#half light: HE IS GOING TO KILL YOU. YOU ARE GOING TO DIE. JUMP OUT OF THE WINDOW *NOW*. THAT PEDESTRIAN WILL BREAK YOUR FALL.

[57sfinest]

random thought of the day: i don’t think harry would ever feel comfortable driving a car again after martinaise. just holding the clutch of the kineema was enough to put him on the edge of a breakdown, and that was while knowing that kim would never in a million years let him actually drive the thing. even without the conscious memory of nearly drowning in the coupris, he has a stress reaction just thinking about driving. honestly, even just being a passenger might be rough on him if the association is strong enough in his brain. which then makes me wonder how the ‘good ending’ drive home with jean & co went lol

[threepandas]

Bad End: Royal Red

Have you ever seen blood BURN like the sun?

I'm not even sure "burn" is the right word for it. Writhe? Scream? HATE? Like a standing on a cliff, staring down at a valley consumed in flames. Old forests full of life... burning. Dying. Wrong.

The sky choked with thick black smoke. Tar-like and staining. The ROAR of it. Moisture ripped so utterly from the air, it hurts to breathe. Heat so absolute as it rises... you can not imagine there was ever, EVER life here.

But there was.

And it was once beautiful.

Ancient and green, bird song and morning mist. Moss beneath bare feet and the gentle quiet that is no quiet at all. A thing ALIVE. Breathing. Whole. Now gone beneath the flame. The carnage and hunger. As animals flee for their lives and your men die, desperate to hold back the all consuming spread.

Nothing but FIRE remains.

But have you seen BLOOD burn? The weeping wounds of a soul? The... WRONGNESS inside a man, catch light? A shade of ever overlapping crimson. Drying blood somehow just as fluid as the fresh. Old wounds and new. Somewhere, the depth of scars...

BURNING.

I have.

I do.

I wish I did not.

There is something... WRONG with his Highness. Now, the Crown Prince. He... He HAD brothers. Some were awful, others indifferent. But all of them? All of them are gone. Terrible accidents, allegedly. One after another. And they were NOT the only one's. Consorts, lovers, mistresses and supporters. Allies and anyone unfortunate enough to be in his Highness' way.

But of course, I can prove nothing. And to SUGGEST such a thing? That would be Treason. Defamation of a Royal. That it is TRUE? Holds no bearing. Is utterly irrelevant. Even if I HAD had the proper training, even I'd my Gifts WERE formally recognized, ultimately? Politics is King.

It's not supposed to be. But when has life ever been so kind? When has "supposed to" EVER won the day? No. Such talk gets men killed. And dying once? Was quite enough for me.

Though I HAD to wonder...

How does a Protagonist fuck up SO BADLY, that they somehow send their Hidden Route target, into an empire conquering, murder spiral? That's not "a few bad choices" levels of making a mistake. THAT'S? Damn near deliberate sabotage and I just wanna talk. Violently.

I WOULD too, if I wasn't pretty certain they were either on the run or in exile.

All I had wanted? ALL I HAD EVER WANTED?? Was to just be set dressing. Soldier A, the unimportant background gaurd. A nice, faceless, grunt. Maybe chat with my equals of plot significance, a potted plant and yonder chair. Then? I could take my pay, go home, and live quietly.

But NO!

I get stationed following the Seventh prince. Mr. Hidden Route himself. Which? Okay, fine. Was HOPING for gate duty, cause NOTHING happens on gate duty, but FINE. But THEN? Half my co-workers are ASSHOLES. Like... child abusing assholes! The FUCK?!

So? Oops. Accident on the stairs! Whoops! Lemme help you there, man. Oh? Did I ACCIDENTALLY crush the hand you used to hit that kid? Golly! Gee, I sure hope the healers can fix that for you! (I fucking know they both can't and wouldn't if they could. You can't afford SHIT.) Lemme HELP you there, AGAIN, BUUUUUDDY~☆!

Threatening you? Why I would NEVER! That's illegal!

You know... like hitting kids.

And OTHER shit they try to pull. Never DID get around to updating my Gaurd Forms. Whoops. Turns out being able to literally SEE the malicious intent on a fucker? Makes it pretty easy to know who to watch. DID get jumped a lot though. Stabbed a few times.

I just? Wanted to watch my favorite Otome game play out, you know? Get payed while doing it. Sunk cost fallacy kicked in. I've been here since I was a PRE-TEEN. Signed up for training, a ten year contract, and everything! I can LEAVE now... but like? Go WHERE? And honestly... I'm not actually sure I CAN.

Things are... Tense.

Or maybe they're just tense for me? 'Cause... Cause something isn't right. It's that burning blood color. The way it fills a room. Reaches, covetous, like staining hands. Writhes and drags itself against everything. Something unholy, between a lustful grind and the dragging of the wounded. It's not even demonic. No... somehow? It's WORSE for being utterly human.

There is something deeply wrong with the man I am sworn to obey, and I do not know how to escape him.

Because I definitely SHOULD.

I'm not stupid. He's been... been keeping me, SPECIFICALLY, close at hand, since becoming Crown Prince. The SECOND he was able to assign his OWN gaurds? I am suddenly honor gaurd. Yet not. I have basically no job but to stab just behind and to the side of him and look pretty. (For the given quality of THAT.) And...? Even the other gaurds are looking nervous.

It's NEVER a good thing when powerful people suddenly pay attention to an individual gaurd, servant, or maid. They tend to end up... hurt. Dead. Worse. And given recent behavior? Well... I've been getting offers to quietly arrange an "accident" for me.

Not so sure it won't get everyone involved killed.

He wasn't always LIKE this. Yeah, he was... different, but it wasn't BAD. Just... off. A bit weird. A color I hadn't seen before and couldn't for the life of me figure out. It had been... well, nothing. Not even grey. I KNOW grey, it's apathy or depression. Emotional flatness.

But his Highness? Like mist. The lite distortion of water droplets. Colorless and near weightless, drifting gently along. It was as though he DIDNT have emotional responses to anything. Not even flat. Just... non-existant. Which? If so? That's okay! Really. Takes all types. Something to NOTE, yeah, maybe accommodate? But fine.

It's not like there were psychiatric meds or doctors we could get for him. If he was different, so be it. We just had to work around that. Plan accordingly. Worst case scenario, maybe keep him away from small breakable things. But? He seemed benign. I shrugged and moved on. Accepted him as he was.

Maybe went out of my way to explain things with logic more then feelings. Even when I WAS explaining feelings. Ethics. Pretty much anything else he asked. Which... wait a second...

Fuck.

A nameless gaurd SHOULD NOT know that much about psychology or politics. Economics on the macro or micro scale. Oh god DAMN it Wikipedia! You betray me a lifetime away?! Et Tu random research binges!?

Okay. Okay! So maaaaybe? THATS why he's keeping me close? Cause yeah, I'm pretty stacked these days. No internet kinda leaves nothing BUT time to train and read... and books are kinda hard to get, at my level. So like? Maybe a second set of eyes?

....doesn't feel right though. Close but missing the obvious mark-ish.

I try to think of my interactions with the prince. BEFORE murder-spiral kick-off. He sought me out a lot. I interfered so many times when his Tutors crossed lines, they got me kicked out of the main building. He started skipping lessons to self-study. I got put on patrol? He learned my patrol schedule. Would invade the gaurd mess.

Got punished for that, I think. Vicious cycle. I get punished, he gets upset, wants to make sure I'm okay, I get punished for his basic empathy and being a kid. They kept reassigning me. I got stabbed that first time. Sent too...

Wait.

I try to pull up what I know of the Game in my brain. The Hidden Route and the other Routes. We are.... WAY off script. Not off GENRE... just...?

Mentally I set the Game aside. Shifting in my guarding position at the Crown Prince's side. He continues to work. The soft rustle of papers and the scratching of his pen, filling the silence along side the clink and shift of my armor. We are in the sun room, surrounded by flowers, supposedly for the better light.

To be honest, I hadn't ever BEEN in this room until I was basicly expected to tail the Crown Prince like a glorified, armor wearing, pet. And too be honest? Given that the REST of his honor gaurd were ACTUAL KNIGHTS? It was well beyond ridiculous at this point.

I was a club bouncer surrounded by elite special forces, in fancy little armor, that I could in NO way, have ever afforded on my own. Oh, and I wasn't really allowed to talk to them. So... WHY? Why, EXACTLY, was I here? There was no realistic way anything could get PASSED all those knights. I certainly wasn't PROTECTING the Crown Prince from SHIT.

And... and he hadn't attacked me, thank God. No touchy hands "service to the crown" shtick. Demanding things I couldn't refuse him. So THAT wasn't it...

Right?

My brain insisted it wasn't. That I should keep going over the list of possible reasons. Consider This or That. But... Something in my gut? Rang like a struck bell. Some non-physical part of me. That peice that twined, like gentle golden ivy, up through my body, too wrap around my eyes from the inside. Not enough, maybe, to get me into some high and mighty school or apprenticeship... but ENOUGH.

Because Magic was, is, and always has been? Divine. For all that HUMANS fail while using it. For every MORTAL error in it's implementing or understanding. It's a drop of the Divine. And? You can not LIE to the Gods. Hide, perhaps, but not LIE. Even then, you'd have to know what you're hiding FROM.

Kinda hard to hide from "using past life knowledge to deduce motivation" when that's not exactly a thing people can easily guess I HAVE. I get away with shit. Know things I really shouldn't.

Am.... am desperately trying to convince myself that the twinge I just felt? DOESN'T mean what I think it means. Even as a cold sweat breaks out over my skin. As I desperately keep my expression placid and my stare straight into the middle distance. Ha ha.... oh god. No no no, oh god, no...!

Okay. OKAY! Lying to yourself will NOT keep you safe! We can do this! Nothing is happening. We just... just have to play it cool. NOT. PANIC.

He DID want us for sexual reasons.

But... more? More, maybe. I poke at the feeling. Try to frame my thoughts as absolute statement as see if I get a twinge again. To get a feel for the edges of whatever is happening. I can not protect myself, if I do not KNOW from what I protect AGAINST. Just sex? No. Was I a convenience choice? Also No. Revenge for something? A sudden certainty that I'd be DEAD if it was.

Oh, THATS not concerning at ALL!

Okay, keep prodding. Uuuuh... He has a thing for big muscle-y dudes with scars? Strong yes. Okay! Getting somewhere! Kinda thought he liked the petite, girly girl-ish typ-? Weirdly hollow No? Strong. Okay, what the FUCK. See THIS? THIS is why I wanted to be a fucking GAURD. No weird Protagonist of any adventures bullshit! Just a 9-5 with a paycheck at the end!

Uuuugh. Okay, soooo... likes? Strong dudes.... and I was the closest? No. Okay! Getting somewhere! Other strong dude... isn't available? Yes, but I am looking at it wrong. Great. At least I know what that feeling MEANS. Still wish it would just follow up with a "and btw, here's the answer~☆" but, fuck no! Why would life make anything EASY for a guy?

Fuck it! Random shit at the wall time. He's definitely in love with the Protagonist? No. Wait, really? Then why...? No. Stay on track. He's in definitely in love with ME? I wait, utterly expectant, for the twinge that will mark a negative. Half cursing myself for not checking with the Divine sooner. There had been no excuse. Distractions, yes, but no excuse.

It feels like getting sucker punched in the gut. HARD.

Takes everything in me, not to wheeze and double over. That... that wasn't a "yes". That was so FAR beyond "yes" I'm not sure there are spoken, written, or even conceptual WORDS for it. As absolute a CONCEPT of Yes as I have ever felt or probably ever will.

It... It did NOT feel good.

That was a WARNING.

Like the Gods them selves had taken me by the back of the neck, stepped close, to whisper in my ear as they drove their fist into my gut. "Pay Attention To This. RUN. You Need To RUN. There Are Monsters Here."

My eyes feel like they are burning. Like I haven't blinked in too long. Colors a bit too bright, details too sharp. The edges of reality cutting like splintering, glittering, glass. Everything has a GLOW to it. It's never done that before. Is... is this panic? Fight or Flight forcing me to draw deeper then I ever have before?

Or are the Gods paying attention? Displeased by what they see?

The room around us is... is so quiet. Beautiful. Rare flowers, teeming with life. Decorative and pampered little song birds, flitting from roost to roost. The rich scent of rare tea and expensive cologne, mixing with armor polish and the scent of green, living things. Sunlight makes his Highness' hair glow like it was made of it. Pale gold and filled with light.

If I could not SEE... his Highness would be beautiful.

But I can, and instead? He's terrifying.

I think I'm shaking. I don't understand. The room around me picturesque. Peaceful. Golden and filled with gently beautiful things. Light. It feels mocking. Paper thin. Like some cruel trap laid out over a pit of tar. As though, like in the cartoons of my old childhood, the INSTANT I become aware... acknowledge the reality of my ACTUAL surroundings?

The paper thin veneer will rip, no longer able to hold my weight, and I will be plunged into the horrors just beneath the lie.

How.... HOW did-?! I... I CAN'T-!

I put everything I am, into letting nothing show. E-Everything is FINE. Do not turn around. Please. Please, Gods, do not notice me or turn around! I breathe. Breathe. Can't do nothing now, but breathe. Panic is the mind killer. I remind myself of that. People do stupid things, when they act in panic. Think. THINK! Plan. THEN act! Breathe.

How? HOW did this happen? Trace it back. Find the source and we can... can maybe unhook the noose. Fix this? Escape? Run and keep running. Find the edge of the map and keep going. Where did it...? My brain, maybe my magic, finally takes pity. Connects the wires that have long been JUST missing each other. My mental list of Genre Troupes. My history with the Prince.

The blood drains from my face.

Oh fuck. Shit! Oh fuck, oh SHIT. Yandere. He was a YANDERE hidden route character! Wasn't he!? It's the only thing that makes sense with the-! No, no, he should still-! But, wait. No. No, no, NO. Oh god! I pulled a combo attack. "Childhood best friend" even though we WEREN'T. I was basically the closest in age to him! AND the only non-asshole! So that's "Different From The Others"!

Oh mother FUCKER, I pulled a "Only One Who Cares About Me" while SERVING him! His fucked up little squirrel brain would have taken that as "belonged to him" only to have me "taken away" when I was assigned elsewhere! Every time I kept someone from ABUSING him, I was making it WORSE. Every time they reassigned me, somebody was "trying to take me away"!

Oh sweet merciful FUCK, I got STABBED!

No WONDER he lost his absolute shit! He was unhinged to begin with! But instead of latching on to Protagonist and being HER problem, he latched on to ME! Why did no one warn me he was-!? Actually, I have no idea. Non-Just-Straight?! That! One of the THAT! Like FUCK I'm asking! He'd think it was an invitation, probably!

Because he NUCKING FUTS! Squirrels in the brain! Def Con OH SHIT!!

Yandere! Shit! I'm gonna di-!

"Something's upset you." The crown prince's surprisingly deep voice says, breaking the silence. I flinch. "I can feel your magic moving. An attack, perhaps? Or is someone saying something they should not."

He... oh, great, amazing! He can FEEL my magic. The magic INSIDE me body. That magic. Yeah, I don't feel stripped naked and on display AT ALL. Thanks! Definitely not invasive, your Highness! Still, I have to answer. Carefully. Very, VERY carefully.

He hums, disbelieving, as I reply. Lifting his pen and setting it aside. A graceful hand lifts. The mere flick of his fingers. "Move" it means. "Come where I can see you". Imperious and royal. Casual in it's assumed control of me. Why would he believe anything else, after all? He IS a prince. The CROWN Prince. Future KING.

He DOES own me.

I keep my breathing even. Keep my hands from visually shaking by tightening my grip on my spear. Even, professional, steps. Forward. Turn. Face your ruler. Your BETTER. No eye contact. Even breathing and eyes to the horizon. You are a statue. Just... just be a statue. No thoughts. You can do this.

It doesnt help. I can FEEL those pale, pale eyes. Striking and blue. Rare flower petals or glacier ice, they have been called. Compared to all sorts of haunting things. The Crown Prince is a beautiful man. That dangerous sort of pale beauty, that make for excellent portraits, of bright and holy things. That fools the eyes into thinking surely, SURELY the soul before your is Good. Trustworthy.

How could anything so beautiful be DANGEROUS?

Be corrupted and insane? A killer. A madman.

A MONSTER.

I stand at attention. Where he can observe me. His little toy soilder. Kept like a PET, I know realize, and try not to feel like I am being picked apart. Like a mouse in some tigers cage. The far wall sure is fascinating. Mmmmhmm. Very... very wall-like. Glass and artfully arranged flowering vines. Very pretty. What a wall! Ten stars for wall-ness.

The near silent shift of fine fabrics. A tap. Nail on high grade armor alloy. Just the smallest of sounds that nonetheless seems deafening. I barely stop myself from jerking back in alarm. Can't prevent my gaze from snapping downwards. To the arm outstretched, the elegant hand curled, the well manicured finger nail on the single outstretched finger... that has placed itself right over my heart. I freeze, utterly.

"You're getting nervous, aren't you? Growing uncertain. I've been so busy planning ahead, I've forgotten the here and now, haven't I?" He muses. That finger I should not be able to feel, that somehow feels like a knife trailed along my skin, glides slowly down. A meandering path down towards my belt. "I've neglected you."

The finger hooks into my belt. I am dragged forward a few stumbling steps with a deceptively strong tug. There is significant muscle, hidden by the almost waifish cut of his Highness daily wear. The eyes watching for my reaction are predatory. Intent. It was as though there should be fangs, in that pleasant, politician's grin...

"My steadfast knight, warrior of my heart, you've been so patient for me... so LOYAL." He rolled the word across his tongue as he said it, eyes locked on me with the sort of interest hunter keep, more a sigh then a word. Somehow.. Somehow the concept became OBSCENE, once in his hands. "So good for me. Even after all this time. Soon, Dearest. Soon we won't have to hide. I promise."

I had NEVER been a knight. Not even CLOSE to qualified for the training. Not even a single branch, magical or otherwise. Worse? I knew for a FACT? We had never, not ONCE, been lovers. No stolen glances. No fumbling youthful hands. No "hey, let's explore this closet!". Nothing. I? Had been studiously professional, if a decent human being.

This was ALL him.

What narrative had he painted in his head?

My heart pounds. My brain somehow both gibbering hysteria and unnatural calm. I... I think I may be disassociating. But all I can think, all I KNOW, is that I can NOT, Under ANY Circumstances, break the illusion. Do NOT argue. Why YES, deeply insane FUTURE KING, I DO love you so VERY much! Hey, don't mind me, just left the phone running. Gonna go for a walk. Buy some milk.

I watch, pleasant service industry smile feeling plastic on my face, as he leans forward. Rests his head against my armored chest, as though we were lovers. Just stealing a quite little moment alone. His hand slides along my belt, fingers hooked into it, the brush of his knuckles feeling far filthier then any groping hand. I can HEAR him breathing me in.

Obscene. How is he making such chaste contact so deeply obscene? He let's out a pleased hum and I want a shower.

"Kneel for me?" So soft I almost don't catch it, it takes a moment to register the words. This time, I can not stop myself from tensing. I know he feels it, but can not bring myself to care. "Shhhh shh shh, none of this, my Darling. To your knees before your King. Sweetheart, my dearest. You're going to be serving me there for the rest of our lives. It's okay. Your King won't rush you. He knows how shy you are. How nervous."

W-Well THAT wasn't treason! At ALL! Ha ha...! Oh god.

Hands at my waist. When did the other one-?! I'm shaking. Smile. D-dont set him off. This is fine. I... I shouldn't be ABLE to feel their heat, through my armor. Somehow I do. I want to back up. If I got to do this? At least let me-!

But, no. Pressure. Hands on my hips dragging me down, watching eyes expectant. In stops and starts... like a seizing automaton, my knees bend. Down I go... I guess.

Almost instantly, there are hands unbuckling my helmet. Sliding it off. Stealing it away. Fingers slide through my hair. Cup my cheek. A thumb running itself across my mouth. The prince seemed to loom. Hungry as he stared down at me.

"Beautiful. My loyal knight is so, SO beautiful. I am going to give us the world. Take what is ours. No one will EVER hurt us again, Dearest. I will keep you forever. Dress you in armor and roses. Mine and mine alone."

There was madness in his eyes. Obsession. Is...is that what that color meant? That burning, terrible blood? It's too late. Oh god, it's too late for that to help me. I smile. Do not argue. Fear and fear and fear. I have to get out. On my knees, it is a terrible view of what's to come, should I fail. The Games's utterly fucked. I no longer care.

I have to get out.

The King, after all, has gotten sick lately.

[basil-does-arttt]

so we all know how Bury The Light as a theme song represents Vergil and subsequently his story and themes within DMC 5??

Well obviously that means Subhuman is the same for Dante. So i did some thinking (wow big surprise there shocking i know)

The TLDR of this is my conclusion that Dante is reckless and overconfident because of his half-devil nature and as a result disregards his life and safety. Also, that Dante has mixed feelings about his demon side.

Specifically what got me to this thought was the line we all know if you've listened to subhuman:

"You cannot kill me, i am subhuman."

And,

I mean come on, the message couldn't have been written any clearer here. Because he's part demon, because he's - as Dante puts it, assumably the writing of this song is from his POV much like i assume Bury the Light is from Vergil's POV - sub-human, he believes he cant die. That whatever is thrown at him, no matter what or how dangerous the situation is, he naively believes he will come out the other end unscathed.

And to be honest, he kinda has reason to believe that thus far. If being stabbed at least 5 times throughout your life and brushing each one off as if it were a mere scratch wasn't enough to convince him, defeating so many different great demonic beasts including Mundus himself definitely would. I mean, who wouldnt? Whatever hell throws at Dante, surely cant be any worse than the actual fucking demon king or his own brother post-DMC 5. In a sense, he believes he is immortal.

But that way of thinking is shallow, its naive and leaves him open to danger because it makes him cocky. He thinks he's untouchable, and that way of thinking could get him seriously hurt or worse if he isnt careful. (As we see in the beginning of DMC 5 actually. He thinks "eh, ive fought worse, how bad could this actually be?" That "Its only Vergil, and ive fought him before." Only to have his shit kicked in and end up in a coma for a month. Imagine if that happened with a different demon that wasn't so merciful as to keep him alive for all that time, who would've jumped at the opportunity to rip him to shreds in an instant.)

I also want to go into how the song reflects Dante's (poor) mental health and his thoughts on being a half-demon.

Its kinda hard to catch unless you really think about it but the song is clearly negative in tone when it comes to describing Dante's own devil form. "As i call upon the dark gift to erupt" is one line that sticks out to me and i think is the best example of this. I also believe from the song that Dante views his DT as a seperate entity from himself; "I feel the devil in me, we're coming right for you".

"Funny how the mind tries to sink me deeper, as the evil tries to turn me around." The evil could be in reference to other demons, yes, but it also could be referencing his own "demon"; "i must not forget that i have bled, from no respect to the demons in my head". Wether that line means he's gotten himself hurt because of his own recklessness or self-harm i cant tell, and i wont assume one or the other specifically.

Throughout the song too, the lines "i cannot erupt, i must control, i cannot erupt, i must explode" to me also seems like Dante struggles with control of his DT, and is scared of losing himself when triggered. The whole tone of the song seems like a rampage of sorts too, its very aggresive and almost violent. "Something save me, put me out of my destiny, and drop me safely in this hell"; yet at the same time as his fears toward his own DT, it feels natural to him, this kind of "bloodlust" he feels in his triggered form is something he doesnt want but he knows he cant keep from happening entirely, so as a result the most comfortable place for him is in danger. He can let loose and he doesnt have to worry when all he's killing is demons. One last thing, "i see right past me, the eyes are flashing" to me sounds like Dante becomes almost dissociated when triggered, he's not really present in his mind and body and is acting on pure instinct alone.

All in all, Subhuman (like i said earlier) at first just sounded like an epic battle theme for Dante, but when i really listen to it, it becomes much sadder. Of course all of this could just be me bullshitting so id love to hear other's takes on this.

i also wanna analyze Bury the Light too. So i might do that later.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Should have told her

Pairing: Nanami x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,5k

Synopsis: While being secretely in love with you since joining Jujutsu High, Nanami never admitted his feelings to you. Only after you nearly die in a fight and are on the brink of death, he begins to realize how much you really mean to him

Warnings: injury, death, language

This is not fair. You are such a talented jujutsu sorcerer, your abilities even surpass his own. But apparently, not even your skills were enough to save you from getting severely injured.

They said it would be a grade 1, a curse you could eat for breakfast. Maybe a few hours and you’d be back. Yes, absolutely no problem for a grade 1 jujutsu sorcerer like yourself, Nanami knew that all too well and trusted you when you smiled with nothing but determination and confidence at him before leaving.

But it wasn’t a grade 1. A special grade curse appeared. You fought back with all your abilities, ready to die on the battlefield in order to exorcise it and safe over a hundred people from certain death. But that was too much for you. Satoru came just in time before you got punctured and ultimately killed. Yes, he saved your usually so efficient ass from certain death. And now you’re laying here, unconscious since exactly 7 days, 3 hours and 18 seconds. Unconscious and severely injured, on the brink of death.

“You need some sleep, Nanami. (y/n) won’t be helped if you collapse next to her bed”, Shoko suggests, her very own tired eyes filled with concern when looking at your lifeless frame.

She thought you’ll die the second she laid eyes on the severe wounds that almost pierced your abdomen in half. You were lucky that Satoru brought you here so fast. One minute more and you’d be dead by now. God, the look on Nanami’s face when he caught a glimpse of you, covered in your own blood and hanging from Satoru’s arms like you already took your last breath. It broke her heart seeing him like this, completely shattered by sighting the woman who everyone knows he secretly loves since joining Jujutsu High like that.

“It was a special curse. How is that possible, Shoko?”, he groans, head hanging in his nape.

“I should have just gone with her.”

“No one but Satoru would have been able to help her out. You know that”, Shoko reminds him.

“It’s like back then. I can only watch and stare in awe”, he mutters through the towel that covers his face.

Shoko’s heart skips a beat. She knows exactly what he’s referring to. They always knew the incident from a few years ago still haunts him. How devastating it must be for him to go through all of this again, to see you in the same situation, not sure if you’ll make it.

“Unlike then, we can save (y/n) now. I’ll do anything to make her survive.”

Back then, Nanami had no chance to protect Haibara from certain death. You were so devastated when you found out your classmate didn’t make it, the two of you were like siblings. Always confident, constantly optimistic and cheerful. And even though Nanami would never admit it, he constantly admired both of you for the ability to stay positive in a world this cruel and unforgiving. Fuck, he should have told you how he felt, that your smile makes his world stand still and that he adores the way you embrace his left arm when walking next to him, the touch sending shivers down his spine since more than 10 years. He should have told you way earlier that he can’t get you out of his head, not even after he ran away in an office job to escape his feelings. You are the light in his life, one of the striking reasons why he returned to be a jujutsu sorcerer. But right now, this light seems to slowly fade away, without him telling you a single word about his true feelings towards you.

“I should have told her!”, he cries out, jumps out of his chair and throws it across the room.

Maybe it’s too late now. Even when you wake up, you may not be able to recognize him. Or maybe you don’t want to see him anymore.

“Let’s eat some cookies when I return, yeah?”

“(y/n), I certainly won’t waste my day eating cookies with you.”

“Too bad, but more for me. See ya!”

Oh, how badly he wants to eat cookies by your side right now. Nanami would give everything to sit with you on an abandoned bench away from the hustle and bustle of Jujutsu High, hold you in his arms and watch you eat, a satisfied grin plastered on your face. And you loved sunsets, the ones that paint the sky blood-colored.

“Looks like apocalypse”, you always commented, completely mesmerized by the play of colors above your head.

What he would give to hear your voice calling his name once again, nobody pronounces it like you do.

“Nanami, there you are!”

Woah, Nanami, that suit makes you look like a snack!”

“Ohh, don’t look at me with those eyes Nanami, I know you are thrilled to see me!”

If you only knew how thrilled he was.  If you only knew how your words make his knees go weak and the tips of his ears heat up in an instant. If you only knew how your sight alone makes his day better, your warm smile following him into his dreams and chasing away his nightmares.

“I bet she already knew for a long time. And that she feels the same”, Shoko rudely interrupts the train of thoughts that rolled over him.

Impossible. How would you know? After all, he did his best to push you away in order to hide his feelings so well that it seemed like he has none. Surely she only says that because she wants to comfort him. Pathetic. Nothing could comfort him expect that you finally open your eyes again.

“She even looks cute when she’s unconscious.”

Satoru’s appearance in the doorframe catches Nanami off guard. What the hell is he doing here? Oh right, he saved you. And you two know each other as long as Nanami knows Gojo himself. Apparently even Satoru cares enough about you to check on you.

“How’s she doin’?”

“Not much changed. Her heartbeat is stable and her wounds are taken care of. It is up to her if and when she wakes up again”, Shoko briefly explains.

“If? Don’t be ridiculous, it’s (y/n) were talking about! She’s always been a pain in the ass with her determination and unshakable confidence!”

“How are you able to joke around when she’s laying right there, fighting for her life? Don’t you care about her at all?”, Nanami snaps at him.

Pure anger crawls up his veins. How can he? How can he come here and tear stupid sayings when you possibly won’t make it? Even Satoru should be sad about what happened. After all, he knows you since more than 10 years, the two of you were always joking around.

“I know (y/n) well enough to be aware of the fact that she won’t let herself die from something like that and you should too, Nanami. Trust her with this one.”

“I already trusted her with this fucking mission and that’s how it turned out”, Nanami barks back.

Gojo positions himself next to the puny figure of Nanami, a small smile creeping up his face. Kento must have thought he hid his feelings from the world when in reality, everyone at Jujutsu High knows that he adores you. Even if this incident was tragic, there is perhaps something good about it. Maybe he’s finally realizing how much he cares about you.

“(y/n) would never die without bugging you one last time. After all, she loves you too much for that.”

Nanami’s eyes widen at the sound of Gojo’s words in his ears. You? Loving him? You have always been the sweetest woman around Jujutsu High, the students of the past years constantly falling for your charm, beauty and brain. Fuck, sure you could even have Satoru if you wanted. So, why him?

“Stop making fun of me and get your ass out, Satoru.”

“Grr, so rude! But okay, I’ll leave you alone with your sweetheart. Tell me when she’s awake. See ya!”

And with that, Satoru disappears behind the door as fast as he came, alongside Shoko. Nanami signs and slaps the rag on his face away without heeding it. His gaze falls upon your peaceful face, chest rising and falling at steady pace. Gojo is right, you really do look cute. Like you’re sleeping and throwing your tired eyes at him any moment, revealing your most striking smile when realizing that it’s him even though he doesn’t deserve it. But you won’t wake up. And probably your pain is too much to smirk over it.

He can’t help but rest his head on the soft mattress beside your body and grab your cold hand. You simply can’t die on him. Not now, not when he didn’t tell you about his true feelings yet. God, he is so dumb for gatekeeping this shit since 10 whole years. Why did he always shut himself up when his happiness was right under his nose? Maybe because he firmly believes that you don’t feel the same way. How could you, though? He is the complete opposite of you, quiet when you are loud, serious when you are goofy, negative when you are positive. Yes, the two of you are the definition of contraries. And apart from that, a simple man like him doesn’t deserve a striking woman like you.

His grip around your hand tightens, tears start to pool his eyes. Why did all of this happen? You promised everything would be fine, he even bought you a pack of your favorite double chocolate chip cookies. And now you’re laying here, holding onto for dear life. Nanami is no man of tears or sadness, but when it comes to you…You truly hold the most special place in his soul. If you leave, a part of his heart will die too. Maybe he should quit being a jujutsu sorcerer. Working in an office might suck, but at least he won’t have to go through pain like this.

“Where are my cookies?”

He is immediately pulled back to earth, heart beating out of his chest while gazing at you wide-eyed. You are awake. You just said something. Your beautiful but tired orbs are directed towards him, a small grin creeping up your face.

It’s like Nanami forgets how to breathe for a moment when reality kicks in.

“(y/n)?”, he breathes out.

“I told you you’d eat cookies with me. Knew you couldn’t resist a date night with me”, you mumble with unusual weak voice.

There it is. His name out of your sweet mouth, just like usual. As if nothing ever happened.

He can no longer hold back. Before his head tells him to back up, his hands cup your face and his lips crush into yours. Fuck his thoughts, fuck the others. He will never forgive himself if he never did that, never got to taste the sweetness of your mouth, never held your face like that. You lean into his touch, eyes fluttering shut while sparks fly around you. God, how often you whished he did that. For years you loved him in silence, accepted the fact that he might not be interested in you romantically. But even though pain seems to eat you alive and your weak senses are still trying to process that you are awake, you are probably the happiest woman on earth right now.

“Don’t ever do something like that to me again”, he hisses into your lips.

“Not planning to.”

“But if it makes you do this…maybe it’s worth another shot.”

God, your breathtaking smile. Nanami can’t remember a single moment in his life that made him happier than this one, tears rolling down his face carelessly. You are awake. You didn’t forget him. You’ll survive. And you want him too. A striking woman like you really wants a man like Nanami.

“Wish you did this sooner. Or maybe when I don’t feel like dying, y’know?”

“Could have done a move yourself”, he mutters into your neck, arms embracing you gently.

“Oh no, I’m way too shy.”

You melt into his touch. It feels so good to finally feel his arms around you and his body against you apart from rough training sessions. Even though you have no idea why exactly your frame feels like it’s on fire or how you’ve ended up in Shoko’s hospital room in the first place, you aren’t able to question it at the moment. You loved Nanami since meeting him all these years ago, attracted by his abilities, brain, sense of humor and looks.

“How are you feeling? The pain must be really bad”, he comments, eyes scanning your body like a professional.

“Can’t say I ever felt worse. My tummy feels like it’s falling apart”, you reply, a hiss escaping your mouth when he pulls the blanket that covers your body down a little.

“Well, it literally almost fell apart. You were sent to a mission, should have been a grade 1. It was a special, though. Satoru came just in time to safe you. If he had come just a minute later, then…”

A closer look at his face reveals that he hasn’t slept for days. Your heart sinks into your chest. He shouldn’t feel this bad because of you.

“Hey, look at me.”

You lift your weak fingers to caress his face gently, tired eyes gazing over you.

“I feel like shit but I’m fine.”

“I thought you’d die. I-I thought that I’ll…never get to tell you that I love you.”

“I would never die without telling you that I love you too. And without another kiss.”

Nanami can’t help but smile down at you. Down to the woman he loves, the woman who never loses her optimism, to the woman who is so fucking strong that she seems to survive anything. He admires and adores you more than his heart can take. And the fact that you love him too…Is this real? Is he dreaming again? He just has to lean down, lips only inches apart from yours. He needs to taste you again, to make sure that this is real.

“You cryin’, Nanami?”

Both pairs of eyes dart up immediately, your eyes light up when realizing Satoru is standing in the doorframe.

“I’ll kill you, Gojo”, Nanami hisses threatening, cheeks redder than ever.

“Hey shawty”, you greet him, completely mesmerized by the pack of cookies he carries under his arm.

“Please tell me those are for me.”

“Shoko actually forbid me to feed this to you. Something about a hole in your stomach or so. Why are you so irritated, Nanami? Did I steal you the show? He’s your boyfriend now, (y/n)? It really took you 10 years to finally kiss the girl you love, Nanami?”

“He’s my husband”, you explain proudly.

“Get your ass out Satoru”, Nanami moans.

You grab his hand and press it mildly, gazing at the man above you with stars in your eyes. Yes, he is yours now. And you’ll do the devil to let him go again.

[natalievoncatte]

Content/Trigger Warning: Violence and blood

They must have used chloroform or some other trick to knock her out. Lena almost got away. Flickers of sorcerous power -raw, unrefined, deadly in their chaotic wrath- sparked between her fingers and screamed in her bones. If she’d been more alert, if she hadn’t been be checking her phone because Kara hasn’t answered about seventeen calls and half again many texts, Lena might have blown her attacker through a wall, electrocuted the flesh from their bones, or boiled their brain in its box.

Instead they snapped a black bag over her head and she woke up here. She instantly knew that she was below ground; the magical currents in the earth were frustratingly close but cut off somehow. Reaching for them was like grabbing at a wriggling fish coated in oil.

As awareness flooded back in, she knew why: the heavy iron collar around her neck, a Luthor family relic for which one of her ancestors had paid a deathly price. A witch-collar, inscribed with hellish runes.

The bag came away from her head and she looked around. She was in a chair in a basement room, in a disused part of the family wine cellar. She blinked a few times, trying to clear her vision.

Everything was red. It took her a moment to realize the room was bathed in red light from banks of lamps all around her, all around them.

Kara lay a few yards away, curled up on the floor, bundled up in a ball. She was in her cheer uniform, her golden hair turned bronze in the strange light and her skin bruised and filthy from the rough stone floor.

That shouldn’t be… how…

Lena jumped when a nearby speaker on a table chirped with Lex’s voice.

“Hello, Lena.”

“Lex?” she snapped. “What is this? What the hell are you doing?”

“Teaching you a hard lesson,” he said. “You’ve been rolling in the dirt long enough. Father won’t have it, and he left it to me to put a stop to it.”

“Put a stop to what?”

“You’ve been rutting… if you can call it that… with that thing.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lena lied, her desperation betraying her. “Take this collar off and I’ll heal her and we’ll hope she keeps quiet about…”

“She killed one of the men I sent to take her,” said Lex. “Ripped his throat right out.”

Lena froze. “It’s not… she’s not…”

“Like that?” said Lex. “Like all the other ones? No, she’s not. At first I couldn’t fathom how she walks in daylight… but it was a simple matter to discern what wavelengths she’s sensitive to. Once I did, all I had to do was lock her up with a little of her home ambiance.”

Oh God. The lamps.

Lena rushed to where Kara lay, almost scraping her knees in the process. She rolled the other girl over and found Kara emaciated and corpselike, her skin waxy and sallow and her eyes sunken, her beauty somehow undiminished.

“I hate you,” Lena choked out “I hate you, Lex. You fucking bastard.”

“I know. You’ll get over it. Look there.”

A few feet away, a sharpened wooden stake lay on the stone tiles.

Oh no. Oh God no, not this.

“Kill her. Destroy this creature and affirm your loyalty and the collar comes off. You may think you’re powerful, but you’re not, Lena. Father has the true power here.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m going to turn off the lamps. She’s wounded and blood-starved. It’s kill her or be killed.”

“I’d rather die.”

“So be it.”

The lamps went out with a thump, others coming on in the same instant, in the normal, cold light of the old lamps that glowed down here beneath the mansion.

Kara stirred. She rolled onto her side, then her hands and knees, and rose up to kneel. A long, rasping sound escaped her lips, half sigh and half death rattle. She looked at Lena.

“He’s right. I don’t think I can control it.”

The words came out malformed around the retractable fangs jutting from her gums. The soft red glow of her eyes swallowed the blue of her irises and she seemed lost, staring.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’d never.”

Kara swallowed, rasping against a dry throat.

“Take it.”

“No.”

Kara looked at her plaintively, then darted across the cellar on all fours, grabbing the stake herself.

“Kara, don’t!”

“This is the only way.”

Lena bolted, crashing into Kara, heedless of impaling herself on the jagged wood. Kara forced her back, holding the stake in one hand.

“Not much time left,” Kara rasped. “Mind fading. Hunger always wins. Love you, Lee. Love you always.”

“DON’T,” Lena screamed. Kara pressed a kiss to her lips, soft, cold, her lips as dry as paper and seemingly as brittle.

The stake bit through her chest with a sickening dry crack as she shoved with both hands, groaning. She toppled beside Lena, both of them lying on the floor, and went still.

Lena felt as if it had pierced her own chest, as though her own heart were torn out. The wild magic in her surged and churned, longing to make a connection with the ancient power in the stones beneath her body, but the collar refused her. She wailed, shaking Kara’s limp, emaciated form as if to wake her up.

The next thing she heard was the heels of Lex’s shoes on the stones as he walked into the room.

“How tragic. I suppose she had actual feelings for you, after all.”

Lena threw herself at him, fingers hooked for his eyes, but he shoved her aside and she fell to the ground with a grunt.

“If you’d been more cooperative about all this, I might have let you keep her as a pet. No matter. After you’ve finished your training, love will have about as much meaning to you as it does to me.”

“I’ll never be like you.”

Lex stood over her, grinning. “Oh, you will.”

He reached down and took hold of the collar, and Lena cried out in agony as he pulled, using the cold iron to drag her to her feet. Then she went still.

With an abrupt jerk, Kara sat up, her movements strangely sharp and inhuman. She rose to her feet, the stake still embedded in her chest, impaled through the Midvale High Ranger on the chest of her leotard. She looked at Lex and smiled.

“What the fuck,” he snarled, immediately turning for the door. “Otis! Otis get in here! Kill it!”

Kara dragged him back, throwing him to the floor. She grasped the stake and pulled, dragging it from her chest and casting it to the floor.

“I am Kryptonian,” she hissed. “I am as far beyond your weakling Terran vampires as they are beyond you. Did you really think I could be killed with a stick?”

“Otis!” Lex screamed, “Otis, get in here!”

“Otis won’t be joining us,” Alex said. Kara’s sister strode into the room, Otis’s blood still on her chin and hands. “I’m afraid he had a prior engagement. My family and I had him for dinner.”

“Oh fuck,” Lex muttered.

Feral and lean and predatory, Kara stalked towards him.

“You hurt my Lena,” she said, her voice barely a breathless whisper.

Then she stopped and looked at Lena.

Lena stood there for a broken moment, staring at her brother, expecting to feel pity or confusion or at least some kind of conflict, but she felt as empty as he always said she would.

“Do it,” said Lena. “Then get this fucking thing off me. I’m going to kill his father tonight.”

Fangs bared, Kara lunged. Lena turned away. Alex didn’t.

When it was over, Kara smeared the last dregs of Lex on the back of her arm, and when she tore apart the collar, Lena seized from her a feral kiss, savoring the prick of fangs on her burning lips.

[justmeinadaze]

My Little Man Part 2 (Steddie X You)(Part of the HFOD and SS AU)

A/N: Took awhile to get through this because it made me feel things lol but I'm excited for the next chapter because I know what I want to do smut wise which will involve some slight role-play. ;).

Warning: Demon Steddie/ Human Fem Y/N, Smut but light, dirty talk, FLUFF, they love each other and their son. ANGST ABOUND!

Fall out from the last chapter, boys fight about it, Y/N suggests they go back to a certain realm to deal with certain things, details of both demons abuse is expanded on including Eddie's dad being physically violent and Steve's father being verbally a dick (so child abuse trigger for sure), Mentions of sick parents (I never gave either of her parents a diagnoses nor did I give them specific systems that allude to anything), mentions of talking care of a sick parent. I think that's it.

Word Count: 5131

First 2 Series and Last Chapter Here/ Donate to Me :)

Eddie growls as you fall through the portal, swatting away the other demon’s hands as he bends down to try and help you to your feet. 

“Where are we?”

“Oblivion.”, Steve whispers as he backs away from you both. 

“Why would a realm like this even exist?”

“It’s not uncommon to have ‘dead’ realms. This one is just most known because of its strength.”

“Strength?”

“If all realms collapsed, this is the only one that would remain standing.”

You jumped at the sound of Eddie’s wings expanding as he flew forward and tackled Steve off his feet, watching as they rolled onto the floor and began to wrestle. Neither demon said a thing as they delivered blow after blow occasionally flying over your head before falling to the ground. 

After a while, you found yourself getting annoyed as nothing was progressing. You understand this may be how they handled things back home but even you knew Eddie was so angry that this wouldn’t be enough for him. 

“Is this what you two are going to do the whole time?!”, you shouted in the air towards them. “Or are you going to actually talk to each other!?!”

Steve hit the ground by your feet rolling to a stop as the other demon glided to the ground charging towards him. Placing yourself between them, you blocked his path. 

“You were supposed to stay behind.”

“Why? So you guys could handle this alone?! I’m not mad at him for what he did in his dream. Why are you?!”

Eddie grunted in fury as his eyes glowed while you spoke. 

“HE didn’t know it was a dream! HE thought it was real and that’s how he acted!! He let his father get the fucking best of him and then tried to FUCKING KILL ME before stabbing you which I haven’t forgotten, Y/N. What the fuck were YOU thinking?!”

“I was thinking you needed me and he would fucking die if anything ever happened to you! You aren’t just his partner, Edward. You’re his best friend! You’ve known him for over 4,000 years! You’ve known me for about a year and a half. It’s not the same…”

“What?! So, you’re fucking expendable?! Is that what you’re telling me right now, Y/N?! Then why the fuck did we risk our lives and sanity to get you that fucking potion?!”

“Calm down, Eddie.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down, little girl.”

You both stared each other down as Steve slowly rose to his feet and placed himself in front of you.

“Go ahead.”, he panted. “Let’s keep going. Please.” The other demon glances him over growling again as he places his hands on his hips and turns away. “No! You’re right. I deserve it. I fucked up. I was blinded with trying to find Ellis, I wasn’t thinking.”

He started to cry and your heart broke as he continued to try to get Eddie to fight him. 

“Come on, baby, PLEASE! Do it!”, Steve shouted as he shoved him trying to instigate. “Come on! I deserve it! Like Mirage said, I wasn’t raised to do anything else but fight! This was bound to happen. I was bound to fucking hurt one of you!”

“Fuck me! I’m so FUCKING TIRED of hearing her fucking name! She’s gone, Steven! Mirage isn’t here. She’s fucking miserable in her own realm! Now can we let that be a part of our past and move on!”

“It’s not just her, Edward! This is all I know. Fighting and war. How am I supposed to be a father and fucking husband without becoming my dad!”

“Boyfriend.”

“What?”

“You said husband. Even though I’d marry you both in a heartbeat…we’re not.”, you sigh. 

Both men exhale heavily while Eddie crosses his arms. 

“By your logic, Steve, that means I can’t be a father or partner without becoming MY dad.”

Growling yourself, you step forward and punch them both in their arms. 

“That’s it! Steven, take us back to Espejismo.”

“What, why?”

“Don’t argue just fucking do it!”

“Wh-what about Ellis?”

“He’s asleep and he won’t be hungry for another four hours. Now, take us to Mirage.”

“Y/N, you’re in your pajamas—”

Your angry eyes cut him off as he hastily steps forward and does what you command. 

##############

As soon as you three step through, you are met with sunshine and people walking around the market you had appeared in. 

“Hey there, Y/N.”, a little girl grins up at you. “It’s nice to see you again. No one ever comes back to visit me.”

“Hm. I wonder why. Cut the bullshit. We need to talk.”

The world around you abruptly disappears as Mirage comes forward and scans you over with her hazel eyes. 

“That’s not usually something I do, baby. You three passed your test but I’m not going to lie after what I’m seeing I’m second guessing my choice. I was under the impression that you were stronger than the woman you used to be.”

“I am.”

“Then why are you here? Edward is right. Steven thought it was a reality and killed you.”

“If you can see what happened you should also be able to see part of that is because of what you put them through. We still have nightmares about what we saw. They deserve to see… see what the other is afraid of.”

Mirage thinks for a moment as he eyes glance towards them and back to you. 

“Tell them the truth and I’ll do what you ask.”

Turning to face them, their worried eyes meet yours. 

“I forgot we were in a dream. Like Steven, in that moment, I thought it was real. If it had been…I would have made the same choice. Out of the four of us, yes Edward, I feel like I’m the most expendable.”

Their eyes glow in anger as you swivel back towards the other woman who nods her head and gestures at the door to your side. 

“You can see things but like with what you saw with their memories you can’t interact.”

“Thank you.”, you mumble as you push through and they follow.

#################

“Fantastic. Back in this fucking hell hole. I’m really glad we came back to this realm, guys.”, Eddie growls sarcastically as you three find yourselves in his childhood home. 

“What’s your plan, Y/N? Why did you want to show us this?”, Steve asks.

“Not him. You.”

The sound of small sniffles catches the demon’s attention as he heads towards the sound, sighing at the sight of a child Eddie sitting on his bed with tears in his eyes as he stares at a photo of him and his mother. 

“EDWARD?!”

Quickly the tiny demon shoves the picture under his bed and rises to his feet.

 Steve is just now realizing he’s in a suit and so is his father as he stomps into the room. 

“What are you doing in here?!”

“Leave the boy alone, Allen. He just lost his mother.”, Wayne pleads, trying to intervene without making things worse. 

“Yeah. Now he doesn’t have someone here to fucking baby him. Come on, you little brat.”

As his dad pushes him down the hall, Steve tries to follow but is cut off by an older Eddie who tries to head for the door but is stopped when a glass bottle is thrown against the wall near his body.

“Wow, you missed. Were you aiming for me?”

“Always so fucking mouthy. Where are you going?”

“I’m going to Wayne’s. Is that a problem?”

“Hm. So he can show you another stupid fucking guitar? Pfft, I never understood why your mom was into that.”

“Well, mom was into a lot of things I don’t understand.”, he said sarcastically as he sized his father up. 

A slow chuckle left him before his father swung and Eddie hit the floor. 

Steve stepped forward with a loud growl prepared to defend the man he loved but the images in front of him vanished until he heard coughing and turned to find him bloodied on the floor. He watched as Allen stepped over him, grabbing his jacket, and leaving the house without so much as a goodbye. 

Eddie panted as he pushed himself up and leaned against the wall, spitting blood towards the door his father left through. 

The demon wanted to hold him, collect him in his arms and tell him everything would be ok, but all he could do was look as the vision of the other demon dried the tears that threatened to fall and forced himself to his feet.

“T-That’s who you’re afraid you’re going to become? You genuinely believe you could do something like THIS to us or our son?”

Eddie’s jaw tightened as he ignored Steve’s question, choosing to exit through the front door hoping it would take him anywhere else. To his surprise, it does. 

As you and Steve follow, the long-haired demon realizes you guys are back in the other demon’s childhood home. The sound of metal clanking caught everyone’s attention until you found yourselves in what must have been a training room on the other side of his home. 

Steve looked like he was in his early teens dressed in ill-fitting armor as his father came at him with full force, swinging his sword violently in his direction. 

“Come. On. STEVEN! What did I say?! No one is going to go easy on you out in the field. Do you want to die?!”

“NO! I’m just exhausted. Can we take a break?”

“Do you think there are breaks in war, son?! No!” 

The young demon hastily blocked his father’s sword as it came down from above and they maneuvered across the room. His feet suddenly gave out as he fell to the ground and even Eddie rushed towards him to stop the blade as it hit the floor just inches from Steve’s face.

“Congratulations, you are now dead. You failed me, your men, and broke your mother’s heart. Your wife is somewhere crying and mourning your death and your children will grow up to be just as pathetic as you.”, Bill sighed in annoyance as he tossed his weapon to the ground and exited the room. 

Eddie’s heart broke as he watched an angry Steve tear off pieces of his armor and throw them to the side as he tried to control his tears. 

The setting around you changed as his mother followed after a much older version of his dad. 

“Bill, we have to find him! It’s been over 50 years and I MISS MY SON!”

His father grabbed her wrist and shoved her into a nearby chair. 

“When will you get this through your head? We have no son! The kid we raised killed a fellow solider and deserted with a murderer. Not just any murderer, Janet! Edward Munson slaughtered our princess! Forget about him and move on! He deserves whatever hell he’s enduring.”

Steve’s head hung at his father’s words and you comfortingly reached out to rub his back.

The images around you three faded and you were surrounded by emptiness again. 

“He was so convincing, Edward. In my dreams, he sounds just like that. He said Ellis would die because he hasn’t been trained yet but I have. I have the training to save him.”

“No, Steven, you don’t.”

Even your head tilted at Eddie’s comment before he continued. 

“He was training you to be like him and failed. Thank fucking God. This isn’t you. You told me so many stories but actually seeing it… you have never been capable of being a dick like him. You need to stop letting him win.”

“Me? What about you? You think you could ever do that to Y/N or Ellis? Edward, you literally don’t have it in you. Trust me, that kid is so much like you, full of humor and heart. He could never hurt anyone and neither could you. Not like that. 

You and Mirage grin as they practically run to each other, cupping the other’s face as they kiss.

“I’m sorry. I promise I’ll do whatever it takes to be better and stop letting my emotions take over when I’m upset. I promise I’ll stop shutting you two out. I love you both so much.”

“What about you, Y/N?”, Mirage asks. 

“What about me?”

“Oh, ok. So, you aren’t going to tell them why you think you’re the expendable one?” She shakes her head as you ignore her. “You came to me for help, honey, and I’m going to help.”

“No, Mirage, don’t--!” 

The atmosphere shifts and suddenly you’re in a hospital hallway. Your dad cuts between your demon’s and they hastily turn to follow. 

“Hey Jackie. How are things today?”, your father asks the nurse who was watching over an adolescent you as you laid in the hospital bed with your arm wrapped around your mom who was sleeping soundly. 

“She had a rough day today. Of course, she tried to hide it behind jokes and trying to get the staff to stand on their toes but…” They both chuckle softly as she pats your dad’s shoulder. “Y/N fell asleep about an hour ago. She was trying to help her with her math homework but a coughing fit got in the way.”

“Thank you…for everything.”

The images blur till you’re back home and the demons watch as a 16-year-old you sobs on the couch. 

“Baby, everything’s going to be ok.”

“No, dad! No it’s not! How can everything be ok when you’re fucking sick to!?”

Your father wraps his arms around you as he tries to calm you. 

“I’m sure it IS fine. This is just a diagnosis, honey. I’ve been pretty healthy and they have so many treatments available. I’m…I’ll be here for a long time.”

An 18-year-old version of you sits outside your high school against the wall on the last day, flipping through a paper you got an A on. 

“I still think you should submit that to a contest or something.”, your English teacher grins as she comes up to your side and sits beside you.

“Naw. No point really.”

“Why not?”

“I just got hired at the clothing store in the mall. Between that and taking care of my dad, I won’t have time to submit or make any edits. Even if I do win, I can’t go to the award ceremony out of state.”

“So, you’re just not going to be a writer anymore?”

You shrug.

“Life has different plans for me, I guess. It’s fine. I have my dad so…”

“I think your parents would want you to be happy.”

Smiling, you rise to your feet as you grab your bag. 

“Um, thank you for teaching me, Mrs. Garett. I learned a lot from you over these last four years.”

As your image pushes past them, someone follows close behind as the demons realize they’re now outside the mall you used to work at. 

“Fuck you! Don’t fucking touch me!”

“Look, will you wait a second!?”, the boy shouts as he continues to try and buckle his pants. “I’m sorry, ok?! I didn’t want you to find out like this.”

“Oh so when WOULD have been the right time to tell me you’re fucking one of my coworkers?! I’m surprised I haven’t caught you yet if your both just being so out in the open with it!”

“So am I since it’s not the first time Carol and I have fucked in the break room!” Steve’s eyes glow in anger as he steps towards you both but Eddie stops him placing a hand on his chest. “You’re never around! You’re always either working crazy hours or…”

“Or what? Taking care of my sick dad? You’re right. I’m such a monster! Fuck me.”

The boy sighs, placing his hands on his hips.

“I’m sorry, babe. I just—”

“Just go. Just fucking leave…like everyone else.”, your voice cracks as you turn away from him. 

As the sound of his shoes gradually disappear, you let out a loud scream into the Hawkins night sky before wiping away your tears, straightening your uniform, and heading back into the mall to finish your shift. 

Everything falls away as they turn to meet your frustrated face as you tightly fold your arms around your body. 

“Tell them.”, Mirage encourages.

“Fuck you.”

“Tell us, Y/N.”, Eddie insists.

You shrug as the tears start to flow. 

“You saw it. Both your dads were fuckers who hurt you both. Edward, you lost your mom and Chrissy. Steven, I felt how bad Nancy hurt you. Then you were so terrified something happened to Eddie and it killed you because you felt like now with the princess gone you were losing all your friends. You kept an extra close eye on Robin until you got a lead and went with Jason to find him. You both were banished and then cursed to that stupid fucking stone for…3000…years…”

“My dad lost the woman he loved. He always said he was fine and that she gave him ‘the best gift’ he could ask for but I saw it. I saw how much it destroyed him. And how was he repaid for his pain?! He got sick to. You both deserve to be happy. You were together and in love way before you ever met me. You deserve to be together in peace and be the fathers you never got.”

Both demons stared at you as they listened to you speak with wide eyes as they absorbed what you were saying. 

“Am I the only one who hasn’t lost their fucking mind?”, Eddie growls. “Are you going to stand there and tell me you’re the most expendable because you think you haven’t suffered as much as we have?”

“Even if that were true and let’s be fucking clear here it’s not.”, Steve rumbled in anger. “After what I just saw, Y/N…that’s a lot for one human to deal with. You carried the world on your shoulders way before we even came along.”

“It wasn’t that bad—”

“Y/N! It was fucking terrible! How can you not see… FUCK!”

“You lost your parents just like we did and you were trapped to. Maybe not in a stone but in Hawkins serving people who really didn’t give a damn except your dad. Like you with us, he saved you, sweetheart, and this is how you’re going to repay him? By throwing away your life if the opportunity arose?!”

“Excuse me.” The three of you swivel around to glare at Mirage, completely forgetting she was even there. “I don’t usually do this kind of thing but to be fair no one ever comes back here so…I’d like to show you something.”

After she disappears, you three find yourself in a huge, two-story house you had never been to before. As you walk down the hallway, you pass a bedroom covered from head to toe in band posters and clothes thrown everywhere. There was a stereo playing a song you didn’t recognize and a guitar not too far from it’s side. 

Suddenly, a boy’s voice fills your ears as he appears from his closet with his back to you as he slides on his leather jacket and hastily strolls to the mirror. His long wavy hair barely covers his horns but they still aren’t as big as Eddie’s or Steve’s. He had a bit of a lanky frame but you could tell he was strong as his muscles just barely peaked through the band shirt he was wearing with his slightly too big jeans.

“In the car, I just can't wait To pick you up on our very first date Is it cool if I hold your hand? Is it wrong if I think it's lame to dance?”

Your eyelids flutter at the sound of his voice as he sings and tears prick at the corner of your eyes. You’d know that sound anywhere. 

“Ellis.”

“Ellis! Hurry up, baby, or you’re gonna be late for school!”

“I’m coming, mom! Give me a minute!”

“Can you please grab your sister to?! Thank you!”

“Yeah, yeah.”, he grins.

“He still has your smile, Steven.”, Eddie marveled.

Both demons moved aside as their son passed them into the hallway with you in tow, pausing outside another bedroom. 

“Hey, Dell. Are you ready? Mom’s calling for you.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I want to go.”

“Oh, you whiner. You’ll be fine, come on. One more semester and then you’ll be in high school.”

“But you won’t be there.”

“I know. Won’t it be great!”

“No.”, the girl whines. 

“Hey, you know you’re my best friend right? Wherever I go it won’t be far.”

She smiles as he pulls her into his embrace while you watch their exchange. This young lady’s room was fairly simple with pictures scattered above a desk in the corner with her and her friends. There appeared to be fencing trophies lining her shelf that Steve picked up to examine. 

“Fencing is sword fighting, right?” The demon breathily chuckles when you nod. “This thing here says she got first place in a league of some kind.”

“It looks like she’s into stones and auras like you.”, Eddie adds as he gestures towards her bedside table at the books and candles surrounding the lamp. 

As they looked around the room, you were looking at them, your children. Unlike her brother, he horns were much smaller and you could just vaguely make out the shape of small wings folded under her tank top. The brown hair on her head was the same as Steve’s but with your style as it rested just above her shoulders. Just like Ellis, however, her eyes and voice were a mix of human and demon.

“Guys! Let’s a get a move on!”

The three of you followed them down the stairs but paused in different places. You entered the living room and took in the photos around you. There were so many of 5 smiling faces that had your heart soaring. It seems you and your demons took them everywhere from Disneyland to Paris showing them the world. Some images were of your kids with Robin and Wayne as well as a million pictures of your children hanging out with Dustin’s in their realm. 

Steve and Eddie watched you as you effortlessly maneuvered around the kitchen, sliding breakfast in front of them as you continued to make lunches and get ready for the day. 

“Steven, she has a scar on her neck.”, the other demon murmured hoping you wouldn’t overhear as he pointed the area. “It looks old and faded but it’s not one she has now.”

A portal opening interrupts them as Steve steps through. 

“Kids. Wife.”, he greets making you giggle. 

“Holy shit, she does have a ring on her finger.”, the demon breathes as you search for a photo of the event to find none. 

“How’s Robin and Jonathan?”

“She’s good. We just did a quick patrol to make sure everything’s ok and went over some information. Nancy should be back tomorrow from the realm she was visiting with more intel so…” He grinned as he leaned down to give you a kiss. 

“Am I a fucking demon slayer now?”

“I mean, you do seem happier.”, Eddie beams. “And you look fucking sexy.”

The sound of feet catches everyone’s attention as the metalhead himself runs down the stairs. 

“Shit. I’m late.”

“Hi, daddy.”

“Hi, daddy.”, Ellis mimics making her pout as she smacks her brother’s shoulder. 

With a smile and a hastened pace, he leans down to kiss his daughter and son before overdramatically placing a kiss on you and Steve’s lips with loud MUAH noises that follow. 

“Love you, family, see you tonight!”, he shouts as he slings his guitar over his shoulder and runs out the door. 

“I’m done, mom.”, your youngest announces as she passes her plate to you. 

“Delilah Munson-Harrington, you didn’t even finish everything! You’re going to be hungry.”

At the name, your heart shatters as you start to cry. 

“Mom, oh my god. I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll make her eat a snack or something, mom, I promise.”, Ellis declares as he passes you his empty plate and they grab the lunches you made them. “Are you driving us, dad?”

“Yeah of course.”

Red light shimmers as they all change into their human form and run out the door. 

Mirage grins softly as she places herself beside you and comfortingly rubs your back with her palm. 

“They suggested naming her after your mother, Y/N. Both kids are exceptionally bright and resourceful. They love Hawkins but also their father’s realm. They can float between both without any pain and they love you three very much. You don’t want to see a world without you, sweetie.”

Steve is the first to step forward as his fingers caressed your cheek and wiped away the tears that stained your face. 

“I’m sorry.”, you whisper. 

“Y/N, you don’t have to be that martyr anymore. You saved the world, you saved us… you always used to say, ‘no matter what happens as long as we’re together we’ll be ok.’ I still believe that, honey. I’m so sorry I didn’t talk to you either about what was going on. It will never happen again, I promise. Jesus, that image of you with my sword…hurting you…I’d do anything to make sure that never becomes a reality.” 

“You’re not and never have been expendable, sweetheart. You mean so much to so many beings… even ones that aren’t here anymore.”, Eddie softly smiled as he came up beside you. “You’re a part of us, babe. We love you so much.”

You tackled your arms around him as Steve did the same. 

“Oh, oh ok, now. That’s enough touching and love in my realm. Go do that in your own.”, Mirage jokes as she flaps her hands towards you three in shooing motion. “Please, um, feel free to stop by again. I don’t usually get repeats.”

#############

As you enter your home, you quickly run to check on Ellis to find him still asleep and you can’t help but smile as you pet his tiny head. 

When you entered your bedroom again, you found Eddie pinning Steve’s wrists to the mattress as they passionately exchanged kisses. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve taken control and kept you in line, huh, baby?”

“I’m sorry, honey.”, he panted as his lips chased the other demon’s. “I love you.”

Swiftly flipping onto his back, the long-haired demon grinned as he motioned for you to join them. 

“Still asleep?”

“Fast asleep.”, you beam. 

“Good.” Craning his neck, his lips tenderly kissed your own before he groaned against them as Steve took his cock into his mouth and sloppily bobbed his head as spit fell from his mouth. “Fuck, that’s it, Steven.”

Taking a hold of his hair, he held the boy still as he fucked up in him, relishing the sound of his gags as his throat constricted around him. 

“Good boy.”, the demon grunted before bringing his lips back to his own and pushing him onto his back once more. Holding his legs open wide, Eddie guided himself into the demon beneath him as they both rumbled a soft growl from their chest. “Good…boy…”

“P-Please. Harder, baby. Fuck.” The long-haired demon leaned his chest against Steve’s and passionately kissed him as he rolled his hips roughly into his own. “Just like that. I love you s-so much. I’m so sorry.”

The demon underneath him whined when he pushed back up onto his knees and stopped moving but quickly silenced himself when he realized his partner was tugging you on top of him. 

When you lowered yourself onto his leaking cock, Steve’s back arched as whimpered at the feeling. 

“Fuck!”

Your hand hastily covered his mouth as you both continued your steady rhythm. 

“Shhhh, baby. You can’t wake up Ellis.” His strong arms wrapped around you and held you against him as you ground your waist down against his. “I love you both so much.”

“Love y-you, honey. Oh my god. I missed the way your pussy felt.”

A sweat covered forehead leaned against your back and you groaned as you felt him murmur against your skin. 

“Fuck…fucking can’t stop thinking a-about you as our wife… Ours, sweetheart. Claimed. Mmph…

“I’d-I’d marry you both. I’ll always be yours. Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Steve’s fingers tangled tightly in your hair, clinging tightly to you as your body trembled and the coil snapped. As both demons filled you with their release, neither let you go as you fell to your sides. 

The sound of cooing makes you three giggle as Steve announces he’ll grab “the little monster”.

“Y/N, what if…we could get married?”

“I told you, Eddie. I’d say yes and marry you both in an instant.”, you grin as you roll over and cuddle up into his chest. 

“I’m serious, sweetheart.”

His tone causes you to sit up and he does the same as his eyes meet your own.

“What are you trying to tell me, Edward?”

Steve reenters the room with a big smile and an equally happy baby as Ellis beams down at you both.

“I did some research a long time ago in our realm when Chrissy and I were together. I wanted to know the rules when it came to royalty and peasants like me. I remember reading something about how you could be married up to two people.”

You and the other demon exchanged a look as he continued.

“I don’t know how it would all work though because I would assume it would be between three demons and you’re a human. Add in that back in that time there was some backwards rules on men marry men and vise versa. I’m not sure how that would be now either…”

“Eddie? Are you asking us to marry you?”, you ask in a lighthearted tone that makes him blush and roll his eyes. 

“I mean yeah kind of I guess. I’m just asking if the option is available would you…would you want to?”

“Baby, I went through a trial with a witch or goddess or whatever to get a potion that would keep me alive and with you both as long as you both shall live. I would gladly do it again to marry you.”, you smile as you tilt towards him to kiss his cheek. “Both of you.”

“Me to.”, Steve confirms, grabbing the demon’s cheeks in his fingers and bringing his lips to his own. “You’re really adorable when you’re nervous.”

“Pfft, shut up.”, Eddie jokes as he reaches for his son who giggles and falls into his arms. “And you’ll be our best little man.”

#################

@tlclick73 @tiannamortis @steeldaisies @goodhappyfriday @paleidiot @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes

@strangerthings64 @howlingco @eddiesguitarskills

@prettypeachsworld @nailbatanddungeon @notlempet @thwippyparker

[salt-clangen]

Moon 5 bonus scene

Greenleaf

It was dark, the stars out and shining in the bright moonlight. Wolfstar was out on patrol, trying to catch something in the twilight for her clan. The last few day patrols had been unsuccessful and Snowspeckle was nest bound from her pregnancy. Night patrols were risky, nocturnal predators were active and stealth attacks were harder to evade, but her clan mate’s growling stomachs pushed her to take the chance.

The sand felt warm under her paws, still holding heat from the sunny day, as she poked around the large rocks that separated the sand from the shrubby grass. Hopefully she could find an unsuspecting bird’s nest for a quick kill, but so far she hadn’t found anything. In the distance she could hear the crickets chirping and the ever present roar of the waves, the wind blowing in harsh intervals, carrying her scent upwind.

That’s why she was found so easily and why she didn’t notice the figure approaching.

“Wolfpaw!” A familiar voice called out.

Wolfstar whirled around, her back towards the waves, to confront the intruder.

“This is Saltclan territory, clear out!” She hissed, freezing as the cat came into view. “Burnpaw?”

“Wolfpaw, please I’m here as a cleric.” Burnpaw called down, standing on the edge of the boulders.

“It’s Wolfstar now state your business,” Wolfstar let a growl enter her voice. “Or I’ll be forced to escort across the border.”

“Please, can we talk?” He nodded his head towards the rock, she scoffed she wasn’t gonna jump up there if there was a trap. Her mother would use her old friend as bait. The cleric apprentice sighed. “I wanted to see you, it’s been half a moon since the gathering.”

“Shouldn’t you be at the Moon spring?”

“I was, Darkfold is still there, Greyclaw is her escort. They’re covering for me.”

“You shouldn’t be here.” She warned again. “What happens if you get caught? I’ll be blamed and Saltclan will be labeled a fringe group.”

“I had to tell you, I got a vision from Starclan. They showed me the silhouette of a wolf running in a shadowy place, a light shining behind it. Then a red collar appeared around its neck and it fell away into the dark.” He inched closer to the edge, his face tense.

“I see,” Wolfstar paused, unsure what to say. She’d been steeling her nerves for the past moon for any confrontations with her former clan, but Burnpaw had blindsided her. “What do you think it means?” The worry melted off his face now.

“I think you should come back.” He said, she flinched at that.

“What! I was sent here by Starclan, they told me to take Lynxpaw and form the clan. How could you say this?” She hissed, hackles raised.

“I’m worried, the vision was clearly about you. I- I think my vision means you’re gonna…”

“I’m gonna what?” She spat. “That I’m gonna die? That I’ll fail?” Now he flinched, backing away from the edge.

“I don’t know, but I wanted to warn you before I tell Jaggedstar. I think she’ll let you come back if you came with me now sh—“

“And you think I want to go back? What about Lynxpaw? You think she’ll be welcomed back?!” She cut him off. “And what about my clan? I’m a leader now I have to protect them!”

“What clan? It’s just you and Lynxpaw.” He scoffed.

“There’s more to Saltclan than just me and Lynxpaw.” She was grateful it was too dark to see her flush, he didn’t kneed to know Snowspeckle was the only other cat. “You’re the one who told me about Jaggedstar’s plan! Now you’re telling me to return?”

“Please, Wolfpaw listen—“

“Enough!” She roared, scaling the boulder in one leap, paws skimming over the rough rock. “You don’t believe I’m a -star, you don’t believe I can lead.”

She was nose to nose with him now, he recoiled.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s time to go, now. Tell your leader whatever you want, I know I’m guided by my ancestors.” She pushed forward, knocking Burnpaw back a little. He skittered several lengths away, tail tucked and eyes wide.

“Wolf…” He trailed off, like he wasn’t sure what to call her. His face was stiff, the burn on his left side was pulled tight.

“Don’t bother.” She snapped her teeth tat him, in the back of her mind she wondered if it was obvious she was mimicking her mother. A weak imitation, but the only way she knew to intimidate.

She ushered him to the border in silence, a scowl on her face, Burnpaw glanced at her once before leaving.

Wolfstar- a white tabby molly with short fur, heather blue eyes, and a notch in her right ear. 11 moons. Leaders. Saltclan. Nervous → Responsible. Compassionate. Natural intuition.

Burnpaw- a dark red tabby tom with a large burn scar on the left side of his face, a shredded ear, and yellow eyes. 12 moons. Cleric apprentice. Duskclan. Insecure. Nervous. Restless sleeper.

[oxydiane]

i think naruto has genuinely, permanently ruined shipping for me because each time i see a pairing i’m like. ok you’re cute but would you shoulder the burden of his hatred and die with him? are you the sun to his moon? the yang to his yin? are you his one and only? are you his soulmate? are you willing to strip yourself of any pride and get on your knees to beg for his life to be spared? are you the one that completes him? are you the wind to his fire? did he feel warm and fuzzy while watching you as a child and considered it a weakness? were you each other’s first kiss? did you unravel his cold heart with said kiss? did he awaken his unhinged eye power to protect you? did he die and abandon the dream he was living for just so you could live on? does his body move on its own disregarding any logic when you’re in danger? is he willing to jump in knowing it was a trap to save you because you’re his precious person? are you each other’s most precious? did he unlock a new level of his crazy eye power when cutting his ties with you because he was writhing in pain over a lost love? did he try to kill you because you are his most important person? did parting from you feel like ripping off half of his own body to him? is he your driving force? were you chosen by fate? did he want to get rid of you because only then he could be truly alone? are you the only light in his darkness? are you the one that saved him from hatred? did he cry when you said you couldn’t explain your feelings for him and only said that when he hurt you hurt so much you couldn’t leave it alone? did he admit he also hurt when you hurt? did you keep an old token he had left next to your half alive body for years just to give it back to him as a token of your devotion and affection? did he say he’d hold onto it and give it back when things between you two were finally settled? did he compare what he feels for you to praying? did he say those feelings of his aren’t just about you two but there aren’t many people like you? does he look at you like you hung the stars? did you stay awake at night multiple times thinking about him and wondering if he was okay and thinking about you too? did you wish for him upon a shooting star? did he hug you and whisper in your ear during your reunion and purposefully make his attempt to kill you slow and drawn-out despite being perfectly able to do the job in seconds? did you curl up in a fetal position and cry your eyes out when he left again? did you have a panic attack that made you pass out when you found out your friends were out to kill him? does he know your heart well and you, his? can he read what is in your heart? how you truly feel? did you lose your arms to each other during your final battle of love and power? did he decide to stay alive for you and you only? did you say you’d rather remain a fool your entire life if being smart meant giving up on him? did you broadcast your feelings for him to the entire shinobi alliance? did a super smart villain who was targeting him say that they needed to keep you away from him because you were changing his heart, soul and goals? did you go insane when said villain called him his? did you openly reject two people because they said you needed to give up on him? does the author necessarily have to think of him when he thinks of you because you proceed as a pair and cannot be separated? did he disobey your teacher and try to feed you his lunch despite knowing that it would make them fail their exam and send them directly back to the academy which meant stalling and coming in the way of his revenge dream simply because you were hungry? does he go out of his way to make sure you don’t skip meals when you stay out training for too long? does he look at you so closely and attentively he could immediately tell somebody was an imposter because they didn’t have a scratch on their face and had a holster on the wrong leg? does he still remember what your lips tasted like after that one accidental kiss? can he get into your headspace and “begone, thot” your demons? if not we can’t do this

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

A Night In Nice

Chapter One

Based on this ask and made into a separate post due to being two parts

Rated Explicit (for later on)

Ao3

Chapter Two

When you asked him to run away with you, you meant it wholeheartedly. If he didn't want to stay, you weren't going to force him to stay. You only want him to escape this place and start anew.

No one has ever looked out for him, maybe his father but that felt obligated rather than willing. Yet, on that fateful day, when the voice in his mind killed every miner and nearly killed him too, he took you up on that offer.

Now here he is in France, specifically in a town called Nice, with a woman he finds himself in love with. Unbelievable given his past, he thought he could never love anything outside of his greed and freedom. Yet, here he is fiddling with an engagement ring he saved up for.

Crazy. God, if this a dream and he laying dying in that damn cave then let him stay there slowly dying rather than wake up from this dream.

He quickly hides the ring in his pants when he hears you enter the house.

The home has a common layout, simple decorations, and a few personal touches, cozy and ours as you told him.

Norton works for an old man at his farm helping out and such. Good pay and no digging for coal. You work at the local bakery with a farmer's daughter.

“You're home early!” Cheerful and smiling brightly, Everything okay?” Going to the kitchen to set down the bag of bread in your arms.

“Uh, yeah,” Assisting you and looking at the bread now on the table, “Free bread day or something?”

“Heh, no! I made these for us! I know you like toasted bread for breakfast so…” You show him the misshapen bread, “I tried.”

You are… Kind to put it mildly.

When you first met him, it was after a brawl in which a few of the older miners jumped him for a single damn coin he got from payroll. He lost his coin, sure, but he made every single last one of them earn it. He was badly hurt and was carried into the infirmary with another guy.

At the time, you were the only female and a nurse on that mining site. The doctor left after not being paid, so technically you were the nurse and the head doctor. It wasn't easy for you, that is for sure given half these guys were scum.

Still, you did your job. With a smile too, for those deserving.

You fixed his nose, patched up his cuts, gave him something for the pain, and even got him something other than bread and turning milk. Soup for the soul, you called it, something you made because the chef there was a joke. It was mostly vegetables but it was something.

He was cold to you back then even when he was often your patient because of all the fighting. Norton didn't want friends, didn't care about anyone but himself, and he certainly didn't care to have some woman being nice to him. Bad enough you touched him when doing checkups and patching him up.

However, as much as he was an asshole, he wasn't fucking like these others. He ain't no saint but wasn't one to think just because you are the only woman there, means you are for the picking. He recalls that tussle (the man was drunk so it wasn't much of a fight), how grateful you were.

So grateful you baked him something as a thank you, a treat that was too sweet for him. He still ate it even though he complained about the sweetness.

You were, are, the brightest light in his life.

And it was dark… Becoming darker when the voice in his head started getting louder and louder.

The darkness nearly swallowed him whole.

Until you found him buried alive and willing to die.

God, he swears, the tears from your eyes seemed to never stop as you called out to him. Never did want to see that again.

“Norton, try this!” Preparing your ingredients to make a special pie you learned today! A shepherd's pie that is supposedly very filling and good! You seasoned the meat the night before and after setting up, you just finished cooking the meat.

You like this. Being a housewife. Though you are not married to him, you gave him the housewife treatment. Cooking, cleaning, cuddles (more like you being his weighted blanket).

Norton felt loved, knew he was loved, yet the darkness lurks in the shadows when he is alone with his thoughts as you sleep by his side.

While he sits in the kitchen simply enjoying your presence and the way you talk about anything and everything under the sun, he is playing with the ring in his pocket.

“Oh, hm, it needs more garlic.”

“It's fine.”

“No, no, sir-no-taste-outside-of-salt-and-pepper. Trust me on this.”

He shakes his head chuckling at you.

“She will leave you like all the others.”

He frowns as the voice mocks him.

“Poor flower thinks a domestic life in some other country will save you. We both know this is temporary.”

No, he likes this life!

“Being poor? You barely could afford her a ring! If we found that gold—”

“Norton?”

“Huh?” Not aware you are in front of him, “Need something?”

“You spaced out, hun.” Reaching to touch him though he shook his head. “If you need space, dinner will be done in an hour.” You understand, you show patience.

He stands up, tall and bulky, taking your hands and placing them on his face. His eyes close as feels your warmth. A gentle ‘thank you’ slips from his lips. You tell often he has no need to thank you but he does it anyway.

Rubbing circles on his cheeks before going back to cooking, you didn't want to pull away. You never do. He leaves the kitchen and you return to your task.

The sound of the bedroom door creaking open and then closing.

The best ways he found to stay in the present are to touch the things in the house, somethings things that you have made in the past attempts of crafting, or to smell the one perfume you love. A reminder of the good things he has.

Clean shirts, new shoes, even his better breathing, the window he can open at any time to gaze out into the back of the house. The outside cats that lurk around the house (his fault truthfully he could not stand seeing the little guys starving) playing with the blanket they stole from the laundry line and you did not have the heart to take back.

It is a perfect life, a fairytale ending to a nightmare he was living, yet the voice is bitter and cruel with words that plague him when you are not in sight.

… If only that was the case completely…

Recently, you have been the topic the moment Norton decided he wants to marry you. Sure it is pretty unseemly to be living with a woman and not married to her. Sure he has not had sex with you but you gave him so much of your patience. The love you gave him so freely.

The ring he takes out of his pocket to examine weighs heavy, he is trying to think of how to bring it up— To ask you. The words simply escape him, his chest hurts and his throat closes.

Shit, this looks so easy in those plays he saw once as a kid. Broke into the theater to pickpocket some people, all to get his father some medicine.

The past.

All in the past.

The knock on the door drew away the shadows encroaching ready to ensnare him.

“Dinner is ready.”

[supernova-stardust]

A Tender Thing

a jegulus long fic wip with background wolfstar, rosekiller, dorlene, pandalily, and emmary

ao3 is down so i figured i would post the first chapter of my fic here for y’all - there are currently 9 chapters published and i update weekly!

full chapter after the break, rating: 18+, chapter word count: 5,145, or read more on ao3

Remus always hates patrolling. It doesn’t matter who it’s with or the time of day, walking for so long always irritates his hip and quite frankly, he’d rather be spending his time doing… basically anything else. He does appreciate spending time with Marlene and Peter right now though. He hasn’t been able to see them as often lately, so he’s trying to be optimistic. But his hip really does fucking hurt.

“I don’t really know why we need to be patrolling anyway,” Marlene complains. “It’s broad daylight, it’s not like they’re really just going to come out right now to kill any muggles, right?”

Remus and Peter shrug in unison. To be honest, Remus isn’t sure why they’ve been going on so many patrols lately either. It seems like they’ve all been working longer and harder these days with very little results. Voldemort is still keeping to the shadows and the Death Eater activity has been more and more sporadic.

They turn down a back alley, the stench of stale piss and garbage filling the air around them. “Really would hate to die in a place like this, let’s keep moving,” Peter says frantically. Remus can feel his nervous energy all around them but really, why does Peter always have to bring up dying? Frankly, it’s annoying.

A flash of green light flies past in his peripheral vision, the three of them ducking behind a dumpster. Peter trips as they go, Remus pulling him into their hiding spot. The three of them exchange a worried look. Okay, so he has to admit that maybe this is why Peter is always bringing up dying. Fucking hell.

He hears a maniacal, half-crazed laugh echo down the alleyway and immediately knows who it belongs to. “Oh, did I scare the alley rats into hiding? Come out and play!” Bellatrix sing-songs as her heeled boots click clack on the pavement. Another flash of green lights up the alley as Remus and Marlene get ready to cast stunning spells. Bellatrix has reflexes like a cat, so the only way they’re getting out of here is to overwhelm her and block off escape routes. If they both cast, hopefully one of them will get lucky.

Flashes of red fill the space as Remus and Marlene cast in different directions. Marlene does in fact get lucky and lands a blow on Bellatrix as she dodges Remus’ spell. Peter lets out the greatest sigh known to man as Marlene screeches and jumps for joy. Marlene runs over to Bellatrix’s prone form, kicks her for good measure, then dances around like nothing in the world could stop her as Peter slowly lurches to his feet. Remus looks up as Peter holds his hand out.

He grasps Peter’s had and as he rises, he can tell that his hip is well and truly fucked. The moon just passed a few days ago and yeah, Sirius told him he shouldn’t have come out at all, but he’s sick of everyone coddling him. He’s only 26 for fucks sake, he shouldn’t be this damaged. And yet, he is. Every full moon he aches a little bit more, the transformations taking more and more away from him.

“You know Sirius is gonna go mental over this, right?” Peter laments to Remus, Marlene is still in her own world and neither of them want to be the one to try and pull her out of it. “Yeah, I know. If we didn’t have to give a debrief to Moody I wouldn’t want to tell him at all. You know how he gets.”

Everyone in The Order knows all too well how Sirius gets.

***

Sirius is relaxing on the couch when Remus comes through the door to their flat. He looks particularly worse for wear, his clothes are filthy and his hair is more rumpled than usual. Sirius feels his heart stop in his chest. He really doesn’t know what he’d do if something happened to Remus.

He jumps up, crossing the living room at record speed, reaching Remus before he’s even finished taking off his shoes. “What happened?” He stretches his hands up towards Remus’ face, cupping his cheeks with his palms and searching his eyes as Remus sighs heavily.

“I’m fine,” Remus insists instead of answering him.

“I know what you look like when you’re fine and it’s not… whatever this is. I knew Moody was sending you out too soon after the full moon, you’ve barely recovered.” Sirius feels frantic now. He knows that every time one of them leaves the apartment they could die, but the way Remus looks right now is making it all feel far too real.

“I don’t want them to coddle me, Pads. I really am fine. It was just a little altercation, Marlene and Pete were with me, we’re all okay. I just need a shower and I’ll be good as new, promise.” Remus kisses him softly, a chaste and sweet kiss. Full of promise and love.

“What do you mean by a little altercation, Moony?”

Remus gently grabs Sirius’ wrists, lowering his hands from his cheeks to his lips, placing gentle kisses up and down his palms. “I’m fine, Pads. Please drop it. Wanna join me in the shower?” He’s trying to distract him and they both know it.

“Not until you tell me what happened,” Sirius is feeling stubborn about this but he can’t help it. He needs to know why Moony showed up at home covered in filth and sweat, looking mildly shell shocked.

Remus lets out a sigh and drops his hands. “Fine, Bellatrix showed up. It was brief, barely anything happened. She tried to curse us but she missed, Marls and I knocked her out, we debriefed with Moody, then I came home. No harm, no foul, yeah?”

“What curse, Remus?” Sirius feels frozen in place and time. Bellatrix? She hasn’t shown her face in years, far too important to Voldemort to be risked skulking about in London. There’s no way this was a coincidence. She had to have been here for a reason and Sirius will find out why, even if it kills him. He doesn’t care how hypocritical that seems right now.

“Is it that important? She missed,” Remus mutters under his breath. He’s decidedly avoiding eye contact at this point and Sirius feels like he’s going to lose his mind.

“She tried to kill you, didn’t she?” Sirius can barely breathe. He could have lost Moony today. He could have lost Marlene and Pete too. They’ve become far too relaxed on these patrols lately, especially if Bellatrix is showing up in broad daylight. They all could have died if they had been a moment too late. Sirius could have lost them all.

“She missed. That’s what’s important here. She missed, Sirius.”

“Remus, you nearly died! She has to know what you mean to me by now, this was personal. Nothing you say will convince me otherwise,” Sirius starts pacing around the apartment and talking with his hands. His nerves are officially wreaking havoc on his body and he’d very much like this war to come to a close so he can stop worrying about everyone he loves every minute of every day. He feels like every day it gets more horrific rather than coming closer to an end. What the fuck are Moody and Dumbledore even doing to stop it at this point? Everyone is dying left and right. Last week they nearly lost Frank and he was on a mission with Kingsley, one of their strongest fighters. Kingsley trained them all and if he can be caught off guard, who’s to say they all can’t?

“Love, I’m fine, I swear.” Remus crowds Sirius, wrapping his arms around Sirius’ neck and backing him into the kitchen counter.

“How would I have known if you weren’t though? I should be going with you, we shouldn’t be separated anymore.” Remus starts nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. “I know what you’re doing,” Sirius groans.

“Hmm?” Remus starts trailing open mouthed kisses down from behind his ear to his collarbone, “I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re trying to distract me and it’s not going to work. I mean it, I’m going to talk to Moody about this. We should stick together, we make a great team. The only reason they keep us apart is because they don’t want our emotions getting in the way, but mine are getting in the way of me thinking straight at this point.” Remus’ hands begin to wander down his body, making him shiver.

“Do you really have to be so serious about it? It’s not a big deal, I’m fine. I can prove it to you right now,” he says as he pushes his hips into Sirius’ thigh, gripping his waist with both hands.

“I am literally Sirius,” he gasps. Oh he’s a weak, weak man.

“Oh, shut up.”

Remus sinks to his knees and Sirius does in fact shut up for now.

***

James walks right into Sirius and Remus’ flat, arms full of beer. He hasn’t felt the need to knock on their door since the first day they moved in together. They were all roommates for so long, they’re brothers, and Saturdays are their weekly ritual to get pissed drunk together anyway. He’s the last one here, as expected. Marlene is laying on the floor next to Peter who’s sitting up and watching Sirius like he’s an animal at the zoo. Sirius is already drunk, pacing around the living room and ranting about Remus nearly dying. What the fuck did he miss?

“I still can’t fucking believe they’d try to kill my boyfriend when I wasn’t even around to do anything about it,” Sirius complains, his words slurring together.

“Pads, come off it,” Remus sighs. “It didn’t even come close, honest. Pete, you were there the whole time, it wasn’t as close as he's making it out to be, right?”

“Uh, I mean– yeah, it wasn’t as bad as what you’re thinking, Pads, honest,” Peter tries, and fails, to soothe Sirius.

“Moony, you almost fucking died. I don’t believe Wormtail for a second,” Sirius huffs, plopping onto the couch next to Remus.

“Wow, thanks for that,” Peter glares and grabs a case of beer from James, ripping it open the moment he sets it down on the coffee table. James wanders over to the kitchen, opens the refrigerator, and piles the rest of the beer inside. As he comes back to the living room, he helps himself to a beer, popping open the can and taking a long sip. He’s going to need it, based on the way Sirius is behaving already.

“So, we all had a good day, huh?” James jests, trying to lighten the mood. Everyone glares at him as he plops on the floor across from the couch where Remus and Sirius are perched.

“Oh just lovely, considering Remus almost died and doesn’t want me to be upset about it,” Sirius pouts and grabs himself another beer. None of them mention that he probably doesn’t need it.

“Well, you’re going to love this then,” James braces himself for Sirius to fly off the handle with his news. “I heard from Mary today that your little brother is getting married, they’re hosting an engagement party tonight.”

Sirius drops his beer, splashing the cold drink all over the couch and himself. “Fuck, you can’t be serious? Married to who?”

Remus gets up and crosses over to the kitchen, grabbing a towel to mop up the mess. Sirius is unphased by any of this, too fixated on the news to even register that his pants are wet. Peter hands Sirius a fresh beer, not that he needs it.

“Narcissa, apparently. Blacks really do love to keep it in the family, huh?” The moment James heard about it from Mary he couldn’t believe it. He knows that the purebloods are having a hard time keeping their bloodlines pure, but really? Regulus’ first cousin?

James takes another long sip, steeling himself for Sirius’ reaction to the news.

“Oh no fucking wonder Bellatrix is here, her fucking sister is marrying my fucking baby brother. See Remus, I knew this was personal,” Sirius looks like he could murder, he probably would if they don’t calm him down.

James will never pretend to understand what it’s like for Sirius. When they were young, he and Regulus were inseparable. Sirius looked out for Regulus no matter the cost. Sometimes that cost was deathly high. When Sirius refused to take the Dark Mark, he begged and pleaded for Regulus to come with him and he outright refused. He hasn’t had a real conversation with him since. A few years later, they found out that Regulus had taken the Dark Mark and Sirius announced to them all that his brother was dead to him. That’s the last time any of them had even so much as mentioned his name in Sirius’ presence. Until now, that is. James couldn’t keep this from him, no matter how much he wanted to. If Sirius knew that he knew about it, James doubts that he’d ever forgive him. James wouldn’t forgive himself either.

“I have an excellent idea,” Sirius practically whispers, his eyes wide and pupils dilated. James can guarantee that his idea is not excellent.

“Sirius, love, whatever it is, let's just wait until morning, yeah?” Remus coaxes, placing the towel down and rubbing his hand up and down Sirius’ thigh. In hopes to distract him, no doubt.

“No!” Sirius pushes Remus’ hand off his leg, jumps from the couch, and starts pacing around the living room. “We should go to their stupid fucking party! How would they even know it was us? Everyone has to wear masks at those events besides the betrothed and it’s not like I’ve been around Mother and Father dearest in years.” Sirius has that gleam in his eyes that tells James there’s no way any of them are going to be able to change his mind, but he has to at least try.

“Oh fuck yes, we could go undercover, it’ll be great!” Marlene squeals, clearly the woman has no sense of self preservation.

“Sirius, your parents may not recognize you but there’s no way that your brother won’t lock eyes on you the moment you step foot in Grimmauld Place. You know this! It’s like he has some weird secret Sirius sense or something.” James feels like he’s yelling, but he’s really just desperate to have his best friend listen. Regulus would absolutely have the four of them thrown out, if not executed on the spot, for crashing his engagement party.

“Nah, Reggie wouldn’t rat me out.”

“He might not rat you out, but I can guarantee that he’ll murder the rest of us the moment he knows we’re there. Please, just drop it. I just thought you should know before you saw it in the Daily Prophet,” James begs.

Sirius absolutely will not drop it and that’s how the five of them find themselves outside Grimmauld Place for the first time since Sirius was sixteen years old, masks in hand and wands tucked up their sleeves.

***

Regulus sits at his desk, hunched over and writing his “sad boy poetry” as his brother always teased him. He’d never admit it out loud, but he misses Sirius and all the stupid shit he said. He’s been gone for almost ten years now and every day he misses him a little bit more. Honestly, how pathetic. No wonder his brother tormented him.

Sighing, he glances out the window. He was so engrossed in his writing that it’s already gotten dark outside, the lights in the garden blinking on, one by one. The roses are in full bloom and with the windows open he can smell their sweet scent billowing into his bedroom on the breeze. He stretches his back, arms rising above his head. He knows he has to get ready for the party soon, but really who would notice if he didn’t go? The real star of the show is Narcissa anyway.

Narcissa.

Of course his mother would arrange his marriage to his own fucking cousin against both of their wills. He had thought if he casually dated other purebloods for a while that his mother would simply allow him to figure it out. And by figuring it out, he means finding a lovely woman who doesn’t care that he’s gay as can be and will agree to a farce of a marriage.

But really, Narcissa?

At least he knows neither of them wants anything to do with this wedding. She is eating up the attention that the engagement brings her though. For someone who the family neglected to name after a star, she really is the brightest of the bunch.

“Okay so I was thinking-” Dorcas bursts into his room. “What the fuck, you’re not dressed yet?” She storms over to the closet, pulling out his dress robes that Mother so kindly had custom tailored just for this event. “Did you even shower? You’re expected to make your appearance with Narcissa in a half hour, Reg! I know you think I can perform miracles, but I can’t make this bullshit end.”

She’s standing in the middle of his room now, his robes draped on the bed, glaring at him. He hasn’t moved an inch.

“Yeah, yeah. I just got caught up with things.”

“What things? Writing prose and lamenting at the flowers?”

“Yes, actually.”

She smirks, clearly proud of herself for knowing her best friend so well. “Go shower, you stink,” Dorcas practically rips his arm off as she pulls him from his seat and shoves him to the adjoining bathroom.

When Regulus emerges from the bathroom, a towel around his hips and his hair dripping on the floor, Dorcas is perched on his bed, reading the book from his nightstand. “What were you thinking when you came in here?”

Dorcas looks up, clearly trying to recall what he’s talking about. “Oh! I brought whiskey!” She reaches over to her purse on his bed and pulls out a flask. “You can’t very well be sober during your engagement party to your loveliest cousin, now can you?”

They share a conspiratorial smirk and pass the flask back and forth as Regulus changes into his clothes and dries his hair. He’s putting on his shoes when they hear his mother knocking on the door, demanding that he meets with her and Narcissa at the top of the stairway to the parlor. A few moments and some breathing exercises later, he’s making his way down the hallway to meet them.

He’s never been good at controlling his anxiety, but the breathing exercises do help. He can’t help but think about how his brother found him one day when he was much younger, curled in a ball in the corner of his room, hyperventilating. He crossed the room and crouched down with him, gently brushing his hair from his face, begging Regulus to breathe with him. In for five, out for five, in for five, out for five. He hasn’t had his brother to breathe with him, but he still counts in and out for five multiple times a day.

Narcissa and his mother are whispering under their breath to each other, but when he finally gets close enough he overhears Narcissa saying something that peaks his interest. “I can’t stop Bellatrix from being Bellatrix, Aunt Walburga.”

Of course Bellatrix would do something to try and steal attention from Narcissa’s special day.

“I don’t care what it takes, we need to reign that woman in. She’ll be too impulsive one day and ruin the good name of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black,” his mother, Walburga, sneers. “Ah, finally. Regulus. You two will enter the parlor arm in arm after we’ve made the announcement. Don’t do anything that could jeopardize our good name. You’re the only heir to the family and we have high hopes for this match. Do not disgrace us.” With that, she leaves him and Narcissa alone to prepare for their grand entrance on her cue.

“How do they still not know?” Narcissa chuckles, her eyes sparkling with laughter.

“Know what?”

“That you’re so gay we’ll never produce an heir together.”

“You’ll just have to find someone who wants to produce my illegitimate heir, Cissy, she doesn’t need to know at all.” Once, when he was young, Regulus had considered coming out to his family. Once, when the world wasn’t so dark. Once, when Sirius was still his safety net, always willing to catch him when he fell. Now, he doesn’t think there’s anywhere he could be safe. He doesn’t think he’ll ever know what it’s like to live his life with any semblance of freedom.

“I mean, obviously. You could find someone to love, you know.” The tenderness that she speaks those words hits him like a train. Never had he considered that he could seek love in this marriage too. This entire time he’s just been thinking of Narcissa, of how they were going to pretend they had a happy marriage and sex life, of how they were going to further the family tree. Could he experience love?

If he’s honest with himself, he gave up on love a long time ago. Back when Sirius was still at home and sometimes invited Regulus along to visit James Potter. Those days were much brighter, warm and golden. They were only allowed to visit the Potter Manor because the Potters were technically purebloods, once considered pure enough for their family trees to intertwine. And then the dark days came and the Potters refused to kneel for the Dark Lord. Now, Sirius belongs with James in the sun and Regulus is cold and alone in the dark.

“I’ll keep that in mind. For now, let’s get through this party.” They smile softly at each other, linking their arms, and descend the stairs.

***

James is thankful that the man at the entrance didn’t recognize any of them since they had to exchange the masks they brought for silver and black ones at the door. It looks like everyone in Grimmauld Place is wearing the exact same ones, so he’s hoping that they’ll be able to blend in with the crowd. He grew up going to parties like this, but since Lord Voldemort began his thirst for power the Potters haven’t joined in any of these pureblood farces. Everyone is fake here. They all hate each other and James really doesn’t understand why they don’t just say it.

He sways a bit as they make their way through the crowd of people. He hadn’t realized how many people would show up, but I suppose that the most powerful pureblood family having an engagement party for two of their own would make for a large turn out. Everyone will be trying to arrange their own marriages for their children in hopes to secure a spot in Lord Voldemort’s favor. Scanning the room, he recognizes Evan Rosier and Barty Crouch Jr. whispering to each other, leaning against the wall near the stairway.

He’s not surprised to see Evan, he’s from an old pureblood family that allied themselves with Voldemort immediately, but he is surprised to see Barty. James is pretty sure that Barty’s father still works at the Ministry, but he supposes that the integrity of the Ministry has been up for debate for quite some time.

“Cygnus and Druella Black and Orion and Walburga Black are pleased to announce the engagement of Narcissa Black and Regulus Black,” someone announces to the parlor, pulling James from his thoughts. The entire room pauses, looks to the top of the stairs, and offers a polite applause as the couple descends.

Sirius bumps into him and they both take in Regulus standing arm in arm with Narcissa. Sirius can’t stop staring at Regulus, eyes wide and tearing up and immediately James can tell that Regulus feels Sirius’ gaze on him. His entire body stiffens, his steel gray eyes sharpen like daggers. The long separated Black Brothers lock eyes and James knows that’s the end of the game. There’s no way Regulus is going to let Sirius out of this party without a confrontation.

As soon as Regulus and Narcissa have joined the crowd and the chatter begins again, James gets Sirius moving. They need to avoid Regulus at all costs. Coming here was such a bad idea, but he really can’t fault Sirius for it. In the end, he knows this was just his way of wanting to be here for his brother. Being disowned didn’t mean he stopped loving Regulus, even if he acts that way to the rest of the world. James knows in his heart that there’s a whole lot of love between them.

He scans the room as they go, noticing that Regulus has joined Evan and Barty near the wall. Regulus is clearly freaking out, even if he’s trying to keep it quiet and subtle. Maybe to everyone at this party, he’s just excitedly chatting with his friends, but James knows better. Regulus is pissed. They should have never come here.

They stumble out to the garden, Marlene leading the way. Remus and Peter finally catch up behind them.

“Regulus saw us come this way, I think we should get out of here,” Remus says, a little out of breath. “C’mon, you showed up, it was a bad idea, let’s all go home, yeah?” They all turn a corner, trying to find their way out of this mess, and Marlene barrels head first into Dorcas. Regulus’ best friend. Oh, they’re so fucked.

“What the hell are you guys doing here? This is the last place you lot should be,” Dorcas whispers, clearly alarmed. Her amber eyes glaring in turn at each of them, light twinkling off the golden charms in her braids piled on her head.

“Dorcas, please, we all got a little drunk and carried away, we’re leaving, right Sirius?” Marlene begs, trying to walk around Dorcas to make way for their escape.

“Go now, I won’t be able to cover for you if anyone notices that you’re here, but I won’t say anything either,” Dorcas moves aside, making her way back to the party. “If you keep going that way you’ll find a back gate, it’s hidden behind some shrubs, just make sure you close it after yourselves.”

Remus takes Sirius’ hand, clearly begging him in that secret language that only they speak. In that way only people who know each other inside and out can. Soulmates.

Sirius reluctantly nods, James watches as the four of them make their way deeper into the gardens, searching for the back exit to avoid being caught. He knows they expect him to follow, and he will, but first he wants to scout out who else is at this party. This information is surely valuable to The Order, right? He’s already here, so he might as well, he knows that he can blend in well enough. Besides, it’s not like Regulus will recognize him. James turns on his heel to head back into the parlor, but instead he finds himself face to face, chest to chest with Regulus Black and he never realized just how beautiful he is.

***

Regulus could have run into any one of Sirius’ friends, but of course it had to be James Potter. James Potter with his stupid smile. James Potter with his golden eyes glowing in the twinkling lights of his favorite garden. James Potter staring at him with heat that he’s never seen in his eyes before.

“What the fuck are you doing here,” he snaps. He can’t believe how terrible his luck is that James Potter would show up here tonight, when he has to pretend to play the dutiful heir. The universe really hates Regulus, he just knows it. Why else would James be here, taunting Regulus with everything he’s ever wanted and could never have.

James stumbles back a bit, catching his bearings. He seems drunk, wobbling a bit on his feet, his cheeks slightly flushed. He’s so beautiful it hurts. “Look, I just wanted to stop by and tell you congratulations. Innocent stuff, I swear. But then you just looked so pretty and I thought it’d be such a shame if I had to leave you alone with your cousin, or, er - fiancée I suppose, for another moment.”

James Potter just called him pretty and Regulus is absolutely positive that he’s going to implode. His brain is spiraling. Regulus has wanted to hear James call him pretty since he was ten years old and first learned what a crush was, this can’t be real.

“What?” Regulus needs to hear him say it again. Needs to confirm that he didn’t just hallucinate James Potter calling him pretty.

“I mean, I’m sure the formalities of all of this is exhausting. Narcissa will be fine in there, she’s the sister who got all of the manners you know. Your mom picked the best cousin for you, I suppose. Way better than Bellatrix, eh?” James smirks as he rambles and Regulus wishes he would just stop and tell him he’s pretty again.

“Shut up, you idiot. What did you say before you got fixated on the fact that I’m marrying my cousin?” He’s getting impatient now. James is so insufferable. Why is he even asking him to say it again? It’s not like he can act on his childhood crush looking at him like this.

“Oh, er, I said you were pretty. And Godric, you really are beautiful…” James trails off, staring at Regulus with a type of longing that no one has looked at him with before. Regulus feels frozen in time. He can’t believe this is real. He wants to kiss him so badly it hurts, but he’s also aware that James was clearly at this party for nefarious reasons. This could all just be a game. Regulus’ heart couldn’t handle it if it was just a game. Instead, Regulus shoves James further away.

“You shouldn’t have ever come here,” Regulus feels like uttering these words betrays his very soul, but James doesn’t belong here. He’s innocent, free from the clutches of the Dark Lord and the dark, cold things that lurk beneath Regulus’ skin. James belongs in the sun.

Suddenly, James looks around the garden, grabs Regulus’ hand, and pulls him along the path. He hesitates at first, but James is relentless, tugging at him until they reach a willow tree. The branches reach down towards the ground in a thick curtain, James holds them aside and they slip under the willow. It feels like they’re in their own world, dark but not cold. Warm, because Regulus is holding James Potter’s hand.

[noraantilles]

Stranded

Pairing: Thrawn x gn!reader (y/n)

Summary: Y/N and Thrawn crashed on an unknown planet with nowhere to go where the reader takes care of the grand admiral’s wounds. Y/N is a prisoner to the empire because they have special powers that allow them to do extraordinary things.

Warnings: descriptions of wounds, some swearing, fluff, potential enemies to lovers, reader has healing powers and can take pain, telekinesis

Word count: 1223 words

The landing was harsh. You and Thrawn jumped out of your ship which was split in half while you were heading towards the surface. You could slow down the fall with your telekinetic abilities but the branches of the trees you were falling through caught you anyways. With a light groan, you stood up slowly while inspecting your surroundings.

You landed in a forest. Flora and fauna, something you‘ve never seen before. On which planet were you? And where was your special Companion? “Admiral?“ You shouted into the jungle. No answer. With a concerned glance, you looked around. No way he came down that far away not to hear you. “Hey Admiral, where are you?“ you shouted again nervously.

As there seemed to be no answer for your second shout, your worries started to firm. What if he was dead and the impact of the fall killed him? As much as you hated to admit it to yourself, you liked him in some kind of way. Even if you are standing on different sides. Seeing him die, would mean a small win for the rebellion and that would be perfect, but you just didn’t feel right with that. It wouldn‘t just be a loss for the empire. No. It would be a loss for evolution itself. His intelligence and extraordinary abilities to think things through are immaculate. He is too important to die now and that is why you are worried.

“THRAWN?“ you shouted even louder than before when a dark figure limped out of the forest. “It‘s grand admiral and I am right here.“ You turned around surprised and relieved as you made your way towards him to support him. “What happened?“ you asked as you reached him, observing his wounds that didn’t look like they came from the fall. “A creature I have never seen before attacked me as I tried to walk away. I think my ankle is spread, that’s why I couldn’t run.“

His wounds were deep but the bleeding stopped due to unknown circumstances. It looked infected. In this condition, you weren’t able to heal him properly as you were just able to seal his wounds not disinfect them. But staying here where this thing could come back any moment was way too dangerous. “We need to get out of the forest. Can you walk?“ you stated as you adjusted your support. He nodded wordlessly.

After a short hike, you were able to make it out of the forest as you discovered a settlement in the far. It was a risk to approach a village of an unknown species, but you had no choice, so you headed towards it. At first, they were very defensive as they noticed you two but when they noticed Thrawns wounds they were very helpful. They gave you and Thrawn one of their huts so that he could rest and bring him some antibiotics made from local plants for the infection. Even though none of you spoke each other’s language it didn’t seem to be a big deal.

You waited on the outside of your hut as one of the locals handed you the medicine for him. Since you both were unknown to them, they decided it would be best if you treated his wounds alone.

You stepped back into the hut approaching Thrawn who was half sitting, half lying on some pillows.

Thrawn looked very calm and observed the accommodation. You could tell that he was notoriously stuck in another world that was absolutely new to him. “Are you alright?“ you asked him while you were prepping the salve to treat his infection. “Yes.“ he said stuck in his thoughts without taking his glare off the fabric ornaments which were found all around us. Wordlessly, because he was busy with something else anyway, you pulled back his shirt to face the wounds.

It looked awful. So awful that you really wondered how he was even able to stay conscious less being able to observe his surroundings so curiously like he always did when he found himself an opportunity to learn something new. You looked at him with a concerning frown. “Does that not hurt you?“ “It does.“ he answered like before still unfazed. The longer you looked at him the more you could read his facial expressions.

Sometimes when you moved the shirt further up you could see a slight flinch in his eyes. He seems so rough, but the pain must be enormous for him. Since the empire captured you, some time has passed, and they still weren’t able to get the information about you that they wanted. You never showed them what you could do and never fought back when they lured you into an ambush. That’s why they also never got to witness one of your most special abilities. Your ability to take pain with a physical touch and heal the wounds within a minute. The only thing that you couldn’t heal were blood infections like Thrawns, that’s why they gave you the salve.

You decided to no longer wait. You took some of the salve on your hands and spread them all over the wounds on his torso. The soon your touch hit him you took all of his pain to you. It flowed right through your hand and spread throughout your body. You gasped quietly. Ouch, that hurts like kriffing needles stabbing you from the inside out.

As soon as your body adjusted to the pain your face got more relaxed and you were now able to observe the immediate healing effect the medicine had. In the meantime, Thrawn's attention had finally turned to what was happening right in front of him. While you were staring completely focused on the healing progress, Thrawn witnessed something that he could not quite believe. With your hand resting on his lower torso his pain was completely gone. The fast thinker that he is, he immediately knew that it could not come from that odd salve you gave him, no. It must come from something else. Your touch.

To test his theory he grabbed your wrist and pulled your hand up while staring at you with an intense glare. But the soon as your hand left his body a wave of pain immediately hit him, and he hissed at the sudden very unpleasant sensation. He caught you right-handed. “What are you doing?” you said tauntingly and pushed your hand right back to his torso as the pain started to wander back into your body. As your face had adjusted to the pain you started to look at him.

His eyes were piercing into yours. He was speechless, shocked, and fascinated by what he just had witnessed. “Extraordinary.“ he mumbled while glaring into your eyes. You shivered. His big red eyes gave you a sensation that you have never felt before. It scared you but made you feel special at the same time.

Not once before you had exposed your powers to the empire. And it wasn’t like you had no choice right now. But there was something about the grand admiral that got to you. You always liked intelligent men, but never that much to put away your moral compass. Falling in love with the enemy got to be the worst thing that has ever happened to you. Or was it?

Authors note: Hey guys, thanks for reading. I have been writing for some time now and never posted anything. I am finally ready to share some of my Oneshots with you. My mother tongue isn’t English so please be tolerant of potential mistakes. Anyways, like, share, and reblog if you liked it and I am happy to receive your feedback.

[tickle-bugs]

Pre-Flight Checks

@allytheally: hi :) here's a prompt: you reblogged this thing a while ago about the seatbelts on aircraft (one on the shoulder, waist, and individual ones for the thighs) (https://www.tumblr.com/tickle-bugs/715247149506609152/hey-there-i-work-with-fighter-jets-super-hornets?source=share) and I think it'd be great if you wrote something incorporating this idea... like maybe lee!hangman and ler!rooster or lee!mav and ler!iceman and/or ler!slider? honestly any pairing would be cool

“Gooooood mornin’, Rooster.” The heavy impacts of boots on the stepladder send Bradley’s eye twitching. Hangman’s presence has a volume the way bright light slowly wears on the eyes.

“What do you want?” 

“Me? I just came over to help with your pre-flight checks.” Hangman grins, cocksure. A sliver of sunshine lights up his eyes over the edge of his aviators. 

“I’m clear, but thanks.” Bradley gives a little ‘shoo’ motion with his hands. 

“Lemme give it a second opinion.” Hangman hoists himself up to get a better view of the cockpit. He makes a big show of scanning over the switches and buttons and humming in thought. 

“Knock yourself out.” Bradley snorts and turns away. Hangman’s indecipherable muttering falls easily away under the buzz of his brain. He double and triple checks everything, noting the feel of each switch and knob under his practiced hands. Finding the rhythm of his plane is half the ritual.

Wiggling fingers fit suddenly into the curve of Bradley’s waist and he barks out a laugh, knees jerking against the straps holding him. 

He blinks at Hangman. Hangman grins at him. 

“Don’t--” Bradley dives to grab his hands, but the seatbelts, ever-dutiful, wrench him back into place. 

“Oh, now that sounds like you’ve got somethin’ loose. No pilot should be making that noise.” Hangman tuts, but he doesn’t stop, just lets his stupid hands do their stupid crawl across his stupidly sensitive stomach. Bradley lets out a giggly shriek and tries to fold in half. 

“Oh, Mav wasn’t kidding. This is my lucky day.”

“Youuuu--” Whatever half-baked insult Bradley was aiming for is smothered by his own laughter. 

“Meeeee. Say, are you ticklish anywhere else? Gotta catalogue this for future use. Scream once for yes or twice for no.” Hangman tazes his sides and Bradley’s voice cracks around his laughter.

He’s going to die in this plane. He better die in this plane, otherwise he’s going to gut Hangman like a fish.

…No, he won’t. 

Bradley manages to plant his hand square on Hangman’s face and start pushing, and the ultimatum between continuing the torment or falling onto concrete makes Hangman finally, blessedly let go. 

“Seems like everything’s in order. Pleasant skies, Rooster.” Hangman pats his shoulder and hops down out of sight. 

In his mind’s eye, he’s shaking Hangman by the shoulders until his brain falls out of his ears. In practice, he’s turning his burning face and shy half-smile back towards the controls with hopes of killing both.

…

“Mornin’, Bradshaw.” Hangman pops up like a gopher. Bradley jumps and nearly flips his lounge chair. 

“Seresin.” He exhales tightly through his nose. He stays very still—maybe he can still salvage the last throes of the sun-warmed nap he was finding his way towards. 

“You seem tense.” Hangman cocks his head in something that passes for concern. The rushing ocean suddenly sounds more like an omen. 

“There’s no one else around for you to bother right now?” Bradley leans up on his elbows to search for the other Daggers. He can hear Fanboy laughing somewhere, he thinks, but Hangman’s giant head blotting out the sun is the only thing he can see. 

“Nope!” Hangman makes a big show of cracking his knuckles and stretching his fingers. Bradley’s eyes widen. 

“Don��t you dare.” 

“You’ll have to be more specific. Don’t what?” The expression that Hangman generates overshoots innocence by a country mile. 

“Tickle me, you asshole.” Bradley winds an arm around his torso and scrambles up in his lounge chair. The fluttery kick of anticipation slaps a smile straight across his face. 

“I can’t believe you fell for that.”

“Fell for--”

Bradley pauses as it dawns on him. Watching it dawn on Hangman is worse--his entire face brightens with mischief. 

Bradley starts stammering through a protest and giggling through another, but Hangman’s kneeling over him before any of it becomes coherent. He flails hard enough to send them both tumbling into the sand. Never in his life has he been more grateful to be alone, if only to keep the pitch of his laughter between him and the menace causing it.

He makes a note to keep his shirt on at the beach. 

…

Maybe a week or so of this puts Bradley in a…strange headspace. Distracted. 

Touch is nice, but there’s more of it lately, enough to make him notice and crave its absence in a way he hadn’t before. When Phoenix leans into his side or Fanboy claps his shoulder, he misses the warmth of their touch after. Even Hangman’s utter nonsense sets a gentle buzz into his chest. It’s dizzying. 

He’s so lost in the ache of it that Mav catches on, and it kicks solidly into that tangle of ‘complicated shit’ between them that he keeps putting away for increasingly rainer days. He’d gotten so used to Mav tiptoeing around him as if he were fragile that the first gentle touch on the shoulder almost shatters him. 

The Daggers meet for a barbecue at Mav’s and Bradley shows up early with a bottle of Ice’s favorite Pinot. Things may be complicated, but the mushy smiles on Ice and Mav’s faces are not. It’s nice, putting ‘complicated’ in motion towards being something else. Something lighter. 

Later into the night, Bradley’s got his feet kicked up on the couch in the hangar and the radio crooning slowly in his ear. 

He watches Mav and Ice dance--more of a sway, really, as they banter. Mav’s got a playful tilt to his smile, one that suggests he’s being as much a menace as he’s visibly in love. Bradley smiles and hums along, halfheartedly wondering what Mav might be pestering Ice with.

“This seat taken?” Not waiting for an answer, Hangman picks up his ankles and takes their spot. Bradley brings his heels down hard on his thigh. He gets a swat on the ankle for his trouble. Still, the weight of Hangman’s arm on his legs is comforting. Solid. 

A room full of people to bother, yet Hangman finds him. Hm. 

“Why’re you so obsessed with me lately?” Bradley nudges him with his ankle. Hangman’s eyebrows raise.

Well. He’d meant to say that with a bit more tact but it’s out there now, between them. 

Hangman snorts softly and passes Bradley a beer. He pops the caps on both and pockets them. Probably donations for Coyote’s collection. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, Bradshaw.” Hangman gives him an utterly complex and unreadable look before taking a swig of his beer. ‘Complex’ and ‘unreadable’ are not words that belong anywhere near him. 

“You didn’t answer the question.” Bradley frowns. 

“It’s a stupid question.” 

“Seresin.” Bradley leans forward to smack his shoulder. 

“Alright, fine.” Hangman exhales tightly. “You’ve been moping around like a dark fuckin’ cloud these past few weeks and we couldn’t figure out how to get you out of it. We ran out of ideas and eventually Mav realized he couldn’t hide from us anymore, so he coughed up a solution. Something he said we could try, and I quote, ‘at risk of your lives’. Never thought he’d suggest tickling, but--”

“You went to Mav?”  

“Yeah, and Mav—“ Hangman imitates the way Bradley’s voice cracks— “told Phoenix to try it if all else failed, she told Bob, Bob told me, and now we’re here. And it worked.”

Bradley’s brain stalls out. He sits up, bracing his elbows on his knees. He drops his face into his hands. 

“Oh my god. So everyone knows?” He peeks through his fingers. Hangman shrugs.

“Well, I don’t think Fanboy was paying much attention.” He scratches idly at his jaw. 

“Mav said if all else failed. I didn’t—you guys didn’t try anything else.” Bradley fiddles with the label on the bottle. 

Hangman raises his eyebrow in the precise shape of ‘oh really?’. 

“Remember when Bob tried to buy you soup? Or when Payback made a fool of himself trying to sing Great Balls of Fire? Or when Fanboy tried to introduce you to Star Trek? Or—“

Oh. 

For maybe the only time in his life, Hangman snaps his jaw shut. Bradley furrows his brow. 

“Look…point is, you keep making that exact face you’ve got right now, and concerned parties asked me to investigate.” Hangman swirls his finger around Bradley’s face. He swats it away on habit, but fondness bubbles in the base of his throat. 

“Concerned parties?” A smile sneaks under his mustache.

“Yeah, Phoenix and the rest of them were worried. Not me though.” Hangman takes a long, incriminating swig from his bottle. 

“Not you?” Bradley tilts his head teasingly.

“Nope. I’m a neutral party. Like Sweden.”

“It’s Switzerland, dumbass.” Bradley knocks shoulders with him. Something about Hangman’s smile tells him he already knew that.

“Sure. Whatever.” Hangman throws his arm across the back of the couch. His fingers brush Bradley’s arm. The fondness settles into a resonant hum deep in Bradley’s chest.

“You’ve got your shit with Mav and your past. I get it. But some of us would like to see you smile more than twice a week.” Hangman gestures with his bottle. His movements are loose in the practiced Seresin way, but the care on his face is stunningly plain. 

“Some of us?” Bradley grins. Hangman narrows his eyes. 

“Concerned parties.” His cheeks grow rosy even as he scowls. 

“You are obsessed with me and I’m telling Phoenix.” Bradley pats his shoulder and makes a break for it. A fist grabs a handful of his collar. 

“Like hell you are!” 

The (thankfully empty) bottles clatter to the floor as Hangman wrestles an already-laughing Bradley back down to the couch. He tries not to think too hard about hearing Mav cheer in the background. 

…

Bradley does not start fights. He does not. He finishes them.

He slips past Phoenix and Bob, nodding in passing, and ducks up to Hangman’s Super Hornet. He can feel their eyes on him--especially Bob, he’s got a killer stare for someone so quiet--but he ignores it. 

It’s not a fight, not really, but if he thinks about what he’s doing too hard he’s going to lock himself in a supply closet somewhere. 

Bradley hops up the steps alongside the cockpit. 

“Rooster! To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing your ugly mug?” Hangman grins and bats his eyelashes. 

“I heard you were challenging Mav. Wanted to get a good look at you before you spend the rest of the evening with your face to the tarmac.” Rooster holds up his fingers like a picture frame. 

“Try not to miss me too much.” Hangman winks, insufferable as always. 

“Miss you? Every second you’re not buzzing around down here is a second of peace.” Bradley reaches up and knocks on his helmet. 

“Would you kindly get the fuck off my plane?” Hangman swats lazily at him. Bradley bats his hands away. 

“Before you go, just thought I’d see how your pre-flight checks are going?”

Hangman goes rigid. Bradley grins evilly at him.

“Bradshaw, don’t you fuckin’—“ 

Bradley fumbles with Hangman’s hands and flight equipment until he can jam his fingers right into the soft parts of his side. Hangman yelps and nearly jumps out of his skin. The seatbelts ensure there’s nowhere for him to go, and the clacking of the buckles only spurs Bradley on.

“I thought you’d put up more of a fight than this, Hangman.” Bradley tuts and shakes his head, worming his fingers up under straps to get at his ribs. Hangman well and truly shrieks.

“I am g-going to kill you!” Hangman shakes with the force of his laughter, folded awkwardly into his seatbelts. He shoves uselessly at Bradley’s chest. 

“And I’m never gonna let this go. Think I could get you to do that again, or are you a one hit wonder?” Bradley squeezes quickly at Hangman’s thigh. His hands slap down hard on top of Bradley’s and he starts cackling his way to incoherency. 

Bradley raises his eyebrow and times the squeezes to every escape attempt. It’s incredibly entertaining to listen to Hangman reinvent the squeal. He wonders if the other Daggers know about this yet. 

The sound of a throat clearing nearly sends Bradley toppling backwards off the plane. Strong hands heave him upright and he turns--Maverick’s eyes crinkle around the edges of his sunglasses. 

“Appreciate you getting a head start on destroying him, Rooster, but I believe that’s my job.” Mav pats him on the shoulder. Bradley goes to duck away, but Hangman makes a swipe for his sides, and he can’t let that stand. He leans back into the cockpit and tickles Hangman’s ribs until he’s screeching between hiccups and an interesting shade of red. 

“Aren’t you ssssupposed to help me?” Hangman crumples in around Bradley’s hands, wriggling like a worm on a hook. 

“Help you? No. Teach you? Sure. Wheels up in two minutes. Hopefully you’ll learn a thing or two about getting your ass handed to you.” Mav pulls Bradley back by the shoulder. He lets it happen. Hangman thunks his head back against his seat, chest heaving. 

“Bold words, Pops. We’ll see who comes out on top.” He clicks his tongue and winks. Insufferable bastard. 

“See you in the skies, Hangman.” Mav pokes Hangman’s stomach. 

…

The lounge at Top Gun hums with quiet chatter through the evening as the Daggers share drinks. Bradley’s tucked against the wall with Phoenix and Bob under his arms. He’s half watching Fanboy and Payback fumble through a game of pool, half listening to a story Phoenix is telling, and fully content to lose himself in the sound of her voice. 

The door slams open, welcoming a sweaty and disgruntled Hangman to the room. Scattered laughter and teasing applause kicks up among the other Daggers. He gives the entire room the finger. 

“Yeah, laugh it up. I was off my game.” He pushes his hair out of his eyes. Coyote offers him a pity beer. He takes it. 

“I wonder why.” Bradley chuckles. Phoenix swats his chest. Hangman locks eyes with him, absolutely feral. Bradley goes to make a run for it, but Phoenix hooks her arms under his. He could break her grip if he really tried, but…

When Hangman barrels towards him and tackles him over the back of the couch, Bradley can’t say he doesn’t deserve it.

[ww2yaoi]

[Here's another taste of my so far untitled webgott fic because I feel like sharing but know finishing the fic is going to take a while longer so enjoy...]

The sun is beginning to set when David finally rises from his chair, eyes stinging from staring at a blank page for so long. He closes his notebook, grabs a towel, then starts down the winding pathway from the hotel to the lake.

Thankfully, no one’s at the dock when he gets there. The horizon is bathed in burnt orange light, slowly dimming as the sun settles between the mountain peaks in the distance. The air is a bit too cool for a swim, but David enjoys the breeze as it bites at his skin. Anything to draw him out of his thrumming head, to distract him from the lacuna in his sternum, aching with oblivion.

He strips all the way, wanting nothing between him and the water, and dives into the lake. The cold water hits him like a grenade blast, roaring past his ears and soaking him deep to the bone. When David was a child, spending summers away from school on East Coast beaches, he used to see how long he could hold his breath underwater. He would revel in frightening his mother when his head failed to emerge from the waves for minutes at a time. He liked it down there. It was quiet, and he could imagine himself coming from a different world, somewhere unknown and endless where he was better understood, inexplicable like the ocean but loved for his inexplicability all the same.

In the present, David holds his breath until his lungs sting and his head feels fuzzy. Eyes closed, he welcomes the black, embraces the stillness surrounding him. Then, he emerges, gasping, droplets beading like pearls at the ends of his hair. His eyes flutter open, and the first thing he sees is the bottom of a jump boot resting at the edge of the dock. David follows the line of the attached leg to the face peering over at him.

Joe is lounging there with an elbow propped up behind him. He nurses a cigarette, the cherry burning tangerine between his pursed lips. His paratrooper jacket is opened to reveal the clean white of his undershirt, his Magen David glinting around his neck in the dying sunlight.

“Thought you were never gonna come back up for air,” Joe says and the smoke he exhales conceals his pinched expression.

David is surprised to see him. He stands up in the water, toes nestling in the wet sand. Luckily, the waterline comes up to his waist, hiding his nakedness.

“How long have you been sitting there?” he asks.

“Long enough to wonder if you’d fucking drowned,” Joe says, scowling.

“What are you doing here?” David replies. He crosses his arms over his bare chest, feeling oddly exposed underneath the razor’s edge of Joe’s gaze. “I thought you were avoiding me.”

“I was,” Joe admits. His eyes flick downwards. “I heard about Janovec. Chuck says you were there.”

News travels fast; David frowns. “So what? You here to blame me for it?”

Joe’s eyebrows furrow. “Jesus, Web. Why the fuck would I blame you?”

David shrugs. “I don’t know, Joe. You blame me for a lot of things.”

Joe smirks, a disparate concoction of amusement and irritation that David has memorized on his face a thousand times before. He takes another drag of his cigarette and taps ash into the water. It floats on the surface like flakes of pepper in a bowl of tomato soup.

“Yeah, Web, like what?”

David meets his eyes, unwilling to back down. “Well, for one, you blame me for getting wounded in Holland. You blame me for missing Bastogne. You blame me for not killing a man just because you asked me to—”

“He was a fucking Nazi,” Joe spits, expression hardening. “He deserved to die.”

“Maybe so,” David volleys back. “But the war is over, Joe. Why bloody our hands? Where does this end for you?”

“Until they fucking pay.”

“Yeah, who? Who pays? Millions of people are complicit. Are you going to kill half the population of Germany?”

Joe goes quiet at that, fiddling with his cigarette between his thumb and index finger. His silence simmers with anger and something else, something somber and oppressive, and David realizes he much prefers his open-mouthed rage to this. The only time he’s seen Joe this short for words was after Landsberg, and the last thing David wants is a repeat of that.

It makes him think back to the German baker whose throat he held a gun to. Sometimes, when he closes his eyes, he can feel the weight of the pistol in his hand, his finger inching closer and closer to the trigger. Sometimes, in his dreams, he pulls it. He never told Joe what happened that day. Maybe Joe would say he should have done it.

“You want to go home, right?” David adds quietly. “Leave all this behind?”

Joe says nothing. By now, the sun has dipped behind the mountainscape, painting everything in a spectral blue. A gust of wind whips across the lake, casting ripples through the water, and David shudders slightly. Goosebumps pimple his arms.

“Come on,” Joe says, beckoning him with the tilt of his head. “Get out of the water, Web. You’re shivering.”

“Okay,” David says, but heat blooms on the back of his neck. “You might want to look away though.”

“Why?”

“I’m naked, Lieb.”

Joe snorts and smoke pours out his nose. “What? You ashamed of that tiny, uncut dick of yours?”

David rolls his eyes. “It’s not tiny.”

“Well, it’s hard to see with all that hair on you.”

“You’ve been looking?”

“Jesus Christ,” Joe says. “Come on. We’ve showered together. It’s nothing I haven’t seen.”

“Suit yourself.”

David wades over to the edge of the dock and pulls himself up out of the water, getting to his feet. He reaches for the towel by his discarded clothes, keeping his eyes trained on the tree line in front of him, knowing full well if he glances over at Joe and sees him looking he’ll flush from head to toe. David wraps the towel around his waist and sits down beside him on the dock, pale legs outstretched and freckled with lake water.

They look out at the horizon and David feels the distance stretching between them, like he and Joe are the twin but separate mountain peaks piercing the dusky sky miles ahead. Joe finishes his cigarette and butts it out on the dock, leaving a scorch mark on the wood. He tosses it into the water and it floats for a moment on the surface before being swept under by a wave.

“Hell,” Joe says after a while, his voice low. “What the fuck do I have to go home to?”

David snaps his head to look at him. “What are you talking about?” he says.

“Nothing.” Joe looks sullen, chin tucked towards his chest. “Forget it.”

“What about your job at the cab company?” David asks. “The Jewish girl with the big tits? What about your family?”

Joe scoffs. “Yeah? What the fuck am I gonna say to them? What am I gonna tell my ma?”

“You tell them whatever you want to tell them,” David says. “That you’re a war hero, that you saved Western civilization as we know it.”

Joe laughs, a bitter, leery thing. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

David shrugs. He doesn’t know what he thinks anymore, about the war, about the things he’s done, the things he’s seen. Sometimes he lies awake at night and wonders how his life might be different, if in some version of history the right politicians had shaken hands and all this destruction and bloodshed had been avoided. Joe would still be driving his cab around Frisco, maybe he’d have a wife and a home and children to fill it, and David would be back at Harvard, studying Tolstoy and Flaubert and writing his novel. They never would have met except in this ravaged and desolate place. They would have no reason to relate to one another, vastly different men from vastly different backgrounds, situated on disparate coasts on opposite sides of the country.

David doesn’t believe in fate, or predestination, or whatever the poets call it, but there’s an inevitability to it all, that David would find his way to Easy, to Joe. He’s not even sure if they’re friends, but since Joe lifted him up into that truck in Haguenau, he’s felt drawn into Joe’s orbit. If David’s being honest with himself, he’s never fit in well with the guys of Easy. Not really. They tolerate him, sure, but they never seek him out, not like Joe does. David has never fit in anywhere, not at HQ before his transfer, not at Harvard, not even in his own goddamn family. Without Joe, without his ardour and annoying persistence, it’d be like being lost at sea.

David is pulled out of his thoughts when he feels a knobby finger jab him in the leg. He looks down and sees that Joe is poking him in the calf where the Kraut bullet pierced his skin in Holland, just barely missing the bone. The scar there is pink and mottled, the flesh raised and twisted like the mark on Joe’s neck.

“Hey, quit it,” David says and drags his leg away from Joe’s touch.

Joe leans back on his elbows, smirking. “So that’s the million-dollar wound.”

David glares at him. “If it was a million-dollar wound I’d be home by now,” he says. “And I’m still fucking here, aren’t I?”

Something softens in Joe’s expression, and if David didn’t know any better he might mistake it for fondness.

“That you are, Web. That you are.”

[weaveandwood]

Weave and Woods Chapter 10: A Wondrous Thing

Gale/Named Tav | Slow Burn | Read on AO3 | Entire Work

Summary:

Auroria is exhausted from all the perils of the Shadow Cursed Lands and Gale tries his best to get her to actually sleep. The Harpers throw a party after a successful mission rescuing prisoners from Moonrise Towers.

He jumped up from the barstool and made a beeline for the door, pushing past a group of gnomes and two tieflings. Relief washed over him. They’re back, and they were successful. He went out into the courtyard, and saw her smiling and laughing, celebrating with some Harpers who had greeted her and Lae’zel first. She was safe, unharmed. She made eye contact with him and gave a small wave, which he returned. He felt his heart swell inside his chest, unable to be contained anymore. I love her.  He was a man possessed. He strode up to her, cutting through the Harpers, bypassing Lae’zel. He saw no one else but her. Only her. Always her.

AN: I love them so much. Thank you for reading this fluffy sweet chapter <3

“You look exhausted.”

“Thanks for pointing that out.” Auroria yawned, her head resting on the bar at the back of the Last Light Inn. “I am exhausted.”

Gale pulled up a stool and sat next to her. It had been a long few days since they got to the Last Light Inn, and she had been going non-stop, sleeping only a couple hours here and there between a flurry of activity. There was finding Dammon and getting Karlach’s engine fixed, getting her ribs crushed by Karlach’s first hug (and thirty seven hugs after that in the past few days), discovering the mysterious man sleeping in the room on the first floor, delivering the news to Arabella that her parents were dead, saving Isobel from a corrupted Flaming Fist, defeating a caravan on their way to Moonrise towers which granted them a pixie’s blessing to be immune to the shadow curse, and now she was developing a plan to both infiltrate Moonrise Towers and rescue the tieflings and the gnomes from the prison. She and Lae’zel poured over maps from previous scouting missions with the Harpers for hours before nodding to each other, satisfied with what they came up with. That was when she went to the bar by herself and finally sat down for the first time all day. 

“Why don’t you go take the night off and get some sleep?”

“If I take a night off, then these innocent people are still needlessly trapped in a prison and could die. We told them to come this way - I feel responsible for them. Lae’zel and I are going to go to Moonrise tonight. We can sneak into the prisons easily under the guise of being True Souls, and we have a real chance to break them out without violence. Or much violence anyway,” she laughed softly, trying to stave off the tears that threatened to form in her eyes from her deep felt guilt about her part in the plight of the tieflings.

“I’m worried about you.” He said as he reached out, covering her hand with his. “You don’t have to take on everything - we are all capable. I’ve asked you before to let us carry more weight - a burden shared is a burden halved.” 

Her eyes softened as she turned to him and she gave him a half smile. “After being on my own for so long, it’s hard to relinquish control. Please understand me, I’m trying, but I’m used to doing everything myself. If you were talking to the Ora of six months ago, I’d already be at the towers alone, probably getting myself killed or something close to it. At least now, I have company who can talk me out of anything extremely rash when I let my feelings guide me instead of my brain.” She sat up straight, raising both arms over her head to stretch. She saw his eyes flick up and down quickly, trying to be subtle - the stretch was a calculated move on her part. “I promise I’ll sleep tonight. Full eight hours and everything, ranger’s honor.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” he smiled, his warm brown eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Thank you for worrying about me. It feels…nice. No one has worried about me in so long, I forgot what it felt like for someone to care if I live or die.” Auroria reached out this time, grabbing his hand, intertwining her fingers between his. “You’ve shown me that care since the beginning of this strange journey. And…it’s appreciated. I just want you to know that.” 

He ran his thumbs over her knuckles, a soft laugh escaping as he nodded. “Perhaps taking care of each other is what we do. You’ve done that for me since I confided in you about my condition, almost no questions asked. How could I not do the same for you? Our party would suffer greatly without you. I would suffer greatly without you.” 

“Well, I would imagine, since I’m the one who got all those magical artefacts for you,” she teased, trying to clarify for herself if he was speaking pragmatically or something else. She hoped it was something else.

“You know that’s not what I meant, Ora,” he said softly. 

Her face flushed slightly, the tips of her ears turning pink as she considered the implications of what he was saying. She leaned forward a little, closing some of the distance between them. 

“Hmm. And what did you mean then, Gale?” She smiled at him, her eyes taking in his handsome face as he looked at her like she hung the moon. Please let him love me , she pleaded to no one in particular. 

A throat cleared behind Gale. Auroria looked over his shoulder and saw Lae’zel, standing with her arms crossed. “It’s time.”

Auroria nodded, trying to mask her internal disappointment. “Alright, let me go get something I can smash things with.”

“Smash things?” Gale asked, brows furrowed in confusion, the lines between them becoming prominent. She loved those lines that showed up when he was deep in thought. 

Auroria smiled brightly at him. “We’re going to break down the back walls of the cells. The scouts said the tower hasn’t been maintained well so it should be relatively easy as long as we can get out before they realize what we have done.” She watched a smile grow on his face. “Good plan, don’t you think?”

“An excellent plan, though I’d expect nothing less from you. Take my quarterstaff, it’s been quite the asset for me, very useful in smashing, and I would love for it to be in your capable hands,” he said, motioning to the staff that had been leaning against the bar. 

“Thank you, I’ll return it in one piece when we get back, hopefully with freed prisoners and a good story to tell.” Feeling emboldened by their conversation, she kissed his cheek as she got up and picked up the staff, meeting up with Lae’zel who was already waiting on the other side of the room. 

“Well, things with you and Gale seem to be going…well,” she said. 

Auroria smiled. “I think so, too. Now, let’s go rescue some prisoners.”

******

Gale waited at the bar, watching the door for Ora’s return. After getting hugged no less than four times by Karlach, he sent her to hug Astarion, much to Astarion’s dismay. He heard the barstool next to him scraping as it slid back and found Wyll now sitting beside him. 

“I saw you and Ora talking earlier, before she left. It looks like things are blossoming between you?” he asked, having become a confidante to Gale over these past weeks regarding Ora. Gale couldn’t believe he was ever even remotely jealous of Wyll for being someone who so easily could wear his heart on his sleeve. He very clearly loved her as well, though Wyll took time to clarify after the Bibberbang incident that it was just in a friendly manner. The two had grown close ever since, finding they were similar in many aspects, namely matters of the heart. 

Gale nodded, “I must confess, I wasn’t expecting it. How could I? Cast aside from Mystra, cursed orb, locked in my tower for a year of my own volition, tadpole abduction. Who would have thought it would lead me to her?” He took a sip of wine. “Now with Moonrise Towers and Mystra’s command looming over me, I wonder if it is fair to continue on as we are. A small, hopeful part of me believes that time must not be wasted, though.”

“You know me, Gale, I am a romantic. I say go for it - don’t waste time. Love is the most powerful thing on this plane and is capable of working wonders.”

“Perhaps you’re right. I’ll think it over. Thank you, Wyll,” he nodded as Wyll got up to go get his hourly hug from Karlach, who was proving to be quite the menace now that she wasn’t dangerous to touch.

Hours passed. He tapped his fingers on his thighs as he drank wine and read from a book he had found laying around, forgotten by someone. Attempted to read, really - he had glanced over the same four pages at least ten times. He felt the tug of Mystra’s command once again and shook his head as he contemplated the moment of the Absolute’s destruction as well as his own, closing the book and downing the rest of his wine when he heard a commotion outside. They’re back.

He jumped up from the barstool and made a beeline for the door, pushing past a group of gnomes and two tieflings. Relief washed over him. They’re back, and they were successful. He went out into the courtyard, and saw her smiling and laughing, celebrating with some Harpers who had greeted her and Lae’zel first. She was safe, unharmed. She made eye contact with him and gave a small wave, which he returned. He felt his heart swell inside his chest, unable to be contained anymore.

I love her. 

He was a man possessed. He strode up to her, cutting through the Harpers, bypassing Lae’zel. He saw no one else but her. Only her. Always her. 

“Gale? Are you oka-” 

He put his hands on each side of her face and kissed her deeply, surrounded by cheering Harpers, and even a smiling Lae’zel, who he thought he heard say “ Tchk. Finally.” The feeling of her lips against his was everything he thought it would be - no, it was more. It was perfect. And when she closed her eyes and kissed him back? No magic in all the planes could even hope to compare. 

Reality came trickling back in, slowly, then all at once. He broke the kiss and stepped back, clearing his throat. “Ah, apologies, I got caught up in all the celebrations. Congratulations on a successful mission,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Ora laughed then, and handed him his quarterstaff back. “Well I suppose if that’s the reward for a successful mission, I’ll have to make sure to be successful more often.”

A Harper came up, shoving a cup of wine into their hands - everyone was in a celebratory mood, a tangible success after so much hardship and turmoil was much needed. She clinked her cup to his. “To a successful mission, a safe place to camp, and good company.” They both took a drink before she was pulled away by Karlach for a welcome back hug. They were surrounded by people and yet his eye was only drawn to her. Her bright smile and cheerful laughter were a salve in this blighted land. 

He raised his cup, “To you, Ora.”

The evening passed, the celebration finally dying down after the revelry lasted well into the night. He found Ora back where their day had started, with her head on the bar, struggling to keep her eyes open. Drink and lack of sleep were most likely taking a toll on her, though at some point in the evening she did have the foresight to remove her armor.

“Ora, I don’t think you will last another minute if we don’t get you to bed,” he said, sitting next to her again. She opened one of her eyes and smiled at him from her uncomfortable resting place. Oh, she is definitely exhausted.

“You want to take me to bed, Gale?” she giggled before sitting up and leaning over to him. “I want you to take me to bed, too,” she whispered in his ear. She is exhausted and definitely drunk.

He smiled and laughed softly. “Yes, I want to take you to your tent and put you in your bedroll so you can get that full eight hours you promised me this afternoon, remember?” He took her hand as she stood up and supported her as she walked so she didn’t lose her footing in her state. 

“Hmm, too much wine, not enough sleep,” she slurred, leaning against him. He tried not to think about how good she felt pressed to his side.  

“Yes, exactly.”

They continued walking to their campsite, nestled at the edge of Isobel’s ward to protect from the shadow curse. He led her to her tent, settling her down onto her bedroll, sitting beside her for a moment. Just until she falls asleep, he told himself.

“There we go. Now, eight hours, no less. If anyone even thinks about waking you up early in the morning, they will have to face an angry wizard armed with a fireball and a big stick.” That got a laugh out of her as she got comfortable. He would cherish that sound until the end of his days.

“My hero.”

He moved to get up, to allow her her privacy but she didn’t let go of his hand. “Stay with me tonight?” His heart dropped. He wanted to more than anything, but not with her in this state. He didn’t want to take advantage of the situation, but he also didn’t want to hurt her feelings, put any cracks in this beautiful night, this wondrous thing happening between them. He smiled and kissed the back of her hand.

“I would love nothing more, Ora, but you need to sleep, and I need to be able to guard your tent in the morning.” He moved to cover her up as she hummed in agreement, eyes already closed. He brushed a stray hair from her face and stayed beside her until her breathing deepened and she fell into a serene, restful sleep. 

Back in his tent, he thought he might explode, even with the orb stabilized. He wanted to tell her everything. His feelings, his fears, his desires. He wanted to kiss her without apologies, without excuses about being swept up in the moment. He wanted to hold her in his arms while they made love under the stars. He wanted it all with her, and hoped that she wanted the same, even considering…everything. 

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would tell her, and he knew exactly how.

I love her.

[aemondsprincesss]

Can we get the dragon reader to spit fire lol? Like more of her protective side maybe towards aemond?

Yes!

This happened on the day that the court finally found out what you really are! A little more than half a year later. By the time you were more... clingy (you all better know what I mean!).

Aemond left you with Helaena. She decided to try and teach you how to embroider, since you like to watch her do it (actually you just love the colorful strings). Aemond saw no harm in it, and decided to leave you two to it. It had been to long since he last trained so he decided to kill one hour in the training yard.

A few minutes in the training with Ser Criston, that was, as always, brandishing his morningstar with brutal skill, Aemond heard a inhuman screeching roar. The sound cutting the air and piercing his ears almost painfully, only to be swallowed by the roaring of fire.

You had become restless as soon as Aemond left. Helaena knows that you are not supposed to walk the castle in day light without Aemond, but you were not listening to her and wanted to go find him. Without options and fearing your crescent frustration, she took you to him.

Looking back, Aemond saw you at one of the balconies. You were standing on top of the parapet, your head throwed back, your flames aimed to the sky.

His sister was behind you with her head between her hands and eyes closed thightly.

The ladies, lords and guards that were watching the match, and a few servants that were working nearby, also turned, horrified. And while the nobles and servants ran to safety, the guards drew their swords. Aemond commanded them to lower it immediately, throwing his to the ground. They hesitated. Minus Ser Criston, that already knew about you and lowered his weapon as soon as Aemond did.

You jumped from the parapet with effortless grace and landed on the muddy ground on your feet. The height would be enough to break the bones of any human.

Seeing your eyes trained on Ser Criston with predatory attention, while you approached slowly, steam coming out your mouth and nostrils, fire burning in your chest, Aemond understood what you thought that was happening. You thought that he was hurting Aemond.

He stood in front of Ser Criston and threatened the guards saying that if they wished to live, they should drop their swords, because even if they survived you, they would die by his hand for attacking you. This convinced them.

In all this time, Aemond did not take his eye from you.

He called your name (yes you have a name, he gave it to you) and told you to calm down in high valyrian. Aemond could see that you became confused, hesitating, but was still hostile.

Still shielding his mentor from your murdering gaze and line of fire, he ordered the men to bend the knee. Anything to make them look less threatening in your eyes, they obeyed nervously.

Aemond began to walk in your direction. Never stopping the calming words of reassurance. Saying that he was ok. That he and Ser Criston were just play fighting like you two do sometimes.

Once he was close enough to touch, you holded his biceps and began to scent him, looking for injuries with a worried expression. And even if the situation was the worse, he could not stop himself from melting inside with your concern.

When you didn’t find any injuries, you hugged him. He hugged you back, cooing and caressing your neck and back. Reassuring you that everything was ok.

Actually it wasn’t. A lot of people saw what you did and found out that you are not human. Surely the word would spread quickly and his mother and grandfather would be mad. But he would take care of everything. You are worth it.

                          •─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Tag list:

@dragonride-rs @dothrckis @risaru @omgsuperstarg @bbyaemond @witch-of-letters @chevelledahuman @xcharlottemikaelsonx @oo0lady-mad0oo @zafirina12 @lazypinkpig @theunyieldingsword @pinkyfingy @fallingleaves678 @hi-im-fan-trash @omega-horus @uselessbutinteresting @alysinwonderland-at-tea @ihatepeez @rntrsna @mouseymagines @t4medicroe @juneisreading @mistalli @kaicyl @nex-crowley @moni-cah @universal-chaos-theory @freelyunlikelykingdom @may-machin @rosaryos

-

Click on the tag below to see more of my Aemond Targaryen x Dragon!Reader works!

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[sporadicthingcollection]

Last Thoughts (Tech x F!Reader)

Summary: A man's last thoughts are of love.

Pairing: Tech x F!Reader

Rating: None.

Word Count: 739.

Warnings: Spoilers for TBB s2 finale. Character death, description of injuries.

Notes: Thought I'd break your hearts a little. Recommended listening is "Maggot Brain" by Funkadelic.

---

He was hoping the fall would kill him -- a quick, painless splat, to put it crudely. Or, if that didn’t work, the several tons of durasteel would crush his skull and it would be over just as fast.

But sheer dumb luck kicked in just a moment too late to actually save his life. The fall did not kill him. The tram did not crush him. So here he lies at the bottom of a gorge, waiting for death.

He can’t move his legs -- based on the angles, they’re shattered irreparably -- but he feels no pain, meaning his spinal column is partly severed.

He’ll either bleed out internally or his lungs will stop working. Or he’ll succumb to the elements. He’s heard hypothermia isn’t a terrible way to go, all things considered. Hallucinations and paradoxical undressing.

It’s only a matter of waiting.

Hunter and Echo will be fine. They’re well-adjusted soldiers, conditioned from birth to accept death whenever it may come. They will mourn, but it will pass.

It’s Wrecker he’s worried about. Soft-hearted Wrecker. This certainly won’t help his fear of heights.

And Omega. She’s a child. Children shouldn’t have to watch their loved ones die. He doesn’t regret his decision, but he wishes she hadn’t had to watch. You’ve said as much in the past--

His blood chills and his heart jumps into his throat.

You.

Ah, you.

How could he forget about you?

Intelligent, persistent, prescient, patient you?

First love. First kiss. First time.

Never again will he see the sparkle in your eyes as he explains something to you. Never again will he hear your laugh as he says something he didn’t realize would be amusing. Never again will he feel your soft lips against his own as you, in your words, “shut him up.”

He wants to slap himself. This was supposed to be quick, so he didn’t bother with a proper farewell. A brief message while you were asleep, telling you he’d see you in later.

It is now later, and he lies at the bottom of a gorge, waiting for death.

Idiot.

His arm is leaden, but he manages to lay it atop his wristcom. Moving his fingers stings, but he’s able to access his files with little trouble. Recordings, visual, cultural... there it is.

Peninsular Pantoran Wedding Song, dated two months ago.

He opens it. You appear, your hair up in a bonnet and clad in your lounging clothes. You look stunning.

"--you sure it's recording?" you're asking. "The light's not on."

"I am certain." He doesn't mind the sound of his own voice. He's heard it enough over the years.

You inhale, then pause. "Tech, I feel silly."

"Why? This is a document of your culture's traditional choral practices. It is an underrepresented--"

You frown. "My mom is the chantress. Why don't you get her to sing it?"

Here’s his favorite part. He still pats himself on the back for this response. “In addition to her not being here right now, I do not find your mother half as attractive as you.”

And the reason it’s his favorite part? Because your cheeks darken as your gaze turns upwards, and your lips curl into a bashful smile. Little dimples appear -- probably his favorite feature of yours.

And, with a deep breath, you begin to sing in your native tongue. Melodic and rhythmic, punctuated by pops and clicks you make with your tongue.

He doesn’t know the words. And, for the first and only time in his life, he is content to not know. He doesn’t need to know what it means. He just needs to see your beautiful lips move, your lovely eyes sparkle, your weight shifting from foot to foot as you suppress the urge to dance.

He plays the recording again. His fingers hurt.

Void nips at the edges of his mind. His thoughts loosen and crumble to pieces. His vision swirls, twisting and turning like Omega’s Serennan kaleidoscope.

He plays the recording again. Breathing is hard.

He sees you in wedding attire, veiled in a rainbow of beads, your face painted to highlight your eyes, your hair woven with gold threads. 

He plays the recording again. He can’t focus his eyes.

Tears appear. Rips in his vision and in time. Visions of what was and what will never be. Peace. War. Strife. Satisfaction. Love. Hate. Rage. Redemption.

He plays the recording again.

He slips slowly into a long, dreamless sleep.

---

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