#his gestures are big and welcoming he's not afraid of stretching out his limbs

[canisalbus]

You've encouraged me to be much more expressive with the body launguage and general poses of my oc's. I love to draw them but was never fully satisfied; like something wasn't quite right with them. Turned out I needed to stop treating their bodies like stiff plastic toys and more like, well, actual animal bodies, which are WAY more dynamic than we realize.

I'm so delighted to hear that! I'm a big fan of expressive body language myself, sometimes you can tell so much about a character's personality and their current mood just by looking at how they occupy space and position themselves, often subconsciously.

Mammalian bodies can be surprisingly elastic and bendy, just like you said. (Personally I tend to think shoulders in particular are way more mobile than you'd initially believe, for example when you stretch your arm up it's not just your arm that moves, your clavicles, shoulder blades and all the muscles connected to them shift a little bit too and that can alter the shape of your upper torso significantly).

[peakyltd]

New Endings - Part 7

A/N: We're at part 7 already, who would've thought that? Things are changing in this chapter, it's for you to find out if it's good or bad 👀As usual I want to thank every single one of you for reading and reblogging, it means a lot!

Warnings: Swearing, verbally fighting, mentions of weapons, mentions of injuries.

Words: 4.2K

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS PART

An orange glow illuminated the small living room of the old Watery Lane home. The flames in the fireplace clawed at the just added logs, trying to withdraw the energy to fuel the heat source. John was sat on the sofa, the warmth and the after effects of the multiple whiskeys he drunk had made him fall into a slumber after he had lit the fireplace.

The wooden stairs were creaking while (Y/N) carefully made her way downstairs, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, covering her nightgown. She was finally able to warm up after walking around the whole day in her soaked clothes. John offered to stay while she took a quick bath. The water welcomed her, embracing her body into a warm hug she desperately needed. It was not until much later, that she realized John was still waiting for her and she really needed to get out.

As she turned around the corner she saw the flames reflecting shadows on the wall. The younger Shelby was slumped down on the sofa, his cap had fallen on the floor while his body was in a state of deep rest. A shaky sigh escaped her lips while she held the gun in her hand, carefully covered with the blanket.

It could be easier like this. Quick and painless, he wouldn’t notice and she didn’t have to face him. He would understand… right? She gulped as she made her way in front him and took another look at his face. He seemed so peaceful, clueless of what his future would hold while she kept his fate in her hands.

She thought about the words he told her not too long ago. About his wife, his kids, the big grin on his face.

They would never forgive her.

But who said it was her? Nobody would expect her here, she left after all. Her thoughts wandered to David and the threats he made. The gun pressed against her head, the bullets engraved with the Shelby names. He said it, John had to be first, it would be easy.

She stood there, frozen while she felt her chest growing tight, making it hard to breath.

Memories of her past with the Shelby’s replaced the ones that were haunting. The good times and happy memories, remembering her of how much each and every family member had made an impact on her life.

This wasn’t her, there was no way she would be able to pull the trigger.

A quiet sob left her mouth as she felt hot tears running down her face. She quickly tucked the gun under her gown as she saw John stir at the sudden sound she made. She wiped her tears and cleared her throat before gently grabbing John’s shoulder and shaking him softly. “John?” She called out his name. “John, wake up.”

A soft groan left his mouth as he stretched his limbs, finding the woman he had been waiting for in front of him. “Took you long enough, eh?” He slurred, a soft chuckle left his mouth. “Yes, I’m sorry. I forgot the time.” She apologized while he sat up straight, fetching his cap from the floor. “Is alright.” He answered while he got up. “I hung your coat there, so it could dry.” He pointed at the chair close to the fireplace her coat hanging neatly over the back. She felt the tears prick in her eyes by his thoughtful gesture.

“Thank you so much, I appreciate it.” She softly thanked him while she quickly blinked to chase her tears away. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning, yeah?” He put the cap back on his head and walked over to the dinner table to get his coat. “Oh and (Y/N)?” He put his coat on before turning to face her.

“Yeah?” She answered carefully, afraid of what he was going to say next. “Don’t go back to him. We’ll figure something out. You don’t deserve that.” He said, pointing out the bruises on her face. She just nodded, feeling too guilty to speak up. “See you then.” He called out before leaving to house. “Bye.” Her soft voice was cut off by the wooden door falling into it’s lock.

The feeling of the build up anxiety and stress overwhelmed her once he left. She took the gun from her gown and put it on the cabinet between the pictures and decorations. Her hands hid her face once she took her place on the sofa as she gave in to release of her emotions.

Tears streamed down her cheeks and sobs filled the room. She gasped between cries, barely able to catch the breath needed for the next, question after question ran trough her head. Was she really going to do it? Did she want it as much as David wanted it? What if he finds out? What if David finds out? Was her life worth more than John’s? What did she had to do now?

The fire had died down in the meantime, taking it’s warmth with it. It could’ve been minutes or hours but the lack of rest, the stress and the release of it all made her more and more aware of her worn out body and mind, accepting that she needed to give it the break that was so desperately needed. Her exhausted legs dragged her up on the stairs to the reach the bed where sleep quickly catched up on her.

The chirping of birds filled the small bedroom, the little animals let out their happy sounding melodies that were matching the change of weather. Dark clouds and rain had made room for a clear blue sky and softly glowing sun.

Bed sheets rustled as she slowly woke up from dull sounds coming from downstairs. Her body tensed until the moment John’s words from the night before wandered trough her head. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning, yeah?” She was at Watery Lane, not at home. She was safe. A relieved sigh fell of her lips before she got up.

Once she had changed, she took her time to brush her hair while she listened to noise that were coming from the streets. The thin windows didn’t block much of it but she didn’t mind as it reminded her of the many days these sounds had filled her room. Back then she envied them, plans of moving away growing day by day but once she had left these streets she realized she left a part of herself.

While she finished, she took one more look in the dusty mirror. Her tired eyes were red and sore, dark circles had formed underneath them from the lack of rest. The swelling on the side of her wasn’t as bad anymore but the bruise seemed darker than the day before. Hopefully it would take just a few more days for it to disappear.

Her hand held onto the railing as she walked down the stairs, ready to thank John again for letting her stay and trying to forget about the moment of insanity she had the night before. “John?” She called out before she turned the corner.

She froze once she saw a different man sitting at the dining table. His eyes immediately focused on her, his gaze full of anger but besides that his face didn’t give away any sign of emotion.

“Tommy…”

Her heart dropped at the sight of the gun in front of him. Her gun. The bullets were neatly lined up next to it. Meant to be their bullets.

“Listen, I can explain…” She nervously blurted out as she came closer. If she had been only more careful. “I think this explains enough.” His low, toneless voice cut her off. “No… no it doesn’t. It’s not what it looks like.” She desperately defended herself.

“So you want to tell me that this is not a bullet with Arthur’s name on it?” He questioned fiercely while holding the bullet between his fingers. As he continued he put it down and lifted another one. “Or this one? This one does not have Polly’s name on it? It means it’s not meant for her?”

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she listened to him. “I know what you’re thinking but I didn’t want this Tom, I swear.” Her voice came out desperate, not knowing how she could get herself out of this. “Then why is it here, eh?” He raised his voice, feeling the adrenaline spreading trough his body at her words. “You’ve been planning this, don’t you?”

She shook her head. “No, he forced me. He wanted me to do it becaus-“ Tommy slammed his hand on the table. “Because you’ve been working with the fucking Changretta’s. You came here for us!” His voice boomed trough the small space as he got up, pointing at her. “You knew, you fucking knew.”

A few tears escaped, chasing each other down her cheeks. “I did not. David lured me into it.” Her body grew tense, afraid of the unknown things that would happen after this. “He promised me a house and a happy life away from London once he finished business, that’s why I came here. I didn’t know until much later it was only a bait to get to you.” She softly sobbed. “I had no choice.”

The feeling of betrayal fueled Tommy’s anger even more while Polly’s words repeated in his head. “She’s in on it too, she’s the one that knows everything about you after all.” Not only (Y/N) betrayed him, he betrayed himself. How could he so easily trust her again after she had been out of his life for so long.

But how could he not, it was (Y/N) after all.

“When.” He spat, his eyes narrowing at her. “He told me the day I saw you for the first time in years at the hotel.” She confessed softly while she looked down at her hands. He kept his eyes on her, his gaze lingering a little longer on her bruised face.

“After you helped me, I-I came across him again when I went with Arthur to the market. He threatened me to hurt everyone I love if I didn’t kill you.” Her teary eyes held his cold blue ones, rage beat the pity and took over as she made another confession. “But I can’t and I would never because I-I…” She stopped herself, the pressure of his intimidating gaze becoming too much.

His thoughts brought him back to the night she had spend at Arrow House, where things seemed going to right way until she suddenly announced that she was going back to him. "Were you planning on doing it in my own house?" He snarled, her eyes widening at his question. "What? No, absolutely not." She denied. "I wasn't planning anything, I swear Tommy."

"But you went back." He stated angrily. "To protect you." A deep shaky sigh escaped her lips. "But when I went back to David he threatened to kill me while he put his gun against my head. He wanted me to go after everyone else..." Her eyes fell on the ammunition on the table. "He wanted me to start with John and end with…” Her eyes found his again. "You."

He kept quiet for a moment as he looked at her, not recognizing anything anymore from the woman in front of him. Once bold and confident, now looking around like danger would could come out of any corner.

"Did you trick John into bringing you here?" She shook her head again at his question. "I wanted to see if the Garrison was still open but he was closing it, he offered it himself. It was coincidence." She explained as she felt herself become smaller and smaller in his presence. "Coincidence." He repeated bitterly, not believing a word she was saying. "Yes." Her voice sounded determined but came out as a whisper.

"He was an easy target, fucking kaylied when he left the pub." Tommy stepped closer. "Told me he even fell asleep, must've been a great moment to take advantage of that." He stared her down while she took a step back. "What did you do?"

She kept quiet.

"That fucking gun didn't put itself on the cabinet, eh?" Her trembling hands held onto each other as she took another step back, her back hitting the wall. "Did you try to do it?" Tommy's voice tinged with menace made her quiver. When he got no answer he repeated himself louder. "Did you?"

Her guilty eyes stared right into his fierce ones while she kept quiet, the betrayal she had committed giving her no words to speak out but giving him everything he needed to know. She watched him in silence as he shook his head angrily. "For fucks sake!"

The loud clattering sound of metal hitting the floor made her squeeze her eyes shut for a moment while he wiped everything from the table with his arm. He ran both his hand over his face as he came to a realization of what had just happened.

"I'm not a murderer."

Her tight and cracking voice made him turn around. "What did you say?" He barked at her. "I'm not a murderer." She repeated, tears had not stopped streaming down her already wettened cheeks. "I would never hurt him or anyone else."

"You fucking tried (Y/N)! I bet you pointed that fucking gun!" His voice boomed trough the house. "I did not." She cried. "I held it but it was a moment of panic. I could never and I-I didn't want to."

"I don't want to hear it. Don't even try to make up your shit excuses! I want you out, go fucking back to him and tell him that we'll be coming for them. Every single one of them, even you." He spat, the venom dripping from his words while he took in her frame. She swallowed harshly at his words.

"Then do it now." The words fell easily from her lips.

"I'd rather have you pull the trigger on me than having to wait for my fate when I go back."

His eyes ran over her face, her words stopping him from continuing his rage. Her eyes showed him the desperation and fear that had been a consistent factor within in her for months. "Just make it quick." She begged softly, accepting that this would be her best option, knowing that if she went back to David it would be pure torture.

Her request made his heart drop, never expecting to hear her say that. He gulped and shook his head. "Leave, (Y/N)." His voice was calmer and softer than before. "I-."

"You have to." He finished before turning his back to her, grabbing his coat and putting his cap on his head. "I'm so sorry." The soft apology made him turn his head, her tear stained, bruised face showed that she meant it. "For everything."

He nodded his head slightly before he turned around. "Me too."

Her fingers slid over the locks of her suitcase once she had closed it. The cold feeling of them against her skin grounded her for a moment before she got up from the bed.

She made her way down the creaking stairs once more, when she entered the small living room to fetch her coat, she was met with the Shelby matriarch. Her brown eyes giving her a disapproving look. “I was right all along although I never expected this from you.” Polly sneered.

“I know.” She simply stated, too tired to explain it once more. “Why didn’t you tell the truth?” She wondered as she lit a cigarette. “To avoid a situation like this, I guess.” She sighed as she walked past her to get her coat that was still hanging in front of the fireplace. “I don’t know what Tommy told you but I swear that I didn’t want to hurt any of you.”

“Tommy didn’t tell me anything, I heard everything.” Polly answered before she put the cigarette to her lips. (Y/N) turned around to face her. “And so did John and Arthur.” She added after she let the smoke escape from her mouth. “What do you mean?”

Polly pointed at the doors that led to the betting shop. “We came here after John told us that he’d let you stay here but Thomas beat us to it.” She explained. “We wanted to talk, offer you help but that was until he found a weapon.”

The younger woman nodded slowly in response, her eyes focused on the floor, unable to make eye contact. “You don’t have to worry, I’ll leave like he asked me to.”

She draped the coat over her shoulders before switching her suitcase to her other hand. “The thing is that I do worry.” Polly spoke up. “You’re not angry at me?” (Y/N) looked up, a look of discomfort on her face.

“Oh, I am. I knew there was something with you the moment you set a foot in this house.” Her dark brown eyes staring right at her. “But like I said, I heard everything. Including the things you said.”

The grip of her hands on the handles of her suitcase tightened. “We might be able to help you.” The older woman offered. "But you have to do something for us first."

She shook her head. “Tommy wouldn’t accept it. It’s better if I leave.”

“And go where?” Polly asked, the question leaving her with a loss at words. “Well?” (Y/N) shrugged. “I don’t know.”

"We'll help you, if you help us. But if this turns out to be one of your games, I'll come for you myself." Polly warned. “So we got a deal?”

She held Polly’s gaze. “What do you want me to do?”

"It's not going to happen Pol. We're not doing it." Tommy said sternly as he took a drag from his cigarette. "Oh we are doing it." She shot back. "She's can easily infiltrate their plans without being suspicious and give us everything we need to be a step ahead of them."

The Shelby's had gathered into Tommy's home office at request of Polly who shared her plans with her nephews and niece.

"Who says she's not lying again, eh? She might put up a whole facade to do the exact opposite and work against us." He refuted bitterly. "If she dares to betray us again, I promised her that I'd come after her myself." She answered. "But I don't think she would. Not after I heard the things she said."

Tommy's eyebrows furrowed while he looked at her with a withering stare. "Do you hear yourself talking?" He pointed his burning cigarette towards his aunt. "You told me how she was fucking bad news, that we should stay away and now it turned out you were right, you want to fucking help her?!" He fumed at her.

"Don't you dare to raise your bloody voice at me like that." Polly yelled back. "Have you seen the state of her? Did you listen to what she said? The woman practically begged you to end it so she didn't have to go back home."

Tommy shook his head. "Lies Pol, all damn lies." Polly slammed her hand on his wooden desk. "Those bruises are not lies, you've seen them yourself!"

The sudden burst out of Polly's anger made everyone in the room remain silent.

"I'm out." John broke the silence, bringing Tommy back from his thoughts. "How the fuck am I supposed to trust her knowing that if she didn't change her mind, I'd be fuckin' dead."

Tommy nodded while he took another drag of his cigarette before blowing the smoke out of his nose, redirecting his attention back to Polly. "Hope you didn't forget about that."

She narrowed her eyes, her jaw tensing. "Don't act like I'm fucking stupid Thomas!" She stood up as she yelled at him. "If any of you have a better plan then I want to hear it now." She hissed as she looked around the office, which stayed awfully quiet.

"I think we should do it." Ada began. "I'm not too sure about (Y/N) but I trust Pol."

"Ada, are you fuckin' mental?!" John bellowed as he stood up angrily, the build up tension coming to an outburst. "We're not going to stage my death just because Tommy fucked up once again!" He took his coat and walked towards to the door to leave the office. "John!" Tommy's roared out his brother's name. "Come back here, now!"

The younger Shelby turned around, his fists clenched by his side. "It's all about you again! If you didn't bring her back into your fuckin' life, ours would've been great!" He shouted back at his brother who stood up from his chair, one hand leaning on his desk while the other pointed at John. "You brought her there last evening, remember?!" He thundered. "Because she looked like a fuckin' mess, you know who's fault that is? It's all yours!"

"John c'mon." Arthur walked over to him. "Calm down a bit, eh John boy?" He put his hand on his shoulder to calm him but it only made it worse. "Fuck off!" He shrugged his hand off and set a step closer. "You rather have my own fuckin' family believe that I'm dead so she can safely gather the information all you selfish bastards want. Don't you think about my wife and kids, eh? Esme is going to be devastated!"

"Esme will be bloody devastated if you really end up six feet under and you won't come back!" Tommy's answered harshly.

"What made you change your mind, eh? Going from we're not doing it Pol to agreeing with her within a minute. Fuckin' pillock!" John kicked hard against the wooden cabinet, causing multiple photoframes to shatter down on the floor.

"Your damn wife and kids will understand, now shut the fuck up and sit back down!" Tommy pointed at the chair John was sitting in before as he gave him a cold glare.

"They will understand that you made me pretend that I'm dead?! You think they'll happily welcome me back when they find out it's not true?!" He ran his hand roughly trough his hair while fire blazed trough his eyes. "This proves again what kind of shit brother you are. Just as much as you are a shit husband and father. No wonder your wife got sh-"

"ENOUGH!" Polly's voice roared, ending the fight between both of them. Arthur was stood in front of John who's breath was growing thin and ragged while he stood ready to put up a fight.

"I fucking dare you to repeat that again." Tommy's low voice spoke up.

"No wonder your wi-" John started but got cut off by Arthur. "Enough John! Enough." He warned as he glared at him. "We're going to continue Pol's plan."

"You bloody bastard!" John's rage continued as he glared at Arthur. "It's the best thing we can do, John." Ada added. "I know it's going to be hard for you and the family but if we don't do it, things will end up much worse." Arthur nodded. "Ada's right brother."

He shook his head as he glared at both of them "Fuckin' mental, each and everyone of you." He clenched his jaw. "Especially you." He shifted his gaze to Tommy. "If this backfires, I'm going to be the first one who finds her and you'll fuckin' regret it." He turned around and left the office, slamming the door harshly behind him.

A cold gush of wind crawled over the floor when Polly entered the house, finding (Y/N) at the kitchen table. "How did it go?" She asked the older woman hopefully before getting up to get her a cup of tea. Polly hung her coat over the chair before she sat down.

"We're doing it."

A soft gasp fell from (Y/N)'s lips. "Really?" She asked softly as she put the cup on the table in front of her before sitting back down. "Really." She confirmed. "Oh god." She stared down at her own cup in front of her, the tension making the muscles in her body stiffen. "But you have a lot to prove to all of us."

Her eyes met Polly's brown ones. "I know." She acknowledged quietly. "Especially to Tommy and maybe even more to John." Polly added, lifting her chin slightly and looking down at her, showing her that she meant it.

"He must've been very angry with me."

"You could put it that way, yes." She nodded, downplaying his rage. The younger woman gulped at her words, knowing how John could be. "I'll do everything to show everyone of you that I'm not lying, I promise."

"I think that's a start." Polly answered as she took a sip of her tea. "And I also think it's a good start to tell them that yourself."

"What do you mean?" Her eyes widened, palms becoming sweaty. "Family meeting, tomorrow morning. And you will be there."

Taglist: @cyphah @kissforvoid @graciesbow @raincoffeeandfandoms / @justrainandcoffee

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[of-tatooine]

mercy. | chapter 16 - whiskey

the whiskey sunrise brought pleasant surprises with it.

Amber.

Ever so prevalent in nature, in soil, in earth. In every single crevice of the trees that surrounded God's green earth, the shades of fur on the animals you hunted for food and for survival, the dried out and dead leaves. The dirt that slipped through the cracks and through your fingers, the clay and rust you had grown up on.

The color of his worn-out irises, speckled with the most beautiful green forest - the reassuring hazel, the burnt amber, the deep brown that gleamed just a bit lighter with each passing day into the spring. With each step taken with purpose, getting closer to the goal that clouded over his racing mind.

The shade of the bitter yet oh-so-sweet liquor gently swaying inside the glass bottle, of the gentle heat in your throat. The reflections against the transparent confinement, sometimes a neat crystal and most of the times a scratched bar glass. The ease in the limbs with each consecutive sip of fire emanating throughout the skin, the leftover taste of honey in the mouth, the tremor in your fingers after a bit too much.

The unknown taste of something other than the hard liquor. The long stares and the textures under your fingertips long unexplored. The desolate but warm sense of belonging, of feeling protected. The gruffness, rumbles and grunts piercing through the air. All of which combined themselves in a strange formula and seemed to come to life right in front of you, in almost a lazy yet enticing haze of foregin origin as a solid frame walked across the room.

"You sure you don't wanna save that for later?"

A breathy chuckle emanated from the man upon the light remark and you could just tell he was strongly considering the suggestion for a second. His voice soft, unlike the rougher than gravel tone he usually sported - one of the many gestures and reactions that only recently began to resurface from their hiding spot deep within.

Was it upon his will? He was not the type of person to just let go of his guard or let people see another side of the medallion, no matter what the circumstance was. And yet there he was, breathing and living in the same room a couple feet away from you with nothing but friendliness for a change in the most part of the journey so far, some sort of fondness creasing his features - you reckoned there was no way it could have been.

All that pondering and it did not matter one single bit as he took slow but steady steps towards the chair you were sprawled over near the table. Time seemed to slow down in a lazy pace, not racing for the clock handle to advance just a couple of ticks more. The tattered blinds rustled in the faint spring breeze, the occasional gusts of wind through the cracked windows were cold but had a certain promising warmth to them. Leftover afternoon sunlight filled in the spare room of the rundown house in a calm shade of yellow, tinting everything the rays touched with a sparkly hue.

Including him.

The hollows in his structured jawline accentuated by his peppered beard, the gentle wrinkles of age and hardship lingering on his tan skin with the hints of the smile, stretching his lips. A couple buttons undone on his navy flannel, the slight nonchalant show of his chest. The rips and frays, the dried out blood - his and others - on his shirt ever so evident under the unforgiving light. Hands so scarred yet strong, bulging veins trailing up to mark a path of scratches, old and new scars and scabs.

The look in his eyes as the light hit them, lowering himself down to a gentle kneel right in front of you.

“Believe me, I would,” he spoke, the animosity he used to have against strangers once upon a time long gone.

He was not talking to just a mere stranger anymore. 

“ - but you might need it more than I do.”

To that, your lips let out a chuckle, defying your quickening heartbeat that at this rate, would burst out of your ribcage due to the sheer proximity of the man. Each movement, small hints of his body language - the relaxed jaw in contrast to his usual clench, the colorful irises with specks of hopeful light, the long fingers which had done too much harm instead working gently to do good. 

"I'm guessin' the stitches are your handiwork," he softly said, a tone of gratitude in his smooth drawl to accompany the brief twinkles of light in his eyes, looking into yours levelly with some sort of hesitation hidden beneath. Upon your nod, an appreciative smile would curl up the corner of his mouth.

"They hold tight."

By that time, you had seen more than enough to know that this was his subtly unique way of voicing his thanks, through many ways than one. A calloused hand worked to spill just the right amount of alcohol to soak the rag, motions so gentle and soothing that you would not dream were coming from a man who could bash someone's skull with enough force to crack in half at any given moment. 

There was a price you had to pay to see the gentle side of him, the good heart he carried slipping through the cracks of his broken soul and equally damaged ribs. A price that almost took your life and cracked your bones, brought you to the edge of death looming with arms wide open, battered and bruised your skin with scars so deep they touched your soul. All for one purpose, for the one who mattered the most, that brought you two together in such a bond that only people who have been through hell and back could form.

All to keep that little girl resting in the other room out of harm’s way. 

“Was a nurse back then,” you would explain with a shrug, an easy smile on your reminiscent face as you observed each movement he made, taking note of his soft nod upon your confession, as if that had confirmed the ideas running rampant in his head. 

“Not sure what I am now.”

His head would softly rise, looking into your eyes as the rag hovered just a tad lower from the wound, the small droplets of bitter liquid slipping down the cut fabric onto the floor, clearing a lazy trail of dried blood over bare skin along. 

“Must have been a damn good one at that,” he hinted with that damn drawl, his head tilting a bit to the side as if awaiting a reaction, reading through your expression of gratitude as your smile only grew more nostalgic.

It had taken you a while to clean the other wounds and properly seal off the gape in your thigh that dead bastard had opened up just when it had been healing - a rag in between your teeth keeping your screams to yourself as a hot suture needle pierced through your skin yet again. Him walking into the room with an unusually calm gait in his step after putting Ellie to sleep, heading straight towards helping you was a surprise that was most certainly welcome.

Yet before your thoughts could comprehend what he was doing, your body unfortunately did - stinging rays of pain jolted all over your skin, a loud hiss escaping your lips as the alcohol made gentle contact near the newly forming scar tissue. It was for the best, hell, you would have done this to yourself to prevent yet another damn infection if he had not been around.

While his fingers that pressed the gauze ever so gently to clean the wound, the other set slowly yet gingerly found their way to your other thigh covered with fabric in a ghost of a touch - one that seemed to calm you down, the vice-like grip of your hands around the edges of the wooden chair relaxing, chest rising up and down with the deep breaths of anticipation of pain. 

“Sorry,” he would murmur knowing that his actions involuntarily gave you discomfort, under his own hands that hurt too much. 

A soft shake of your head was your response, the hint of a smile along your lips, pushing past all of that twitching pain as you encouraged him to go on - not that he would need it. The moment he wrapped his arm around you so tight to get you out of that burning hell mere hours ago should have told you he did not need the telling to help you survive.

As long as you were with him, he had promised himself that he would do anything to make sure you did. 

That included honoring the other pact he had made with himself. 

“Listen, I ain’t been the friendliest man to be around,” his gaze now shifted to concentrate on the wound as if he was trying to gather himself together, brows furrowed with some sort of newfound determination. His shoulders under the flannel moving along with his arms that worked to clear the wound, jaw clenching at your every other little hiss or groan. The words flowed out of his parted lips under that salt and pepper beard, in a husk that only sentences left unspoken for too long could muster. 

And all you could do, as the pain subsided a little more with each gentle touch, all you found yourself wanting to do was to hear more of what he had to say - the most genuine you had gotten out of the man and he was not the type to talk.

“I regretted it at first, when I took you out of that building.” 

A small frown crawled on your lips as he put the bloody gauze away, picking up a wet rag and a big bandage whose adhesives surprisingly had not worn out too much after all these years.

“And then, just when things start goin’ right… your history caught up.”

And then, upon the insinuation of your old faction, your heart began thudding even more in your chest in anticipation of what was to come. Would he hurt you? Was this all a ploy to get you talking, or even worse? His voice had been way too gentle for someone who was plotting on ripping your skin apart, his touch way too comforting. 

The mere thought of it made you uneasy as your body tensed under his fingertips, jaw clenching as you clutched onto the chair. Noticing the subtle change of motion as he cleaned the residual blood, he would tilt his head up with such an angle that accentuated the high cheekbones and the light in his eyes that told you to not be afraid.

He was right there.

“But seeing the way you looked after her, after me when you had no obligation to… patching us up and protecting us.”

An almost foreign, long forgotten sensation then decided to visit you - emotions, coating your eyes in a glassy layer and your mouth curl up in the saddest of reflections. His eyes, an amalgam of dark forests of greenery and gold specks of determination. Focused in yours and yours only, staring into your soul as if he saw right through you.

“If the Good Lord gave me another chance -  I would do it all over again.”

And it made your heart stop, skip a beat, then frantically pulse beneath the rib cage.

After all this time making it out of the gutter alone, escaping the one community that gave you life. Shooting first and never asking questions. Torturing and being tortured. All alone, without a single soul that cared about you just an ounce. 

It was a mystery whatever that meant during the goddamn apocalypse but there was one truth evident in front of your eyes.

He cared. Maybe more than he should have been. More than he needed to, for his sake. 

All the way back in that crumbling building with the infected - even when he did not know it. He cared every time you would stumble, hold onto the trees or railings for support. When your hands held Ellie’s to help her down the hills, the same ones caressing his forehead in long-gone whispered words and wishes, the ones stitching his wounds. When he had found you, scarred beyond recognition but alive nonetheless, clutching onto the little girl that gave him life. 

Measuring your reaction, he swallowed as what he saw gave him the strength to continue.

“I was thinkin’…  once this is all over, for good this time,” Joel started with his drawl, his deep voice a hopeful one, each word slipping out slowly like fingertips gliding on velvet as his hands slowly finished wrapping the clean-enough bandage around your thigh securely.

“…if you would want to come back to Tommy’s with us.”

In the haze of the leftover heat of the sunset coating the room with orange reflections coupled with the small course of adrenaline running through your veins, you found yourself leaning in just a little towards the man kneeling beside your seat, looking at him incredulously - subconsciously, maybe, to make sure you heard him correctly. 

A measure set forth by your survival instinct when you heard things that were just too good to be true in this forsaken shell of a world. Something inside told you that you did not need any such measures when you were with him. 

Not anymore. Not after all that you have been through.

Words were not needed as your grateful, unbelieving yet bittersweet expression said it all. A sigh of long-awaited relief slipped past your lips. A soft nod followed your smile, watery eyes relieving you from the security of all of those walls you had built. The light in your eyes glowed a bit brighter with the gentle smile he had under that beard, the forests in his eyes blooming with the greenest of greens and the everlasting gold.

They reminded you of home. Of somewhere far away yet right there in front of you. Of somewhere warm and safe, with memories to be made. 

His hand would reach up tentatively, the backs of his fingers brushing against your cheek as you find yourself leaning into the gesture, the softest of touches. A strand of stray hair is tucked behind your ear as his calloused palm placed itself on your cheek in a warm embrace. A feather light touch as if he was afraid of breaking you.

Eyes locked, you could not see the usually violent storms raging within his gaze. Instead, the sun was shining - a source of light so bright that the worries, the pain were silenced. It reflected off of yours, this contagious energy that heated up the air and made your head lean just a bit closer to his, leveled due to the height difference - his breathing mixing in with yours as his chest heaved to match your heart trying to escape from the confinements of his flannel covering you.

Then came a stare down your lips which felt like hours, contemplating, admiring, thinking. As if he had been pondering this moment for a long while, of crossing that one bridge. Tilting his head further in. It made your lashes flutter in the sheer heat of it all, brain completely shut off as all you could think of at the moment was right in front of you, mere inches away.

“Joel - ”

The intoxicating mix of whiskey, leather and pine left momentarily along with the warmth on your cheek upon the knock at the door, rattling your reality with a soft gasp. 

His head whipped to the wooden door - the rest of his body frozen as his hand instinctively reached back for his revolver and yours, in turn, reached to hold onto him. The newly awakened survival instinct subsided just as it came upon seeing a yawning redhead with bright, green eyes that lit up the entire room, staring at just how close you and him were situated and smiling to herself.

“Uh, hey, guys - I’m kinda starving.”

The moment your eyes met his again, this time, it was with a chuckle and a shake of the head, his genuine laugh that warmed your heart in the most unexpected way making his shoulders dip slightly. 

They were your home. 

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

He’s Home

Part 2

Poe Dameron x Reader

No warnings, except I might do a part three 🤷🏻‍♀️

Everything was slow. Too slow. You barged into people not even offering an apology as they told you to watch it, you tripped over crates of supplies slipping the contents across the floor but you didn’t care.

He was home!

It felt like it took you a lifetime to cross from one side of the base to the other, your limbs dragged the closer you got, your heart pounding as you imagined seeing his smiling face. Finally you placed a hand on the double doors of the medbay for someone to grab your wrist and stop you.

‘You can’t go in there.’ You turned your scathing gaze onto the General, white hot frustration blazed through you but she held up a hand to stem the flow of angry words you wanted to direct her way. ‘That’s an order Captain.’ Your cheeks puffed out as you felt that burning pressure behind your eyes.

‘I just want to see him.’ Your voice was quieter than you thought it would be, she nodded in understanding as she tugged you away from the door.

‘Come on, I’ll pour you a hot drink to pass the time.’ You looked longingly back at the doors as Leia lead you away to her quarters, she forced you to sit in a chair and poured you some caf. You scowled slightly as you took it off her because really you didn’t want to be here right now. She sat down with a sigh and pierced you with a steady gaze. ‘You know, I didn’t realise you two were a couple.’ You flushed as you sipped your drink hoping it would hide the crimson glow on your face.

‘It’s, ah....fairly new,’ you nervously mumbled as you looked at your fingers curling round your warm cup. In fact, you didn’t even know if Poe wanted you to tell people, you hadn’t had time to discuss anything. You just knew in that moment you couldn’t let him leave on such a dangerous mission without him knowing your feelings.

‘I have known Poe many years, he wouldn’t form an attachment unless he meant it.’ You looked up the ceiling, wishing you weren’t having this conversation right now, especially with the General who Poe admired and looked up to more than anyone.

‘I don’t think it’s an attachment as such, it was just a one night thing....’ it felt like someone was squeezing your heart as you trailed off, downplaying your feelings for Poe Dameron was like taking a blaster shot in the chest. You needed to speak to him, see him, touch him just to know that he was alright. ‘Have the medbay said anything? What condition did he come in? Did he say anything?’ She smiled slightly at your change of direction.

‘He looked pretty beaten up, but he’s alive. The TIE fighter he escaped on was shot down and crashed into Jakku.’ You smiled slightly, of course he’d steal a TIE, your Commander could fly anything.

‘What about BB8?’ Leia’s expression faltered slightly at your question and dread filled you. No BB8? He was Poe’s pride and joy as much as his X-Wing was, if the little droid had been destroyed....it would change Poe forever.

‘He hasn’t been found, but the First Order are still at Jakku, we think BB8 is on the planet and they are searching for him.’

‘He must be scared,’ you paused an idea forming on your head.

‘No. I know that look Captain. No.’

‘What if Poe found the map? What if he gave it to BB8? We need to find him before the First Order do surely?’

‘Their presence is too big on Jakku right now, BB8 is resourceful.’ You snorted as you slammed the cup down and stood up.

‘We sit here when Poe gets captured and do nothing. We sit here when BB8 is missing and we still do nothing?’ Anger blossomed inside you at the unfairness of it all.

‘We don’t have the resources to waste on a lone pilot or a lone droid.’ You threw your hands up in frustration. You knew she was right but you couldn’t help think the Resistance should be doing so much more.

‘Send me, I could get him.’

‘Where would you start looking? He is a tiny droid amongst a sea of sand. If the First Order are struggling to find him you will not fair any better and possibly get caught in the process. My Commander is out of action I cannot lose one of my Captains as well.’

‘I’m not the only Captain...’

‘No, but you are the best! When you are thinking clearly anyway.’ You stared at the wall not wanting to look at her, your thoughts swirled as you tried to get to grips with it all. Your shoulders slumped and you felt the tears threatening to engulf you yet again, you were worried. Worried how Poe was going to be after his time on the Star Destroyer and worried how he’d be if BB8 never came home. You flinched as Leia placed a calming hand on your arm.

‘I am sorry. I know you don’t agree with me and you are worried, but in these times we have to make logical decisions.’

‘Even if we sacrifice those that we love?’ Your voice broke slightly.

‘Everyone who joins us knows there is a price to pay.’ Tears pricked your eyes, yes you knew all too well. Your duty to the Resistance had kept you from expressing your feelings to Poe for years, no one had partners here. This base was a military operation, no feelings, no emotional attachment. Just the job. Just the duty was allowed. The unspoken rule that everyone followed.

There was a gentle knock on the door and you both looked up as it creaked open.

‘General, Captain. He’s awake.’ Your heart leapt at the Doctors words but you couldn’t move. You were suddenly afraid, you weren’t an idiot, you had seen the effects of First Order interrogations and how they changed a person and Poe had been on that ship for weeks.

‘Captain?’ You looked Leia’s outstretched hand gesturing for you to go first. Your blood pumped loudly round your body as you steadily headed to the medbay. And yet, you felt anything but steady. Your hands shook as you rubbed your arms and you felt so nervous.

What if he didn’t want to see you?

What if he didn’t remember?

What if he did remember and he regretted it?

What if, he didn’t return your feelings at all and you were just a bit of fun before he left?

You tossed the last one aside, refusing to believe Poe was capable of that. He was too kind, too good. He wouldn’t have done anything with you if he didn’t at least feel something....right?

The doors came into view and your footsteps slowed as Leia and the Dr Kalonia passed you, dreading what was on the other side of these doors, the endless possibilities stretched out before you as your mind ran away with itself. At least he was alive. The rest you would have to deal with as it came. The doors opened and you felt a rush of relief as you saw Poe sitting up on a bed, his handsome face had some cuts and bruises on but what caught your eye was his smile. His laughter lines deepened as he saw Leia coming towards him, he stiffly hugged her making a joke about how she’d never be rid of him. You shifted nervously almost thinking you had no right to be here until Poe looked at you, his molten brown eyes studied your face.

‘Captain,’ he said it so softly almost as if he couldn’t believe you were here in front of him.

‘Welcome back Commander, good to see you’re in one piece,’ you said with much more confidence than you felt, your insides quivered just being near him but you tried to shove the feeling down like you had always done.

‘General! General Organa!’ Lieutenant Connix came barrelling through the door causing Dr Kalonia to frown at the interruption. ‘There has been a transmission! BB8 has been spotted on Takodana!’ Poe slid off the bed his injuries forgotten.

‘General, BB8 has the map.’ Leia paused as she pondered over what to do, you could feel it though, just in that moment the heavy anticipation of battle. ‘We have to get him General.’ Poe’s voice was urgent as he waited for Leia’s decision.

‘I agree. But Poe,’ he turned to look at her a hand on your arm as he was about to lead you out of the room. ‘This is a fight we cannot lose.’

‘’Yes General.’ His grip tightened on your arm as he shoved his way through the doors, dragging you with him.

‘So if we know where BB8 is there a high possibility that the First.....’ you stopped as Poe shoved you into an empty room. ‘Wait what....?’ Before the door had even closed his mouth crashed into yours as he clumsily kissed you, his lips aggressive and his tongue demanding as his hands held your face. Your mind shattered at the feel of him, the warmth of his hands on your face the way his lips caressed yours and the sensation of his body crowding you as he pressed flush against you. Before you knew it, the kiss was over and the door was swinging shut again but this time behind him as he left you reeling in the room on your own. You couldn’t afford to think about it now, neither of you could. You had a droid to retrieve.

[hanawrites404]

Pumpkins, Scares and Laughs - Prologue

Ah yes, the event I had been anticipating for a long period of time, finally arrived in Vesuvia.

It is such a pleasure to see the fruits of our hardworking farmers finally blossoming and spreading their lively colours all over our beloved city. Also, the autumnal colours of red, orange and yellow adorning Vesuvia like an pulchritudinous abstract painting for the citizens and also for the ones visiting from the other corners of the world.

Today, all the people of Vesuvia will come out of their houses to praise the conscientious farmers and their unique art of agriculture, to engulf the arrival of the beautiful autumn season, and to also acknowledge the spirit of halloween, one of my favourite festivals where you can be evil and scare everyone mercilessly with your smooky get-ups. Now that's something I really like.

"Winnie!! Look!! We are finally here!" The soft bluenette lady shook my shoulder. I took her gesture and closed the book I was reading and looked outside. Vesuvia was looking so pretty with the warm colours of the season that it almost felt unreal. It also took my breath away for a second.

This blue lady was actually a guest from the other side of the world as my roommate on the ship. She had long turquoise blue hair and soft big purple eyes, her skin was fair and her lips always turned upwards into a bonny smile. And just like her smile, her nature was goofy and giggly. She loved to make jokes and was not afraid to boop others' noses as she had done it million times to me.

I didn't really mind that. I found it pretty cute and attracting actually, maybe because she was just like Dad. Or maybe because I secretly enjoyed having such cheery people around me, reminding me always that there is always a bright side to look for and laugh at. And I was really grateful for such persons.

"It's beautiful~!!" I spoke with amazement as I peered out the window from my bed.

"I know right?? It's amazing! I can't wait to meet Lucio and others! I bet he would be looking soooooo handsome today" The girl sighed dreamily as she cupped her rosy cheek and closing her eyes.

I rolled my eyes and chuckled. When I first time met her, I didn't know that she was acquainted with Lucio and my other friends. But when I told her that I too was his close one, she was so overjoyed that she almost crushed me to death afterwards with the hug of hers. I then got to know that she was really attracted to Lucio and had the tendency of blabbering about him all day long. Even when it was bedtime and everyone in the ship was sound asleep, she kept me awake with her fond thoughts of Lucio yesterday.

Again I didn't mind that. Even I too liked him. He had been through a lot of neglect that I couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Instead of being jealous as to why others loved him romantically, I was actually happy for him because he was finally getting the love he truly deserved. Even if people didn't think like that (for example, Asshole-ra), I gave no fucks, as rightly so.

"Say, Winnie. Aren't you excited to see Lucio too??" Elteami asked me as she tucked one of her strands of hair behind her ear.

"Me? Well, yes of course. It has been quite a while since I have seen of him last time. Asra always wrote in his letters that Lucio missed me a lot" I replied to her, twirling one of the strands of my hair around my finger.

"Oh, obviously he would. You are his best friend! I mean, he was the one who gave 'Winnie' as your nickname, right?" She asked more.

"He sure did. And it's the only nickname I can tolerate, apparently" I stated. And honestly speaking, I still remember the time when he first time called me that, when I returned to Vesuvia after 15 years, that is.

When I resurrected him back after my fight with Asra at the Lazaret, Lucio was the one who calmed me down from the anxiety of the messy situation Asra had created upon himself. With his loving words and affectionate touches, I had forgotten about the angst with Asra in a jiffy! He somehow possesses that magic in him which melts me, not to mention the journey with him was equally magical and romantic.

But I really don't want to dwell in the past as of now, even if it's the sweeter ones. Today is the day of celebration of success and gratefulness, and I shall focus on that only. So no more previous flashbacks, no more deep thinking. Just pumpkins, scares and laughs.

"Come on Winnie, stop daydreaming again. The ship finally stopped. Let's go!!" Elteami took me by my hand and dragged me out with my bag and book.

"E-Elteami! Slow down! I might stumble" I stuttered upon my words as she continued to pull me down the ship. The cool wind blew through my hair and the short skirt and sleeves of my black dress, goosebumps forming on my legs under the dark stockings.

After we were off the ship and standing on the docks, Elteami let go of my hand as she panted from the runs, supporting her body with her hands on her knees while I patiently waited for her to regain her breath. And once she was done, she turned into herself again.

"Phew! That was one good exercise!" Elteami stretched her arms and her body, the wind blowing her long turquoise blue hair slowly. I gave her a small smile before I brushed the strands of my hair behind ear.

"Gosh, just look at Vesuvia. So much yellow and orange everywhere!" She exclaimed as she observed the golden yellow crisp leaves and the bright houses. All of the people seemed very happy today and they had new clothes on which complimented with the colours of the Autumn.

"Hmmmm....the wind is really cool and nice too. It's tingling me. I can already feel that today is going to be one nice day" Elteami shivered and rubbed her limbs to warm them up, an enjoying smile on her face. I nodded and closed my eyes too as I felt the wind kissing me, greeting me once again a welcome back.

The air was really smelling quite fresh today. Not that I was implying that it's usually disgusting but, this time it had that specific aroma with it that I couldn't really figure, but for sure added the enthusiasm of celebrating the first-ever harvest festival of Vesuvia in me, and I was pretty eager to meet my friends and greet them with pleasant wishes and the gifts I brought for each of them from my village.

Yes, I was not during the preparations of the festival because I had some business at my village which was crucial for me to attend. However, Asra as usual kept me updated with all the events going on through his lovely letters and cutesy charms. I do really owe him a kiss according to one of his infamous horny letters. I have no problem with it of course, I just hope Dad doesn't mind.

........Oh.......and talking about Dad...................

"Oh my god, Wynne! Look at that big guy with blue hair! He is sooooooo hot!! I bet he has had many girls liking him!" Elteami tugged on my sleeve and pointed out to the man she was referring to. The man was yawning and scratching his head. He must had been woken up right now it seemed, because of how his eyes were still droopy and how his hair was a bit messy.

Nevertheless, my face scrunched up from disgust and cringe as soon as I laid my eyes on him. It was not that he was ugly. He was really attractive, to be frank but, did she even know whom she was talking about? Or how old he was from her even though he looked like he was in his late 20s?? Or that he has an adult daughter who was standing right in beside her??

"What's wrong Wynne? Don't you like him??" Elteami asked me curiously, being totally unaware of the fact that the man was someone I knew........too much about, to be honest.

"E-Err, I-I......Well......" I started, already stammering due to the already big tension forming between us that I could feel it down my throat.

"Yes??" She replied and tilted her head, letting go of my sleeve. She looked at me inquisitively.

"I-I don't think you know this but....... Remember how I told you that my father was aboard with us too??" My neck heated up and I averted my eyes down.

"Now that you have mentioned it, I think you did tell me about it" Elteami rubbed her chin and pondered.

I sighed and poured myself some lemonade I brought in the portable cup I had in my bag and drank from it during the meantime as I wanted for her to respond. And much to my satisfaction, she perked up soon and slammed her fist down on her palm.

"Oh yes! Your father! I remember now! You did mention him to me. So what about him? Where is he now?" She asked me.

Now this was the part that got me twisted. But I had no choice other than to tell her. I cannot let this thing get misunderstood, you know.

"T-That blue guy........he is my father......"

"WHAT?!!" Elteami looked at me with utter shock, her eyes widening and staring right at me. I got back from her a bit as I held the cup in my hands tightly.

"You mean that huge smouldering man is your father???" She bumped her forehead against mine and stared right into my eyes.

I sipped the lemonade from my cup quite loudly and nodded, locking my eyes with hers nervously.

Elteami backed up, her expression that of speechlessness and dumbfounded. It was as if she had witnessed something quite hysterical that it was enough to make her eyes torn as wide as toenails.

Now what was she going to do? Was she going to puke? Or was she going to pass out? Or what she going to jump into the waters? Or even worse...............

And turns out the last option was correct.

Because oh gods, her reply was enough to almost send me to the afterlife.

"OH MY GOD WYNNE, YOUR FATHER IS SO HOT!!!"

I literally spewed out some and choked onto my lemonade as its souring tangyness proceeded to burn my throat. I coughed violently and punched my ribs to get the feeling out, while Elteami did not care about me getting strangled to death by the fucking lemonade.

Her eyes sparkled stars as she turned to my father and admired him from afar. The way how he ran his fingers through his long blue hair, the way his buff arms were flexing with each movement, or the way his brown eyes shined brightly amongst the pleasant scene near the docks, she seemed to love everything of Dad and I wasn't liking this at all.

I mean, come on. He was my father, and Elteami is my friend. AND HIM AND HER BEING IN A RELATIONSHIP IS SOMETHING I WOULD NOT TOLERATE AT ALL!!! BECAUSE THIS IS DISASTROUS AND UTTER BIZARRE. THAT WOULD BE FUCKING,

~OH KUMBAYA MY LORD. HAVE MERCY ON ME FOR I HAVE SINNED🍆꒰ᵕ༚ᵕ⑅꒱~

"Oh my gosh, just look at him!! You are so lucky to have such an attractive man as your father, Wynne. I can see where you got your looks from. Just so flipping perfect and GORGEOUS~!!" Elteami literally growled at the last word like a hungry beast as she cupped her face with her hands. Her cheeks were toned pink as blossoms.

When the obnoxious blazing finally calmed down in my oesophagus, I breathed in long, loud and sharp that I almost felt my eyes rolling back and my soul trying to escape from my mouth. But it did help me regain my composure as I straightened my back and wiped my mouth with my pocket handkerchief next.

"Elteami, don't. He is way older than you, and he has peanuts for brains. You wouldn't want to fall for an idiotic old man like him. Trust me" I crossed my arms as I shook my head disapprovingly and completed the lemonade in my hands properly, without letting it kill me and also asserting my dominance on it.

"Oh come on Wynne. It's just a crush! Not love or something. I just find him handsome. Is it wrong to even think so??" She blinked at me innocently, closing towards me again.

I gulped the last sip of lemonade in my throat carefully as I opened my mouth to answer.

"But still, he is my fucking father. And you are my companion. You cannot have a crush on him. That would be absolutely ridiculous!! Him being an old man with no goals and you who is young, pretty and have so much ahead of you. It's not at all lovely. Now you better take my advice and don't waste your precious lifetime over that guy" I explained to her coldly.

"Jeez Wynne. You do take things too seriously" Elteami rolled her eyes at me, mockery evident.

"Excuse me? I am saying this for your betterment. Take it or leave it 💢" I gritted my teeth and sipped my drink, my nails digging onto the container's surface.

"Yeah Yeah, fine. I won't fawn over your daddy too much. Alright, Ms. Possessive?" She mocked me further.

I sighed and finished my lemonade, keeping the cup inside again after cleaning the inside it with a tissue.

"Fair enough by me" I agreed later, not wanting to complicate the situation more. Ugh, I can't believe that I had to contempt my father just to avoid Elteami courting him. Not that I have not done this multiple times before. But let's not talk about it. Today is not the day to discuss about this. I would touch onto this topic later on if people are interested.

"Now there you are, baby girl" the blue-haired finally approached both of us. With a bright grin on his face which seemed to lighten the previous tension present minutes ago in the air, easing Elteami and almost, me too.

Elteami tried not to smile and squeal as she gazed at me from side while I just rolled my eyes and groaned silently. But still, I didn't show my annoyance on my face as I replied.

"Took you long enough, Dad" I peered sharply at him as I placed my dominant hand on my hip.

"Sorry. I was looking around a bit. It has been a while since I visited Vesuvia you know" Dad rubbed his neck.

By looking around, he meant hunting for the ladies of course. Such a fuckboy he is.

"And oh my, may I ask who this lovely lady with you is?" Dad talked about Elteami as he took hold of her hand gently and rubbed her knuckles with his thumb, much to my fear and anxiety.

This time, Elteami couldn't hold herself, as she squealed so shrill and loud that it boomed my eardrums as I winced. But Dad on the other hand, just chuckled and complimented her.

"You are one cute young woman. Tell me, what's your name? Your full name is preferred" His eyes were softly looking at her and he had a pleasant smile.

"Oh my gods! I-I mean, I-It's Elteami. Elteami Tapputi" The bluenette blushed and bit her lip, looking down at her shoes.

"Such an exotic and beautiful name for an equally beautiful woman" Dad kissed her hand delicately and it turned the girl more blushy than before while I tried not to cringe and choke on air this time.

"O-Ohh my. I....Thank you so much mister...."

"Shah Toprak, but call me Shah. I am open to nicknames of course, so call me whatever you like, My Dear" he winked at her flirtfully.

As expected, Dad's playful light seduction had been casted upon Elteami very easily, because the lady turned red and flustered to maximum. She was squeaking and mumbling something about dominance and pegging which I couldn't really understand, but I didn't slam my brain on it too much.

"And I see you are acquainted to my loveliest darling. How wonderful" Dad next looked at me and I rolled my eyes, averting from him.

"Oh yes of course! Your daughter is one nice girl. She is not really as fun as I prefer people to be but, I like her!"

I could feel the delight in her voice that it brightened a tiny smile on my lips. At least something good came out of Elteami.

"I know. She is the best" Dad spoke.

This made me smile even more. Damn these two 🍋🍋.

But anyways, Dad not letting go of her hand, offered her next if she would walk with him to where she and I were heading to next, and as I had already assumed, Elteami gladly agreed with a vigorous nod.

"Perfect! Let's go then. I am really excited to meet the count and everyone else!" Dad laughed and Elteami giggled with him too as they both started to make their way towards. I just followed behind them with my little possessions clinging onto my shoulders as I listened to their conversations and also paid attention to the festive commotion around me silently.

There were men who were setting up the decorum, women baking warm delicacies, children running around collecting shiny leaves and couples, both young and elderly, holding each other close and being in one another's peace along the balmy nature. This put yet another small smile on my face. Gosh, I was really working out my cheek muscles today, wasn't I? I mean, why wouldn't I?

This festival is something which is close to me. Though this was its first time taking place, the happiness and joy radiating from the city and its people is truly heart-warming. It's like the only source of heat when you are stuck in the blizzards of stress and busy times. It's a break from all of the hardwork and sweating to enjoy its sweet corollary. Just looking at the rainbow harvests of your crops and to realise how much we are blessed to have the grace of the world and the sun for providing us such a golden opportunity of witnessing the victory is a feeling which just swells your heart with pride and satisfaction.

And how do I know all of this? Well, being an educated farmer has its perks, you see.

Nevertheless, a crisp cool wind blew which carried the scent of sweet apples and fried dough towards the three of us. As written by Asra, the last few weeks had been a hectic whirlwind of activity, but of course with everyone's help, it was done.

The very first Vesuvian Harvest Festival was officially in full swing!🍋🍋🎃

Now it was officially time to kick back, relax and enjoy the fruits of our labours.

(the doodle and Elteami belongs to @xzxbloodyrosexzx )

[glitzywisps]

Embers

Dennor Week Day 2: Viking/First kiss

Canonverse/Teens

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24122461/chapters/58141639

Norway pulled his furs tighter around himself and huffed. "Where are you taking me, Dan?"

"You'll see in just a moment!" He turned to look over his shoulder at him and smile. It was hard to see, so Norway was thankful for the moonlight reflecting off the snow through the branches. It was the middle of the night and they should be curled up in bed; their days usually start early in the morning due to chores.

"Sve is going to think you got us lost…"

"He'll be fine, I just have this feeling that tonight is important."

"You get feelings about everything…" Denmark slowed, now walking next to his friend.

"Just trust me, I can already see the campfire I set up!"

Norway looked up from where he was dragging his feet. The boots he wore were a bit too big for him, but the village women said he would grow into them eventually, as all teen boys do. Normal ones at least. He squinted ahead, not responding to his companion. Sure enough, there was the faint orange glow of a campfire. He turned to Denmark with a small smirk, saying, "And what if Helga knew you left fire and furs unattended in the forest?"

"Then I'd give her my innocent look and talk about how it was an accident and I won't ever do it again," He responded with a grin and nudged Nor with his shoulder, to which Norway pushed him back. "Aren't you getting too old for that act?"

"Not to her, she thinks I'm as sweet as a little kid still!" They shared a quiet laugh and finally got to the small clearing Denmark had prepared that afternoon. It was freezing out, and after all these years he still wasn't as used to it as someone would assume, so the fire was a nice welcome. Denmark plopped down onto the hides, gesturing for Norway to join him. The flames gave him an even warmer look than usual, although Norway wouldn't ever say that to him out loud, despite finding it nice. He sat close to him to keep warm. The next few minutes were spent warming up numb fingers and feet, Norway rubbed his hands together and watched the light dancing across the tree bark around them.  

The dead of winter tended to be quiet and peaceful and their light and noise certainly had scared off some wildlife. But Norway could still hear the distant calls of an owl and the twigs shaking in the slight breeze. It wasn't often he could pause and enjoy the world around him, they were usually busy with chores, sparring, and other work back in the village, and even though he kept quiet about it, he appreciated Denmark taking him out here. He was pulled from his thoughts when he felt his friend lay flat on his back, looking up. The Dane responded to his questioning gaze with an invite to lay down with him. "My feeling says we should look up."

And so he did. Norway laid down next to him, resting his head on the other's arm, pressed against each other's sides. Above them, the sky blinked back, the stars seemed brighter that night, making the world seem endless from their little camp. Nor didn't know how long they laid like that before Denmark let out a soft gasp.

"Did you see that?" Norway furrowed his eyebrows, trying to see what the other had seen. He followed where he was pointing, almost starting to think the Dane was imagining things. Before his eyes widened in surprise at seeing what appeared to be a fast-moving light. He had never seen anything quite like it. The stars appeared to move as if falling and it was mesmerizing.

"What is that?" Denmark didn't want to look away, afraid he'd miss something. More and more seemed to fall, none of them lasting more than a second. Norway whispered back, "They must be sparks from Muspelheim… Falling from Ymir's skull."

"I never thought we would see something like that from so far away…"

"It's beautiful…" They have seen plenty of beauty in their lives, from the first snowfall to the changing leaves, to singing for the reflections in the Valkyrie's armor. But this was new, and Norway felt lucky to experience this with whom he considered his closest companion. The sky continued to dance for them for what seemed like an eternity, but when it died down and slowed to a stop it still felt too short. He could have laid there forever.

Norway slowly sat up, his limbs stiff and face red from the cold even with the shared body heat. He stretched and looked down at Denmark, who still laid staring into the dark sky. "I suppose it's time to go… Sve, probably thinks the wolves got us or some other thing."

Norway nodded and reached down where they grasped each other's forearms to pull him up. Den brushed off his pants and started rolling up the hide and furs they had laid on while Nor used the snow to put their fire out. They followed their old, frozen footsteps back home. This time neither were leading, simply walking side by side, both helping to carry the wet bedspreads. It wasn't until they were close to the tree line, lights from the buildings visible, that Norway stopped.

"Dan." He was about two steps ahead now, turning around.

"Hm? What's wrong, Nor?"

"Thank you." Norway smiled softly and stepped forward to softly kiss his cheek. His lips were a bit chapped and frozen, but it still left Denmark sputtering and grinning like an idiot. His hand flying up to touch the spot, standing frozen and watching Norway start to walk the rest of the way home.

"Hey! Wait-" He laughed and stumbled to catch up with him. Norway snickered at him and they continued to nudge and tease playfully on the way home. All while trying to keep their voices hushed lest they get in trouble for being out alone in the late night...

[witharsenicsauce]

Chosen Stories From the War #19: V5R93

(Content Warning: This chapter contains brief descriptions of gun violence and gore)

The quiet of the forest was broken by hurried footsteps, and the frantic crunch of leaves and twigs. One figure darted through the brush, alone, naked and afraid. Silence followed them, followed by several more that tore through the brush and vegetation with the heavy clumping of their boots.

A flock of birds burst from the treetops, scattering in the commotion. The figures did not stop, and the bare one, tall and lanky, panted as they leapt a log and nearly tripped, glancing over their shoulder as they did.

*”V5R93!”* The troops called out in that distorted, mechanical voice. *”Stop!”*

V5R93 straightened up, squared his shoulders, and took off running as fast as his long legs would carry him, all the while chastising himself. Berating himself. He had become sloppy.

He slid to a stop at the foot of a towering gray cliff extending on either side. It took only a moment for him to survey the area and realize there was no way around this thing, only up. As V5R93 dove for the cliff, intending to begin his climb, he felt the sharp pinch of the bullets of a gun striking him in the back.

At first, he felt nothing, his limbs simply stopped working as he lost all control of his body and fell to the ground. Then the pain began to erupt like blossoms from the wounds in his chest and his back, and the two guards approached him, their guns still drawn. He gazed up at them, black eyes pleading for some kind of mercy.

*”Damned Sectoids”* They said, cocked their guns, and fired again.

.

.

Kon-Mai smiled as she looked over the clothes she had dressed her brothers in that day. Clothes she had made herself; good enough to rival any ADVENT clothing store, that was sure. They had to make a good impression, and she was certain they would.

Her own outfit was one that distinctly outlined her feminine features, while still maintaining her authoritative (and terrifying) air. Her waist-high pants were made out of a strong, denim mix of deep magenta cloth and made it so she could bend her knees easily, lest she need to pick up her sword and fight. Her shirt, while a turtleneck, hugged her figure, the part of her Abyzou had always told her to be proud of. And right now, she has to admit, she was proud, although no thanks to her ‘mother’. With her hair braided into several cornrows down her neck and a bit of purple lip tint, she felt very beautiful.

The Avenger had landed just outside of Kanab, Utah. Along the dusty ground, almost untouched by time, bones and tracks of ancient creatures lay scattered like a circle of protection. Tygan had shown her pictures of these beasts, and they rivaled some of the creatures the Elders possessed. These “Dinosaurs” were great scaled monsters, larger than the Avenger itself. Some swam in the water, devouring anything in their path, some ruled the land and reigned terror on those who crossed them. And some, though large, were peaceful, even cute. She liked those beasts.

From the distance, she could see the groups of soldiers beginning to arrive. Some had vehicles with them, but most were traveling on foot, carrying only what they had on their backs. Most were human, but from the sunlight across the sand, she could see a familiar face.

Kon-Mai’s eyes widened upon recognizing him. “Savitr?”

“Hm?” Gur-Rai looked up from the stick he was using to draw in the sand. His outfit was one she had taken care to make much more durable, and she had good reason: he had already gotten it dirty. The polo shirt was slightly big around his scrawny middle, but his leather pants hugged his bony hips perfectly and accented what little features he did have.The scarf he wore around his head to cover his baldness was also made of very durable Polyester. Kon-Mai prided herself on this endeavor. 

“That Skirmisher.” She nodded towards the group of them. “I know him.”

“Which one?” Gur-Rai asked. “He looks like every other bitch.”

“We cannot all be blue, Brother.” Dhar-Mon sighed, once again smoothing down the jacket Kon-Mai made for him. It was light pink, matching the color of his eyes, and had some synthetic fur around the collar, making it look a bit like a Skirmishers cloak. The design on the back had taken hours to embroider, but the intricate wheel symbol had come out stunningly, and made it so Dhar-Mon adored that coat most of all. Of course, it was also made for cold weather, so the poor man was sweating in it out here, but he refused to take it off, citing the fact that he wanted to show off his sister’s hard work.

Gur-Rai squinted against the sun, actually trying to get a look at the man. He didn’t need to, however, as when Savitr saw Kon-Mai as well, he waved to her.

She raised a hand in return. “That one.”

“Oh…” Gur-Rai bared his teeth a bit. “You let me know if he gets too close.”

“If he does, I can handle myself.” Kon-Mai insisted with a scoff.

“Yeah, I said the same thing once…” Gur-Rai seemed to freeze, falling very quiet, and Dhar-Mon put a hand on his brother’s back.

“I am sure this man means our sister no harm.” He said. “And in any case, it appears he will be joining us on the Avenger. He will be our teammate.”

As the group began to congregate outside the doors, the Chosen heard footsteps behind them, and turned to allow Senuna herself to pass by. She beamed like the sun, stepping off the dock to greet the oncoming soldiers on ground level.

“Welcome, soldiers of XCOM.” She clapped, and the others followed her in a cheer that echoed through the mountains. “I see many familiar faces in the crowd, as well as many new ones! Some of you have been on board the Avenger, seen her in her glory, but for many of you this will be your first time seeing the real war.” Her smile faded. “And I warn you, this task shall not be easy. We will ask much of you here, and expect you to perform accordingly. We cannot afford to falter, not now.” Her smile returned. “But to those of you who take on this challenge, you will receive the greatest of all rewards: your home, safely returned to you.”

Another cheer went up, and Kon-Mai met Savitr’s golden eyes. He smiled slightly when he saw her, and she nodded in return.

“As you can see, the war is going well!” Senuna giggled. “I’m sure you didn’t miss the three blue giants standing behind me, some of you may even recognize them!” She gestured to the three Chosen. “These three are not here as our prisoners, but as our friends. For you see, soldiers, like the Skirmishers you fight beside, the Chosen have also cast off the yoke of the Elders, and now fight for freedom, justice, and humanity!”

Gur-Rai let out a whoop, which stirred the crowd into another cheer. At this point, the human soldiers seemed to be over the shock of seeing the Chosen. Those who were not looked at them in awe, like the humans in the city centers had…

Kon-Mai straightened her back and clasped her hands, trying to look as majestic as she could. Her eyes danced to Savitr once again, and she saw he had not looked away.

“With this incredible advantage, I’d hasten to say that by the end of this year, if not the next, this war will be OVER!” Senuna raised her arms. “The Elders will fall to us! We will regain our home!”

Home...Kon-Mai’s mind lingered on that word.

.

.

After the speech came the extremely tedious task of checking everyone in, unloading cargo, reloading cargo, discharging soldiers that were getting off here, etc etc. And of course, the Chosen had been voluntold to help with that.

Kon-Mai was at the check in station, assigning each soldier their rank and place on the Avenger and handing them little makeshift name tags as she checked their names off of colorful boxes on a piece of paper. Gur-Rai and Dhar-Mon were helping the burlier soldiers load the resupply onto the Avenger’s cargo deck, Dhar-Mon having taken off his jacket so as to not tear the fabric.

In the hullabaloo, Kon-Mai nearly missed him, but as a shadow fell over her, she looked up to those familiar eyes.

“Savitr Vallinor.” She said, smiling almost against her will.

“Sergeant Mordenna.” He bowed. “It will be an honor to serve under you.”

“Under me?” She chuckled, writing down his name.

“I mean...if we do get assigned to any missions together. Hypothetically, it will be an honor.” Savitr’s peachy skin turned orange as he blushed.

She chuckled and handed him his tag. “Go inside, Vallinor.”

“Yes, Mordenna.” He bowed deeply to her and passed the table, towards the Avenger and where his sisters waited for him. Kon-Mai followed him with her eyes for a moment, until she heard a snicker beside her.

She looked at where Princess sat beside her, the purple-haired girl giggling like a child. “What is the matter with you?”

“You were getting flirted with~” Princess cooed.

Kon-Mai scoffed. “Can I not acknowledge another warrior’s presence?”

“You couldn’t tell? Damn you’re clueless.” Princess scoffed. “He’s got eyes for you.”

“You are simply imagining things.” Kon-Mai shook her head. Still, the words lingered on her mind. WAS he interested in her romantically? What did it mean if he was?

She looked back at Savitr. This time, his attention was turned to his sister Nitocris, who seemed to be looking around in clueless excitement at the sight of the Avenger.

They were alike, she acknowledged. He cared for his sisters like she did her brothers. But she had never seen him in the field besides the brief, very boring patrol they’d been on together. She did not know him. How could she love someone she did not know?

Kon-Mai turned back to her task at hand. She decided to shelve the thought until further notice.

.

.

Gur-Rai straightened up, stretching his back, which was growing sore from the constant heavy lifting. He looked around at the people working around him, his brother still loading cargo the size of trucks like it was literally nothing. The Avenger would be well stocked after this, with soldiers and supplies.

He put his hands on his hips and kicked the dirt, looking to where the medical tent was. As one of the soldiers exited and another entered, Gur-Rai could see Malinalli inside the tent, giving physicals to oncoming soldiers and checking off those who were going on shore leave. She stopped for a moment, her pen hovering above her clipboard, and then began writing again, slowly.

Gur-Rai furrowed his brow, a smirk growing on his lips. He dusted off his hands and traipsed over to her, pushing aside the tent flap and poking his head in. “Hello, Molly.”

“Darkstrider, I’m with a patient.” Malinalli hissed pointing to a Skirmisher woman who was sitting on the table, her hands resting over the very noticeable bump in her stomach.

Gur-Rai nodded to her and looked over the medic again. “Need help?”

Malinalli looked annoyed. “Um...not really.”

“Well, Commander said to help you, so you have to give me something to do.” He smiled as that lie passed right over his teeth, and straightened up...slamming his head into the top of the tent pole. Okay, he deserved that one.

Malinalli looked skeptical, but she sighed and looked around for something to give him. Her hand grabbed a plastic bag full of clear fluid and she handed it to him. “Go out into the woods and dump that somewhere.”

“What is it?”

“Saline, I didn’t mix it right, so it’s basically useless. It needs to be disposed of, a tree or bush should do the trick.”

“Molly, are you trying to get rid of me?” Gur-Rai smirked.

Malinalli smiled like she was about to crack. “Oh no, Gur-Rai, of course not. Now please, go.”

Gur-Rai bowed and exited the tent, hearing Malinalli telling the woman inside “Okay, I’m gonna send you up to Tygan for an ultrasound, but from the test results…”

Her voice trailed off, and Gur-Rai passed the ever shortening line of people waiting to be checked into the Avenger database. He waved at his sister, who was still in charge of making name tags, and walked off into the deep green darkness of the woods.

The noise and chatter began to fade away as he slipped into the quiet green, and Gur-Rai took a deep breath. All of his senses were sharpened out here. He could see through the darkness as clear as a crystal. His skin prickled with the slight dampness of the air, and he inhaled deeply, tasting the faint electricity on the air. No doubt his own psionic ability was tainting it slightly. Damn the Elders for giving him the Big Think…

He traveled deeper into the woods, the trees growing in size and the sky growing dim behind their massive leaves. His skin tingled with the feeling that something was in here with him, his hunter’s instinct on full alert. It was exhilarating.

The forest finally gave way to a clearing, bordered by a silver cliff with jagged rocks that looked quite menacing in the dim light. Supposing that this was as good a place as any, Gur-Rai poked a hole in the bag with his sharp nail and let the water drain out by a nearby tree. As the bag emptied slowly, he looked around the dark clearing, his eyes drinking in the surrounding green and purple and pink vegetation…

Wait, pink?

Gur-Rai dropped the bag and made his way over to the brush at the base of the cliff, the prickling of psionic energy dancing on his bare arms and face. He hesitated, drawing Darkclaw and clutching it tightly as he pulled back the brush...

“Well, well, well.” He mused. “Look at you.”

A Sectoid lay in the brush, bare and exposed, with its back to Gur-Rai and it’s face in the dirt. At the sound of his voice, the Sectoid seemed to startle, and grabbed at the mud to drag itself away.

“Ah ah ah, not so fast.” Gur-Rai twirled his gun on his finger. “Goodness, I should tell the Commander that the soldiers need more practice. That many bullet holes? You should be de-” He broke off, his eyes moving to the Sectoid’s finger as it scratched something into the dirt. Curious, Gur-Rai knelt down.

H-E-L-P

His eyebrows shot up. Sectoids, at least the ones he knew, didn’t know how to speak any human languages, and they CERTAINLY didn’t know how to write in any. And yet, he watched as this Sectoid used it’s clawed finger to slowly spell out “Help Me” in the dirt.

Gur-Rai took the Sectoid’s face in his hand and tilted it towards him. “Hey you. Can you understand me? Can you understand the words I’m saying right now?”

The Sectoid nodded, softly, then their face twisted up in pain and they clutched the dirt again, groaning in agony.

“...Who did this?” Gur-Rai asked. “Who hurt you? Was it XCOM?”

The grasping hand, shaking from pain, drew one long line, then two short ones on either side, the symbol for the Elders. For ADVENT.

Gur-Rai stood. “Stay right here. Well, I guess you’re not gonna go anywhere. I should say, don’t die before I get back.” He took off into a sprint, disappearing into the trees once again.

.

.

Gur-Rai poked his head back into Malinalli’s tent, where this time Lothar was helping her hold down a patient as she worked to pull a piece of shrapnel from a very old-looking wound in a man’s shoulder. “Hey. Molly.” Gur-Rai snapped. “I need your help.”

“I’m a little busy.” Malinalli grunted. “What do you need?”

“There’s a Sectoid in the woods.”

The two medics froze, and Malinalli turned to Gur-Rai with a look of horror. “Is this an ambush?!”

“Probably not, it’s just the one and it’s injured pretty bad.”

“So…” She looked at him funny. “You...want me to come see a dying Sectoid?”

“Yep. You’re a doctor, you’ll know what to do.”

“Technically I’m a nurse…” She muttered with a sigh. “And I have human patients. They take priority.”

“Human patients? Molly, that’s pretty racist~” Gur-Rai grinned, his sharp teeth flashing.

“I didn’t mean that!” She cried. “I’m not-!”

“Well if that’s true, you’ll come help the poor wounded Sectoid, won’t you?” Gur-Rai batted his nonexistent eyelashes.

Malinalli sighed long and hard, looking very tired. “Um...Lothar can you-”

“I got it, Molly. Go see the Sectoid.” He took the pliers from her, and she followed Gur-Rai out of the forest and into the woods.

.

.

Senuna wiped at a smudge on the Avenger’s window. From her quarters, she could see around the back on the ship, where cargo was diligently being loaded. There was the Hieromonk, his long white hair pulled back in a ponytail to keep it out of his eyes as he worked. So dutifully he obeyed commands, so eagerly did he complete any task assigned him.

It made her old heart hurt, and she sighed, leaning against the window.

Her door opened, and she looked over expecting to see Bradford or Jane. But it was Zhang she saw instead, walking slowly with a cane. She smiled at the sight of him: she’d already been chastised for calling him “Old Man,” but the idea was so funny to her. He’d never seemed old to her before.

“I should be the one walking with a cane, Colonel~” She giggled as she stood up. “What’s wrong? You look nauseous.”

Zhang refrained from speaking for a moment until she gestured for him to sit. Only when he did, he finally opened his mouth. “The soldiers outside are…”

“Oh.” She chuckled. “Right. You weren’t here for that. They’re called Skirmishers.”

“They look like ADVENT.” He said quietly.

“Yes, they do.” She nodded. “Your point?”

His hand went to his chest, where the staples were still embedded in his skin from the wounds he’d sustained. Senuna saw this, and sighed.

“They didn’t torture you, Chilong.”

“They look like the ones who did.” He protested, albeit calmly. “I know I am being unreasonable, Senuna. But I doubt how effective I’ll be in combat alongside these...hybrids.”

Senuna blinked slowly. “...Technically I’m a hybrid.”

“That’s different.” He said. “You’re different.”

“How am I different?” She asked. “More powerful? Are you afraid of me, Chilong?”

“You look human, Sunny.” He finally admitted.

“That’s only because I got lucky.” She stood up. “Do I, yet again, need to tell you where this body came from?”

“Are you implying you found out?” It was Zhang’s turn to chuckle, at Senuna’s discomfort.

She looked away. “Exactly, Chilong. Don’t act like I’m better than them just because I look ‘right’. In a lot of ways, I am much worse.”

There was an awkward silence between the two for a moment.

“I’m sorry.” Zhang relented. “This is not a subject I should joke about. I know how much it hurts you.”

“No.” Senuna insisted. “I’m sorry ADVENT did this to you. I’m sorry they took you. It was my decision that cost us this war, and it was my decision to send you into enemy territory.”

“No it wasn’t, Sunny. I made the choice to go behind enemy lines. I was determined to save you.”

“Yes, but if I hadn’t gone after Dante, in fact if I hadn’t let them take him in the first place...” She stopped, her voice cracking, and shook her head. “Do you...want to leave the Avenger?”

The silence in response made her nerves go into a panic, and Senuna looked up just as Zhang sighed.

“How much use am I to you like this?” He muttered. “An old, broken man, a shadow of who I was. To let me go would only bring good things.”

“Oh, don’t you dare!” Senuna circled her desk and plopped down on the couch beside him, pulling him into a tight hug and only loosening her grip when he winced out in pain.

“Sunny.” He wrapped his arms around her as well. “Please don’t be upset. I don’t like to see you cry.”

“Chilong, I’ve lost so much.” She whispered. “Please don’t go. I don’t want to lose you, too.”

He hesitated. “If I want to go, Sunny, will you stop me?”

She was eerily quiet, then finally, “How could I? If that’s...what you want.” She pulled away. “You’re my friend. I just want you to be happy…”

He smiled, and ran a hand through her silver hair. “I will stay, Sunny. If that is what makes you happy.”

.

.

Malinalli jogged alongside Gur-Rai, her little legs struggling to keep up with what, to him, was a slow pace. “Slow down!” She cried. “I’m out of shape.”

“So is my brother, and I wouldn't wait for him~” Gur-Rai chuckled.

“That’s a lie.” Malinalli smirked. “You’d absolutely wait for him. Right?”

Gur-Rai fell silent.

“I think it’s sweet.” She added. “You love your siblings so much. You put on this asshole persona but you’re really just-”

“Over here.” Gur-Rai cut in. “In this clearing.”

Malinalli bent down and picked up the empty saline bag. “Over here?”

“No, over here.” Gur-Rai parted the brush. “Hello there. Still alive? ...Good! I brought help!” He waved her over.

Malinalli came over and braced herself. At first she thought the Sectoid was dead, until she noticed the very slight movement of its body with each breath. There were bullet holes all throughout its back, and the ants had already begun swarming its body.

“Oh…” She said, her heart sinking. She got down on her knees beside the Sectoid. “He...she...um...they…” She looked it over. “What do you want me to call you?”

The Sectoid made a motion with it’s mouth.

“Hm? He?”

The Sectoid nodded.

Malinalli began to pull her tools from her belt. “Gur-Rai, can you turn him over?”

“Yeah.” He knelt down beside the Sectoid and began to slide his hands under him. It was then the Sectoid let out a cry of pain, startling both XCOM agents and sending Malinalli scampering back.

“Sorry! Sorry.” Gur-Rai stopped, his hands still under the Sectoid. “I‘m gonna go slow, okay? Let me know when you’re ready…”

The Sectoid remained still for a moment. Then with the tiniest movement of his head, he nodded. Slowly, Gur-Rai slid his arms the rest of the way under him and pulled him towards his chest, and the Sectoid gasped as he rolled over in Gur-Rai’s arms. The Chosen adjusted his grip and began to lay him down, but the Sectoid caught his arm, as if pleading him not to move.

“You wanna stay here?” Gur-Rai nodded. “Okay. Molly, can you work like this?”

“It’s better” She picked up her tiny scanner and began to wave it over the holes in the Sectoid’s chest. “...These were ADVENT guns…”

Gur-Rai nodded silently. The Sectoid in his arms whimpered uncomfortably.

“Almost done, hon. You’re doing great.” Malinalli said softly. “Okay…” She smiled. “Okay. Not as bad as I had thought…” She looked up at Gur-Rai. “Still bad though.”

“How bad?”

“Punctured lung is the worst one…” She pressed a few buttons on the scanner picture. “This thing is so slow, sorry. One of his Psytocrean glands looks like it’s ruptured, the one across from the Taux Filter.”

Gur-Rai nodded, his blank stare conveying he had no idea what she was saying.

“My point is, if it’s ruptured it’s probably bleeding cytotoxins into his body, and that’s bad.” She pulled an emergency blanket from another pocket, the tin-foil texture crinkling as she shook it out. “Let’s protect him from the hypothermia, at least.” She said as she wrapped the blanket around the Sectoid. “You got a name, hon?”

The Sectoid moved his lips, but barely any sound came out. Seeing the two staring at him blankly, the Sectoid seemed to huff and reached out towards the ground again, his sharp fingernail began to carve the shapes into the loose dirt while Malinalli and Gur-Rai watched intently.

“V…” Malinalli squinted. “Is that a 5?”

“I think it’s an E.” Gur-Rai said. “V-E-R...9-E?”

“Why is there a random 9?” She asked.

“Maybe it’s supposed to be a g.” He nodded. “So, that spells Verge.”

“Verge?” Malinalli furrowed her brow. “Are you sure it’s not Virgil?”

“He wrote it, Molly.” Gur-Rai shrugged, standing up with Verge wrapped up like a burrito in his arms. “In any case, let’s worry about names when he’s not-”

“-dying. Yeah.” She stood up and pressed a button on her comm link. “Hey Tygan? I have another patient for you.”

.

.

When they showed up at camp again, they attracted a lot of attention. People seemed to stop their conversations to look over at the two agents bringing a tin-foil wrapped Sectoid toward the Avenger. Gur-Rai kept his back straight and his eyes ahead, letting his posture speak for him. Malinalli, on the other hand, seemed to shrink inward under the scrutiny of the people.

Gur-Rai heard footsteps and saw his sister approaching him. He nodded to her. “Sister! I would wave but as you can see, my hands are full.”

“Yes, I do see.” She said worriedly. “Gur-Rai, what on Earth do you have?”

“A Sectoid.” He said simply.

She walked alongside him briskly. “Is it dead?”

Verge raised a finger, and Kon-Mai jumped back. 

“Nalla itzar!” She yelped. “How is it alive?!”

“He’s a he, Sister, not an it. That’s rude.” Gur-Rai grinned. “And his name is Verge.”

Kon-Mai stared at him in disbelief. “You have NAMED it?!”

“Him, Sister, HIM!”

“Fine! Him! You-”

“Of course not. He told me that was his name.” Gur-Rai nodded, looking very proud of himself.

“Well...why did you bring him here?!”

“We’re gonna see if Tygan can fix him up.” He said. “Malinalli did what she could, but she is only a nurse and-” He broke off as his foot hit the metal dock of the Avenger, and he looked up with a smile. “Hello, Commander.”

Senuna, for once, did not greet the Chosen with a smile, but a look of deep discomfort as she saw the Sectoid in Gur-Rai’s arms. Behind her, Zhang leaned forward on his cane, his eyes glistening with barely concealed anger and panic.

“As you can see, I have a wounded soldier here.” Gur-Rai said. “I need to get him to Tygan ASAP.”

Zhang turned to the Commander. “I know what we just discussed, Senuna, but you cannot allow this.” He insisted. “That is a Sectoid.”

Gur-Rai raised his brow. “Now now, Zhang, let’s not be hasty. He’s in dire need of care, and he’s hardly a threat to you.”

“I do not care.” Zhang’s voice trembled with barely disguised fear. “Those hings...that thing…” His hand went to his stomach, and the stitches that held it together. “Senuna, I am begging you. Don’t bring it on board.”

“Look, I get it, you’re dealing with a lot right now, Zhang, and I am very sorry for that.” Gur-Rai snapped. “But Verge here was attacked by ADVENT soldiers. He must have pissed them off. And if he annoyed ADVENT enough to get shot at, he’s a friend in my book.” Gur-Rai adjusted Verge, the Sectoid’s limp head lying in the crook of his neck. “Now, let me on the ship.”

“Commander.” Zhang spat. “You cannot agree to let that Sectoid in. If you do, I…” He didn’t seem willing to finish his sentence.

Malinalli hung back beside Kon-Mai, the two women staring at the conflict before them helplessly. Malinalli desperately wanted to interject, but she had already spoken out of turn once before. She couldn’t win such a fight again so soon. Kon-Mai put a calming hand on her shoulder, her own cool magenta eyes watching the fight with intent.

Senuna looked back and forth between the Chosen and her dear friend. She looked lost. Her hands trembled and she clasped them in front of her, maintaining a stiff, militant posture. She opened her mouth to Zhang, but then looked at Gur-Rai, and ultimately said nothing.

“Commander.” A strong, soothing voice said behind her. Dr. Tygan stepped up, pulling a stretcher behind him. “According to the Medical Neutrality Protection Act, it is my duty as a physician to treat those in need as I see fit, regardless of political affiliation. Therefore, on medical authority, I am taking this Sectoid on board.” He didn’t even wait for her response as he nodded to Gur-Rai to follow him.

Zhang and Senuna stared at the two in disbelief as Gur-Rai walked right past them, laying Verge’s limp body gently onto the stretcher and following behind as Tygan pulled it toward the infirmary. As it shuddered over the patchy floor, Verge opened his eyes slightly and reached out, searching for Gur-Rai’s hand. The Chosen took it and gave it a soft pat.

“You’re on your way, friend.” Gur-Rai chuckled. “Don’t you worry; you’re safe now.”

Zhang sighed and shook his head, making his way back into the ship. “I suppose you couldn’t stop that, could you?”

“Of course not.” Senuna mused. “Medical authority...I rarely hear him pull that card.” Her eyes lingered on the disappearing stretcher, and a slight smile crossed her lips. “Chilong, will you be alright?”

“Define alright.” He grumbled. “I’ll be...resting if you need me.” Turning away from her, he hobbled back down the hall.

Kon-Mai touched Malinalli’s shoulder. “Come.”

“What about the Commander?” Malinalli whispered. “And Verge-”

“Trust me.” Kon-Mai smiled. “If the Commander had wanted to stop this, she could have.” 

Malinalli fell silent. “...So she-”

She nodded. “Now, I must return to my work. And so must you, Molly.”

.

.

“I owe you one, big time.” Gur-Rai said as he transferred Verge from the stretcher to one of the beds.

“You don’t owe me anything.” Tygan insisted as he began to start up the larger scanner. “I would have helped either way. Sectoid or not, he is still a living being.”

“Right you are, Doc.” He let go of Verge’s hand, the Sectoid’s arm falling limp. “Will he be ok?”

“Only time will tell. But he’s survived this long…” Tygan bobbed his head from side to side. “With luck, and a bit of skill, he will live to tell the tale.” Tygan touched a button on his comm. “Victoria Immanuel and Chinonso Chikere, come to the Infirmary please.”

“Well in that case, I leave you to your work.” Gur-Rai said with a bow. “Unless you need help.”

“I think you leaving would be the best help.” Tygan muttered.

Gur-Rai backed out of the room, glancing back at Verge one last time as Tygan began shoving that god-awful breathing tube down his throat. He winced a bit, and almost turned around and insisted he remain.

Tearing his eyes away, he exited into the hall, where the Skirmisher woman from before was waiting, her legs crossed and looking lost in thought. One hand rested absently over her stomach.

Gur-Rai nodded to her, and she looked up, staring at him for a moment.

“Will I be seeing you around the Avenger?” He asked.

She hesitated for a moment, then she nodded. “Someday. This war is a long one after all. And I have a while to go.”

He smiled and saluted her. “Well then; keep fighting the good fight, soldier.” With a wink, he traipsed off into the darkness.

.

.

.

.

.

(Yes I love Verge too much. Sue me. I had to. :3

I needed an explanation as to why his name is Verge, I know others like @chimerathesquad have an explanation for it, but I like to think it’s because Malinalli and Gur-Rai had to share the brain cell that day~)

Archive: https://chosenstories.tumblr.com/

[yesloverboy]

Neighborly (mgk!Tommy Lee x Reader) Part 5

SUMMARY: Desperate to explain himself, Tommy runs out of the party to find you after drunkenly kissing a groupie– despite his claims that he’s in love with you. Realizing he completely fucked up, Tommy vows to do whatever it takes to make it up to you and prove that he really means what he says. Something tells you it’s going to take a lot of convincing, but how far is he really willing to go?

word count: 4,327

[Warnings: swearing, body image, little bit of angst, a lot of fluffy goodness, drug and alcohol mention/usage.]

NOTE: Sorry for the big ass delay on this chapter, I started a full time internship and haven’t had a lot of time to myself lately. That being said I do have some stuff planned, so hopefully writing the next few parts won’t be nearly as difficult. There’s even a smut chapter coming (fairly) soon, so don’t worry Reader and Tommy will most definitely fuck. Cross my heart.  

tags: @kwyloz, @scarecrowmax, @lavendersoundbarrier, @stevenandsam, @totallynotkaibiased, @rogertaylur, @fatheadtheroger, @secretly-a-groupie, @kickstart-myheart-sixx, @abbysdogcollar, @dirtysixxers, @black-tights-black-heart, @valentines-in-london, @colsonbakersnoseringmain, @hxllywood-whxre, @ccidk, @sharon6713, @myshakespeareandarling, @moon-beame, @carmineharry

 You manage to sprint up to your apartment before Tommy is able to catch up with you. A chorus of yelling and screaming can still be heard from downstairs, but it seems more aggressive than before. Deciding whatever’s happening is officially none of your concern anymore, you rush into the safety of your apartment. The door slams behind you with a heavy thud, causing the brittle walls to shake and echo in its wake.  

 With your back against the door, you find yourself unable to move. The events of tonight keep replaying in your head– from Tommy kissing you at your dining table to watching him become colored pink by some other girl’s lipstick. All the memories were meshing and molding together, burning a hole in your mind like a bad reel of film.

 Your ruminating thoughts are promptly interrupted by a harsh knock on the door behind you. For the first time since you moved in, you spin around and secure the door chain, preventing anyone from fully entering the apartment.

 “Y/N, it’s me! Open up!”

 You say nothing, stupidly hoping that Tommy will get the hint and continue the rest of his evening downstairs. Instead, he only pounds on the door harder, making you worried it may very well fall off the hinges.

 “I know I fucked up! Will you please just open the door so we can talk?!”

 Tommy tries opening the door this time, but the door chain catches the movement, only allowing it to open about four inches at most. Through the crack in the frame, you can see a sliver of Tommy’s washed out expression as he gazes at you with wide eyes.  

 “Y/N, what the fuck is this?” Tommy gestures to the chain fastened firmly in place, his face fraught with worry.

 “I have nothing to say to you,” your voice shakes as tears threaten to leak out once again. Gritting your teeth, you avert your eyes to the floor, unable to look at Tommy without trembling.

 “But, Y/N I love–”

 “Don’t,” you interrupt, finding that Tommy wanting to admit his supposed love for you after what happened was the final straw. “You don’t get to say that.”

 Summoning your courage, you take a few steps toward the door. Tommy watches you with glassy eyes, looking more like a kicked puppy than the party animal you witnessed downstairs. Sometimes it’s hard to believe they’re the same person.

 “Please Tommy, just leave.”

 Tommy bites his lip, and you know his leg is bouncing nervously by the way his shoulders involuntarily rock back and forth. “I-I can’t. I won’t.”

 With a heavy sigh you go to push the door the rest of the way closed. Surprisingly, Tommy doesn’t resist and allows it to slam in his face, eyes remaining fixed on the ground.

 For the first time since that morning, you’re finally able to breathe. You’re proud of yourself for being able to deny Tommy’s effort of engaging in damage control but, for some reason, it still doesn’t feel very good. The music from the party downstairs reverberates against the old floorboards, reminding you of the growing pit in your stomach.

 Deep within, you knew going to the show wasn’t a good idea, but Tommy’s deep blue eyes and gentle touch brought something out of you that you didn’t recognize. Now here you are, confused and hurt at the hands of your crazy neighbor who claims to already be in love with you. You thoughts wander back through visions of Tommy kissing the brunette downstairs, causing you to reflexively clench your jaw.

     I deserve this, don’t I?

 Feeling exhausted, emotionally and physically, you decide it’s best if you just turn in for the night. Trudging into your bedroom, you immediately shed Tommy’s jacket. It falls to a sad heap on the floor, coiling up in the corner of the room like a poisonous snake. Although the sight of it inherently sickens you, you still recall the way Tommy’s goofy smile and contagious laugh had lit up your apartment for the past week.

 In an attempt to drown out your thoughts and some of the party below, you switch on the radio and tune it to the oldies station, hoping that the white noise will be relaxing. You yank off your jeans and switch off the light, not bothering to wash your face or change into pyjamas. Nothing seems more important than allowing the softness of Ella Fitzgerald’s gentle croon lull you to sleep.

 You close your eyes, trying to cleanse your thoughts of all the stress and anxiety from the past few hours. Still, you dream of lipstick coated kisses and endless, blue eyes.

     I’ll be seeing you.

...

That morning, you allow yourself to sleep in, awakening only when the sun is just about to dip into early afternoon. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you look up at the cactus bathing in the sunshine on your windowsill. It’s standing taller in its jar than when Tommy left it for you. With a bitter scoff, you kick off the covers and exchange last night’s halter top for an oversized t-shirt. 

 Although you didn’t get wasted last night, your steady consumption of beer on a near empty stomach left you with a throbbing headache and a sour taste in your mouth. You try to busy yourself by starting a pot of coffee and jumping in the shower. No matter how hard you scrub, it seems you can’t get the scent of Tommy’s cigarettes and cologne off of your skin. If last night were a phantom, it would surely be haunting you. 

 By the time you’re able to get a sip of coffee, the entire apartment is hot and sticky with shower steam. Feeling hyper-aware of your raw skin and heavy eyelids, you decide now is a perfect time to make use of the balcony. Maybe getting some fresh air would even be good for you. 

 You remain in just your old t-shirt and a pair of underwear, permitting your hair to drip freely onto the floor. Typically you’d feel more inclined to cover up, but it seems you have much bigger problems than your idiot neighbors. Even if one of them was the biggest problem of all. 

 Coffee mug in hand, you unlatch the chain and pull open the door. As you go to step outside, you foot caches on a soft object blocking your way. What the fuck? Looking down you discover a long, lanky body curled into itself on your welcome mat. 

 “You have got to be fucking kidding me,” you mutter, recognizing the tangle of limbs and brown curls as none other than Tommy fucking Lee.

 Tommy stirs at the sound of your voice, stretching out and rolling onto his back. You hesitantly nudge his arm with your foot, trying to shake him awake before he has time to process where he’s at. If you were being honest, Tommy was the last person you wanted to see. You assume he must have been a lot more fucked up last night than you thought, judging by the fact that he’s presently passed out on your doorstep.

 “Tommy,” you whisper harshly, wanting so desperately for him to get up and go away, “Tommy get the fuck up!”

 “Hmmm?” he hums in confusion, his saltwater blue eyes squinting against the invasive rays of sunlight. Tommy’s eyes meet yours, and you try to ignore the little flutter of hope your heart feels when his face lights up with recognition.

 Tommy pulls himself up on his feet, jutting upwards as if awakening from a dream. You take a step back, afraid he may lose his balance and collapse on top of you.

 Noticing you recoiling away, Tommy grabs ahold of your shoulder with a firm hand. You scowl as coffee sloshes out of the cup and lands on your bare feet, stinging your toes.

 “Wait! Don’t go yet– please don’t go yet, I have to talk to you–I have to explain,” Tommy’s words come out in an incoherent babble, “I waited all–all fucking night, just like I said and I, uh, can you please just let me come in?”

 You mouth falls open in utter astonishment as your weary brain puts the pieces together. Tommy didn’t pass out, he slept on your doorstep in the hopes that you would eventually open the door. Technically, he succeeded.

 Tommy doesn’t wait for your answer, and instead continues to plead with you, eyes bloodshot from exhaustion, “I couldn’t leave, I didn’t want to.”

 Sighing, you step aside and open the door all the way, wordlessly inviting him inside like you had in the past. You hate yourself for empathizing with his dark circles and broken posture from sleeping on the ground, but figure it very well may have been punishment enough.

 Tommy makes a beeline for your tiny sofa, flopping on it so forcefully that you fear it might snap in half. With his head hanging limply off the arm of the sofa, he buries his face in his hands and groans up at the ceiling in relief.

 “No offense, Y/N, but that welcome mat of yours fucking sucks.”

 You abandon your coffee mug by the sink, deciding you don’t have the patience to reheat it, and perch on the opposite arm where Tommy’s feet are resting.

  “That’s because it’s a welcome mat, not a please sleep on me when you’re being an asshole mat,” you retort, still unable to rid your voice of its residual bitterness from the night before.

 “I know, you’re right,” Tommy sits up straight, hugging his impossibly long legs to his chest, “But I had to see you.” 

 “Why?”

 “Because I–well, you know what I’m trying to say,” he picks at his shoelaces absentmindedly, cheeks pink with something that resembles embarrassment.

 You sigh running a hand through your hair, “You know I don’t want to talk about this anymore, Tommy.”

 “Look, I know I royally fucked up, but I just don’t know how to do this,” he gestures between the two of you as if there’s some kind of tangible force holding you both together. You swallow hard, wondering if maybe there is.

 “There is no this, Tommy. It’s obvious that there never was,” you can’t help how harsh you sound as the ghost of self-doubt starts to creep into your head, making you wonder if Tommy ever genuinely liked you to begin with.

 “God, but I want there to be. I want this to be something so bad, you don’t even understand.”

 I do, you think, wanting nothing more than to just shout it at him and end the conversation. You decide that you can’t, choosing now to guard your heart better than before. “I’m just not sure I believe you,” you answer honestly, voice barely louder than a whisper.

 Tommy leans forward and grasps both of your hands in his, the sudden touch causing your skin to prickle with goosebumps. His hands are warm and secure against your own, fitting together just as comfortably as your lips had when he kissed you.

 “Hey, Y/N, look at me. Please.”

 You comply, meeting his gaze and seeing nothing but honesty. No alcohol, no drugs, no pushy bandmates– just happy-go-lucky Tommy.

 “Let me prove it to you, okay? I’ll do whatever it takes, I swear,” Tommy grazes your palms gently with his thumbs, settling the uneasiness in your stomach. As much as you want to move on with your life, you can’t help but wonder if there’s something in the universe that keeps dragging the two of you together. Even though Tommy fucked up, you had never met someone so eager to gain your approval and keep it– especially not someone you didn’t officially belong to.

 Tommy awaits your reply with bated breath, obsessively searching your face for any indication of what you might be thinking.

 “I’ll think about it,” you decide, giving Tommy’s hands a gentle squeeze of affirmation.

 Tommy releases your hands and claps his together victoriously, “Oh thank fucking god!”

 “You do realize I didn’t say yes, right?”

 “I know dude, but everyone knows that if it isn’t a no then it’s definitely a maybe. Which is code for almost yes.”

 “Unbelievable,” you roll your eyes, trying to fight off the smile tugging at the corner of your lips. For the first time that day, Tommy is grinning. Tommy’s smile was something you didn’t know you needed to see until it was gone, but being able to bring it back makes it all worthwhile.

 “You know you say that a lot,” Tommy averts his eyes, a hint of shyness lingering in his voice. Apparently you weren’t the only one turning into someone unrecognizable since the two of you crossed paths.

 “That’s because you haven’t given me a reason to stop,” you nudge his knee playfully with your own, “now get out of my apartment before I change my mind.”

 “Whatever you say, pretty girl.” 

...

 After Tommy left, you decided to busy yourself with flipping through the Help Wanted section of the paper, hoping to find some odd jobs to do while you wait to see if UCLA will let you transfer for the semester. If you were lucky, maybe you’d even score a scholarship. You try to shake the thought, attempting to be a little bit more realistic about your life choices. Help Wanted it is, then.

 Store clerk, housekeeper, secretary, assistant manager– nothing seemed to be jumping out at you. At this point, you know you can’t really afford to be picky, but it would be nice to find something that you won’t mind doing just in case college doesn’t work out.

 Chewing thoughtlessly on the end of a pen, your eyes slowly drift downward to a cluster of small print at the bottom of the page.

     ‘Help Wanted – Record Store Sales Associate’

 The possibility of working in a record store didn’t sound so bad. At least if something were to fall through with UCLA, you’d still be able to get involved with music in some small way. You go ahead and circle the small ad, think that you may even try giving them a call later.

 Your job search is halted by the shrill ring of a telephone coming from your kitchen. Perplexed, you get up and eye the old phone cautiously. In the short amount of time you’d been in Los Angeles, you hadn’t had any reason to give anyone your phone number just yet. Who could be calling? The old tenant, maybe?

 Picking up the phone, you barely catch it before its final ring.

 “Hello?”

 “Y/N! Hey, it’s Tommy!” his low voice crackles softly through the static. You can hear the sounds of cars and people talking in the background, and figure he must’ve stopped at a phonebooth.  “Tommy? How the hell did you get this number?” you try to ask calmly, but hiding the surprise in your voice is nearly impossible.

 You barely know your own number, and highly doubt Tommy’s memorization skills are better than yours. Tommy chuckles on the other end and you can practically envision the goofy expression on his face.

 “The landlady, dude! She may or may not have a thing for me, and I may or may not have asked her for your number.”

 Tangling your fingers through the telephone cord with an unthinking hand, you feel lucky that Tommy isn’t able to see the girlish smile forming on your face.

 “Of course you did,” you say, stifling a giggle.

 “Yeah well, you know me– oh yeah! I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

 “Shoot,” you reply, racking your brain for any ideas as to what could be so important that Tommy would go through the trouble of getting your number and calling.

 Tommy takes in a deep breath on the other end of the line. “Would you–would you go on a date with me?”

 You nearly laugh out loud. “So this is what you couldn’t wait until you got home to tell me?”

 “Well, I just thought that taking you out would be the best way to show you that I really care, ya know?”

 You feel your heart soften at Tommy’s words, but there’s still something inside of you that wants a little bit more payback for what he put you through yesterday. As much as you appreciate the attention and his eagerness to please you, you want to make absolutely sure that he isn’t trying to play you.

 “Tommy, you know I said that I’d think about it.”

 “Yeah, but that was before I had a plan,” he scoffs impatiently, “and now I have one and I want to take you out.”

 “Okay well I’m pretty busy, so talk later–okay?” you go to put the phone down when you hear the faint sound of Tommy’s excited yelling coming from the receiver.

 “Wait, Y/N! Before you go, can I ask you one more thing?”

 “I’m listening,” you say.

 “Do you like flowers?”

 The question catches you off guard, “Uh, yeah. Doesn’t everyone?”

 “Okay cool, I was just wondering. Anyways, I gotta jet! See ya, dude!”

 The line goes dead as Tommy abruptly hangs up, the dial tone echoing flatly in your ears. As usual, Tommy leaves you confused and smiling to yourself. Just last night you thought you never wanted to give him the time of day, and now here you are, grinning like an idiot alone in your house.

     Why him?

...

 There’s a knock on your door about an hour after Tommy’s phone call. It certainly doesn’t take much brain power to figure out who’s probably waiting for you on the other side.

 “What do you want now, Tommy?” you ask, pulling open the door.

 Tommy looks down at you with a crazed look in his eyes, “Whoa, Y/N! How’d you know it was me?”

 “Lucky guess.”

 Tommy leans against the doorframe, head cocked to the side to get a better look at you. “So, uh about that date…” he wastes no time getting to the point of his sudden visit, “...do you think you might wanna go?”  “I said I’d think about it,” you shoot him a wry smile, finding yourself relishing in the opportunity to make him squirm for once.

 Tommy runs his hands through his hair, tugging at his dark waves in mild frustration. “Yeah but that was hours ago and–”

 “One hour ago. At most.”

 “–and I just really want to show you I’m serious okay? Let me take you out, Y/N. Please.” Tommy’s giving you the biggest puppy dog eyes he can, resorting to his boyish charm to win you over.

 You rub your chin for show, attempting to give the illusion that you’re lost deep within your own thoughts.  “Hmmm…” Tommy looks at you expectantly, hanging on your every syllable, “...still thinking about it.”

 “Oh come on, now you’re just being mean.”

 “Maybe,” you laugh, a playful lilt coloring your voice, “but don’t worry, loverboy, I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”

 “Fine,” Tommy pouts, looking oddly adorable for a nearly grown man in such a disgruntled state of being.  You give the toe of his sneaker a reassuring nudge, “I’ll come to you.” It wasn’t just a possibility, it was a promise. After all, he was impossible to say no to.  “When?��� Tommy asks, chest swelling with hope.

 “Eventually.”

...

 It’s almost evening when yet another knock sounds at your door. With a frustrated sigh, you fling the book you’d been reading down onto the coffee table, letting it splay out in a heap of crumpled pages.  “Tommy, how many times do I have to tell you that I’d think about it,” you groan, rushing to open the door.  When it swings open you look up, expecting to see Tommy’s looming figure, but instead look across from you to find Mick standing at your doorstep. In one of his hands is a bouquet of crimson roses wrapped snugly in a sheet of parchment paper. They’re absolutely stunning, and look extremely expensive.

 “Sorry to disappoint, neighbor,” Mick says, voice weary and bored as always, “but your idiot boy is off doing god knows what.”

 “Then what are you–?”

 Mick holds up his free hand, gently cutting you off before you can finish. “He wanted me to give you these.” He points the bouquet in your direction so you can take it, the parchment paper it's wrapped in rustles gently against the summer breeze. “‘Says you told him not to come up here.”

 “O-oh,” you stammer, unable to control the flush of heat rising rapidly to your cheeks. You aren’t entirely sure why Tommy was so hellbent on getting you to go out on a date with him, but you can’t deny that his methods are starting to work on you.

 “Look,” Mick huffs, as if being bothered to speak is an unbearable burden, “I can’t vouch for Tommy often, but what I can say is that he really wants to make this right. Whatever it is that’s going on up here.”

 “But I thought you said he does this shit all the time?” you don’t mean to sound argumentative with Mick, but part of the reason why you had a hard time buying that Tommy really cares is because of what you had heard and seen for yourself.

 “I’ve seen him fall in love a dozen times, but I’ve only ever seen him want to stay in it once– and that’s right now. He even called off our gig tonight just so he could go and figure everything out.”

 You swallow hard, knowing deep down that Mick would never had come up here to do such a ridiculous errand if he doesn’t at least partly believe what he’s saying. You think back to last night’s party and recall Mick’s shocked expression mirroring yours when that girl kissed Tommy. If anyone had even an inkling of what you had experienced, it was him.

 “Thank you,” you reply, voice softening with sincerity.

 Mick rolls his eyes, “Don’t thank me, go downstairs and tell Tommy that you’ll do it. I know you’re not that dumb, neighbor.

...

 “Hey drummer, special delivery!” Mick yells as the two of you step into the Crüe apartment.

 The boys’ apartment is in the same state of disarray as when you had fled from it the night before. The only difference is that, now, it was devoid of rambunctious party goers and populated by the occasional roach or two. From down the hall, you can hear Tommy’s wide steps approaching as he struts toward the living room.

 “Mick! Hey man, listen. I really don’t have time for this I have to get everything ready for–” Tommy stops dead in his tracks when he sees you standing by the busted window, hugging a dozen roses securely to your chest.

 “Y/N! What’re you doing here?” Tommy’s face lights up, his eyes brightening as he approaches you.  

 Mick interjects before you can respond. “She’s here to tell you that’s she finally come to her senses. Although I can’t blame her for being...apprehensive,” he punctuates his statement by glowering in Tommy’s direction.

 Tommy is only able to raise his hands in a form of surrender, taking an instinctive step back away from Mick.

 “Now,” Mick continues, “I leave you to it.”

 With that, Mick saunters out of the window ledge and into the sunshine, his back ramrod straight to support the slight limp developing in his leg. When he’s finally out of sight, you and Tommy exchange a bewildered look that quickly dissolves into an amiable fit of laughter. The roses are still pulled firmly against you as you look up at Tommy. You love the way his nose crinkles when he laughs, and know that–one day– he’ll probably have crows feet from a lifetime of smiling. Hopefully you’d even be around to see them.  

 “You know,” Tommy starts, pointing at the bundle of roses in your arms, “if I had known flowers were going to do the trick I would’ve bought you a hundred.”

 “Let’s just say that a certain alien may have put in a good word for you.”

 Tommy lets out a huge sigh of relief, “I’m so happy to hear you say that. Sending the old man up there was a gamble, and he definitely wasn’t happy with me today. Guess I owe him one.”

 “Can’t imagine why,” you smirk, satisfied with the fact that you aren’t the only one around here that isn’t completely willing to let go.

 “Anyways,” Tommy asserts, stepping into your personal space and placing his hands on his hips impatiently, “isn’t there something you wanted to tell me?”

 You gingerly pull one of the roses out from the bunch and hold it out to Tommy, careful not to prick your fingers on the thorns.

 “Tommy, may I go on a date with you?”

 Tommy accepts the rose, a broad smile breaking out across his face, “Hell yeah, baby girl. Pick you up at noon tomorrow?”

 “Sure thing, drummer boy,” you say.

 In a moment of sheer impulse, you stand up on the tips of your toes and place a soft kiss on Tommy’s cheek. His thin layer of stubble tickles your lips as that familiar, electric feeling courses through your being. When you come back down to the ground, Tommy is stunned to silence. He gently places a hand on his cheek, securing it to the spot where you kissed him as if were trying to preserve the delicate gesture forever.

 “So now will you leave me alone?” you laugh, making your way over to the open window.

 Just as you are about to climb on out of the Crüe apartment, Tommy suddenly comes back to reality and rushes over. “Wait! Uh, don’t forget to wear a bathing suit tomorrow.”

 “A bathing suit?” you ask incredulously, a single eyebrow raised, “What for?”

 “You’ll see.”

Part 6

Masterlist

[bottomaziraphale-ao3fanfic]

ABO Ineffable Wives Hades and Persephone AU

Aziraphale and Crowley already married ruling Hades together already so happy and so so in love. A group of underworld lords and some of the gods above being unhappy with this union so they plan against them and when Crowley leaves to check on the souls of the rotted they pounce. Pretending to want to visit their baby sister they go to hades and wait till Aziraphale drinks the memory loss potion they poured in her wine before knocking her unconscious and stealing her to the upper world. She never at the fruit of the underworld because Crowley always wanted her to have a choice in leaving if she ever wanted too. Cerberus senses what's wrong and tries to save his precious queen but he is no match for two minor gods and a major one. So he runs to his master in warning but he doesn’t make it half way before collapsing. By this time Crowley has long since felt something wrong. The minute she felt Aziraphale knocked unconscious through their soul bond she sped through hades to get back to her home only to find her servants scared and his guards murdered and her wife's wedding ring and crown on the floor.

Twenty years pass and both seemed to have withered away into almost nothing. Crowley became a ghost if who she used to be and ruled with an even tighter fist than before. Shes colder, meaner with a tongue meant for a verbal lashing at anyone who gets on her bad side. Aziraphale was a ghost with no memory of who she was. She didn’t remember the pleasures of life that once brought smiles and laughter to her face. She hollowed out with a constant ache to her soul that always seemed to remind that something important was missing. Shed ask her brother Michael and Sandolph but they would just give her empty smiles and assure it's because of her nerves for her upcoming wedding with gabriel which in every sense of the word felt so wrong to her. As if every cell in her body shook in rage and disgust at the thought of marrying him, not when her heart and soul screamed that she belonged to someone else. That she already had the most perfect alpha the heavens could ever make for her. But she did not understand this. So she lived her days as a ghost her powers never came to her and she was always so weak and frail that she was on constant supervision.

One day Sandolph and Michael are both called to mount Olympus. They both gave her strict instructions not to go anywhere or invite anyone in and that they would be back as soon as they can to get everything ready for her marriage the upcoming week. It was so clear to her they didn’t love her and trust her the way they should like in the books she read and it was so obvious to her that Gabriel didn’t like her, let alone love her. He always acted like a villain from her books instead of the dashing hero meant to save and love her. She was so tired of this. Twenty years of misery and felt like death the moment she woke up in her bed to cruel eyes looking at her smiles that denied the questions she asked.

Before she used to be so afraid of the consequences if she disobeyed but now she could feel herself on the brink of death, any day now she would wither away to nothingness and end up in hades. It may have been to late for her to change her fate from death, but it wasn't too late for her to live as much as she can before she died. She’d prefer to die than live in this empty existence anyway, especially if she was going to marry the cruelty that was Gabriel the Mighty. She would take death over him any day. So she made the decision to run away and the fates have given her the perfect moment to get away.

With her favorite book, she ran as fast and far as she could and reached a dark forest that immediately gave her entryway and stumbled upon a meadow with night colored soil, bluminest water, and star filled flowers. It was the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. So beautiful, so peaceful, so familiar. She felt safe here and happy that she gave the world a first genuine smile that hasn't been seen since she woke up.

Her smile slowly morphed to a frown as she gasped and dropped her book. Her head was swimming in pain and her vision swam. She stumbled to the closest tree and wondered if this was where she was gonna die. She took a ragged breath, and closed her eyes. Her heart was finally beating with life at the shelter she found in this dark forest, that she didn’t seem to mind the darkness clouding her vision. She was happy to find a place that brought such happiness to her, that she welcomed death with a smile for giving her this, this much before taking her away. So she closed her eyes and her body fell limp against the tree shading her from the sun.

Memories ran across her eyes like film and she dreamed of rose colored hair and wine stained lips that always stretched in a smile around her. She dreamed of their first meeting, their first kiss, the first time Crowley showed her the underworld and all the wondrous magic she held. She dreamed of meeting Anathema and Newt, she dreamed of giving Cerberus belly rubs, she dreamed of sneaking into the kitchens with Adam to eat sweet treats, she dreamed she dreamed she dreamed. Most importantly all about Crowley, her most important person, her other half, her heart and soul. Oh her poor crowley must be all alone and sad without her now, she must wake up right now to-

"Aziraphale! Aziraphale!" Her eyes slowly opened and she groaned. Her vision gave a blurry image of a man that slowly cleared away to reveal gabriel who held annoyance in his eyes and wore a displeased frown. Immediately her blood boiled at the sight of him.

"We've been looking all over for you! You were told not to leave! Made us all run around in worry when all you were doing was napping insufferable brat! Let's go you've caused enough trouble for one day."

There would've been tears at the words he struck against her except she wasn’t the person who blindly ran away to this safe haven withering away praying for death. She was who she always had been, Persephone- Goddess of Vegetation, Spring, and the Underworld. She was not one to be trifled with.

He went to grab her and she snarled "don’t you dare touch me!" He jumped and leaped back at the ferocity from her voice.

His eyes widen in confusion "what has gotten into you today??!! First you run off like a child and now you're talking back-

"Shut up" she regarded him coldly and stood up carefully still weak from her collapse.

She took a ragged breath "you've treated me like a cockroach to be crushed beneath your feet ever since I came to existence. Now you've stolen me from my home, my alpha. I've bitten my tongue too long for you lot since you were my family and I loved you all despite your treatment towards me. Not anymore. You hurt my alpha by hurting me and now you shall have to answer to her and I will not vouch for any of you a moment longer. I am going home.”

Gabriel stared at her in shock before laughing and her body shook in rage at the gesture.

"Oh sunshine you think we'll let you go back after all the effort it took to get you here? No ones going to let you leave and look at you! You're one breath away from withering into dust. You can’t do anything! You're weak and useless, you need us, you have no choice but to stay with us."

Vines quickly sprouted around gabriel and tightly wrapped around him to the point he couldn’t breathe. He choked from the one around his neck that made him face her in all her rage. For the first time ever in his immortal life, he felt afraid of Aziraphale, who tightened the vines around him and made him gasp in pain.

"You," she snarled "have no control over me. You never did and you never will. I never needed you nor will I ever. You forget what they named me. Persephone! The dread queen of the underworld." She took a step forward towards him, "Peresphone, to destroy," vines tightened and he gave a silent scream, “to murder."

She smiled coldly at him, "yes I am kind but I've been told I can be a bit of a bastard. Lucky for you I have no intentions of killing you. You are nothing to me and I couldn’t care less about your putrid existence. Let this be a warning to you Gabriel, you come after me or any of my family in the underworld and not only will you have to answer to me, you will have to answer to my Alpha who will rip you and everyone else limb from limb and cast you all down to tartarus.

"You. Would. Start. A war!" he gasped out.

"You started it the moment you took me." She replied coolly.

She snapped her fingers and a dog whistle appeared in her hand, she brought it to her lips and gave a long whistle. Seconds later the ground shook and out came the hound of Hades who growled with all heads snapping until they saw who summoned them. Immediately their tongues lolled forward and their tail wagged in excitement. They made to leapt at her until they saw the condition she was in and whimpered.

She gave them a large smile and rubbed all their heads. "Oh you good boys you've all grown! You've immediately came when mama called, such good babies! I promise you'll get a big treat when we see your other mom!" She cooed.

Cerberus kneeled down and let Aziraphale settle on him before standing on his legs. She glared at gabriel and let the vines release him, dropping him onto the floor while he gasped for breath. "Tell the others what happened and remember my words Gabriel. Come after any us, and we will destroy you."

Gabriel tried crawling towards her, but Cerberus growled and snapped his teeth in warning. She petted all his heads before whispering in his ear, "take me home" and they disappeared.

They sped through the underworld with the wind nipping at her skin, her eyes watered and the world blurred around her. She was so tired, especially from using her once forgotten powers, but she had to keep going just a little while longer. Cerberus sensing the state of her master, sped faster rushing through the guards guarding the palace, destroying the entrance and everything in his path until they reached the throne room.

“Cerebrus what the hell do you think you're doing!"

Aziraphales heart races at the sound of her alpha. She leaned her body away from cerberus and raised her head to her shell-shocked alpha who couldn't seem to believe she was here.

The throne room was deathly quiet and aziraphale felt such an ache tears sprung from her eyes. She gave a wobbly smile "Crowley" she croaked and a cough shook her frame and she gasped from the pain of it. No, no please she just got here! Just a little while longer please! She begged in her mind to Thanos who lurked in the corner of her eye.

Immediately Crowley was at her side taking her in her arms. Aziraphale sobbed at the comforting scent of her alpha. She forgot what she smelled like, oh how could she forget.

Chaos ran around them but all Aziraphale could register was Crowley. Her face, her scent, her touch. Heavens she missed her so much! She nearly choked on a sob and took a ragged breath. She could feel herself getting weaker and weaker.

Crowley who seemed to sense this patted her face with urgency to make her stay awake. "Angel please you have to stay awake just for a little while longer. Anathema is on her way. When she says it's okay, then you can sleep, but you have to wait for her word first, sweetheart please!" Crowley begged with desperation.

Oh her Alpha, her poor alpha looked so tired and aged she wished she could do something for her other than lay in her arms, dying. Tears kept streaming down her cheeks, she was so so happy she could see her Alpha one last time, she was so tired. She heard voices in the background as her vision spun to darkness but all she could hear was Crowley who begged her to stay awake, to stay by her side, to never leave her. With a deep pang of regret she realized for once she might not be able to listen to her love. She was really going to die. She prayed to anyone and everyone for Crowley to find happiness and love after her, as much as it hurt that she couldn’t be there by her side. Tears clogging her throat she mouthed I love you one last time before her hand in crowleys went limp and fell against her side.

Her body ached and she was in pain from what felt like the worst hangover shes ever had. She groaned when she opened her eyes and light filled in. Her vision blurred before clearing and it took her a second to remember what happened. She quickly sat up looking for her alpha who immediately fled to her side from the chair across her bed.

"Easy love, you're alive, you’re safe, you're here in my arms. Nothing will ever take you away from me again I promise you this."

She sobbed against Crowley's chest who rocked her in her lap on the bed she slept on and patiently waited while stroking her hair.

Her alpha whispered quiet reassurances until a few moments passed and Aziraphale stopped crying. She sniffed one last time before raising her eyes to her alpha who looked as wrecked as Aziraphale felt.

"Darling, what happened?"

Crowley took a deep breath and threaded a hand through Aziraphales hair, quietly stroking through it. She waited patiently as Crowley quietly got her bearings together.

"Love, you've been poisoned. The potion they've been giving you for the past twenty years was made of the darkest black magic to suppress our souls bond so we couldn’t feel or sense each other at all. The effects of it were poisoning you slowly," Crowley took a ragged breath "angel you nearly died" she shook as tears fell down her cheeks and she grit her teeth.

"I thought you died," she choked out, "these past twenty years I thought you died because I couldn’t sense you. But then I searched every inch of this place and I couldn’t find or sense you at all! I nearly went mad with trying. All this time you were alive and you could've died any moment and I wouldn't have known!" crowley shook and Aziraphale immediately pressed Crowley’s head against her scent gland who immediately inhaled her scent to assure herself Aziraphale was still with her, alive and still breathing.

"Darling," Aziraphale whispered with love, "Do not for a second blame yourself for any of what has happened. I know in my heart that you've raised heaven and hell to find me. I do not blame you, so don’t you dare blame the love of my life for crimes other people have committed against us. It is not your fault. Do you understand me my alpha?"

Crowley sniffed against her scent gland before raising her head and pressing it against Aziraphales. "Yes, my love. My omega."

Aziraphale knew it would take far longer for Crowley to believe her words, but that's alright. She was here now by Crowleys side, and she would remind her everyday until her alpha believed her.

They stared at each other letting moments pass just basking in each others presence and enjoying every touch and caress they offered each other.

"Love, I know you've just woken up, you must still be exhausted and in pain, and I will wait until you are ready to tell me, but I must know what happened to you the moment you were gone."

Aziraphale hesitated for a moment wondering if there was a right time to tell her before deciding there would never be a right time. So she told her about Gabriel, Sandolph, Michael, Hastur and Ligur, inviting themselves for dinner spiking her wine with what she assumes was the memory loss potion. How they knocked her unconscious and when she woke up they told her she was in an accident. How they kept her on a tight leash and belittled her for breathing every second of the day till she reached the point of praying for death. They wouldn't let her do anything but read, they almost never let her step foot outside. They never let her eat or drink anything but a glass of wine that she now realizes must of been the soul poison. She tells Crowley everything from how Gabriel told her she was finally ready to be his obedient little wife to the confrontation with him at the forest where Crowley and she first met and then running away with Cerberus with her memories regained and intact.

She didn’t realise she was crying until Crowley gently pressed her head against her scent gland urging Aziraphale to inhale her scent to which she gratefully did and immediately calmed down.

They stayed there pressed against each other, holding each other in comfort until Aziraphale felt Crowley shake.

"They took you. They hurt you. They made you pray for death. I will destroy them and tear them limb from limb and let cerberus chew on their bones. Never again angel, I promise nothing will ever hurt you or take you away from me again." Crowley swore and there wasn’t an ounce of doubt that Aziraphale held for her. She believed every word.

[antman-56]

The Long Night Pt.17

The lights were bright.

Summer groaned as she tried to shield her eyes from the accursed light, only to find it hard to move it. She relented to turning her head slightly away from the light. Bringing some small comfort to her.

Raven : Hey take it easy Sum.

Summer (weakly) : Raven, what happened?

Raven was sitting on a chair next to Summer’s bedside, she had a book on her hands.

Raven : Ben used his semblance on us and over did it. He got reprimanded for it and got 2 weeks detention for his team and they have to write a 10,000 word essay on semblance responsibility.

Summer : And Qrow?

Raven : He’s fine and been serving our detention for the past week.

Summer (panicking) :How long have we been out?

Raven : Me, 2 days. You 3 days and Tai hasn’t woken up yet.

She said the last part with remorse. Her eyes holding back tears and they were barley holding it together.

Summer : What happens if-

Raven (angry) : Just don’t!

Summer caught the hint and dropped it.

Summer : Oh Gods!!!

Raven (panicking) : What!!!

Summer (groaning) : Qrow was taking notes for us.

Raven (playfully pale) : We are screwed.

Both girls laughed, forgetting about the present and enjoying the moment of happiness.

***Waiting Room, Medical Bay _ 2 Hours After the incident***

Willow heard what had happened to STRQ and rushed to the medical bay.

The whole school heard what had happened to them and saw them as the victims of other peoples incompetence. 

When she passed through the doors to the medical Bay the first thing she saw was a bruised up Qrow arguing with the front desk and leaving defeated to find an empty seat in the waiting room. 

Qrow was looking down, twiddling with his thumbs and silently holding back tears.

Willow (concerned) : Qrow?

Qrow quickly whipped his eyes of any tears that escaped and looked up.

What Willow saw in his eyes made her want to cry. His eyes had hate, shame, panic, and lost. It was like looking in a mirror.

Qrow : Willow? What are you doing here?

She sat down right next to him.

Willow : When I heard what happened, I rushed over here to see if you guys were alright.

Qrow : Afraid we want to get out of the ‘agreement’.

Willow (taken aback) : No, I was about to ask you guys to drop it.

Now it was Qrow’s turn to be suprised.

Willow (holding it together) : This is a sign to stop fighting my fate and embrace it. Getting you guys involved was a mistake and now you guys are hurt because of me.

Now she was letting tears silently come out.

Qrow put his hand on her shoulder hoping to help her. She in turn grabbed his hand and cried into his shoulder.

Qrow : I can say, we are have been kicked the ground and put in tougher situations, but that never stopped us. Were team STRQ we do the impossible no matter what.

He smiles to reassure her that she would be saved.

Willow (worried) : But right now your all alone.

Qrow : But not out. Now lets wait for the Doctor to tell us the news.

***Medical Bay***

Raven, Summer and Qrow were now at Tai’s bedside. It had almost been a week after the incident and he still hasn’t woken up.

Right now they were either studying or chatting, hoping Tai was listening to them.

Raven : Qrow what is this?

Qrow : Notes on Dust.

Raven : Its chicken scratch is what it is!

Qrow : Hey it was proven in a study that sloppy handwriting means the mind works faster than the body. 

Summer : Where did you find that out?

Qrow looked away from her, flustered.

Raven : What do you think Tai? Is he full of bullshit or what.

She said to him smiling, hoping he heard her.

Qrow : Oh yeah, I checked the USB.

Both girls put his notebook down and looked at him.

Raven : And?

Qrow : We got an address only.

Summer : Thank you Willow.

Qrow : Also, she has a surprise for us.

Summer : What is it?

Qrow : Don’t know, she said it was a surprise.

Raven : She better not pop out of a cake in our dorm.

Summer and Qrow : RAVEN!!

Qrow : Well you guys are getting out of here today and then you will suffer like me.

Nurse : Excuse me guys, you need to leave i’m about to give your friend a bath right now and I don’t think you want to see him naked.

Summer and Qrow packed up their stuff and hurried off. Raven gave Tai a kiss on the forehead and left.

***Next Morning***

They were all sleeping in, the only class they had was at 1:30 and detention was at 3.

Summer was the first one to wake up and get ready. She was surprised that the twins were still sleeping. She walked up to Qrow’s bed and looked at him. He looked cute, especially since he was snoring lightly unlike his sister. She snapped out her stalker thoughts with a slight blush and walked towards the door. Wanting to clear her mind from those thoughts and why she was thinking them.

When she opened the door she yelped and jumped back. In front of her was a stack off boxes being held by arms that look like they were about to give out.

Willow (weakly) : Help.

Summer got up and grabbed 2 of the 4 boxes off of her hands.

Willow (breathing heavily) : Thank you, Summer.

Summer : No problem, but why are carrying these.

Willow looked up and smiled. She went to a box with a rose symbol on it and gave it to Summer. She gestured for her to open it.

Summer opened it and went through the package peanuts. When she grabbed something she pulled it out and was speechless.

In her hands now was an upgraded version of Moonlight. She was examining it all the while looking at Willow.

Willow : As you can see, Moonlight had a fresh paint job of snow white. The transformation feature has been made smoother thus making it quicker to transform.

Summer pressed the button to go to the crossbow  form. The crossbow looked new and improved.

Willow : We replaced the limbs, stocks, everything to make it more reliable. We also made it into an automatic crossbow. The ammo for it will be in the box. You will never have to reload every time you fire a shot. Try to make it into a spear.

Summer did as she was told and the spear was just like the crossbow.

Willow : The shaft is made of the same material from the crossbow and the head was replaced with a new one. And yes it has been infused with dust. The ammo also had dust rounds in it and is in the box. Now the sword.

Summer obeyed and still could not look any less excited.

Willow : Like the spear and crossbow it has the same material. Should be more comfortable and weigh just as it should maybe a little more. Well, do you like it?

Summer put Moonlight down and ran up to her.

She tackled Willow to the floor all the while saying “Thank you”.

Qrow (drowsy) : What’s happening?

Summer got up from Willow and rushed to one of the boxes.

Willow : (from the ground) : Its the black box.

Qrow (awake) : Why are you here?

Willow : To give you guys a welcome back present and to say i’m sorry for not helping sooner then I should.

She looked at him with a mix of sadness and determination.

Qrow (internally) : You really are something Willow.

Summer was now in front of Qrow with his box. She was smiling and jumping up and down in anticipation for him to open it. It was cute in a way.

Qrow grabbed the box out of her hands and began to open it. He pulled out Harbinger and found how light it was and how the hilt was more comfortable. It still looked the same with no real changes in appearance.

Willow noticed him still eyeing his weapon wondering what had been done to it. 

Willow : The hilt and blade have been replaced to make it lighter and more comfortable like Summer’s weapon. The blade is more durable so you won’t have to worry about nicks as often. Transform it for me please.

He did as he was told and found that it was made quicker then usual.

Willow : You had a cog missing and some of them looked like they were about to break. We replaced them and their is a maintenance kit for it in the box along with some other goodies in their.

She motioned for him to look into the box.

He looked through the box as Willow was smiling at him. 

Qrow pulled out a two maintenance kit, big and small, few rounds of dust ammo and small canisters of dust outside of the box wondering if they were for.

He then found a ring with the Schnee symbol on it. He looked at Willow who in turned walked over to him and put it on one of his right ring finger. After putting it on she grabbed Harbinger out of his hands, pressed a button on the hilt and walked to the other side of the room.

Willow : Stretch your fingers on the right hand.

Qrow stretched his fingers out and the ring glowed purple. Harbinger glowed the same color and it flew into his hands. He was surprised how fast it flew to him and couldn’t stop the smile forming on his face.

Willow : The inspiration was the video of Damian kicking your butt easily without your sword.

Summer tried to hold back a giggle and Qrow’s face went pale.

Willow pulled out her phone to show the video to them.

Willow : Their are even remixes of it like this.

The video shows Qrow getting his ass kicked with the occasionally sunglasses put on his or Damian’s face with a weed cigar and music playing.  

Willow : Anyway, the hilt has a compartment to turn off the gravity dust on the weapon and ring. Also their is another button their and press it for me. And yes Raven and Summer have a ring in their boxes, just in case.

Qrow pressed the button and Harbinger set ablaze. He looked like a child that got everything he wanted for Christmas and more.

Willow walked over to him and put a hand on one of his shoulder. She slowly traced her hand from his shoulder to his bicep. This was the first time she grabbed onto him and really feel his muscles and a slight blush formed on her face.

Their little scene did not go unnoticed. Summer was looking through her box for more of what Willow mention when she saw her walk over to Qrow and do what she did. She was wondering why she felt like someone punched her in the gut. They weren’t dating or anything so why did she feel this way.

After Qrow was done being a child, Willow spoke.

Willow : Also, I have a favor to ask you guys.

Summer : What is it?

Willow : I need a bodyguard for my public announcement of my marriage with Tesla Born.

This took Qrow and Summer by surprised.

Willow : I just need one person for this. It can’t be Qrow because he and Tesla didn’t get along when they met. Taiyang is out for sad reasons. So Summer could you or Raven protect me their. Please?

Summer : Can I ask why your don’t get a professional huntsmen or a security detail from your father?

Willow : Last thing I need is for Tesla to buy them off without them knowing who he is. He will pay them to ignore whatever he does to me. That’s why I am asking you guys. And I need to make sure the SDC has enough resources in case . . . 

She looked down contemplating what to say next.

Qrow : You don’t think we can get you out?

Willow : No, I do believe in you guys but, (deep breath) I need to think of every outcome in every scenario if it involves the company. I am a business major in Atlas after all, I have to be if i’m the heiress. I need to save as many things as I can if all else fails.

She looked down and took a few breaths to compose herself. She did not want to image a life with Tesla.

Willow : So, please. Will you help me?

Summer : Can you give us a moment with my team to discuss this.

Willow nodded and left the dorm and waited outside the door.

Summer walked over to Raven and tried to wake her up. In return Raven turned herself away from her and flipped her the bird.

Summer signed and went to her bed and pulled out a bottle sprayer filled with frebrez and took out two masks.

She tossed one over to Qrow, who put it on as if his life depended on it. She walked over to Raven’s bed and let loose on the bottle.

It did nothing at first then the third spray made Raven bolt up and run to the bathroom all the while cursing at Summer who continued spraying her without mercy.

Summer (yelling and masked) : Willow you can come in.

Willow opened the door and pinched her nose to the sudden smell. The fact they were wearing masks didn’t suprise her. 

Summer (masked) : I will be more than happy to be your bodyguard for the public announcement.

Willow went up to Summer and hugged her. Summer didn’t expect the hug to be tight or her to be shaking. She hugged her back to reassure her that she was in safe hands. Willow let go off her after awhile.

Willow : Again thank you for the help. Now if you’ll excuse me I have to get to my dorm before my roommate makes accusations.

She left the dorm in a little hurry.

Qrow (masked) : That was nice of you. I thought you would want to study or something.

Summer : Well I would but I want to talk to Willow on a one on one. Y’known get some girl talk that wasn’t with your sister.

Raven :SUMMER!! YOU ARE DEAD!!!

Raven came out of the shower with a towel around her hair and self. She ran up to Summer who in turn hid behind Qrow and pointed the bottle sprayer at her.

Raven : Summer if you spray me with that one more time I swear on all that is holy.

Summer : Make one more move and it goes on the skin.

Qrow : When did I become the adult?

Summer : Since your the only guy here.

Both girls began to run around Qrow. He just sighed at the childish antics that were preformed by the two ‘responsible’ members of the team.

Qrow wondering how to stop them and then saw the red box.

Qrow : Hey sis, their is present for you from our favorite sponsor.

Raven stopped chasing Summer and followed Qrow’s pointed finger at a red box.

She walked over to the box and opened it. She found a new sheath that had a rotation feature, so muscle memory would no longer be a liability. She found some new dust blades to replace the ones she lost along with 3 different ones, along with a note on one of them.

Qrow : What does it say?

Raven : It tells me what they are. The dark orange one is heavy light dust, it cuts through Aura like butter. The white one is light air dust which makes it invisible apparently. The last one is a dark pink one is kinetic energy dust, says it stores up attacks and then lets out a huge blast when released. 

Summer : Sounds like you love the gifts Willow gave you.

Raven : Mama loves her new toys.

Summer : Well now that we have had fun, lets get ready for class. So, Qrow you can I run to  . . . 

Qrow began to take off his clothes while walking to the shower, not caring that Summer or Raven were in the room.

Summer began to blush when he took off his shirt and was taking off his pants. He closed the door to his restroom before he continued.

Raven (smirking) : So, checking out my baby brother now are we~?

Summer tensed up and quickly looked to the ground to avoid Raven’s gaze.

Raven : Y’know I saw him checking you out when I dressed you up. And you didn’t tell him to stop.

Summer pulled up her hoodie to cover her now red face.

Raven : I am starting to get the feeling that you ‘like like’ him.

Summer (sheepishly) : Maybe.

Raven got up to her and pulled Summer’s hoodie up, so she could see her face. She had tears lightly streaming down her checks and her lip was trembling. She looked like a lost puppy looking for its owner, too pure and sweet in this cold world.

Raven : Look, if he really likes you i’ll help you find out. Back in the cave, I wanted to help you find someone, like how I found Tai. I want my sister to be happy.

Summer let out the tears she was holding back.

Summer (crying) : I don’t know what to do. He has been with girls taller than me, bigger boobs, and . . . and  . . .

Raven : And did they stay? No they didn’t. I can tell you he felt nothing for them but with you he is more relaxed and more considerate about what he says. Before he met you he cursed like a sailor now he says it every other day. You studied with him and now he is a A- student in just about everything.

Summer : But-

Raven : No buts. Look if you want to look like a model, I would be more than happy to help.

Summer hugged Raven again and mumbled ‘thank you’ on her shoulder as silently cried.

Summer and Raven pulled off each other and smiled. Summer finished wiping off her tears and was about to speak when it happened.

Raven ; Sum whats wrong?

Summer pointed down and Raven looked at the floor to see her towel had fallen off.

Raven (smiling) : So, you swing both ways now huh?

She emphasized the last part by giving Summer a little dance to embarrass the girl and lighten the mood.

Summer (blushing) : RAVEN!!

[misssophiachase]

For the klaroline song dabbles could you do Taylor Swift 'I Forgot That You Existed' I just picture them both getting over their past traumas just by being together

Thanks nonnie! Great idea. I love this song (and the rest of the album). Hope you like where it went, blame the fact I just watched Blue Crush again.

He’s chasing his wayward brother across the globe to take his mind off things and she’s trying to keep a low profile after a messy break-up until their paths unexpectedly cross.

I Forgot That You Existed

Oahu, HI 

I forgot that you existed

No, she really did forget. The only thing she did remember was when it happened. 

It was Sunday July 26th at 1:33pm. A stunning 93 degrees on the North Shore according to the weather report, the sound of waves from nearby Waimea Bay her backing soundtrack and a delicious serving of fish tacos courtesy of the guy seated across the table.

The guy that looked completely out of place in his designer threads at a food truck who seemed to be studying the meal in front of him carefully.

“It’s a taco, you eat it with your hands no cutlery necessary,” she instructed, picking it up and taking a sizeable bite. “See?” 

“And here I thought it was a projectile I could throw at my wayward younger brother,” he muttered sarcastically. “And I do know what a taco is Ms Forbes.”

“Well, I’m sure it wouldn’t be a first if you did throw it at him,” she offered, looking over to said brother who was attempting to charm a few local beachgoers and wolfing down his own tacos without caring much about spillage. 

Caroline wasn’t quite sure what to think about her current predicament, she’d woken early to surf then headed to Waimea for her usual lessons.

What she wasn’t expecting was a twenty-something, English tourist, albeit cute, dressed in a gaudy Hawaiian shirt. He’d called her darling about twenty times before she’d even taught him how to stand up beachside on his board. 

Once she eased him into the water (probably against her better judgment), he decided no more training was required and proceeded to anger neighboring surfers (either by heckling, cutting them off or trying to chat them up) and broken her board in half during a particularly bad break. 

It was only when they returned to the beach and happened upon another equally out of place observer. Unlike her Hawaiian shirt-wearing student, this guy was practically glowing in the sunlight. Dirty, blonde curls, crimson lips, and dimples which were so distracting Caroline didn’t even notice just how much his jeans, loafers and button-down shirt were screaming preppy chic in the completely wrong setting. 

He removed his aviators, those blue eyes taking their time to not only inspect her companion but her also. Caroline almost felt self-conscious the way those intense orbs were traveling the expanse of her bikini-clad body. She shivered inwardly annoyed that some cocky stranger had that effect.

“Who tipped you off this time, Niklaus?” Her troublemaker to the left whined. Obviously, they knew each other but in other news his name was Niklaus? Caroline wasn’t quite sure how to process this information.

“Lucy.”

“Seriously? The maid ratted me out?” 

“I think she was more disturbed by your request for Hawaiian shirts, Kol,” he murmured, his eyebrows rising briefly in judgment.

“I was trying to blend in so as to avoid detection.”

“As much as you like to think you’re stealth, well you’re not.”

“Is that according to the older brother or detective in you?”

“Both,” he shrugged. Caroline meanwhile was watching this whole scene unfold with great interest. She’d been teaching surfing for about six months now but never experienced anything like this. “You need to come home, Kol.”

“And what if I don’t want to?” He growled. “What if I’ve found the love of my life here in Hawaii.” Before she knew it, he’d placed his arm across her back and pulled Caroline closer.

“The love of your life? Well, then I’d really love to know the name of the amazing woman who’s tamed my little brother.”

“I’ve done no such thing,” Caroline blurted out, feeling completely lost. The fact this idiot broke her board was one thing but then he’d brought her into his story which wasn’t on. “He’s not my type at all.”

“Hey, I’m everyone’s type.”

“Wow,” Caroline whistled. “I really hope you don’t use that line when trying to pick up women.”

“Too late,” the cute looking guy murmured, a slight smile tugging at those crimson lips.

“You are such a wet blanket, Niklaus, always trying to ruin any semblance of fun. Don’t forget that if you hadn’t bloody well abdicated the throne I’d be able to travel the world without a babysitter and have fun with whomever I like,” he pouted, his brown eyes wandering back to Caroline.

Abdicated a throne? Were these two royalty or had she entered the twilight zone?

“Oh come on, buddy,” she huffed. “Still not in the slightest bit interested.” Caroline couldn’t miss the stray dimple his brother flashed in response. “I’m not here for whatever weird family drama this is, I have to go and source another board since his royal pain in the ass broke mine.”

“Now that is a catchy nickname,” Niklaus smirked. “But please let me buy you another, it’s the least I can do.”

“I’ll sort it out,” she mumbled, slightly overwhelmed under his gaze. “However, I am starving so if you want to buy a girl some lunch I might be able to forgive the debt.”

“Yes! Let’s get some lunch,” Kol agreed. “Great idea, darling.”

“I’ll promise I’ll make him sit at another table,” his brother promised. 

And I thought that it would kill me, but it didn't

“So, Niklaus, what’s that all about?”

“What’s that about? It’s my name last time I checked.”

“Well, Niklaus seems like someone who’ll show up to the beach fully clothed on a hot day, visibly annoyed even with the gorgeous scenery and look down unfavourably upon perfectly good tacos. But then there’s this whole other person that has flown across the globe to rescue his younger brother for whatever reason, not just from a hideous Hawaiian shirt, and even settle his debts with buying a girl some lunch.”

“Well, if I’m honest that person is actually named Klaus,” he smiled knowingly. “Unfortunately, my family is yet to fully accept him because they can’t seem to shorten my name like I’ve insisted upon for years.”

“We do it to annoy you,” Kol offered. Even from his place a few tables over he still had exceptional hearing to interrupt.

“Story of my life,” he shrugged. “And I’m not one to let false statements stand Ms Forbes, I happen to love tacos.” With that he picked it up and took a bite, Caroline trying to ignore just how good he looked doing it.    

“I’m pretty sure Klaus would call me Caroline; you know just saying.”

“So, what exactly are you doing here, Caroline?” He grinned as he said it and she was trying to focus given how good it sounded rolling off his tongue. “Well, besides having to put up with my brother?”

“I’m a surf instructor,” she murmured, feeling her answer was woefully inept given his response but not wanting to elaborate further. 

“That I got,” he nodded. “So, are you from these parts originally?”

“I think your charge has done a runner,” she gestured to the back of his Hawaiian shirt billowing in the breeze, glad to have a much needed distraction. 

“Bloody hell,” he growled. “I’m too old for this.”

“He’s headed towards the camping ground, I have a friend who works there and can keep him occupied,” Caroline explained, pulling out her phone and texting, deciding that Katherine would be the perfect choice. The perfect amount of luring him in with her feminine wiles and then scaring the hell out of him. 

“I really should go myself,” he said, standing up and stretching, Caroline not missing the brief flash of skin between his jeans and shirt. “But thank you for everything, Caroline.”

“You’re welcome,” she mumbled, wishing for some reason it didn’t end here. She’d spent the last six months not seeking attention but for some reason Klaus had made her crave it again.

Her phone beeped signalling a new text message from Katherine. It was a picture of a happily looking Kol surrounded by multiple bikini-clad campers. “Pretty sure he’s settling in for the night.” 

“As I understand it your brother is happily occupied,” she shared the picture noting Klaus’ disapproval followed by something resembling relief. “The camp site has a bonfire at sunset, you could collect him then.”

“Is that where you Americans decide crackers, marshmallow and chocolate make a good snack?”

“You are not dissing s’mores,” she objected. “You can’t judge until you try one.”

“But what do we do until then?” He asked, his lips curving into a smile. 

“We could surf?”

“Well, I’m not sure...”

“Afraid?”

“Oh you did not just do that,” he growled, he was pretending to be angry but she could sense his excitement. “And what am I supposed to wear?”

“I’ll help you out,” she offered, cocking her left eyebrow and trying not to imagine just how good his physique would look in much less clothing. “Just don’t break my spare board or I will sue.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he saluted teasingly. 

And it was so nice

What Caroline wasn’t expecting was for him to be so natural on a board and in the water, a far cry from his brother’s efforts. They laughed, mainly when he fell without notice and she refused to relinquish her board to save him. She told him tough love was much better if he had to fight off a killer wave or shark without assistance.

It was about 5pm, they’d been riding waves for a few hours their limbs sore and sunset was edging that bit closer. Klaus and Caroline lay on their respective boards in the water. The big waves had long disapated and it was now just a gentle nudge. 

“I’m jealous,” he murmured, his hands running through the water lazily. 

“Of what exactly?” 

“That this is your home, you get to watch this brilliant sunset every day.” Caroline knew that wasn’t altogether true and for some reason felt more relaxed than usual. 

“It’s not my home originally,” she admitted quietly. “I ran away a year ago from my past because my ex wasn’t the most loving or respectful of people. I guess I kind of feel like a fraud pretending I belong here.”

“If it helps, so do I most days. My parents are disappointed in my life choices and my girlfriend cheated on me because I wanted to be someone else with much less money.”

“So, they were all upset you abdicated the throne in Genovia?”

“Geography wasn’t my forte at school I’ll admit but pretty sure you just made up a country, love.”

“Obviously you’ve never seen The Princess Diaries,” she opined, not missing his confusion. “Please tell me Kol isn’t actually taking over a real country because I’m worried for its citizens wellbeing.” 

“Thankfully, no. My father owns British Airways which we do liken to another country,” he explained. “I never cared for the family business even with all the trappings. I’d worked hard at the police academy and wanted to work my way up through the ranks without family assistance.”

“And it didn’t go down so well?”

“My father practically disowned me and appointed Kol CEO-in-waiting which totally threw him over the edge into Hawaiian shirt land. I don’t regret my decision but feel so guilty that I’ve scared Kol into a role he’s not ready for yet.”

“Hence your unexpected appearance on my beach,” she uttered. “I’m pretty sure he appreciates your effort.”

“Because he’s been so happy to see me.”

“I think it just might take a little more time, let him just relax for a while,” she suggested. “How about we head over to the campsite and I show you just how good s’mores can be?”

“I’ll entertain your theory for my brother’s sake,” he shot back. “But I have to admit it’s extremely difficult to leave the water.”

“I know what you mean, it’s....” 

So peaceful and quiet

[moonstruckbucky]

Yearn [one shot]

PAIRING: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Angst City Central. Language. Mild mentions of smut, but nothing too detailed.

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

NOTES: I’m planning on this being a two-part mini series. I’ve had this idea cooking in my head for a while but had zero motivation to actually write it so, here it is. Like/comment/reblog. Enjoy! x

It began with a look. A simple exchange of glances, questioning and then understanding, agreeing, before you found yourselves in a tangled mess of limbs and sheets. It was an outlet, really, a way for both of you to rid yourselves of the stress of a hard mission or an easier way to fall asleep.

Until it became more than that. At least, to you.

You knew Steve was still vulnerable from Sharon’s sudden exit from his life, knew he was far from ready for anything even remotely serious. So you tamped down the Natasha-dubbed “heart eyes” when he was around, brushed your feelings aside and told yourself you were fine with your current situation.

But it was getting harder and harder to convince yourself, it was harder to pretend his very kiss didn’t set every one of your nerve endings alight, that he, and only he, knew how to play your body like a fiddle. It was harder to tell yourself that your heart didn’t absolutely yearn for him every single day you went without touching him, without kissing him.

This last mission had been rough, and its toll was obvious on those involved. It was successful, but only just. The ride back to the Tower was quiet and tense in the quinjet, the others mulling over the fact that they had nearly lost one of their own. Sam’s wingsuit had been destroyed in the process, grounding him until Tony could either fix it or build a new one. You glanced up from where you sat between Bucky and Nat, eyes locking on to Steve’s rigid form. His hands were on his belt and his head was bowed. Even with the position you could see the muscles of his jaw working as he ground his teeth. It had been too close.

It was why you knew it was him, later that night, knocking on your door at nearly 1 AM. It was why you welcomed him, like you always did, with open arms and an invitation to lose himself in your body. And really, when had you ever been able to say no to him?

He took you roughly, and you let him, understanding his need for control in every aspect of his life, especially the bedroom. His fingers dug bruises into the skin of your hips and your wrists as he held them behind your back, his free hand wrapped loosely around the column of your neck. His lips sucked hickies into your throat and the insides of your thighs, marking you, and the thought of belonging to only him made your heart ache with a want and a need you knew would never come to fruition.

He could never be yours, even with the wild, possessive way he claimed your body. It was an outlet, a stress reliever, and only that.

When it was over, Steve didn’t stay. He threw his clothes back on, gave you a ghost of a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and left. More than just your bed felt empty; you felt it in your heart, the roots of your longing running so deeply you were sure it had become a permanent part of you now. So that night, you let yourself cry for the love you knew would never be returned.

Weeks went by, and the wedge in your heart only seemed to grow larger and more painful the longer you let Steve into your bed. Part of you was angry that he was so seemingly unaffected by your trysts, that you were the only one suffering. Your mood during the day soured, only brightening when you could lose yourself in Steve’s kisses at night, and wasn’t that just the most fucked up thing in the world?

Natasha was fed up with it, and she wasn’t afraid to let you know it.

“I don’t know why you’re doing this to yourself,” she stated one afternoon. You glanced up at her from your spot on the couch, a rerun of Friends playing on the television. Her arms were crossed and she was actively glaring at you. Even in sweats she was intimidating as hell.

But you were as stubborn as she was scary. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t bullshit me, L/N,” she snapped, picking up the remote to shut the TV off. She ignored your noise of indignation. “You either need to tell him how you feel or stop what you’re doing. You’re only hurting yourself here.”

You remained quiet, knowing she was right but refusing to admit it. You kept your eyes on the blank screen, determined to not give her the satisfaction of admitting she was right. She was always right.

“Y/N...” she sighed, kneeling down beside your knee. She set her hand on it, thumb rubbing gently over the fabric of your leggings. “Why are you doing this to yourself? Are you that much of a glutton for punishment? I really am trying to understand, but I can’t pretend anymore. I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine, Nat. I’m a big girl.” Your tone was short and clipped, and you moved your knee out of her grip. She sighed, shaking her head once before rising back to her feet.

“I thought you were smarter than this, Y/N,” she muttered. The words stung as she walked away, her voice dripping in disappointment, and your vision blurred. Sniffling, you got up and hid away in your room, wallowing in your misery.

You knew it had to stop. Nat was right; it wasn’t fair to you to put yourself through this constant heartache, desiring for more than what Steve could give you.

It was a week after your one-sided talk with Nat that you made up your mind. You were going to end it. Your heart would thank you for it in the long run. Self-preservation was an instinct not even Steve Rogers could make you forget.

You knocked on his door just after dinner, stomach kicking with nerves and nausea. You knew your hands were shaking as you buried them in your sweatshirt pocket, wringing them together while you waited for Steve to open the door. When it did, the breath left your lungs. How could he manage to look so good all the damn time?

“H-hi,” you stuttered, smiling nervously. Steve was the picture of relaxed as he leaned against the door frame, looking utterly delectable in a too-small white tee shirt that stretched tightly across his broad chest. “Can we, um, can we talk?”

He smirked. “You sure that’s why you’re here?”

Cue heat pooling in your lower belly. Your thighs clenched together, and it didn’t go unnoticed by Steve as he reached out to wrap a hand around the back of your neck and tug you into his room. The door closed and not a second later were your pressed against it, Steve’s mouth slotted perfectly over yours and setting a fire in your blood.

“S-Steve,” you muttered against his mouth. He growled deep in his throat as he dropped a hand between your legs and rubbed you through your sweatpants. Against your will you sighed into his mouth before you remembered yourself. Your hands planted on the wide plane of his chest and pushed, causing him to stumble back a step.

“What?” he asked, mildly impatient. His lips were red and wet, and it took everything in you to not go back for more.

“I came to talk, not to...” You gestured between you with a flourish, feeling smaller and smaller under his intense stare. He sighed.

“Okay, what about?”

You opened your mouth, but before the words “I want to stop” could crawl out of your throat, a knock sounded on his door. Steve held up a finger and brushed by you, twisting the knob on the door and swinging it open.

You expected Bucky, maybe even Sam or Natasha, but what you didn’t expect was Sharon, looking meek and nervous before her eyes found you and morphed into a look of confusion. No doubt you and Steve looked a little ruffled. One glance at Steve confirmed he was just as shocked as you.

He began to stutter out a greeting, but he never finished it, mind too busy with the current situation. His radiant blue eyes then flickered to you, hesitant and questioning.

“I’ll go,” you muttered, feeling awkward sandwiched between the two of them. You ducked your head and fled the room before Steve could even reply.

Steve found you hours later, knocking hesitantly on your door with a lead weight in his stomach. You answered the door with a yawn, rubbing your eyes sleepily, but he didn’t miss the way your shoulders straightened at the sight of him.

“Steve.”

“How about that talk?”

You let him in reluctantly, a sinking feeling telling you you knew what was coming. So when he said that Sharon wanted to work on their relationship, you tried to act nonchalant, happy for him, even.

“That’s great, Steve.” God, the lie sounded obvious even to you, and it didn’t look like Steve really bought it either.

“Are you sure...?” His voice matched the skeptical expression on his face.

“I knew what this was, Steve, and it’s fine. I told you at the beginning if you ever changed your mind, about this or about Sharon, I’d back off, no hard feelings. That hasn’t changed.” You smiled tightly, proud of yourself for keeping the tremor out of your voice even as your heart was crumbling inside your chest.

Steve’s blue irises penetrated yours, searching. The intensity of his stare almost made you look away, but you held firm, holding your breath. When he dropped his gaze and nodded, you exhaled quietly.

“I should go,” he murmured, sounding as if he didn’t want to.

Or maybe your ears were playing tricks on you.

“Yeah. I’ll, um, see you around then. And Steve? I’m happy for you and Sharon, really.” Lie, lie, lie.

His mouth twitched upwards a little. “Thanks, Y/N.”

And then he was gone, and you were free to let out the pain building in your chest. Your cries were let out into a pillow because the walls weren’t all that thin and you didn’t need a horde of Avengers storming to your room. You felt a small tinge of relief, knowing the work had been done for you, but mostly there was just the ever-present feeling of your chest caving in.

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[cherryhobis]

see you next year ☆ min yoongi/reader

word count: 1479 ☆ gen rating ☆  ao3 mirror

Hello everybody! I’ve been pretty quiet today as I’ve been steadily chipping away at a birthday gift for the lovely @bloomsuga​! I know it’s a little late, but I hope you like it all the same. Happy birthday, homie!

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

It happens every year.

 Every year, on this exact day, Min Yoongi finds himself in some godforsaken elevator, and in that elevator, he meets you. He’s gotten to know you somewhat, in the time he’s spent with you. You only gave him trivial things at first, like the type of weather you preferred and your favorite color, but eventually he learned that you’ve tried every flavor at Baskin-Robbins and why you’re not allowed to drive your friend’s car anymore.

You told him your stories and he told you his, each time with a bit less detail, if only to see what you’d fill into the blanks he’d left you. You remembered something once. Red. The color of his shirt when he’d snagged the answers to a quiz from his teacher’s desk in middle school. It was a lame story, and Yoongi got caught at the end, but he told you that one for a while because you laughed lightheartedly at his plight and left the exchange with a smile on your face.

He’s on the elevator early today, leaning against the railing with the buttons in arm’s reach. Phone in hand and mask pulled beneath his chin, Yoongi waits patiently for you to arrive in the place you’re both so destined to meet. Or rather, he waits as patiently as he can. You’re not due for another five minutes and he’s already ridden to every floor twice. As it turns out, the novelty of having pressed every button wears off by the third floor, but by the time Yoongi had realized that, he figured he may as well accept his fate.

 It’s 3:30 on the nose when you show up, searching through an open backpack slung awkwardly over your shoulder with your phone hovering above it as a flashlight. You’re sporting that tired-but-not-willing-to-show-it look he’s come to expect from you, though today you’re wearing it exceptionally well in the form of blue jeans and a lightweight hoodie.

And, you’re wearing the button he gave you.

 “Top floor, please,” you say to him as you board, finding whatever it was you were looking for and placing it into a pocket at the front of your bag.

Yoongi looks at you, observing you for just a moment, before pressing the button.

 There’s a round button pinned to your chest, the pearlescent blue shimmering against the pink fabric it rests upon. He notes it’s the same one he gave you a few cycles ago, right down to the teeny bit of sticker residue at the edge that you never bothered getting rid of.

 It’s a few years old now, with faint wear and tear etched into its surface, but it undoubtedly looks brand new to you. It always does.

 “Happy birthday,” he tells you, tapping his chest referentially when you look at him with mild concern. Yoongi remembers not-so-fondly the year when his well wishes had scared you out of your wits—you’d armed yourself with a ballpoint pen and told him you weren’t afraid to use it. The year after that, he said nothing of the sort and bade you a good day, but he left you with a single breadcrumb the year after: the birthday button.

 “Thanks, Yoongi.” You respond, catching him quite off guard. Ice runs through his veins at the sound of his name – when did you start remembering? You’re usually bouncy, or distracted, but now you’re smug, almost, and you know who he is.

 You tilt your head at him, ponytail swaying slightly in its scrunchie. “How long have I known you?”

Correction: you sort of know who he is.

 *

 It takes a bit of convincing that he’s neither crazy nor stalking you, but eventually Yoongi whittles down your encounters into barebones detail that you accept with a steady nod. From what you can remember – and it’s very little – you once tried breaking the loop by leaving your phone with him, but despite your careful assurance that he’d had it tucked away, it somehow reappeared in your pocket once the two of you separated. It was frustrating for both you and him, though your feelings registered as more of a dull throb of forgetfulness than the roaring upset Yoongi had felt.

 “I remember every single time I’ve met you,” he tells you. “It was ridiculously humid one year and you’d spent half the ride up trying to brush it into submission.”

Something about his story feels familiar enough to laugh at – something about not having a hair tie the whole time? – So you do, and the sound makes Yoongi regard you with a measured softness.

 You decide you like how it feels.

 *

 It’s after a hard think that you come up with a solution, excited and childlike as you fish out your phone. “Gimme your number! I’ll call you once I get off and this should all be over, yeah?” hope tints your voice and it’s almost too much for Yoongi to handle.

 “Can’t.” he says, stretching a sudden tension from his muscles. The black of his t-shirt rides up a little as he does, revealing a little sliver of tummy that’s got you biting back a grin. “We’ve tried. It’s like some weird eraser passes over you as soon as you leave this damn thing.” You flick your gaze up to find his eyes trained on you, a knowing smirk at the corner of his lip.

Embarrassment hues your cheeks, but instead of addressing whatever moment the two of you had, you reroute to the dilemma at hand. Your floor’s just a few stops away.

“Question.”

“Answer.”

“Have we ever tried the emergency stop?”

 Yoongi’s smirk morphs into a pensive expression, before finally falling into a surprised little ‘o’. “No,” he says in pure surprise. “No we have not.” Though you laugh, you gesture somewhat impatiently to the elevator panel. You’ve only got so much time.

Quickly, and with probably a little too much force, Yoongi slams his thumb into the emergency stop and steels himself as the elevator whines its way into a slow, squeaky stop. Wincing through the noise, you wonder halfheartedly if one of you is destined to grease the mechanisms, and if the weird time warp is punishment for shirking your duties – a ridiculous notion you find yourself making a mental note of to bring up later.

 “So.” Yoongi says, turning to you. “What now?”

You shrug, slipping your bag off your shoulders and sitting cross-legged on the floor. “We wait. What time do I usually leave?”

 Yoongi joins you on the floor, back against the wall. “Around 3:45. It’s a slow elevator.”

 You check the time with a quick glance at your phone, worrying your lip after. “It’s almost four o’clock. That’s… that’s a good sign, right?”

 Yoongi nods, idly mussing up his hair. “I’d say so. How long you wanna stay in here? My calendar’s all clear for today.” Like it always is.

 “Maybe a couple hours, just to be on the safe side. I wanna remember you for real this time.”

 “Ditto. I mean, I already remember all the stuff you’ve told me, but like. I’d like you to know I exist.”

“I getcha. We should go out after. Grab a bite to eat or somethin’.”

 Yoongi quirks a brow. “You mean like a date?”

“As a matter of fact, Min Yoongi, it’s my birthday,” you say, gesturing dramatically to the button adorning your hoodie. “I’d like to go out and celebrate. But, if your birthday gift for me happens to be a date, I wouldn’t object.”

 The way you’re batting your eyes at him can only be interpreted as humorous, but regardless, Yoongi finds his heart skipping a beat. “Where would you want to go? Hypothetically speaking.”

 You waste no time in responding. “Hypothetically? Home. I just want a big bowl of cereal and a nap. You’re more than welcome to come over and nap with me. I’ve got really cozy blankets.”

 Yoongi pouts a bit, mulling the offer over. He’d never really planned that you’d get this far. “A nap sounds nice. But be warned, I talk in my sleep.”

 “I can handle that.”

 *

 Nervousness keeps you there as six o’clock turns into seven, and as seven blurs into midnight.  You’re tired, and your muscles ache like hell from being in such a confined space, but you will the feeling back into your limbs just long enough to carry you to bed.

It’s a long bus ride home, but Yoongi embarks on the journey with you, and he carries your backpack for you on the short walk to your building.

Inside, you kick off your shoes and direct him to your bedroom, neither of you bothering to shuck off your jeans before you climb into bed.

In the morning, you will see if he’s still there.

 *

 In the morning, you wake up in his arms.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @welshwoman1988!

To both the admin and my giftee Welsh_Woman (welshwoman1988), I doubled the word limit and I am so sorry. My words just ran with me and there was so much I wanted to fit in. I never have been able to write short one-shots and this was my first secret santa exchange EVER and I just got so excited. You said you liked Royalty AUs and I saw that you’d liked an image of wolf Derek snuggling with Stiles on a bed on your Tumblr and somehow that turned into this – I don’t even know how to be honest. I hope you enjoy your gift :D

Read on AO3

*****

Sails in the Night Sky

The biting chill of oncoming winter was brutal in the dark of night, obvious even through Derek’s warm, lined coat. He tipped his head skyward, the stars hidden from view by a thick covering of dark clouds. Rain was coming.

The echoes of the argument he’d left behind in the castle walls still filled his head like a thunderstorm. His ears still rang with his uncle’s tactless insistence that he not waste his time anymore wallowing in the peasantry, Laura’s halting, stalwart defence of both Derek and the less fortune. Then, of course, there was his mother’s quiet, warning that cut through it all with the sharpness of lightning.

“If you hate it so much then have them moved!” he’d snapped in the end, half afraid his mother or uncle would do exactly that. Even so, he’d surprised his family with his vehemence, because he’d always merely done as he was told, until that point at least. Hales ruled beside their siblings, with their partners in life having very little say in affairs of state, though before he’d died, his father had done his part for the public. Still, Derek was due to rule alongside his sisters and he had always been the more submissive of his fiery family members, but nothing had ever filled him with fire the way this had.

 Derek sighed as he continued on, turning his collar up against the cold and the echoes of his mother’s raised voice that still hummed in his ears. She managed to make him feel like an errant child even as the sounds of applause, the cries of awe and delight mixed with those of aversion in the night.

Nobody had ever seen a ‘circus’ before, never even heard of anything like it. It was new and exciting and the talk of the kingdom but also filled the more reserved, those that fought change, with bitter resentment. Derek knew Peter’s reason for stopping him from working his way down here night after night was a simple factor of control. His mother’s reasons, however, were more complicated.

He’d originally assumed her protests to the circus stemmed from the same resistance to change as a lot of the others, but earlier that night, when tempers had flared, his mother had simply replied calmly, “they are good people, they take care of their animals and each other and they make their money, little of it that they do, in happiness. It’s a more honest trade than most.” Even so, she’d levelled him with that sad, knowing stare and added, “But my boy, if you associate with what the people consider abnormal, they will soon realise that you aren’t their variety of normal either.”

Derek approached the white tent and thought of Stilinski. The showman had been born in the capital with little money, had met his wife in a foreign land and always dreamt of bringing the life he’d built with her back to the place he was born. He’d dreamt of making it work here, making a home where everyone was welcome, where everyone could fit. Derek only wished the kingdom that was his birthright could be the same.

The familiar sounds and smells, the sight of the large white peaked tent just off the main road out of the capital lifted him as they greeted him, as they’d done every night in the last few months.

The tent’s canopy looked like sails in the night sky, and despite his family’s earlier protests, Derek felt himself drawn toward them like a ship out to sea.

*

The noise was as immense inside the tent as ever. The smells of sweat and snacks, of an overindulgence of alcohol from the less savoury onlookers, the ones that brought the bitter smell of intolerance to the mix, tested his control. He’d been trained since his youth to cope with the myriad of smells and sights and sounds a crowd carried, they all had and so after a grimace it all settled and he edged around the back of the tent, where he could see a set of crudely constructed stairs spiralling round the perimeter, up and round to some platforms above.

Derek ducked under the rope blocking off the stairway and climbed. The crowd below was so thick that he hadn’t been able to even hope to glimpse the large, sandy ring that he now saw more clearly the more he climbed.

A girl with beautiful red hair tied at the top of her head spun in the centre, fire twirling from the batons in her grasp and she beamed like something out of a fairytale, as beautiful and dangerous as the fire she bent to her will. She twirled it expertly, swinging it around herself and dancing over the swirling rope of fire her equally beautiful partner wielded like a deadly, flaming version of the skipping ropes the children of the court played with. Together, she and the dark haired woman kept the audience on the edges of their seats.

He’d never seen anything like this until the first night he’d stepped in here. He’d never seen people that moved the way they did, he’d never seen this kind of setup. The way the audience howled and clapped with every risk they took, every sinuous movement suggested it wasn’t just a limit of his position either, none of them had seen this before, not even at the heart of the capital.

Derek reached the top of the stairway just as they took their final bows to the applause of the majority. He braced himself with one arm against the supporting beam of the tent, the tall mast of the ship of dreams that lay before him, as the two performers took their leave of the ring and a wave of silence cut across the crowd. He waited, then sure enough, a bright light swung up to point at the far side of the tent, where there was a platform twinned to the high crow’s nest that Derek was on.

His vision was better than that of probably any of the people below. From where he stood, with the mobile spotlight on the figure on the opposite platform, Derek saw him clearly. There was only a split second from the light hitting him, to his reaction but it all moved in slow motion thereafter. Long legs hooked over the bar suspended from above and the lithe body swung round, upside down, arching like a taut bow. The momentum of his movements sent him swooping forward like a gull across the waves. The ocean of people below gasped but were otherwise struck silent with awe.

The bird glittered as he swung forward, glitter catching across his cheekbones and long fingers that stretched out with his arms, urging his impetus further. The swing carried his flight right up to where Derek was standing, as speechless as the people below. When their gazes met, Derek saw the deep amber eyes reflecting the light, as dazzling as the glitter that painted their edges.

Time stood still, just as it had that first night, the young man was always so surprised to see him return despite the fact that he always promised to. Then the momentum of his swing, the movement of his flight carried him back. He twisted on the bar like it was effortless, long limbs speckled with moles that drew Derek’s gaze along the taut, lean muscle there. His breath caught and his mouth went try with every swooping turn of limb.

He didn’t perform every night and he didn’t cut away to meet with Derek every night either. Derek wondered what it said about him that the young man’s flight and their sarcastic conversations allowed his head to feel clearer than had been all these years. There was always a signal, if he landed on the platform Derek was on, he had time to escape with Derek, if not, he landed on the opposite side.  

Applause ripped through the tense silence like a thousand waves crashing against the cliff face and Derek took a step back as the man dismounted before him, taking a bow before the spotlight on him drifted away. Derek blinked at the sudden change in light.

The same dark kohl and golden brown glitter painted those eyes as every night. The pale glitter that lay like stars across his cheekbones glistened, mystically untouched by the sweat beading from his hair and across his throat into the deep ‘v’ of his nearly translucent shirt. His chest was heaving, his glitter-tinted cheeks flushed with exertion but he smiled as he panted, “you’re not really meant to be up here, you know?” It was the same teasing, slightly breathless rebuke and didn’t sound at all displeased. On the contrary, the young man studied him carefully, tilting his head as the lights focussed back again on the ring below and the next act ensuing.

“I thought not,” Derek agreed softly, an edge of amusement to his words, “but then I assumed someone would’ve removed me if they were so concerned.”

 The man’s lips quirked in a devastatingly charming way. “I asked dad to let you be. You must be growing on him,” he revealed, before he tipped his head on his way passed, gesturing for Derek to follow him.

The living quarters of the performers were to the rear of the grand tent, a cluster of worn but well cared for wooden caravans. They were far enough from the animal enclosures on the opposite side for the smell to pale in comparison to the aroma of cooking food and subtle perfumes wafting from the other open, empty caravans, left open to facilitate the comings and goings of the other performers.

He hesitated when the young man climbed into one that smelled only of him, watched as he perched on the stool squeezed between a dressing table and a mussed, sweet smelling bed. He usually entertained Derek’s presence as he tended the animal pens or did some other chores, or beguiled Derek with sarcastic wit just outside the noise of the big tent. He’d never led him back here before. The intimacy of seeing the place he slept, raised in the sheltered way Derek was, made him swallow thickly.

Those piercing amber eyes watched his reflection as he shrugged off the near translucent fabric of his shirt, damp with sweat. He tipped some oil that smelled of almonds onto a clean cloth and began swiping the glittering paint from his body. It had glistened like diamonds embedded in his skin under the light of the tent, but now as the man wiped it away from his chest first, then the column of his throat, all Derek could do was stare at the flesh the faux glamour had covered. Flawless, honey coloured and speckled with moles here and there that reached up across his neck, jaw and cheekbones.

“You’re amazing,” Derek managed at last, finding his voice, thick with awe. The breathy compliment was far away from their usual banter.

The man at the table gave him a wistful look. “Well, that’s a hell of a lot more pronounceable than my given name,” he said. His voice wasn’t accented in any particular way, which Derek thought peculiar of people that were clearly travellers when he’d first met him.

“You’re still not going to tell me your real name, are you?”

Again, the same wistful smile. “You’re awfully persistent with that. Usually people need to know, why the trapeze? Why such death-defying stunts? Why risk your life for so little financial gain?”

Derek frowned, unsure if the young man truly meant ‘people’ or other men or women he’d led back to his caravan just like this. The thought made his stomach squirm, when for months he’d felt himself special for sharing just an hour of conversation with the young man he only knew as Stileseach night. “I thought that was obvious. You love it.”

That stilled Stiles’s constant, almost frenetic movement. The glittering paint around his eyes had been wiped away with the rest now, leaving only a few rogue speckles of starlight behind, blending perfectly with the moles on one side of his face, probably only visible to Derek’s gaze.

“It’s my life,” Stiles said seriously, with the tone of a man slightly stunned by Derek’s answer. “Everyone needs the chance to smile these days, not only the rich.”

Derek nodded, thinking of the homeless that flocked the streets of the capital not far from here. The ‘circus’ as the people were calling it, it was all about the lights and the show in the tent but back here, there was a rundown comfort of home and people barely getting by. They weren’t making a fortune, despite the splendour they delivered night after night.

“You told me your mother taught you before she died?” Derek asked, moistening his dry lips. Even from the slight distance the steps up into the caravan and the door put between them, he saw the man’s eyes, shining with the glow of the twin lanterns there, follow the path of his tongue across his mouth.

“Yeah, she was a natural, she was the talent that built us up from nothing, you know?” he offered easily, face bright as he said it. Right from the start it had been clear that Stiles loved talking about her. “She came from a place far from here, my father met her when he fought in the wars. She taught him. They taught me.”

Derek thought of Stilinski, the man in richly coloured tailcoats and nodded in agreement. Stilinski had performed with his son after his mother died, but he’d grown older and so when his father-in-law died he’d taken his place as show-master. The man had a smile that crinkled at the corners of his eyes and mouth and it was an expression you couldn’t help but return. It was the same light, the same vibrance of life that burned so bright in Stiles. The same light that burned in all of the people behind the circus, in all people who enjoyed what they did with all they had.

“Tell me your real name?” Derek asked again, still feeling a little giddy, wondering if it was the convergence of so many scents in one place or just the man before him. He was so close within his reach and half-naked and so, so beautiful and honest and real, magnanimous like none of the people of privilege his uncle and mother had tried to urge him to court.

Right from the first time Derek had let repression, boredom and inquisitiveness call him into the tent and he’d seen the way Stiles moved, right from the first time their eyes had locked he’d felt drawn in by him. He’d felt drawn in by the sight of a life that burned so bright regardless of the limitations the rest of the world tried to place on him, something so rare in the world he’d grown up in

“What would you do with it?” Stiles asked, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Derek frowned, brows drawing together and Stiles swivelled on his stool. “Call you by your name.”

“Like a secret promise?” The twinkle flared like fire, giving Derek a brief view into this man’s beautiful soul. “Surely ‘Stiles’ is enough? Everyone else calls me that. Or do you have another pet name for me in your head?”

Derek exhaled in annoyance through his nose, dragging his hand across the back of his neck. “I’m calling you a little prick, right now.” His words startled a laugh out of Stiles that completely changed his face, mouth wide with surprised joy. His entire body jerked with it in a way so free and uninhibited by society’s rules. It was perfect.

“You have a mouth, Prince Hale,” he said approvingly, laughter still in his eyes.

Derek jerked as if he’d been slapped, because in all the times they’d spoken and yes, even laughed together, all the times Derek had helped him haul water or muck out the animal pens, he’d never once used that title.

“You…you know?” he asked, feeling as if the ground had opened up beneath his feet, the sails torn from his ship as it was cast out to sea.

Stiles’s laughter faded into a resigned smile then and the man reached for the plain robe off the mussed bedding and pulled it on. “I know who you are. My father told me right from the first night you came here,” he said as he tied the belt around his robe, fingers lingering on it, as if he needed to keep them busy left they betray him. He had such strong, long, expressive hands. “You were very determined not to tell me yourself.”

Derek set his jaw. “I just…” He didn’t know what to say. He’d been so tired, so very tired of having expectations pressed on him, of having every aspect of his life dictated to him, albeit by a well-intentioned mother and uncle. He’d been tired of it all but when he’d seen Stiles, when he’d glimpsed his life here, it had felt like an escape. No, more than that.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Stiles added with quiet reluctance. “You shouldn’t come back, Derek.”

Derek flinched. “Stiles,” he tried, the odd nickname full of such earnest longing for him to understand. “If you’ve always known what I am then–”

“I always knew what you were, but I didn’t know who you were,” Stiles argued, storming forward to the doorway of the caravan. He glared down at Derek, more glorious in his rage than any of the mild-mannered, sweet tempered ladies and gentlemen of the court he’d encountered.

“I kept thinking, every time I saw you would be the time you admitted it, trusted me enough and it never happened.” His face held barely concealed anguish and Derek ached for putting it there. Stiles shook his hand, dragging his fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. “What the hell am I to you, Derek?” he asked, “just some entertaining diversion until you grow up and accept your responsibilities and whatever partner your mother finds you?”

“That’s not it,” Derek all-but snarled, because the inch of truth in that, at least the part about accepting responsibility burned.

Everyone here had responsibilities to the show, to each other, and if one of them didn’t step up it would fall apart. He wondered how he must look to Stiles, to be shirking his responsibilities when everyone here worked so damn hard for so little. But even so, it hadn’t been about hiding anything from Stiles, it’d been about hiding himself from that world, because he was terrified, because the Derek in that world was pathetic and lost and when he was with Stiles, he felt strong.

“I can’t be your sordid secret, Derek,” Stiles murmured, voice rough around the edges with pain, his eyes shining in the light the lanterns strung between the caravans offered. “I can’t be some mistress you come back to when your real life gets too hard and you want an amusing diversion.”

Derek’s head snapped back to him so quickly his neck protested. “Then why did you ask that I be allowed to stay?” he demanded heatedly. “Why invite me back here to the place you sleep if you have so little faith in me?”

“Because I hoped you were different!” Stiles snarled like a cornered wolf, eyes ablaze and his voice broke a little as he added, “Because I wanted you to be different. Because no one has ever looked at me the way you did that first night, the way you are right now. There’s never been a connection like that, at least not for me.”

“Not for me either,” Derek replied, his voice a softer counterpart to Stiles’s hurt rage, so gentle that Stiles’s fire seemed to simmer out a little.

Derek stepped forward, gripping the small balustrade and levering himself up to stand on the steps. There was a hairsbreadth between them and his hand covered Stiles’s on the doorframe. He could taste Stiles’s breath on his lips and see every fleck of brown, amber and whisky in Stiles’s eyes.

“That’s why I’m here,” Derek continued tenderly. “Yes, my life is…complicated. It drives me insane most days but that doesn’t change that I’m here because of you, not because of that.”

Because they had a connection.

Stiles searched his eyes and his fingers twitched under Derek’s on the wooden frame. There was so little air between them that Derek felt light-headed from the lack of air until Stiles drew back. He looked suddenly tired as he slumped onto the edge of his bed, avoiding Derek’s gaze.

“That’s why I showed you,” Stiles almost whispered, “showed you me without the glitter and the spotlight, just me. Nothing else. I wanted you to see that and come back anyway.” He risked a look at Derek out of the corner of his eye. “I wanted the connection to be real.” With a sigh and a little, self-deprecating smile he added, “my mother used to say that we travelled the world and they all applauded, but when the spotlight went out we were still foreigners, different, unwelcome strangers once the laughter faded.”

He sounded so lonely for a man that said that bringing happiness to others, regardless of social standing was all he wanted in life. But just as Derek had his secrets, Stiles had one other than his birth name. It appeared that Stiles wanted a home, one where he belonged. Derek ached to share that dream with him.

Derek did something he’d never done in all his life except for his mother and uncle, something society would gasp in dismay at the sight of and he didn’t give a shit. He lowered himself to his knees before Stiles and captured his strong hands in his own, drawing those doe eyes to him before reaching up to cup his cheek. He dragged his thumb across the moles there and drank in his heat. “I’ve never met anyone like you before,” he confessed.

Stiles had travelled the world, had seen so much and for all his poverty, he was rich in ways the Hale family could only ever hope to be.

“I’ve never seen anyone who looks at the world the way you do. You see all men equal, you see the good in everyone in spite of all the ugliness you’ve seen across the world. You’re incredible.” Because he knew Stiles had heard the slurs and jibes of those that protested their presence here, detested the ‘unnatural circus’ that no one had ever seen the like of before. He wasn’t fool enough to think that worldview was something Stiles had only encountered here.

Stiles reached back for him, cupping the back of his head and stroking his fingers through his hair before gripping tight, as if he were afraid to let him go and find out he wasn’t real. “You belong in another world, Derek.”

Derek wanted to sink into him until there was no telling them apart from one other, wanted to absorb everything Stiles was. “Maybe we can find a way to make a new one.”

Stiles let out a little laugh even as his eyes glistened. “I must be insane to believe you.” His grip tightened on Derek’s hair and he tugged him in so that their foreheads pressed together. “But God help me I want to...”

Derek felt as shaky as Stiles sounded, his fingers trembling as they slid down to cup Stiles’s jaw, his warm, soft throat and the pulse thudding rapidly with excitement within. The longing Derek felt twinned within his own veins. He dragged his nose across Stiles’s cheekbone, inhaling softly at the almond, sweat, warmth, grassy scent that was Stiles before letting their mouths brush.

His stomach tightened and then melted at the contact, at the little hitch in Stiles’s breath, lips melding together soft and a little slick with the oil Stiles had used to clean his skin. Derek groaned when Stiles’s tongue touched his own like a question and sank into him, his thumb tracing Stiles’s chin and tugging gently so that he could taste him deeper.

Stiles’s free hand smoothed down Derek’s torso between the narrow space between them, in constant motion as if he wanted to map every inch of Derek but didn’t know where to start and was worried if he didn’t now, he never would. It was a frenetic greed and Derek kissed him deeper for it, to let him know he felt the same. It was a little clumsy, perfect, real, their noses bumping in their urgency to taste each other.

Derek’s hands slid down Stiles’s throat to his shoulder, the gentle movement smoothing Stiles’s robe off his shoulders. It pooled beneath them when Derek drew back and Stiles followed, his fingers aiding Derek’s on the ornate clasps of his cloak and tunic as they kissed, more urgently with every inch of skin revealed.

Stiles clumsily peeled away the tights he wore to perform, and when Derek stood back off the bed to remove his own clothing in the narrow galley between it, the clothes rail and dressing table, Stiles swiped the door shut. He gave Derek a wry smile when he tugged away the constricting undergarment he wore to hold him in place when he performed and reached for Derek almost instantaneously. They fell clumsily to the bed in a mess of limbs that rocked the caravan.

Stiles laughed softly, the sound stifled by Derek’s mouth. Derek answered it in kind, his amusement, arousal and affection mingling into a grumbling laugh growl that caught in his throat. It was a desperate, inelegant thing between them, urgent with need to touch everywhere and drink in every inch of heat.

Derek’s stubble raised a red flush over every freckle and mole and Stiles’s strong hands held onto Derek’s neck and shoulders so tight Derek felt his nails dig in. For all that, it was a slow build. A slow dance ending in them mostly grinding together, clasped too close, limbs locked together too tight with Stiles’s sheets pulled over them to protect them from the encroaching chill.

It was the best night of Derek’s life.

“Mieczyslaw,” Stiles breathed softly against the hollow of his jaw from where they were wrapped around each other in the sticky afterglow. He had one arm hooked around Derek’s shoulder while Derek’s curved around him, dragging affectionately through his hair.

“Hmm?” Derek asked, blinking his sated, sleepy eyes open.

“Mieczyslaw, that’s the name my parents gave me. It was my grandfather’s name. But there was two of us, so I was always Stiles and when he and my mother died…” Stiles shrugged but Derek understood, knew what it meant to have that name whispered into his skin like a kiss, like the greatest secret on earth. It was, Derek realised, to someone like Stiles who people judged at face value, someone who never let anyone in close enough to see, who had so little. This was the greatest thing he could give.

Derek pressed his lips to Stiles’s again, unable to find the words to show how much that meant to him. He felt as if the clouds had been swept aside by the whirlwind of Stiles’s life, humbled and thinking clearly for the first time.

It was like an awakening.

His home had all the creature comforts a man could long for. It had fine linens, servants to run hot baths with opulent oils, food and drink to heat his belly, but he’d never felt as warm as he did now, naked under a mountain of sheets with Stiles, watching the light of the still slightly swinging lamps paint his face with their glow.

He looked into Stiles’s eyes when their lips parted and felt affection so fervent it made him shaky with it. He felt admiration and knowledge that instilled him with shame, because all this time he’d felt trapped in his privileged life and Stiles and his makeshift family were knee-deep in heartache, struggling every day and never asking for more. While Derek had responsibilities at home, he also had love and security and a family who only wanted the best for him, for the world, even if they had a peculiar way of going about it sometimes.

He arguably had everything and Stiles and his family had nothing and yet they were happy. They wanted only to make others smile. Derek had been the instrument in his own misery before now, letting his mother and uncle manage him. He’d once believed that all there was to stepping up to his role was politics, unwanted opulent balls and sufferance. But seeing the magic these people created from nothing but skill made him realise what he could do with everything he had, what he wanted to do, because of Stiles.

“So how do we start?” Stiles murmured against his jaw.

“Hmm?”

“Reshaping the world, so that everyone has a place, so that we have a place together, where do we start with that?”

Derek stroked his hair thoughtfully. “I talk to my mother and uncle.”

Stiles tensed in his arms before pushing up onto his elbows. “And if they tell you to stay away?” he asked guardedly.

Derek studied him carefully, before glancing around the caravan. “Then I still have two sisters that can rule without me.”

Stiles looked as if he might protest for a moment, but Derek knew him well enough by now to know he never wasted time with half-hearted platitudes or anything other than what he truly felt or thought. He smiled and drew Derek in with fingers behind his jaw. “I think I’ve inspired a rebellious streak in you,” he murmured against Derek’s lips, his own mouth a little red with stubble burn.

Derek snorted. “You just gave me a reason to grow a backbone,” he said as he bore him back to the sheets.

“I have to tell you something,” Derek murmured against his belly when the world outside had grown quiet, the circus fast asleep.

Stiles stroked his hair, smoothing the mess of it their lovemaking had made behind his ears in a way that was so relaxing, so comforting Derek thought he might melt around him like a puddle.

“You don’t have like a secret wife or husband or harem do you?” Stiles asked sleepily and Derek nipped at the tight, lean muscles of his abdomen.

“I have to tell you something, about me, about my family but it’s not just my secret to tell.” He tilted his head to look up into Stiles’s face and Stiles brushed his hair back from his forehead.

“Derek, I’ve been to so many places, I’ve seen so much…” Stiles moistened his kiss-bruised lips and then struggled up in bed, enough to reach for the bookshelf behind his head that acted as a headboard. He offered Derek a leather-bound book in faded midnight blue, worn at the edges but well cared for.

Derek frowned and went to open it, but Stiles’s hand stayed the motion.

“No,” Stiles said gently, “when you get home. Look at it then. My mother and grandfather made it, it’s…it’s sort of a family heirloom, I suppose.”

Derek shook his head. “Stiles, I can’t take this.”

“It’s a loan,” Stiles said firmly, holding his hand out in refusal when Derek tried to give it back. “Bring it back with you, when you return.”

So you’ll have to return, Derek couldn’t help but think he was truly saying and he kissed him more fiercely than he ever had before so he would know.

A while later, as he swept his cloak around him and crept down the steps of Stiles’s caravan, he leaned up to whisper against his lips, “I’m coming back.”

“You’re very eager to make me promises, Prince Hale,” Stiles mused, but there was a wary edge to his voice, as if he didn’t dare believe it was true.

“I never make promises I can’t keep.”

It was a long walk back to the castle. The city never slept, some were already up even as the sky started to glow with that subtle purple hue that signalled the encroaching dawn. Derek heard the telltale sounds of them readying for the day, the baker preparing his products, the fisherman hauling their catches off the docks but it all fell away into the lingering night as he walked.

The lanterns that lined the stone bridge that stretched from the city toward the castle, toward his home were extinguished long ago, not even a lingering hum of heat or scent of burning oil remaining. The world was quiet, calm out here on this bridge. It felt like he was floating above it all, with only the smell of the water running far, far below to caress his senses like a promise.

He paused on the bridge, resting his arms on the broad stone balustrade and running his fingers reverently over the worn cover of the book Stiles had given him. Stiles’s scent and the scent of his father still clung to it. This book was more precious than anything Stiles owned. All the sparkle and glamour were nothing compared to this.

He carefully opened the cover to see a small portrait tucked into the jacket. It was the kind he’d seen done in shops to commemorate events such as weddings or births. It was a good one, so must’ve cost more than a week’s takings. He caressed the edges of the little rectangle, a baby, perhaps a year old with Stiles’s bright eyes and little turned up nose and a woman with the same nose holding him tight, while Stilinski the showman, younger, less lined embraced them both.

My beautiful boy, your father and I love you so much. The note written across the back of the image was from Stiles’s mother, clearly.

Derek tucked it back in carefully and flipped through the book, filled with drawings and the same neat, curling scripture. His stomach plummeted as he read the words, studied the diagrams. His thoughts roared in his head and he froze at the sight of the carefully, painfully accurate drawings of things he’d never seen put to paper before. His fingertips scanned the pages and his hands were shaking as he closed the book carefully, staring hard at the foreign scripture now.

Bestiariusz, cut into the worn, soft leather in the same hand. He’d scanned it before but discarded it as Stiles’s family’s lost tongue, something his brain couldn’t comprehend at first glance, now though, in hindsight…

“What has your heart fluttering like a hummingbird, young nephew?” His uncle’s voice cut through the night and Derek, already on edge, whirled around, eyes wide. Had he been so worked up, had the blood been pounding so in his ears that he hadn’t noticed Peter’s approach?

Peter regarded him with a raised brow and slowly came to stand beside him, resting his arms on the stone alongside the book. He stared out across the water toward the horizon where the sun was still a way off.

“It’s amazing how early our senses can pick up the changes in the light, in the sky. We can sense the dawn long before the humans can,” Peter said thoughtfully, before turning his head to look at him. “Your mother and I told you to stay away from the circus because even as extraordinary as their feats of human skill are, Derek, they are still human. Even they could not comprehend what we are capable of.”

He stared hard at Derek then, expression tight as the king he was, looking on Derek as his subject now, not his family, not his loved one. “You’ve seen how the people of this land look on them. Some come to see their show, yes, many do in fact, but there are still those that fear their otherness. It only takes a few to rally the pitchforks and chase us through the hills like feral beasts. Our ancestors built this kingdom from the ground up after being chased from our homeland centuries ago. We will not make the same mistakes as them. The humans may one day be able to accept the circus but they will never be ready for our abnormality.”

Derek tore his gaze from Peter’s and looked at the cover of the bestiary. He moistened his lips, tasted Stiles on them and knew the caution his family had exorcised over the centuries had kept them alive, had let them thrive. Knew that they kept their secret for a reason, but he didn’t think he was entirely right. The initial jolt of shock and dread that had filled him on realising what the book was had settled a little the more Peter had spoken, the more Derek had realised how wrong he was.

“I think people change with the times. In some places, Stiles said that the circus was welcomed without pause, without backlash. He said that for every town that welcomed them with open arms there were those that chased them out, but that those were becoming few and far between.”

He thought of the woman who’d spent her life making this book. It was filled with sketches lovingly drawn, like art rather than scientific scrawl, facts and notes made like a bird lover might for the wildlife they tracked. Stiles’s mother had travelled the world, studying the supernatural with the same wide-eyed, worldly fascination her son carried even now.

Maybe the world wasn’t ready for their secret yet, but some people were, Stiles was and if he could share his secrets with Stiles while they waited for the rest of the world to catch up? Well then he was sure someone as strong as Stiles could help him ready them.

“What in heavens is a Stiles?” Peter asked with clear distaste and Derek couldn’t help it, he let out a little laugh, holding the book with reverence, like the wake-up call it was. He tucked it carefully inside his cloak. “His mother studied the supernatural, I think…I think the circus was her talent, her job but her studies were her passion. She indulged both, all over the world and saw…everything. So has Stiles.”

Peter’s eyes narrowed. “You told him…”

“I didn’t have to,” Derek said, feeling giddy with the lightneess that thought filled him with. “He knows. He knows what I am and he’s not afraid.”

Beside him, Peter stiffened. “You’ve been having clandestine meetings with a circus boy and you think he knows you?”

Derek didn’t rise to the bait, just answered with the truth he felt to his bones. “I think he could. I want him to.”

“Derek,” Peter began again.

“I want to speak to mother, about this, about everything,” Derek cut him off, “in the morning, I’ll…”

He trailed off. It was like the warning sirens that signalled the floods were going off in the distance, except this wasn’t a sound made by their horns. It was sound, smell, atmosphere, panic growing steadily more thick in the air as the wind changed and carried it in his direction. He and Peter both froze as it registered.

Fire. Chaos. The circus.

Stiles!

By the time they got there, the tent was ablaze, the white sails turned to great flaming beacons under the red dawn and the capital was in chaos. Derek surged forward at the sight of it, the smell of burning overwhelmed his nose so that he could not pick out Stiles’s scent, so he frantically searching the faces of everyone fleeing the fire. The smoke was thick in the air, he choked and spluttered. A crowd had gathered, some to watch the pandemonium, some flying forward to help the circus workers to rescue the animals, taking hold of reins of horses and helping to haul the cages of the more dangerous animals to safety. But he saw no Stiles.

“Derek!” Peter called warningly, and the unspoken order was clear. Do not make a scene, do not make what you are known. Derek gave him a single, lingering look, before bolting into the chaos.

He darted down the side of the fire, avoiding the licking flames that had all-but devoured the tent, which he hoped was empty. He strained but could hear no heartbeats inside, no cries for help. He hoped that was because it had been empty, not because someone had been trapped inside. He made for the caravans.

The fire seemed to have started in the tent and the smell of alcohol on the flames, when none of the circus workers entertained alcohol made him think of sabotage, but he had no time to dwell. He struggled to listen, to sense beyond the ferocity of the fire.

He didn’t hear a heartbeat, he didn’t see Stiles, but a screeching, terrifying unnatural whinnying filled the night and he bolted towards it. The striped horse Stiles had called a zebra once had been caught by its lead rope on a fallen section of cage. Derek flew toward it on instinct, catching the rope by the knot beneath the beast’s jaw and laying a strong, steadying hand on its neck.

“Hey,” he breathed softly, holding it tight as it struggled, eyes wide. “You’re ok. We’ll get you…” He trailed off at the sight of the body crumpled in the stall the zebra had been caught in. He dove down, keeping hold of the zebra’s rope and reaching for Stiles. He coughed and spluttered as he reached for his neck, the smoke growing thicker even as he checked for a tangible sign of life, not trusting his senses in the din.

There was a heartbeat, faint, sluggish, thick with smog but there. He knew a moment of dangerous hesitation, staring at the beast, now frozen with fear and the flames coming in tighter and tighter, Stiles’s body limp and smeared with ash and soot from the open cover the horses were stabled under.

At last, Derek dragged an ornate handkerchief out of his pocket. He pulled Stiles roughly upward, his body heavy and lifeless but no weight at all to Derek’s strength. He grunted even so, as he pressed his shoulder under Stiles’s weight and staggered to his feet, still keeping a grip on the zebra. It stood stock still, petrified and Derek tugged. “Come on,” he snarled, but the beast didn’t move. Derek pulled, looked around wildly at the fire as it roared higher. In a moment of panic, he roared, eyes burning, fangs flashing. The zebra jerked as if his fangs had struck flesh and bolted forward.

“Stiles? Stiles!” Stilinski’s voice called out as they made it to the where the whole city had gathered, the fiery-haired girl coming forward to take hold of the Zebra’s makeshift halter just as Stilinski practically collided with Derek.

Derek lowered Stiles carefully off his shoulder and into Stilinski’s frantic arms, spluttering and coughing and wiping smoke from his stinging eyes as Stiles’s lifeless body tilted to the ground, head lolling, face smeared black. He looked so pale, so unreal in the red sunlight.

The world around him was on fire, there was madness as everyone tried to put out the flames, as people tried to tend the wounded but it was suddenly deafeningly quiet as Derek stared at him, at Stiles and willed him to move. He lay still on the cobblestones, splayed out like a man drowned and Derek had never felt so helpless in all his life.

“Stiles!” Stilinski screamed, shaking his son’s shoulders.

Then, suddenly, there was a firm, strong hand on his shoulder. Derek didn’t even react, didn’t turn at the feel of his mother’s presence, at the voice of his queen, not until she said, ever so softly, “bring him.”

Derek jerked to face her, frowning at her unreadable expression. “The capital’s infirmary will be full tonight. Bring him to the castle, he’ll have more of a chance with us.”

*

Derek supposed the bittersweet thing about tragedy was that it rendered all men equal. His uncle and mother, the king and queen, and Stilinski the showman of the circus that had shocked the world were as equals now. Covered in soot and grime from the flying flames, it was hard to tell what positions separated them.

Derek’s uncle and mother stood close by as the physician, who was kept on hand mainly for show or for the human members of the household, worked over Stiles’s smoke-damaged lungs. He’d been spared any burns but his breathing was laboured and Deaton worked quietly on a medicine for Stiles to inhale as his unconsciousness stretched out further and further into the new day.

At some point Peter had been pulled away to deal with the culprit of the fire. Apparently it had been an accident, one of the drunken sots had been loitering, had stumbled trying to foolishly light his pipe and it had all escalated before he could stop it.

Derek thought absently, as he watched Deaton continue to burn the eye-watering medicine for Stiles to breathe in, that the capital had Deaton’s revolutionary medicinal practices to thank for growing so wealthy. The infirmary the McCalls ran under his tutelage had the highest success rates on the continent and Derek had no fear for the other circus performers and people that had worked to rescue them, only the man on his childhood bed, who still had yet to wake.

“Come, Mr Stilinski, a clean body is a clean mind,” his mother said gently to Stilinski, squeezing his shoulder gently. “We’ll get you fed and washed up before your son wakes.” Stilinski seemed almost catatonic, moving without really reacting, without tearing his gaze from Stiles.

Derek swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat. “I’ll watch him, Sir. I won’t leave his side.”

Stilinski blinked as if coming awake from a dream and his eyes roved his son a final time, before lingering on the place Derek’s hands grasped Stiles’s wrist, at the bestiary beneath them that he evidently knew too well. He stared at where dark tendrils of pain were drawn away from his son into Derek’s body and it was also something he apparently recognised.

“I believe that,” Stilinski said, a man of few words, so unlike his son, but with no less sincerity.

*

“Hey…” The hoarse, haggard voice cut through the doze Derek had dropped unwillingly into. He jerked his head up from where it had slumped on the bedside and blinked suddenly awake at the sight of Stiles’s weary, beautiful face.

“You didn’t sneak me into your bed, did you Prince Derek?” Stiles mused croakily.

A disbelieving, exasperated smile tugged at Derek’s lips as he gasped out a laugh he was still too shocked and relieved to truly feel. “Your father put you there, with the King and Queen watching. He understands the needs that…pack have.”

Stiles closed his eyes but gave a tired smile. “Scandalous, the debauchery of royalty…”

Derek squeezed Stiles’s hand tightly, tapping his fingers lest he slip into unconsciousness. “How are you feeling?”

Stiles rolled his head weakly to pin him with that stare, the one that asked if Derek was stupid.

Derek smiled a little more honestly now, because Stiles was feeling well enough to be himself, at least. He didn’t lessen his grip on his hand, however. “The man who burned the circus down, he did it by accident, but he’ll be punished for his crimes.”

Stiles frowned. “Fairly?”

“We aren’t savages,” Derek said tightly, even though in his rage right then, he wanted to tear the man to pieces for his stupidity. It hadn’t cost any lives, heavens above, but so many were injured and not just the circus performers, but some people who’d tried to help and some businesses that had been closest to the fire had been caught by the heat. Lives had been irrevocably changed. He definitely wasn’t ready to rule yet, to see beyond his heart and think clearly. He had so much to learn.

“No,” Stiles said, fingers curling under Derek’s touching the surface of the book beneath their joined hands and somehow gripping Derek’s hand too. “You’re werewolves.” There was no trace of fear in his face, only awe, only affection for the sight of Derek by his sickbed, with him even when the glamour of the lights had burned out.

Derek had so much to learn and he wanted Stiles to teach him, to learn at his side.

Stiles licked his lips, chapped from dryness, the proximity to the heat but already healing with painfully human slowness.

“I suppose, if I’m surrounded by riches, I must be in your castle?”

Derek’s lips twitched. “In my bed, you were right, even in jest.”

Stiles’s eyebrows lifted. “So you spoke to your mother and uncle? Or did you really sneak me in here under the cover of night?”

“Like I said, your father put you there. It’s been three days since the fire and it’s daylight now,” Derek said deadpanned. “But yes, we talked some. We’ll talk more, no doubt.” Slowly, slowly, Derek drew his fingers out of Stiles’s grasp.

“You took my pain,” Stiles said, not seeming surprised. He lifted a slightly shaking hand to look at his skin, as if he would see the place that Derek drawn his pain from. Even through his weariness and discomfort Derek could see his awe, his intrigue and wondered how many questions Stiles would have for him, once he was well.

“I read about it,” Stiles continued, coughing with a wince the more he spoke, “didn’t…didn’t realise it’d feel like this.”

Derek held a hand out to rest on his chest as his body shook with great heaving coughs, a silent entreaty to rest his lungs and throat. He reached for the bowl of medicine Deaton had left and brought it over. “Here, inhale this, it’ll help. Deaton’s work is like witchcraft.”

Stiles quirked a brow, even as his chest heaved. “Like witchcraft?” He inhaled heavily, sending his lungs into a spasm of uncontrollable coughs. Derek leant in, hand resting on Stiles’s back between his shoulder blades, dragging the pain the spasms were causing until they at last subsided and the medicine began to do its work. It’d work better with Stiles able to inhale deeper breaths, allow his lungs to expand fully with it, Deaton had said..

 “He’s a druid, not a witch, though some wouldn’t know the difference,” Derek said carefully.

After a few deep, cautious breaths, Stiles managed shakily, “I know the difference.”

Derek nodded. “I know.” When he was sure Stiles’s breathing had steadied, he drew back, shrugging off his jacket. Stiles’s slips parted around a question that Derek held his hand out to silence. “Rest, just…don’t talk for a while, as difficult as that is.”

Stiles frowned but he didn’t seem too displeased with Derek’s teasing, just confused.

“I need to show you something,” Derek said, “I want to show you, tell you everything. We’ve got…we’ve got so much to say, I don’t even know where to start, so I’ll start with this.”

He stepped back and to the side, standing at the end of the bed and regarded Stiles carefully as he stripped to the waist. He toed off his shoes and then loosened his trousers, just enough that they hung on his hips. He heard Stiles’s heart thud a little faster, saw his cheeks flush in his sickly complexion.

Derek hesitated just a moment, fighting a lifetime of secrecy and subdued fear, before he let the change take him. His body stretched and snapped, twisting unnaturally, curving forward and shucking his loosened clothing as he did so. He braced himself on the foot of the bed and watched as his fingers changed into large black paws. When he lifted his head, if he stared hard enough, he saw the black wolf reflected in Stiles’s honey-hued eyes.

Stiles was staring, his gaze wide with wonder and astonishment but no fear. Not a scant inch. He’d obviously never seen this up close, in real life. It was likely something he’d only heard about in stories from his mother. But he was seeing it now, as real as the daylight streaming in through the window.

Derek gave him a moment, let him look his fill before he climbed onto the end of the bed. He realised, belatedly that it might appear threatening, standing over Stiles’s wounded body like this and so he wagged his tail gently, hoping Stiles would understand.

“Oh my God,” Stiles breathed, voice still hoarse. He carefully set the bowl of medicine on the side stand, the effort laboured but steady, before he reached for Derek. His long fingers, usually strong enough to hold his body up a hundred feet in the air sank into Derek’s fur, into the softest strands of obsidian silk and slid up. He caressed every inch of slender muscle that could rip him to pieces, foreign and unnatural, yet Stiles was not afraid. He was in awe.

“You’re incredible,” Stiles managed, with the same reverence Derek had offered him in the intimate closeness of Stiles’s makeshift home.

Slowly, Derek crept forward, going low on his belly without a care for his appearance until he was sprawled across the grand bed, across Stiles’s legs, warming his healing body.

Stiles stroked his muzzle, his ears with that same look of wide-eyed wonder that betrayed his thirst for the world despite how much he’d seen. It also betrayed his need for belonging and Derek ached to wrap himself around him as far as he could go.

Unable to articulate it in this shape, but unwilling to lose the gentle intimacy, Derek brushed his nose against Stiles’s cheek, his neck and when Stiles’s arms enveloped his neck, knotting in the thick fur at his scruff, he nuzzled in close and just breathed.

*

When the circus was rebuilt, it filled Derek with a bittersweet feeling to see the last of the white sails of the tent. It was a building now, with foundations that offered the animals and performers room to grow and flourish. It was a more permanent home to protect them all through the coming winter and the next, and the next. It’s was a sign of their permanent fixture and although that was bittersweet as well, Stiles had relayed to Derek the relief from his family at having somewhere to call home without giving up the life they loved.

It was Hale money that rebuilt it, a charity that Stilinski had hated and his jaw had ticked when Stiles had jokingly suggested he consider it a future dowry. In spite of this though, he hadn’t been able to argue with the security it offered his family, his son, the business of making happiness his wife had built.

It was a place of grandeur, with lights and glamour and crisp red dressings with gold trim to celebrate the vibrancy of its performers. No one could argue with its magnificence and it could seat hundreds more than the tent ever could. The fact that it was still open to people of all classes was what had saved it for Stilinski, Derek had thought.

In the few years since the fire, the circus had become an attraction that people had travelled the world to see, now they knew where to find them. They had become the gem of the country and Derek wondered if one day, this celebration of differentness would one day touch the entire world. Maybe then it would be safe to be what they were without fear. Until then, he considered himself one of the luckiest men alive.

He knew one day, when he took the throne that Stiles would have to take his final bow, give up performing but he thought by the time that day came, it would be long in the future, when Stiles was ready to trade this circus for that of the castle, one that would allow him to help the less fortunate smile in other ways.

The idea of ruling, when his mother and uncle finally stepped down was still a daunting task but he was beginning to realise how much opportunity there was to do good along with that responsibility. Stiles and his family had brought such happiness with nothing but talent and determination. He had resources in abundance that he could not waste, not now. Derek knew how much good he could do now, and he thought that was because of Stiles.

Derek was busier now than he had ever been, trying to use his position as best he could. Stiles always returned to his bed when the lights of the circus dimmed for the night, but still Derek tried to make at least one performance a week. There was nothing quite like watching Stiles fly.

Stiles didn’t scan the crowds for him, he was too professional for that, but whenever he took his final bow with the others, then he searched for Derek. Those bright brown eyes that held the magic of the entire show found Derek’s gaze in a sea of applause every time.

Now, like every other time, Stiles made a beeline toward him. As he drew closer to the crowds, Derek’s guard moved to envelop him, to wrap around him as if their lives depend on it. They knew, the world knew and while the public were confused at the freedom the prince’s betrothed was allowed, it was out of concern, not distaste. They could be forgiven for not knowing Derek’s senses allowed him to protect Stiles in ways they could not imagine, how he watched for even the slightest hint of malice from the surrounding people toward the man he loved.

Still, the guard made a good show of normalcy and they guided Stiles through the crowds until he was in front of Derek. Stiles’s breathless smile incited one from Derek’s lips. Without need for words, Derek took his hand and together they allowed the guard to usher them out into the cool quiet night.

They walked back in comfortable silence, with the guard a few yards behind, Stiles tired and Derek content to listen to the merriment of those returning home from the show. The stars were a thick smattering of fireflies in the midnight blue above and the castle a glistening beacon in the distance. The long stone bridge was an arm connecting one world to the next and the lanterns burned brightly along it. It was on his mother and uncle’s orders, their way of blessing, like leaving a light in the window so they may find their way home together.

It was as cold as the first night they had met and Stiles pulled the long coat he liked to call his prince’s costume around himself tighter to stave off the chill. His nose and cheeks were pinked from the cold and he was exhausted in that way that practically vibrated with satisfaction. He was happy, it was a tangible thing and Derek stroked his thumb across Stiles’s in a subtle, wordless whisper of a caress.

“What?” Stiles asked with a mischievous smile, stopping as he met Derek’s eyes. There was so much love there in that gaze Derek couldn’t offer any words to reciprocate. He just shook his head, wondering at the world they were building every day and where it would take them.

If the sight of the tent that night had been like sails in the night sky, then Stiles had been the moon, the stars, the force in the breeze carrying him home from where he’d been adrift for so long. Now, as he stood there on the bridge, he was filled with a rush of need to let him know exactly how much he meant to Derek, more than any words could offer, any official title. He hooked his fingers behind the column of Stiles’s pale neck and drew him in so that their lips could meet.

THE END