when she was awake and, unfortunately, it was currently the dead middle of the night. Void wasn’t even sure why she herself had woken, frustrated that she had nothing to occupy her time. So there she was stuck in the dark mulling over her past - an action she loathed nearly as much as the beast who caused her to become what she had. Yes she had memory problems on occasion but those were mostly caused by-

Static flared to life around her as she shrieked in a mixture of rage and pain, lighting up the dark interior of the mental prison within her host’s mind with jagged arcs of glitchy green strands of code. Sensing her distress was waking Narssia, Void struggled briefly to calm herself before lulling the former dragoness back into a blissful unconscious state with ease. Even with her possessive tendencies driving the act of self preservation, the glitch quickly realized as her presence infiltrated through the body that she hadn’t kept all the agony contained just to herself. In fact, judging by how tense the girl seemed, her split-second decision to possess her host hadn’t exactly been the best idea but she panicked, reacting in the only way she knew to get away from the growing tension she’d let fester for far too long. Ever since her return from Dark’s domain she would find herself occasionally getting headaches - which was typically uncommon for a spirit. Perhaps it was stress but, then again, maybe there was another cause she refused to properly address.

Grumbling under her breath as she sat up and brushed a strand of hair out of her face, Void took a look around to properly understand where she was or, to be more precise, where her lovely little human vessel had been before she took control. Apparently she was on the couch in the living room given there was a door to her right that led into the kitchen and another door on the left that led out to the hallway which would end at either a set of stairs or the front door depending on which way she walked. Deciding on where to go, she threw back the sheet that had been over her and got to her feet, although the movement was certainly not steady.

Another spasm of pain shot through her head once she was fully upright, her fingers lifting almost subconsciously to her temple as she hissed under her breath in agony. She knew what it was but the knowledge didn’t make what she went through any easier. The sliver of positivity had to have been jostled from previous events... ultimately trying to get free no matter how much it hurt either of them.

She stumbled blindly into the kitchen, free hand trailing along the wall for stability as her body twitched slightly. Glitching wasn’t supposed to hurt but for some reason it only made the pain worse, now a blinding throb that threatened to make her black out with every beat of the possessed human’s heart. Her hand lifted from her head, inky trails stuck to her fingers that refused to leave as the sight of a unattended knife on the counter drew her attention towards the shine of moonlight upon the steel.

Void crossed the distance to the weapon from where she leaned against the wall, her bare feet tapping out a steady rhythm that seemed to help ease the constant waves of pain crashing into her. She would be grateful if the little ball of sunshine stopped trying to make her presence known. After all, sometimes it was all she could do to hide the darker truth while that pleasant shard tried to chip away at her possessive control. Growling under her breath, she grabbed the knife and turned around, feeling warm air brush across the back of her neck.

“Get out of my head,” she snarled into the open space, grip tightening on the blade before another pulse of white hot pain shot through her skull. “Go away, go away, go away!”

Almost immediately she was down on her knees, head cradled in her hands as the now abandoned knife fell to the floor beside her in a clatter. The memories... the moment she tried to keep hidden. Why was it plaguing her like this? Seeing the barrel of the gun... hearing Dark’s words as he manipulated her host into-

No, she couldn’t- wouldn’t go through that again! Gathering her strength, she lowered her shaking hands even though her eyes were squeezed tightly shut. She needed help, as much as it bothered her to admit it. Maybe she could find somewhere close by?

Trying to calm herself down, she focused on the energy around her, briefly lifting away from her host’s body to weave her ethereal presence through the clutter of industrial life until she found what she was after. There was a hospital not too far away and after a good look at the building’s exterior, she settled back in like nothing had happened before glitching out of the kitchen with a low staticky hum as her body seemed to shatter into millions of black and green particles.

Her head felt even worse when she came back together in front of the building she had pictured in her mind, the bright lights of the exterior searing her sensitive eyes. With a hiss she lifted her hand to shield her eyes, body glitching slightly in place with infrequent tremors. Whether it was intentional or not, she felt like she was going to be sick, unable to restrain the more chaotic aspects of her being as her eyes glowed a dull green.

It took all her focus just to walk forward, entering the building as the glass doors slid open. The space inside was large but surprisingly empty other than the desk set up against the wall with an older woman typing away at her computer. Void grunted, risking going blind by the lights above as she wrapped one hand around her other wrist, clenching her free hand into a fist as the tremors worsened. She knew how the body seemed to react negatively to her control - an unwelcome surprise upon her return but not entirely unexpected.

“Can I help you?” The woman at the desk asked, shifting her glasses down lower on the brim of her nose before turning her head towards Void when she didn’t respond.

She had intended to make her appearance known but another throb of her already aching skull sent her reeling, tilting her head to the side as a grimace darkened her features. Whether others could see the black tar like substance dripping from her temple she wasn’t sure but she honestly didn’t care in the moment, gaze sweeping wildly from side to side in distressed panic.

“Make it stop,” she croaked out, lightly touching the black substance oozing down one side of her face. “Just... makeitstop!”

The woman rose almost instantly, bringing out a device Void hadn’t seen before and spoke softly into it before approaching her. Another spasm gripped the glitch and she twitched violently, sinking to her knees as both hands rose to once again cradle her aching head. Strong but gentle hands grabbed her shoulders, the receptionist’s voice calmly reassuring her that help was coming as she whimpered softly. Apparently her earlier conversation had been to inquire of a wheelchair to be brought to the front and, judging from the sound of rushing footsteps that soon graced Void’s hearing, the order had been received and sent out.

She felt lost and distant from the situation as another hospital employee arrived with the chair and helped the receptionist get her into it, barely paying attention to the questions that passed between the two before she was being taken away. The noise was everywhere now, the dull, ever persistent hum that penetrated her brain and made her want to cry out for relief. As they ran across a small groove in the floor she slumped back in the chair, eyes open but dull and cloudy as they flickered between her normal green and a much softer yellowish hue. Words flew by her as she was pushed into a small dark room and the man who had come with the chair left, only for two girls to approach from the shadows and start talking. Subconsciously Void knew they were trying to get information from her but the words felt foreign, her senses overwhelmed by both the pain and the constant noise. When one of the girls tried to touch her, however, she snapped back to alertness.

The faint tendrils of her magic swirled to life in her chest, her gaze suddenly sharp and perfectly clear as she grabbed the offending hand with a low snarl rumbling from the back of her throat. Sharp talons tore into the frail skin, memories of seeing her own blood splattered upon the soft snow distorting what was real and tangible. Jerking back in alarm as her hand fell, Void started to speak but her voice failed her, dissolving into a hacking cough that surely sounded as though she was losing a lung as she turned to the side almost automatically.

“Steady her!” The girl who had not tried to comfort her snapped before two different pairs of hands reached for her, grabbing her and lifting her up.

The surface Void was placed on was cold and hard; her first instinct being to curl up on herself in exhaustion as her coughing fit started to calm slightly. She was so... tired. Why wouldn’t they let her sleep? Her beloved had let her sleep after he slit her throat... Red staining the beautiful white snow...

Bright lights suddenly turned on above her, the whir of a distant machine clashing with the still present staticky crackle around her. Red, she knew who it represented, didn’t she? Flinching back, she triedto further curl into a ball when the voice of one of the girls cut in sharply.

“Miss, do try to keep still for just a moment longer. I know it’s not the most comfortable but...”

The words faded away into noise as she blinked, tears gathering in her eyes as she caught a glimpse from the metallic table under her that her irises had returned to color shifting between green and yellow. She wasn’t alone in her head then. That little pest was back and she couldn’t make it go away. Why wouldn’t it leave her alone?

Minutes passed, seeming to take an eternity before the test finished and both girls picked her up to return her to the wheelchair. She heard mentions of a room number but found it difficult to keep her eyes open, head dropping slowly to her chest...

When Void jolted awoke next, she was laying in a hospital bed with several wires hooked up to her mostly naked body. Realizing the humans had seen the scars she carried brought out a low snarl from her throat that faded almost instantly to a choked whimper of fear. She never wanted to think about that again... not after what had been done to her by both the suave illusionist she’d trusted and then the monochromatic demon once she lashed out at his weak human host.

All the painful memories only caused her head to start throbbing again, although strangely more manageable than it had been all evening. She was alone in the room though and a glance out the window to her right told her that several hours had passed from the fact that sunlight now washed against the ivory white walls.

A sense of panic suddenly gripped her, worried that her disappearance would be noticed. She had to get out of this place! Feeling for her meager reserve of magic, she lifted a hand and watched as tiny sparks of green light flickered against her palm like miniature stars. There was no way she could teleport at the moment with how her head felt but maybe she didn’t need to...

Eyeing the clipboard at the end of her bed, barely visible through the railings, she turned her wrist gently, motioning for the metal to rise. It took several tries but she eventually got the object in her hands, glancing over the information listed on the paper as she read it out loud.

“Name unknown. Female. Age unclear but suspected to be mid-twenties.”

Her eyes darted over the listing of the scars long healed across her body but still shuddered, remembering the feeling of arctic-like wind pelleting her face for the briefest second before she snapped herself back to attention. Twitching her hand once more, she summoned a pen and scribbled down the first words to come to mind.

“Void Nox, age twenty five... Now that’s all the knowledge they’ll get f me. I think I translated Naris’s draconian age properly... I hope so at least.”

Void dropped the pen she held once she finished with a grimace, feeling her host start to stir from inside the depths of their shared head. That decided things for her then. She had to get back to where Mark stayed - no matter the cost. Her eyes closed, breathing slowing before her body burst into black and green particles once more.

Landing hard on the wooden floor knocked the wind out of her, barely starting to get up when she realized she was still primarily naked. Searching around the padded room, she spotted a blanket folded up on a nearby table and grabbed it, throwing it over her shivering form. Void knew the effect of using too much of her magic, how it made her sick to her stomach, but the cost was something she’d have to accept... or would she?

Deciding to allow the waking Narssia control once more, a devious smirk toyed at the edges of her mouth before Void slipped back into the darker recesses of her host’s mind. Who said she had to be the one that suffered for her mistake when she had a perfectly unaware scapegoat coming to alertness that could deal with the harsh recoil meant for the caster?

All she had to do now was sit back and watch.

[starryeyed-char]

Crash & Burn (PART 2)

This is the final part.

The much requested second part of my celebratory 1K followers fic! I’m so glad you guys liked part one, which you should probably go read first if you haven’t yet.

Or you could just read the whole thing on my AO3.

Summary: Lance gets in a car accident while on his way to help Keith, whose car broke down. The summary on part one is slightly less vague but I’m lazy okay sue me.

Lance blinked wearily, as his vision slowly focused on what appeared to be a white ceiling above him. The bright, florescent lighting hurt to look at, so he turned his head to the side, once again squeezing his eyes shut. When he opened them, the sight before him made no sense.

He was lying in a bed, in a room he didn't recognize. Slumped in the chair beside him was a clearly asleep Keith Kogane. Lance belatedly realized that Keith was tightly holding onto his hand, and he couldn't help but blush in embarrassment, even if the main emotion he felt was still confusion.

Lance looked around, and tried to remember how he'd ended up in this situation. He would've tried to sit up, but consciousness brought with it a harsh ache in his side, and a migraine as well.

Suddenly, it all came rushing back. Driving to pick up Keith, only to be blinded by the headlights of a car that was definitely not supposed to be in Lance's lane and then... nothing. Despite having a reputation among his friends for not being very bright, Lance was smart enough to connect the dots that he must've been in a car accident. Which meant the bed he was lying in was located in a hospital room.

He slowly tugged his hand out of Keith's grasp in order to feel the lump of bandages at his side. Sighing, he successfully managed to sit up with only one or two small whimpers of pain. He glanced back at Keith, and nearly toppled off the hospital bed.

He was sitting up straight in the chair, eyes fixed on Lance, his lips slightly parted. When he made no move to speak, Lance took initiative.

“Mierda, Keith,” Lance breathed, placing a hand to his chest. “You're supposed to say something when you wake up in these kind of situations! Not that you'd know that, but seriously! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” The word choice might've not been the smartest, considering recent circumstances. Lance didn't miss the small flinch from Keith at his statement.

“You're okay,” Keith said simply, eyes searching his form.

Lance shifted uncomfortably. “It would seem so,” he tried for a grin. “Sorry to disappoint, but you won't be able to get rid of me that easily.”

Keith just continued to stare at Lance, so intensely that the other boy thought might be about to slap him. Instead, he did something that was much more surprising, at least in Lance's opinion. Keith practically launched himself out of his chair, and before Lance could react he was wrapped up in a hug.

Lance didn't think he'd ever gotten a hug from Keith before. It was nice, if a little bone-crushing. “Woah there, go easy on my ribs, Keith. Pretty sure they're a little... well, very bruised.”

Keith drew back quickly, sitting back down. “Right. Sorry,” he mumbled.

Lance wanted to say something more, maybe to try and get Keith to cheer up as he seemed pretty shaken, but he was interrupted by the door bursting open.

“Lance!” Hunk all but shouted. “I got here as fast as I could! I had to get Shay home and she lives pretty far— are you okay? How bad is it? When they called, they told me some stuff over the phone, but—”

“Hunk, calm down,” Lance smiled at his best friend. “I'm fine, okay?”

“Fine? Fine?! Three broken ribs? So much glass that you needed surgery to get all of it out?” Hunk planted his hands on his hips, and Lance wished he could disappear under the sheets. “You nearly got a concussion, Lance! What were you even doing out this late?”

Lance opened his mouth to argue back, but Keith spoke before he got the chance.

“That's... actually my fault. My car broke down, and I called him to see if he could pick me up at the gas station,” he stared at his shoes. “I feel terrible about what happened.”

“Don't worry about it,” Lance said quickly. Hunk was far less amused.

“Lance, you have work!” he protested. “Driving around when you're exhausted isn't going to help anyone, it's just going to get you hurt!”

Lance sighed, exasperated. “Did you even listen to what they told you over the phone? You're supposed to be my emergency contact! The crash wasn't my fault, I did everything right! I was wearing my seat belt and everything! The guy in the other car was black-out drunk, and swerved into my lane to crash into me head-on!”

Hunk's features softened. “Admittedly, I may have been panicking a little too much about whether you were okay to really listen to the details of how it happened.”

Lance shook his head, smiling fondly. “You've seen me in worse situations than this, Hunk. I wish you wouldn't worry about me so much. I'll be fine.”

“The fact that something like this is just a common occurrence for you by now doesn't make me feel that much better,” Hunk pointed out. “Your bad luck and lack of self preservation skills are astonishing.” Lance laughed at that.

“Hunk's your emergency contact?” Keith asked curiously. “Why?”

“My family lives in Cuba, but I go to school here,” Lance explained. “Someone close by would be notified first, and then later tell my parents to— oh, fuck, I have to tell my family! What am I going to say?! Mom's gonna kill me!”

Keith's brows furrowed. “She's going to kill you for nearly dying?”

“Sounds about right for your mom, honestly,” Hunk placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. “But I'll call her for you. You should be resting, anyways.” He stepped back into the waiting room, and Lance slumped further into his pillows.

“I've done my fair share of resting for today,” he mumbled.

There was a lull of silence in which they each avoided the other's gaze.

“That was pretty scary, for a second there,” Keith finally spoke up.

“Sorry,” Lance stared at the floor, so he didn't see Keith's surprised gaze snap to him. “I don't know how long you were stuck waiting there for me. Did Hunk call you?”

Keith's eyes widened, almost imperceptibly. “Oh. No, I was— my car was close by. I rode here with you in the ambulance, actually.”

Lance groaned, burying his face in his hands. “And now you're stuck here.”

“Shiro can just pick me up from here in a bit,” Keith told him. “It's not a problem. I... I wanted to be here.”

Lance didn't seem to have heard the last part, as Keith barely whispered it. “The whole point of you calling me was so you could get home faster, and now you're waiting for me at the hospital. And I ruined Hunk's date, too!”

“What?” Keith was confused, to say the least. “Lance, you didn't ruin anything. The crash was the other driver's fault, and you didn't even do anything wrong.”

Lance frowned. “I could've done... something to avoid collision. Is... is he okay?”

“The guy in the other car?” Keith asked incredulously. “He was drunk, and he was in your lane! He shouldn't have been...” he broke off at Lance's expression, and sighed. “He's fine, but you're not! Your car took nearly all the damage, and you probably would've died if your air bag hadn't worked!”

“Well, then it's a good thing that one of us has a fully functioning car,” Lance smirked, and Keith groaned. “Or had. I'm guessing my car is as wrecked as I am right about now. I expect you to give me rides everywhere in your motorcycle from now on, once it's working again. After all this, you owe me.”

“How can you still manage to be this infuriating, even after being injured?” Keith wondered, running a hand through his hair.

Lance's grin just widened. “It's one of my many talents,” he bragged. “How can you manage to  yell at someone who just got injured?”

“I'm not yelling at you, I'm just— I'm frustrated, in general! With everything that's happened! With your ridiculously bad luck, I guess. I thought my car breaking down was bad.”

“You and me, both,” Lance deadpanned, gesturing at the various bandages. “When will the universe give either of us a break, huh? We may never know.”

Hunk stuck his head in. “You've already got several breaks,” he said, pointing towards Lance's ribs. “And if you want them to heal, it's going to be a lot of lying down and ice packs for you. Definitely no motorcycle rides. Oh, and by the way, your mom says hi. She's also seriously worried, which is understandable. Count your blessings that I'm talking to her, because you sound about as terrible as you look, raspy voice and all. And I told her that you're resting, so you better hurry up and get on that because I hate lying to people, especially your mom.”

Lance winced, letting out a cough that seemed to prove his point. “Stupid lungs,” he muttered under his breath, before giving Hunk a weak smile. “You're a saint.” The other boy returned into the hall, pressing the phone back to his ear.

“I was too,” Keith whispered, and Lance thought he must've imagined it.

He raised an eyebrow. “A saint?”

Keith probably would've hit him if Lance wasn't already in a hospital bed. “No,” he scowled at the floor. “I was worried, you idiot! This whole thing is my fault, I shouldn't have called you so late. Should've just gotten a tow truck or something.”

“Hey,” Lance insisted, causing Keith to look at him. “How many favors do I owe you by now? Driving to get you was the least I could do. Granted, I still expect super cool motorcycle rides, but blame the drunk driver, or even me, not yourself.”

Keith smiled softly. “You really should be sleeping, Lance. I think visiting hours are supposed to be over, anyway.”

“Hunk's still here,” Lance argued.

“He's your emergency contact, and he's the one who contacted your family. He kind of has to be here,” Keith pointed out.

Lance crossed his arms, pouting. “Fine.”

Keith had to smother the laugh before it escaped his lips. “But I'll come back tomorrow, if you want me to.”

Lance's eyes widened, turning back to Keith immediately. “With Starbucks?” he asked hopefully.

Keith hesitated. “I don't really know if that's—”

“With Starbucks?”

“With Starbucks,” Keith agreed, rolling his eyes fondly. He stood, starting to make his way over to the door. “Now get some rest.”

“Wait!” Lance reached without thinking, grabbing his arm before he could leave. Keith turned back around, looking at him expectantly. For once in his life, Lance couldn't seem to find the right words. “Um... this whole thing has got me thinking, and I was wondering... if you maybe would want to... uh,” He stammered weakly, feeling a blush spread over his face. A small, irritatingly smug smile had replaced the look of confusion on Keith's face. Lance started to speak again, determined to get out a full coherent sentence out this time, but then Keith was leaning in and—

Holy shit, Keith freaking Kogane was kissing him.

That was the only initial thought Lance could process at first, and then he was melting into it, as if nothing else in the entire world mattered, terrible luck be damned. And it was over way too soon, in Lance's opinion, even if he had to catch his breath after they finally broke apart.

“Now can I go?” Keith asked, still with that barely visible, half-smirk.

“Only if you promise to come back tomorrow. We should probably, you know, talk about... that, but as much as I hate to admit you're right, I'm actually about to pass out.”

Keith snorted, and it was so adorable that Lance almost changed his mind about letting him leave. “I promise. Now seriously, get some sleep.”

“Yessir.” Lance saluted as Keith walked out of the room, unable to stop the goofy smile that came over his face.

The few times Lance had been in a hospital before, he always had trouble sleeping. The beds were slightly uncomfortable, the rooms too unfamiliar and plain. But that night when he closed his eyes, he started dreaming almost immediately.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Rumor Has It {2}

Chris Evans x Famous Reader Uriah “Riah” Tyler

Warning: Nah.

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: Inspired by a video seen of Chris and his co-star Ana De Armas on their press tour for Knives Out at TIFF where she kept touching his chest and face standing about five inches apart.

 Note: Woooow, this was not meant for a part two, but by reception and request here it is.

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

It was September, in most parts of the US that meant fall was steadily approaching. In California, it meant a possible six-week extension of summer temps. You felt hotter than usual as if it were actually ninety-nine degrees. You could feel your heart racing as if you’d run a marathon; you could also feel tingles in your belly. Those tingles intensified and traveled through your body. Only Chris could give you those tingles.

   Slowly, you opened your eyes to the blinding Southern California sun beaming in through the window. Squinting you used your hand to shield your eyes. Gasping you arched your back off the bed and felt the telltale sign of your impending orgasm. Your toes curled, and you looked down your body to the bulge underneath the covers. Slowly you lifted the material and stared into the incredible blue eyes of your husband he smiled taking his lips from your core. “Good morning, Kitten.” It was the nickname for you he only used during sinful moments like these. You couldn’t stop your moans. You clamped your thighs closed entrapping his head between them. He wasn’t having it, he pried them open and pressed them to the mattress and went for his no-mercy approach. You were so close���so damn close. Squeezing your eyes shut you chased the promise of release, every few seconds you thought you were there.

   From a distance, you heard loud ringing that wouldn’t stop. It was becoming so distracting that your release got further and further. Finally, the ringing took over everything. Groaning you thrashed in the bed until finally, you jumped up. You looked frantically around the bright room to find you were alone. You looked underneath the covers, but he wasn’t there. Feeling completely frustrated you dropped back into the bed. The only thing that was real was the ringing. You looked ahead across the room to the TV and saw an incoming call. When you looked over to the clock on the bedside table it read two o'clock.

You hated the damn video call high tech equipment that Chris had installed. Looking around the bed for the keyboard to answer the damn thing you quickly got annoyed because it was nowhere in sight. You screamed out in the room and kicked off all the blankets. When you leaned to the edge you saw it on the floor. Once you grasped it you tapped the answer key before you slammed your back to the headboard. When you looked up there was the devil himself. He looked great, perfectly groomed hair and beard, a white polo shirt with one of the buttons at the top unbuttoned and from what you could see dark plaid trousers. Even now, angry with him he got the butterflies in your gut started and your lady bits clenching.

   “Uriah, what the hell I’ve been calling you for almost twelve hours!”

  Those were his first words. Not “Hi honey, I miss you,” or “Let me explain.” You got angry all over again.

   “Excuse me?! Fuck you, Chris. What the hell is right.”

   Chris closed his eyes and sighed as he pinched his nose bridge.

   “No, we are not flying past this first issue which is you not picking up your phone or calling me. You know our rule,” Chris chastised.

   “Don’t throw the rule in my face. I did call you.” He slid to the edge of his seat then and rested his elbows on his knees. You could see the space between his legs where you knew his manhood was and the bulge there made you lick your lips. Rolling your eyes, you hit your head back onto the headboard. Even angry at him, you still wanted him.

   “And left me some crack shit message. I call you back, and you don’t answer. That has been the case for twelve hours Uriah. I didn’t know if you were hurt, or worse. I couldn’t reach you. I’ve asked you to stop doing that.” He only used your full name when he was pissed. You didn’t care if he was pissed. You were pissed!

  “Don’t try to change the subject here, Chris. What the fuck! What is that video?”

   Again, Chris sighed out as if he were deeply annoyed. You almost flew off the handle, lurching forward like he was right before you, you tilted your head to the side. “What Chris? What the fuck are you annoyed with? I know it ain’t me. I’m the only one who should be annoyed right now. Are you fucking kidding me, Evans!”

   He sat there not speaking, just looking at you with his mouth rested on his fist. He always did this when he was waiting for you to finish. It wasn’t a respectful thing like he wanted to be sure you were done speaking before he spoke. No, it was a thing he did when he felt you were going irate for nothing and he was waiting for you to realize it. It always made you angrier, and he knew it. Then you saw his eyes were looking below your eyes. Glancing down you realized you had nothing on, but the flat sheet carelessly tossed across your lap.

   “Helllllooo! Focus,” you shouted while clapping out each syllable before you drew the sheet to cover yourself. He didn’t get to see the goodies; he didn’t deserve it.

   “Just like it’s not okay for me to disrespect you, it’s not cool for you to do it either.”

   “Yet you still disrespect me.”

   “How Uriah? What did I do?”

   “Everybody and their mama saw that video Chris. What did you do?”

   He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off instead, “You’re a married man Chris. Mar-ried!” Again, you stretched each syllable of the word.

   “I think I know that Uriah.” You could hear his rising annoyance. He was usually good at keeping his temper when you argued, but four times out of ten he got just as hot as you especially when you pressed his buttons. Being married you knew all the buttons to press.

   “Do you really? Your actions don’t say it. Why is this woman touching your chest and face Chris? Why? Is there something you need to share with the rest of the class? For the life of me, I don’t know why this woman is touching my husband so intimately!”

   “It was nothing.” Rolling your eyes at the classic response, you leaned your head back on the headboard. You wanted to throw the keyboard into the screen hoping somehow it could teleport through and hit him right in his face.

   “God, I’m tired of saying this every time you see some clearly underhanded video or picture of me with a coworker. It’s nothing; it’s never been anything!”

   He knew you hated him shouting at you. Nothing riled you up more than a man shouting at you. You didn’t know if it brought you back to when you were younger in previous relationships, or maybe you just hated to feel talked down to. “Don’t fucking shout at me!”

   He leaned back and looked up into the ceiling of his room, another sign he was close to flipping out. “If this were me, would you be cool?” He didn’t respond, so you continued. “If there was some video of my costar or modeling partner touching my chest and face, would you be cool?” You saw the tight clench of his jaw and the flare of his nose. You knew the answer already, but you needed him to switch perspectives. He rubbed his face and brought his elbows back to his knees and stared at you.

   “That’s different, and you know it. You have breasts; if a man is touching your chest he is touching your breasts.” You rolled your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose. You’d had a headache since seeing that video, and it was getting worse. You felt the prickle of unshed tears but refused to let them fall.

“You stood there and let her touch you. Where are the lines, Chris? Where are the boundaries? When I did the press tour for Blue Earth you told me you didn’t like Gerald’s hand placement on my mid-back, a mid-back. What did I say? I said okay, consider it done. The next photo op it was solved, it’s remained solved. We’ve had this conversation three times now Chris. Nothing has changed. If you’re not setting these boundaries for these women, there is none. You are fair game. If you’re not setting the boundaries then our marriage is shit.” You didn’t look at him while you spoke. You looked at your toes; you knew if you looked up and into those ocean blue eyes you’d crumble and cry. The silence stretched longer, and your anxiety rose.

   “You said you trusted me.”

   They weren’t the words you wanted to hear, and since they weren’t the dam broke, and you felt the hot stream of tears roll down your cheeks. You did your best to keep your face as low as possible. “Should I Chris?” Your voice betrayed you; the pain was evident. You hated it. You heard Chris release a rush of breath.

   “I don’t know Uriah, should you?” Your heart sank. Glancing up to the screen, he sat there silent and still with his hands rested under his chin looking into the camera. His expression softened. Just then there was a knock at the door on his end, then a woman’s voice. “All right Chris we’re ready to move. We have thirty minutes to get there. Ready?” He looked to you on the screen, and you scoffed before you wiped your cheeks.

  “Why did you ask me to marry you and then do it if you still wanted to live like a bachelor? Why do this whole song and dance? You know what? I’m so glad I decided to hold off on kids. You do whatever you want Evans, I’ll be sure to do the same.” You ended the call, and the video feed then threw the keyboard as it shattered you sunk your head to your lap and cried.

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

And just like that, we have another series. SMH.

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

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

TagList:

@chaneajoyyy 

[zutaraverse]

Chapter 10: Seeing Without Eyes

Chapter 10 of Blood, Chi and Full Moons: Find previous chapters here or: Chapter 1 Part 1 | Chapter 1 Part 2 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 Part 1 | Chapter 3 Part 2 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 Part 1 | Chapter 7 Part 2 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

Zuko jolted awake from a disturbing dream just before dawn, the last dregs of which were quickly dissipating into the lightening room. He replayed the scene from last night and considered how to approach the new day. Since they were earth bending he didn’t think he should wake Katara for meditation. Besides, Toph being in charge meant there was no chance of starting early.

However, as the grey light of early dawn infiltrated the room, Zuko started to worry. Katara had hardly moved the whole night. He had to place a hand on her stomach just to feel her breathing, otherwise she may as well have been dead. She must have been in a very deep sleep and he was torn as to whether to wake her or not. Finally he decided that she would probably be mad if he didn’t give her the choice - she was not one to look sympathetically at anybody who made decisions for her.

He kissed her gently on the cheek and called her name, drawing her out of her comatose sleep. Katara’s eyes opened slowly - differently to her usual confused fluttering. This was weary, tired, and her gaze was still distant.

“Hey, its dawn, and we’re meant to earth bend today,” he explained softly. Katara’s eyes closed with the same slow, deliberate movement she had used before. They stayed closed a few seconds before opening again to consider him. She reached up a hand and caressed his cheek, before letting it drop back onto the sheets.

“I’m… not… leaving… this… bed,” she breathed. Zuko nodded. He didn’t think he should argue with her - she seemed to be exhausted. There was only one problem though…

“Then we’ll leave Toph to sleep - I bet she will be happy,” he said, trying to conceal his disappointment. He had been looking forward to learning earth bending - he loved the strength it gave those who wielded it. Katara closed her eyes.

“You should learn,” she said from somewhere very distant.

“You’re the only one who can blood bend,” he reminded her. She sighed and reached for his hand.

From her fuzzy state she didn’t need to try to block out anything; it was already gone. She found his blood easily and followed a very bright chi flow in the darkness of her incomprehensibility. Katara had studied Toph’s chi flow the day before, memorising the points where it differed from hers. She wasn’t surprised to find earth bending focussed in the legs and feet. It made sense. In the back of her mind it reminded her of something, but she couldn’t quite place it.

When she had altered Zuko’s chi, she did her own.

“There, now we’re both earth benders,” she said. She hadn’t moved or opened her eyes - Zuko had thought she had fallen asleep again. He kissed her again and quietly left to wake an undoubtedly grumpy Toph.

The sun rose just before six o’clock. Nothing official happened before nine o’clock, which meant that meditation, training, washing and eating took place in those three hours. Katara woke from her stupor at about eight, and decided to find her friends. She didn’t bother hiding the black under her eyes, and she tied her hair up so it wouldn’t look dirty. Going into her bathroom, she sighed in relief at her ability to blood bend. For all of the uses blood bending had, the most mundane was also the most useful. No longer did she have to soak her cycle cloths in boiling water for hours; she could soak them for five minutes or so and bend the blood off. It was amazing. If she ever lost the ability to blood bend this would probably be one of her main regrets.

Having washed herself and thrown on some clothes, Katara hurried to the indoor arena so see if Toph and Zuko were still in there. She opened the door quietly and slipped in, almost laughing at what she saw; Toph had riddled the stone floor with holes and dips, sharp spikes, inclines, and steps of all kinds. Zuko stood, looking somewhat weary, blindfolded in the middle of the maze.

“Hey Katara,” called Toph from the other side of the arena.

“What? Katara’s here?” asked Zuko, jerking his head about and trying to work out where the damned door was.

“What is wrong with you Zuko!” cried Toph, “You are a fire bender, that means you can feel heat! You should be able to sense her in the room with your own element!” She threw up her hands in frustration.

“Yeah well I’m too damned concentrated on trying to sense the fucking death traps you’ve set out for me!” he cried back, a glimmer of his old-Zuko anger in his voice. However, he didn’t remove the blind fold. Toph growled.

“I do not understand why it is so hard to teach earth bending! With Aang what he needed was a forceful push, and I think you need the same. We are going to duel,” she said definitively.

“Duel!” exclaimed Katara. “Isn’t it a bit early for that?” She did not like the idea of a blind Zuko going up against Toph. With his eyesight they may have been equally matched, but he was at a distinct disadvantage here.

“Stay out of this Sugar Queen. This is between me and Sparky. Actually, you can play doctor when he gets his butt kicked. Right, Sparky, you can use any element you like - I will only use earth bending. But we are both blind. And you better start paying attention to the earth pretty soon because it will, quite literally, slap you in the face if you don’t. Ready?”

“Toph I think this is a really bad idea,” started Katara pleadingly. However, Zuko interrupted her.

“Please Katara! If this is what it takes I’ll do it. But you shouldn’t get hurt - wait outside till this is over.”

“Absolutely not,” she said forcefully, crossing her arms and not a little irritated that he was trying to tell her what to do, “I can defend myself, Fire Prince Zuko, and if I have to beat your arse again to prove it, believe me, I will!” And with that she leaned against the door, staring at the back of Zuko’s head angrily.

He gulped. An angry Katara was far worse than a playful Toph. He would have to deal with that later.

“Wahey! Sweetness is getting Spicy!” laughed Toph. This is more like it, she thought to herself.

“Don’t you dare make light of this Toph - I’m furious with you for doing this. You two are going to seriously hurt each other and I’m the one who is going to have to pick up the fucking pieces as usual!” she snarled, switching her cold stare from one blind person to another.

“Shesh! Calm down Spicy! Hey… Spicy and Sparky… I like it… although Sweetness and Sparky is like sweetness and light which is a lovely saying. Except I don’t know what light is,” mused Toph, completely unperturbed by Katara’s outburst. She was more than used to it, but sensed that it had put Zuko on edge… maybe she should go easy on him after all. “Well, lets get to it!” she announced, stomping her foot on the ground and changing the landscape to something completely unfamiliar. Zuko didn’t know it but it was actually easier to navigate than the previous one.

Zuko froze at the sound of grinding rock.

“You fucking changed everything again didn’t you?” he growled.

“Yup!” replied Toph lightly.

He spun around in the direction of her voice and shot a fireball at her. However, he heard the usual creaking of the expanding metal as it collided with the wall.

“Yeah, how are you supposed to get me if you don’t know in which direction I’m going? You are aiming for the past Sparky, get with it!” she instructed, leaping around and changing direction. Zuko tried to aim a few more fireballs but without success. “Not even close!” mocked Toph from yet another position.

Zuko could feel his frustration growing into anger. Anger at himself, at his damned inability to pick this up. He felt like a scolded child again, the worst one at fire bending, with his sister showing off to his father and grandfather moves that he still hadn’t mastered. The familiar rage that he had harboured for three long years on his ship returned full force, contorting his body into well rehearsed moves. He growled through his teeth as he drew on as much power as he could and shot a sheet of fire, spinning as he did so, in order to make it reach every corner of the room.

He was left panting from his sudden outburst. After a few deep breaths things started clearing in his mind as he realised what he had done.

“Katara? Toph? Are you ok? I’m so sorry…” he reached behind his head to undo the blindfold and rush to the aid of his friends. He was resisting breaking down into sobs of self loathing.

“Don’t you dare Sparky!” called Toph from a long way away, “This isn’t over!”

“We’re fine Zuko,” said Katara from somewhere closer to his side of the arena, a softness in her voice that indicated that she at least partially understood what had prompted his rash gesture.

Zuko suddenly felt something hit him square in the forehead. Then something else. They were hard. Stones! Toph was throwing stones at him - he had just whipped out enough fire to destroy a palace and she retaliated by throwing stones. It almost made him laugh.

Because she defended herself from his attack and he was incapable of defending himself from hers.

Right. He needed to find cover. Getting low to the ground, he moved along with his hands spread wide until he found a large rock jutting out. He moved so that it was between him and the rock-throwing Toph. It wouldn’t take long for her to adjust her position to come at him again, but she had been the other side of the arena, so she would have to move quite a bit. At the very least it bought him some time.

A memory presented itself to him; a memory of himself as the blue spirit, living in the shadows and being impossibly quiet - breaking into the highest security prisons and freeing the highest security prisoners. Sneaking around wasn’t going to fool Toph, and there was no wood to dampen his steps. He silently cursed himself for not having brought water in this morning - at the very least it might create some confusion!

But along with these memories came the less pleasant ones; being locked in cupboards, waiting in vents, sneaking through barracks, finding his way down the tunnels of Lake Laogai. In none of those situations did he have any light. He had done it by not searching for light - by instead focussing on what he did know and translating that into images. He remembered sitting very still, hardly even breathing, and listening with all his might to what was happening around him.

Marching boots: soldiers. The paces even: bored. Two, in practiced time: regular partners. No hesitations: knew the land to perfection - they were lookouts on duty.

Now he had more than his ears, though. He had heat. He had water. He had earth.

He relaxed and opened his mind to the arena. There. He could feel Toph not too far from him. She wasn’t moving. So she must have been waiting for him to emerge.

Katara stood somewhere behind him. She was much warmer than Toph.

This didn’t help though. As soon as Toph picks up a rock, and the rock leaves her hand, he would have no idea where it was. He might hope that the contact with her skin would make it slightly warmer than the surroundings, but hat was a vain hope. Besides, was she even picking them up? Wouldn’t she just bend them towards him?

He needed to go deeper than heat and water. He needed to focus on where he was in relation to the room. He needed to feel, through his skin, what was going on. Everything is connected he told himself. I am on the earth, I am touching it, I am part of it. He repeated this mantra in his head over and over as he ran his fingers and toes along the surroundings, paying attention to every nook and cranny he passed over. There was no movement in the room, nor was there any noise; it seemed the girls had decided to leave him to his own explorations.

He felt a dip under his feet as he inched forward. A dip meant a rise though. Where was the rise?

There. The rise was very close - the dip was not wide. But the rise seemed to be higher than where he was standing. That would mean another dip perhaps. It would be annoying to have to climb it though. But moving to the right should give him some space. Instinctively, with the speed yet caution of the blue spirit, he headed towards the easier path. There was something blocking his way though and he ducked just in time, feeling an overhang graze the top of his head. Toph would be standing to the left - stationary - a heartbeat - a more intense vibration. Carefully positioning himself, he shot a simple fireball directly at the direction of the more intense vibrations. The vibrations faded for a split second - she had stepped out of the way - and he felt a presence moving closer - too fast to be Toph - no Toph had not moved from her spot.

Something small and hard hit him on the chest. Oh. Another rock. So that’s what a rock feels like he thought to himself, too fascinated to be irritated.

“Nice one Sparky, you are finally feeling. Now quit with the fire, do it with rock,” instructed Toph.

“Hmmm thanks for the details Sifu,” grumbled Zuko, momentarily distracted from his study of the ground.

“You’ll work it out,” she replied. Zuko imagined a smirk playing on her lips underneath her black bangs.

He returned to the state he had been in while observing the stone beneath his feet. Right. Stone MOVE he mentally shouted. Unsurprisingly, nothing happened. He returned to the overhang and, standing in front of it, he placed one hand on the lip, concentrating on how the stone was shaped - not so much on the surface, but underneath it. There he exerted a force, and to his immense pleasure it shifted. Not much, just an inch. But he could do it again - and with more power. The overhang lifted so that he could pass under it without ducking.

Now he needed a stone to throw. He reached up and touched the overhang once more. Instead of pushing inside, he pulled, and a part came away easily in his hand.

Now where was Toph? Ah! There. He threw the stone but it fell short - he felt it hit the ground a few metres in front of her. He took another part of the overhang, and this time, he pushed it from inside. Not enough to separate it, but enough to control its direction. There!

The vibrations coming from Toph changed and the stone stopped. Ah. She must have lifted her hand and caught it.

“I like it Sparky! But I’m afraid we are going to have to continue this another time - your advisors are hesitating outside the arena - I think you might be late for something…” said Toph.

Zuko gasped and tore off the blindfold, ignoring the tears that sprang to his eyes from the suddenly very intense light. He ran to the door and ripped it open.

“What time is it?” he asked urgently to the advisors who stood nervously outside.

“Ten o’clock, my prince,” answered one of them.

“Shit. Prepare the meeting room, I will be there shortly,” he ordered, watching them scurry away towards the palace. Zuko turned to the two girls in the room.

He took in the terrain Toph had created. It had seemed so much more threatening without his eyes - in the daylight he could have manoeuvred it with hardly a thought! Toph had created a seat of stone and was picking at her feet, just as she used to when she was younger. Katara had also seated herself on a boulder, her legs dangling down. She seemed much calmer than before.

“We’ve only got half an hour to prepare but I reckon we can do it,” she said serenely. Zuko regarded her gratefully. He was worried she wouldn’t be there at the meeting today - but she knew so much about what was going on that she would grasp anything he happened to miss. And besides, her insights into how the normal people lived were exactly what he needed. The memories of his life as a refugee in the lower rings of Ba Sing Se were forever fresh in his mind.

Katara slid off her boulder.

“What, Sugar Queen is wussing out of her lesson?” mocked Toph, seemingly unbothered by their disappearance.

“Sorry Toph, if you like I can come back this afternoon after lunch? I had an idea I would like to try with you,” she said, still the image of composure. Toph yawned.

“Yeah alright. I’m going to go and take a mid-morning nap now. Wake me when you want to learn?” the tone in her voice was almost too hopeful, betraying how much she needed this distraction - this reminder that she could be in control of something. Katara smiled.

“Of course,” she promised, before taking Zuko’s hand and heading back to the palace with him.

The meeting had been surprisingly simple. People seemed to be on more or less the same page - which was an event in itself. Zuko had some letters to write, but Katara hurried to wake Toph and they headed to the arena. She was determined not to be put through the same thing as Zuko - that had taken hours, and to be honest, she did not have the patience to deal with it today. She had another idea though.

“What’s this plan of yours then?” asked Toph once the door had clanged shut definitively.

“Well you know how you play with metal? Its kind of like how I water bend - as in it is almost liquid - or it behaves like a liquid. So I wanted to try that,” she explained confidently.

“You want to start with metal?” asked Toph incredulously.

“Well, yes. It might not work, but if it did I think it would be easier for me to attack it that way around,” explained Katara, suddenly not so sure of herself. Toph raised an eyebrow and flicked the hair out of her face with a familiar jerk of the head.

“We might as well try,” conceded Toph. She wouldn’t admit it, but angry Katara was not something she wanted to run into twice in the course of a day. She reached out and summoned a chuck of metal from high up on one of the walls, bringing it down between her hands. She couldn’t resist playing with it for just a bit, letting it circle her hands and splay out in different patterns.

“I don’t really know how to teach you this because I learned it from earth bending. And with that you need to find the earth within the metal. It is there, it just feels slightly different, you know?”

“Like blood feels to a water bender,” compared Katara.

“I guess,” reasoned Toph, “if you can start to place it in space first you would get a feel for what it is?” She was guessing. She actually had no idea how to approach this. She solidified the metal again and handed it to Katara, who sat on the ground holding it between her hands contemplatively.

Treat it like ice, she thought.

“I think,” she spoke out loud, “that solid metal is kind of like ice, liquid metal like water. I don’t know what vapour would be… but anyway, so if this is like ice, then what I would need to do is sort of… break it apart from the inside, but all over at the same time. Does that sound right to you?” she asked Toph.

“Yeah, sort of. But you need to keep the whole together so it doesn’t splatter… the edges kind of feel different.” Toph sat down opposite Katara and waited. Katara didn’t move. She didn’t move for a long time.

Toph focussed on sensing the metal in her hands, and was surprised at how easily she fell into it. She could feel how there was a growing pressure inside, a tentative movement. But it was going in the wrong direction - or rather it was going in all directions at once. That is not how metal is structured, she registered, there needed to be more of a sliding and jostling to it. She murmured this instruction to Katara, careful not to break the concentration of either.

Slowly but surely, she felt Katara’s hold on the metal increase and the right action take place. The metal was more malleable, and then eventually liquid. She imagined Katara would be smiling.

“Fuck. Yes,” breathed Katara, playing with the liquid metal. She was right. She could treat it like water in a way, although it was less similar than she had expected.

Toph grinned.

“Nice one sugar-cake. Now can we get on with real Earth Bending?” quipped Toph, not quite managing to hide her awe for what Katara had just achieved. She wondered if she would be able to use the same technique in reverse when Katara kept up her side of the bargain.

A couple of days had passed and Katara had managed some earth bending - Zuko some metal bending. Both realised that the more they learned about any element made picking up the next one ever easier. So many things were similar that sometimes in the depth of their meditations they stated fusing the boundaries.

Toph liked fire too - she used it to sense what she could not feel through her feet. And carefully, with much caution, she learned to manipulate it. Since it was not solid it took many hours of concentration to keep hold of the shapes she created - they were not bounded by everything, but she saw it as her job to bind it to a shape.

When it came to her turn to learn water, she could hardly wait. Katara had also decided that she would attempt to teach Zuko blood bending at the same time; full moons only came around once a month and she wasn’t sure what the future would hold.

The three met by the little lake, much to the annoyance of the turtle ducks, just before sunset. Katara talked Toph through everything she had done with Zuko, and decided it would be a good idea if she kept her feet in the water. Although Toph had eventually learned to swim, she still feared the power of water, and so keeping the most sensitive part of her body connected with it might help bridge that distrust.

Katara and Zuko left her in meditation as the sun set, knowing that, at this point, it was highly unlikely she wouldn’t experience the surge of power that came with the moon. It seemed strange yet oddly logical that they were all picking up one another’s elements so quickly.

“Blood,” started Katara, “feels slightly different to water. It is harder to move, since it pulls everything else that is in the blood with it. It is heavy in that sense. And besides, there is something blocking your direct access to it. The way I like to look at it is as a reaching past a barrier rather than a going inside.”

Zuko looked around, distracted from her words by a thought that had just occurred to him. He was feeling uneasy.

“Katara, don’t you have some animal I can practice on?”

Katara stared at him hard.

“No. Blood bending takes away the freedom of whatever you are practicing on. Therefore you will only blood bend practice on willing subjects.”

Zuko sucked in a breath. He had a really bad feeling this might happen.

“Katara there is no way I am blood bending on you!” he seethed.

“Yes, you are,” she replied calmly.

“I won’t learn then,” he matched, folding his arms across his chest in defiance.

“Yes, you will. What happens if I go crazy with all this power? What happens if I need to be stopped and Aang can’t do it? What happens if people find out about this and torture me until I make them as powerful as we are?” Katara had tears in her eyes but she refused to let them fall. This was why she had to teach him. How could she trust herself with something so destructive without any way out. “You need to learn Zuko, you need to be able to control me and my chi like I can control you and yours. That way you can take away from me what might one day harm so many people…”

Zuko’s arms had fallen to his sides as her arguments computed in his mind. Out of all of them, she was the only one who could not be stopped. If he or Toph abused their power, Katara would be there to take it away. Aang had still not managed to return to the Avatar state since they had split up two years earlier and so would be incapable of doing so. But if she lost her mind, if she was used and tortured, nobody would be able to help her.

“Katara, don’t think like that,” he whispered unconvincingly. He pulled her into his arms, well aware that she was right. He was both moved by her trust in him and terrified of misusing it. An image of his father flashed in his head. What atrocities could he have achieved if he had known how to blood bend? Zuko didn’t want to imagine.

“Look, Zuko, this is important. I know you are as strong as I am, and you feel the water in the same way I do. Blood is not hard, its just as shift in how you see the element - like lightening is for you and metal is for Toph…” she pushed him away gently and collected herself before starting her instruction.

Zuko was used to observing the mass of water that was Katara. But now he needed to concentrate on overcoming the resistance provided by her skin and moving behind it. He could understand how somebody who struggled with water would find this near impossible, but by this point shifting his perspective was becoming a way of life. The constant re-analysis was opening his eyes - metaphorically - to a way of feeling  that was completely foreign to him.

It took a while, but the power of the moon was coursing through his body, and all the water in the world seemed to be at his fingertips. He reached forward with his hands and his mind, and concentrated on what was behind the skin. His fingers curled in order to take control of her body - a rigid, awkward movement, like a puppeteer. He had the distinct feeling that if he softened his stance control over her would slip. Slowly, he moved her arms around, getting a feel for how it felt.

Zuko had expected to be repulsed by the sensation of blood bending another person - especially Katara, but actually he felt very calm, just like when he was water bending. In retrospect, he didn’t really know why he had anticipated repulsion - he hardly felt repulsed by the creation of lightening, and he doubted Toph disliked metal bending.

“Alright Zuko, now I’m going to start resisting,” said Katara. She, too, looked relatively calm.

“What do you mean resist?” he asked, dropping his hold and letting her arms flop to her sides.

“Well, I’ve been letting you do what you want, but that is hardly ever going to happen. I will try to resist and you will need to use more force to control my body. Are you ready?”

Zuko gritted his teeth but nodded, retaking his stance. He hoped that he didn’t hurt her.

This time was more difficult, he needed to focus all his attention on maintaining his hold and bending her to his will. In the back of his mind he could understand how people could become addicted to such power, but he pushed that thought away.

Eventually Katara’s face contorted in pain and she gave over control. Zuko dropped his stance.

They both stood staring at one another, breathing heavily. Katara nodded and forced a smile.

“I think thats enough for tonight,” she murmured, turning towards where Toph sat in the distance.

Zuko caught her arm.

“Katara, wait. There is something I’ve been meaning to tell you. Uncle made me promise not to but I think you have a right to know,” he started hesitantly.

“Spit it out Zuko!”

“Your family is coming here. To the palace. They are arriving with Iroh.” He was looking away, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

Katara exhaled audibly.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said cordially, controlling her rising panic. “How long to I have to prepare for this?”

“Erm… they arrive tomorrow.”

[xstarsinthedarknessx]

Kimber

Chapter 2; I know that this needs a lot of work - it’s literally first base first draft. Rip it apart all you like. Please be nice, though. This is a shifter/fantasy/romance novel. (YC)

In ten minutes, Nikolay would begin his two-a.m. round. On the dot. They had one round in the night, as most maids were awake not long before and the rest were to be awake not long after. Nik was particularly ruthless and intolerant of bad behavior. If you weren’t in your bed when he came into your room, there was hell to pay.

Kimber reached the doorknob, desperate to flee before the next day began. Her delicate hand rested against the doorknob. She had one ally in this place and Kimber would have to leave her behind. She pulled the door gently, ensuring it didn’t make a noise and made her way down the darkened hallway. 3 doors down, she grabbed another handle and entered the room.

Gliding across the room, she leaned down and placed her lips gently against her friend’s forehead. Her eyes closed briefly, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I promise, with all my heart, I will come back for you.”

Kimber left the room as fast as possible. Eight minutes, forty-six seconds before she was discovered. If another guard didn’t find her first. She made her way down the hallway in the opposite direction and paused at the top of the stairs, listening for the sounds of guards breathing, picking their fingernails, anything that could give them away.

When she couldn’t hear anything, she made her way down the elegant staircase and across the landing. She leaned towards the second-floor French doors and gently pulled them open, making as little noise a possible. She wasn’t the only creature with heightened senses. A thrill shot through Kimber as she tiptoed out through the door onto the balcony.

Five minutes and two seconds until room check.

Reaching for the rail that enclosed the marble balcony, she gripped the ledge and pulled herself to straddle it. Kicking her foot over the edge she used all her strength to hold onto the outside of the balcony. She wrapped her thighs around one of the columns that held the balcony, ready to slide down. It would be a fast decent, the heavy rain making the marble slick.

As she reached the ground, Kimber drew a breath and rushed into the cool wind and heavy rain that battered against the ground. She darted left into a line of bushes and stayed under their cover as she made her way into the trees surrounding the compound.

The goal was simple. Escape or die trying.

Kimber still nursed wounds from a recent beating for fighting against a guard who wanted to use her body. She wrapped her arms around her cracked ribs, hoping to ease the pain if only a little. Her legs throbbed from her decent and her feet could still feel the vibrations of landing against the hardened floor. Tears, mixed with rain, poured down her face from the searing pain.

Two minutes and thirty-seven seconds remained.

Time to get moving. Through the darkness, she maneuvered around thick tree trunks and over raised roots. Lightning crackled and fingered through the dark sky.  Frustration bubbled within Kimber. She couldn’t change into her true form and it was slowing her down. If she could change, she would be so much faster, see so much clearer and it would be easier to ignore the pain. She wasn’t a runner in this form. Especially with her reduced diet over the last few years.

She gulped a deep breath; listened for shouts, boots slapping against wet ground, any sound of being hunted.

Her heart hammered with terrified beats. She had to calm down.

Kimber’s ears pricked at a howl in the distance. There were no natural wolves in England. They had found her empty bed. Jumping up, she lunged into the blackness, running hard, fighting the panic exploding in her chest. Every survival instinct she had screamed at her to tear through the wood like a madwoman. But hitting a tree might knock her out or daze her. Instant capture. Thick underbrush clawed at her arms. Pain from the cuts burning her skin demanded attention.

She pushed harder.

Sheets of rain blasted through breaks in the trees. Thunder boomed overhead. A jagged branched snagged the edge of her thin shorts and ripped a searing gash across her thigh. An adrenaline spike masked the pain, but her lungs begged for oxygen.

Distant barking and howls broke through the deluge. Wolves were expert trackers. They were on her trail.

 Kimber burst through a break in the trees and slowed while her eyes adjusted, but moved forward steadily. The ground fell away and she stumbled down a short drop into a ditch, landing on her knees. She lay on the cold ground and stared up at the stars. Mother nature kissed her skin as her breath became a cloud in the sky.

The bays of wolves pierced the night. They were closing in.

There was a dim glow against the horizon, enough for Kimber to raise her head. There were flat stretches of tarmac and a small building across the clearing.

Pushing her arms into the ground, Kimber raised herself to her knees, and then her feet before stumbling in that direction. Her adrenaline was seeping away, leaving her bones aching and shaking. Her thigh throbbed, her ribs burned and her head felt foggy. She /had/ to make it. Forcing her heart to pump harder only made her wounds bleed more but she pushed herself into a jog.

The bright glow ahead kept her going. It appeared to be some sort of hangar, the tail of a plane peeking out the end.

She softened her steps as she neared the hangar then crept to the edge of the building. There was a plane sat in the building, the door open with boxes upon boxes of who-know-what cargo but that didn’t matter. Kimber couldn’t outrun Nikolay and the house on her feet. No matter where this plane was going, she had to go with it.

When she couldn’t sense anyone else near the plane, she dashed across the concrete floor and jumped through the door, landing harshly on her hands and knees.

Kimber crawled across the plane floor and hid in a crook between boxes. It was right near the wall she could only assume was behind the cockpit. It was the most hidden she could be in such a small space. She just hoped the pilot didn’t need to re-check his cargo before he took off.

She made herself as small as she possibly could. There was an overpowering smell coming from the cargo on this plane. Kimber was sure some of the crates must contain animals, or animal produce, or some pungent vegetation. She hoped it would cover her scent.

When the doors were shut and the plane began to move towards its runway, Kimber let her eyes close and she fell into a heavy sleep.

 #

 How was she going to get out of this plane without the pilot or someone else realizing she had been there? She could feel the plane moving across the tarmac, she assumed to its hangar in this airport. The touchdown had been rather gentle in comparison to what she though a touchdown would feel like.

The plane came to a halt and she could hear the pilot making his way out of the plane and across the area they were in. The cargo door was opened and Kimber had to squint to protect her eyes from the bright sunlight. It had been so dark in the plane that even with heightened senses, Kimber could hardly see. This sunlight felt truly blinding, burning against her irises.

Kimber closed her eye briefly, the strongest sense of relief passing through her as who she could only assume was the pilot, had opened the door and then left the plane, perhaps to get someone else to collect the cargo. She darted out and away from the plane, her muscles protesting but her mind screaming for her to move while she had the chance.

She darted across the tarmac and behind a small building. New-Mexico airfield was written on a nearby road sign. Kimber gasped as she realized she was in America. She was so far from home and the auction house but she didn’t want to take any chances.

Following the closest road, Kimber walked for hours. All she needed now, was somewhere she could change into her true form, her Lioness. She would travel much farther, much quicker if she could change.

 After walking for nearly the whole day, Kimber started seeing signs for Gila National Forest. She changed her direction and continued walking long into the night, finally reaching the edges of the forest as the sun began to rise. The golden light speared through the trees and warmed against Kimber’s face.

Once Kimber felt she was far enough into the forest, she near collapsed to the ground. She needed to hunt and then she needed to sleep. The day was almost over. She could feel her joints crack and twist as her bones moved beneath her skin, changing shape to fit her new feline form. Some bones elongated while others shrank, creating a _highness_ throughout her whole body. Her shoulders scrunched into her neck, she fell to her knees and her back arched. She stretched her fingers and toes outward as they became more feline in shape and claws began to protrude.

Her Lioness raised its hackles as it stretched and settled into it’s form. She twisted her ears in every direction, listening intently for the sound of anything she could hunt. Hooves scraped against the ground nearby.

Kimber crouched against the ground, skimming her belly against the ground as she got closer to her target. She ensured she was hidden behind the thick underbrush and narrowed her eyes on her target. Some sort of sheep. She thanked the stars that it was a female and not a ram. She had enough wounds as it was.

She leaped forward, pouncing through the air and latching her extended claws into the sheep’s flank. It made a loud noise and tried to run but Kimber couldn’t afford to let this go. She reached her neck as far forward as she could and wrapped her teeth around the sheep’s jugular, pressing down hard until the sheep stopped moving.

Kimber hated hunting, having a love for every animal but sometimes it just couldn’t be helped. It was different when her mum collected meat with the groceries. She didn’t see the animal alive, with a life or a family. This sheep could have kids somewhere in this forest. She tried to not think about it.

The Lioness in her urged her to start eating her kill, never knowing when the next meal would be. Kimber ate through it at a record speed.

With her stomach full, Kimber lay against a particularly large tree and curled into herself. It would be easier to keep herself warm throughout the night in this form. It didn’t take very long for her body to give into her fatigue and fall into a slumber, although a part of her would always have to be on alert.

[joescreepystories-blog]

Stalker

Amy sat alone in her new home. A 2 bedroom apartment in San Francisco. A rather modest apartment for someone who had just retired at the age of 30 with more than enough money in the bank to see her through life with enough to leave to her kids, so that they'd never have to work in their lives, not that Amy had any kids, work had always come first. Amy had started making mobile apps when she was 24 years old. Mainly apps that let people buy and sell things, but also games, including the one that made her fortune. Amy sipped her coffee that sat on the end table

"Shit" she thought "Still too hot"

She walked into the kitchen to grab some milk when she noticed a brown envelope hanging out of her letterbox

"That's odd" she thought as she walked over to retrieve it.

She pulled the letter free and turned it over, it just had one word on the front in scribbled handwriting

"Open"

As Amy walked back over to the sofa there was a knock on the door that made her let out a short, high pitched scream. She walked over to the door slowly and looked through the peephole, on the other side stood her friend Hannah who was looking back at her holding up a bottle of wine, Amy sighed and let her friend in

"What's the matter? Hannah asked 

"You look like you've seen a ghost" 

"Nothing" replied Amy hiding the envelope behind her back 

"Long days that's all"

"Long?" Replied Hannah laughing 

"You're retired for gods sake" 

They both laughed and Amy led them into the living room where Amy sat on the sofa, pushing the brown envelope under the sofa cushion.

They sat, talked and drank wine for hours until Hannah said

"I guess I should get going, my cabs waiting outside"

They hugged and said goodbye. Amy locked the door and drew the chain across before walking back over to the sofa and retrieving the envelope. She sat down and opened the envelope. There was only one picture inside. A picture of her sitting in her car at the traffic lights. Taken from an angle that could only have been taken from the car next to her. She turned it over to find more scrawled handwriting.

"Boo!"

Amy sat on the sofa, it didn't really scare her so much as confuse her. "Why would someone do that? Could it be someone I know playing a prank?" Either way she wasn't taking any chances. She made sure that the doors and windows were all bolted shut and went to bed.

The next day seemed pretty normal, Amy woke up, showered and got dressed. She walked passed the envelope on the coffee table and then stopped. She turned around and looked at it.

"That's not where I left you" she thought walking slowly back over to the table. 

She was right. The envelope had been turned over from being face down so the word "Open" could be seen again. She opened the envelope to find a picture. But not the same picture as before. It was a picture of her sleeping, she knew instantly that it was from the night before because she was wearing pyjamas that were only bought that day.

Amy felt sick, she ran around the apartment making sure the windows were still locked and threw the curtains closed. The front door. She ran to the door. Locked.

"So how...." Amy thought her mind trailing away.

She picked up the phone and called the police and within 20 minutes there was a knock at the door. Amy shouted

"Who's there?"

"Police" came the reply  

Amy walked over to the door and looked through the peephole, two patrol officers stood at the door with stern expressions on their faces. She opened the door and invited them in.

They sat and talked for what seemed like an age. Amy showed them the pictures and they took notes in their little black notepads. After only twenty minutes the officers stood up and said they'd be in touch if they had any further questions.

Amy sat on the sofa and sobbed. She cried for only a minute before composing herself.

She had stuff to do.

Amy drove herself to the nearest hardware store and bought more locks for her doors and windows enough for all windows and doors in her apartment. She rushed home to start fitting them. As she approached her door she sensed something was off, she walked slowly to her front door and pushed, closed, she tried the handle which opened.

"Im sure I locked it" she said to herself.

She opened the door quickly and with a thump. She shouted in

"If there's anyone in there I've called the police" Hoping that whoever was in there would come running out.

After a few minutes she poked her head around the door. Amy then decided to go in, she walked gingerly through the hall and into the living room.

"Just how I left it" she thought

She then moved to the bedroom. She opened the door and immediately starting crying. On her bed was another brown envelope.

After she had gotten herself together she reached for the envelope, her hands shaking with fear.

She opened the envelope, this time no picture but a key. A key with a tag on it. 

"KeepSafe Storage No.563". 

Confused Amy set down the key and made sure nothing else was in the envelope. She then googled the storage facility and discovered it was only an hours drive from her home.

Amy got into her car and started to drive. After an hour she found the storage facility and parked her car. When she walked into the lobby there was no one there, so she made her own way and found the locker she was looking for. Number 563. Amy took a deep breath and readied herself for what was on the other side. She put the key into the lock and turned. It popped open with a clunk and fell to the ground and the shutter rolled up.

The room was dark and smelled musty, she look around and found a light switch. She flicked it and the light came to live with a buzz. The storage unit was empty apart from a small wooden box in the middle of the floor as if to say open me. She flipped open the latch and opened the box. Inside was a folded sheet of paper. Amy unfolded it and read out-loud.

"Boo"

Before she had even finished saying the word her whole world went black.

Amy awoke several hours later, the back of her head was throbbing and sticky.

"Blood" she thought

She tried to move but realised the was tied to a chair. She tried to scream, but she was gagged. She wasn't blindfolded, she knew this because she could see light under the door of a shutter. Amy's eyes teared up as a million and one thoughts ran through her head. But this time, this time she wasn't going to cry, this time she'd get angry. Rocking the chair back and forth trying to free her arms she managed to topple the chair

"Fuck" she mumbled.

Amy lay there for ten minutes before she heard the unmistakable sound of a key being put into a lock. She tried again to scream but the gag muffled her strained attempts. The shutter flew up, the light blinding Amy, she could make out only a silhouette of a man standing in the doorway, he stepped inside and turned to close the shutter. Darkness befell the room again before a light was flicked on.

The lights flooded the room, Amy was blinded, but as her eyes began to adjust she started to see things clearly. She glanced around the room from her position on the floor, pictures, hundreds, maybe thousands of pictures, she screamed again and tried to wrestle herself free but was hoisted back up into a seated position by the man. He stood behind her and asked in a low, forceful voice

"If I remove this will you scream?"

"No" Amy tried to mumble

The man removed the gag, as soon as he did Amy screamed at the top of her lungs

"Help me!"

Instantly the man hit her with his open palm from his position behind her and put his hand over her mouth. She could taste the saltiness of his sweat which made her wretch.

"Don't scream" the man said again taking his hand away

Amy didn't scream this time, looking around her she started to see what the pictures were. It was her. Thousands of pictures of her lined every available space on the walls. Pictures from her social media, pictures of her from her magazine spreads but then she noticed them. Pictures of her going about daily life, shopping hanging out with friends. With Hannah, with her parents. All aspects of her life photographed without her knowing. A stalker.

"Who are you?" she asked sternly

"A fan" replied the man walking from behind her into view.

The mans face came into view and he said crouched down in front of the chair giving Amy a first look at his face. He was handsome. Amy studied his face, she had never seen him before. He couldn't have been much older than Amy herself. He had baby blue eyes and neatly trimmed hair, a few weeks worth a facial growth and very chiselled features. He was about 6 feet tall and rather muscular which Amy feel even more afraid. She couldn't match him physically.

"I just wanted to meet you" said the man after sometime.

"I know everything about you. Where you were born, what schools you went to, who you've dated, where you go daily, where you go weekly, I know where you worked, who your colleges are, I know everything" he then turned to Amy and said

"Look around you, what you see here is years worth of research"

Amy looked around and saw pictures of her dating back at least five years.

"Why are you doing this" Amy asked with venom in her voice. She was trying to be intimidating even though she was terrified

"You'll find out soon enough" said the man as he turned towards Amy and pulled the gag back into her mouth. 

He turned from her and walked to the shutter. Throwing it open, turning the light off and leaving. The click of the lock being closed made Amy jump. She was alone. Again.

In the dark Amy decided that she was going to escape. She used all of her limited strength to try and free herself. She was so dehydrated that she struggled to even move, but she managed reach her arm with her mouth and start biting at the bindings. She tried in vain to break the zip ties biding her hands to the flimsy wooden chair. Suddenly she had an idea, all she had to do was free her legs. She wriggled and writhed her legs in all directions and with one massive surge of effort, broke the first zip tie. Using her free foot she managed to wriggle the other leg free. Once both of her legs were free she stood herself up. The plan was to jump up into the air and land on the back legs of the wooden chair, hopefully smashing the whole thing. With one mighty leap she jumped up leant back and with a loud crash, the chair broke apart, one hand was free but still had the arm of the chair attached but the other was still attached to the chairs arm and seat. Using her free arm she managed to break the other arm free of the seat. Once both arms were free she pulled the arm pieces free and tossed them to one side. She was free. Amy found the light switch and flicked it on. The only other thing in the room as a fire extinguisher, standard for all storage lockers. She looked at the label, water. Not ideal. Amy hatched a plan to wait by the side of the shutter and hit the man over the head when he came back. Shouting for help would yield little to no results in a storage compound this big, no doubt she'd be far away from anyone. So she waited. And waited. And waited until finally, the sound of a key and a lock meeting. Then there was a click and the deafening sound of a shutter being thrown open

"Hey what the fu---" the mans sentence was cut off short by Amy's overhead swing from the fire extinguisher. 

The man slumped forward onto the ground. Unconscious. In a blind panic Amy ran from the unit into the maze of storage lockers.

"Great" she thought, "No sign posts". 

She started running wildly through the dense maze of identical metal shutters until she was stopped dead in her tracks by a blood curdling scream

"AMY! IM COMING FOR YOU!"

She took off running again rounding corner after corner trying to escape. Amy turned another corner and skidded to a halt, at the end of the long corridor he stood there, blood pouring from a wound in the side of his head, and a knife in his hand. Amy turned around and bolted the other way, the man gave chase. Corner after corner, shutter after shutter she ran, colliding with the cold metal doors after every turn, she could hear him getting closer.

"He must know this place like the back of his hand" she thought, standing still for a moment to catch her breath which was promptly knocked out of her by a forceful shove that hit her in the back. 

She fell to the floor and the man got on top of her. He brought the knife down with lightning speed at Amy's face, she moved just in time for the knife to slice a chunk out of her ear, screaming she clawed at his face with her nails causing him to let up just for a moment. Long enough for Amy's knee to come crashing into his balls and send him rolling off to one side, dropping the knife that went skidding away. Both on the floor they clawed and scratched at each other while crawling towards the knife. Amy moved quicker. Kicking down with her heel she caught the man in the nose which exploded with blood, the man screamed and grabbed his nose giving Amy enough time to get to the knife. She grabbed it and rolled over onto her back, the man jumped on top of her and let out a low grunt, he just stared at her, blankly, 

Amy screamed "Just do it already" but the man didn't reply instead a small trickle of blood escaped his lips and he slumped forward onto her body. 

She realised what had happened. He had landed on the knife. She pushed him off her, stoop up and looked around and there in the distance was a small sign on the ceiling that read

"Exit this way"

This is the first story I’ve ever written, hopefully my writing will get better as time goes on

J