#have a good night lads! this piece will be done when its done. I am NOT saying more I am not jinxing SHIT

[eyra]

I hope you’ll forgive my selfishness, but I am dying to ask: What did Remus think the first time he saw Sirius in Beneath a Big Blue Sky??

today is your lucky day. I've mentioned a few times that I've dabbled in the possibility of one day writing more bits and pieces in the Beneath a Big Blue Sky world. whether or not this will ever all see the light of day I'm not sure, but since you asked, I'll share a little snippet of Remus and Sirius meeting for the first time - from Remus's point of view.

enjoy 🐑🐑 x

“Mr Lupin, is it?”

Christ.

Remus nods slowly, shaking the other boy's hand. "If you like," he mutters. If I must be, he thinks. What a mess. What an absolute pain in the arse. "Two strong lads," Lyall had asked the agency for, and Remus knows because he was in the next room listening, and still smarting over the fact that his old dad wanted to hire help anyway. "We'll be reet," Remus had insisted, shaking out his left arm in proof that his shoulder was mostly healed, which it was. They would've managed: he still had his other arm, and all the ewes looked in good health so far, and bringing in two strangers to help run the season seemed like a fine waste of money to Remus and something they'd not done since he'd turned fifteen and proven that he was good and capable of handling just as much work as Lyall during the lambs, and he'd felt all kinds of embarrassed when Lyall had implied that this year he might need some help. As if he were now a problem to be solved, or somehow less of a man this year than he was last year, and certainly less than he ought to be.

But if they must get help - if Lyall must hire someone for a few months - then at the very least Remus had hoped that the workers who arrived would be up to the job. A couple of veterinary students, or something; someone who knew their way around a sheep, and it hadn't seemed too big an ask. As it is, the two boys standing dumbly in front of him on the station platform look less suited to farm work and more like they should be standing in a shop window somewhere, with their brand new boots and spotless, neatly-pressed cream trousers. Cream trousers, and all.

Remus remembers, one night in the late winter not long after the accident, being laid up in his bed in front of the fuzzy little television Hope had insisted on setting up in his room to keep him occupied during his recovery. It had a remote held together with Sellotape and a funny round aerial which didn't quite pick up the Freeview signal, and he'd been mindlessly flicking through the scant channels when he'd happened upon some reality programme or other; something about a load of toffs titting about London with daft haircuts and those cream trousers, and he wonders now if the two boys standing in front of him have seen the show, or realise how ridiculous they look.

Or at least, one of them looks ridiculous. The lanky one with the glasses and the palm that's far too smooth to have seen any real work in its life. He's still beaming down at Remus with a sort of manic smile, which sets Remus's teeth on edge - man looks insane - and then Remus lets his eyes slip away to the shorter boy standing next to him. And he's something else altogether. He's all cheekbones and soft, shoulder-length hair, the colour of Whitby jet, and it's tucked on the one side back behind his ear and then there's one pretty strand hanging loosely over his brow, and he's watching Remus uncertainly and when they make eye contact - when the noise of the four-by-four across the car park fades away to static, and the train on the platform huffs out a great cloud of smoke that Remus doesn't see - Remus feels his cheeks grow hot under his tan and something funny happens in his throat, and he thinks to himself: "Wow," and then, straightaway: "That’s bloody inconvenient."

They drive back to the farm in silence, mostly, and Remus swallows three times before asking the boy in the back seat for his name. Sirius, as it turns out; the dog star, and Remus suddenly recalls a night a decade ago when they'd been up on the fell and the air had been balmy and close and Lily had been reading out of that funny old book about the constellations. "What's that one?" Remus had muttered, pointing at a cluster of stars somewhere over the top paddock. Lily had yawned, and flicked over a few more pages. "Canis Major," she'd said around another yawn, and then: "That bright one's called Sirius, it says here," and Remus had squinted up at it, and frowned, and thought it was pretty good, as stars go. 

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[mekanikaltrifle]

hi! (monster) and (wound) for juniper and/or dani?

Oh these are good choices and you're so right. Lemme just get my tunes on for these two powerful women (of varying friendliness quotients). Of course, when given two OCs I am gonna write for two OCs so watch out for a big ol' long post below lads :D

monster: Is your OC monstrous in any way? Is there something that makes them monstrous? Are they aware of their own monstrosity? Do they accept it or reject it?

Dani doesn't want to accept it. Objectively, she is monstrous; vampires are rarely considered human, after all, and she's already done horrific things even before she cut her fangs. Tearing a living, screaming human being into bloody viscera in a frenzy was something she wishes she could forget-- and she often lies and says she doesn't remember her 'first' frenzy at all let alone with enough clarity to recall butchering that man, but it's just that. A lie.

Dr Reyes doesn't kill people. The monster does. Dr Reyes is a good person. The monster isn't. But both are her. She's under no illusions that the thing riding her body when she's angry is her, part of her, and irredeemably so. She just wishes she could be dumb enough to play pretend like so many of the fucking Sabbat, acting like freedom will cure them of their guilt.

No Path will cure this, and no Road means anything. Freedom isn't throwing yourself away to play at being a monster just because it makes you nto want to tear your own fangs out of your head and run into a sunrise.

So, she works. She hasn't told her family what's happened yet and probably never will. They'll see her one last time and then she's keeping her distance forever. Her mortal friends died for some stupid Sabbat war, and she cured the vampires' plague when she could have just let them all die. But it'd have killed humanity too. She's going to work for however long she's got now to find the root of how vampires work, where their curses come from... and then she's going to try to alleviate the monster, one step at a time. Dani's going to kill this Beast with kindness, because it's hard, and it's the only way for her.

--

Juniper isn't a monster, as far as she knows. She thought she was for a while, lied to and misled by the Catholicism still in her head as a child during her very early days as a hunter. The Society of Leopold, and its Inquisitors, weren't sure what she was either.

Mortal, sure, with a heartbeat and breath and all the mortal concerns like needing to eat and sleep and other animal needs.

But mortals can't usually See, not with a burlap sack over their head and struggling to breathe properly through the layers of tape-- and yet, she can. She can see anywhere, in clear crystal clarity and she's sure as hell she's not one of those 'witches' the Inquisitors kept trying hunt. Monsters freeze in her gaze, and voices from beyond tell her what to do, and she's sure she's not a monster at all. She can speak a curse and deprive them of power, and stay awake for days on end, pushing the bounds of 'mortal' needs so clearly...

But how's a body supposed to reconcile with the fact that she's been through things that should kill a soul and come back swinging. Lived this long without stopping? Fought this hard, even when the world that was supposed to end didn't and there's still things out there killing people every night?

But there's no monsters out there, she thinks. Only people.

--

wound: How does your OC handle being wounded? Are their wounds mostly physical? Mental? Emotional? What's the worst wound your OC has ever experienced?

Dr Reyes, up until her Embrace, had not suffered huge injuries. Working on a digsite is often dangerous, even with all the best practice and safety procedures. She could lose track recounting all the times she'd hit a limb off rocks or slipped in mud and sand, caught her fingers on pieces of metal or tools she was using, and on one memorable occasion her best friend rolled over her foot with a pickup truck back home in Guadalajara when she was visiting her parents. And she's in good spirits about it all, telling you the story with her still-sunwarmed cheeks creased in laughter and her calloused hands gesturing all over the shop.

Since her Embrace though? She can count two worst ones so far, one physical and one mental.

The first, the physical, came during the scramble to end the blood plague. She and the other two were fighting vampires-- really strange, augmented vampires-- and one of them had arms that looked like scorpion-tails. Being unprepared to face something like this as a literal day-old fledgling Tremere, she fumbled the shot with her shotgun (something she's no good at using; she's not a firearms person), and subsequently took a blow full force to the centre of her chest.

This being a sharp barb propelled by inhuman strength, the whole thing went clean through her ribcage, and then pulled back out the way it came. Now, Dani is a survivor despite it all. But that was... startling, because if it had happened a mere two days before, she'd have died outright. It's have hurt, but she'd have simply died. But as a vampire she had to endure it, and not being able to speak let alone draw breath to cope with the pain of having a lung almost cleaved in two was not okay. She's grateful that the thing didn't pierce her heart, because that probably would have killed her, but she was not in the best fucking mood that day.

The mental? Now, that's a story.

Her Embrace was a brutal thing, a voyeuristic Tremere lab setup in which her friends couldn't do anything to help her other than watch through layers of sterile glass as her domitor-turned-sire drained her on order of their boss.

But right before it, the thing that brought her down, was a simple magical circle. Later she'd look it up in Tremere magical tomes and find it was a variant of the 'Ward Against Ghouls' sigil, built around her as she stood talking to her then-domitor Atlas. As Atlas struggled to tell her what they were about to do to her, she backed up, begging them not to. To reconsider. And then, she broke the outer line of the sigil on the floor and agony shot through her, strong enough that she can't even describe it.

In mechanical terms the sigil shattered through four of her seven health points in one second, dealing lethal damage, and if she'd not fallen to her knees in front of Atlas, it probably would have killed her from pain alone.

She still struggles to even comprehend what it was that happened. She's looked up the rituals and whatever else she can find, and now being part of the Tremere but not part of the Pyramid, it's not easy. But she just can't touch the memory of that second of agony without feeling like she's going to pass out.

--

Wounds are part and parcel of the job. Juniper takes them in stride as best she can, unless they damage her legs and then she does what she can sitting down.

She's been put to death's door a few times. Took minor scrapes. Come out of fights better or worse, sometimes with more her own blood than someone else's on her and vice versa. Usually they don't bother her more than the time it takes to patch the thing up and recover just long enough to get moving again. Does this mean she's scarred? Oh very much so.

The worst one, however? June has been through enough wounds by this point-- 17 years at the hunt and counting (as of roughly 2020-ish)-- that it'd be hard to truly quantify.

That said, the one wound she truly believes was going to kill her and still gives her pause to this day came during a team hunt back in 2007. She was called Junie then, or sometimes Bluebird, because she had all the grace and air of a newly fledged chick and bright blue dyed hair. A crew picked her up out of a truckstop in the middle of nowhere and she was grateful for the company. Ten-strong hunter squad, and confident for what they had going on. With nothing else to do, she offered to help and given most of them were Imbued like her, it was nice to be in likeminded company for a change.

What should have been a normal patrol became a bloodbath, one regular night. She's still not sure what happened, but the thing this crew were tracking wasn't a vampire, or a ghost or anything she was used to. It was... nastier. It could take minds and jump bodies and it managed to kill five hunters in two and a half minutes. The chaos had its benefits though; where the hunter next to her had her skull blown open at the eye socket, spraying everything with all that suddenly-wasted promise, Junie simply took a crossbow bolt to the ribs and collapsed.

The remainder of the crew, now only three people, came to the scene too late to save anyone but her, and she was not in good health. Junie of the time was not a huge bulk of a butch-- she was skinny, and still recovering from a bout of severe undernutriton during a stint homeless in Los Angeles. Put simply, her health was already poor. When the crew realised that the crossbow the monster had used was one of theirs, and therefore poisoned, they knew this was not a matter of 'if' it killed her, but 'when'.

She doesn't recall any of this point in her life with any clarity whatsoever, but knows she was deeply afraid, and very sure this was it. A pathetic death from being caught unprepared, for a young failure of a hunter. She wasn't ready for it. Something about the fear, which stuck even after they'd got a Redeemer with healing abilities to put enough life back into her she survived the worst... well, she suddenly had a very powerful motivator to get so big and untouchable that nothing would make her that afraid again.

So Juniper coped with it the only way she knew how: by getting meaner.

[fandomscombine]

It's the Lease I Can Do

Platonic! Weasley Twins x Reader

BG: The Weasley twins are so close to having their joke shop become a reality. They had found the perfect location but they had hit a minor problem that could cause them everything. You want to help, but how can you when they, the birthday boys themselves had given up?

a/n: I had this idea for a almst a year now and waited til ther twins bday to write it. I hope you enjoy.

WC: 2111

>>>MASTERLIST<<<

Fred and George causing a ruckus in the common room is a daily occurrence that everyone is accustomed to. However ever since the start of Year 7, the amount of commotion these two had caused can be counted in one hand.

At first glance, it could be attributed to NEWTS or in this year's case-to a pink toad acting as High Inquisitor. Still, more and more nights the twins had claimed the back corner of the common room.

~

The last remaining batch of students were making their way through Filch's checkpoint (an added security protection which also serves for Umbridge having a list of names on who comes in and out of Hogwarts). You glanced down at your watch- 2:27pm, they’re late. Weird, the twins never pass a chance to go to Hogsmeade.

You hear the castle door open behind you. Thank Merlin, you thought but instead you were greeted with a disheveled Angelina. “I’m coming! Wait!”

“Have you seen Fred and George?” You called as she ran past you.

“I think I saw them in the common room!” Angelina shouted back.

The common room? “What are they up to now?” You sighed. Stomping heavily up the stairs. “Ditching me….”

~

“Oi Weaslebees! I know you’re in here!” You rounded the corner of their secret spot. “AHa!”

You caught them red handed, midway into shoving papers into their “Weasley & Weasley'' Trunk. Though what they were hiding, you weren't exactly sure.

“Y/N!” Fred greeted, grabbing onto your shoulders, effectively covering George and the table. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Narrowing your eyes at him. “Really?” Hands on hips you blatantly say “2:15 am, courtyard?? Ring any bells?” Fred shook his head.

Meanwhile George’s head shot up. “Oh shit, y/n we’re so sorry!”

Fred turned to his brother, still clueless on what the heck George was talking about.

Abandoning the trunk, George gave his twin a classic smack on the head. “Hogsmeade, you idiot! We were supposed to all go together.”

“OHHHH FU--” Fred knew he was screwed. “I’M SO SORRY! WE’RE SORRY.” Seizing the messy trunk, he strategized. “Right, here’s the plan: I’m gonna quickly drop this off back in the dorm while you two make your way to the gate. If you run, I guess you can make it. I’ll catch up with you two then.”

“Fred….. We’re not gonna make it” you argued.

“Not if we don’t try.”

“It’s almost 3, Filch would be closing the gates by now.” You sat down on Fred’s empty seat. “Besides we can go to Hogsmeade next time, we could just hang out here. I miss having my best lads around.”

“Awww…we’ve been upgraded from annoying pricks to best lads!” Gushed George, pulling you into a side hug.

“Yea, I could help in whatever it was you guys were doing before I came. I don’t mind.”

At that, you could feel George tense up, his arm around you dropping. “Uhhh…” He looked to the older twin, silently conversing.

You gaze between the boys, sometimes they get so caught up in their scheming that they don’t notice that to others, especially those who had known them for years that their non verbal communication is not so sly.

In the end, Fred gave his brother a subtle shake. “No, that’s alright. I’ll just put this back and we could play gobstones or something, anything you like.”

As Fred headed up to his dorm room, you noticed a piece of paper under the table. Picking it up, the header caught your eye. RE: Lease Agreement. Were the twins looking for a new home after graduation? You didn’t mean to pry. You were close friends, they would tell you if they were moving right? This is big news….you decided to brush it off until another line caught your attention. The shop premise located at Number 93 Diagon Alley. Shop? They are trying to set up shop? That’s brilliant! The twins would get to showcase their inventions to the world! You could feel your pride swell. Leasing Agreements would not proceed if tenants, Mr. Fred Weasley and Mr. George Weasley, are unable to provide an endorser by the date of 31st of March.

“Where’d you get that?” George standing across from you, gobstones on one hand and another pointing at the document. There’s no backing out now.

“It was under the table.” You explained. “I didn’t know you were this far along with the shop.”

“Yea, well it’s not happening now is it?”

“What?”

“Cmon y/n. I know you read it.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s alright. We aren’t getting the place anyway.”

“Wait what? Why?”

“No endorsers.” George stated matter of factly but you sense the pain in his voice.

“How about your parents surely-”

George laughed. “As if mum would suddenly have a change of heart. You knew how she disapproves of our inventions, calling it a waste.”

“Arthur then.”

“Mum won’t let him.”

“Anyone then?” George huffed in defeat. “How about me! I could back you up.”

“You have to be an adult with a proven financial stability.” He stated, effectively shutting you down. “Forget it y/n. The hold ends in 3 days. We’ve tried everything. Just don’t let Fred know that you know. He’s devastated. Promise?”

“I promise.”

“And no pity, sad eyes!” He added as footsteps are heard descending the staircase.

“But I suck at poker faces!”

“Then let’s hope that Freddie is distracted even to not notice.”

~

It’s been 4 days since you had sent the letter to your father.

“Dear papa,

I know that this is a huge favour to ask but I believe it would be worth your while.

So remember back in the summer when you caught Fred Weasley, George Weasley and me snooping around with the Extendable Ears but let us go because you were so enamored?

Well turns out the twins and trying to get a shop up and running! How amazing is that?

The only problem is that they need an endorser to back them up in order to proceed with the lease agreements. The are currently on hold for the Shop Number 93 in Diagon Alley until the 31st.

This is where the huge favour comes in. Could you please be their backer? You did say that you’d love to help in some part in their invention, be an investor of sorts. Please papa. I would love to do it myself but I have to wait a couple more months to qualify. Plus it’s their 18th birthday on April 1st. Imagine their surprise if it were to come through.

I’d love to hear from you soon, regardless of your choice.

Your favourite child

y/n.”

The twin’s 18th birthday was spent with absolute love and madness.

Lee had unloaded his stash of butterbeer and firewhiskey, Fred had slipped Angelina with one of their new prank inventions- which changes the person into a sickly color of vomit green, a perfect way to ditch class or events.

Upon learning that the color would last for a few days and would only fade with the ingestion of an antidote, antidote that George said they still had yet to create. Angelina (understandably) threw cake at them. The Gryffindor chaser with perfect aim, hits its mark. However, Fred using his beater skills, instinctively blocks the incoming cake.

Resulting in a wide splat zone. Fred’s arm was covered in frosting, having sprayed everyone around him in whipped cream during the impact. George wasn’t safe too, despite being across from Fred, the rebounce of the cake had made him the new target.

You had just changed into your pajamas when a tapping sound came from your window.

Your family owl, Lanny, was outside carrying a large yellow envelope.

Quickly letting him in, you gave Lanny a gentle pat and brought out some owl treats for the tired bird.

Unscrolling the note tied to his leg, you begin to read.

“My dearest y/n,

My sincere apologies for the late reply, it’s been quite hectic at work.

In regards to your favour, you need not worry. Everything is taken care of. I had met with the landlord of Number 93 Diagon Alley and had all the documents settled. I had also gone and checked to make sure the two lads aren’t being ripped off. Fred and George had picked a nice prime location.

Greet them a happy birthday for me alright? And tell them that I look forward to witnessing them succeed in their endeavors.

They would undoubtedly be bringing a lot of much needed joy into these darkening times. The people would be thankful for them.

I also had Lanny bring the twins’ copy of the Lease Agreement.

I can’t wait to see you all soon.

Much love,

Papa.”

~

Fred was grateful that their friends had retired into the night, leaving him and George to sulk into the dreadful reality.

“We were this close Georgie, this close!” Fred winced, pinching his fingers close without touching.

“I know but there was nothing else we could have done.” consoled George but even he himself was having a hard time. Number 93 was the perfect location for their joke shop. But now it’s gone.They are back to square one, scouting for locations.

“Fred! George! There you are! I have great news!” You yelled, not caring if you could wake up the other students.

“Oi Y/N! Be careful!.” Even in a bad mood, Fred Weasley couldn’t help being protective.

You banged the envelope on the table. “Surprise! Happy Birthday! From papa and I.”

“Another gift?” wondered George.

“So you don’t want it then?” You challenged, crossing your arms. You tried to look intimidating but the pajamas weren’t doing any good. “Cause I bet a hundred galleons that you’d shit your pants if you were to reject it.”

“That confident eh?” Smirked Fred, taking the contents of the envelope out. “ What do you think is so grand that Georgie and I would---BLOODY HELL! Y/N!” Fred kept looking down at the paper and up to you, unbelieving.

“What is it Freddie?” asked George leaning over to read whatever it was that left his brother speechless.

Re: Lease Agreement

Mr. y/l/n has submitted his endorsement to Mr. Fred Weasley and Mr. George Weasley.

The turnover of the leasing property of Shop Number 93 Diagon Alley would begin on April 1st …..

“Oh My- Y/n? Is this real?” George whispered, afraid that if he were any louder this dream would end.

“Yes, absolutely, 100%.” You affirmed. “The shop is yours! Opff-”

George embraced you tight, catching you off guard. You could feel your right shoulder getting wet. “Heyya big guy, don’t cry.” Running a hand up and down his back.

“But how?” Fred with brows creased was still stuck in a trance, you could see the paper shake in his grasp.

“You left the agreement noticed a couple of days ago. I might have accidentally read it. George said to not let you know cause you might get angry-”

“YOu KNEW?!?”

“George only knew I saw the paper. Nothing else.” You defended. “I thought i might try and help, so I called in a favour with papa. You knew how much he was impressed with the Extendable Ear, so I mentioned if he wanted to back you up. I only got his reply just now, said he’d love to and got onto ironing out the paperwork and viola!” Pointing at the document. “Oh and he also said Happy 18th Birthday, looking forward to your success and the people would be thankful for bringing a lot of much needed joy into these darkening times.”

“Thanks Y/n but this is a lot we can’t possibly-”

You cut Fred off before he could say more. “Oh please, you have done countless things for me. And I know what you’re gonna say- but see you would do the same for me. Besides think of this as your first investors. We want to help. We see your potential, we know you two, Fred, George, are gifted with bringing laughter and joy to people with your inventions."

"Thank you, truly y/n and to your dad too." Fred admitted, opening himself up. "No one's really backed us up with our inventions before, we've been always told off for being childish. It really means a lot."

“Hey, it’s the lease I could do.” You replied, causing the twins to chuckle immediately lightening up the mood.

It's great to see them relax again after weeks of stressing over the shop. Times might be changing but at least tonight, you got your best lads back.

~

Everything Taglist : @gruffle1

HP Taglist: @onlyfreds

[vanilla-vivillon]

Happy Wesper Week! We are doing a Wylan POV because I can’t write charm at all. This is a modern AU bachelor party. The grisha powers exist but everything else is made into there real life equivalent

TW very brief mentions of sex trafficking.

What am I doing here? Wylan thought to himself

When his boyfriend Jesper insisted on throwing there good friend Matthias a bachelor party Wylan thought maybe they would go to a nice bar or play some party games

Not get crazy drunk, Not set fire to the Dutch Garden, not get chased by cops, not perform a gas station heist and not catch one of his best friends making out with a gas station cashier

However it seemed the universe didn’t care for the thoughts of little ole Wylan Hendricks

“Let’s get this party started!” The Australian yelled

Wylan had to remindhimself he loved his boyfriend Jesper

“Can you not shout?” Matthias, the groom to be, begged

Wylan, Jesper, and there friends Kaz and Kuwei were throwing a bachelor party for Matthias

It took a lot to convince the Norwegian that this was indeed a great idea

Wylan had never been to a bachelor party before but he was excited for his boyfriend who adored them

“Do we really have to go to this bar Jesper?” Kaz groaned seeing the crazy bright neon sign

After years of knowing Kaz Brekker Wylan could tell that Kaz was cursing Inej for telling him to come

Nevertheless the boys all walk in and start ordering shots

“Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!” The boys chanted egging on Kaz and Matthias drinking contest

Well it was mostly Jesper and Kuwei chanting Wylan after having a couple drinks was staring at the twinkle in Jespers eyes

He really was beautiful Wylan thought to himself

Wylan attended the University of Amsterdam to mostly escape his father.

There he met his lifelong friends

Matthias a grumpy international exchange student who grew up in a very prominent and dangerous cult in Norway. He wants to be a Norwegian ambassador

Nina Zenik, a heartrender turned corpse witch who was actually a russian spy back in the day. Now she’s working to become an ambassador

Inej Ghafa, she started a non profit to help stop sex trafficking whitch takes her all over the World but she used to. be an acrobat and after that worked with Kaz as his spy

Kaz Brekker, someone who Wylan after years of knowing him isn’t quite sure if there truly friends, or the semi illegal activities he gets up to. Wylan thought his hacking days would be done after University but Kaz has built an online criminal empire

Kuwei Yul Bo a scientists apprentice from China. He was currently working on his masters degree along side Wylan.

And Jesper. How to describe Jesper Fahey. He was an exchange student from Australia. A fabricator with a gift with Guns. While Jesper loved his pistols he actually works for a nonprofit dedicated to gun safety and regulation

After a highly illegal heist on there trip to Norway during college they all bonded as a group

Especially Wylan and Jesper

Jesper with that twinkle

Jesper with that laugh

Jesper with the way he looked at him now

After many more drinks Kuwei had the idea of the century

“Yooooooo y’know what’s a good idea?” Kuwei said bringing his head up from where it was previously glued to the table

“More shhhhhhhhhots?” Jesper suggested clearly as drunk as Wylan

“A couple blocks away is The Dutch Garden, wanna see some prrrrrrrrrrretty flowers?”

Fun fact this is a real place in Amsterdam

Wylan turned towards Kaz expecting him to veto it then and there but to Wylans shock and horror Kaz said “Hell yeah”

“But, but, it’s super late it’s gonna be closed!” Matthias spluttered out

“We can sneak in from the back fence” Jesper said

When Jesper drank his Australian accent whitch had soften over the years of living in Amsterdam came through in all of its glory

When Wylan first met Jesper he thought he was completely out of his league

And that damn accent drove Wylan Insane

While Wylan was contemplating the wonder that was Jesper Llewelyn Fahey it seemed the group made a decision without him

And Wylan thought for the first time in this bachelor party

What am I doing here?

“C’mon Wylan just climb!” Kuwei whisper screamed at Wylan

The drunken lads had made it to the Garden and had found an area where there was a fence they could climb with relative ease

All of the others made it to the other side

Except Wylan

“Don’t you want to seeeeeee the flowwwwwwwers?” Kaz insisted

If Wylan needed any more proof he was the soberest man out of all of them Kaz saying the word ‘pretty��� that isn’t referencing Inej was a clear sign

“Baby pleeeeease” Jesper begged

Oh

Oh no

Not that face

Wylan thought of himself as a sensible person who doesn’t succumb to pressure easily

But when his boyfriend made that face

Where his cool grey eyes went big

And his face had a slight flush to it

Wylan

Broke

“Fine! But if we get arrested it’s on you guys!”

With the ease of a spider who’s leg got chopped off by a middle aged housewife who’s husband is cheating on her climbing up a wall Wylan somehow got across

It wasn’t pretty

And it wasn’t gonna make Kaz proud

But it was completed

Panting Wylan on the ground said “I think this is my biggest accomplishment”

“Not…. Putting away your father? Or growing past your Internalised homophobia? Or writing your first essay on your own?” Matthias suggested clearly bewildered

Hey so i know Wylan can’t actually read. But seeing as this is modern day and plenty of dyslexic people can read with help, I figured that Jan would refuse to take Wylan to a doctor or get him help with his dyslexia believing it was weak making Wylan unable to read. Buuuuut when he’s older it makes sense to me he does learn. I’m not trying to invalidate his experiences or “fix” him but for the sake of a modern AU I had to change some things.

“Nope. It’s climbing this fence” Wylan laughed as Jesper helped him up

“Everyday you remind why your my favorite human” Jesper said with a laugh

“Ewwwww it’s like you guys like to remind how I’m the only single one” Kuwei said with a throwing up motion

“Thanks Jesp- wait human?” Wylan asked confused

“Well my favorite thing is Milo of course” Jesper winked

“The- the goat in Russia?” Kaz inquired not quite wanting to believe what Jesper was saying

To Wylans knowledge Kaz, Inej and Jesper did some job in Russia before he ever met them

“Why of course” Jesper slung an arm around Wylan who was not quite sure how to feel about this goat

Kaz went to go look at some purple flowers and contemplate his life choices

“Oh my god guys…….” Matthias started “the flowers! They’re- they’re”

“Cmon Matty, share with the class” Kaz said apparently bored with the purple flowers

“They’re so preeeeeeeetty” Matthias eyes welled up with tears

“Oh Saints tell me he’s not crying” Kuwei Moaned

Jesper walked over to where Matthias was stroking a hydrangea

“They are soooooooo pretty” Jespers eyes also Welled up with tears

“Fuck this shit” Kuwei said taking out a lighter and cigarette

“Hey! Smoking is very bad for you Kuwei!” Wylan lectured

“Wylan. I’m an inferni. Smoking foesnt affect us” Kuwei rolled his golden brown eyes

“Yeah but we’re in a highly flammable garden! And the rest of us aren’t inferni!” Wylan said

It seemed during Kuwei and Wylans arguement Kaz had also joined the cult of flowers that Matthias and Jesper were fixated on

“Wylan stop smoke shaming me!” And the scientists went back and fourth

“KUWEI YOU PIECE OF-“ Wylan started then sniffed the air “is that, is that smoke?” Wylan asked

“Holy shit dudes there’s a fire!” Kaz yelled pointing at where the cigarette Kuwei droppped

It seemed that the cigarette lit fire to a big wall of flowers

“This is why I never wanted a bachelor party!” Matthias moaned

The boys could hear voices coming towards them

Then all of the men looked at each other

And all of them yelled “RUN!”

All of them starting sprinting to the fence

And Kaz with his limp scrambled up that fence the fastest

Guess his determination to not get caught was strong

Wylan started climbing as fast as he could whitch wasn’t very fast

“Cmon Merchling!” Jesper said at the top reaching out a hand to his boyfriend

Wylan took it and stared at the steel eyes that had first enraptured him years ago

“Hey Stop!” Looking back Wylan and Jesper saw three security guards running towards them and yelling at them to stop

Jesper yanked Wylan up and they both fell off the fence in a pile

Jesper took Wylans hand and they all started booking it to Wylan’s car

Wylan who had sobered up in the whole endeavor determined that he was probably sober enough to drive

Piling in they all shoved themselves in the car

Wylan turned on the gas and starte to get the car back on the road

“I can’t believe we ran from cops!” Matthias said in between panting

“That was awesome!” Jesper exclaimed from the passenger seat

Wylan laughed

He had never been a spontaneous person

It seemed this night was a lot more fun then he thought

Until he heard the sirens

From the backseat Kaz turned

And three police cars were zooming towards them

“I am not going down for arson!” Kuwei yelled

“Wylan stop driving like a grandma and go faster! There gaining on us!” Kaz screamed at Wylan

“I can’t there’s a stoplight!”

“Run it!” Jespers shrill voice screamed at him

And Wylan did what he swore to never do

He took a deep breath

And ran that light as fast as he could

They were flying

Wylan had never seen how fast he could make his car go

Turns out it was fast

Wylan used some of his dads money to buy a sports car just to rub it in Jans face

With the top off and blood rushing through Wylans head he had never felt more alive

His boy beside him

His friends behind him

“WOOOOOOOOO!” Kuwei yelled throwing his hands up

Jesper joined Kuwei as the car sped down the street

Matthias was looking a little green

“Matty you okay back there?” Wylan shouted back at the Norwegian

“No!” Matthias shouted over the roar of engine and Jesper and Kuweis yips and yells

Some point during this Kaz called Inej

“Inej I hate thissssss!” Wylan couldn’t hear what Inej said back but from the pieces Kaz gave it was obvious

“No im not drunk!……. Psh of course those aren’t sirens…… Inej we might’ve bended the law but I swear it wasn’t my fault!…….. alright bye. ….I love you to….”

After what seemed like an eternity Wylan finally lost the police

Laughing the Wylan pulled into a gas station for refill

Wylan stepped out of the car and began to refill his car and thought for the millionth time what am I doing here?

“Wylannnnnn” Kuwei moaned

“What Kuwei?” Wylan said already exasperated

“Wylan I’m hungryyyyyy”

“Then go grab some chips or something!”

“But I don’t want to pay for it!”

“Then I guess that sucks for you!”

“You got like a million dollars from stealing me from Norway! You owe me!”

Ghezen Wylan hated drunk people

“Let’s perform a heist on the gas station!” Matthias said apparently done feeling sick

“What? No! We aren’t stealing from the gas station!” Wylan lectured

“It might actually be fuuuuuuun Wy” Kaz begged

The rest of the party were already getting out of the car ignoring Wylans protests

“We will do a simple distract act, Kuwei will go in first and lead the cashier away, and then we go in and steal chips” Kaz explained

It seemed even drunk Kaz could scheme

“This is insane!” Wylan exclaimed

“You said that about rescuing Kuwei from the Norwegian government but that ended up great” Matthias replied

They were gonna do this with or without Wylan

With a sigh Wylan thought what am I doing here?

Kuwei had gone in and had given the single

Wylan had walked in after pretending to look at some sodas and after Kuwei went into the back room with the cashier Wylan sent a quick text to the rest of the guys to come In and get raiding

Like clockwork Matthias, Jesper, and Kaz went in and they started ransacking the place

Wylan was in charge of Sodas, Matthias was in charge of Chips, and Jesper was in charge of Candy

Kaz had the most important job of all

He had to hack into there computers and wipe the security cameras

If Kaz couldn’t do that then Kaz would have to actually hack into the computers from his phone

It almost suprised Wylan how quickly efficiently, and quietly, a bunch of drunk guys could ransack a gas station

Wylan did feel guilty for a moment

But then he remembered how the CEO of the company the gas station is owned by has had multiple sexual misconduct allegations and Wylan felt better

Wylan got all the soda he could carry and rushed back to the car dumping them in the backseat

Soon after Matthias followed then Jesper and a little while after Kaz

Wylan did a quick headcount “wait where’s Kuwei?”

Wylan checked his phone

No texts from him

Shit shit shit

“Someone has to go back in” Kaz said

“I’ll go after him” Wylan said with a sigh

He loved Kuwei like a brother

But like an annoying little brother constantly getting himself in messes

Wylan Walked in and saw the e cashier wasn’t back

Wylan walked through the store and then heard something towards the men’s bathroom

Walking closer to the door the noises were getting a bit louder

Wylan opened the door slamming it against the wall

There stood a wide eyed Chinese kid and from the green uniform Wylan guessed was the cashier

The cashier who was standing between Kuweis legs. Kuwei who was sitting in the edge of the bathroom sink

There’s arms were around each other

Wylan was confused

What was Kuwei doing?

Oh

Oh

“Get your ass in the car Kuwei!” Wylan yelled

Kuwei gave whispered sorries to the cashier while collecting his jacket he apparently threw off

Wylan dragged Kuwei by the arm outside the store

“Kuwei. When we say distract the cashier, that means distract, not make oht with him!” Wylan lectured

“Cmon Wylan you saw him, he was cute!”

“Your drunk Kuwei!”

“Aren’t we all a little drunk in life?”

“That makes absolutely no sense” Wylan said with a sigh “just go to the car”

Kuwei happily skips away

Wylan had just dropped off Matthias at his and Ninas apartment after dropping off Kaz and Kuwei

Leaving just Wylan, Jesper, and an unhealthy amount of snacks in the car

“Hey Wylan” Jesper said

“Yes Jes?”

“I love you”

“I love you to Jesper”

“No wylan” Jesper took Wylan’s face in his hands

“I really love you” Jesper Pushed a ginger lock away from Wylans face

Jesper then reached into his pocket and pulled out a rumpled purple flower and tucked it into Wylans hair “I really really really love you”

Wylan blinked. Jesper was so drunk.

Wylan gave Jesper a soft smile and placed a kiss on his mouth

“I love you to Jesper”

And suddenly Wylan knew exactly what he was doing there

Finnally finished this in the Nick of time! @neilperryisalive I hope you enjoy this! I was seriously worried I wouldn’t be able to finish it but I did! I’ve never written Wesper but I really enjoyed it. My ask box is open and I take any Grishaverse requests

[hiddendreamer67]

Giant Mers are Good Mers

That's right, it's MerMay baby! Introducing my new bois. Caspian is a giant siren with influences of Mediterranean monk seals and leopard seals. Beckett is a lil' human who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. This piece is a completed oneshot, but I've got a couple ideas for more oneshots with this pairing, including a few ideas for alternate universes (especially after seeing all the fun @ibis-gt seems to be having with AUs of their bois).

Word count: 6,001

Initial prompt idea: human was taken by a giant siren but then let go (on a whim / siren got bored) but human doesn’t know why they were spared so they come back to thank the siren. The siren doesn’t even remember doing that because it was such an insignificant event to them, but now it’s interesting because humans never came on their own.

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Beckett had always been a simple fellow. He grew up in WhiteBridge, on a small town farm with his three older sisters picking on him ceaselessly. While he loved WhiteBridge and its quaint charms, Beck found his true passion in books, and studied at Oxford for several years before scouring the globe for his passion. In his quest for knowledge, Beckett chose to join a month-long excursion out at sea, and found himself regretting that decision a few weeks later.

“Steady on there.” One of the sailors, Michelle, handed him a pair of earplugs. “You’ll need these where we’re going.”

Beckett eyed the little pieces of foam dubiously. “And just where might that be?”

“Siren territory.”

Beck hardly believed in such fairy tales, but to calm the sailor’s superstitions he inserted the plugs as instructed. Siren tales aside, Beckett found himself growing as twitchy as the sailors. The coastline hadn’t been visible for ages due to a large amount of fog accumulation. The stormy skies were foreboding as well, indicating that proper precautions would need to be taken. This far north, the weather reports often indicated rocky waves far beyond what should be normal.

Would Beckett sink, out here in the middle of nowhere? Was that to be his fate? The young man began to fret, hastening to make himself useful as the first rolls of thunder sounded off and the waves grew steadily higher.

And then, he heard it. Beckett paused, arms slack on the rope as he attempted to hear that haunting melody. Was the weather playing tricks on him, or was someone calling out to him.

“BECK! EARS!”

Beckett blinked, stunned to find himself standing on the slippery railing. When did he get up here? Beck hastened to climb down, noticing the rest of the crew had their hands firmly clasped over their ears, even with the ear plugs inserted.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. Even with the double protection, the voice grew in volume, its booming voice penetrating into their heads. Every single person on board fell victim to its call, the ship’s captain turning the wheel to head towards the beckoning beast. Beckett climbed back up to the railing, plunging overboard into the crashing waves.

With a sputter, Beckett fought to keep his breath, legs kicking desperately against the current. Even in his desperate survival state, the voice called to him, and instinctively Beckett swam in the right direction to answer its call.

Every time the voice paused to take a breath, Beck would regain control for only a moment, his heart pounding as his fate flashed before his eyes with nothing to be done about it. Between one blink and the next, the sky grew darker, a looming shape breaching in the distance. Another blink, and Beckett’s face lost all complexion staring up at his demise.

A great sea serpent, half man half beast, towered with its human half over the pitiful human. With a single shift of its body, the beast created waves that threatened to pull Beck under. Those sharp features and piercing blue eyes were unforgettable, and subconsciously Beck realized this was the last face he would ever see.

Another blink. This time, when the serpent let out a hum, Beckett remained conscious but still out of his own control. His body was lax but his mind manic. The siren reached for him, slimy claws surrounding his form and making Beck shudder as he was raised 50 feet in the air in seconds. Beckett whimpered, coughing out sea water as his gaze was drawn down to the siren’s lips. The creature grinned and revealed its razor-sharp fangs. Taking a deep breath in, the siren revealed the cavernous depths beyond as it prepared to inhale its next meal.

Beckett pleaded nonsense pitifully, tears pouring down his cheeks as the haunting nothingness washed over his mind yet again. Would he even wake once more? Was the beast merciful enough to let Beckett go in his sleep?

When Beckett woke up, he thought he was dead.

He squinted, the sun too bright for his eyes. The sun? What happened to the storm? Stranger yet, the water that had soaked him to the bone was no more. Beck was dry, wrapped in blankets in a stranger’s bed.

“You’re awake.”

Beckett turned his head, his sore muscles protesting the movement. Beside him sat an older looking fellow, hair greying with age. “Who’re you?”

“The name’s Seymour.” Seymour introduced himself. “And who’re you?”

“Beck.” Beckett’s voice felt like he hadn’t spoken in days. “Am I dead?”

“No, but you tried awful hard.” Seymour assured him. “Found you passed out on the shore two days ago. Guessin’ you were part of some shipwreck? Though there wasn’t much wreckage to be found. Awfully impressive for you to have swam that far.”

Is that what happened? Beck frowned, trying to parse out the details. His body ached something terrible. He did remember swimming for a great distance. Had the siren all been a strange vision of his adrenaline-infused thoughts?

“...huh.” Beck settled back into the pillows, looking up at the ceiling. “I… didn’t know I could do that.”

“Well that, or an angel saved you.” Seymour chuckled. “You’re one lucky soul.”

Beck squinted in thought. If that’s what angels looked like, he could understand why all biblical depictions had humans cowering in fear.

(...was it an angel?)

Beckett spent some of the most confusing weeks of his life recovering from the shipwreck. Even as his physical form healed, Beck couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around the events that transpired that night. He couldn’t get the notion out of his head that the giant sea serpent was real. It had all felt so lifelike, the claws and the fish breath and the dark melodious tones that haunted his dreams…

Seymour was kind enough to open his home to Beck, offering the traumatized lad a position maintaining his lighthouse while Beckett still fought to gather his wits. “Yer’ not the first.” Seymour assured him with a chuckle. “It’s no water off my back if you want to keep me company while you figure things out.”

You’re not the first. Beckett had cleared his throat, wanting to address that thought. “The other people who wash up on shore… did they ever… see anything?”

Seymour raised a patient eyebrow. “What do you mean, seen? Figure you lot have all seen a lot, what with the wreckage.”

“No, I mean, out at sea.” Beck felt foolish, twiddling his thumbs a bit. “Like a… like a merman.”

To his credit, Seymour did nothing more than a slow blink. “A merman.” He repeated.

“But, not a regular merman.” Beck winced at his own words. Just what was a regular merman? “A big one, like a hundred feet long, and pale white skin, and white locks of hair, and piercing blue eyes-”

“Kid.” Seymour cut him off. “I’ll tell it to ya straight. No, I ain’t ever heard nothing like that.”

Today, Beckett found himself on the cliffside, safely back from the edge as he watched the distant waves. His knees were tucked up to his chest, chin atop them as Beck sat lost in thought. Somewhere out there, Beckett’s giant captor- and later savior- was out there.

Why did the beast let him go? Even further than that, the siren had gone out of its way to give Beck a chance at life. There’s no way Beckett could have made it all the way to the shore on his own, disoriented as he had been.

Despite his better judgement, Beckett had to know the truth. With this foolish notion in mind, Beck set out a few months later, having rented a boat from one of the local fishermen. It took a lot of practice for Beckett to learn how to guide such a vessel, as every crest of a wave made the poor lad jump.

Seymour must think he was mad. Often the kind old man reminded Beckett that he didn’t have to conquer his fear of the waves directly, but Beck had just shook his head. Seymour couldn’t understand the debt Beck felt to the creature that had saved his life, and his curiosity kept him captive. Beckett wouldn’t be free until he had answers.

Of course, once he was out on the waters, Beck realized how foolish of a plan this truly was- he knew nothing about aquatic navigation. Every part of the ocean looked the same to him. Even worse, his memories of the last sea journey were extremely muddled. How on earth was he going to find the same location?

And even as Beck drifted in waters that may or may not be similar, the human realized he had no surefire way of gaining the siren’s attention. He settled for calling out often, hoping his carrying voice would be enough. Did the beast understand english? It was deceptively human-looking.

Beckett’s throat grew parched, and Beck sat down a moment to take careful sips of water from his dwindling bottle. The sky was growing darker, and a familiar fog had begun to roll in. An eerie chill began to creep up the back of Beckett’s neck. Suddenly, this plan wasn’t feeling so wise.

That’s when he heard it. The familiar song of his dreams was echoing across the water. Beck had forgotten the feeling, his limbs stiffening against his will like a marionette pulled taunt.

Blink. A gigantic fish tail, just the tip cresting the waves. Blink. Beckett found himself in the waves, gasping as he kicked frantically to keep his head above water. Blink. All too soon, Beck found himself clasped between those claws, water dripping from his locks as he stared at those terrifying chompers.

Oh god. This was a terrible idea. What should he do? What was there to do? All the blood left Beckett’s face, watching the siren lick its lips. It raised Beck higher, dangling the human by the back of his shirt above a now gaping maw. Beckett let out an unholy screech, realizing he had made a terrible mistake.

Beckett squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the words out of his lungs before he never got the chance again. “WHY DID YOU SPARE ME?!”

To Beck’s great relief, he didn’t find himself lowered onto the beast’s tongue. Instead, after the longest pause of Beckett’s life, he opened his eyes to see the siren’s mouth had gone slack.

“What?”

Beck’s eyebrows shot up into his scalp, shocked to hear the siren actually speak. Guess that meant it understood english, too. Beckett cautiously raised his gaze, meeting the siren’s eyes instead of its teeth. The creature looked confused, to say the least.

“You-” Beck cleared his throat, knowing he had to keep the siren’s attention lest he become a meal. “You spared me.” The siren’s brow furrowed further. Beckett frowned. “You… you saved my life? I mean, first you threatened it, but… 3 months ago? You- our ship, and the song, and… I woke up on the shore…”

Unfortunately, despite being the most momentous occasion of Beckett’s life, the giant sea serpent didn’t seem to have given the night a second thought. Beck couldn’t stop the sinking feel in his chest, knowing this whole journey was pointless after all.

The siren slowly shook his head. “That sounds unlike me.”

“It’s true!” Beckett insisted, especially because his life seemed to be on the line. “I was baffled too, but for some reason you spared me, and-and I don’t know why either! It’s been driving me insane. Why else would I sail all the way out here trying to find you?”

“You came looking for me?” This, at least, caused the siren to raise an interested eyebrow. “That would be a first.”

Beck nodded quickly. “Yes! I’ve been shouting for you all day. And before that I’ve been training for weeks, saving up for a downpayment to borrow Ben’s boat, which I’ll probably be losing now that I have no idea where that ended up…” Beckett grimaced, once again meeting the siren’s gaze. “Sorry, I’ve been told I have a tendency to sidetrack conversations in uncomfortable situations. Boat’s not important. Please don’t eat me.”

To both of their surprise, the siren let out an amused snort, the hot fishy air rustling Beck’s hair.

“I apologize for that.” The creature had the decency to look sheepish, even as its words curdled Beckett’s blood. “It’s nothing personal.”

“Wait, what?!” Beckett immediately began screeching, attempting to squirm out of the claws still holding him captive.

“Stop!” The siren hissed, his grip tightening painfully around Beck’s ribs. “You will fall with that behavior.”

Beck winced, continuing to struggle against the crushing appendages. “That was kind of the idea. I choose waves over teeth.”

“Waves over…?” The siren shook his head. “No, you misunderstand. I will not eat you.”

Beck found that hard to believe. He squinted, judging the gigantic face before him even as the pressure stayed tight around his chest. “So, you were going to?”

“Yes.”

“But now you’re not.”

“Yes.”

“...why?”

“Because you’re quite interesting, little human.” The siren admitted. “Your question confuses me. Do you want to be eaten?”

Beck chose wisely to avoid that question. “My name’s Beckett.” He said instead. “Beck, for short. Not little human, or anything.”

The siren blinked. It must be strange putting a name to your not-food. “My name is Caspian.”

Caspian. For some reason, Beck hadn’t actually pictured the siren having a name. Or talking. Or generally possessing much humanity at all… the self-reflection made him feel a bit guilty.

“It’s nice to meet you, Caspian.” Beck greeted. He glanced around, realizing the sun had finished setting. “Can we circle back to the boat issue? I mean, I’m glad this hasn’t ended fatally, but it is getting late.”

“Hold on.” Caspian frowned. “You spent all that effort to reach me, only to leave? Little Beck, your story has holes.”

“No, no no no.” Beck quickly shut that down, hastily trying to avoid any possibility of a vengeful siren. “No that’s not it at all. It’s just, your time must be very valuable, and I don’t want to intrude. And also, contrary to popular belief, I'm not a great swimmer. Hence the boat.”

“Hmm.” Caspian seemed to consider this for several moments. The giant seemed to reach a conclusion, but Beck was uncertain what it was as he was raised up above Caspian’s head. “Climb on.”

“Climb on?” Beck repeated, confused.

“And hold on tight.” Caspian advised, opening his palm and tilting it so that Beck slid off with a yelp. “I was under the impression you need air to survive?”

“YES! Yes, that is- yes, I need that.” Beckett confirmed, quickly grabbing onto Caspian’s hair as best he could. Not the easiest task in the world with how everything, including himself, was soaked. Nevertheless, Beck was wise enough to prepare himself for whatever a massive sea serpent might have planned.

Without further warning, Caspian lowered himself into the water, only keeping the top of his head above the waves for Beck’s benefit. Beck hastily lowered himself onto his stomach, not wanting to slide off Caspian’s head as the mer began to swim through the ocean faster than a speedboat.

“Where are you going!” Beck shouted above the wind whipping at his face. He squinted, trying to see where the siren was headed but having no luck. Were they swimming to the boat? Had Beck really gotten so far away from it?

Unfortunately, the siren himself offered no answers. The night sky and fog did not help Beck’s visibility. In these conditions, he was practically blind.

After several minutes of this less-than-ideal water travel, Caspian came to an abrupt stop. Beck frowned, finding himself staring at a rocky cliffside shore. Was Caspian trying to return him to the lighthouse again? But none of this looked familiar…

Caspian raised his head above the waves, sending Beck scrambling to keep his hold. It didn’t matter, as those familiar claws came up and plucked the human from Caspian’s hair.

“Hold your breath.” Caspian advised. This was Beck’s only warning as he was cupped between Caspian’s hands, the mer diving beneath the surface.

Thankfully, Beckett was intelligent enough to take the warning to heart. He held his breath, eyes squeezed tightly shut to avoid getting saltwater in them. The pressure became quite intense as Caspian dove several dozen meters down with ease. It made Beck feel like his head would pop at any moment. Was Caspian trying to drown him? But why go through all the effort of telling Beck to hold his breath, if only to drag it out?

Just as Beck could take it no longer and felt on the verge of passing out, Caspian breached the surface. Immediately Beck began to suck in large gulps of air, snorting to get the water that got stuck unpleasantly up his nose.

Despite being above the surface, Beck couldn’t see anything. He tried not to panic, heart racing thanks to all the uncertainties of the situation. “Where- where are we?”

“Home.”

Caspian’s answer only brought on further questions. Home? What kind of home did a gigantic merman have, anyway? Slowly his human eyes began to adjust to the darkness, noticing that bioluminescent moss seemed to give the space just enough light to see the outlines of shapes. It appeared they were in some sort of underground cavern, the water lapping against a craggy water-worn shore.

“Ah, yes. Of Course. Home.” Beck tried not to think about the several deadly reasons a wild animal might welcome him into its living space. But thankfully, Caspian wasn’t just an animal. He could talk, he seemed half human- that had to amount to something, right?

Of course, Caspian had still planned to eat him. So. There’s that.

“You’re still not gonna eat me, right?” Beck asked, not about to leave something so important to chance.

“Right.” Caspian sighed, as if the question were a mild annoyance and not tied to Beckett’s entire livelihood. “But you have disturbed my hunting time. I’m hungry.”

“Not sure that’s entirely my fault…” Beckett murmured to himself.

Caspian lowered his cupped palms to the rocky shore, setting Beck down away from the water’s edge. “Stay here.”

“Wha-? Stay here?” Beck became alarmed, taking a few nervous steps to catch his footing on the slippery slope. “Where are you going?”

“Do not worry.” Caspian assured Beck, easing himself back into the water. “I’ll bring you back something to eat as well.” With that, Caspian dove back into the water, leaving Beck alone in this dark murky cave.

Beckett blinked, shocked to find himself alone in this enclosure. “I don’t think he knows what humans eat.” Beck grimaced, not eager to see just what Caspian would be bringing back for him. Would it be wriggling? Slimy? Would it be human? The thought made Beck want to throw up.

Beckett shivered, feeling chilly now that the adrenaline was beginning to wear off. He found himself in an unknown underwater cave off the coastline somewhere, still soaked to the bone in his wet rags. The icy temperature in here was freezing, and the water wasn’t any warmer. Was Beck going to die of frostbite here? How long was Caspian planning on keeping him prisoner?

Beckett walked up and down the shore, looking for any driftwood or materials to make a fire. He had no luck, of course, but even if he had Beck didn’t know the first thing about starting a fire. So with nothing to warm himself, what should Beck do? Beckett knew from all the books he’d read on environmental conditions that staying in his wet clothing was one of the worst strategies for survival, but standing around naked in the freezing cave didn’t sound any more appealing. Not to mention, Beck had no way of drying his clothes even if they left his person. He would just have to put the soaking wet rags back on eventually.

Making a foolish decision, Beck kept his clothes on in the hopes that his own body temperature would help dry them eventually. Coming from the man who went out to sea to search for his would-be murderer all day, perhaps Beck shouldn’t be treating himself as a good source for advice.

“What was I thinking?” Beck murmured, pacing back and forth to try and keep the blood flowing to his extremities. His fingertips were growing numb, and Beck shoved them in his armpits to try and keep them warm.

Should he try and escape? Beckett guessed there must be some underwater entrance to this cavern, but there was no way of knowing how deep he would have to dive to reach it, how long the tunnel itself was, nor how high he’d have to swim to reach the surface on the other side. Beckett wasn’t known to be a particularly decent swimmer. Even just the idea of getting in the water right now made Beck shudder, not eager to get soaking wet once more.

Beckett let out a yawn, the excitement of the day catching up to him. He was cold, and tired. Nothing sounded better than stripping off these clothes and lying down in a warm, dry bed back at Seymour’s.

Oh gosh, Seymour. What was the old man gonna think when Beck didn’t return home like he claimed? He knew Seymour had little faith in Beck’s sailing abilities, but Beckett had foolishly promised to be careful. Would Seymour mourn him? Worse yet, would Seymour try to send out a rescue? What if Caspian found him and wasn’t so merciful?

Beckett was dead on his feet by the time the water began to shift. Beck slapped himself out of his stupor, standing to attention in his semi-dry clothes as the giant merman emerged.

Caspian pulled himself partially up onto the shore, holding out one hand to Beck. As expected, none of this looked edible in its current form. There was a live octopus, still wriggling around, a half dozen oysters, a few slimy eels, and a few other squirming entities Beckett wasn’t certain how to classify.

“Oh, thanks.” Beck tried to keep the disgust off his facial features. Even with not eating all day, Beck didn’t have much of an appetite. But would Caspian be mad if Beck didn’t eat it? It’s not like Beckett asked for it in the first place...

“I was uncertain what you would like.” Caspian admitted, a soft frown gracing his features as he nudged the human with his fingertips, encouraging Beck to eat. “Will this be good for you? Do not be shy, I ate my fill already.”

Beck cleared his throat. “Well, uh, some of this is what humans can eat, but we don’t eat it… raw. Or alive, usually.”

“Hmm.” Caspian considered this for a moment, taking one of the eels between his claws. Caspian raised the creature to his lips. In one swift motion, Caspian used his fangs to tear off the eel’s head, sending a small spurt of blood spattering down.

Beck cried out, quickly covering his head with his arms to try and avoid getting caught in the rain. “COOKED! IT NEEDS TO BE COOKED!” Beck hastily corrected, turning a bit green as Caspian tried to once again offer him the bloody corpse. “It needs to be prepared right, too, I don’t think I’m supposed to eat a lot of stuff found in live fish, they usually gut ‘em and stuff, and I’ve never been one for sushi in the first place.”

Caspian licked his lips, clearing away the blood stains as he tilted his head like a pup. “What do you mean, ‘cooked’?”

Beck slowly uncovered his head, thankful Caspian seemed to have backed off for a moment. “Right, cooked.” Beck nodded to himself. “Guess you wouldn’t know what that is, living in the ocean and all. Um, do you know what fire is?” It was Caspian’s turn to nod. “Wait, you do? How?”

“Fire chokes out life.” Caspian explained. “It creates the smoke and the ash that destroys the shores.”

“Well… yeah, I guess it does do that, sometimes.” Beckett admitted. “But we use it in smaller, healthy doses. You use it to cook your food, usually heating it up and changing it to be healthy.”

Caspian seemed more confused the further this conversation went on.

“Unfortunately, there’s no fuel here anyways.” Beck gestured to their surroundings. “And I don’t know how to make a fire anyways, so-”

“No fire.” Caspian said sternly. He sounded more like a stern parent, banning experimentation with firecrackers in the house.

“No fire.” Beck confirmed. He glanced at the ceiling. “Probably wouldn’t have been the best idea anyways, all enclosed like this. But anyways, no. I can’t accept your fish. Thank you, it was very kind of you, I’ll be forever grateful, but if I eat that I will be sick.”

“...hmm.” Caspian looked- disappointed? Frustrated? It was hard to tell the mer’s emotions, but Caspian at the very least seemed to understand Beck’s meaning, as he pulled his handful of fish back to himself. With a thoughtful expression, giving Beck one last option to protest, Caspian tilted the whole mixture into his mouth, chewing it into a paste and swallowing with ease.

Gross. Beck kept this thought to himself, grateful he was not on the other side of Caspian’s abs himself as the pleased merman gave his stomach a few pats.

“Then what will you eat?” Caspain asked, laying down to be more at eye level with the little man.

“Well, uh, I suppose I can always eat after I get home.” Beckett chose his words carefully, still uncertain what Caspian’s intentions were. “My friend would usually make meals with me. Stew, most of the time.”

Caspian’s eyebrows furrowed. “I can make stew with you.”

“No, you can’t.” Beck corrected. Gently. “No fire, remember? Fire’s needed for stew, too. And we don’t have any of the other ingredients. Vegetables, seasonings, broth, cooked meat… stuff like that. And any we got in here would be soaked with sea water, and that’s not great for humans either.”

The giant siren seemed displeased with this answer, obviously intent on keeping the human alive. This, at least, was one positive note in a storm of negativity for the evening.

With a displeased hum, Caspian reached out his hand towards Beckett. Instinctively Beck flinched away, worried the siren had gotten bored and wanted to do away with him, but all that happened was a giant digit began carefully stroking the top of Beck’s head and down the length of his back.

“Uh...what are you doing?” Beck asked, still stiff as a board.

Caspian didn’t seem inclined to answer. Instead he tilted his head, curious blue eyes intently studying Beckett. “Can you sing?”

Beckett blinked. “Can I what?”

“Can you sing?” Caspian repeated, and after Beck gave a nod: “sing for me.”

“Oh, well, I can sing, but not very well, mind you.” Beck admitted, looking a bit sheepish. The stage had always been his sister’s forte. “Certainly not to your caliber. I don’t think you want to hear me sing at all, actually.”

“Yes I do.” Caspian insisted gently. “Sing.”

Beck let out a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for such a task. What song does one even use to serenade a siren? After careful consideration, Beckett selected an old nursery rhyme from his childhood, both for its brief length and easy melody.

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star-” Beckett began, his voice shaking. He cleared his throat, trying to project a bit more even as Caspian leaned in to hear. “How I wonder what you are. Like a diamond in the sky, up above the world so high…”

Beckett had shut his eyes, trying to forget about any pressures to perform. A nice benefit to this impromptu concert is that Caspian had paused his petting to allow Beck to focus. “Twinkle twinkle, little star… how… er, ...up… ah…y’know what? I’ve forgotten the last line, actually.”

Beck grimaced, opening his eyes. Caspian was as difficult to read as ever, the siren’s face passive as Beckett awaited any sort of review.

“That was it?” Caspian clarified.

“Yeah, not a very long song.” Beckett agreed. “Meant for children, y’know? Just to… well I don’t know the point of it, actually, I guess it’s just something to sing.”

“Ah.” Caspian drummed his fingers along the rocks. “It was…”

Beckett waited not so patiently. “Well?” He spoke up. “I told you I’m a lousy singer.”

Considering the siren made no effort to disagree, Caspian held the same opinion, yet he wore a pained expression. Perhaps Caspian had held out hope for Beck after all? But then again, even if he were a renowned opera singer, how could a human voice ever possibly appeal to a siren?

“I thought everyone could sing.” Caspian admitted quietly.

For some reason, this bashful admission is what finally set Beck roaring with laughter. Beck clutched at his sides, doubled over with mirth as a concerned siren watched. Caspian let out a noise of concern, reaching out his hand to prod Beck in the side.

“No- I’m good!” Beck hastily assured him, pushing away the finger as if he had any chance of telling the siren what to do. “It’s just- ah, fuck. What a day, you know?” And with that, tears began to pour down Beckett’s cheeks, the poor exhausted boy helpless to stop them as he alternated between laughing and sobbing.

Now Caspian let out a whine, the trill noise echoing across the cavern walls as Caspian scooped the human up into his hands. Beck gasped, momentarily without air as he was forced against Caspian’s chest. “Shh, shhh.” Caspian hushed him, patting his back like he was a child.

Well, what did it matter? Beck felt like a child. He was tired, and hungry, and cold, and he just wanted to go home. Unable to work on any of those things, Beckett tried instead to take the comfort that was given to him, so overwhelmed by the day that this might as well happen.

Beck hiccupped, his tears still coming but too exhausted to keep wailing. Beckett leaned into Caspian’s chest, the smooth seal texture feeling surprisingly warm and dry for a creature that spent most of its life in the ocean. If he focused, Beck could hear a rhythmic thumping. It was Caspian’s heart, just on the other side of this ribcage.

“I wanna go home.” Beck murmured, more to himself than the siren who wouldn’t listen. “I just wanna go home.”

A rumbling sensation filled Beck’s ears, which he slowly recognized as Caspian’s singing. Beck closed his eyes, allowing himself to succumb to the call.

…

“...Beck?”

---

“-OI! Wake UP!”

Beck coughed, startled awake as he found himself once again doused in sea water. He blinked, disoriented to feel the surface beneath him was rocking like a boat. Before Beck could ponder that out, a bright light shined directly in his eyes, making him squint.

“Blimey, you look half dead.” Seymour whistled, taking stock of Beck’s appearance.

“I...what?” Beck frowned, looking around. They were on a boat. What happened? Last thing he remembered, Caspian had been coddling him like a wounded babe. “Where’s Caspian?”

“Who?” Seymour didn’t have a clue.

“Caspian! I- the giant siren!” Beck looked around, trying to spot anything in the darkness of night.

“Boy, I think you swallowed too much seawater.” Seymour shook his head, easing Beck back down. “Take it easy, you’re lucky to be alive.” Seymour pulled out an emergency orange blanket, wrapping it firmly around Beck’s shoulders. It was only then that Beck came to the startling conclusion he was naked, stripped of his wet clothes entirely. At least he could see them lying on the deck as well.

“The voice.” Beck insisted, staying down only because his head felt dizzy. “You must have heard him singing? He was singing. What’d I miss this time?”

Seymour had no answers, as far as giant sirens went. Instead, he explained his side of things. “When you didn’t come back yesterday, I came out to look for ya.” Seymour explained. “You must have a guardian angel after all. Caught you in my sights only by change with the spotlight, adrift in the waves. No idea how the hell you’ve got a speck of life in you, jumping in without a liferaft or lifejacket or nothin’. Holy hell son, ya got a death wish, there’s easier ways of going out.”

“I- what?” Beck frowned. “No, that… that’s not what happened.”

“Hypothermia can cause hallucinations.” Seymour swore under his breath. “Shit, you’re in a worse state than I thought. Never should have let you come out here alone in the first place, nevermind with Ben’s boat. He’s gonna kill ya, y’know, if you do manage to survive the night.”

“Didn’t mean to lose the boat.” Beckett rubbed at his eyes. “Got left behind on the way to the caverns.”

“To the caverns, he says.” Seymour rolled his eyes, handing Beck a warm thermos. “Drink. Sit. And don’t fall asleep.” With these last instructions, Seymour moved over to the captain’s chair, starting the motor and steering the boat back towards shore.

Beck stared at the waves passing by, sipping gently at the contents of the thermos. Tasted like hot lemon tea. Beck would have preferred hot chocolate, if shipwreck survivors were allowed to have preferences.

Was it a shipwreck? Did he jump in? No… no it was Caspian, wasn’t it? Dumb seal’s fault for it all. That, Beck was certain. Too bad he couldn’t charge the siren for Ben’s boat.

Before, Beck had barely escaped with his life, lost and confused about his potential giant savior. Now, he knew so much more than he had before. Caspian was real. Caspian’s name was Caspian. Caspian had intended to eat him, didn’t, and then let him go. Caspian had forgotten him.

Would Caspian forget him again? Why did that notion make Beck feel so uneasy?

It wasn’t like Beck owed Caspian anything, truly. The guy had saved his life twice now, but only after endangering it in the first place. But why did Caspian let him go this time? It seemed as if Caspian was intent on keeping him around like some sort of amusing lil’ pet. What had changed?

Beck’s mind was too tired to process through such things. He sipped more of the tea, growing drowsy.

“No sleeping!” Seymour yelled.

“Yes sir!” Beck jolted upright, regretting it when his head pounded. The sound of the waves had changed. Beck could hear them crashing against the shore, indicating they were almost to the dock.

Seymour expertly steered the ship into the harbor, a feat which took a good deal of skill in the middle of the night. Once securely fastened, Seymour offered Beck a hand, hauling the boy to his feet and keeping Beck steady all the way up to the lighthouse.

“Alright, in you get.” Seymour instructed, easing Beck into bed. He piled more blankets onto Beckett, disappearing briefly to grab a warm compress which he placed on Beckett’s forehead.

“I really did see him.” Beckett murmured, closing his eyes as the warmth lulled him into a deep slumber.

Seymour let out a low sigh. “I’m sure you did.” Seymour murmured, patting Beck’s arm.

[scapegrace74-blog]

Wolf Like Me

A/N So there I was, all ready to keep working on my new historical AU, when Metric Jamie and Claire barged into my brain and started making demands.  I’d been neglecting them, they said.  I hardly ever let them indulge in smut, they said.  I could only go back to writing the AU once I gave them their due.  The things I do for these two loons, man...

The title song is by TV on the Radio and doesn’t have much to do with the subject matter, except for one line which has always made me... *pulls at imaginary collar*

The entire Metric Universe, now chronologically ordered, can be found here.  I’m placing this new installment between Ceremonies and Lazy Dancer, so sometime during the first month or so of their physical relationship.

The light filtering into their compact kitchen was diffuse, watery and dull as the weather outside.  He went through the motions of preparing coffee, despite the fact he wasn’t working until later in the afternoon.  By all rights, he should be sound asleep.  His aching body had lifted him from the shoals of sleep and his weighty thoughts had kept him grounded there.

Carrying his mug and a reheated meat pasty over to the sofa, he lowered himself gingerly to the cushions.   He had been ridden hard and put away wet, he mused.  On the surface, this wasn’t a disagreeable state, but very little about his budding relationship with Claire could be safely interpreted on its surface.

As though summoned by his thoughts, his one-time roommate and seemingly voracious lover emerged from his room and padded down the hallway to the bathroom.  She looked like a cross between an albino gazelle and a harried hedgehog.  Even in his current mood, he couldn’t help but smile fondly.  His love for this woman was monumental, rooted deep in his soul and reaching out to span the horizons of his life.  He only had to find a way to keep it, and her, from killing him.  Piece of cake.

Frazzled hair now somewhat tamed, Claire settled gracefully next to him with her own coffee, near-translucent eyelids lowering in bliss as she took her first sip.  He wondered if she could sense to waves of tension that emanated from his skin like heat from a sunbaked street.

“So,” she murmured at last, “last night was pretty wild, huh?”

Right topic, wrong interpretation.  Still, she had brought it up, and that was the best opening he could hope for.

“Mmhmm,” he replied non-committedly.

“I thought I might have to hook you up to a saline I.V. there at the end.  What was that, four times?”  She grinned slyly at him from over the rim of her mug.

“Three,” he corrected, although he couldn’t fault her observations.  His balls were still tender.

Finally reading his mood, Claire placed her mug down deliberately on the table.  She turned to face him, eyes narrowed in scrutiny.

“Don’t overdo the accolades on my account.  Jesus, Jamie, you’d think I ruined your favourite rugby jersey, not rocked your world in bed.  Are you mad about the handcuffs?”

Despite everything, his cock twitched in his shorts at Claire’s mention of last night’s foray into light bondage: his, not hers.  While not a kink he’d explored before, his reaction has been far from disinterested.  No, he wasn’t mad about the handcuffs.

“Ye seem verra keen tae discuss my opinion o’ last night, Sassenach.  What I’d like tae ken is did ye like it?”

Spluttering, Claire ran her hands nervously through her hair.  He watched her carefully as she tried to navigate towards an acceptable answer.  It was a delicate operation he was undertaking.  He would need all of Claire’s surgical dexterity to broach the topic without cutting through the tender tissue of her perfectionism.

“What a ridiculous question, Jamie!” she finally said.  “I’m pretty certain our neighbours needed a cigarette by the time I was done.”  Collecting her still half-full mug, she made to rise.  He held her in place with a palm across her thigh.  Beneath his touch, her muscles were twitching.

“Aye, but were ye?”

“Was I wot?”  Her eyes were fixed on the kitchen, as though longing for escape.

“Were ye done?”  He spoke slowly, softly, tiptoeing into a minefield.

“Jamie...” she chuckled nervously.

“I want tae say somethin’ to ye, Sassenach, and I dinna want ye tae take it fer criticism...”

“Jamie,” she repeated, this time in a warning tone.

“Nah, ye need tae hear this, Claire.  I love ye, as ye ken well.  I love everything about ye, even the annoying bits.  An’ because I love ye, nothing makes me happier than tae see ye well pleased and tae ken twas I who brought ye that pleasure.  Do ye understand my meaning?”

Enormously wet eyes stared at him, a furrow between her arched brows as though she was working through a riddle.  At last, she nodded in acknowledgement.

“I’m no’ daft, Claire, nor am I sae blinded by lust that I canna see that ofttimes, when we lie t’gether, yer enthusiasm can be a wee bit.... what’s the word?  The one the Millennials throw about when a thing is designed for somebody else’s consumption?”

“Performative,” said in a bleak voice.

“Aye, performative.  And while it’s a dream come true tae bed you, t’would be a million times better if I kent ye were taking yer bliss for yerself, an’ no’ giving it tae me like some sort of gift ye dinna deserve.”

He paused, trying to read whether his words had found their mark or if she was about to pack her bags and tell him to go to hell.  He wasn’t exaggerating.  Sex with Claire was infinitely better than any other sex in his life.  And while he didn’t have some vast experience of women, he’d been with enough to know when Claire’s enthusiasm was feigned.  She wanted him, of that he was certain, but she’d never learned to take.  It would be the rarest privilege to be the one to show her, if only she would let him in. He could teach her tricks that would blow her mind.

***

“I feel foolish.”

“Whatever for, mo nighean donn?”

They were lying in his rumpled sheets, still fragrant with the previous night’s debauchery.  Rather than tear him a new asshole for his audacity, to his everlasting surprise Claire had crumpled into his side with a breathy sob.  He had carried her back to his room like a bridegroom.  There, with tender lips and winnowing fingers, he had eased her into a rare moment of emotional vulnerability.

“I’m studying to be a doctor, for Christ’s sake.  And I’m hardly a blushing virgin...”

He gritted his teeth, trying to avoid thinking of the selfish men that came before him.  They weren’t here now, holding this fierce but complicated woman in their arms, her maple eyes and molasses hair spilling all over him.  He wasn’t her first lover, but god willing, he would be her last.

“Ye’re a giver, Sassenach.  It’s who ye are, down to yer core.  Tis hardly yer fault ye were never taught that pleasure is the gift that gives.”

“Will you?  Teach me?”

A shiver ran the length of his spine, lighting his nerves like sparklers.  Even after the night they’d just spent, blood flooded to his cock like a bruise.  He’d have to be dead to not rouse at such a request from this woman.

“Aye, mo ghradh.  It would be my pleasure.”   And he meant it.

Rather than immediately strip naked, they spent a good deal of time kissing and petting, their clothed hips settling into an easy grind.  Everywhere he sampled, she was sweet and salty, sour and bitter, a smorgasbord for his tongue and his mind.  It was this variety, this seemingly endless combination of textures and moods, that captivated him.  He was certain he would never tire of her.

As things grew more heated, Claire tried to roll him on top of her, but he resisted.

“No, a nighean.  Like this.”  He pulled her on top of him until the bulge in his underwear lined up with the furrow in hers.

“Jamie!” she laughed, pulling her hair back from her eyes.

“Makes me feel like a randy lad of fifteen all over again,” he teased.  “Ye make me sae hard, Claire.”

She gasped, and he watched in fascination as her pelvis shifted from a steady rock to a deliberate, searching circle.  There was a distinct stain of moisture on the pale blue fabric of her knickers, but he couldn’t say if it came from him or her.  Both of them, most likely.

“Sae hard,” he continued in a low murmur that shook with restraint, “tae see ye take what ye need from me.”

A high pitched whine indicated his partner was growing frustrated by the ongoing torture of their almost-contact.

“Please, Jamie,” she begged.

“What is it ye want, Sassenach?”

A flash of spitfire defiance met his teasing question.

“Your cock.”  The click and suck of her pretty mouth spilling such filth was nearly his undoing.  Perhaps it was for the best that she’d nearly drained him dry only eight hours before.

“Then ye better take it, aye?”

Faster than he could have imagined, Claire dragged his boxer-briefs down past his ankles and shed her own knickers.  With the sigh of a nomad reaching an oasis in the desert, she sunk down on his length in a single, long draught.  She was so wet it oozed down to where his balls where already drawn up tight against his base.   Clenching his eyes tight, he counted slowly to ten.

“Now what?” she breathed, seemingly as stunned as he felt.

“Now ye move until ye find the place where it all clicks,” he offered with a flex of his groin.

“What about you?”

“Christ, Sassenach, can ye not feel me throbbing like a bloody split lip inside of ye?  Don’t spare a thought for me.  This is for you.”

She let out a curious hum and twisted her hips this way and that, rolling him against her inner musculature.  A slight arch of her fluted spine.  A counter-clockwise roll.  A series of rhythmic pulses, and then she found exactly what she was looking for.

“Oh.”  It was the exclamation of a prophet, having glimpsed the divine.  That of a pilgrim, having reached the mountain top.  It wasn’t like him to mingle the sacred and the profane, but the look on Claire’s face was nothing short of holy rapture.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, clawing at the bed clothing to avoid grabbing her and pounding to his own rhythm.

“Oh!  Jamie.  Oh!”

“Tell me, Claire.  Tell me,” he begged, desperate for something, anything, to hold onto on the sheer cliff of madness that suddenly yawned before him.

“I’m...  I’m fucking you, Jamie,” she whispered, like it was a secret kept in a locked diary.

“Aye, ye are, a nighean.  Dinna stop.  Dinna stop, Claire.”

Wispy noises and half-formed words began to slip from her mouth.  These weren’t the orchestrated moans and cries of the night before, and they aroused him a hundredfold more.  If he had to guess, she wasn’t even aware she was making them.  

“Can’t...” she breathed after endless moments, neck straining as she titled her chin skywards, slim hands coming to rest on his chest.

“Aye, ye can,” he urged, though he doubted she heard him.  

What only minutes before had looked like budding ecstasy was quickly turning to frustration as her head began to thrash from side to side, whipping her hair across her cheeks.

“Can’tcan’tcan’t,” she chanted almost to herself.

She was teetering on the knife edge between heaven and hell, that much was clear.  Half mad with agonized bliss himself, he sought frantically through the atlas of her labyrinthine mind, searching up dark hallways and around blind corners for an answer that would help release her from her self-made snare.

“Take what ye need, Claire,” he panted, offering himself up to be consumed.  Then, gambling boldly, he added “Be a good girl an’ take it.”

He knew she’d heard him by her sudden stillness.  He held his breath.  There was a tremor that started where he was buried inside of her and spread across her surface like wind across a pond, given voice as a rapturous sigh when it reached her face.

She began to move again, a pinched look of determination on her beatific face.  A set of dainty fingers sank to where their flesh met, so wet that it burned, bursting full and yet cavernously empty, begging to be drowned.  He couldn’t look away, curling up on his spine for a better view, slack-jawed and mesmerized by her practiced movements.

“I’m...  I’m... oh my god, Jamie, I’m going to...”

He couldn’t have stopped himself then for all the money in the world.  Teeth set, eyes fixed on nothingness, he spun away from gravity just as she let out an otherworldly howl and bore down on him like a wolf ravishing a lamb.  Lava rushed down his veins and through his cock in bolts of heat, the whipcrack of release shimmering like electricity across his skin.

Claire folded down over his chest, her arms crossed over her head like she waiting for a bomb to drop from the sky.  She still rode him languidly, wrenching ever last drop of pleasure he had to give.  Her shoulders shook in some strange cocktail of gasping, laughing and sobbing.  At long last, she was still.  She had yet to meet his eyes, and he felt unaccountably nervous.

Pushing strands of hair away from where they had stuck to her face, she rested her chin in her stacked hands.  Her face was equal parts awestruck and adoring, and he allowed his tense muscles to relax.  Seemingly at a loss for words, she placed a lingering kiss on his sternum and rested her cheek once again on her hands, exhaling deeply.

“Sassenach?” he asked, once his breathing was once again under his control.

“Hmmm?”

“I ken ye were only kidding about the I.V., but...”

[dreamsmp-au-ideas]

I was going to actually post this before asks closed (didn’t get the chance), but Teddy Bear Anon, you are one of my favorite people and a magnificent creature. You get my vibe. 

About Bad canonically being Sapnap’s dad I feel like that has so much extra angst potential when we consider the rest of the found family. Like. Sapnap, Tommy, and Fundy all have dads who started with the best of intentions but for one reason or another ended up slowly becoming a danger to them. I imagine Tommy and Fundy one day showing up with a cake and telling Sapnap “We regretfully welcome you to the shit dad club” and Sapnap is torn between being upset still and laughing over the absurdity of the situation.

Bonus points if Tommy made the cake using a recipe book that Niki gave him, the last gift Niki ever gave to Tommy. Tommy was originally a really bad cook/baker but after the egg really started to take over he went full survivalist. Leaning to cook was necessary but learning to bake was something he did as a way to raise everyone’s spirits. He’s never gotten the flavor quite to match with Niki’s perfectly but everyone agrees he’s gotten pretty decent in terms of skills. He and Fundy in particular will sometimes just spend an entire day in silence baking and then quietly eat their creations while reflecting on the friends they’ve made and lost over the course of L'manberg’s lifetime. When the group got back to the past and Niki made cookies for Tommy and Fundy the pair very nearly started crying.

Tommy is in an interesting position as a character since he did commit a lot of minor crimes and acted as a general nuisance but he was also still a child. (A very traumatized one considering I canonize SMP Earth with its unlimited lives but even more wars. Including against God. Tommy fought God just let me have this.) He acknowledges the moments when he went over the line and has tried to apologize. In particular at some point before the egg fully takes over he pulls aside Jack and tells him that he’s sorry for the way he acted when he was still in exile, taking one of Jack’s lives and all. Jack and Niki in particular are an interesting subject to address and a painful one for immune!Tommy to think about when he sees younger Niki because the three never fully tossed out the hatchet but it was obvious in the eyes of someone like Sam that both of them were growing more and more hesitant to hurt Tommy. It was made worse by the fact neither were even marginally immune, and it didn’t take long for the egg to get to them.

He never stopped being chaotic. Tommy at his core is just that kind of person. He did, however, grow up enough to act in a more mature manner. Started to recognize what’s too much. In particular he became a lot less violent and willing to lash out after Sam Nook in essence reparented him. He’s still an absolute wild card of a person, which in the eyes of Sam and Sapnap is a good thing. For this au I think we should actually address Tommy having severe ptsd and during the building of his hotel/the early days of the egg before it becomes a noticeable threat it shows. He’s a lot more subdued. Shows of aggression all carry a kind of desperation and his typical jokes feel flat. Lashing out at people slowly becomes more of a defense mechanism to see if someone’s going to leave or betray him, to test the limits of how nice they’re willing to be. After all, nice people have only ever been nice to Tommy when they wanted something from him. His eyes, especially after L'manberg is blow sky high, are well and truly gray. The first time Tommy genuinely laughs after filling Sapnap’s room with chickens is considered celebration worthy to them. His pranks take on a more hermitcraft-esque feel to them which honestly makes them more funny.

By the time they get to the past Tommy has recovered, but he still carries the kind of maturity that like Teddy Bear mentioned is reminiscent of age swap Tommy. When he gets especially stressed though, Immune!Tommy will slip into moments where he acts as tired and done with the world as age swap Tommy. With that said, most of the time he just acts like a more mature Tommy. Nothing could ever completely erase his unique vibe which Ranboo has gone on record as describing “Willing to fight God deaf, blind, and backwards just to prove a point." 

Immune Fundy and Tommy get on really well once Fundy manages to catch up with the rest of the group. It gets to the point where everyone from the past is kinda shocked since smp Fundy and Tommy do not get along. At all. Literally the first night Fundy’s back someone goes to wake them up and they find Fundy asleep on top of Tommy which is a wild experience since this Tommy is a goliath who often refuses to take off his full Netherite max enchant armor. He really becomes a "looks like he could kill you but is actually a cinnamon roll” kinda mans.

Also, yeah, this is Dream’s retirement arc. He is literally just sitting in the corner watching Tommy dote on his younger self and Tubbo before completely pile driving two of the most powerful people on the server straight into the dirt. At some point Tommy sits down with past Punz. He tells this Punz that their Punz died protecting him and Tubbo and that Tommy never got to properly thank their Punz so he’s going to thank this Punz. Tommy then gives Punz an entire stack of Netherite. If we’re gonna go ahead and agree on Phoenix Tommy then Tommy is fire proof, meaning he probably spent a large amount of time in the nether to avoid the egg crew and get rare supplies. Meaning he also probably did a lot of mining just to distract himself and it resulted in him being loaded. Tommy used to have a fear of tnt and explosives but he seems like the type of mad lad to say “exposure therapy” and make a massive cavern in the underbelly of the nether.

I think it would also be really interesting to dedicate like, a couple of chapters to other people’s perspectives. I kind of want to set the time they arrive in the past partway through the Pogtopia arc since I like mildly unhinged but not completely gone Wilbur. Plus then it also makes more sense for Techno to be there. Just prefer the aesthetic really. I want to have Wilbur see this version of Tommy and come to a sudden “oh” moment. I want to have a moment where Tubbo looks between his Tommy and this new Tommy, seeing himself nowhere to be found, and has enough what the fuck moments to become aggressively protective of his own Tommy. Especially if immune!Tommy ever admits to the past Tubbo why he is the way he is, what he faced under the thumb of the people he trusted. Which, out of everyone on the server, Tubbo would be the first one from the past to actively learn. 

I am fully on board with Tommy knowing how to sew. That should just automatically be canon in literally ever AU. Tommy for all intents and purposes is still Phil’s child for me. Survival runs in the family the same way that chaos does, so he’s got a ton of basic survival skills that he just doesn’t show off because it’s still Tommy. He would have been completely fine in exile if it wasn’t for Dream. Whenever someone ruins their clothes in the Immune group they automatically go to Tommy and at first the past versions are very confused (except for past Tommy and Tubbo obviously) and then Tommy’s just “Sapnap this is beyond ruined it can’t be saved, let me make you something new” and within a couple days he makes Sapnap a completely new outfit. Like maybe Sapnap fell into a lava pool because Blaze Sapnap Supremacy and his clothes are beyond saving and everyone is beyond baffled when Tommy just acts like this is a weekly occurrence. He’s memorized Sapnap’s measurements and style tastes and already had a new outfit in the works for him that Sapnap immediately adores upon it being presented to him. It takes about a week for past Eret to learn that Tommy stress sews new clothing and he cannot think of a better model. Eret has never had such a full closet. Eret has everything from three piece suits to ball gowns now. Eret lives in terror of the days where Tommy disappears god knows where with Fundy and the two reappear with a new wardrobe for the entire god damn server. 

Speaking of disappearing I really like the idea of part phoenix and part tanuki Tommy for a couple reasons. Being a Tanuki he’d have access to enough magic to hide his hybrid traits, which if they’ve been present for long enough would be a necessity to him. Additionally think about Fundy and Tommy building a den under Church Prime that slowly turns into a maze. Think about it. It starts off simple and then they both start digging more and it gets deeper and deeper and more complicate and the two just refer to it as their den and the only ones who are fully aware of the connotations of that word are Sam, Sapnap, and Ranboo who remember the absolute hell that was trying to navigate the original. Just Fundy and Tommy bonding over the fact they are literally the only creatures on this server that have this catacomb memorized and at the end of the catacomb is their saferoom which connects to rail way that the two spent a month straight on. It goes at least 25k blocks from spawn and it’s a final emergency resort in case they can’t stop the egg and the Immunes needs to regroup and essentially try again (if they keep bringing their younger selves with them then hopefully they’ll finally get an army large enough to stop this, but everyone really hopes it doesn’t come to that.)

I’m working on the first chapter of my fic right now actually if I’m gonna be honest and phoenix Tommy is absolutely without question canon to it but I’ve still been going back and forth on if I want him to be part tanuki as well or just blessed/favored by one like Teddy Bear mentioned. I’m also tucking away the whole thing about the magma blood for later use. Phoenix Tommy just makes sense. They used to call him Zombie Kid for a reason back on SMP Earth, he just literally does not die ever unless he decides he does.

~Snapdragon & Firefly

[hankwritten]

Hofstadter’s Law

Demoman/Soldier, 2k

Request for MinnesotaMedic821, Drunk

“You sure this best way in, Jane?” Demo muttered quietly as he gazed up at the looming concrete spires of BLU base.

“I am very sure!” Soldier said, not quietly at all. Practically yelling actually. Right in Demo’s ear too, what with his arm slung around the RED’s shoulders as the only thing keeping him upright.

“Shhh!” Demo hushed him. “You want me to go half-deaf as well as half-blind? ‘Sides, the last thing we need right now is the other BLUs hearing us.”

Soldier’s head, lolling like a pad of butter sliding around a hot pan, took a long and winding trip from one side to the other. “…Why?”

“…Because I’m a RED in the middle of a nest o’ BLU corn snakes?” Demo raised a brow. “Ach, you really did have a number done, didn’t you? Remind me not to let you near the Everclear again.”

“Okay! I will definitely remind you!”

Demo eyed him dubiously. “Remind me what, Jane?”

The grey shell of the helmet stared at him for several seconds. “…What?”

“Let’s just get you in, aye? We can do all sorts of filling in each other’s memories when your toesies are tucked safe under your covers.”

But in order get the Soldier safely in bed, they’d need to first traverse the minefield of potential termination that was the center of BLU operations. No problem at all really. It was late—even if some of the mercs had hit the town like Demo and Soldier had, they’d certainly be back by now, fast asleep, no chance at all of waking up and discovering a very difficult to explain situation in the form of an enemy merc carrying around their Soldier. As long as they were quiet, they’d be perfectly safe.

Demo guided Soldier towards the back doors, at which point they promptly ran into the enemy Demoman.

The BLU, spread out on a fabric lawn chair surrounded by dust, desert, and least a half-dozen bottles, blinked wide-eyed at the pair who’d just come around with the low-speed but high-inertia gait of a drunk couple. He shook his head slightly, as though to dispel the ‘ole three am fog and ascertain that yes, that truly was his teammate being helped along by the RED demolition’s man. Demo, for his part, froze like he’d been staked to the ground.

Soldier, as heavy things are want to do, kept going at his expected velocity. It nearly took them both over—Demo had to abandon the arm under his shoulders, lunging to haul Soldier up the waist and folding him in half like a Panini.

“Well,” the BLU in the lawn chair said, “you two look like you had fun.”

His face was a mish-mash of raised brow and, perplexingly enough, a smirk at the corner of his mouth as he bore witness to the two truants. Most shockingly of all, there wasn’t a trace of surprise on his face now, just those shades of smug amusement you put on when watching a particularly entertaining drunkard. The fact that Demo was used to having that expression leveled at him was neither here nor there.

“Er…” he said eloquently.

The flash of dread that’d shot through him when he’d caught sight of the BLU was the worse case scenario of course: reported on, fired, dead in a gravel pit somewhere, all rendered in gory detail by his mind’s eye. (His overactive imagination a bloody menace sometimes.) But as the BLU continued to sit there, not sounding the alarm, not even looking particularly worried, Demo’s fear for his own neck slowly morphed into confusion.

“I was just er-”

“Oh, hello Demoman!” Soldier chimed in. “We have been out. Drinking alcohol!”

“I’ve heard that’s a fun pastime,” his teammate commented mildly.

“Don’t tell him that,” Demo complained, hauling Soldier to an upright position. “Jesus, this er, isn’t what it looks like, honestly.”

“Sure it isn’t,” the BLU said, wearing what could now be identified unmistakably as a smirk. He gestured with his bottle. “Back entrance ‘s that-a-way.”

A little ball of defensiveness, not matter how unjustified, rolled around in Demo’s gut to the point he wanted to stop and give the other Demoman a piece of his mind. Which would probably involve lying. And then consequences to lying since Soldier had already given away this wasn’t a one time thing. He shut his gob and took the out.

Until the hum of the BLU’s resumed tune was far behind them, until the curving architecture of the base would keep them from being overheard, he didn’t dare start asking questions. Only when he was sure that the corner they’d rounded was at a significant distance away did he accusatorily hiss, “what was that about?”

“Hm?” Soldier asked pleasantly. He fixed a dopey smile on his friend, a second ago which had been the responsibility of a beetle crawling a tuft of bullheadidly tenacious grass.

“Your Demo, why’d you tell him where we were? And why didn’t he flip out?”

“You’re my Demo,” Soldier hummed unhelpfully.

“Ach,” Demo said, realizing he’d get nowhere with the security lights and a whole herd of horseflies bearing down on them. “Fine, lets get you inside first. But I’ve still got some bloody questions.”

They’d arrived at the unassuming little door cut into the base’s thick concrete, welded metal gushing haphazardly from its size as though its very addition had been an afterthought. Demo motioned at Soldier.

“Pass me your keycard, lad.”

“M’what?”

“Keycard.” Demo’s heart sank. “You keep it in your wallet or something, right?”

Soldier stared at the card reader. He stared at long and hard, so long and hard that Demo was starting to wonder if the question had made it through his ear canals at all when he concluded, “I forgot it.”

“You for- Oh for the love of Pete.” Demo took the hand that wasn’t supporting his mate and rubbed it long suffering across his face. “Well that’s great. Bloody great, risk my arse hauling a drunken fart back to his base cause he can’t hold his bloody liquor, and we can’t even get in to the fecking-”

The door hissed, layers of dust shaking loose like with a sci-fi swish as the vacuum seal was opened to the desert night. Demo gawked, watching it shake away grit like it was built into the surface of Mars instead of a dead-end town in the middle of New Mexico, and letting out a wash of air-conditioned oxygen.

When it was partially ajar, it unveiled the BLU Sniper, arms folded and leaning on the inner wall.

“How…what?” Demo asked. Soldier was too busy looking at the beetle again to be perplexed.

“Heard you guys arguing from the roof.” Sniper jerked his thumb upwards. “If you were sneaking ‘round, might want to think about keeping your voice down in the future. Probably could’ve heard you all the way at RED.”

“I wasn’t- We weren’t-”

Sniper waited. When no adequate explanation was forthcoming he said, “you comin’? Cold air’s getting out.”

Demo grimaced, and began the arduous processes of lugging the Soldier inside.

Chill ran up where his t-shirt had sweated to his neck, Soldier fairing no better since they’d spent the past half hour (every moment since Demo had realized Soldier would be going nowhere on his own) with their sides pressed together. He hadn’t realized how exhausted he was until the cold ai) brought the slightest suggestion of relief to his (admittedly also not terribly sober) body.

“If this is going to be a running thing for you two, maybe don’t get so munted next time, yeah?” Sniper offered. It was neither reprimanding nor conversational, like this was a totally normal exchange happening here with a RED in a BLU hallway.

“Who said anything about a ‘running thing’?” Demo demanded. “You didn’t overhear that!”

Sniper raised a brow. “Soldier said you were his new best mate. I assumed that meant you’d both be out and about more than once.”

Demo grit his teeth, the pieces clicking into place. “Did he now.” He leveled his best attempt at a glare from his blindspot at the disoriented Soldier who, unsurprisingly, was more interested in resting his head on Demo’s shoulder than being reprimanded. “Well that’s good to know. Any chance you can point me to his room?”

Sniper took one gloved hand and shoved a thumb over his shoulder.

“Thanks. Cheers.”

“Goodbye Sniper,” Soldier said belatedly, a good three minutes after he’d disappeared around a corner. “Oh hey! My room!”

“Jane, is there anyone you didn’t tell about us?” Demo demanded.

Soldier thought for a moment. “…I didn’t tell any REDs.”

“Jane,” Demo groaned. “This is supposed to be a secret. What if one of them tells the Administrator? You want that? Going to be hard ever meeting up again if we’re both six feet under.”

For the first time, a bit of shame managed to reach the Soldier through the woolen mesh of his inebriated state, and he looked at his shoes. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I just got really excited. Wanted everyone to know I was hanging out with you.”

Demo sighed heavily, not up bullying his friend when he was in such a pathetic sate already. “I know you were. Ach, it’s fine. We’ll talk ‘bout it later.”

Later being sometime after he’d managed to deposit Soldier onto a four-poster, though with the way the night was going it seemed like that moment would never arrive. His outlook wasn’t improved when he opened the door of Soldier’s room and found that not only was it Soldier’s room, but the occupancy of the entire Offense division.

“Whzzat?” Scout said, rolling to his elbow just in time to be bombarded by the hall light. “Ahg, dammit Sol. What the hell man?”

Demo didn’t bother freezing this time, successfully desensitized to literally every BLU on the planet stumbling across his ill-advised trip through the enemy base. Instead, he walked over, dropped Soldier on the bed, and began helping him unlace his boots.

“What the-?” Scout said when he finally lowered his arm. “Oh right. You. Jesus, how ‘bout a little consideration for the sleeping guy?”

“Mmrrhaunna,” came from the bundle in the corner.

“Yeah, what they said.”

“You don’t got the right to be begging consideration from anyone, jackrabbit,” Demo said hotly as he frees the military-grade combat boots from Soldier’s feet. He threw a blanket over the man’s form, who sighed appreciatively and said something about how this would earn Demo a medal. “‘Sides, don’t need to worry about me no more. I just came to drop of your sergeant and get out of here.”

To prove it, he backed out of the room with hands raised. Mission complete. Time to get out of here and bring this mortifying night to an end.

He might have gotten away with it too, if Pyro hadn’t shot straight up and pointed an accusing finger at him. “Mrrhaha! Hudda hah ha hoo.”

Demo reared back slightly from the Pyro who was still very much in their rubber suit, now with added nightcap. Whatever the hell they were saying, they were very impassioned about it. He looked to the Scout for help.

“They want you to tuck them in too,” he said, and the light flooding in from the single open door was good enough to see that he was smirking as he did so.

“Wha- I’m not bloody tucking anyone in,” Demo said hotly.

“Hudda ha. Mrra haa hur ha.”

“You tucked Soldier in,” Scout translated. “Only fair.”

“Gurrhaha.”

“…Otherwise they’ll tattle.”

“I cannae bloody believe this,” Demo groaned, rubbing his face.

Grudgingly, he made his way over the giggling pyrotechnician, absolutely giddy to have gotten their way. Thankfully boots weren’t part of the pajama equation, and Demo had only to tuck in the blanket’s edges ‘round a pair of socked feet and a squirming, suit-clad body. When he tried to leave it at that, a keening noise stopped him, and he was forced to repeat the process for Mayor Balloonicorn. All the while, he could feel the Scout staring smugly at the back of his head.

“D’awww, ain’t that adorable. Going to be hard to be scared of you now, though. Y’know, after you swung by to give us goodnight kisses and all that crap.”

“Just for that, I’m going to have a sticky trap with your name on it, boyo,” Demo pointed an accusing finger in Scout’s direction. He just shrugged.

“But uh,” Scout added, just as Demo was finally about to make his escape. “Glad you turned out to be cool though. He was really gung ho about tonight. Its nice he has good friends besides us.”

Demo cast his gaze to Soldier, who’d fallen fitfully in the short while it’d taken to get Pyro off his back.

“…That’s good. It was a fun time.”

“Oh yeah?” Scout wiggled his eyebrows. “How fun?”

Demo took one of the pillows he’d used to burry Pyro in and flung it at Scout’s face.

“Sticky trap. Your name.”

He could still hear Scout snickering all the way out into the hall.

[ickle-ronniekins]

the riot

request from nonnie!! “Hi! just wanted to say that i LOVE your writing!! I was wondering if maybe you could do like a fred imagine where the reader is a prefect and is leading the first years to the dorms the first night but he keeps pestering her and using some sort of pet name like “love” or “dear” and all of the kids think that they’re dating and tease her for it but of course she denies it. Sorry if this sucks, I’ve never done this before :( Thank you!!”

pairing: fred x reader

word count: 1.7k

A/N: i'm in love with this request, thanks so much, hope i’ve done this justice, fred weasley can tie me up to a four poster in gryffindor common room anyday, bye

tag list: @mintlibri @seppys-return-to-madness @how-do-life-does @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @semmelsemi @cottageoflove @laneygthememequeen @snakesonaplane-7 @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @bobduncanlover @dreamer821 @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @obsessedwithrandomthings @thoseofgreatambition @harrysweasleys @sleep-i-ness @shadowsinger11 @shadychaoticcollection @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @hood-and-horan @letsfightsomeorcs | message me to be added loveys

Your seventh and final year at Hogwarts had come far too quickly, and brought with it a very dry heat at the beginning of September. A melancholy sort of feeling crept its way through your bones during the Sorting ceremony; you were both excited and woefully saddened that this was, in fact, the last Sorting you’d watch. You bit down on your lip as the very final first year, a measly little brown haired boy, made his way excitedly over to Ravenclaw, who’s table was bursting with cheers.

Although the majority of the new first years had grown up in magical families, each and every single one of their eyes widened at the sight of the feast; Hogwarts feasts were rather famous, after all. Once they’d all cleared their plates and finished their evening tea, Dumbledore bid everyone farewell and sent you all off straight to bed, as morning, and lessons, would come quickly.

You couldn’t wait to see the look on the new first years' faces at the changing staircases.

It was something you looked forward to every September 1st.

You waved over the tiny boys and girls in your house and gave them a warm smile. “Our common room is this way,” you began, pointing toward the right side of the castle. A few of them looked absolutely mortified at the sight of the very large corridors. You added, “Just follow me and you’ll be alright!”

“Ma’am?” a young boy with dark, curly hair asked. Ma’am? You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself a little bit. You were only seventeen; surely you didn’t look much older. He looked positively dreadful; first year jitters, of course. “Is it true what they say?”

“What who says?”

“The Ghosts!” another blond haired boy squeaked. His eyes were wide with wonder.

You grinned; you knew exactly what they were discussing. You made sure your voice sounded soft and welcoming; you didn’t want to scare them. It was their first night in the castle, after all. “And what’ve the ghosts said?”

“That the Gryffindor Common Room is haunted!”

“..and that we’re going to be pulled out of bed by our toenails!”

“Ew!” a few young girls in your group began to squeal and giggle.

You patted the dark haired boy on the shoulder, hoping to calm his nerves a bit. “No, it’s not haunted. Here’s your first tip for your time spent here at Hogwarts — don’t listen to a single thing Peeves says, okay?”

Just then, a bit of raucous laughter began to flood the corridors, making a few of your first years nearly jump out of their skin. Rounding the bend was none other than the group you were hoping to avoid, including those absolute gits that always seemed hellbent on making your first night in the castle one to remember.

They were so bloody annoying.

“What’re you on about, telling these lads not to listen to Peeves?” Fred hopped his way across a few steps until he was right up next to you. He leaned against the wall in a relaxed sort of state; he folded his arms across his chest and smirked at you. “C’mon, love, we all know how brilliant Peeves really is.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got a low standard for brilliance, then, Freddie.”

“That’s rude,” George piped up, elbowing you in the ribs. He continued to march up the staircase with Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Hermione at his heels, but Fred stayed put. To the first years, George said, “We can tell you loads of funny stories about Peeves — just find us in the common room, and be sure to check out our newest inventions —”

“—ah, yes, Extendable Ears —”

“—Nosebleed Nougat—”

“—we’ve got tons, don’t be shy!”

“Cut it out, you two!” you called over the now very excited group of first years, who’s laughter and applause seemed to echo up the stairs. “Could you please save your advertisements for another time, please? I’ve got to get these young ones up to the common room in one piece; they’ve got an early day tomorrow.”

George and the others continued to laugh and bid farewell to the youngins; they disappeared through the next corridor in the blink of an eye. Fred, however, stayed where he was.

“Darling, you know we’ve got products to sell.” His eyes were dark and smirk was large; another year, and he was still hellbent on sending you into a frenzy. Don’t things ever change?

Before you could answer with a snarky retort, a few younger girls began to giggle quietly, but you heard them. Fred asked them through a smile, “What’s so funny over there?”

They continued to laugh and tried to cup their hands over their mouths, but they fell into one another and giggled even louder. One of them, a very short girl with chin length hair and black-framed glasses perched on her nose, asked you both, “He called you ‘darling’. Is he your boyfriend?”

Now all of the first years were laughing. You crossed your arms and turned back toward Fred, who was licking his lips to try and help him suppress the laughter that was rising in his chest. It didn’t work. He wiggled his eyebrows at you and glanced back and forth between you, the Prefect, and the gaggle of younger students in front of you both on the stairs. He actually snorted. “Well, you going to give them an answer or not?”

Through gritted teeth and a bit of a grin you couldn’t seem to hide, you told him quietly, “I hate you.” To the students, you said, “No, he’s not my boyfriend. I don’t have time for a boyfriend. I’ve got lots of studying to do, you see. Which is why we all need to get up to our four posters, because we’ve got an early day tomorrow. First day of lessons! Are you lot excited?”

Every single one of the students ignored this, much to your dismay. Fred, however, looked just as relaxed as he did when he first arrived a few minutes ago, if not more so. The blond haired boy asked, “If he’s not your boyfriend, then why did he call you ‘darling’?”

“And ‘love’?” a redheaded girl squeaked from the back of the group.

You couldn’t help it, you rolled your eyes — especially when Fred was laughing like an absolute idiot next to you. He placed his hand on the small of your back and you stealthily smacked it away. “Because he’s silly, that’s why. Come on, now. Let’s go. The common room is just around the bend.”

Fred spent the rest of the walk toward the common room doing everything in his power to annoy you; he kept poking you in the ribs, tried very desperately to sling his arm around your shoulders or around your waist, and kept saying things that made the children fall into a fit of hysterics — Rumor has it that Gryffindor’s team is the best it’s been in years.. coming to the first match? I know you can hardly resist my playing.

Once the first years learned the password and were settled into their four posters for the evening, you walked back down from the girls dormitory only to find Fred sprawled out on the couch with a copy of the latest Daily Prophet in his hands. He sent a rather sensual smirk your way; you shook your head, marched over, yanked him by his tie and dragged him completely through the portrait hole and into the corridor.

“Bloody hell, woman, I know we’ve done some wild things, but I’m not that much into choking.”

A bright grin split your face; you couldn’t help it, he was so bloody charming, it was hard not to turn to complete mush around him. You ignored his statement, though. “First years think you’re a riot.”

“Yeah, well, who wouldn’t?”

“You’re a git, you know that?”

“That’s mean,” he pouted, inching himself closer to you. He teasingly added, “So was when you denied that I’m your boyfriend. You’ve got to make it up to me, love.” He lingered on the word for emphasis.

You draped your arms over his shoulders and began to play absentmindedly with the hairs at the nape of his neck. “Sorry, Freddie — needed to get my first years in bed in one piece, not all riled up, like I promised. I’ve got to be a role model to them, you know. And you’ve got a distracting sort of personality.”

You could practically hear the smirk that grew on his face. He pushed you slowly back against the wall outside the portrait hole, leaning his one hand right next to your head against the bricks; his free hand grabbed at your hip. He licked his lips impatiently. “Distracting in a good way?”

“In the best way, darling.”

He grinned. “You know,” he paused, eyeing you up and down as if this was the very first time he was seeing you. “Letting me tease you like that did seem to get them all riled up.”

You swatted him playfully with the sleeve of your sweater.

“I reckon you’ve still got to make it up to me, though.”

You pulled on his tie again, gently this time. “New year at school, Fred. Final year. Surely you’ve figured out a way to hoodwink the jinxes and break into the girls dorm, haven’t you?”

He raised his eyebrows at you and clicked his tongue. In a hushed whisper, he asked, “On the first night? What’s gotten into you? So much for being a role model.. don’t let the young ones see you.” His wink sent you into overdrive. It was really rather rude of him.

You pulled him closer to you; you were extremely grateful that the surrounding area was empty and tried very, very hard to ignore the talking portraits that lined the corridors. You felt him grin against you, surely thinking of what the first night back at Hogwarts would bring, and before closing the slight gap between you both, you told him,

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

BONUS, because i’m a brat

“I lied, by the way,” Fred whispered once you both hopped back through the portrait hole. He rested his head on your shoulders and let his hands creep over your hips and around your stomach. “I am into choking.” #BYE

reblogs, comments, and feedback are always appreciated! thanks for reading and requesting, darlings x

[wolfstar-supremacy-innit]

"Tell who?"- Part 1

Remus smiled into his pillow. Why’s he so cute? He felt something rustle under his stomach. Reaching under himself, he pulled out a wrinkled piece of parchment. His resolutions list. Remus flipped onto his back and squinted at the letters. Warmth was pooling in his chest. Something is missing here. He patted the bed in search for his quill and ink, then wrote:

5. Fuck this I wanna tell him I love him

The paper slipped to the floor as Remus’ arms gave out and he drifted into an instantaneous, profound sleep.

Alternatively:

The Marauders are in their 6th year at Hogwarts, it's New Year's Eve and Remus writes a New Year's resolutions list. Sirius finds it the next day. The story is written from Remus' point of view. It's wolfstar and lighthearted. Kinda inspired by this fanfic.

This is part 1 of the story. I will be posting the other parts separately here and also the full fic on ao3 (I will link everything when it's done, check this post for that in some time). Warnings: underage drinking and smoking, mentions of anxiety disorder.

Enjoy! :)

Part 2 Part 3

Remus sat on the windowsill in the 6th year boys’ dormitory rolling a cigarette with magic. Well, trying to. He carefully placed the tobacco and filter on the small paper and tapped it with his wand, but half of the contents plopped out. The spell needed perfecting, obviously. Remus had picked up the habit of smoking socializing with some muggle kids back home during that summer. He knew it was stupid, but he had thought it looked cool. Later, he also found out he quite liked the lightheadedness that followed smoking a cigarette quickly. And some more time after that, there was a boy at school to try to impress, but that's a little embarrassing to admit. A nicotine addiction was surely well on its way to becoming a reality, but Remus didn't like to think about that. And anyway, with the war looming over everyone's head, who cares if a 16-year-old werewolf is addicted to nicotine? The problem was that cigarettes were expensive and Remus didn't have a lot of money to spare, so he resigned to rolling as it was cheaper and lasted longer. With some practice, he'll be able to assemble them with magic effortlessly anyway.

"Hiya, Moony," James said, walking into the room, "you're not getting ready?"

"Yes, I am." Remus pointed at his cigarette rolling arrangement, although James was probably referring to the fact that he wasn't dressed for a party.

It was the 31st of December. The four of them were staying at Hogwarts for the entirety of the holidays, given that the full moon had been on the 26th. Well, that was the excuse they gave their parents. The real reason why they hadn’t gone to the Potters after the 26th, where they usually spent the Christmas holidays, was that Sirius had stumbled upon a flyer for a gig and party occurring in Hogsmeade that Friday. James and Sirius were ecstatic, but Remus was pretty apathetic towards the idea of going. With his crush on his best friend and all. In fact, he had been trying to steer clear of settings in which he was sure Sirius would look particularly, well, hot. However, there was a flaw in his thinking, he had realised. Day by day, Sirius was beginning to look extraordinarily hot to Remus in every setting, and there was nothing he could do about it.

When Sirius had arrived at their train compartment at the beginning of that school year, Remus was very, very confused. Sirius had run away from home and spent the majority of the summer at the Potters, but in the two months, he had changed profoundly. Although they had been exchanging letters the whole summer, nothing could've prepared Remus for the feeling of panic bubbling up in him when Sirius had stepped through the sliding doors. After finally being released from his family's clutches, the freedom and eagerness to express himself had been immediately evident. Sirius had let his hair grow out longer than usual, past his shoulders, messier and curlier, but all the better looking (if that was even possible). He'd gotten taller and his shoulders broader, his muggle clothes sitting flawlessly on his lean figure. He’d looked cool, to say the least- chunky black lace-up boots, black trousers, a small silver loop earring in one ear and, of course, a black leather jacket. Remus had been perplexed and silent the whole train ride. What is wrong with me, he had thought. It wasn't envy or disapproval. It was excitement for his best friend's joy after years of trauma, of course, it was. But what the hell was that lump in his throat and the inability to look Sirius in the eye? Later that week, as Sirius had stepped out of the bathroom with his shirt hanging loosely around his neck exposing his prominent collarbones, Remus had realised with a sinking feeling that it all impossibly resembled a crush. A crush on Sirius?? I am so fucked, he had thought as he swallowed a lump.

In the following months, Remus had been desperately attempting to push his feelings into the deep dark depths of his mind and just forget about it. Still, as it turned out, Sirius' natural charm and charisma were impossible to look past. He would casually sling his arm over Remus' shoulders on their way to class or wink at him when James said a sentence without picking up on the innuendo of it. And it made Remus' heart jump out of his chest. On top of all that, Sirius was, in all likelihood, the most handsome bloke in the whole of Britain. So much so that talking to him made Remus' stomach twist with nervous energy most of the time. Anxious talking to my best friend of five years... He felt completely off his rocker.

In the present time, Sirius threw the dorm door open, stepping inside with Peter following and Remus jumped a little. "Lads," he said rubbing his palms together, "tonight's the night. We're getting plastered!"

"No," Remus said, still struggling with the cigarettes, now resolving to roll them manually. He wasn't very keen on his big mouth outrunning his drunk brain as it so usually happened after a few drinks. And now he had a dangerous secret to keep...

"Oh come on, Moony! This is our night off the chain!" There wasn't much Remus could say no to with those big grey eyes looking into his. Before he could say anything, Sirius asked: "Mate, could you roll me a few?" He had picked smoking up from Remus, of course. Sirius had said it looked "wicked" and “punk rock”. Remus was more proud of that than he was willing to admit.

"Sure," Remus replied.

"Cheers." Sirius winked at Remus and his stomach flipped. "Right. I'm going to get ready. We gotta clear off when I get out," Sirius said disappearing into the bathroom.

Remus successfully rolled up enough cigarettes for him and Sirius and placed them into his case. Oblivious to James' and Peter's conversation, Remus contemplated how he would survive the night. He'll have his cigs and the music, he concluded. He'll be fine.

He changed into his teal sweater and dark jeans and plopped onto his bed, gazing into the wooden board above him for a while. He sighed. In a few hours, 1976 would die and the illusion of a new slate in the form of a new year will be born. Remus was aware it was silly, but he liked creating little lists of goals for himself for the following year. They were never anything revolutionary, just a couple of small and realistic things he would like to accomplish. He thought about it for a few moments, then reached into the drawer of his bedside table and pulled out some parchment, ink and a quill. He wrote:

1977 New Years resolutions:

1. Get mum that record she's been talking about for months now

2. Master the cig rolling spell

3. Improve on non-verbal magic

4. Complete that muggle reading challenge Lilly and I compiled

Sirius then came out of the bathroom dolled up and with very discreet lines of black eyeshadow around his eyes. The parchment and quill slipped from Remus’ fingers. The deep grey now stood out even further than usual. "Should we get a move on, then?" Remus rolled on his bed, pressed his face into the pillow and groaned softly, pretending it was because of his reluctance to go. He didn't know how many more of Sirius' little surprises he could take before his head imploded. This was clearly one of those times Sirius would look just exceptionally fucking fit.

"You're wearing that, Moony?" Remus picked his head up to look at Sirius, not being able to suppress the disappointment that was creeping up.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Well, you wear sweaters every day, don’t you? This is a party we’re going to!” Remus sat up and peered at him silently, allowing himself to take a better look at the eyeshadow that suited him wonderfully.

“Where did you get that?” James piped in, finally noticing Sirius’ make up.

“Borrowed it from Marls. Now, Moony, let’s see...” He started rummaging through his wardrobe and emerged with a dark grey shirt with a band logo on it. “Here you go, mate.” Sirius held it up for him to look at, then tossed it on the werewolf’s bed. Remus loved that shirt, especially because it was one of Sirius’ favourites.

“It’s December,” Remus said, but excitement was swirling in his stomach at the thought of wearing Sirius’ clothes. “Well, wear your coat.” He flashed Remus a smile. As the other boys started pilling their belongings into their pockets and putting on jackets, Remus reflected on changing into the shirt. Then he did it, quickly. Heat rose swiftly up his neck and cheeks at the realisation it smelled like Sirius. It felt like he would melt into the carpet any second now. Maybe he could allow himself to simmer in his infatuation just for tonight.

“Looking good.” Sirius smiled at him in the mirror as Remus checked himself out. The blush intensified.

The four boys crept down hallways using the Marauder’s Map to avoid Filch and the teachers and made it safely to the One-Eyed Witch Statue on the third floor. Sirius and James were practically skipping down the secret passage leading to Honeydukes. Even Remus felt a little giddy, but that may or may not have been because of the shirt. They arrived at the pub without hindrances and made their way inside. The place was loud and crowded as they pushed their way to a round wooden bar table. There were decorative lights of different shapes and sizes everywhere as well as tiny glass lanterns with magical flames flickering inside. The atmosphere was bewitching.

“Right,” Sirius clapped his hands, “what’re we drinking?”

Remus wanted a Butterbeer, but it was decided on his behalf that he would be having Firewhiskey. After all, Sirius was now of age and this was his first opportunity to take advantage of it. And so, Remus was coerced into his first glass of alcohol. He downed it quickly when the first girl approached Sirius. This was nothing new, of course. He was showered in attention from girls at school all the time. What was different now was that it gravely bothered Remus. However, Sirius paid no attention to the lady and instead turned to Remus to ask for a cigarette. Sirius smoking was a work of art; Remus could testify to that.

After the first drink, it was no trouble following up with more and the boys wanted to try weird sounding beverages from the menu. Thick, white smoke covered their table when James brought over the Simison Steaming Stout. Later, Remus had a shot (or three) of something called Checker’s Quick Everclear which made him inexplicably snap his fingers a few times after swallowing it. It was incredibly amusing and enough to get him rather half cut. After that, things became somewhat fuzzy. The band was fine, so they danced and drank and Remus felt just swell. It could’ve had something to do with Sirius ignoring the girls or plainly the amount of alcohol in his blood. By the time people began counting down from ten, Remus had half lost his ability to comprehend what was going on. He caught sight of James hugging Sirius when the clock hit midnight as the two of them shouted: “Happy New Year!” A couple seconds later Remus felt hands around himself and realised James hugged him next, yelling the same words, frankly a bit too close to his ear. It seemed that James was either holding his drinks well or just hadn’t drank that much. Sirius’ eyes, however, were half-closed, Remus noticed, as he moved to embrace him. It was just a smidge underwhelming. Remus was numb all over and barely felt the touch of Sirius’s arms over the colossal spike of adrenaline that flashed in his insides. He likely held him tighter than necessary and reluctantly pulled away when Sirius did too. Their cheeks brushed briefly in the process. When Remus looked at him, Sirius was smiling. His hair was messy, lips full and smooth. The eyeshadow hadn’t moved. Remus almost leaned in, but chose to just smile back instead. I have a secret to keep. Big secret. Scary secret. He slyly avoided hugging Peter (who was really sweaty) as his stupid, drunk brain kept repeating: Big. Scary. Secret. Secret. But he had already forgotten what was so confidential. He was really fuckin’ pissed, wasn’t he? Remus sniggered to himself.

Sirius and James wanted to go to the dancefloor and Peter followed them. Remus, however, wasn’t quite sure he could stand very well without having a table to hold on to once in a while. So he stayed put, fetched a cigarette from his case, lit it with his wand and leaned on his forearms on the table. Reveling in the fact that that he was allowing himself to feel all his forbidden feelings tonight, Remus observed Sirius in a manner he hoped was subtle. Sirius was dancing with his eyes closed, smooth, controlled movements, face tilted upwards. Christ, Remus banged his forehead on the table, why does he have to look like that?! It felt strangely pleasant, so he stayed in that position for some time. His head was swaying lightly and he got an inexplicable urge to laugh.

“Alright, Moony,” a voice brought him back to reality. Remus forced his head up.

“Splendid,” he said. Sirius smiled at him.

“We got any more fags?”

“Yup.” He pulled out the case out of his back pocket and handed it to Sirius, just as he asked: “Having fun, Moony?” Remus’ mouth stretched into a stupid, crooked smile.

“Oh, I’m having a brilliant time.”

“Good.” Sirius struggled pulling his wand out of the pocket of his tight-fitting (Sigh...) jeans. Remus brought his own wand to the cigarette hanging from the other boy’s lips and produced miniature blue flames. Sirius sucked in the smoke, held it briefly, then exhaled. “Cheers.”

Remus downed whatever it was leftover in James’ glass. Then his mind blacked out. The next thing he was aware of was being dragged up the stairs by James to their dormitory. “You’re a miracle,” he mumbled, thinking how James could have possibly snuck him through the castle in this state without getting caught. James laughed softly.

“Okay, Moony.”

Remus plopped on his bed face first and let out a long, loud half-sigh, half-groan. He heard Sirius laugh from his own bed. “Nooo, we’re not getting plastered tonight! No waaay,” he said in a teasing voice. Remus smiled into his pillow. Why’s he so cute? He felt something rustle under his stomach. Reaching under himself, he pulled out a wrinkled piece of parchment. His resolutions list. Remus flipped onto his back and squinted at the letters. Warmth was pooling in his chest. Something is missing here. He patted the bed in search for his quill and ink, then wrote:

5. Fuck this I wanna tell him I love him

The paper slipped to the floor as Remus’ arms gave out and he drifted into an instantaneous, profound sleep.

Part 2 Part 3

[ordonianhero]

In the comfort of others.

Synopsis: The lads enjoying the company of each other after doing a bit of hard labor on the Lon Lon ranch.

genre: Comfort/fluff

author's note: I worked on editing this with a editing program, so I am sorry if its not perfect still. I am just sharing this out of inspiration from another friend's personal FB post that had me tickled. then going about describing poetically to my friend how I sleep. so yeah. hope this inspires a few of you. characters are based from Linked Universe.

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On a warm day of May, Twilight lay in the hammock. After helping out around the farm. Time and Malon's home stead. Time and him had been busy fixing up some of the fencing, while others worked around the farm with small tasks that needed to be done. The warm air brushed against his sun kissed skin. The sun glistening through the branches of the trees, that provide a little shade for the worn out young man. One leg dangling from the netted hammock. It didn't take long for him to be lulled into a deep slumber. His mouth slightly slack. Brow relaxed more than ever. Usually he could be seen with a face full of emotions. One arm rested behind his head and his other hand resting gently on his stomach. The older hero softly smiled as he saw the pup comfortably resting. He had just come from putting away the gear they had used that afternoon. His wife coming out with some refreshments and snacks. She kissed her husband's cheek before seeing the image he was looking at.

"looks like you wore him out?" she joked with him before making her way to the other's

Time followed, "he's use to hard labor. I wouldn't doubt he may be even caught doing the same thing back where he is from."

She smiled at him, as they reached the other's, calling them over. The others were ever so grateful for the food and drink. Wind had been helping with staking sacks of grain with the Warriors. Legend and Four went about helping with mucking and setting down fresh bedding for the barn animals. Sky and Hyrule went to looking after the animals. While Wild had helped Malon on the snacks. Something to help replenish their energy.

"I say we are good for the rest of the day. You all are welcome to just go take it easy." Time stated, placing a rag he used to wipe the sweat from his face on his shoulder.

"I agree, you all worked so hard today. I am very grateful for it." Malon chimed in.

Warriors took a gulp of the cucumber water before speaking, "where's rancher?"

"probably still out doing us with more work." snorted Legend, before biting into a sliced sandwich wedge.

"want to take a bet on that?" chuckled the Captain.

"Eh, waste of good money." The veteran replied.

"Also he couldn't anyways, he lost his fund to Sky." pointed out Four, sky in the background waving the bag of rupees.

Malon set the tray of food and drinks down on the mini table where they other's sat by, in the shade of the barn. Everyone snacked and chatted cheerfully. Time stayed quiet listening to them chatter away. At some point, Wind had grown sleepy and fell against Warriors. Time stood up slowly after having some refreshments and stated he was going off to go catch a few z's himself. The others wished him luck. Usually cause he didn't sleep at all or not very well. He could do with a long slumber. He made his way back to the house.

Four had taken to finding a more quieter place to do some reading. Hyrule went to hang by the little sugar bowls which the fairy were happily hanging out at. He watched them and every once in a while spoke to them. Warriors was trapped by the sleeping body against him, so he gently scooped up the young sailor and followed Time back to the house. Legend stuck by Four before drifting off into a nap. Sky had gotten his harp out and was plucking away at it. soft little tune.

Malon was gathering up the empty cups and such when she could hear music. She peeked over at Sky. "That is so beautiful." she said as she walked over to him. The youth blushed.

"Thank you." responded sky with a slight blush.

"Who taught you it? The melody I mean?" She asked as she sat by him.

"Hm, well a friend of mine did. Along my journey, I was taught these music pieces." he explained.

"What a wonderful friend then." Malon said. "I taught Link, a few things back in his days when we were young. Music wise." she continued.

"Oh really?" his eyes lighting up.

Malon nodded. "would you like me to sing you it?" she asked.

"that would be lovely." sky cheerfully said, placing his harp down to listen.

Malon closed her eyes and started softly singing. Swaying gently, like the wind in the tree branches. over waves lapping at the sore of a lake.

When she finished. Sky's mouth hung open. She giggled slightly. Legend had mysteriously popped over when he was woken by the tune.

"I have heard Rancher hum that tune before." he stated joining them.

"Yeah, Twi hums it to his horse. It's very calming." added sky.

"Oh does he? hm? Well it's a melody my own mother passed down to me. It was to help me sleep at night when I was very little." Malon explained. I see our song has passed down to the next generation. I wonder what other songs he may know?

"actually he seems to know quite a few tunes that he has hummed." Legend said, tapping his chin.

"sounds like there's a few of you who are a musical bunch." Malon said with a warm smile.

--------

When Wild finished helping Malon work on snacks for the others, came out. He spotted Twilight sleep in the hammock. His little sneaky side would of wanted to tip him over. However, he knew that would gain him one very angry ranch hand. Or worst being chased by wolfie, nipping at his heels. He walked over, staring at him, he had suddenly realized how exhausted he himself was. Nightmares often plagued him and Wolfie/Twilight seem to be the only source of comfort in those moments. The cub removed his boots before making his way to climb in the hammock with the Rancher.

Twilight woke with a startle and used his dangling foot to steady the hammock. The cub crawling in and flopping on top of twilight. The hammock swayed back and forth a bit. "Hm." Twilight softly grunted. He shifted a bit in a way so the Cub wasn't laying heavily on him. Wedging them in his arm and cradling him on his side. Wild settled in. Twilight used his toes to gently sing the hammock, softly humming a tune. in which lulled them both to sleep.

-------

Warriors walked along Times side as they walked to the house. The sailor softly asleep.

"He's so young, I am not surprised the hard labor wore him out." The Captain quietly joke.

Time looked over at the young hero in the Captain's arms. "younger bodies are different from older ones." Time replied. He paused seeing now the Pup and Cub all cuddled up in the hammock, deep in a restful state. Warriors pausing too.

"well aren't they a pair." chuckled The Captain.

Time smirked, "careful, same could be said about you."

"ah fair." Smiled the Captain as they made their way into the farm house.

Time dragged himself to the bed he shared with his wife and flopped onto it. Sleep coming quickly, as he drifted off in a dreamless nap. Laying on his stomach and feet hanging off the bed slightly. Warriors carefully set Wind down on his own bedroll, the young sailor however had his grip on Warriors. So the Captain took to just holding them. The sailor snuggling his head into the Captain's shirt. A trail of drool slipping from his mouth as he softly breathed. The Captain gently stroked the youths hair and then found himself falling asleep as well.

All was peaceful, on that warm day in May.

-fin.

[elstreem]

ALBW One-Shot: The Sword and the Shadow

Heya, so more writing stuff! This one is technically finished but prolly needs edits.

To summarize, the spirit of the Master Sword meets with a lad with her master's face on one late night.

As usual, if this is too hard to read, here's the G docs: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Pjs3LhclohUslR_ZQ55N1y8qQ3nZ640EJgn_5c-6HSg/edit?usp=sharing

ALBW: The Sword and the Shadow

Night lay deep on Hyrule, the late hour quiet except for the occasional rustle of the grass. Ravio peered outside and sighed in relief – despite his fears, none of the monsters patrolling outside had ever thought to come inside the houses of Hyrule. Whistling to his only companion, his pet bird named Sheerow, he proceeded to lie down on the dusty rug, the only comfortable place to rest on. It wasn’t always so – a few days ago, it was the neat and cozy home of a blacksmith’s apprentice. Ravio had changed that, and the former home was currently devoted to being an item shop. Not that it looked much like a shop - the display tables formed a rectangle, but most of them were empty, displaying only a few placards which proclaimed most of the items were on rent. Only a Fire Rod was left, sparkling in the lamplight.

Though he should have happily dozed off, Ravio felt rather restless and try as he might, could not get himself to feel sleepy. With a sigh, he realized he had to do something to pass the time. The only problem was there wasn’t much to do when there are monsters outside and your only companion is a pet bird. Looking around the house, the Fire Rod caught his eye, and with a huff, he stood up, expecting little more than a quiet night polishing the magical item. Ravio was just picking up the wand to dust it off when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Instantly alert, he clutched the Fire Rod to himself and anxiously peered out of the window. A warm glow came up the hill on which the house stood, and in a few moments a slight figure limped its way up the slope. Ravio perked up and immediately returned the Fire Rod to its display table, before eagerly bustling off to the front of the house to welcome his only customer. The door had barely opened when Ravio did his usual greeting.

“Hello, Mr. Hero!” Ravio chirped, sounding a bit like Sheerow.

“Here to rent -?”

But he stopped short in surprise. Garbed in green and with a sword in hand, the Hylian named Link looked like a hero straight out of the legends, but a very exhausted one. The hand he was using to carry a lantern was shaking slightly, and aside from the usual dirt from his adventures, a nasty cut was also on his face.

“Need to sleep,” Link groaned, limping into his home.

“Hang on, let me just, uhh, dig out your bed,” Ravio said, looking around at Link’s furniture, which he had wildly pushed to the walls to make the space for his shop.

“This will do,” Link mumbled, lying down on the rug. He just about placed his sword back into its sheath before he collapsed into sleep. Ravio gasped and hurried to his side, and was relieved to see Link breathing – in fact, he was already snoring.

“Phew, you scared me Mr. Hero…” Ravio murmured. Checking once more to see if the Hylian was truly, deeply asleep, he felt confident enough to remove his mask. Without the distinctive rabbit hood, Ravio could almost be mistaken for the youth sleeping on the floor. From the shape of their eyes, the same pointed tips to their ears, and even the way the hair fell down their faces, they were incredibly alike. There were only two differences: while Ravio’s hair was the purple of falling dusk, Link’s was the gold of noonday sun, and though the Hylian’s eyes were closed at the moment, his eyes were blue to Ravio’s green. Perhaps it had something to do with the worlds they lived in, and Ravio sometimes wondered if he too, might have had golden hair and blue eyes if he had grown up in a world filled with light. He shook the thoughts away and stood up. He went to the roughly stacked furniture and scrounged for a blanket, before returning to Link’s side and sitting down again. Sheerow landed on his shoulder and gave a curious chirp, making Ravio smile.

“Of course, we only look alike, Mr. Hero and I. The similarity is only skin-deep, but it would frighten anyone to see someone look much like themselves. I suppose he’ll only want to see his own face in a mirror,” Ravio softly said to Sheerow. With a sigh, he pulled on his hood again, wincing at the stuffy feeling of having it back on his head. With his face hidden away, Ravio then gently draped the blanket over Link, but on noticing the sheathed sword still within Link’s hand, he paused. It was definitely new – the sword Link had been using was a plain old sword, sharp and a good blade, yes, but nothing remarkable, especially when it was tucked away in its nondescript brown scabbard. This one was sheathed in a beautiful blue scabbard, richly decorated with gold ornaments, with the holy symbol of the Triforce prominently featured. The hilt of the sword was all that was visible, but it was certainly anything but ordinary. The hilt was made of a crystalline material, carved into the shape of wings that jutted away from the blade. It was enough for Ravio to recognize that this was the legendary blade spoken of in Hyrule - the Master Sword.

Awed, he couldn’t help himself from going closer to gaze at it. Even without knowledge about the history of Hyrule, Ravio could tell that this sword was sacred, meant to banish evil. Scarcely daring to breathe, he reached out to touch it, thoughts careening wildly in his mind. With a sword like this, maybe, just maybe, he could…he could do…

Nothing. Still nothing, because I’m only a coward.

The thought came like a splash of icy water, and Ravio flinched, fingers stopping short of touching the sword. A bitter frown formed on his face – while very unwelcome, the truth still held fast, and that truth was that he was a coward at heart, and he knew it. Only a coward after all, would have fled and left a princess when she needed him most…he was no hero. With a sigh, Ravio dropped his hand, his fingers brushing against the sheath of the sword.

In the next moment, a blinding flash lit up the inside of the house.

Ravio yelled in surprise and threw up his arms to shield his face. It was a dazzling silver light, and it burned his sight much like the sun of Hyrule has burned him when he first came through the chink between worlds. But as quickly as the light had come, it faded, and sensing this change, Ravio carefully lowered his arms and blinked away the spots dancing in his eyes. As soon as his senses cleared, he was aware of Sheerow making an alarmed racket next to his ear. He rubbed his eyes and looked again, and realized why the bird was behaving so strangely. With his heart hammering away at his chest, Ravio scrambled back, his mouth open to scream, but sadly, his voice got stuck somewhere in his throat and would not come out.

There was an intruder in the house, and she was definitely a cause for alarm.

For starters, she was floating in the air, close to the ceiling. The sight reminded Ravio of the Great Fairies that were scattered across the land, but she had no wings at her back. Also similar to the fairy folk, she was very beautiful. Her face was young and smooth, her blue skin glowing with a metallic sheen. She was clad in the colors of the sky and dusk, her fluttering robes fit for royalty, richly dyed purple and blue, and threads of gold running through her dress.

For all her beauty and regal air, however, she also looked frightening.

“Ahhh…aaargh –!“ The pieces of a scream started to come out of Ravio’s mouth, but a voice cut across the sounds of his distress.

“Please refrain from creating noise,” the voice instructed in formal tones. Ravio saw the spirit’s mouth move, and he supposed only she could have spoken in such a voice – it sounded like a girl’s voice, but also otherworldly, echoing as though she was speaking from the end of a tunnel.

Ravio's voice, on the other hand, decided to crawl back into his throat and cowered there, and he ended up just shutting his mouth and scooching away. Sheerow perched on his shoulder and stayed there, trembling occasionally.

The spirit looked on curiously, and satisfied that Ravio seemed to have quieted down, she floated down until her feet touched the ground, just beside Link. At that sight, Ravio was about to stand up, a sudden feeling of protectiveness coming over him. He couldn't let Link be harmed by this spirit - he was the only hope for their kingdoms (as well as his only source of business.)

But before Ravio had even shifted his weight, the spirit sat down, neatly folding her legs under herself. She also draped part of her cloak over Link's sleeping form, and though her face hardly changed, Ravio thought there was deep fondness in her eyes. Her gestures and mannerisms - Ravio sensed a devotion in them, of a bond that had been forged long ago.

"What is your relation to my master?"

"Huh?" Ravio asked.

"What is your relation to Master Link? You share his home and your auras are very similar," the spirit said.

"I…I'm Ravio. I guess…I'm like his counterpart in this world," Ravio said. He briefly pulled his hood away to show the spirit his face. She did not look fazed at all to see Ravio's face, and only nodded her head in acknowledgement.

"Processing information…processing complete. You are not of Hyrule, but of a world also created by the Goddesses. Greetings, Ravio. I am Fi, servant of Master Link, spirit of the Master Sword."

"Servant…so you've been looking after Link here?" Ravio asked.

"Only very recently in this life," Fi replied. Ravio got goosebumps - the way Fi said it, he could only guess how many times she had performed this role. "I am sworn to serve my master, in any age that evil wakes to threaten this land,” she added.

“So...you’ve done this before then? Save Hyrule?” Ravio asked.

“Yes,” Fi answered simply.

“Then - then please -” Ravio came closer, aware of the desperation in his own voice.

“Please - save my own kingdom. No - save my princess,” Ravio said, bowing his head so low that his forehead touched the ground.

“I couldn’t do my duty to her. But you - and Link - you can do what I couldn’t. Right?” Ravio said, raising his face to look at Fi in the eyes.

“Once, long ago, I failed my master, and Hyrule fell to ruin. I cannot guarantee that it will not happen again,” Fi said. Ravio got a lump in his throat and fell silent.

“Any time we face down the dark forces against Hyrule, my master faces a 90% chance of failure. It is the same situation now.” Fi looked at Link’s face, a master she had grown to truly love over the ages. And with that love she had also felt his pain, and now, she felt hurt to see him wounded and in danger.

“But even with the low chances of success, I will do my utmost to prevent the same downfall,” Fi said, her words gaining an edge as sharp as her blade. Then she looked at Ravio, her eyes still blank and expressionless but somehow it felt like she was looking through him.

“If you are to prevent what you fear the most, you must act,” Fi said.

“But if I can’t find the courage to do so…” Ravio said, lowering his head.

“Then, act with love.”

Ravio looked up, his words trailing into a stutter of surprise. The spirit of the sword, a legend who had endured countless ages...her lips were unmistakably curved in a warm, fond smile. It was a sight that no one, save Link, had ever seen.

And the sight of her smile reminded Ravio of long-ago days, when the princess he loved did not yet bear the burden of saving a fallen kingdom...

“The hour grows late, and you will need strength for days to come. You should also get sleep,” Fi suggested. Ravio started, not realizing that he was lost in thought.

“Oh, but-”

“Do not worry. I shall keep watch,” Fi said. She stood up and floated over to the window, humming a lonely melody. Ravio blinked - it was like all his exhaustion caught up with him all of a sudden, and he lay down, his mind clear of all worries. He didn’t know what he was meant to do yet, but...he shut his eyes and slept, dreaming about light for once.

Alone, Fi looked out into the night, and when a curious Sheerow perched on her shoulder, she did not mind.

-------

“Up and at them, Mr. Hero!”

Link groaned and sat up, rubbing his eyes. He knew he heard a wonderful, familiar song in his dreams, but he couldn’t quite remember it…

“Breakfast?”

A warm and sweet aroma perked Link up, and he looked to see Ravio pass him a tray, on which there was a bottle of milk, still-warm bread and apple slices. Link looked down at the tray and then up again at Ravio, and his wonder must have shown in his face because Ravio put up his hands.

“Ooh, surprised? Well, so am I! I was only looking forward to some apples for breakfast but a really nice lady passed by and left this food. I think she said she was the Blacksmith’s wife? Anyway, she said it was for you for finding...Gunney or someone,” Ravio explained in a chirpy tone.

Link’s mouth watered - he hadn’t had a proper meal in forever, it seemed, and barely had Ravio finished when he tore into the food.

“Whoa, adventuring sure gives you an appetite huh? Anyway, you’ll be going out again, yeah?” Ravio said. Link nodded, crumbs sticking all over his face.

“...well, take care, you hear me?”

Some time later, Ravio repeated the sentiment as Link was heading out, and the Hylian cocked his head at him, puzzled by Ravio’s behavior. Sure, he was pretty cheerful, but laid-back, and Link wondered why Ravio was being positively sunny. Shrugging it off, he walked out, not seeing Ravio wave cheerfully at his back - or the Master Sword twinkling briefly as they set off on another journey together.

[babylooneytoonz]

Sweet Temptations - Tommy Shelby x Fem! Reader

A/N- So I really hadn't expected to get this one done so early. But here we go, I am done and I'm not sure if it's any good.

Summary- (Y/N) is a married woman, stuck in a loveless, unhappy marriage with one of Thomas Shelby's rivals who mistreats her and abuses her. She embarks on this forbidden affair with him.

Read part-2 here.

Warnings- MAJOR SMUT MAYBE? Porn without plot? Read it at your own risk.

Requested by- @peakyfooky

Thank you to the creators for their lovely GIFs. These aren't mine. One of them was found on the internet so if it's yours, let me know and I'll credit you❤️

"Mrs. Button?" Your housekeeper stepped into the library of your mansion, her eyes trained on you. You were perched on an armchair, a book spread out on your lap, your finger holding a lit cigarette as you brought it up to your lip, the dried gash on your bottom lip burning slightly every time you tried to speak, so you just motioned to her to come in.

"Mr. Button requests your presence in his study."

You nodded, shutting the book and standing up, stubbing the cigarette into the ashtray and placing the book back on the rack from where you had pulled it out. You wondered what that vile, evil man who your parents had married you off to, for money, was upto now.

You were twenty four, married to this man for two years and still childless, because he was more into filthy street whores than he was into you. But you were okay with it. You would have felt worse if he had wanted your body.

Wrapping your arms around your body and rubbing the sides of your arms, you walked down the well lit hallway, towards the mahogany door that smelt like cigarettes and booze from a distance. You placed yourself by the door and knocked, hearing a grunt from inside. You stepped in, your eyes falling on the vile creature that sat lounged over the desk, his feet sprawled up on the desk, his baloon belly evident from underneath the layer of rich fabric that made up his shirt.

"Where were you last night eh? The maids fucking tell me you went out."

You bit the insides of your cheeks– there was nothing you wanted to do more than to slap the smug look from his face but the fresh gash from two days back still reminded you of what kind of a sick, twisted fuck he was.

"We were out of bread so I– "

"So I what? When I've given you twelve fucking maids to do these things for you, why do you insist on still going out? To whore yourself to men? Why?"

"Seriously, Michael– "

Before you could even reply, he had grabbed the nearest object on his desk, a tiny round decorative item that he had brought from his trip to America and thrown it towards you. Maybe they were your reflexes, but you found yourself ducking at the right time, the tiny object slamming into the wall behind you and breaking into many tiny pieces.

"You fucking bitch." He hissed,licking over his malignant, yellow teeth when there was a knock on the door.

"What the fuck do you want eh?" He yelled, his eyes not moving from yours as now you stood in a corner, your hands curled into fists, kneading into the fabric of your dress as anger coursed through you like lava.

The door opened and one of your husband's henchmen stepped in.

"Boss, Thomas Shelby's here."

Thomas Shelby– the striking blue eyed devil– the only one that managed to irk your husband beyond capacity, that one reason you were thankful to him for. Your husband was so busy planning and plotting to get this Thomas Shelby out of the picture, he didn't focus that much on you, for which you were grateful for.

"Bring the bastard in, of course." Your husband pursed his lips, his eyes flying to you. "Get us a drink now."

"I thought you had twelve fuckin' maids to do this for you." You spat angrily, moving to the liquor cabinet when the door finally opened and the atmosphere in the room changed and the wafting fragrance of a man's eu de cologne spread through your nostrils, a warm welcoming fragrance, that reminded you of anything but your husband's sweaty stink. The man that walked in was a handsome one, a cap placed over his side shaven head, his long coat flowing in after him. He had a cigarette in his grip. If you didn't know better, you wouldn't think this man was dangerous.

"Mr. Button, I see you accepted to meet me at such a short notice eh."

"Sit down, Mr. Shelby. I hear you have a proposition for me."

It was as though you were invisible in a corner but it was your husband's words that pulled you put of your concentrated stare on the man that had just walked in.

"What you fuckin' doing there eh? Can we bloody have our drinks?"

Mr. Button's directed gaze towards you caused the handsome stranger's head to snap towards you and that's when your eyes met his icy, blue ones, and unknowingly, you parted your lips, letting your tongue slide out and moisten your lower lip. There was something electrifying about the eyes; an imaginary pull that seemed to be binding you to him.

Quietly, you walked up to the men, placing your drinks on the desk for either of them and looked up at your husband.

"Can I do anything else for you, dear husband?" You said, sarcastically.

"Yes, just fuck off."

"Gladly." You muttered under your breath, taking a step away to turn towards the door, but not without sharing one last lingering glance with Thomas Fuckin' Shelby.

• ───━━━━─ ● ─━━━━─── •

You could hear the men screaming from your bedroom but you couldn't care. In fact, a part of you found thrill in an imagination that maybe, a bad scuffle will take place and somehow, your husband will be killed in action. You had just stepped out of the shower, wearing nothing but an almost sheer negligee, a towel wrapped around your head and a loose fitting robe that hadn't been knotted up in the center. You could hear the sound of the motorcar from your window so out of curiousity, you walked up to the window and fixed yourself to it.

You could see the leader of the Peaky Blinders get into his motorcar with the men that had accompanied him, the car slowly pulling off the driveway. You bit your lip, too hard, drawing out blood, the metallic taste spreading in your mouth. You wanted him to look up at the window once and as if he had read your thoughts, his eyes flew up to the window, catching you staring at him. You didn't realize why, but a smile broke out against your lip, your palm latching to the glass pane of the window, as you watched him drive away.

It was almost two minutes later when you heard the sound of the motorcar again, and this time when you looked, relief spread through you when you saw your husband and a few of his men leave in their cars. At least now you had the house to yourself, atleast for a few hours. Usually when he left around midnight, he wasn't back until 9 or 10 the next morning.

You took off the towel, drying off your wet hair that were now clinging to your body, droplets of water running down your neck. You wrapped the robe around your frame, pulling out a cigarette from the box and lighting it as you stepped out of your room and walked down the hallway to the library on the ground floor– the only room in this godforsaken mansion that didn't feel alien to you– the only room that you found yourself spending most of your time in.

The minute you stepped into the hallway, a shiver ran down your spine as the chilly wind hit you, causing you to realize that the connecting door to the garden from the library was wide open.

"Hello? Janice? Is that you?" You called out, hoping to find your housekeeper trot inside, with a broom in her hand but no one answered. So, shrugging your shoulders in an incoherent manner, you walked up to the glass door, bolting it shut from the inside when you heard it, the unmistakable sound of a footstep creaking against the wooden floorboards somewhere, in the library, with you.

A sudden fear gripped you, you knew your husband had many, many enemies and it wouldn't be unusual for one of the crazy ones to have sneaked into your home and was now hiding in the library, somewhere, alone with you. You quickly grabbed a candlestick, curling your fingers tighter against the iron, taking a small, yet cautious step towards the library. Your eyes scanned the book racks, trying to spot anyone hiding in between them, your mind alert when suddenly, you saw him.

He was just a shadow, lurking in a dark corner at the back of your library, shielded by the last book rack, but you could see that he was facing you.

"I can see you, you know." You murmured in your husky voice, ready to strike him with the candlestick when he finally stepped out from the dark, into the light, your eyes now adjusting to see who he was.

"You." Was all you could manage to say, your heart suddenly palpitating, your knees already feeling like jelly. There stood the man you had secretly been sharing glances with all day, right in front of you, within your arms reach.

"My husband's not here, Mr. Shelby, this visit of yours is very inappropriate." You commented, half heartedly, meaning no word of it.

"Yet you made no fuss, Mrs. Button. When you could have screamed and alerted everyone in your home." Thomas Shelby's lips held the slightest of smirks against its corners, but his eyes were emotionless and bland.

You didn't loosen your grip over the candlestick, your eyes following every movement that the man made, as you saw him pull out his box of cigarettes and nip one between his teeth. His other hand moved to the pocket of his coat, pulling out a box of matches but somehow, it fell from his hand and fell to the floor, settling right in between you and him.

You took a step closer, your eyes still on him as you bent and grabbed the box, before he could. You then pulled out a match, lighting it and stepped closer towards him to help him light the end of his stick, his features appearing even more glorious under the pale flickering light of the match.

"I saw you leave in your car."

"You should be more careful with that door." He pointed towards the back entrance of your library that led to the garden. "Any lad can get in through the back and not all of them will be here for– "

"For what, Mr. Shelby?" You cut him off abruptly.

You could feel a weird, tingly sensation in your fingers. You wanted to reach out and hook your fingers on the fabric of his coat, take it off. So you did. His eyebrow shot up in surprise for he hadn't expected you to be so forward. You tugged slightly on his coat and smiled, "We have a fireplace in here that should be warm enough, Mr. Shelby, I don't think you'll need your coat. May I?"

You helped him slide out of his coat first before holding it in your hands and making your way to the coat hanger and hanging it over. Your eyes fell on the library door and like a stealthy cat, you quickly swiped the door shut, trying to hide this little whatever this was from the employees of your house.

"Care for a drink Mr. Shelby?"

He hummed in response, his eyes fixed on you, moving slightly lower and then back up again. It was funny how this one act of vulgarity didn't seem to phase you, and in fact you even liked it. You slowly turned away from him, walking up to the other side of the room, your bare feet grazing against the carpeted floor on this side. You pushed yourself up on your toes, trying to pull out the bottle of whiskey from the cabinet, making sure to give him a good view of you from behind. Your fingers clasped against the neck of the bottle as you pulled it down from the top rack and poured it carefully into two glasses, taking them back to him.

He gladly accepted the drink, his fingers almost brushing with yours when he took the glass, causing shivers to run down your spine. You knew it– the game that he was playing – intentionally touching you so very subtly, knowing how you were actually enjoying the flirting.

"What's a woman of your likes doing with a man like him?"

You could sense the distaste behind his words so you just parted your lips and let out a weak sigh before taking a sip of your whiskey.

"Call it a punishment for being born into a greedy family. Sold me off to the monster for some good pounds like I was a mare." You commented.

"Why didn't you run away? You could have gone to London, or even to America."

"It's not that easy, not when you're married to a gangster. You out of all men should understand that." You said, relishing the bitter yet sweet taste of the whiskey on your taste buds.

"Mr. Shelby, enough about me. I wanted to know the reason for your visit. I know you're not here to meet Michael." You slurred.

You saw the man's eyebrow twitch but you couldn't determine if it was out of amusement or something else. After a lingering minute of silence, you watched as he downed the whiskey in one go, almost slamming the glass back against one of the racks.

"Can we skip past the formalities now, Mrs. Button? I think you know why I am here."

You couldn't deny it. You and this man had a sizzling chemistry. There was a raw desire spurting inside you, that wanted nothing more to be satiated. You could feel it– the sexual tension, the need to touch each other, the need to feel him touch you at places you had forgotten how a man's touch felt like.

You nodded.

Thomas Shelby's hands grabbed you, his hands locking around your waist as he pulled you into his embrace and slowly turned around, so you were now pinned against the rack, his front pressing into you. You could feel his slow, ready grinding against your core, causing your body to erupt into a sensation of desires, like small electric short circuits everywhere. You parted your lips and let out a low moan, only to be shut up when his lips slammed against yours in a needy way. You were a believer, a devout Christian by faith, you knew the temptations the Devil was capable of and you knew that Thomas Shelby was nothing more than the devil in disguise. But this didn't deter you from wanting to taste into the fruit of sin.

Your hands curled around his head, your fingers latching into the back of his head, tugging at his hair, your mouth struggling to keep pace with the sweet assault on them. His pupils dilated due to his lust for you, he kissed you, ravaging your lips, biting and tugging at them in the most animalistic way.

"Fuckin' hell." You cursed as his teeth almost bit into the gash on your lip, the one where your husband had mercilessly beat you a few nights before, the taste of your own metallic blood in your mouth. Maybe Tommy tasted it too, for he immediately pulled away, his hands still holding you in place.

"Did he do this to you?"

You nodded.

"Come with me then. Leave that man." Those were the words he said to you as he grabbed you by your hand and dragged you to the desk in the corner.

"And go where? He'll find me. You know I can't fucking do that." For once, you could feel yourself weaken, the sudden realization of it all seeping through you, that you were trapped in a life full of torture and abuse and there was nothing you could do about it.

"I'll think of something, until then –" he brought his palm up to your cheek, his thumb brushing over the gash on your lip that was bleeding now.

"Thomas– " You moaned.

Maybe the way his name rolled out of your lips was too much for him to bear, he literally started ripping your robe off in an attempt to free you of it while you hands fervently ran against the buttons of his shirt to get it off. Clothes were ripped off and the library floor was stocked with piles of discarded clothes, both of you naked and beautiful under each other's eyes, by the desk by the fireplace.

Tommy's hands grabbed your bare arse, kneading it lightly until he barked at you to turn over and you complied. You felt vulnerable, bent on your own desk with nothing to cover your modesty, his eyes snaking over your back, your arse but you liked it. So much so that you were horrified if someone was to hear you, not because of what your husband would do to you, but because of how you would have to part with this man right now when you wanted nothing more than to feel him inside you.

"For fucks sake, Thomas, I need you now. I don't want anyone to– "

"Your wish is my fuckin' command." Was all he said. That was all the warning you received.

And then you screamed in a sweet, pleasurable pain when he thrust his hard cock into you, making you grab the edge of the table while his nails dug into your hips. A series of curses followed and soon, you found yourself enjoying the way his cock was ravaging your core. His pace inside you was relentless, his hits merciless, hitting you at just the right spot every time, causing you to just sneak closer to your edge with every hit.

"Fuck," Tommy grunted in a low voice, sliding in and out of you, the sound of your skin slapping against his echoing through the library.

"Fucking hell, Thomas– " You seethed, holding on to the desk as you felt your eyes roll at the back of your head, pleasure bursting inside you with every movement of his.

"You feel so good." He slurred, his voice thick with lust and desire. It was like music to your ears, a music you didn't want to stop listening to. But you also knew that all good things often come to an end. "Come for me now, love. Come on." His voice commanded you, making you tip over your edge.

And the command was all it took for you to come crashing down, your body trembling as your pussy clenched around his cock, shooting sparks all over your body. And after a few unsteady, light thrusts, you felt him twitch inside you as a final signal that he was there too, his warm seed spilling into you as he moaned something incoherent that you couldn't make out.

He stayed like that for a few silent seconds, both of yous erratic breathing empowering each others until you finally felt him slide out of you. You stood up, leaving a trail of his cum rolling down your thigh as you struggled to put your underwear on and then grabbed your robe silently while Tommy pulled his pants up and started rummaging for his torn shirt that had almost been ripped apart by you.

You bit your lip awkwardly now; a sudden void filling up your heart.

Thomas Shelby had gotten what he wanted, and maybe he would never look your way again.

Of course, this couldn't mean more than a one time thing to him, could it?

Suddenly, the sound of a match lighting brought you back into reality but you were startled to find him standing inches apart from you, his palm on your cheek, his index finger rubbing gently over your gash.

"You alright love?"

You gave him a weak smile and nodded.

You parted your lips to reply but a loud bang on the door caused you and Thomas to turn towards the door.

"Mrs. Button, is everything alright in there?" Janice called out.

"It-It is, Janice, is there anything you want?"

"Just wanted to let you know your husband's home."

"Fucking hell, looks like our time is up, Mr. Shelby," Your eyes flew to Tommy, as the curse escaped your mouth. He looked unbothered."I'll join him in a minute." You called out to Janice.

Tommy didn't say anything else. As quietly as he had come in, you saw him walk towards the door that led to your garden and you followed him. It was only when he reached the door and you unbolted it for him, did he turn and look into your eyes and speak.

"Until next time, Mrs. Button."

"Call me (Y/N). I don't want to be linked with that man. At least not with you around."

"Let me rephrase it then, until next time, (Y/N), who knows it might even be at your dear husband's funeral."

That was the last words that he spoke to you that night before you saw him sneak out through your garden until he wasn't in sight anymore and you stood there by that door, smirking inwardly at his words.

(What do you guys feel about a second part to this? Let me know?)

• ───━━━━─ ● ─━━━━─── •

[jgvfhl]

Number Lads!!

GUYS I hit 700 followers today?? Amazing. So, I worked extra hard to get this part up and finished for ya!

Part 2/??? Read Part 1 here :) Words: about 4k, no warnings

So I remembered the Battle of Kamino is a thing. And I had just put Sevenset in Rancor battalion. Whoops! But, if you know anything about me, you know nothing really bad happens.

CT-2222 = Do-si-do = Double Trouble

CT-3333 = Trees = Green Bean

CC-6666 = Sixes = DEATH

ARC-7777 = Sevenset = ARCBoiiiii

CT-8888 = Loops = Loopy

Reading the inventory lists from the datapad in his hands was increasingly difficult. Loops rubbed his eyes and shook his head roughly, trying to refocus, to put the overwhelming feeling of helplessness behind him. The whole Wolfpack felt similarly. Every announcement over the PA system made them jump. General Koon was using his limited free time to gather with groups of troopers to help ease their minds, and it was helping, but the general had chosen an uphill battle.

Kamino was under attack. The closest thing any clone had to a home, and the Separatists were trying to destroy it. The Wolfpack hadn’t been called to the front, as was their normal position. When the battle cleared, and the dust settled, they would be there to help pick up the pieces, until another assignment called them away.

So they waited.

Worse for Loops, he knew Sevenset was in the thick of things, following the ARC commanders at the helm of the defensive actions. He knew the ARCs were the best soldiers on Kamino, and he knew the 501st and 212th had boots on the ground as well, and Generals Ti, Skywalker, and Kenobi would be there with them. He knew this. But it barely helped ease his worries.

Technically, the next Numbers meeting wouldn’t be for another three weeks, but Do-si-do had commed everyone to ask if they wanted to move up the date because of the battle. Obviously, they hadn’t heard much from Sevenset. Or from Commander Sixes, but that wasn’t as much of a worry. He was a commander, he had a whole Star Fighter wing to lead into battle. Still, the radio silence only made Loops more uneasy. But Trees and Loops had agreed to meet with Do-si-do, at least, and that would start in about ten minutes.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Loops tried to put aside the gnawing worry in his mind to finish this inventory before the meeting. It wouldn’t be fair to hand over a half-finished inventory to the next guy on shift. So he slogged through it, walking around the denoted section of the Lightbolt’s cargo hold, reading the crates, scrolling through his datapad, until he was finally done. As he left the hold, he handed off the device to Tanner, one of the officers overseeing inventory at the moment.

“All set, sir.”

“Thanks, Loops. Get some rest.”

“Will do.”

He didn’t rest, not really. When he got to his bunk, he propped himself up against his pillow at the head of his bunk, waiting the last few minutes until Do-si-do sent the transmission to start the meeting.

“Hey, Loops.”

He looked up at the face looking upside down at him from the top bunk. “Hey, Racket.” Loops was always grateful his bunkmate never complained about some of the late-night Numbers Meetings.

“How you holding up?”

“Okay, I guess.”

“I know you’ve got a buddy in Rancor, just wanted to check in.”

The knot of worry in his gut tightened. “Yeah.” His voice felt hollow. “Thanks, Racket.”

“Haven’t heard anything yet, huh?”

Loops shook his head. “Two and Three and I are having a call soon to talk it out.”

“Ah,” Racket said, “I’ll give you some space.”

“Thanks,” Loops said, although his brother’s head had already retreated to his own bunk. Right on cue, his comm blinked its light. He hadn’t had the chance to get a holoprojector today. But he would be able to hear the others.

“Hey, Trees,” Do-di-do’s voice had a smile in it. “Loops?”

“Couldn’t get a projector today, sorry,” Loops said. “I can still hear you.”

“Oh, good.”

“Hi, Loops,” Trees said.

“Hey, Trees.”

“How’s the Pack?” Do-si-do asked.

Loops shrugged, before remembering they couldn’t see him. “It’s… well, you know. Everyone’s on edge. The general’s been helping though.”

Trees agreed. “Yeah, General Unduli and Commander Offee have been holding group mediations for the ones who want it.”

“I’ve heard General Windu’s working on that too, but…. He’s busy as all hell.”

“Yeah, High Generals usually are,” Loops said.

“Anyone else… find it kinda weird, though?” Do-si-do furthered.

“What do you mean?”

“Like… I dunno. I didn’t expect the Jedi to care this much.”

“Oh,” Trees said flatly.

“I mean--obviously, they care if Kamino is attacked,” he went on. “Because it’s producing the whole damn army, but I never thought they’d… do all this.”

It was a fair reaction. Most clones, upon encountering their generals, were a little unsettled at how… human they were. Loops had certainly had a learning curve when he’d joined the 104th. General Koon was… amazing. So, honestly, Loops hadn’t been surprised when he had offered to help his troopers through the stress of the Kamino attack. But, Do-si-do had always been a bit skeptical of the Jedi, even though, from what Loops had heard of General Windu, he would regularly go out of his way to defend his men.

“I’m not complaining,” Loops said.

There was a longer than normal pause afterwards. He eyed the blinking light on his wrist comm, wondering. It wasn’t uncommon for the signal to get interrupted by space travel.

“What are you boys gossiping about now?” Ah. Not space travel. Just Commander Sixes. His brain did a mental double take as that thought formed. Just Commander Sixes.

“Oh, uh…” Do-si-do searched for words. Trees was probably frozen again. “Just… thought some of us could use the conversation. With Kamino under attack. And all.”

There was a gruff, nonverbal reply from the commander.

“Don’t suppose you got any updates we laymen didn’t, sir?” Do-si-do asked cautiously. Loops couldn’t help leaning towards his comm. Even a little news would help…

“None any of you have clearance for.”

Loops rolled his eyes, falling back against his pillow. He should have expected it. But that didn’t make it any less disappointing.

“Sir, you know the point of this call was to ease stress, not make it worse?” Do-si-do replied.

“Armor up, shiny, we’re at war.”

_____

ARCBoiiiii: Guess who’s not dead!!!!

Loopy: kriff is it over???

ARCBoiiiii: Yep! Sent the clankers running and the Hairless Harpy and Evil Spider Legs too

Green Bean: did you just nickname… Grievous and Ventress?

ARCBoiiiii: what’s it to ya?

Loopy: are you okay sevens?

ARCBoiiii: aw loopy were you worried?

Loopy: get karked

Loopy: ...but yeah

ARCBoiiiii: where’s do-si-do?

Green Bean: dunno. might be on the wing.

Loopy: sevenset. are. you. okay.

ARCBoiiiii: ah okay. and yes! i am okay, loops. little sore, but i’m not hurt. Rancor’s casualties weren’t bad.

Double Trouble: SEVENSET YOU SONAUVA HUTT HOW ARE YOU

ARCBoiiiii: Do-si-do!!!!!! im okay :D

ARCBoiiiii: Cmdrs havoc + colt in medical tho… colt had a run-in with ventress i guess

Loopy: oh kriff--

DEATH: he’s alive after that?

DEATH: … really, boys? the name?

Double Trouble: Sevenset’s idea sir

ARCBoiiiii: Do-si-dos idea

ARCBoiiiii: kark dammit

Double Trouble: beat u haha

Loopy: lol

Green Bean: How ironic. He survives Kamino only to be reaped by Death later

DEATH: ha

Double Trouble: 0.0

ARCBoiiiii: i feel unsafe

Loopy: trees where has that biting wit been hiding my friend

ARCBoiiiii: WAIT I ALMOST FORGOT SOMETHING IMPORTANT!!!!!!!!!

Double Trouble: ??????

ARCBoiiiii: I FOUND NUMBER FIVE

Loopy: Yay!! He was the one in 501st right?

ARCBoiiiii: yeah! pretty damn good sniper too from what i heard. AND GUESS WHAT ELSE

Green Bean: There’s more?

ARCBoiiiii: He and his batcher got promoted to ARCs so THEY’RE STUCK WITH MEEEEE

DEATH: I almost pity them.

Green Bean: ha

Loopy: wait what’s his name??

ARCBoiiiii: fives

Double Trouble: oof unoriginal

DEATH: Oh really, Do-si-do?

Double Trouble: wait no

Loopy: do-si-do it’s been nice knowing you

Double Trouble: nO WAIT it’s hardly fair, you’ve got Death as a name too

DEATH: Sure thing. Anyway, Fives and his batcher are Rex’s freaks, and he always takes his ARCs with him. They’ll be gone after graduation.

ARCBoiiiii: aw shucks :(

Double Trouble: that’s still like… almost three months tho

ARCBoiiiii: yessssss i’ll drag em into the next couple holos

Green Bean: But… it’s just Fives that has the repeating number, right?

ARCBoiiiii: well yeah but they’re practically inseparable, i’d feel bad

DEATH: that’s pathetic

ARCBoiiiii: one of these days we’ll find a recruit you actually like

DEATH: No

Double Trouble: speaking of, did you find number nine? Isn’t he in the 212th?

ARCBoiiiii: no… I’ll ask around, the orangios are still planetside for a bit. and i’m still on the lookout for a cadet 1111!

Loopy: glad you’re alive

ARCBoiiiii: *mwah*

Loopy: aaaaand now I’m not

-----

For the second time in about two minutes, Fives once again lagged a step so he could reach back and tug Echo along by the sleeve. “Keep up, will you?”

“Fives--”

“I don’t want to hear it, Echo, I told you already.”

His batchmate wasn’t going quiet without debate. “But we’re supposed--”

“--to be doing something very boring, now quit complaining.”

“It’s ARC training, Fives,” Echo hissed, yanking his sleeve away, but keeping pace with him behind Sevenset. “It’s all important, even if it’s boring.”

Their leader turned around, walking backwards as he said, “Well… I mean, I’ll be honest, I’ve never used the desert field training once, so…” He shrugged.

“Yeah, because you live on an ocean planet,” Echo pointed out.

“Pays off,” the ARC trooper grinned.

“Doesn’t it get kinda boring, though?” Fives asked. “The same planet over and over?”

“Boring?” Sevenset turned briefly to avoid a squad of junior cadets being led by medic. “Nah, not boring. Maybe the scenery leaves something to be desired, but hey--so did Coruscant. But helping to train brothers like you two? Never boring.”

“I think Fives would have to try to be boring.”

“I’m boring when I sleep.”

Echo turned a skeptical look on him.

“What?”

“What do you mean ‘what?’ you snore like a rancor--”

Remembering who was walking with them, they both looked at Sevenset to add, “No offense.”

And then Fives cut right back in with a rebuttal. “Well maybe I wouldn’t snore if I didn’t have your entire weight on top of me?”

Echo waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, no no no, don’t you pull that argument--”

Fives scoffed. “I am absolutely pulling that argument--”

“You snored on Rishi, and we all used our own bunks.”

That was true. They hadn’t had a reason to share until after…. “Okay, but how do you know that wasn’t Cutup?”

“Cutup--!” Echo’s incredulous tone was somewhat marred by the smile creeping onto his face. Their arguments could never keep a serious face for too long. “You don’t snore in a kriffing accent, Fives!”

Fives could no longer keep the smile off his face either, and he gave Echo a gentle shove with his shoulder. “Okay, you got me.” The gesture was returned a little more violently. Then they noticed Sevenset had come to a stop by a door, and they pulled themselves together to face him.

“You guys were on Rishi Moon?” Sevenset asked, passing his vambrace in front of the control panel to open the door. He gestured them in.

It was a small meeting room--very small, from the others Fives had seen. The holotable jutting out from the far wall probably left room for about seven people. He and Echo stood to one side of the door, hands behind their backs. Fives decided against asking why Sevenset had access to to this place.

“Yessir, we were the last men stationed there.” Echo’s answer was curt, almost blunt, but kept carefully under the veneer of professionalism he managed so much better than Fives did. It had become their standard answer for Rishi questions.

Sevenset glanced over at them from where he was typing at the holotable. “Echo, buddy, I just commandeered you from under your CO’s nose. You can drop the ‘sir.’” He looked back to the blue holograms in front of him. “So were you the ones who blew up the all-clear signal? Saved us a hell of a lot of trouble around here, I’ll tell you that. Should be thanking you.”

“There’s… no need for that.” Echo’s voice shrank slightly, his eyes dropping towards the floor. Fives sighed as quietly as he could, silently bracing for the unpleasant exchange that was sure to follow that deflection.

“Really? I hope you got medals or something, though,” Sevenset replied. He finished typing and stepped back from the table, facing them. “How’d you do it, anyway? Not easy to blow a base like that.”

“No…” Fives agreed hollowly, hoping the ARC would eventually get the karking hint and change the subject. There were already a half dozen scenes of memory playing through the back of his mind as he did his best to pointedly ignore them.

“Liquid tibana.”

He turned to look at Echo, who caught the unasked question in his eyes.

“He asked,” his batchmate shrugged helplessly, now looking anywhere except at their faces.

Sevenset’s eyebrows rose, crinkling the tattoos on his scalp, and he nodded. “Yeah, I guess LT would do the trick, wouldn’t it?”

Nope. Not getting the hint. And Echo--Maker bless him--would keep answering his questions even if it gave him a panic attack. Maybe ARC training could help him kick that habit.

“Did they really send commando droids--”

Fives didn’t let him finish. “Look, Sevenset, we don’t really like talking about Rishi.” Next to him, he noticed some of the tension leave Echo’s shoulders. “Our whole batch was stationed there, and, aside from Commander Cody and Captain Rex, we’re the only ones who survived that attack.”

Sevenset blinked, realization hitting like a splash of cold water. “Oh. Yeah, of course,” he looked down, scuffing one of his boots on the floor without much enthusiasm. “Sorry about  that. Should’ve realized.”

Fives dipped his head, acknowledging the apology. He knew Sevenset hadn’t meant any harm by asking, but at least he’d apologized. The holotable made a noise, and Sevenset practically flew to answer the incoming transmission. Fives couldn’t blame him for wanting to dissipate the uncomfortable silence that had followed his apology. He nudged Echo with his elbow, and they moved closer, still shoulder-to-shoulder, as the first two holograms appeared.

The first clone they saw sat in what looked like a cockpit, although “sitting” was a generous term. More like lounging. His head was shaved on the right side, and the long curls left were bleached and dyed a cold white. His face lit up upon recognizing Sevenset.

“You are alive!”

“Of course I’m alive, Do-si-do,” the ARC replied, once again all smiles. “I am almost offended you thought my first fight with Rancor would finish me.”

The second clone--in recognizably 104th gear--gave a tiny smile. “Here I am surprised Do-si-do hasn’t gotten a surprise visit from Death after his remarks about originality in the chat.”

The pilot, Do-si-do, made a show of looking under and behind his seat. “Nope, all clear. Sorry to disappoint, Loopy.”

“My name’s not Loopy.” He turned to look at Fives and Echo. “My name’s not Loopy, it’s just Loops.” Kind of a fun name, really. Fives wondered what his number was. Eight, probably?

“And for once you beat Trees here,” Sevenset remarked. Another hologram appeared. “Ooh, but not by much.”

Trees, by the looks of his armor, was in the 41st. But, unlike the others, he looked downright regulation, like Echo. “Sorry, I got stuck behind a gonk droid in the hall.” Catching sight of Fives and Echo, he added, “Oh, are these the new guys?”

“Yep!” Sevenset looked to them.

Without warning, Echo’s hand appeared, grabbing Fives by the jaw and turning his head to the left. “And you’ll never guess which one of us is named Fives.”

Fives swatted his hand away, Echo ducking the half-hearted attempt to put him in a headlock. “I am going to kill you,” he growled at his batchmate’s stupidly smug expression. So he liked the number; he had a good reason to like the number!

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with it, come on,” Sevenset smiled. “You and Loops can match.”

Loops turned his face so the tattoo on his right cheek was visible. An infinity symbol? Stylized number eight? “First thing I did when I got the chance.”

“How’s ARC training treating you two, then?” Do-si-do asked with a smile.

Fives glanced at Echo. “Not too bad,” he answered with a shrug.

“Yet,” Echo added.

Sevenset smirked and nodded knowingly. “Emphasis on ‘yet,’” he agreed. “Right about the three- or four-week mark, you’ll really start regretting some life choices.”

“You survived, though,” Trees pointed out. “Can’t be that bad if they managed to drag you over the finish line.”

“I do have more than one personality trait, you know.”

“Whaaat?” Do-si-do shook his head. “Can’t believe you’re more than your carefree facade. Actually upset now.”

Sevenset raised an eyebrow at him, but Do-si-do ignored the silent challenge and just blew him a kiss through the screen. Sevenset had mentioned he and “number two” had started this group, and now Fives could indeed understand they knew each other pretty well.

“Wait,” Loops spoke up. “What’s your name?” He gestured a little vaguely towards the two batchmates.

“Oh.” Echo straightened up a bit. “I’m Echo.”

Loops waved at him.

“Is this everyone?” Fives asked, looking to Sevenset. He had mentioned the group wasn’t “complete” yet, but he hadn’t expected it to be this small.

The other four shook their heads. Sevenset answered. “No, there’s still the commander, but we don’t pretend to know when or if he’s gonna show. The others--number one, number nine, number four, and zero--we haven’t found yet.”

“And Commander Fox wants nothing to do with us, thanks to Sevenset,” Do-si-do added.

“Also true.”

Echo’s confused expression matched the questions Fives had in mind. He didn’t know Commander Fox’s number off the top of his head. Echo probably did. He’d known the captain’s and Commander Cody’s like that. But… there was another commander? They turned to look at Sevenset together, although two different questions came out of their mouths.

“What commander?” Fives asked.

“You asked Commander Fox?” Echo said at the same time.

They didn’t get answers. Well. Not explicitly. A fourth hologram appeared beside Loops, Trees, and Do-si-do. The single pauldron denoted rank. The full kit of black armor, helmet included, didn’t give many other details. So. That commander. Whoever that commander was…

Next to him, Echo tensed, just barely, but Fives could read him too well to miss it. He looked over. Fives recalled his batchmate’s reaction to meeting the captain and Commander Cody for the first time. They had reputations, they had stories, and Fives had been right with him in that sense of awe--aside from the whole… being invaded by commando droids… thing that had been happening at the same time. And right now Echo kind of looked like that. But his expression had none of the subtle reverence Fives remembered. More… fear? Not quite. He’d seen Echo scared. Who was this guy? And why couldn’t Fives place him?

“Hey, Commander,” Do-si-do greeted, like there was nothing strange about a commander in all-black armor appearing on their holotable. None of them had even gone to attention. That was a little odd.

The commander folded his arms across his chest and grunting a nonverbal reply. His visor landed on Fives and Echo. Again, Fives saw Echo’s whole body stiffen in his periphery. “New guys?” the commander eventually asked, his voice sounding an awful lot like Alpha-17’s gruff speech.

“Yep,” Sevenset nodded, not even addressing him as sir. “This is Fives, that’s his batcher Echo, and you have magically chosen to appear right when they started asking questions about you.”

“These the inseparable ones?” This man had absolutely no variation in tone, and it was going to get creepy.

“Looks like it,” Loops replied.

The commander stared at them for a few more seconds, before giving another wordless huff and looking away. “No one’s inseparable.”

Fives did not like the chill that sent down his spine, despite the words having, as before, no discernible emotional tone. Behind his back, his hand tightened around the opposite wrist, the dull pain momentarily distracting his mind from the commander’s implication. Glancing to Echo, he saw his brother’s jaw clench, his mouth pressed into a line as he stared down the holograms. Fives shuffled closer until their shoulders and arms touched, feeling his brother lean into him.

Sevenset looked between them and the holotable before taking half a step sideways towards them. “Okay, Commander Dark and Angsty, maybe don’t scare away the new guys? Thanks.”

The commander’s helmet tilted up ever so slightly--probably rolling his eyes--but he stayed quiet.

“And that,” Sevenset went on, turning to Fives and Echo, “is Commander Sixes, AKA Commander Death, and yes, he is always like that.”

Finally, it clicked in Fives’ mind. He knew about Commander Death, he just hadn’t seen any images of him. Sithspit, no wonder Echo had reacted like that. The Death Wings were downright terrifying by word-of-mouth, and that--that was their commander.

And these guys were just… chatting with him. They chatted with him… regularly. Sevenset didn’t even call him sir. What in the nine hells…?

The commander’s visor went to Sevenset. “How are Colt and Havoc? Haven’t had a chance to comm them.”

“Mm? Oh. Commander Colt’s just got out of medical. Commander Havoc got out a couple rotations ago.” Sevenset shrugged. “That’s all I’ve got.”

Fives had seen Commander Havoc during training yesterday. He’d walked a little stiffly, but from what he’d heard about his injuries, walking at all was pretty damn good.

“Did you ever find number nine?” Loops asked. “In the two-twelfth?”

“Eh…” Sevenset held up a hand palm-down and tilted it back and forth. “Sort of. I got confirmation he is in with Commander Cody’s boys, and that his name is Nines, but that’s all. Never got eyes on him or a frequency, or I would’ve patched him in.”

Echo opened his mouth, then closed it. Fives nudged him to speak. He’d already drawn attention from Loops, Trees, and Do-si-do anyway. “Well, just--Torrent works with Commander Cody’s men more often than most. We could keep an eye out for him.”

“Once we’re back with the company,” Fives added.

“Oh yeah,” Sevenset nodded. “Totally. Thanks.”

“Any word on the others we’re looking for?” Trees asked.

Sevenset shook his head. “No luck with number one over here. Still haven’t found any cadet with that number.”

Do-si-do added, “The ninety-first has leave in three weeks. My company will be on Coruscant for about a ten-day. Anyone else?”

“I’ll check,” the commander said, reaching out of frame for something.

While he was silent, Loops put in, “Well, the Wolfpack won’t be off for another month and a bit.”

Trees nodded. “The forty-first is still on for another two months.”

“And obviously the three of us aren’t going anywhere,” Sevenset said, tilting his head towards Fives and Echo. “Gotta say, that is one thing I miss about being in the Guard. Can’t see everyone when they’re on leave.”

“The one-eighteenth has leave in about a month,” the commander finally reported. “Should overlap with the ninety-first for a few days. Maybe you can find zero in there. My fighters have a mission with the Nova Corps coming up, too. I’ll see if I can find number four.”

A smug smile appeared on Sevenset’s face. “I thought you once said you weren’t our recruiter, Commander.”

The commander stared at him for half a moment, then answered, “The Marines won’t have leave for another six months. You want to find number four? This is how you do it.”

The ARC nodded, his smile never changing. “Okay, alright, I get it. We won’t tell anyone you like us.”

The commander huffed quietly, then muttered, “I’m still surprised Alpha-17 didn’t beat that attitude out of you over there.”

Echo smirked. “Well, at least that means there’s hope for Fives.”

Fives shouldered him. “Hey, I haven’t done anything.”

“Yet.”

Sevenset grinned at Fives, who found himself returning a small smile. Trees pinched the bridge of his nose. “Maker help us, there’s two of them.”

“Something wrong with that, Trees?” the ARC replied with mock severity. Fives would admit, he did like Sevenset. He liked seeing a higher ranking soldier maintain a lighter sense of humor. Most of the Teth survivors in Torrent had a dark streak--Coric might have it the worst, actually, and it was rubbing off on Kix.

“Nothing wrong, just means I’ll have to explain to my medics why my blood pressure’s so high.”

Do-si-do and Sevenset laughed, and Loops smiled. The commander just shook his head. Yeah, Fives could get used to this.

-----

Edit: I FORGOT TAGS @nl13 @darth-void @glubtheflyingfish (sorry i missed you in part 1) @blsmjoon @23-bears @theultimatesandwich @peacefulwizardfox @alamogirl80

[detroitbydark]

Chp 10

Characters: Commander Fox/Mouse (reader), Palpatine, Captain Rex, Anakin Skywalker, Mace Windu.

Word count:4500

Warnings: Sith typical mind fuckery, canon typical violence. Use of the force to injure.

A/N: well here we are ladies and lads, Fox lovers all. The day is upon us. I’m pretty stoked the way this one came out and I hope y’all don’t hate me too much after the fact. As always let me know what you think, ask questions, yell at me. Whatever floats your boat.

Today hadn’t started well and you were already so far past caring it was insane.

You didn’t care you’d woken up on your couch in your clothes from the day before, rumpled and wrinkled beyond salvage, your mascara a messy mask under your eyes.

You didn’t care that you spent the better part of your first hour at the office staring out the transparisteel window into the skylane that ran not far from where you sat, watching transports and speeders for by in a soothing blur.

You didn’t care about the tartness in your voice when the 501st Captain had comm’d stating it was important that he speak with Commander Fox immediately. You’d told him, in no uncertain terms, that what the Commander had on the schedule for today was of the utmost importance and that you would make sure he got the message when he got in.

Maybe you’d been a bitch, latent embarrassment from the peep show you’d unintentionally given the day before still simmering but, really, he hadn’t even offered an apology and the muffled yelling behind closed doors hadn’t done much to place him in your good graces either.

You try not to replay the night before. You’d done that plenty on the ride home. All the same, you let it play through again in your head. Now, you're looking at it in the light of day and with more clarity. The way the anxiety had been almost palpable when you’d first entered the room hadn’t seemed so obvious at the time-

“Ma’am?”

A portly woman is standing a few feet away politely smiling. Your face flushes.

“I’m sorry. Daydreaming.” You explain with a forced smile and a lie “what can I do for you?” A movement behind the woman catches your attention. A tiny green hand clings to the women's slacks as equally green eyes peek around her thick leg.

“I’m Sukin Maly with level 504 children’s home. I was told this was Commander Fox’s office?” She’s pleasant looking as she glances back at the child clinging to her before focusing on you. Lines pull at the corner of her eyes letting you know she was a woman who enjoyed smiling a lot and often.

The child slowly rounds the woman’s thigh and you watch with delight as you recognize the twi’lek girl from the pictures Fox had shown you. Pushing away from your desk you move closer, crouching down and offering your hand. Wide eyes look from your hand to the attendant who gives a small nod. The girl hesitantly takes it and you give it a gentle shake before looking back up to her minder.

“I’m afraid the Commander is out of the office today.” The woman gives an understanding smile as you turn back to the little girl.

“I think I know who you are.” You offer conspiratorially, “are you Me’kar? You made quite the impression on Commander Fox.”

Her little lekku wriggle happily at the sound of her name.

The children’s attendant says something in Ryl you don’t understand. Me’kar’s tiny hands go to the top of each lek and she makes little ears with her fingers.

“Fox” she says clear as day in basic.

You can’t help but laugh and her smile brightens as she repeats the word over and over.

“She’s picking it up quickly”, Sukin explains “but that seems to be her favorite word.

“It’s ok, sweetheart. It’s mine too” you say softly as she bounces in front of the older woman.

”it’s nice to meet you both.” You offer them your given name before addressing the child again, “but you can call me Mouse if you’d like. Everyone around here does.”

This brings a peel of laughter bubbling up in the child as the attendant translates. She holds her hands in front of her like tiny paws and wiggles her little green button of a nose before making a squeaking noise. “Mouse,” she giggles.

You laugh as she pulls a stuffed tooka out of the bag draped across her shoulders.

“Cat. Meow.” She says proudly, holding the raggedy stuffy up. “Fox kiss better.”

You look up to the attendant with a furrowed brow. “She was quite taken that the Commander gave her kitten kisses when it was scared.”

You fight back a laugh at the image. “I wish he was here to see you. He’s going to be disappointed he missed such an important visitor.” The girl's smile fades as Sukin translates but only for a moment before she’s digging back in her bag for a folded piece of flimsy.

“Fox” she says proudly as she unfolds the flimsy, finally holding up an image she’d obviously been very proud of. It’s rough but you can very clearly make out little Me’kar and Fox drawn as brightly colored stick figures. Fox’s helmet is so large that the weight of it looks like it will break his little stick body in half at any moment, maybe it’s the small green hand intertwined with his red one that stops it from happening.

Your ovaries nearly implode. It is the single most adorable thing you’ve ever seen and you willingly take it as she turns to her minder and speaks in rapid Ryl.

“She’d like you to give it to the Commander.”

“Please?”

Saying no was never going to be an option so you nod, thrown off when she attaches herself to your waist and gives you a big hug. You pay the top of her head, “how about this. I give him this” you wriggle the picture, “and we set something up so you and your friends can come a different day when I know the Commander and his friends will be here? You could eat lunch in the big cafeteria and maybe they could give you a tour?”

Me’kar can barely contain herself as the older woman translates. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

She spins and bounces with excitement and Sulin hurries to calm her as you hide a smile behind your hand. You trade comms with the woman and promise to be in touch after you’ve spoken with the Commander and set something up. Me’kar waves manically, turning and pulling every few steps when It’s time to leave.

“Bye Mouse! Bye!”

It’s the first bright spot in your day and you cling to the swelling feeling in your heart as you return to sorting out the mess that was the day to day operations of the Coruscant Guard.

——-

The aide arrives early afternoon. You’d only just finished lunch and are busy packing your bag when you see them coming down the hall. The upturned nose and refined, high-end clothing scream politician from 20 klicks away. They’re feet away from your desk before their eyes even move to you.

“I’m sorry, Commander Fox-“ you begin your usual explanation and are quickly cut off.

“Your presence is requested this afternoon in the office of the Supreme Chancellor Sheev Palpatine.”

The request strikes you as odd immediately both in its formality and, if by the way the aide is staring at you, its presumed immediacy.

You were not an individual that ever had any right being in the same room as someone as powerful as the Supreme Chancellor, not because you were unworthy or less than, but simply because you had nothing to offer in any way you could find necessary.

You inform the aide gently that he is likely in the wrong place, has the wrong person.

He huffs impatiently before speaking your name, “that is your name correct?”.

You nod mutely.

“Than, miss, I believe I am in the right place and the Chancellor is well aware of who you are.”

Something sours in your stomach. You wish Fox or one of the boys were around because something just seems off. “We could do this a different time?” You question hopefully, retrieving your datapad and flipping open the calendar, “I really shouldn’t be leaving halfway through my day.”

“The Commander is with the Chancellor awaiting your arrival.”

Well, you knew that, didn’t you? You were the one who’d been answering comms for Fox all day. So why did it make your stomach flip and lurch? Maybe because you’d expect Fox to contact you with a heads up or, knowing him, send one of the kits to collect you.

“So, like now?” You clarify.

The aide's foot begins an impatient rhythm, toes tapping irritably against the floor, “like, now.” He clarifies pointedly.

You try to ignore his demeanor, he probably wasn’t used to playing go-for and certainly not used to anyone doing anything less than jumping at a chance to meet the Chancellor. Still, you don’t move with any great urgency. Maybe had he been a little nicer or the request not been so abnormal to begin with. You make a point of locking down the datapads and grabbing your coat and bags, ignoring his sigh while he glances at his chrono.

He never introduces himself. Not as you follow a step behind down the halls, not as you climb into the sleek black speeder on the landing platform. Hound And Rule are parking a pair of speeder bikes. You give them a shrug and a nervous smile as their helmets both cock in question. Hound looks like his namesake be it with a more viscous paint job. You’d laugh if you weren’t so kriffing nervous. It’s stupid. So this wasn’t exactly normal, but aside from a rude, nameless aide this was nothing worse than heading to an inter-office meeting.

Than why couldn’t you shake the feeling that you were about to get in trouble, like a child being called to the principals office? Your fingers fumble as you buckle the restraint across your chest. You barely have a chance to wave to the two Guardsmen still looking your way before the speeder is diving into the skylane and heading toward the Senate Executive building.

The ride is quiet. Any attempt to make small talk is met with a simple yes or no, a few things are even ignored completely. If this guy was intending on going into politics he’d need to take a class or two on how to fake interest in his constituents.

The speeder comes to a stop at the Supreme Chancellor’s private platform and you’re ushered off without fanfare.

“Don’t we need to check in with security?” You ask as your collector opens the door to what you can only assume is the Chancellor’s suite, a rich expanse of room and excess that doesn’t allow your eyes a moment to relax or focus on one point.

“That won’t be necessary, unless you feel like you need to be scanned and patted down?” His raises brow makes you blush.

“No- of course not. Just protocol-“

“The Supreme Chancellor sets his own protocols.” He explains as you move further into the office. The large wall of transparisteel looks out over the very tops of buildings you knew to tower high about the highest heights of the Coruscanti top level. It’s breathtaking.

The decorations are ostentatious, with a very strong splash of deep red everywhere- from the carpeting to the tapestries interspersed on the walls. Bronzium statues sit atop marble stands, their twisted faces and gnarled figures seem out of place amongst all the finery before you.

“This way, please.”

You hadn’t realized you’d slowed to gawk and move to pick up the pace from where you’d fallen back. You offer a small apology that goes unacknowledged as he presses through an imposing set of doors on the other side is more transparisteel, more red.

And the Chancellor.

Sheev Palpatine sits with his hands folded on the dark wood in front of him looking as if he’d been waiting for you to arrive. He greets you as such.

“My dear girl!” He rises to greet you, moving carefully around his desk.

Your first thought is that he was not nearly as tall as you’d imagined he’d be. On the holonet he looked every bit as tall as any of the clones that served as his guards. He’s only a head taller than you, you note as he reaches for your hand and gives it a gentle shake. You smile weakly, a spark of something uncomfortable and disquieting burning inside you.

“Supreme Chancellor” you incline your head to break the uncomfortably intense eye contact, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“She is a beautiful little creature, Commander.” He intones looking past you, ignoring your greeting.

You glance over your shoulder to see Fox standing at attention next to the door you’d walked through. It was a wonder you hadn’t noticed him immediately but with all the red bleeding through the room it was no great difficulty for him to blend in. He tips his helmet toward you even though he seems stiff. Regardless, just his presence does something to calm your nerves. Any residual anxiety about the pair of you seems to dissolve as you look at him. When you turn back to the Chancellor your smile is genuine.

The chancellor’s is still questionable while he cups your elbow and leads you toward his desk. The soft clatter of plastoid armor follows behind you. You can feel Fox behind you, can almost imagine his all too familiar body heat radiating along your back. You fight the urge to let your hand sweep behind you in an attempt to capture his own.

“My dear, the good Commander speaks very highly of you.”

“I think very highly of him” you murmur fighting the urge to look behind you.

“Very good. Very good. Have a seat and we’ll begin our little meeting.”

The chair is plush and comfortable. When the Chancellor sits down across you notice that his chair is positioned slightly higher than your own, making him appear as if he was looking down at you. The desk is fairly clean, only a handful of datapads and some neatly organized flimsy. Next to everything is a gleaming blaster. It’s hard to keep your eyes from skimming over it. You’d sat through enough conversations with Hound and Ryk to not recognize a hold-out blaster when you saw one.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it? Blas-Tech, I believe.” The chancellor motions toward the blaster but you shake your head. As much as you’ve been privy to conversations about the different makes and models you’d never really become comfortable with the actual blasters themselves. “Well suit yourself” the chancellor shakes his head gently picking up the blaster and making a show of turning it in the light. It’s small, most hold-outs were. “A gift from one of the Corellian delegates” he continues “a very thoughtful gift but I personally find blasters rather uncivilized.” He makes a show of setting it down closer to you.

“I see” you fidget in your seat, “I really don’t want to waste any of your time. I’m sure you have far more important-“

“- this is of the utmost importance, I’m afraid” there’s something about the almost apologetic look he gives you or maybe it’s the slight cooling of his tone that washes away any comfort that knowing Fox was with you had provided.

“I’m afraid, I’m not sure what this conversation is about.”

A scoff crosses the length of the desk as the Chancellor looks past you to Fox. “She is very tricky isn’t she Commander? Had I known you couldn’t see past a simple deception I would never have encouraged you to pursue her.”

“My apologies, my lord” Fox’s voice is cool and emotionless, not the rich baritone you were used to. Warning klaxons sound in your head.

“Sir?”

“Oh, dear girl there’s no use hiding it any longer.”

Your heart rate is slowly creeping up, moving more close to the rate of your namesake than you were comfortable with. You attempt to rise to your feet but a pair of gauntlets come down on your shoulders and press you back into the chair that no longer feels comfortable.

The chancellor rises and moves toward the windows, his fine robes swing around him as he goes. Your eyes follow him carefully. Pressure builds at the back of your skull, a wholly inopportune moment for a headache to present itself if you’ve ever had one. You shake your head gently in an attempt to dislodge it. The chancellor laughs and it sends a cold shock down your spine.

“You’ve used your position and your wiles to lead the Commander astray” he begins “you’ve filled his head full of ideas of conspiracies and plots that don’t exist. And for what, might I ask?”

When you turn and look up at Fox he’s staring down at you through the dark lens of his visor. You will him to say something, anything. Surely this was a mistake.

“Fox, you can’t believe this?” You turn toward Palpatine, “this is a mistake. I’m not sure where this has come from-“

“-So I shouldn’t believe that you gathered the data for the Commander? That you didn’t read through it unlawfully and offer your own silly ideas as to what happened after our best investigators found that the ARC trooper acted against the Republic? That he was, indeed, intent on assassignation?” The chancellor’s voice grows louder as he speaks.

Your mouth gapes as he continues.

“Should the Commander not be made aware that you’ve used his affection to manipulate a good soldier into believing that the Grand Army, the highest level of military excellence in the galaxy, was intent on destroying not only his brothers but the entire Jedi order?”

Fox’s hands leave your shoulders and you jump to your feet, the chair pushing back behind you, forcing him to take a step back or be hit with it. His hand rests at his hip, fingers wrapped around the grip of his deece. The pressure on the back of your head intensifies, burns.

“You used me” the words are a broken snarl, an injured animal fighting back. “You made me love you so you could what? Tell me damnit!” His body is tight, coiled like a spring ready to snap.

“Fox, this isn’t right-“

Palpatine's voice rises over the pair of you. “I’ll tell you Commander. She came with the intent of finishing what the ARc trooper started. She was a conspirator.” The word conspirator is hissed out. Fox’s head jerks than shakes. The heel of his free hand presses against his visor. You want to go to him, find a way to make him understand, to soften the hard lines of his body.

Pick up the blaster.

A voice, cool and calculating echoes in your skull. Your eyes trail down to the blaster and your fingers flex into a fist, knuckles going white as you fight the urge that you shouldn’t have. You can hear your heartbeat pounding along rapidly in your head, adrenaline flooding your system.

“She’s here to kill me Commander. She is a spy and assassin. How else could she get in here without the guards knowing?”

Fox’s hand twitches over his own blaster. “It hurts” one hand presses at the side of his bucket. Is Palpatine in his head too?

Pick. Up. The. Blaster.

Your skull feels as if it will implode at any moment. Your eyes turn away from Fox and to the Chancellor. A cruel smile twists his mouth, a vicious play on a genuine one. Your brows furrow together as the clanging in your head grows louder.

“You’re doing this?!” Panic rises in your throat, bile burns it raw. “Why? Get out of my head!”

The pained squeal that slips from your mouth sounds foreign, a feral animal sound. “Get out of my head!” You sob whipping around. Fox, who seems to be struggling on his own, drops down to one knee, bucket cradled in his hands.

“Cyar’ika-“ he sounds small and you want it to stop, would do anything to protect him. His visor rises up to meet your eyes and you swear you see him clear as day as if it’s not there. He’s your Fox and he needs you.

Because you love him.

“How touching” Palpatine's voice echoes through the room, a perverse pleasure notable in his tone as he sees your realization from inside your mind.

But you love Fox and the weight of it gives you strength. You push harder against whatever magic has slithered into your head.

“Good soldiers follow orders” Palpatine reminds, voice cold and calculating “Shoot the traitor.”

“Fox, it’s me.” You beg him to see you. To look at you “he’s making you believe something that isn’t real. See me-“ a broken sob bubbles it’s way over your lips, “Fox…”

Distantly, the sound of blasters and the rising shout of voices becomes clear but you don’t have time to discern what’s going on.

“You will shoot the assassin commander. The blaster is in her hand. Do it, Commander!”

“Mouse- I- I- can’t” Fox’s voice comes out as if through gritted teeth and then something snaps and he rises back to his full height. The uncertainty that had been rolling off of him is gone.

“No, no, no…” you mumble, shaking your head as tears fill yours eyes. Your hand covers your mouth in horror as if it alone can hold your grief in. Fox raises his blaster at you. Desperately you turn to the chancellor. “Please! Please don’t make him do this! I’ll do anything. Please don’t make him!”

He laughs in your face and you finally do as the voice in you head has willed.

You grab the blaster.

It feels foreign in your grip. You scream as a bolt from Fox’s deece grazes your left shoulder but your right hand holds tight to the one in your hand.

“PUT IT DOWN! GET DOWN ON YOUR KNEES!” Fox’s voice booms as you turn back toward him. There’s no way you will get a shot off on the chancellor. “Mouse- please-“ desperation bleeds through his words suddenly and it hurts almost as much as the singed flesh of your arm.

You raise the blaster to your head. You're going to die. You know it in your very soul. Now it was only a matter of how and who. It won’t be Fox. It will be the last thing you do-

“DO IT!”

Noise erupts around you. The doors of the Chancellor's office explode open, splinters of wood showering down.

Chaos ensues.

Another blaster bolt hits you in the right flank while your attention is divided. Everything moves in slow motion. The blaster in Fox’s hand shakes as he continues to aim it in your direction. The smell of ozone assault your senses. The room spins on its own unseen axis.

The blaster falls from your fingers with a clatter as you drop to your knees. You can’t breathe, your mind screams to draw in a breath but your body refuses to comply only allowing shallow, useless gasps.

Lights flare in your periphery purple, red, blue. Voices roar to life.

Electricity tickles at your skin as your hands press down over burnt flesh. “Fox…” his name comes out as a whimper as the transparisteel at your back shatters, shards of it bite into your back, burrow deep into your flesh. The smell of blood, the coppery tang makes your stomach heave..

Chaos is everywhere, omnipotent and overwhelming. Voices shout, threaten, and yell and you struggle to focus in on any one thing.

“Don’t take another step, vod!” You see the familiar blue and white jaig eyed bucket of Captain Rex. Twin deeces are aimed at Fox but his blaster is only half pointed, his head cocks then shakes violently. “I said stop, Fox!”

“It’s not him-“ the words come out in a choked cough, not loud enough to be heard over the cacophony of wind rising up between the buildings and the clashing of Jedi lightsabers. You press up on one arm and point shakily with your injured left arm. You try again, “it’s him!”

Rex’s helmet tips toward you but his blasters remain trained on Fox as you point toward the old man held at the tip of a purple saber.

You don’t have the strength to stay upright and your arm crumples. You fall against the red carpet with a gasp. Your shoulder bears the brunt of it causing bright hot pain to shoot anew through your body. When you're able to open your eyes, your blood mixing with the red fibers, almost imperceptibly, greets you.

“Mouse- Fierfek” the gutted sound of Fox’s voice slips into your ears, “I’m sorry. I’m-“ he voice is choked off as he grabs at his throat. Another man, lip curled back in a snarl, advances on him hand raised. His robes are dark matching the poisonous look in his eyes.

“Yes, young Skywalker. Strike him down!” The chancellor's sickly voice rises up over the winds.

“Anakin!” The Jedi wielding the purple saber snarls. You see him look back at the chancellor.

“I am the senate. You will not kill me, Jedi”

“The senate is overruled”

The purple saber flashes without hesitation. You choke back a scream as Sheev Palpatine’s head leaves his body. You struggle, dragging yourself toward Fox as his hands claw against his own throat trying to dislodge his invisible assailant.

“General! Enough!” Rex’s voice rises as you grab at Fox’s leg pulling yourself in front of him.

“Skywalker” the other man intones quietly. The purple glow retracts as he places a hand over the younger Jedi’s forearm and presses down, “let him go. This wasn’t his doing.”

You miss the choked cry the younger man bites back because whatever has held Fox at bay releases him and he falls forward, body draping over you protectively.

The winds still howl, blowing up from the deep wells of Coruscant below but it sounds distant. It doesn’t chill you like it had because Fox is with you and he’ll make everything right.

You want to tell him how much you love him. You want to kiss him just once as the darkness presses in at the edges of your vision. It’s a struggle to focus on the lines of his helmet, to pretend you can see through to the cut of his jaw, his full lips -that turn up just so when he smiles- and the soothing browns of his eyes.

“You don’t get to do this” he whispers angrily between harsh breaths. His arms wrap around your body pulling you close his nose pressing against your temple. “You don’t get to die because of me”

You tell him it’s not his fault, or at least you try. You can’t make your voice work.

Fox’s lips press roughly behind your ear. A continuous loop of promises and apologies and curses spill from his mouth. Mando’a and basic slur together. You try to keep your eyes open. You want to stay with him. It doesn’t hurt anymore so everything must be ok. Fox has made it ok…

Someone yells for a medic and the darkness overtakes you.

[bansheeoftheforest]

Ok so its 2:30 am and im going feral over syndicate au

After they “officially” (or as official as they can be at least) hire jekyll as their chemist things are somewhat awkward between henry and jacob for a bit. With the other people henry can be professional and friendly towards but jacob was literally the one introducing him to all of this. Via a one-night-stand

Except that attraction between them is obviously there?? Like they (probably) wouldnt have done the wahoo with eachother if it wasnt there, so all theres left is for them to get to know eachother. And they do slowly get to know eachother through meetings, and business exchanges where jacob tries to flirt and henry is flustered but not too flustered to laugh, and then they start talking outside work and then before they know it theyre back to making out except this time theyre SOBER and they decide it means something. And then BOOM, boyfriends

And then jacob thinks hes funny, and the kidnappings start happening

Also i would to know how jacob would react to the big reveal that jekyll = hyde. Personally im a big fan of “oh wow my beloved youre genuinely an insane person :) thats cool tho. Love you lots xoxo”

Hey dude. You know what I was... Is it called daydreaming if I did it to go to sleep? Either way you know what I was imagining over and over and over when trying to go to sleep?

Exactly this.

I can imagine Henry being so incredibly awkward around the other assassins and especially Jacob at first. After all, Jacob was a one-night-stand and all other assassins wanted him dead (he assumes) but he quickly befriends Evie and Greenie because he is as social as a puppy and is just as likable as one. But he keeps a distance from Jacob because he finds the entire situation incredibly uncomfortable and especially after what happened with Robert. He doesn't want to get hurt like that again and even if his heart slowly, slowly is letting go of Robert and willingly opens itself up again, he desperately tries to lock it away and make sure he isn't too close to Jacob. Jacob, who probably is a person to fall head-over-heels with persons he just met and especially if they have even shagged (he literally fell in love with two of his enemies after 1-2 meetings, canonically, one being a gal and one being a lad) is probably quite hurt by Jekyll taking a distance but he still tries. Hence the flirting, hence still trying to get to know Henry.

A few months pass, maybe. Henry gets used to working for the assassins, he spends most of his free time on the train because he can escape both Lodgers and friends alike and just... Relax. Even if he spends most of his time there, and even if he tries to get away from Jacob to not end up more hurt, he just can't. He keeps getting pulled into those handsome eyes and those flirty jokes and he just can't deny that he is feeling something for Jacob, and Jacob notices. Suddenly Greenie and Evie are gone on an emergency mission and Jacob and Henry are alone on the train. Perhaps Jacob would offer Henry some whiskey, perhaps they would just sit around and talk on one of the couches. Perhaps Jacob would slowly inch his way closer and Henry would pretend not to notice. Suddenly Jacob's hand is on his thigh and Henry's breath hitches, his face shots up to meet Jacob's gaze and their noses brush together. They are alone, Jacob takes his chance, and so softly he presses their lips together. Nowhere near as hungrily as their first meeting and nowhere near as possessively as during their shag. It's soft, it's adoring, and Henry can't help but melt into it. He doesn't want to but something in him feels safe with Jacob, much safer than he had ever felt with Robert, much more loved than he had ever felt by Robert, yet he quickly falls back to reality when Jacob's hand moves-- maybe not even up his thigh, maybe he just accidentally nudged it-- and Henry places his hands on Jacob's chest and breaks off. So many thoughts and feelings swirling around in his head, yet all he can feel is how his heart clenches so violently and everything in him is screaming stop, stop, go back, you are ruining it, all while it's also screaming run, run, don't look back, don't let yourself get hurt again.

Henry stands up, Jacob follows as Henry begins to panic so slightly. He is apologizing profusely, he is saying that Jacob please shouldn't take this personally, it's just... He can't handle this right now, he's sorry, Jacob did nothing wrong but Henry just isn't ready for it. Right as Henry is about to leave the train, Jacob stops him. He asks what he did wrong, or what's making Henry panic so. Henry stops, for a moment, takes a deep breath, and tells him that he just... Does not know what Jacob wants from him, and he has been hurt by pretend-relationships enough that he doesn't want to experience that again. Jacob tells him that he actually likes him, he would like to have an actual relationship with him sometime, if that would be something Henry would want and would be comfortable with. Henry pauses, another deep breath, and finally, he just says that... He needs to think about it. Please give him some space, he will give him a letter once he has gotten to think things through, he is sorry for being difficult but it's just... So, so much for him and after what he has been through. It's nothing personal, he assures Jacob, yet both of them just feel so, so hurt as Henry waits for the nearest train station and leaves. It's in the middle of the night, yet he is trudging his way back to the Society alone. Jacob debates following him, just to make sure he gets home safely, but doesn't.

Maybe it takes a few days, maybe some weeks, maybe even months, but soon, when Jacob enters the train after a particularly foul mission, Evie has a letter for him. "Jekyll came by and told me to give it to you", she says. Jacob could not grab it any faster, hastily tells her some weak excuse before excusing himself to his personal train compartment. He sits on his bed, he takes a deep breath, and he opens the wax seal of the letter-- so formal and official, he thinks. He wonders what Jekyll has told him, what news he is about to get. He can't deny that he likes him and that he likes him a lot. More than he liked Pearl. More than he ever liked Maxwell. What he feels for Henry feels good and real and he just feels miserable at the thought that Henry might not feel the same.

He opens the letter; the actual text and paper are just as "official" and formal as the actual wax seal and letter fold.

And then he reads it.

And the first thing Henry does, no surprise, is apologizing, and Jacob feels his blood run cold. But then he continues to read, and Henry is explaining why he was so scared. He has been hurt before, his last boyfriend treated him like a side piece that he just threw away and they had known each other for two years and it has affected Henry a lot. He apologized for being difficult, but he is willing to try out a relationship if Jacob is still up for it, and if he is just willing to take it slow and be patient with Henry.

And Jacob, of course, is willing to be patient. He is willing to wait for Henry because he likes him.

At the end of the letter, Henry asks Jacob to meet him in his office somewhere during the evening; he will keep the window open.

And Jacob does come.

And they get to talk it all out, they get to set some boundaries and actually talk about what they want out of all of this. Obviously ends with Jacob embracing Henry in a way only lovers can, and loads and loads of kisses.

Look, I'm just... So soft for this ship, ok? And now I have an excuse to ramble on about it bc more people actually ship them through this au and I love it.

ALso realized I completely forgot the last part heeh <3

So far, I have imagined the assassin crew (Jacob, Evie, Greenie) needing Henry for something but they see this... This blond gremlin breaking into his office. They immediately think of cornering him and questioning him about why he is breaking into Henry's office, except they enter at exactly the wrong time and manages to catch the transformation as Hyde turns back into Jekyll. They all stare in horror and yet Jacob doesn't hesitate to immediately run forward and cradle Henry; spitting and trying to keep himself from vomiting as all that slime and goop comes out of his mouth and eyes. Henry coughs, he manages to open his eyes, and the first thing he sees is the assassins and Jacob's face. He coughs again, he presses out a panicked smile, and the only thing he says is "oh fuck."

Jacob, without even thinking about it, immediately helps Henry to gather himself and clean himself off of the slime, Evie and Greenie are just standing on the sidelines unsure of what to do. Finally, Henry is rested against a cabinet and his breathing is calmer, and he manages to explain everything. Yeah, he was really depressed a few years ago and he thought there were things that were horribly wrong with him so he wanted to get rid of that. Except he accidentally personified all of that "bad" stuff and now that person is Edward Hyde. Jacob would definitely be... Slightly concerned, but would very much be like "oh so you are slightly insane and also halfly schizophrenic? Ahaha is no big deal I still love u darling xoxo"

...Y'all think Jacob would start flirting with Hyde too after that?

Honestly! I very much like all kinds of confessions when it comes to the Jekyll/Hyde reveal, so? Gimme all your thoughts, I crave them all. I just love the angsty routes <3