#here is everything you love hit STRAIGHT exactly on the head. loudly and precisely and without pause.

[recapitulation]

I haven't really talked about it but going to a performance of mahler 2 was without a doubt the most intensely I've ever felt anything in my life. like clamping my hand over my mouth bc I felt like I suddenly had no control over my body. I felt like I was going to burst out laughing or start ugly sobbing for no reason other than pure intensity of emotion

[miiamour]

tequila kisses

gn!reader x remus lupin

summary: remus gets stupidly drunk one night and shows signs of admiration. what happens the next morning when he got too wasted to remember?

warnings: drunk remus, alcohol, fluff, slight angst, illusions/mentions of sex, kissing.

word count: 2k

a/n: remus is very tall so you could be 5’10 and he’d still be able to rest his head on yours. this is gender neutral reader so please let me know if it has gendered pronouns or anything that implies a gender. also big thanks to @destourtereaux for helping me with the plot! <3 ily rosie!!

the gryffindor common room was lit up with red tinted lights. the furniture was pushed to the corners of the room for dancing space, although the dancing seemed more like sex with clothes on. the tables that were near the entrance of the common room, had drinks and snacks.

it was felt hot and sweaty. the smell of alcohol lingered throughout the room. teenagers either grinding on one another or taking shots of whatever alcohol james brought. it was a weirdly comfortable feeling.

sirius and james decided to throw a party for the pure reason that they got an O on transfiguration— though they’d throw a party even if they failed.

you had been standing around in a corner with a cup full of firewhiskey. you had been friends with the marauders for years so i’d have been wrong for you not to go.

james, and sirius were currently dancing with some random girls who’s names they probably didn’t know while peter watched, swaying by his lonesome. and as for remus— where is remus?

you scoured the room for him, couldn’t have been too hard, he was extremely tall. you saw him in the corner of the other side of the common room, with a bottle of— you squinted— tequila.

you squirmed your way through the people. you watched the room as you made your way to the table; people making out in corners, others doing shots, dancing on top of tables, every cliche teenage party thing was currently happening.

“hey remus, you alright?” you asked loudly, trying to talk over the music that was bouncing off the walls.

“who? me? yeah.” his words slurred together. “peachy keen” he said. he leaned against the wall and his long fingers gripped onto the bottle like his life depended on it.

it was the night after the full moon and peter had told you that remus got into an argument with james and sirius. chances are it was about something stupid and the boys would come crawling back to remus; they couldn’t live without their moony.

“yeah, that’s totally believable” you looked at remus, he stared back at you with half-open lids as he took another sip from the bottle.

“i think you’ve had enough rem” you attempted to take the bottle of tequila out his hands, he protested at first before loosening his grip, allowing you to take it away from him.

you turned your back to place the bottle on the table and when you turned back, you catch remus with a cigarette and a lighter in hand.

“seriously?” you scowled.

“don’t mention the twats name” he mumbled, the cigarette in between his slightly chapped lips. he lit it then took it between his slender fingers, releasing it from his mouth and a cloud of grey smoke fell out his mouth effortlessly.

maybe it was the firewhiskey talking, but remus looked extremely fit. merlin, the things you’d do to be in the place of the ciga—

“y/n?” remus interrupted your promiscuous thoughts. “did you hear me? i asked if you wanted a hit.” he mumbled while he waved the cigarette in your face.

“hmm? oh, no thanks” you responded cluelessly. you watched as he took another hit.

“i love this song!” remus exclaimed as fernando by ABBA began playing “dance with me, y/n.” he threw his cigarette in a random cup of punch and grabbed your hands, and you just couldn’t say no.

you laughed at him lowly, he was a horrible dancer. it was as if he had no control over his limbs. he swayed his head to the beat of the song. you adored his shaggy hair that was perfectly sprawled all over his head as if the gods precisely placed every strand. you admired him as he danced, his scars made him all the more beautiful.

“there was something in the air that night. the stars were bright, fernando” remus sung as he spun you around.

remus pulled you chest to chest and rested his arms on your shoulder and you wrapped your arms around his torso.

“they were shining there for you and me. for liberty, fernando” he continued to sing.

you held him closely, the subtly woodsy smell of his cologne and his heartbeat brought you comfort. as he hummed to the song, you couldn’t help but feel an oasis of serenity, like you and remus were the only two people in the world.

yes, he was drunk, but something about his actions seemed genuine; the way he rested his chin on top of your head lingered with a sense of sincerity. you felt protected in his arms.

“y/n?��� he murmured.

“yeah?” you responded softly.

“i’m drunk—”

“—i know rem” you chuckled.

“i’m drunk, and i hate everyone and everything.” he breathed out. remus pulled away from you, brushed the front pieces of hair away from your face, and said sweetly, “everything but you”.

you smile at him and that must’ve done something because within three seconds, he grabbed the sides of your face and his lips collided with yours, your top lip stuck between his. his lips tasted like the perfect mix honey chapstick with tequila. once again, the world felt empty, just you and remus.

you felt remus’ tongue drag along your bottom lip and you attempted to pulled away only for him to chase your lips. “remus, you’re too drunk for this”, you mumble against his lips.

“but i’m sober enough to know that i want you” his lips grazed yours as he spoke. remus had never been this confident, and that’s how you knew he exactly how drunk he really was.

“remus, come on. you’re not thinking straight, you’re probably going to completely forget about this in the morning” you half-jokingly scowled him, and a part of you didn’t want to stop. but it would have been wrong to continue given how drunk he was.

“how ‘bout i bring you up to your dorm, eh?” you suggested.

he hesitantly nodded his head, and grabbed your hand. as you two squirmed your way through the crowd, you managed to catch a glimpse of peter who had a confused look on his face. the boy nudged james, and gestured towards you and remus. james then nudged sirius, and motioned to the two of you as you disappeared from the party.

he staggered up the stairs, nearly tripping a few times causing you to laugh quietly.

“quit giggling” he playful frowned as he caught his balanced and pulled you towards his room. as you two walked in, remus pointed to a corner i’m the room, which was presumably his side of the dorm.

his side was cleaner than james’ and peter’s, who’s sides were messes, paper scattered around and dirty clothes pile near their beds. sirius’ side was the tidiest of the four, with organized records and a neat side table. remus’ side had a few things strewn around but it was overall fairly tidy. his bed was slightly made, he probably rushed to make in the morning.

remus crawled under his covers comfortable— not even bothering to change into pajamas— and you sat next on his bed, next to him, he was already falling asleep. “i need to go remy, you gonna be okay?” you said softly as you stroked his hair.

he looked up at you half-lidded and remus sleepily shook his head, “can you stay? just for tonight?” he pleaded as he lifted the blanket, gesturing for you to get in.

you’d leave in the morning before he wakes up and he’d forget all about it, you reminded yourself.

you shifted uncomfortably in his twin bed. remus adjusted himself, turning his body to face yours so that there was more space. his pinky grazed yours and you interlocked yours with his.

“goodnight y/n” he whispered, his warm breath hit your face before he leaned forward and placed a soft kiss against your lips.

•••

rays of sunshine shone through the windows, and birds sung. you squinted due to the bright sun greeting you, once able to open your eyes, you looked to your side and saw remus; asleep and snoring quietly.

you quietly wiggle out of the blanket, you caught a glimpse of his roommates; sirius was turned on his side with his back to you presumably sleeping, but james and peter were no where to be seen. you tiptoed to the door before—

“where’re you going?” you heard a voice, only it didn’t belong to remus. the question almost sounding like a teasing... sirius.

you slowly turned on your heels and faced something you’d though that you would never see— sirius with messy hair, he laid on his bed, elbows propping himself up.

“hey pads” you smiled and waved awkwardly.

“hiya” he wiggled his fingers as he waved “let’s just get to point, did you and moony shag?” he asked bluntly.

“what—!” you covered your mouth, forgetting to keep quiet and you walked towards him “what? no, he got stupidly drunk last night and nothing happened” you whisper screamed.

“my head hurts hell” a sleepy voice came from the side of the room you just snuck away from. both you and sirius turned your heads and saw remus, who was clutching his head.

remus saw you on sirius’ side of the room and his eyebrows furrowed, “what’re you doing here y/n? did you and sirius... sleep toge—”

“no!” you both shouted.

“please stop yelling” remus said, rubbing his temples.

you could sense the slight tension between the two boys. you remembered that they had a fight and they hadn’t made up yet.

sirius looked at you, then remus, then back to you. “i’m going to go; leave you two alone.” he stated, walking out the room, a bit dramatically.

silence filled the room. you shifted on the balls of your feet while remus was now sitting crisscross against his headboard as he played with his fingers.

“sit?” remus asked and gestured towards his bed. you tread over to his bed and sit right across from him.

“so what happened last night? because honestly, i don’t remember anything, ‘cause if didn’t sleep with sirius, why were you here at—“ he looked at the clock “eight am on a sunday?” he looked at you with sunken and luminous eyes.

“well, i actually slept here.” you said as you played with blanket on his bed.

“uh, like, here here? as in, in my—my bed? with— um— with me?” he began to stammer over his words.

he was so endearing when he was flustered. he fidgets with his fingers or basically anything he could find.

“yes, rem, you asked me to stay last night. and other things happened, i told you that you’d forget about them, and well you did so—“

“i kissed you.” he said, almost surprised at his own words.

“yeah. you did.” you responded. “you— um, remember last night?” you asked.

“parts of it; i remember drinking my body weight times two, i remember dancing to ABBA, and kissing you—“ he paused “and then holding your pinky?” he said with confusion.

you gave a half-suppressed laugh “that’s about everything, the gist of it at least .”

“‘m sorry about last night, i know i was drunk—” his nose scrunched up every few seconds; it was a tic he developed over the years, you noticed it happening whenever he felt sheepish.

“—but, um, but i was being truthful, sort of. with my actions at least. what i’m trying to— what i’m trying to say is that drunk remus does what sober remus doesn’t have the confidence to do” he said softly. remus looked up at you, his irises resembling pools of caramel. “basically what i’m saying is that i like you. and it’s completely okay if you don’t like me back, i understand. i just can’t keep this bottled up or else i’d exp—”

you interrupted him with a kiss, he caught on quickly and kissed you back and cradled your face with his left hand. yours eyes were fully closed with delight as you ran your fingers through the bottom of his hair. your nose bumped against his as the two do you moved your heads, trying to find synchronization and once you did: pure bliss.

drunk remus and sober remus are very different, but you preferred when he was himself and his kisses didn’t taste like tequila.

taglist: @anywherebuthere @keepawaythenargles @myloveforluna click here to be added to my taglist <3

[one-boring-person]

Dumb request but. Uncle Bob gets jealous bc someone hits on thee reader. (It's a funny idea tbh. Also change your name. you're not boring!! you're absolutely awesome!!)

Hehe, thanks for the compliment!😂💛 I loved this idea, so I hope you like this!😊❤💛

Total Strangers.

T-800/Uncle Bob x reader

Warnings: some bad language, some light sexual implications

Masterlist

The terminator goes stiff almost as soon as we enter the store, the unusual behaviour making me lift an eyebrow at him, looking over his perfect posture in curiosity. His imposing frame easily stands out amongst the other shoppers around us, but his new discomfort puts me on edge, aware of his ability to determine and assess threats before I even know they're a problem. With this in mind, I place a hand on the cyborg's arm, looking up into his face in confusion.

"Everything alright?" I ask him, meeting his emotionless stare as he turns it on me.

"Yes." He replies bluntly, still not having quite grasped the balance between using relative information and speaking as briefly as is necessary. 

"You sure? You're very tense." I probe, heading further into the shop with him, going to the section I need.

"I am positive." The terminator responds, following me, his eyes scanning the aisles as we move, the careful turn of his head still not quite natural yet, still a little automated.

"If you say so." I roll my eyes at his answers, choosing to ignore his obvious tenseness and start rifling through the racks of clothes, needing to find something to replace a couple of my old shirts.

"I did." Uncle Bob intones, standing over me, his large build hovering over me like a worried mother might fuss over her child.

It's not long before I get fed up with his presence so close to me, the terminator watching my every move, the precision in his gaze making me antsy. He shadows me around, staring at the people around us until they hastily walk away, his unnerving glare usually quite welcoming, though today it is just irritating me. After ten minutes or so, I turn to him, a small scowl etched into my face.

"Can you drop the hostile act? There's no need for it." I tell him, looking him in the eye.

"I am not sure what you mean." The T-800 frowns, cocking his head, a habit he picked up from me a few weeks ago. Usually, I find it flattering, cute, almost. But now it annoys me.

"I mean you need to stop acting like my bodyguard. It's totally safe here! You don't need to scare people off when they come within five metres of us." I clarify, gesturing to the area around us.

"Why? There is a possibility they may pose a threat to you. It is my objective to keep you safe." Bob recites, face going blank again.

Sighing in exasperation, I briefly close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose frustratedly.

"There isn't any threat, Bob. We're fine, ok?" I try to reassure him, "Just back off a bit, yeah?"

Frowning again, the cyborg nods and steps back, standing by a display of mannequins, his body going still, almost as if trying to blend in with them. Letting out a breath, I turn back to the racks and continue browsing the items there, picking out a shirt and inspecting it, my head cocked to the side, a frown playing at my expression as I consider it.

"Not your colour." A voice behind me suddenly speaks up.

Frowning properly now, I turn to face the newcomer, lowering the shirt as I give them a once-over, checking for any danger they may pose. Finding none, I relax slightly as the red-head smiles at me, showing me he means no harm, his blue eyes straying over my form with no particular subtlety.

"Oh? And what makes you say that?" I reply guardedly, my body moving to face him properly.

The guy shrugs, grinning at me.

"I don't think it will work with your hair, that's all." He tells me, coming to stand beside me, picking out another shirt from the rack, "This, on the other hand…"

Eyeing the garment, I lift an eyebrow as I realise he is right, though I'm far too stubborn to admit it, so I simply place the original shirt back and start moving away.

"Aw, come on! Please don't be like that! I'm only trying to help." The guy follows after me, dropping the shirt and catching up to me.

"I don't take clothing advice from total strangers." I inform him, trying to ignore him as I flick through some more clothes, jackets this time.

"Ah, well in that case, I'm Caleb." The guy offers his hand to me, still smiling, a glint of mischief in his eye.

Glancing at him, I don't react, waiting for him to drop his hand. After a moment, he does, only to instantly pick something off the rack.

"This looks like it would suit you. Wanna try it on?" He looks me over again, holding out the jacket to me.

"Not really."

"Aw, why not?" Caleb pouts, shoulders slumping slightly.

"I told you, I don't take clothing advice from total strangers." I try not to roll my eyes, picking out a different jacket entirely.

"Hey, you know my name. I'm not a total stranger." The smirk is back on his face as he says this.

"You have known her for exactly four minutes and forty-eight seconds. You are a stranger to her." A familiar voice interrupts us, the monotone sounding words muchly appreciated now.

Holding back a smile of relief, I feel my eyes flick up over Caleb's shoulder to meet the hard blue ones staring at the guy's head. The terminator stands over us, his imposing body easily dwarfing both of us, his expression blank, though his jaw looks oddly clenched, something I've never seen him do. Caleb turns to face the cyborg, his expression falling.

"Who the hell are you?!" He bites out, the words flat as he eyes over the much larger newcomer.

"That is not relevant information for me to disclose." Bob replies evenly, staring the guy down, "Now leave. You are not wanted here."

"Fuck no, I got here first. Wait your turn, asshole." Caleb snaps at him, though his tone is a little shaky.

"You are not needed here. Leave." The cyborg intones, disregarding the previous statement.

"How do you know I'm not needed? Think you are?" The redhead snorts, "As if."

"Your presence is very clearly not welcome. She has reciprocated none of your advances, and has been blunt with you to deter you. You have ignored all of this and have continued to pester her for no reason. You are not wanted or needed, so leave." Bob begins, clearly wanting to say more, though he stops at a look from me.

"I'm not going anywhere, and you can't make me." Caleb folds his arms, planting himself in place.

Brow twitching, Bob steps forwards, moving as if to grab the smaller man, hand already outstretched, only stopping when I intervene.

"No, Bob, it's fine. He's not worth it." I stop him, ignoring Caleb's somewhat triumphant look.

Bob halts, staring the other man down, a scowl starting to creep onto his face, staying in place for a good minute, before he finally moves, reaching out to pull me into his body, marching the two of us from the shop. Goosebumps spread out along my skin where he's touched me, the hand at my waist heavy but not unwelcome, the feeling of his hard body pressed into mine making me swallow tightly. We go straight to the car, leaving no room for conversation until we get there, at which point he breaks away.

"What was all that about?" I ask him, confused by his actions, "I mean, I'm grateful that you stepped in, but you didn't have to-"

I'm cut off by the feeling of his large hands on my waist again, yanking me into his muscular body, pressing me flush against his hips. Surprised, I barely register what is happening as he smashes his lips into mine, kissing me roughly, his tongue already slipping out to trace along my lower lip as I gasp into the kiss. My eyes widen momentarily, only to fall closed as I relax into the kiss, my hands coming up to run through his hair, pushing myself closer to him, his muscles right under my touch. The terminator steps forwards, shoving me up onto the hood of the car, still kissing me, his mouth ravaging mine hungrily as his hands start to move, pushing up my shirt to caress my back, one slipping down to grip my ass, tightening around me as he presses his chest tighter against mine. Moaning, I arch my chest into him, allowing him to slip his tongue into my mouth, the synthetic muscle exploring and roaming everywhere it can reach, only pulling back when I tap his arm, needing to breathe.

Heads staying close together, we stare at each other, our breaths mingling with each exhale, his hands still rubbing over my skin. It's only when a wolf whistle from somewhere nearby sounds that I remember exactly where we are. Eyes widening, I pull back further and look around, noticing the group of men walking past, three of them waving and jeering at us, leaving my neck exposed to Bob. Instantly, his mouth attaches to the skin there, sucking a mark onto my pulse point almost immediately, his tongue smoothing over the area, followed by a wet kiss. 

Trying not to moan too loudly, I gently push him off, already craving his touch again.

"Not here, Bob. It's not appropriate." I gasp out, lightly running a hand down his face.

"I apologise. I was unable to withhold myself." He replies, helping me down off the car, adjusting my clothes for me. 

Lifting an eyebrow, I smile at him in curiosity.

He simply smirks, having learnt the action from John, doing his impression of a shrug and helping me into the car.

[mochegato]

Hope on Board

Chapter 30 – Written in the Stars

Chapter 1     Chapter 29

“Congratulations Officer Grayson!” Bruce boomed, raising his glass along with the rest of the room of friends and family.  A loud cheer rose up in agreement with his comment.

Dick smiled at them graciously and clinked his champagne glass with Marinette’s juice glass, pulling her closer into his side with his other hand.  Marinette squeezed him back and looked up at him with a proud smile.

“Finally, someone who can fix my tickets,” Jason cheered.

“Not going to happen. In fact, I might write more up for you. Did you know parking your motorcycle in an alleyway is a moving violation?” Dick answered with a smirk.

Jason gaped at him, every inch of him conveying the betrayal he felt until he finally looked down to Lucy in his arms with a sour look.  “Man, fuck the police.  Can you say that?  Fuck. The.  Police.” He enunciated each word slowly for her.

“Language Master Jason,” Alfred chided.

“Jason, do not teach my children to badmouth their father,” Marinette warned with an accompanying glare.

Jason huffed and returned his attention to Lucy.  “Fine whatever.  But the cursing’s okay, right, Pixie?”

“No,” Dick answered quickly before Marinette could respond.  He really wasn’t confident what her answer would be considering the language she used when she and Jason were hanging out.

“Wasn’t asking you, Dickhead,” Jason singsonged while making faces for Lucy.

“Don’t badmouth their father while they can hear you, Jason,” Marinette repeated with a sharper edge to her voice this time.  “And I’m fine with you teaching them to curse as long as you’re willing to deal with the repercussions of Alfred and my Mother finding out exactly where they learned it from.”  She shrugged casually as she said it but the smirk on her face when she looked up at Dick made it clear she knew exactly how much of a threat that was.

Jason pouted and focused on Lucy.  “Your Grandmother and Grandfather are both deceptive bad asses.  Never cross either of them.” The room broke in laughter as Alfred grinned smugly and nodded in approval.

“So what are you going to do now, Officer Grayson?” Stephanie asked as she bounced Rob to quiet his fussing.

Dick rubbed the back of his neck.  “I don’t really know.  Hang out with the family, I guess.”

“I have a celebratory dinner planned unless you have other plans, Master Dick,” Alfred stated, looking at Marinette questioningly.

Dick looked back and forth between the two of them for a moment before answering cautiously.  “I don’t think I do.  Do I?”

“It’s up to you.  I was thinking maybe we could go out for a celebratory dinner.  Together. Just the two of us,” Marinette offered quietly.

“Like on a date?” His face brightened considerably.

“If you want it to be,” she answered shyly, suddenly not able to look in his eyes.  Suddenly, it felt dangerous to offer.  Her heart was pounding.  What if he changed his mind, which was ridiculous because he still acted the same as he had when they first started dating.  But some part of Marinette, the anxiety controlled part, insisted there was still a chance, and as always happened when anxiety entered the arena, it took over, regardless of rationality.

Dick wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him, adoration shining in his eyes. “I do.”

Marinette let out a relieved sigh and an exhilarated smile spread across her face.  “Great!  I know just the place.”  A devious glint appearing in her eye.  The same look she got whenever she had come up with a brilliant plan.  She looked him up and down, taking in the dress blues he was still wearing from his Academy graduation.  “You should change before we go though.” She looked down at her dress. “I should too if we’re taking the bike.”

“I’ll watch the rug rats while you’re gone,” Jason offered as he wiggled Lucy’s hand that was wrapped around his finger.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll watch over the infants to ensure they are safe and adequately mentally stimulated while they are awake,” Damian offered loudly, a confident look on his face.

Dick raised his eyebrows in surprise at Damian and looked down to Marinette to see if he was really hearing what he thought he was.  That was by far the strangest outcome of the situation, Damian taking his position as the twins’ uncle with deathly seriousness.  He watched over them like one of his pets, until they started crying. Then the twins were their parent’s or someone else’s problem.

Marinette smiled knowingly at him and nodded almost imperceptibly to assure him that Damian was in fact offering to babysit.  Dick subtly glanced to the more responsible people in the room to see if they would be there as well.  Barbara, Alfred, and Bruce all nodded at him to assure him they would stay as well.

“I’d help too, but… I have plans,” Adrien shrugged, deftly changing the topic of conversation before another fight over who the best uncle was could break out between Jason and Damian. Which was absolutely ridiculous anyway. Clearly, he was, precisely because he did things like taking this hit.

“With Wally?” Marinette asked innocently.

“Yeah,” Adrien answered a little too breathlessly.

“Ooooooohhhhh,” Marinette teased with a knowing smirk.   Dick grinned.  He had introduced Adrien to the Titans when they stopped by to meet the twins and take a second shot at meeting Marinette, this time without them having to hide anything and with Plagg sequestered in Dick’s bedroom, nowhere near Garth.  As expected, Wally and Adrien hit it off extremely well, the enthusiastic, bubbly, romantics, that they were.

“Shut up.  It’s not like that,” he grumbled looking away from them. He wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction of seeing his lovesick expression.

“Yes, it is,” Marinette, Dick, and Stephanie all chimed at the same time.

Adrien’s cheeks blushed a deep rose color and he growled halfheartedly at them as he left.  “Good luck,” Marinette called to him.  He waved and stuck his tongue out at her as he closed the door.  Marinette giggled and turned back to Dick.  “I’m going to feed the twins while you’re changing.”

“Okay.  I’ll take a quick shower too then.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek before making his way to his bedroom.

Marinette nodded and took Lucy from Jason, who only gave her up grudgingly.  “And we’re going to get you ready, too,” Stephanie informed her as she slung her free arm over Marinette’s shoulder.

Marinette laughed and shook her head.  “We’re going to have about two hours between when they eat and when I have to be back to feed them again.  I’m not wasting any of that time on appearances.  If Dick is still willing to go on a date with me after sharing a room with me when I hadn’t showered in I don’t know how many days, he will be fine with me not having a ton of makeup on.”

“Okay fine,” Stephanie groaned before immediately brightening again.  “I’ll do stuff while you’re nursing then,” Stephanie insisted, completely ignoring Marinette’s objections.

Marinette sighed and shook her head.  This was not worth the effort.  She was not willing to put what little energy she had into debating personal boundaries and priorities with Stephanie, and apparently Cass, judging by the excited glint in her eye.  “Fine. Just don’t get any makeup or hairspray on Lucy or Rob while they’re eating.”

Stephanie squealed and handed Rob off to Barbara as she and Cass raced to her room to get everything ready. They only had about ten to fifteen minutes to treat Marinette like their own personal doll and they weren’t about to waste any of it.  Marinette looked over to Barbara and Tim with a questioning glance.  “Either of you two want to get in on this?”

Tim waved his hands in front of him.  “Hell no. I’ve seen them in this mode.  I’m not getting in the middle of that.  Good luck.”

Barbara laughed and rolled over to her.  “I’ll come to help.  At the very least I can hold one baby while you feed the other one… and laugh at you while they work their magic”

Marinette giggled at her as she rolled her eyes.  “So very magnanimous of you.”

<><><><><> 

Dick’s entire body relaxed as he sped through Gotham’s streets.  He had missed driving through the streets of Gotham with Marinette’s arms wrapped around him.  They hadn’t done it since she was only a few weeks into the pregnancy then quickly had to switch to a car when it became too dangerous and awkward for her to ride with him. He loved feeling the rush of the wind against him and the warmth of Marinette’s arms and body pulled tight against him.  The way their bodies moved in sync with one another as he turned or changed lanes.

“Make a left here,” Marinette yelled.  He nodded his acknowledgement and made the turn.  They were in a very familiar neighborhood.  “Right,” she yelled again.  He nodded again and made the turn.  They drove straight for a few blocks until Marinette yelled the final time. “We’re here.”

Dick chuckled and shook his head as he pulled off his helmet.  “Batburger?” He raised his eyebrow at her.

Marinette shrugged and pulled her helmet off as well, giving him a sweet smile.  “Thought we could try it again when I’m not pregnant.  See if it really was just the pregnancy that made it taste so good.”

“Want to eat in the park again?” he asked as he secured their helmets.  He took her hand, entwining their fingers as they walked into the restaurant.  

“Yeah, if you don’t mind,” she nodded at him.

“I think that sounds brilliant,” he assured her, pulling her against him and circling his arms around her waist.

“You ready to order or what?” the cashier asked in an annoyed voice.

Marinette giggled into Dick’s chest.  “Not a fan of romance,” she whispered.

“Two batburger deluxe meals, please,” he looked over to Marinette to get her approval.  When she nodded in agreement he returned his focus to the cashier to pay.

Their order was done in just a few minutes and a few minutes after that they were looking out over the same park and sitting on the same bench they had sat at during their first date. Marinette took her first bite and quirked her lips to the side before continuing to chew.

Dick laughed and swallowed his bite.  “So, what do you think?”

“It was definitely the pregnancy.  But it’ll do. It was more about the nostalgia.” She grinned up at him and took another bite.

“How about you?  What do you think?  Are you excited for your first day as a Gotham Police Officer?” She grinned up at him, the proud look gleaming in her eyes again.

He smiled at the look, his chest puffing out ever so slightly at the way she was looking at him.  “I am.  I’m really hoping I will be able to make a difference, within the police department more than anything else.  I think if I can make a difference there, weed out as much corruption as I can, then that will feed out into the community, more than anything I could do as a single police officer.”

Marinette nodded in agreement.  “I think you’re right.  I’m worried about you though.”

Dick grimaced and considered not telling her the next part, but he’d promised her and, more importantly, himself, that he wasn’t going to keep things from her just because it might worry her.  He took a deep breath before continuing.  “I’ve already been approached by one of the families to work for them.  Saw him talking to a few other cadets as well.”

“Dick!” Marinette gasped, eyes wide with concern.

“It’s okay,” he assured her with more calm than he felt.  “Commissioner Gordon and I expected it.  It would actually be more concerning if I didn’t get approached by anyone.”

“I know.  It just makes me nervous.” She looked down at her burger and took another bite so he wouldn’t see her concerned frown.  “Your fellow officers are supposed to have your back, not stick a knife in it.”

“I can handle myself. I’ve been trained since I was nine to take on more than a few rampant officers.”  He puffed out his chest in an exaggerated motion to distract her.  “I’m like Captain America in the elevator.  I can take on all of them with nothing more than a stick and win.”

Marinette giggled and buried her face in his shoulder trying very hard not to laugh at him.  She finally pulled her face out of his shoulder to look up at him in adoration.  “You’re better than Captain America,” she assured him.  “Just as skilled, better moves, smarter plans, better leadership, and all without the need of a super serum.”  She brushed his hair away from his forehead and traced along the side of his face down to his jaw.  “And much handsomer.”

She guided his face to hers and pressed her forehead to his.  She let out a deep breath before continuing.  “Just… make sure you come home to me, to us, every night.”  She looked back up at him with concern etched deep in her features.  “Please.”

“Every night?  Forever?” Dick asked hopefully.

Marinette paused to think about it.  That was what she had meant.  Without overthinking it, without letting anxiety dictate her thoughts, that was what she had wanted.  That was what she was asking him for.  They had been waiting so they could figure out some issues they had between them and within themselves.  Dick acted to protect without sharing.  She hid away entire parts of her life.  They both had needed to learn to open up more.  

She was ready.  She was ready to break down the last bastion of secrecy hidden in the depths of a magical fortification.  If Dick wanted, she was ready to let him in.  The question was whether he was ready.

She nodded slowly, her forehead still pressed against his, her breath fanning across his face.  “I’m ready.  I’m ready to move forward, but I don’t want to rush you.  I don’t want to rush us if we aren’t both ready.  I want to make sure we last.”

Dick grinned and ran his knuckles along her cheek.  “We’ll last.  It was written in the stars.  The universe brought us together.  And we’ll take on the universe if it tries to tear us apart.”

“And win,” Marinette giggled affectionately, the smile on her face brilliant and hopeful.

Dick grinned against her lips.  “And win,” he agreed solemnly.  “That’s a very important part.”  She grinned at him and gently brushed her lips against his.  She started to pull away but he followed her, pressing his lips against hers more urgently.  She pushed back against him, bunching her fists into his shirt, pulling him closer with it.  He wound his arms around her waist, pulling her into his lap.

She whimpered against his mouth as his hand moved up her back until it wound into her hair.  The sound made his heart race.  God, he had missed this feeling, the feeling of her lips against his, of her body against his, the exhilaration her sounds produced in him. He missed knowing she was his to touch, that she wanted him to do it.  He missed the way they fit, like a perfectly engineered puzzle box, each piece fitting into the other so precisely, anything else felt wrong.  

She moved her arms around his neck, working her fingers into his hair to pull him closer.  She needed to be closer.  She had missed his warmth and the way he touched her and now she couldn’t get enough. She needed more.  She tilted her head to deepen the kiss, opening her mouth to grant him access.  She moaned as his hands traced her face and worked down her sides and back up her back.

She finally pulled away breathless after a few minutes and smirked at him.  “Definitely more enjoyable without the nausea.”  She rested her head against his neck as she fought to recover her breathing.

“Glad to hear it,” he laughed.  He hugged her closer to him, keeping his arms tight around her.  “I missed kissing you,” he whispered as if afraid to break a spell.

Marinette grinned and kissed his neck.  “Me too. I missed kissing you, hugging you, being held by you,” she looked pointedly at their situation, “sitting in your lap, calling you my boyfriend.”

He hummed in agreement and nuzzled his head against hers.  “I’d prefer fiancé or husband, but I’ll take boyfriend for now.”  He smiled thinking of the ring he already had stuffed away in his drawer.  

“You’re ready for that move?” she pulled away in surprise.

“I’ve been ready for months.  Even after our fight, I’ve never changed my mind.  I love you Marinette.  I am completely, utterly, ridiculously, unapologetically in love with you.”  He leaned down to kiss her, slowly, sweetly, passionately.  “I know what I want my future to be.  I’m just waiting for you to decide if it’s what you want too.”

Marinette stared at him in awe.  She shook her head and buried it in his neck again as tears began to fall.  “Marinette?” he asked carefully, trying to pull away far enough to look her in the eye.  He wasn’t expecting tears.  That was… a concerning reaction.  He didn’t think suggesting they eventually marry would make her cry.  Damn it, way to kill the mood just as they were getting back to a great place.

She took a breath to steady herself, a breath that very much smelled like Dick. She pulled away enough to look up at him, love shining in her eyes.  “I don’t know exactly what I want for my future, but every time I picture it, you’re there with me.  Every iteration of it you’re there with me.  Sometimes with just Lucy and Rob, sometimes with more kids.  Sometimes in the manor, sometimes in our own place.  Sometimes in Gotham, sometimes somewhere else.  Sometimes I’m running a major fashion label, sometimes I’ve become a WE employee.  Sometimes you’re still an officer, sometimes you’re a detective.  But every version, every iteration, you’re there with me.  I know that much.  That’s all I know.  I love you and I want my future to be with you.”

He examined her eyes to look for any indication of uncertainty in her words, but her eyes were confident and adoring.  He surged forward to capture her lips in another searing, breathtaking kiss. The moan she let out into his mouth made his body react viscerally.  They needed to get somewhere more private before they continued.  “Maybe we should take this home and away from prying eyes,” he gasped out when he was finally able to force himself to break away.  She nodded wordlessly, still trying to catch her breath.

<><><><><> 

“Perfect timing,” Barbara smiled at them.  Lucy was rooting into her chest searching for something to latch onto. “They just started fussing and searching for milk in places they won’t find it.”

Marinette laughed and took her from Barbara.  “Sorry about that.”

“No problem.  I feel worse for her.  She’s never going to find what she’s looking for here.  Hate to be a disappointment.”

“If it makes you feel better, they find me to be just as much of a disappointment,” Dick offered.  “No milk, no value.”  He shrugged.

“Come here, sweetie.  Don’t let them shame you for knowing what you want.”  She stuck her tongue out at them and left the room with a smile.  

Dick picked up Rob from Duke with a smile and a nod of thanks.  “Anytime,” he shrugged as he handed Rob off.  “So… how did it go?”

“Hm?” Dick responded absentmindedly, checking Rob to see if his clothes needed to be changed too or just his diaper.

“How did it go?  How did the date go?” Stephanie elaborated annoyed by his lack of attention.

“Oh,” Dick’s eyes brightened and he grinned excitedly.  “It went brilliantly.  We’re back together and we know where we want to go with our future.”

“So… proposing within the year or within a few months?” Tim asked with a smirk.

“Pft. Knowing Dickieboy, within a few hours,” Jason scoffed popping a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

Dick ticked his head to the side.  “Considered it, but I want to make it romantic.”  He turned to Tim with a wink.  “Give me a few days.  Come on, Rob. Let’s get you changed and ready for Mommy.  Night guys.” He smiled at them as he carried Rob to the family bedroom.

“Have fun tonight,” Stephanie called after him with a laugh.

“No more babies tonight,” Jason called immediately after.  “Turn the movie up.  I don’t want to hear them ignoring me,” he grumbled to Duke.

Dick made it up to the family bedroom just in time to change Rob’s diaper, reswaddle him, and switch Lucy for Rob so Marinette could nurse him.  She took him with a smile.  “Did I hear Jason yelling?”

“Yeah, he was just saying how happy he was that we’re back together,” Dick assured her with a laugh.

Marinette chuckled then immediately quieted when the movement startled Rob. “Sorry Rob,” she cooed at him.

Dick swaddled Lucy quickly and laid her down in her crib.  “How about I set up a movie in the other room?” he whispered into her ear as he gently ran his hand over Rob’s head.

Marinette hummed in appreciation and pressed her head against his.  “That sounds wonderful,” she whispered back.

He kissed her temple and quickly made his way to his bedroom.  He pulled out a few fuzzy blankets and navigated to a movie he thought she would like.  He ran down to the living room where the rest of the family was and grabbed one of their bowls of popcorn and a few drinks.  “Thanks,” he called out to them as he ran away before anyone could stop him. He set up the popcorn and drinks on the side table and propped up a few more pillows for them to lean against while they watched the movie, if they did in fact watch the movie, though he really hoped they would be too busy doing something else.

He kicked off his shoes and double checked that everything looked perfect. Assured that it was, he made his way back to the family bedroom.  He had expected Marinette to be done already and come find him.  He silently opened the door to check on them and smiled at the scene in front of him.  That was why Marinette hadn’t come to find him.  She had fallen asleep nursing Rob.  Rob was lazily sucking at her breast in his sleep.  Dick shook his head at her.

Dick picked up Rob and put him back in his crib.  He fussed sleepily for a few seconds, trying to get back to the nipple, but quickly fell back asleep.  Marinette opened her eyes at the movement, arms reaching out to keep Robert from falling. She looked up at Dick with a hazily confused look.  “What’s going on?”

Dick smiled at her and made his way back to her, picking her up in a princess hold and carrying her to her bed.  “We have the rest of our lives to watch a movie or do anything else.  Tonight, I think you need sleep,” he told her quietly as he gently laid her down, pulling a blanket over her.

She hummed in response and pulled the blanket closer around her.  He kissed her cheek and ran his fingers over her face lovingly before pulling away to get ready for bed.  Before he could move away from her, she caught his hand and pulled him down next to her.  She looked up at him with soft, affection filled eyes.  “Please stay?”

Dick’s heart stuttered at the request, so open and vulnerable and filled with love. He smiled at her and climbed into bed next to her as she lifted the blanket for him.  “Always,” he whispered into her hair.  He settled in behind her and gently pulled her against him, feeling her warmth against him as she curled into him and he curled around her in a perfect harmony.

The End

Tags:

@dickinette-february @demonicbusiness @ichigorose @iloontjeboontje @ladybug-182 @toodaloo-kangaroo @dast218 @golden-promises @trippingovermyfeet @emimar7 @laurcad123 @lady-bee-fechin @thewitchwhowaited @redscarlet95 @jayjayspixiepop @alessialeone6997

[vemuabhi]

GHOST CONTRACT

Pairing : Eustass Kidd X Captain! Ghost! Reader

Requested by PalmTV (wattpad)

Warnings : A slight bit of Angst but mostly fluff, mention of blood and needle

Summary : Kidd tries to summon a sprit on an island very popular for its hauntings. As nothing happens he just calls it bull and continues his journey. But on verge of death, the sprit comes and saves him. Turns out, the sprit is a very powerful Captain when they were alive. Slowly Kidd and Reader fall in love but, will they be able to stay together?

A/N : I hope you like it. Eustass is one of my favourite and this is a new concept.

"So, if we just do what you said, we could summon the sprit. Am i right?", Kidd asked his first mate who just finished his explanation on how to summon the ghost captain.

Kidd Pirates docked on a very well known island which was apparently haunted by sprits of a deadly pirate crew who died in a battle on the island. Its been many years since that incident and its famous to perform contracts with the sprits. Its considered a myth and no one truly knows if its true or not.

"Kidd, I don't know of its true or not, but its really famous for people trying to summon sprits. But it needs to be precise. Even a second difference can make the complete thing not work itseems", said the masked man to his red head captain as everyone drank booze in the bar.

"Seems interesting. Rven though I don't believe in that kind of sprits and stuff", scoffed Kidd as he chugged the remaining booze from his glass.

At sharp 3 am, the captain and his firstmate went to the lake where the summoning should be taken place. Kidd stood close to the water and Killer kept close look at the pocket watch. Kidd took a needle from his metallic arm and slowly pierced it on his index finger till he saw a drop of his blood.

Killer kept looking at the pocket watch and as soon as he saw it was 3:13 he exclaimed, "Now!", then Kidd shook his finger making the blood fall into the lake.

They waited curiously for a minute. 'Anytime from now', kidd thought as he waited for another 5 minutes... and another..... and another.

Its been more than 15 minutes and Kidd was already getting irritated. "Bogus bull, Lets go Killer", he walked as his masked mate followed him behind.

"Tsk... even though I didn't believe it, I wanted something to happen", Kidd whined as Killer just sighed in response.

The next day Kidd Pirates continued their journey to another island. The weather was good and the path was clear. Just when the crew thought they won't be having any obstacles, suddenly they felt a yellow beam shoot their ship.

Kidd and Killer looked in the direction from where the beam came and saw that there was a big Marine boat with the Navy Admiral Kizaru on it. They were really far away from the marine ship but how accurately Kizaru shot the beam made the crew tense a bit, but that wasn't the case with the captain.

Kidd smiled widely and was ready to tackle and fight Kizaru. Soon everyone began to fight with the marines and Kidd started to fight with Kizaru. He was more stronger now but, Kizaru wasn't the Navy Admiral for nothing. After fighting for a while, Kizaru shot Kidd near his heart, making the latter feel immense pain. His Blood was all around him.

"KIDDD!!", shouted the masked mate as he saw his captain so hurt.

Just when Kizaru was about to step on Kidd, he felt a strong force hold him back, he wasn't able to move.

Within seconds all the marines were thrown off the Victoria Punk. Kizaru tried really hard to stop the force but... he couldn't. It was immensely powerful. Atlast after trying so much to not fall into the sea, Kizaru's efforts ended in vain. He was thrown. A marine soldier caught Kizaru when he was drowning. The admiral gasped for air then a fellow marine said "What did just happen? It was incredible power". To which Kizaru answered, "It definitely... wasn't one of the Kidd Pirates. They were really injured and there wasn't anyone who was like that on the pirate ship", he took a deep breath then continued, "Anyway, lets retreat for now". With that the marines went back.

Kidd was treated as some of the other members repaired the ship and some cleaned the place.

"What exactly happened?", heat asked Killer who was also thinking the same as they waited for their captain wake up. "I honestly don't know. Not to sound silly but...It was as if... magic?", replied Killer. Then it hit him. The summoning of the sprit. Then his captain woke up bringing the blond out of his thoughts. Kidd sat with the help of Killer and then he saw an unfamiliar person, in the corner of the room. He noticed that you had (hair colour) hair and had (eye colour) sharp eyes.

"Who the hell are you?", Kidd asked you as he looked straight into your eyes.

"Firstly introduce yourself", you replied stearnly making him girt his teeth.

"Whats wrong Kidd?", Killer asked Kid with worry.

"Huh?", Kidd questioned and said, "That person right there", he said making Heat and Killer confused.

"Oh, by the way, you can only see me. No one else", you said, now making Kidd confused.

You raised your eyebrow and asked him, "Don't tell me you forgot the fight with the marines and your near death experience".

After you mentioned it, Kidd's thoughts became more clear. Yes, there was something wrong with that battle. He knew it was not normal.

"That was by me", you said making your way towards the red head. You passed through Heat while you came towards the captain. He was shocked to see you do that.

Heat gasped making Killer hold the latters shoulder.

"What's wrong Heat?", tbe blond asked as he held Heats shoulder evenmore tightly.

"I... i don't know... I... just felt like a very cold shiver ran through my body for a second", he admitted.

"What did you do to him?", Kidd asked you making the other two give him puzzled expression.

"He is fine. Just tell him to sleep for now and ask them to leave if you wanna talk to me", you said to Kidd as you sat on a chair beside Kidd.

"You both, leave for now. Heat take rest.", Kidd ordered and the two men left the room. He turned towards you and asked, "Now tell me who are you? Im Eustass Kidd, the captain of this pirate group".

"Oh, Kidd, I am Y/N, I'm the captain of the (crew name) pirates", you said.

"But... I heard that",

"We died", you finished his sentence as you looked down. You sighed and said, "We died during a fight near an island and... I... was the only one who didn't find... peace. I guess I... am being punished", you said as you fake chuckled and looked at him.

"So, you are here and are visible to me, because I summoned you?", he asked and you nodded. He smirked and said, "So now you are to submit to me".

"Over my body", you said.

"You are already dead", he wined

"I don't care. I won't submit. Its not how I am", you straightened your back.

"Tch... how arrogant", he sighed then continued, "So... how about an alliance?"

"An alliance... thats sounds good", you smiled at him making his heart skip a beat.

'What the hell was that', Kidd thought then said, "Dont.. Dont betray me!"

You stood up and came closer to him, making him gulp. "I will never betray you Kidd", you said seriously as you looked deep into his eyes. He got a warm feeling when you said it and then he averted his eyes from you.

"Okay", he said with his cheeks turned pink.

"Awww, are you blushing. So adorable", you started to tease him as he shouted at you to stop doing that.

Its been a very long time since someone talked to you or looked at you. So that emotion hit you suddenly. "Hey.. hey.. what.. what happened?", he asked you.

Then you noticed that were crying. This was a pleasant feeling for you.

"Nothing to worry about", you wiped your tears and continued, "its just that... its been a very, very long time since someone talked to me".

He didn't make fun of you. He just stared at you silently. You regained your composture and smiled at him.

Kidd confessed everything to Killer and given everything which happened before, and also with his analysis, he believed every word of Kidd.

You said and did funny things while Kid was with everyone making it hard for him to hold his laughter. Sometimes you teased him and made him super embarrassed. You got yourself a... friend, who you could talk to now. So you were really happy.

When Kidd was with Killer, he was more free when talking to you or laughing out loud. Because Killer knew about you and he sometimes joined in the conversation. Kid would repeat your lines to Killer and in that way, sometimes you and Killer talked using Kidd. For which he would get pissed off a lot. You slowly fell in love with Kidd but didn't confess. Because he was a human and you were a sprit. You wanted him to be with someone, who can touch him, whom he can show to other people, with whom he could laugh out loudly without any obstacles and mostly a person who could become old with him. So you tried to avoid it as much as possible. Little did you know, Kidd was also in love with you and every time he saw a shooting star he wished you to be able to touch you. Not in a perverted way ofcourse. He really wanted to hug you and protect you. But he didn't say his feelings. He wanted to achieve his goal before doing that.

With you being invisible, had so many advantages. If anyone was plotting against Kidd, you'd tell it to him first and let him and Killer take action. You didnt need to sleep, so took the night shift every night and let everyone sleep peacefully, as you took care of the ship.

After some years and the end of the journey of Kidd pirates, he confessed that be liked you. His cheeks turned into his hair colour when he did it. You became so happy and said you felt the same making his smile widen. You then felt something in your body. As if something was changing.

"Y/N you are glowing. What is happening?", he asked you.

"I... i don't know", you said with a worried expression. He came towards you and tried to touch you. Your eyes widened as he was astounded. He was able to touch you. You were able to feel his warm hand on your skin. He was as amazed as you were. He pulled you into his embrace as he held you close. You could hear his heart beating fast. You could feel him. You could touch him. He then kissed you on your lips and you returned his love. Then your body stopped glowing. But you were still in his arms. You both were scared to let go, as if you won't be able to touch him after you let him go. Then you both heard a sound. You both looked at the source and it was none other than Killer. He dropped his weapon on the ground. His mask didn't show what expression he was having.

So you said to Kidd, "Ask him, what happened".

"I can see you, Y/N", the blond replied.

"What? Are you? Serious?", you asked him. Killer came closer to you and placed his hand on your head. He... he was also able to touch you. Your eyes widened as his hand made contact with your hair.

"Y/N, are you now alive? You are even breathing", he said making you realise that indeed. You were breathing now. Like a normal human being. Your eyes welled up and you hugged Kidd. He was so excited to just touch you and now you were... alive somehow. What miracle was that.

Killer joined you two and you three gave a group hug. "I can become old with Kidd and lead a simple life. Atlast you are able to see me Killer. I wanted to talk to you without involving Kidd everytime", you said as you squeezed them two tightly.

"Apparently... your strength is the... same", Killer said making you laugh. You were now alive again. Another chance at life was given to you. So you were very grateful. You appreciated and loved every single moment with Kidd. You treasured all the moments deeply. And for the first time, you could talk directly to Killer. So you thanked every moring you woke up from the sleep you missed. You smiled more brightly and were more happy than before.

XOXOXOXO

I hope you Liked it.

If you want to support me please Like, Comment and Reblog / tag people. Thankyou for reading.

[anjuschiffer]

Wasn’t Meant For You but For Him

I know I’ve been quiet in terms of updates, but this is what I’ve been working on for the past two days! My first Timari! *squeal*

Thank you Vivi for encouraging me to write this! Also want to thank @eve-valution for beta-ing! 

@-@-@-@-@

P.Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life

@-@-@-@-@

Pairing: Timari

Context: This is years after highschool, possibly 5-6 years (I can’t count)? Gabriel isn’t HM here and HM was defeated a year after highschool was done for both Adrien and Mari. Mari isn’t the Guardian, since Fu was never discovered, however Adrien and Mari knew each other’s identities. Mari and Adrien are 24, Tim 25 and Damian is 17…

@-@-@-@-@

AO3

@-@-@-@-@

Richard yawned as he made his way to the kitchen, noticing a dim blue light peer through the crack of the living room, deciding to poke his head into the room.

His eyes laid straight onto Tim, his attention on the television screen, his coffee spilled on the floor, his laptop and documents spread on his table long forgotten and covered by the lone mug.

Wondering what had captured his brother’s attention, Richard decided to look at the television screen, then and there connecting the pieces.

“-and there you have it! Straight from the groom-to-be father’s mouth!”

Richard watched as Tim got up and left the room, giving Richard a nod as he left.

“The wedding of the year! Of possibly the century! The unification of the mysterious designer -MDC- and the face of Agreste - Adrien Agreste!” The tanned skinned reporter with a beauty mark above her eyebrow said. “And you’re saying that MDC will be revealing her actual face at the wedding?”

“She is, without a doubt, along with her actual name.”

“You heard it here first everyone! France’s beloved designer, MDC, will be revealing her face and name at her wedding! So don’t forget to joint down the big-”

Richard turned the television off, a click escaping his mouth as he cleaned up the spilled coffee on the floor and took the mug with him.

-----

“I can’t believe that I’m late for my own wedding!” A woman said, bouncing her leg as she kept looking outside her window to see if the limousine was anywhere near the church, Goliath Cathedral. 

While the cathedral was lovely, it was nothing compared to the Gotham Cathedral. Despite the Cathedral never being restored, its stone gargoyles and rusty bells attracted Marinette to the 800 foot, moss covered building.

It would’ve been wonderful to have the wedding there -no- to even walk inside the cathedral if it were ever restored. It’s lovely interior was filled with history, the unreachable ceiling would’ve enthralled the people when the music started, drawing everyone into an ethereal trance. 

The real trance, however, would start when Mari would step into the monotone room, her pure white dress becoming the centerpiece of adoration. The very dress she had on. An MDC original.

A dress made of tulle and lace, two materials and nothing more. The lace will create the sleeves and cover the bodice, forming an off-the-shoulder top. Tulle will create the skirt, lace once more adorning the hem of the dress and train that would be two meters in length. The veil would also be an MDC original, each crystal in that veil to be sewed on with joy and precision, an emotion that still radiated from Marinette since the day she started sketching her wedding gown.

“-Earth to Marinette!” Alya yelled, causing Marinette to let out a squeak. “About time you snapped from your trance!” Alya said with a giggle. “We’re here.”

“Already!” Marinette said with disbelief, looking outside her window once again, watching how crowded the streets in front of Goliath Cathedral were flooded with people of all ages and races, Marinette feeling something weighing on her. “Mon Dieu.”

“Well, Gabriel did make a huge fuss about your grand day.” Alya reminded her. “As much as I wish that I was the one to comment over your wedding, I couldn’t say no to being your Matron of Honor.” Alya said, really wishing to be the reporter to comment on her BFF’s grand day, but knew this task will always be of greater importance.

Marinette melted at that, throwing herself at her best friend. “Woah there girl! I can’t have you crying before your big dream comes true!”

“I’m sorry! I’m just-”

“You just can’t wait to finally marry Adrien after all these years of-”

“Alya!” Marinette squeaked, squeaking once more when Alya tackled her. 

“You deserve this Marinette.” Alya said, wrapping her arms around her friend. “You deserve this and so much more.” Marinette resisted the urge to cry. “Finally, after defending Paris for so many years and after getting your breakthrough as MDC… you can finally get your happily ever after.” Alya gently pushed Marinette away from her, wiping off the tears that slid down Marinette’s face. “Now! Let’s not be a minute later than what we already are!”

Marinette nodded, pep talking herself as she watched the door be opened for her, emerging out of the limo and stepping into the sea of cameras, smiling and waving as they captured the moments that would lead her to her life as Marinette Agreste.

-----

“He’s not here.”

Marinette felt lightheaded, her heart beating loudly in her ears, her chest tightening and becoming unbearable.

“Get me out of here.” She whispered. When she felt no one come to her, she said it again, not registering how loudly she said it. “GET ME OUT OF HERE!”

She didn’t know who grabbed her, but someone did, leading her back to the limo that was still awaiting for her, or rather for the couple that was supposed to be.  

She heard as cameras clicked and let out a shuttering noise that rang in her ears, she watched as lights went off as they capture her face in that moment,

Marinette kept looking forward, barely hearing Alya yell at the driver to get them somewhere.

Marinette felt as her entire body shaked, looking down at her bouquet of flowers. 

White roses - purity...innocence...

Baby’s breath - everlasting love... 

What a joke…

The limo came to a halt, Marinette looking up to see what stood in their way from getting out of the area.

Her eyes widened upon seeing Adrien step out of his car. 

She didn’t know when she got up and out of the limo, but she finally regained her composure when she heard the words she dreaded to hear on her grand day… their grand day.

“Mari, I’m sorry.”

Three words… that’s all it took.

Walking up to Adrien, feeling her anger shake the flowers in her hand, she lifted them up, connecting it to Adrien’s face, watching as flower petals scattered around them and the road beneath them. “How dare you show your face to me!” 

“Mari, I tried calling you-”

“YOU ALWAYS SAID WE WERE MEANT TO BE!” She hit him again, wondering when the petals were going to stop scattering.

“I’m here now. I-”

“YOU TALKED ABOUT ETERNAL LOVE AND YET LOOK AT US!”

“Mari, I’m-”

“YOU HUMILIATED ME! ME!” Marinette yelled, feeling hot tears trailing down her face, hitting him again and again, never noticing that the petals were already gone and battered, the stems of the bouquet bent and worn.

Seeing Adrien with guilt spelled across his face, Marinette looked him over one last time before running off, never hearing Adrien nor Alya yell out her name as she disappeared into an alley.

-----

Tim let out a sigh, running his hand through his hair, hearing Bruce’s words ringing in his mind.

“You’re not in the right mind. Come back when you’re ready to do your work properly.”

How exactly was he supposed to do that?

MDC’s wedding was today. To-day.

And no, that wasn’t what upsetted him, oh no.

It was the mere fact that she would be revealing herself to the world, something she said that she would never do until she felt comfortable.

So when Tim heard through Gabriel Agreste’s mouth that she would be revealing her face at the wedding -a wedding in which she later commented that she wanted to be private, but later was pressured into making it public- Tim couldn’t help but become upset for her.

Everything that she had worked so hard for, the respect and dignity she had built for herself all crumbled within a few moments… her years worth of effort, gone by marrying her highschool sweetheart.

To make matters worse, Tim felt like Gabriel was the one behind the wedding and not his son. 

Tim sighed as he wondered why he was even letting this all get to him.

Looking up, he didn’t expect to find himself wandering the park.

He also didn’t expect to see a bride-to-be, oddly feeling like he had seen her before. 

He heard sobs escape from her tiny frame, watching her rip the skirt of her gown with no effort, watching as she continued to rip the gown to shreds, the fabric laying at her feet, battered and covered in dirt.

He took a step forward before stopping himself.

Who was he to interfere in her life. Hell, what can he even do to stop her from crying?

He didn’t need to be told when he watched her turn around, Tim finally piecing why her back seemed so familiar, why her ruly midnight hair stunned him and why her dull, puffy bluebell eyes caused his breath to hitch.

He had seen her face before leaving his office. She was the reason why he couldn’t focus at work. It was her…

But why was she here? Wasn’t she-

No…

It couldn’t be…

She didn’t deserve this… 

No…

How could he?!

Tim slowly approached the woman he had secretly admired since he could ever remember. 

Taking the fabric away from her hands, the thing that was once her veil, a fabric that she happily worked on as she streamed her progress on her wedding gown over the course of six months…

Tim could only stand there… wondering what to do next.

“Would you like some coffee?” Tim offered, watching as something returned into MDC’s eyes. She nodded, slowly rising to her feet, collapsing as soon as she got up. Luckily, Tim had caught her in time, the woman now dangerously close to his liking.

Fishing for his phone, Tim called his most trusted family member.

“Hey Alfred… I need your help. Can you make sure there isn’t any type of paparazzi near me? We have a runaway bride that would be grateful to not have any more drama added to her big day.”

------

Adrien walked into the reception hall with his head hung low, too embarrassed to face his friends, feeling eyes pierce through him as he walked towards his former classmates.

He could feel Nathaniel and Marc’s gaze pierce through him, years of working with them allowing him to know who’s gaze was who. He could also feel Juleka’s and Mylene’s, thanking Kwami that Kim and Alix weren’t here. 

They would’ve killed him the minute he walked into the room with Mari by his side. But he didn’t need to hear their disappointment when he could already hear everyone else’s.

He could already hear the murmuring as people noticed the empty space beside him.

Where was the bride?

“What were you thinking, Adrikins?!” Chloe yelled, storming to her childhood friend upon seeing him, Sabrina close behind her. Adrien watched as her black dress with golden trims approached him, wincing upon seeing a name hiddened at the hem of the dress. “How could you do that to Dupain-Cheng?!”

“Marinette didn’t deserve that.” Sabrina added, watching as Rose and Ivan stood in front of him, acting as a wall between the two.

“You guys are being too harsh on him.” Rose stated, glancing towards Ivan, as if pleading him to back her up. “He was just nervous.”

“Rose is right. Give Adrien some space to breath and rethink-”

“Rethink?” Juleka scoffed, everyone turning their heads to see Juleka make her way through the reception doors. “Seriously Ivan? Rethink?” 

“Juleka, calm down.” Rose whispered, not seeing the anger in Juleka’s eyes diminish in the slightest, instead, it grew.

“No Rose!” Juleka making Rose wince. “You’re telling me to forgive this idiot for leaving Mari at the altar?!”

“Juleka, you’re being too harsh-”

“No I’m not Rose and you know that!” Juleka looked at Adrien, her eyes narrowed. “How dare you ruin Marinette’s dreams like that? How dare you mock Marinette’s feelings! How dare you!”

“Juleka!” Another voice shouted, gaining everyone’s attention, but Juleka’s. “That’s enough!”

“Lu-” Adrien could hear the gasps that filled the room as his vision shifted to the side, his face aching and on fire.

“You had one job Agreste.” Luka growled, Adrien not daring to face Luka. 

He knew that Mari meant a lot to Luka. She was like a sister to him, the two were inseparable when they were younger. “You were suppose to make her happy Agreste and yet here you are, not feeling a single shred of shame that-”

“I told her that I was-”

“Sorry?” Luka let out a dry laugh. “Sorry doesn’t cut it buddy. I told you what would happen if you made her cry.” Luka grabbed Adrien’s face, forcing him to look at him. “I swear, if I see you anywhere near Marinette, if you dare to talk to her again, I will find you and I will tear you to shreds Agreste. I don’t care if I have become a villain once more to protect those I love.” Luka let go of Adrien, the ex-groom falling to the ground, shaking.

“Mark my words Adrien Agreste.”

Adrien heard Luka and Juleka walk out, hearing another pair stop before walking in, watching as they crouched to his level. Kagami looked at him with disappointment, a frown on her face.

“Kagami.”

“Seems like Luka beat me to the punch.” She said, her frown curving a bit. “Literally.”

Adrien didn’t utter a word as she rose, helping him get up. “I also came to tell you something else before heading to your father.” Kagami smirked when she saw him tense. “The Tsurugi’s will no longer work with the Gabriel brand. Our relationship is over.” Kagami headed for the door before stopping to take one last look at Adrien. “Seems like Lady Luck is no longer on your side.”

------

Marinette stirred, jolting up when she felt soft comforters covering her and a mattress beneath her. She noticed an elderly gentleman standing near the doorway, letting his shoulders relax when he saw her.

“I see you are awake, Miss...?”

“Marinette.” Marinette started, scanning her area. Where exactly was she?

“Do not worry, Miss Marinette. No camera nor paparazzi knows of your location.” He assured, watching as Marinette let out a sigh of relief. “We also have some attire prepared for you if you so wish to change from your current one.”

Looking down onto herself, Marinette quickly took the offer, slipping into the slightly oversized shirt and a pair of jeans that fit her loosely, also thanking the gentleman for also giving her some comfortable footwear. Sneakers were definitely better to walk in than heels. 

“Thank you,” Marinette said, walking out of the room she was in, her battered wedding gown in hand. “Do you happen to know of a good way to get rid of this?” Marinette motioned to her gown, the gentleman giving her a knowing look.

“Of course Miss Marinette.” He said, motioning her follow him. “The manor is always prepared for anything, especially when it comes to getting rid of unwanted clothing articles.”

“And before I forget,” the gentle said, bowing. “My name is Alfred Pennyworth. Welcome to Wayne Manor.”

-----

Tim sighed as he dragged his hands down his face, settling with trying to rub his temples in a futile attempt to get his mind into the right place.

MDC was in the manor. 

She was finally in front of him, so why was his chest aching instead of fluttering like he thought it would when he imagined the day he got to meet her?

He stared out the window, noticing smoke rise into the air, Tim feeling his heart stop. 

It was coming from the garden. 

Quickly, he made his way to the source of the fire, finding Alfred flipping what seemed to be a white piece of fabric, tossing it into the flames, Tim finally noticing the sigh of relief coming from MDC.

He didn’t dare to speak as he saw her lock eyes with him, her hair a bit more tamed than what it was earlier, the corner of her eyes red and no longer puffy.

“If you do excuse me, Master Tim.” Alfred said, breaking the spell that drew the two into a staring competition, causing said duo to turn away, not wanting to acknowledge the heat that dared to spread across their face. 

“It’s fine Alfred. You are excused.” Tim managed to say without a stutter, watching MDC from the corner of his eye.

He watched as she went back to watching the flame burn the remains of her supposed grand day.

Seconds became minutes and then into an hour, Tim never realizing when the flame had died out. He honestly didn’t care that he was still looking at a dark pit filled with ash. As long as she stood by the makeshift fire pit, he’d stay there to keep her company.

“You know,” MDC spoke, Tim noticing how soft it was, how lifeless it sounded. “I spent six months sewing it, only for it to be destroyed within an hour.”

“I know.” Tim said, not noticing her whip her head towards him, her eyes large with horror. “I remember how you keep doing samples of the lace over and over again, saying how you kept messing up, even though each sample was meticulously done to perfection.” Tim didn’t notice how she backed away from him. “Even though you couldn’t hear me, I keep saying how you’ve improved since the last time and how you kept seeing each one as a failure because you were using new techniques you learned a week prior in comparison to the ones you started out with when you first started your career.”

When Tim decided to look at MDC, he noticed that she was crying again, standing two meters away from him, and yet one step was soon taken closer to her.

“You… you know who I am?” She asked, her hands shaking beside her face.

“Um, yes? You’re MDC.” Tim answered, watching as she shook even more.

Where was Dick when you needed him?

Tim slowly approached her, going to place his hands on her shoulders when he hesitated, his hands hovering over her. “Listen, can I call you Bean?” Tim said, cursing himself for not having Dick nor Jason’s ability to give proper nicknames.

“Bean, I didn’t mean to scare you. If there’s anything I can do to make you forget what happened earlier, please tell me.”

“Nettie.” She whispered, Tim barely catching it. “Call me Nettie.” She lowered her hands as she looked at him.

“If that’s what you want, Nettie.” Tim wondered why he adored the way it fluently rolled off his tongue. “Are you still up for that cup of coffee I offered earlier?”

Nettie gave him a small smile, nodded. “Alfred makes the best coffee.”

-----

Gabriel fumed as another person reported to him that another video of Marientte and Adrien’s dispute went online, the PR having difficulties taking the video down.

“What part of “get rid of it at all costs” don’t you incompetent fools understand!” He yelled, watching as people scattered to fight off the damage Adrien had done to the Gabriel brand.

Gabriel had planned everything to go according to plan, twelve whole months to plan this day to the utmost perfection, to be the most spectacular day for him and his brand, all for Adrien to ruin everything thanks to having cold feet.

Gabriel had taken everything into account, everything that would possibly make Miss Dupain-Cheng to call the wedding off, only for his stupid blood to let him down.

“Sir.” Nathalie said, gaining Gabriel’s attention. “We have a problem.”

“What is it this time?” He dared to say through gritted teeth.

“We’re receiving heavy backlash from-”

“When will anyone-”

“It’s Mr.Drake-Wayne, sir.” Nathalie managed to say, holding her breath as she watched Gabriel ingest what she just told him. “After saying how incompent and embarrassed we should be, he declared taking complete control over MDC’s PR and her entire business.”

“No.” Gabriel whispered, feeling himself get cold. “There is no way-”

“He just announced it sir.” Nathalie said, showing him her tablet screen, Gabriel snatching it to get a closer look. “MDC is now protected by the CEO of Wayne Enterprises and there is nothing we can do.”

-------

Tim pressed something on his screen before tucking his phone away.

“Something happened?” Nettie asked, sipping some more of her coffee. Tim hadn’t lied. Alfred made the best coffee Marinette had ever sipped since she had gotten to Gotham. Maybe in her entire life.

“Some damage control, nothing more.” Tim assured her, watching as she looked into her coffee. 

After drinking their first cup of coffee, Nettie had asked for a favor, something Tim couldn’t say no to. 

She wanted him to deal with her PR, seeing as she wasn’t in the right head to do so. 

After getting her sign of approval and calling a few people, Tim gained control of the rumors and content that surrounded and included anything that mentioned and dared to mention the disaster at the cathedral. 

Under different circumstances, Tim would’ve been over the moon upon having the chance at being in charge of MDC’s PR, but right now, it wasn’t the time to celebrate to his heart's content. 

He had someone else to cheer up. 

“Say Nettie.” Tim started, placing down his mug. “What do you think about staying for dinner?”

Nettie blinked, sipping into her mug. 

“If it means staying indoors and away from the rest of the world, I’m down for it.” Tim smirked. 

“Just gotta warn you, I’m not the only Wayne that lives in this manor.”

——

Marinette only meant to stay at the Manor until things cooled down, but she knew that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

She kept elongating her stay at Wayne Manor, bonding with each family member over the passing days. 

Alfred, she quickly bonded with. After asking for permission to the kitchen to stress bake, Alfred shared some secrets on his cooking, Marinette in turn sharing her secrets in baking. From baking and cooking, the two started to chat more, Marniette adopting him as her third grandfather.

Bruce… she was still trying to get used to him. While they spoke quite a lot when it came to business… Marinette would always run short in talking about other things, usually their conversations ending in comfortable silence. However, Mairinette did manage to find out something to blabber about: grandkids (or rather children in general). Marinette would share her fantasies about having children, Bruce asking if she would ever adopt. Marinette would laugh and comment on how she didn’t want to be a serial adopter like him. That always got a laugh from the man.

Richard, or Dick as he insisted, was a sweetheart, helping her whenever she would wake up from her nightmares of her former life and from that disastrous day. He’d stay up until she felt better and held her hand as she drifted to sleep. He would never mention the incidents, knowing and  respecting Marinette in that manner. She also couldn’t help but respect him for skills, finding something new about herself whenever she would join his gymnastic warm ups.

Jason was… the brother she wished she had. They would banter about what food to have for lunch, always resulting in having to play a game to decide who would choose. When it wasn’t that, it was wrestling each other, Marinette having the upperhand due to her small stature, only to be overpowered by the baberious man. She enjoyed learning new attacks although she hated having to lose to him in the majority of their sparing.

Damian… he was the little brother she’d always wanted. While Tim told her he was the most annoying person to spend time with, Marinette would beg to differ. He just needed some guidance. The two bonded over animals, Damian showing her his favorite part of the mansion. When she walked into the room, she swore she was in a pet store,every wall was filled with dog supplies and toys. Ace and Titus wagging their tails as soon as Damian walked into the room, the dogs immediately taking a liking to Marinette. Even the rather bratty Alfred the Cat had taken to her quicker than with the rest of the family that wasn’t Damian. 

When it wasn’t pampering Ace and Titus, it was sparring, Marinette thanking him for not holding back like Jason and Richard. He’d expose her openings, apologizing as he would hit her. After training, she would teach him to bake, enjoying how he would blame the ingredients for not working and coming to Marinette for help. Mari’s best parts would be when he would lighten up when a pastry would come out perfectly after a few tries. 

Tim… he was… she had mixed feelings about him. Being a fellow coffee addict, Marinette could sympathize with the need to drink more and having to deal with late night work. Sometimes she would stay up with him, pulling a blanket over him, although there were times where she would end up covered by a blanket. She found out he liked her opera cakes; Damian would always request one, only to share it with Tim every now and then. 

He was respectful of her space, always checking up on her in his own odd antics in the form of a mug of coffee for a new tiny plushie. (She now had a wall dedicated to them.) He never once brought up her work as MDC, something she was glad for (she wasn’t ready to go back just yet). He was the one to give her a room, provided her whatever she needed, even a new family… but Marinette knew that he was more than just that…

What exactly was he, she would have to wait to figure that out herself.

------

“What do you mean you can’t find her? That you can’t reach her?” Gabriel seethed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

It’s been two weeks since MDC had gone missing, no one knowing where she was. 

Gabriel had tried to open a line for people to call when they had any clues as to where the rising design was at, only to get an influx of false claims, prompting him to shut it down.

“Mari isn’t answering any of her phones, not even Alya knows where she is at.” Adrien reasoned, really hoping his father wouldn’t make him recall Alya. 

He could still hear screams in his ears, Nino having to answer the phone call before giving him his own two cents on Adrien’s actions towards Marinette.

“Listen Adrien, you have to find her.” Gabriel said soothingly, placing his hands on Adrien’s shoulders, the young adult wincing at the pressure. “If you don’t, let’s just say you can say goodbye to your dream of being forever with your lady.”

------

Titus and Ace were enjoying another day out in the manor garden, laying by Nettie’s side as she meditated to her heart’s content. 

She was practicing this new technique that Damian’s friend Raven had taught her, when a noise caught Titus’ attention. With a single glance towards Ace, Titus went to investigate, quickly finding the source. Without a second to lose, Titus barked a command to Ace before sprinting towards the manor, knowing he had to find Damian, and fast.

Nettie was in danger.

------

Marinette breathed in and then out, focusing on her breathing when it came to a halt when she heard Ace growl and her name being spoken by the one person she never wanted to see again.

“Marinette.” 

Her focus snapped and she felt her entire being freeze. How did he find her? How did he-

“Marinette, I’m so sorry about leaving you there, for leaving you at the steps of the cathedral instead of being by your side like I promised to be. Because you were right. I hurt you and I’m sorry for that. I should’ve kept my promise and should have gathered the courage to push my nerves down.” Adrien continued when Marinette remained silent, her bluebells staring at her with unshed tears. “We were meant to be Marinette.” Adrien said softly. “Will you marry me?”

A wind blew around them, its whistle snapping Marinette back to the present.

“No.” Marinette quietly said, stepping away from Adrien, feeling Ace began to intensify his growl. “I don’t want to marry you Adrien. Not today, not tomorrow, never.”

“But Mari!” Adrien said, grabbing her arm. “We are meant to be.” Ace began barking madly, circling around the two.

“Adrien, let go!” Marinette exclaimed, biting down on her tongue as Adrien clawed his nails into her wrist.

“You’re. Coming. With.Me.” Adrien gritted through his teeth, pulling Mari towards him, only to yelp in pain when Ace bit him. “Damn mutt!” Adrien hissed, attempting to kick Ace, but failing. However, he did manage to grab Marinette again, even if it was by her hair. 

Marinette felt tears escape her eyes, placing her hands over his, lowering herself, twisting to face him and bring herself up, watching as his grasp on her hair loosened. She quickly kicked him on his knee, not turning back as soon as he howled in pain. 

However, she knew it wasn’t enough when he grabbed her again by her hair, causing her to jerk backward, holding in a yell as her entire scalp ached. 

Again, she twisted her shoulder towards him, punching his groin area and striking his back with her elbow and throwing him forward, where his face collided with the ground.

Without giving him a second to react, Marinette stood on his knees, pinning his arms behind him.

But she was a second too late.

He pushed her off of him, pushing her down by her throat.

Marinette pushed him off using her legs and punching his face as he flung off, launching herself at him to punch him again, turning him over and hooking her arms under his own, struggling to put both of her hands at the center of his back.

Establishing her position, Marinette grabbed both of his elbows, her arms still hooked and flipped him over, her body crossing his and holding him into an excruciating pin.

She ignored the yells and cries that escaped him, yelling at Marinette to let him go, to free him before things were going to get worse for her, but she added more force into her hold, screams piercing the garden.

Marinette didn’t know how much pressure she had put into her hold, nor when Adrien passed out nor when all the brothers got to her.

She didn’t know when she was pulled away from the pale Adrien and pulled into Tim’s arms, feeling circles being rubbed against her back as Tim whispered to her that she was alright, that she was safe. 

It wasn’t until she saw Titus and Ace at her side and Damian asking Tim if she was alright that Marinette finally understood that she was okay. That she was going to be alright.

The boys watched as Nettie broke down, her wails and sobs echoing throughout the garden, watching as she gripped Tim’s shirt and cried into it, Tim wrapping his arms around her frame, nuzzling his head against hers, continuing to whisper to her that everything was alright.

-------

“-and I will continue to hold my charges against A-”

Marinette turned off the television, staring at it. 

It was over.

Adrien was behind bars, the Agreste brand tarnished and cancelled, Gabriel now dealing with lawsuits thanks to his son’s actions.

She can finally move on...

A mug appeared before her, Nettie not having to look up to see who had brought it.

She took it, a frown still on her face.

“Do you regret it?” Tim asked, sitting beside her on the floor, laying his legs beneath the coffee table.

“Not one bit.” Nettie said, letting out a sigh. “I’m… actually glad I didn’t marry him.”

“Hmmm..” was all Tim could say, sipping his own cup of coffee. “So, what now?”

“I… don’t know.” Nettie said thoughtfully. “Actually… I do know.” She said, turning to him. Tim blinked as she leaned into him, placing a kiss on his forehead.

A spark ran through Tim, making him balance his reaction between freezing upon being kissed and holding onto the mug he had in his hand. “Thank you… for everything.”

Tim remained silent as Marinette got up and left the room, leaving her mug behind.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, but when he did get up, he ran.

He ran to where she could’ve been, where she used to be, but didn’t find her anywhere within the manor. 

Her room was empty, but her things remained, the plushies she gave still on the wall.

As he got to the foyer, he found Damian, who seeked comfort in Titus.

“Damian. Ha-Have. You. Seen. Nettie?” He asked between pants, getting a frown from him.

“She just left.”

“Where?”

“She said she was heading back to Paris. Something about- hey!” Damian yelled as Tim ruffled his hair and sprinted out the door.

Please let him get to her...

-----

“-passengers for flight 6236 to Paris please go to Terminal 3.”

Marinette let out a sigh as she grabbed her luggage and started to walk towards her gate when the announcement tone rang again.

“-I promise it’s going to be quick!” A voice echoed through the intercom.

“Tim?”

“Ne-Marinette! Please. Don’t go.” His voice said, Marinette feeling her chest ache upon hearing his voice crack. “I know we’ve only known each other for a short amount, but hear me out.” She listened as he took a breath. “I love you.”

Marinette dropped something, but she didn’t know what. It didn’t matter.

“Even before we met in person, I was enthralled by your work, your delicateness when you sewed and when you would bake things.”

Run.

“I remember when you broke down during your video and spent the entire two hours explaining why you were crying, making me want to find out where you lived to tell you that everything was going to be fine and that everything was going to work out.”

Run!

“I remember when you won your first fashion competition for Audrey. I cried when you showed off your winning designs that you worked day in and day out, the days that you spent working on designs you drew with your prickled covered hands and sprained wrist.”

Find him!

“I remember when you eagerly shared with us how you planned to debut, going into details about your launch before you panicked because you let out confidential information, saying how you wanted to remain a mystery to the public. You didn’t want anyone to know who you truly were until you felt comfortable about it.” 

Where was he?

“Then when I met you,” A pause. “Even with your dress tattered and ripped, with your hair ruly and out of it’s crown  and your eyes red to the brim, I was still captivated by your beauty.”

There he was. 

Marinette allowed herself to breath, panting heavily as she walked up to the booth where Tim was, tears running down his face.

“The days we spent… I truly treasured… so please… don’t-”

“I’m not going anywhere.” “I’m not going anywhere.”

Marinette said, hearing her voice echo throughout the airport as she cupped Tim’s face into her hands, wiping his tears with her thumbs with such tenderness.

“I love you too.” “I love you too.”

With those words, she kissed him, soaking in the moment, feeling Tim place his own hands over hers, leaning in to deepen their kiss.

“I love you.”

[geralehane]

an unlikely cupid

Raven and Clarke get drunk and accidentally summon Lexa the old and powerful deity who's also hopelessly, helplessly gay.

or, the one where Lexa and Clarke live happily ever after.

READ ON AO3

patreon | ko-fi

If Clarke has ever learned anything in life, it would be two things. One: most ideas Raven comes up with are surprisingly idiotic, considering her brilliance. Two: Drunk Clarke never agrees with anything Sober Clarke thinks, and Raven’s ideas being idiotic is not an exception.

In fact, Drunk Clarke loves Raven’s ideas. Which is exactly how the two of them find themselves in their dorm at two-fifty five in the morning, spilling whiskey all over a wooden board Raven found in her grandma’s attic last weekend.

A wooden Ouija board, to be precise.

Sober Clarke told Raven to burn it down. Drunk Clarke giggles and snatches it from her hands, eagerly looking it over. “How do we know it works?”

“Fuck if I know,” is her answer as Raven takes a huge swig straight from the bottle, wincing at the strong burn. “We place our fingers on this small thing and hope for the best.”

“That’s what she said,” Clarke hiccups. “You ready? We ready?”

Raven’s enthusiastic nod and the splash of whiskey from the bottle notify her that everyone is more than ready. “Alright,” Clarke says. “Wait, why are we doing this, again?”

“Cause Halloween, man,” Raven loudly lets her know, nodding at her own words.

“Oh.” Clarke thinks for a minute. “True.” She squints at the board. “Is it okay that we spilled whiskey on it?”

Raven nods.

“Is it okay if I lick it off?”

Raven nods again.

So Clarke does. She drools a little on it, right in the center, but she’s too drunk to care, so she simply wipes it away.

“Hot,” her friend comments with a wide, sloppy grin. “Okay. Gimme those sausages, Griffin.”

“Hey!” Clarke makes two fists, hiding her fingers. “Fuck you. They are not sausages. They are magnificent.”

“As someone who bangs chicks, you’d think you’d learn to appreciate the gift from gods.”

“I’d trade them for a girlfriend,” Clarke says. “Or Cheetos. I’m hungry.”

“Quit dicking around and let’s do this.”

Clarke doesn’t voice another that’s what she said, but she makes damn sure Raven gets her train of thought when she waggles her eyebrows at her.

//

All Lexa wanted was to come back to her plane of existence and climb in a bathtub. That’s literally all she wanted. She doesn’t even particularly cares if there’s going to be water in it. She just likes the concept. Sometimes, humans have the best ideas.

Everything is giving her a headache that day. It’s like the whole universe with every world in it have decided to band together against her. Well. That’s Halloween for her. Despite it becoming a largely commercial holiday, no one cancelled Samhain just because humans decided they wanted to be a Joker once a year.

Vile creature, that man – and she says that as someone who’s viewed as demonic. She’s not actually a demon – that’s common misconception. She’s just an old goddess. Humans know a lot of her names, and none of them can even begin to imagine that she’s the one behind those faces, portrayed grim, evil, and, most offensively, male.

Lexa sighs. Her Hades days were certainly the most fun, but the tale’s been twisted so much she’s not sure she enjoys those memories quite in the same way. Oh well. Samhain is almost over. She can finally kick back and relax in a hot tub and maybe open up a bottle of ambrosia she saved for a special occasion. And what could be more special than a night of self-care?

Now, Lexa never considered herself particularly lucky. Mostly because Luck and her had a brief affair that did not end well, and she’s been mildly cursed ever since. Nothing she can’t live with, of course – but just a tad inconvenient. She’s certainly learned to cherish small blessings. That’s why, when she feels a tell-tale tug in her gut before being hurled back to a dimension she’s just left, she’s not even surprised. She simply whispers a quick thank you that she hasn’t taken her clothes off yet.

With that, she sighs and lets herself be whisked away back to Earth, wondering  with scientific curiosity who could have possibly found out the summoning spell.

//

“I’m pretty sure you’re doing it wrong.”

“This seems like a ‘that’s what she said’ moment, but I assure you, she’s never said that.”

Raven blinks. Reaches for the bottle and pouts when she finds it empty. “Who is she, anyway?”

“Fuck if I know,” Clarke repeats Raven’s words from earlier. “And I’m not doing anything wrong. You’re supposed to move this thing,” she gestures to the heart-shaped piece of wood, with a hole in the middle of it that she looks through at Raven.

“Maybe there’s an instruction or something,” Raven mutters, grabbing the planchette. Clarke resists and tugs it back, resulting in Raven’s forehead colliding with her mouth. Hard.

“Shit!” Clarke exclaims when a droplet of blood falls onto the board from her now-split lip. “Raven, what the fuck?”

Her friend only shrugs apologetically. Not even apologetically. In fact, she doesn’t even shrug. “You’re doing it wrong,” she says.

“I do everything right,” Clarke argues, taking the planchette back. “Sit and watch. And prepare for an I told you so.”

//

Lexa blinks when the spinning finally stops and she’s rematerialized in what appears to be a room in a college dormitory. That alone surprises her more than anything that’s happened today. Surely, a college student couldn’t have known all the steps necessary to complete a ritual.

“…prepare for an I told you so,” she catches and turns in the direction of the voice, squinting. English. American English, to be exact. Things are taking an interesting turn. She was expecting a bunch of men unsatisfied with life and recent feminist movement. Not two drunk college girls.

She comes closer to get a better look at them, and no, she’s definitely not prepared for what she sees. And what she sees is an angel. An actual angel with a bloody lip and unfocused gaze and a strong alcoholic smell. An angel with blonde tresses and bluest eyes.

Lexa can’t stop herself from letting out the smallest, softest gasp.

She’s immensely grateful for her ability to be invisible.

She’s frozen in place, eyes taking in every inch of the girl’s body when that same voice – and oh, what a voice it is! – addresses the room, husky and low. “Is anyone here with us?”

Lexa takes a deep breath, rubs her suddenly cold hands, and hesitantly steps forward, placing her own fingers on the wooden planchette and shakily dragging it to the word “yes”.

//

“Raven!” Clarke yelps, jumping from the board. “Raven, I did it!”

Raven, however, does not share her enthusiasm. “Yeah,” she says blankly. “I saw you move it.”

“No, see, see,” with fast slurred speech and disheveled hair, Clarke more closely resembles a maniac than a bright daughter of two respected surgeons. “I didn’t – Raven,” she gasps, happy she finally gets a good reason to pause for a dramatic effect. “I didn’t move it,” she finishes in a loud whisper.

Raven stares at her. And stares. And stares some more before she starts to chuckle, slowly at first. Soon, it escalated into a continuous giggling. “Sure, Clarke,” she manages to say. “I believe you.”

“But I’m telling the truth!” Clarke gets suddenly upset. Why doesn’t Raven believe her?

“And I’m marrying Finn tomorrow. Get real, Griff.” The planchette hits Raven’s forehead as soon as she’s finished talking.

“See!”

Clarke’s triumphant yell pales in contrast with Raven’s terrified scream.

//

That is very, very loud. Lexa does not like loud.

Unless Clarke likes loud. Then she loves loud.

Right now, however, it’s starting to become a little extreme. So she sighs and waves her hand, silencing the girl whose name is Raven. She has to admit – watching her try to scream silently is mildly amusing.

But then it scares Clarke, too. “Who’s here? Who’s doing this?”

She sighs again. Then, she makes her voice audible so that Clarke can hear you. “You have noting to fear. My name is Lexa. I will give your friend her voice back, but only if she promises not to scream.”

After Raven’s rigorous nodding, Lexa waves her hand again, and the girl coughs, eyes wide and expression sober. “Who – who are you?!”

“Oh,” Lexa says, because she hasn’t really thought things this far. “I have many names and positions. I believe you know me as the devil, but I promise you, I’m vastly different from that portrayal.”

Raven blinks. “Did she just say she’s Satan?”

“I think so,” Clarke whispers back, and Lexa freezes again, watching the way she presses her lips together. How is she so beautiful?

“Does Satan really expect me to believe she’s, what, nice?”

“Well, yes,” Lexa speaks up. “That would be a polite thing to do.”

“Oh hell no,” Raven says. “I don’t play with demons,” she announces, despite the fact that it’s exactly what she’s been doing for the past half an hour. “If you’re nice, tell us how to get rid of you.”

Now it’s Lexa’s turn to blink. “I’m afraid that’s not possible,” she says apologetically. Then her eyes widen with realization. “Oh! You meant get me to leave this room?”

“Yeah. Exactly. How do we do that?”

“Oh, you – you don’t. I can come and go as I please now. That’s the whole point of the summoning spell.”

Clarke and Raven look at each other, eyes wide. “The what now?!”

//

So turns out that while Luck and Lexa are not exactly pals, Fate definitely favors her. Through a series of events that they can’t exactly deem either fortunate or unfortunate just yet, Clarke and Raven manage to accidentally summon one of the most powerful beings known to man. And that being just happens to fall head over heels for Clarke.

Raven finds it weird. Clarke finds it sweet. And Fate – well, Fate doesn’t find it impossible.

“Lexa, dear,” she mumbles around a thin cigarette while Lexa broods all over her realm, having just come back from Earth after yet another night with Clarke, full of talking and laughing and soft unspoken confessions on both ends. “Just take some time off and spend a life with that girl. She’ll join you after it’s over anyway. What’s seventy years to you? A blink of an eye. Besides, have you forgotten how fun it is to grow old?”

So Lexa sighs, fishes the best outfit she has out of her memory, and goes back to earth wearing her corporeal form and a pale blue oxford shirt with sleeves rolled up. She faintly recalls Clarke liking that.

In hindsight, waiting for Clarke in her room might not have been her best idea, but can she be blamed, really? She got used to it. She just kinda forgot she wasn’t visible all previous times she’s been there.

Clarke walks through her door a moment later, eyes on her phone. “Lexa, I’m home!” she calls out, not looking up as she kicks her shoes off. “You here? Le- Jesus fucking Christ!”

Lexa never particularly liked the man, but the profanity still makes her wince. “Hello, Clarke.”

“Holy shit,” Clarke exhales, pressing a hand to her chest and bending to retrieve her phone that fell out of her grip when she jumped in fright upon finding a stranger sitting on her bed. “Who are you? Damn it, Raven. I told her to always let me kno- wait a minute.” She stops, blinking. “I know that voice.”

Lexa feels her lips stretch in a smile. It’s an incredible feeling. “Hello, Clarke.” She repeats, rising to her feet and offering her a giant bouquet she retrieves from thin air.

“Oh God,” Clarke whispers, rapidly blinking sudden tears away. “Lexa. Oh my God.”

“Well, technically, yes,” Lexa says, “but we can skip the formalities.”

Clarke’s warm, solid body slams into hers next, and she huffs in surprise, falling down on Clarke’s bed with the girl on top of her, clinging to her. “Lexa,” Clarke sobs. “You’re here. It’s you. You’re here.”  

“Yes,” she confirms. “I’m here. It’s me.”

Clarke’s lips on hers feel better than anything she’s ever experienced, and she’s been around for a little longer than eternity. “I can’t believe I’m holding you in my arms,” Clarke whispers when they part, breathing ragged. “You’re so real. So warm, too. Is that – is that how you really look like?”

“Yes,” she gives another affirmative. “I’m not wearing someone’s body. We’ve been over this.”

“I know,” Clarke chuckles. “I’m just checking.”

She trails a finger down Lexa’s cheek, slow and tender. Lexa sees the unspoken question in her eyes. She answers with no hesitation. “I’m here to stay. For as long as you want me.”

“Then that means you’re stuck with me forever.”

Lexa laughs. “Wouldn’t have it any other way. Although I do believe it’s the other way around. Clarke, I…” she swallows, and Clarke smoothes her thumb over the skin of her throat where it bobs. “If you ever decide to end our – this, I’ll understand. But I’m afraid I’m a little different.”

“Lexa,” Clarke coos, shushing her. She’s still roaming her hands all over her body, and it’s way less sexual than it sounds. She’s simply feeling Lexa. And Lexa’s completely okay with that. “When I said forever, I knew who I was talking to you. It’s not just a word anymore.” She leans in, pressing another kiss to Lexa’s lips. “For us, it’s a reality.”

Lexa’s heart soars when she says ‘for us.’ It jumps and stops and restarts, beating so fast she’s afraid it’ll jump out of her chest.

“A reality,” she whispers. “I like the sound of that.”

“And I like your face.” Clarke squints. “You didn’t tell me you were this hot.”

“I’ve exited for millions of years, Clarke,” Lexa reminds her. “I do not have an opinion on beauty, because it is as made up as it is subjective.”

“A concept can’t be made up and subjective at the same time.”

“Let me correct myself, then. I used to think it was made up.” Her smile grows. “Then I met you.”

“You’re so getting lucky tonight, I hope you know that.” Soft lips capture hers, and Lexa gloats.

Suck on this, Luck.

[babyflossy]

don’t forget about me | h.rj

pairing: renjun x reader

requested: yes lmao this is for the angsty anon <3

summary: how could renjun possibly forget about you? everything in his life reminds him of you. from the moment he wakes up, to the moment he falls asleep, you’re playing on the forefront of his mind

genre/warnigns: angst, very sad, death, metions of car crash, unedited

word count: 2.4k (sad bitch hours; open)

it's cold. the november breeze is chilling and it floats down the neck of renjun's black coat. but he can’t feel the cold; not currently. nowhere in his mind is there even a sliver of concern for the goose bumps raising on his skin, or the purpling of his exposed fingertips. he pays no mind to the way his teeth start to chatter, or the way his shoulders sit stiff and sharp.

renjun doesn't notice, but the group of people behind him does. doyoung shoots taeyong a look which is returned by a shake of the elder’s head. doyoung knows he should leave renjun to himself, he needs this time to process his thoughts, but the way the younger's shoulders shake sparks concern. he felt a lot of that these days, always in respect to renjun. the way he closed in on himself, the way his eyes would search a room for something that was no longer there.

a bright shift of colour catches renjun's eye and he finds himself staring at a pinwheel, spinning delicately in the wind. the small spark of pink in the gray landscape is almost jarring. it may be a deep shade of magenta, but it looks like the dullest shade of red next to the flowers he has grasped in his hands. the wrapper crinkles every now and then as his fingers flex uncontrollably in the chill of the winter morning.

overhead, the skeleton of a tree casts spindly shadows on the frost-covered grass. the cold morning's sun casts a frozen glaze over the scene in front of him, heightening the details until everything appears crystal clear and precisely in focus. his eyes scan over the cold marble, bright white and angelic and for a sickening moment he thinks he might be drowning at the way his throat closes up. the words he was planning on saying are dying in his throat and he has to focus for a few prolonged seconds on his breathing alone.

a pair of polished black shoes crunch the grass and a hand falls onto his shoulder, wrapping around his shoulder as the perpetrator moves to stand next to him. renjun doesn't need to look to know it's kun; he can see the worried frown on his face without facing away from the sight in front of him. he doesn't need to turn around to see the identical faces on the rest of the people around him, and it makes him feel sick.

it's a sunny thursday in july and renjun sits on the beach. jeno lounges on one side of him, jaemin flicking through songs on the speaker on his other. in front of him he sees johnny chase donghyuck around, a stick covered in seaweed swaying precariously in his hands. the music jaemin chooses floats out the speaker and for a sweet, sweet second renjun is taken back to a time at a similar beach.

"renjun! stop!" the voice is accompanied by a shriek of laughter and a slew of curse words as the boy in question manages to push you into the water. he watches, a beaming smile on his face, as your head breaks through the surface, gasping when another wave hits you. a devilish smirk covers your face and renjun stops cold, knowing exactly what you're planning.

"y/n! no! i didn't mean it!" his pleas fall on deaf ears as you launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling. freezing cold water surrounds you, salt stinging your eyes. the first view you have out of the water is renjun's shocked face, not at all matching the jubilant grin on your own. with a disbelieving laugh he pulls you back to him, resting his hands on the backs of your thighs when your wind your legs around his waist.

when you can tell he's about to make a smart jab at you, you take the opportunity to press your lips against his, relishing in the way he sighs into your mouth. it seems you successfully distracted him, pulling away only for his lips to chase yours.

a shriek pulls renjun back to the present. it's donghyuck, screaming out for taeil to stop johnny who now has the stick dangerously close to the younger's face. the painful sinking of his heart momentarily disarms him, letting the sombre expression shine through. jaemin sees the change in his demeanour and swallows hard, thinking of something to distract him

"hey, renjun," renjun turns his head in recognition but his eyes don't leave the waves, as if he could almost see the memory play out in front of him. "you wanna come find the arcade?" lingering only a moment longer on the flashback, renjun buries it under his expertly crafted mask, a smile toying at his lips. jaemin knows it's insincere, but he'll take anything at this point.

the theme park is teeming with people. it's the opening weekend of the carnival and it was tradition to come on the saturday. mark had spent weeks convincing him it would be good for him to come this year, just like any other. renjun knows taeyong and doyoung and quite possibly kun as well had given him that advice, and mark was a good friend to stick to it. in the end, renjun had even started believing him.

he regrets that now, as he stands in front of the stall where he had won you the first gift you had ever exchanged; an oversized stuffed panda that was nearly twice your size. that same panda rested on his bed at the dorms now.

"these are rigged, i swear," the ball you throw narrowly misses the last can, and you sigh, turning to face the smiling boy next to you. your complaints aren't acknowledged by renjun and you watch in amazement as he throws his last ball at his own set of cans, hitting it straight on and watching in glee as it clatters to the ground. the joy on his face makes a matching smile light up your own face.

"can i have the panda, please?" he asks the person behind the counter, grinning at you as he is handed a ginormous fluffy bear complete with red bow tie. upon seeing your pout, he does nothing but poke your nose, loving the way your cheeks heat up. "you're welcome." the panda is thrust into your arms and you wobble on your feet before renjun's arms come up to steady you.

the panda has wide gleaming eyes and you look from its embroidered mouth to renjun's now blushing face before pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, enveloping his cold fingers in your own. renjun swears his heart burst at that exact moment.

the theme park is teeming with people but as he scans the crowd, he cannot see your face. the crushing reality that you're not here crashes down on his chest and he suddenly can't find the breath he was holding before. before he can stop himself, the tears are streaming down his face. he faces away from mark, less out of embarrassment and more out of concern for the older boy. he knows his friends had the right idea but seeing the exact place you had stood and kissed him for the first time is suffocating.

taeyong rarely cooks for everyone, but this is a special occasion. the dining table is filling slowly and renjun waits in the hallway, staring into the mirror and trying to paint on the most convincing smile. he hopes the others don't notice his absent but deep down he knows they're all waiting with bated breath for him to enter. jaehyun and yuta help taeyong carry plate after plate of delicious smelling food to the table.

it seems fantastic, and renjun hears his stomach growl loudly. the sound makes doyoung's ears perk up, the ever-concerned older brother knowing how long it had been since renjun had eaten a proper meal. the last dish is brought out and taeyong sits down last at the head of the table. a round of murmured thank you's arises from the group before people start piling food onto their plates.

renjun reaches for the hotpot but his eyes fall to the seat next to him. he had carefully avoided looking at it until now, hoping if seeing is believing he could make it disappear. the chair is empty. it's empty and suddenly so is renjun's heart. the spoon clatters to the table, the chatter at the table halting. the more he stares the plush velvet, the empty plush velvet, the sicker he feels. doyoung reaches for him but renjun stands abruptly, the chair behind him swaying on its back legs. the group watches with sad eyes as the young boy makes a beeline for the hallway, breaking out into a jog when he hears someone else get up from the table.

on the rooftop the clear night sky spans over renjun's head. he lies back and stares upwards, letting himself have this moment of grief. the stars are bright tonight, but the tears in his eyes distort them until they spike outwards in little lines. hot, fast tears fall out the sides of his eyes, sliding down his cheeks and onto the cold concrete beneath him. the hard surface makes his head ache, but he can't bring himself to care. it's nothing compared to the feeling of his heart clenching painfully. some higher being must have been listening to his prayers on the roof, as he sits for hours unbothered by anyone else. car horns from the roads below create a distant song of chaos and disorder, reminding him that life goes on. life goes on for others, even if he's frozen in time. frozen at the moment he lost you.

the ringing is unbearable. it fills his ears and makes his head spin. his eyes open, but everything is upside down. there are feet in his line of sight, and he realises he doesn't remember what just happened. however, he can guess from the glass on the ground, the bloodied shards glinting in the sunlight. after a moment his vision stops swimming and he looks around, heart stopping as his eyes meet yours, wide and scared.

renjun's hearing is still escaping him, but you can't find the strength to speak regardless. vaguely, you feel a warm hand slip into yours. in front of you renjun is still looking at you, tears cascading down his face. you're not much different, hot streams of salty tears mixing with the fresh blood, slipping into your mouth and down your throat. the taste is mild, as if you can't comprehend the bitter aroma.

pain throbs through your head, your eyelids getting heavier with every second that passes. renjun is screaming for help and you think you can hear sirens in the mix. somewhere. distantly. a surge of white-hot fear jolts you back to the current, squeezing the hand in yours as tightly as you can.

the pain has numbed, you know it's a terrible sign, but you can't bring yourself to care. the darkness around you vision increases tenfold and you get the overwhelming urge to make the boy in front of you understand your thoughts.

"renjun," the voice that speaks is foreign to your ears. renjun's full attention is on you and the fear is replaced with a warm feeling that you recognise as love. "i love you."

"no, no, y/n!" he sobs, the sound is broken and painful to hear and you can do nothing but tighten your grip on his hand. "baby, keep your eyes open."

"i've loved you since we were thirteen, renjun. i always will."

"y/n–"

"don't forget about me."

the broken voice returns as your hearing fades away. "i love you so much, baby. wait for me, okay, i could never forget you."

renjun can hear your words in his mind every day. don't forget about me. he cannot fathom how anyone could ever forget you, let alone him. when he wakes up in the morning, his hands find the cold space you left behind. the green toothbrush you used every morning next to him still sits in the cup holder in his bathroom. your favourite cereal sits in his cabinets. he could never think about anything except you.

kun pulls him further into his side, offering a type of comfort only a select few can. renjun stares at your name engraved in the marble. the words gone too soon stand out. the plans you had together flash through his head; touring europe together, visiting his family in china, even the list of movies you wanted to watch is still saved in his phone.

renjun breaks away from kun's grip to lay the flowers down in front of your gravestone, tracing your names with his fingers. as he finished engraining the way your name swirls in the stone, he thinks back to every time he's done it before.

every sunny summer day spent here, a half-eaten picnic for two between him and the cold stone; every snowy morning he sits and tries to catch snowflakes on his tongue like you always used to; every warm autumn night where he sits and watches the stars above, telling you about all the conspiracy theories he's heard, all the facts about space he knows you would have loved to hear; every lazy spring afternoon when the flowers he planted next to your grave start blooming. he can trace your name by memory now.

don't forget about me. how could he? you're the constant warmness in his chest. you're in the shadows that follow him in the sun. you're in every promise he makes to himself. every time he falls asleep, you're the last thought that crosses his mind. how could he possibly forget about you?

somewhere deep down, he knows it wrong to be waiting for the day he can join you again. you would have wanted him to live his life to the fullest, enjoying every moment and only thinking of the good memories. but renjun's biggest comfort is knowing that you're sat somewhere watching him. watching him and waiting for him to join you.

waiting for him to come home, into your arms.

a/n: a double update,,, who am i? also i may or may not have ugly cried whilst writing this

[lockedstuck]

beyond our fury and our silences

2021, 04/17 - Sollux Captor

You envy the patients on the unit who have a “normal” to return to. You never have, and never will. You’ve had periods of more gentle oscillation, like high school as opposed to the jagged highs and equally disruptive lows of your undergraduate years. However, you haven’t been “normal” in terms of psychopathology since you were a kid.

Dr. Vandayar suggests that perhaps your childhood years did a number on your sanity, though not word for word. He’s way more polite about it. You kind of want to hit him for it.

Your dad did his absolute best to raise you, all seventy hour weeks to afford summer camp for gifted kids and SHSAT prep classes. So did your mother, teaching you math and history, even if she was psychotic, even when her mental landscape frequently shifted like sand on the beach. 

Once, when you were maybe ten, she came home an hour late from a quick run to the grocery store five blocks away. She explained, gentle yet adamant, that people had decided to follow her home, and she did not want them to know where she was going. What if they’d decided to rob her? Your dad sighed. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

She sat at the dining room table later, repeatedly drawing pictures of seashells. When you sat down next to her, and pulled your chair close so that you could see her work, she started to explain the Fibonacci sequence to you. It wasn’t hard to understand adding the sums of the two previous numbers together. She launched into another explanation of the not unrelated golden ratio, and you just sat there and let her go on for a while, even when you didn’t quite understand. 

She took out a nautilus shell that she had fashioned into a necklace, showed it to you, and wound up giving it to you. When you asked her why, she smiled and shrugged. You continue to wear it underneath your clothing. 

Perhaps you’ll give it to Feferi when she gets discharged, given her love of all things aquatic. At this rate, she’ll probably get out before you do, what with the nine ECT treatments you still have to complete.

Out of nowhere, Roxy walks over to you, and you glance up at her. You know by now that whatever comes out of her mouth will be either offensive, amusing, or both.

“Aradia’s on the phone for you, Lispy! Hey, could you tell her something for me?”

You stand up and stretch, fingertips toward the ceiling. “What is it?”

“Tell her that her voice is really cute, but that she’s way cuter in person,” she replies. “Wait, hold up. Tell me she’s not straight. Is she straight? I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.”

You don’t know whether or not to answer truthfully. You should probably ask Aradia about that beforehand. You walk over to the pay phone, and put the receiver to your mouth.

“Ray? Is that you?”

“Hey, Sollux,” she says. Then, a pause that stretches into infinity, or ten whole seconds at the very least. “Is it okay if I visit tonight instead of tomorrow? One of my students is actually attending my office hours, which--”

“--overlap with my visiting hours,” you finish. Maybe you should have let her complete her sentence. 

You’re tetchy and impatient, the first thing having been induced by your session with Dr. Vandayar, and the second by the fact that next week will mark one whole month since you arrived at this hospital, and what precisely do you have to show for it? 

Roxy’s almost completely weaned off methadone and will probably leave next week, to go to inpatient rehab. June is going home the Monday after next. Feferi got here the same day as you and will most certainly be gone the same week as June. Eridan will be gone before you finish out your ECT treatments, since his conclude next week, as will Karkat, Porrim, and probably even Calliope. The only person who may not leave before you is Latula, and although she’s perfectly kind, you don’t know her very well. 

You didn’t realize how long you’ve stewed in your thoughts until you hear Aradia ask, “Are you still there?”

“Yeah. You said you wanted to come tonight as opposed to tomorrow. That’s fine.”

“And what about you?” she asks.

You shrug.

“What about me?”

“Are you fine?”

The only person you suck at lying to more than Aradia is your father, and your dad is only leading by a narrow margin. That may be why you signed a HIPPA release so that your treatment team could talk to both of them.

“I had a weird therapy session today. Normally I get along with my therapist, but today I almost wanted to punch him in the face.”

Aradia asks if you’d like to talk about it, and your kneejerk is to say, “hell no”, but during another therapy session a couple of days ago, Dr. Vandayar stressed the importance of not being unwilling to depend on one’s support team. As vaguely annoyed as you still are at him, you did concede the point on Monday afternoon.

“I guess it was because… well… fuck, I don’t know how to explain this without sounding like an asshole. He didn’t actually say anything that wasn’t true, but maybe it was the way he said it? I don’t know. I’m sorry, Ray, I’m rambling all over the fucking place.”

“Don’t worry about it. Go on.”

“He pretty much said that my situation with my parents could have contributed a lot to why I’m all fucked up in the head. Not currently, but like, before, when I was a kid. I was like, where exactly does this guy get off making that kind of judgment? And then I was like, dude, you weren’t there, you didn’t see it, so how do you know? ‘Cause my parents, they did the absolute best they could with what they had. I mean, I didn’t say that to him, but I felt it. And I felt angry at him about it.”

A long silence, one that you feel sink down to the pit of your stomach.

“Well.”

“Well, what?”

“I get that you’re upset, but Sollux, it’s not like this is something you’ve never said to me.”

“But Aradia, that’s different. I was there. So were you, for parts of it. You’ve met my parents a billion times. But aside from a few conversations with you and Baba, Dr. V barely knows anything about my life. For him to say it like that… I don’t like it. I don’t know why, but I don’t.”

“Because it seems like he’s judging people and events he hasn’t had the opportunity to witness first-hand.”

“Yes! Exactly! That’s it!”

It feels like an indictment against your family, and if you are anything to a fault, you are loyal to Mituna and your parents. All of them came together for you, the youngest, the most successful. Even being here, unable to provide for them both emotionally and financially, feels like the worst blow in the world. 

You shouldn’t be here getting the memory zapped out of you in some last-ditch effort to quell your mania and depression. You should be outside working, seeing to the needs of someone besides yourself. You should be meeting Aradia at her apartment every other night, helping her clean out her apartment, which quickly devolves into chaos, ashtrays full of spent cigarette butts, and dishes piling up in the sink, as she scrambles to finish up her master’s thesis.

Because if there’s one thing you’ve learned from your father, it is that you are what you contribute, and being here, seemingly unable to contribute anything, might just be the worst sensation in the world.

You’re alone with yourself here, face to face with everything you hate about yourself, with all your aspirations and all your neuroses, and you hate it, you hate it, you hate it, you want out so badly. But what if they don’t let you leave and you end up at your mother’s worst fear - involuntary status? If four weeks of hospitalization seem like hell, what about sixty days, your fate handed down via court order?

What if that knee-jerk desire to 72 hour letter yourself away from thrice weekly therapy sessions is just another trap? What if you leave and try to slit your throat again? What if you actually succeed this time around? Who the fuck is going to take care of your family?

It all comes down to that.

You’d rather like to bang your head against the wall until you either make things clearer or knock yourself out. 

“I’ll be there tonight, Sollux,” Aradia says, suddenly. Not for the first time, you wonder if she can read your mind and tell when you’re starting to decompensate more than usual.

Aradia gets there long before six o’ clock. In fact, you notice her tell-tale garnet-colored blazer, as you look through the small rectangular window in the door of the main unit, sometime around 5:20. A woman in a small black dress stands not far away from her, and once you notice her carefully coiffed blonde hair, you walk over to the women’s side of the unit and loudly knock on Roxy’s door.

“And what can I do for you?” she asks, removing the headphone radio that has all but been surgically attached to her head. “Do you have news about Aradia’s sexual orientation?”

You roll your eyes at her, more to keep up appearances than an actual rebuke.

“Your mom’s here,” you reply.

Roxy seems to consider this, then picks up her stuffed cat from her bed and pads into the hallway. Calliope waves at you, the light on their side of the room switched on so they can write. You wave back, then follow Roxy back to the main door of the unit, to resume your little vigil.

You stand without word or gesture, a good six feet away from the door so the night staff doesn’t bitch. They seem to have given up on Roxy, who stands only two feet away from the door and jumps up and down as she waves to her mom. Her mom waves back, though in a more sedate fashion than her child. 

You rather like Ms. Lalonde, honestly. It’s hard to dislike a family member who comes so often. According to Roxy, she only misses Mondays for work related reasons. You think the only person who has her beat in terms of visiting is June’s dad, who has yet to miss a day of seeing his daughter, at least during your stay here.

After about ten minutes of furious waving, Roxy starts doing the YMCA with her arms. Her mother actually returns the motions. 

Aradia glances at her, cracks up, and giggles helplessly, which makes you smile.

When they finally start letting visitors in, Aradia steps behind Ms. Lalonde without a word. Aradia signs the book after her, and then Mr. Egbert signs after that.

Maybe he smuggled a whole ass lemon meringue pie onto the unit. You’d probably kiss him if he did that, and you’re pretty sure macking on your friend’s hot dad is frowned upon in most situations.

Aradia walks into the unit, and it’s only a moment before you’ve scooped her up into your arms. You’re so skinny that Karkat calls you a walking skeleton comprised of caffeine and spite, and Aradia has more curves than a parametric equation. You still manage to pick her up so her toes momentarily leave the ground, pull her close, and kiss her forehead before you let her go. 

She interlaces your fingers with hers.

“What table are we sitting at tonight?” she wants to know, gazing at the sea of round wooden tables in the dining room.

“The one by the window, in the corner,” you decide, after a moment’s thought. The chairs are heavy, so they can’t be thrown across the unit by angry patients you suppose, but you pull out your chair and sit down easily enough. It occurs to you that maybe you should have pulled hers out, but she gets the job done. 

You sit right beside her, and before you can think on it, you let her pull you close. Your head on her shoulder, and your arm thrown around her back. It’s not the most comfortable position, but she smells like lilies, cocoa butter, cigarettes, and home. 

You bring to mind all the animal skulls on her shelves, all the volumes of dead poets stacked haphazardly around them. Everything has been arranged to display her fixation on things that have shuffled off this mortal coil, for the exception of the flourishing plants on her terrace. 

Her arms come up around your shoulders, and she scoots over so the position is more comfortable for your lanky ass. She presses a kiss to your temple, and then to the shell of your ear. You smile in spite of yourself.

 It occurs to you that you have not had a self-loathing thought since she arrived.

It’s easier to not hate yourself when someone who would either try to refute or talk you through your issues sits beside you, singing softly.

“Tastes like strawberries on a summer evening. And it sounds just like a song...”

You snort. “I had no idea you were so fond of Harry Styles.”

She stops singing for the moment, but you’ve already started to hum the next part of the song, while she explains where she first heard it.

“My neighbor used to like to sit on her balcony and listen to the radio while I talked to my fig tree. It was on constant replay on Z100. And it’s catchy. So I sang it. A lot.”

You imagine Aradia as she sings, the long dark curls of her hair unpinned the way they usually are when she’s at home, moving along to the music as she waters her plants. It’s a nice mental image, the kind you wouldn’t mind getting lost in.

Here is one way you might safeguard yourself from the impulses and the dorco razor-blades. 

You can’t watch Aradia bustle around her apartment if you’re not alive. You can’t help her, or your dad in their gardens - why do so many of your loved ones have an affinity for plants when you can barely keep a cactus alive - if you’re six feet under.

You also cannot remind her of her own neglected tasks - “Aradia, c’mon, you have to wash these dishes, there’s fuckin’ fruit flies here, I hate fruit flies.” - and then watch as she makes a meal with the newly washed dishes just so that she knows you’ve eaten that day. 

You think she’d give an approving nod to your thoughts.

“Hey, Sollux,” she says. You glance at her face, the anxiety written across it.

That won’t do. You never liked seeing her worried about anything.

“Yeah, Ray? What’s going on?”

“When you get out of here, after all your treatments are finished, I was wondering…”

“Wondering what?”

She exhales slowly. She takes your hand in hers. You let the warmth suffuse through you. 

“Would you like to move in with me? I know you need to be close to your family, but it’s just the F to the 7 train to get to Flushing.”

You consider this. You’ve known Aradia since the sixth grade, and you are now twenty-seven, which adds up to something like sixteen years of friendship. Aradia knows you like nobody else. Not even your father.

She’s handled your weird mood shit and chronic suicidality with more skill than some clinicians you’ve had. In return, you’ve kept her alive - her parents coddled her to a fault, and she had next to no idea how the world outside academia functioned - and helped her through her occasional bouts of clinical depression.

“You’ll take me to Essex Market and get me that bougie vegan cheese?” you ask. 

There are more questions, several in fact, that you need answered before you give her a decision, but you’ll start with the inanities and work your way up to the logistics.

“When have I not?” she replies. 

You snort.

“How much am I going to pay in rent, for one?”

Aradia seems to consider this for a moment.

“For now, nothing, since you’re not working, and I’m already covering my rent with my job,” she says. “But once you get a job, I’d like you to kick something in. Not too much.”

“Where would I even sleep?”

“The couch in the main room is a pullout. And even If you wanted to sleep in my room, I think I have enough space for another bed.”

You think it over, and some traitorous part of your brain bristles at what is essentially charity from her. Her family - comfortably upper middle class - must be helping her with rent. There is no way in hell that she scored a one bedroom near Bowery on her salary as an adjunct professor. You don’t know what they’d think of letting you live there, or maybe you do, and that’s why you’re hesitant to accept this. They’ve come to actually like you, but you’re not eager to test out how far that goes.

She must sense your hesitation. She once more interlaces her fingers with yours, and lets out a small sigh.

“At least think it over, Sollux.”

“You know I will.”

“I think we function better when we’re in the same place than when we’re not.”

You grin. “You know it.”

The other thing that gives you pause consists of your own confusing feelings about her. 

Some days you want to kiss her senseless, peel her out of that red jacket, the black tank top, the long gray skirt. You want to see her, and only her. You want to shed your t-shirt and skinny jeans and have her see you. You want to hold her, press against her, and have her return the gesture. Your longing to be as close to her as humanly possible sweeps over you like a wave, and you have never been known for any particular skill at swimming.

Other days, you just want to sit next to her and make fun of her when she sings Watermelon Sugar. Or like the time she forgot her umbrella at home, a torrential downpour decided to strike and you had to run to the Second Avenue F train station and hope you got there in time to catch her. Still, more recently, the pair of you playing video games and swearing at each other with a giant container of mapo tofu between you. You want the easy rhythm of your close friendship, something familiar, and easy to navigate.

Most of all, you’re afraid. You’re afraid that if you take the plunge and alter the parameters of your relationship, that you’ll lose her entirely if things don’t pan out. And where the hell would you be without her?

[i-write-and-therefore-i-am]

One Monstrous Miracle (Part Five)

Okay. So. This one got away from me. It got unexpectedly dark, and I’m not sure how I feel about that but I’m going to post it and move on with the story. I am not a happy author about this chapter, for many reasons. Nevertheless, I love each and everyone of you and I hope you find it within you to enjoy this <3 (Pst! If you’d rather read on Ao3, here ya go!)

Previous-Next-First

Pairing: Aziraphale/Human!Reader

Summary: Michael takes some initiative. So does Sandalphon. Uriel is basically the emotional support nerd ig. Aziraphale has a nightmare. Reader does NOT have a good time.

Warnings: Okay listen closely. I have written a non-graphic description of a kidnapping, and subsequently a heavily-implied violence segment. I might be overstating or understating (please tell me if I am understating!), but I just want to keep you lovelies safe. 

ALSO: This is NOT a warning, but while you’re here I might as well tell you that I have used they/them pronouns for Michael, and it/its pronouns for Sandalphon (from the script).

Word Count: 2730

(@gif, shits going down)

Michael was not stupid. They were not dimwitted, or blinded by heavenly goodness, or any of the things that they could very easily accuse their fellow celestial beings of…being. They had been paying the Angel Aziraphale very close attention these past millennia, and they had seen exactly what they had expected; the Angel had gone native. Worse than that, he had gone native and he was fraternizing with the enemy. THE enemy. El Numero Uno. The Demon Crowley.

Because Michael was none of the things mentioned above, they had quite a bit of room to be some other things, like cunning, vigilant, and good at waiting for just the right moment. They didn’t bring the aforementioned knowledge to Gabriel’s attention straight away for the sake of…strategy. It had nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that the Archangel-Fucking-Gabriel wasn’t the only gosh darned Archangel around (and that’s with a capital ‘A’, thank you very much), and so there really was no pressing need for Michael to give the information in the first place, now that they thought about it. They could investigate on their own, build up a solid case, and then work from there. Maybe get some respect around the elitist promotion trap that was their Heavenly home. If only.

Michael enlisted Uriel, knowing that she would be invaluable when looking for documents or anything paper related. She had the memory for things exactly like that. Michael brought Sandalphon precisely because they knew that Aziraphale was still terrified of it after what happened at Sodom and Gomorrah. Together, they monitored Aziraphale’s every move—although the angel had somehow devised a way to keep the group from ever being able to overhear any of his traitorous conversations with the hated Crowley, they weren’t deterred in the slightest bit. They could follow the pair, take pictures, perhaps the odd selfie when the mood hit. Michael was building their case against Aziraphale, and it was only a matter of time.

Armageddon threw everything into quite a pretty mess, now didn’t it? Aziraphale was openly discussing his meetings with his “wily adversary”, reporting on the current status and whereabouts of the Antichrist (Warlock. What a revolting name). Things were starting to get fun for the first time in about a hundred years, and Michael simply didn’t have the time for their surveillance missions anymore. Not to mention that Gabriel was demanding that they all stay together as often as possible, which was a nightmare in and of itself. Michael was rather looking forward to the end of the world, not for the gargantuan blood bath that would ensue, as most of their angelic associates where no doubt panting for, but for the endless peace that comes after a job well done.

One day, when the Antichrist (still Warlock, despite Michael’s very best efforts) was 10, nearly 11, Michael noticed something very strange about the familiar bookshop that they and the rest of the group had been watching for the last couple of centuries. There was a woman, well-dressed (Michael assumed. Angels, proper Angels, that is, Aziraphale not included, have no real sense of human fashion), practically cantering down the pavement, apparently towards Aziraphale’s shop. “No, that can’t be right,” Michael thought to themselves. Although, thinking back, that woman did look strikingly familiar. So familiar, in fact, that—

“Uriel! Take a look at this.” Michael had rolled her rolly chair away from her workstation and towards the cubicle to the right of hers. Uriel popped her head around the weird, cloth divider separating their “offices” with a curious expression.

“Yes, Michael? What is it?” The other angel asked from her rolly chair. Michael gestured that she should roll her rolly chair into Michael’s cubicle.

“I’ve found something strange in the Eden files, take a look at it.” The Eden files was their special code name for anything pertaining to Aziraphale that was not, strictly, on the books. This strange something happened to be a livestream of the street where Aziraphale lived. The woman was getting closer to the shop, although not quite close enough to tell if that was, indeed, where she was going. Michael pointed the woman out to Uriel.

“Now. She looks awfully familiar to me.” Michael’s gaze drifted from their finger to Uriel sitting beside them. Uriel had her thinking face on, which could mean one of a million different things and by this point in their long, coworker relationship, Michael had learned to just let her think. Uriel frowned slightly, moved closer to the screen, tapped a single key on the keyboard in front of them on Michael’s desk, and rewound the feed. She paused it. Zoomed in. Michael wondered why it was so difficult for the Management to install some touchscreens on the ground floor, at least for the Archangels and Possibly a few of the Principalities. They’d seen inside of Gabriel’s office (Yes! A whole, bloody corner office with glass windows instead of walls so that he can survey the worker bees in their nest and not one but TWO whole touchscreens!), after all. Uriel snapped her fingers in front of Michael’s face.

“Michael? Were you listening?” Michael, as you know, had not been listening. At all.

“Of course, Uriel. What was that last bit, again?” Uriel sighed and pointed at the woman zeroed in on.

“She visits the shop almost every day. She might be important.” Michael leaned forward in their rolly chair, squinting at the grainy image despite the fact that every angel had perfect 100/100 eyesight. They hummed.

“Yes. I quite agree. Sandalphon?” They called out the name of the coworker whose cubicle stood on the left side of theirs. They heard the familiar sound of the rolly chair growing nearer until Sandalphon sat beside the two other angels. Michael pointed to the woman on the screen.

“Let’s keep an eye on her.” They all watched as Uriel unpaused and the woman entered the shop.

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They did not have to wait long for the woman to make another move. Only a few hours later, she was hurrying out of the doors, clutching onto her purse and…crying?

“He doesn’t hold on to them long, does he?” Sandalphon remarked, rubbing its forefinger across its teeth diamonds. Uriel giggled but sobered when Michael glared at her. This was not the time for making jokes. That woman was certainly a human woman, there was no doubt about that. Why was she spending so much time around Aziraphale? Why had she run sobbing from his shop? Was this like that holiday Aziraphale took with Alexander the Great? Michael very dearly hoped not—Aziraphale had positively ruined that poor boy.

“Keep your focus on that woman. We need to learn more about her.”

The kept the feed trained on her as she made her way home. She didn’t live too far from Aziraphale’s shop. But just far enough that walking was just slightly out of her way. Uriel, the more softhearted of the bunch of angels huddled around the screen, wondered whether they should miracle her a taxicab, but she was quickly shut down.

“What, and give ourselves away? Gabriel would have our halos!” Michael exclaimed, shifting in their chair. Once the woman was in the door, Michael cut the feed, gaining the attention of the others. They cleared their throat.

“Ahem. So. Not only has Aziraphale been seen consistently in the presence of known Demon Crowley, but he also appears to have developed some sort of relationship with a…mortal woman. Once again, Aziraphale proves that he does not have the strength required to walk among them. Instead, he cavorts with them, befriends them—”

“Runs a bookshop,” Sandalphon growled helpfully. Michael nodded appreciatively.

“—and runs a bookshop. Clearly, he is no longer fit for his position.”

“That’s all well and good, Michael, but he can’t be removed from said position. Only the Almighty can deal with that level of personnel change.” Uriel reminded them calmly. Michael sighed deeply.

“I know that. We all know that. The only problem is something must be done about it. Aziraphale can no longer be allowed to continue this way. It’s heinous.” All the angels nodded their head in mutual agreement. They all tried to think of something they could do, but nothing seemed to jump out at anyone. It stayed like this for a few long moments before suddenly, Sandalphon gasped loudly, startling the other two.

“I know!” it said. “The girl. She’s important to him, right?” Uriel scoffed.

“She did just run from his shop in tears, Sandalphon, did you miss that part?” It was unfazed by Uriel’s goading.

“Exactly. It’s Aziraphale! He’s so soft, he’ll go groveling for her forgiveness within a fortnight. And when he does…”

“They’ll make up with each other. Where are you going with this?” Michael interjected impatiently, not in the mood for idle chatter. Sandalphon grinned, its teeth glinting in the Holy light.

“We kidnap her. Get us in Gabriel’s good books, get some information, and, of course, to scare powe ickle bitty Aziwaphawe. Perfect plan.”

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It was not, as it happens, the Perfect Plan. However, credit is due where credit is due, and that credit goes to Sandalphon for thinking of a Nearly-Perfect Plan. It would have been the Perfect Plan had Aziraphale and that blasted woman not been so stubborn and stayed apart for so long. The days until the Antichrist’s birthday were slowly running out, and the time during which the angels could execute said plan was drawing thin. Thankfully, the two made up just in the nick of time, so it had worked out in the end.

The trio had made the trip to Crowley’s flat, knowing that they would find Aziraphale there. Aziraphale had been flustered, but his story about checking about in the demon’s abode appeared to check out. Michael refused to take their eyes off of him the entire time. After they miracled away, they appeared in an alleyway not far from the woman’s home, and on her usual route. Michael had decided, because Michael was a little bit of an ass at times, to make the mystery just a smudge more difficult by abducting the woman outside of the home BUT simultaneously leaving a single, white wing feather on the floor of her locked flat. It really was quite devious for such a pure-hearted creature. Hmm.

The kidnapping went swimmingly. Uriel snuck up behind the woman, Sandalphon had thrown the bag over her head, and once everything was settled (or as settled as can be with a kicking and struggling woman in tow), Michael miracle them into a top-secret location. I’m afraid that I, as the author, am not at liberty to disclose the location of the following events, because of course I’d have to kill you afterwards, and I’d rather not do that.

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Angels do not have dreams. Angels cause dreams in other people, they take away dreams from other people, and they may, upon occasion, serve as conduits for messages from the Almighty, which often appear to other people as dreams. But Angels themselves do not dream. Except for Aziraphale, evidently, whose subconscious had decided to do away with the natural order of things to just…you know…spice it up a little. Aziraphale frowned deeply in his sleep and rolled over, sniffling.

He was in a corridor. There were no lights, only a faint glow that seemed to come from nowhere at all. There was one door, ahead of him, but the rest of the corridor was bare, empty grey concrete. He began to move towards the door, but the corridor seemed to get longer the closer he got, until he was nearly running, trying to make some progress down the hall but never moving one inch.

The scene changed, the corridor erupting into grey and black smoke that smelt faintly of saltwater taffy. The scene reconstructed itself as a square room lit with an old-fashioned lightbulb swinging slowly back and forth from the ceiling. There was a figure shivering on a metal chair in the center of the room, hands tied behind their back and a sack over their head. Aziraphale heard whimpering from the figure and made to rush over to help them but he found that his feet were rooted to the ground, as though someone had glued them straight to the floor. Aziraphale looked up from his shoes and gasped.

Surrounding the figure were Michael, Uriel, and Sandalphon. Michael stood directly in front of the figure, bending over slightly. Sandalphon stood directly behind the figure, fingers grasping at the sack. Uriel stood apart from them both, in the corner opposite to Aziraphale. Michael made a motion at Sandalphon and it yanked the sack off of the person’s head to reveal—

Y/N. Eyes red from crying, hair a mess, makeup smudged and beyond repair. Aziraphale felt his heart stop beating. What the hell was going on? Was this some kind of joke? A voice, nagging at the edge of his consciousness told him that no, it was not a joke. Aziraphale struggled against whatever was holding his feet down with renewed vigor. He stopped when he heard your voice, hoarse and trembling. It broke him to hear you like that.

“W-who are you? What do you w-want from me?” You coughed, and Aziraphale felt a miracle dance along the tip of his fingers. He would make you well again, he would heal whatever has happened to you. You continued. “I have m-money if that’s it! It’s n-not m-m-much but—”

“Silly girl, we don’t want your money.” Came Sandalphon’s voice.

“Mmm, that’s right.” Michael responded. They leaned in closer to you, and you sank deeper into the chair to escape them. “What we want is information.”

“Wh-What? What information? I don’t- “

“What do you know of the Angel Aziraphale?” Azriaphale’s blood went cold. He had been so close to telling you himself! After all of the Armageddon mess was straightened out, he had promised himself, he would march right up to you and tell you the truth. But not now! Not when he couldn’t be there to explain, when you were hurting, being hurt, tied up like some criminal. A noise horribly like a snarl erupted from Aziraphale’s throat, startling him. Was he truly invisible in this room? After a couple of seconds of pure terror, Aziraphale’s pulse began to slow and he realized that this was most likely a vision dream, a message from someone showing him something that was either already happening, or about to happen. He prayed to anyone who would listen that it was neither of those two options.

“I swear I don’t know!” The sound of your terrified voice brought him back. Sandalphon laughed its ugly laugh and Michael chuckled.

“Should we really be doing this, Michael?” Uriel inquired softly from her spot in the corner. Aziraphale was sure he was just projecting his terror onto her, but he thought he could almost see a hint of concern in her deep black eyes. Michael just shook their head.

“It’s not as though she’ll have very long to remember it, will she?” At this, your body seized in horror, eyes open wide in shock. Fresh tears were streaming down your cheeks. Aziraphale wanted to burn this room to the ground.

“Are…are you going to kill me?” you whispered through your crying. Aziraphale held his breath to listen for the answer:

“Oh, dear me, of course not. Do you know how much paperwork that would be? Oh no. Definitely not killing you. As long as you give us the information we need.” Came Michael’s reply.

Aziraphale felt that old rage bubble up inside him, and his sword hand itched, as though the missing sword were a missing limb instead. He took a deep breath and clenched his hands into fists. He would not debase himself in such an appalling manner. He had grown since those days, and he would not be brought to his knees by a dream.

“I told you, I don’t know anything!” you pleaded desperately. The room was beginning to fade away, smoke swirling at the edges, illuminated by the swinging bulb. Aziraphale cried out, reaching out for you only to be met with empty air.

“Oh, we’ll see about that, now, won’t we?”

The last thing Aziraphale heard before waking was the sound of Michael’s laughter.

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[syntheticpoetry]

Teenage Satellites

Summary: This is a flashback sequence that describes Blaine’s night at the Sadie Hawkins dance with his friend (who I have named Skylar) and the assault at the end of the night.  

There is definitely some friendship fluff to start, but this does include the description of a violent crime at the end with homophobic slurs, so please do not read if you find that triggering or upsetting. 

This scene is an accompanying oneshot fic that goes along with a conversation between Kurt and Blaine in my And the World Spins Madly On universe.  You can read that here (which has links included for FFN and AO3 in the post as well).

AO3 Link for Teenage Satellites

“You don’t think it looks tacky?” Blaine adjusted the white rose boutonniere on his date’s lapel. “I didn’t want something that would stand out so much, but I saw it and fell in love with it and—”

“It’s fine, stop fidgeting with it!” Skylar laughed and slapped at Blaine’s hand blithely. “You’re going to laugh when you see the one I’ve gotten for you…” Blaine raised an eyebrow, took a step back from him, and watched as Skylar strode over to the fridge.

“Oh, it’s the same one,” Blaine grinned and shook his head in disbelief upon seeing the clear plastic container housing the delicate perennial. “Of course, I should have guessed as much.”

“Come here so I can fix it on,” Skylar motioned him over and set the container on the counter. Blaine traipsed the short distance between them and closed the gap. Though the general atmosphere of the evening was meant to be romantic for most couples, these two had no reservations about spending their time together as two very good friends.  The idea to go as a pair had been Blaine’s.  It took a little convincing on Skylar’s part, but he usually (always) eventually caved in to Blaine’s schemes and requests— their friendship had blossomed so intensely over the course of a few short months that they assumed the role of each other’s “best friend.” Really, they were each other’s only friend at all.

“Dashing as ever,” Skylar smiled as he fastened the boutonniere to Blaine’s lapel with steady hands.  Blaine looked down at those perfectly stilled hands— always in control, always so precise— and brushed his thumb over a small scratch.  “Jasmine was pretty playful this morning,” Skylar laughed in response to the gesture.

Blaine shook his head and smiled, mostly to himself, before calling out to Skylar’s feline companion, “Jasmine? Come here and give us a kiss goodbye, honey!”

Jasmine, perched atop the kitchen windowsill, poked her head between two panels of off-white venetian blinds upon hearing her name.  She was an odd cat, in the sense that she chirped and trilled more like a bird rather than meowed, and Blaine adored her that much more for it.  On cue, she chirped and kicked off of the window, springing through the blinds, and sent them clattering against the glass loudly.  Blaine guffawed while Skylar scolded her, but she paid no mind to her owner and chose to prance over to Blaine’s leg and rub herself against it.

“She’s going to get fur all over you!” Skylar screeched in alarm.

“Oh, she just wants a little attention,” Blaine spoke as though he was addressing a toddler, “Isn’t that right, baby girl?” He crouched down and scooped her up in his arms; to his left, Skylar let out a dramatic sigh.

“You’re incorrigible,” Skylar shook his head, but Blaine noticed the corners of his mouth twitch up into a smile.  Jasmine chirped loudly in his arms and he returned his attention back to her, rubbing her belly until her purring was the only sound to fill the room.  Blaine glimpsed at the clock on Skylar’s stove before setting Jasmine on the counter and brushing fur off of his jacket.

“Is your dad still driving—” he coughed and spit stray cat hair out of his mouth, sending Skylar into a fit of hysterics.

“I warned you!” he doubled over, clutching his stomach as if he just witnessed the single funniest sight in all his life.

Blaine rolled his eyes in response and spit away more cat hair that had plastered itself to his lips. After a few moments of regaining his composure, Skylar carelessly wiped away a few tears and spoke in a voice that clearly meant he was still trying to force his laughter down, “He should be, let me go ask him.”

Blaine nodded and Skylar disappeared into the living room.  He could hear their muffled conversation, but wasn’t able to make out any actual words that hinted towards what type of answer Skylar’s father was providing.  Jasmine rubbed up against Blaine’s leg again, trilling her affections and demanding to be picked up again. “Shhh, not now, baby girl. When we get back—Skylar will throw a fit if I look like a furry mess because of you.” She merely tilted her head in response and stared up at him with expectant, jade eyes.

“Okay, he said he’ll take us now if we’re ready to go,” Skylar strolled back into the room and Blaine didn’t miss the subtle hint of defeat adorning his features through the well placed smug smirk he’d adapted suddenly at the sight of Jasmine pining for Blaine’s continued attention. “Should just take her with us, I’m sure she’d love for you to show her some of your moves.”

Blaine smiled gently and wondered about pressing him for details on his half-hidden glum mood, but decided against it for now. “She’d be a hit, don’t you think?” Jasmine answered with a loud mew before rubbing her head against Blaine’s pant leg and collapsing onto his shoe.  The two of them did nothing to suppress their laughter until Skylar’s father appeared in the doorway with a stoic expression.

“You boys ready?” he asked gruffly.

“Indeed, we are, Mr. Young,” Blaine offered a placid smile and, out of the corner of his eye, took note of Skylar’s unease.  He was now even more overcome with the intense desire to know what exactly had taken place during their living room conversation to lead to Skylar’s distress.  Mr. Young plucked his keys from the key rack by the back door and left them in the kitchen.  Blaine took the opportunity to approach Skylar before they were meant to follow his father out to the car. “Everything okay? You seem… tense,” he placed a light hand on Skylar’s shoulder.

“Yeah, no I’m alright.  Let’s go, we don’t want to be late,” Skylar brushed past the question with a feigned smile that betrayed the obvious turmoil in his eyes. But Blaine knew better than to push him— if Skylar wanted to talk he would initiate the conversation— so he nodded politely and dropped his hand.  Skylar gave Blaine’s bicep a few gentle pats, a reassuring gesture they often offered each other, and lead the way out to his father’s SUV.  Blaine slid into the backseat while Skylar took the front passenger seat and immediately proceeded to fiddle with the radio. 

“Oh, wait go back! I love that song!” Blaine exclaimed while Skylar tapped the station seek button rapidly, very much like a certain character from a film about toys they both shared a guilty pleasure for. 

Skylar grinned and Blaine knew what the line was going to be before he even started, “Too late, I’m in the 40’s, gotta go around the horn!”

Blaine leaned forward and mock punched his arm playfully, paying no mind to the stiff posture Mr. Young had adapted ever since Blaine had gotten into the car. “Come on, seriously. Please go back?” he offered his best puppy dog eyes. Skylar rolled his eyes in response and hit the number three preset button. “Thank you,” Blaine replied in a singsong voice before joining in on the song.

“So get back, back, back to the disaster. My heart’s beating faster, holding on to feel the same,” Blaine turned his attention to the window, drumming along on his thighs absently with his hands.  The tension in the car remained the same for the duration of the ride to school and stayed well above Blaine’s head, as always.  No matter how amiable he was to Mr. Young, the older man still had never warmed up to Blaine.  Being the good-natured, naïve, boy that he was though, Blaine never took notice of his misgivings— his only sole concern was Skylar, impressing and befriending his father had never been part of his agenda. By the time they had finally pulled into the parking lot behind the school and gotten out of the car Skylar’s face looked ashy and he emitted tidal waves of anxiety.

“So you’ll pick us up at 11, dad?” Blaine watched cautiously and resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow when he heard Skylar’s voice tremble.

“Yeah,” his father replied flatly before driving away without sparing them so much as a second glance.

“…okay, seriously, what did I miss?” Blaine blurted out dumbly and Skylar shook his head.

“I just want to have a good time, let’s forget about it until later, okay?” Skylar adjusted his boutonniere, fumbling with it until it was really more crooked than straight.

“Forget about what?” Blaine smiled politely, despite the crumbling brick wall imprisoning his burning questions, and straightened it for him.

“Thank you,” Skylar whispered and Blaine couldn’t be sure if he meant for adjusting the accessory, dropping the subject, or both.  He nodded, nonetheless, and hooked his arm through Skylar’s to escort him through the doors. Without even entering the building the pair had six sets of eyes staring them down.  Blaine kept his head high, apprehension already steadily building, and his attention on two things only: where he was walking and Skylar.  His companion adapted the same contrived confidence as they made their way to the gymnasium. 

“Okay so far?” Blaine muttered out of the side of his mouth.  When he hadn’t received an answer he turned his head slightly to find that Skylar appeared to be completely enamoured by the decorations. Blaine stifled a laugh, “You were on the decorating committee, bit egotistical to admire your work to the point of ignoring me, don’t you think?”

“Shut up! They didn’t look this good during the day,” Skylar pouted, “I have a right to feel proud.  You know how hard I worked on this.”

“Yes, yes, I know.  I haven’t forgotten how you ignored my presence for days so you could paint stars and mythical creatures,” Blaine feigned exasperation and Skylar continued to pout at him. “Alright, alright! How about I get us something to drink while you bask in your own greatness?”

“Pink lemonade if they have it, I—”

“Hate fruit punch, yes I know,” Blaine grinned and unhooked his arm from Skylar’s. “Will you be here or are you going to walk around?”

“I’ll wait for you here. Be prepared to have me drag you around all night and show off everything else in the room that I worked on that you haven’t seen yet,” a sly smirk flashed across his features and Blaine was relieved to see that he was already starting to loosen up and enjoy himself.

“Okay,” he replied with an overdramatic sigh tethered to the word. In truth he was pleasantly willing to let Skylar parade around the room and show off— nothing made Blaine happier than seeing the vehement fervor behind his friend’s words as he discussed his interests and hobbies.  The passion in his eyes whenever the topic of painting and art came up was infectious and Blaine soaked up every second of it as often as possible. The decorations looked amazing and he knew Skylar should be, and was, rightly satisfied with the results. Blaine waltzed over to the refreshment table and contemplated the meager options presented: pretzels, Lay’s plain potato chips, fruit punch, (Skylar’s) pink lemonade, and bottles of water— not exactly a wide spread.  He filled up two small, clear plastic cups with pink lemonade and quickly turned to rejoin Skylar.  Unfortunately, in his haste, he walked straight into one of his, rather large, classmates and spilled both drinks.

Blaine tried to brush beads of lemonade off of his jacket sleeves, but he was completely soaked. “God, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even see you— ”

“Watch where you’re fucking going next—” Blaine averted his attention from his sleeves to the stranger who narrowed his eyes and stared down at Blaine with unmistakable disdain, “Oh. It’s you.” He chose to go a different route than Blaine and Skylar had, regarding outfit choice.  While the two of them were dressed to the nines, an unkempt, hideous red plaid button down shirt, half tucked into his faded blue jeans, hung loosely on his boxy frame.  He had a good twelve inches on Blaine, and at least sixty pounds.  His mousy brown hair was slicked back with too little gel, leaving static strands jutting out in every direction. 

“Me…?” Blaine tore his eyes away and started to kneel down to retrieve the empty cups, “I don’t think we’ve met befo—”

“What the hell are you doing? Stay away from my—” the boy immediately proceeded to cover his crotch with both of his hands and jumped back, placing a few feet between them.  Blaine suddenly understood.

“Seriously? Honey, why would you think I’d want any part of that at all?” Blaine straightened up, placed a hand on his hip and stared at his classmate incredulously.

“Don’t fucking look at me like that either,” he reached both hands out and shoved Blaine forcefully. He tried to stay balanced but staggered backwards, right into the refreshment table.  The glass bowls containing fruit punch and lemonade lurched violently, sloshing vibrant liquid onto the white, vinyl tablecloth.  Blaine slammed his palms onto the table to steady himself, leaving himself completely open to another potential attack.  

“I wasn’t looking at you like that,” he leaned back against the table, trying to put some more distance between himself and the other boy, but he might as well have been trying to reason with an angry bull.  With the flared nostrils and red in this boy’s eyes, the comparison didn’t feel too far off.  They had the attention of a few nearby students, but none of the teachers were anywhere in sight.  Blaine had just enough time to duck under the table to avoid a full-body charge. The blood pounding in his ears made the cheers and jeers from the other students sound smothered— he had no idea which of them they were even rooting for or against. 

“Mr. Walker! What do you think you’re doing?” he heard a stern voice approaching and maintained his position under the table.

“I was—”

“About to destroy school property! I think your night is over. Come with me, we’re going to call your parents to pick you up,” Blaine listened carefully and watched two pairs of legs retreat before crawling out of his safe haven.  His knees shook as he stood up, his hands sticky with spilt lemonade, but he didn’t hesitate in striding over to where he’d left Skylar.

“About time, I thought you got lost on the way back. Hey, where are the— Blaine, you’re shaking…”

Blaine turned his attention down to his trembling hands before quickly offering, “I sort of tripped and spilled them all over myself. I’m going to get cleaned up, okay?”

“Klutz,” Skylar shook his head as he spoke. “Okay, I’m going to head over to the bleachers, so meet me there?”

Blaine nodded curtly and sprinted out of the gym towards the bathroom across from the darkened cafeteria.  He knew he should have said something to Skylar about the incident, but he couldn’t bring himself to ruin his friend’s night when he was finally starting to have a little fun. 

‘Besides, that kid is gone anyways. Just try to enjoy the rest of your night. Keep Skylar happy, it’ll be okay,’ Blaine tried to rationalize with himself as he washed his hands, repeating the last line in his head as though it was a mantra.  As clean as he could get his hands, there was nothing he could do about the tremors; the entire incident not only left him upset, but infuriated.  It wasn’t fair; wasn’t he entitled to a stress-free, night of bliss as well? He clenched his hands, eyes shut tight, but his nerves continued to send earthquakes throughout his entire body.  ‘I should have pushed him back, why the hell did I hide? Why the hell do I keep hiding?’ The creak of the bathroom door to his left startled him and his eyes fluttered open to face the newcomer.  He recognized the student, a classmate from third period English, and was greeted with a nod of acknowledgment before the boy disappeared into a stall.  Blaine twisted the faucet shut and tore a rather large piece of paper towel away from the dispenser.  His hands were finally starting to steady out, but the remnants of an adrenaline rush reminded him of his anger while his body resumed normal functions.  He shook his head as he— literally— threw the dampened wad of paper with such force that it plastered itself to the wall with a wet smack! before sliding down into the waste bin.   Even his anger began to fade away while he walked back to the gymnasium— reduced to a low ebbing— so that by the time he reached Skylar again his smile was genuine and he felt hopeful about the remainder of their evening. 

“I got us some lemonade!” Skylar held out a cup to him with a broad grin and he took it with a grateful smile. “And I put a song request in.”

“What song might that be?” Blaine took a slow sip, pursing his lips when the much-too-sweet beverage overwhelmed his taste buds.

“It’s a surprise, you’ll know it when you hear it though,” and with that Skylar offered no other hints, leaving Blaine curious and, he couldn’t deny it, a little excited. Their taste in music was pretty similar, a pleasant discovery made during their early days of friendship, and they were always sharing new artists with each other.  They’d also developed a knack for comforting each other through song choices, filling in the unspoken gaps of tense conversations with interludes of musical reassurances.  As if saying to the other, “I’m here, I know you don’t really want to talk about it, but here’s something I think will help you feel better.” Lately they had been on a Keane kick and chose every opportunity they could to serenade each other to “Somewhere Only We Know.” Aloud, they agreed on their appreciation for such a beautifully composed song and left it at that; internally though, the underlying promise of a place, of a life, so much better than the one they currently lived in— that was their real reason for clinging to the words and constantly offering them to each other.  It voiced all of the desires they were too afraid to admit out loud, even to each other.  Desires that they feared would be compromised— made unlucky— if they ever spoke about how much they yearned for a change.  While Blaine figured it wasn’t much of a lively song for a school dance, he wouldn’t put it past Skylar to put in the request.  After all, there were bound to be some slow songs, right?

‘Oh god, what if he wants to slow dance with me?’ Blaine took another tentative sip— despite the nausea the sugary drink was causing him— to hide the tenseness in his jaw.  He’d wanted to make a statement, show that if he wanted to come here with a boy, as an actual romantic date, that he should be able to— but dancing with one, actually shoving it in everyone’s faces… that felt like a step too far.  Suddenly it wasn’t just the lemonade causing his stomach to rot; his anxiety was going to tear him apart from the inside out.  Skylar hummed along to the current song, oblivious to Blaine’s rampant afflictions, and bobbed his head rhythmically.  The song came to an end and Blaine bit the rim of his cup to keep himself from vomiting words and the contents of his stomach.  For a few seconds the only thing that Blaine could hear was the chattering of students throughout the room, reverberating against the high windowpanes, but Skylar beamed, recognizing the song, his song choice, instantly by the lack of immediate guitar rhythms.  At the first guitar downbeat Blaine returned the cup to his hand, his paranoia, his unease evaporating when Blink 182’s “Not Now” started up.

‘Of course, I should have seen that one coming. That’s all he’s been singing for days,’ he felt silly for panicking at all, especially over something as silly as a potential song choice.  He let out a breathy laugh, exuding the rest of his nerves, and set his very-much-still-full cup on one of the bleachers. 

“Time to dance now, let’s go!” Skylar exclaimed before brushing past him to the dance floor.  He turned, already rocking his hips in a slightly more experienced but still very teenage-esque fashion, and Blaine sashayed over to join him. They kept their hands to themselves, dissolved into a world of their own— one which they dominated— and worked on showing off to each other, as they’d done countless times in Skylar’s bedroom.  Blaine felt at ease finally. This dance was something they could conquer and live to tell the tale, again and again, come Monday morning. The reality of such a thought left Blaine dizzy, drunk off of the knowledge that they showed up together at a dance (at school), were actually dancing at said dance (at school), within close proximity to each other, and actually having a fairly decent time (at school.)  The little encounter at the refreshment table felt like a distant memory and the endorphins coursing through Blaine’s bloodstream offered him a moment of bravery.  He reached out and took Skylar’s hands in his own, the twinkle in his friend’s eyes let Blaine know he was ready for the next move—the move they practiced a thousand different times to a thousand different songs on sunny days, rainy days, I-don’t-want-to-talk-so-let’s-just-dance-until-I-feel-better-days— and he wouldn’t let his fears stop him now. 

He pulled Skylar into the “sweetheart position,” twisting one of his companion’s arms, spinning him around and holding him close to his body before lifting his arm over Skylar’s head and pulling him around with his right hand.  They spun together, untwisting their arms but still clasping each other’s hands tightly; Blaine released his right hand and spun Skylar around once, twice, three times more before the other boy collapsed into Blaine’s side, giggling wildly.  While it wasn’t an appropriate song to put their swing dancing skills to the test, neither of them seemed to mind.

They were on top of the world, their world, without a single care— nothing, and no one, could possibly hurt them now.

_________________________________________________________

Come here, please hold my hand for now

Help me, I’m scared

Please show me how to fight this

God has a master plan

And I guess

I am in his demand

The music had ended ten minutes ago and the gymnasium was now considerably much emptier than it had been four hours ago, but that didn’t stop the two of them from humming and dancing to their own melody.  Blaine held Skylar’s hand in his own, above their heads, and spun him once as they exited the back doors to the parking lot.  The smile plastered to Blaine’s face spoke volumes about the events of the night and Skylar’s mirrored his. 

“I’m really glad you convinced me to go,” Skylar unclasped his hand from Blaine’s and unbuttoned his blazer.  The October wind wasn’t enough for them— they were both overheated, sweat glistening on their foreheads in the pale moonlight.  “That’s the best time I’ve had in weeks.”

“Me too,” Blaine grazed the white rose on his lapel, miraculously still perfectly in place, with his thumb. “Hmm… were we supposed to go out to the front instead to be picked up? There’s no one here at all.”

Skylar gave the vacant parking lot a quick glance and frowned, “Huh, I guess we were. I figured they would have had everyone’s parents come back to the same spot they dropped us all off.” He shrugged, “Might as well just walk around the side now, it’s too stuffy inside.”

Blaine laughed in agreement, nodding his head.  “After you, my dear,” he half bowed and extended his arms in an extravagant gesture.  Skylar slapped Blaine’s bicep playfully and shook his head. “Such a gentleman you are, Blaine Anderson,” Skylar giggled as he passed by him.

“Well, you know me. I aim to please—”

“Where do you think you’re going, faggot?”

Blaine had been in very few fights growing up.  They had mainly been schoolyard scraps in elementary school, but even ten year olds had the potential to be vicious.  One fight in particular came to mind though.  He couldn’t even remember how it had started— one minute he’d been waiting his turn in line for double dutch and the next he’d discovered all the air had left his lungs and a classmate’s fist buried deep into his stomach.  He couldn’t remember ever feeling so dizzy and winded before… until now.  This Walker kid’s words left him lightheaded and breathless, much like that punch he’d taken so many years ago.

“Skylar, run!” he managed to gasp out once the rest of his senses caught up to him.  Skylar gave Blaine a look that said all that he couldn’t: Like hell I’m going to leave you here alone.

Please save me, this time I cannot run

And I’ll see you when this is done

And now I have come to realize

That you are the one who’s left behind

“Nobody’s going anywhere,” Walker snapped his fingers and two of his friends came to join him from the shadows beside the school.  “You didn’t really think I was going to let you get away with screwing up my night, did you? You got me kicked out— why the fuck should you have been allowed to stay?”

“Blaine, what’s he talking about?” Skylar reached behind himself and gently closed his hand around Blaine’s wrist.  It was a harmless gesture, more of a fearful reaction on Skylar’s part, but it seemed to brew thunderstorms in Walker’s eyes.

“He— there was an accident inside— I didn’t mean it, I walked into him and—” Blaine stammered pathetically, keeping his eyes fixed on the three boys before them. 

“Oh, was this your date? They let you disgusting things in together?” he spat angrily, his companions’ brows furrowing in equal disdain.

“So both of them then, Logan?” the boy to Walker’s— well, Logan’s— right asked, brandishing a tire iron from thin air.

‘Where the hell did that come from?’ Blaine stared at the heavy object and his heart thumped a little harder against his ribcage. He knew they should run, knew that there was no good possible outcome from staying, but he was paralyzed.  Skylar’s hand felt like an anchor on his wrist— neither of them knew what to do.

“Wait, wait, Logan wait.  Think about this— you don’t want to— you could get expelled, things will just end up worse from here. You can walk away and—” Blaine knew it was useless trying to reason with him, with any of them.  He could see the hatred rising off of them like smoke, blinding them from any sort of logical approach.  There was only one way this was going to end.

“Both of them,” Logan growled menacingly and this seemed to do the trick in forcing Blaine into flight mode.  He twisted his wrist until he was able to grasp Skylar’s and tugged on it, signaling him to run with him.  They had barely been able to take two steps before the third attacker was there in front of him.  Before Blaine knew what was happening he found himself on the ground, his hand trying to grasp at asphalt while the absence of Skylar’s wrist slowly sank in.

“No! Stop! S-Stop!”

Upon hearing Skylar’s screams, Blaine writhed on the pavement, trying to angle his head to find him.  For the second time within the time span of five minutes, he found himself completely winded.  But whatever had hit him felt nothing like human flesh—oh, no— they were putting that tire iron to good use.  He curled into himself, trying to hug away the sharp pain in his stomach.  He was aware of the sound of his own wheezy, rattling breath, taking in what felt like far too little oxygen, but couldn’t even begin to force himself to focus on anything else.  His fetal position left everything else exposed though and he heard Logan’s—or someone’s— grunting, muddled with Skylar’s cries, before the tire iron made itself a new home and nestled itself into Blaine’s back.

Please stay until I’m gone

I’m here hold on to me

I’m right here

Waiting

He yelped loudly and had no real time to recover— whoever was hitting him grew more and more brutal by the second, giving him less and less time to catch his breath between beatings.  He began to lose count of how many times he’d been hit; the only thing he knew for sure was that he had never been in so much agony before. His skin felt both numb and prickly. He couldn’t tell what was broken; he simply knew that at least one of his bones had to be.  Out of the corner of his eye he spotted his white rose boutonniere— inches away— covered in flecks of red. 

‘Is that my blood?’

All of his pain melded together, making it impossible to pinpoint where he was specifically injured.  After seeing the rose though, he could actually feel the blood leaving his body in steady streams.  His back was sticky; something dripped down his forehead and into his eyes; his fists were clenched, nails biting crescent moons into his palms; everything just hurt. He couldn’t hear Skylar anymore.  The world around him was beginning to sound like a muffled cocktail of vicious grunts, breaking bones, and his own ragged breath.

‘Help. God, someone, please help us.’

“Hey, what are you guys doing over there!”

And then suddenly, it all stopped. All of the muffled yelling and metal colliding with skin.

‘Who are you?’

Metal clanged against pavement, just beside his head.  The sound sent shockwaves through his brain, his poor throbbing brain.

‘Is Skylar okay?’

Footsteps retreated.

‘Make sure Skylar’s okay.’

And more footsteps approached.

‘Goddamnit, fucking check on Skylar! Move! Move…’

“Jesus… Can you hear me? Hey, kid, it’s going to be okay,”

‘When did I close my eyes?’

“Kid, can you hear me?”

He tried to speak, he really did.  Tried to ask about Skylar, tried to ask who was there, but all that he could manage was a soft whine.  It seemed to be all the affirmation that this stranger needed though.

“Yeah, he’s alive! What about the one by you, Jesse?”

Blaine descended into darkness before he could hear the answer.

I see a light, it feels good

And I’ll come back soon just like you would

It’s useless, my name has made the list

And I wish

I gave you one last kiss

[ladyfogg]

Cold is the Night - 16/20

Cold is the Night - 16/20

Fic Summary: You and Pat have known each other for years but this summer, everything will change. As the two of you start to grow close, your matching tempers threaten the foundation of your rocky friendship and prevent both of you from realizing your true feelings. Cold is the Night Masterpost. 

A/N: The moment we have all been waiting for! Warning, this chapter and the next one are just full of smut. 

Fic Song: Cold is the Night by The Oh Hellos. Fic playlist can be found here. 

Pairing: Pat Murray/Female Reader

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Language, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Multiple Chapters

Of all the things that could have happened, Pat pinning you to the wall hadn't crossed your mind. 

His body was hot and still damp from his shower, and his mouth was so fucking demanding. You needed him more than you ever needed anything in your life. 

You whined as his hand left your pants, but then he was kissing you and everything was okay again.

Somehow you managed to make it to the bedroom, shedding your clothes along the way. Pat was only in his boxers and you eagerly pushed those off before both of you tumbled into bed.

"Fuck, I need you so bad," he moaned between kisses.

"I need you more." You grabbed his wrist and shoved his hand between your legs. "Finish what you started, Murray."

"Oh, I'll finish it," he declared, fingers circling your clit. "On one condition."

"Anything."

"Say my name when you come."

And then he moved down the bed and a second later his tongue replaced his fingers. You gasped and dug your hands into his wet hair, gripping tight. You had no idea what had gotten into Pat but you were not going to complain in the slightest.

Seeing him so confident and dominant was the hottest thing ever. And yet, you knew that if you wanted to stop, he'd do so immediately, no questions asked.

But you didn't want to stop. You wanted him. All of him.

His mouth was working wonders with your clit and he slid two fingers into you the second he felt you relax. The loudest moan spilled from your lips. You didn't even bother trying to keep quiet since there was no need. And you wanted Pat to know exactly what he did to you.

He sucked and flicked your clit with near-perfect precision. His two fingers took a while to find your sensitive spot, but once he did, he rubbed it relentlessly.

Your whole body jerked and squirmed, legs shaking as you threw them over his shoulders. He ate you out like he was a starved man enjoying the best meal he'd ever had. 

Time melted away. You lost track of everything that wasn't Pat's mouth or fingers. Endless waves of heat threatened to consume you and you were more than ready to let them. Your orgasm hit you out of nowhere, your back arching off the bed while you ground against Pat's face.

"Pat!"

His mouth placed kisses along your hip as you melted into the mattress. But his fingers didn't stop. He kept going, kissing his way up your torso and to your breasts. 

"Do you know how fucking gorgeous you are?" His voice was deliciously hoarse. You were too blissed out to do anything other than whimper. "Not just on the outside. You're an amazing person. I don't know how I got so fucking lucky."

You moaned in response. "Fucking Christ, Murray," you panted, hips still grinding along with his hand. "You trying to kill me?"

Pat grinned. "No. Just make you come. A lot."

His lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking gently as his fingers continued to press against your g-spot. Another orgasm was fast approaching, which was way sooner than you expected. Usually, you needed time before you could get off again.

Not with Pat it seemed.

You squirmed beneath him, pinned by his hard body. He sucked and teased your nipple, swirling his tongue around the stiff peak before going to the other one. His fingers were constantly moving inside you, so deep his palm rubbed your clit.

You were a shuddering, babbling mess and when you came again, you felt your arousal leak out of you, coating his hand. Pat looked at you in awe, damp hair falling into his eyes.

He looked like he was going to say something but you cut him off with a kiss, body trembling as it came down from its high.

"I want to taste you," you panted, hand stroking his side as you reached down. 

He grabbed your wrist, bringing it to his cock. "Touch me first."

Pat rolled onto his side so you were face to face. You jerked him off eagerly as his mouth latched onto your neck. He sucked on the sensitive flesh, tongue lapping at your salty skin before moving to another spot. You were going to be covered in love bites and the idea thrilled you more than you thought it would.

You broke away to kiss a path down Pat's chest, still stroking his dick. Once you reached your prize, you ran your tongue along the length of him, already anticipating how he would feel inside you. 

Pat moaned, hand automatically falling to your head as he jerked his hips forward. You teased him, letting the tip of his cock brush your lips as you placed feather-light kisses along it. 

"Babe, please."

Hearing him beg went straight to your core, your cunt throbbing in anticipation. Without further preamble, you sucked him into your mouth with an audible slurp. Pat moaned loudly, hips surging forward to bury himself as much as he dared.

Your pace was much more leisurely than the last time you'd sucked him off. There was no rush, nowhere to be or go. You both could finally enjoy each other and you planned to take full advantage.

Pat started to carefully fuck your mouth, panting and whimpering each time the head of his cock hit the back of your throat. One hand stroked his shaft while your other hand remained trapped between you and the bed. Eventually, you managed to wiggle it free so you could cup his balls, massaging them albeit clumsily.

If the noises Pat made were any indication, he didn't care that your movements were sloppy. You opened your eyes to look up at him. His were closed, his head thrown back in ecstasy, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he held himself back. 

You couldn't take it anymore. You needed him inside you.

Pulling off his cock with a gasp, you pushed your way up the bed. Pat seemed to know exactly what you wanted because he seized your waist, flipping you onto your back so fast you bounced against the mattress. 

"Condoms?" he asked. 

"Top drawer."

Pat reached over to get the protection while you took a moment to catch your breath. "Also, I'm clean," you added. "And am on birth control."

"I'm clean too," Pat said, pulling a condom out of the box. He sat back on his heels, eyes taking in your disheveled appearance. "Fuck. I can't get over how beautiful you are."

Blushing, you playfully kicked him. "Stop looking at me like I'm a goddess or something."

"You are."

You sat up and took his face in your hands, kissing him deeply. "You're beautiful too, Pat," you insisted. "You're caring and passionate and sweet and sexy…you keep saying you're the lucky one. But I'm lucky too. I—"

His eyes softened and he looked at you with such adoration, it made your heartache. You felt the three most powerful words on the tip of your tongue but you held back. It was too soon to say them. Too soon to tell him just how much you had fallen.

"Finish that thought," Pat whispered. "What were you going to say?"

You pursed your lips. "Nothing."

Pat pressed his forehead to yours. "Please. Please." He closed his eyes, swallowing thickly. "Say it so I can say it."

Your heart leapt into your throat and suddenly everything else melted away. All you could focus on was Pat and you closed your eyes too, taking a deep breath.

"I think I'm in love with you."

You didn't mean to whisper but it was the only way the words could come out. As soon as they did, you knew they were true. You never felt this way about anyone else before. Every night without Pat broke your heart and every day with him made it full again.

"I know I'm in love with you," you clarified. "And I know it's probably too soon but—"

Your words were cut off when he kissed you, so hard that you fell onto your back. "I love you too," he murmured between kisses. "I love you so fucking much it hurts. Fuck, I love you."

Beyond happy, you kissed him back, hugging him close. He buried his face in your neck and you held each other for a few moments, both overwhelmed. 

"Well now you really have to fuck me," you declared.

Pat pulled back, grinning from ear to ear. "Oh, I'm gonna fuck you so good, babe."

"Do it, Murray. I dare you."

And just like that, you were back in sex mode. Pat sat back again to roll the condom on, stroking himself a few times to get his erection going again. The sight was fucking hot and you mentally filed it away for future use.

When he was ready, he crawled over your body, nudging your legs apart so he could settle between them. You ran your hands up his muscled arms, pulling him in close. With one hand holding himself up, the other reached down to take hold of his cock. 

And then he was pushing into you.

You gasped, trying to relax as your body stretched around him. You had never felt so full in your fucking life and as he kept going, you were suddenly acutely aware of how long he was. Once he bottomed out, your body was trembling from the rush of endorphins and emotions.

Pat was already panting, just as overwhelmed as you were. He laid his body on top of yours, kissing you deeply.

Then, he started to move.

Nothing could prepare you for how it felt to have Pat inside you. You clung to him, legs wrapped around his waist so you could pull him back in every time he withdrew. You rocked together effortlessly, losing yourselves in each other's bodies.

How had you gone so long without feeling this way? It was like you were suddenly complete. Like a piece of yourself had been missing. You just hadn't realized it until that moment.

Pat's movements were anything but graceful. He ground into your heat with reckless abandon, consumed by his own love and lust. Although, that itself was its own form of grace. It was so uniquely Pat. Hard and fast, with a surprising softness that took your breath away and made you weak in the knees.

His lips kissed yours, then your chin, your cheek, before he tucked his face into your neck. He fucked you with deep thrusts, burying himself to the hilt every time. 

You rocked together for eternity. At least it felt that way. Hands dug into sweaty flesh, mouths met in sloppy kisses, and before you knew it, Pat's movements sped up.

"Not gonna last," he panted. "So fucking good!"

"Yes, baby, come for me. Pat, I need you to come for me."

He whimpered, his hand twisting the sheets as he pumped into you. His free hand wormed between your bodies until he found your clit, giving it a few helpless swipes before he was overcome by his own pleasure and couldn't focus enough to continue.

You didn't care. 

You were close yourself and you grabbed his ass, keeping him buried in you as you ground your clit against him. You came mere seconds before he did, both your bodies locked into place as the other's name spilled from your lips.

Once the waves of pleasure subsided, you were left in a shaking mass of sweat and tears. Though you weren't sure if they were yours or his.

Pat held you close, hand cradling your cheek as he kissed your face. You winced as he slid his softening cock out of you, body sore in the most spectacular way. He felt around for the comforter, dragging it up to cover you both.

"Is it supposed to be that good? I don't remember it being that good," you panted.

"It was never ever that good for me." Pat smirked, rolling onto his back. "Shit. Shit."

You lay side by side, staring up at the ceiling as you tried to come back to reality. After a moment, Pat removed the condom and tied it off, dropping it onto the nightstand. Then he pulled you close, nuzzling your hair.

"I meant it, you know," he mumbled, sleep already tugging at him. "I love you."

"I love you too, Pat. Have for a long time."

He gave you a sleepy grin. "Yeah?"

Chuckling, you placed a soft peck on his lips before tucking yourself into his chest. "Oh yeah."

He hummed happily, holding you close. It didn't take long for you both to drift off to sleep, safe in each other's arms. 

[ladyplantpots]

Fresh from discord and edited to read better, an AU where Hizashi runs a hair-styling YouTube account, and Shouta comes across it whilst looking up how to braid his adopted daughter Eri’s hair.

Shouta needs to braid Eri’s hair, because dammit she deserves pretty hair and a competent dad able to provide her with cute styles. He scours the internet for videos to follow along, as he’s a hands-on learner, but finds them all dull and confusing. Then he comes across a video from a man who practically yells a welcoming introduction before passionately explaining exactly how to do a simple braid. The man, who calls himself Hizashi, is upbeat, loud, and easy to follow. The ultimate opposite of Shouta, he thinks, but his instructions to braid hair are just so easy to understand, and Hizashi is so damn HAPPY as he braids his own soft and golden hair for the camera. Shouta soon successfully braids Eri’s hair, and her smile is blinding. And then he sees another one of Hizashi’s videos preparing to load. He should DEFINITELY turn it off now. He ends up watching all his videos. The man, Hizashi, is everything Shouta is not. Bright, funny, likeable, confident, and his long blond hair flows all the way down his back at the start of each video, before he decorates it with flowers, or braids it, or sticks it in buns - he always looks so goddamn flawless. Shouta has never been so damn enamoured, and especially with someone so utterly unobtainable. A month after he first finds the channel, he gets drunk with Kayama. Kayama teases him on his obvious crush, and Shouta is annoyed as hell. He doesn’t get crushes. He has no time for them. And anyway, those videos aren’t even hard. He could do his own hair like any of Hizashi’s styles easily.  The night slips away in a blur. What he wakes up to the next day, is a disaster. His hair is a gross mess, he has a killer hangover, and whats that on YouTube? A video of him, filmed by Kayama, drunk, and he’s glaring into the camera and slurring shit like 'stupid hot blonde perfect hair Hizashi, i bet he cant do this with VODKA' as he attempts to knot his own hair into a plait. It’s already went viral as ‘Drunk Guy Destroys Own Hair and Cusses Out Top Beauty Vlogger’ before he can even delete it. Shouta is mortified, and hopes for death. Hizashi has uploaded a new video the very next day. 'I Make Perfect Fishtail Braids Whilst Drunk!' Shouta is mad and definitely not panicking that Hizashi saw his video. Why would he even respond? Was he annoyed? Upset? Did he think Shouta was a total and utter idiot? Hizashi at the end of his video says something along the lines of 'Wow! I guess I CAN do perfect hair with vodka,' and signs off, but not before enthusiastically giving a wink to the camera. Shouta, damn it all, is smitten. Against his better judgement, Shouta uploads another video the next week. He’s gained a mass of followers despite deleting his first and only video, but he refuses to acknowledge them. He doesn’t need this dumb attention. He just needs to prove he ISN’T a drunk moron, and set the record straight. But that new video he uploads, his second ever one, is kind of just.... A rant. And he isn't drunk, but he is extremely, extremely tired after the longest day, and he'd just watched another video of sunshiney Hizashi just being lovely and jolly and perfect. So, Shouta borrows Kayama’s camera, and makes a video. The video shows him surrounded by coffee mugs, and his daughter Eri is in bed so his voice isn't loud, just, annoyed, but, it's all kind of... Hilarious? He has no set plan. He just complains about, 'Stupid sunshine people with stupid hair that isn't THAT pretty dammit and why cant sunshine people be NORMAL and hate life with everyone else?' It lasts 10 minutes, five of which is just Shouta trying not to fall asleep, and some of his hair dips into his coffee when he tries to take a drink just before the video ends. It, again, goes viral, because Shouta is a tired mess and makes zero sense, and the next day Hizashi uploads a new video. 'Doing your hair for non-sunshine folk. A normal boring guide.' In the video, Hizashi greets everyone in a flat, monotone voice, and he's wearing a stark black wig. His happy comments and general fun spark is replaced by thickly manufactured doom-and-gloom, his fingernails painted black and his clothes plain and dull. He then does a perfect set of space buns in the black wig, all whilst giving instructions in a complete and utterly boring drone. At the end of the video, he holds up a coffee cup, and in same unvarying pitch, says 'and remember. Coffee is bad for hair.' before breaking into the biggest, brightest laugh, and giving a cheeky wink. Shouta doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. And so, Shouta rants again. And Hizashi replies in a timely and fun manner. Shouta tries not to pay attention to the weirdly large following he has gathered, which for some unknown reason has opted to refer to themselves as ‘SleepyHeads’. Hizashi’s own following calls themselves ‘SunRays’. Shouta thinks it’s all completely ridiculous. After almost a solid two months of this back-and-forth via teasing and odd videos, Shouta finds an email in his inbox. No prizes for guessing who from. Hizashi is just as sweet in email as he is in video, and just as witty. Shouta’s crush couldn’t be bigger if he tried. But, the email asks something of Shouta that makes his heart stop. Hizashi asks to do a collab video, in which Hizashi styles his hair for him. Shouta should say no. This is getting way too out of hand, and it won’t help his dumb crush, and it’s just ridiculous to even consider it. Three days later, he’s awkwardly stood in front of Hizashi’s apartment.  And Hizashi? Yup, more beautiful in person than Shouta thought possible, dressed in a cosy mustard-yellow turtleneck, and his hair cascading past his shoulders as his wide grin warmly welcomes Shouta inside. And Shouta, he’s certainly made an effort to be more presentable - he’s wearing his favourite jacket, though it does have a cat face drawn on the front pocket in black marker by Eri, and he’s washed his hair in the most expensive conditioner he could find, in hopes Hizashi doesn’t cringe doing his hair.  There’s not much conversation before the video, Hizashi just gives him the basics of what he wants to happen before pushing Shouta towards his scarily professional setup, in front of an expensive-looking camera. Hizashi is like a precise whirlwind, knowing exactly what to hit next, and soon enough, Shouta is sat in a comfortable high seat, stony-faced and definitely not freaking out as Hizashi leans down and chuckles in his ear, ‘Oh yeah, by the way, we’re doing this show LIVE baby!’ Shouta has no time to object before Hizashi hits a button, and falls into his usual opening spiel. And Shouta? He’s ready to die. Its going to be him, sitting there, live, as Hizashi hates on his gross nasty hair and laughs about what an idiot he was in his videos. He wishes he had never come, he is SUCH an absolute fool, but then he feels a hand on his shoulder, pulling him out of his own head, and there’s Hizashi, smiling softly down at him. ‘Don’t look scared, this will be fun!’ And then, Hizashi is perched behind Shouta, at an angle that the camera can still see him too. Shouta tries not to look at the monitor in front of him, which shows exactly what the camera sees as hundreds of comments fly by.  Suddenly, there’s a brush going through Shouta’s hair, and Hizashi talks as if they’ve done this for years. ‘Now, my dear viewers, this is the infamous Aizawa Shouta, or Vodka King to his SleepyHead fans!’ Shouta cringes, but Hizashi just continues. ‘I have to admit, his first video shocked me! But I mean, who wouldn’t be shocked by such a handsome man not only challenging me, but ruining his own fantastic locks too!’ Shouta freezes, and he wonders if Hizashi notices. Handsome? He thinks Shouta is handsome? He must be joking. But Hizashi continues, loudly and happily, as he brushes Shouta’s hair and reaches for some bobby pins. ‘Doing my own Vodka Hair Challenge was the most fun I’d had in a long time! Though of course, no alcohol if you’re not old like me!’ Hizashi tuts at the camera, quickly pulling his hand away from Shouta’s hair to waggle it at the screen. ‘Anyway! I am just so so lucky to have this hilarious man here, and I can only hope to do justice to all of this gorgeous thick hair! I’m thinking a cute crown plait, and some red flower clips to keep it all in place, because viewers, it would be a CRIME to cover this gorgeous face!’ Shouta’s cheeks are burning. This is not what he expected. But, they’re live, he has to keep his cool, he can’t be dragged along at this loud idiot’s pace or he’ll have a meltdown there and then. So he drily says, ‘The only crime occurring here is the annihilation of my ear drums. You are WAY louder in person.’ Hizashi pauses his brush, and Shouta thinks ‘oh God no I fucked it all up’, before Hizashi is releasing the heartiest laugh Shouta’s ever heard. It’s as if the room moves with him, and Shouta wonders what he wouldn’t give to hear it again. He hopes nobody has picked up the pinkness of his own cheeks. Hizashi’s camera cant be THAT good. From there, Hizashi just talks to Shouta and occasionally the viewers as if it’s the most normal thing in the world, and Shouta quickly finds himself doing the same. Talking to Hizashi is surprisingly easy, and damn it all he’s actually laughing with the man over literally nothing. And then his hair is done. ‘Ta-da!’   Shouta stares at his reflection in the hand-mirror Hizashi hands him. He’s done a good job. A fantastic job. Shouta’s hair is sweeping up into a braid that crowns his head, little bits of hair artfully poking out, staying true to his naturally curly ‘do, and cute red flowers adorn the style - all different shapes and sizes. ‘A beautiful mess’ comes to mind, and Shouta can’t help but feel he doesn’t actually deserve to have hair so nice. Hizashi is silent for once, the camera still rolling, and he’s looking right at Shouta, for the first time looking vulnerable, before he quietly says, ‘Do... You like it?’ And Shouta bits his lip, lowering the mirror, before sighing and genuinely smiling, his expression warm. In that moment, he KNOWS he doesn’t want this man to leave his life, and it’s scary, and it’s illogical, and it’s thrilling. Hizashi’s face is the one that goes red this time, as Shouta speaks up in an undeniably admiring and genuine tone,  ‘It’s absolutely and utterly perfect, you wretched sunshine man.’

[kensboytoy]

Lovely Little Strips of Fabric

Title: Lovely Little Strips of Fabric Fandom: Beetlejuice (All forms of media) Pairings: Beetlejuice/Reader (Gender Neutral) Ratings: Explicit 

When you moved into what seemed to be the perfect house, you didn’t expect that it would come with one annoying green demon pestering to say your name. You hadn’t prepared for the unexpected roommate and tried your best to continue on your way like he wasn’t even there. Unfortunately, Beetlejuice had a penchant for being the loudest drama king you ever heard. Constantly whining and begging for you to just say his name already! All it would take is three simple times and he could zap into the world of the living as a permanent resident.

You hadn’t allowed him that honor yet. But the incessant whining was starting to get to you. As soon as he opened his mouth in the morning, he would inevitably shriek out:

“PUUUUUHLEASE, BABES! I’m witherin’ away! My spirit is fadin’, don’tcha see?”

And he would try and flicker his form to fade like the worst Pepper’s Ghost effect that you had ever seen.

You’d roll your eyes and continue on with your day.

Until one fateful day where Beetlejuice had begun to have his own patience wear thin. If you thought you were too good to set him free, he’d dig up some dirt.

[Continue Reading or Read on AO3!]

That was precisely what the devious demon had in mind to truly rustle your jimmies and knock you straight off your high horse and down onto your knees.

He chose a day where you were gone for an extended period of time and sprung into action. Floating lazily through the house, Beetlejuice looked around suspiciously to make sure you had really left the building. Once he was satisfied with the lack of you, he snuck into your bedroom and began his hunt.

The demon wasn’t exactly subtle.

Bedding was torn from your bed and tossed around like a storm had blown through and lifted everything up. He searched between your mattress and your headboard but found nothing save for a few socks that had managed to get lost in there for god knows how long.

Grumbling, he stormed over to your closet and did the same thing. Clothes were tossed carelessly into a pile while he ripped them from their hangers. He checked every pocket and every bag you had, taking all the loose change he had found and stuffed it in his suit pocket. But, still, nada.

“The hell?! Usually I find something juicy in a jacket. Like actual bills for one. No little black book… Nothing! This brat sure knows how t’ hide something secret.”

Pouting, he scanned the room for anything else that he could tear apart for blackmail.

And then his eyes fell directly to your dresser. A lightbulb sprung over his head and he promptly grabbed it to take a bite of as a light snack for his new workout of tearing your room apart. He flung open drawers and began to add to the growing clothes pile on the floor.

When he got to the underwear drawer, he nearly fainted. Such perfectly rolled up little pieces of fabric. They smelled like you. Beetlejuice smirked smugly to himself and picked up a pair, inhaling deeply into the crotch for any hint of lingering sex. Since he was a lustful demon, he could find satisfaction in anything dirty like this. And, he did indeed smell you.

The intoxicating aroma had sent him off his hinges and knocked the thought of blackmail out of his mind for the moment. There was a more pressing matter to attend to in the form of his own tenting pants. Beetlejuice’s eyes flickered down to stare at his raging erection and he bit back his bottom lip. He felt almost like a highschool boy on his first panty raid. However, this wasn’t his first and nor would it be his last. The poltergeist had too much fun pocketing underwear to jack off with. A nice cumrag for the collection.

Buuuuuut.

Seeing as how he had a little bit of free time at that exact moment, Beetlejuice contemplated taking care of his problems quickly and loudly. It had been so goddamn long since he had rubbed one out - he had been far too busy with concocting a deal with you to really focus on that. But you had driven him wild. Not just teasing him about setting him free but because he wanted that sweet little body to bounce up and down on his cock while you begged for forgiveness for teasing him so damn much. Beetlejuice wouldn’t be kind to you for choosing to blueball him.

One grimy hand went down his body and idly flung open the zipper of his pants. He groaned in relief as his cock popped free of its cloth prison. Thank Satan that he was always commando, Beetlejuice didn’t think he could handle anymore confinement.

“Well, hell-o there, lil’ buddy,” he murmured to himself. “Gotta nice present for ya.”

Beetlejuice covered his hand with the fabric of your underwear and promptly wrapped that hand around his cock. He groaned in delight, a shiver rolling down his spine. It had been too long.

Oh, he should have had your mouth doing this instead of his hand. You needed to be taught a lesson for teasing a demonic entity. And you would, in time. Beetlejuice would ensure that his breather would understand not to tempt fate so many times. You’d get more than you bargained for because of it.

Sighing in relief, Beetlejuice began to pump slowly. The creature loved to edge himself. Bring himself right to the brink and then hold off just long enough. Made the game more fun, even if he was a big horndog who needed to get laid proper. Beetlejuice was a healthy mix of a sadist and a masochist - it made his loads bigger when he shot ‘em off.

The poltergeist stood there and let the soft cotton of the fabric rub against his gross, unwashed cock. He contemplated pocketing this pair or shoving them back in there for you to find. If you wore them-

Beetlejuice stifled a moan by biting his knuckles harshly.

That thought was so utterly ghoulish. Having you wear cumstained underwear was such a big hit off his checklist of “Things that make Beetlejuice want to cream his pants” that it had almost sent him straight to the edge. No. He needed to enjoy this. After all the hell you put him through, he wanted to make sure that this was phase one of his revenge.

Rubbing his cock quicker now, he let his groans fill the air. It was like someone put some nails in a blender and let it loose. The walls around him shook steadily as his noises grew more and more. He moaned your name whorishly.

“Thaaaat’s it,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Makin’ Daddy wait like this… oh, just wait until I get my hands on ya-”

Cut off by a sharp moan, Beetlejuice decided that he would cum in your undies. Right on the crotch so you wouldn’t see it before slipping them on. Hopefully the wad would still be wet so you could feel what you did to him.

So, he let his body thrust wildly into his hand, fat balls swinging in the wind, full of cum to fulfill his fantasies. He grunted and groaned as he approached his orgasm.

And it hit like a goddamn truck.

Beetlejuice cried out so loudly as ropes of cum splashed into your underwear that he knew the hell he escaped from would feel it from here. His eyes popped out of his head for a moment as his jaw fell open. Your undies were thoroughly drenched in his spunk.

He took a moment to compose himself after such a delightful cum sesh before he neatly tucked away the underwear back into the drawer. Smirking to himself, he couldn’t wait until you wore those next. Then your sex would smell like him. Not only that, you would be so pent up and needy without knowing what was happening to you. Why, you’d be crawling around mewling like a horny little bitch in heat for someone to come take you.

You’d have to say his name then.

It would be delicious. Knocking you down a peg metaphorically and physically pegging you? That was a dream cum true!

The demon chuckled to himself, snapping his fingers like Mary fucking Poppins so that everything he had tore apart was properly in its place.

You wouldn’t expect a thing.

Beetlejuice slipped into the shadows and waited for his devious plot for revenge slowly begin to knock the dominoes down.

You would moan his name and set him free from this hell.

[ur-mom-kayn]

Loyalty Chapter 16: Family

Shen Pov

What did Zed mean by something not human? What could hide behind an unlocked door, please. Especially in one, compared to other, luxurious rooms. It fit absolutely nothing from front to back. Not to mention the fact that there was no sign of Kayn in the meeting earlier. He is Zeds everything. From this Shen could only conclude that either Kayn was the fallen soldier or prisoner. Somehow, Shen hoped for something else. He thought that the boy did Zed well. It would be a great pity if he died so young.

Curious as Shen was, he put his ear to the wall, trying to hear any sounds. The only thing he heard was a deep gasp. It sounded strained as if someone was doing sports. Slowly but surely he could not stand his own curiosity. Carefully and quietly, Shen pushed the door aside for a small crack. Like a toddler, he peered through the gap. On the floor in front of the four-poster bed, he recognized a well-trained man with a messy bun who was doing push-ups. Noticeable was the blue streak that hung down from the man. As Shen thought, Zed's old room is Kayn's current one. But what was the boy doing to lock him up? And why should Kayn not be human? Questions about questions and answers were right in front of him, but should he really ignore Zed's instructions and dare speak to Kayn?

"Shen ... what are you standing there so stupid on the doorframe? If you want something, say so." Torn from his thoughts, Shen recoiled slightly. Undeterred, Kayn continued training without being noticeable. "How did you know ...?" "That it is you? Was not that hard," Kayn paused and sat on the floor, leaning back against the bed. "For minutes, I can no longer sense auras, only yours. And well ... you are a balanced cucumber. There is no one else here. Which makes me wonder why?" Kayn caught sight of Shen and nodded to him. Shen accepted the invitation and entered the room that he had not seen in such a long time.

When Shen sat down beside him, he sensed that Kayn's aura was just as dark as Zed's. No, there is something else. Something far more spiteful. But Kayn looked normal and did not act as if he wanted to hit his throat. On the contrary. Kayn closed his eyes and tilted his head back and sighed audibly. "So Shen, what are you doing here and where are the others?" "They're at a funeral. Zed has assigned me to guard a prisoner. You're the prisoner?" "Looks like it." "But ... why? I thought you were Zed's adoptive son. Why is he treating you like this?" Kayn opened his eyes and hung his head. "Because I'm to blame for the death of our brother. I killed him. Zed only did his duty as a master. I'm not angry with him. I do not deserve it any other way. "

Shen was shocked. He did not expect that. It made no sense. Kayn was an icy killer, so he had met him, but he would do nothing to a comrade, right? "Why? Did you argue? Were you aware of the consequences?" "Unfortunately not. I was not aware of anything. I was not in control. It's a bit complicated." "Then try to explain." Shen turned to Kayn and looked him straight in the face. In his face, he recognized deep sorrow and disappointment. He apparently took it with him. Who would have thought that? "Okay, Shen. Does the term 'Darkin' tell you what?" "Sure. This is an ancient race or not? Are not these 5 legendary warriors who, for reasons I do not know, are now weapons and looking for a host?" "Eeeeeehmmm ... what? No idea what you're talking about, but that sounds right. In any case, Zed gave me the job of liberating such a weapon from the power of Noxians. Unfortunately, I lost my mind on the first contact with the weapon and killed my brother. It was only a fraction of a second. When it was too late, I was back in control, but Zed did not care. He ordered me to stay in my room. He sees me as a ticking time bomb. That's why you should hold your position here if I'm not in control. "

"Are you both crazy?! You can not just keep a darkin weapon and think it has no consequences. Kayn the weapon will destroy you and consume you. There will be nothing left of you. Believe me. No one has been able to overwhelm a Darkin. Not you either." Suddenly Kayn grinned. "Ah, really? And why am I standing here before you? As Kayn? Well Shen, then I'm probably the first. However, I have to say, you know a lot. How comes?" Kayn was right. He looked completely normal. Varus looked human, but you could still see the demon visually. "Simply Kayn. We have two champs in the league who are Darkins." "What ?! " Suddenly Shen heard a dark and gloomy voice from nowhere. Somehow, he became more unwell. The evil he had previously felt in Kayn's heart was now much more pronounced left of Kayn. "What was that?" "Well awake Rhaast?" Kayn turned his face to the left on the floor. "Yes, I am awake now. Now let's say the guy next to you. Which Darkins do you speak of? "

Shen did not understand anything anymore. He leaned in the direction of Kayn's gaze and paused for a moment. Beside Kayn was a huge scythe with a glowing red eye. The weapon reminded him a little bit of Aatrox. No doubt. That was one of the legendary Darkin weapons and Kayn really had one. "Kayn, that cannot be healthy. Everyone has been consumed or crumbled to dust." "Watch out, then." Kayn got up and reached for the weapon. With a lightness he swung the weapon back and forth. "Now tell me how I am not in control, please? I'm holding a darkin weapon and I'm still myself." "Impossible. That cannot be." "And how that works. The shadow helps me to keep my mind. He protects me from Rhaast. It doesn't work only if I am asleep. But when I'm awake, he can not give me a shit  "At first, Shen had to swallow hard. That was a very impressive performance by Kayn. He would never have believed him that.

"That means plainly, Zed has the power over the strongest weapon in the world?" Kayn laughed loudly and with an undertone that made one's hair stand on end. "Hahaha. If Zed accepted this weapon, yes. I'll serve him all my life, but he'll have to let me do that. But no, he locks me in." "Hello ?! Did you forget about me? I want to fucking know what the League is and what Darkins are there. And especially how these two are." The weapon did not sound pleased. His eye showed that even more precisely. Better he gives him his answers. "I did not forget you. The league is Zeds and my real job. The Fields of Justice are a place where proxy wars are waged without consequences. A Darkin named Varus primarily assumes the role of an ADC or Marksman. He is incredibly strong with his crystal bow. But you should know that. He consumed the bodies of two Ionian hunters several years ago. For him, a new body has formed over which he is the ruler. Rumor has it that he can still hear the two, but nothing more. Similar to both of you, except Kayn owns his own body. The other Darkin is different. He has found a worthy host and completely taken over him. His body is zero to that of a human. His name is Aatrox. "

"What brother Aatrox and Varus did it? And what about the others?" "I'm sorry. I do not know anymore. However, I have to say that it was irresponsible of Zed to give you this job. He knows exactly what Darkins are capable of. In my opinion, he shouldn't blame you, Kayn. You just executed your order." "It's my fault!" Kayn yelled angrily at him. He dropped Rhaast and lunged to his knees. Away was his self-confidence. He looked almost desperate. "I-I, I'm guilty." His voice trembled like crazy. "I ... I was weak ... M-master Zed is not to blame. Just me. I am a loser. I disappointed Master Zed. H-he sure hates me now ..." Shen realized that Kayn was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. He had to calm him down. He crawled over to Kayn and held him by his shoulders. Before that, he removed his mask so he could stand with him on a personal level.

"Kayn! Listen to me. Zed does not hate you. On the contrary. I rather believe that he loves you." "What makes you so sure? Why is he locking me up like an animal?" "Do not talk nonsense. You are in a luxury room. Do you even know what a special room this is?" Kayn looked up at Shen and shook his head. "This is Zed's old nursery. Did he never tell you that?" Suddenly the young acolyte looked wide-eyed. He apparently could not understand what he had just said. "Hm ... then I'll ask differently. Do you live here from the beginning or have you been moved to the room?" "I ... I woke up here then and did not leave. But why? Why does Master Zed put an insignificant Noxian child in his old bedroom?" "Because it was love at first sight. Kayn do you understand what I want to tell you? Zed knew from the beginning that you would be his chosen one. He knew that you were destined for true greatness. And he was right. You are the first person in the world who can hold a darkin weapon. You should be proud of yourself. I'm sure Zed secretly, too. Unfortunately, he has to fulfill his duties as a master. If he thinks you are a danger to your comrades, then you have to accept that. Please do not believe that Zed hates you. Because that's not true."

Shen's words helped and Kayn calmed down. "Kayn? Everything alright?" "I think so. I'm sorry for the outbreak earlier. I've been feeling a little bit upset lately, barely keeping my feelings under control. I miss Zed and I do not know if I'll be able to get away with it without him for the next few weeks." "Sure, you can do it. You do not see Zed for half a year sometimes. What do a couple of weeks do?" Kayn averted his eyes from Shen and looked back sadly. "That is something different. When he's in the league, I know he thinks of me and misses me. Now, on the other hand ... I cried at our last meeting. That's like breaking a taboo. Zed hates weakness. I think he hates me now. If not because of the death of Nakuri, then because I cried and shook my heart out." "Kayn ... maybe Zed is a heartless bastard, but I do not think he would judge you for it. You mean everything to him. You are far more family to him than I ever was. So do not believe such nonsense."

No matter how much Shen tried to calm him down, he believed that there would always be some doubt with him until he met Zed again. "Shen ... do you like to tell me stories from your childhood? Please tell me something about Zed that I do not know yet." "Sure." Shen leaned back against the bed, as they did at the beginning of their conversation. Unsolicited Kayn followed him. "Hm ... what should I tell you about your beloved Master. Zed used to look at others very often. He never really got in touch with others. His appearance made him stand out from the crowd. It is safe to say that the others were afraid of him. Everyone recognized this one dark side of him, which had developed in his teenage years. I did not care that time. I accepted him as my brother and rival. I never dreaded him. I did not need that either. We were always the same. Our fights were always a draw. I took it easy, but Zed was frustrated. For him, a draw was like a defeat. However, one had to say that in addition to the fighting we also played a lot together. We loved romping around the hallways and fooling around until my dad admonished us every time. After a talk about balance and tralalala(german blablabla), as Zed would say, we pulled ourselves together. Then it was usually back to work and out of childish fun, was again tough competition. Zed always accused me of how much Kusho liked me. That he would prefer me, although Zed it would be more valuable. It was absurd because my father loved us exactly as equals. Still, it was a thorn in Zed's mind when my father named me the heir. That was also the U-turn in Zed's thinking. He thought that if he was stronger Kusho would have changed his mind. I think you know the rest of the story. "

"Yes. Then comes the part with the chest and the ban. "

"Exactly. Be glad that Zed lets you live here. It shows once more that he believes in you. "

"No ... This shows that Zed is afraid that I would retaliate. But that's nonsense. I would never hurt Zed. Not him ..." "Because you love him," Shen interrupted. Kayn replied nothing. That was enough of an answer anyway. "I'm glad Zed found someone who really loves him." "Why? I thought you were mad at him. How can you be so easy and even keep small talk with me here? I'm not getting any more." Shen could understand his confusion. For someone to whom balance was a foreign word, no wonder. "Sure or not. Brother stays brother, no matter how stupid you look. Then I have an idiotic brother. I still like him somewhere anyway. Anyway, Zed, since our final fight, entrenched behind his mask and leaves no one to anyone. His heart was filled with darkness and loneliness until you showed up. In my opinion, you are Zed's only chance of bliss. You managed to make this cold man laugh again. He is very grateful for that. Believe me. And why I talk to you is also very simple. You look a bit desperate. You think Zed has lost interest in you. I want to make sure that it is not. In his eyes, you are the most wonderful person in the world. Please win for him the fight against the Darkin. I do not want to see Zed broken again."

"I will not lose this fight. Be sure. I will stay Kayn forever. Zed can rely on me. But do you know what my problem is? All these words from you. I only want to hear these wonderful words once from Zed's mouth. I wish he at least came to visit me with a shadow-double. But not even that is defended me. That hurts. I suffer unbelievable pain every night. My lifelong. Rhaast will not leave me alone, but I think if Zed were lying next to me, it would be a lot more bearable for me. If only he told me that he believes in me. That he relies on me. Damn it, Shen, I just want to feel his love once. I know that I did not deserve that. And I know that I can throw my wish away..."

Shen understood Kayn. Zed really was not human for expressions of love. But somehow he felt sorry for Kayn. He really spoke from the bottom of his heart. His feelings were genuine and not remotely played. Maybe he was wrong about Kayn. Often he put him before Zed as his future killer. As an uncontrollable Noxian monster, but he was not all that. He was just a kid who loved his father idolatrously. That was not fair. He had to talk to Zed today. "Do not give up Kayn. You've become a great man and I think Zed knows that, too. Just keep fighting for him, even if he's not coming at you." "Shen ... are you scared of me?" He had not adjusted to the question. It was also quite absurd. "Why are you asking such nonsense?" "Because I can not get rid of the feeling that you want to prevent me from becoming a Darkin. Are you scared that I'm going to strangle it?" "No!" He answered as if shot out of his pistol. "I believe in you, too. It's just ... you're dealing with something that's just unpredictable." "Sorry if I'm going to bother you. I am not what, but someone who. I'm Rhaast." "Pardon. I did not know that Darkins have a sex." "Me neither," Kayn agreed.

"You really can not be helped anymore. Besides Aatrox, Varus, and another brother, I also have a sister." "I'm sorry. If you never talk about yourself, then I can not know that either. How did you become a weapon? Do you like to enlighten us?" "Urghh ... I hate this story. Before there were even countries like Ionia and Noxus, I fought battles with my siblings. Nobody could harm us. We belong to a race that is immortal. That's why you could not just destroy us. On a very black day, the most powerful magicians joined forces and banished us in our own weapons. Do you know how bad it is to be held captive in your own weapon? I was a master with the scythe and now I am the scythe. And I hate it. When I get to see the descendants of those crappy magicians, I'm going to make short work of them." "Yeah nope. I like to kill them for you, but they'll be my hands on which you'll stick blood."

Shen sensed he was out of place here by now. That was a conversation among murderers. With revenge, he had nothing to do. Shen got up and went to the door. "Hey, where are you going?" Kayn asked him. "I will go back to my post. Before Zed gets me, I prefer to go out the door again. I'm sorry. I hope I could help you." "Yes, do that. Thanks, Uncle Shen." Finally, Kayn smiled at him before turning back to Rhaast and arguing with him.

[boo-yar]

Characters: Carina Lavellan (mine) and @awaari‘s Aban Pavus

Words: 2107 (seriously didn’t mean for it to be so long...)

Kiss prompt: 

“Is it bad I really want to kiss you right now?”

Over the frenzied noise of yelling, metal hitting metal and crackle of lightning, he heard it clear as day and Aban let out a sigh that was filled with amusement and exasperation.

“This isn’t exactly the best time you know...” He responded just as new bandits came charging around the corner towards them. “Maybe later.” The elven woman let out a laugh and she quickly twirled her staff, letting magic surge through her she threw it forward. A strip of ice formed on the ground and grew upwards into a spiked wall, causing the bandits to run into it and scream with pain. She noticed one had stepped onto it at the wrong moment and was impaled on top of the wall and crushed against the stone ceiling of the fortress ruins. Aban finished with the last of the two he had been fighting and they could catch their breath for a moment amid the slumped forms of their enemies.    

“Sorry, it’s not often we get to do this sort of thing together which means it’s not often I get to see you in that armour.” She craned her head back to throw him a wink before she stared down at the pools of blood merging into one glistening red carpet on the old stone floor. These well-organised bandits had attacked the farming village close to Carina’s current temporary home the night before. Homes and crops all but destroyed, animals slaughtered, men and women beaten and some killed. Carina had done her best to help treat the wounded during the day and plotted to deal with the bandits once night came. Aban was a welcome addition, arriving in the village to see the destruction for himself not long before joining Carina on her mission to rid the villagers of their menace. Not the most of romantic of reunions, she had to admit but she’d take it.

They had only made it up a couple floors of the structure but knew more bandits awaited them above. Carina lay her head back against the rough stone and calmed her breathing and racing heart. Adrenaline was coursing through her with the surging magic and she couldn’t let herself become careless from the false feeling of invincibility that mixture gave her. Things were going smoothly for them at the moment but this wasn’t over yet. Everything was far too quiet for her liking. Those remaining hadn’t come to help the others which could only mean they were preparing for their approach. She could feel it. At least Aban was here for extra support.

Slowly she opened her eyes to watch him clean his axe blades. Feeling her stare, his eyes met hers. Silently asking if she was okay and she gave him a reassuring smile. Pushing herself away from the wall she lightly nudged his side with her elbow when she approached and moved towards the closest staircase.

“You sure you don’t need another few minutes?” Aban asked softly, falling into step beside her, he watched her face carefully. He knew he well enough by this stage to spot when she was lying or not. Carina shook her head strongly.

“Thank you for your concern, but the sooner we finish this the better. If we take a longer rest, it just gives the rest of them more time to set traps.” Aban couldn’t argue with that and tightened his grip on his axes.  

They barely had a moment to react when they reached the top of the stairs. Two bandits were waiting from either side and swung their weapons. Cursing, Carina managed to duck out of the way of the war hammer that slammed loudly into the side of the stone wall where her head had previously been. Aban managed to block the sword of his attacker by crossing his axes in front of him. Gritting his teeth, he dug in his heels and pushed his attacker further into the corridor to fight on level ground. The sound of attacks and blocks rang out and echoed down the hall.

Carina remained crouched and watched the bandit in front of her reel back for another blow. Taking the opportunity, she turned her staff and lunged forward, letting the staff blade stab into the bandit’s exposed throat as she stood and stepped around him to pull the blade free. But two things happened at the same moment. Further down the corridor, another had been waiting for their opportunity. Carina didn’t see her until the arrow landed heavily into her shoulder and she couldn’t respond with an attack of her own because with the last of his strength, the man she had just attacked grabbed her wrist and brought her tumbling down the stone steps with him.

Over the sound of his own fight, Aban heard the sequential sounds; the wet gurgling of the fatally injured bandit, the arrow being released, cutting through the air, then the muffled thud of its impact, and finally the sound of two bodies falling hard down the stone steps. Feeling his stomach lurch, Aban knew not to turn his head from his opponent. But panic was growing with every second he couldn’t feel Carina’s presence fighting by his side or seeing some form of her magic sailing by from the corner of his eye.

“Carina?!” he shouted as he knocked the sword from his opponents hands and slammed the curved blade of his axe into the man’s side. The only response he received was a howl of pain from in front of him. As he ripped the axe from the falling body he spotted the female archer release another arrow sent his way.

With a yell, he blocked the attack and with expert precision threw one of his axes, watching it imbed itself in her body. Her face full of pained shock as she slumped over, eyes already dimmed before she hit the floor. Turning Aban moved to the staircase and hurried down, pausing for only a moment to sigh with relief at the sight of Carina shakily pushing herself up from the ground. Breathing shallowly through gritted teeth, she pressed her back against the wall and looked at the arrow before looking up at Aban. There was blood running down the side of her face.

He could see the pain shining in her eyes but he thanked the Maker and Creators that the fall hadn’t been worse. He watched her hold out her hand and he took it, helping her to her feet but he noticed how she swayed. About to suggest she stay and rest while he went on ahead, he stopped when a spark of lightning hit his nose startling him without causing any pain.

“Don’t even suggest it, Aban.” She warned him, her voice was shaky and weak but the fire in her eyes was as strong as ever. “It’ll take more than a little arrow and fall down a couple steps to stop me from fighting. There can’t be that many left.”

“Let’s hope so…” Aban muttered. As they slowly climbed up the steps he could see the shake in her hand that had retrieved her dropped staff and the sheen of sweat forming along her hairline. The idea of Carina continuing to fight in her state didn’t sit well with him at all but he knew if he left her and went on ahead, she would stubbornly follow. When he pulled his axe from the archer, Carina laughed softly and made a feeble attempt at swooning, declaring Aban ‘her hero’, at least she still had her sense of humour despite it all.

“We should just go!” the pair paused on their slowed journey down the corridors at the sound of a panicked voice coming from one of the rooms. “It’s just us left, Boss. It’s not worth it to stay and die like the others.”

“They can’t all be dead!” an angry, voice boomed in response. “Losing to a few farmers isn’t an option.”

“If they haven’t died, they’re close to it or fled when they saw how things were going. That’s the truth of it I swear.” The meeker voice answered. Carina didn’t know how to feel about some of the bandits escaping, they’d only regroup and repeat what they did to another innocent village. She did however feel some relief to know there seemed to be only two left.

Silently they began moving again but pain spiked through Carina’s shoulder and she gasped, her staff falling from her hand and clattered loudly on the ground. In seconds, the two remaining bandits burst into the hallway and they looked between the pair -covered mostly in the sprayed blood of the other bandits they fought along the way-in momentarily stunned silence.

“An ox-man and a knife-ear abomination….now it all makes a little more sense.” The deep voiced bandit snarled looking at them in disgust, pulling out two daggers. The second and more scared looking bandit shook his head, wanting no part in the fight. He took a few steps back before turning to flee but walked straight into the waiting knife in his Boss’ hand.  “I have no time for cowards.” the man spat.

During the exchange, Aban kept his eyes trained on the pair but kept a steadying hand on Carina’s waist who strangely didn’t seem eager to get her staff back for the final fight. He could hear her breathing becoming strained but he watched something light in the final bandit’s face and then glared when the man started to laugh.

“Did you get hit with one of them arrows too ox-man?” he jeered. “Would make this all easier if you did. Means I won’t have to lift a finger. Poison like that works nice and slow, would love to see you both begging to be killed after all you did tonight.” Poison? Aban glanced down at Carina and saw her skin draining of colour; her eyes were dim and unfocussed with agony but he could see she was staying awake through sheer willpower at this point.   

Slowly she nudged his side, telling him to hurry up. Carina pulled away and slid down to sit on the floor, muttering under her breath doing everything she could to stay awake and mentally fight the agonising fire that was searing through her blood and bones, trying to pull her into the deeps of unconsciousness. It felt as though her head was under water, all noise became distorted and not even her rapid heartbeat slamming in her ears sounded right. Faintly she could tell Aban was fighting but she couldn’t tell how much time had actually passed as she sat there. Was it only a second? An hour? It was impossible to tell. She was in so much pain. It only occurred to her that the world had shifted and she was on the floor and that she was screaming when her lungs protested and she began to cough. Blood and saliva splatted against the dusty floor that suddenly became distant and she felt weightless.

Aban had never heard her scream in such agony before and struggled to keep her from thrashing so much in his arms. He both sighed in relief and felt now worry set in when she suddenly slumped and could only whimper in his arms. Stepping over the two corpses, he entered the room they had come from and laid her on the unused desk. First he’d have to remove the arrow. He moved as quickly and as carefully as he could, making sure to keep his hands covered just in case the shaft also had poison on it. With it removed he used what little supplies he could to clean and cover the wound, knowing it would leave a scar. Next was finding an antidote. Racing back to the archer’s corpse he searched through her pockets, quiver and pouches sighing when he found a tiny labelled vial of liquid. Hurrying to Carina’s side he forced her to swallow the liquid. Now he had to wait.

It wasn’t until sunlight began to stream in through the window that he heard her groan and stir. Getting to his feet he moved to her side and watched her eyes slowly open. Blearily she looked around in pained confusion and finally she looked at him, her lips slowly spreading into her usual wicked smile.

“I know I don’t look my best but do you think I can get that kiss now?” Aban couldn’t help but give a tired laugh and leant down to appease her, pressing his lips gently against hers.