#however it started to smell like burning rubber and if you looked close enough a small cloud of smoke too

[leslieseveride]

so i'm watching youtube, right? when suddenly my tv bursts into flames. so that's fun 🙃

[tell-me-a-tale-that-tells]

Rubber Toys & Fun

+18 if you're a minor do not read this

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Summary: Hancock and Reader find an old toy factory, and they find something unexpected. Warnings: explicit sexual content, explicit language, toy kink.

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You are walking for hours, your feet are hurting so badly that you fear they're bleeding.

At your side, your companion Hancock continues to sigh, clearly tired as you are.

A large building reveals itself from between the debris of two big skyscrapers.

The Insignia says "Rub__er Toy_ & F_n", it's a rusty mess, and some letters missing.

It seems safe enough, empty even, with no Raiders or supermutants in sight.

You enter and the nauseating smell of burned rubber attacks your nose, John however doesn't seem bothered and you envy his lack of smell.

"What the hell was this place?" You ask, trying to open a closed door.

Hancock rummages through some desks in the Hall before finding a working terminal, "They produced rubber toys, you know...rubber ducks, squeaky toys for dogs and all those sorts of things"

"That's why this place is empty" you murmur, "There's nothing of value here"

"At least we have a place to rest for a bit" Hancock adds.

You manage to open that door, revealing a big room with machinery for mass production.

On the conveyor belts, there are ducks of all shapes and colours, toy aliens and other everyday objects.

You wander into the dusty old factory, John following you.

As you enter the farthest area which looks like a dedicated shipping area, there are trucks parked in long rows and crates upon crates of goods ready to be shipped.

Hancock forces open one of them, with a big red X on one side, and he whistles and laughs, "What?" You ask.

"Well, this is unexpected" he giggled, "Come and see"

You approach him, and he looks into some opened crates  Inside them, there was a rich assortment of sex toys, from dildos to vibrators and cock rings and many more.

You blush vigorously and step away.

"Uh... hehe...well, that's... nice...but useless" you stammer.

Hancock can't help but laugh, "Useless? We could use some of these!" he smiles.

"Imagine all the fun we could have!" You look at him, disbelief in your eyes.

"Hancock..." you say, shaking your head "We don't have time for that..."

"Oh come on!" he insists, holding up a large strap-on dildo.

You sigh, heavily.

"Look, we need to find food, water...things like that. Not toys for our... private time." You take a deep breath, trying to keep your cool.

You can't help but feel a stirring between your legs as you think about the possibility of using those toys, it would be nice to have some release but the thought seems so absurd that you try to repress it.

John looks at you with the most incredible puppy eyes an adult ghoulified man could ever manage to do.

You take a deep breath, trying to ignore the growing wetness between your legs.

"Goddammit...alright! Take the ones you like most, don't take everything. We need to travel light." 

Hancock looks at you, a playful grin on his face. "Alright, you're the boss." He takes a few items, and you don't dare to look at what he chooses. "These'll do fine for now." 

You turn around, trying to ignore the heat in your cheeks. The last thing you need is for him to know how turned on you are right now.

For a brief moment, your mind drifted away to the lewd image of Hancock squirming on a large dildo.

Fuck.

As much as you try to deny It to yourself, you like John. He's smart, he's reckless and passional, he loves to help people without asking for something in return and he has a charm that's hard to resist.

His look doesn't bother you at all, you find him oddly fascinating, handsome even.

You are so gone for him.

Exploring the factory a bit more you find a room with a few mattresses scattered around. It looks like it might be used as a shelter for the factory workers or someone else in the past centuries.

You head over to them and start pushing some debris aside to clear a space for you and Hancock to sleep.

"We should take turns on watch," You say to him.

Hancock nods in agreement. "I'll take the first watch, you get some rest." He says, looking around the room. "There's not much activity in this area, but I'll keep an eye out for anything suspicious."

You lie down on one of the beds, trying to ignore the discomfort of the old mattress. The room is silent except for the sound of your breathing and the occasional creak of rusty springs as Hancock shifts his weight.

Eventually, you drift off to sleep. 

Your dreams are filled with images of the world before the apocalypse: people laughing, cars driving, stores filled with food, your old job and colleagues. You find yourself missing those simple things.

Suddenly, you are awoken by the sound of something.

It's not loud, but it's definitely not normal. You sit up, looking around the dark room, your eyes adapting to the scarce light, trying to figure out where it's coming from.

That's when you notice Hancock, his pants around his ankles. He's grunting and moaning softly as he thrusts his hips.

His hand is wrapped around his cock, stroking it furiously, and a wet sound fills the air with each thrust.

He's obviously jerking off.

You blush, feeling embarrassed and aroused at the same time.

Clearing your throat, you try to get Hancock's attention. "Uhm...Ehm... John?" you call him.

Hancock jumps at the sound of your voice, his hand going to hide something in his bag. He looks around wildly, then sees you sitting up on the bed. "Oh, uh... hey," he says sheepishly. "I didn't mean to wake you." 

You blush even deeper. "It's... it's alright," you manage to say. "I just... thought I should let you know I believe it's my turn to watch now." You try to sound casual, but you're not sure if you succeed.

You could set fire to the damn mattress.

Hancock nods, taking a deep breath. "Right. Yeah. Of course." He pulls up his pants, wincing as the movement causes his cock to brush against his clothes "Sorry about that. I guess I got a little...uhm carried away."

You can't help but be curious about what he hid. If he was not using his hand, what was he using?

"Uhm, no worries...does that feel good? What you were...using?" you ask, trying to sound normal about It.

It's Hancock's turn to blush.

"Well, I found this..." he says, holding up a fleshlight. "I didn't know what it was at first, but I figured it out pretty quick." He looks sheepish again. "It feels good, yeah."

You nod, unable to hide your interest any longer. "Do you..." You clear your throat. "Do you want to... show it to me?" You ask, your voice barely above a whisper. 

You know what a fleshlight is, even if you haven't ever seen one up close.

Hancock looks at you, surprise flickering across his features. "Uh... sure?" he says hesitantly.

He hands you the fleshlight, unsure of what to expect.

Taking it from him, you inspect it closely. It's soft and pliable, and filled with some sort of lubricant.

You hand it back to him, giving him a shy smile. "Why... don't you show me?"

The question slips from your brain to your mouth and you curse to yourself, that's not something you should ask a friend.

Hancock's eyes go wide and for a moment you fear he could push you away and simply insult you.

Then takes the fleshlight back, nodding.

He unfastens his pants again, letting out a content sight as he frees himself from the confinement of his now damp thigh underwear.

You can't take your eyes away from his length, even in the dim light of your Pip-boy, you see the size of it.

It's stupidly thick, not very long and scarred like the rest of his skin, and a part of your brain asks if that means he feels less or more than normal.

John positions the fleshlight over his cock, guiding it slowly onto his shaft. There's a wet, sucking sound as it seals around him, and he lets out a moan of pleasure. "Like that," he whispers, beginning to thrust up and down.

You watch, mesmerized by the sight of him using it. The fleshlight is designed to mimic the feel of a tight pussy, and it seems to be doing it wonderfully.

Hancock's hips move faster now, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Fuck, that feels good," he mutters.

He looks over at you with glassy eyes "God, I wish..." His voice trails off as he bit his lip.

You decide to encourage him, to see where this goes. "Tell me what you wish," you whisper, reaching for his cheek and caressing it.

Hancock looks down, squeezing his eyes shut "I wish this was you" he confesses. 

Your heart skips more than a bit, and you swallow hard, maybe your ears are playing tricks on you, "You want it to be me?" You ask, incredulous.

His movements become more erratic. "God yes," he whimpers, looking at you this time. "I want to feel you around me, feel your tight..." He closes his eyes again, grinding against the fleshlight. "Oh fuck, I'm gonna... I'm gonna..."

You watch as his face contorts, his entire body tensing. "Cum for me," you whisper, your voice barely audible. "Cum in there like you would cum inside me." 

Hancock's orgasm is sudden and powerful, his entire body jerking as he cries out.

Spurt after spurt of hot cum shots into the fleshlight until it is so full of it that it runs down the edges, I drip it down his pants, leaving it slick and sticky. He collapses onto the bed, gasping for air.

After a few moments, he looks up at you. "I'm sorry," he says, both hands covering his face in shame. "I didn't mean to... to suggest anything like that."

You nod, your heart still racing from the hottest sight you ever witness, "It's okay," you say,

"It was just... a fantasy, I guess." You force a smile, trying to make it look casual. 

Hancock nods, sitting up and pulling himself together. "Well," he says, looking back at the fleshlight with guilt. "I guess I should clean this up." He stands up, awkwardly tucking himself away, and heads for a nearby bathroom.

You sit there on the bed, heart pounding in your chest, trying to make sense of what just happened. Was that real? Did he really want it to be you? And what does it mean, if he did?

As Hancock returns from the bathroom, he looks at you, his expression unreadable.

"Listen," he begins. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable back there. I shouldn't have... I mean, I don't know what I was thinking."

"It's okay, really," you say, forcing a smile. "We all have our fantasies... it's just something to make us go..." You hope the words sound convincing. "Let's just put it behind us, okay?"

Hancock nods slowly, but you can tell he's not convinced at all.

As the tension in the air begins to ease, you realize that your palms are sweaty. And the worst part? You can feel the wetness in your panties, and you're sure your pants are stained too.

You curse your body's betrayal, wishing you could make it go away. But as you sit there, you can see that Hancock has noticed as well.

His eyes flick down to your crotch, and then back up to meet yours. 

"You okay?" he asks, his voice hoarse.

"Yeah," you manage to choke out. "I'm fine."

Hancock hesitates for a moment, then moves closer to you. "You don't have to hide it," he whispers. "We've all been there."

"I...I know. This is not the right moment, tho" you lie to him.

There's something unspoken in John's eyes, you want to know what he's thinking as he sits next to you, and you understand he's asking for permission.

As his fingers slide beneath your pants and the fabric of your panties, you feel yourself trembling.

"A little help, mh?" He whispers in your ear "Like you did for me"

His touch is soft and gentle as he caresses you, you bite your lip and nod.

"It doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to," he says.

It feels so good, you close your eyes, unable to resist the sensations any longer.

You grasp at the lapel of his redingote, pulling him towards you, your hands slip on his cheeks as you kiss him for the first time.

You grow wetter and more needy. Your hips begin to move on their own, searching for more contact against his hand. 

"John...more. More please" you whimper.

His fingers find your clit and circle it expertly. You cry out, your body arching, but it's not enough.

"Fuck," you gasp, your head spinning, and the room seems to shift. "I need more."

He pulls away, eyes locked on yours. "Want a toy?" he asks, "Because I...took some for you..."

Your mind reels as you process what he's just said, your body, however, has already decided.

It aches for release, for something more than just his hand on you.

You nod mutely, not able to speak.

He goes to his bag, pulling out a ridged glass dildo. He hands it to you, but you shake your head.

"No," you croak out, "You use it on me." The words are out before you can stop them, and you feel a flash of embarrassment wash over you.

But the need for release is too strong, and you find yourself throwing your pride out of the window.

With rapid motions, you remove your boots and clothes and return to the mattress.

You spread your legs some more, Hancock's eyes widen in surprise, but then he smirks and takes hold of the dildo, positioning it at your entrance.

"Nice and slow, sister." He murmurs against your lips.

Slowly, he pushes it inside you, and you moan at the sensation of being filled so completely.

He begins to thrust, aiming the dildo against your G-spot with each stroke. 

"Did you take... a ridged one because...?" you say between moans. 

Your eyes meet Hancock's, and you see the amusement in his gaze. "Because, It looks a little like mine, yes" He answers as he thrusts deeper, "I guess I liked the idea of you using it"

Your body is on fire, and as he continues to fuck you with the dildo, your orgasm building. You grip the mattress, digging your nails into the fabric as you feel yourself coming undone. 

Your hips buck up, meeting his thrusts, urging him on.

You cry out, your back arches and you throw your head back. Wave after wave of ecstasy curses through your body, making you tense tight around the toy.

A hot liquid spurts from your core, coating his hand and the bed beneath you.

John watches you in awe "Yes," he groans, "Like that." 

He doesn't stop, continuing to piston the toy inside you, he pushes deeper, harder, driving you over the edge again. 

You scream his name, your body arching off the bed, the pleasure too much to bear. 

As your muscles relax, he pulls the toy free, his fingers still coated in your fluids. 

He brings his fingers to his mouth, tasting you, and a shudder runs through you at the realization of what you've just done.

Hancock's eyes meet yours for a moment, and then he leans in, pressing his lips to your folds. His tongue darts out, tasting you as he laps at your fluids. 

His tongue flicks and swirls, licking up every drop of your cum, leaving your skin slick and glistening with saliva.

"John," you gasp, the pleasure building within you once more.

"I love you," you whimper, your voice barely audible over the wet sounds he's making.

You're not entirely sure where the words come from, but as soon as they leave your lips, you feel a weight lift from your chest. 

They feel so right, like coming home from a long journey.

Hancock pauses for a moment, his eyes searching yours, he smiles, and then leans in, pressing his lips to yours in a passionate, possessive kiss. 

As he kisses you, his hand finds its way back between your legs, stroking you gently, soothingly. 

When at last you pull away, gasping for air, Hancock's eyes are still fixed on yours. 

"I love you too," he whispers, his voice hoarse and raw. "I truly do." 

"Make love to me," you whisper, your voice shaking with emotion. "Please."

Hancock's expression softens, he pulls away, sitting up on the bed, and gently guides you into his lap. 

His hands move to your hips, steadying you as he lines himself up with your entrance. John looks up at you, searching your eyes for permission. 

He pushes inside you, slowly at first, then with more force when he finds you meet his thrusts. The air is filled with the slap of flesh against flesh, of the moans and grunts of pleasure.

"Oh God, John," you moan, arching your back as he hits your sweet spot over and over again. Your nails scrape down his back, and Hancock sadly knows they won't last for long.

He leans forward, capturing one of your breasts in his mouth, sucking hungrily as he fucks you.

"Is it...like you dreamed?" You ask, your breath hot against his neck.

Hancock groans, his hips moving faster "No," he growls, "It's better. God, you feel so good. So tight." He thrusts harder, his breath coming in ragged gasps. 

You feel the familiar tightening in your abdomen, "Aah! John!" you cry out, your body tensing around him as your orgasm washes over you. 

Hancock follows close behind, his eyes rolling back in his head as he releases himself deep inside you, his hands tightening on your hips, holding you in place.

You can feel it, the warmth spreading as he fills you to the brim.

At last, he collapses forward, pressing his forehead against your shoulder and you hold him close, feeling the warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his heart against your skin. 

"Taking those sex toys wasn't a bad idea after all" you chuckle breathlessly.

Hancock, nuzzes his face into your neck. "No, it wasn't." His hands move up your back, caressing your shoulder blades. "But I don't think I'll ever need them again. Not as long as I have you."

It's romantic in some kind of way.

"Mh, not even that big vibrator?" You joke.

"Well, now that you mention it..." He grins playfully, his fingers teasing your skin. "Maybe there are one or two things I wouldn't mind trying with you." His voice lowers, becoming husky.

You smile, feeling a blush creep up your neck. "I'm sure we can." You gaze up at him, wondering if this is happening. 

It feels like a good dream, too good to be true. 

But as you look into his black eyes, you know that's more real than anything that happened in your life.

Hancock leans in, kissing you, his tongue slides against yours, and you sigh softly into his mouth.

You shift your weight and that's when you remember he's still inside you, not softening a bit.

"John..." You breathe, feeling the familiar ache beginning to build inside you once more. "I think I'm ready for round two." 

His eyes darken and he smiles, his hand moving to your hip, guiding you to lift your hips. He pulls out slowly, letting you feel the cold air on your slick skin only to pull you down fast.

"I think I can manage that," he says, grinning. 

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Notes: Sorry, this wasn't very long. I wrote it in an hour while waiting for my turn at my Doctor's clinic 😅

Should I write chapter 2?

[funtimebunnyblog]

...I cannot refuse Dagdoth. 😭😂 For the life of me, no matter how hard I try I'm helpless to their persuasiveness. I'm starting to think they're a Stand user. 😱 Not that I’m complaining about these saucy little requests, of course....

The Pillarmen walking in on you in the shower (or vice versa)... (Under the cut for length!)

Kars:

• Whether it's you walking in on him or him walking in on you, either way this man is NOT shy!

• Not in the slightest!

• What was there to be shy about? He knew very well he had a gorgeous body and he never passed up an opportunity to show it off.

• Someone walking in on him naked in the shower really made no difference as he already walked around in nothing but a loincloth on a day to day basis.

• There was no naked body on this green Earth that would make him even the slightest bit flustered upon sight so if he happens to walk in on you, don't expect him to cover his eyes, apologize and run out.

• His showers smell like a fruit tray of the God's; you can bet he uses all the best soaps, scrubs and shower paraphernalia on the market.

• "How about you join me in here, little one?" The purr of his voice echoed off the walls of the bathroom, nearly drowned out by the continuous spray of water.

• The very rumble of his honeyed tone shook you to your core where you stood, trying to avert your eyes. The litany of apologies fumbling past your lips only seeming to amuse the massive man further.

• "I could use some help washing my hair..." he hummed. "And perhaps I'll return the favor and wash your back."

• Whether you deny that generous offer is all up to you...

Esidisi:

• Like Kars, Esidisi isn't shy about his body or any part of it being exposed.

• It doesn't bother him in the slightest if someone happens to walk in on him parading around in the shower naked.

• He owns a rubber ducky and he's proud of it.

• Expect to be teased later on if you scream and run out of the room if you happen to accidentally walk in on him soaping up.

• This man is something close to a locker room bully.

• "Aww, what's the matter, little one? Did I surprise you back there?" He questions, chuckling as your face goes red at the memory of him covered by nothing but steam and suds.

• He's gone the extra mile to confront you while he's still damp and only wearing a towel around his waist.

• He leaned down with a grin, "You know, there was plenty of room for the both of us in there if you really had your heart set on taking your shower. I don't mind the company..."

• If he's the one who walks in on you it might be a different story depending on your reaction.

• If you try to cover up he'll just laugh but if you scream for him to get out he'll calmly apologize and leave; respecting your privacy but not at all embarrassed.

• He'll propose showering together to save water next time...

• He also offers to let you hold his rubber ducky :P

Wamuu:

• As a proud Warrior, Wamuu was well aware he had a fit and desirable body.

• He definitely wasn't modest to show it off in the arena but he was a little on the shy side when it came down to being on display in the shower...

• He was quite used to his Masters or Santana bathing with him or being around him when he lacked what little clothing he usually wore.

• But if you happened to walk in on him, it spurs a reaction much similar to his shadow being invaded.

• He'd ask you to leave with a stern frown, his voice curt but polite enough, unless you planned on helping him wash his back.

• If he happens to walk in on you however...

• "Wamuu! GET OUT!" You screamed over the hiss of the shower water, your voice the fiercest he had ever heard it. Had you been a Warrior opponent he would've probably seen you as a powerful foe with such a cry.

• The Pillarmans face flushed beat red upon catching a glimpse of your exposed and unclothed state. You could scarcely see the lines of his war paint anymore, the colour painted all the way back to his ears; burning them hot like the embers of a fire.

• "I-- S-SORRY!!!" He yelled, an arm was thrown over his eyes as he was flooded with momentary panick, making a bolt for the door. He honestly hadn't expected anyone to be in here!

• The massive man slammed into the closed door so hard he took it right off the hinges but still kept going.

• You have to yell for him to come back to fix it... and get you a towel.

Santana:

• What makes you think Santana would be flustered over something like this?

• He just has no feelings towards bathing or naked people whatsoever, whether he walks in on you or vice versa.

• Growing up, the other Pillarmen made it kind of a habit to bathe together when the opportunity arouse.

• Chances were, there was always at least one other accompanying him to go wash up or at least someone would show up to join in halfway through; where they would take turns washing one anothers hair or back and the like as they did.

• It was not only for safety but it was a good bonding activity as well.

• If he happens to walk in on you, do not expect him to leave as he just follows his natural instincts and joins in.

• "Santana!" You shrieked, squishing up against the far wall of the shower as your hands flew to cover yourself.

• You had been washing your hair, singing softly to yourself only to turn and find the red-haired Pillarman standing outside the shower looking in. "What are you doing?! Get out!"

• It was almost as if he didn't hear you, his face unreadable as his gaze lingered on you for only a beat longer. Your eyes went impossibly wide when he began to discard what little coverage he had on.

• "San-- SANTANA! WH-- NO! P-PUT YOUR LOINCLOTH BACK-- WHA--" you could scarcely get the words out before suddenly he was in the shower next to you, his deadpan expression unchanged as his calloused fingers found the suds in your hair, blunt nails scratching your scalp softly.

• "Wash." He warbled out, almost an order as he worked the shampoo through your mane. You could only blink stupidly when he pushed the bar of soap into your shaking hand and guestured to his back next.

• Maybe this wasn't so bad afterall...

[aimeelouart]

WHAT. oh my god diff anon but i loved the snippet with ur protag but also HOW CLD U THROW HER TO HOJO.. UR VERY OWN CHILD /j anyway very excited to see u talk abt ur setting and lora more i like the her

>:3c Shall we have a part two of this self-indulgent SSC crossover, then?

Lora wasn���t missing for long, but she was missing long enough. They found her in the labs, floating curled-up in an empty holding tank⁠. The glass and metal was all melted to slag around her, but she didn’t seem aware. Her whole body was glowing like liquid steel, eyes open wide and mouth slack as bluish-white light poured from the inside of her throat. The bodies of unlucky lab technicians littered the ground around the tank.

Science had finally tried to meddle in something truly beyond their grasp.

They found Hojo, too, burned to near unrecognizability and leaning up against a control panel. He was muttering deliriously to himself, breath rasping like sandpaper down his damaged throat. “Magnif...icent...like...the power...she’s…”

Sephiroth stared at him coldly. He couldn’t put Masamune through the wretch’s body without consequences⁠...but he could leave him to die. So he stepped over the body of his father and moved to the computer by the control panel, pulling up the information he needed. 

The radiation pouring from the little outworlder child was frankly staggering. If it wasn’t for the protective shields around this section of the room, Hojo would have been long dead. More’s the pity, though the shields were also protecting the Firsts at the moment.

“What do we do?” Genesis asked as he looked at Lora’s glowing form. “What did he even do to get her in that state?”

“Is there anything we can do without getting burned to a crisp?” Angeal said, looking between the temperature readout and the molten state of the holding tank.

“At a distance, maybe” Sephiroth replied, leaning away from the screen and tilting his head a little. “Let us start with the obvious.” He flicked on the intercom. “Ameliora Octavia Perdel,” he said, enunciating each name clearly. “Do you remember my voice? It’s Sephiroth. Genesis, Angeal, and I are all here. You are safe now, but we can’t reach you until you calm down.”

The radiation levels dipped slightly.

Genesis bumped Sephiroth away with his shoulder. “Princess,” he crooned. “Princess, what mess did you get into, hmm? That all looks quite exhausting. Why don’t we tone it down a bit more?”

This time, she blinked and uncurled a little, legs dipping toward the floor.

Angeal went next. Maybe hearing all their voices individually was the key factor. “Just listen to my voice, Lora. Can you see where you are? I know it must be scary, but we can’t come get you until you calm down.”

The radiation levels fell rapidly, matched by the way her skin’s unnatural luminance dimmed. Her mouth was moving, eyes blinking rapidly. Steam hissed off her cheeks as she started to cry. Delicately, her feet touched the melted floor of the cage. The second the radiation levels had fallen enough to be safe (safe for a SOLDIER) they left the shielded vestibule behind and ran into the room. 

The air was stiflingly hot, like an oven, and had an odd metallic tang to it. The hairs on their arms stood on end. Sephiroth darted forward as the last of the glow faded from Lora’s skin and quickly pulled her out of the molten tank. Her clothing was gone (taken or destroyed?) , and he wasn’t sure if her unprotected skin would burn against the metal. His boots left thin layers of melted rubber as he stepped quickly in and out.

Wordless, Genesis stripped off his coat and together they wrapped her in it. She still felt unnaturally hot, like a soldier pulled from the desert with heatstroke. Her eyes were wide and blank, irises glowing even when the rest of her didn’t. Odd green sparks danced within her pupils. Her lips were still moving as she murmured fretfully, but the language she spoke was incomprehensible to them.

Angeal glanced at the burned corpses. “Shhh, close your eyes for a minute, Lora.” When she didn’t respond, he frowned and held his hand over her eyes⁠, walking beside Sephiroth. He didn't cover them all the way⁠—didn’t block the light⁠—but he made sure she wouldn’t see the bodies.

And as they passed out of the room, Hojo’s rasping voice stuttered, stalled, and at last fell silent.

—

Cloud had fallen asleep almost as soon as the Firsts had gotten their hands on him again. He wasn’t too upset, actually—he’d accomplished all his goals this time around. But he was a bit miffed when he woke up with a little girl’s sleeping face just a few feet from his.

He sat up quickly, scooting backward a little. She didn’t wake, and after a few seconds he recognized her as the odd child who’d helped him escape. What the hell was she doing here in—he glanced around—Sephiroth’s bed? 

Gaia, was she here because he’d accepted her ‘help?’ He’d assumed they would just get her back to her parents.

The door opened and Angeal poked his head in, one finger raised to his lips. He gestured to the girl, then motioned Cloud toward him. When they were out in the hallway, Cloud harshly whispered, “why’s she here?” with a suspicious glare.

Angeal rolled his eyes a little and herded him away from the door, not responding until they were in the kitchen. “Her name is Lora, and she’s here for much the same reason you are. No one else could safely keep her.”

“Okay, first off I don’t need to be kept,” he said, glaring as he took a chair. “You just think I do. Second off, why?”

Genesis sauntered in and answered for Angeal. “Because she has strange and frankly inconceivable abilities, Cloud. Beyond that, we are not keeping her forever, merely waiting for her parents to find her.”

“Theoretically,” Angeal muttered, tending to the food on the stove. It smelled like stir-fry.

Sephiroth arrived to join the conversation as well. “Given what we have seen, do you really find it so unlikely that her Grandfather would be capable of similar feats? I am inclined to doubt nothing, at this point.”

Cloud was baffled. Feats? Abilities? He’d given the kid a chunk of his hair in exchange for her providing a distraction—she’d claimed something about ‘needing it for the spell.’ Had she...meant something real by that?

Genesis noticed his baffled expression. “Lora doesn’t need materia to do magic,” he explained succinctly. “There are some other things too, but that’s the gist of it.”

Cloud paled. Alright, maybe it really was better if they kept her here. He didn’t even want to think about what would happen if Hojo got his hands on her.

Sephiroth was staring at him intently. “Hojo is dead.”

Every thought went right out the window. “What?”

“Hojo is dead. He’s never going to hurt anyone else again.”

How? His lips moved, but he made no sound. The damned Professor had been at the top of his list of things to take care of, what could possibly have taken him out before Cloud could even try?

Angeal lowered his voice enough that no one but a SOLDIER had any hope of making out his words. “Lora killed him, and we are not going to tell her that, understand?” For the first time, a very serious, protective look was aimed at Cloud for someone else’s sake. “She’s not like you, Cloud. She was protected from the whole world until she came to Midgar.”

“...right,” he said numbly. “I’d never hurt a kid.”

All three of them gave him Looks at that, but he was spared the commentary by a distressed, high-pitched whine from the direction of the bedroom. Genesis vanished from the kitchen in the space of a breath. When he came back, it was with the girl bundled up in a blanket, sniffling into his shoulder.

“It’s alright, darling,” Genesis was...crooning. Cloud was vaguely glad that particular tone (in that particular intensity) had never been aimed at him. He might have bitten the man’s fingers off. It seemed to be working on the actual seven-year-old though. “Shh...you’re fine. You’re safe. Don’t you want to come out and meet Cloud properly?”

Still sniffling, she raised her head and turned to Cloud. She looked groggy and miserable, eyes red-rimmed and teary, but when she saw him her face lit up.

“D’you do it?” She asked in a sleep-roughened voice, smiling. “Your task?”

“Uh,” he blinked. “Yeah. I did. Thanks for the help.”

She beamed, forgetting her tears entirely. “Welcome. It’s important to always follow your Virtue.”

He had a feeling he was missing a lot of the context of that statement, but he thought he’d gotten the gist. “Yeah.”

When they ate dinner she sat in Angeal's lap, still bundled up in the blanket. Half way through her plate⁠—her proportions were hilariously tiny compared to the four enhanced SOLDIERs⁠—she made a face and pushed it away.

“What’s wrong, Lora?” Genesis asked.

“Hurts,” she said, rubbing at the center of her chest. “Can’t eat any more.” She looked like she was on the verge of tears again.

“Okay, that’s alright. Do you want to go sit on the couch and watch something until we’re all done eating?”

“Yes please,” she said, sliding to the floor and taking Genesis’s hand.

Cloud frowned thoughtfully at his plate as he listened to her settle down on the couch as Genesis turned the tv to some inane children’s cartoon. When the redhead returned, Cloud quirked an eyebrow at him. “Is she okay?” he asked, too low for her to overhear.

His expression sobered. He shook his head. “What she did to...survive the lab...it damaged her in a manner we simply have no way of understanding. She thinks it won’t be permanent, and I suspect she may be right, but for now the pain comes and goes. It would hurt her enormously to use magic as well, though she has yet to slip up in that regard.”

“Poor kid,” Cloud murmured.

That earned him a bit of an eye-roll from Genesis before the man continued. “Healing energy does seem to help her, however. If she’s in pain and we’re unavailable, can I count on you to cast a Cure on her?”

Cloud frowned at him and crossed his arms over his chest. “Listen, I know I fight you guys a lot, but do you really think I’d hurt a kid? Or ignore one in pain?” It made him very uncomfortable that they seemed to think he would.

The Firsts exchanged a glance between themselves. “Cloud, you are absolutely unpredictable to us,” Angeal said eventually. “But you’re right, and I’m sorry we insulted you like that.”

Cloud sighed and went back to his food. “It’s whatever.”

Ugh. He’d been a kid for too long if he was starting to use phrases like that.

⁠—

They watched a movie after dinner, some mindless family film with a plot that was about as substantial as cotton candy. Cloud didn’t much care, but when Angeal said it would make Lora happy he sighed and relented. He absolutely refused to share the couch, though, claiming one of the armchairs before anyone else could ‘accidentally’ maneuver him into arms reach.

To be honest, he spent most of the movie’s run time watching Lora anyway. She was just so...weird. For one thing, she did everything in her power to make sure she was being held at all times. If one of the adults had to move, or got tired, she shamelessly transferred herself to someone else’s lap.

Sephiroth ended up with her for most of the night, looking about as content as Cloud had ever seen him as he let her snuggle close to his chest. They only had to pause the movie once as she whined and curled around her chest. All three of the Firsts had mastered Cures on them, and it wasn’t difficult to see why they needed them.

“Are most kids like that?” he ended up asking Angeal once the movie had ended. Lora was fast asleep, knuckles curled into her mouth, as Sephiroth got up off the couch and carried her to bed.

“Like what?” the dark-haired man asked, cocking a brow.

“...touchy?” Because he couldn’t remember Marlene ever being quite so demanding, and Denzel certainly wasn’t.

In the kitchen, Genesis stifled a laugh. Angeal looked amused as well. “Ah, no,” he said. “I wondered too, but after asking around a bit it turns out you and Lora are just on polar opposite ends of the spectrum.” He grinned a little. “You…avoid touch and distrust everyone; she demands touch and trusts implicitly.”

Cloud frowned. He could get away with being extreme because he wasn’t actually what he appeared, but the way Angeal described the kid’s tendencies sounded downright dangerous. “That’s not safe.”

Angeal sobered abruptly. “She’s starting to learn that too.”

Cloud winced. Yeah. Hojo would have that effect, wouldn’t he. Poor kiddo.

⁠— 

Today was the first day since Cloud had gotten back that all three of the Firsts would be busy, which meant that he and their cross-dimensional princess house guest would be dropped off to be babysat (ugh) by the entire Turk department.

Yes, the entire department. That one was his own fault.

He wasn’t all that upset, actually. He had some snooping to do for his next task, and Veld was a very strange and accommodating person to Cloud’s...eccentric behavior. He swore the man was using him as a training program, but had yet to find definitive proof.

Lora, on the other hand…

Cloud walked straight into Tseng’s office and flopped down on the couch, pulling out his handheld gaming system. Sephiroth had to be well out of range before he could begin his kind-of-sort-of extended espionage battle with the Turks. Lora lingered half-behind the silver-haired man, clutching his hand with both of hers as she looked around nervously.

“Come on,” Sephiroth coaxed, looking down at her. “Don’t you want to go play with Cloud?”

“No,” she mumbled, pressing against his leg. She eyed Tseng, who was watching the proceedings with an expression of (to Cloud’s eyes) carefully curated warmth.

“Yes,” he countered. “Besides, you like Tseng. You’re going to have plenty of fun with him and the other Turks, and I promise they’ll keep you safe.”

She looked up at him and adopted puppy eyes that would have put Zack’s to shame, huge and pleading. “Can’t I just come with you? Please?”

Sephiroth visibly wavered, and Cloud had to press his lips together hard to keep from laughing outright. What was it about big, tough soldier-types being the weakest to little girls’ puppy eyes? He’d been an absolute sucker for Marlene’s before Barret had finally let him in on the secret to resisting (physically looking away, apparently).

But Sephiroth, to his credit, gathered his resolve and told her, “no, you can’t come with me on mission. It’s not safe.”

Her pleading stare turned to a pout. “But I have a lot of magic! I could help!”

“I’m sure you could,” he said, which was probably actually true though Cloud had yet to see a firsthand demonstration, “but your parents and grandfather would be very upset if they found out, wouldn’t they?”

She narrowed her eyes a little. “Papa’s taken me on campaign before.”

He arched his eyebrows. “On the front lines?”

Lora’s scowl was answer enough. Sephiroth released her hand and plucked her up off the floor, carrying her over to the couch. Very, very reluctantly, she released her grip from around his neck and let him put her down beside Cloud.

“You’ll be fine,” he promised, patting her head briefly. “Tell Tseng or Veld when your chest starts hurting, alright?”

She nodded sullenly, curling up into a ball on the couch, and he left. She huffed sulkily when he was out of sight. Eventually, she leaned over to watch Cloud play his game and he obligingly tilted the screen so she could see easier. He kept half an eye on her and half an eye on the clock.

Maybe thirty minutes after Sephiroth left, around the time Cloud was certain he had also left the Tower, Lora crossed her arms over her chest and hunched her shoulders up around her ears. He was familiar with that tell by now⁠—her chest was starting to hurt. But instead of asking Tseng for a Cure, she shot him a single nervous look and didn’t say anything.

Aw, kid, he thought.

Lucky Tseng wasn’t an idiot. “Lora,” he called with a deliberate gentleness.

She looked up, lips pressed into a wary line. “...yeah?”

“Does your chest hurt?”

“...no.” She curled up into a ball, mumbling the denial into her knees. “Doesn’t hurt.”

It was a bald-faced lie. Tseng looked, for a second, genuinely sad, then his expression shifted as he considered how to respond. Cloud paused his game, curious how this would play out. Would he call her on the lie? Trick her into being honest?

“Alright,” he said eventually, “tell me when it does.”

“‘Kay.”

Cloud scowled at him. Lora would have to say something eventually, once the pain grew too much, but that also meant letting her hurt until she caved. He would have accepted that tactic against himself, but Lora was little. She didn’t deserve that.

When Tseng quirked a brow at his glare, Cloud rolled his eyes and heaved an inaudible sigh. Why was it he had to do everything around here?

He switched the game off and set it aside, pulling his legs up so that his position mirrored Lora’s, then lowered his voice to a level that Tseng would still be able to hear, but Lora would think was too quiet. “Hey,” he said. “I know your chest hurts.”

“Doesn’t,” she said, raising her face just enough so that her eyes peeked over her knees.

“What are you scared of?” he asked. “Sephiroth said you could trust Tseng, right? And you trust Sephiroth. They wouldn’t hurt you. It’s safe to tell them.”

She narrowed her golden eyes a touch, spine straightening, and Cloud suddenly remembered youth and naivete were not the same as stupidity. “You don’t trust them,” she accused. “You don’t trust anyone.”

He bit back a groan. “I...don’t,” he agreed. “But you should.”

Lora looked outright irritated now, one hand rubbing absent-minded circles over her sternum. “Why? Why, if they wouldn’t hurt us?”

“You and I are...different,” he said slowly. Gaia, he very much regretted getting into this conversation, but it was too late now. "They wouldn't hurt me, but they don't understand what I am, and that means that even if they mean well...I can’t trust them to do what’s best for me.”

The look she gave him was highly skeptical, so he sighed and added, “I would definitely trust them to cast a Cure on me, okay? So you should too. Everyone is sad when you’re hurting.”

“What if I’d rather hurt?” she snapped. “This hurts less than⁠—” she cut off, blinking rapidly against sudden tears, and yeah, he knew that feeling. Poor kiddo. At least he’d been almost an adult when Hojo had gotten him into the lab.

“No one wants to hurt, Princess,” he said, patting her knee. “C’mon, it’s not that big a deal. I’d be right here the whole time.”

“You want to hurt,” she said, but it looked like he was finally starting to wear her down. “You hurt all the time and you never tell anyone.”

Cloud blinked at her in surprise. “What?”

Lora looked uncommonly serious in that moment. “You hurt all the time. I can tell. I can’t look at the Strings without hurting⁠—” she was still rubbing at her chest “—but my pa...passive? My passive sight still works and you’re like…” She brushed her fingers against just over his heart. “...jagged. Jagged black and purple thread, fraying all over.” Her voice dropped to barely a breath of sound. “It hurts to look at.”

Cloud jerked away, startled and alarmed, and brought his hands close to his chest. “I⁠—”

She sniffled, the pain finally getting to her. “If you get to hurt, I get to hurt,” she insisted stubbornly. He suspected it had more to do with sticking to her guns by this point than any actual desire to endure pain.

“I...Lora, you don’t...have to hurt. They can help you. That’s...that’s why you should ask.”

“But you do?” she fired back, swiping at her eyes. “You have to hurt? They can help you too!”

“No,” he whispered, briefly shutting his eyes against her innocent, righteous indignation. How had the argument shifted around on him, especially given that he was a twenty-three-year-old gown-ass man and she was seven? “No, Lora. They can’t help me.” He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. Too much dangerous information to be discussing while in Tseng’s office. He was stupid to have let it get this far. “Would you let me cast a Cure on you?”

She looked at Tseng, who was going his level best to fade into the paperwork and pretend he wasn’t even there. Then she looked back and narrowed her eyes at him. He recognized that look as the ‘I’m going to dig in my heels until you give in’ look that Marlene was so fond of. “No,” she said. “Not unless you stop hurting too.”

This time he did groan aloud. “I⁠—Princess, that’s not…” She folded her arms across her chest, knees shifting to sit criss-cross on the couch cushions. He tossed his hands up. “Fine, I’ll let Tseng cast a Cure on me too, okay? Would that make you happy?”

She offered him a watery, triumphant smile and immediately flopped over to curl up in a ball. “Yeah.”

He got up, jaw clenched, and stalked over to Tseng’s desk. The man looked up, expression betraying nothing. “What is it, Cloud?” he asked, as if he hadn’t heard every single word.

“Lora will let me cast on her if you cast on me first,” he ground out, irritated. “Not that it’ll do anything since I am fine.”

“Of course,” Tseng agreed, that lying motherfucker. He pulled a Cure out of his desk, then checked to make sure Lora was watching before casting...a full Curaga. Overkill. Cloud snatched the materia up and went back to the couch, irritation cooling as he saw the way the kid was shaking and trying in vain to blink back tears.

“Here,” he said, laying a hand on her head of wild red curls and casting a Curaga of his own. “Better?”

She rolled onto her back and smiled at him. “Yes. Thank you.” Then she frowned. “But...you’re still…?”

“I told you, kiddo,” he said with a shake of his head. “They can’t help me like they can help you.”

⁠—

Cloud got up shortly after that exchange and said “I’m going to the bathroom,” which everyone except Lora knew by now was the opening salvo of their espionage battle. He handed his gaming system to the Princess so that she’d be entertained and left, several Turks following after him.

Here we go, he thought, a little smirk curving his lips up.

Except, less than thirty minutes later, when he was squirming through the vents, he heard Reno yelling, which was...not usually part of their game. Puzzled, he stopped and listened.

“Hey! Cloud! Listen, I know you’re having fun, but little Princess is freaking out and you need to get to Tseng’s office ASAP! She’s⁠—listen, she thinks we did something to you and we’re all worried she might try to use her magic and hurt herself. Please.”

Cloud groaned and let his head thunk down onto the metal beneath him. He should have anticipated this. With a sigh, he squirmed around and quickly reversed course, popping out of a vent near but not right in front of where Reno had been shouting.

“Alright, I’m going” he called, loud enough for the redhead to hear, and ran for Tseng’s office.

He burst in to find Lora perched on the back of the couch, staring down Tseng, who was sitting on the floor trying to placate her. She gasped when she caught sight of him and promptly lost her balance, falling onto the cushions with an oof!

“You’re okay!” she said, scrambling up and launching herself at him.

“I’m fine,” he said, staggering a little as she cannonballed into his torso. “What, were you worried about me?”

“Yes!” she said, upset. “Where were you? I thought they’d...that they’d…”

Cloud sighed, unable to hold on to his irritation in the face of a little girl on the verge of tears. Damn his daddy instincts. He picked her up and carried her back to the couch, well aware of how ridiculous that must have looked. He had to deal with this now, for her sake and everyone else’s. Hopefully the conversation wouldn't veer into dangerously exposed territory this time.

“You were scared I’d been taken away, right? Lora, I’m...very hard to take. By anyone. I got away from Seph and Ange and Gen the first time you met me, remember?”

She looked uncertain, keeping hold of one of his wrists. “I...know,” she said. “Where were you?”

“I was⁠—” inspiration struck. He knew exactly how to fix this, or at least begin to fix it. “Well, I was breaking the rules.”

Lora’s eyes widened. For a second, he saw exactly what he was hoping for: curiosity and longing. A split second later it was eaten away by anxiety, but now that he knew it was there, he could draw it out again. “You shouldn’t break the rules,” she said. “What if they’d taken you?”

“I’m hard to take,” he repeated patiently. “And you know what? If you broke the rules, Lora, it would be okay, because you’re hard to take too.”

She blinked at him, uncomprehending. “But...no, he...it was easy to take me,” she whispered, trying to blink back tears.

“Only because you didn’t know you couldn’t trust him,” Cloud said. “Look, you trust Gen and Seph and Ange, right?” She nodded. “Okay, why?”

“Because...they got me out,” she said slowly, tense and miserable as she re-lived that memory.

“They saved you, which is proof that they don’t want you hurt and proof that you can trust them,” he summarized. She nodded again. “But they told you that you can trust Tseng, right? Why don’t you trust him too?”

Lora stared at him helplessly. He knew this was a lot to ask of a seven-year-old (a real one) but she was smart. She would get it if he helped her along a little bit.

“Is it because you don’t have any proof that they’re like our Firsts?”

“Yeah,” she whispered, throwing a glance at Tseng, who was holding absolutely still and carefully not looking at them.

“Do you want to trust them? Because Seph said so?” He suspected she did, at least. He suspected she wanted to go back to trusting everyone, but didn’t know how.

“...yeah.”

“Okay. You want to trust them, but you don’t have any proof, so you feel scared because they might try to take you. Lora, what if I told you that they couldn’t take you even if they tried?”

She blinked at him, head tilting in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“If you had known that the Frog-Faced Bastard⁠—” she cracked a little smile at that “—was going to take you, would you have gone with him?”

She recoiled. “No!”

“What would you have done?”

“I would have⁠— I would have frozen him solid and ran away!”

“That’s right. You would have defended yourself. So if Tseng tried to take you, would you defend yourself?”

The light of realization dawned in her eyes. “It...it would hurt,” she said, rubbing her chest with her free hand.

“But you would do it?” he prodded. “And you have a lot of magic, Princess. Magic that they don’t understand. Even if it hurt you could get away, couldn’t you? And then Seph and Gen and Ange would come kick Tseng’s butt, right?”

He smiled as he watched the anxiety drain out of her eyes, a kind of relieved joy taking its place. “Yeah,” she said, smiling back at him. “Yeah!”

“So you don’t have to trust the Turks yet,” he said. “You can just act like you do until they prove that you can trust them, because even if they tried to hurt you they couldn’t.”

⁠—

Angeal was the first back and thus the one to pick up Cloud and Lora from the Turks. He was directed to Veld’s office, which was something of a surprise, and was told that Cloud was currently out ‘playing’ with some of the others, which was not a surprise. Tseng had been keeping them all more or less abreast of the kids’ activities, including two very interesting and concerning conversations.

Despite hearing about the progress Cloud had made in teaching Lora about trust and self-defense, Angeal still found his eyebrows arching when he entered Veld’s office and found the little princess dozing in the Turk’s lap. That wasn’t just progress⁠—that was nearly a full recovery back to the fearless child they first met.

“Hewley,” Veld said without looking up from his work. He was writing with one hand, the other arm wrapped around Lora.

“Veld,” he said back, smiling. “I hope she wasn’t too much trouble?”

The Turk didn’t smile, but something in the corners of his eyes gave him away. He was pleased. Very pleased. “Oh, I’m afraid she was,” he said. “Very troublesome. She and Cloud raised quite a ruckus before he tricked her into coming here and pinning me down.”

Angeal laughed. “Did he? That does sound like Cloud.” He grinned, knowing that they⁠ (and the whole of the Turks, probably⁠) were both pleased by the knowledge that Lora had been a handful. Cloud was just...Cloud, and he would always do what he wanted.

He rounded the desk and Veld passed Lora off to him. Unsurprisingly, she didn’t wake⁠—the girl slept like a rock, even after the lab when her hours asleep far surpassed her hours awake. “How many times did she need a Cure.”

“Twice,” said Veld, looking at his PHS. “Cloud cast one this morning, I cast the other near lunch.” Which meant she would probably wake up hurting again before dinner. Angeal nodded, shifting her on his hip. “Cloud’s back with Tseng,” Veld added before he could ask, checking his PHS.

“Of course. Well, thank you.”

“My pleasure. Really.”

[kayparker20]

To Honor Sensei - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - Dinner at Kurenai’s

FFN | AO3

It’s been a couple years now. Kakashi mostly had the parenting thing down, with his  quirks and oddities mixed in of course. Naruto was almost always a happy child, excited to do just about anything. He was good friends with Shikamaru and Choji, and even their friend Ino. Obviously he made friends with all three being as those clans are so close. 

At this moment, Kakashi was lounging in his bed, reading one of Jiraiya’s books. He figured since now the profit from them paid for a lot of his life, he might as well read them as a thanks. However, it was never mentioned by Jiraiya that his series was smutty. But it was also witty and humorous, and had a decent plot line aside from the porn. None of that stopped Kurenai from glaring at him when he had them public though.

Naruto had been in his bed, playing with some stuffed fox that Kakashi got him. He couldn’t help getting him fox things, most of them were adorable. Might not be the only reason.

“Kashi!” Naruto called out from his bed.

The white haired nin smiled softly before meandering over to Naruto’s bedside. “What’s up, kiddo?”

He watched Naruto as he beamed in his little fox onesie. The irony wasn’t lost on Kakashi, it was the whole reason he bought it. He was happy when Choza found it just as humorous. 

“Hungry.” Naruto stated blunty. “Noodles?”

The toddler bounced on the bed, propelled with his excitement at the mere thought of ramen. He watched Kakashi with big wide eyes that were the colour of the sky.

Kakashi watched him with interest before shaking his head and laughing softly.

He brought home Ichiraku one time, and now no other food exists to his little brother. “Naruto, you do know there is food besides ramen, right?” 

Naruto frowned and huffed. “Chouji likes red food.”

“You mean barbeque, right?” Kakashi chuckled once more before swooping him up in his arms. “Besides, your Aunt Kurenai is making dinner and inviting everyone over to eat.”

Naruto’s blue eyes brightened. “Kurkur!” 

“Yes, Kurkur. Now let’s get you dressed, huh? Wouldn’t want to be late, now would we?”

As if they weren’t already. 

He set the voracious boy down. “Go use the bathroom first, remember? Always go before we leave.”

Naruto toddled into the bathroom and proceeded to use his little kid toilet.

Kakashi gathered up a set of clothes. A yellow shirt with the Uzumaki emblem on the front in red, and the Hatake fields on the back in black. A pair of black pants and sandals. Naruto came out of the bathroom and sat on his bed eagerly. 

“Kashi?”

The nin hummed in response at the child’s inquiry as he began redressing him, which was a struggle being as Naruto never wanted to stay still. It had become a silent game(or struggle) the two began to play over the years. “One of these days, very, very soon, you’re gonna learn to dress yourself. He grumbled softly under his breath.

“Choji and Shika be there?”

Kakashi shrugged. “I’m not sure, but maybe.” He slid his shirt over his head and shimmied his pants onto his legs. “Now come on, get your shoes on.”

Naruto gladly put on his shoes and ran for the door. Kakashi silently followed him and down the stairs of the apartment complex. Once they got outside, Naruto stopped and looked up at Kakashi. His eyes were less vibrant now, uncertainty and even fear lying in them.

Seeing those emotions cross his usually cheery little brother always brought a discomfort to him, but he couldn’t do much to stop it besides comforting him. 

Kakashi held out his hand and Naruto grabbed it tightly. He stayed close to Kakashi’s leg as they walked through the village. Kakashi hated how as soon as they left home, his enthusiasm seemed to dull. At least until they reach the destination, like Choza’s or Kurenai’s.

Despite the hokage making it clear Naruto was a hero, and should be remembered as such, of course the villagers couldn’t see it that way. As Naruto got old enough, the Hokage put out an order to not talk about the fox attack in relation to Naruto, as well as a young child being the Fourth’s son. It was done to protect Naruto, from inside and outside of the village.

It angered Kakashi, but now it was different. Naruto could see how people kept their distance from them. The glares, the fear, all that judgement. He didn’t understand it, but it hurt him. The words people dared to throw in the direction of a two year old, who literally doesn’t know anything about the why. Who is literally just an innocent, bubbly little kid. Who isn’t at fault for the circumstances he had at his birth.

“Demon!” A trader.

“Stay away from that child, Ayame!” A mother.

“Don’t come near me!” Another trader.

People shamelessly shying away from them, avoiding them blatantly. Glares, looks of disgust, of fear.

It continues.

Kakashi openly scowled at every single person who dared vocalize their judgements. He felt a burning anger in his chest, taking everything in him to not retaliate back with his own thoughts of their character.

“Naruto!” A cheerful tone.

Kakashi looked towards the noise, before raising his eyebrows. He was pretty sure he had never seen someone who had naturally pink hair, and this was a toddler, so it almost had to be natural. He hadn’t recognized her, but he knew the blonde girl holding her hand was none other than Ino Yamanaka. Obviously Naruto knew her from his time at the Akimichi’s house, just like he knew Shikamaru Nara for the same reason.

“Sakura! Ino!” Naruto’s eyes were excited and he instantly let go of Kakashi's hand to run towards the pair of girls.

Kakashi grinned under his mask. Of course the girl with pink hair is named Sakura. It’s almost too cliche. She sported a red bow tied in her hair. 

Kakashi followed, easily keeping up with him and waved at Inoichi. “Yo.” 

Inoichi nodded with a small smile. “We’re headed to Kurenai’s. Choza said to make sure I brought friends for Naruto.”

Kakashi gave an eye crease towards the clan head. “Of course he did. I’m glad.”

Kakashi watched the three little kids as they talked and chatted as best they could. “Who’s the one with the pink hair?”

Inoichi shrugged. “Ino just met her at the park a couple months ago and they made quick friends.” 

The group continued walking on to Kurenai’s. 

Kakashi and his friends were all about 15-16 now. Kurenai just got her own place and makes a fuss about her friends coming over every so often. She makes a point to have a little mini family out of their few friends.

“Naruto, you’re goofy!” Sakura giggled and held his hand lightly.

Naruto just smiled and kept walking until he recognized Kurenai’s house. “Kurkur!”

She was standing outside, and knelt down as Naruto ran towards her and she swept him up in her arms. “Hi, Naruto! How are you doing?”

He bounced in her arms and kissed her face before hugging her back tightly. “I’m doing good!” He never once lost hold of him, not only being a ninja, but very accustomed to Naruto’s rambunctious nature.

“That’s good!” She pinched his cheek. She looked at Kakashi, and then to Inoichi with the two girls.

  She nodded towards her door. “Choji and Shikamaru are here with Choza-sensei and Shikaku. Plenty of food for everyone!”

Inoichi motioned for the girls to run inside as Kurenai set Naruto down to follow them. Once the kids were out of ear shot, Inoichi looked to Kakashi.

“The villagers. They still don’t accept them, don’t they?”

Kakashi stiffened at the question before Kurenai sighed.

“That explains why you seem to be scowling. What happened?”

The silver haired ninja scoffed. “The usual. Calling him a demon, mothers shuffling their children away. Except now, he understands it. Well, somewhat. Enough for me to see the hurt look on his face.”

Inoichi nodded sadly. “I saw you guys before Sakura spotted you. He clings to you so tightly. At least he has you.”

Kakashi’s expression softened. “He has more than me.” As if on queue, he heard the children squeal with excitement, giggling of all kinds following. 

Inoichi smiled as he laughed softly. “I was just dropping the girls off. Ibiki needs me for Intelligence. Choza will take them back home.” 

Kurenai and Kakashi walked into the house to the site of toy ninja warfare. Kakashi’s eyes widened as he saw the little rubber kunai and shuriken being thrown and dodged about the living room. One bounced off Naruto's forehead and landed on the floor, just for him to pick up the now unclaimed piece of rubber.

“Kashi! It’s like yours!” Naruto held up a kunai, beaming with joy before throwing it, horribly incorrect, at Shikamaru.

Shikaku just laughed at his lazy boy who grumbled in response.

“Shika, get up! Play with us!” Ino stamped her foot at the young Nara.

Kakashi watched the little group of children playing together, and how not one of them was told to stay away from Naruto. Not one of them shying away from him. All of them just being kids, well. As much as kids could be such as ninjas. It was only a matter of time before they would be going to the academy, and sometimes he wondered if he should send Naruto.

Gai was next to him before he knew it, distracted by the sight of the children. “Just what you always hoped for Naruto, isn’t it, Kakashi?” He patted him on the back. “He’ll always have you. But he has them now too, he’ll never be alone.” He smiled way too bright in Kakashi’s opinion but he just nodded softly.

Kurenai started getting plates out to start portioning out the rice and chicken she had made. “Put the kids at the table.”

Kakashi helped set the table up for the kids. “Mini nins, food is ready!”

Asuma came inside with a bag in each hand, smelling of smoke before smiling. “I have fresh squeezed lemonade!”

“Cool!” Choji said as he ran up to be the first to sit at the table. 

All the kids sat at the table together and blew on their food as they ate. Asuma poured them small glasses of lemonade to give to each kid. “There you go!” He ruffled Naruto’s hair affectionately.

As the kids sat in the kitchen everyone sat in the living room to eat their portion.

Kakashi was brimming with happiness, true and full emotion. Ever since he took in his sensei’s son, he’d felt a little happier. But seeing this, feeling like they were at a family gathering, hearing him giggle and laugh and chatter with other kids, warmed his heart. The thing he thought both he and Naruto had lost the night he was born, it was right here in front of them.

“This… This is what Sensei would have wanted for him.” He said softly as his eyes were glued to the children at the table.

Shikaku and Choza nodded softly. “You’re doing well, Kakashi. We’re proud of you, and he would be too.” The elder Nara said.

He knew it meant something, that Nara didn’t put out compliments and comfort very often. He could be a bit of the rougher kind. He always wanted to think he was doing well, because he did his best to take care of Naruto every single day. Even when the little boy acted like such a brat, he just reminded himself that Minato took care of him. And Kakashi knew he was far from easy.

“Won’t be long before those little ones are at the academy. This upcoming generation is something. Every clan has a kid that will be in the same class, plus a few.” Choza mused.

“You know it’s going to us that will be their sensei.” Kurenai said softly. “Wouldn’t it be funny if they put Naruto on your team?”

Kakashi shrugged. “It’s not like I won’t be training him at home, right?” His exposed eye creased in response. “Speaking of, I need to know where those toys came from.”

Shikaku laughed. “I found them at the weapons district. I thought it was funny but those kids sure love them.”

“Kashi!” Naruto called from the table. 

Kakashi looked towards his brother, who had the brightest little smile on his face. He held the fork in his hand, a piece of chicken on the prongs. His eyes were filled with so much joy. It was one of the happiest moments for Kakashi.

“What is it, Naruto?” He inquired from his spot on the floor.

“Dinner is good!” Naruto giggled before turning back to continue eating.

Kurenai smiled and Kakashi just shook his head amiably. “Tell Kurenai that, she cooked it, kiddo.”

Kurenai got up from her spot and placed a kiss on Naruto’s forehead. “I’m glad you like it hon.”

Soon after the kids finished eating and found their way back to the living room. 

Another rubber ninja war started between them. Kakashi tried to show Naruto how to handle a kunai correctly, but his little brother just throwing it like a ball. Kakashi shook his head with a small laugh as one of the rubber toys bounced off his head.

“I’m sorry, Kakashi!” Ino squeaked softly. 

He ruffled the girls hair. “You’re okay, Ino. It was a decent shot.”

They sat around the floor, all laying against Kakashi. Clearly, it was definitely nap time. He laid on the floor as Naruto nestled into his side. The other followed, all clinging to the copy nin in some form. As soon as their snores started, his own followed not too long after. 

Kurenai took a picture, promising Shikamaru and Choza to get copies for them and Inoichi as well. She fetched a blanket to drape over them all and sat on the couch next to Asuma, very pleased.

“It’s just like a little family. If anyone would nap with the children, of course it would be Kakashi, huh?” Asuma shrugged and laughed quietly.

Choza smiled kindly before it turned sad. “It’s a shame that the majority of the village still continues to treat Naruto poorly. He is the very reason we even survived that night.”

Shikaku shook his head. “People will forever judge what they fear, and they fear what they don’t understand.” He looked down, seeing how Ino, Choji, and Shikamaru cuddled on one side of Kakashi, while Naruto and Sakura were on the other.  “I’ll bet he’ll be one hell of a ninja, one day, all of them will. Especially with your generation training them.” He grinned.

A knock sounded on the door and Kurenai looked in it’s direction curiously. “I didn’t think anyone else was coming. Maybe it’s Genma?” The chocolate haired women got up from her seat and went to open the door. 

A red lined face with a lecherous smile greeted her happily. “The Third told me if Kakashi wasn’t home, it was likely he was here.”

“Jiraiya ,it’s been a long time.” Shikaku spoke from the couch as he heard the familiar voice.

Kurenai smiled and opened the door. “He’s here, currently napping with a clan full of children!” 

She led him into her house and into the living room, showcasing the scene of a napping Kakashi with a bunch of toddlers curled up to him. 

Jiraiya smiled softly, before shaking his head. “I just wanted to check in on Naruto. He’s gotten so big!” 

Kurenai nodded softly. “There’s some chicken and rice in the kitchen if you would like some.” 

Jiraiya nodded as he got himself some food. “You know, I have a picture of Minato somewhere napping just like that with his team…” Jiraiya spoke softly. “When he had first got Kakashi, Obito, and Rin. Except Kakashi isn’t exactly cuddling but he refused any sort of physical contact.” The elder nin chuckled softly.

He sat down and ate his serving. “How is Kakashi, himself?” 

He turned his gaze towards his friends. 

“Kakashi is so much better. He takes Naruto to clean Rin and Obito’s graves. And to the fourth’s grave.” Gai gushed. “It’s terribly saddening to Kakashi that Naruto can’t know the fourth was his father, but he tells Naruto everyday how much his parents love him.” His eyes were tearing up with passion.

Asuma sighed before looking at Jiraiya. “He’s doing pretty good, considering. I’d actually say he shows more emotions now than before,” The young Sarutobi laughed. “He adores Naruto.”

Kurenai nodded in affirmation of the first two’s words. She looked at Choza and Shikaku. “He really started to get better once Naruto got some friends, starting Choji, which obviously led to Ino and Shikamaru as well.”

Jiraiya smiled. “Of course Kakashi started with Choza.” He laughed softly. “You’re probably the least intimidating leader of the clans.”

“Choza-sensei is wonderful and kind hearted, and he would have never turned Naruto away!” Gai proclaimed, causing his sensei to laugh.

Kakashi slowly opened his eyes, and began to carefully extract himself from the future ninjas around him. He rubbed his exposed eye bleary, before seeing Jiraiya. His eyes widened in surprise before he gave an eye crease.

“Yo.” He waved softly before standing up. “Did you know they make rubber kunai toys?”

Jiraiya looked at the teen before shaking his head and laughing obnoxiously. “I did, most ninja families buy them for their kids.”

“Naruto refuses to even try throwing it correctly.” Kakashi sighed. 

He looked down at Naruto, or rather all of the children as a warmth filled his heart. “They’re all just so…”

“Innocent.” Shikaku finished with a smile. “They haven’t seen anything cruel this world has to offer, like we have.”

Kakashi sighed softly before looking at Jiraiya. “Is something up? You don’t usually visit without a purpose.”

  “Actually, nothing is wrong now. I just wanted to see the kiddo, and check on you.”

Kakashi nodded softly. Looking down at Naruto, made him wish for Minato at this moment. How it should be him and Kushina enjoying moments like this, not him. Jiraiya checks on them, not him. Naruto probably would be at the Uchiha’s clan’s house right now, because Kushina and Mikoto were such good friends. Sometimes he wondered if he should reach out to them, but then he remembered they all have a distrust for him. That some of them think he stole Obito’s eyes…

“What’s with the sudden forlorn look?” Shikaku asked.

Kakashi sighed softly before shaking his head. “Nothing, just… It’s nothing.” 

Kakashi gently picked up Naruto. The toddler grumbled softly in his sleep but did not wake up. “It was nice coming over dinner and watching him play with his friends. Thank you, everyone.” He paused before giving an eye crease and walking out of Naruto’s house.

Kurenai paused before sighing softly. “There’s moments like this, where he checks out for a second, and then leaves… They aren’t often, and I think it’s something specific.”

Jiraiya smiled sadly. “I think I know what it is…” He soon followed the young ninja back home. 

[imnotwolverine]

Happy New Year, and hello 1000 followers!!

Hello dear readers! Welcome in my writing nook, and welcome in 2021 - FINALLY!! 

2020′s been a long year. A sad year. A year that felt like March for 9 months straight. A year that left a little dent in my corner of the couch as I was huddled away, writing in the most awkward positions because my cats tried to get on my lap alongside my laptop (it doesn’t fit - trust me, kitties). 

But, it was also a fun year; I could spend long hours reading and writing to my heart’s content. Meeting new people, and discovering kinks and fantasies I never knew were even a thing. To that; thank you my fellow horny bitches, you gave me the perseverance to work on getting proper orgasms, buying a sex toy and making my boyfriend very confused about what-the-hell was going on with me. (thankfully the shock is now gone and he’s enjoying this new horny me far too much 😂)

In more fun news; I just noticed my once small reader tribe has crossed the 1000 follower-mark (WHAT?! HOW?! YOU GUYS AND GALS ARE AMAZING -- *bounces off the walls*) 

I don’t really know how to thank you all for your love and support in reaching this unique milestone. But to those who are just crazy about reading, let me share with you something from my vault of short stories - a little side project next to this blog, to practise my writing ❤️

The Keeper

This new world order was hardly orderly.

--

It was dusty chaos, filtering in through the sole newspaper-covered window above the door that had just veered at the return of the Old Man, his persistent coughs making that same dust curl and swirl through the air.

Feeling my old bones crack, I took a moment, stretching out on my paper throne of Descartes’ body of work, before I jumped aside so he could add his new-found treasures to this grand collection of paper-bound napping nooks.

It was a good new stack. Six thick covers, the pages yellowed and musky in smell. Perfection, really. Old, gold, glorious perfection. But the Old Man didn’t seem to share my sentiment; his leathery face was wrinkled with concern, heavy brows furrowing like a thick hairy caterpillar above his gentle eyes.

Finding a new spot I swished my long tail, more dust swirling up in the single streak of light that caressed the silhouette of the Old Man.

I hadn’t seen him this worried since we met all those long years ago, his warm hands taking me to this dusty good place that I called my home. Our home. A home that oozed old world magic; thousands of books all lined up in ceiling-high cabinets, their vastness somewhat resembling the sky-high buildings outside; that is however where the comparison stopped. This place was warm, kind, soothing. It smelled nice, felt nice, housed mice - my favourite.

Outside, the world was cold, white, wicked. It smelled of chemicals and disdain, the presence of nature and animals one not wished for in its green, disorganised beauty. But the Old Man had been different. Had been. Right now he moved with the same hasty manner the men outside did, his heavy feet moving daintily past the hastily stacked collections, the structure in them long gone.

The same had happened to the ever structured and unchanging man I once knew; The Old Man was looking older each day, which was strange for a being I thought immaculate and immortal. In my long years of life I had never truly ever seen any differences in this man, his wrinkles ever wrinkly and his eyes ever curious. But, these past few weeks I started having my doubts. I never liked change, but change was suddenly here in abundance. I could hear it on the nervous streets outside. I could feel it in my aching bones and the knits in my pelt. I could feel it in the lack of scratches I received, the Old Man suddenly more occupied with the world outside than in.

This new world order was a terrible thing indeed.

Stretching up my aching back, I curled my tail around my paws, watching as the man passed yet again, his eye catching mine for just a second, his feet slowing down so he could give me a long overdue sign of affection.

“Hello Minnie.” He said gently, his warm voice making my muscles tremble in delight, “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait yet a moment longer. Duty calls!” And with that he disappeared once more, the door hastily closed behind him as he moved back out into the streets that no longer had names.

Everything was changing and I didn’t like it one bit.

--

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away - or actually a few streets from here - I lived a perilous life of hunting, fighting, mating and waiting. You see: I was not made for the streets I lived in, the large neon lit signs up above too bright for my eyes and the food too sparse to feed the real hunger inside of me. The hunger that goes beyond the growling of the stomach; it was the hunger that gnawed at my brain and my heart as I watched dark figures pass by beneath their umbrellas, their eyes not directed at me, but at my much shinier counterparts on those sky-licking white screens.

e-Cat, e-Book, e-Love..e-Life. The words sparked with promise on beaming backgrounds, luring in the attention of the drifting souls down on the streets. Luring them in to look up, up and away from the truth that could be found right at their feet. A truth that once, an age or so ago, was so very normal.

It must have been a good time then. With ear-scratches and hugs and real talking; I had once even seen humans talk so close to another that their lips touched. And they seemed to find it very agreeable indeed, their lips curling in what the Old Man had explained to be smiles.

Smile (verb)

Form one's features into a pleased, kind, or amused expression, typically with the corners of the mouth turned up and the front teeth exposed.

Humans are peculiar beings.

Then, one day, someone looked down, not up. A man, a dreamer probably, his step shortly disrupted from his travels as our eyes met and, just like that, I was invited into his life, his shovel-sized hands picking me up and stuffing my scrawny bones beneath his warm jacket.

The Old Man.

--

“Why..I thought you had gotten rid of this?” A new voice entered the small haven of books, the door swiftly closed again. Their hushed voices made me blink open my eyes, a flickering light turned on to brush artificial light over the Old Man and the new person. A Young Woman.

She was pretty I think. Her hair cut just beneath her ears and her body wrapped in a large, fresh smelling jacket. I liked her smell. She smelled of my creatures, two males I think. And so with a little more curiosity I yawned and stretched, welcoming the two back in my domain.

“Hi there Minnie.” The Old Man wistfully scratched me behind the ear.

His voice sounded fragile as crystal, his eyes looking equally translucent as they shimmered in the low light of the single light bulb.

“OH..what am I to do, Dee? It’s just..” He turned back towards the woman, her eyes still looking in honest amazement at the huge collection of books stacked up high to the ceiling.

“Well..this is more than a ..little problem, Badger.” She looked back at him, teeth biting down onto her lip in thought. Humans sure had a weird way of expressing distress. Why didn’t she just hiss or growl? Furl up that pretty mane of her? - At least she got the eyes right.

With a quick flick of her large pupils she looked at me, then the books again.  

“Alright. I’ll..I’ll see what we can do.” And with that she disappeared back out of the door, back into the mayhem of white light and clicking feet on cold pavement.

--

“Hahaha. Oh, aren’t you a happy little purr-machine?” His large hand stroked comfortably over my back, my legs stretching out a little further to give him extra length to touch and soothe.

“How about I read you something, hmm? Ever seen one of these?” He picked an object from one of the shelves, the thing foreign, but smelling of forests and sweat. I liked that smell.

“It’s a book. A very old, nearly extinct..book.” He shuffled a little in his seat, his hand scratching over my chin as he sensed my shock-surprise at being moved. And then he opened this so-called ‘book’, his deep voice sending warm vibrations through my body, my eyes closing slightly as I let him take me away to another world. A world with a thousand trees. And nymphs. And gods - which I think from his descriptions, are like humans but then ever older.

Every few minutes or so he would turn a page, a new whiff of smells entering my satisfied nostrils. I was warm, safe and quite content, my muscles vibrating along with the man’s words as he relieved the ache deep in my soul. I had never heard or smelled such words as his, but I liked them very much.

--

A loud crack burst open the door, that fierce white light burning my eyes as I quickly skedaddled, getting out of the line of sight of whatever horrific beasts were here to break into my sanctuary. Humans, their smells not to my liking. Too much rubber, plastic and other synthetic whiffs.

“Take him.” One spoke, the others following his curt instructions, the Old Man being mercilessly dragged from the corner where he trembled like a child, his large body not small enough to hide behind the books like I could.

It all happened so quickly that I wasn’t sure whether it had happened at all, the small room quiet and the dust settled before I dared to look again. I waited and waited. The night came and went, but the Old Man didn’t return. My hunger did though. The gnawing, aching emptiness made my bones clatter in their furry furbishments and I tried my best to understand the words the Angry Men had spoken.

“Incinerate elsewhere. Risk of attention. Incinerate elsewhere. Risk of attention.” The words had near eaten me alive when the dark door opened finally, the satisfying scent of two tomcats alerting me it was her. She was not happy though, my heart already aching for her before she could switch on the light, her tears muffled behind a pale hand.

“Oh gods.” She squirmed when the light bulb flickered on, her eyes roaming over a new trail that led over the floor, the smell reminding me of food..though I hadn’t found any, anywhere.

“Oh gods..Badger.” Her eyes started to rain, her lip trembling in pain as she cried out.

That is the moment when I crawled out of my hiding, my careful paws walking towards her until she noticed me, her lips curling up in what I learned was that good emotion. A smile. Though on her it looked a little weird - were there more types of smiles? 

“Minnie.” She whispered, picking me up to cuddle until our short interaction was roughly disturbed by a sound outside. “Shit..Fuck..Okay we need to go.”

And, again, I found myself in the insides of a jacket. This time hers.

--

From the insides of the nice smelling jacket I heard a million voices spinning around us. Some human. Some metallic. Some whispering, some loud. My ears were folded flat against my skull by the time the world quieted again, the two of us landing on a mattress in a mal-furnished room; there were simply too few comfortable places to lay on, the mattress the only surface that was to my liking.

The Young Woman got up, her nose sniffling with the threat of more tears as she conjured up some food and water. Strange food and water. The type that was the standard these days. Tasteless. Shapeless. Soulless food. And disgustingly sterile water. Blergh.

But thankfully this new place brought me something good: the woman was more than eager to hug and cuddle, her body sinking down onto the mattress again so I could crawl up to her, her eye-water sinking into my fur as she held me close.

I wanted to speak to her then, and I did. I talked and talked and talked. But I’m not sure if she understood me. Why was all this water coming from her eyes? Was she the goddess of rain? I leaned in heavier into her warm chest and felt my muscles buzz with eagerness.

And then she found it. My greatest secret. The thing that the new world order was supposed to hate according to the Old Man.

Scratching my chin, I easily surrendered it to her, her fingers removing the small tube from my collar, unscrewing and finding two things: a miniscule piece of paper, reminding me of the smell of home, and some type of metal pill-tube-thing.

Silently she read the words, her lip trembling again with emotion, before they turned into a watery smile - happiness, love, good!

“Oh, I will..I will.” She mumbled.

Curiosity sparked in me and I spoke to her again, begging for her attention: “Please tell me what it reads!” -- And of course she couldn’t understand my words, but the sentiment was clear I think, for she now finally read it aloud:

“Code Minerva. Keeper of Wisdom. 112049 - Erase after uploading. Ps. she loves ear scratches.”

--

It was the day the new world order fell into true chaos.

I liked it very much.  

--

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[shadowed-yet-vibrant]

Something Was Burning

Izaya x Shizuo

Word Count: 2050

CW: vehicle accident, blood

It wasn’t supposed to end like this. 

The end was supposed to have dignity. At least, with as much dignity as someone like him could hope to have when he took his last breath. Be it at the end of a gun or beneath the blade of a knife, there was supposed to be someone left for him to smirk at, the fleeting opportunity for one last laugh. The inevitable death was never supposed to be a sign of defeat, but rather the earnest embrace of karma’s overdue hands around his throat. 

It wasn’t supposed to end pinned between pieces of crumpled metal, nothing but a seatbelt left to suspend him above a sea of broken glass. Not alone, without an enemy in sight, without any of the intimacy that would come from something as tantalizing as murder. Not an accident that arose without any greater purpose, no motive emerging from deep inside a broken human heart. 

But something was burning. 

Above all else, Izaya ached. He could hear himself gasping for breath as though he were listening in from a distance, a shaky rattle coming from a bruised chest. The belt across his middle had taken the brunt of the impact, and it was from there the pain radiated outwards, a reminder of how just one piece of fabric had kept him from launching to certain death. His ribs had paid for the small modicum of safety, the pain of mortality left in place of what would have otherwise been blissful nothingness. 

Something was burning. 

Plastic, melting rubber, and chemicals on the verge of combustion, a caustic mixture which had launched a frontal assault on his tender senses. But there was nowhere for the man to run, and even if he had been able to free himself from the wreckage, he suspected the pain shooting up his right leg may have rendered such an attempt futile regardless. 

Izaya craned his neck to look at the car door above him, confirmation that the vehicle had indeed been thrown on its side in the crash. The last thing he had been able to comprehend was the truck speeding into the intersection and making contact with the driver’s side door in a brilliant flash of light. He felt no need to look forward toward the driver: there was no question the man was dead. 

However dazed he was from the pain, Izaya could feel his mind struggling to give him a way out, a computational process which had started the moment the car had come to a halt on its right side. Within moments he had calculated how long until the flames would reach him in the back of the cabin, and to place the estimate above mere minutes would be unrealistic.

At the same time he had been running through the options to free himself from the wreckage, and was coming up painfully empty. Though he hadn’t yet put eyes on it, he knew his knife was no longer nestled up against his body. Its familiar weight was gone, a gaping absence in its place. It was the same case with his cell, both small objects having been ejected from his pockets during the cash. Unless he was able to release himself from the seatbelt and heave himself up through the window, he was still damned to burn. 

He moved his hands to try and undo the belt, silently cursing Namie for pestering him about it so often that it had become habit. Though he would have surely died without it, in the moment he thought a quick death would have been somewhat more noble than this embarrassment. 

It was only when he was fumbling for the belt did he take another look at this right leg, an area from which the pain was only growing more intense with each passing moment. There was little that could bring Izaya shock any more, but his stomach flopped as he took in the sight in full. His limb extended outwards from his hip with a sense of familiarity, but it disappeared into a gnarled hunk of door pressed up against the seat in front of him. The wreckage had him pinned, his leg stuck in a vice that no human feat of human strength could ever pry open. 

Were there more time at hand, Izaya would have cursed to the skies. He would have reached forward and attempted to wrench himself free, emerge from the wreck like a hero, brush off help from onlookers who were still shouting in horror. But at the moment the only sound his constrained chest allowed was a short wheeze of laughter, a hollow sound that echoed amidst the deafening white noise filling the vehicle’s cabin. 

But before he could close his eyes and embrace the crackling flames rushing towards him, Izaya’s world lurched. His sense of balance, already all but destroyed from the vehicle spinning out of control, once again swung sideways. The sound of crunching metal resounded, and the car slammed into the ground right-side-up with a great rattling of the suspension. Izaya bit his tongue as his leg twisted where it was pinned, instead letting out a grunt as his body was jarred yet again. 

As soon as he was certain the car was back on its four wheels Izaya glanced out the window, wondering what force of nature could have turned the car over. And what met him at nearly eye-level was a familiar pair of tinted glasses, resting below angrily furrowed brows and a mop of blond hair.

In normal circumstances, this infuriating view would have taken his breath away in frustration. But at the moment, all he could do was give his enemy a dumbfounded stare, residual shock from the accident taking away all of his usual rage. Izaya could tell that it took the beast a moment to recognize just who he was looking at, expression frozen until those empty eyes widened ever so slightly. It was only then that Izaya found he still had enough strength for a fleeting smirk. 

“Izaya,” Shizuo hissed, voice low and husky in anger. That constant state of rage had never abated, even when the man had taken the time to arrive at the scene of an accident and commit a rare act of kindness. The logic of this uncharacteristic assistance was beyond Izaya as he currently stood, so he grimaced and pulled halfheartedly at his leg in the hopes the car’s grip had loosened. 

“What are you doing here, you brute?” Izaya asked, trying to buy himself some more time to focus. Now that the car was righted he felt as though there were some better chance at his survival as the flames grew nearer, his back already hot from their closeness. Death was licking at him, along with some distant thread of fear. He knew there was a decent chance that Shizuo would either walk away or speed up the killing process right then and there. Izaya would have preferred a chance to spar with Shizuo properly, rather than face his killer as nothing more than a rat in a cage, but it was still more dignified than succumbing to the chemical-fueled flames. 

He could see the thoughts forming in Shizuo’s eyes, their gaze flitting from Izaya’s face to the wreckage of the cars, then back to the flames which had engulfed the rear of the vehicle. By now they were crawling into the far window and lapping at the leather seats, waiting to catch.  Another few moments and Izaya knew that his soft collar and cuffs would begin to singe, his face already searing from the encroaching heat. 

A scowl overcame Shizuo’s face, and he flashed his teeth in what appeared to be anger. Izaya drew in another short breath, no matter how much it hurt, and returned a smirk in kind. If he was going to be killed here and now, the least he could do was smile in the face of it, piss off that blond-haired menace one last time. 

But instead of Shizuo’s arms reaching in through the broken window and making their way to crush Izaya’s neck, they wrapped around the side of the car door. The impact had crushed it inwards, making it impossible to open with merely human strength, but Shizuo was hardly human. Izaya watched in awe and shock as Shizuo secured his fingers into the ridges of the crumpled metal and pulled, grunting slightly as he did so. 

That simple action, one which appeared to flow without any excess of effort on Shizuo’s part, resulted in the door slowly peeling away from the body of the car. The metal groaned as the frame was bent and snapped, shifting the entire vehicle with the sheer force required. Shards of glass from the window flew into the cabin, and Izaya looked away just long enough to shield his eyes. Seconds later the catastrophic noise had ended and sunlight streamed in freely, half of the car peeled back as though it were nothing more than a tab on a can of soda. 

And it was now that the pain renewed in earnest on Izaya’s leg, and he gave an involuntary grunt as he looked down at it. Now that there was no longer a mass of metal pinning it up against the seat he saw his own flesh split open, his shin crooked and bone bulging beneath the skin as blood dripped from the lacerations. 

Keeping a side-eye on Shizuo, who was taking a deep breath and staring into the car, Izaya fumbled with his seatbelt one last time, finally releasing himself from its grip. The fire was around him now, the flames reaching up to kiss him from either side. But the very moment that he was contemplating how to drag himself out of the vehicle without being able to put any weight on his right leg, arms wrapped around his torso, yanking him free from the car in a swift motion that wrenched his body through space. 

It was all Izaya could do not to cry out, especially as his right leg bore the consequences of momentum and broken bone ground against broken bone. But he was freed, the smell of fire growing more distant, his limbs all freed from where they had been trapped. And now he was held surprisingly close to Shizuo’s chest, dangling from above the ground ever so slightly, suspended in an unexpected embrace. 

He felt Shizuo’s breath hot on his neck, a gentle hiss of exhalation in his ear. And he could feel the gentle brush of hair against his cheek, shifting as he was slowly lowered onto the pavement. Whether it was the shock or pain that made him freeze, Izaya remained motionless as Shizuo laid him somewhat gently on the ground, a few long paces away from the remains of the wreckage. And as the man knelt and put Izaya onto the sidewalk, for just one brief moment, the hot skin of their cheeks collided. It was such an unexpected sensation that Izaya felt his eyes widen involuntarily. The contact ended as suddenly as it had begun, and Shizuo was already pulling away from him before he could react. 

The sun framed Shizuo’s face in a way that was almost angelic, darkening his features as Izaya looked up at him, fighting to retain his comprehension through the pain. Unblinking, the man stood to his full height, finally releasing Izaya from his grasp. For a moment Shizuo was silent, expression pensive. Then he opened his mouth as though he wanted to say something, as though there was something on the tip of his tongue he was fighting to get out. 

Instead of speaking, however, the man turned his back. He walked away, quickly disappearing from Izaya’s field of vision where he lay on the ground. Now other spectators were rushing forward, their shock wearing off, and the sound of sirens was growing near. Others descended around him, their hands both eager and fearful to touch him, wanting to render aid. 

But all Izaya could think of was the brief moment where their cheeks had grazed, the tender way that the all-powerful monster had cradled his broken body. And where their flesh had met, something was burning.

[scapegrace74-blog]

Halo

A/N Today the Metric Universe has a guest artist: Depeche Mode!  This story takes place soon after Help! I’m Alive, which is going to require some creative liberties on my part.  Depeche Mode did play London Stadium to a sold-out crowd (one of eight bands to ever do so), but in June 2017, not September.  

All other parts of the Metric Universe are available on my AO3 page. 

The song by Depeche Mode that inspired the title is here. Teenage Michelle listed to Violator on repeat, just like Claire and Jamie.  

September 21, 2017, Spitalfields, England

Jamie’s patrol boots felt like concrete weights about his feet as he plodded down the hallway towards his flat.  Most days, he loved his job.  It filled a psychic need to contribute meaningfully to society and provided a loose camaraderie that acted as a substitute family.  Physically and mentally taxing, on a bad day like today, it left him feeling wrung out and far older than his twenty-seven years.  All that kept him moving was force of habit and the promise of a glass of whisky, a long shower and a comfortable bed.

A steady thump of bass throbbed from behind his door.  Frowning, he fit the key in the lock and walked into a wall of sound.  Claire was nowhere to be seen, but her iPhone sat on the coffee table, wirelessly connected to the tele’s surround sound system.  He tapped the screen once and lowered the volume significantly.

The sudden lull drew his roommate from the kitchen, where she’d evidently been cleaning.  She was wearing a tattered pair of jogging pants, a plain white tshirt and rubber gloves.  Corkscrews of sweaty hair stuck to her temples.

“Jamie, hi.  Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Understandable.   Depeche Mode, Sassenach?”

Her lips curled in a shape he knew was supposed to be a grin.  Something was missing, however.  A spark, a hint of magic, the ineffable quality he associated with Claire.

“Are ye alright, Claire?  Ye seem... I dinna ken, but not yerself,” he inquired as he opened the liquor cabinet.  Raising a nearly full bottle of Glenfiddich in silent query, he set about pouring two healthy glasses.  When they met back at the sofa, Claire had removed her cleaning attire and tried to arrange her hair in a slightly neater bun.

“I could ask the same of you,” she countered.  “You look done in.  Rough day?  Cheers,” she added, raising the amber liquid.

“Slainte,” he replied, letting the spicy heat coat his throat and settle like an ember in his belly.

“Do you ever...” Claire began before subsiding into silence.

“Do I ever what?” he urged.

“Some days I just feel as though no matter what I do, the cosmic ledger is not going to balance, you know?  That there isn’t enough good in me to balance out all the bad.”

He forced himself to mutely accept her statement, no matter how much he wanted to dispute it.  She was exposing a chink in her formidable armour.  His job was to listen, not debate.  He couldn’t help wanting to peer past the small opening to the burning core within, though.

“I loved this album as a lad,” he offered instead.  “Dark an’ moody an’ all about sex. My Mam hated Personal Jesus, complained twas blasphemous.”

Claire chuckled softly.  She was looking at a point over his shoulder, visibly straining to reach some buried emotion.

“When things got horrific at Camp Bastion, the surgeons would listen to music, ridiculously loud music.  Artillery fire, evac choppers, the wails of wounded soldiers, it drowned them all out.  Or at least that was the idea.  The camp only had an old portable stereo on its last legs, held together with suture wire.  By the end of my year, Violator was the only tape that fucking thing hadn’t eaten.  This is the soundtrack of the worst moments of my life.”

He could have asked why she would want to relive that personal hell, but he already knew the answer.  It was the same reason he still rushed into a burning building, even as the memory of his accident played havoc with his PTSD.  Survival was an act of redemption.  You fought your demons because if you didn’t, the demons had already won.

They sat beside each other on the sofa listening to the melancholy songs on repeat.  When her glass was empty, Jamie poured another two fingers unprompted.  He didn’t ask what happened during her hospital shift to send her thoughts back to Afghanistan.  He could guess.   She didn’t ask why his uniform smelled of ashes and burnt flesh.  She could guess.   Sometimes the hurt didn’t need to be articulated.  Sometimes silent complicity was the only cure.

***

October 20, 2017, London Stadium, England

She’d almost missed the envelope entirely.   Bleary eyed after an overnight shift, her plan was to sleep through the rest of the day and wake up tomorrow in her thirties.  Checking the surface of her desk for mail out of habit on her way to the shower, Jamie’s bold scrawl, black across ivory paper, caught her eye.

Happy Birthday, Claire.

Her finger shook as she unsealed the feather-light rectangle.  A ticket stub was the only content.  Her hand covered her mouth as she drew in a quivering lungful of air.  She had no idea how he even knew it was her birthday, never mind how he happened upon the perfect gift.

After a rejuvenating nap, shower and thirty minutes trying on every outfit in her wardrobe, she now stood in an endless security lineup in the hulking shadow of London Stadium.  A soft brush against her bare shoulder and a hint of his familiar scent were the cues that sent her heart beating against her ribs.  She looked up into the sunrise of his warmest smile.

“G’d evenin’, Sassenach,” he greeted.  “Fancy meetin’ ye here.”

She shook her head in mock exasperation.

“Really, Jamie.  I can’t believe you.  How ever did you even get tickets?  It’s been sold out for months.”

“Och, twas nothin’.  The sister of one of the lads on my engine works fer their record label,” he demurred, running a hand through his curls.   She could see they were still damp.  He must have showered at the station and come straight from work.  The bright floodlights caught the blond tones of the stubble along his jaw.  She looked away, feeling a lurch in her stomach that had nothing to do with missing dinner.

They chatted easily as they slowly advanced through the metal detectors and into the colossal stadium.

“I’ve never been inside,” she remarked, craning her head upwards.  “It’s incredible, isn’t it?”

“Aye, tis.  This way, birthday girl.  We’re on the floor.”  Jamie extended a courtly arm and shepherded her into the steadily growing crowd.

At concerts in her youth, she always started near the stage but was gradually pushed backwards by larger, rowdier fans.  It took several songs for her to realize why that wasn’t happening.  Jamie had planted himself directly behind her and was acting like a breakwater, parting the crowd with his tall, broad form before they could push up against her.   She felt something vigilant loosen along her spine.  Before long, she was dancing and singing along, completely lost in the moment.

Looking up over her shoulder at his proud, chiseled features as they were washed in multi-hued lights, she caught his eye and smiled.  He bent close, his warm breath feathering her hair as he whisper-yelled into her ear.

“Happy birthday, Sassenach.”

Impulsively, she stood on tiptoe and placed a careful kiss near the corner of his mouth.  Lying in bed that night with the echo of the music still ringing in her ears, it was the memory of his shyly delighted grin that lit her mind like a thousand stars.

[voidselfshipp]

A Heart Of Ashes

Chapter 2

Pt1.

Its around half past eight, jerico wondered if stoker was still in the laboratory.

So she put on her boots and Walked to said laboratory.

Though.. the place was huge, it felt like a maze,and listening to her gut feeling,she got there,after a good fifteen minutes.

--Hey stoker

The british Man stopped mixing two chemicals togheter, and Turned to the door, a smile crossed his lips under his mask,but you could hear it in his tone as he said--Ah...you again...how delightfull, Oh do be careful of the napalm...tricky stuff

--Ill be mindful of that--she Walked right past the unarmed molotov grenades--Watcha working on?

--Just some upgrades for these old girls, oh Grab a pair of goggles and some rubber gloves if you stick around, wouldnt want to cause any accidents

Jeri nodded and snatched the closest of those ítems, she casually hovered over stokers shoulder who finished mixing the two chemicals,only for them to explode into a dark cloud of nothingness.

--Ah horse raddish...

By the way he left both mixing tubes on the table she noticed her companion was frustrated.

She patted his back softly--How about we get something to eat, maybe you need to take some fresh air

Stoker stood there to think about it for a bit, then nodded --Yeah...thatd be wonderfull

--Great,lets go!

During their walk however, Someone stopped them.

--Hey! So youre the New guy huh?

The british Man sighed in annoyance,crossing his arms--Oh do bugger off phantom, we have places to go

--ey ey relax Man, I just want to take a moment to greet our New recruit--phantom Turned to jerico-- heard you were dangerous huh? I like that in a woman

Suddenly, Harold felt his blood boil, as jeri couldnt help but giggle at the cheesy pickup lines.

In a stupid fit of jealousy,he grabbed his lighter and pressed the flame against phantoms pants, who in a matter of seconds lit afire, he then with a mischevious smile Turned to jerico-- tell me....can you smell something Burning...? Oh its probably nothing,lets go dear, im starving

He put an arm around jeri and Walked her away as phantom ran around in circles, blissfully unaware of this sunstorm just shrugged it off.

--Did you just really burnt phantoms pants so he would stop talking to jerico?-- ember asked, arms crossed as both grabbed their food.

--well he was making her unconfortable!

--Dont make excuses for yourself Harold I know you

The Man sighed letting his shoulders fall--okay maybe I have a crush on her what about it....

Ember started to laugh--Thats adorable Harold, I wish you the best of luck --She patted his back.

During dinner Ember politely excused herself,leaving both veterans to talk.

--So--stoker started without a clear topic to talk about--Youre a veteran?

-- I am,Ive seen a lot of fucked up shit I tell you that

He chuckled and nodded in agreement--war, how do the kids put it ,ah yes, fucking sucks

--It really does,you loose Friends, people youre closed...and you never know

--If youll end up coming home to them--both meet eachothers gaze--i know the feeling quite well...

Both smile, and talk softly about their time in the military.

Stoker decided to pack up his little science proyect and walk around the bases courtyard with jerico, the moon shine brightly, and both strolled down calmly.

--I remember this one time, me and my Dad were leaders of two different squadrons,you had to see the soldiers faces when they realize their commander was my dad....it was hilarious,specially because we look nothing alike

--Hmm, May I inquire as to why?

--Dad adopted me when I was a kid, and we really look nothing alike,and well, when training, my old Man is very harsh and strict, I tend to be that one godsend seargeant who cuts some slack on the soldiers, its quite funny really

The brit laughed and nodded--yes it is

--And how about you?, whats your story ?

He took a deep breath,and put his hands behind his neck--Well,I used to be a squadron I had to make a rough decision,and I did it,thankfully nobody had to die that day,except For the bad guys of course

And they spend the night talking about their anecdotes,laughing, and comforting eachother.

--mind if I Scort you to your room?

--Not at all

Stoker giggled and put an arm around jerico,And both Walked into the building in silence, the whole place was quiet, aside from some who spent the night playing videogames and their rage screams could be heard from outside their room

When they arrived though,jeri took Harolds hand--Dont you want to spend the night here?,your room is on the other side of the building

--Oh I dont want to bother

--You dont,come on in

He sighed and nodded, taking off his jacket.

--I have a spare matress under my bed,i can sleep there

--What?,no way, I shoundt Rob You the comforts of your bed...

--Harold just take it

--Ill take the spare matress thats what ill take

Both stared at eachother,before sighing--Sharing?

--Sharing

Without much time wasted they got into the bed,their backs facing eachother.

--You wont take that mask off for sleeping?

--No, I wont

She sighed --You cant sleep like that

--Yes I can

She knew it wasnt her place to Keep demanding--Will you sleep comfortably?

A soft smile appeared on the Mans face--Yes, dont worry about me,now go get some sleep okay?

--You too.....goodnight

--Sweet dreams...

Ember groaned,facepalming.

This needed to stop.

--Oh you look so lovely today--stoker said softly elbowing jerico in the ribs, who then chuckled.

--And you look quite handsome too

Theyve been flirting like this for the entire day, ember was about to knock them both out....she couldnt take more of this mushy crap.

--oh I thought for a moment I found to emeralds....turns out it was just your eyes...--Harold said with his masks cheek resting on his hand.

Jericos cheeks turn baby Pink and both softly chuckle.

--If you two lovebirds are done, the guys at the kitchen need help on the cooler--vera said--its not working....

Both sighed and nodded.

However as both worked on the inside of the industrial Cooler, the door closed leaving them in pure darkness, aside from Jers phone lantern.

--Damnit...--stoker tried to Open the door to no avail...

And so they sat there in darkness.

-- d damn-- Harold said curling into a ball-- its cold here...

Jer, who was a natural heater, sat closer to him--I think I have an idea,but I need you to sit properly

--W what are y you planning to do?--He straightened his legs and his cheeks Turned red as he felt her sit on his lap and hug him-

-Like this we wont loose heat...

She was, oddly warm...how?.

Whatever questions he had, his survival was first so he hugged her, and hugged her tightly, feeling the warmth return to his body.

--Thats a whole lot better...thanks awfully..

--Dont mention it...

And after that day, they couldnt get enough of it ,everywhere was a good place to cuddle, while eating, after training,during briefings.

Everyone was losing their minds over how clingy both were.

Their feelings for eachother were so painfuly obvious...

And now, after a particular rough mission, jerico and stoker were cuddling in his room.

He pressed his mask against her back.

--Im just glad youre okay...--she whispers.

--Im just glad to be with you here--he answers back.

Though she was too tired to even try and comprehend what he said, so she nuzzled closer and smiled..

Soon enough she'll tell him.

She was glad to be by his side, and being able to hold him like that..and Him..well, he was happy to return to her in one piece.

[deathonyourtongue]

Winter Passing | Chapter 1

Summary: Injured and left for dead in the middle of a nowhere state, he traverses peaks and valleys for days without seeing any sign of civilization. Just as death’s icy fingers begin to coil around him, he finds a cabin in a clearing. Terrified from years of being told fairy tales and ghost stories, he nevertheless knocks on the door. When he wakes, he finds not a demon, but an angel, long removed from the insanity of the modern world. Pairing: Slightly AU!Henry Cavill x OC Word Count: 2.4K Warnings: Mentions of blood A/N: Like if you want to be added to the tag list. Message me if you want to be removed.

@radaofrivia​ @crushed-pink-petals​ @henrycavillfanpage​ @kirasmomsstuff​ @bluestarego​ @redhairedmoiraandtheliferuiners​ @safiras​ @honeychicana​

It had been one of the worst storms the area had seen in years. Snow, wind, ice, and hale had all done their best to batter down their part of the earth. Despite the severity, it had only succeeded in blanketing the clearing with a fresh coat of powder. Protected as it had always been by the mountain on one side and the ocean on the other, the clearing’s stream and small lake stood relatively untouched by the late winter assault; she wouldn’t have to break the ice for water today, but she would have to cut more wood.

Starting her day as she always had, Olivia woke as slowly as the sun did, brewing a tea of peppermint and the last of the season’s lemon balm to warm and waken herself from the inside out. She gave Gunnar his first meal of the day, smiling as her 4-year-old Husky grumbled his way to his bowl, clearly muttering to himself about how long she’d taken to get up. Her own breakfast would come after her morning duties, and before she set about the early afternoon’s activities of reading, cooking, and writing. It would be a simple day, topped off with a sumptuous dinner of braised rabbit stew and homemade bread and wine. Winter was a vacation from the various duties of the other seasons and Olivia looked forward to every second, fleeting though they were.

She’d forgone snow pants the moment she’d moved to the clearing, having studied the area well enough to know she’d never get snowed in, and never deal with the sharp, nipping temperatures the rest of the state felt throughout the winter months. Wearing long johns, jeans, woolen socks, and her tried-and-tested winter boots, she set about collecting the water, cutting the wood, and feeding her small crop of animals, talking to each one as she went. She doted on her creatures, all of them telling her a daily story of the previous day’s activities simply with their eyes, their sniffs, and their eagerness for food. Petting her lamb, she reminded herself to start on her next knitting project using her old girl’s spring sheering, Olivia excited by the prospect of a new, even cozier sweater.

The incense was lit once she’d come in with the water, and the hearth was stoked in preparations for the afternoon’s cooking. It wasn’t until she was in the middle of chopping wood that she felt the shift in the air. Stopping all movement, she scanned what she could of the clearing, assuaged in her fear only by the fact that her rifle sat on a stump at arm’s length. Bigger game was rare, only due to the difficulty in accessing the area, but she’d had one run-in too many with a bear to trust that it was impossible. She registered the silence of the birds with trepidation, but as they hadn’t flown, she knew whatever was coming wasn’t as dreadful a predator as it could be.

Finally, her eyes caught the part of the clearing that didn’t belong, the shape dark against the white of the snow and mountains. It wasn’t an animal, but from far off in the field, she couldn’t tell whether it was a man or a woman who approached her door. Moving silently, each step soft and calculated, she flanked the stranger and quickly made her way into her small cottage by way of the back door. Old habits die hard and even in the middle of nowhere, she kept her front door locked and latched, a practical protection to top off all the more mystical ones she’d placed on the location upon moving in. Shoe-less, she slid across the hardwood floor, using the column that divided the kitchen from the front room to her advantage in order to catch a glimpse of the person knocking desperately. To her shock, the first thing she saw was blood, a mask of it covering the face of a man who couldn’t be older than 35. His breath fogged the front windows, and before she could even call out, he’d fallen like a sack of potatoes at her doorstep. Whatever had happened to him, had been bad enough that he’d decided to brave the wilds rather than stay by the road waiting for help. Her only hope was that he wasn’t dead. The trek into town was laborious under the best weather conditions; in winter, it was nearly impossible.

—————————–

Henry’s day had gone from bad to worse. 

Packing up had been hard enough, with Tabitha’s cat trying to bat at or bite him at every given opportunity. His ex certainly didn’t help matters, her words as cutting as her cat’s claws. Though they’d been together nearly five years, Henry felt like he barely knew the woman she’d turned into over the last few months. It was the great tragedy of his life, but it was quickly becoming his worst nightmare; he had no choice but to move on. 

With the last load packed, he’d hit the highway one last time, looking forward only to ordering a pizza and calling it a day in his new, ramshackle, bachelor pad. He worried his Escalade would look out of place among the sea of Hondas and Kias that littered the parking lot of his new residence, but Henry knew he’d be trading in the car soon enough, and vowed to get into something a little less conspicuous. 

He was halfway to his destination when the ABS light came on, blinking rapidly. Nearly as soon as it had come on, the light switched off once more. Henry thought little of it, but made a mental note to mention it to his mechanic the next time he went in for service. Before he could even finish his thought however, the car in front of him began to slow down. Pressing the brake, Henry felt a cold chill go through him as his foot went directly to the floor. Trying again, and pumping the pedal this time, he got the same result. His immediate–albeit regrettable–thought was that Tabitha had drained his brake fluid and caused him to ride dry. Without the fluid, there’d be no way of applying pressure to the discs, leaving him without an option that didn’t involve a crash. 

With the car ahead quickly approaching his front bumper, Henry looked around, trying to figure out the best possible route. He couldn’t switch lanes due to a semi on his left, and careening across four lanes seemed deadly even if it did get him to the inside shoulder of the highway. Heart sinking, he closed his eyes and veered right at the last moment, knowing full well he was about to die. Aside from the small patch of forest, there was little to keep him from rolling right off the side of the mountain and to certain doom. Bracing, Henry did his best to keep the wheel straight once he began cutting through brush, hoping for the best. 

The violent scream of metal on rock accompanied his own cries as the SUV began to roll and skid at a steep descent. Henry dared not open his eyes as all the windows shattered, the dash caved in on itself and his steering wheel made contact with his head more than once. He blacked out as the car careened down the side of the mountain, waking only when it came to a bone-crunching stop at the base of a sturdy pine tree. 

His consciousness mercifully kept him in and out until the smell of burning rubber woke him for good. Feeling the heat building in the footwell, Henry moved only through the power of adrenaline, scrambling for his seatbelt cutter and taking a deep breath before slicing through the woven fabric, his body hitting what used to be the roof with a sickening thud. Crawling through the shattered glass of the passenger window, Henry moved as far away as he could, turning back only to see the car engulfed in flames. With the fire making it too dangerous to try and save any of the trunk’s contents, Henry patted his body down, looking for his phone, hoping he could at least make a call to get out. When he came up empty-handed, one look back to his vehicle confirmed what he’d feared; his cell was still in the center console, burning to a crisp with the rest of his things.

Though he wanted to sit and wallow in self-pity waiting for help to arrive, a sharp sting of wind reminded him he had to move.  Having considered himself something of a well-prepared man prior to the accident, Henry cursed himself for not having worn his winter coat while driving, the warm garment turning to ash along with his winter boots in the fire. He chuckled to himself, thinking of how thrilled his ex would be to learn of his demise, out in the woods at the bottom of the mountain, walking in circles until he’d succumbed to the elements. 

“You’ll finally get your wish, Tabs. Me out of your life for good!” He called out with a barking laugh, Henry tucking his hands into his pockets as he looked around for a suitable walking stick. The flaring pain in his knee was enough to warn him against trying to walk unassisted, and with fresh powder coming nearly to his thighs, he knew better than to try it even in perfect health. 

Red coated his vision as he bent over to grab a snapped branch. Rubbing at his eyes, the breath caught in his throat as the back of his hand came away soaked with fresh blood. Logically he knew head wounds bled more, but at that moment, it scared him badly, Henry once again being reminded that death was nipping at his heels. Propelled forward, he limped in the only direction he could go; towards the lake.

—————————–

Gathering her courage, and sliding her sharpest knife into the back of her belt, Olivia crept to the door and opened it, gasping as the man’s head fell lifeless into her home, thankfully still attached to his very poorly-clothed body. Most residents of the state knew better than to go anywhere without a snow coat, good sturdy boots, and thick pants, yet the man had on little more than jeans, sneakers, and a sweater. It’d be a wonder if she could save him even with all her knowledge. Mildly annoyed that her perfectly-planned day had gone haywire so early, and more than a little grumpy from lack of food, Olivia nevertheless hooked her arms under his and dragged him inside, laying him down in front of the hearth before locking the doors, and setting about gathering what she would need in order to try and wake him, patch him up, and hopefully get him out at the earliest possibility.

For lack of ammonia, she used alcohol as a smelling salt, waving a cotton bud soaked in it under his nose as she watched the water begin to boil in the pot on the fire. A homemade salve, several lengths of cotton batting, and honey from her own hive all sat to the side, ready to be used in cleansing and dressing whatever wounds were causing him to bleed so profusely. As she waited for him to come around, Olivia took stock of the man, noting his fine features, soft hands, and well-manicured beard. A nomad he was not, though his clothes had broadcast as much the moment she saw them. No, wherever this man was from, he was definitely not prepared for nature, and if she had to venture a guess, he’d crashed on the road above the clearing and had been driving in a climate-controlled car before being ejected into mother nature’s frozen arms.

When he showed no sign of waking, Olivia set to work on cleaning what she could see. The two gashes on his head, both at the hairline were her first priority. Cleaning them thoroughly, she applied a liberal amount of honey to each before fashioning the bandages so that they pulled the wounds closed. While she was a fair hand at sewing, none of her threads were strong enough to hold skin together and she didn’t want to take the risk of adding to any potential infections. 

With the rest of his body still clothed, she pushed his large frame closer to the hearth, covering him in her thickest blanket and taking off his water-logged shoes and socks to check for frostbite. When all she saw was irritated red skin, Olivia dried his feet and applied cornstarch before letting the blanket fall back over his toes, knowing he needed to get warm, but without shocking his system and short of a warm bath, laying next to the hearth would be his best bet. 

Satisfied that she’d done as much as she could, Olivia cleaned up and went upstairs to change into something a little more comfortable than all the layers she’d been wearing. Donning a gauzy moss-green dress that dragged along the floor, she threw a long-sleeved shawl over it and, feeling the beginnings of a hunger headache starting, took down her hair from its messy bun, knotting only the top half before putting a hair stick through it, Olivia feeling immediately better.

—————————–

Henry wasn’t sure what heaven–or hell–was supposed to be like, but he was almost certain neither place was supposed to be wet. Groaning, he turned his head, only to feel like his entire brain had shifted sloppily from one side of his skull to the other. Unwilling to open his eyes, his hand found its way out from under the weight that was on it, managing to bat away whatever was causing his face to feel like it had been slimed. 

“Gunnar!” A voice hissed, and though it hurt to do so, Henry finally cracked open an eyelid, wishing he could move faster as he found himself in a veritable witch’s cottage. Dark wood served as the backdrop for more candles than he had ever seen in one home. As his vision cleared, Henry made out several animal bones, and what he could only imagine to be an altar of some sort, given the rather large deer skull surrounded by rune stones, a dish of herbs, more candles, and a beautifully polished stone of some sort. 

Waiting for the stereotypical hag to appear, Henry was startled when around the corner came the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. If he were in heaven, he’d gladly deal with the pagan stylings of whatever angel called this place home. 

Watching as the dog who’d just been giving his face a bath moved away, Henry tried to find his voice, but what came out was a croaky jumble of words that only served to put an amused smile on the angel’s face. 

“Dead? You heaven?”

[dorcasrises]

d o r c a s   b e t h a n y   m e a d o w e s

basics:

name: dorcas bethany meadowes (selwyn). pronunciation: dor·kuhs behth-uh-nee medoʊs. meaning: dorcas- good deeds and gifts of mercy, gazelle. bethany- house of affliction or figs. birthday: february 13th. age: twenty. pronouns: they, she & her. sexuality: bisexual. siblings: esther ruth selwyn. parents: apollo selwyn & mary meadowes. other family: arias selwyn (grandfather), alanis selwyn (grandmother), alice fortescue (cousin), edith fortescue (cousin). languages: english, a little french. current residence: the selwyn townhouse. hometown: bristol.

wizard fun:

hogwarts house: gryffindor. year of graduation: 1978. occupation: order revolutionary. pet: a pet frog named toad. blood status: halfblood. species: witch. patronus: coyote. the coyote can be seen as power-hungry, as their ambition is what fuels them. they are stubborn and wildly expressive, often using this trait to make an impression on others. they start most of their relationships as a way to get something they want, rather than as a friendly gesture. they can begin to care about people after they get to know them, but at first glance they rarely do. they could be considered selfish.  understanding that all things are sacred–yet nothing is sacred, intelligence, ability to laugh at one’s own mistakes, shape-shifting, teaching balance between risk and safety, illumination, stealth, clowning and humor, wisdom of folly, prankster, insight, playful.  boggart: there is nothing that dorcas fears more than seeing the family she’s finally found falling apart during the coming war. she will do anything to protect them all. amortentia:   crackling fire.  the smell of a crackling fire in a hearth or on the lawn is associated with the best memories of dorcas’s life. there is almost always one burning in gryffindor tower. to her, it’s the real scent of home.  ice cream.  her cousin lived above an ice cream shoppe, so dorcas has grown to love to sweet, cold scent. it’s a swift reminder of midnight treats and long awaited adventures. it is sleepovers and laughter and freedom to be.  silver polish.  as much as she would hate to admit it, there is something comforting about the biting smell of silver polish. her grandmother’s house elf would polish their wares every thursday evening for the majority of her life. it grounds her. wand type: 11 1/2″ cypress wood, dragon heartstring, pliant and swishy.  cypress wands are associated with nobility. the great medieval wandmaker, geraint ollivander, wrote that he was always honoured to match a cypress wand, for he knew he was meeting a witch or wizard who would die a heroic death. fortunately, in these less blood-thirsty times, the possessors of cypress wands are rarely called upon to lay down their lives, though doubtless many of them would do so if required. wands of cypress find their soul mates among the brave, the bold and the self-sacrificing: those who are unafraid to confront the shadows in their own and others’ natures.  as a rule, dragon heartstrings produce wands with the most power, and which are capable of the most flamboyant spells. dragon wands tend to learn more quickly than other types. while they can change allegiance if won from their original master, they always bond strongly with the current owner.  pliant wand owners are eager, enthusiastic, and tend to be very easily impressed and/or naive. they often have a zest for life that is rare and unrivaled in most populations. a swishy wand will either surprise its owner by being surprisingly loyal or surprisingly unloyal and is most often known for doing the unexpected. It is usually great for charm work. affiliation: the order of the phoenix.

appearance:

height: 5′9″. hair color: chestnut. eye color: amber. typical hair style: typically, dorcas’s hair is wily and curly. when she’s working or concentrating, it is pulled up into one or two messy buns. when she’s going to be doing something physically exerting, she braids it back. when she’s in a mood to miss her grandmother, she will use straightening potions and style it back.  fashion style: growing up, dorcas wore a lot of sleek clothes in dark colors similar to her grandmother. eventually, her style developed to a more relaxed and comfortable fit. dorcas likes jeans or shorts with crop tops, t-shirts, and bomber jackets. she owns one bra and only wears it if she has to. if dorcas is dressing up, she still likes very disco inspired clothes. she loves warm colors and funky patterns. [ fashion ] distinguishing features: dorcas has an eyebrow piercing over her left eye which hides a scar from an old quidditch accident. she has a small tattoo of a fox on her side. dorcas also sports a tattoo of a phoenix on her arm, a sun on her wrist, a sunflower on her ankle, and a rubber duck on her ass. she almost always has the hint of a smile on her face and a certain noticeable fire in her eyes. dorcas almost always has tired rings beneath her eyes and is particularly known for her long legs.

personality:

positive traits: determined. spontaneous. academic. negative traits: ruthless. defiant. obsessive. theme song: heroes by david bowie

headcanons:

dorcas writes in a small nearly illegible mix of print and cursive. her brain is often moving faster than her hand can possible write so she has the tendency to slip into shorthand and scrawl the words as she goes. however, her handwriting does not appear messy at first glance. it looks like a very beautifully written diary. it’s only when you look close that you realize it’s mostly nonsense and only dorcas knows what was actually written down.

dorcas is not a great riser. seeing as she’s usually only crawled into bed or fallen asleep on the spot a few hours prior to wake up time, she’s bleary when first coming to. it takes several blinks and eyes rubbing for her brain to catch up to the world around her. if she’s being roused by another person, dorcas has the penchant for seriously irritability and occasionally, swinging at whomever is interrupting her sleep. if she comes to on her own, dorcas will usually start back at whatever she fell asleep doing, or she heads to the bathroom first thing.

while dancing was never so practiced a skill as piano, dorcas still has a natural proclivity towards it. she has a natural grace and fluidity to all of her movements that is only accentuated by the confidence and fearlessness by which she controls her body. it carries over into both her ability to duel or fight and her quidditch prowess. however, dancing never required so much forethought as those and dorcas will let herself get lost in it more often than anything else.

biography:

dorcas’s father, apollo selwyn, was born and raised among the sacred twenty-eight pureblooded families. he was a rebellious soul and musician that went travelling to play in bars both magical and not through the country. he is also a man who fell deeply in love with a muggle woman named mary meadowes. he pretended to know nothing of the magic world to keep her as close as possible and was disowned by his own family for being a blood-traitor. the two were married and by the time dorcas was born, he was committed to living in the muggle lie for the rest of his life. however, dorcas was no more than three months old when she started showing magical abilities. she would levitate toys into her crib and turn the lights of her nursery on and off. her mother was convinced they’d moved into a haunted house or were cursed.

eventually, apollo broke down and told the truth of the magic world to his wife. the news did not land well. she was a devoutly christian woman and now felt as though their entire relationship had been a lie. she was appalled that her daughter was a witch. her mother ran from them both, and dorcas’s father had no idea how to raise a child on his own. he was never the paternal sort. not to mention, he was frantic to retrieve the love of his life. in an act of desperation, he left dorcas with his own mother who was living alone as her husband had since passed. in exchange for dorcas’s grandmother to raise her, her father promised that he would not interfere with the child’s life again nor ask for her back to his home.

alanis selwyn was not a kindly old woman. she felt like she had failed in raising one child and would not do so again. she had high expectations for her grand-daughter whose blood by birth had already made her a disappointment. due to her mother’s muggleborn status, alanis would not even allow her granddaughter to keep the selwyn family name and instead insisted she go by her mother’s surname. it left dorcas with an obsessive need to prove her grandmother wrong at every turn. as a child, dorcas was put through all the lessons, training, and education as any pureblooded child might have had. yet, no matter how well she performed, it was not considered good enough.

dorcas grew up surrounded by the pureblood society who looked down their nose at the ‘embarrassing halfblood bastard’. needless to say, she didn’t find very many friends in these families. the few she did meant the entire world to her. they were her lifeline and hope that there was something better out there if she could find it. it was hogwarts that saved her. she cried with excitement the night she received her owl.

the sorting hat took it’s precious time in sorting her to gryffindor. he debated slytherin, but dorcas adamantly refused. she knew and hated too many in those walls. ravenclaw was a close second, as her passion for academics is well-noted, but eventually it was settled that due to her growling, she belonged with the other lions. truly, she found a home and a real family with her peers. dorcas worked endlessly to make perfect marks in school. both to prove to her grandmother and the rest of the purebloods that she was just as skilled and talented as any of them. perfection was all she could accept. there were endless nights of studying far beyond the curriculum which had been set, and delving into books well above her year. there was a desperation to know more and be more than just what she was. even the headmaster took a special interest in that drive she had.

in dorcas’s fourth year, her friends finally pushed her to get outside of the library a little more and pursue some hobbies for fun instead of simply ‘being the best’. dorcas’s humor had finally returned to her, and despite her desire to be perfect in her magic abilities, she finally felt more comfortable being herself with all the rule-breaking and fierceness that came with it. she took up a position as a keeper on the gryffindor quidditch team. it proved to be one of the best things that she ever did as it sparked a love of exercise and adventure. it steered her towards the decision to become an auror after graduation. who better to fight these dark art purebloods than someone raised among them, right?

however, not everything goes to plan. after graduation, dorcas did indeed begin on the track to becoming an auror for the ministry of magic. the training was hard, even harder than she’d expected. still, dorcas rose to the challenges and embraced them. all the while, she had pledge to work alongside the order of the phoenix as dumbledore invited her to join the revolutionary group. he had been grooming her abilities and her passion for justice for years. it seemed as though she was just able to manage both jobs, ever the overachiever, until her grandmother’s recent passing. it took an unexpected toll. dorcas quit auror training and began to work full time for the order. with her inheritance, there was no need to struggle for money, and there was a need in the order for dedicated people who were willing to sometimes put their morals on the backburner to be able to accomplish what was best for their side of the war.

again, her efforts did not go unnoticed. more and more she was given the jobs that others were hesitant to take. slowly but surely, people began to turn to her when things needed to be done and there was no one else to do it. it was easy to listen to her words of hope, her passion to keep the other’s safe and well, and the results of her years of rigid perfection in her casting made her a force in a duel. then suddenly and unexpectedly, dorcas was given a position of leadership among the group. she is still struggling to find her balance, often she feels like a lost lamb to slaughter, and can’t be certain she deserves the role. still, she is no stranger to adversity. dorcas is still driven by that need to be the best, but how long can she hold on when it feels like everything is always falling apart?

[alpaca-writes]

Mystics, Chapter 18

When Arch becomes hired on at Mystics by the strange shopkeeper Lyrem Nomadus, everything seems to be going well- in fact, their life nearly becomes perfection. Soon enough, however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as perfect as it seems….

Read Chapters 1-17 and more HERE

Taglist: @myst-in-the-mirror, @livingforthewhump

CW: Gore, food gore, captivity, swearing.

---------------------

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: DINNER IS SERVED

        Perhaps the floor wouldn’t have felt so rough- Perhaps the air would have felt less dry- Perhaps the bars wouldn’t have been staring back at Arch so mockingly- if…

        If they hadn’t practically waltzed into their own prison. Perhaps it would have felt less humbling to be there if they had tried to fight back just a little bit. But it was impossible to do. It was like Paimon had every little one of their muscles at his beck and call. The thought of it made Arch sick to their stomach. They were disgusted with him- with themselves for being too weak to oppose his whims.

        Arch stood in their cell, back to the door as they heard the clanging shut. They felt themselves released from the hold Paimon had and immediately they turned to charge the bars.

         “Let me out you wretched animal!” they noted the distinct change in the way they insulted him. Usually the go-to word was bastard or jackass. Lyrem had really rubbed off on them more than they realized.

         Paimon tilted his head and placed his keys within his robe. Its green silken sheen seemed drastically out of place for a cavern full of tortured souls.

         “That’s no way to speak to your employer.” He wagged a single finger. “Consider this a verbal warning.”

         “Fuck you,” Arch spit. Their hazel eyes still brought a fire of life to their words- all of it burning with the hatred of a thousand suns.

         Paimon raised his eyebrows and moved on.

         That had been… probably hours ago… maybe twelve? Arch had passed out against the cave wall for a while and when they had awoken, nothing had changed. Not a shadow moved along the corridor, and not a single discernable word echoed through to them. They heard screams, whimpers, and cries from men, women, and sometimes even the sounds of young children.

        Their knees hugged up to their chin and they settled their cheeks into the crevasse they created there, allowing their tears to be soaked into the light purple chiffon and satin. And their feet, their poor feet ached. They didn’t know how long it would take the soles to heal, but Arch wasn’t betting that Paimon would be bringing them shoes any time soon- not after their last encounter… And there was no way in hell they’d ask for any.

        The thought was tremendously tempting though.

        The sound of clacking hooves against the ground forced Arch to wipe their tears away, determined to maintain their composure. Soon enough, Paimon appeared at their cell door with a glass of water in their hand.

        Arch didn’t move an inch, but they shifted their eyes up, glaringly.

        Paimon sipped on the glass silently, paying them no attention- refusing them the honour. As though he had planned the moment carefully, Arch found themselves swallowing, and suddenly becoming parched. None of their usual bodily functions seemed to be operating before now.

        It was like Lyrem’s back room- Jess, Kyle, and Marcus never used a bathroom, never ate, never drank any water, and never died from it- even though the time Kyle and Marcus had spent back there without any form of sustenance would have been enough to kill a person. Places like Paimon’s home- places like the back room, were odd exceptions to this rule of human functioning.

        Arch breathed heavily, though they tried their best not to show it.

        “How long do you think it’s been?” Paimon asked, swirling the clear liquid in his hand.

        “What?” Arch’s voice cracked. “I don’t know.”

        “Guess.”

        They rolled their eyes and threw out a higher number than they would have regularly guessed.

        “Seventeen hours.”

        Paimon looked over to them in mild shock. “Close… Eighteen.”

        “Why does it matter?” Arch raised a skeptical brow. They found their eyes lingering on the water glass more than they would have liked.

        “Because I have always been fascinated by the perception of time,” he admitted.

        Arch blinked, and wiped a hand against their face.

        “When can I see Lyrem again?”

        “You won’t be seeing Lyrem for a very long time,” Paimon replied.

        Arch fell contemplatively silent.

        “You see? Perception,” he added, patronizingly. He emptied the glass and it vanished out of his hand as though it had never been there at all. “It’s fascinating. Guess how long it’s been on Earth.”

        Their eyes focused on the rocky floor. They had no choice but to obey.

        “I don’t know,” they answered, honestly.

        “About ten minutes,” Paimon replied. He stared down at them with shining eyes. He turned around, his hooves clacking against the ground as Arch heard his words echo back. “Fascinating, I think.”

        Arch was left alone again, with nothing but a bleak reminder that Paimon was more of an asshole than he ever let on as he had known them on Earth. Arch was still thirsty; and now they knew it was only because Paimon wanted them to be. What felt like many hours, had passed by again. At the knowledge of time being meaningless here, Arch didn’t bother to try and keep track of the minutes. They closed their eyes against the most comfortable of notches in the wall and allowed whatever time to flow, to flow as freely as it willed as they tried to sleep it off.

        Their head lifted up from the wall with a sudden jolt as they heard a rumbling noise. The ground wasn’t moving like it had before, and then Arch heard the rumble again. They looked down, and grew annoyed when the sound originated from their stomach, carrying with it some small pangs of hunger.

        A pressure in their forehead, made them wish to close their eyes again- and they also wished to have something soft… a pillow, a bed… a blanket-

        NO.

        Arch couldn’t afford to think like that. This was the game Paimon wanted them to play. He wanted them to bargain with him. He wanted them to ask for shoes and pillows and water and food. They would stretch their legs, sit back down and try to get some rest again instead of entertaining the notion for even a second that they would give in to a single one of their basic needs.

        From far off down the tunnel, there was a wheel squeaking. It grew louder, and then outside the cell, Arch saw the shining silver rolling tray stop to park. Paimon wasn’t far behind it. There were two dinner settings, covered with their own silver warming bowls. Paimon lifted one of them off, and immediately the scent of a salt and pepper steak, roasted potatoes and mushrooms filled the air. Arch couldn’t help it; their mouth began to water the moment it was uncovered.

        “Hungry?” Paimon asked with a slightly playful note in his voice.

        “No,” Arch lied.

        “Tell the truth.”

        “Yes.”

        “Hm. Well, I have some good news for you, Arch. You and I will be enjoying a lovely dinner together.”

        Paimon unlocked the cell door.

        “Stay,” he commanded and Arch stayed, as if they had any other choice. “Good pup.”

        He lifted one of the covered dishes and handed it to Arch as they stood warily in the corner of their small prison. Paimon returned for a knife and fork and set down a glass of water on the ground before locked the cell again.

        Behind him, a simple stick chair materialized out of the ground below and he sat down in it, using the rolling tray as his table.

        “Go ahead. Eat.”

        Arch heard the command and sat cross legged on the ground, setting their plate in front of them.

        Lifting off the silver warmer, it was soon clear that Paimon had not come to bring them any desirable meal. The dark red liquid ran along the sides of the plate and smelled much worse than the steak did.

        That was because their main course was a raw human heart about the size of their fist.

        Arch gagged at the sight, letting the silver clang noisily to the ground. They were going to be sick- any second now-

        “Eat,” Paimon knew he didn’t need to repeat the command, he was just growing impatient and placed a linen napkin over his lap.

        Shaking and pale, Arch lifted the knife and fork. Sticking it into the left atrium, they heard and felt the sickening pop as the fork broke through. Then, the knife slowly sawed away at a small piece. Arch gagged again before lifting the forkful to their mouth and wished they had a clothespin to stop the heavy scent of blood from rushing into their sinuses. It was warm on their tongue. It was probably fresh.

        It was also rubbery. Hard to chew. Tasted… a little bit too much like metal and vaguely musty with a hint of… was that canola oil? Creamed corn? They shut their eyes tight. Hoping they could just imagine away the uncooked organ as some raw beef. They served that in France, didn’t they? The chewing took the longest time. With each bite down, Arch tried to ignore the rubber band sensation, but it was much harder to ignore the heavy taste of blood and the recurring thought that it had just been inside of someone’s chest.

        They finally choked it down with a hard swallow as Paimon watched on with a smile. Arch shuffled to the side to pick up their water glass and drank it greedily as a stray tear rolled down the side of their face.

         “I was worried that Lyrem would grow soft.” Paimon said, placing a small potato in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed and savored the delicious taste as he reminisced. “Before he had met me, he had nothing. He ran around the world searching for meaning and purpose at the behest of millionaires and politicians but it was never enough. I brought him true love, and in exchange I put his skills to good use. Then, like all men eventually, he decided that he wanted to settle down. He wanted to live normally; grow old with his love and start a family. Well, I certainly couldn’t have that be the reason for a failing business. The last thing I ever wanted was to see him fail... I kept him on the right path. I saw him through the worst of his emotional tribulations with Maria until she finally left the picture, and I convinced him to find someone to new to work with.

        I wasn’t convinced by you in the beginning, I admit. You were too green for my tastes, and that is saying something. But, after I heard what you did for him, and what you did to your poor uncle, well… I realized that perhaps he did not make the mistake I thought he did.

         Then, I heard that Hekate’s debt to Lyrem had been forgiven. She no longer wanted his life paid out in full so, there was no more rush for you. I could sense that he would want to pump the brakes on your advancement in this field. That is why you’re here. I need to make sure you progress properly. Go ahead, sweet thing. Eat up. It will make you big and strong.”

        Arch had taken several bites already, but stopped as they listened to Paimon speak. They sliced into a side of the heart, allowing blood to escape and further pool into the plate.

        “Whose heart is this?” they asked.

        “Are you sure you want to know?”

        A blink, and Arch stuck their tongue between a gap in their teeth in the effort to loosen a piece of tough muscle that had been lodged there.

        “Probably not,” they replied, thankful for the response he gave. They took another bite. Arch burped and covered their mouth. “Excuse me.”

        “It’s a bit hard to get down the first time. That is why I am here to help,” Paimon remarked understandingly. He was nearly finished his meal now.

        “How did you meet Lyrem?” Arch inquired, carving out their next piece onto their fork.

        “He threw himself off a balcony and I saved him.”

        Arch’s eyes grew wide. They couldn’t imagine Lyrem to be anything less than self-preserving. He certainly couldn’t be suicidal.

        “He threw himself off a balcony? … Why would he do that?”

        “Because he was sad, and he was alone. Though, I never understood why he felt that way. He had it all, he had done it all. It turns out all he really needed was a good friend.”

        “Pfft. You?” They commented. “You think you’re a good friend?”

        Paimon raised a comical brow, unoffended and unironically he replied.

        “Well, yes, of course.” He set his plate aside. “I taught him plenty of tricks until he nearly became a god himself. Of course, he will never reach that tier but I was the only one who encouraged him to follow that yellow brick road. Then and even now, all sorts of people; rich, poor, young and old, sought him out for favours of his own, or favours from me. All they needed was something… genuine. An ancient sacrifice, a recent sacrifice, …or something simply more valuable than money could buy, and we would be willing to make an offer and give them whatever they wanted.”

        “And you want me to sell your… indulgences? Lyrem said it himself, I’m not the greatest salesperson. I’m not the same as him.”

        “Oh, sweet thing, yes you are. Just look at you. You’ll carve up a classmate for Lyrem’s spell work- just as he once did for me. Right now, you’re eating a raw human heart to gain mystical power- not even he was willing to do that without a firm shove in the right direction. With just a nudge of encouragement from yours truly, you’re nearly finished your very first. You belong with us. Lyrem’s an old friend; he’s a business partner and you’ve signed on as an employee of this great enterprise.” Paimon’s eyes shone with the inkling of pride as Arch finished the heart in two quick bites and shoved the plate away. “In fact, one day, I believe you’ll make partner.”

        They wanted to puke, but their body wouldn’t let them.

        “Is this the way all your business meetings go?”

        He laughed, throwing his head back.

        “Only the important ones.”

        Arch lifted their head; the life coming back to them that they had felt they had lost time and time again was returning now. Their feet no longer ached. Their head no longer pounded. Their stomach had been satiated completely.

        “So, tell me then,” Arch began, “when do I get a raise?” 

[teflonsos]

⌠ MIGUEL HERRAN, 21, CISMALE, HE/HIM ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, RICARDO ‘RICKY’ ALONSO! according to their records, they’re a FIRST year, specializing in DRIVER’S ED; and they DID NOT go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of (5 a.m. cigarettes after a sleepless night, the smell of burning rubber after driving so fast you break the sound barrier, cheap vodka in an expensive shotglass, scraped knees and elbows from reckless parkour). when it’s the (scorpio)’s birthday on 11/04/98, they always request their CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation. ⌿ kati, 23, est, she/her ⍀ @gallagherintro

STATS / PINTEREST / CONNECTIONS / CLASSES

INSPIRATION.

fernando alonso – formula 1

james hunt – formula 1

jp – redline

peter quill – guardians of the galaxy 

emmett cullen – twilight

mercutio – romeo & juliet

han solo – star wars

charlie pace – lost

vert wheeler �� acceleracers 

BACKGROUND + CLICK FOR FULL BIO.

when ricky is born, there are expectations as the firstborn male but they are expectations that ricky refuses to meet. he’s stubborn, insolent, and straight up annoying. his dad is mysteriously never around and his mother suffers from chronic illness, so he generally has free range of the house and...free range to harass and drive out nanny after nanny

his younger sister is the balancing force in his life, proper in all the ways that he’s a mess and polite in all the ways that he’s uncouth. however, they get along really well and she’s his best friend in an otherwise large, empty house.

as he gets older, his father’s comings and goings are more noticeable to ricky and he realizes that he doesn’t really understand what his dad’s job actually is? and his father won’t answer his questions about it either. one night, when ricky is about ten years old, he sneaks downstairs to find his father covered in blood. at first he screams until he realizes, that’s not his father’s blood – it’s someone else’s.

put the pieces together, his dad is a blackthorne alumn, assassin, and...brotherhood member. 

ricky doesn’t really get the chance to be close with his parents, but he is super close with his grandfather. his grandfather is a big man with a full laugh who used to race formula one like, back in the sixties. he’s a big name, and ricky wants to be like him, and his grandfather is the one that gets ricky really into the sport. racing. 

ricky starts off by racing t cars, and when he’s fourteen and sneaking out to the track with his sister, things go awry. they’re stopped and kidnapped by brotherhood members. from conversations by the kidnappers, he can surmise that his father has something to upset the brotherhood and the kidnapping is a move to keep his father in his place. ricky have to listen to his father tell the kidnappers he doesn’t give a fuck about him (likely a bluff, but still stings) over the phone.

ricky’s father’s move doesn’t work, and he doesn’t get to them in time. ricky has to beg on the phone for his life. a gunshot rings out. everything else is a blur.

ricky wakes up the next day with a million questions, but there’s one answer: his sister will never walk again. a gunshot has left her without the use of her legs, but otherwise she’ll make a full recovery. she encourages ricky to continue his racing and tells him how much she believes in him.

he takes home trophies year after year while t car racing and people start to learn ricky’s name, to see him as an up and comer as they associate him with his grandfather. the next four years are hard work, but he’s healing from trauma with a new passion and a great support system.

ate age 19, he’s on the podium after his third formula three race, and he wins the championship, raining champagne on his teammates and laughing. his nights are busy, filled with parties and clubs, pretty girls and people willing to give him whatever he wants. 

he awaits the next season and the rise into formula two, but he’s getting ahead of himself. late nights spent partying before the race take their toll on him, and his sister says it best. “you shouldn’t go out there,” she says. “i have to go out there. it’s fine, i’m just a little hungover. besides, it’s raining today. i have the advantage.” but he never learns.

ricky crashes hard, lucky to get off with a tbi and some broken ribs, but the drugs in his system render him a pariah and no one will really want to sponsor him after that. everyone had high hopes for him, but now he just looks like another stupid kid. he’ll never forget the disappointment in his grandfather’s eyes. 

he spends most of the year blowing previous winnings.

after all of that bullshit, his grandfather sits him down. “you’re going to apply to gallagher academy,” he says. and that’s when he tells ricky everything, about his father’s profession, just like his grandfather’s brother and father before him. the legacy, the brotherhood, blackthorne academy, and ricky’s both riveted and horrified. “that’s what my sister got shot for?” 

ricky passes the test while the brotherhood still has its claws clenched tightly around the reigns of gallagher academy somewhere. he’s a good driver, the fastest, and he might’ve been the best if he wasn’t so irrational and drunk on his own pride (among other things.) 

before he can gain the skills to stop his father himself, someone else does. the news comes on ricky’s very first day of school: “dad’s been arrested.” and it’s like his whole world stops, because he always knew his father was bad, just someone else got to him first. 

PERSONALITY.

ADVENTUROUS: ricky is not afraid of risks, and actually, this is usually in a good way. he pushes himself to want and pursue fulfilling life experiences, so while he’s made stupid decisions, he never lets fear stop him from taking chances and trying new things, so he’s pretty open-minded 

CHARISMATIC: pretty good at putting on a smile and making himself likable when he needs to be, he has a nice smile and a good-natured spirit even if he can be a bit MUCH at times ! the kind of asshole that you can’t help but like anyway, he means well 

FLEXIBLE: one of his great strengths is his ability to go with the flow, it doesn’t change him around or turn him inside out when things don’t go his way, he’s pretty adaptable and able to adjust when there’s a wrench in his plans

SELF-DESTRUCTIVE: ricky has a habit of ruining things when they’re going good for him, he’s notorious for self-sabotage and it probably comes from a mix of feeling like he’s invincible so he pushes limits and because he’s almost comfortable in the label of fuck-up at this point, not wanting to get his hopes up too high

ENTITLED: whether he likes it or not, he comes from a good family and a past where most things have just been handed to him. so, while he’s worked hard, he’s never had to work...that hard. he feels entitled to success and certain things in life and he can be a bit of a dick about it, even out of touch with other ways of life. he tends to feel like he deserves things, such as his gallagher education or another chance at racing

SELF-CENTERED: apart from his sister, ricky very much puts himself first and can be a bit selfish. it’s mostly out of self-preservation, but most of his thoughts revolve around him. he actually puts a lot of pressure on himself, which is why he turns to unhealthy coping mechanisms and doesn’t look at how his actions affect others in his life

HEADCANONS.

when it comes to his memory loss, it’s pretty manageable. he keeps up with medication and IF he gets a good night sleep/eats well...it’s good on his brain. but sometimes he’s not so great about it! his most common habits are: putting something down and forgetting where he just put it, asking you a question he’s already asked, and he’s bad with names

used to be good at fighting games but now he isn’t and he still tries and it’s sad :(

as you can guess, he’s really bad at card games but he likes to gamble so he’ll just bet on other stuff. always ready to put money on the results of a sports game or something, loves to do fantasy brackets

really likes anime movies! watches a lot, but his faves are obviously redline, akira, princess mononoke, perfect blue, and ghost in the shell. he watches anime too and tbh probably a lot of anime i’ve never seen like naruto, one piece, and cowboy bebop. for my sanity please don’t talk to much about them with him bc i won’t know what to write.

loves to skateboard and snowboard, and is pretty good at it because really the main thing is confidence and he has plenty of that! 

loves to play pranks in class or on people, he’s got a whole repertoire of tricks he used to play on his nannies growing up and has no issue with playing them on a teacher with a stick up their ass

his primary coping mechanisms are 1) hating his father 2) cocaine and 3) acting stupid 

is bisexual and honestly doesn’t give a fuck! guys, girls, whatever, sex is sex and he’s gonna like who he likes. has never come out to his parents but has never known them well enough for it to matter. 

had a steady long term girlfriend but she broke up with him when he started to tank his future and started partying more, probably as self-preservation for herself and ricky feels guilty about how he treated her, doesn’t want to put anyone else through that

really likes german cars so it’s a bummer that he missed out on the berlin trip, he’s going to geek out and cry any time someone mentions berlin to him, he’ll be so jealous of their semester

has wicked good eyesight, 20/20 vision which is great on the track but he also has really good aim on a shooting range, he’s a pretty observant person as well 

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

BROTHERHOOD CONNECTIONS. Someone who also had someone close to them (likely a family member) that was also arrested for being involved with the Brotherhood by the strike team. Both Ricky and your muse are dealing with the shock of this together. 

FAN? SOMEONE WHO FOLLOWS RACING? Someone who watched Ricky’s rise and fall from grace by being invested in F1. It would make sense if they were a big fan of Ricky’s grandfather...and Ricky is the disappointment. Idk someone with predisposed opinions on Ricky. 

PARTNER IN CRIME. The two of them just vibe like immediately they both have the same chaotic energy and encourage each other’s recklessness to take chances and do stupid shit, are probably hilarious and can’t take anything seriously when they’re in the same room together, the kind of friends that other people can’t stand to see them together.

WHOLESOME FWB. They get along really well as friends and mainly just need to scratch an itch sometimes. None of that toxic shit, they probably lay around and talk about their crushes and are actually friends.

CONFIDANT. Late night rooftop conversations, this person can get Ricky to open up, is probably someone who is really chatty and comfortable with their own emotions and they encourage Ricky to be open about his. 

INFATUATION. Ricky doesn’t know your muse at all, just sees them in the hallway and thinks they’re super hot, probably an older and unattainable student that wouldn’t give him a second glance but he’s like...this is my future spouse. They just don’t know I exist. Has never talked to them and they might not even vibe if they ever spoke lol. 

ENEMIES? They simply don’t! Get along? Hate at first sight? They see Ricky smoking a blunt on campus and think he’s stupid irresponsible? He doesn’t remember their name when he should have? He makes a stupid immature comment that rubs your muse the wrong way? Any of the above, ready to fight at any moment. 

RACING BUDDIES. Another driver’s ed student who is willing to race with him after hours or practice together, they both wanna fuck the cars, they both are super competitive and bring that out in each other. 

OLD FAMILY FRIENDS. Their parents knew one another, likely on his dad’s (Blackthorne/spy) side, and they grew up closely. After the kidnapping happened, your character’s parent stopped speaking to the Alonsos and distanced themselves. Your character is probably the only one who knows about that part of Ricky’s past in any detail. 

GOT OFF ON THE WRONG FOOT. Ricky tried to flirt with your character but actually wound up pissing them off by seeming like an entitled white boy, which he is. He’s trying to prove to your character that he’s not so bad! This connection has nothing to do with feet I just had no better ideas for a name I hate feet. 

REALLY BAD SEX. your muse has ricky saved in their phone like [link]...prob a hookup that happens on one of the first days after he heard about his dad but...he’s fucked up and sad and he can’t get it up! It’s literally so embarrassing, maybe they’re both embarrassed, he wants to die when he sees ur muse around bc they saw his limp ass sad boy dick.

CAT AND MOUSE TYPE THING. essentially ricky has a bunch of attempts to flirt with your muse & your muse fucking hates it. Tom and jerry but like, if tom wanted to fuck jerry. I think of this gifset. 

[getitinbusan]

Jinnuendo

Jinnuendo Submitted by @befriendswithj​ is the first fic for our Campfire writing game. Jungkook, Jimin And Yoongi coming soon. Taehyung, Namjoon and J Hope are still open!

Camping with your friends was supposed to be fun- you could only agree, now that Jin had made camping even funner. 

 Jin x Reader

8806 Words

Genre: Fluff, Friends to lovers, Smut, Crack,

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, dirty talk, fingering, outdoor sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it, kids), Jimin’s cakes, The title… Well, there’s no excuse for that, sorry

I think that’s it?

_______________

“Yikes, I wouldn’t wanna be her right now”

Said the bus boy standing next to you, crossing his arms as he watched the restaurant manager approach the newest addition to the waiter team, who was currently involved in a rather heated discussion with a guest,

“It’s a shame she’s gonna have to leave, she was nice…”

You added and both of you sighed heavily and returned to your duties while the poor girl was being fired for standing her ground. She was the third one this month alone. To be fair, your manager was not an easy man to please, so it only made sense that new additions to the tea would be examined even more closely than you and the others, who had worked here for longer. The only thing keeping you safe from the manager’s wrath was your natural ability to fake-smile for hours on end. It was a gift as much as it was a curse but it had secured your job in the customer service sector so far.

And soon you will have survived another painful day of serving bitchy, rude and entitled Karen’s and Chad’s for the sake of financing your studies. At least they tipped well if you smiled hard enough.

This was your last day of work before you could look forward to two weeks of uninterrupted relaxation time. You handed in your last paper for this semester last week, so all of the work for university was also

done and nothing would interfere with your plans to sleep for three days straight and then spend the rest of the time at the beach, cooking in the sun.

“See you guys in a few weeks”

You yelled into the kitchen after you gathered your things and clocked out for the night. A few hurried goodbyes reached your ears before you exited through the back door of the restaurant and finally breathed in the fresh air, smelling of freedom and definitely not the burger grease stench coming from the kitchen AC vent.

No, it was definitely freedom and it was glorious.

_________

After a hot shower and big glass of wine you were slumped on your couch, ready to pass out any second now, when your phone went off and almost gave you a heart-attack.

You took a deep breath and checked the caller ID to see your friend Seokjin calling,

“What is it?”

Normally, Jin calling was a thing you were happy about, however, being interrupted while passing out after a 10-hour shift at your job, was not a happy occasion and you couldn’t mask the annoyance in your voice,

“Whoa, what’s got your panties in a twist? Did that guy at work steal your tips again?”

He asked and you breathed a heavy sigh,

“No, I think he learnt his lesson after I cut out the butt on all his work pants…

You answered, slowly sitting up and reaching for your wine glass to empty it with a last few sips before continuing the conversation

“Why are you calling so late? I was about to fall asleep…”,

“I just wanted to remind you to pack if you haven’t done it already. Which you probably haven’t. Case in point”

Pack? You creased your brows. Pack for what?

“YN? You still there?”,

“Uhh, yeah I am I just… can you remind me what I’m supposed to be packing for?”

If you weren’t so tired, you’d probably be a little more embarrassed,

“Seriously? It’s that time of the year, YN! It’s blackout week! Joon send everyone reminders months ago! And then weeks ago! And then again 2 days ago! How could you forget the most magical event of the year?”

You needed to hold the phone at a slight distance as to not go deaf at the sound of Seokjin’s friendly reminder. He was right, though, how could you forget? Blackout Week was the one week that you and your group of friends all looked forward to collectively every year. A whole week of camping in the mountains near a beautiful lake and no one was allowed to bring any kind of electronic devices, unless it was absolutely necessary for survival. A flashlight would be an exception but other than that you guys were pretty adapt at reverting your way of life back to the good old dark ages.

You were lucky that Jungkook and Hoseok had been part of a group of boy scouts or else blackout week would have ended in a disaster each time. Yeah well, maybe you had exaggerated when you said that all of you were pretty adapt at this stuff… But nevertheless, you were all very determined, which was just as important,

“Shit, you’re right, I completely forgot…”

You ran your hand across your face and sighed,

“Of course, you forgot, why am I even surprised…”

Jin sounded more upset that he actually was, you knew him by now. You just needed to work him a little bit,

“How early are we leaving tomorrow? Can I do it in the morning? I’m so tired…”

You probably sounded a little whiney but that usually did the trick with Jin,

“I told you to be ready at 5, you know how long the drive is. Ah YN, I still can’t believe it, you’re so careless sometimes…”

He already sounded a little softer,

“I’m sorry, I’ll start packing right now, ok?”,

You made sure to sound like the helpless damsel in distress you wanted Jin to believe you were and you were sure you had cracked him. You heard him sigh heavily on the other end of the line,

“Do you need help packing? I’ll come over and help you, it’ll be quicker and you can get more sleep”,

“Are you sure? It’s late already…”,

“Just stay awake for the next fifteen minutes and open the door when I knock, ok? I’ll be right there”,

“Ok…”

He hung up and you smiled to yourself. There were a few advantages to knowing how Jin’s mind worked. And knowing Jin, he would never not come and help you out and you were grateful to have such a selfless friend. He knew you were an absolute mess and he didn’t mind picking up your slack once in a while because you took care of him in turn. It wasn’t like you turned up whenever he called, like he usually did for you but you were the type of friend to think of things he forgot to do for himself. You had been friends for so long, that he had given you a key to his apartment a while back and you used it to make sure his fridge was always stocked, and his plants were taken care of. He worked a lot. Way more than you and the little things like self-care and chores sometimes got put on the back burner. Since you had a little more time on your hands you would take care of these things once in a while.

Before you got up off the couch to put on some comfy pants, you stretched your tired limbs and pressed play again to let Netflix run in the background.

Jin knocked right as you finished pouring two mugs of coffee, which both of you would probably need to undertake the monumental task of packing your camping bag. You opened the door and let him inside, handing him the mug right away and watching a smile creep onto his face,

“Coffee was a good idea”

He said and slurped loudly after he closed the door,

“Thought it would make me feel less dead. I have yet to see that theory proven”

You sipped on your coffee, too,

“Thank you for helping me, though, I completely forgot about the trip”

Jin waved you off,

“At this point I’d be surprised if you actually had remembered it. I know I’m usually the busy one but this semester you’ve had so much stuff to do, that I can’t even be mad you forgot everything not related to uni”

You smiled at him. Even though Jin loved to get his Dad mode on and get all red-faced and out of breath from all the scolding, he was a softie at heart and everyone knew, no matter how hard he puffed up his chest, he never really meant any harm. He was all bark and no bite and none of your friends took anything he said seriously,

“Let’s get started then”

He said and put down the mug in your sink before waltzing off towards your bedroom and digging around in your closet until he emerged with your suitcase. You watched him zoom around the place for a second until you joined him, sitting down on the bedroom floor and grabbing some clothes to roll up and place in the case,

“You want some snacks?”

You asked Jin in case he wanted some food in addition to the great entertainment you provided with Netflix in the background, your loud combined breathing and the rustling of useless stuff around you as you moved it around to find viable things to pack,

“I’m good, thanks, though”

He said and dived head first into a pile of clothes to look for your warmer sweatshirts. The end of summer was in sight and you would be staying pretty high up the mountains, so better be prepared,

“Although… do you still have some of those mini pretzels?”,

“Yeah, sure”

You got up and got him the bag of his beloved snack and then it was time to get some real work done.

_________

“Thank GOD we finally made it!”

Jin jumped out of the car and went to kneel down to kiss the ground but you stopped him before things could get ugly. What a baby, you thought to yourself… so what if you sang along to Cotton Eyed Joe for three hours straight? It’s a timeless masterpiece,

“So what if I sang along to Cotton Eyed Joe for three hours straight, it’s a timeless masterpiece!”

You argued and Jin’s eyes almost bulged out of his head,

“A timeless- can you even comprehend the unspeakable agony I was in? It felt like my soul left my mortal body and only the haunting of Cotton Eyed Joe remained…”

He could be such a drama queen sometimes. You rolled your eyes and sighed; deciding to be the bigger person really should be considered a virtue,

“Anyway, we made it here on time, didn’t we? You sure know how to burn some rubber when you don’t like the music I play…”

Jin pulled himself off the ground, holding onto the car door. His joints weakly cracked while he got up,

“I aged like 30 years during this trip and it’s only just starting…”

He mumbled to himself, shaking his head and making his neck crack in addition to everything else,

“What was that?”

You asked and Jin quickly went to unload the trunk,

“Nothing, nothing”

He answered, avoiding an even longer discussion about Cotton Eyed Joe.

You quickly joined him and had your bags unloaded in no time.

It seemed like you were the first ones to arrive at the camping site and when you informed Jin of that, his mood immediately shifted,

“We get to choose our spot?”

He looked at you in disbelief,

“Seems like it…”,

“Finally, we don’t have to sleep next to the dumpster!”

You never got to choose your spot because you had never been the first ones to arrive,

“Jin, there isn’t even a dumpster here, were in the middle of literal nowhere, nothing but lake, mountains and forest for miles”,

“True but somehow, the garbage always ended up being next to our tent because it was the only space left”

Ok, well, you guessed that was kinda true. You didn’t mind it though, you were a heavy sleeper,

“Ok, so let’s pick a good spot this time, hm?”

You said, clapped your hands together and looked around to assess the available spots,

“How about over there?”

You pointed to the edge of the clearing, where the trees began to grow thicker and taller. Jin squinted and pursed his lips,

“Hmmmm….”

He hummed and you guessed you wouldn’t be setting up there,

“What do you think about setting up here?”

You walked into the middle of the clearing, near the stump where the campfire would be set up later and Jin immediately pursed his lips even harder and hummed louder and you quickly suggested more,

“Ok, so near the lake then? Work with me here, Jin”

You walked down to the soft grass near the shore and presented it as appealingly as possible and Jin lips formed a smile. He nodded, finally. He walked towards you with the rolled-up tent under his arm and you planted it firmly in the ground. Not a second to soon, too because right after you set it down, another car approached and parked right beside Jin’s,

“Ah, the cavalry arrives”

You commented and just as you and Jin had planted the last fixture and the tent was stable, the car doors opened and the three Musketeers exited the vehicle in style.

Yoongi, sporting his usual urban-grandpa-couture, adjusted his tinted glasses and ran a hand through the hair that stuck out from his

headband, before he casually nodded at you and Jin in greeting. Hoseok and his brother Taehyung waved at you enthusiastically in their brightly coloured jackets and each held up a bag filled with goodies that looked extremely promising,

“Woooow! You’re here early!”

Hoseok could barely believe it,

“And you even grabbed the best spot, well done guys!”

He congratulated you, genuinely surprised that you made it here before anyone else for the first time,

“be honest, did you ever expect this to happen?”

You asked him as he came over to hug you and Jin simultaneously,

“Not in a million years”,

“But we’ve been rooting for you guys ever since we started this tradition”

Tae said as he leisurely strolled over and hugged you tightly,

“Thanks, it only took us almost 10 years to get here, so we’re gonna make sure to rub it in your faces whenever possible”

Jin piped up and you chuckled to yourself,

“If you got here so early you could have prepared the fire already instead of being lazy”

Yoongi grumbled and trudged over, as well,

“Missed you too, boo bear”

You cooed at him and went to pinch his cheeks,

“Goochie goo, look at you, you put on weight”

You loved treating him like a baby. He also loved it when you did it but he would sooner die than ever admit to that,

“Ugh, don’t touch me”

He weakly tried to wiggle out of your grip on his pinchable cheeks and after they presented all the goodies, they brought with them, you helped the guys set up their tent. Then you actually did prepare the fire.

The last of your friends to arrive were Namjoon, his baby cousin Jungkook and Jimin. Even more pinchable cheeks for you to victimize, you thought, rubbing your hands together evilly.

When they arrived, the rest of you were sitting around the fire and you only noticed their arrival when you heard their voices approach through the trees. Apparently, they had chosen to hike here,

“I’m never listening to you again… hiking here, I can’t believe I thought this was a good idea”

Joon said, sounding somewhat out of breath as he and Jungkook stepped into the clearing. He dropped his bags and drew in a long breath,

“Come on, it wasn’t that bad! And it’s not like you couldn’t use a little more exercise…”

Jungkook said, mumbling the last part of the sentence,

“What was that?”,

“Nothing, nothing…”

Jungkook picked up Joon’s bags in addition to his and marched on towards you guys, sitting by the fire. Jimin stepped out of the woods last and looked just as ethereal as everyone remembered. As he ran a hand through his hair, the sun immediately took a step back to let him take the place in the spotlight.

A collective sigh ran through your group and a couple of awkward glances and coughs were exchanged before you all got your bearings back. He smiled when he saw you and gave a little wave that made you giggle like a little girl when you waved back. Jin could only shake his head in disbelief. Sure, Jimin was hot. Even he could admit to that; but surely you thought Jin was handsome, too, right?

“Sorry we’re late, guys!”

Jungkook said as he reached you and set the bags down,

“Don’t worry about it”

Hoseok got up first and hugged the younger boy tightly before the rest of you got up and said hi. Joon and Jimin walked over, too and the hugging continued for a little longer than usual hugging because everyone took a little more time to get an extended hug with Jimin. It was honestly ridiculous how thirsty all of you were for him. And the poor guy had no idea.

______

After all the tents had been set up, everything was prepared and all of you had settled back around the fire, you watched Yoongi and Jimin prepare dinner, while Hoseok and Taehyung played UNO and Jungkook was scribbling something in a notebook. Jin was sitting next to you and reading through the gas grill’s user manual, Jimin and Yoongi were currently trying t get to work,

“Are you sure, you’re not holding it upside down?”

You asked him and reached out to grab it from him but he held it out of your reach and sighed,

“YN, I know how to read a damn…- hold on, it’s actually upside down”,

“Wait, really?

You were only joking about the upside-down thing,

“NO, of course not! How incapable do you think I am?”

Jin slapped your shoulder with the papers and you laughed as you tried to lean away far enough,

“Very, and I’m not even sorry for it”

you said and Jin’s mouth dropped open and he coughed out a laugh,

“With a friend like you, I really don’t need any enemies”

He said and you leaned back in to look up at him and channel your cutest pout,

“This is why you love me, though”

You were right, he thought, no one could make him feel so dumb, yet so happy at the same time. Especially with an annoyingly cute pouty face like yours,

“You’re lucky, that’s true”

He continued flipping through the manual and soon, the grill was working and he saved Yoongi and Jimin from their misery. Just in time, too because Tae was getting hungry and no one wanted to deal with that.

_______

“Aw man, that was so good!”

Jungkook said, stuffing the last food from his bowl into his mouth, chewing loudly,

“You want the rest of mine?”

You asked him, holding your bowl in his direction and he nodded eagerly, big eyes getting even bigger,

“There you go, big boy”

You smiled to yourself and handed him your bowl,

“God, where is all that food even going?”

Yoongi said, as he watched Jungkook devour the additional food he had just received,

“Shhh, let him eat”

You shushed Yoongi with a pat to his leg and watched Jungkook munch happily,

“Anyone want some rice cakes?”

Jimin piped up and opened up a Tupperware filled with the juicy looking sweet treats,

“Oooooh, Jimin, they look amazing!”

You couldn’t believe your eyes; they were your favourite,

“I knew you’d like them”

Jimin said as he watched your eyes and smile grow bigger,

“Have some”

He added and held the box your way,

“Oh yes! Thank you”

You got up and tiptoed around the fire to kneel in front of him to munch on his cakes.

You looked at him with glossy eyes, happy that he remembered your favourite treat. And they were good, too. So good, that you had to close your eyes as you had the first bite,

“Ohmygod”

You mumbled with a full mouth,

“Amazing”

You said and Jimin smiled proudly. Jin watched the interaction quietly from his seat.

Damn, he thought, he should have remembered to bring some rice cakes for you. He wasn’t really jealous of Jimin and his cakes. Really, he wasn’t. He was convinced that little crush of yours was completely food related, so he didn’t really think there was anything more to it. All he wanted was for that interaction to have taken place with him and also, for you to give all your attention to him and not Jimin. That seems like a reasonable mindset, right? So, in conclusion, he wasn’t jealous, at all.

However, when Jimin took a second rice cake out of the box and held it to your lips, time seemed to slow down for Jin and not in the good, romantic way he would have preferred it. Jimin gently placed the cake in your mouth and your lips closed around his finger for a second before he slowly pulled away. You moaned in pleasure as you started chewing and Jin had to bite down on his tongue to not lose his mind. To the others this was a completely normal and innocent thing to witness; just two friends sharing some food, what’s wrong with that? Everything, according to the way Jin was currently staring Jimin down and tried to telepathically communicate his disdain for the way he fed you food in the most erotic way possible. Ok, maybe he was a little jealous, after all.

Why was this suddenly getting to him? He knows that the relationship you have with him isn’t purely based on friendship, since the both of you had had some ambiguous moments of will they, won’t they before but it was never really anything you acted upon or even talked about. Nothing to take seriously.

Maybe, by watching you and Jimin flirt so innocently, he had just realized now, how precious you really were to him and that he wanted to try and incorporate a romantic aspect into your relationship.

Or maybe, he just never felt threatened before. Never felt like his place in your life was about to be taken away from him by a guy with sweet, juicy and delicious cakes.

Damn Jimin’s cakes! Jin got up and started collecting everyone’s dishes. He didn’t want to continue watching you basically crawling in Jimin’s lap and sucking the cakes off his fingers.

Maybe he went a little too hard with the whole dish collecting thing because as he ripped Jungkook’s bowl from his hands, the younger hadn’t completely finished I and yelled after Jin, as he went down to the lake and started vigorously scrubbing everything.

However, Jin didn’t know that he had absolutely nothing to be jealous of because as soon as he had left the circle, Tae, who was sat next to Jimin, made him feed him cakes, as well.

Let’s just say that even someone as oblivious as you knew when some actual sexual tension was developing. You decided it was time to awkwardly retreat to your seat now, before you were sandwiched in between the two boys. Only now did you notice that Jin had left the comfort of his camping chair,

“Hey, were did he go?”

You asked Joon, who was wrapped in a thick jacket with his hands around a warm cup of tea. While someone outside of your circle might be a little confused at the sight of someone with such a warm jacket on in this warm weather, you had stopped wondering about his weird habits a while ago. He slurped his tea and pointed down to the shore where, if you squinted heavily, you could faintly recognise the outline of Jin’s body in the dark. You excused yourself from the others and walked the short distance to join Jin in washing the dishes. He was slumped over, kneeling at the shore and, apparently, hadn’t noticed you approaching. So you yelled and gripped his shoulders from behind:

“Careful!”

The high-pitched scream he let out almost burst your eardrums but it was definitely worth it to see him almost jump into the water in shock,

“What the hell, YN? Why would you do that?”

He was clearly very upset about the whole thing but you only snickered like a mean little kid and kneeled down next to him,

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t resist”

You said and took the knife he was scrubbing out of his hands. Safer this way. Even in the dark you could see his eyes, big as saucers and it only made you laugh more. You took his hand in yours in apology and Jin didn’t resist, he just yelled louder like he usually did,

“You’re such a brat! I volunteer to do the dishes and what do you do? Wow, the disrespect is off the charts!”

His yelling was like an affectionate pat on the back by now because you knew he would never actually yell at you in anger. He knew you loved it because you always laughed even harder when he started ranting. And when you squeezed his hand a little tighter, he was sure there was nothing he enjoyed more than making you laugh by making an ass of himself,

“I’ll stop, I promise!”

You bowed your head and clutched his hand to your chest, still smiling,

“Tsk, empty promises”

He shook his head and you looked up at him,

“I’ll make it up to you, I’ll help you with the dishes”

You said eagerly,

“And also, I snagged one of the rice cakes for you”

Jin listened up,

“I know you love these things even more than I do”

He heard some shuffling and then you held your hand up in front of his face, a tiny cake sitting in your palm,

“Open up”

You said, taking the cake between two fingers and holding it up for Jin,

“For me?”

He asked, just to make sure he wasn’t imagining this,

“Of course, for you, you genius”

Jin slowly opened his mouth and you gently placed the treat in it, like Jimin did with you. However, Jin didn’t think of Jimin in this moment, he only thought about the way your thumb lingered on his lower lip for a few seconds before you pulled your hand back. He felt his affection for you stir in his heart again.

He also felt something else stir in a different bodily region at the feeling of your fingers on his lips.

He quickly turned away and swallowed the sweet cake before clearing his throat,

“Thanks”

He managed to mumble and went right back to washing dishing and willing away the growing problem you were responsible for,

“Move over, I’ll help”

You said and crowded his space again to help him with the dishes and then a comfortable silence set in, only interrupted by the occasional loud laughter from the rest of the guys.

_________

The last night approached quicker than all of you would have liked. After all of the days spent on the lakeshore, basking in the sun and eating smores at night around the campfire, it was finally time to return to your normal life. You and Jin had gotten used to the tent situation quickly, even though it wasn’t the most comfortable or convenient.

Well, for Jin at least. After the you had gone to sleep on the first night, Jin lay awake for a while longer, not being able to get your small fingers and your gentle touch out of his mind and it didn’t help that you were right here next to him, bodies only separated by a thin sheet you used as blanket.

And it had only gotten worse.

Tonight, the silhouette of your body, illuminated by the dying light of the fire outside, made Jin especially weak. He, like you and the others, had a few drinks to celebrate your trip and commemorate your friendship and, surprisingly, alcohol didn’t do a lot to enhance his self -control. More like the opposite,

“You good? Are you comfortable?”,

“Yeah”,

“Ok”

You and Jin had finally arranged yourselves into the bed rolls and were about to go to sleep. You were turned away from him with not a lot of distance between your bodies. It had been an especially hot day and even though it was already dark, the air and the ground hadn’t begun to cool down, yet. Jin was uncomfortable in the heat and he had already stripped down to his briefs; just being in the tent, next to you, not even a sheet over your bodies, to avoid even more heat, he felt like his body was heating up even more. He heard you shuffle around a little and then your thin top was flying over his face and you wore nothing but your underwear,

“I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable but I feel like I’m melting”

You said and fanned your face to feel even the slightest relief from the heat. Jin didn’t say anything for a few seconds, too caught up in the realisation that you were in nothing but your underwear, right next to him,

“It’s fine”

His voice betrayed him, sounding breathy and thin. He cleared his throat,

“Don’t worry about it”

There, he sounded super manly again,

“I’m dying over here… it was nice when we were in the water but now? I’m not made for this weather”

You lamented and turned to Jin, tucking your hands under your head to be comfortable. He was glad that it was so dark because if there were even a little bit more light coming in from the outside you would have seen him staring shamelessly at your tits, pushed together between your arms,

“Yeah it’s uh… really bad”

Very smooth, Jin, managing to answer even though his briefs were getting uncomfortably tight, he thought to himself. The fire outside finally went out completely and the clinking of glasses and the sound of another tent zipper let you know that the last of your friends were about to hit the hay, as well,

“Do you mind if I open the zipper? Let some more air in?”

You asked and sat up already,

“No, go ahead, can’t be worse than this, anyway”

You felt around for the zipper and dragged it down until the flaps of the tent opened and a slight breeze greeted you from outside,

“Well, it’s not much but I can breathe a little better”,

You fell back into the bed roll with a sigh and Jin suddenly had an idea,

“Hey, YN”,

“Hm?”,

“How about we just go down to the lake? Put our feet in the water, cool down a little, you know?”,

“Mhmh, I guess”,

“It’s probably more effective than just opening the zipper”,

“Yeah, you’re right”

You sighed again and sat up in the tent,

“Ok then, let’s go. We gotta be quiet though, I think everyone’s sleeping already”

You said and Jin sat up, too, to crawl out of the tent and help you stand up after you crawled out, too. He grabbed your hand and slowly you navigated the dark clearing in the full moon light down to the soft grass around the lake shore until you felt the water gently lap on your feet.

Both of you sat down on the grass and let the waves envelope your feet on their way up,

“Ugh, I already feel so much better”

You relaxed and lay back on the grass, stretching your overheated and tired limbs,

“Same”

Jin stretched his legs, tapping and tickling your smaller feet with his and making you giggle,

“Jin, that tickles”

You tried to wiggle away, and escape his big gorilla feet,

“Is this an unexplored fetish of yours?”

you asked, making Jin laugh and trying to not be too loud,

“The tickling or the feet?”,

“Oh my god is it both?”,

“Are you kink-shaming me?”

“Definitely! Feet are gross”

You smiled and pushed yourself off the grass back into a sitting position,

“I don’t have a weird kink, calm down”

Jin loved riling you up, just as much as you did it to him,

“Anyway, I’m gonna go in, I think.”

He announced after he was done teasing you and slowly waded into the shallow water,

“you coming?”

You looked up at him, shaking your head,

“I don’t think so, I don’t have my bathing suit. Don’t wanna sleep in wet undies”

“Suit yourself. But don’t complain about the heat”

He simply said and turned around, walking until water reached up to his ribs.

It probably wouldn’t be so bad to get your underwear wet; in this heat they would be dry in no time anyway. But another thought crossed your mind and you contemplated just going commando. Even though yours and Jin’s relationship had never been anything more that friendly, except for a little flirting here and there, you felt like it could be more. There could be more to the flirting and the innocent hand touching. And times like these made you want to just cross the line. Despite Jin thinking he was pretty subtle about everything, you had noticed how, during the trip, he eyed you and Jimin curiously whenever you were talking. You had also noticed how he tried to put as much distance between you as possible in the tent as to not push his very obvious hard on anywhere near you. By now you just wanted to see if he would cross the line first.

Watching him, you unclipped your bra and slipped your panties down your legs, before you also let the cool waves roll against your body. He had already made his way a little farther out and you stopped where your feet could still feel the ground and the water just reached around your clavicle,

“Guess the heat finally got to you, hm?”

Jin said, as he noticed you approaching,

“Right, the heat”

You mumbled and he swam closer, back to your,

“Not worried about the clothes anymore?”

You shook your head and smiled,

“What clothes?”,

“Your under- Oh”

Jin stopped in the middle of the sentence after he had realised what you meant. His mouth fell open as his eyes took in the naked line of your shoulders, no straps in sight,

“I didn’t wanna get them wet”

You said and Jin has to swallow hard. You’re naked under the blurry sheen of the water and he doesn’t know how to handle the situation,

“Yeah, no, I get it, convenience and all that, right?”

He laughs awkwardly and tries and fails to cover up his sudden insecurity about your naked boobs just a few inches away from his face,

“Yeah, I just thought I’d let the girls breathe, you know?”

You looked down and Jin could see your hands covering your boobs right under the surface,

“Yeah, yeah, no big deal, just let the… the girls out”

He took a deep breath and tried to look anywhere but your hands encasing your tits. The trees were pretty in the dark, so out there. And their crowns looked so big and full and round in the moonlight. They were probably very soft if he were to submerge his face between them.

Yeah, trees really were something; He had always been a tree guy.

And he probably should take a step back so he wouldn’t accidentally poke you in the stomach,

“Are you ok? Am I making you uncomfortable?”

You asked, your voice sounding all soft an innocent,

“Do you want me to put it all back on?”

Jin whipped his head around at that and held his hands up,

“No! No, I mean…”

More awkward coughing,

“Don’t bother, you’re comfortable. I’m completely fine”

You giggled cutely and Jin felt his self-control pack its bags and jump out of the window,

“Are you sure? You seem kinda bothered…”

You took a step forward and Jin escaped immediately,

“I think I’m gonna go back out, it’s freezing in here, don’t you think?”

He stuttered and rushed through the water so fast that I splashed you in the face. You smiled to yourself, fully aware that Jin was definitely not unbothered by your boobs. A fact, that you would use to your advantage.

And Entertainment.

You also swam back to the shore, where Jin was already standing on the grass again, his back turned to the water. When the water wasn’t high enough to cover up your nakedness anymore you wanted to get Jin’s attention again. You slowly exited the water and walked towards Jin, who was currently picking up your underwear carefully. You noticed him stalling a moment and feeling the soft fabric of your panties between his fingers before he spoke up,

“YN, I’ll leave your stuff closer to the water, ok?”

He said, thinking you were still swimming around without a care in the world,

“No need”

You said from behind him and he jumped, dropping your things, then tripped and landed on his ass, as he tried to put some more distance between you again,

“Ah… you scared me again”

He said, sitting on the floor and covering his eyes with his fingers immediately. He was only able to see your face through the gaps between his fingers. You didn’t say anything; you just stood there for a few seconds, making Jin suffer even more,

“I uh, do you wanna go back by any chance? I’m kinda tired”

He tried to find an excuse to flee again but you weren’t having it. You knelt down and placed your self firmly in his lap, straddling him,

“I don’t wanna go back, yet”

You mumbled and gently wrapped your small fingers around the wrist of Jin’s hand, trying to get him to uncover his eyes and look at you. He resisted. Not at all cost but it was enough to give you pause and make you doubt your intentions,

“Jin, it’s ok, you can look”

You tried to soothe him a little but he didn’t relent,

“YN, please, I’m trying so hard”

He whispered, hoping you would get the message.

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to look, he definitely wanted to. He was sure, the hard dick poking you in the thighs told you so very clearly. It was just that he wasn’t sure what would happen, if he gave in. Your friendship was something he treasured and was thankful for every day, no matter how annoying you could be at times,

“Would it be so bad? We’ve been friends for so long, have you never thought about it?”

Your soft voice slowly but surely worked on dismantling his determination,

“Of course, I thought about it. Multiple times, actually. Especially this week”

Jin answered and he felt you shift slightly above him,

“So, if you thought about it, does that mean… you don’t want to?”

He thought he heard something like disappointment in your voice and he was never good at ignoring when you felt down,

“Are you kidding? You think I’d be this hard if I didn’t want to?”

He tried to lighten the mood and let his free hand move up and down your thigh,

“I’ve been wanting to do this for ever, YN, I just don’t know if this is a good idea”,

“Jin, please…”

He swallowed as he felt you move again, this time you were pushing down on him, grinding against him and he had a hard time to keep his eyes covered,

“Shit”

He cursed at the feeling of you grinding on him and you moved his hand higher from your thigh while you tried again to remove his hand from his face. He slowly let you but he kept his eyes closed,

“Jin, look at me”

You now held both of his hands in yours and you slowly moved the up your body until they cupped your breasts. You sighed and squeezed Jin’s hands around them making him moan and his head fell forward, against your shoulder,

“YN, fuck, you need to stop… I’m a weak man and your tits feel amazing”

He started squeezing on his own and slowly rubbed his thumbs on your nipples,

“Touch me, baby, please”

Your pleas were making him so weak and he knew there was no way he would stop now, that he felt your soft skin under his hands. He turned his head just a little, placing his lips against your neck and kissing you gently. He listened to your moans and let you move against him, rub yourself against his dick in his briefs and it made him so hard; shit, you just felt so good against him, warm and soft and your tits were so fucking nice he couldn’t form a coherent thought anymore. He wanted more, needed more, needed to touch more and taste more of you, so he quickly spun you around and pushed your body back into the soft grass and hovered above you,

“Kiss me”

You whine and he wants nothing more than to kiss every inch of your skin. Starting with your pretty lips; you pretty lips which were always pouting smiling, making him crazy and making him wish he knew what the felt like around his dick. He leans down and they’re so soft. So damn soft like your beautiful tits, which he went right back to squeezing and massaging, making you moan into his mouth. Then it’s wet; tongues finding each other, wet bodies grinding together and your wet pussy rubbing against him. God, you’re so wet. He even feels it through his boxer briefs. He never thought he’d be able to get you this wet. When you lift your legs and wrap them around his hips, he can’t hold back any longer,

“Shit, you feel so good, YN, so fucking soft”

He starts kissing your neck again, moving along the smooth skin down to your collarbone and then further down to suck one of your nipples into his mouth. You moaned and ran your hands through his hair, tugging slightly and running your nails along his scalp,

“Feel good, baby?”

He asked, voice rough as he switched sides,

“So good…”

You managed to answer through your bliss-clouded mind,

“Want more”

You added and weakly grabbed one of Jin’s hands to move it lower, between your legs,

“More? Want me here? Want me to touch your pussy?”

You never would have guessed Jin would be so vocal during sex, you always thought he’d be the sweet and vanilla type of guy but you weren’t about to complain when his fingers felt so good rubbing your lower lips,

“Yes, touch me, please, want you so much”

you pulled his face back down to yours to kiss him as he let his fingers slide through your wetness and moaned into the kiss at how fucking good it felt,

“Shit, you’re so wet… so fucking warm, fuck”

He started rubbing your clit lightly and you broke the kiss to bury your face in his neck and muffle your moans,

“Ah, Jin…”,

“Like this?”,

“Fuck, yes”

He made you feel so good, you wanted to do the same. You worked your hand between your bodies, too and started rubbing Jin through the fabric of his briefs. The feeling of his hard dick in your hands made you want more and you slipped your hand inside, wrapping it around him for real and gently moving it until you felt his fingers lose their rhythm on your clit and all you could hear were the pleasured moans he failed to hold in,

“Am I doing it right?”

You knew you were doing it right but you also knew Jin loved it when you acted helpless and cute. Could only apply even more in this situation,

“Yeah, you are… So right, so good, shit”

He sucked on the skin of your neck and slid his finger from your clit down and slowly, gently slipped it inside of you, moaning at the warm wet feeling that greeted him. You couldn’t find any words that would accurately express your thoughts at this moment; you could just tighten your legs around him and try not to be so loud you’d wake the others,

“You like that, hm? Feel so tight, baby, can’t wait to fuck you”

Jin moaned in your ear and you felt a heatwave run through your body,

“Jin, fuck me, plea- Ah…”

right as you begged him, he slid in a second finger,

“That what you want? Want me to fuck you?”

He pushed his fingers in deeper and you tried to not lose the rhythm you had going on with your hand around his dick,

“Mhmmh”

You couldn’t form a decent answer at this point,

“You sure, baby? I could make you come like this and then fuck you; make you come again”

He kissed you slow and deep this time, moving his fingers in tandem with his tongue. You shook your head, tightening your legs again, pushing his fingers even deeper,

“No? You want it now? Want me to fuck that tight little pussy?”

Jesus, you thought, you never knew words could turn you on so much,

“Then you’ll get it, baby”

He pulled his fingers out slowly and you watched as he stuck them in his mouth to suck them clean,

“Mhm, fuck, I’ll eat you next time, don’t even try to stop me”

You spread your legs as he sat back on his haunches and pushed his briefs down, finally. You couldn’t make out his size in the dark but you had already felt that it was a little bigger than what you were used to.

Jin gripped himself, moving his hand along his dick and sighing,

“Can’t believe this is happening…”

He said and leaning back down, hovering over your body,

“Wanted this for so long”

He continued and you let your hand travel over his naked chest as he guided his dick to slide through your wetness. You watched him shudder and a breath hitched in his throat as his dick made contact with your wet, warm centre,

“God, feels so good already, Jin, don’t tease me”

He bent down and kissed you,

“I won’t, I just…”

He hesitated for a second and took a deep breath,

“I don’t have any condoms with me, I wasn’t really planning on this to happen”

You smiled at the sudden insecurity in his voice and gently ran a hand through his dishevelled hair,

“It’s fine, I have an IUD, you don’t have to worry”,

“I can come inside you? You sure?”,

“I want you to”,

“Fuck…”

Jin went right back to kissing and sucking on your neck,

“Please, Jin, fuck me, come inside me… want you so bad”

The way you sounded so fucking whiney and sweet; he moaned into your skin and rubbed his dick along your pussy before he slowly pushed the head inside. Unprepared for the incredible feeling of your wet, tight pussy around his dick, he pushed in even more, swallowing all your moans and pleas. Never had he felt this good before, literally never. Your pussy felt so damn good around him, he wasn’t even completely sure this was real,

“Ah, Jin!”

He could tell you tried to be quiet,

“Shit, it’s so big…”,

“You ok? Want me to go slow?”

He asked for your comfort, yet he wasn’t sure he could do anything about it because his dick was definitely pushing itself deeper inside you of its own accord. He probably couldn’t stop, even if he wanted to,

“No, I’m fine, it feels amazing”

You threw your head back into the grass and Jin bent a little to suck your nipple back into his mouth, adding to your pleasure even more.

He pushed in deeper and deeper, moving his hips until they wouldn’t go any further and he was balls deep inside you. Even if you didn’t, he needed a moment to come back to reality and not finish before he had even started. You held him so tightly and he squeezed every bit of skin he could reach as your hips moved against his, stealing his breath and making him feel so fucking good,

“You feel so good, YN, so fucking good”

He closed his eyes and let himself get lost in the feeling of your body against his,

“So wet, so tight- this pussy’s made for me”

He mumbled against your skin and kissed and sucked what his lips could find. He wanted to be more in control, wanted to be more focused on your pleasure but it just felt so good. He could only hope he was making you feel as good as he possibly could,

“Jin, touch me…”

He heard you sigh and he placed one last kiss to your lips before he pushed himself up to sit back, so he could bring his fingers back to your clit,

“Like this?”

He asked as he rubbed you and immediately felt you clench around him,

“Yes, ah… like that”,

He lifted your leg onto his shoulder with his other hand, spreading you even more for him. This new angle had him hitting you deeper and Jin did his very best to hit all the right places. He already felt his end approaching and he knew he couldn’t hold it off for long,

“Jin, fuck, I’m close, don’t stop”

Your words were music to his ears. He held your leg tightly to his chest, fucking you deeper and harder, working his fingers as close to the rhythm his hips were setting as possible,

“That’s it, baby, come for me”

He ben forward slightly, wanting to be closer to you, wanting to see your face when you came,

“Come all over my dick”

His words made you feel hot all over and you felt your muscles contracting, bringing you closer to your end,

“Ahh, I’m gonna come”

Your voice was strained and you put both of your hands over your mouth, knowing this was gonna be a loud one. Jin was captivated by the pure look of pleasure on your face and devoted all of his movements to making you come, desperate to see your face and feel you clench around his dick,

“Gonna come for me? I can feel it, baby, tell me what to do”,

“Just like that, don’t stop”,

“You’re so beautiful… look so good like this; I want you so much”

He told you all the things he always wanted you to know and more until he felt your pussy tighten around him and your leg spasm in his grip while you moaned through your hands in a desperate attempt to deafen the noise as you came around him. He pushed in so deep, revelling in the feeling of your orgasm and letting his own take over.

He bent down, pushing your hands out of your face and capturing your lips in a slow, deep kiss that made your toes curl like that orgasm just did. He came so deep inside you, filling you up so good and holding you so tight and close, you never wanted him to let you go.

As your muscles relaxed and your breathing evened out again, just like Jin’s, he took your hands in his and kissed them before intertwining your fingers and pressing another long, deep kiss to your lips,

“Jeesus, Jin, I never would have thought you’d talk so dirty to me”

Was the first thing that came to your mind as he slipped out of you and lay down next to you. He let out a hearty laugh and ran a hand over his face,

“I don’t know what came over me”

He said and you smiled,

“I just bring out the best in you, don’t I?”

He squeezed your hand lovingly,

“My best is definitely in you, yes”

He snickered and you slapped his shoulder,

“You’re so nasty, Jin!”

You both giggled as suddenly a loud voice rang through your post-orgasmic bliss,

“You’re both nasty! Fucking like horny teenagers while all your friends are trying to sleep? What are you, 16? Get a damn room next time, fuck!”

Both of you recognized Yoongi’s voice. You probably woke him up or kept him from sleeping,

“Whoops…”

You said, hiding your face in Jin’s neck,

“You should be happy it’s only happened now! Otherwise you wouldn’t have gotten any sleep at all!”

Jin yelled back and you laughed even harder.

He had exactly zero shame and that was probably why you worked so well together. And you continued to work well together two more times that  night. And then you continued to work even better together for a lot more years to come.

Submitted by @befriendswithj​

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Like Real People Do || Morgan & Deirdre

Deirdre and Morgan try to have a normal carnival date like normal people do. But they, like White Crest, are anything but.

@deathduty

The rainbow of lights that lined the carnival grounds were every color you could capture in electricity. They curled around every bend, from the ferris wheel to the carousel to the round awning of the rubber duck shooting range like stripes of candy on a lollipop. Morgan stared at the technicolor flashes until she lost the difference between red, blue, and yellow and saw only a single flickering puddle over her eyes. It seemed inevitable now that they would come here together. The calliope music, faint and corny as it had sounded from Hambry Park the other night, hadn’t faded from Morgan’s mind since. In the dead hours of night, Morgan had hummed the sweet rolling waltz to pass the hours, something that might have been familiar a hundred years ago but reached people only wistfully now. It was silly to imagine any kind of connection between her and the music, of course. It was just a tired old song. But Morgan was endeared to it, thinking of the melody as another creature out of step with the rest of the world like her. A little at a distance; a little strange. Maybe it made sense that this carnival would be her first, that she would only find it after her death. As she sidled closer against Deirdre, she couldn’t help but think of all the others she’d missed out on during her life: the rickety fairs in the mall parking lots and the end of school year fests and the Kemah Boardwalk. Would it have been this beautiful? Would she have stopped to admire the scene in all its glory as she did now?

“What do you think?” She asked Deirdre. “Can you tell me how it smells? I hear these are supposed to be smelly, but in a good way.”

Like the mushrooms, the carnival had its own music. Deirdre could faintly connect a similar sensation between the two, though she didn’t care to draw any further conclusions. Where the mushroom beat was an inaudible thrum, broiling inside her bones, the carnival was the same sick beat stuck on loop in her head, burning her mind with the desire to visit the fair. It was so loud in the cemetery, ruining their otherwise good night with its terrible, constant upbeat notes. She needed to go to this carnival, almost just as much as she was curious to check it out. The sounds and sights were unfamiliar to her, the array of people milling about were foregin to her senses. The ding of the carnival games, the whistling screaming that came down with the roller coasters bumps and twists. The queues waiting for attractions Deirdre couldn’t possibly imagine as being any fun; she didn’t know where to look, what to focus on. She gravitated to Morgan, holding her close--her one, stable and familiar anchoring point in all this strange chaos. She wanted to point out the things she couldn’t recognize, which was most of the things here, and ask Morgan to explain, but imagined it would get tiresome quickly. Instead her eyes darted around the lights and colorful treats, trying to figure out what was happening. Morgan’s voice cut through the frantic milieu. “What does--what--huh?” She snapped her attention to her girlfriend, blinking. “Are you asking me how the carnival smells?” Amused, she turned her nose up to the sky and sniffed animatedly. “Dirt. Sweat. Something sweet and---” She sniffed around like a dog caught on a scent. “Ah, yes. More dirt.” Deirdre smiled, pressing in to Morgan. “People say this is smelly ‘in a good way’? It--” She tried the air again, adamant to properly share this experience with Morgan--it was new for her too, after all. “I do smell a lot of sugar. And something baked and--” She glanced around, “ah, right, we’re near the food. There’s a child eating a...colorful cloud? And another eating a firm chocolate orb.” Was this food Morgan had tried before? Was it some carnival-exclusive that she was now doomed to never be able to experience? ...maybe they shouldn’t be standing near the food. Deirdre tried to lead them along. “Everything here is so flashy, like they’re all competing for attention.” She sniffed the air one last time, “and it also smells weirdly greasy.” She looked back to Morgan. “How do you know where to start in a place like this?’

Morgan smiled up at Deirdre, watching all the little wrinkles of concentration scuttle across her face as she tried to pick out each sensation from the bright jumble around them. She could see as well as she had in life, and when she peeled her eyes away from all the lights she could glimpse striped tents and gleaming racks of funnel cakes, cotton candy, and popcorn still wet with butter. There were sandy tracks where children had tramped through in every direction and dusty posters and glass display cases sporting strange shapes, she wasn’t even sure what. And she could hear just as well too, that same bittersweet waltz, the wails and chatter, but Deirdre, tucked around her better than any blanket, cut through clearest of all. “Well food does generally smell pretty good. But there’s the night air, and the grease, yeah. But maybe feeling excited about that is just a stupid American thing,” Morgan beamed. “But you definitely have to try at least some of the food. I remember the one funnel cake I had at the boardwalk being pretty good, and it’s hard to go wrong with cotton candy, it’s pure fluffy sugar. Karen had this toy machine that would make some, and--well, actually, it took forever to get enough around our paper sticks for it to look right. And no matter what flavor packet we poured in, it all tasted the same, just looked a different color. I guess however they do it here, it’s better. Um, but maybe you’ll like candy apples more? They got kinds with caramel on them too, and probably a few other flavors…”

Her words were tripping over each other at once as she tried to get her mind to alchemize everything. She hadn’t spent so many days dreaming about times like these, just on and off whenever the idea walked in front of her. When the customers at Murdoch’s or The Gap would talk about what a good time they were sure to have before shuffling off in pairs, and all those dopey Hollywood scenes. She hadn’t imagined she would be missing half her senses when she’d tried to picture herself in a scene before. She’d pictured herself plucking off gobs of cotton candy herself and rocking in her ferris wheel seat next to some sweet girl and thumbing brine off each other’s faces and tasting the salt as well as the cheap, eager sweetness around them. Morgan’s look turned distant as all those old ideas dissipated like a ghost in a haze of salt. “Everything is competing for attention. I don’t know if there’s a science to this, but it makes sense to start with whatever looks like the most fun. What looks good to you? I don’t care what we try as long as we get to at least one of those corny little games where they give you a teddy bear for knocking down bottles or shooting a rubber duck off a stand.”

Morgan was buzzing and Deirdre reached out to thumb her hair in place, her other hand centered on her hip, trying to keep her still--steady. She wondered if it was excitement that was bubbling out of her words, simple wonder at finally being in a place that must have once only been dreamt about. Deirdre had no desires or ideas of a carnival herself, she knew of them only through the distant memories of conversations she wasn’t paying attention to. The sights were odd, and she knew less of what to do here than she did before she entered. But Morgan’s excitement, and the flashing glow of the stands, rides and games around them catching Morgan’s features with their yellows and blues and bright purples, was more than enough to keep her from worry. “I can try some food later,” she smiled, “they seem kind of....sticky.” But Morgan had tried them before, which Deirdre hoped meant there was less of a reminder of her undead, untasting tongue---or was it more of one? Did the reminder play hauntingly at the back of her mind like the carnival’s own eerie music? “It’s not stupid, exactly, is it? Everyone seems really happy to be here.” Children bounced around, pulling their parents this way or that, pointing at rides and prizes. Couples snuggled closer, eyeing the ferris wheel. Even groups of friends huddled close, laughing freely as they charted out their plan for the rest of the night. Deirdre thought she could get lost in the crowd, just watching the humans move. But she stood still with Morgan in the middle of the path, a rock in the stream, caught up in the current of people all the same. No longer some observer, but someone that could experience things for herself too. Yet, just as Deirdre thought she might have figured out the key to being less affronted by the strange senses, she watched Morgan’s excitement fizzle off for a moment, gaze lost somewhere too far for Deirdre to follow. She pressed their lips together in a kiss she hoped was just enough to pull Morgan’s thoughts away from wherever they had gone. “I can tell you what everything feels like,” she mumbled, lingering close. “The cotton candy--which I guess are the cloud things?” She tilted her head. “The cotton candy, the apples, the cake...whatever. I know it won’t be the same as...what it should be for you. But we’ll make it just as good.” Better, she hoped. Better than whatever it is Morgan was thinking.

“But the games first,” she straightened herself up, pulling her face away from Morgan’s to glance around the stands. “I used to throw knives at bottles, is that the same as throwing the baseball at those plates?” She’d heard these things could be rigged, she knew of a few fae that traveled around in places like these. Her eyes were focused on finding the game most skill based, and the best prize to win. The biggest stuffed animals came along with the games that read easily to Deirdre as scams. But she had several skills the poor humans didn’t. “Let’s go there,” she pointed out a simple game, balloons that needed to be popped with a well-thrown dart, and its gleamy top prize--a white teddy bear, nearly Morgan’s height. “This is obviously where I win the biggest teddy bear for my girl, right?” She smirked, easily pulling Morgan to her. The teddy bear was the stand’s draw, but Deirdre’s eyes were set on a prize stuffed in the back, behind larger, more appealing prizes: a medium-sized stuffed pink bear, with a missing eye and one leg too short. It was exactly the kind of abandoned toy she imagined Morgan would appreciate better, knowing the children hovering around the booth wanted the big bear more. “I can see some of the romantic appeal of a carnival.”  

Everyone was happy to be here. It was like something you’d see in a commercial for Disneyland, the clusters of teenagers sharing popcorn and goofing off in the games area, the couples lining up for a spot on the ferris wheel, the kids pelting each other with beanbags as much as the game they were supposed to be playing. Everything was safe and in good fun, speeding around them like a twist-a-whirl ride. Even with no way to feel how cold the night was or how the grease mixed with the drifting sand of the beach, Morgan imagined that she could slip into the movement anyway, caught and swept away into the bright noise, into life, like everyone else. And yet she stayed still, not quite knowing how to make the right steps.

Then Deirdre’s lips were on hers, showing her just the way. Morgan slipped her arms around her neck as she kissed her back, rising onto the tips of her toes to stay connected as they parted. She stayed there, half dangling, smiling fondly at her. In the twisting spray of colored lights, her dark eyes and hair were haloed to shine as brilliantly as the night: the impression of purple clouds down her hair, the gleam of stars and nebulas in her eyes and over her freckles. At times like this, when Morgan’s adoration burst and twisted inside her, she wondered if she would one day grow too heavy. Deirdre had carried her whole existence after her death, along with her grief, her self-loathing, and her despair. She still carried her faith and her aimlessness. Much as Morgan ached to believe that the universe would level a balance, she could not unfurl her heart’s grip and trust in it yet. Not the way she trusted in Deirdre. But what did she do with the rest of her faith? Where else was she supposed to throw herself? What spot in the earth would take her the way she was and catch her whole when she leaped? Heavy as the questions weighed on her heart, Morgan gave Deirdre another kiss, willing her distress away and smiling anew with relief. Here, for this moment, a world of just each other was enough.

“Let’s try not to worry about should,” she said, lowering herself at last. “We’re together; of course it’s going to be good.”

More so, even, as she realized Deirdre’s ruthless training could be wholesomely repurposed to win the best prizes. “Yes!” She gaped. “Oh, you’re going to be so badass.” She squeezed Deirdre’s hand and nearly trampled the other people milling about running with her. Their eyes had settled on the same spot. Balloons and darts, easy enough and a little harder to rig. Morgan couldn’t help but giggle as she was brought into her side again, cherished and flaunted. “Hey now,” she said. “What if I want to win something for my best girl?” She looked up at Deirdre, batting her eyes. Her protest was more of a game itself than earnestness, but that didn’t mean her pout wasn’t a little compelling. “I could hypothetically keep up, right? And if we had two prizes, we could give one of them to Anya.” Beside them, a slightly older couple was giving it their best shot. The husband rolled his shoulders and threw one dart after the other. One hit true but the others veered just ever so slightly off course. Morgan’s brow quirked with interest, even suspicion. She looked up at Deirdre, checking to see if she had noticed this too, and what she thought. “But, if you’re sure you’re up to it, I guess you can be my strong hero and be the one to win me something cute,” she said with a smile. Waving to the proprietor, she held up her hand for one set of darts, “We’ll go next, please!”

Morgan's pouts could rival any promise bind or spell, their own convincing form of magic. But Deirdre knew better, and she spotted that teddy bear first. She smiled at her, pressing a quick kiss to her pout. "Not this one," she whispered. "Watch." And sure enough, the couple in front of them found darts missing with ease, walking away with no prize at all. On their other side, a man desperately emptied his pockets as his daughter rose up and pointed at the large teddy bear, asking if she could have that one, just that one. She watched them for a moment, noting the telltale chill that shot down her spine as the young man running the game approached them. Deirdre smirked as his tired voice filtered through the air. He explained the rules simply, the prizes were divided into tiers; popping two balloons earned the smallest of prize, three for the next, five for the one after and so on. There was one golden balloon moving back and forth on line at the back, if they popped that one, they got the grand prize of the giant white teddy bear. "Is that a deal?" She asked, eyes still on the little girl eager for the bear. The man agreed cockily, of course, all they had to do was pop the balloons. She smirked, tugging on his words as he caught up to what was happening. He fumbled backwards, betrayed, but silent to their agreement.

"I'll just give you a prize," he mumbled with defeat. "Come on, you don't have to do this." Deirdre quirked her brow up, plucking the darts from Morgan's hands—even despite her pouting and batted eyelashes.

"And miss the chance to show off?" She smirked, running her finger over the tip of the dart. "Dulled," she explained to Morgan, "that's why they bounce off the balloons, but it's so dark you can't tell. Not to mention—" she held the dart out on her finger, showing Morgan its center of mass. "Lighter than a regular dart. Too light to give you the power you need unless you really put all your force into it." She turned back to the fae running the game, who continued to shake his head, now mumbling in Gaelic about how annoying it was to set back up the balloons. But Deirdre continued, reveling in the last of her advantage against the kinds of scams her people had been running for centuries. "He said all I have to do is pop the balloons and I win." And so, she pulled out darts of her own, slender pin-like knives she kept on her. She counted out six, and before the fae could plead again, she sunk all six easily into the poor multicolored balloons, popping them—five for the ones below, and one shot perfectly into the golden balloon above. The fae threw up his arms, itching to honor his end of the deal he unknowingly walked into. He grabbed the stick beside him and pulled down the giant teddy bear, grumbling as he handed it over to Deirdre, who held it proudly in front of Morgan, peeking her head out from its side. "See! Bear!" She waved its big arms around, bending to pick it up and….spin it around, offering it out to the little girl, who had all but surrendered herself to never getting the toy. "Hey," she cooed, bending down. "I can't take this big thing home with me so will you take care of him?" The girl launched herself at the bear, the father thanking Deirdre profusely as she waved them off without another word, easily sliding back to Morgan with a lopsided grin on her face. "Oh?" She began, "did you think the bear was for you? Was that what I was supposed to be doing?" But the other fae itched again, eagerly tapping against the wood. "Ah," she pretended to notice him too late, turning to Morgan to explain the last of her intricate plan. "You see, I popped five balloons and so I get another prize." And she pointed out the old bear at the back, with its missing eye and mismatched legs. It was just one of those toys used to make it look like there were more toys, the fae explained, it had been back there for a while. But he was grumbling, angry that Deirdre hadn't just gone off to the ring toss. Now I have to set everything up again, he said. Deirdre ignored him in favor of holding the soft pink teddy bear out to her girlfriend. "I thought this one was better, because it's special," she smiled, "and maybe it was a good chance to show off. Don't hate me too much for not falling for your pouts? You can win me something for Anya on the next one, Morgue. I have a feeling these are all run by fae, and they tend to pay favors for their kind." She looked back at the poor fae she'd made reset his carnival game. "Well, most of them."

Morgan couldn’t help but flush with pride. Maybe Deirdre didn’t have the moth wings she coveted, but something in her was spreading free, a spirit that dwelled between the chaotic vitality of her people, the brutality of her upbringing, the brightness of the living world she dwelled in with Morgan. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. The balloons burst like popcorn and Deirdre’s grin curled with victory. The win of the moment wasn’t what made Morgan’s heart swell out of her sundress, though she did clap her hands, bouncing on her feet, inching back to let more passers by see the show in progress. Most people had better things to do, but a teenager one game over looked like he was recording the moment and two more couples had lined up behind them. But what made Morgan feel fit to burst was Deirdre kneeling down to pass the enormous white bear into the arms of a disappointed child. Her face lit up as though she’d been given the whole world and her little arms struggled to bundle her gift as tightly to her as she wanted. She roared with savage joy and held the bear over her head as she ran ahead, declaring, “I GOT THE BEST BEAR EVER!”

When they were gone, Morgan took the pink bear from Deirdre and launched herself into her arms, tugging her down into a kiss worthy of any feel-good finale. “You are beyond forgiven,” she said. “Thank you for doing that. All of it, even down to Pink Patrick here.” She made the bear give her a peck on the cheek. “You really are my hero. I love you.” She gave the endearment in a halting Gaelic, no less meant for her awkwardness. The fae running the game blanched, now wondering if she’d understood his curses and grumblings. Morgan smirked and let him keep wondering.

“I think what we really need is a reward for such a grand gesture,” she said, leading Deirdre away. “Yes, everything is sticky, but I will personally clean your hands later if it makes you feel any better. As long as we stick to the sweet stuff, I can pretty much guarantee you a better time than your first hot dog. Although, if you do want me to kiss you or feed you breath mints by hand after, that’s fine too.” She looked behind them again, pleased to see a woman still watching them admiringly. She wasn’t sure why it mattered that someone else see how wonderful time with Deirdre could be, how good she had it with her, but she felt suddenly that she’d give a lot to have a copy of every video, picture, and memory taken down from that moment, a whole collage of every angle. She wanted to string them all up across a room in their house and point to them as proof there was something good in the world.

As Morgan wound them through the crowd, another cluster of attractions caught her eye and she bit her lip, suddenly torn. “Okay, you are still getting something for being so very wonderful--” She bobbed onto her toes again to kiss her jaw. “--But, after you tell me if junk food is still all it’s cracked up to be, I want...hmm...I haven’t been on a carousel since I was a little kid, and you can’t say that it’s not kind of romantic to hold my waist while I ride a unicorn side saddle, right? But also, also, I haven’t gotten to do anything for you yet. I could whack my way through that test your strength game over there--” Just as Morgan spoke, a teenage girl hurled the mallet down with such force the bell popped off. The girl went splat on the ground, too drained to get up again. Morgan grimaced. That didn’t look right. “Or, you know, alternatively, fun facts are sexy too, right? I can probably out do half the info placards at the museum pop-up.”

Deirdre knew how precious gifts could be, how coveted the act of something won in one’s honor could be. Even knowing, Morgan’s happiness was infectious. “Did you like the bear that much?” She smiled, slightly dazed from their kiss. The Gaelic that filtered out of Morgan’s mouth astounded her next, just as it did the fae captaining the booth. She could remember Morgan expressing the desire to learn, and sure she must have followed it up with some joke about being her teacher. She couldn’t tell if she knew just enough to repeat a phrase Deirdre had muttered to her countless times before, or if she knew more than she let on---enough to hear the fae’s annoyance, enough to hear Deirdre’s whispered words of affection, when love was too great to be shared in English. “Someone’s been practicing.” She leaned down again, hovering against her lips. Her words mingled between English and Gaelic, fluttering in and out--perhaps playing along with Morgan, or too excited to remember how to pick one language and stick with it. “Were you just saving that? For how long? Have you been listening to all the things I tell you?” Her arms found their place wrapped around Morgan’s waist easily, pulling her closer. “You are my heart,” Deirdre leaned in to kiss her again, smiling as she pulled back. “I love you more each day; I love you more than I could ever say in any language.” And though the world continued around them--the carnival and its crowd, the world Deirdre was taught only to be an observer of--her attention was squarely on Morgan, a far better, kinder world to be watching.

As they moved, her eyes were strangely unable to leave the sight of Morgan, and her fingers curled around the pink bear she’d won her. The fae asked if she wanted her knives back and she waved him off, only daring to snap her attention away from Morgan to look at where she was walking. “Ah, but you don’t need to resort to bets to get me to kiss you now.” Their time at the bowling alley, which could only be colored as a date now, remained fondly in Deirdre’s memories. Even with the atrocity that was the hotdog. Perhaps one of the apples or cake things or cloud-candies wouldn’t be so bad. “Is there something I can eat while we walk?” She asked, refusing to break her gaze on Morgan to do something as silly as look around. Even as Morgan’s attention bounced between stands and attractions and people. “You don’t have to thank me at all,” she said, a whisper under the hubbub of the carnival. “I’d do a lot for you, Morgan. Including winning some teddy bears.” The spell, her whirlwind of being caught in Morgan, lifted just enough for her to remember where they were, and that there was a whole event--new to them--that they were supposed to be experiencing.

Her gaze fluttered to the carousel, observing the movements for a while before she frowned. “Or you could just ride on an actual horse, isn’t that better?” She certainly missed her gallops across the estate. Then her gaze moved to the game with the hammer and the bell, wincing as she watched it unfold. “That’s run by a fae,” she pointed out. “Maybe not the safest thing.” But she considered Morgan’s next idea for a moment. “Facts are sexy…” she rubbed her chin, drawing out her humming and hawing. “And I am drawn to the idea of you being smarter than a piece of paper…” She grinned, bumping Morgan lightly as she tried to pull their bodies closer together again somehow (it was admittedly hard to walk and keep Morgan anchored to her side). “I will very gladly take you telling me about the wonders of a museum any day. So, let’s do that. You know, I was kicked out of a museum once for trying to steal some bones. Didn’t get the bones, and now there’s at least three museums in Dublin that won’t let me in.” But a museum pop-up had to be easier to steal from right? “N-not that I’m thinking of stealing important history.” Oh, but she was.

“I am...more good...you think…?” Morgan said, using up most of the Gaelic she still remembered from the lessons on her language app. “I still don’t know most of what you said, or literally anything he said but it’s way more fun if he didn’t know that, right, pulse of my heart?” She beamed, pleased to use one of the only other phrases she remembered from Deirdre herself and looked up special. “Okay, now that’s more or less the last of my Gaelic for real, unless you want to ask me about how many cows I have, or the color of my hair, in which case we can go on a little longer! At some point, I need the Gaelic for ‘did you make that horse comment because I’m from Texas’? And ‘Will you teach me to ride a horse someday, oh wise banshee?’” She smiled against her lips, flush with gratitude for their whole combined existence together. “I have been making an effort to listen as best I can, though. I know there are parts of your world I don’t fit well in, but I can share your language with a little work.”

She led Deirdre through the enclave of sweet stands, looking for the shortest line. “The ingenious design of carnival food is that you can fit it in your hand so you can still eat while you’re waiting in line for the roller coaster or doing the ring toss one handed. But, if you’re really worried about it, I’m still team cotton candy or candy apple. They must have had those in Ireland right, even if you’ve never had one? The outer shell always gets stuck in your teeth, but your mouth will be sweet for days. Also maybe toothache-y and sore if you bite it wrong and...I’m not selling these apples very well, am I?” She brought them up to the shortest line and picked out the largest roll of blue cotton candy on the rack. As the tired worker wrapped it up for her, Morgan leaned up to Deirdre’s ear, whispering, “I didn’t kiss you like that because of the pink bear. It was my prize of choice to take home, but I kissed you like that because you gave the white one to a sad little girl. I’m sure you didn’t think much of it, but that just shows how kind your heart really is, Deirdre.” She passed her the bag of cotton candy, giving her a look that she hoped expressed a sentiment beyond any of the languages they spoke. You are good and I love you and am amazed to know you and the person you’ve become.

The line was a little longer at the museum pop up, decorated to look like an old side-show tent, complete with antique styled banners and a chipper barker urging everyone to step right up to see the horror, the wonder, the mystery and majesty. Morgan smirked as they slipped inside the tent, still half wrapped up in each other. Wasn’t that just a normal day in White Crest? A smidgen of horror, a dash of magic, a touch of strange? There were just enough people crowding the first exhibit that Morgan had to wait to be able to see anything. “I absolutely need to know what bones were so important that you felt the need to steal them from a museum, knowing how intense the security was? And the consequences? I mean, how old even were you?” she asked in a whisper. “But, you know, excited as I obviously am, maybe we should, you know, not steal anything on this particular date. Not stealing is fun! And whatever poor service workers got stuck with this shift don’t deserve the grief they’re going to get later.” She strained on her toes, trying to catch sight of even one of the exhibits up ahead. Nothing yet, but she was used to it by now.

"You're not bad." Deirdre laughed easily. Oh, she was terrible, but that wasn't the point. And maybe it was cuter to watch her floundering around words, watch the way her features scrunched together in concentration as she tried to remember what she knew. "And then, how many cows do you have?" She asked slow and enunciated. "Ah, that would be—" she explained the two sentences in Gaelic, slow, deep, and deliberate with its rasping as she leaned closer. "And the answers are that horses are just fun to ride on and yes." She imagined Morgan wanted to learn the language strictly to do exactly what she was doing now, but the innocent explanation that tumbled afterwards gave Deirdre just enough pause to prevent her from pulling Morgan into another kiss. "It's not my world if you don't fit in it completely, Morgan." Morgan wasn't and never would be fae, and sure fae were as insular as species came—but Deirdre's world, the one she inhabited and the one that she wanted to, fit Morgan perfectly in it. Even so, Deirdre was moved by the gesture, by her want to connect to a society that would push her away and Deirdre wished the best she could in her head that they would accept her one day. That it wouldn't matter to them that she wasn't a fae. "It's not the world I want if you don't fit. But I—thank you."

She raised her hand, thumbing over her bones, tucking her hair back. How wonderful, how beautiful and how kind this was. And how much she loved Morgan, too precious to pull into words. But her look betrayed all of her affection, spilling out of her without pause. For all she cared, they could have been the last two people on earth, and perhaps she might've preferred that. "They must've," Deirdre responded absently, dropping her hand. "But I never had the privilege of going out much, not for my sake anyway. There's so much of the world I don't know for myself." The carnival was just one of many things. "Have you?" She wondered aloud, "experienced much?"

She watched the line in front of them shorten and Morgan pick out the strange, blue cloud candy.  "Because it seems inconvenient to carry around a toy that big?" Deirdre tilted her head, genuinely confused as to what she was being complimented on. The girl wanted the big bear, she knew Morgan could do without and the girl would never get it otherwise—even if it was easier and cheaper to just buy a giant teddy bear from a store. But Morgan looked at her with such sincerity, such good. Deirdre watched her expression curiously, trying to decipher what the turn of her lips or that soft shimmer in her eyes meant. She pulled a piece of the candy out, absently popping it into her mouth as she tried to find the right combination of silent words and assurances Morgan was putting across. She moved her teeth to chew but there was...nothing? Her attention shifted to the odd substance. She did put some in her mouth, didn't she? She could taste the sugar, but it vanished from her mouth by way of some strange magicks. Her mouth hung open, she glanced at her fingers, pressing them together to feel the stickiness. "What just happened?" She popped another piece on her mouth, this time paying attention to the way it dissolved against her tongue. "Is this just—" she ran her tongue over her lips, brushing over more of the sugar taste. "Is this just sugar?" Morgan did say cotton candy was just pure, fluffy sugar, but Deirdre assumed that was hyperbolic. "This is just sugar," she repeated, breaking off another piece and putting it in her mouth. There was a slight tang, somewhere under all the sweetness. A distinct flavor she couldn't exactly place. This was far from the pies and fruit preserves she knew for sweetness—or all her growing up with molasses and honey as a sweetener. "I can't stop eating it though." And true to point, even if that much sugar would make her sick, she continued to absently pop pieces she broke off into her mouth, a way to pass the time as they waited for their turn at the pop-up.

"I must have been in my twenties. I can't even remember what it was, but it had this strong pull to it. And, honestly, isn't it a crime to keep bones away behind glass? Where I can't indulge a vision or two?" She paused, "this isn't making my mouth blue, is it?" She couldn't tell but she assumed the fact that the bag was already nearly empty was a sign she should slow herself down. Rolling the bag up so she could use some of the self restraint she learned, she watched Morgan pop up on her tiptoes. "Too short?" She grinned, "I could help but—" she held up her fingers, slightly blued from the cotton candy coloring. "I'm just so preoccupied with how sticky I am. It's so distracting." She turned to the exhibit ahead, "do you happen to know what kind of a museum this is?" Would there be bones, she wanted to ask. "And, fine, I won't steal anything. But I will be thinking about it."

Could it really be that easy? Morgan wondered. To claim only the places that would have them and turn away from all the rest? Was that world enough? Morgan didn’t even know the extent of what Deirdre was shutting away to be with her, what else she could be doing, or who with, in exchange for having the life they shared together. Granted, much of what Deirdre shed had taught her only self-loathing and coldness. She was more herself without it. But there must be something that had been good to her. There must be something fae that loved her even more completely than Morgan did. Could that thing be shared? Was there enough of it to last them more than a year or two? Morgan, for her part,  had sacrificed comparatively little. Her mortal coil was something they’d both lost, and it was more because of Deirdre’s doing than her own that they were closer because of it. Then again, she had so little to surrender in the first place. If her world had always been small, bound up in fear and a family curse. If it had shrunken at all since then, it was because death had pulled her back. Beyond the quiet and the dampness that surrounded her at all times, there was the way death reshaped her inside. The axis of her patience, her sensitivity, her enthusiasm all shifted in strange directions. Everyday approvals and the dangers that had once consumed her attention didn’t anymore. Foibles from strangers were too insufferable to bear if her mood wasn’t poised generously enough. And then there were all the restaurants there was no point in visiting anymore and the sleep-dreams she no longer had. Was there enough left between, even after all that?

“I don’t know if I have,” she admitted. “I’ve got seven years on you, so that has to count for something. But I also, you know...didn’t get to go out as much as other kids. I told you how my mom would cancel my plans for me and keep me inside if she thought I was getting too close to people. Endangering them with our curse. But I had a lot of magic lessons, and after I moved out I was able to do a little more. College and grad school and all that. I know a lot about things you can do by yourself? And I moved around a lot. Texas is big enough that you can feel like you’ve been all over without crossing state lines.” Her voice lilted up lightly, but even she knew how sad it was, to be dead to so much of the world without having fully lived in the first place. “We both know a lot about different things. And it’s not so bad, finding out more together.”

She pressed a kiss to Deirdre’s shoulder, grinning as she marveled over the mystery of cotton candy. “I did tell ya,” she said. “That’s the beauty of cotton candy. Fluffy and effortless. Like eating a cloud.” She nipped playfully at Deirdre’s finger as she told the story, or the lack thereof.  She guessed she was compelling in that way too now, even with her bones still bound up in fleshy tissue, and felt a strange kind of relief. She didn’t have to worry about repulsing her with a wrong touch or the sight of her discoloration when she needed to feed. “And you are a little blue in the lips, but it’s pretty. Like me-kind-of-pretty.” Death pretty, she meant, though she was willing to bet the pale blue stain was more of a cartoon romanticization than how she’d actually looked before she woke.

“And I think it’s a kind of oddity museum, like Ripley’s or those old sideshow things. Probably fake, but I’ve studied a lot of lore and literature in my day, so I can probably tell you why they think they’re right even if they’re not.” The line shifted and Morgan was able to edge her way near a family of four, situated behind the children so she could actually see over their heads. “Let’s just hope there’s not any, you know, real jarred bodies or brains or we might have to leave before I--” It wasn’t jarred brains. The first case was full of shells purportedly recovered from a deep sea cove of mermaids and selkie and medallions worn by a secret society of sirens. But next to it was a set of teeth from a strangely shaped jaw. Werewolf, the placard said. Beyond that, a set of fangs on a corded necklace. In another, the tiniest winged corpse Morgan had ever seen, no bigger than her hand. From her new vantage point she could see photos of what was, from Ricky’s stories, a real mermaid and the diary of a hundred year old vampire. But Morgan could not take her eyes off the field of death. The way children oggled and teased each other with the teeth. The way the teenagers gaped and teased each other over the display, daring one another to try and touch something. “Deirdre,” she said in a tense whisper, barely gesturing ahead. “Can you...can you tell me if any of those are real?”

“No, it’s not so bad at all,” Deirdre smiled softly, what more she had to say about how much she wished Morgan’s tragic living existence could have been different, could have offered her more, she kept to herself. Maybe there was something much more powerful, much stronger and much more important, about forging a better life in the present, than there was fiddling about with what could have been. For all the magic there was, changing the past never worked. She loved Morgan best in the moment, and there was no time she treasured more. In a way, it was simple enough to see that old aches would fade, and the world would turn into a new, brighter normal. But for every bit of hope, fear tinged the edges. And for every bout of happiness, guilt trailed behind. Each hurdle stood strong and impossibly tall---how else could the future be seen, than through cracks in a wall? Was it foolhardy to assume love could be enough? Or was it exactly the sort of hope she ought to have for them? “I don’t really have anything to say I just--I do like spending time with you, Morgan. And---” She sighed, “what I’m trying to say is: I’m happy.” Embarrassed by the clumsy nature of her words, she stuffed more cotton candy in her mouth. “I know you’ve been through a lot of---I understand if you’re not---I don’t mean---” frustrated, she picked apart more cotton candy, mumbling between remembering she didn’t need to chew, but trying to chew anyways. “Never mind.” And by then, she was eager to keep them moving.

“Nothing could be as pretty as you,” Deirdre responded instantly, venturing to pop another piece of cotton candy into her mouth. “But I do like the idea of being corpse-blue in the lips.” And the thought was enough to tide her mischievous mind as they waited, eventually finding their turn in the pop-up. An oddity museum sat poorly in her stomach (or was that the cotton candy?), she’d heard enough hunters describe their collections that way---enough humans gawking at bastardized retellings of her kind’s history. Morgan continued to explain, but the concept was no more clear. Then the exhibits came into focus, and her passing worries melded into reality. Death coated the artefacts, calling to her with their whining and pleading. Her face remained impassive, no stranger to the sights around her---the displayed cruelty and the ignorant delight of the humans around her. “Oh, very real,” she laughed bitterly, consumed by perverse amusement. She hadn’t seen something so callous in so long, but her mother taught her indifference well, and she wielded the power to keep their carnival date moving along. They could pass through the exit there, and be done with the whole thing. Her eyes fell to the shriveled pixie body. “Now would be a bad time to mention how common this is, right?” She paused, reaching a hand out to pick the poor skeleton up, to hear its story and honor it. A quick scolding from a particularly bored looking employee had her hand snapping back. What was it she was trying to tell herself about getting to the exit and going on with their night? “Come on,” she whispered, “we can just leave.”

But Morgan could not move. Her eyes stayed fixed on the table of death, flitting from one remnant to another, always coming back to that whole pixie corpse, pinned down like a butterfly. “...Common?” Morgan whispered. She realized, bitterly, that this shouldn’t have surprised her. Didn’t she always have to concede that the world was often cruel? Hadn’t she suffered enough at its hands? Hadn’t Deirdre? And yet seeing this froze her with horror in a way Kaden’s internalized speciesism didn’t. This wasn’t just trauma and misinformation bundled into mistakes, this was someone’s profit, someone’s game. And whoever those teeth had belonged to, whoever that pixie had once been, they weren’t worth any more than a rare insect to the people here. And to the laughing teenagers, probably even less. She looked up at the employee who scolded Deirdre, her disgust and horror plain on her face. How could she be this bored? This careless? Did she not realize what she was handling because she was too scared to live with the truth? Did she know and just not care? Stars, this place must be a hunter’s dream, all these supernaturals, all these deaths they could oggle for fun without having to hide a thing. “How--” she began, but the rest of the words wouldn’t come. Morgan couldn’t sense Deirdre next to her, much less anyone else in the winding line nearby. She had to be jostled by a group of twenty and thirty somethings to realize what she was supposed to be doing. She let them shoulder past her  and turned to Deirdre, her eyes damp and open with dismay. She shook her head mutely, unable to string together anything simple for how much she hadn’t known what would be here. How much she hadn’t understood what had to be in a Museum of Monstrosities made by humans. Another group jostled by, one of the members coming hard enough against her to knock her off balance. She whirled toward them, sharp words on her lips, but thought of something better as soon as she caught sight of their backs.

“Cover for me, for what I’m about to do,”she murmured. “And when I reach for you next, it’s time to go.”

She hustled along, seemingly trying to get to the next display table, but before she was too far, she stepped on the back of a man’s foot and rammed herself into his shoulder before throwing her body back into the table, knocking it over and sending everyone jumping in multiple directions to avoid glass and recover the items. “Oh god! Be careful!” She cried. “I am so sorry, I was just--I’m really--”

“What’s your problem lady?” The man demanded, as if she’d done this just to him.

“It was an accident! Listen--” She turned to the employee. “Hey, can you run for your manager, maybe a broom or some signs? This really isn’t safe.” And as she watched the agitated teenager stomp out of the tent, she shuffled around and bent down as if to pick glass out of her sandal and reached for the pixie corpse.

What horrors were common for Deirdre’s world, seemed too unjust for Morgan. Perhaps it was a lifetime of knowing exactly how humans thought of her kind, how hunters displayed their carcasses, or how the odd witch hunted them down for ingredients, that held her steady. A lifetime of watching this very thing, knowing life was cyclical and fate took what it wanted. But this strange, demented side of the supernatural must have been new to Morgan. She reached for her girlfriend, eager to soothe her, lead her through the inane tent and outside where the world’s cruelties were less obvious. But the crowd jostled around them, pushing and shoving and her hand was knocked away, just as they were. All she wanted to do was reach Morgan, to bring her into the world that was kind and---“Cover for you?” Deirdre froze, hands pulled back. She watched, stunned for a moment, before her brain caught up.

Soon the hurried crowd that couldn’t care less about them, had their eyes darting to the scene and the shards of glass. Murmurs rumbled under their breaths as some continued to give them berth and walk on, while others seemingly couldn’t help their desire to gawk. It was those busybodies she needed to look elsewhere. Lacking the time to think, Deirdre charged at a man at the other end of the tent, throwing her arms around him. “There you are! I thought I lost you in the crowd--” she took care to be loud, enthusiastic, and ultimately far more interesting than the woman and her broken glass. “I have good news!” She turned to the crowd, “I’m pregnant! And---” she turned to the man who, pale, shook his head at the woman he was with. ‘I don’t know who she is’ he mouthed, but the blonde woman unhooked herself from him and watched. “And we’re getting married!” Deirdre continued, thrilled and affectionate---her hand tangled in his hair, playing with his curls like an old lover. The crowd turned to her finally, feeling obligated to clap and cheer until the woman fumed.

“Again!?” The woman threw her hands up, “I mean first my sister and then the mailman and then the mailman’s sister I just--you said you wouldn’t do this again!” She swung her purse out, scraping the top of Deirdre’s head as she ducked. Deirdre untangled herself from the man as his argument with the woman dissolved into pointing and shouting and something about expired yogurt that was still in the fridge. She couldn’t tell if this was what Morgan had wanted, or if her uncanny ability to trigger chaos was not the thing Morgan meant by “cover”. Deirdre inched back slowly, waiting for Morgan to come back to her so they could run---not only for theft, but from this woman’s mounting rage.

Someday, Morgan would learn to stop trying to guess what Deirdre was going to do. Starting a scene made sense, but there was something otherworldly about the speed and the artistry with which her banshee worked. Morgan tucked the pixie corpse into her skirt pocket, fighting back a smile of admiration and ran up to Deirdre, gripping her hand tight and pulling her out of the other woman’s reach. “You left me for him?” She cried, mouth agape. “I can’t believe you. We are going home and moving you out right now!” And before the crowd had time to question her acting skills, she was running for the exit, Deirdre’s tight in her grasp.

She ran with her through the crowd lined up outside the tent. “Excuse me!” she cried, knocking people aside. They ran through the aisles of vendors, bakers, popcorn ball makers, ran past the carousel with its flashing vintage bulbs. They ran under a blanket of light, smeared before her eyes like a mess of watercolors. They outpaced the children hyped on sugar and the teenagers racing each other to the roller coaster and when they cleared the entrance Morgan kept them running until the carnival was just a blur in the distance and the moans of the evening tide was louder than the calliope waltz. She stumbled to a halt, her face bright with relief and joy. “That was incredible! You are so incredible!” She released Deirdre’s hand with a breathless laugh. “Thank you, for going along with everything. I hope that was okay. It was, right? I would’ve saved all of them or not taken us there at all if I’d known, but, I did manage to get the pixie’s body? don’t know what the customs are, what we should do with them. I just didn’t want people to keep laughing at someone’s body like that, and they were so small, and I couldn’t think of anything else to do. But--” Her mind was still racing, too fast for her to summon much more in the way of words. She looked up at her, still giddy from their mad escape. “Thank you. Are you okay?”

Though Deirdre knew it was only an act, there was still a genuine whine that croaked out of her mouth, pitched with petulance as she remembered to follow their play. But quickly, the act fell apart as her awe set in. The last time she ran with her hand in someone else's, she had been a child. Her long legs hadn't quite grown in, making her gait awkward, and she hadn't yet learned the absurdity of being pulled along. Except there wasn't anything absurd about running alongside Morgan, watching the lights turn and wash over her. Past the crowds, around the booths and through paths she hadn't seen yet. The world couldn't keep up with them, and Deirdre watched each piece fade away until all that was left was Morgan—her hair bouncing as she ran, waves caught in the wind just as the fabric of her clothes—and her slowly thumping heart. Their run ended all too soon, but her world remained parted for them. She could remember they were by the water only when the sound of the languid tide washed over Morgan's words, she knew the moon only in how it cast light against Morgan's pale skin. She could scarcely account for the time between Morgan speaking and her reaching across to close distance between them. She knew she had to, compelled by something far greater than sense inside of her—relief, love, admiration and desire.

Deirdre captured Morgan with a kiss, bending to meet and hold her and then to wrap her arms around her waist and lift her up. "More than okay, you criminal," she laughed finally, spinning her once before relaxing her back to ground level. "I'm incredible? I'm not the one that stole a mummified corpse." And normally she was the one stealing the corpses. But Morgan had done something bigger than some exciting theft, more important. "It's more than okay," she repeated, tangling her hand in her hair, fixing windblown strands where she could, and thumbing over the bones of her face when she couldn't. "You don't have to save them all, or any of them, really but—thank you. We can bring the body to some pixies, they usually like to deal with their own." And they'd probably want to know where and how this death came to be, but Deirdre was suddenly convinced in the moment that the answer to death wasn't more death—so there was some half-lie they'd have to fumble with, but that was a later problem. "And maybe I can tell them what a hero you are," she smiled. "Or," she kissed her again quickly, rumbling the rest of her sentence by her ear, "we can go home for now. Valiant displays deserve their praise, and I have so much of it to give." There was only so much words could say, and as her fingers bunched around the hem of Morgan's shirt, she was sure of it. Maybe it was all the running around, or the sugar, or the ever constant buzz of affection that curled around her insides, bursting forth in moments not unlike these, but she could only barely summon the right eloquence to explain her thrumming feelings. "I love you," she mumbled, "you didn't have to get that pixie out of there. But you did." And though she would have loved her all the same if she didn't, there was some strange, mystifying quality in seeing proof of what she already knew. "You did good."

So much of Morgan’s time was devoted to tethering herself to the world, reaching out with all she had to to be held. Her body, suspended only by magic, was always crawling away from her senses and in solitary moments she still wondered if her soul would knock loose and float away if she wasn’t careful and released her grip. But there was nothing careful about the ground vanishing beneath her feet as Deirdre spun her around. No caution in the breathless laugh that fell from her or the tangled mess the gesture made of her hair or even the kisses that surrounded it. And all at once there was no reaching. The feeling she craved fluttered to life, so violently ecstatic it threatened to burst through her. Morgan let gravity pull her dizzy body into Deirdre, sighing at each point of contact that caught her. “I love you too,” she said, the words rushing out of her in an airy rush, froth tumbling over the sea. “Stars above, I love you too, Deirdre.” She laughed along with her girlfriend’s words, not because they were funny, but because there was starlight in her dark fae eyes and so much feeling: of wet, heavy sand in her toes and Deirdre’s mouth against hers and the moon shining pearlescent over them and that bright, feathery sensation coursing through her faster than her own blood ever had. Morgan was beyond complete. She overflowed, and she couldn’t help but let it fall out of her however it would.

“We did good tonight, my love,” she said, pulling Deirdre’s lips to hers again, clinging to her lip even as a smile broke over her face, so wide even kissing became impossible and all she could do was stare into the face she adored and hope all the wild, devoted stirrings inside her were rendered legible in her face. “Take me home first, and we can praise each other for our various acts of heroism and glory. Justice for pixies can come tomorrow.” She wrested Deirdre’s hand into her own again and locked their fingers together. “Let’s run back to the car, you and me?” She said, and before Deirdre could reply, they were off, sand flying from their feet as they hurtled into the dark, so light on their feet they seemed by any eyes that watched to anchored by each other alone.

[penmansparadise]

Billy Hargrove Imagine - Something Special

* I DON’T OWN ANY GIFS POSTED* *CREDIT TO THE GIF OWNERS*

Okay, sooo it’s been a FAT minute since I’ve posted something.  Being a full-time college student is just absolute shit.  I know I have so many requests that I still haven’t written, but I needed to get my inspiration to write again back.  I am hoping that I will get to some of the requests while I have this short break before my next classes start up again.  However, I may end up writing another Billy imagine just so I can get my creative juices flowing, so stay tuned.  I really hope that you all enjoy this.  Please let me know your thoughts in the comments!!  

Warnings: Mild language 

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

                                               ____________________

I clenched and unclenched my hands as I stared at the Blue Camaro parked in the driveway. Why Ms. Williams paired me with Max Mayfield, of all the middle schoolers in this rundown town, I had no idea. The stupid “Big Sister” program was straight bullshit anyway, but there I was, sitting in my car perched in front of the Hargrove/Mayfield residence. I blew out a long breath before getting out of my seat and walking to their front door.

Standing on the other side of the wooden door, I could hear Ratt blasting through the house. I tried my best to ignore it as I knocked three times. It wasn’t long before the door flew open to reveal the one person I was hoping would not be present during the visit. Sweat beaded on his forehead, causing his golden hair to stick together. He was wearing a worn white tank top that clung to his toned chest. Without even meaning to, my eyes took in every inch of him.

Billy was what most people called “popular.” Ever since he arrived in Hawkins, he had everyone turning their heads. I mean, honestly, it was hard not to. He quickly fell in with the “in-crowd,” and gained the title of “King of Hawkins.” Billy was the guy every girl wanted, and the person every guy wanted to be. He was the complete opposite of me. I was the quiet, good girl who got paid to write other people’s English papers. I always listened in class and was always home by curfew. Although there were many parties thrown, I was never in attendance. I never once thought for a second Billy would know who I was. But, he did.

Billy raised his eyebrows, and a small smirk fell onto his lips.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here, Y/N.”

Heat rose to my cheeks as I came back to reality.

“Yeah, well, same.”

Billy let out a chuckle,

“I live here.”

I shut my eyes tightly, completely regretting opening my mouth. I shook my head and brought my eyes to meet his again.

“Right, um, sorry. I know.”

He was amused at my inability to articulate my scrambled thoughts, but he was patient.

“I’m here for Max. I got paired as her mentor through the Big Sister program. We had a meeting today to talk about…girl things.”

His eyebrows rose again.

“Well, Y/N, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Max isn’t here.”

My stomach turned as embarrassment enveloped me. The red hue returned to my cheeks, and my eyes widened. I stood motionless and mute in front of Billy as he watched me.

“Okay,” I finally said, “I guess I’ll just go then.”

I quickly turned to leave and got halfway to my car when Billy spoke again, stopping me in my tracks.

“You could always stay and wait for her. She should be back soon.”

Something fluttered in my chest at his invitation, but I didn’t move immediately. I could see my car sitting on the curbside. It was beckoning me to jump in and drive home. The meeting could always be rescheduled; there was absolutely no reason for me to stay. But, for some unknown reason, I turned to face him. He stood there, leaning up against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest. A small smirk played on his lips as he waited patiently for me to make my decision. I let out a breath and gave a nod.

“Okay,” I said before walking into the house.

I took careful steps as I followed Billy toward the couch. The TV, tuned to MTV, blared “Take Me to the Top” by Mötley Crüe. I watched as he bopped around the room, picking up miscellaneous items in a weak attempt to tidy up. A light laugh escaped my lips at the sight of Billy, Mr. Big-and-Bad, dancing around his living room.

“This is a great song and all, but I prefer “Live Wire.” It really shows off Vince’s vocal range, you know?” I said, looking at the photos perfectly placed on the beige walls.

Billy stopped and turned to face me with confusion written all over his face.

“You listen to Mötley?”

My eyes connected with his as I sat up a little straighter.

“I do, actually. I would have killed to see them in concert when they were in Indianapolis. My mom wouldn’t let me go though. She was worried I’d get kidnapped or something.”

Billy’s mouth was nearly on the floor as I spoke. I narrowed my eyes at him and let out a huff.

“Why is it so surprising that I listen to Mötley Crüe?”

He moved himself to the loveseat across from me and plopped down.

“I just assumed that someone like you would listen to lighter music, you know? Like Madonna or something, I don’t know.”

My jaw dropped, and my hand flew to my chest in mock offense.

“Mr. Hargrove, there is quite a lot that you don’t know about me.”

He smirked and placed his arms across the back of the couch.

“So, I am learning.”

The two of us sat across from each other for hours talking about music. Billy was shocked when I told him that I saw Poison live, and even more floored when I told him I flashed Bret Michaels’ bodyguard to get backstage. He laughed when I told him I had a massive crush on David Lee Roth, and I laughed even harder when he said he did too. We were in the middle of debating which Def Leppard album was better when Max finally came through the door.

“You honestly think ‘High ‘n’ Dry’ is better than ‘Pyromania?’” Billy asked.

A smile was spread across my face as I answered with confidence.

“Absolutely! I mean, ‘Bringin’ on the Heartbreak’ is amazing! How could you think any different?”

Billy was about to speak when Max pulled both of our attention to the door.

“Y/N?”

I sprang to my feet, heart beating loud enough for their neighbors to hear.

“Max!” I damn near shouted.

I cleared my throat and took a calming breath.

“You’re back. I’m here for our meeting. You know, for the Big Sister/Mentor thing.”

Her eyes narrowed with skepticism as she looked from Billy to me.

“Right.” She said, drawing out each syllable. “Let’s go to my room then.”

She took my arm in her hand and began dragging me toward her room. I sent Billy an apologetic look before Max slammed her bedroom door shut.

The meeting was longer than I expected. Max unloaded everything on me, something I was not expecting. I tried my best to listen and nod when appropriate, but I could not concentrate. Billy’s perfectly structured face was burning in my mind. From his deep blue eyes, and the way they held my gaze to the way his nose crinkled when he laughed. When Max finally realized I was not fully present, she decided to let me go stating she was tired.

She didn’t walk me to the door, but I didn’t mind. I made my way through the quiet house and to the front door. My heart nearly stopped when Billy grabbed the doorknob before me.

“So, I’ll see you next week at the same time?” He asked with a playful grin. “We still have to decide which Def Lepp album is better.”

I let out a small chuckle at his comment. Against my better judgment, I nodded.

“Yeah, same time next week; I’ll be here.”

He smiled before opening the door and watching me leave. I got in my car, trying my best to hide the wide grin spread across my lips. I gave a little wave before driving off with the thought of seeing Billy again playing in my mind.

From that day forward, it was a routine of ours. I would arrive exactly two hours before my meeting with Max was scheduled to spend time with Billy. We would sit in his room, me on his bed, and him on the floor, and just talk. It started out as small talk. He asked what my favorite color was, and I asked what his favorite season was. As the months rolled on, the conversations got deeper. He moved from the floor to lying next to me on his bed. He told me about his mother and how he tries so hard to make his father proud. I told him about my parents and how suffocating they are by controlling my every move. He told me he doesn’t like to fight, but he doesn’t know how else to express his emotions. I told him that I didn’t want to go to college, but couldn’t bear the thought of telling my parents. Slowly, but surely, we grew closer and closer.

Although our little talks had been going on for months, I still got excited about seeing Billy. When I pulled up in front of his house that day, I saw him waiting on the porch. It was different, but I tried not to look too much into it. Trying to mask the happiness bubbling over inside of me, I sauntered over to him. A wide smile spread across his lips at the sight of me, making my heart jump.

“Hey,” I said more to my feet than Billy.

He chuckled lightly.

“Hey.”

We stood in silence for a moment before Billy finally spoke.

“Can I take you somewhere?”

My mouth opened and closed with no words coming out at first.

“Um,” I began, “Yeah, sure.”

Billy’s blue eyes brightened at my response. He didn’t say anything in return, instead, he took my hand in his, and led me to his car. The feeling of his fingers intertwined with mine sent shock waves through my entire body. He opened the passenger side door for me before rushing to get behind the wheel. His nervous, jittery movements made me giggle. He was not acting like his normally cool and collected self.

In the car, from my peripherals, I could see him stealing glances of me. My heart pulsed in my chest, and I moved my hand to my face to hide my smile. “Faithfully” by Journey came from the radio, and molded with the sound of rubber over asphalt in perfect harmony. The windows were down, blowing the smell of Billy’s cologne and dewy grass into my face. I let myself look in his direction for a moment. His golden hair, whooshing wildly around his face, shined under the late afternoon sun. One hand sat perched on the top of the steering wheel while the other hung lazily out the window. His slender fingers drummed along to the radio. His eyes were glued to the empty road ahead of us. I bit my bottom lip as I let myself drink him up.

Billy turned the car down a dirt road, and shortly after that, we were parked under a large oak tree. There was nothing surrounding us but greenery. Billy got out first, and as I was taking in the view, he opened my door. He took my hand before guiding me to the front of his car. Standing in front of me, he gently placed his hands on my waste. He was closer than he had ever been. I could feel the warmth coming off his tense body. His hands gripped my hips a little before he lifted me effortlessly onto the hood. A nearly inaudible gasp left my lips at the sudden movement. He removed his hands from my body and sat down next to me. His arm brushed against mine, giving me shivers. The feeling of his body close to mine made my stomach tighten.  

In a sad attempt to lessen the obvious tension between the two of us, I spoke.

“This place is beautiful, Billy. How did you find it?”

His eyes never strayed from the tree standing in front of us.

“I was driving one night to clear my mind when I came across the dirt road. It was probably kind of stupid now that I think about it, but I turned down it. I realized it was a dead-end, so I got out and sat for a while. From that day on, when I needed to just get away, I came here. It’s a good place to think.”

I took in the picturesque scenery in awe. With the sun setting, the tree coverage made me feel like I was in a fairytale. Billy cleared his throat, gaining my attention again.

“Can I, um, I need to tell you something, Y/N.”

He was fiddling with his hands, a nervous habit of his that I had picked up on. I gave an anxious nod to urge him to go on. His eyes were looking everywhere, but mine as he spoke.

“These past few months with you have been amazing.” He said.

My mouth fell slightly agape, not sure what to say in return. But, before I could reply, Billy continued in a rush.

“I’ve learned so much from you. Not just about who you are, but also about myself. I’ve learned that I don’t have to punch someone to get my point across, and it’s okay to walk away sometimes. You taught me that being a big brother isn’t as terrible as I made it out to be. Max is actually a pretty cool kid.

“I’ve learned that you love power ballads because they make you believe that people can really be in love. I also learned the hard way that you prefer the wall side of the bed.” He gave a light chuckle as he playfully rubbed the arm I hit months back when he tried to take my side of the bed. His eyes finally pulled away from the grassy roots ahead of us and met mine. He smiled and let out a sigh.

“You really are something special, Y/N.”

My cheeks flushed from the blunt compliment. Billy never ventured down the road of flattery with me before. Something had clearly changed between us. I gave a nervous laugh and waved him off.

“Oh, don’t give me that much credit.”

“No, really.” Billy began, “You’ve made me into a better person. I’m a better version of myself when I’m with you, Y/N.”

His steady gaze held mine as I hung on to every word that he spoke. I could feel the heat climbing up my neck again and quickly averted my eyes.

“Stop looking at me like that!” I said with another nervous chuckle, “You’re making me blush.”

I looked back up to find his eyes still set on me. My hands began to sweat as I held onto my knees for support.

“I, Billy…” I trailed off.

His eyes began to gloss over before he finally spoke again.

“Y/N, I think I’m in love with you, and that absolutely terrifies me.”

My breath caught in my throat at his words. They echoed in my ears and embraced my heavy beating heart.

“Why does it terrify you?”

He ran his hands over his face before running them through his perfect mane of hair.

“I don’t know. I just, I’ve never felt this way before, for anyone. I’ve never known what this could feel like. The only other person I felt genuine love for walked out of my life without looking back. I’m afraid of putting myself in that position again. I’m scared that if I let myself be vulnerable again, you’ll leave just like my mother did. I don’t want to feel that kind of pain ever again, Y/N. I can’t go through that again. I won’t make it.”

“Billy,” I said, placing my hand on top of his, “I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not tomorrow, and not six months from now.”

He moved his gaze to meet mine again. With my eyes glued to his, I gave his hand a squeeze.

“You’re not the only person who has learned new things these past few months, Billy. I used to be a hermit who only left the house to go to school. You taught me how to embrace the world around me. You showed me that there is more to life than just math and science assignments. I’ve learned that taking risks is scary, but dammit it’s so worth it. Billy, you taught me how to live, and you showed me that even I am capable of falling in love.”

My hands were shaking, and this time Billy gave my hand a squeeze encouraging me to go on. I shut my eyes and let out a breath.

“I’ve never felt these feelings before. The way my heart jumps at just the thought of you. Or how your smile makes it hard to breathe. Billy, I’ve never craved another human being before. This is all new to me.”

I opened my eyes and met his cerulean orbs, full of anticipation.

“You’re not the only one who’s terrified, Billy.”

We held each other’s gaze for a moment, acutely aware of the other’s every movement. My heart was racing, and my breathing quickened with each passing second. I felt his hand leave mine, and slowly land on my right cheek. My eyes shut as I leaned into his warm touch. Every one of my senses was on high alert. I could hear his short breaths as he inched closer toward me. I could feel his other hand land softly on my left cheek. I could smell his coconut shampoo as his little ringlets brushed against my face.

Our lips were only inches from one another, and my whole body ached for him to close the distance. His thumbs drew small circles on my cheeks before he finally connected his lips to mine. My hands gripped his toned arms as I melted into the kiss. He pulled me closer until I was practically in his lap. I let my hands wander up his arms until they found the back of his neck. My fingers tangled in his soft curls as our lips moved together in complete bliss.

When he reluctantly pulled away, I was breathless. He moved his hands to my waist and hoisted me onto his lap. Straddling him, I placed my forehead against his and smiled. He gently rubbed his nose against mine, making me chuckle.

“I love you so much, Y/N.”

Tingles washed over me at his words. With a cheesy grin plastered on my face, I leaned close to his ear, and whispered,

“I love you so much more, Billy.”

A low chuckle shook his body as he wrapped his arms around me. He trailed kisses up and down my neck before leaning back onto his hood and pulling me into another passionate kiss.