#half the storm gets alcohol poisoning

[kamaluhkhan]

THE GRUDGE (or: the 7 things luke castellan hated about you)

read part two GET HIM BACK! (or: the 7 reasons you want revenge on luke castellan)

pairing: luke castellan x child of nemesis!reader (gender not specified)

word count: 8.5k

summary: luke hated your guts. he really did. he just hoped that no one could tell how, even after all this, you're still everything to him.

warnings/disclaimer: luke's POV. spoilers for the lightning thief and season 1 of pjo. some heated make-out sessions but no actual smut - MDNI / 18+. mentions of blood + death + alcohol. luke is 19 during tlt but i wrote this with him + reader being 21 by the end of this (this is important for the next part lol). anyways, luke + reader share clothes and lots of intense emotions they maybe possibly don't process in the best way. lots of ANGST - it's a greek tragedy fr!

author's note: welcome to my new hyperfixation! this fic is LONG but i hope she's worth it ♡

♪: the grudge by olivia rodrigo

(i. you have a sharp tongue)

fourteen year old luke was overwhelmed when he first stepped into the hermes cabin. it was loud and overcrowded and no one really seemed to care that they had a new cabinmate. the head counselor showed luke to an empty bed at the back, told him to get settled in, and left without another word. luke dropped his backpack before collapsing on the mattress. it was so thin that he could feel the springs dig into his back.

"you'll get used to it."

luke sat up to see you climbing through the window. 

you had a band-aid stuck on your chin, chipped nail polish the color of blackberries, and leather combat boots that looked way too heavy to be wearing in the heat of summer. 

“the shitty mattress?”

“i meant the whole chaos of cabin 11, and the way things work around here in general. if you can get used to the shitty mattress, all power to you.” 

your tone was friendly enough, playful even. you smiled at him so comfortably it made luke nauseous. 

“good to know.” he tried to smile back at you, but his heart wasn’t in it. “i’m luke, by the way.”

“yeah, i know. i’m —”

“y/n!”

you seemed entirely unfazed as the blond who called your name stormed over to you. you rolled your eyes, something only luke could notice, before turning to her.

“someone stole my candy.”

“i’m very sorry to hear that, maddy. gotta be careful around here.” your voice dripped like poisoned honey, deceptively innocent and sweet.

maddy was not having it. she huffed at you. “it was you, wasn’t it?”

“that depends. did you cheat at poker last night? again?” 

some of the chatter throughout the cabin paused, heads turning to listen in. 

“what? n-no!” 

“then you have your answer, maddy.” you exaggerated a sigh, as though you had already won the fight and were annoyed that she came back for more. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i have a new camper to show around.”

chiron had already given them a tour, but luke didn’t protest when you grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the window with you. your hand was warm in his as you dragged him along to the corner of the cabin where a poorly made ladder waited for you. 

“come on.” you started climbing, and only stopped to look down when you realized luke wasn’t following you. “best view of camp. trust me.”

a shiver passed through luke. trust didn’t come easy to him. he also didn’t particularly want to return to a stuffy cabin where all he would do was count reasons he did not want to be there.

 so, luke followed you. he sat down next to you on the roof and looked out at the sun shining on his new home, but he couldn't help but be slightly bitter. the gods had gotten all of you into this life of endless danger and battles and monsters, and this was all they had to offer in return: a summer camp. 

it just didn't seem fair. 

there was something else he noticed then. what was it that chiron had said? camp half-blood was supposed to be a safe haven for all demigods. 

“i don’t get it. there are only twelve cabins, but aren’t there, like, a million other gods?”

you straightened your posture then, and turned to luke with a newfound interest. 

“camp half-blood only has cabins representing the twelve olympians. apparently, they’re the only ones important enough to have children worth recognizing, and they can’t even do that half the time,” you explained, impertinence laced throughout your words. it seemed like something you could never quite get off your chest. 

every  demigod knew that the gods didn’t appreciate sarcasm. they  didn’t particularly like being called out on their bullshit, either.

you didn’t seem to care; you even rolled your eyes up at the sky, as if challenging zeus himself. 

“anyways, that’s why the hermes cabin is so crowded. it takes in campers who are unclaimed or whose parent doesn’t have a cabin at camp. like me.”

“so, who’s your godly parent?”

you fiddled with the leather cord on your neck. it held a few clay beads like the other campers, but there was one silver charm he noticed only you wore — scales, by the looks of it. you clutched onto it.

luke realized that, despite your own advice, maybe you resented having to get used to the way things worked around here, and having to hide your resentment. maybe that was worse than having to sleep on an uncomfortable bed for the rest of your life.

"nemesis. goddess of revenge."

"that's....hardcore."

you scoffed and moved on to twisting the silver ring on your index finger. "a lot of people take it that way, and i think it scares them a bit.”

“so that’s why you’re extra nice to new campers, huh?” 

“no, i was just in a good mood today.” you smirked.

“guess i was just lucky, then.”

luke couldn’t help but smile at your laugh — sharp, biting. you nudged your boot against his sneaker, which shifted you closer to him, shoulders practically touching. 

“what people don’t understand is that it's more about balance, you know? you do good things, and good things happen to you. at least, they should. you do bad things and….” you pulled out an outrageously big bag of candy, dropped it between you and luke, and winked at him. “you face the consequences.” 

“that makes sense.” luke leaned over to grab a handful of gummy bears. “like karma.”

“yeah. exactly.” 

you bit the head off a red bear, both of you chewing in silence before you added:

“by the way, i’m sorry about your friend.” you swallowed and caught luke’s gaze. 

chiron warned him that word would travel fast around camp about what happened to thalia, and luke had prepared himself for anything — anything but your reaction. there was no pity in your eyes; instead, there was a hint of rage, as though thalia had been your friend, too. 

“she deserved more.” 

luke’s eyes caught the glint of a knife strapped to your belt. he took another handful of the candy you stole, and he thought about the fire and fearlessness behind your words, and, despite everything, it felt right to be with you then and there. 

“yeah,” he finally whispered back. “she did.”

we all do. 

neither of you said those words, but the suggestion was there, and it felt like a promise. 

(ii. you hold on to every stupid, little detail)

“slow down, tiger.” 

your voice echoed throughout the arena, and if luke had been fighting a real opponent, it might have gotten him killed. instead, he just stopped mid-swing, sparing another straw dummy from losing its arm. 

“left hand,” you noted as you walked past him towards a bench. “you, my friend, are in need of a break.”

luke loosened the grip on his sword. the only time luke fought with his non-dominant hand was when he had overworked the other. he must have switched an hour ago, but judging by how heavy his arm felt, it could have very well been two.  

his curls were stuck to his forehead with sweat, his shirt soaked through. he could feel a dull pain behind his eyes, and luke was worried that if he stopped to catch his breath, he would pass out. or, even worse, have to face the reality of the shitty news he’d gotten early that day. 

“come sit with me,” you urged. “you’re exhausted, tiger.” 

luke bristled at your nickname for him. 

sure, luke loved that there was something only you called him, a secret kept between you in plain sight, but it was also a reminder that it was harder to hide behind the hero act when you were around.

everyone else at camp figured the nickname was a playful attempt at calling him strong and charismatic. the truth was that luke once told you that his favorite cereal as a kid was frosted flakes and that he would dream of playing sports as well as tony the tiger. for better or for worse, like most things, you wouldn’t let it go. 

case in point: if it was anybody other than you trying to get him to take a break, luke could have just brushed them off with a charming smile and continued swordfighting until his arms fell off, but in the two years since meeting you, luke had never met anyone as stubborn and convincing. like him, it seemed you were willing to fight and shed blood to get your way. luke was never really in the mood to make you bleed, even when feeling like he could burn the entire world down, so he usually gave in to your demands.  

as soon as he sat down next to you, you handed him an orange flavored energy drink — his favorite. anything other than water was hard to come by at camp without the enchanted goblets in the dining pavilion, or the right connection in the hermes cabin. he ran out of his stash the other day, but you must have noticed and gotten one of the stoll brothers to smuggle more in. 

“thanks,” luke said, ignoring the jolt of electricity that passed through him when your fingers brushed together briefly. 

 the two of you looked out at the sword arena, and all the straw dummies that luke had destroyed. you wait for him to take three big gulps of his drink before speaking again. 

“i guess chiron and your dad decided you weren’t ready for a quest.”

luke exhaled sharply. “how did you —”

“the only time you’d skip out on capture the flag is if something really shitty happened.” you looked down at luke’s clenched fists, and that seemed to be all the confirmation you needed. “you promised annabeth you'd be there, and it's not like you to let her down."

fuck. he had completely forgotten that tonight was annabeth's first time as team captain. this entire week, she had been prepping a winning strategy. it wasn’t like annabeth needed him to win, but luke was her big brother, and he should have been there. you were right — he had let her down. 

the realization made luke’s day go from bad to worse. 

"i told her you were helping a new camper with an emergency. she didn't believe it, but she adjusted her strategy and we still won.”

“well, thank the gods everything worked in the end,” luke grumbled. 

“don’t thank the gods,” you quipped. “thank annabeth chase for her brilliant mind, and me for covering for your sorry ass.”

when luke didn’t indulge in your usual playful banter, you moved closer to him and brushed some curls away from his eyes. your skin warmed his forehead, and the small gesture made him feel better than he had all day.

“look, i’m not going to give you some bullshit inspirational speech about how the gods don’t get to define what a hero is, or how you don’t need a quest to prove that you’re worthy of being one. we’ve each been through that before, and i have a feeling this won’t be our last time, either.”

“then why are you here?” the question came out harsher than luke had intended it to.

“because she’s trying her best to hide it, but annabeth is really hurt that you didn’t show up for the game. i figured the least you could do is suck it up, come to the campfire, and make her those signature luke castellan s’mores. you could probably use one, too, since you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.” 

you were right, again. luke was exhausted, he was furious, but most of all, he was starving.  

later that night, luke sat next to annabeth and vowed to make her as many s’mores as she wanted. you’d gone to sit with the hephaestus kids, trying to convince beckendorf and nyssa to join your cabin’s post-campfire party at the beach, even though they had to work in the forges early the next morning. 

when chiron made his weekly speech, congratulating the winners of capture the flag and thanking the gods for keeping everyone safe, you and luke caught each other’s gaze from across the fire. you rolled your eyes and luke bit back a smile as you turned back to beckendorf. he noticed your knees were practically touching. did you sit that close to everyone? 

luke was looking at you for so long that the marshmallow he was roasting fell into the fire, despite annabeth’s warnings. she handed him another one. 

"you should tell her how you feel," annabeth said. "stop being a coward." 

whether it was the smell of burnt sugar, the heat of the fire, or annabeth’s comment, luke started to feel dizzy. he did his best to shake it off, asking annabeth for a play-by-play of her strategy earlier that night, but he couldn’t quite get rid of the thought of you. 

(iii. you don't care if your clothes are stained with blood)

“i just….i can’t fucking believe you, luke.”

“i don’t get why you’re so upset — you’ve never cared about quests before.”

luke was hoping to break the news to you after capture the flag. unfortunately for him, word travels fast around camp. 

annabeth had the two of you scouting the east side for the flag, while she and some other athena kids took the west. you hadn’t found anything so far, which meant that you’d spent the better part of an hour bickering over luke’s choice of companions for his quest. a choice that included charles beckendorf and chris rodriguez, and purposefully did not include you, much to your fury.  

before you could continue arguing, luke heard the sound of footsteps approaching. he looked over to you, and you already had your shield and sword at the ready. 

a few red defenders emerged from the trees. one charged at luke, but you stepped in so he could deal with the other two. one of his opponents went down fairly easily, but the other put up much more of a fight. metal clashed behind him as you kept fighting as well. you might not have been as skilled a swordfighter as luke, but he knew that you could hold your own, at least until he was finished with the person in front of him. 

luke parried his opponent’s strike, causing them to take a step closer. he was preparing to disarm them, just as he heard you yelp and stumble to the ground. it only took a millisecond of his attention, but it gave his opponent the opportunity to elbow him in the face. luke felt a crack upon impact, and pain radiated from his nose; he powered through. 

he had to finish this fight, and he had to do it fast. you needed him. 

his ears were ringing as he finally knocked over his opponent, kicking away their sword and keeping his foot on their chest. luke turned around to see you having turned the tides, the blade of your sword dangerously close to your opponent’s neck.

you locked eyes with luke, and you both understood — it was time to go. the two of you ran through the forest, as far away as you could before having to stop and catch your breath.

luke removed his helmet to get some air, and dropped his weapons. you did the same. you looked at him, brows furrowed.

“your nose.”

luke licked his lips, tasting blood. the triumph of winning that last fight overshadowed the ache of his potentially broken nose. in fact, he liked the image of a ruthless warrior emerging from the glory and gore of battle, that even though he did not bleed ichor like a god, he still had power. 

you, on the other hand, didn’t look impressed. instead, you stepped forward and offered the sleeve of your shirt to wipe away the blood. 

“you don’t have to —”

“i know you think you’re a badass walking around all broken and bloody, but you shouldn’t deny your admirers your pretty face,” you teased. 

it was no secret that luke had numerous admirers around camp, a fact you loved to tease him about. he was sure that you relished in how flustered that made him. all you had to call him was pretty boy, and luke could be reduced to a blushing mess. 

it was pathetic how much power you had over him.

“besides, i wouldn’t have gotten out of that last fight if you hadn’t taught me that disarming technique earlier. i owe you. it’s what we do. we take care of each other, right?”

he couldn’t argue with that.

a few moments of silence passed as you cleaned his face. something shifted as you worked, the flirtatious grin fading away. when you pulled away, your sleeve was stained a dark crimson. 

“just tell me honestly,” you finally murmured. “why don't you want me to join your quest?” 

luke was genuinely taken aback by the softness of your voice, now devoid of its usual fire. you wouldn’t meet luke’s eyes, but being that close to you, he noticed they were slightly glazed over.

he had expected you to be angry at his decision. he expected you to yell and argue and try to change his mind. luke hadn’t expected you to be so hurt. so broken. 

he hadn’t planned on it, but luke decided to tell you the truth then.

“look, karma, if you come with me, my heart wouldn’t fully be in the quest. i’d be so caught up in….well, you.”

a pause.

“is that a bad thing?”

“not usually, no.” 

you smirked a little at that, and luke’s heart skipped a beat. it also made his decision even clearer. 

“but i need to be focused for this. i need….” he let out a deep sigh. “i need to prove myself. this is my first real chance, and i can’t fuck it up.”

you met his gaze and smiled brightly at him, your signature spark of confidence returning.  

“you won’t.”

you reached a hand up to play with his necklace. luke hadn’t noticed how close you’d gotten until your fingers started tracing over those four clay beads. it made his entire body burst into flames.

“i’ve been wanting to do something for a while. and, aphrodite save me, it might be really stupid, but —”

luke took a lucky guess as to where you were going, and crashed his lips against yours. aphrodite knows that he'd been wanting to do that for a while, too. 

he often got drunk on the adrenaline of battle, the glory of winning, but nothing was quite like the rush of kissing you for the first time. 

it was messy and urgent, both of you aware that, at any moment, you could be interrupted. your noses were bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. the metallic tang of blood lingered on luke’s tongue, but neither of you seemed to care. you even bit his lip slightly, as if you wanted more. armor sat heavy and cold between your chests, preventing you from getting closer. luke had never loathed the protective gear more. 

he made up for it by lodging one hand underneath your jaw, and snaking the other beneath the celestial bronze, beneath the cotton of your shirt, admiring how your pulse quickened under his thumb when he grazed the soft skin of your stomach. you tangled your hands into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. he groaned and felt you smirk against his lips. 

luke had kissed a few people before, sure, but never like this: like a knife to the gut, and if you pulled away, luke would surely bleed out and die. 

it wouldn’t be a hero’s death, in the traditional sense, but at least he’d die happy. 

how many heroes could claim that?

when luke ran out of air, feeling like his lungs were burning, he had to pull away. 

you glanced down at luke’s kiss-bitten lips, then back to his eyes. luke flushed under the intensity of your gaze. 

“just promise me something, tiger,” you whispered, voice hoarse. 

“anything.”

“come back alive.”

luke leaned forward and placed another kiss on your lips, this one much gentler than before.

“i promise.”

(iv. you love like a scar that won't fade)

the nightmares were getting worse. 

luke woke up in a cold sweat, taking gulps of air in an attempt to steady his breathing.

“luke.” 

your whisper did little to quell the pit of dread growing in his stomach, but it did enough to bring him back down to reality. 

he was at camp half-blood (fuck the gods of olympus), in the hermes cabin (fuck you, dad), in a bed next to yours (fuck, if he could tell you what — who — was going through his head, he would).

“i’m…i’m fine,” he murmured back, voice catching slightly on the lie. 

like clockwork, you shifted from your bed to his, slipping under the covers. it didn’t matter that it was a hot summer night, and the minute your legs touched his, he could feel himself starting to overheat. 

your thumb brushed over the thick edge of his scar, up his cheekbone to the corner of his eye. it had been a year, living with this reminder. a reminder that he had failed, just as much as his father and the olympians had failed him. 

luke tried to pretend that he didn’t come back from his quest as a shell of who he once was. after all, it was meant to be his shining moment as a demigod, meant to gain him all the glory and father’s praise he once wished for. 

what a fucking joke.

every morning, luke would crawl into a different skin. he welcomed new campers and taught sword-fighting. he laughed with chris and his other siblings and strategized with annabeth for capture the flag. he would be the easy-going, charming, skillful senior counselor who respected the gods and honored them in everything he did. 

again: a fucking joke.

nights were different, though, with you so close to him, you who could always see right through him.

every night, luke was a fourteen-year old boy again, with so much rage and resentment he didn't know what to do with it. 

of course, you were always you - a bleeding heart underneath layers of armor. you didn't care about fate, or the gods, or the titans. you cared about justice, you cared about what was right and fair. 

most of all, you cared about luke.

“you were screaming,” you told him, voice barely cutting through the soft snores and sleeptalkings of your other cabinmates. 

“sorry,” he managed. looking at you in the dull moonlight, luke noticed the deep shadows under your eyes. 

“it’s fine. you just….you scared me, tiger.” 

your hand still rested on his cheek, and for a second, luke hoped you would kiss him, but you didn’t. instead, you told him to try and get some sleep, and sank further into his bed before closing your eyes. 

for the hundredth night in a row, luke hoped you couldn’t hear his heart hammering in his chest as you fell asleep next to him.

since coming back from his quest, luke didn’t have it in him to suggest being anything other than friends, and you didn’t push it. there had been a few....moments between you, sure, but nothing more.

luke thought you might have changed your mind, because who would want to be with a bitter, worthless, wannabe hero? then again, that voice haunting his dreams…. luke could change that. 

but, at what cost?

(v. you protect people as ruthlessly as a starving dog)

luke could hear you talking to percy jackson outside. though he couldn’t quite determine what was being said, as much as he tried.

you entered the bathroom and instantly caught luke’s eyes in the mirror. you were wearing your faded pyjama shorts with cartoon crows, and a flannel shirt that luke had a sneaking suspicion might have been his. you smiled at him before setting up at the counter, one sink between you. 

“what was that about?” luke asked after spitting out a mouthful of minty toothpaste.

“oh, nothing.” you were searching through your toiletry bag for something, and seemed to come up short. “hey, do you have any extra dental floss?”

luke threw some over to you. as you effortlessly caught it, he noticed your knuckles, bruised and bloodied.

“what happened?” 

you finished flossing and briefly examined your hands before pulling out your toothbrush. 

“it’s not a big deal,” you assured. “some ares kids were picking on percy, and then they started pushing him around, like, really pushing him around, so….” 

“....you decided to send them to the infirmary.”

you squeezed some toothpaste on your brush before continuing. “i don’t need you to lecture me about how i shouldn’t be fighting with other campers because i’ve been here longer and i should be a good role model. you know what a good role model does? not let kids beat up other kids and think the worst punishment they’ll get is no dessert for a week.”

luke watched carefully as you jammed the toothbrush in your mouth and brushed with such force, he was worried your teeth might dislodge. he knew that you would shed blood for someone you loved, and that you didn’t particularly care if you had to break rules in doing so, because you believed that what was written was not necessarily what was right. 

in fact, luke loved that about you.

no, it wasn’t the fighting that luke cared about — it was who you were fighting for. 

percy was a good kid, he really was. luke just didn’t want you getting attached. 

“i wasn’t going to lecture you. i’m guessing chiron already did?” 

you nodded and spat out what looked like a combination of toothpaste and blood. you rinsed your mouth until the water lost its pinkish hue. once you were done, luke continued his train of thought.

“i just didn’t realize you cared so much about him.”

“about percy?” 

luke could tell that he didn’t have your full attention. you were packing your stuff back up, accidentally tossing luke’s dental floss into your bag, but he had more pressing matters to deal with.

“yeah. the kid’s only been at camp for three days, and you’re already acting like his guard dog.”

you finally turned to luke and glared at him. 

“maybe. but percy’s sweet and he doesn’t seem like the type to put up with bullshit. he’s been through a lot, and annabeth seems to like him, too. as far as i’m concerned, percy’s one of us, and i’m not going to let anyone push him around.”

luke raised an eyebrow at you. “he’s sweet?”

“yeah. like, just now, he gave me some blue raspberry jelly beans as a thank you. said his mom used to work at a candy store. he also wanted me to apologize to you for him. he feels bad about beating you in sword-fighting earlier.” 

you scoffed, like you resented luke for having to apologize to him on percy’s behalf. you definitely did not appreciate that guard dog comment. luke clenched his jaw, seething over what you had just said. 

satisfied with his reaction, you gave luke that nauseating smile of yours, tilted your head towards the exit. a truce, because you never liked to fight with luke for too long, and a order, because you knew luke would always follow. 

the two of you began walking back to your cabin in the warm mid-june air. 

“i wouldn’t say he beat me,” luke huffed. “it was beginner’s luck.”

“sure, tiger. it was beginner’s luck that disarmed the best swordsman we’ve had in the last 300 years.”

you nudged luke’s shoulder with yours, but he recoiled from your touch. 

“are you trying to make me feel worse?” luke tried his best to avoid snapping at you, keeping his tone measured.

“i’m just saying that maybe the kid has natural talent and that doesn’t make you any less talented. there’s no need to get jealous.”

luke resisted the urge to growl at your suggestion. 

to be clear, he was not jealous. it’s just that luke had spent years of blood, sweat, and tears getting to where he was then, and percy jackson had just gotten to camp. 

and, to be even more clear, luke was not jealous of how you were already defending percy with your whole body and your whole heart, the way you did for him. 

by then, you reached the front of the hermes cabin. luke could already hear the commotion of what he would need to deal with as soon as he walked in. the burden of being head counselor, one he approached with an elastic smile that could snap at any moment. 

you tugged on luke’s sleeve before he could open the door. 

“hey. are we okay?”

luke looked down at your fingers grasping the fabric of a sweatshirt he was just realizing was yours. your nails were painted a dark red, now chipped after a week of wear. you had begged luke to paint his nails then, and once again, he gave in. he even started to like the purple you had chosen just for him, so deep it was almost black. the same color you were wearing the first time you and luke met.

he smiled at the memory — a real smile, no plastic — and then smiled back up at you.

“we’re fine, karma.” and he moved to enter the cabin. luke could hear the threat of an argument bubbling up, what sounded like a petty one over a prank gone wrong.

“wait.” you tugged at his (your) sweatshirt once more. “there’s something i wanted to talk to you about, about tomorrow night—”

“annabeth called a meeting during free time.”

“yeah, i know, it’s just —”

“she’ll run through strategy for capture the flag then.”

“one of the aphrodite senior campers asked me to the campfire,” you blurted it out, and luke decided to ignore the sound of a fight breaking out from behind the wooden door.

what in the name of hades were you talking about?

“they asked you out? like…like a….” luke didn’t even want to speak the word, scared it would make it real.

“a date,” you said casually, as if that one word didn’t rip luke’s heart in a million pieces. “i said yes.” an admission that took all those pieces and set them on fire. 

sure, in the seven years since you and luke met, you’d each talked about boys, about girls, about dating and kissing them and going further. but there was something about this one that felt different. something about the way you told him.

“but, listen, i wanted to let you know it’s not —”

“good for you,” was all luke said through gritted teeth before someone started calling his name again, louder and more urgently, and he had to duck inside.  

(vi. you taste like burning cherries and righteous anger)

your team had won capture the flag, of course. the biggest news of the evening, though: percy jackson was the son of the sea god. 

he was a forbidden child, the hero of the great prophecy. 

everything was falling into place. 

all luke should be thinking about is kronos’ plan, and his role in it, and how a world without the gods of olympus was that much more in reach.  

unfortunately, for the time being, he was so consumed by you. 

you, from across the campfire, sporting cutoff denim shorts and fresh wounds from the game earlier. you, who had wrapped your knuckles in gauze, concealing their bruising, fixed the chips in your nail polish and stacked rings on your fingers. (for the record: luke had gifted you the one on your left thumb.) you, with dark lips that whispered too closely and laughed too loudly with a child of aphrodite— jordan li.

you hadn’t so much as looked at luke since congratulating each other on another win. when chiron announced his weekly gratitude to the gods at the start of that night’s campfire, you didn’t punctuate your resentment with your usual eye-roll or biting remark. you were too busy giggling at something jordan said.

luke wanted to be the one to whisper jokes in your ear. he wanted to be the one you left lipstick stains on later, along his jaw and down his neck. he wanted to be the one who kissed the blade mark on your shoulder and the bruises on your knuckles. 

and yet, hours passed and it seemed that the thought of luke had never so much as crossed your mind. he found himself at an after hours party with a few senior campers on the beach. a lethal recipe: a poorly crafted bonfire, some contraband drinks and you in jordan li’s lap, playing with their hair and pretending luke castellan did not exist. 

meanwhile, luke had katie gardner’s full attention. she was talking to him about the strawberry season, potentially leaning a bit too close into luke’s personal space, definitely flirting with him. 

luke could have done a lot worse than the head counselor of the demeter cabin, who always smelled like fresh lavender, whose eyes were the bright green of spring grass and whose lips tasted like golden honey. 

the problem was that luke only wanted you, and his eyes kept sliding over to where you were kissing jordan’s cheek, and he accidentally called the girl he was kissing by your name, which did not make her happy. 

katie threw her drink in his face, told him to wake the fuck up, and walked away.

a chorus of gasps and chuckles erupted as luke stood there, diet coke and vodka seeping into his shirt. the commotion seemed to capture your attention, because you suddenly appeared next to luke, an empty bottle of cherry soda in your hand.

“rough night, tiger?” your voice, that nickname, made luke sick, his face twisting into a frown. you don’t seem to notice or care. instead, you switched your bottle with luke’s and took a sip.

“looks like you were having a pretty good time,” luke practically sneered. “where’s your date?” 

 “they went to bed.” you swallowed a mouthful of beer, grimacing at its bitterness. “gods, this is terrible. you and i should go on the drink run next time — we have better taste.”

“so, are you and jordan like a thing now?”

you gave luke a smile he didn’t quite understand, but made his stomach churn in ways only you could. “would that be a problem?”

“of course not.” he answered way too quickly for that to be true. 

“let’s get out of here,” you suggested. “i think katie is about this close to strangling you with a tree branch.”

luke glanced over your shoulder to where green eyes glared back at him. 

nowhere could luke find it in him to care. he wasn’t even sorry. he just shrugged, took the bottle back from you, took his first sip all night. luke almost gagged (because of course you were right, and the stoll brothers had better fake ids than they had taste) but he suppressed it. 

“no. i’m good.”

biggest lie he ever said. like there wasn’t anger caught in his throat and jealousy swelling between his ribs.

“go find jordan,” he taunted. “kiss them, show them a good time! isn’t that the reason why you got all pretty?”

you narrowed your eyes at him carefully. your nostrils were slightly flared, and luke took a bit of pride in being able to rile you up.

“look, we haven’t really talked lately, and i think we should.”

“go find jordan,” he mocked once more. “almost all the aphrodite kids are here, and i’m sure you can be quiet enough to sneak into their cabin and if you want a quick fu—”

“luke.” you clipped his name, obviously getting to the limit of your patience with him. “if you want to stay here all night and be an asshole, you’re welcome to. you should know, though, that your happy-go-lucky hero mask is starting to crack and i don’t know if you could deal with the fallout from it shattering completely.”

you leaned in close and whispered that last part, very aware of the chattering that stopped and the eyes that watched the pair of you anxiously. luke was usually good at hiding that part of himself who wanted to burn the world down. 

in ways you didn’t realize, you were right: he couldn’t risk revealing it, not now.

not yet. 

“do whatever you want, castellan,” you spat out his last name, the combination of letters foreign in your mouth.“i’m leaving.”

luke should be proud of himself. he waited a whole two seconds before following you like a stray dog. 

luke didn’t know if he’d ever felt you that enraged by him, and it horrified him. it also made him hungry for more. 

“i’m not sure that jordan would want the two of us alone together at night,” he shouted after you, words echoing into the starless sky.

“gods, enough about jordan!” luke practically ran into you with how fast you turned around to confront him. “i was helping them with that stupid aphrodite tradition!”

“you….” luke faltered, all the snark leaving his body. “what?”

luke remembered silena beauregard once explaining the rite of passage to him: to prove themselves, a child of aphrodite had to make someone fall in love with them, and then break their heart.

“why…why would you agree to do that?”

you had reached the dining area by then, and you sat on one of the steps leading to the pavilion. luke stayed a few feet away, looking at you cautiously. 

“jordan and i are already friends, and they figured a fake relationship would be the way to avoid anyone from actually getting hurt in the process.”

“you seemed so…so into it, though,” luke stammered, the memory of you in jordan’s lap, laughter bubbling from your lips, still fresh.

“it’s called acting, dumbass.” the camp didn’t rely on electricity, but there were enough torches around that luke could see you roll your eyes. “anyways, i was trying to give you a heads-up last night, but you wouldn’t listen.” you took a deep breath. “and, honestly, i didn’t push it because….i figured i should test a hypothesis.”

a hypothesis? you’d known annabeth for too long.

“what hypothesis?”

you hesitated. 

“it doesn’t matter. fuck, this was stupid,” you muttered, and without another word, stormed through the dining pavilion, a short cut to the hermes cabin. your footsteps fell heavy against the marble, and luke’s not far behind. 

“what hypothesis?” he asked again.

nothing but rushed footsteps.

“what hypothesis?” luke finally yelled.

third time was the charm, because you stopped in your tracks and faced luke once again. a fire burned in the bronze brazier, where campers were forced to offer up portions of your food to the gods at every meal. its roaring seemed to captivate you, and the flames danced across your face, illuminating all your curves and edges.

“i’m angry at the gods,” you stated. 

this caught luke off guard. from the day the two of you met, luke knew you shared that feeling. you’d gotten quieter with your rage as you’d gotten older. luke supposed he got better at hiding it himself, as well. 

“i’m angry at the gods for letting bad shit happen even if they can stop it, and for building this world in the fucked up way they did. i’m angry at your dad for the way he’s treated you, but — you, luke castellan.” you finally met luke’s eyes with a gaze so sharp, luke almost felt himself bleed. “i’m also angry at you, and not just for your bullshit tonight.” 

your admission felt like a punch to the stomach, and luke was left with no air to breathe.

did you know?

“you haven’t been the same since your quest,” you continued, words slow and deliberate, the way you spoke when you were worried your voice would shake. “and i’ve come to terms with that in the past few years, but you….you’ve never tried to ice me out before. you’ve been acting distant since december, and it’s been driving me insane. do you realize how much i miss my best …..” you swallowed the word friend. “how much i miss you?”

luke hesitated, because what could he say? i know i’ve been distant, but i’ve been busy trying to start a war between the gods. sorry babe! 

would you hate him, if you knew? 

you had to have known that, despite the distance, luke missed you. for tartarus sake, in the last two days, he’d driven himself mad at you calling a fourteen year old boy sweet, and he was about to combust at the image of you dating someone else, with little care as to the collateral damage. 

"you can't just avoid me, makeout with katie fucking gardner, and then….” you trailed off, hiding your face in your hands. whether it was to hide embarrassment or tears, luke wasn’t sure.

a smirk spread across luke’s face at the revelation that he hadn’t been the only one jealous at the bonfire that night. it lit luke up with the confidence he needed to not completely fall to his knees in front of you, beg for your forgiveness for everything he’s done.

“why do you care if i make out with katie fucking gardner?” 

as he waited for a response, luke walked towards you until your back hit one of the marble columns. 

“why do you care if i’m with jordan fucking li?” you clenched your jaw and looked right through luke. a clear indication that you wanted him to break down first; it wouldn’t be you who yielded this fight.

“because i want to be the one you’re with.” at that point, luke was so close to you that he swore he could hear your heartbeat. he reached out and played with the hem of your shorts. “why do you care if i make out with katie gardner?”

“because.” you drew in a sharp breath when luke’s fingers brushed underneath the denim, across the warm skin of your thigh. you closed your eyes. “don’t make me say it, tiger.” 

the desperation in your voice made luke want to do unholy things with you, to you. luke knew you didn’t think of him as a saint, and you never expected him to be one. the reality was that you weren’t much better, either. what was essentially an altar to the gods burned bright next to you, but it seemed neither of you had ever cared less about it than in that moment. 

luke would watch olympus fall. he would dethrone the gods and watch their glass castle shatter and find glory in a new world. in the grand scheme of things, he was willing to lose this battle.

in fact, he would have rather betrayed the titan lord himself than waste another second not kissing your lips. 

so, he kissed you, and you kissed him back with such force, such hunger, it was ungodly.

no, you certainly weren’t a saint — but you were divine, in the most brutal, intoxicating way. in the way you shuddered when luke lodged a leg between your thighs; in the way you threaded your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans to bring him closer; in the way the metal of your rings burned through the skin of his hip, right to the bone, which made him shudder, and you smile triumphantly against his jaw.

the more he tasted your smirk flavored by cherry soda and the ashes of nearby flames, the more he felt your feral teeth against his neck and your wicked nails digging into his shoulders, the more you tugged on his curls, the more luke thought: maybe. 

maybe you would give into your seething resentment, live up to those eye-rolls and snarky comments that got you in trouble with chiron, on the edge of hot water with the gods. maybe you would join the titan army. maybe, just maybe, this time, you would follow luke.

and yet — maybe wasn’t enough if it meant he could lose this. luke wouldn’t risk it, not until he kissed every battle scar and bruise on your body, and you did the same to his. 

“wait.”

it was the last thing luke wanted to do, but he complied. he took the opportunity to appreciate the chaos he created: your shirt in disarray, your lipstick a mess, your chest heaving and desperate to catch a breath. 

“i promised jordan that we’d keep up our charade for a week, two at the most. do you think we could keep this…” you tightened your fist around the fabric of his shirt. “a secret until then?”

luke responded by pressing his lips to yours once more, because there were definitely worse secrets to keep.

(vii. you wouldn’t hesitate to make him bleed)

luke had just left percy jackson to die.

he should be leaving camp, now, but he needed to see you one last time. 

the universe works in mysterious ways, because you were out on a run through the forest, and you crossed paths before he even had time to wonder where you were.

“hey, tiger.” you smiled as if this was a regular afternoon. the two of you would teach your afternoon activities, sneak away during dinner so luke could kiss you in that spot that made you gasp. “wanna join me? i was just wrapping up, but i could be convinced to go longer.”

for a second, he was tempted to. very tempted. 

“i don’t have much time.”

you seemed to notice luke’s sullen mood and you dropped your playful demeanor. 

luke explained: the messages from kronos in his dreams, him stealing the lightning bolt and helm of darkness to start a war between the gods and framing percy. the plan to destroy olympus that luke had pledged his life to.

percy was surprised at what luke had done, and luke could imagine that the rest of camp would be, too. luke was the golden boy of camp half-blood, everyone’s big brother. 

you, on the other hand, didn’t express any sense of shock. 

“luke.” you said his name like you weren’t quite sure it was poison. “i’m going to give you five seconds to tell me that you’re joking.”

five seconds of silence passed. you took a few steps back from luke.

“i….i should have told you sooner.”

“yeah,” you scoffed. “you should have. but, you didn’t. did it feel good, having the titan king whispering sweet nothings in your ear? all the lies about how this war is the only way to get the glory you so desperately want? it’s fucking delusional.” 

“it’s not delusional—”

“yes, it is!” you glared at him. “you’re on the wrong side of a war you made the mistake of starting.”

luke straightened his posture, thinking about how hypocritical you were being. 

“isn’t this what you’re all about? revenge, karma. your mom will probably join us, too. don’t you want to see the gods finally get what they deserve?”

“not like this. i can’t believe how desperate you are, to believe that kronos is going to make everything right. it’s pathetic,” you spat. “i’m not saying the gods don’t deserve to be taken down a notch. their fucking obsession with power and glory….it’s sick and twisted, but i don’t think your titan king is any better. i don’t think you are any better.” 

“it’s time that the gods fall. this is the only way, even if it isn’t perfect,” luke countered. his voice was firmer now as he absorbed your anger. your mother was the goddess of revenge, but you clearly didn't understand the sacrifices, pain, and blood that was required to make the world a better place.  

luke just needed to convince you.

“we’ve talked about this for years,” he continued. “nothing is balanced! there’s no justice here, for anyone.  we can build a better world where we don’t have to burn our scraps and throw ourselves at monsters to get attention. we can fight together like we always have. y/n, i love—”

“don’t,” you snapped. “don’t you fucking dare. you should have died on your quest.” your voice laced with venom. one hand gripping the knife you always kept on your belt. “that dragon should have fucking sliced through you and saved us all the trouble.”

something pricked in the back of his throat, down to his stomach.

“you don’t mean that.”

“i do,” you promised. “at least you would have died with all of us thinking you’re a hero instead of the traitor you really are.”

you grabbed your knife, took a fighting stance. 

“i’m not going to fight you,” was all luke could say. he noticed your hand tremble, and you tightened the grip on your knife to prevent emotion from slipping through your invisible armor. 

in that moment, you have could slice through luke, and it would hurt less than everything you just said, less than the murderous look you were giving him, like he was just another monster you wouldn’t think twice about sending to tartarus.

luke didn’t even have a chance to unsheathe his sword before you charged at him, but he quickly had you pinned to the ground, the tip of your own knife pointed at you. he hesitated. the blade pressed harder against your cheek than he intended, enough to break the skin and let a few droplets of dark crimson escape. 

“please come with me,” he pleaded. you didn’t answer, but you did seem surprised by the softness of his voice. 

a few moments passed, the celestial bronze still between you. luke waited for you to see his way, to yield to his proposal.

you didn’t. instead, you took advantage of the situation. you wrapped your leg around his and flipped your position. in the process, you regained possession of your knife. without the hesitation that held luke back, you sliced through his cheek, deep. luke bit his lip to suppress a groan, tasting blood. your gaze set his whole body on fire as he waited for your next move. that was when you glanced down at his camp necklace, and the new clay bead added to commemorate this summer.

a turquoise trident.

“percy told me he was on his way to see you,” you realized. “what did you do?”

luke didn’t answer. he knew then that a choice ran through your head. 

and it stung, just a little, watching you sprint away through the trees in a last ditch effort to save percy’s life. 

there was a small, pathetic part of luke that wanted you to choose him, even if it meant you would have plunged the knife into his chest.

[darkst4lker]

taste // thranduil.

thranduil oropherion x fem!reader

plot: two weeks and a half ago, thranduil and (y/n) had a messy break up. now, he appears at your friend arwen's birthday party with his ex girlfriend by his side and you decide that if he wants to play that game, you would play it too.

tw: (mdni) modern!au, it's mainly lovers to enemies to lovers but there will be mentions of smut, angst, thranduil behaves like an asshole, misogyny, use of drugs and and alcohol, good ending (?, i changed a lot of things from the lore!!, everyone is like 20-27 here but legolas wasn't even born yet here. YES there's a moment where starts playing lover you should've come over by jeff buckley!!. low caps on purpose.

notes: english is NOT my first language. i'm sorry if there's any mistake. also this is the first time i publish something i write here!!

“(y/n)” tauriel spoke. you and her were helping arwen to decorate her house for her birthday party that same night, yet you were visibly sad for your break up with thranduil. “(y/n), are you okay?”

you weren't okay.

it was the middle of winter. arwen's living room was one of the most comfortables and warm places on earth, in fact all of her house was like that. it was one of the places where you felt more safe than anywhere in the world but today her house felt deadly cold to you.

maybe the problem wasn't arwen's home itself but the fact that your soul was freezing since the day thranduil's deadly words stabbed your heart like a poisoned knife.

“i don't love you anymore, (y/n).”

fucker. you had spent two years together.

in fact, you and thranduil never fought, never argued, never insulted each other while you were together. yet, the day he left you like that, completely out of the blue, you insulted him so much he probably thought that all his family line would be cursed forever.

he said horrible things too, it wasn't just you. but you may had gone too far when you threw an antique vase that belonged to his family for years through the window of his apartment.

in your defense, he was the last person you thought that would leave you.

of course arwen's house felt cold, the whole world felt cold actually. how could anything feel good in this earth when you weren't in thranduil's arms?

you took a deep breath.

it took you a moment to answer to tauriel's question because the vestiges of the last discussion you had with thranduil were fresh in your mind like if it had happened a second ago. you tried to dismiss the storm of memories flooding your mind and you looked at tauriel.

“yeah, im sorry i went blank for a minute.” you answered while hanging up some balloons in the wall. you tried to fake a smile but your tired eyes revealed your sorrows.

“that's it. im tired of seeing her like this, im going to kill him” aragorn said, leaving his spot next to arwen in the kitchen where they were preparing all the food for the party to get his coat, but arwen stopped him right away.

“stop, you're not helping her. we need to stay here by her side.” arwen came out of the kitchen, after aragorn. her calm voice sent chills down your spine.

aragorn crossed his arms and left his coat alone while he sat in a chair facing you.

you sat on the sofa and arwen sat besides you. the decorations were ready and now you didn't had anything else to distract you from the heartbreak im your chest.

“everything is going to be okay, sweetie. i'm sorry you'll have to see him tonight, bard insisted a lot for me to invite him.” arwen words comforted you and then she hugged you softly. aragorn looked annoyed while he leant against the wall and tauriel stood beside him. “sooner or later he will realize what he's missing.”

“better be sooner because i can't believe he hurted (y/n) like this when a month ago he was talking about fucking marrying her.” aragorn said clearly angry. “i know he's my friend and all but... i can't believe that he really did that.”

“well love can be like that sometimes, i guess.” you answered, trying to keep yourself together. “it comes and it goes.”

“yeah right, but is never just like that (y/n).” tauriel voice was calm but she did seem irritated. “i don't understand why on earth he would do that. it doesn't even makes sense.”

“it doesn't matter if it makes sense or not, guys.” you were clearly about to cry but you held it. “what is done is done and we can't go back in time, and neither can thranduil. i will survive this shit.” everyone tried to smile at you while you spoke but you didn't sounded as convinced as you wanted.

yet, you were true. you couldn't go back in time and in fact, the hours passed swiftly and now the night welcomed the birthday party everyone was waiting for.

you got showered and prepared directly in arwen's home. you had brought your outfit and now your body was inside a stunning and tight scarlet dress.

the black heels that you were in made your outfit more mysterious and in your neck there was a lovely silver necklace with a ruby pendant that arwen had let you borrow for the night.

with a little bit of perfume and red lipstick on, you left arwen's room and joined tauriel's side on the party. there wasn't much people yet, a couple university friends from years ago, the boy tauriel always spoke about: kili and his brother fili, gimli, aragorn of course and like five more people.

it wasn't full yet but arwen's home was quite big so the amount of people wasn't going to be a problem.

thranduil by the other hand, he surely was going to be one.

tauriel and you talked for a while, spending time together before she went to dance with her almost-boyfriend, kili.

you really liked kili for your friend, he seemed like a sweet guy. you really hoped they would end up being together and you wished in the deepest places of your heart that he didn't ended up breaking your friend heart.

like certain person did to you.

you drank a little from the bottle of wine aragorn gave you before rushing to dance with arwen and more people started to appear.

the fear of seeing thranduil that night was disappearing by every sip you gave to the wine and soon you even thought that maybe he wasn't even going to come.

a couple hours later, the house was full of people everywhere, it was 11pm, the party had just started hours ago and when you thought you were free from certain blonde, you saw probably the worst thing you could see with alcohol in your system.

thranduil entered the party with a beautiful blonde girl by his side. they both had their hands enterwined and the girl was giggling while they talked. you instantly felt a rush of rage invade your whole body to the point you believed that your brain was on the verge of exploding.

thranduil had a formal black shirt, leaving two buttons unbottoned and revealing his neck, a little sigh escaped from your lips at the heavenlt sight.

and there it was her.

she looked like a goddes pulled out from a fairytale, making your insecurities corrode your guts like a sickness. the tears threatened to fall off your eyes as you watched their entrance from the another side of the room, and the worst was that you recognized her from old pictures thranduil had in his house. that was his ex girlfriend, now actual (you supposed).

when you thought the horror was over, thranduil looked at you from the distance like if he had some kind of radar attached to him that warned him about everytime you looked at his direction.

his ocean blue eyes met yours. it felt like a boat crashing in the middle of a sea infested with mermaids.

his stare was as intoxicating and addictive as always were. the feelings accumulated in your throat like stones and you got scared for a moment before breaking eye contact with him. it lasted just a second, but it felt like a lifetime passed while your eyes met his.

then you quickly took a sip of your bottle of wine, trying to not give him the pleasure of seeing you rush to the bathroom to cry. for what it felt like hours, you had to see him dance with his new girl and you imagined that you were the one dancing with him, kissing him, touching him.

it was unbelieveable. he literally had replaced you.

how could he? why would he?

those questions pierced your heart like swords, like his words did days ago.

“it was just a pause, a distraction. i needed someone to heal what my past relatonship had broken in me and i already did. you served me well and i will always be grateful.”

you 'served him well'? really? what the fuck does he thinks he is? a king?

his words had melted in your ears like a rotten peach. the sweetness of his low voice mixed with a hint of gall flooding every sentence he said.

you understood now what he meant when he said he healed.

by the other hand, thranduil was breathing heavily.

his hands were on his new girlfriend's waist and sometimes he planted soft kisses on her face. yet, he couldn't fully enjoy anything of it. thranduil regretted all his actions, and much more, how he couldn't save your relationship.

he felt like an idiot. all of his thoughts were on you, every kiss he gave her, every look, every loving gesture, he desired it all went to you instead.

thranduil was deeply conflicted, though. even if he knew how wrong he were when you two broke up, he also was quite offended with the things you said.

it felt like a torture, probably the most horrible one on earth and the weight of his actions were killing him more slowly that he would ever wanted to.

thranduil didn't told you his real motives for leaving you, he thought it would only make it worse for both of you. but after leaving, all of his actions felt meaningless now that he didn't had you.

he was proud, and stubborn though. and watching how you left your seat in wich you were obviously staring at him to sit next to bard made his heart ache terribly.

in your mind, bard seemed like an obvious solution: he was hot, he was your friend and long before you started going out with thranduil he and you had spent a couple of nights together. bard obviously recieved your presence with open arms.

"(y/n), sweetheart." bard calm voice welcomed you as you approached the couch where he was drinking a beer. you noticed he had a blunt on the other hand. "you look beautiful as always."

"hi, bard. long time no-see" you took the seat next to him, everyone were dancing and the fact that he was also a very close friend of thranduil made the whole idea of making out with him so much better.

there was a brief moment of silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable. the music was peaceful now, tempting every couple to slow dance.

"do yo want some?" he offered you the pot, and you took it while nodding.

as you smoke, bard looks at you with his classic lovely and reassuring smile, only this time he seemed quite drunk and clearly high.

you were a little drunk yourself too.

"i think i needed that, thank you." you give him back the blunt, and he leaves it in the ashtray. after, he looks at you with curiousity.

"are you-" he started to say but you interrupt him.

"yes i am in fact okay, thank you for asking though." the question had you completely exhausted. you rolled your eyes and stared at him right at his, starting to feel the mix of pot and the alcohol making you a little dizzy. "i came to see if we could make out for a while, i don't care if it's your fault he is here, i don't care about him, i don't care about anything. please, help me forget everything for a second like in the old times. please." your voice sounded a little desperate but the truth it was that you were.

the pain in your heart was begging and pleading to be released, to be cured even if it was for a brief moment. it felt like a bomb ticking on your chest that could explode at any moment and bard seemed to notice it.

a soft smile appeared on his face as he spoke. "you do seem to care, sweetie." the nickname made your heart ache a little, all his nicknames did. thranduil used to call you loving names all the time but the last time you two spoke he called you plainly by your name.

you asked yourself if he also was calling her those sweet names too.

your mouth opened to answer bard but the words didn't came out as the heart ache was ripping apart your body from the insides. bard saw your change of expression, knowing you needed help to get the words out of your chest. you did care after all.

bard puffed, trying not to sound melancholic and grabbed your hand softly. “im sorry, love. i know why you're asking me this and you can be sure i understand it, but thranduil made me promise i wouldn't touch you and i don't want to be in the middle of this break up.” as always, he was a pacifist. bard put his hand on your shoulder and pulled you into a hug. your sight started to get blurry from tears. “it will pass.”

his words echoed in your mind calming every part of you like a balm.

“it will pass.”

you spent what it felt like hours in bard's arms, cying silently. he held you, proving that even if he was thranduil's friend, he was still your friend also. it was a beautiful gesture, and made your soul heal for a while.

yet, an specific sentence of his words lingered in your mind leaving a poison trail on your thoughts: “thranduil made me promise i wouldn't touch you.” why on earth thranduil would care if you fucked bard? what was his problem?

after a moment, you broke the hug and faced bard a little bit ashamed by the way you tried to approach him at first and how you broke down instantly at him reading your feelings like a book. after wiping your tears, you looked at him. your face was swollen from crying but your expression tried to remain calm.

“im sorry i tried to-...” you started, but he cutted you off.

“it doesn't matter, love. it's okay.” bard said, giving you a reassuring stroke on your hand.

a sigh escaped from your lips and then you felt hungry, as you hadn't eat anything in the whole night.

“i will go to the kitchen to get something to eat, i'll be back in a sec.” your voice was trembling at every word but bard smiled at you and nodded, giving you a soft pat on the head before you stood up.

he surely knew how to treat a heartbroken person.

the way to the kitchen was silent, at least for you. the music was still loud but your head was even louder.

your hands placed themselves on the refrigerator door and the familiar soft cold wind welcomed you.

arwen never cared if you took food from her fridge, so you guessed that she probably wouldn't mind if you took an apple. then you closed it, not wanting to be tempted to eat something more and empty the whole refrigerator, leaving your friend having to buy more things tomorrow.

as you ate the apple you remembered how thranduil had cooked you an apple cake one time. it was probably one of the few times he ever baked anything sweet yet the cake resulted to be absolutely perfect.

then you cursed yourself, if you wanted to forget why did he keep coming back in every single little thing you did?

it was like every detail of him was craved deeply onto your heart with no intention of leaving you soon and it hurted more than you could stand.

“you must be (y/n)” a sweet voice called you from behind, and when you turned you saw her.

it was probably one of the most beautiful women you'd ever seen. blue eyes, blonde hair and soft lips.

you fully understood why thranduil would ever leave you for her. she was surely beautiful like if she were some kind of angel.

“yes, i am.” the words left your mouth with shyness. she had a smirk on her face, and looked at you while your teeth catched another bite from the apple.

“it's surely nice to meet you.” she answered, but her voice was almost cynical. there was a weird tone of passive aggressiveness behind it but you were probably too high to catch up.

then it became so obvious you couldn't avoid it.

“thran spoke a lot about you.” she continued, getting closer to you. “but i'm sure that he will soon stop.” then she walked some more steps to your direction and you placed the apple on the counter, swallowing hard.

you didn't realized that you probably had a sad look on your face until she spoke again.

“oh, don't put on that face.” she said, chuckling. there was a mocking subtone on her words. “thran will forget you quickly.” her words felt like a sting through your chest. “you surely don't seem as beautiful nor interesting as everyone said, and i will clearly erase you from his heart.”

you were about to answer, but then you saw thranduil appear behind her like if he were searching for her, and it was too much for you to handle. it was too humilliating to see him watching how his girlfriend completely destroyed you.

your steps were fast as you left the kitchen clearly at the verge of tears. the bathroom was the first door you saw as you almost ran out of the room.

the door felt heavy against your hands but it was nothing you couldn't handle. the first instinct you had was sit on the floor, knees against your chest and finally letting it all out.

you didn't cared if anyone heard you. the heartbreak was a weight in your chest that you needed to purge the fastest way possible, even if thranduil mocked you with his girlfriend outside, even of everyone only felt pity for you, even if the world ended tomorrow.

the pain needed to come out.

and as you finally gave yourself permission to cry, the bathroom door started to open.

you almost didn't noticed, as the sounds were minimum but what you did noticed was the cologne thranduil always wore.

your stare didn't raised to face him, and he closed the door.

“what on earth are you doing?” his voice sounded like a dagger through your heart, and then you looked at him from the ground.

“i didn't asked you to come here.” your answer was harsh. “you're clearly having a lot of fun with all of this.”

“i don't care about what you think, (y/n).” you felt like your name was cursed on his lips. thranduil's voice was serious. “i asked you a question.”

you got angry instantly. how dared he to even ask something like that?

as you stood up to face him properly, your face swollen from tears and by looking him in the eyes you noticed he was probably high too. yet the weed nor the alcohol were clouding his senses that much.

his eyes were like an ocean, and you were drowning in it. quickly and deeply.

“i don't know what on earth do you want me to answer. i literally don't know.” you said, clearly irritated with his attitude and your voice trembling with fury. “what the fuck do you want me to say?”

“don't talk to me like that” he answered harshly. memories of your last fight came to you like a storm. “i asked you why are you crying in the bathroom like a pathetic little girl” thranduil said. “you were clearly capable of defending yourself two weeks ago”

instantly, you understood he was talking about the fight.

“and you were the same imbecile you're being now.” the answered came from your lips almost drowning you in venom and thranduil's expression became more cold than before if that was even possible. “it didn't occur to you, that maybe and just maybe, i don't want to fight for a man like you in the middle of my friend birthday party?”

“a man like me?” he sounded almost offended, and took a step closer to you, his head over yours and his serious eyes looking down at you. “you were dying for a man like me not even a month ago”

and you were still dying for him.

as thranduil was much taller than you, after the break up you discovered that arguing with him was one of the most intimidating things you'd ever done.

yet you faced him with bravery, not letting him ruin the last pieces you had from your broken heart.

“well i don't want to anymore.” you said and he got more closer, his chest almost touching yours.

“and what kind of man do you want then? you want a man like bard?” thranduil asked and he sounded annoyed, his face was stoic but the subtone of his words betrayed his feelings.

he sounded jealous, and he clearly was.

“and what is your problem if i do?” you bited back, pushing his buttons. “maybe he'll treat me way much better than you, in fact, i'm pretty sure he wouldn't replace or use me « to heal » in the first place.” you avoided his eyes while you spoke, not wanting your look to give away the fact that you didn't wanted to be with anyone else than thranduil.

thranduil let out an irritated puff, then his hand went straight to your face, grabbing it tightly, forcing you to look at him.

“then go date him, (y/n).” he said, his voice becoming rough. “that's really what you want?” thranduil asked.

you didn't answered, as you became nervous. yet your hands went to his chest, trying to push him out but it was useless.

thranduil was visibly angry and an irritated chuckle left his lips.

“but i don't think you want that, do you love?” he said, not really expecting you to say anything, cause he already knew the answer. “actually, if i remember correctly, less than a month ago you were in my bed whimpering for me.”

thranduil calling you « love » again made your heart skip a beat as the rest of his words burned your skin like a wildfire.

“why are you throwing a tantrum, thranduil?” you asked, annoyed. he was completely delusional if he thought you wouldn't fire back. “isn't your new girlfriend enough for you that you have to come looking for me like a little puppy?” every word you said felt like if you were digging your own grave, but you didn't cared at all. thranduil's grip on your face became harder.

the next thing that happened was probably the last thing you expected.

thranduil kissed you fiercely, like a unleashed beast. it was agressive, but you played along.

it was like drinking from an oasis in the middle of the dessert, and you answered him with the same obsessive hunger. you broke the kiss briefly to push him almost violently against the bathroom door, and then you were the one to attack his mouth to shut him up before he could say anything.

a slow song started to sound loudly in the house, making the contact more passionate.

« maybe i'm too young, to keep good love from going wrong »

thranduil went from kissing you like an animal to kiss you tenderly, his hand releasing your face to caress your head. he subtely guided you to the floor, where he sat with his back against the door and you placed yourself in his lap, straddling him.

minutes passed, his lips tasted like if you were drinking napalm making your loins burn, and your blood rushed quickly to your cheeks. both of his hands placed themselves on your hips, pulling you closer as his tongue asked you permission to enter your mouth.

« so 'll wait for you, love, and I'll burn. will I ever see your sweet return? »

you open your mouth and let him do as he please, and thranduil takes the opportunity, introducing his tongue. then, the kiss abandoned its sweet nature to become an agressive fight between the both of you, again. your hands move to his hair, making it messy.

thranduil wastes no time and one of his hands moves to your neck, making a little bit of pressure, while kissing you.

the kiss is broken up by the need to take a little bit of air, and you both look at eachother in the eyes, his hand not leaving its place.

« it's never over, all my blood for the sweetness of her laughter »

“i hate you” you say agitated, your lips swollen from the past interaction.

he chuckled, breathing heavily. “i hate you too.”

« it's never over, she is the tear that hangs inside my soul forever »

and then he pulled you to kiss you again, roughly. his left hand went under your dress, caressing your thigh and the other made presure on your neck and made you sigh in between the kiss. thranduil smiled as you kept kissing eachother hungrily, now moving his hand closer to the sweet spot between your legs.

you made sure to kiss him hard, and bited his lip with delicacy as he moved your underwear to the side, thinking that if you were lucky, his girlfriend would taste you too when she kissed him.

thranduil touched you freely, like he still loved you. you whined against his mouth, and he broke the kiss.

“you still want to go out with bard?” he asked, releasing your neck to make you look at him by grabbing your chin. his other hand was between your legs, playing with you and making you sigh again.

« lover, you should've come over, 'cause it's not too late »

there was a brief silence as you tried to hold yourself together to give him an answer.

“n-no.” you said. “do you love her?” the sudden question came from your lips in an agitated whimper as you looked him in the eyes. for some reason you felt he almost rewarded you by moving his hand faster against you, making you gasp.

“no.” thranduil finally asnwered only for you to kiss him again. you grabbed both sides of his face, and his right hand caressed your hair softly.

and then your little make out session was terribly interrupted by loud and violent knocks on the door. you both stood up quickly, like children being caught doing a mischief.

he made you a sign to keep quiet and spoke.

“yes?” thranduil said, calmly.

“babe, is that you?” you rolled your eyes at the sound of his girlfriend's voice. thranduil noticed and a little mischievous smile appeared on his lips.

“yes, it's me. give me five minutes.” he answered, his voice was too calm for the events that unfolded just moments before.

thranduil then pressed you against the wall, next to the door so the door could cover your presence while he went out. you wondered if his new girlfriend was really that stupid to not notice her, but you quickly thought that if thranduil was doing this he probably believed too that she was indeed stupid.

you admired how he always knew how to manage all the situations, but something in your chest ached when he gave you another kiss before whispering a soft « i love you » and opening the door, leaving you shocked.

he loved you. thranduil really loved you.

“im here, love.” thranduil said to her, covering your presence with the door and showing his girlfriend that no one was in the bathroom with him. at least to her eyes.

“the party is ending, thran. we should go.” she said. oh you loathed her, and a part of you hated thranduil for leaving you for her. you wanted him to say no, to stay with you, but he didn't.

“okay. let's go.” he answered, and exited the bathroom, leaving you alone but forgetting to turn off the light.

you walked to the mirror, saw your messy make up, the frustrated look on your face after being interrupted and your lips subtly swollen from the kisses and you laughed.

you fucking laughed.

you laughed because, no matter what she could say or do to compete with you, you've already won. he didn't loved her, he was yours. and you hoped; no, you knew, that everytime she kissed him, she would have to taste you too.

and to think you didn't intended to fight over him on the first place, but now the game was on.

I REALLY HOPE YOU LIKED THIS!! it was super hard for me to finish this, and i plan to do a part 2 so stay tuned <3

[olympeline]

You know, I like the idea that one of the first real bonding moments Alasdair and Arthur ever had was in the wreckage of 1776. That widely held headcanon that Arthur hit the bottle reeeally hard and was a rum soaked mess for a good few years after Alfred left. And of course Alasdair would have been around to witness it since their joining in 1707

And it’s quite the uncomfortable surprise, too. Arthur was always such a ferocious little shit - such a thorn in Scottie’s side - that in the end he had to propose a union before they tore each other to bits and sunk Britain’s bright future with their endless wars. Much as he hated to admit it, Arthur was tough. Arthur was strong. But now Arthur’s first born son first colony has up and left, and Arthur isn’t the fire breathing vengeance machine Alasdair expected. Instead of coming up with plots to use their growing empire’s might to beat Alfred to a pulp and drag him back kicking and screaming, Arthur has spiralled into a depressive funk, is going through three bottles a day, and would have already killed himself with alcohol poisoning if he were human. Or maybe he did a few times and just regenerated, idk. Either way it seems Alasdair didn’t know Arthur half so well as he thought he did. He never predicted a reaction like this

Alasdair watches Arthur’s collapse with confusion, followed by disbelief, then open disgust. He tries to ignore it, not wanting to deal with his sibling’s antics. Even when the king and officials beg Alasdair to step in and do something, he brusquely brushes them off. He’s not Arthur’s fucking nursemaid for God’s sake! Until one day they’re due to sail together on the kingdom’s flagship and his little brother holds them up. Alasdair gets the message that the former terror of the waves is once again too shitfaced to stand up, let alone captain a ship. Now the important voyage will have to be delayed

And Scot has just hAD ENOUGH of Arthur embarrassing and inconveniencing them all like this. He swears his brother was less trouble as a mortal enemy! Alasdair storms into Arthur’s room to drag the addlepated sot out of bed and talk some sense into him. With his fists if necessary. Not that it comes to that with Arthur as drunk as he is. Alasdair has to drag him up then hold him up to yell at him. And when Arthur tries to punch him, he would have gone down like a sack of spuds without big bro’s bruising grip. It’s awkward for all involved when Arthur’s pathetic attempts at a scuffle and Alasdair shaking and yelling at him, end with Arthur suddenly crumbling and sobbing on his shoulder. Shocking Alasdair again. He doesn’t know what to do, so he just holds Arthur and haltingly rubs his back, muttering soothing nonsense. Most mortifying moment of Alasdair’s millenia+ life.

He doesn’t push Arthur away as he clings to him, though. As much as Arthur drives him insane like no one else, he’s still Scot’s little brother. So he let’s him cry and just keeps supporting him. Listening in silence as Arthur rants and sobs about Alfred: alternating between professing deepest loathing for the “traitor,” and weeping about how much he misses him and how there’s still time to fix everything and they have to try and get him back, etc. etc. It’s a fool’s hope, but Alasdair always knew Arthur was a fool

But what can he say? A smug, confrontational, fiery, normal Arthur makes Alasdair long for their old days of striking swords and border wars. A pathetic, drunk, weeping, vulnerable Arthur brings out Alasdair’s long dormant brotherly instinct. A feeling usually reserved for Wales and the Ireland twins. But, for the first time since he was a wee bairn, the instinct comes out for Arthur. It’s been so long since he saw him cry, he’d almost forgotten Arthur was capable of it

Alasdair lets Arthur cry himself to exhaustion, then helps him back into bed. Takes off Arthur’s coat, pulls off his boots, drags the blankets up over him. Arthur catches his arm, hands trembling, when Alasdair goes to straighten up and begs him not to leave him too. Alasdair rolls his eyes, cuffs Arthur - gently - and tells him to sleep it off. Then promises gruffly to be there when he wakes up, so stop being a drunk fool and go to sleep

Arthur obeys and Alasdair he keeps his word. Wales and Ireland fill in sailing duty and Alasdair stays with Arthur: king and parliament’s ranting be damned. Planning to help his little brother get himself back on track once he wakes up, starting with getting him off the booze. Or at least getting it back down to royal navy functional alcoholic levels. They can worry about everything else later

Thankfully for both their sanities, Arthur remembers very little of this when he wakes up lol. Alasdair makes sure to thank God extra hard that week at church for big mercies

[caffeine-clouds]

Sonic Characters - And Their Likelihood To Drink Vanilla Extract

Gotta get this in while the meme is still relevant. DISCLAIMER: Do not drink vanilla extract!! Even small amounts can cause vomiting and nausea - and larger amounts can even cause alcohol poisoning! The consequences are downplayed for these weirdly durable, humanoid fictional animals. Sonic: Likely. Either one day he gives into his intrusive thoughts and tastes it out of curiosity - or someone says that he'd never be able to, which he'd swiftly prove them wrong by guzzling down a whole bottle. Tails: Would only drink vanilla extract in the name of science, maybe to see what effect it would have on the body or for some other obscure reason, but he definitely choked after taking a few sips. Knuckles: Would not drink vanilla extract unless Sonic were to rub in his face the fact he previously was able to down a whole bottle. Knuckles then retaliates by drinking two bottles - he quickly comes to regret this decision but will hide his suffering so he can get back at Sonic with his ego in tact. Amy: Would not drink it - and has been looking at the new vanilla extract drinking trend growing amongst her friends and getting concerned. She's debating buying child locks for her kitchen cabinets. Rouge: Would not typically drink vanilla extract - unless someone says that if she manages to drink an entire bottle, she'll get jewelry or money in exchange. She drinks the whole thing without hesitation or regret - because there is not a corner of her soul or dignity she wouldn't turn over for an expensive necklace. Shadow: He already drinks vanilla extract. Silver: Didn't know what it was until he came across a bottle of a dark liquid, liked the smell despite how strong it was - so decided to give it a little taste. He was choking on the floor after one measly sip. Blaze: She was watching Silver from the doorway - staring at him like a disappointed parent. Needless to say, she would not drink vanilla extract. The Chaotix: Vector and Espio have never felt the need or desire to drink vanilla extract - however they have had to stop Charmy on several occassions trying to guzzle down a bottle. They do in fact have a child lock on their cabinets now. Vanilla and Cream: Despite the name of the mother, these two are a healthy functioning family that know not to drink vanilla extract. Jet: Drank a comically large amount of vanilla extract to prove his superiority to Sonic and Knuckles. He was ill for several days afterwards. Storm: Thought it would be a good idea to copy Jet and ended up in the same situation. Wave: Has been forced to look after the other two - and has now banned vanilla extract from the house. She has full-on padlocks for the kitchen cupboards as a result. Tangle: Tried it on a whim - she kind of liked the taste actually, but would only recommend in small doses. Whisper: Listened to Tangle's story of how she once drank vanilla extract with concern - but yet again she isn't all that surprised. On the contrary to Tangle, she would not drink vanilla extract. Surge: Drank all the vanilla extract in Starline's kitchen to spite him - she likes the taste now. It's her drink of choice. Kit: Tried to copy Surge - drank half a bottle and cried. Big: He fears no flavourings.

[thesakuragarnet]

Birthday (LOV Found Family Vibes)

Summary:

'Twice: Hey, Dabi, why are you drinking so much on a Monday afternoon?' 

'Dabi: I'm trying to forget tomorrow is my birthday.'

Tags: slight DabiHawks, implied sexual content, swearing, found family, some blood (see GIF), hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, drinking

Word Count: 1,767 words

AO3 link

The sounds of party horns jolt Dabi out of his alcohol-induced slumber, making his hangover headache infinitely worse. 

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" He screams as he jerks upright, sitting straight up on the couch as Toga and Twice jump around him with the obnoxious noisemakers while Hawks and Spinner pop confetti cannons. 

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DABI!" Toga shrieks at the top of her lungs, and Toya puts his head in his hands, palming his forehead aggressively as he remembers the conversation from the night before. 

'Twice: Hey, Dabi, why are you drinking so much on a Monday afternoon?' 

'Dabi: I'm trying to forget tomorrow is my birthday.'

Granted, he was already a bottle and a half in at that point, which is why he'd let it slip. Regretfully, his Quirk made it impossible to get alcohol poisoning; his body processed it too fast to fuel his flames, meaning he sobered up almost as quickly as he became intoxicated. 

Twice and Toga continue to chant and sing, jumping up and down as Dabi blinks, taking in the scene. There's an obnoxious "Happy Birthday" banner that looks like it was dragged out of a trash can and an obscene amount of balloons in the corner (which is an extreme fire hazard).

"HAPPY! HAPPY BIRTHDAY! HAPPY! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Toga and Twice scream in unison, dancing with one another.

"Come on, make a wish!" Hawks' voice is suddenly in his ear, and Dabi turns his head to see a sorry excuse for a cake with a crude "24" in the center written in icing. The candles are unlit. Between the racing adrenaline from being scared awake, the overwhelming noise of the dynamic duo, and all of the bright colors, it tips Dabi over the edge. Smoke curls out of the side of his mouth as he grits his teeth, glaring up at his boyfriend. 

SPLAT!

He shoves the cake into Hawks' face, and Toga and Twice stop singing while Spinner's party horn comically trails off in a melancholy note. 

"WHAT PART OF I WAS DRINKING TO FORGET MY BIRTHDAY DID YOU IDIOTS NOT UNDERSTAND?! LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!" He screams angrily before getting up and storming to his room, slamming the door behind him. 

"I knew it was a bad idea!" Shigaraki calls from the bar, too busy playing his Nintendo to bother with the festivities. Hawks sends his feathers to grab a towel and slowly rubs the cake off his face. 

"I told you go with blue icing but nooooo," Spinner mutters sarcastically, waving his hands as if that's the real reason Dabi got pissed. Hawks rolls his eyes, throwing the remains of the cake away before he walks toward Dabi's bedroom. 

...

Knock. Knock. Knock. 

Hawks waits patiently for Dabi to open the door, but the villain doesn't hear him knocking. Instead, Toya's staring up at his ceiling with his earbuds in his ears, blaring his typical angsty emo music to drown out everything around him. He hated his birthday. Growing up, he didn't really have friends. No one ever showed up to the birthday parties, no matter how many invitations he handed out to his classmates or how many emails his mom sent. Thus, Toya's birthdays were strictly family affairs. Ever since his accident, after he came home to find his death wasn't enough to change his father, family was a bad taste in his mouth. It didn't help that Shoto's birthday was a week before his; it hung over his head like an impending raincloud of doom, reminding him of what was coming...and what was missing. He used to have fun on his birthday, spending time with Natsuo and Fuyumi; hell, even with his mom and his dad...before Shoto came along. Then, everything changed. Every birthday he'd had since was incredibly shitty and always left him feeling more empty and forgotten. In fact, this was the first time anyone had wished him happy birthday in ten years. 

Flit. Flit. Flit. 

Dabi takes out his earbuds when he sees a red feather twirling up above his head, twisting and pointing toward the door. The scarred man exhales dramatically through his nose as he stalks toward the door, unlocking it and opening it.

"What do you want," He snaps, making Hawks flinch.

"To...uh...I don't know," Hawks trails off, twiddling his thumbs in defeat. Dabi sighs and jerks his head back, gesturing for Hawks to come in as he steps to the side. He closes the door behind his boyfriend, who awkwardly sits on the edge of the bed. 

"So...wanna tell me what all that was about?" Hawks offers hesitantly. Dabi's clenched jaw and stone-cold expression don't change. 

"No."

Hawks' wings droop; he should've anticipated that answer, but it wasn't the one he was hoping for. Dabi walks over to the singular window before he leans up against the wall, staring at the sunrise through the fire escape. 

"There anything I can do?" Hawks asks eagerly, deciding to try a different approach. 

"No," Dabi repeats monotonously. Hawks' eyes narrow, and he scrunches up his face in thought before his expression softens. Dabi's attention shifts from the color-changing sky to his boyfriend as he suddenly feels hands unbuckling his belt. 

"You sure?" Hawks murmurs seductively as he starts to unzip Dabi's pants. 

"GET OFF ME!" Dabi seethes, eyes flashing in irritation as he roughly shoves Hawks before zipping his fly back up and fixing his belt. The Pro lands on his wings, grimacing in pain and frowning in confusion.

"WHAT PART OF LEAVE ME ALONE DIDN'T YOU GET? YOU'RE A FUCKING PRO HERO! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO UNDERSTAND BASIC SOCIAL CUES!" The villain shouts, anxiously pulling at his hair before stomping out and slamming the door behind him. 

"Can't even get fucking peace in my own space," Dabi mutters bitterly as he crosses his arms, feeling his chest tighten from all the stress and pent-up emotions. He was so used to spending birthdays alone. He opens the door to the hallway bathroom and locks it, slowly sinking to the floor up against the door. He nervously chews his scarred bottom lip, trying to repress memories from when he was actually happy, but to no avail. Blood seeps beneath his eye scars, and his shattered breathing is barely audible. This is the only way he can cry. 

...

While Dabi spent all day locked in the bathroom, the League held an emergency meeting.

"We can't just let him feel so shitty on his birthday!" Toga pouts, putting her head down on the table. 

"I concur! Why not!" Twice shakes his head in agreement, and Spinner groans. 

"I think we should just leave the guy alone. We've clearly fucked up. Let's not make it any worse," The lizard points out, but Toga and Twice protest. 

"We're family! Plus, do we all really want him to stay mad at us? You know how much of a vengeful bitch he can be," Toga adds.

"We don't know the first thing about the burnt bastard. Where do we even start?" Shigaraki grumbles, putting up his Switch to enter the conversation. Kurogiri, who sits at the head of the table, turns to Hawks, who is staring off into space. 

"Ahem," The wispy man grunts, jarring the Pro out of his daydreams. 

"Yeah?" Hawks mutters as if waiting for instructions. 

"Well, you're his partner, or...whatever. Do you know what he likes?" Compress offers, gesturing to Hawks. 

A smile plays at the hero's lips.

"As a matter of fact. I do."

...

BAM! BAM! BAM!

Dabi jolts awake, still propped up against the bathroom door, and immediately gets to his feet. 

"WHAT DID I SAY ABOU-" His angry tirade stops short as he yanks open the door to find no one on the other side. He raises his eyebrow, poking his head out into the hallway, but there's no sign of life. It's pitch-black outside all of the windows. 

Crinkle. 

He looks down to find a note under his boot with an arrow pointing to the left and the words "FOLLOW ME" scrawled in Twice's messy handwriting. Dabi's curiosity gets the best of him; besides, what are the odds that this is something important? Dabi walks down the hallway and finds a suspicious bottle of Captain Morgan sitting at the foot of the stairs, along with another arrow pointing up the winding staircase with the words "THIS WAY" in Toga's pink cursive. 

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," He sighs, shaking his head as he snatches the bottle and makes the long trek up and up and up until, finally, he reaches the door that leads to the rooftop. In front of the door is a little cardboard box and on the door is another sheet of paper that says: "OPEN" in big letters and "the box and the door" in small letters, presumably Spinner's. 

"This is stupid," The villain gripes as he rips open the small box. Inside is a laminated card that reads "No one will bother you until sunrise" in Kurogiri's calligraphy. A content smirk plays at Dabi's lips as he shoves the card in his pocket before he roughly shoves the door open. 

...

Toya's breath is taken away. He'd never been to the rooftop at night, and he was vehemently regretting that he hadn't. In the dead of night, because they live in the shadier part of town, the night sky is visibly filled with glittering stars. In the center of the rooftop, a hammock rests between two steel posts. Beside the hammock sits a foldable table with a singular piece of cake on a paper plate; a candle burns brightly in the center of the dessert. Dabi is trying so hard not to smile, but he feels an achingly familiar feeling in his chest that he thought would never spark again. He walks over to the table and sees one last sheet of paper, folded up beneath the plate like a card. He opens it. 

Our shitty family isn't complete without you. Hope this makes up for fucking up so bad.

- Shigaraki, Toga, Twice, Mister Compress, Kurogiri, Spinner, & Hawks

The fact that they all willingly did this. Maybe it wasn't so bad. Truthfully, this morning had been terrible. It was obnoxious, excruciating, and all around too much. But this. This was what he appreciated because it was tailored specifically to him. Lowkey, subtle, yet meaningful. He knew Hawks had a large part in this. He's the only person that he ever told about his love of stargazing. Maybe he'd burn him later for spilling a guarded secret, but, for now, he was...happy.

[skellymom]

"Redneck Doug's Bad Batch Family BBQ"

Cool divider by the talented @cafekitsune

Background: Bad Batch Family BBQ is crashed by Tech's crazy ex-wife. This one shot includes Maadienne "Mad Momma" my OC character from Vagabonds. This story takes place in the BB future when everyone is safe, settled down, and enemies can be friends (except for Hunter and Crosshair-they're family frenemies).

Word count: 2K

Warning: swearing, the "C" word, alcohol, sexual references, drunkenness, Crosshair being inappropriate with Hunter's wife (she no stand for it), Wrecker/Crosshair pyromania, Tech losing his temper/ vomiting, nasty/horrible ex-wife, messy family shenanigans.

This One Shot is based on Tumblr user @talesfrommedinastation post about their Redneck neighbor Doug who has a very fun take on the Batch. To read it (which will make everything in this story more understandable):

https://www.tumblr.com/talesfrommedinastation/727350948139302912/my-redneck-neighbor-dougs-interpretations-on?source=share

Mad heard the Batcher Brothers before they even turned into the driveway...well, at least Wrecker. Tech had driven his extremely quiet fully loaded Tesla. But Wrecker screamed down the dirt road in his “custom” painted LOLAMOBILE (Omega and “The Littles” did the custom work) with Down blasting at an ear shattering volume. He was kicking up dust like a desert storm. Crosshair was in the front seat and Echo holding on for dear life to the roll bars in the back. 

Mad met the brothers at the door to her and Hunter’s home. She and Hunter had been preparing a huge meal all morning for their family gathering. Hunter barbequed a huge side of pork to perfection and Mad heated up the kitchen with her famous delicious side dishes. She wore her comfy black cotton body hugging T-shirt dress and kitchen apron with the words “I poisoned your food” emblazoned on it. Her long undercut was braided with the end barely tickling the top of her butt. She was still fit after birthing 5 children with Hunter, just with a bit more curves and tattoos. Hunter lovingly referred to her as his “Big Tiddie Goth Momma.”  

The Brothers took turns entering their humble abode and greeting the hostess.  

Echo stepped in first, pecked Mad on the cheek, and gave her a bouquet of wildflowers and then handed over a box of Cinnabun toaster treats “This is for Omega. Tell my loveable smartass sister Toaster Strudel thought of her!” They both broke out in laughter. 

“I’ll give this to her when she comes back from the Tipoca City Mall on the Ocean. She took The Littles so Hunter and I could cook without them getting in our way.”  

Next was Wrecker, “Hey Julio, my big beefcake. How ya doin’? As he picked her up and hugged the total stuffing out of her with his huge arms.  

“OHHH Mad, thank you so much for feeding us! I NEVER leave your place hungry!!! Looking forward to those amazing biscuits you make.” He let go and handed her a huge tub of Mantell Mix. “For dessert!” 

“Thanks, Wrecker.” 

Then Crosshair, who removed the toothpick from his mouth to lean down and smootch Mad on the cheek...while grabbing a handful of her generous derriere, “Daddy Warcrimes has been looking forward to those ‘biscuits’, too.” 

Mad immediately slapped Cross upside the head with the kitchen towel that was slung over her shoulder “Hands off or I’ll Daddy Whip Your Ass!” 

“Whatever you say, Vixen” he winked and removed his hand. 

Hunter was used to his sibling pining after his wife since returning from Mount Tantiss. Crosshair could get any woman he wanted, and usually did. But he carried on like he really wanted Mad... or thought he did. She was more than Crosshair could handle, and Hunter liked it that way. Hunter and Mad were over the moon sweet on each other, even after being married all this time. 

“You look like Daddy Womp-Womp to me. Touch my wife again and I’ll snap your skinny ass in half like those Slim Jim’s you live on.” 

“Got your weekly shower I see Hunter. She must have felt randy today and wanted you sweet smelling.” 

“OH, KNOCK IT OFF YOU TWO!!!  

Mad turned to see poor Tech standing silently in the doorway looking anxious and forlorn. He handed Mad his 6 pack of fancy IPA’s (he always brought his own booze and refused to drink anything else Hunter or Mad stocked) and a bottle of Mad’s favorite. “Oh honey, thank you!” She put her arm around Tech and led him into the house. Then put the alcohol on the counter. “I’m SO proud of you finally serving divorce papers to Laura. I know it was hard, but she’s not treated you well at all.” 

“Hunter, get everyone a drink, will ya?” She ran to the stove to stir the homemade Mac and Cheese. 

“I’m on it hon.” Catching a glimpse of her beautiful bottom jiggling as she sprinted across the kitchen. He shot a look at Crosshair with an antagonizing expression of “Mine, NOT yours”. Crosshair sneered back. 

Wrecker patted Tech on the back as the brothers sat down at the kitchen table with their drinks, “So ya FINALLY did it! You’re free!!!” Tech flinched and looked guilty. 

“About time!” Added Echo 

“Hated that crazy bitch Laura” Crosshair squinted while inserting a fresh toothpick into his mouth. 

“Oof, she made everyone else around her miserable, too” Hunter put his hand up to his head, like the mere thought of Laura was giving him a migraine. 

“OH GAWD...remember when she nearly ruined Rex and Ashoka’s wedding?” Mad gestured to Tech with potholders before checking on the biscuits, “Had to get nasty jealous when all you did was say ‘Hi’ to Phee Genoa during the reception.” 

“Ashoka using the Force to shut her ass up. That was GOLD!” Echo threw his head back and laughed. 

“Well, no matter. Better fish in the sea. You know Phee asks about you all the time when I’m at my Ladies Group...so I invited them over tonight.” Mad winked at Tech and bent over to pull out the biscuits. 

Crosshair craned his neck hoping to see Mad’s shirt dress ride up her thigh. 

Hunter punched his brother in the arm. 

“Oww, FUCK Hunter!” 

“HAAA, caught ya lookin!” Wrecker gleefully pushed Cross back into Hunter, who gleefully punched his brother in the arm again and sent him back towards Wrecker. Cross managed to stay in his chair but lost his toothpick. 

“The whole Group is coming...The Martez Sisters...” Mad wasn’t even paying attention to the shit going on at the table. 

“YEAH! My honeys!!!” Wrecker grabbed Cross and shook him in excitement. 

“You’re spilling my beer, Wrecker!” Crosshair pushed Wrecker away. 

“...Fennec Shand...” Cross stopped. Mad had gotten his attention. They liked to talk guns, plus Cross thought she was a hot little honey. 

“…mmm...and Riyo Chuchi.” Echo grinned, tipped back the chair, and crossed his arms behind his head. 

Tech didn’t look excited at all. He was unnaturally quiet and halfway through his second IPA already. Not a fast drinker and it seemed like he was sucking them down tonight. 

“Ok, sides are done. You boys go out and start up the bonfire, it’ll be dark soon and the ladies should be arriving.” 

Wrecker got up and hurried toward the door, excited to set something on fire. Crosshair followed him. “I’ll make sure they don’t set fire to the backyard...again.” Echo promised as the screen door slammed shut. 

Hunter got up from the table and looked at Tech. He had peeled the label off the now empty second bottle of IPA. “What’s up? You’re not usually like this.” 

Tech barely looked at his brother, attempted to say something, “...nothing!” He ignored the rest of his fancy beers, grabbed the full bottle of Jack Daniels, and sprinted out the back door. 

Mad and Hunter looked at each other. Tech was acting strange and extremely out of character. He almost looked scared. 

Hunter walked over and embraced Mad, “Man, Laura did a number on him. Glad I don’t have that problem.” 

“Yeah, not into yelling at my hubby. But I WILL punish you accordingly if you’re bad” Mad sassed.  

“Oh, I’ve been SO bad” Hunter growled and nipped at Mad’s neck while squeezing her bum. 

Mad growled back and was about to give Hunter a huge passionate kiss when a small, controlled explosion rocked the house...followed by Wrecker wooping loudly.  

“For KRIFF SAKE! NOT AGAIN!!!” Hunter let go of Mad and ran outside. Mad decided to wait on bringing the food out and survey the damage. 

Apparently, Wrecker had found Omega’s four-wheeler gasoline can, emptied it onto the fire pit, and Crosshair climbing the old Oak tree across the yard decided to show off. He shot into the pit from 40 feet up and several yards over to start the fire. Echo was mortified and immediately apologized when Hunter ran out of the house. 

“It’s ok brother. At least they contained the fire and didn’t burn down my shed...again.” 

The timing was perfect, as The Ladies Group screeched up to the house in a modified topless Humvee. 

Fennec, Riyo, Phee, and the Martez Sisters descended on the backyard inferno whooping and hollering in excitement. They brought booze, music, and a large sheet cake. 

Phee made a beeline for Tech, who was now sitting on a plastic lawn chair dangerously near the fire and getting clearly inebriated on the Jack. The alcohol and heat made him sweat, and he uncharacteristically shed his whole shirt (a very expensive one) ...which was now burning in the bonfire. So now he was shirtless AND drunk. 

“Hey Brown Eyes” Phee regarded Tech with interest. She had never seen him like this. He looked slightly scared but working on being drunkenly feral. 

Phee opened her mouth to speak again to get Tech’s attention, but was cut off... 

“I HAVE A CONFUSION TO MAKE!” Tech slurred loudly. He had everyone’s full attention. 

“Huh? What did he say???” Wrecker looked around for clarity. 

Echo translated, “I think he has a confession to make.” 

Tech pointed at Echo then comically pointed at his nose. 

“I LLIED ABOUT SERVICING DIVORSH PAPERTHS TO LAURA LAST WEEK. DIDN’T HAVE THE BALLTHS. OH MAKER...” Tech tipped Jack Daniels back and chugged another third of it down. 

“Shit, I didn’t expect dinner AND a show!” Crosshair leaned back in a large sprawling settee with a shit eating grin. 

“Shut up Cross! What do you mean Tech? Hunter inquired. “So, you didn’t serve the papers at all, and she doesn’t know you want a divorce? How did she let you come here by yourself if you’re both still together??” 

“OH...MY TIMING...” Tech looked up at Phee with total drunken embarrassment. 

“Come on honey, you can say it” Mad tried to coax Tech to get to the point. 

“You got this Brown Eyes” Phee smiled at Tech with reassurance. 

Tech tipped back the Jack and downed several gulps. He was applying liquid courage. He was sweating like a mad man. 

“I FFINALLY DIDIT THIS WEEK...” 

“When???” Wrecker threw up his hands. He couldn’t stand the suspense! 

“ABOUTH AND HOUR AGOO.” 

And that is when everyone at the party heard the angry roar of a Hyundai Kia approaching at top speed towards the house.  

“Oh, this is getting good” Crosshair cracked a cold one and waited for all Hell to break loose. Fennec slid in next to him on the settee, stole his bottle, took a swig and handed it back. Her eyes locked on the epic clusterfuck that was to unfold. Laura’s bitchiness was legendary in the Batcher Circle.  

“I’M STHO FUCKED!” Tech screamed 

The Kia skidded to a dramatic stop next to the Humvee, the driver’s door thrown open, Laura emerged with hateful toxic fury, screaming at the top of her lungs as she advanced upon the party. A skinny, overly processed blond, overly make upped, overly augmented, hateful harpy of a woman. “RYAN! (her despicable pet name for Tech). RYAN, YOU FUCKING USELESS TIT OF A MAN! YOU CAN’T PULL THIS SHIT ON ME! WHERE ARE YOU?” 

Echo grabbed Riyo and led her away from Laura’s path. The Martez Sister’s weren’t so lucky as Laura slapped the sheet cake from their hands and it hit the ground. Wrecker was offended at the total waste of cake and the treatment of His Honey’s. “Eyyy, what the fuck, Laura!”  

Brave Hunter stepped in front of Laura and put his hand up in protest “Now Laura...” 

She slapped his hand away, “GET FUCK OUT OF MY WAY YOU SKEEZY REDNECK BASTARD!” 

“OH NO, YOU DON’T DO MY MAN LIKE THAT!” Mad ran up on Laura, but Hunter was faster. He picked up Mad and threw her over his shoulder walking away “Nope, we aren’t doing this tonight.” 

Then Laura noticed Phee Genoa standing there next to Tech and she totally lost her shit, “OH, SO YOU’RE LEAVING ME FOR HER? HAVE YOU BEEN FUCKING HER SINCE THAT REXSHOKA WEDDING???” Tech sat there mortified to be accused of infidelity. He kept silently nodding no over and over while Laura screeched at him.  

“JUST AS WELL, I’M LEAVING YOU FOR ADMIRAL RAMPART. HE’S BETTER THAN YOU, FUCKING RYAN-FROM-ACCOUNTING!!!”   

Tech took another few swigs from the bottle, stood up, swayed a bit, then with the fury of a man who had been kicked too many times, slammed the Jack into the bonfire. There was a sound of glass breaking and the fire roared up as the rest of the alcohol ignited. The fire reflected in his glasses, totally hiding his eyes. He was wet with sweat and his hair was an unruly mess. His chest, since it was bare, and close to the fire was red hot. Tech advanced on Laura with rage from years of abuse and seeing her treat his family and friends so horribly. 

“YESTH I FUCKING SERVICED YOUTHE PAPERSS, YOU FUCKIN HORRIBL CUNT! COULDNOT STAND ANOVER DAY WIF YOU! RUMPFART CAN HAF YU!!! The last sentence was right in Laura’s face, and she got the brunt of Tech’s drunken breath. She reeled back, but Tech advanced on her. He obviously wasn’t done, either. He pointed his index finger at Laura, poking her sharply in the chest, “I DIVORTH YOU!” Poke. “I DIVORTH YOU! Poke. “I DIVORTH YOU! Poke. She kept backing up with each poke. “BEGONE YU VILE BEASTH! FUCK OFTH TO TH DEPFTHS OF HELL YU COME FRUM!!! 

Tech stood there looking Laura right in the eye. She had never seen him stand up to her like this. 

“BY THEWAY...” he swayed unsteadily “...MY NAME ISSNOT RYAN. ITS TEEEECBLAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!” Tech projectile vomited violently upon Laura.  

There was a collective gasp from the group. Then everyone started laughing.  

Tech still wasn’t done. He vomited a second time on Laura’s expensive heels for good measure. 

“This is fucking GOLD!” Crosshair smiled, threw his arm around Fennec and pulled her close. This barbeque was going down in Batcher history as LEGENDARY! 

Laura, thoroughly disgusted, screamed, cried, and made her way to her Kia. She got in and tore away from the scene narrowly sideswiping a red Jeep Cherokee that was coming down the road. 

The Jeep Cherokee carefully pulled into the driveway and parked. Omega and The Littles emerged and walked down to the bonfire.  

“Some crazy driver almost wrecked us!”   

Hunter replied, “Yeah, that was Laura.” 

“Glad we missed her” 

“She’s a BITCH!” The littlest little chirped 

Hunter sternly corrected his youngest “Language, young man!” 

(NOTE: I heavily considered Phee just pounding Laura into the pavement. But then, I thought Tech needed to take a stand for himself...even if he needed the help of Jack Daniels).

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[erzatz3117]

@vvindication so yeah this is this thing

01:13 AM, November 10, 724. Iugoport. The gray soapstone on the nightstand spat out horrible, nauseating words into the emptiness ringing with crystal:

- ...the encirclement of half a million Communal troops on the outskirts of Centrodar is but a small part of the total picture. The events of this September, along with General Komarov's mutiny, show that the final defeat of the Communal Federation is getting closer every day. His Radiance the Human Emperor Kirkegaard praised the success of the Kodor National Army and Adam Zweiger personally in their struggle against the anti-human ideology of communism:...

Wallpaper the shade of spoiled egg yolk reflected on Danmer's pale skin, making him look even more like a gaunt, sickly nestling. Wrapped in three layers of wool, he held a small blue book with simple illustrations. It was “The Moon Hare” by the writer Argonowski, one of the few children's books in the boy's house that did not bear the tiresome branding of “SINKEWICZ I.W.” on its cover.

As Mother said, the aspiring writer Argonowski had personally given her this book as a gift, for which he was honored with all kinds of attention from her side. Such details were of little interest to the ten-year-old boy; he was much more fascinated by the taiga of Ultraborei sleeping under the snow, the life of its inhabitants full of simple miracles, and the graceful journey of a playful white hare across the sky of the opposite hemisphere unknown to Danmer. The printing ink smudged slightly, making the animal's black eyes tear up.

A loud bang of the front door against a dent in the wall severed all flow of life in the human being. The alcohol-containing mass completely eclipsed the dim tungsten light of the room. It seemed as if Divine Sevra herself had grown angry at her negligent child and destroyed all of existence, as if even the most distant stars had in an instant left the poor hare alone with a disintegrating creature woven of pure pain.

It was Mother, of course. No need to fear unpleasant expressions: her long-suffering body had summoned Danmer from the void cell by cell, molecule by molecule, which meant that her legacy would be with him for the rest of his life. She would never leave him - needless to say, loving her was the hardest thing in the world. A nauseating odor of ethanol and malt spread through the enclosed space, already completely indistinguishable from the smell of vomit. As the creature smashed its way through, it toppled furniture and threw books from shelves, as if the very existence of order and beauty in the world - and not alcohol poisoning - was causing it unbearable pain. Upon reaching her son's bed, the cellular automaton collapsed directly onto his disproportionate body, causing him to wail in pain.

- Do you need something from me?

A press for pity and shame. A reminder of her loneliness. A request to stay with her. A deck of New Year playing cards with bunnies and snowflakes. A confused conversation.

Sinkewicz's indignation was barely perceptible.

- Mother, that's not how this game is played.

Resentment. Screaming. Feigned victimhood and abandonment of everything. Decapitated, mutilated cards flying around in the fall mud.

- Mom, why did you do that? What did they do to you? What did they do to deserve this? Why do you keep destroying everything?

A black abyss, a suffocating torrent of insults. Accusations of ineptitude.

- You're the only person under influence here! - Danmer storms out of his indicated spot into the kitchen. Monoatomic alcohols flow down the sewer.

A complete disintegration of all remains of awareness. An inhuman roar. Hands, a muffled blow to the child's skull.

- “You can't raise your hands on your own mother. Never. Endure,” - Danmer's heart beat even faster, pouring hot blood across his bruises.

- “No. No. It's... it's not her. What does it matter if she won't remember it tomorrow anyway?” - whispered an enemy voice from somewhere in his stomach.

- Mom, why do you treat me like this? Why does every drunken party you go on end the same way? Do you know how bad I feel when you threaten me with suicide for every little thing?

Denial of the past. Psychological manipulation. First signs of alcoholic fever.

- You don't remember that? You forgot? You forgot? - the boy shudders with all-consuming terror. His last drops of self-control are running out.

- “I don't remember either. I put all the unpleasant memories into big boxes, and I put the big ones into smaller ones until there's nothing left," - reported the decline of long-term memory.

- “We remember everything...” - Danmer's body, still inexorably reaching towards the sky, found its pale voice, - “it's all here, in the strange bruises, in the inexplicable shivers, in the psychosomatic reactions... one, two, three of her suicide attempts echo inside as undeniably real. That's just this year. You'll never forget them, even when there'll be nothing else left. And she hasn't even been remembering. She just does that. It's no harder for her than breathing. Perhaps even easier...”

- “I can't take this anymore,” - the heart lets go of the frayed reins. Fragile homeostasis strains every thread of quivering meat and lashes out at his mother's body.

An accusation. An ear-pounding shriek. The door to the balcony swinging open. Wounded legs thrown over the steel fence. Ice flying into the room. A cruel manipulation of a sick woman.

- What are you doing again? Please stop... - The child tugs at the edge of his mother's clothes as if begging for a toy. He feels very, very weak again.

A gust of icy wind. A starless sky. An imperceptible, almost certainly random vibration of the blackened bars. A muffled scream, cut short in seconds, once and for all. Gray blood on gray asphalt.

- No! No! - Danmer clutches at his head, shrinking into a point of impossible pain, - This isn't how it happened!

- ...On behalf of all of humanity, we thank Anton Zweiger and the entire Rodofascist Party of Kodor for their tireless fight against our greatest enemy, cosmopolite communalism. Through our joint efforts, the Communal Federation will return into the fold of the Empire and remember its place in the racial hierarchy established by Sevra herself.

[ashboy-3]

Senior Celebration

Written for DannyMay 2023 Prompt: Campfire Fandom: Danny Phantom Characters: Danny, Kwan, Dash, Ember, Star, Paulina, Tucker, Sam, Jazz Words: 3115 Warnings: Underage drinking and drug use Summary: It's that time of the year again! the Casper high senior campfire! All the seniors gather wood and fuel and go out to the woods at the designated spot and set up a bonfire with no adult super visitor. No one on team phantom really wanted to go, but with Jazz offering Danny a deal that gets Embrer involved how could he pass up the opportunity?

“Are you going to the campfire tonight?” Jazz asked, visiting from college, as Danny looked up from his ectoplasm noodles.

“It wasn't really on my agenda,” Danny shrugged.

“I think you should go. It’s senior tradition and you never know, you might regret it in the future,” Jazz spoke, using the wisdom Danny sometimes wondered where she got it from.

“I’ve never really thought about it. Besides you never went to yours,” Danny shrugged.

“I never went because I was busy studying for finals and worrying about my little brother who made it his own decision to save the world every day when he was 13,” Jazz countered.

“I was 14 mccuse you,” Danny glared as Jazz rolled her eyes.

“I’m just saying. This will be maybe the last time you will all be together. After this, it’s going to be boring classes and graduation,”

“Who would I even bring? Sam doesn’t like the big functions and Tucker will gladly staff the night in with Sam if she asks,” Danny asked.

“You could always bring one of your ghost friends,” She proposed.

“They’re all busy with their things. The only one who might be mildly interested in it is Ember, but she’ll only go if we’re drinking.”

“I don’t like the idea of you drinking underage but unlike mom and dad, I know about your ghost half. If you can clockwork to approve of your activities for the night and send me a note assuring me that you will be safe you can invite Ember and go wild,” she suggested as Danny’s eyes lit up.

“You Promise!” Danny stood up in his seat, ready to rush to the zone.

“I promise, but If I don’t get a note I don’t want to see you flying home stumbling! I don’t want to see you flying at all!” Jazz yelled as Danny was already off to the ghost zone.

“Is someone flying!” Jack came storming into the kitchen.

“We were just talking about a show dad,” Jazz rolled her eyes, a soft laugh escaping her lips at her brother’s antics.

“So can I?” Danny asked clockwork, his ghostly parent.

“I suppose it is good for young ghosts like yourself to experience things. I know Ember will agree and bring the drinks. I will allow this on the conditions that Sam and Tucker are on standby to bring the two of you home, Ember has to provide the drinks, and no human is to drink our drinks. One sip will probably kill any of them from alcohol poisoning,” Clockwork held up a finger each time he said a condition.

“I promise,” Danny assured him as he got out his phone to text his two best friends.

“I have already sent the note to Jazz. Oh and Danny try to not reveal yourself to your entire graduating class,” Clockwork hid a smirk as the young King flew out of his chamber. He might not be able to see into his future anymore, but the King was known for his antics.

“Ember! Yo Flamehead open the damn door!” Danny was banging on the entrance to Ember’s lair.

“I’m coming Babypop! Damn have some patience,” yelling could be heard from the inside.

“What do you want of great king,” Ember let the sarcasm lace her voice.

“Was going to ask if you wanted to party with the humans, but if you’d rather not,” Danny shrugged as he started to fly away, but not before he was stopped.

“We going to party with the humans?” Ember asked, a smile on her face.

“As long as you provide the drinks and we give none to the humans we are good to party. Jazz and CW both approved it,” Danny smirked as Ember's smile matched his.

“We getting ready at your place then?” she asked.

“Hell yeah. I’ll stop by Sam’s and pick up the face paint. You worry about the clothes and booze.”

“I knew you were my favorite for a reason,” she flew back to her lair to get the supplies while Danny flew back to Fenton works.

“I see that Clockwork agreed,” Jazz said on the other side of the portal, holding the sticky note.

“He approved. Ember’s going to be over in a few hours so we can get ready. Gotta fully let Sam and Tucker know to be on call,” Danny told her.

“You’re really excited about this now,” Jazz smiled back.

“I can a free pass to drink and to fuck with the humans. What would make this better!” Danny told her, the two walked out of the lab towards their rooms as Danny got his phone out.

“You better not be planning anything,” Jazz glared.

“Me never!” Danny faked being offended as Jazz rolled her eyes and pushed her little brother into his room, walking to her own room.

“Okay dude so elaborate on that text. I need more than be on call,” Tucker’s face showed up on the face time.

“Yeah, no offense Danny but just saying I’m fucking with humans tonight doesn’t really help either of us.”

“Remember earlier this year we went out to the clubs and I couldn’t get drunk off of the human alcohol.”

“Yeah, dude. This disappointment on your face when you found out you had to be the DD was amazing,” tucker laughed as Sam glared.

“Yeah well in the GZ ghost have ectoplasm-infused alcohol. Alcohol meant for ghosts and I got permission from both Jazz and Clockwork to go all out tonight. We’re going to the senior campfire. Ember is getting the clothes and alcohol and I need to borrow the glow-in-the-dark hair and paint from Sam. I also need both of you to be on call to make sure Ember and I can make it back home.

“Fuck being on call. I’m going to be there! Want me to bring human alcohol Tuck?” Sam asked.

“Hell no someone has to be responsible. Might as well be me,” Tucker rolled his eyes at the backward situation. In any other situation, Sam would be responsible, except for clearly rebelling against the parents.

“Want to smoke before you go?” Danny offered.

“What makes you think I won’t be smoking,” Tucker rolled his eyes as the two laughed and made plans to meet up in two hours with everything they need.

It was two hours later and everyone was in Danny’s room. Ember had bought the ghost alcohol and clothes, Sam human alcohol, with an ice chest, and the glow-in-the-dark stuff, and Tucker, bring the responsible one, bought the weed and camera.

“We trying to get crossed tonight?” Ember asked, looking towards Danny’s open window and Tucker sitting next to it.

“If it’ll affect you I won’t stop you,” Tucker shrugged as Sam grabbed the joint out of his hands and easily inhaled the smoke.

“Alright first gotta get switched,” Ember said as her body started to glow as she muttered words to herself in her place that were the same clothes and hair, but instead of dead gray skin, she was now a caramel color.

“Bringing out the human costume?” Sam observed.

“The council has been pushing on us to try and blend in more. I have Danny vouching for me but the last thing I want is Walker on my ass,” she rolled her eyes as she passed out the crop tops to the group, all, of course, different from her brand. 

“I’m sticking with my sweater, but thanks,” Tucker declined the shirt, as Ember rolled her eyes.

“I didn’t forget about you geek boy. Put it on to match the neon theme,” she threw the sweater that had her guitar on it toward him.

“Danny, did you want a skirt, leggings, or pants?” Ember asked as she dug through the clothes, passing sam a mini skirt and leggings and Tucker a pair of matching skinny jeans.

“Got any shorts?” Danny asked.

“Bitch you know I have everything,” Ember found a pair of shorts that would reach to his mid-thigh, along with a fishnet long-sleeve t-shirt to put underneath the short sleeve crop top

“I’ll go and change in Jazz’s room,” Danny grabbed the clothes as Tucker left for the bathroom, leaving the two girls to quickly change into Danny’s room. Ember sticking with her normal style, just changing into the neon glow-in-the-dark versions.

Once they got back, Tucker quickly put out the joint as Ember got out the hair die. “I got ectoplasm color for you two, and this lighter blue for me. You don’t need much because it’s going to glow and it should be washable,” Ember assured them as they quickly put in their hair, making sure the fumes can fully escape.

“Ready for makeup boys?” Sam asked as she and Ember already had theirs completed.

“Let’s go!” Danny smirked.

“I feel like I should be to straight to hang out with all of you,” Tucker groaned, but let Sam man-handle his face to get the eye make up on.

“Hey, every group needs their token straight!” Danny defended his best friend.

“Good to know you all keep me around for something,” Tucker said as the group rolled their eyes.

“Ready to head out?” Ember asked once everyone was ready an hour later.

“We drove Tucker’s truck over here so just put everything in the back. We already packed the blankets and shit,” Sam said as the crew headed downstairs.

“Hey, sweetie! Going to the campfire?” Maddie asked as she noticed her son and friends walk down the stairs, pausing at the teenager's outfits.

“Really Danny?” Jazz asked with an eye roll.

“As you said last time we’re going to be together, gotta make it count,” Danny said as his friends already walked out to the truck.

“Just be safe,” she smiled, stopping their mother from saying anything as he left to join his friends.

“Don’t wait up!” Danny yelled, closing the door.

“If the cops call tonight I’m not picking them up,” Jazz said as she closed her book to walk back upstairs.

“Dude isn’t that the geek's truck?” Kwan pointed out to Dash as the beat-up truck with a black and green paint job pulled up backward, letting the bed of the truck face the fire.

They had the attention of most of the senior class by now, simply because everyone thought that wasn’t going to show up. Not from bullying or being made fun of, they have all grown out of that by now. Not everyone thought that they wouldn’t show because they have all made it a point to avoid most of the senior functions.

“Alright let’s party!” a caramel-skinned girl with bright blue hair that seemed to have a glow to it, hopped over to the bed of the truck where there were two ice chests stored.

“I’m not fixing any property damage,” Tucker got out from the driver’s side, a joint in his hand.

“Relax. Danny hasn’t been able to have a night out in a while,” Sam got out from the passenger side. Everyone’s clothes seemed to be matching, the only thing different was their hair and makeup.

“Not my fault! I said no to the responsibilities,” Danny rolled his eyes as many stares followed him as he got on the bed, happy the bonfire was already going, opening the ice chest that was marked with a green x and getting out a bottle of something green, bubbling, and had no label.

“That is definitely the geek squad,” Dash assured, as the entire senior class saw the geeks in a way they’d never seen them before while at school. Relaxed and in their element.

“Please don’t tell me you’re staring at Fenton’s ass?” Paulina pleaded.

“Not my fault if it’s a good ass!” Dash and Kwan were quick to shoot back as both boys blushed, realizing everyone was no looking at them.

“So this is supposed to be the unsupervised senior party? Ember asked nothing the bonfire was surrounded by cars and trucks and just normal groups talking and drinking around.

“Yep. didn’t want to come only came to drink and fuck with humans,” Danny shrugged in a what can you do kind of way.

“Well, this party’s shit. Let’s get it started!” Ember said as she bought out her equipment and a device that had plenty of preloaded songs. Standing on top of the car she got the attention of everyone.

“Alright losers! I came here to party and this is seriously the lamest party I have ever been to and I’ve been to too many fucking awkward dinner parties! Now I finally got my chance to hang out with baby pop and I will not let your high school bullshit ruin it so starting now if you have a request come up here and write it down! If it’s lame or not a party song I’m not putting it on!” Ember yelled as she pushed play and P!nk’s Get this Party Started started to play and fill with noise.

Already team phantom could see people breaking out into smiles and dance

“Since when did Fenton know such a party person?” Star wondered as they saw him and the girl stare deep into each other's eyes as, both with a non-open drink sam counted down and instantly both twisted off the tops of the green liquid and chugged it down, Danny throwing him into their own personal trash bin.

“I’m beating your ass flame face!” Danny yelled, getting his third drink open.

“Keep going baby pop! It’s going to take a lot more than that to get your ass drunk! If I’m not dragging you through the realms as we piss off Cw then this was for nothing!” she cheered him on as the song changed.

“You’re gonna go talk to him aren’t you?” Star and Paulina wondered as they looked toward Dash, a blush forming on his face.

“No, I’m not!” Dash countered.

“But he wants to!” Kwan taunted, avoiding Dash going for him as the two girls rolled their eyes and filled up their cups with wine.

“Ready to push him?” Star asked.

“Oh very much so,” Paulina agreed as they waited, and when they caught Dash staring for the eighth time and forty minutes passed they walked over towards the geek squad, now only containing two.

“Chug chug chug!” Ember shouted as Danny downed another drink, he wasn’t sure about the drink but he knew he was tipsy.

“Sup Star, Paulina,” Danny greeted, as he fell over to the other side of the truck to greet the two girls.

“Hey Danny. Did you come with this girl as your date?” Star wondered as Ember almost split her drink out.

“Me and baby pop are you kidding? Sorry but I’m not into him,” Ember shrugged as Danny placed a hand on his heart.

“Flame face, m’urt.”

“Yeah, you be m’urt. You’re finally starting to slur and we only had to drink six drinks. I’m becoming more and more proud. Anyway, what do you want with baby pop?” Ember asked as she banged on the back window of the truck. “Slow it down you two! I’m trying to have a conversation!”

“Fuck off Em! It’s my fucking truck!” Tucker yelled back.

“Ignore them. You know they're like fucking rabbits,” Danny rolled his eyes. “You wanted to ask something?”

“Yeah want to dance with Dash or Kwan?” Paulina asked as she pointed to where both boys were blushing and not looking.

“Do I gotta choose?” Danny wondered out loud.

“I swear you are such a whore,” Ember rolled her eyes.

“No slut shamming in Tucker’s truck!” Danny shouted back.

“You’re only defending the two rabbits in the backseat,” Ember fought back.

“Tell em yes,” Danny shook his head. “But I don’t think I can get out of this truck by myself,” Danny groaned as he laid down and was about to roll off the tailgate.

“See baby pop this is why we have Tucker. Tucker! Get your dick covered and come out here!” Ember yelled.

“If he wants to fuck Dash or Kwan then make them come and get him!” Sam yelled back.

“You heard the girl,” Ember shrugged, but still gave Danny another drink, laughing when he didn’t sit up to drink it and ended up pouring it on himself.

“Please warn your friends that Danny is indeed and whore,” Ember shouted back.

“If you want Danny all you have to do is get him out of the truck. You also might want to keep him drinking. I think is you stop him he’ll get upset, not angry upset, but sad puppy upset,” Star observed.

“First one there wins?” Kwan asked, as Dash didn’t wait for a start and ran ahead getting to Danny first.

“So wanna dance?” Dash asked, helping Danny get off of the car.

“Get me a drink from Em and I’ll happily dance!” Danny smiled as he drank his eight drink.

“How many have you had?” Dash asked as they went to where the other seniors were dancing around the campfire.

“Who knows? It tastes good. You can’t have any,” Danny said as took another sip and blood rushed to Dash’s face as the way Danny was dancing would not be counted as appropriate.

“Why can’t I?” Dash asked, thinking it was just a drunk brain talking.

“You're funny! It’s not for humans!” Danny laughed as he took another sip, as Dash’s eyes went wide.

“But you’re human,” Dash wondered.

“I’m not human. I’m only half. I died when I was fourteen. It’s why I needed Em here to get drunk. You still wanna dance?” Danny asked, hope in his eyes and Dash figured he could get his answers another time as the two danced and eventually made their way into the back of Dash’s truck.

The next morning Danny woke up, already questioning why he was in his bed, but walked to the bathroom to get something for his killer headache. After that he went down to the kitchen to get some food.

“Good afternoon. Did you have fun?” Jazz asked, placing a plate of food in front of her brother once she heard him shuffling upstairs. “Eat. It helps.

“I don’t know. Can’t remember,” Danny moaned as he ate the food in slow bites as his stomach started to work.

“Don’t worry you'll be hearing the stories soon enough, but in case you were wondering the whole school now knows that you have a thing for Dash and Kwan,” Jazz said with a smirk as her brother almost choked on his food. Instead of elaborating she just walked up, smirking in victory as her brother launched for phone to message Tucker.

[brown-little-robin]

'tis the season to download this image if you need it!

Image transcription of winter weather tips below the cut:

The leading cause of death during winter storms is transportation accidents. Preparing your vehicle for the winter season and knowing how to react if stranded or lost on the road are the keys to safe winter driving. Be ready before you drive!

Before you drive, have a mechanic check the following items on your car:

Battery

Antifreeze

Wipers/windshield washer fluid

Ignition system

Thermostat

Lights/flashing hazard lights

Exhaust System

Heater/Defroster

Brakes

Oil level (if necessary, replace existing oil with a winter grade oil or the SAE 10w/30 weight variety)

Take the proper precautions to outfit you and your car for winter driving:

Install good winter tires. Make sure they have adequate tread.

Maintain at least half a tank of gas at all times.

Plan long trips carefully. Listen to the radio or call 511 for the latest road conditions. Always travel during daylight and if possible, do not travel alone.

If you must go out during a winter storm, use public transportation.

Dress warmly. Wear loose-fitting, layered, lightweight clothing.

Keep the following items in your car at all times during the winter months:

Flashlights with extra batteries

First aid kit with a pocketknife

Necessary medications

Blankets and/or sleeping bags

Extra newspapers for insulation

Plastic bags (for sanitation)

Matches

Extra set of mittens, socks and a wool cap

Rain gear and extra clothes

Small sack of sand or kitty litter to generate traction under car wheels

Small shovel and other tools (pliers, wrench, screwdriver)

Jumper cables

Brightly-colored cloth (red) to use as a flag

Canned fruit/nuts and non-electric can opener

Bottled water

If You Get Trapped in Your Car During a Blizzard…

Stay in the car. Do not leave to search for assistance unless help is visible within 100 yards. You may become disoriented and lost in blowing and drifting snow.

Hang a brightly-colored cloth on the radio antenna and raise the hood to draw attention.

Do minor exercises to keep up circulation. Clap hands and move arms and legs. Try not to stay in one position for too long. If more than one person is in the car, take turns sleeping.

Avoid overexertion. Cold weather puts an added strain on the heart. Unaccustomed exercise like snow shoveling or pushing a car can bring on a heart attack or make other medical conditions worse.

Run the engine occasionally to keep warm. Turn the engine on for about 10 minutes each hour. Run the heater and turn on the dome light while the car is running. Beware of carbon monoxide poisoning. Keep the exhaust pipe clear of snow, and open a downwind window slightly for ventilation.

For warmth, huddle together.

Frostbite and Hypothermia

Frostbite is a severe reaction to cold exposure that can be permanently damaging. Symptoms include: loss of feeling and a white or pale appearance in fingers, toes, or nose and earlobes.

Hypothermia can be brought on when the body temperature drops to less than 90°F. Symptoms include uncontrollable shivering, slow speech, memory lapses, stumbling, drowsiness, and exhaustion.

If frostbite or hypothermia is suspected, begin warming the person slowly and seek immediate medical assistance. Warm the person’s trunk first. Use your own body heat to help. Arms and legs should be warmed last because stimulation of the limbs can drive cold blood toward the heart and lead to heart failure. Put the person in dry clothing and wrap their entire body in a blanket.

Never give a frostbite or hypothermia victim something with caffeine or alcohol in it. Caffeine, a stimulant, can cause the heart to beat faster and alcohol, a depressant, can slow the heart. Both can hasten the ill effects of cold body temperatures.

[leakywright]

ogden task 005: the hart of the matter

fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. leaky didn’t want to be here. why did he agree to this? the funny thing is when he pictured college, he pictured press conferences. joking with reporters, celebrating wins, mourning losses. discussing plays and next-time strategies. projecting the what if’s of the draft. that espn would say his name followed by compliments about how he was one to watch. but they never came, that wasn’t his reality. 

this was. sitting in khakis and a button down across from jesse’s dad feeling like he might actually shit himself. something he hadn’t done since third grade when he got food poisoning. but it might happen again, and this time it would be recorded. he smiles at leaky, how responds weakly, crosses his foot over his knee, nods as a cameraman counts down, and then turns to leaky. serious smile this time, a man all about business. 

“it’s a tough year to be a student at ogden college with the tragic passing of penelope klein. and of course, we can’t forget the ongoing missing persons case surrounding beloved student, greer morrison. i know that dean zuko insisted on free on-campus counseling set up for all students. have you made use of it?”

oh, yea. well therapy was something that had been mandatory for him his first year at ogden, so honestly, the habit kinda stuck. dropping from once a week to once a month, leaky never really tells them anything, always afraid it would somehow get back to the dean, but it’s a nice habit. plus he knows what it looks like. “yea, well i was already using our therapy services prior to all of this. it’s always been available, but glad to see that the support has been amped up. students need it to begin with, and uh…” his goody-two-shoe answer faltering slightly, “well, i think we all need as much support as we can get these days.” he gives a nod, knuckles rapping against the cushion of the chair he’s seated in. dean zuko would like that answer. 

and so does donovan hart, who gives a smile and nod, pleased and already moving on. 

“there was that nasty storm that knocked out the power at the resort, i remember. that got a little dicey, huh? parents and staff all congregated in the faculty chalet, but you kids were on the other side of the resort. we’ve been told that penelope organized some things for people to complete to make it through that night together. were you one of them? what did you get up to during the blackout?”

his blood runs cold, thinking back to that night. he’d been entirely too drunk to do much of anything, but was still sent out and found…a bloody glove. that he didn’t report because by the time they were back to the chalet penny was dead, leaky was hunched over a toilet vomiting and dean zuko had already sent him short email to see him once he was back on campus. “uh, yea. penny didn’t really give you a choice,” he kinda chokes on her name, they hadn’t even been close but she was dead, “and so she sent me on an assignment. to collect firewood.” that he didn’t bring back because it was wet and he was freaking out. this isn’t a police interview, though leaky is half expecting dr. hart to make a note and lock eyes with someone as if they’ve found something. he doesn’t do either. 

“in the wake of tragedy, it can be hard to recall things in detail. the brain has its own ways of protecting itself in high-stress situations, and i know that the police have been a near-constant presence on campus this year.” leaky gulps, their presence hasn’t really done much to make him, or anyone frankly, feel safer. “this is not that; i want you to feel safe and comfortable enough to share whatever you want about that night. did you see anything? hear anything?”

he freezes, eyes widening as he glances up, trying to pretend like he’s thinking it through. trying to remember. but he knows, knows exactly what happened even behind the haze of the alcohol. “yea…” he croaks out, his voice sounding different, like it wasn’t his. like he was outside of his body and someone else had taken over. “i found some wood, but it was wet. cause of the snow, so i knew it wouldn’t be good to bring back.” why is he retelling this? so easily? dr. hart didn’t even have to push that hard and leaky was already breaking. “i completely forgot about this, cause i’d been worried about the firewood and then everything happened so…quickly…” he pauses, as if wading through his memories, it all available again because dr. hart had asked the right questions. “i saw this glove, in the distance, a few yards away from the wood…” he squints, the memory picture perfect in his mind, but he’s trying to play it off like it was hazy. “and maybe some footprints? or probably animal tracks. it was hard to tell but i didn’t think much of it.” he leaves the part out about the blood, that was something he should have reported. “cause like, maybe someone had dropped it and was coming back for it? all of us were just following penny’s orders.” he swallows, as if guilt is now settling with him, like it hadn’t been there the entire time. “or maybe someone lost it skiing? A lost glove doesn’t seem like that big of a deal in the moment ya know? and i just…” he stops, looking down, defeated. as if his memory had betrayed him, as if this glove could have been a clue in the mystery. and maybe it would have been, if leaky had told the whole truth. now, he hoped, people would write it off and just give sympathy to a kid who was being too hard on himself. 

dr. hart blinks, gives a small nod and leans toward leaky. as if to comfort him, to coax out more answers. leaky kept his eyes down, afraid that if he looked up the guilt would overwhelm him and he’d be spewing the god-awful truth all over the floor. 

“obviously, we all want to get to the bottom of this and work through whatever lingering effects it might have left behind. if you were paired off with anyone that night, can you remember what they were doing? would it have been possible that they might have been behind anything you saw?"

leaky shakes his head, alex had been the one to persuade them to turn around instead of getting any closer to the glove. to make the smart decisions, maybe if they had inspected it more they would have ended up in penny’s position. or worse, witnesses to it. “nah, i was with this kid alex, and he was by my side. kinda hard to wade through snow alone.” fuck, now they knew it was deep, what if they picked up on the idea that the glove hadn’t been covered? leaky hadn’t mentioned it either way. “he didn’t do anything.” and neither did i! not this time! but he didn’t, that would be too much. 

“now, if you’ll direct your attention to this screen here, i have something that— barring appropriate authorities— no one has seen until now.” a picture of Greer suddenly appears on screen, all eyes trained on this new piece of information. all eyes but donovan’s which are locked onto the face of the person he’s interviewing, watching for any and every reaction. “this photo is shocking, i know. it was found in the faculty chalet the night of the blackout. do you know anything about the day it was taken or who might have taken it?”

suddenly he's slammed back into his body. his insides were practically crawling, eyes looking over at a beautiful greer, her eyes crossed out, but it was still so obviously her. and it was hella creepy. he gulped, almost comically. “y’all…found this?” what did the dean say? no wonder he let leaky off with just a talking to, he had more on his plate than a drunk footballer hitting on his daughter. what did her parents think? he hopes that seeing this show won’t be the first time they see this. “i…greer and i aren’t close.” weren’t, but he pretends to have hope. “so i have no clue but…” he trails off, his stare saying everything else. this is fucked up. and yet this is how the school is dealing with it? that might be even more fucked up. 

“do you have any idea why this photo might have been left with faculty that night? or, most pressing, what reason someone could have for vandalizing it in such a horrible way?” dr. hart is looking at him so intensely he might just pop right out of his seat and hightail it across campus to hide under his bed. but leaky stays seated, popping his knuckles instead to release any sort of tension he can. 

with a sigh he opens his mouth, “maybe a cry for help? that the students can’t do everything alone? we were trapped and no one came to make sure we were okay, and penny died. and greer…” his voice fades as he tears his eyes back toward the camera and then to dr. hart. “who knows what she was going through...is going through. but i think it’s clear…the adults need to help us too. help her, help us on the trip, on campus, friends with penny…” a far different cry from his praise of the therapists on campus too. “y’all are responsible too.” this was mentioned so quietly leaky is unsure if the boom mic can pick up on it. dr. hart makes no indication that he’s heard him either. 

"finally, it's been discovered that penelope, shortly before her untimely death, had mentioned to someone that she knew why greer had left. do you think that has anything to do with this photo? do you know why she might have left? even though being honest about it may seem scary, i promise you, it's the right thing to do. it's the only way we can protect you."

“no.” he states flatly, hands now smoothing across his pants. god, he’s getting antsy. he needs to call his mother, his father, his granny. anyone to remind him that life isn’t all of this. It’s not all mystery and death and disappearing acts and accusing old white men. but what if this is his life now? the choice he made to come here, to do what he did, to be who he was and…it all led here. was this his destiny? or his hell? looking up, he meets dr. hart’s eyes, almost pleading. “i don’t know why greer left. i’m not sure anyone does.” and he meant it, if they did they would have come forward by now right? that’s the right thing to do. what does leaky know about that. “but i…i don’t think this will help us find her.” it certainly didn’t feel like it would. “i just hope she…she knows people miss her. that we miss her. things obviously ain’t the same and-” he stops with a shake of his head, hand now wiping across his face as all words begin to fail him. 

“that’s it?” dr. hart looks expectantly.

“yea,” leaky nods, “that’s it."

[xavier-lennon]

winters-lust​: 

Winter remained still as Xavier questioned her. Was that her only reason? It seemed these days she acted without any understanding of why. It was the very opposite of how she usually behaved. Winter was an intellectual woman who played at strategy and thought over thousands of scenarios looking for danger or weakness in her defences. The only time she was this off the handle, this instinctual and volatile, was when Peter was around. Only Peter was still in the death realm she’d sent him too. She had no real excuse this time.

She was so lost in thought that Winter was surprised when he took the drink she offered. The way he looked through it, as if searching for nefarious signs hurt but was likely well deserved. She hadn’t poisoned or spiked the drink, thought she could have. Then again, she had enough power to do horrible things to Xavier just by being in his presence. She was dangerous, a wild animal.

Again she was shocked when he took a large swig of the scotch. Was that acceptance? Would he stay and drink with her? Would he allow their time to be a reprieve for them both?

Truth was not her forte but perhaps she could try. She flinched a bit at the question, remembering her celebration during the great storm which had spun her into a panic. She’d learned later that there was magic laced in the storm which cased the reaction but not that didn’t seem like enough of an excuse.

“I don’t feel like parties anymore,” she began, letting the truth slip out as she cast her eyes around the suite. “I don’t feel like celebrating either. I need an escape, one night to let my mind be silent and focus on anything else.” She might be well closed to driving herself insane at this point with the cerebral way she was living. “I don’t know why I picked you,” she returned her gaze to Xavier, discovering the truth as much as he was as she spoke. “Maybe I wanted someone who had the back bone to tell me no, if you didn’t want to drink with me.” 

There was silence, though he wasn’t sure for how long. Much like her, he seemed to get caught up in his own thoughts. In the previous weeks, it became increasingly harder to untangle them and to find his way back to the present. Looking at the glass was just another way of stalling time, to appear normal in the company of others. Sometimes he wondered if it was possible to get stuck forever. Would he become mad if he allowed himself to?

Winter seemed much more shocked by his acceptance to drink rather than his silence. It made him wonder if he had been right to hesitate, though he did not comment. If she wished to trick or harm him, ultimately, there was nothing he could do. And where did such thoughts come from, anyway? She’s never harmed him. “That’s a shame”, Xavier sighed eventually, leaning back against the cushions. He was not a frequent visitor but remembered that they had been much closer when she still threw parties regularly. “You were good at those. I think it gave people comfort” He burned his throat again, then set the glass on the table, thinking that she probably should have brought more if she wanted to get them both drunk. At her response, a small, half-dry, half-kind chuckle sounded from his lips. “This place really is fucked up if I was the only person to tell you ‘no’ and mean it”

His eyes found hers, then landed back on the bottle, on the table. How had it come this far? Xavier felt dirty for being so unjust, for needing the alcohol to relax, maybe. How had they managed to tease and play and show affection just one year ago? “Go on, ask me something too”, he urged her then, only a tad out-of-character. “This is never going work if you don’t distract me”

Let's Get Drunk! | Xavier&Winter

Winter held out the glass of scotch for Xavier to take if he wished. She was sure he didn't know that the bottle was a 50 year old Balvenie worth $80,000 dollars, he likely wouldn't care. In fact, there was a good chance he'd turn her town and leave her suite without a word.

Since she'd come out as Celine there always seemed to be a tension between the two. Not just from the lies but from everything else he'd observed of her. Xavier had unwittingly found Winter at several of her worst moments. She wasn't even sure why she'd invited him here while she felt so upset. Perhaps it was because he'd seen her worst and she was feeling it these days. Her mind whorled the lines she'd drawn around herself, her morals, who she thought she was, it was all mixed into a grey mush and she felt more unstable than anything most days.

Today had begun that way but there was a certain submission to that feeling, as if she were giving up to the chaos and seeing a reprieve for the night. The only question, the one she'd posed to Xavier moments before, was whether he would join her in getting drunk and finally relaxing after so long being exhausted.

"So, what will it be?" She rattled the whiskey stones in his glass, ready to take whatever his decision might be.

@xavier-lennon

[uswnt-has-my-heart]

Stewie has now been told about Megan being on TIME 100 15 times and when she blocks shots she's imagining time magazine to get rid of frustrations. Alysha glazed over the third time and in apology for what shes going through Megan has bought everything on her toy drive list. Jewell and Ezi are taking bets as to how many times Sue will bring it up in conversation.

Sue Bird stop bragging about your girlfriend challenge 2020

[genshinluvr]

Drunken Desires

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: You've consumed way more alcohol than you thought. You ended up getting drunk from drinking an entire bottle of wine, causing you to not remember certain men and the fact that you're not dating them. And you mistook the fifteen men for strangers whom you've cheated on your boyfriends with (spoiler, you didn't cheat on anyone, you're just drunk and confused as fuck)

Note: As you are all reading this, I am currently in LA at anime expo with my friend right now. She's visiting for a week and I won't be able to fully work on my fanfics as much as I would hope to. Next week's fanfic will most likely be a shorter fic compared to the other fanfics that I have posted in the past 🥲 But we'll see! Though I can't promise that the next fanfic will be a long fanfic like the others and I think next week's work will also be a request. But who knows 🤔 To my new and returning readers, I post on AO3 as well, so if you have an AO3 and see a work similar to this, it’s me (Aaliah_exo on AO3). I don’t post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: You consume alcohol and you're drunk as fuck, the Genshin Men are testing to see if you're loyal to them (mainly to mess with you and see how'd you react to it)

Word Count: 6k

This is bad, this is bad! You knew that you couldn’t drink much alcohol, and what did you do? You drank alcohol! Way more than you can take, and here you are, drunk out of your mind. You looked at the glass cup in front of you, then at the empty bottle of wine in front of you. The bottle of wine was pretty big, and yet, you somehow managed to drink the entire thing without giving yourself alcohol poisoning. Your heart was doing that weird thing again; it was racing against your chest and skipping beats. That’s not normal at all, or was it? You don’t drink enough alcohol to be able to tell whether it’s normal or not.

“Fuck.” You whispered, leaning against the counter with your hands covering your eyes. “I shouldn’t have gone overboard with that.” You mumbled to yourself.

Why did you decide to drink in the first place? You try to go through your memories to recall what has caused you to go overboard with drinking a large bottle of wine that was stored away in the liquor cabinet. So far, you couldn’t think of a scenario that caused you to want to down an entire bottle of wine. Most people tend to overdrink just to forget something, right? Or maybe to cope with the issues in their life, perhaps? 

“Oh, fuck.” You grunted, feeling your heart skip another beat. 

The feeling of your heart skipping a beat felt so weird, and you hated the feeling of it. Your heart was fluttering in your chest, and it felt so odd, almost uncomfortable even. You pressed your hands against your breast bone, face scrunching up as you doubled over the counter, forehead pressed up against the marble surface.

“What happened in here?!” You jolted up when you heard Diluc exclaim from the living room. You peeked from the kitchen, only to see all fifteen men walk into the abode looking just as confused as you were. Because how the hell did you end up in this situation? You were drunk out of your mind despite not liking alcohol as much. You quickly retreated back to the kitchen, staring at the half-empty glass of wine in your hand.

“Should I finish this up?” You think to yourself, staring at the glass cup of wine in your trembling hands. Why were your hands trembling? Could it be from the wine?

“Where’s [Y/N]?” Kaeya asks, stepping over the shattered glass cup in the living room. Oh, speaking of glass cups, how many cups of wine have you had in total?

“I don’t know. [Y/N] stormed out of the tavern and didn’t reply when we tried to get them to come back.” You hear Gorou sigh softly; he sounded upset. 

Wait, you stormed out of the tavern? You were at the bar with the men this entire time but ended up storming out of the tavern? Why did you storm out of the tavern again? You try going through your memory of a few hours prior to you getting drunk in the abode, but you can’t remember a single thing that had happened before you got drunk.

“Well, before we left the abode, there wasn’t any broken glass on the floor. I assume that [Y/N] may or may not have broken the glass when they returned to the abode.” Dainsleif says. 

“But the broken glass is a wine cup. Why would [Y/N] break a wine glass?” Scaramouche asks, raising his eyebrows at Dainsleif.

“Perhaps [Y/N] wanted a drink when they got home rather than drinking at the tavern,” Kazuha suggested.

“But [Y/N] doesn’t drink alcohol. They’re not a huge fan of alcohol and liquor.” Albedo interjects.

You were so busy listening in on the conversation that you didn’t hear footsteps approaching to where you were standing in the kitchen. Childe stops in his tracks when his eyes land on where you stood, leaning against the counter, your head propped up on your left arm while you stirred the wine inside of the glass wine cup with your right hand. Your eyes were glazed over as you stared off into space, not paying attention to your surroundings, and your face was bright red from the alcohol that you’ve consumed. Childe has never seen you this red before, not even the time when you’ve tried alcohol from Teyvat before. Childe approaches where you stood, wraps his arms around your waist, and rests his chin on your shoulders, his nose pressing up against your neck, breathing in your scent.

“So, this is where you’ve been the entire time we were all looking for you?” Childe asks, leaning his head close to where your face was. 

You stared at Childe, dazed and confused. Archons, do you know how adorable you look? Childe smiles at you and brushes the tiny drop of wine from the corner of your lips. Childe lifts his thumb up and licks the wine drop off his fingers, keeping eye contact with you. Your gaze falls onto his hands, then back up at his face, blinking at him owlishly. 

“You guys were looking for me?” You finally asked.

Childe nods his head at your question, “Of course, we were looking for you! We were worried sick.” Childe sighs softly, pinning you against the kitchen counter.

“O-Oh. Well, I don’t really remember much.” You stuttered, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“That’s okay! As long as you made it to the abode safely, that’s all that matters.” Childe coos, pressing a kiss on your forehead. “My, you’re quite red.” Childe chuckles, cupping your face in his hands.

“I drank too much.” You mumbled, rubbing your eyes tiredly. “I regret drinking in the first place.”

“Oh, do you now?” He coos, pressing his forehead against yours. You blinked at Childe tiredly, seeing that he was closing his eyes and leaning in much closer to your face. Your eyes widened, and you pushed him away from you, droplets of wine spilling on the floor of the kitchen.

“No!” You screamed, startling Childe and the others in the living room. You hear a hoard of footsteps approaching where you and Childe stood. 

“What’s going on?!” Xiao demanded, getting between you and Childe, before shooting a glare at the ginger-haired Harbinger.

“He tried to kiss me!” You squeaked, pressing yourself up against the counter.

“[Y/N], why are you red?” Itto asks, approaching you slowly, just to make sure that he didn’t scare you off like how Childe almost scared you off.

“Oh, dear archons, were you drinking?” Zhongli asks, walking over to you.

“Don’t come any closer!” You blurt out, causing Zhongli to stop in his tracks.

“Are you still upset with what has happened in the tavern?” Venti asks. 

You let out a shaky sigh and attempted to place the half-empty wine glass on the counter, only for you to miss. The glass cup falls to the ground and shatters everywhere. You couldn’t help but visualize the wine as blood; it was so dark, so red, just like blood.

“Wow, I have way too much.” You whispered, clutching your head with a weak sigh. Your heart continues to drum against your chest, occasionally skipping beats, causing you to wince at the strange feeling.

“[Y/N], how much did you drink?” Ayato asks. You shrugged your shoulders before grabbing the large empty bottle of wine on the counter.

“This much, I think.” You reply. You turned the bottle of wine over, causing the men to jolt forward, only to realize that the bottle was completely empty. Baizhu and Thoma approached you. Baizhu took the bottle from your hands and placed it on the counter, then looked at you, the broken glass cup of wine on the floor next to your feet, then at the shattered glass in the living room.

“How much was left in this bottle of wine before we all left to the tavern?” Baizhu asks.

“Last time I remembered, the bottle of wine was half full,” Thoma answers, looking over at where you stood. You were slightly swaying on your feet, eyes hazy, face tomato red, breathing was labored. You looked like you could pass out at any given moment.

“[Y/N], did you drink all of the wine?” Zhongli asks softly.

“To be honest, I don’t know. I lost count at how many cups I’ve consumed.” You muttered, scratching your cheeks with your right hand.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why did you scream ‘no’ at Childe?” Diluc asks, leaning against the kitchen wall.

“He tried to kiss me.” You reply. After hearing your response, the fourteen men turned to Childe with a heated glare. They all look like they were ready to pounce on Childe and rip his hair out of his scalp for attempting to kiss you.

“Doesn’t he always try to kiss you?” Itto asks, sighing softly.

“I have boyfriends already! Kissing another man would make me unfaithful.” You answered, letting out an angry huff of breath before crossing your arms over your chest. The men stare at you, trying to process what you’ve just said to them. BoyfriendS? Like, the word boyfriend with the letter ‘s’ at the end of it? You consider them to be your boyfriends even though they haven’t officially asked you to be theirs? They’re not complaining! It just caught them off guard, that’s all.

“Oh? Well, what are your boyfriends like?” Kaeya asks, approaching you with a smile on his face. 

You stared at Kaeya skeptically, watching him stop in front of you before he wrapped his arms around your waist, his thumb lightly rubbing your hipbone. As much as you like the feeling of the beautiful tanned man in front of you massaging your hipbones, you have to snap out of it. What if your boyfriends walk in on you getting a little bit too close and personal with the gorgeous man in front of you?

“Listen, gorgeous tanned man; I am a faithful lover, okay?” You said, placing your hand on Kaeya’s soft lips. “You cannot tempt me with that gorgeous smile of yours. It’s not going to work on me, lover boy.” You pat his cheeks gently before moving out of his grasp.

“Well, good to know that [Y/N] is a faithful drunk and lover.” Ayato chuckles, shaking his head.

“But you haven’t answered Kaeya’s question yet, [Y/N],” Venti says, hopping on the counter next to you, staring down at you with his beautiful aqua green eyes.

“Oh! Right!” You said. 

You fall silent, trying to remember what the beautiful tanned man has asked you, only for the question to not appear in your head. Great, why is your memory so awful? You laughed sheepishly before scratching the back of your head, not knowing how else to respond to the question that you seemed to have forgotten in a short amount of time.

“What was the question again? I don’t really remember.” You said, feeling your face heat up with embarrassment.

“After we get you sober, I believe that we should perform some tests on you,” Albedo says softly, looking at you worriedly. Baizhu nods his head to Albedo’s comment. Forgetting things is normal, but forgetting something a few minutes after it has happened is a little bit concerning. The men knew that you didn’t have the best memory, but they were just hoping that it was the alcohol that was affecting how you retain information. You did mention once that you had hit your head many times when you were a child; maybe all those years of hitting your head on the ground or on an object are catching up to you.

“Tests? What do you mean by tests?” You look at Albedo with wide eyes.

“Oh, just a memory test. Nothing scary or complicated.” Baizhu reassures you, patting your head lightly.

“The question that Kaeya has asked you was about your boyfriends,” Kazuha commented, the corner of his lips rising. 

“What are they, your boyfriends, like?” Xiao asks. He crosses his arms over his chest as he waits for you to answer Kaeya’s burning question.

“They’re all handsome, sweet, smart, funny. My boyfriends care about me a lot, and it makes me really happy.” You reply, pressing both of your hands on your cheeks when you feel your face heating up for the trillionth time today. You couldn’t tell whether it was from the alcohol or if it was from admiring the men you care for.

“Do you have a favorite among your boyfriends?” Scaramouche asks.

You shake your head, “I don’t have favorites among my boyfriends. If I did, I wouldn’t be dating all of them, would I?” you ask.

“Alright, that’s a fair point.” Dainsleif chuckles.

“How are you feeling right now? You’re not feeling nauseous, are you?” Gorou asks, looking at you worriedly when you begin to sway on your feet slightly.

“I’m just tired. I had too much alcohol.” You sighed, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

“Are you still upset with us, [Y/N]?” Thoma asks softly, placing a gentle hand on your shoulders. 

“Why would I be upset with you guys? I don’t even remember what happened.” You answered, giving Thoma a questioning look.

“So, these boyfriends of yours, do they know that you drink alcohol?” Diluc asks, raising his eyebrows.

“They know that I don’t drink alcohol or can’t drink alcohol. I don’t even know my alcohol tolerance because I’m not a fan of alcohol, and I usually stop drinking if it’s too much for me.” You explained, stroking your chin.

Zhongli stares at you intently before asking, “What made you go over that limit of yours?” 

“Yeah! What pushed you to drink the entire bottle of wine?” Itto exclaims, startling you and the others around him.

“How am I supposed to give you all the answers when I don’t even know the answer myself?” You sighed in defeat, shoulders slouching.

“They have a point,” Baizhu mutters. 

Venti lightly pats your head with a smile on his face before hopping down from the counter. “You can always count on us, [Y/N]! We’ll always be there for you no matter what!” Venti chirps happily.

“Why would I trust a bunch of men who aren’t my boyfriends?” You ask, narrowing your eyes at the men in front of you.

“If we weren’t your boyfriends, then how would we have entered the abode effortlessly?” Gorou crosses his arms over his chest with a small huff of breath.

“Okay, well, you guys have a point there.” You said, blinking at Gorou, who was now standing in front of you. Gorou presses his hands up against your forehead to feel your temperature. Other than your face being hot from the alcohol, it could also be from embarrassment since you have no idea how many times you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of the handsome men that stood before you.

“Wow, all of you guys are so pretty.” You breathed, eyes scanning each men’s face. You shook your head to snap yourself out of your daydream of the men who weren’t your boyfriends. You cleared your throat awkwardly with an exasperated sigh. “I mean, you guys are pretty, but not as pretty as my boyfriends.” You quickly added, turning your head to the side to glare at the floor in front of you.

“Oh, really? I believe that we look better than your boyfriends.” Ayato says, approaching you with a sly smile on his face. 

He pins you against the counter, his arms caging you in as he stares down at you. The smile on his face was not only beautiful, but it was enchanting. You couldn’t help but feel yourself being drawn in by his breathtaking smile. You didn’t know what made you feel so attracted by that smile of his. Was it the cute mole below his mouth? The sweet, soft gaze he has on while he stares down at you? The way he towers over you, his blue hair falling over his eyes? You blinked, only to see that his face was much closer to yours now. Oh, dear archons! Is he about to kiss you!?

“No, stop! I have boyfriends, didn’t I tell you that!?” You screeched, turning your head away from the handsome man. You feel his lips press against your cheeks, making you even more flustered than you already were. “I am a loyal significant other!” You grabbed Ayato by the face and pushed his face away from yours, your face pinching in discomfort and disgust.

“Oh, yeah. [Y/N] is definitely a loyal lover to their boyfriends.” Thoma chuckles.

“We haven’t officially asked them to be our significant other just yet,” Xiao mutters to Thoma, eyeing your drunken state with worry. 

“Alright, alright, that’s enough! Don’t tease them any further.” Dainsleif sighs, pulling Ayato back by the back of his jacket. The way Dainsleif pulled Ayato away from you reminded you of how mother cats would grab their kittens by the scruff. It was adorable, almost.

“I will not be tempted by all of your handsome looks!” You exclaimed, hopping on the counter and scooting away from the men in front of you. You need to find a quick exit, or else more men will continue to tempt you to cheat on your beloved boyfriends whom you care for the most and love dearly.

“Ah! [Y/N], please be careful! You’re going to hurt yourself if you don’t watch where you’re going!” Kazuha says, his eyes widening in fear when he saw how close you were to the edge of the counter. What if you slipped off of the counter and ended up injuring yourself? They will never forgive themselves if it were to happen.

“Pfft! I’ll be fine! Don’t try to tempt me with that cute puppy dog eyes of yours, red stripes.” You said, pointing an accusing finger at Kazuha. Kazuha stares at you before looking at the others, who shrugged in response. How in the world was Kazuha supposed to respond to that. Was he staring at you with puppy dog eyes? If he were, you’d be the only person he’d stare at that way.

“[Y/N], please be careful. We don’t want you to get hurt.” Albedo says softly, debating whether he should step forward and yank you off of the counter before you could hurt yourself or not. He didn’t want to scare you off while you were on the edge of the marble counter. You let out another sharp exhale of breath, crossing your arms over your chest, and stuck your nose up in the air like an insolent child. It was very clear (or it should be) that you were not going to listen to anything they said because, in your drunken state, you assume that the men were nothing but handsome strangers to you.

“Dammit, [Y/N]! Get your ass off that counter right now, or else I’m going to smack your ass!” Scaramouche scowls; you can see the fire raging in his beautiful indigo eyes. Wait, did he say he was going to smack your ass if you weren’t going to get off of the counter immediately?

“You’re going to spank me!?” You screeched, staring at Scaramouche, appalled at what he had said to you. 

Scaramouche does a double-take at your question, his face immediately turning scarlet red at your misunderstanding. The other men around you stifled their laughter behind their hands while you continued to look at Scaramouche in horror. How dare a strange yet handsome man threatens to spank you! The audacity! Although you wouldn’t mind if a handsome fellow like Scaramouche would spank you— wait a minute. You shook your head at a vigorous pace, patting your reddening cheeks with both of your hands. 

“Snap out of it, you pervert!” You scold yourself internally.

“I mean, if you’re into spanking, I believe that we can all bring it into the bedroom.” Kaeya chuckles, giving you an alluring smile. 

Archons, why is this tanned man so fucking tempting?! You were almost shocked to see that he wasn’t a siren that was trying to lure you in with his gorgeous smile, his beautiful tanned skin, and those eyes of his! Well, his one eye, to be more specific. Your eyes fall on Kaeya’s boob window. You look up at Kaeya, only to see him give you a teasing smile. Oh, archons! Kaeya has caught you staring at his boob window!

“I wasn’t staring at anything; it was staring at me first!” You sputtered. Kaeya snorted and looked away from you, his body shaking with silent laughter while he covered his mouth with his hands.

“[Y/N], please get down from there. We don’t want you to get hurt!” Zhongli pleaded.

“How did you know my name, Mister Gorgeous Handsome?” You look at Zhongli with wide eyes, your mouth agape. 

“You’d be surprised to hear this, but we all know you, and you live with all of us.” Itto lets out a loud laugh, startling you.

“Oh my gosh, so what you’re saying is…” You trailed off, the realization hitting you like a mitachurl that came at you full force. “I’ve been cheating on my boyfriends this entire time!?” You screeched. The fifteen men deflate at your question. How in the world are they going to reason with someone that was drunk out of their mind?

“[Y/N], sweetheart, no.” Thoma sighs, face palming.

“Hey! No calling me sweetheart, blondie! Only my boyfriends can call me that.” You sniffled, your bottom lips trembling.

“No, no, no! Please don’t cry, [Y/N]! Everything will be okay!” Gorou says, his eyes widening at the sight of your tearful gaze and shaking bottom lip.

“How can I not cry when I have been an unfaithful lover this entire time!?” You wailed. 

At this point, everyone was panicking and was trying to decide on how they were going to calm you down. Not only were you emotional, but you were putting yourself at risk with the amount of alcohol you’ve consumed and by sitting at the very edge of the kitchen counter with your back facing the open. You let out a shaky sigh and wiped your tears away; you mumbled incoherent words to yourself. How could you proudly proclaim that you’re a faithful lover when you live with fifteen men that weren’t your boyfriends? What would they do if they found out that their most precious significant other was living under the same roof as other men that weren’t them? Would they break up with you immediately and never look back? This day just kept getting worse and worse for you!

“[Y/N], please calm down! You’re going to hurt yourself!” Venti pleaded.

You ended up falling over, but you were lucky enough to have Diluc catch you before you could meet the wooden floors of the abode. You stared up at Diluc while he stared down at you. You couldn’t tell if Diluc was angry at you or if he was worried about you. Either way, Diluc had this strange expression on his face that you couldn’t describe at all.

“Please be careful, [Y/N]. If I wasn’t here to catch you, who would’ve caught you instead of me?” Diluc chides you gently.

“Uh, I would’ve caught them if they were to fall.” The other fourteen men respond in unison. They give each other the side-eye before looking back over to where you and Diluc are at.

“Hehe, I guess you can say that I fell for you.” You joked, catching Diluc off guard. Diluc stares at you with wide eyes, his cheeks turning bright pink from your pickup line. “Oh crap, I shouldn’t have said that! What’s wrong with me!?” You grumbled, thrashing around Diluc’s arms, causing Diluc to lose his grip on you. You crash to the ground with a loud thud; everyone around you lets out an audible gasp.

“[Y/N]! Are you okay?!” Xiao exclaims.

“I’m okay! I’m okay! No need to worry about me!” You quickly waved them off as you scrambled to get up from the floor. You ended up slamming the top of your head against the corner of the marble countertop, a loud thump resonating throughout the area.

“Ow! Fuck!” You whined, seeing the stars dance in your vision after hitting your head hard.

“[Y/N]!” The men exclaimed, rushing over to where you sat while clutching onto the area where you’ve hit your head on the marble countertop.

“Are you okay?!” Kaeya asks, squatting down in front of you to help you up from the floor while you were muttering a string of curses to yourself.

“Oh my gosh!” Venti gasps, wincing when he hears the sound of your head hitting the table.

“A clumsy drunk is what they are also.” Ayato chuckles.

As the men surrounded you while you clutched onto the area where you’ve bumped your head, you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed over the fact that fifteen handsome men had witnessed you make a fool out of yourself. The fifteen men that you weren’t dating at all! Of course, your boyfriends are far more handsome than the ones that are surrounding you at the moment. You feel a painful lump in the area where you’ve hit your head, making you wince in pain. Great, now you’re going to develop a giant bump on the top of your head after hitting your head on the corner of the countertop.

“I believe that we should get your head checked out,” Albedo says; he stands in front of you and brushes your hair away from your face. Albedo reaches out and gently massages the area where the bump was forming, causing you to cringe away from his hands and shake your head before covering that area.

“Come on, [Y/N]! It’s a small checkup, nothing major!” Kaeya coos, lightly rubbing the top of your head. If you could purr like a cat, you would’ve been purring loudly as he lightly massages your head. You quickly shook your head and slapped yourself across the cheek; a sharp slap rang throughout the abode, causing the others around you to flinch and gasp audibly. You sighed dramatically and covered your face with your hands. How could you be purring over another man’s touch that wasn’t your boyfriends!? Sure, the gorgeous tanned man is handsome and has excellent hands when it comes to massages— speaking of hands, you wonder what his hands are also fantastic at. Cooking, head scratches, light massages, gentle squeezes, teasing touches; just the thought of the gorgeous tanned man’s hand trailing down your legs and to your—

SLAP!

“Why did you slap yourself!?” Dainsleif exclaims, his eyes widening in horror.

“And why is your face so red?” Scaramouche asks, looking at you worriedly.

“Maybe their face is red because of the amount of alcohol they’ve consumed. After all, they did drink an entire bottle of wine before we arrived back at the abode.” Kazuha commented, giving you a small smile. You could feel your face becoming hotter underneath his gaze. Why did he have to give you such a loving stare?

“I would agree, but their face turned a couple of shades darker after Kaeya had touched their head.” Baizhu chuckles, shaking his head side to side.

“Oh, perhaps [Y/N] likes it whenever we lightly pat their head,” Zhongli says, stroking his chin. “Come, I will be brewing you tea to help you sober up. But I must warn you; it does take some time for the tea to be ready to be consumed.”

“Hey blockhead, I’m pretty sure that once that tea is ready, [Y/N] will be sober already,” Venti interjects, nudging the tall archon beside him. Zhongli rolls his eyes at the nickname before nudging Venti back, only a little bit harder. Venti clears his throat to hide the grunt that almost left him; he gives you a pained smile before shooting a death glare at Zhongli, who ignored the anemo archon’s glare.

From then on, everything was a blur to you. You ended up waking up in your bed with a raging headache; your vision was spinning, causing you to feel nauseous. You lay in your bed with your right arm covering your eyes while you take slow deep breaths, mentally praying to whichever archon was listening to your pleads. You sure hoped that you wouldn’t have to lean over the toilet while emptying out your insides. A soft knock from the door snaps you out of your misery; you crack your eyes open and look over at your bedroom door.

“[Y/N]?” Diluc asks softly from behind your closed bedroom door.

“Yes, Diluc?” You croaked, wincing at the sound of your hoarse voice. You cleared your throat and slowly sat up on your bed, shutting your eyes whenever your felt your head pounding. 

“Are you awake?” Itto asks; behind the closed bedroom door was Itto, pressing his face up against your bedroom door, his horns lightly scraping against the wooden doors.

“Of course, [Y/N]’s awake, you idiot! If they weren’t awake, they wouldn’t have responded to Diluc the first time!” Scaramouche rolls his eyes, smacking the oni upside of his head. Itto grumbles in response as he rubs the area where Scaramouche had slapped him.

“Can we come in?” Ayato asks, shaking his head at Scaramouche and Itto’s antics while leaning against the white wooden doorframe.

“Yeah, sure! You guys can enter.” You said, rubbing your sleepy eyes with the back of your hands.

The bedroom door opens, revealing fifteen men trying to cram through one door. One by one, they were pushing and shoving each other. While some complained under their breath while their faces were pinched up with irritation, the others were loudly complaining while thrashing around, trying to get into your bedroom before the others could. You stared at them tiredly, waiting for them to walk into your room without breaking the doorframe and causing the door to become unhinged from the frame. 

After a couple of minutes of them struggling to get into your bedroom, one of them was able to make it through your room. It was Baizhu, mainly because he wanted to get the bump on your head checked out along with how you felt after you had ingested a tremendous amount of wine the day before.

“It’ll take a few days for your bump to go away, but for now, put ice on it,” Baizhu says, handing the bag of ice over to you. 

Before you could grab it from Baizhu’s hands, Scaramouche snatches it from Baizhu’s hands. Scaramouche plops down beside you and places the bag of ice over your head carefully. You give Scaramouche a thankful smile, causing him to become shy and flustered. As much as you wanted to reach up and lightly pinch Scaramouche’s cheeks, you knew that he would probably resent you for doing it in front of the others. So, you held yourself back and continued to do what you were doing—wincing in pain from the amount of wine you’ve consumed. Why in the world did you go overboard with drinking again? What was the reason you do drink that much wine? You’re the type of person not to drink, but something must’ve pushed you to do it.

“How are you feeling?” Thoma asks, placing a warm mug of water on your nightstand before handing you medication.

“I feel like I’ve been crushed by the Jade Chamber.” You grunted, tossing the medication into your mouth before chugging the water.

“Don’t drink water too fast, or else you’ll choke!” Gorou says, looking at you nervously. 

You swallowed the water in your mouth and gave him a weak smile, “I’ll be okay, Gorou! I appreciate the concern.” You said.

“Do you remember what happened before you were knocked out asleep?” Dainsleif asks, sitting down at the edge of your bed. You shook your head to Dainsleif’s question, trying to recall what happened the day before you woke up from your not-so-peaceful slumber.

“Boba boy over here wanted you to take medication for your hangover instead of having you wait six-plus hours for the tea that blockhead over there was going to brew for you.” Venti pipes up. Ayato and Zhongli look over at Venti from the corner of their eyes, glaring at the short anemo vision wielder, but the small male paid no attention to the two men that were glaring holes into the back of his head.

“Thank you for the medication, Ayato! I appreciate it very much!” You give the blue-haired male a small smile before looking over at Zhongli. “If it’s not too late, you can still brew me that tea of yours! I’d love to give it a try.” You said, giving him an eye smile. As if the two men weren’t head over heels for you already, they are now. Maybe it was that cute smile that you gave them or the fact that you wanted them (and the others) to be your boyfriends.

“We wanted to ask you something,” Xiao spoke up, grabbing your and the other fourteen men’s attention.

“Oh, and what is it that you all wanted to ask me?” You tilt your head to the side, looking at them curiously.

“We were wondering if you would be all of our significant other,” Kazuha says slowly. You stared at Kazuha and the other men with wide eyes. What in the world did you wake up to? Did you say something that made them all want to date you suddenly? Well, you knew that they all wanted you (I mean, who doesn’t want you?), but what pushed them to ask you to be their significant other?

“Yes, but aren’t you all possessive?” You ask, raising an eyebrow at the men in front of you.

“Unfortunately, we are.” Albedo sighs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“But we are willing to share you with one another.” Kaeya pipes up, giving you a small smile.

What in the world are you going to do now? I mean, it’s not like you’ve intended on dating only one person because who could resist the other men? Definitely not you, that’s for sure.

“What do you say, snookums? Are you okay with all of us being your boyfriends?” Childe asks, sitting down beside you with a crooked smile on his face.

“Yeah, I-I am.” You squeaked, your face turning red when you saw the others leaning in with anticipation to hear your answer. It looks like you officially have a boyfriend now! Well, boyfriends. Everyone around you either cheered or sighed in relief.

“Now, who will be the first one to ask [Y/N] out on a date?” Itto asks, tapping on his chin while feigning confusion. The men went silent around you, giving one another a look before raising their hands in the air.

“I’m going to take [Y/N] out on a date!”

“No, I’m going to take them out on a date instead of you fourteen buffoons!” 

“As if you’d be able to afford a nice fancy restaurant to take [Y/N] out on a date!”

“Would [Y/N] be into fancy dates?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we should ask [Y/N] instead!”

At that comment, the men turned to stare at you, waiting for your response. You stared at the men blankly before falling back down on your bed, letting out a dramatic sigh. Who are you going to choose to go out on a date with? You’re pretty sure that the men wanted to be your first date; this is going to be more complicated than you thought. Now that you think about it, maybe dating fifteen other men isn’t going to be so easy, especially if they’re going to fight over who gets to take you out on a date first when all of them want to be the first ones to do it.

Note: And I have officially completed my second request out of however many there are sitting in my inbox! I still have, like, two (2) days of Anime Expo left and my entire body is sore. I went as Mona and Maki Zenin from Jujutsu Kaisen! :> I'm not sure how next week will look because Anime Expo ends on Monday and I won't be able to type out as much, and my friend is currently staying over until this coming Wednesday. Next week might be shorter stories, but we'll see! I know I said this a lot, but please keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

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[misguidedasgardian]

The White Dragon (27)

27. The march

MASTERLIST

Summary: Prince Rhaegar guards the North Army South. 

Pairings: main Harwin Strong x Fem!Targaryen reader

Warnings: cursing, medieval and A song of ice and Fire AU customs, injury, burns, mourning, violence, war and all that comes with it. Might miss some warnings but you know what this is about :) mmm dragon fire (a wanring on it's own)

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 4.4 k

Notes: Alriightttt here it is! remember when i said sometimes the characters just spoke to me and took life of their own? well, a situation got lively, and I had to take a long time to make it have sense, you get me? well, anyways... here it is!

Aemond saw the chaos everywhere around him. He seemed to have just stand still in the middle of the hallway, and his mother, the King's Guards, the maesters and surgeons, healers, septas, septons, silent sisters, everyone just moved around him in fast forward, while he just stood there, with a clear view of his brother’s chamber doors.

All that small army of people were coming in and out of the King’s chambers, all of them with different ideas and motions on how to make him better again, but they wouldn’t. Aemond knew

They couldn’t heal him, not entirely, they couldn’t unburn his flesh, they couldn’t heal his tortured mind. 

His brother was inside, fighting for his life.

His stomach turned when whiffs of burned flesh, strong herbal scents and a hint of death struck his nose. But he couldn’t leave, that would make him weak, no, he fought through his own need to barf, and stood right there. 

It was his fault his brother had half his body burned to a crisp

He could still feel his melted flesh under his fingertips when he grabbed him, and Aegon had passed on his arms because of the pain

The dragon had been kissed by fire and the wings had been burned off.

Sunfyre just stood on the shores, he couldn’t fly.

Aegon was mortally wounded

He had heard people talking, that he might not make it, because of the pain, there was so much milk of the poppy that could be administered to his burned brother before his mind truly gives in to that treacherous beverage

Her mother, with his nose strangled in disgust and eyes filled with tears finally met him

“Aemond what happened?”, she demanded. But he didn't answer, he couldn’t

“Why weren’t you with your brother?”, she asked again, desperate to hear from his son, she finally placed her hands on his shoulders and shook him, Aemond seemed gone, his eyes looking through her, he wasn’t there, his mind, even if his body was

“Aemond!”, she finally lost it, and slapped his son, his favorite son, her heart, the apple of her eye. And that finally, with a flashback to when his eye was being stitched shut and his brother was being slapped by her mother because he wasn’t there to defend him from Rhaenyra’s bastards. He came to his senses, finally focusing his one good eye on her face

“Mother”, he whispered, it was meant to sound as a response to her, that she finally had his undivided attention, but it sounded like a plea. A plea for all of this to stop

“What happened?”, she asked, “why weren’t you with your brother?”

“He left alone”, he said simply

“Your brother could die!”, she snapped. “where were you?”

“When I realized he had left it was already too late” he whispered, “he had gone to kill Rhaenys”. His mother whimpered. Probably regretting the little wit his eldest son had, his mind clouded by years of alcohol poisoning 

“He went looking for her?”, she asked, and Aemond barely nodded. 

“Gods, is she?”

“She fled as soon as she saw me”, he whispered. His mother nodded and finally released him, to walk away from his soon chambers 

The Dowager Queen found her daughter Helaena, sitting and knitting, her babies were nowhere to be seen. 

“They say he will make it”, she whispered, sitting by her daughter, when she reached for her, to comfort the wife of the dying King, Helaena recoiled from her touch, like she used to do

“The earth might bloom but the storm is in the skies”, she said, focusing again in her embroidery

“Helaena”, she tried to touch her again, she stood up from her seat, her work falling to the ground and she left her own room. She walked towards her children's bedrooms, where they were playing peacefully. She embraced her children her three year old Maelor, and the twins

“The shadow will solidify as Valyrian steel”, she whispered with a faint and relieved smile as she caressed the heads of her children.

Meantime, Aemond’s feet alone took him to Aemma’s chambers, he didn’t even knock, he just came in moving past one of the new King’s guards he didn’t even bother learning the name of.

She jumped when she heard the door, adrenaline always about to flower in her skin.

“Aemond”, she called, anger taking over

“Aegon was burnt by Princess Rhaenys”, he said simply, “he could die”. She thought about it for a second, and then he looked at him

“Is Rhaenys dead?”, she asked, and Aemond shook his head

“No”, he confirmed

“I should say I’m relieved”, she said, “But I’m not”, she whispered, “how many more people are going to die because of what Rhaenys did to him?”

“It’s hard to say”, he whispered

“Why are you here?”, she asked then, “are you going to convince me that is an eye for eye sort of thing? My mother for Aegon?”, she continued

“Your mother was an accident”, he whispered, ashamed

“I don’t care”, she answered, “she is gone”

“I’m sorry”

“That won’t bring my mother back”, she whispered, “they won’t transport me to the arms of my remaining parent, and my siblings, they are out there, they are fair game, they are enemies that can or have to be killed”, she whispered, looking away from him and out the window

“So, they have to bend the knee”, he said

“They are honorable, and sworn to Rhaenyra, you know they won’t change sides”, she said

“Aegon might be next”, he whispered, a mother for a brother, a Princess for A king. He knew that that meant nothing to Aemma, but he wished it would. That this was enough for her to forgive him, the fact that he did nothing to stop his brother and knowing perfectly well what he wanted to do. That he did nothing on purpose and he wanted her to know that

What he truly wanted was to tell her that he regretted the alliances he made, the oath he made to himself, the allegiance. The only promises he should have made were to her, to Aemma, she and her sister,  where the women he loved the most. His mother? He doubted his love and devotion for her after what she had asked of him. After she had usurped the throne for his drunk and rapist brother. 

“Will you give up the throne to Rhaenyra then?”. she asked

“I don’t think so”, he whispered

“So it wasn’t about Aegon being the chosen one”, she said, “it was always about power, wasn’t it?”, Aemond looked down, ashamed. If Aegon died…. he was next, he was the son his mother was going to put on the throne next. What would he do then?

“I’m next”, he whispered, “If Aegon dies…”

“You grandfather, the grand architect of this mess, will put you on the throne”, she said

“The grand architect?”, he asked

“Who do you think did all of this?”, she asked, “There is only one person responsible, you need to realize who that is, and what are the motives behind all”, she said. Aemma had been one of the last persons to see King Viserys alive, telling him tales about Aegon the Conqueror, the name that had been on his lips on his dying breath, not his drunk of a son. 

“If you had a name, speak it”, he demanded

“The only thing I have to say is that we are dragons, not puppets”, she whispered, “but it doesn’t matter”, she whispered, “I’m not going to poison you against your family, because, when this is all over, they might be the only thing you have”, she said bitterly

“You said your love for me is over, sweet niece?”, he asked. 

“No matter the love I might hold for you. It will never be enough to stop this”, she whispered. A single tear fell down Aemond’s cheek. 

It was cruel, but ambition was even crueler. 

In this cruel game, where are the puppets? or were they puppeteers?

Aemond certainly felt like the forward. But who was pulling his strings?

Did his father truly change his mind at the last second and wanted Aegon to be King? He didn't think so, but he knew his mother, and she wasn’t a liar.

What is his mother the biggest mastermind behind this? He also doubted that

Was Aegon?. No.

Was…? Who had recruited him in the first palace? who had told him this was the only way to preserve his mother’s, his sister’s, his nephew’s and his head over their shoulders? That he could keep living happily with his extended family and marry his Aemma? that everything was going to be alright? that Rhaenyra never wanted this, that she was going to bend the knee?

Otto Hightower was the master architect in this mess. And Daemon was the only man that was going to prevent his sister from surrendering. 

And because of that, they were most likely all going to die. 

When Harwin saw the White Hall, his breath got caught on his throat

His home, the home his wife had built, where they had their family, the home he had shared… with you.

He had to fight the tears that wanted to come out of his eyes

He should be relieved that his home was still standing, he should be relieved that the greens hadn't got to it yet, but… the only thing is his mind was you… if he and his small host of a hundred men where to be swamped by a thousand green soldiers, he wouldn’t even bat an eye.

You were gone, and this was your home, the home of their babies.

He remembered bitterly one the last things you ever said to him

“I’m starting to think we should have never left Harrenhal”

You never had wanted to leave the home you had built, and probably, if you didn’t, you would still be there. His two elder sons wouldn’t be preparing for war, his beautiful Aemma would be in his arms, Saera and Vaegor would be here by his side, learning and growing under their wings, under thor love, under that tree. 

His legs almost gave out when he dismounted his horse. It had been a long journey, from Dragonstone to Rosby, and then a ride all the way up here, disguised as someone else. 

“My Lord we will take residence in Harrenhal and gather the other lords”, one of his hosts told him, he only nodded mindlessly, as they rode off.

He was met with the staff, cooks, maids, and a few soldiers. All of them wore sad looks on their faces, all of them knew what had happened… He guessed 

They all bowed their heads as a sign of respect, and they all were wearing black, he guessed, it was the only thing they could do.

News traveled fast these days, and bad news? those traveled even faster.

He walked silently through the halls of his home, once so big, spacious and full of light, they now seemed lifeless, meaningless. 

How could he plan a war? he wish the whole world would stop just for a second, just for a moment so he could gather his thoughts, so he could mourn, so he could gather all of his children and embrace them, never to let them go.

But how could he do that?

An army, and a big one, was looming over his head, probably days if not hours closing in on him, ready to kill him and every other who had sworn to the blacks, and take his home, a strategic place of big importance to the capital on which it was the way to.

Harrenhal

He had always thought it to be a curse, but when he moved in with his wife and their babies, he thought it would be a blessing… but no… it had been the deadliest of curses. 

By this time, he was starting to doubt every word, and every thing he had done.

You were gone

Have you been happy? with him? Was he the best husband he could be? Did he manage to become worthy of you?

He wanted to answer “yes”, but his mind would whisper a bitter, “no”

He had made you suffer, he had made you doubt. He had made you regret marrying him, instead, you had made him think he should have married Rhaenyra instead of him. You had tried to run away and if Daemon wouldn’t have brought you back you would probably be in Braavos right now, with Maekar and Rhaegar, you would have probably become the own Sealord of Braavos, or you could have married an important man and travel the world.

But you stood by his side, even if he didn’t deserve it…. Even if he didn’t deserve you

You had made a better man out of him, you had given him a family, a worthy place to call home, you had given him a purpose, a sense of direction, responsibilities that in the end made him what he is today.

You were the love of his life. He had only loved you, and you never truly believed him, and now you were never going to truly know how much

And he was left to protect and live everything you built, and you were gone.

In a sick way, he would have preferred the Stranger took you first, he didn’t want you to suffer like he was suffering right now. At least now you didn’t have to suffer the war to come, where everyone and everything could be forfeit.

You were only the first casualty 

As he was walking down the hall leading him to your shared chambers, he ran back and forth all the possible stages of grief

Denial

No, you could be alive, you hadn't shown up in a week, but that didn’t mean anything, you could be alive, on some strange shore, your dragon nor his remains were never recovered, and Shipwreck bay had the cruel tradition of always returning the remains of its victims….

Anger

He was going to kill every green he could get his hands on, for murdering you, and for taking Aemma as a hostage, his sweet Aemma, they were going to pay and when they come for him, he was going to take every valuable hostage he could and then he would take theirs head of front of the city gates making sure they watched

Depression

Fuck the war, fuck this, fuck all of it, the Greens could come in with fifty thousand men, and three dragons, and he couldn’t care less, he just wanted to cry, hugging the pillow he hopes still smelt like you, or otherwise, imagine it did

Bargaining

But his children, he still had his children… he had to be strong, for them, they were the incarnation of you, your legacy, with them, everything made sense, perhaps he could take those hostages, but instead trade them for their sweet Aemma, he would have to gather hundreds of them to do so, but he would take millions if it would mean to get his daughter back. 

Acceptance

Yes, that was he was going to do, his son was on his way, both of them, the Tully army, they will gather, they will defeat the Greens when they came, and with those hostages, he was going to get his daughter back, and they would fight to live another day

He would send his children to the north, where they were going to be safe, and they were going to win the war, for you, for his children he would do so. They had more men, more dragons, and more kingdoms they could make, he was certain.

Yes 

And then he entered your chambers

You were there

In the color of the bedsheets, in the tapestries of the walls, in the style of the furniture, you were there. You had worked extra time and put an extra effort in your room to make sure it looked like home to you, and it was home… this is where you had made and where you had received Aemma, this is where you cuddled your children when they were scared, or sick, this is where you slept together every single night for ten short and beautiful years… 

He couldn’t find you in Shipwreck bay because you were here

And this is where he was going to lie

And Harwin Strong, the strongest night of the seven Kingdoms, fell on his bed and weeped for his lost wife ,the love of his life, the mother of his children. 

He didn’t know how long he lay there, on your shared bed, crying, weeping, sobbing, but at one point his tears had run out, the sun had hidden and risen up again, and he just ran out of tears. He just lied there… it could have been hours, or days, or weeks, all time became meaningless 

He didn’t hear the horns, or screams of warning of a dragon approaching, if he did, he didn't care, he also didn’t hear all his servants and soldiers cheering for something, or someone. 

He only cared when the doors of his rooms were being wide opened. He rose from the bed, and right there, in the doorway, stood his own very imagine, but with mischief and dragonfire deep within his eyes

Maekar looked at him, at first with surprise, and then, his son, when he was his father, he also broke down.

And now he understood it, the time for mourning was over, he had his children to fight for

Harwin stood from the bed and held his eldest son against his chest, and caressed his wild hair that was just like his. 

The son that you gave him

“It’s alright son”, he whispered when he heard him weep against his chest. And he knew Maekar had been containing all of his grief inside of him. And just now, in the arms of his father and in the comfort of his home he dared to openly cry and mourn his mother. “It’s alright, we are going to avenge her”

“Nobody else can die”, he cried, “Not Rhaegar, no Aemma, or Saera or Vaegor”

“They won’t”, he promised silently. “This will end here, where everything started”, he promised 

Rhaegar knew that the march was going to be quiet, the North belonged to the Starks and the Starks where sworn to Queen Rhaenyra, it took them 1 week to reach moat Cailin, and then they will take them another to reach the Neck, and the Twins. The Riverlands 

But the sight that awaited the young prince there, took his breath away

Thousand of men, hundred different banners, form the Bear of Bear Island, to the flayed man of House Bolton. 

All of them were there.

It was an impressive view. the rundown castle in the middle

What is an omen of a lost cause? Or they just gathered there because it was the place on the border with the North and next to the King’s road, a place they could all reach?

A bad omen or not, it was still a great sight. His young body filled with excitement and bravery, was he a mad man to crave battle? Probably, he was a young boy who knew nothing of real war, death, blood and pure terror, but right now, he was going to enjoy the high.

His dragon flying over him gave him courage, the northerners clapped and cheered as he rode by at the side of Cregan.

They were soon led to the center of operations, a big tent disposed to that purpose

Plans and discussions for the war ahead weren’t far behind. Rhaegar looked, almost entertained, to all men present, and he could certainly say, with no doubt in his mind, that he could discern a northerner to any other man from the rest of the Kingdoms easily. They were all hard-looking, gruff even, he certainly wouldn’t want them as an enemy

“The young wolf called in his bannermen”, greeted the oldest of the men gathered there

“We are marching south to assist Queen Rhaenyra in defeating the Greens, the Usurper Aegon, and their allies, the HIghtowers, and the Lannisters

“Good”, he said, “it’s been a while since we marched south”, perhaps they never had before, Cregan thought

“And where is this Strong dragon?”, asked another, Cregan placed his big hand on Rhaegar’s shoulder

“This is Rhaegar Strong”, he presented to the group, “twin son of the Princess (Y/N)”, he nodded his head with a solemn look on his face, and the Northerners didn’t seem pleased, “Also my daughter Sarra, has chosen him to be her husband”, and then he received words of encouragement and approval.

Apparently his betrothed was called the she-wolf, because of her strong nature, and gods be good if that wasn’t what attracted him to her the first time he ever saw her. Because it was. 

“We have gathered a group of men”, started Roderick Dustin, Lord of Barrowtown, “2.000 old men, hungry for the fight”, he said, with an intensity on his gaze that made Rhaegar tremble, “we will march on the vanguard”, eh said firmly, “we will march to the Twins to cross right on the Westerlands”, Cregan listening to him carefully, he knew all about this group of men, willing to sacrifice themselves for their young, hungry for a glorious death in battle, but to take as much southerners as they could before the old gods took them

“Very well”, he said firmly, “This is a suicide mission”, Cregan said, looking at the leader of this rogue army they had created

“Perhaps, but we will take as many Lannisters with us as we can”, he said, smiling.

“I will go with them”, said Rhaegar, and Cregan wanted to kill him, this was not what he had in mind, the boy might ride a dragon, but he was still in charge of him, and not the way around. 

“Boy…”

“You will meet my brother in Harrenhal…”, he said softly, and then he looked at the men, “I can go with them and assure their victory with Karnax”

“This dragon might grow wolf fur!”, laughed Lord Roderick, coming towards Rhaegar and embracing him, “Let’s do this!”, he cheered 

“You will secure the Twins”, he said severely, when they were both alone, “the west side of the neck, you will reach Riverrrun and then you will march to meet us in Harrenhal, alright?”, he asked. Rhaegar and Lord Roderick nodded 

But Lord Roderick knew what they were going to find, he knew it, but he didn’t tell Cregan 

Rhaegar calmed himself, they were just going there to secure the Twins and the small town between them and Riverrun, everything was going to be alright, he thought, and then he was going to meet his brother and together they could face the Greens in Harrenhal

So he rode alongside Lord Roderick, at the head of the army of two thousand men. 

They were all men over fifty years old, gruff, with long beards and hairs, wearing shaggy dark furrs, wielding axes, mauls, spiced maces, and all kinds of weapons but swords. Their horses were as shaggy as their riders, wild hairs.

This was the wildest army he had ever seen 

They rode the very next day at dusk, at first taking the king’s road, and then taking an alternative one through thick woods.

Karnax was flying above them, sometimes he got lost, but Rhaegar knew he was always close by, that he would abandon him or go rogue, but he needed to hunt some days

From dusk till dawn they would ride their horses south, at nightfall they would settle camp right where they stopped, camping under the stars with heavy pelts and furs. 

Rhaegar was not having the time of his life, in fact, he was hungry, cold and just… miserable, but he was escorting the most badass army Westeros had ever seen, so he couldn’t quite complain, not even draw a frown.

But at night, when the stars lighted the night and the bonfire warmed their cold bodies, stories would start, stories about the reign of King Jaehaerys and battles fought in the North. Stories about long winters and the cold… that almost sounded like ghost stories.

And after five long days, they finally reached the Twins.

It was an incredible construction, two twin tower guarding a bridge that crossed the river named Green Fork

Rhaegar knew he should be quite enjoying this, but he was, he was seeing some many new places, small towns and castles, he couldn’t wait to see Riverrun 

But as the army was about to show themselves up the road, Lord Roderick made them all stop. 

“Something is wrong”, he whispered to Rhaegar, who nervously gazed at the skies, but didn’t saw Karnax anywhere 

“What is it?”, he asked, there were no banners hanging from the castle walls, no men in sight, they told them they were coming, so, where were they?

“I’ll send a group of ten men”, he told them

“I’ll get my dragon and sight the skies” he whispered. Lord Roderick nodded

Rhaegar spurred his horse to make it gallop towards the end of the army, up the road, commanding everyone on sight to stay still and quiet. Karnax felt his uneasiness and met him right up the road. No men in sight. 

But as Rhaegar was about to climb on top of his dragon, screams and the crash of swords could be heard, and he climbed on top of Karnax, who has grown to pass in size even Syrax, and flew towards the Twins

And a whole battle had ensued, thousands of men ran from the tree line and from the bridge, men raising the Frey banners and the golden lion flew proudly. The Lannisters 

This was an ambush, Karnax roared, inspiring fear in the enemy soldiers, who looked at the skies in terror and fear, they didn’t expect a dragon, nor had they saw him when they scouted the rogue northern army. Rhaegar flew over what they were only enemies, he drew the words he never thought was going to be used against countrymen

“Dracarys!”, he said firmly, and his gold and cream dragon released his breath of fire, burning everything and everyone under his.

More notes: I know the Freys sided with Rhaenyra, but again, I made the blacks too cool alright?? I needed more enemies and we all hate the freys! hahaha from GOT at least

Poor baby Rhaegar is going to be the first one to taste real war!

What can I say? inspiration sturck me, I was writing so fast and intensely my mother actually asked me wtf I was writing about HAHAHA 😂😂❤️❤️

taglist! ❤️ @tearsarcane @integra1127 @aestmilky @thanyatargaryen @tythaitie @lostinworldofdarkness @voodoogoul @wildmindedbeauty32 @lil-pudd @alicattx @electric-bloo @astaaan-lol @stargaryenx @kaitieskidmore1 @bregarc @lilpnd @jcpenneyyy @janelei @fexibau @ladyoakenshield157 @danielle-leah1997 @lady-ragnvindr @cecilyjmorgenstern @omgsuperstarg @bugheadskid @batprincess1013 @her-fandom-sanctum @holb32 @blue1006 @stargaryenx @grippleback-galaxy @mikariell95 @genesisliveson @mendes-bae @caspianobsessed @notmundane3000 @kamisunshine @just-someone11

[lazycowboy666]

gokudera’s poor psyche at the end of the future arc like… he nearly died several times, thought one of his best friends was destined to die in the future for the majority of it (and found out he hadn’t even been trusted with the real plan either), watched yamamoto almost get killed twice and failed helping him both times (gamma fight and the “take my hand!” moment), got a severe back injury that we don’t even know healed properly… and on top of it had his older sister trigger him, call him a coward for not wanting to process his complex trauma in the middle of the future arc, and then gaslight him that his emotionally distant bio dad actually did love him like a normal parent? like sure his dad loved the idea of him as a product of his love for lavina, but in practice he let bianchi poison him, exposed them both to organized crime (like gokudera got shot in the arm?? as a little kid?? are we forgetting that), and then did nothing when they both ran away and became hitmen???? seriously like did he just give up on his two kids and go try for a third with his legal wife? do the storm siblings have another half-sibling? maybe more?? who knows!

meanwhile in the future shamal is nowhere in sight and we have to wonder if he also got killed in the vongola hunt if somebody as skilled as yamamoto’s dad did. and nobody really notices or cares except gokudera and reborn. reborn from a “friend from work” way but gokudera in a “that’s the closest thing I have to a parental figure and now he’s also gone” way. like shamal is this stinky eternal bachelor with profound alcohol issues and a sex addiction who probably lives out of an uncle rico style camper van half the time but to somebody as dysfunctional as gokudera this is, indeed, his actual dad.

(i also ignore khr characterization for minor characters since it’s usually resumes being monotone for the sake of comedy. so i like the idea of shamal and gokudera having a nani and lilo meets koiwai and yotsuba dynamic when he was little and living with shamal post-runaway. 🥲)

it was such a missed opportunity not to make shamal a normal character. gokudera's relationship with him was great during the varia arc, i wish that got explored more. that's gokudera's father figure alright, why he gotta be a stereotypical perverted shonen character

[pokemonispain]

Food Poisoning on the High seas- Childe/Scaramouche

Summary:  In which Scaramouche realizes that coming on this mission with Childe was a mistake.

___________________________________________________________________

Scaramouche should’ve known the moment he’d been assigned on this little mission with Childe, that one of two things would happen. Everything would go to shit being more of a hassle than it was worth or they would succeed, but not without Childe doing something idiotic.

Surprisingly neither had happened, Childe’s presence hadn’t been as irritating as usual. If anything Scaramouche found himself slightly at ease in a strange way. Perhaps maybe, just maybe this was the world’s way of telling him he should’ve been more careful, the calm before the provable storm so to speak.

Scaramouche gives a soft groan as he opens his eyes ever so slightly, his head is killing him, throbbing so violently to the point he could feel it in his teeth. In his still groggy state the headache combined with the fog clouding his mind makes it nearly impossible to gather his thoughts, each one slipping through his fingers before they could fully form.

However, despite that Scaramouche is aware of a few things. One, he’s more than likely hungover, which rarely happened to him, not because he didn’t drink but because he wasn’t human, so it typically took a decent amount to get him to that point in the first place.

Scaramouche shifts, licking his lips and cringing when he tastes the familiar stale bitter, and sour taste of alcohol coating his mouth, a faint memory of him drinking wine out of a barrel last night floating to the forefront of his mind as a slight queasiness settled in his stomach makes itself known.

The second thing Scaramouche registers when he turns his head slightly is that he’s laying in bed next to Childe, who is seemingly deep in sleep, his soft breathing filling the room. Another memory from last night returns to Scaramouche’s mind, him and Childe getting drunk and wandering, halfway stumbling, back to Childe’s room.

From what Scaramouche could see, both of them were half-dressed and he faintly remembered the two of them clumsily trying to remove each other’s clothes only for exhaustion from the mission combined with the wine to put them to sleep.

Scaramouche becomes aware of the last thing when he sits up a bit further and he swallows thickly, muffling a soft airy hiccup into his hand when his stomach lurches, seemingly sloshing with the motion of the ship around him.

Another soft groan left his mouth and he scowled as he rested a hand on his stomach, rubbing it absentmindedly as he attempted to ignore the queasiness settled there.

He’s not surprised about being at least slightly nauseous considering everything but that didn’t mean he liked it.

Mumbling a soft curse under his breath he begins attempting to climb out of bed. After all, he really, really didn’t have the energy at the moment between the god-awful headache and nausea to deal with Childe at the moment.

Which is seemingly why Childe chooses that exact moment to wake up. A low groan comes from Childe’s lips as his eyes flutter open.

“Scara,” Childe mumbled as he narrowed his eyes slightly. His entire body feels stiff, but that was likely due to sleeping in an awkward position most of the night.

The taste of stale dried alcohol coated his tongue in a bitter taste. Besides the slight dull ache he felt at the base of his skull Childe feels a bit surprised that his hangover is all but nonexistent.

“Don’t call me that, you idiot,” Scaramouche hissed as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed, his hand hovering in front of his stomach as if he were afraid to touch it.

The ship seemed to slowly sway around him, and Scaramouche instinctively clutches at his stomach when it makes a soft almost inaudible gurgling noise. He can’t help but feel slightly uneasy.

Childe yawned as he sat up taking note of both of their slight states of undress. He is missing his scarf, and his jacket as well leaving him in his pants and unbuttoned red shirt.

On the flip side, Scaramouche is missing not only his hat but his shirt and socks as well and at the moment, he had a good portion of the wrinkled blanket wrapped around himself.

His indigo hair is slightly on the fluffy side, both from when he’d been sleeping and where Childe’s hands had been running through it.

That and his lack of clothing are the only clues that show what he and Childe had been attempting to do. The faint hickeys Childe had left on his neck long healed before either of them fell asleep.

“Something wrong with you,” Childe sighed with a scowl as he ran a hand through his hair.

He was used to Scaramouche’s usual attitude but at the moment it seems as if Scaramouche’s words have an extra bite to them. Not to mention that he seemed slightly paler than usual.

After a moment though it seems to click for Childe, which he attributes to the last dregs of sleep still faintly clinging to him.

A soft snort leaves Childe’s mouth. “You’re hungover aren’t you?”

In an instant, Scaramouche glared at him which lets Childe knows his assumption is correct. “Shut up,” he snapped.

Scaramouche climbs to his feet and Childe watches him for a moment slightly amused. Especially when Scaramouche begins muttering under his breath as he searches for his clothes.

“I don’t wanna hear that from some brat who can’t handle his ale,” Scaramouche grumbled. “You-“ he stops for a moment, closing his eyes and clutching at his head when a horrible ache streaks across his skull.

His other hand going to his stomach and rubbing it slightly when that slight twinge of queasiness seems to increase. The swaying of the ship does little to help, if anything it feels like it’s making it worse, whatever contents he has in his stomach feeling as though they were being gently swirled.

And Scaramouche swallows, before giving a soft groan. He says nothing however, instead he simply stays where he is, crouched on the floor his eyes closed as he attempts to will his body to stop fighting him.

He hears Childe chuckle softly and the sounds of the blankets shifting as Childe moves. “Hold on,” Childe told him.

Scaramouche says nothing as he does his best to push down his feelings of unease. He didn’t even quite know why he felt this way at the moment either, maybe it was simply because this was the first time he’d been hungover in many, many years. Honestly, after all these years he just believed it was impossible to happen again.

Perhaps that should’ve been a clue to him that maybe something else was wrong, but with his head currently throbbing in time with his heartbeat, he doesn’t allow himself to give it a second thought.

He can’t help but jump slightly when he feels Childe’s hands on his shoulders. “Don’t touch me,” he hissed as he snatched his arms out of Childe’s grip.

The sudden movement has another soft groan leaving his mouth, especially when it feels as if it sends his brain rattling around in his skull.

Beneath his anger though is humiliation, a few cups of firewater and a barrel or two of wine should not have affected him this much. In terms of immortality, Scaramouche was very young at only 500 or so years old, he’d seen beings both younger and older than him drink wine like water without issue.

But perhaps what was even more humiliating was the fact that Childe seemed completely fine. He hadn’t drank as much as Scaramouche of course, nowhere even close but for a human, he’d drank a decent amount of the fire water.

It was infuriating.

“I mean I could leave you there on the floor if you want,” Childe told him as he reached out grabbing Scaramouche’s arms once more.

Scaramouche is silent for a moment before opening his eyes slightly and glancing over at Childe. “This is your fault, I hate you.”

Hearing those all too familiar words Childe gives a soft snort, a slight smile tugging at his lips. Getting Scaramouche to his feet is fairly easy thankfully, although Childe can’t help but think of how a person holds a cat as he does.

Scaramouche sighed softly, his gaze on the floor, a scowl on his face. While he is no longer clutching at his stomach, Scaramouche still has a hand clutching his head and Childe steadies him slightly when he sways a bit.

From what Childe could see Scaramouche was a bit pale at the moment, not to mention the way Scaramouche’s hand would occasionally rub at his stomach almost absentmindedly.

“Wait here for a second,” Childe sighed, he waited for Scaramouche to give a soft hum letting him know he’d heard him before he moved away.

Scaramouche is quiet as he simply listens to the soft yet familiar noises of Childe moving around the room.  He hears the sound of a cabinet opening, along with some rustling and the sound of the sink running.

It isn’t long before Childe returns to the room, a glass of water and some medicine in hand. He didn’t know if regular medicine like this could work on Scaramouche honestly, even when Scaramouche was sick the man just seemed intent on sleeping it off rather than actually taking anything for it.

It was a little strange as during those rare times where Scaramouche was sick it almost seemed as if he’d go into a hibernation of sorts, often sleeping most of the day. It wasn’t surprising to Childe honestly after all Scaramouche wasn’t human.

Although the first time he’d witnessed Scaramouche getting sick had been a bit of a shock, mainly because Childe had found him half-conscious in his front yard half-buried in the snow and with a puddle of vomit next to him.

“Here,” Childe said as he held out water and medicine to Scaramouche.

Thankfully the other man had decided to sit down on the edge of the bed to get his bearings a bit. Taking the items, Scaramouche stares at the pills with a frown.

“What are these,” he asked as he looked over at Childe who was gathering Scaramouche’s clothes from where they’d been discarded.

“The white ones are painkillers and the blue ones are for your stomach,” Childe explained as he paused for a moment. “They didn’t come from Dottore if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Scaramouche rolled his eyes but said nothing as he tossed the pills in his mouth, he sipped at the water carefully while it felt incredible on his dry throat it made his stomach feel a bit strange.

A slight heaviness forming there as he continued to drink, he pauses with a scowl, his hand going to his stomach when a slight ache erupts along his stomach. It doesn’t hurt honestly and is more of a slight annoying twinge. What does have Scaramouche worried, however, is the fact that the slight tilting and rocking of the ship has the water he just drank swirling slightly in his gut.

Practically brushing against the walls of his stomach. Setting the water aside he grabs his clothes from the small pile Childe had placed them in and begins getting dressed intending to take a nice bath when he returned to his room.

He glanced over at Childe with narrow eyes. “How in the fuck are you not hungover?”

At that, a familiar smirk crosses Childe’s face and he pauses in the middle of collecting his own clothes that were lying around the room. “Maybe you’re simply losing your tolerance in your old age.”

Another glare is sent Childe’s way which he ignores. A huff leaves Scaramouche’s mouth. “Stupid brat.”

~~~

Scaramouche sighed as he slowly made his way back to his room intending to sleep for at least a little while. As he walks he massages his temple, his head is pounding violently in time with his heartbeat, each small noise, the soft warm lights of the lamps in the ship’s hallway felt as if they were scraping his eardrums and drilling his eyes.

Scaramouche stops walking for a moment, muffling an airy hiccup into his hand, his stomach feeling as if lurches slightly when the ship rocks and tilts beneath his feet.

His hand goes to his stomach scowling when it seemed to gurgle softly, and once more he becomes aware of the water sitting heavily in his gut merely exacerbating his queasiness.

Each time the ship seemed to tilt and sway beneath his feet, no matter how gentle the motion he could feel it in his stomach. The water sloshing and shifting in his gut in an almost nauseating fashion and Scaramouche finds himself swallowing thickly, the hand on his stomach trembling ever so slightly.

This was not due to the nausea but instead his fear and anxiety that he was doing his best to suppress. Scaramouche honestly hated being sick with every fiber of his being, being reduced to such a pitiful helpless state.

But what he despised even more, and was something that even terrified him was the action of vomiting itself. It was such a visceral way one’s body could lose control, and it was all but unstoppable and that’s what terrified Scaramouche about it.

It was why he often did everything he reasonably could to prevent something like that from happening. Beyond that though getting sick brought other fears with it as well, ones of being hauled off to Dottore’s lab and being experimented on. Displayed on that awful exam table like a butterfly pinned to a wall.

Just the thought of it brings forth some less than pleasant memories and Scaramouche can’t help but shudder slightly, noticing that it feels a bit warm in the hallway for some reason.

Another hiccup bubbles from his lips and Scaramouche muffles it into his hand. His face twisted as he cringed when a rather loud burp rumbled passed his lips bringing with it the faint bitter taste of the medicine he’d taken.

Scaramouche gives a soft huff, shaking his head slightly before he continued walking to his room more than a little eager to get some sleep.

When he finally reaches his room he finds that he does feel slightly better which he figured is thanks to the medicine that Childe had given him. He kicked off his shoes with a sigh as he trudged over to the bed and all but collapsed on it.

When he’d boarded the boat he’d remembered being slightly annoyed that his bed wasn’t too particularly comfortable, but at the moment it felt like heaven.

With both his headache and the queasiness in his stomach seemingly easing up, but not the exhaustion he’d woken up with, Scaramouche does his best to attempt to go to sleep.

~~~

It is around dinner when Childe walks into the ship’s dining room, it’s as alive with noise as usual which brings a smile to Childe’s face.

There’s a slight familiar ache to his muscles which considering he’d been training is nothing he’s not used to.

Childe pauses however when something catches his eye, Scaramouche is sitting at one of the tables in the corner of the room with a few of the nearby other tables being empty as well, no doubt because the Fatui subordinates were giving him a wide berth as usual.

Childe couldn’t help but be curious though, especially considering the fact that Scaramouche didn’t often stick around in the ship's dining room, often having his meal delivered to him in his room or simply getting whatever he wanted and leaving. The rare times he stayed in the dining room were times when Childe was already there or had arrived with Scaramouche to drink some alcohol.

As Childe gets his dinner and approaches Scaramouche’s table he notices something else a bit odd, that Scaramouche is sitting nearly completely still, his face buried in one of his hands which was propped up on the table by his elbow.

He has a nearly empty plate of food in front of him, and a slightly full glass of ice water beside the plate.

“What a surprise, I didn’t expect you to be here,” Childe said as he sat down in a chair close to Scaramouche.

Scaramouche doesn’t say anything however and if it weren’t for his breathing Childe may have assumed that he had dozed off or something. Was it just him or did Scaramouche look a bit pale beneath the lights of the dining room?

“Let me guess, still hungover from this morning,” Childe asked, and a soft snort left his mouth when Scaramouche gave a low groan in his throat seemingly in response.

Childe was willing to admit that it was slightly amusing seeing Scaramouche in this state, after all, it wasn’t every day that Scaramouche wound up hungover.

Scaramouche groans again and Childe can't help but think that the noise sounds slurred almost and he frowns as he looks at Scaramouche. It is only when Scaramouche shakily raises his head that Childe realizes that something is wrong.

Scaramouche’s face is pale as a sheet, as if all the color had been drained out, his eyes are half-lidded and slightly glazed over. Childe can see a fine layer of sweat coating Scaramouche’s face as well.

Scaramouche can’t help but flinch ever so slightly his hand clutching at his stomach when it makes a low growling noise, he hates this. Archons does he hate this so, so much. The way each tilt and shift of the boat has his stomach sloshing and churning sickeningly. His meal sitting in his gut like a heavy rubber ball being tossed around a room, wave after wave of near relentless nausea washing over him.

The scent of the food around him which would normally be appetizing instead stinks of grease that seems so heavy in the air it nearly coats his tongue. He felt strangely and uncomfortably warm, his normally form-fitting yet comfortable clothes clinging to his skin in a smothering fashion but they especially felt weirdly tight around his abdomen much like a rubber band.

Scaramouche grits his teeth, it's annoying but most of all for Scaramouche it was viscerally terrifying in a way he has only felt a few times before and it’s something he’s afraid to acknowledge honestly. That this wasn’t a hangover that somehow, for some reason he was sick.

His stomach growls again, its contents practically boiling and bubbling like an overactive cauldron, it almost feels as if the organ is rippling and writhing like a ball of snakes beneath his fingers. Scaramouche clutches at his stomach a bit tighter beneath the table, swallowing thickly when it feels as if the room is shifting beneath his feet.

Childe is quiet for a moment or so as he stares at Scaramouche, a frown spreading over his face. “Was that your stomach,” Childe asked both surprise and concern mingling together in his voice. It had been amusing when Scaramouche had simply seemed hungover after all while they could be horrible sometimes they eased up eventually.

This however seemed like something else entirely, almost as if Scaramouche was sick. Scaramouche and Childe honestly didn’t know what they had going on, more often than not both of them used each other to simply kill time when it was convenient and when boredom struck whether that be through fighting, fucking, or drinking.

It made things interesting honestly and also seemingly made it easier to bare each other’s presence bit by bit. While they could still go for each other’s throat at a moment's notice there were also quiet moments between the two when no one was looking, these moments weren’t quite gentle either though sometimes clumsy and rough but it worked for them.

It’s probably why what Scaramouche says next though has that concern Childe is feeling only growing.

“S-something’s wrong,” Scaramouche softly, the words slurring slightly as he speaks. Swallowing thickly and closing his eyes, Scaramouche grits his teeth taking shaky breaths in through his nose.

Childe glances up around the dining hall for a moment noting that things were still rather lively, although whether out of fear or respect none of the subordinates were paying attention to them yet anyhow. It would be best to leave now honestly, to try and possibly get Scaramouche somewhere secluded.

“Can you walk,” Childe asked him quickly, he knows he can just pick Scaramouche up but he didn’t want to risk setting off the man’s clearly volatile stomach, plus he knows that Scaramouche wouldn’t appreciate the gesture in the slightest.

“I-” Scaramouche begins, opening his mouth but he quickly closes it when a sloppy, airy hiccup bubbles from his lips. Scaramouche curls in on himself slightly as he bows his head to discreetly cover his mouth with his hand.

Childe sees Scaramouche’s body tense up as his stomach lurches slightly. Childe hears something audible gurgling and surging up Scaramouche’s throat the noise sounding much like someone drowning. Scaramouche makes an odd noise similar to a closed mouth gasp, his body tensing up further as he manages to catch the liquid just as it fills the back of his throat.

Scaramouche gives a very audible swallow, his body shuddering slightly before he shakily lowers his hand from his mouth, panting softly as he quickly wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand to get rid of the drool he can feel trickling from the corner of his mouth.

He needed to leave now, before something horrible happened. Maybe if he laid down, maybe that would ease the fear, anxiety, and panic writhing in his chest and cloaking him like a blank. Maybe there was some chance of averting this disaster if he could just get to either his room or Childe’s but preferably his room.

He looked over at Childe from the corner of his eye. “Le-let’s go,” he said softly his words slurring as he did his best to swallow back the saliva nearly overflowing his mouth.

Scaramouche does manage to get to his feet surprisingly, although Childe does quickly reach out to steady him when he sways for a second or two.

~~~

The walk back to Childe’s room feels as if it takes longer than it should at least for Scaramouche and he doesn’t know if it's because of the dizziness, the headache, the nausea, or the fact that his body is trembling like a newborn deer.

He has to be extremely careful as he walks, his dizziness and unsteady legs nearly causing him to trip more than once when the ship feels as if it tilts and rolls beneath his feet. Childe’s hands steady him more than once as he walks at his side.

As they reach Childe’s room and go inside a small amount of relief washes over him now that he’s away from so many of those subordinates, so many prying eyes that would see him at one of his weakest moments.

Scaramouche stumbles over to the bed and sits down with a soft sigh his hand going to his stomach when it makes a harsh sickly gurgling noise, a deep ache spreading through his stomach feeling as though he were being punched. Wave after wave of dizzying nausea washes over him relentlessly, all while his stomach writhes beneath the trembling hand he has placed on it as if the organ is trying to claw its way out through his skin, tense almost harsh gurgling noises leaving his stomach.

The pain settled there just won’t disappear and the heaviness caused by the mass of food in his gut does nothing to help things, it feels as if it’s all congealing and hardening into an actual ball that’s rolling around his stomach each tilt and lurch the ship makes seems to send the mass of food churning in that direction.

“Hey,” Childe said gently laying a hand on Scaramouche’s shoulder.

Scaramouche however shrugs him off, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as he attempted to swallow back whatever he felt bubbling at the back of his throat be it bile or air. He hates this with every fiber of his being, he couldn't be sick he wouldn’t allow it.

“Leave me alone! Get out,” Scaramouche hissed hating how his voice wavered and he quickly swallows the saliva threatening to overflow his mouth. He could still get this under control, he just needed time.

Childe gives a soft snort at Scaramouche’s words. “It’s my room?”

“Shut up,” Scaramouche said softly his words ending in a slurred groan as his grip tightened on his stomach. His nails practically digging into the skin, warmth stings Scaramouche’s eyes his fear and frustration growing stronger with each wave of nausea that rolled over him.

He hears Childe sigh, before hearing him begin moving around the room. He tries to focus on that and not how he could feel the back of his throat spasm every so often threatening to make him gag. “Who did…you tell last time…” Scaramouche manages to force out.

Childe stops in the middle of picking up the small trash can from the corner of the room when Scaramouche speaks, and he turns to look at him. If Scaramouche didn't look well before he without a doubt looks sick right now, his pale face carrying a green tinge to it, drool trickling from the corners of his mouth as he planted softly.

“Hm? Do you mean that time I found you passed out in the snow,” Childe asked with a scowl.

Scaramouche gives a small stilted nod. “Who…did you tell about what you saw,” Scaramouche demanded although in his current state he can’t muster up the usual energy for it. But if Childe had told anyone about Scaramouche’s secret, about his fear of illness well Scaramouche would make sure Childe would never open his mouth again later.

He expects it, for Childe to tell someone, which is probably why his answer surprises Scaramouche so much.

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Childe sighed as he picked up the trash can before turning back to Scaramouche. “I don’t plan to either.”

For a moment Scaramouche and Childe simply stare at each other, and Scaramouche thinks he sees something that looks like concern or worry on Childe’s face. For once Scaramouche finds himself looking away, a soft nearly inaudible huff leaving his mouth as he closes his eyes again. “Weird human.”

Scaramouche hears Childe approach him but thinks nothing of it, even when he feels Childe carefully sit down on the bed beside him.

Then to his surprise, he feels Childe grab him and pick him up. “Wha…” Scaramouche whispered his eyes wide in dumbfounded shock as Childe shifted him carefully, and Scaramouche can’t help but notice that Childe’s touch is weirdly gentle for once.

Actually, now that he thought about it since this morning Childe’s hands had been careful whenever they gripped him, the touches firm but not applying any more pressure than they needed to. Scaramouche doesn’t know why this small minuscule thing stands out to him but it does.

It is only when Childe places Scaramouche down so that he’s sitting on his lap that Scaramouche that he finally speaks. “W-what…in the fuck are you doing,” Scaramouche hissed and he tries to struggle but is stopped when that deep ache flares to life across his stomach.

Childe frowned as Scaramouche fell quiet and instant, his eyes widening when a soft whimper slips past Scaramouche’s lips before he can stop it. Childe can feel Scaramouche’s body trembling, shivering in his lap, he feels warmer than usual as well and Childe reaches up with one hand feeling Scaramouche’s forehead noting that unsurprisingly he seems to have a bit of a fever.

Sighing softly he glances down at the trash can he’d placed in front of them on the floor. “Okay just bear with me for a second alright,” Childe told him as he reached down, his hand nudging Scaramouche’s out of the way so that he can gain access to his stomach.

Childe gives a soft hiss at what he finds. Scaramouche’s stomach is taut and very bloated, his fingers sinking ever so slightly into the now soft skin there. The organ growling and gurgling violently beneath his hands as the taunt heaviness of it pressed back against his hands, nearly rippling and writhing like a ball of pissed-off snakes.

No wonder Scaramouche was in so much pain, and Childe can’t help but grimace slightly in sympathy.

“Alright…just let me know if I’m hurting you okay. I’ll do my best,” Childe told him, hoping that his tone was reassuring enough. Scaramouche merely gives another weak broken whimper in response, his entire body tense and trembling in Childe’s grip.

Childe begins to carefully rub Scaramouche’s stomach, his hands moving in small soothing circles as he attempts to help it settle even slightly.

It’s nearly completely quiet save for Scaramouche’s soft shuddering breathing and the rather harsh gurgling of his stomach. Childe can’t help but be rather worried because while he’s seen Scaramouche sick before, it’s never been to this extent and honestly if Childe hadn’t known any better he’d think Scaramouche may have been poisoned honestly.

Scaramouche gives a slurred groan, his body tensing up further, the world seems as if it is almost spinning around him and he cringes curling further in on himself when his stomach makes a harsh growling noise as if snarling at him. It almost felt like someone had his stomach in a vice grip and was squeezing it tightly practically wringing it. The drool overflowing in his mouth begins to become too much to swallow back resulting in it trickling from his mouth down his chin, the back of his throat spasming with each breath.

Childe’s touch which is admittedly been soothing is doing nothing but making things worse, his stomach churning and sloshing violently in the direction of Childe’s rubbing.

Childe pauses when Scaramouche gives a nauseated-sounding hiccup and squirms slightly in Childe’s lap for a moment. “Scara,” Childe asked with a scowl, concern clear in his voice.

Scaramouche however doesn’t answer him, his breathing shuddering as he sits perfectly still in Childe’s lap.

Childe hears Scaramouche’s stomach make a loud, sickly growling noise, practically snarling. Before he can say anything however Scaramouche begins struggling almost frantically to get out of Childe’s grip and Childe lets him go, staring at him with wide eyes as Scaramouche quickly bolts to his feet.

Scaramouche darts towards the bathroom, with a hand, clamped tightly over his mouth. He nearly trips over his own feet in his haste but manages to make it slamming the door behind him.

For a second or two Childe sits there still in shock.

Scaramouche was definitely sicker than he’d first believed.

~~~

Scaramouche feels as if his stomach is trying to wring itself out like a wet washcloth as he sits on the toilet, an arm wrapped tightly around his stomach as he leaned forward slightly, panting heavily over the small trash can he’d hastily pulled into his lap when his stomach had finally had enough.

A near river of drool trickles from his lips like a faucet as it drips into the trash can. Sniffling Scaramouche gives a low very weak groan of pure misery, as a rush of heat prickles at his skin, the saliva flooding his mouth and dripping from his lips takes on an almost metallic taste, and tears of frustration gather in his eyes because he knows that there’s nothing he can do anymore and he hates it.

Scaramouche’s breathing hitches, his body tensing up as his stomach suddenly makes a loud, sickly gurgling noise and a loud rumbling burp pried itself from his lips as he gags weakly, a small yet dense trickle of thick, lumpy tan and green vomit dripped almost lazily from his lips as it falls into the trash can.

A horrific, utterly revolting rancid sour taste similar to spoiled meat and stale grease coated his tongue. The food he’d forced down in some vain hope that it would ease his symptoms had done nothing but fester in his stomach refusing to digest and that nausea that had been torturing him this entire time bursts to life.

Scaramouche does manage to take a deep breath right before a gurgling, rumbling burp pries itself from his lips so loud it seems to practically echo in the bathroom and his stomach heaves pain exploding across it as if fireworks were going off in his gut.

A wet, sickly hiccup pries itself from deep in the pit of Scaramouche’s stomach, the noise becoming garbled halfway through as an enormous, thick, wave of lumpy dark tannish vomit falls from his lips. The mess is dense, resembling thick freshly wet oatmeal as it nearly congeals together while falling from his lips.

The plastic bag lining the trash can crinkles loudly under its newfound weight as the mess congeals into a slimy almost glistening pile in its bottom.

As Scaramouche gives a garbled retch so violent it stings his throat, he feels something gurgle and shift almost beneath his stomach, thankfully however he’s already sitting on the toilet considering his stomach is intent on killing him as it tries to turn itself inside out from both ends.

Tears prickle his eyes and trail down his face as he choked up another wave of that thick, lumpy vomit, the slop pouring from steadily for a few moments before tapering off leaving him coughing wetly and gasping for air as a near torrent of drool dripping from his lips in thick threads. His face is a mess of bile, tears, sweat, and saliva.

Scaramouche can’t help but feel lightheaded, his head pounding and his breathing harsh. His body feels abnormally weak and shaky.

However at the moment, despite being horrifically nauseous his stomach seems to give him a brief reprieve although that tightness and heaviness is still present in his stomach, it still feels strangely full and Scaramouche knows that sadly this isn’t over for him.

He manages to clean himself up a bit before he staggers towards the door on heavily trembling legs, he feels extremely dizzy and weak. He’s panting as he opens the bathroom door being faintly surprised to see Childe standing there concern written all over his face.

Scaramouche doesn’t look good as he leans against the door frame, panting harshly as he looks up at Childe through half-lidded glassy eyes. His face is washed out, nearly ashen grey, slick with sweat, and his entire body trembling.

“Still feel sick,” Childe asked.

Scaramouche gives a slow stilted nod and manages to push away from the door frame and goes to take a step forward when his legs give beneath him.

Childe all but lunges forward catching Scaramouche under his arms to help hold him up and steady him. “Okay, it’s alright I gotch you,” Childe murmured softly as Scaramouche leans heavily against him, his body nearly limp.

Scaramouche gives a weak groan in response to his words, a simple acknowledgment that he’d heard Childe that doesn’t expand the minuscule amount of energy he has left.

As Childe carefully picks him up into his arms and carries him to the bed Scaramouche says nothing for once too spent and feeling far, far too awful to put up any of his usual complaints.

“I went to your room and got you something to sleep in since I figured you’d want to rest,” Childe told him softly as he sat Scaramouche down on the edge of the bed.

Scaramouche slowly glances at the yukata Childe had gotten for him but says nothing, merely slowly nodding again. Looking as if he’s doing his best to stay awake.

He remains quiet as Childe helps him change clothes, although eventually, he does speak as Childe is in the middle of tying the sash albeit slightly clumsily, Scaramouche’s hands gently resting on his to help guide him.

“Don’t…tell anyone,” Scaramouche whispers, his voice barely audible and raspy.

Childe is quiet for a few moments as he works, only meeting Scaramouche’s gaze when he’s finished. A soft sigh leaves his mouth, “I promised you I wouldn’t tell anyone last time. Nothing’s changed.”

Scaramouche gives a soft hum in response, closing his eyes for a moment, a slight grimace twisting at his lips when his stomach gives a low growl and that nausea washing over him in waves seems to spike sharply.

He really does hate this, he despised how weak and exhausted he felt. Hell, he was sure that if he tried he wouldn’t be able to draw enough elemental energy to himself to use his powers at the moment which left him defenseless.

Perhaps it was good that he’d gone to Childe’s room rather than his own. Scaramouche wasn’t well liked by his subordinates to put it lightly, although they did fear him and seemed to respect him due to that fear, if one of them found him in such a weakened state there was no telling what would happen.

“Such a weird human,” Scaramouche mumbled as he opened his eyes slightly.

Childe gives a soft snort of amusement. “I’ll get you some medicine and water really quick,” Childe told him as he got to his feet.

If he hadn’t felt as if his body were trying to kill him he may have complained, he may have told Childe to shut up so that he could think in peace but instead he doesn’t. He finds himself seeking out Childe’s soft touches and gentle words for once, as strangely enough, they seem to ease the fear and anxiety still layered over him like a blanket ever so slightly.

Scaramouche chalks this odd behavior up to the fever that is raging through his body combined with whatever was turning his body against himself. He’s sick after all as much as he hated to admit it, but although he hates it, it also gives him a convenient excuse.

A scapegoat for anything strange he may say or do at the moment. And once he’s returned to normal he won’t have to acknowledge this feeling ever again.

Scaramouche flinches, his hand going to his stomach when it gurgles loudly sending pain bursting along his stomach. The pain, the heaviness, the violent nausea all of it is still there, gripping his stomach as if trying to pop it.

Hearing Childe’s footsteps returning to his side Scaramouche opens his eyes as a distinctly wet-sounding hiccup pries itself from between his lips, and he feels bile bubbling at the back of his throat.

Childe pauses when another nauseated hiccup leaves Scaramouche’s mouth followed by a slurred groan of sheer misery as he squeezes his eyes shut.

Seeing Scaramouche’s quickly deteriorating state, Childe places the cup of water aside on the nightstand and quickly picks up the small trash can he’d placed by the bed earlier.

Scaramouche’s eyes flutter open, his grip on his stomach tightening as he opens his mouth slightly, seemingly to speak. Childe all but shoves the trash can into Scaramouche’s lap holding it for him just as a rumbling garbled burp has a surge of slightly watery, lumpy vomit spraying from his lips.

“Just try to get it up,” Childe told him gently, a scowl on his face as his other hand goes to Scaramouche’s back. Patting it when he begins coughing and spluttering, sounding as if he’s practically choking or drowning.

A retch so harsh that it both sounds and feels as if it’s clawing its way up from the very pit of Scaramouche’s stomach, has him lurching forward, tears prickling at his eyes once more. A stream of dense, slightly watery vomit pours steadily from his lips like thick slop being poured from a bucket.

Scaramouche gets no break nor chance to breathe as the mess streams from his lips, practically congealing in the bottom of the trash can glistening with bile and saliva in the light of the room. Childe can’t help but be shocked by just how much Scaramouche is still bringing up truthfully.

It wasn’t that Scaramouche couldn’t eat a lot but more that he didn’t think Scaramouche would’ve practically gorged himself while he felt like shit.

Childe’s hand leaves Scaramouche’s back to grab his shoulder instead when Scaramouche’s eyes begin fluttering and he begins weakly slumping forward, that near stream of vomit that’d been pouring from his mouth finally tapering off.

Scaramouche is left gagging weakly and panting, thin threads of bile and drool dripping lazily from his lips into the trash can. He stares almost blankly into space through eyes glassy with tears.

“Scara? Do you think you’re done,” Childe asked as he peered into Scaramouche’s face.

The other man is clearly fighting tooth and nail to stay awake. He’s trembling and shivering beneath Childe’s grip, his skin slick with sweat despite the heat Childe can feel radiating off of him from his fever.

Scaramouche feels as if he’s floating underwater,  the world and sounds around him nothing more than a blur. Although he is able to register two things, Childe’s familiar hands on him and Childe’s voice.

“Here, the medicine should help,” Childe murmured as he held the pills up to Scaramouche‘s mouth. And Scaramouche opens it allowing Childe to place the pills on his tongue.

He can feel Childe’s hand on his back as the glass of water is brought to his lips, the water is slightly cold and feels nice on Scaramouche’s sore throat.

The glass of water leaves his lips, and Scaramouche sighed softly as he feels Childe guide him to lay down on the bed.

The sounds and world around Scaramouche are fuzzier now, even fainter. But he is aware of Childe covering him with the blanket.

When Childe’s fingers begin gently stroking through Scaramouche’s hair, Scaramouche can’t help but lean into the soothing touch.

“Try to get some rest,” He heard Childe tell him softly, just before he allowed himself to finally drift off to sleep.