#i need them hissing and spitting at each other but also striking out at anyone who tries to get in the middle of it

[arsenicflame]

too much gentle stizzy out there right now. i need them to tear each others throats out

[beetlegoose01]

Frostbite (Casetello)

AN: do these two have a ship name? Caseytello? eh whatever it’s casey x donnie and they’re gay

special thanks to cal for reading this for me and saying i should post it <3

There were quite a lot of things Casey Jones loved. Hockey, pizza, riding his motorcycle, video games, beating the crap out of his opponents. Normal teenage stuff. Lately he had been doing the latter, ever since he and April officially joined the 'Unofficial Turtles Team' , helping alongside the teen mutants on patrol. Goofing off with Mikey and Raph were the highlights, but he couldn't deny spending extra time with April was also a benefit. Even if they barely got a single word out- too busy fighting off random mutants scattering the city, it was still nice.

But what wasn't nice, downright unpleasant about patrol...was Donatello. There was an unspoken, mutual loathing that the pair shared that even quick glances at each other led to glaring and arguing. Leaving them together in the same room was never a good idea. Casey hasn't understood why the purple genius was so hostile towards him at first. But the reasons became obvious the first time he caught him staring helplessly at April, fumbling his words and blushing profusely. Not that Casey didn't feel similarly, heck, that was the problem. Both were attracted to April. Obviously Casey had the upper hand, being human. A turtle and a human girl in a relationship was built for disaster.

But their hatred didn't stop there. It wasn't just about April.  Eventually, everything about Donatello annoyed him. His whiny voice, his love for using complicated words to sound superior, soon every little thing bugged him.

Things were easier if the two stayed as far apart as possible.

Of course, fate seemed to work in mysterious ways.

It was starting to get late, the moonlight illuminating the sky. The group stopped on a rooftop, perched by the edge. Leo halted them silently, then turned around.

"Why'd you stop, Fearless?" Raph asked.

"I think we should split up. We'll cover more ground. If you see any sign of trouble, use your T-Phones." said Leo.

"No way dudes!" Mikey squeaked. "I saw this scary movie last night where the team split up! And then..." He paused for dramatic effect. "They all got taken out one by one. Starting with the cute funny one!" He trembled, hiding behind Donnie, who rolled his eyes.

Raph smirked, always prepared for a sassy remark. "Which means, you'll be just fine since you're neither of those."

"Hey!"

"And you'll be in pairs." Leo crossed his arms. "I've got it all planned out. Raph and April. Mikey and me."

"Mikey and I." Donnie corrected under his breath. Casey fought the urge to whack the smart aleck turtle with his hockey stick.

Leo ignored him. "Donnie and Casey-"

Casey involuntary let out a loud groan. Just his luck.

Leo narrowed his blue eyes, unamused. "Something wrong, Jones?"

"Er..." His eyes darted to Donatello, who seemed stoic, but equally frustrated with this predicament. On one hand, he wanted to argue and beg to be with literally anyone else. On the other, he didn't want to deal with the leader in blue getting annoyed with him.  "Nah Leo, that's fine by me. Right, D?"

Donnie huffed. "Yeah, that's alright."

"I think this will be good for you both." April grinned.

"Of course, April." Donnie agreed.

"No problem at all." Casey smiled through gritted teeth. When she turned away, they both shared an equally menacing glare.

"I knew I could count on you two." April smiled softly, though even she didn't look entirely convinced.

This was going to be a long night.

~•~

Turns out, Casey had underestimated the scrawny (ugh, svelte) turtle. In what Donnie lacked in muscle, he gained with his speed, mobility and of course, his mind. It was practically impossible to keep up once Donatello had leaped from the first building, tumbling and landing with ease, while Casey was coughing his lungs out as he ran desperately after the brainy terrapin.

"Okay, now you're just showing off." He panted irritably, nearly collapsing once he finally caught up with him.

"Are you coming or not?" Donnie gave his trademark gap tooth grin as he turned, slowing down.

"I am! You're just moving too fast!" Casey complained. "I thought turtles were supposed to be slow! I didn't even have time to get my grappling hook."

Donnie shrugged, ending the conversation with one simple movement.

They walked side by side, neither wanting to say anything. They both knew it would only end in arguing.

"Can I just say-" Casey started.

"No, you can't."

"I didn't say anything!"

"Exactly."

"Listen, Gap Tooth, I don't like this either!" He flicked a stone off the roof with his shoe. "But we have to ..." He swallowed. "work together, right?"

Donnie said nothing. He looked deep in thought.

"Is it because of April? Because it's not my fault she...y'know likes me more."

At the mention of April, Donnie turned away, eyes flashed with hurt, which only filled Casey with that annoying feeling of guilt.

"It isn't about her."

"Alright." Silence. "Sorry, let's just-" He cleared his throat. "Let's just work together, we don't need to be friends. Just get through the mission. After that, we can go back to hating each other."

"That was...surprisingly mature, Jones. Glad we can agree on something." Donnie quipped. "And for once, you're right. This mission is more important than our petty squabbles. No matter how insufferable you may be."

"Now you're just making up words."

Donnie fought the urge to roll his eyes. "So, that's two more hours of this."

Casey scoffed, but couldn't help but chuckle. Quietly of course. Last thing he wanted was for Donnie to think he was actually amusing.

"So...deal?"

"Deal." Donnie said, then added: "Cave Mouth." Which made Casey shove him lightly.

For a brief moment, they seemed to share a mutual understanding. The silence that followed wasn't awkward or forced, it was comfortable. Well, as comfortable as they could possibly be.

Donnie paused, startled by something. Lifting his bō carefully, he tried to follow whatever the sound was.

"What the-" Casey raised an eyebrow.

"Shh!" He hissed. "Do you hear that?"

"No?" Casey scrunched his nose, listening closely. It sounded like a...buzzing noise? Like a fly or mosquito. Irritating, but not dangerous. "Chill Don, it's just a bug or something."

"No, listen!" The turtle looked frantic and alert.

The buzzing became louder. Then, it was followed by the sound of snapping wood. Deliberate and exact. Casey gulped, taking his own weapon.

A massive shadow flew over their heads and landed in front of them. Donnie yelped in surprise, stumbling forward.

"Ah, shell." He swore, lifting his head to face the hideous insectoid mutant with acid green eyes. Scumbug spread his deformed wings, antenayes raised, prepared to strike.

"Well, I was right. That definitely is a bug. Scumbug! Wicked! This'll be fun!" Casey sneered.

"Which makes no sense, considering stag beetles aren't even bugs! They're insects!" Donnie spun his staff like a propeller, hitting the mutant face on.

"Not the time!" Casey tackled Scumbug, who roared, jostling him aside like a ragdoll. He smacked the floor with a sickening thud, directly on his arm. He fought back a scream of agony.  "Do you- gah- seriously have to be such a know it all, all the time?" He looked at his arm, which currently looked seriously messed up.

Donnie looked affronted. "I am not a know it all!"

"Yes you are!" Another whack of his trusty hockey stick, followed by a knock to the ground, face first. He wiped his mouth from the metallic taste of blood.

"No I'm not!"

"Yes you- Donnie, look out!" Casey shrieked, sounding less manly than he intended.

Scumbug, now furious, had efficiently used his enemies' bickering to his advantage. Before he could turn around, a spider web twirled from its appendages binding Donatello to the ground, who kicked and struggled furiously.

The mutant now crouched over the captured turtle, prepared to strike with his signature acid spit.

"Hang on, D! Casey Jones is here to save the day! GOONGALA!" He bellowed, racing towards Scumbug and latching onto him like a demented parasite. It was hardly the most graceful of moves, but it distracted him briefly.

He raised his hockey stick, poking him hard in the eye in an attempt to gouge them. Eyes were sensitive- he remembered Splinter telling him that.

With the extra time, Donnie reached for his bō, ripping the web apart with the extended naginata blade.

Scumbug, now looking more disheveled and horrifically disfigured than normal, retreated blindly into the misty air.

"I didn't need your help." Donnie said bitterly.

"Aw, is that any way to say thank you?" Casey retorted. "I just saved your shell." He poked his plastron roughly. "I think I deserve a little appreciation for my heroism."

"I had it handled."

"Did you? Because you looked just about ready to be eaten by Scumbug."

Donatello scowled, moving closer. "And he got away. So your heroism didn't exactly work, did it?"

"Would you rather have acid stuck to your face?" Casey growled. "You'd look even freakier than you do now. Next time you're a little 'turtle in distress' don't expect me to come save your-"

"I didn't need saving." Their foreheads pressed together, any moment ready to face each other on.

Casey gritted his teeth. "Sure, whatever you say. I didn't help because I actually cared about you or anything."

"Then why did you?" Donnie snapped, pulling away. "You could have left me."

"Because I- you- argh!" Casey felt his temper rising. "Because I'm not a monster, alright? We're a team, and we help each other. That's the deal." He wiped his chapped lips again, the disgusting taste of blood still lingering. He winced, clutching his arm.

"I can patch you up at the lair." Donnie said softly. "It just looks sprained."

"Mm." Casey grumbled, still pissed. Stubbornness was taking over any injury he had. He'd rather have his arm stay at this awkward angle than admit he was hurt in front of his rival. "I'll just wrap it up at home. I'll be fine."

Donnie sighed, raising his palm to his face. "Don't be so stubborn, I can help you."

Casey didn't look convinced.

"To repay the favor?" His warm brown eyes looked surprisingly sincere. "You did help me, after all. I'd probably be toast if you didn't."

Casey snorted. "You got that right."

A beat. Donnie looked unsure, as if he wanted to say something else. But whatever it was, it was holding him back.

"So...we should go back to the lair then?" Casey suggested, easing the awkwardness.

"Huh? Yes, of course. Totally. " Donnie nodded. "Naturally."

"Alright then."

"Jones?"

Casey turned, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"I just wanted to say...thanks."

"Hey, no problem. But don't tell anyone I saved your ass."

"Deal."

~•~

Casey never expected to be sitting in Donnie's lab table, in between Timothy the blob-organ filled mutant and several bunsen burners, but life tended to be weird that way. He also didn’t expect to be pouting on said table like he was at some freaky doctor’s office. The rest of the team returned shortly after them, and seemed surprised that Donnie was actually willing to fix Casey's arm- and not begrudgingly.

Donnie returned with a first aid kit, setting it on the table. He hummed a familiar tune to himself, as if to fill the empty air of any more awkwardness.

"I've seen these before." Casey said, poking the bunsen burner tap, immediately then swatted away by Donatello. "At my school's science lab."

Donnie nodded, rolling up Casey's sleeve to examine his bare arm. Casey flinched, not comfortable with the random act of touching. "Hey don't!"

"Do you want your arm fixed or not?"

"...yeah."

"Then let me work my magic."

Casey frowned, staring at the bottle the turtle was holding. "Your magic looks like antibiotics and advil."

Donnie's lip twitched.

After his arm was treated somewhat, Donnie wrapped him up gently with a clean bandage. The slow movement made his heart race increase every time Donnie's fingertips brushed his arm, but he ignored it.

Don't be weird, Jones.

"That should be good. Don't put any pressure on it." said Donnie, passing him the advil. "And take this, it'll soothe the pain."

Casey pretended to look offended. "Here I thought you were gonna kiss it better."

Donnie rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. "Don't push it, Jones. We aren't there yet."

Casey laughed. "Yet. Thanks for fixin' my arm, D. You...aren't so bad, I guess. But let's go back to hating each other, alright?"

Donnie smirked. "Whatever you say."

[scriptaed]

bygones of the sun. 07 (m)

genre: angst/fluff/smut || dance captain!hoseok, bad boy!au, uni!au

pairing: reader x hoseok;

length: 6.7k;

synopsis: Jung Hoseok was once the sweetheart of the school, the dance captain whom every girl, including you, can’t help but fall head over heels for. But like the force of the ever-glowing sun, everything that rises must also set. A year of inactivity later and he’s now the school’s resident bad boy. You’re a firm believer of allowing the past be the past, and yet you can’t help but wonder where the risen sun has gone into hiding—because perhaps its shadows have out-shined its own radiance.

Ten bucks for club dues and fifteen bucks for transportation plus utility fees and you’d think boot camps really are as luxurious and happy-go-lucky as movies paint them out to be. Unfortunately for you and your recently trance filled state, confronting the face of reality only comes colliding into you just a couple of weeks since you last saw him. Despite the malicious side effects of reading into rumors, people really aren’t lying when they say the dance club’s boot camp is synonymous to a “living hell disguised as a getaway paradise by scheming club officers.” While you aren’t attending as an official member of the team, and therefore forfeiting the rights to proclaim the overbearing stress and practices that are soon to come, there are certain other issues weighing your mind.

First off, paying twenty five bucks just to see this one despicably sly and retired dancer resume his role as the captain is all too pricey of a fee, because even you're not sure why you’ve invested so much time and effort into someone who only sees you as his next victim of his black book filled with female contacts. You thought you had gotten over him, but the mere fact that you’re attending despite claiming to be “dragged into this” is a direct opposition of such a foolish belief, or better yet, desire. But such questions become trivial when the first obstacle you face of the four days long journey ahead of you is simply tossing two overly stuffed duffel bags into the luggage compartment of the towering, chic black and white charter bus.

Struggling to weave your way through the bustling crowds of fellow trip attendees, consisting of mainly guys and specks of girls, you puff in a deep breath before picking up one bag on each hand and hustling through with all your might and diminishing courtesy. The task proves to be worse in terms of pleasantness than labor, for squatting down and searching for the smallest of a few square feet of free space while squinting your eyes against the smoke of hot, steaming gas and water vapor released from the roaring engine.

“Do you need help?”

The familiar honey-like base yet raspy edge to his voice strikes a sense of panic against your thumping chest. Is this a rise of excitement or is this a fight-or-flight defense mechanism against the threat before you?

Hesitantly turning around, you crane your neck to peer up at the one and only boy towering over you from above, an effort made in vain as all you manage to catch sight of is the black silhouette of his figure and the smug signature look of his all underneath the blinding sunlight his head so conveniently blocks.

“Or are you going to ogle and drool all over me while standing in everyone’s way?” Hoseok chortles. Your eyes follow his every move, too taken aback to move or respond. It’s been at least two weeks since you had last seen him and two weeks since… that had happened. Your lips burn and your first immediate response is to smack your hands right over them as if to cover the beet red of your cheeks and lips… or largely to prevent future advances. Hoseok only scoffs in response, smirking and squatting midway to strategically whisper into your ears, “we have lots of time to do that in the camp later, if you so want.”

“Excuse me?” you lean back as far as you can and gape, but he only squats down to your level before grabbing the bags of luggage from your hand.

“Don’t worry, I got this. After going through this entire process at least six times by now, you just gotta learn to…” his words are cut off by huffs as he forcefully pushes and tosses and squeezes bags further into the compartment before tossing his and your own along with them. “There,” he brushes his hands, “I don’t know what Jimin has been teaching them, but the new recruits seem to be awfully spoiled taking up so much space. This is boot camp, not vacation.”

“Thanks,” you say after chuckling.

“Is your gratitude exchangeable?” he asks, turning to cock his head to the side and revealing the structure of his jawline; and as much as you’d like to deny it, it takes every ounce of sheer willpower not to stare at him in awe.

“For what?” you’re barely able to utter. Hoseok stares at you in silence, dark eyes eating and drinking you up with each passing second, and that’s all you need to get the hint. The knot in your throat catches your silent gasp as you avert your gaze to the ground, cheeks burning, heart skipping, and lips throbbing. “I don’t know what you’re implying.”

“Oh, my bad, I forgot. Can’t corrupt my prude little princess just yet,” he muses, and you can just feel his sultry gaze piercing straight through your temple as he flashes you his charming damn crooked grin. Hoseok cocks his head in the direction behind the crowds of incoming baggage bearers, “go on. Your friends are waiting for you. I gotta help out here.”

“You sure you don't need any help?” you offer, standing upright to brush the invisible dirt off your lap.

Hoseok glances up at you and scoffs with the most teasing smirk possible. “Are you implying you're willing to help me? I'm thankful for the offer, your Grace, but I don't think standing there and checking me out is going to do us much good,” he laughs and throws a quick glimpse over at your friends with a lopsided smile. “I know I said this is camp and all, but you should at least have some fun now before it's too late.”

“...okay,” you hesitantly mumble, giving him a small wave and stumbling through the crowd once again to join your friends spectating from afar.

“What took you so long?” Junghwa ponders aloud, a small pout resting on her bottom lip as her foot impatiently taps against the floor.

“Sorry, the luggage compartment was almost full—”

“—wait, wait, wait, Y/N… was that Hoseok who helped you with your luggage over there?” Hani interjects with wide eyes, going on her tiptoes to confirm the back figure of said man just a few strides ahead. Not even a split second after, Junghwa’s eyes pop and the both of them turn in sync to stare at you with gaping mouths.

“No way,” Junghwa drawls. “Jung Hoseok? The ex dance captain? Your long time crush—”

“—keep your voice down,” you hiss before timidly glancing at the ground and twiddling your thumbs. “...maybe.”

“I can’t believe you’re actually doing this, Y/N,” Hani utters, the drop of her jaw and the void in her voice conveying just how shocked she is from your sudden course of actions.

“I know right,” Junghwa jumps in, hooking her arms around Hani’s crossed ones. “I mean, dance camp? Basically a trip? With Hoseok?”

“It’s not only with Hoseok,” you articulate. “There’s at least twenty other people going with us.”

“Uhuh, right, but you won’t be paying attention to any of them except Hoseok, so it’s basically the same thing. How did you even manage to convince him to return?” Junghwa exasperates, a series of blabbering shortly follows before you hurriedly clasp your hand over her running mouth to muffle her words.

A few seconds of incoherent mumbling goes by before Hani taps you on the shoulder and chuckles, “okay, Y/N, any second longer and she’s going to faint.”

As much as most normal, rational human beings would opt for breathing through the nose than the mouth in situations like this, whether out of instincts or simple common sense, it’s also painfully obvious that Junghwa is unlike that of any other. All that’s on Junghwa’s head at the moment is getting her thoughts said and heard, and not even her very own being can top that priority. So pressing your lips, you figure Hani’s right—like always—and the well being of your best friend is more important than answering a few questions. Reluctantly and ever so slowly, you retract your hands from her lips, the absence of her voice’s vibration immediately leaving your hand empty of sensation.

The second your hands unclasp from her mouth, thus letting her words loose, Junghwa desperately gasps for air before, unsurprisingly, blurting out yet again in an all too ear-spitting manner, “or is he returning because of you? Did you make some sort of deal with him?! Y/N, why didn’t you tell us? You need to tell us—”

“—shh,” you hiss, immediately and strategically placing your middle finger against your lips to hush her back into silence. Eyes wide and alert, you hastily glimpse around to check for any possible bystanders dropping in on your conversation. When all coast is clear, everyone too busy chatting away with their friends and loading their additional luggage onto the bus, you shoot a death stare straight at your friend who gulps in terror. “Are you trying to turn this trip into hell before it even starts? I know it might come as a surprise to you, but I don’t want anyone spreading rumors about Hoseok and I!”

“I know,” Junghwa pouts and grabs ahold of your hand only to sway it side to side, as if to win you over with pity. “I’m sorry… I won’t do it again. I promise!”

“That’s what you said last time.”

“I swear I’m serious! Curiosity just got the best of me this time around,” Junghwa cheekily smiles. “If someone happens to hear us, I’ll treat you out for dinner. Better yet, I’ll confess to Jimin or anyone you want and make a fool of myself, yeah? Mm?”

“You don’t even like Jimin!” you refute, appalled by her lackluster offer.

“Oh, you know how she is, Y/N,” Hani laughs, rolling her eyes. “At least no one has ever really paid attention to her yelling. Plus, I really am curious as to why he’s back. How did you convince him to join today? I thought he always stayed at least a mile’s distance from anything related to dance.”

A hard thump hammers against your chest when the answer to her question echoes in your mind and rests on the tips of your tongue. A kiss. You exchanged his attendance this morning for a kiss; but there’s no way you’re going tell your friends something as embarrassing as that, especially seeing how they had taken the news of your previous dates with Hoseok. However, judging by how fervently your lips burn of the apparition of his soft lips pressed up against them, you convince yourself you’ve already given the answer away.

“Hey, we’re just about done here,” a familiar voice melts in your left ear like honey as a heavy arm swings over your shoulder and pulls you into his side. You glance up to find Hoseok raising a brow at your two friends, “oh, I’m sorry, but I don’t quite seem to recognize…”

His words trail off, and for some reason you think you can see a flash of the old dance captain resuming his courteous, welcoming ways; hence, unbeknownst to you, a smile gradually stretches across your lips. While you’re stuck in your reverie, Junghwa and Hani’s head snap towards each other, eyes widening and words failing to leave their gaping mouths as looks of admiration and awe oozes from the glistening windows to their souls. The ogling eyes of theirs nearly evokes a snort from the back of your throat, because finally, finally they can first-handedly witness the melting charms of Hoseok and actually understand the reasonings behind your recent irrational actions. But then their eyes dart to you once again, lips formulating silent threats and teeth gritting like a desperate call for your help.

As much as you’d like to blame your lack of a response to your friends’ plees solely on your short-lived trance of catching the returning glimpse of your long-time crush, a part of you just knows the truth lies in the satisfaction of observing the petrified look on your friends’ faces. Is this the look you had plastered all over your face when they made fun of you for your crush on Hoseok? Was this the mirror image of your state of panic when Junghwa nearly exposes your “relationship” with Hoseok to the entire class? Just recalling the pain your friends had put you through endorses you to sit back and relax as you watch karma do its work.

“...new recruits?” Hoseok chirps after a few seconds of silence, quirking a brow and flashing a clueless, lopsided grin. “Did Jimin actually manage to acquire new members while I was gone?”

“Actually no,” Hani quickly blurts, shaking her head violently, “we’re not a part of the club.”

“Oh?” Hoseok cocks his head, glimpsing at you in confusion before returning his eyes to Hani when you only stand in silent amusement. “Sorry, my bad. So what are you two lovely ladies doing here then?”

Did he just call them lovely? In front of you? With his arm wrapped around you and his recently numerous flirtatious advances on you? Even though you have no idea why you’re so irked in the first place, there’s something about his smooth, charismatic ways that tugs at your heartstrings in the rather painful manner for once.

Unbeknownst to you, a twitch of your face is evident enough to your friends and Hoseok for them to jolt in place, petrified over whatever fiery hazard scorches from within the vicinity of your glare. And unlike your friends who take a step back and glimpse at each other for help, the boy beside you only pulls you in even tighter until your head has nowhere to rest but against the calm, warm beats of his chest.

“Uh,” Junghwa utters, eyes popping when she notices Hoseok’s firming embrace.

“We’re just sending Y/N off,” Hani finishes her friend’s sentence and averts her panicked gaze back to you as you narrow your eyes at the audacity of Hoseok.

“Well that’s nice of you two. So that’s where Y/N gets it from,” he muses before continuing, “are you sure you two don’t wanna join? I’m sure we have enough space left to accommodate for you two.”

“Oh no, we couldn’t—

“—well actually, we wanted to but Y/N forced us not to because she was ‘embarrassed’ or something—ow!” Hani nudges her elbow straight into Junghwa before she can mutter another word.

Hoseok turns his head at you with warmth radiating from his dark chocolate orbs and the most suggestive of smirks tugging on the corner of his lips, “and what does that mean, Y/N?”

You freeze. You don’t know why or how or when, but for some reason your body’s immediate response to his gaze locking with yours is to drop everything and freeze. Heart panicking, hammering, and nearly stopping, you completely forget your friends are watching just a few feet away—

“—we didn’t bring any money for club dues and trip fees,” Hani quickly comes to the rescue, shooting you a subtle smile, and for once, you’re actually glad that your friends are here to support you in the wake of Hoseok’s impact.

“Oh, that’s fine. Any friend of Y/N’s is welcome with or without dues. I’d rather gain two new recruits than lose the opportunity to because of a few bucks or so. Plus, our club has more than enough funds to cover your fees for now,” he quips, cleverly interjecting before Hani can provide a rebuttal, “you don’t really think I’m letting you off the hook, do you? Nah, what kind of a captain would I be if I did that? You can pay me back afterwards.”

“That’s very kind of you, but…”

“...or your friend here can pay for you,” Hoseok smiles smugly, pointing his thumb to the side and at you. Traumatizing your lips and paying twenty five bucks to humiliate yourself for the sole sake of potentially watching Hoseok dance again were already too high of stakes to pay in the first place, so all you can do in response to his absurd suggestion is gawk at him in disapproval.

“She’s the last person who would do that,” Junghwa grumbles.

Hani nudges Junghwa once again, “I’m sure Y/N is going to have lots of fun at camp… although I do worry if she’s going to be alone—”

“—I’ll be fine—”

“—don’t worry, she’s in good hands,” Hoseok cuts in with a wide grin, arm firmly gripping your right shoulder and pulling you even closer into him.

“...what do you think you’re doing?” you finally mutter through gritted teeth. Your friends hesitantly exchange and dart glances between the two of you as they watch the narrowing of your death stare.

“What? This?” he pats his hands on the side of your arm and pulls you in once again, cocking a brow at you to feign innocence. “You didn’t seem to mind skinship last week? Or are you shy about PDA?”

Your jaw slacks open in sync with your friends. Did he really just say that? In front of your friends? So much for having fun and saving the embarrassment for later on in the trip.

“I don’t know what you’re saying…” you mutter, snaking your hand behind his back and tugging on his shirt to signal for him to stop… which he doesn’t.

“Oh c’mon, you couldn’t have forgotten already, Y/N!” Hoseok chimes, and his grin grows wider and wider as he watches your cheeks burn a brighter shade of red by the second. He cocks his head and begins listing the events of that night which still burns so fervently in the back of your mind, “fridge… bet… tabletop… ki...tchen.”

The second to last syllable nearly evokes a heart attack from your already weak condition, thousands of needles piercing straight through your chest as you glimpse at your friends; luckily for you, it seems like they haven’t caught onto anything yet, for they’ve never worn a more confused look than they are now.

Hoseok only grins in amusement before proceeding to his grand finale, “ki—hey!”

The smug look on his face is wiped and replaced by utter shock. He gawks at you with eyes wide and mouth open the second his brain registers the fact that you had just pinched him as hard as you could from the back.

“...kinda have to go help out Jimin and the others. Yeah, that’s what I meant to say,” Hoseok chuckles after a few seconds of bewilderment, turning to flash one last smile at your friends and waving them goodbye. “I’m sorry but I don’t believe I ever got your names…?”

Your two friends just stand there in what you’re unsure to make out as either fright for the scene that just played before them or in awe over the radiant sight of his killer smile—or perhaps, a mix of both. Hani’s slouched shoulders suddenly straighten upright the second she snaps back into reality and checks up on her friend, whom had failed to escape her trance. She stutters, “H-Hani, I’m Hani, a-and this is Junghwa.”

“Right. It was nice meeting you, Hani and Junghwa. I promise you I’ll look over Y/N, even if she refuses to accept my help and assaults me with acts of violence. And remember, I know it might be boring without me as the captain, but it’s never too late to join the club,” he sing-songs, voice velvety and soothing like always but his last statement leaves you frowning even more so than the former.

He’s resuming his role as the dance captain, and yet at the same time he’s rejecting the permanence of such a task and even foreseeing his absence in the near future. You know you’ve been too greedy and too needy for the fulfillment of your dreams, but somehow along the way you had lost sight of reality. While the past Hoseok brought you into cloud nine where things like stress and school were of trivial matters, the present Hoseok slams you straight back into reality where not everything always goes your way.

Only a comforting, firm pat against your right shoulder is enough to bring you out of your daze as you glance up to find Hoseok making his way to the bus with his front half turned towards you. “I know it’s hard to contain your excitement, but at least try to spend a few more minutes with your friends, Y/N. Don’t take too long though, or even I’ll have to leave you behind,” he quips, calling out to you before winking and biting his lips—as if trying to hint at something, no, you just know he’s hinting at that very thing which still doesn’t fail to flood heat into your cheeks—and turning his back on you to jog up the steps, disappearing behind the black tinted windows of the bus.

“I hate the living hell out of him. I hate the living hell out of him. I hate the living hell out of him,” you repeat, reminding yourself once again of the treacherous bet you had so regrettably made. Sighing, you turn to face your friends once again only to jump in place out of shock when your friends glare at you with the most dead eyes and stern frowns.

“Girl, you have a lot to explain when you get back,” Junghwa crosses her arms.

“...yeah, I know,” you timidly laugh, reclining as you scratched the back of your head when Junghwa continues to narrow her eyes at you for your lack of an explanation.

“That guy’s dangerous. I knew he was good looking, but wow, in person?” Hani shakes her head. “He knows his ways with words. Charming. Too charming. You better be careful, Y/N.”

“...yeah, don’t worry. I’m not a fool. I might’ve liked him before, but there’s no way I still do with him being like that now,” you mutter, and out of the blue, your only source of transportation roars in place behind you as if to remind you of the quickly approaching departure time. “Okay, I really have to go now.”

Despite how hard Junghwa had been staring at you, she does a complete 180 turn when she pounces on you along with Hani, “I’ll miss you so much. Don’t go! Don’t leave me for a man! But if you have to, at least tell us what happens!”

“Make sure to call us every night, okay?” Hani says before quickly adding, “and be careful! Don’t ever leave yourself alone with a boy like Hoseok!”

“Alright, alright,” you chuckle, words muffled as they nearly choke you in the bear hug. After what seems like eternity, you finally retract yourself from your nearly sobbing friends and wave them one last goodbye before running up the steps into the bus and away from the partially cloudy forecast of the morning.

Now the real torture begins; it's like highschool all over again—finding an empty seat without looking like a longer or bring too out of place.

“Sorry, this seat is reserved for someone,” you hear someone say in the deepest yet softest of tones.

Glancing over to the very back of the bus where the courteous voice had struck you as familiar, you find a girl apologizing to Hoseok before scampering forward to the seat next to whom you presume to be her friend. Word must've gotten out that the Jung Hoseok was making his return to dance with this camping trip, because whether for the better or worse, it doesn't take very long for the next girl to approach him.

“Oh my God, I can't believe you're actually back! I've always loved watching you practice!” the petite girl exclaims.

Hoseok presses a smile in response, “thanks.”

“Um… can I sit here if this seat isn't taken?”

“Sorry but I'm actually saving this seat for my friend,” he softly repeats himself, craning his neck up to give one last apologetic smile from his seat and to the standing girl.

Tch, lucky him, you scoff to yourself, being Mr. Popular With Girls must have its perks in social gatherings like this. People like you, on the other hand, have to deal with being on the worse end of the stick.

So you shuffle your way through the chattering cliques seated primarily at the front, never-minding the glaring open seat next to Hoseok as you make your way to just a few rows ahead of his in a successful search for another seat; but before you're even able to sigh in relief and plop into your temporary home for the next six hours, a hand clasps onto the crook of your elbows and grips your arm firmly enough to pull you into another seat. A yelp leaves your lips as you stumble backwards in a vain attempt to regain your footing, and before you even know it, you find yourself in another seat at the very back of the bus.

“This seat is actually reserved for you,” the one and only Hoseok coos, and your heart undeniably skips despite the roll of your eyes.

“I didn't ask for you to reserve it for me.”

“Ouch,” Hoseok winces, “was that you rejecting me or you rejecting my friendly gesture?”

You shrug in a fruitless attempt to suppress your smile, “perhaps both. No, definitely both.”

“Then what was that supposed to mean?” Hoseok gasps and places a hand over his chest. “Are you leading me on?”

You scoff, “what was what supposed to mean?”

“You know,” he leans in to whisper, “our ki—”

“— alright fine, I'll sit with you,” you interject and slump into your permanent seat with a loud sigh. “Now can you stop bringing that up.”

“To think that you'd play me like this... you're breaking my heart, Y/N,” he fakes a whimper and frowns, shaking his head. “But whatever makes you happy.”

You snort at the irony of his words. Who's the one playing who? “Oh, quit it, will you? If being around me hurts you so much, then why aren't you sitting with Jimin and them?”

“Actually, there's nothing I like better than spending my time with you. See, I'll prove it to you.” Without warning, Hoseok’s right engulfs your left in and places it straight against his chest. You're caught off guard, jumping in your seat and rocketing your pulse at an all time high, but what surprises you most is the irregular pacing of the thumps against your hand. Maybe it's just you and your hopeless imaginations, but for even a split second you'd like to think he's being the genuine self he used to be for once. “You know, I actually prefer sitting alone on these trips.”

“...why?” you're barely able to utter when you realize your hand is still trapped between the warmth of his chest and his hand.

“I like listening to my own music and going through the routines in my head. It helps me focus for camp,” he explains before turning to wink at you, “but I'll make an exception for you.”

“Why…?”

It must be something about the way his hand holds yours so firmly in place or the way you're just practically melting in the gaze of his warm brown eyes, because a question you already know the answer to slips right through your lips. He had promised your friends to take good care of you, didn't he? He had seen you wandering through the crowd and bus like some lost child, didn't he? Man, you really must have appeared to be quite pathetic enough for him to reach out to you like this. So with your eyes down at the ground and your ears shut, you prepare for the embarrassment ahead of you.

“Didn't I just explain it to you?” Hoseok says lowly, and you glance up in curiosity. Your chest constricts when your eyes trail up to meet his. Your insides melt at the sight of his soft, lopsided smile, and you can't help but mentally squeal when you realize that his unmoving gaze has been observing you all this time. Then he makes his final blow, “I like being next to you.”

Pressing your lips into what seems to be a half smile half frown, you slowly retract your hands from his and into your lap before turning to face straight forward where Hoseok is no where in sight. But despite your efforts to keep your pulse under control, there's really nothing you can do to stop your heart from nearly jumping out of your chest and prevent the adrenaline from running through your wrist to your stomach to your legs; for the rest of the ride, you find yourself distracted in one way or another.

First, you somehow find yourself sharing an earbud with Hoseok. He shares his favorite playlist of tracks to freestyle to, humming and counting to the beats, and even goes as far as to show you the tracks he plans to share with Jimin to use for the upcoming showcase. It's silly for you to extrapolate any meaning beyond the simple sharing of an earbud for the sole sake of killing time, yet you can't help but acknowledge the fluttering of butterflies in your stomach when you steal glimpses of your old crush as he walks you through the technicalities of a routine. He drones on and on for hours about a world close to him, a world of flow and deep appreciation which nearly no one but him could reach, however, even sitting there and being forced to listen to this boy who never ceases to tease you is enough to make this entire trip before it even begins. There’s something about the way passion just oozes from his eyes as he talks about the love of his life reminds you that this is the boy you fell for.

The second thing that keeps you on your toes is when you suddenly find yourself draped in his oversized sweater. It’s an all too familiar scene, a scene that has occurred one too many times, but it’s not like you had wanted it or hoped for it to happen… did you? Having forgotten how cold buses tend to keep the temperatures at, you had regrettably opted to stuff your one and only jacket into your bags—now thrown several dozens of feet under you—and unknowingly put yourself in this situation. 

While everyone around you continued to chatter and laugh at the most disruptive of volumes amongst themselves, completely undisturbed for they had jackets to protect them from the blasting AC, you were suffering in your chair trying to keep yourself from shivering and exposing yourself to the watchful Hoseok; but alas, he was and is always able to see right through you. Seeing you curled up into a ball, you had heard Hoseok half snorting half chuckling before removing his hoodie in one swift motion and plopping it straight onto your head. 

The sudden warmth of his worn sweatshirt resonates off your freezing cheeks, your bare nape of the neck, and down your shuddering back, but those newfound comforts aren’t enough to keep you from turning around to frown at him with furrowed brows questioning the intent behind such actions. He just smiles that smug smile of his before patting your head and remarking, “I don’t know if you’re actually cold or if you’re acting out to steal another one of my sweaters again, but you should put it on before you freeze to death. Can’t have any casualties under my watch, especially not you.”

The third and last thing you remember from the long bus ride, six hours of pain that for some reason you wish could’ve lasted forever, is the intoxicating scent of him radiating from the sweater engulfing you from within. Reclining in your seat, the collar of his sweater rises just enough to cover your neck, lips, and tip of your nose from the harsh winds circulating throughout the bus, but burying your nose in the inside of his cotton sweater only magnifies his clean, spice cologne mixed with the scent of home. You can’t believe you actually accepted his offer, but what petrifies you even more is the fact that you might just pass out right in front of Hoseok. As if witnessing the return of the ex dance captain isn’t enough, sitting right next to him with your arms brushed against his and an ear sharing the same set of headphones while wearing and drowning yourself in his scent is like the ultimate blow against your weak heart.

Subconsciously, you mumble aloud—whether to yourself or to Hoseok, you don’t know—and squeeze your heavy eyelids shut to black out everything around you, “I feel really light-headed for some reason…”

You can’t see him with your eyes closed, but the shuffling beside you allows you to envision him scooting closer and leaning forward to check up on you with worry plastered all over the frown on his face. “Are you okay? Are you still cold? Or do you need to take some medicine?”

“No, I’m fine. I just need to… take a nap—hey,” you nearly yelp when you feel his rough, warm hand cupping your right cheek to gently push your head onto his shoulders. Your eyes shoot wide open and your heart rate escalates as you scan through the bus for any witnesses. Finally, when all coast is clear, you hiss, “what’re you doing?”

“Go ahead. Nap,” he instructs, patting your cheek before leaning his own head against the top of yours. “Don’t worry, we’re in the back. No one’s going to see.”

Even in the blizzard that is the blasting AC, your cheeks never fail to burn a bright shade of red as every inch of contact between your body and his begins to flush of heat and thrill. You want to pull away, to deny the indisputable comfort of his shoulders, but you’re simply too tired to argue. So before you know it, pitch blackness surrounds you and the yells of the others drown into the background where the sound of Hoseok’s counting and humming echoes akin to that of the night where you had first introduced yourself to Hoseok long ago.

-

You are dreaming, right?

No, this must be a dream; because the very first thing your still blurry, half-asleep mind comes to register—that is, after gathering your bags and settling into your temporary room before leaving for the welcoming event like a zombie—is the fact that the Jung Hoseok is standing in front of the dance studio and leading tonight’s practice.

The studio lights hanging from the high ceilings above give off warm, yellow edges to your already blurry vision. The cleanly waxed wooden floor squeaks with every sharp step of his as he gives a quick demonstration to the daily stretching routine every member must undergo before practice. Decked out in the all too familiar, albeit retired, attire of his—black sweater, black joggers, and black pair of sleek sneakers with the occasional headband he had opted out of tonight—you simply can’t believe your eyes. This is everything you’ve been dreaming for. You just want to see him dance again, and here he is… closer to dancing than he has ever been in the last year.

It’s all too surreal. Really, your gut instincts tell you this is all too surreal to believe in.

“I know this isn’t the exciting stuff I’m sure everyone of you came here for,” he sarcastically remarks, and you wonder if he’s well aware of the real reason for the spike of female recruits attending this camp for the sake of meeting him, “but it’s important that you learn how to properly stretch and prepare your body for the impact that comes with dancing.”

“How long are we going to be stretching, Hoseok?” a girl whines.

It takes everything in you not to scowl at the girl for her interjection. While you’ve risked everything from your dignity to your sanity to get to experience this first-hand, she’s piggybacking off of your efforts only to threaten the slim opportunity that you’ll even get to see Hoseok dance again in the first place.

Hoseok continues stretching, neither affected nor amused by her remark before lowly stating, “a few minutes goes a long way.”

“Yeah, but we want to dance,” a boy calls out.

“We want to see you dance,” another girl adds.

God, any second longer now and you swear you’re going to cuss them out; do they want to see him dance or not?

“You won’t be saying that when you pull a muscle,” Hoseok simply states, switching to stretch his other leg before shooting a stern look at the rows and columns of students lined up and following his every move. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him more irked than this, because a chill runs down your spine the second you find the darkening of his eyes settling on one particular girl only to threaten and etch his next two words into the back of her mind for the rest of eternity, “trust me.”

You figure dance practice really must be a serious matter to him, because you’ve never seen him go so long without cracking a joke or even comforting a student he had accidentally rebuked—which is odd now that you think about it, since that’s the exact opposite of what he had been known for back in his days as the captain; but maybe you just didn’t know him well enough in the past, perhaps his passion for dance is much stronger and takes a much more different approach than you had observed on the surface level.

It’s not exactly a turn-off per say, because you do find his passion honorable in every way, but there’s something about the frown on his ever-so-slightly downturned lips and the crease between his brows that tells you something is off. Does he actually despise dance as much as he had claimed? Your mind wanders off wondering if bringing him here is the right decision after all.

“Y/N, if you want to see me dance, then you better not space out.”

You’re thrown straight out of your trance when your head snaps up to find Hoseok staring straight at you.

“We’re on the right leg now,” he presses a smile, cocking his head at the fact that you’re still stretching your left arm. Your entire face turns red as you hastily plop yourself down to the ground and stretch your left before your right leg out in front of you. Hoseok only snorts, “alright, because of Y/N, we’re just going to hand this off to Jimin to teach you the choreo now. I have something else to do.”

“What?!”

“No, you can’t do that!”

“You promised you’d be leading tonight’s session!”

A dozen protests come tumbling from the students, a majority of them being female fans, but then all eyes start glaring at you as if you’re the actual reason Hoseok is skipping out on the actual dance portion of the practice. You nearly jump in your seat, wanting to dig a hole for you to hide yourself in when everyone throws you a few death stares. To be honest, you’re completely satisfied with seeing Hoseok even associating himself with the dance club right now, but it seems like others had a separate standard of satisfaction than you.

Hoseok intently observes the scene playing out between you and the girls before clearing his throat and sighing, ��on second thought, I have a few minutes to spare.”

You can hear a collective gasp echo throughout the room. A loud cheer then erupts, and you actually find yourself smiling at his announcement despite being the most hated person in the room for a split second.

“But I’m only introducing the simple parts tonight,” he adds and a mixed reaction filled with cheers and whimpers follow shortly afterwards.

Was he going out of his way to indulge in an activity you know he’s been avoiding all too well in order to save you from the others? Or was he doing this because he genuinely had a change of heart? You figure the questions don’t matter at this point, because you’re beyond ecstatic. You might not agree in the methods others had attempted to utilize in pushing him back into his role as the captain, but you do agree in terms of the end goal point. Just seeing him lead a group through stretches is enough to make this entire trip, but seeing him lead a group through actual routines and choreographs? You think you’re on cloud nine. You’re selfish for pushing him into something he claims to despise to the very bone, but after calling you out and teasing you in front of everyone, you like to think you deserve at least this.

You just want to see him dance again, and nothing else matters but that.

-

Hoseok was serious when he said he was only teaching the most simple of choreographs, because even you were able to get through it all without tripping or falling or spacing out like you usually would. After just five minutes or so, he was prepared to switch out with Jimin when Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook ultimately decided on ending the first day of practice early and heading off to dinner.

So here you are, somehow finding yourself seated across where Hoseok had sat just a few minutes prior before excusing himself from the table and next to the rest of his old group of friends.

“Where did Hoseok go?” Jungkook finally questions, stuffing himself with one or two potstickers.

“Probably went back to his room,” Jimin shrugs. “He doesn’t seem to be in a good mood today.”

“Do you know why…?” you hesitantly ask and finish the last speck of food on your now empty plate.

“No idea,” the boy you learn to be Namjoon quips. “Maybe he’s just tired and not used to camp anymore.”

“Maybe,” you mumble, pursing your lips when the image of the irritated look on Hoseok’s face before he left dinner early. Placing your plate and utensil onto the table, you push your chair back and stand upright, “I think I’m going to head back to my room now.”

“Already?” Jimin’s eyes widen, neck craning to look up at you in surprise.

“Yeah, my legs are already so sore from practice.”

“You know we have a complimentary pass to the spa at this resort, right?” Taehyung adds.

“Oh?” you’re genuinely intrigued by the idea of soaking in a hot tub after hours of being drenched in sweat.

“Yeah, feel free to use that if you’d like,” Jimin grins. “I’d go now before everyone heads there after dinner.”

“Alright, thanks. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, then!” you wave them goodbye before skipping off to your room to change into your bathing suit and happily scampering to the paradise that waits for you at the spa…

...unfortunately for you, that paradise doesn’t turn out to be quite what you had envisioned it to be, for the fact that it’s a public spa and not a private one reserved for you hits you right in the face when you see him sitting right there in the pool of water in front of you.

“It seems like fate really wants us to be together,” Hoseok quips, the absence of playfulness and effort in his usual teasing raising a question of worry from you once again.

“Psh, as if,” you scoff, turning around and ready to march off in the other direction if he hadn’t interjected.

“It’s okay, I’ll leave and you can stay if you’re that shy about seeing me half naked,” he rises from the water, and your mind goes completely blank when they register his words.

You weren’t even thinking about seeing his bare chest, but now that he’s mentioned it, that’s all your eyes can even see. His abdomens are as toned and defined as you had imagined them to be for an ex-dancer, and they’re just as tan and smooth as honey which matches the tone of his sun-kissed skin. You don’t know if it’s the steam of the water which causes your cheeks to burn for the hundredth time today, but something about the accuracy in his statement challenges you to rebuke his claims.

So instead of denying nor accepting his offer, you plop down into the euphoric heat of the water and submerge yourself until your chin hits the surface of the water. “No, it’s fine. You can stay or leave. It doesn’t matter to me because your body is the last thing I’m thinking about.”

“Really? Doesn’t seem like it when you just stared at me for a good minute or two,” Hoseok coos, sitting back down with his arms resting on either side of the circular pool. “So, what you up to?”

“Sitting in here and trying to get a good hour of relaxation for once.”

“Whoa, my bad,” he raises his hands defensively with a slight chuckle. “Sassy as always, I see.”

You know you said you wanted an hour of relaxation, but the minutes of silence that follows shortly after is deafening. It’s odd for it to be so quiet around Hoseok, the Jung Hoseok who always teased you to your nerves’ ends. Something is most definitely odd about tonight. You don’t know when it started or how it started, but it’s the things that he chooses not to partake in rather than partake in that startles you. Maybe tonight he had started to dance again, but there are countless other things he had sacrificed in return.

He’s no longer as lively, playful, and easy going as he used to be. While the past Hoseok had been a combination of all these traits even with the passion and dedication for dance, this is yet another reminder to you that this isn’t the same boy you had loved; but even so, even if this person isn’t the one you so wish for the return of, you can’t help but worry for the boy you’ve actually come to know.

“...I’m happy to see you dancing again,” you finally say. Hoseok lowers his head and gaze from the night sky to look at you—neither surprised nor intrigued, just empty. Your brows furrow at the lack of a reaction and you quickly add, “is something wrong?”

“What makes you ask that?” the monotonous tone in his voice only pushes you further.

“Just answer the question. You’re acting… strange... today. Ever since practice,” you shake your head and frown. “Is it because of dancing? Should I not have forced you to come?”

“You didn’t force me to come. You didn’t force me to do anything,” he says before looking off to the side; the harsh edge in his voice tugs at you in the most aching way you had never known to be possible with someone like the current Hoseok.

“Fine, if you’re gonna be like that, then let’s play a game. You like games, don’t you? That’s the only way I can ever get you to talk or open up or do anything,” you retort and Hoseok only raises a brow. “We’ll take turns asking each other questions. If the other fails to answer to our satisfaction, and you have to be honest, then we get to do whatever we want with the other.”

“Y/N wants to play games? Am I dreaming?” Hoseok cocks a brow.

“Trust me, I feel like I’m the one dreaming. It’s not like I want to play games, especially not with you, but it seems like it’s the only way I can get you to talk,” you say, shaking your head. “Okay, I’ll start first then. Tell me what’s going on. Why are you so upset? Is it something that I did?”

“That’s more than one question, Y/N.”

“Okay, fine,” you scoff. “Did I do something to upset you?”

“No,” he simply answers, eyes looking straight at you before adding more to complete his answer, “well, maybe a little. I don’t know how I can answer that accurately when even I’m not sure. You’re not the main reason, but now that you have become a part of the reason, I guess it only adds to the fire.”

That’s the most vague answer you had ever heard in your life, but to be fair, you had only asked him whether or not you had done something to upset him. He isn’t obligated to answer what you had done, and plus, the intense look in his eyes warns you to better play by the rules.

“Alright, fine. Good enough. You pass. Your turn.”

His fingers tap against the poolside, but his piercing eyes never leave yours.

After what seems like an eternity of silence, he speaks, “are you happy to see me dancing again?”

You frown and raise a brow, “of course…? Yes, I’m beyond ecstatic—”

—your words are cut off when he stands upright and takes one large stride to the other end of the pool where you sat, and the next thing you know, his lips smashes into yours. And unlike the last kiss you had shared with him, this one is much more forceful. He’s impatient, he’s twisting and turning and pushing like he’s running out of time, his hands snake to wrap around your back and pulls you in until the two of you are chest-to-chest.

Somehow, you manage to pull away for a split second, “Hoseok, what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m dissatisfied with your answer, Y/N,” he states before pushing you into him once again and collides his lips with yours.

Your head is dizzy and you can barely get enough oxygen each time he pulls away for a split second to give you some time to breathe, but there’s something about the haste in his movements, the impatience in his pulls and pushes, and the look in his eyes that’s screaming for help that tells you this kiss isn’t about passion or lust or anything like that; it’s about desperation and the most twisted way to express the sorrow that resides with him. And even though he isn’t playing by the rules of the game, there’s a part of you that sympathizes with him, for your heart drops at the mess of emotions his wet, sloppy kiss conveys to you.

Maybe he isn’t answering your questions with words, but there’s no doubt that he’s opening up to you more than he ever has before.

Finally, you put a hand against his chest and push him an arm’s distance away before managing to say in the midst of heavy breathing, “I don’t get it, Hoseok. I’m confused. You’re acting out. You’re… different.”

“How is this any different from the last time I kissed you?” he refutes with knotted brows.

“No, there’s something wrong,” you shake your head. “What’s wrong, Hoseok? Please, just let me help you.”

“Then answer my question correctly,” he says, calling out to you as he watches you get up and depart from the poolside. “That’s all you can do right now.”

“Am I happy to see you dancing again?” you repeat the question, grabbing and wrapping a towel around you from a table. “I don’t know… not if this is how you’re going to act, then no, I’m not. But I was happy to see you so immersed in dancing again earlier today. I just want to know if… you’re happy...?”

Something flickers in the dark ditch within his eyes, and after a long deafening silence, he finally answers.

“Yeah…” he finally answers with his eyes at the other side of the pool where you had just sat before drowning himself back into the pool, “I guess I’m happy too.”

[terrifictomholland]

ok concept: what if reader and tom have an adjoining hotel room while filming and she’s getting ready for bed one night and she hears him say her name so she goes in to see what’s up and he was jerking off 🥵🥵🥵 and she’s like OH SORRY and leaves and then goes back in later to apologize and they end up fucking??? pls the thought of him getting himself off is so hot to me reader would think so too

If you can... please write something about Tom jerking off like you think he does. I’m, wow, I’m a thirsty bitch wtf haha. 🥵

okay, so I’ve combined these two requests together! I hope you’ll like them  💕

NSFW UNDER THE CUT! also unprotected sex (please wrap it before you tap it!)

it had been a long day of rehearsal for both Tom and you, since you’d both signed on to make this film. You both got back to the hotel where there had been a slight mix-up so you did technically have your own room. The only snag was that it was an adjacent room with Tom. 

You were in the bathroom removing your makeup after your long meeting knowing that you were free to laze around all you wanted now. You knew Tom’s schedule was free for the remainder of the day and just as you were going over to your bed to get your phone, you could hear him call your name. 

Your brows furrowed and you walked closer to the door that adjoined your rooms, hearing the way he was saying your name louder. It wasn’t anything you thought twice of before opening the door and the sight that greeted you made you freeze in your tracks.

Tom laying in the middle of his bed, completely naked with a thin sheen of sweat covering his body, eyes tightly screwed shut and lip bitten raw as he fucked his hips up into his hand that was fisting his cock desperately. Tiny whines and whimpers leaving his mouth and you felt them go straight to your core. 

“Sorry!” You yelped and his eyes shot open staring at you and jaw dropped open in horror and mortification, just as you said that you could see him tense up and his body convulsed. The loudest moan you’d ever heard slipped past his lips as his cock started erupting white, thick ribbons of cum that coated his hand and lower abdomen, painting it white and you felt your pussy tighten at the sight. 

You tried averting your eyes anywhere but at him to give the illusion of privacy, but it was too late. This was a picture that would be forever ingrained in your mind. Everything happened within seconds, but to you it felt like a small eternity, playing on a loop the way he looked like as he came. 

“I-gonna, uh yeah,” You stumbled over your feet backing into your room again, shutting the door quickly and falling back against it feeling so many conflicting emotions swirl inside of you. 

You’d just seen your best friend, the person you trusted more than anyone in the world, cum, moaning your name as he did.  The way your name had been called through broken moans and whimpers made your nipples harden through your bra and your panties absolutely drenched. You couldn’t lie and say you hadn’t gotten off at the thought of him either. He was just your type too, everyone knew about your crush you had on him too.  

Ever since your audition you and Tom had always had a very flirty friendship, it just came naturally and so easy to you both.  To be that way around each other. It didn’t hurt how fucking gorgeous he was either, you were incredibly attracted to him, it wasn’t just his looks that made him attractive in your eyes. 

It was the whole package deal, from the way he’d always greet every single cast and crew at rehearsals. Sometimes he’d stop by with doughnuts and cinnamon buns for everyone. 

To the way he always, always made sure to learn everyone's name and a fact about them so he could easily strike up a conversation with them whenever he wasn’t filming. 

You’d asked him about it once and he’d simply replied with “I’m not any better than anyone else here. It doesn’t cost anything to be a decent human being.” and that was that. But it stuck with you for a very long time and you realised there was more to Tom than just his good looks. 

You tried gathering your thoughts and what you’d just seen but your mind was a jumbled mess  and all you could replay was the way he he looked as he came. Eyes rolled back, hips rutting against his hand. The way his cum dribbled down his fist to his belly pooling there and how badly you wanted to lick it all off him. 

Since seeing that, your pussy was aching and you were so wet you could feel it with every movement you made causing you to let out a small whine. 

As much as you had tried to stop thinking about it, how could you? It simply wasn’t going to happen, and as hot as it had been. It still felt like a violation of his privacy and you had to talk to him about it, the very least you owed him an apology. 

So here you were, knocking on the adjoining door anxiously waiting for him to open. God, you hoped he was inside and still awake, you wouldn’t be able to sleep if you didn’t at least try and apologise. 

Just as you were about to go back to your room, the door opened to reveal a freshly-showered Tom clad in a mere towel. Oh for all that is holy. 

“Hey,” He said in slight surprise and you had to force yourself to look into his eyes and not let your eyes wander down the rest of his body. 

“Hi,” You softly murmured.

“You okay?” He asked seeing your nervous and anxious state and you exhaled, keeping eye contact with him. 

“I jus- I need to apologise to you. For-for earlier, walking in on you doing...that,” You explained, bouncing your weight from one foot to the other feeling mostly embarrassment. His eyebrows shot up and his cheeks turned crimson at the reminder. 

“Oh,” He said rubbing the back of his neck. His muscles and abs flexing with the movement and you couldn’t help but stare at him for a second too long. 

“It’s okay,” He breathed out seeing the way your gaze dropped to his naked torso. As much as he was mortified at what had happened, he couldn’t help but love the way you were staring at him. Your gaze on him fed him as he dropped his hand to the front of his towel as if he was about to let it fall to the floor and your mouth went dry.

“Do you uh, want a replay?” He bravely asked and your eyes shot up to his in shock. 

“W-what?”  Your surprise was the thing he needed to turn this to his advantage. He’d always found you fucking gorgeous and the way you two would flirt let him know that you felt the same.

“I know you think I’m hot and so are you,” He began, suddenly sounding so much cockier and full of his usual confidence that alone had you soaked. 

“-yes,” You cut off sounding far too eager and he smirked, walking over to the bed beckoning you over as he got comfortable on it. 

Your heart was in your throat and you could feel your wetness increasing with every step you took getting closer to the bed. 

“I’ve thought about you so many times getting myself off,” He admitted and you felt your pussy clench at the confession. 

“What do you think of? What am I doing?” Your voice coming out more breathy than before and he looked at you biting his lip as you crawled on the bed, closer to him.

“You uhm, ah shit, you’re sucking my cock,” He trailed off as you removed your shirt throwing it somewhere on the floor being left in your bra. You saw him swallow thickly, eyes immediately drawn to your pushed up tits. You knew you had a great set of tits so why not show them off?

“Yeah? Am I doing a good job?” You purred as you teasingly ran your fingers over his torso, your nails dragging along the ridges of his abs hearing the way his breathing turned laboured and you grinned to yourself for leaving him in such a state in a short amount of time. 

“The best job,” He whined untying the towel letting it fall to the sides revealing his impressive cock. 

Your mouth watered seeing that it was already leaking at the tip, dribbling down the sides of his length.

“Fuck,” You breathed scooting closer and lightly running your finger over the sensitive head making him whine and twitch against your touch. 

“You’ve got the prettiest cock, want my mouth all over it,” You whispered glancing at him seeing his eyes darken.

“Yes, fuck yes,” He enthusiastically nodded and you smiled to yourself, letting your fingers tease the head and slit hearing him whine and gasp. Hips already rolling, wanting more of your touch. 

“You forgot the magic word,” You grinned moving your head down closer to his cock, letting him feel your breath fall over it.

“Please, darlin’ please,” He moaned softly as his fingers fell to the side of his body, desperately fisting the sheets as you let gravity take over and you engulfed his cock in your mouth.  Slowly sinking down on him, inch by inch as the noises he was making filled the room.

“Mmh yes baby,” He hissed as you bobbed your head up and down, letting your spit make the glide easier. Your fingers lightly teasing the insides of his thighs as he whined high in his throat. You increased your sucking, taking him further and faster in your mouth, loving the way it felt when he held onto your hair, gripping it eagerly.

“Fuck my mouth, make a mess of me,” You encouraged hearing him let out an absolutely feral noise at that. You let out a soft moan feeling him tangle his fingers in your hair and keeping it still as he started thrusting up into your mouth, hesitant at first. 

When he heard you let out a moan, he started really going for it as his cock his the back of your throat and you made sure to keep looking up at him, tears leaking from the corner of your eyes as you let him fuck your throat. 

The noises it dragged from his lips had you more soaked than you’d ever been before, your pussy throbbed and all you wanted was for him to fuck you raw. 

“Oh my god,” He gasped as he repeatedly fucked into your mouth. You felt him start to tremble  so you moaned around him, hand cupping his balls squeezing and massaging them. That was all he needed to let go and spill down your throat with a cry, shouting your name. His voice was ruined from the way he moaned and whimpered. 

You pulled off him with a pop, wiping your mouth glancing up at him seeing how wrecked he was and it made you feel so good about yourself. Knowing you could bring him to his knees, turning him into a whiny and moaning mess for you. 

“That was incredible,” He panted and you basked in the praise feeling your cheeks burn. 

“Thank you,” You smiled shyly moving up so that you were straddling him. 

He brought your face closer to his cupping your face as your lips met in a frenzied kiss, full of heat and desire.

“Mmh, fuck, wanna eat you out,” He moaned against your lips. 

“Please,” You whined grinding your hips against him making him moan. You felt him kiss your neck and his hand went to your hip, helping you grind against him. As his other hand slid into your panties and you whined when he came in contact with your dripping pussy. 

“Christ baby, you’re soaked for me aren’t you?” His voice was like a drug as his fingers easily spread your folds and slid his fingers inside of you.

“Oh fuck,” You cried out digging your fingers into his back, hiding your face in his neck letting the pleasure wash over you as he continued to fuck his fingers into you. Long, sure strokes that left you breathless and your eyes closing, desperately humping his fingers for more. The second his thumb started rubbing your clit was when you started coming undone, waves of pleasure consuming you. 

“Tom, ah s-shit,” You moaned feeling your pussy clench around his fingers, he was stroking your g-spot over and over causing your breath to quicken and your thighs tremble.

“Yeah that’s it baby, cum for me, show me what a good girl you can be when you cum,” He coaxed and you whined sucking your lip between your teeth as you came all over his fingers.

“Fuck,” You gasped feeling your body quiver from the aftershocks as you lazily kissed his neck before pulling your head out of the crook of his neck seeing him licking his fingers clean.

“You taste so sweet,” He smiled, a smirk replacing the smile as he caught you staring at him. 

You leaned forward kissing him fiercely, tasting yourself on his tongue and you pushed him down on the bed, so he was flat on his back.

“Want you to fuck me,” You murmured against his lips before breaking the kiss and you quickly shed the remaining pieces of clothes you had on so that the both of you were completely naked. 

“Hell yeah,” He grunted as his hands touched you all over making you moan, grinding your hips against him. You smirked when his cock started hardening, poking your inner thigh so you brought his hands up to your tits. A low whine from the back of your throat leaving your lips when he rolled your nipples between his fingers. Your back arching and your pussy starting to drip at the stimulation.

“Would you like that baby? Fucking my tight, wet pussy.  Making me scream your name while you’re pounding into me so hard I won’t be able to walk straight?” You goaded hearing him growl.

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you don’t you?” He grunted staring heatedly at you making your wet pussy even wetter.

“Mmh, why don’t you do something about it?” You sassed and his eyes flashed. He flipped you over so he was on top and his fingers came up to your mouth, trailing your lips with his thumb. Still staring into his eyes, your mouth fell open on instinct and he groaned as he pushed it into your mouth and you began sucking on it. 

“Shit,” He groaned rocking his hips against you and you let out a moan around his finger when you felt the head of his cock poke at your heat. 

“Fuck me, do it now,” You moaned, squirming around needing more as he teased the head of his cock along your folds, spreading your juices all over your pussy. A shaky moan fell from your lips when he let the head of his cock brush your clit, circling it a few times.  

“Mmh, gonna fuck you so good darlin,” He moaned and you felt him push his cock slowly past your folds, your soaking pussy making the glide incredibly easy. 

He entered you and and didn’t stop until he was inside of you all the way. Cock pressed against all the right spots as he gave you some time to adjust. His mouth coming down to suck a nipple into his mouth whilst his other hand cupped your other tit. 

“You’re a-ah, much bigger than I expected,” You moaned pushing past the slight uncomfortable sensation and he kept very still waiting for you to give the go-ahead. 

You nodded your head once the discomfort faded, “I’m good,” 

He wasted no time as his hands  left your tits and found your hips dragging you over to him. His cock driving deeper inside of you making you cry out feeling your toes curl and you brought your legs around his hips to pull him closer. Your fingers digging into his back leaving tiny crescent moon shapes there. 

“Oh my god, fuck,” You threw your head back as he snapped his hips into yours. 

Both of you working to find a rhythm and to move against each other to discover what the other one liked the best. 

Judging by the noises that filled the room, you were both doing a very good job at bringing each other the most amount of pleasure.

“Shit, bab- ah fuck!” He groaned grasping your hands and bringing them above your head. 

Your throat went dry and eyes widened feeling yourself getting even more turned on at being pinned down while he fucked into you. 

You moaned loudly, eyes rolling back as he did that and angled his hips stroking your g-spot over and over.

“O-oh my god, fuck yes! Fuck me harder,” You moaned. 

You were a panting and gasping mess underneath him by now, getting absolutely wrecked as he fucked you, his cock discovering spots deep inside of you that you didn’t know existed until now.

Skin slapping together and the smell of sex filled the room, along with your blended moans and groans.

“I-im so fucking close,” You gasped feeling the way your tummy clenched and you started to shake, or maybe, you just never stopped. 

That was all the green-light he needed to bring his free hand down to your overstimulated clit, rubbing it fast and nothing could prepare you for the way your orgasm slammed into you the moment he did.

“That’s it babygirl, gonna be a good girl for me and cum all over my cock, soaking it real good?” He moaned filthily and you cried out as your body shook as you rode the waves of your orgasm. 

“Fuck,” You whined lifting your head to kiss him with fervor, against his mouth you whispered, “Cum for me babyboy, want you to fill me up so good baby. Let me feel you,” and it worked like a charm. His hips stuttered against your hilt and you felt him pulsate and shoot off inside of you making you moan yet again.

“That’s it baby,” You sucked his bottom lip between yours tugging and lightly biting on it as he came. 

“Oh fuck,” He moaned against your lips.

“So good,” You moaned feeling him collapse on top of you, he eased up his hold on your wrists and you let them down gingerly before running them all over his taut muscles soothingly.

“Best sex I’ve ever had,” You giggled tiredly running your fingers into his messy and sweaty hair. It was sticking to his forehead while simultaneously a few pieces were standing up all over the place.

“Mmh hell yeah,” He smirked looking up at you, You flushed with a giggle, bringing your lips to his kissing him deeply.

“Snuggles, I want snuggles now,” You smiled sweetly and he rolled off you only to roll on his side and bring you flush against him. You moved up so that your bodies were plastered together and you gave him a shy smile.

“So...You thought about me getting off?” You couldn’t help your burning cheeks while still giggling. He let out an embarrassed laugh,

“Might’ve crossed my mind once or twice. Nothing compares to this though,” He promised tangling your legs and draped the cover over the two of you.

“Oh hell no,” You readily agreed. You knew sex would be forever ruined now thanks to Tom Holland and his magnificent cock.

“Did you think about me?” He asked cheekily, eyes twinkling as he laced your fingers together.

“So many times,” You winked seeing his eyes darken so you just leaned up giving him a soft kiss.

“We’re definitely exploring that at a later date,” He hummed against your lips.

“Oh? We’re doing this again?” You nonchalantly asked once you’d pulled away. He stared at you unimpressed making you laugh.

“No shit, you know we are, you can’t get enough of my cock now that you’ve had a taste of it...literally.” He said cockily and your cheeks burned.

“Oh shut up,” 

“How bout I make you?”

taglist -  @exitsali96ivette - @localfangirlx - @siriuslyslyslytherin - @shaharloni1 - @averyfosterthoughts - @unicorn-princess-1999 - @softbaby-tom - @alwaysbenhardysgirl - @hazmyheart - @worldoftom @parkeraul @howdyho-holland @thirsttrapholland  @farfromhaz - @peterparkoure - @fallingforfics - @1believe-in-your-self1  @captainbuckyy @awesomelupe @maryjanee23  (if youre crossed out i couldnt tag you for some reason, imsorry! 

[jostepherjoestar]

Imagine if over time everyone notices Trisha’s twin seems to getting more distant and focused on the goal. When they ask her what’s wrong she avoids the question but what everyone doesn’t know is that for everyone to get out alive either her or her sister has to die and she decided that she would protect trish like her sister has down for her over the years

Una Gemella (fic 1,5k)

Decided to name Trish’s twin Claudia after Claudia Schiffer, the famous 90′s model since Trish is also named after one. I hope you can enjoy this, it’s pretty sad and basically a totally different ending to part 5. Whoo boy.

part 1 and part 2 of the ask

Content warning: wounds, death

Under their capo’s watchful gazes, the merry band of gangsters actually worked together for their common goal: to take down Diavolo. With their combined strengths they’d figured out much more information, a lot faster. But with their collaboration also came the discovery that two of his own divisions were working against him, Diavolo went into quite a fit of rage, especially knowing that his two daughters had developed stands. His hatred only grew stronger and his lust to rid the planet of anyone who knew his history only further developed.

In some miraculous way no-one had lost their lives, of course there were less battles to be fought, having to no longer see the assassins as their enemies and vice versa. Diavolo had sent his Unità Speciale onto the large team with a few extra recently added members so he’d be sure of the traitor’s demises. Of course they all knew that Doppio was in fact protecting and housing part of their enemy, thanks to Claudia’s recently acquired stand.

Knowing how large the threat was, Diavolo decided to unleash all hell in Rome on the combined teams arrival. Night had fallen and all seemed normal, tourists were loudly enjoying their dinners, lovers enjoyed their romantic walks past the centuries old monuments, families put their children to bed. That calm was disrupted by the many stand attacks that would mark the city for years to come. The teams had decided to split up so they’d all have enemies to fight at the same time, urging for the safest way to ensure a quick end to the chaos.

On their way to the Colosseum to meet Polnareff about the arrow, Claudia seemed even more focused, there was barely any trace left of the shivering, crying girl from a few days ago. She’d hardened quickly, perhaps too quickly. Her more stern sister even being surprised to see her twin this way. Risotto, Giorno, Bruno, Trish and Claudia had formed their team and quickly met with the Frenchmen. Claudia offering short and stern answers, she’d already seen what would happen and there was no time to waste. Her father was lurking in this very spot. She knew she had no choice, there was no future in which they all could survive if she and Trish both lived. One of them had to go, she was sure of her resolve, Claudia was dying tonight.

Claudia had ignored or brushed off her companions concerns until Risotto cornered her. He knew there was something going on and he was sure to find out. “Tell me what’s going on. We are a team, you need to talk to us.” he said in a stern but concern filled voice. Before she would have been afraid to look the capo right into his crimson eyes but now she took it head on. “I have to die. There is no other way. Your men will suffer, Bucciarati’s will too if nothing is done.” the strength in her voice trembling as she felt tears pushing to release. She held them back with all her might but her trembling hand betrayed her true feelings. Risotto understood. He had put his trust in her since she first called the meeting, admiring her bravery for such a youngster.

The tall silver haired man sighed deeply, he didn’t even hide the pain behind his eyes. He was going to miss this one. He knew she wouldn’t change her mind, she was going to make the ultimate sacrifice. He didn’t ask how or when, he knew enough to deduct that it was soon. He didn’t want to make peace with her decision but he knew he had too. She could feel Diavolo getting closer, Trish could too. The two capo’s strategising inside the old rings of the crumbling monument but it was too late for that, the pink haired villain had already made his entrance, no longer using Doppio to protect himself.

It was time. The attacks were brutal but their team had the advantage of knowing his powers, even though it didn’t help much. The rage behind his hits were felt, Bruno and Giorno had taken quite the beating already. Diavolo’s plan was to work his way down to his “beautiful daughters” as he so lovingly said. Risotto stayed close to Claudia, somewhere hoping that it didn’t need to end the way it was going to. The solemn nod the youth gave to him made him aware the moment was nearing. Bruno had been incapacitated, Giorno by his side to protect him from any more harm for the moment. The blond looked not that much better off than his capo, his stand could only do so much.

Claudia was alert, knowing the direction her father would strike from, sure to protect her sister who’d taken place beside her. “I want you to finish him Trish, no mercy. I know you can. Do it for us, Risotto will help.” she told her sister, voice beginning to shake, avoiding her sisters confused gaze. She would only tear up at the sight of her. “Claudia what are you talking about? We’ll do it together. Ok?” Trish’s confusion distracting her from the incoming attack. It nearly hit her but not before her sister pushed her aside to accept the blow. Giant pieces of stone rubble had been hurled at them, smaller rocks hitting Trish and Risotto, a plume of dust camouflaging Claudia’s body from view. A pang of fear struck them as they saw her crushed beneath the large stone, barely breathing. Diavolo was still hiding behind pillars to avoid counter attacks, awaiting to see the result of his.

“Claudia! No!” Trish couldn’t hold herself back and rushed to her sister, tears already falling down her flushed cheeks, Risotto following suit. The pink haired sisters holding onto each others hands, Trish pleading for her to stay awake. “Giorno please help her! You have to, please!” she begged her teammate who’d gotten up to fight again. Risotto placed his hand on her shoulder. “It’s no use. It had to be this way. I’m... sorry.” he sternly said. But the sight before him tore at his heart, it shouldn’t have to end this way. “She’s not dead yet you fucking idiot. Giorno get over here!” Trish spitting her orders as her tears wet the ground beneath her. Claudia still faintly breathing, eyes fluttering. “You have to do it Trish... Do it for us. Kill that bastard... It had to be.” she could barely talk, shallow breaths sputtering her through her sentence. Her hand feeling numb from her sisters squeeze, like the pressure would somehow save her from her fate. “We have to keep fighting Trish, I’m sorry.” Giorno said with a solemn tone, knowing not even his healing powers could save her.

Risotto stayed by Claudia’s side, the tear stained sister focusing her anger on her father, not ready to say goodbye to her twin just yet. While Giorno and Trish continued, the capo’s large hand had taken the frail one in his. “You did really good out there kid. It takes balls to be a gangster but what you did? I don’t know what to say...” he could feel his heart swell with sadness for the coming loss. She was slipping fast. “Maybe in another life we’ll do it right.” a sad smile the last thing that would grace her beautiful face as she whispered her last words. Risotto knew it was time to help the remaining team finish off the cruel man. His sadness fuelling his resolve to fight on, holding on to her last words. Maybe in another life.

The end was in sight. Giorno had evolved his powers and was able to bring the devil himself to his knees before him. He looked pathetic, his eyes filled with fear he wasn’t going to admit to. Trish walked over, the tears having dried, remnants of dust making the watery paths visible on her cheeks. She bore her heel into the ribs of her father making him hiss and cough in response. “This is for Claudia you filthy bastard! Enjoy this pain now, you’ll be wishing you felt it again because wherever you’re going is a million times worse. You’re the most disgusting being I’ve ever laid my eyes on!” she spit on his face, she would have never done this in any other situation, thinking it a disgusting act, but now her rage was acting for her. Trish let Giorno finish him off, sending Diavolo into his own personal hell.

When he was finally gone Trish fell to her knees, not even caring about scuffing her skin. There was a faint relief, knowing there would be no more fighting, no more worrying. But it hurt, god it hurt so bad. She knew sacrifices had to be made to complete the mission but this... It wasn’t what she imagined. Her sobs returning, it felt like the tears would never stop. Bruno and Giorno placing themselves by her side to console her as best as they could. They sat by her until the sun had starting rising again, lighting the way for the dawn.

Like Claudia had predicted, all men were safe. Some worse off than others but they were all still breathing. Risotto felt a gaping emptiness in his soul, the little one had left quite the mark on him. Maybe next time, in another life, they’ll be luckier.

[lilyharvord]

marecal fic plz?🥺 it can be a one shot or anything at all I just need smth lol

Got What I Got

           Jason Aldean probably didn’t write Got What I Got for Tibarias “Cal” Calore VII but he did, so there’s that. No, I am not accepting different opinions on this fact. Also, this isn’t exactly Mare and Cal exclusively. I threw a little Iris in there because I love her and miss her. 

           I watch Mare’s eyes flint over my shoulder to the dais behind me for the tenth time since we started dancing. Normally, I wouldn’t be bothered by her paranoia. But given the fact that her hand is gripping my shoulder so tightly I’m surprised she doesn’t squeeze it out of the socket I do feel like something has to be done.

           When my arm is starting to get sore from her constant squeezing, I drop my chin to press a kiss to her temple and whisper in her ear, “don’t worry, the deepest pool of water Iris could throw me in is still shallow enough that I can sit in it and keep my head above water.”

           I pull away to with a cheeky grin, expecting her to at least try to hide a smile. When her eyes return to mine though, but there is no amusement in her glare.

           “That’s not funny Cal.” She hiss whispers before throwing her gaze back over my shoulder.

           Rolling my eyes, I glance over her head at the beautiful fountain I had been referring to. It spills water from multiple pools starting from the ceiling and trickling all the way down the floor. It’s actually quite beautiful, and perfectly befitting of a Nymph palace. “I thought it was pretty clever.” I admit before sliding my hand from her waist to her lower back to bring her closer to me. She continues to glower around me like she could strike Iris through the chest with her lightning without anyone noticing.

           “Don’t ruin this night for Evangeline, she worked hard to get us here.” I warn her as I smile at the Magnetron across the room. She sits at a decadent table nursing a glass of something golden and bubbly. Next to her, Elane chats sweetly with a Lakelander noble, who may or may not notice some papers missing in his office when Elane’s spies finish sweeping it. Not that it’s likely. Elane had hand-picked every operative for that part of her mission. On top of that, the man’s face was flushed silver from the wine. I doubt he was even going to remember Elane’s face in the morning, let alone a set of papers he had been given at lunch.

           “I told her I didn’t want us to go.” Mare growls when she turns her head to glare at Evangeline instead of me this time.

           Evangeline’s iron irises shine like her pewter dress as she raises her glass to us. Throwing her arm over the back of the chair and delicately splitting the metal of her skirt so that her leg flashes into existence while she crosses it, she looks remarkably like a cat toying with prey. Her lips curl up into a grin as she brings that glass to her lips and sips delicately.

I hope she doesn’t toast to anything too ridiculous. Last time she had toasted—quite loudly actually—at a dinner with Carmadon and our friends to bison, cattle and their fertility. Mare had choked on her wine and spit out the rest in her mouth, ruining a very nice white table cloth while Kilorn had laughed so loud the table across from us had turned around and glared at him. Carmadon had grinned wickedly though and raised his glass with Evangeline to drink to the toast. I hope she wasn’t toasting to something like that again, that’s the last thing we need luck with right now.

           “Even if she hadn’t made us come, I would have been required to go anyway.” I tease as I kiss the top of her head. One of the glittering pins in her hair presses into my lips as I do so. I plan to take my time picking each and every one out of that beautiful cornet when we get back to our rooms tonight.

           “I would have tied you to the bed so you couldn’t.” Mare grumbles, and that brings another smile to my lips that she must register because her shoulders tense.

           “Well I would have enjoyed that very much.”

           “You know that’s not—” she sighs, giving up with refuting me. Tipping her head back to scrutinize me, she says, “I don’t see why we have to be here.”

           “Part of being an abdicated king is proving to countries still struggling with the decision that my life is actually going quite well and that the States are prospering.” I spin her away from me before pulling her back into my embrace and closer than before. She melts into me, and for a moment, I debate pulling her behind one of the massive pillars lines one side of the room. The other side is floor to ceiling windows, opened to the magnificent full moon shining on the lake separating the States and the Lakelands. It feels odd to finally be on this side of it after standing on the other bank for so long.

Mare huffs as I press another kiss to her temple, deciding to stay out in the open for a little longer. “I think we’re doing very well. Iris hasn’t tried to kill me this week, and the loosened restrictions seem to be holding up.” I murmur against her hairline when she stil refuses to smile.

           “They hold up until we leave.” She grumbles before turning her head to glare at me from the side. “The same thing happened in Piedmont.”

           “Piedmont is harder. She’s made up of separate Prince States with very stubborn men ruling over them.”

           “Are you really inferring that women are less stubborn than men?”

           “Mare Molly Barrow, do you really think I would believe that after being with you this long?” I laugh quietly and get a rapier sharp smile from her in response.

           “Do you mind if I cut in?” A delicate, accented voice asks from behind me. Mare’s face pinches in too many places for me to determine if she’s furious or surprised. I glance down at a set of delicate brown eyes that glint up at me under the lights of the ballroom. I try to ignore how my stomach drops at the sight of them. The last time I had been close enough to see those eyes, they had been looking up at me from the deck of a war ship with enough fury to shred me to pieces.

           Mare squeezes my hand tight enough that I grimace and try to extract my hand unsuccessfully.

           Iris raises a well-manicured brow at us before smirking. “I’m here to test how good of a dance partner you are Tiberias. If we are to be working together in the future, I must know if you will step on my feet or crush them often.”

           I really hate political word play. It’s one thing I do not miss. “I don’t go by that name anymore.” I end up saying while looking down at the tips of my fingers that are slowly going grey in Mare’s crushing grip. “Cal is fine.” I say as I finally manage to pry her fingers off of mine.

           “One dance, I promise Barrow.” She throws in Mare’s direction with a little pout that is far too mocking to be genuine. When Mare doesn’t say anything, only sharpen her glare, Iris says, “A dog that bites and is possessive, interesting.” Her smile hints at an inside joke they might have, but Mare is far from amused.

           “As long as you also promise not to throw me in a bay again.” I snort when Mare crosses her arms and appears on the verge of ruining any treaties Evangeline may have created for us to set foot on Lakelander earth.

           Iris’s eyes widen at my words and it looks like she doesn’t understand my reference. Something flashes across her face though and she throws her head back to cackle. When she looks back down from the ceiling, her eyes shine dangerously. “No promises on that front.” She offers her hand and I dip my head respectfully before letting her slide her fingers into my palm.

           “It’s not funny Cal.” Mare jeers near my elbow, but gets a smirk from Iris as she saunters past.

           “If he can laugh about it, then I didn’t throw him hard enough.” Iris says over her shoulder before I can apologize to Mare. She pulls me into the center of the dance floor, and most of the other dancers pull away to give us a wide berth. I’m partially grateful for it. Anything we discuss will at least be semi-private now. The music cues up, and we stap into a frame that both of us know well. She’s taller than Mare, which means I don’t have to drop my shoulder as much for her to rest her hand there. Her other hand is perhaps just as calloused as mine. I always forget that she’s technically a warrior princess, and belongs on the battlefield as much as I do.

           Our steps our quick and measured, practically perfect. It’s a little jarring at first. But we adjust well to each other, like two experienced performers. Which I suppose, we are.

           “You’re a better partner than most of the irritating men here tonight.” She sighs, breaking the silence while she waves the hand resting on my shoulder. “Certainly a better dance partner than your brother.”

           A pang of sorrow rushes from my chest to my stomach. It’s not as sharp as it used to be, but it still aches all the same. Iris must see it flash across my face because her expression softens a fraction.

“Apologies, that was crass.” She tilts her head to the side so the silky hair not tied into her updo brushes against my hand resting on her lower back. “But I’m sure you can understand that my despair doesn’t run quite as deep as your own.”  

           “I wouldn’t expect it to.” I murmur, turning my eyes away from her. Pushing Maven far from my mind, I try focus on her face when I bring my eyes back. She is very lovely, but she has the same cunning look in her eye that Maven always had. They would have made a good match—a formidable one--if he hadn’t been chasing Mare still. While she does apologize for her comment, I have a feeling it was actually a probe, a means of testing me and the waters. “Maven was always a better dancer than me though.”

           She raises a brow at my words, but thankfully doesn’t comment. She shrugs her shoulders and turns her eyes over my shoulder as we continue to move in our tiny box. The music shifts into a delicate, flowing melody and she shifts her movements in response. I suppose it’s fitting that she dances like water, with each move flowing into the next like the fountain behind us.

           “What are your thoughts on the changes in restrictions?” I ask, hoping to end the silence between us again.

           “You certainly cut to the chase unlike him, I’ll let you know that.” She shakes her head, but there is no amusement in the smile she gives me. “That’s probably for the best though, Mare Barrow does not strike me as a woman that likes to mince words.”

           “No she doesn’t.” I admit. “Which is good, because it keeps me honest.”

           “Perhaps we all need a bit of that.” Iris draws her lips into a line, and sets her eyes on Mare who has finally sat down at the table with Evangeline. While Evangeline appears to be having a good time trying to pester her, Mare hasn’t taken her eyes off of us. I wonder if she can read our lips from that far away.

           Iris sighs again. “Forgive me for asking such a personal question, but what exactly is it about her that made you and your brother trip over your own two feet like bad drunks?”

           I stiffen in surprise, and she turns a quirked brow on me when I twist my lips and reply. “I wouldn’t say—”

           “She turned the two of you into love sick puppies. Forgive me if I’m a little confused how two young men that seemed perfectly in control of their inhibitions lost them when she walked through a door—”

           “I don’t have an answer for you—”

           “--Evangeline Samos I could understand. She’s stunning, as is her lover. There are a number of other Nortan girls that I’ve seen that also are very eye catching. So why this one Red girl?”

           I almost stop dancing so the full force of my scowl can reach her. “She tried to pickpocket me when I first met her.”

           Iris blinks at me, waiting for me to elaborate or perhaps laugh at what she might think is a joke. When I don’t do either, she frowns. “You’re serious.”

           “She was unlike anyone I’d ever met.”

           “I’ll say. I don’t know many who would try and pickpocket a prince.”

           “She didn’t know I was a prince.”

           Iris’s frown deepens, before her lips twist to the side in disgust. “Never mind, I don’t want to know anymore.”

           “She made me want to be a better man.” I amend, earning her attention again. Shrugging lightly I say, “She treated me like anyone else, as if I was like everyone else. A part of me had always wanted that I suppose.”

           The music dies around us, and the dancers applaud lightly. Tilting her head to the side again, as if listening to the sound, Iris considers my words.

           “I think she did the same for Maven. Or he may have seen a kindred spirit in her. I’m not quite sure.” I shake my head, before spotting Mare as she approaches us. I give her a little smile, assuring her that everything is fine. A couple steps in her path, forcing her to find a different route and buys me and Iris more time.

           Iris turns to glance at her as well, but loses her in the crowd at the same moment that I do. “You do not regret anything?” She asks aloud.

           “No.” I answer immediately. Maybe a few years ago, I would have hesitated and tried to sort through whatever emotions that question brought up. But I haven’t been tangled in that complicated web in a long time.

           Iris nods once, then twice. “Then I suppose I like the eases in the restrictions.” She says as a flash of lilac purple near her elbow announces Mare. She appears at Iris’s side before setting her hand on my arm. I give her a small smile and take her free hand before turning back to Iris with the same smile.

           “I’m glad to hear it.”

           Nodding once more, she tilts her head respectfully. I nudge Mare lightly as I dip my head as well. Taking the hint, Mare bobs in a quick curtsey before staring openly at Iris with a confused glare when she leaves.

           “What did she say?” Mare demands as soon as the Princess of the Lakelands is out of earshot.

           “Just asked me about things. But she did mention that she didn’t plan to throw me in any bays anymore.” I smile even as Mare sends a strong enough jolt of electricity up my arm that my heart skips a beat.

           “It’s not funny, so stop joking about that.”

           “Alright that was the last time, promise.” I say as I pull my hand away to set it on my heart and hold my other hand up.

           Mare snorts, clearly uncertain, before smirking. “Swear on your colors.” She pokes at my chest to enunciate each word. I catch her finger and pull her toward me so quickly she squeaks as her feet slide across the floor.

           “I swear on my colors that it’s the last time.” I whisper as I give her the one smile I know she can’t resist. It’s my only weapon against the arsenal she commands against me. She doesn’t have to really try where I am concerned. Even when she is sleeping or simply sitting in the window box watching the snow fall outside, a part of me is crushed by her. She strikes me though, with and without her lightning by simply existing.

         Playfully batting my face away, she laughs lightly, her mood finally breaking like a storm that was about to boil over into a hurricane. When she stops struggling against my hold and simply grins up at me, I allow myself another opportunity to drink her in. Under the lights, the purple strands of her hair almost blend into the dark chocolate of her hair, and her eyes shine like glass.

         “I will never want anything but you.” I admit quietly to her. Her cheeks flush red and she blinks in surprise before cupping my cheek softly.

         “I know.” She press onto her toes to kiss the underside of my jaw before I drop my chin further to complete the kiss.

[hacked-by-jake]

hi and also can you write this prompt 37 so youre just going to leave me here to die pair man without the face x mc thank you

Finally

A/n: Hi and thank you for your request. I have been waiting for this pairing, thank you! I hope you like it and please apologize the mistakes. Have a good day and stay healthy.💕

Prompt: “So you’re just going to leave me here to die alone?”

Words: 1,9k

Warnings: (Unfortunately, I am really bad when it comes to warnings, should anything be added, he will gladly tell me) 

⚠️Mention of death. Use of weapons, blood.

-

"So you’re just going to leave me here to die alone?" choked the disgusting man lying at your feet. You really did, you shot the man who’s been making your life a living hell for months. Your life, your friends life, and all of Duskwood. The man who brought so much suffering and hatred upon you all.

Speechless, you stare at the gun in your hand, but you feel no remorse, no guilt. Honestly, you feel satisfaction. Because you didn’t shoot a man, you shot a monster. A disturbed monster that is free of any morality, any humanity.

"Yes, yes, I let you die alone, because you deserve nothing else! You attacked my family. And when you attack my family, you attack me, "you hiss with a mocking grin on your face.

You feel like you’re in a movie, the weather suits your situation. Light raindrops fall through the thick treetops around the forest. All around you you can hear ravens croaking that bring a gruesome mood. The flowers and trees look sad and let their heads hang. Further away stands a roe deer, frightened and on guard because of the loud bang as the bullet flew out of the gun. Well, and the most striking of course, the Bleeding Man. The Kidnapper. The Murderer. You snort bitterly and you get over the urge to want to kick him in his face. You had to shoot of him to defend yourself but if you kicked him then it would be another matter. You managed to stop him and everything you would do now wouldn’t make you any better than he is.

"Do you - don’t you want to take off my mask?" his hoarse voice pulls you out of your thoughts. He tries to straighten up his upper body a little by leaning on his left arm. "Stay lying down!" you growl and take a step back. You raise the gun and aim at his belly to protect yourself.

Luckily, he takes you seriously and immediately he sinks back to the ground and groans painfully from the fast movement.

"So? You have always been so curious, take off the mask," he demands and you can hear a little amusement.

"MC?" sounds a voice through the dense trees of the forest and attracts your attention. The others found you. When you made your way to the forest, you thought about informing them. You decided not to let them know until you reached the forest so that none of them could stop you. For whatever reason, you wanted to talk to the man alone first. Jessy sounded very angry on the phone and wanted to stop you from going into the woods alone. But you couldn’t listen to them, you were blind with anger and the need for revenge, and you were lucky because everything went well.

He’s on the ground, not you.

He was defeated, not you.

You won, not him.

You look back at him shaking your head, "No, I’m not gonna take that ugly sack off your head, you want to know why?" you don’t wait for his answer at all but continue talking directly. "Because you are nothing more than this ugly mask! Because you are nothing. Because I don’t care who you are! Your plan to get attention has worked out for a short time. But now, I don’t care who you are under this mask. You are disgusting and no longer relevant to this world".

"Uh outch, you hurt my feelings" he chuckles, pressing his hand on the bleeding part of his chest. "But, you played well. You have my appreciation, it was fun, a worthy opponent".

"You still think this is a game?" you spit at him with disgust.

"Yes, when you showed up, it became a fun game, before that it was almost boring. But thanks to you it really became a nice little pastime"

Your eyes narrow and you feel like you’re getting hot and cold.

You shouldn’t let him provoke you any further, not really listen to what he says, but your hatred of this monster was too great. Blinded by the rage, you kick some of the earth and the broken leaves from the ground on his damaged body .

"You’re dirt" you hiss, "Have fun dying" you give him another superior grin.

"MC where are you?" again you hear a loud voice roaring through the forest.

Without paying attention to the kidnapper again, you run in the direction from which the voice comes.

You run as fast as you can, full of adrenaline, full of joy, full of hate. So many mixed feelings rushing through a body and pounding in your ears. You’re running for your life, happy to be with your friends now.

But there is one feeling that stands out especially and drowns out everyone else. The feeling that he was finally stopped by your hand. You made the promise to stop him and you kept it. Whether he dies or not, he will never be able to hurt anyone again. And that’s all that matters.

After about 500 meters you see them all, the whole group, and additionally at least a dozen policemen with a dog squad. All worried and looking for you.

"I’m here!" you yell as loudly as you can, "here!"

Immediately, all heads turn in your direction. Jessy is the first one to run towards you. Breathlessly you fall into her arms and the first tears break out of you. Tears of joy and relief.

You know these feelings will be short-lived. Because no matter who the man is or what he did, you shot a living person. Once the adrenaline of the last 20 minutes disappears from your body, you will realize correctly what happened. And it won’t be easy to process. But the fact that he’s the man with no face will help you not feel entirely guilty.

But at this moment you cannot think about it, at the moment there is only reason to rejoice.

"Oh God MC, we were so worried about you!" Jessy sniffed at your ear.

"Oh, thank God you’re alive" you hear Richy next to you and feel him also laying his arms around you both.

The others also join your group embrace.

And so you stand here in the middle of the forest as you cry like a waterfall with the knowledge that is all good now.

You still hold the gun in your hand as you detach from each other.

A deep voice shouts, "Put the gun on the ground immediately, and move away".

Only now do you notice how the policemen’s weapons are directed at you for safety. The others quickly step away from you and obey the request of the cops.

Of course you also do what they say and put the gun on the floor to kick them to the cops. One of them takes the gun and removes the already empty magazine. Since you had no intention of shooting someone, you only had one bullet with you to save yourself when it was necessary. And it was necessary. Luckily you have at least a little idea how to shoot, even if your hit was more luck than reason. But it wasn’t very hard because the man without a face was pretty close to you when you pulled the gun and pulled the trigger without really thinking about it.

"All right, it’s not loaded," you assure.

And then you remember that maybe you should clarify that the raven man is still lying in the back of the forest, bleeding to death.

"The- the kidnapper is injured and out of action about 500 meters from here. He’s probably still alive, but he’s bleeding a lot. I had to defend myself and shoot him, but he’s gonna need help."

Four policemen set off without hesitation in the direction you showed them. One of the others reaches for his walkie- talkie and orders an ambulance.

"You shot him?" Richy asks in amazement.

"He attacked me, I couldn’t defend myself in a other way," you say.

"Never again, do you go into this forest alone! How do you get the idea to come here alone?" Jessy hisses, "Why don’t you tell us before? We would have accompanied you immediately".

"I had to do it, I heard the conversation from a policeman and Hannah, and I was afraid the officers would wait too long. So the best way, before he can escape, was to come here himself, and I wanted to talk to him before he is arrested. But then he wanted to attack me to escape. I’m sorry you had to worry about me." you look at your friends with a slight smile.

From further away you can hear sirens of the ambulance that was ordered.

"Do you think - do you think he’s dead?" Jessy asks carefully and pays attention to your reaction. She was afraid of how you’d react to that question.

"No, I’m pretty sure I can’t shoot that well. And honestly, I’d rather he rot in prison," you clench your hands into fists and tighten your jaw as his words come back into your head. 'A funny game'

"Let’s not think about it now, it’s over, we’ve done it," Cleo reassures you immediately.

"And we should talk to the police now, Hannah wants to meet her savior," Dan grins and winks at you.

"How is she?" you ask carefully.

"She has to stay in the hospital for the next few days, but she’s doing fine. Especially when we give her the message that it’s finally over," Richy looks proud at you.

Through the forest two paramedics come running towards you and at the same time they pull a stretcher behind them.

"Where do we have to go?" asks one of the helpers and at the same time you point in the right direction.

All but Dan, he’s pointing in the wrong direction, pretending there’s nothing going on. You held back a small grin and watched as the paramedics continued their way.

"Dan" hisses Jessy and has herself on her lips in a small smile.

"What? I saw about the bird in the hospital, I wouldn’t miss him," he shrugs.

"None of us would miss him," Cleo agrees.

During your conversation, some of the policemen had left and only Alan was standing a little off and waiting for your quiet moment.

"So sorry to interrupt you but we have to ask MC some questions before you can go to Hannah" slowly he came up to your group.

"Will MC get into trouble now? So, because of the gun and because she shot?" asks Jessy and clings afraid to your arm.

Yes, and then..the realization hits you like a punch.

You didn’t even think about, that you shouldn’t have that gun. And of course shooting people wasn’t legal either, but you had to defend yourself, who knows what else he would have done to you.

"Don’t worry, we’ll sort this out, I’ll make sure MC isn’t to blame. I’m standing on your side" he assures us, that we can do this together and smiles kindly.

Over time you have joined with him and found out some more details. To have Alan on your side, will become a really important plus point, in the course of time.

Relief spreads within you and you nod to him gratefully.

And as if the world had waited only for this moment, just now, the sun breaks through the treetops and shines directly on your small group.

The unpleasantly croaking ravens fall silent and are replaced by the singing of lovely birds.

The light wind warms up and the clouds fly by and leave a clear blue sky. The smell of rain and muddy forest soil is replaced by the fresh smell of flowers and bushes. Now.. now it’s finally gonna be okay.

---

🌹

[hetalia-nordic-trash]

The Heart Gambit (Dennor): 4-Treat me like a Fool

Word count: 1,682

Summary: Mathias got hurt while he and Lukas were looking for Emil, so Lukas brings him back to his hotel room to patch him up a bit.

Author's Note: Finals are officially over!!! This means I can get back to doing weekly updates for both this story AND my original story on Wattpad (link at the end). I'm also thinking of starting a fanfic of Romano x Mexico OC but that would be like my 4th WIP so I don't think I'll start it any time soon unless there's a lot of interest in it for some reason. I have also come to the conclusion that I looovveee (and am way better at) writing dialogue! Much more than descriptions, unfortunately. I'm trying to get better but man it's hard! Anyways, hope you enjoy this part! Please interact and leave feedback! It goes such a long way!

Warning: Brief mention of injury

Previous: 3-One-Way Screen

Mathias kept his hand pressed to the cut on his head and watched eagerly as Lukas fiddled with the key to his room before finally throwing it open in a huff and stepping inside. Mathias hesitated, pondering the implications of being in another man's room.

"Don't just stand there! Hurry up before someone sees!" Lukas hissed. "I can't believe I'm even helping you."

"I think I figured that out the first 100 times you said that under your breath on the way here." Mathias stepped in and closed the door behind him. "Besides, you really should believe it considering who bit who."

Mathias sat on the bed, taking in the room around him. It was much simpler than he imagined. Two small beds were shoved up against the edge of the room, and the table had been away from the wall so that a chess board could be set up on it. The bed he was sitting on was still made, but the sheets were disturbed as if someone has been laying on it. The bed next to him was a bit more disheveled. It was piled high with books and yet another chessboard. Among the piles of books, a sweater and pants were neatly folded, waiting to be worn.

"Sorry for the mess."

"It's fine."

Lukas made his way to the bathroom.

"I think the first aid kit is in here. Let's make this quick so you can leave-"

A scream rang out for the bathroom. It was quickly followed by Lukas's and Mathias's. Lukas slammed the door shut.

"What the hell are you doing here!?" Lukas shouted.

"...my business..." the voice replied meekly.

"You're dead."

Mathias perked up.

"Woah! There you are, Emil! We were looking all over for you! To be honest, I kinda thought you were dead."

A small click came from the door.

"Yeah...I've kinda been here this whole time. I set you and Lukas up because he wouldn't stop talking about you!" Emil teased.

Lukas flushed red and desperately jiggled to the door handle.

"shut up shut up shut up..."

"For real! All day and night! 'I wonder what Mathias is thinking about! He's ruining the sport but there's just something about him I wanna- '"

"Alright!" Lukas shouted again. "Just pass me the first aid kit and you get to live for 15 more minutes."

Some shuffling was heard in the bathroom. A single bandaid was pushed through the space under the door. This was followed by a single strip of gauze, then a small pouch of antibiotics, then wet wipe, then-

"You are so difficult sometimes."

"That's a funny way of saying 'you're welcome!'"

Mathias chuckled, but couldn't shake the feeling of his heart pounding in his chest. Did Lukas really talk about him? Did he really spare him a thought aside from hatred? He placed his hand to his chest, trying to calm himself.

Lukas made his way over with a handful of first aid supplies.

"Alright. Let's get this over with," Lukas sighed.

He opened a wet wipe and stood before Mathias. Lukas placed one hand on Mathias's head, by his wound.

"This might sting a little."

Mathias was at a loss for a moment. The warmth from Lukas's hand radiated through his whole body. He clung to this feeling, desperately wanting to remember his touch.

"It's fine. I can handle it." he managed.

He winced as Lukas began to clean the wound.

"Sorry..."

"N-no it's fine."

Mathias wasn't sure if he meant to do this, but Lukas began running his fingers through Mathias's hair. Mathias felt his cheeks flushing.

"Hey...pass me the antibiotic cream,"

Mathias met Lukas's eyes. Lukas quickly looked away, but he could still see that his cheeks, and more cutely his nose were lightly dusted pink. Mathias smiled.

"Can you pass me the antibiotic cream? Unless you WANT an infection!" Lukas repeated, finally meeting Mathias's gaze.

"You're pink." Mathias commented, trying to sound confident.

"You're a dumbass."

"You're cute..."

Mathias knew he could be impulsive, but if he was any more impulsive than he already was, he would've chosen to throw himself out of the hotel window. How could he just say that!? OUTLOUD!?

Lukas turned bright red and scoffed, looking away from Mathias again.

"Just...hand me the cream already...before I personally give you an infection," Lukas muttered.

Mathias was a bit relieved that Lukas didn't slap him or spit in his open wound. He passed Lukas the cream.

"You don't have to do it for me you know... I can do it myself," Mathias said, weaker than he was expecting.

Lukas shook his head, and Mathias felt the cool cream being applied to his injury.

"It's fine. I don't mind really. I want to do it. Well... 'want' is a strong word..."

Lukas cleaned his hands and put the bandaid on Mathias's injury and placed his hand there. Mathias felt his heart skip a beat as he took Lukas's hand and pressed it to his cheek. He waited for Lukas to pull his hand away, but instead, he felt Lukas rub his thumb on his cheek.

Lukas slowly pulled his hand away, and stiffened, realizing what had just happened.

"Well...you can go now...don't let anyone see you leave," Lukas huffed, still bright pink. He grabbed a book, sat down, and immediately started reading.

Mathias got up and slowly made his way to the door. He was still reeling, but his heart ached to be close to Lukas again.

"Heh, you know, if you promise not to injure me again, you should meet me at the park again tomorrow morning,". Mathias watched his words very carefully, trying not to sound desperate.

Lukas buried his head deeper into his book.

"...fine. Tomorrow morning."

"Yes!" Mathias mouthed.

He peaked his head out to make sure the hallway was clear, and slipped out, closing the door behind him.

---

"Is he gone yet!?" Emil called from the bathroom.

Lukas slammed his book closed.

"Yes. He's gone."

The bathroom door swung open and rolled into bed.

"Great. Goodnight."

"Wait you're going to bed right now!?"

"Yes. It's late."

"Are we not going to talk about this?" Lukas asked, sitting at the foot of Lukas's bed and yanking the covers off him.

"Hey! Come on I was just getting comfortable!"

"I can't believe you tried to set me up with him!"

Emil sat up.

"You really can't believe it? He's all you ever talk about these days! I figured talking to him would get him out of your system, but here you are... talking about him... again." Emil replied, rolling his eyes.

Lukas blushed.

"I don't talk about him all the time!"

"Oh my g- YES YOU DO!" Emil cried, yanking the covers back.

"The past few months it's been the same pattern! Every interview, update, news headline with his name in it you feel inclined to talk about it! You always scoff and say 'he has so much potential' or 'why is he doing this' and it's been that way for God knows how long!"

Emil turned over onto his side and turned off the lamp on the nightstand beside him.

"He's the first thing you think of when you wake up, and the last name on your lips before you pass out onto a pile of books. Admit you love him already and let me go to sleep!"

Lukas felt as though he'd been shot through the chest. He'd avoided that word for so long, haphazardly replacing it mentally with 'appreciate' or even 'admire' on the good days. It couldn't be love. The feeling of running his hands through Mathias's hair, letting him hold his hand to his cheek...those were just...

Those weren't things acquaintances did.

"I. Don't. Love. Him." Lukas spat. "I don't love anyone. Except you but that's different."

He stood up and started pacing by his bed.

"I don't care how I act around him or how much I think of him. I don't love him! I don't love anyone and I never will because there are more important things than him! Even if I did, it doesn't matter because I don't really know him and I never did! I can't believe you'd think I'd be in love with him! I'd never even met him before this!"

"Just say you love him!"

"NO!"

"But you do!"

Lukas slammed his hands on the table.

"You're wrong! I don't love Mathias! I don't love anyone! And I never will! Because love is a waste of time!" Lukas shouted, quickly turning to wipe the hot tears that dripped down his cheeks.

Emil let out a long sigh and turned over in the bed.

"You know, Mathias really likes you. But if you want to push everyone away for a stupid game, then go ahead. And I hope you win so that I won't have to hear you complain about him this time next week since that's all you care about right? Winning?"

Lukas could barely speak with the lump in his throat. Everything he screamed at Emil was something he's said himself every day. Every day he'd tell himself not to be distracted, to not need anyone, to not have a beating heart in his chest. And it had worked so far, but Mathias... Mathias was different. How? He couldn't understand how Mathias made his heart beat a little more or how when Mathias took his hand his heart skipped a beat. It wasn't fair. He wished deep down that he could hate Mathias with every fiber of his being. He wished he didn't need anyone else in his life. He wished that his heart didn't beat a little more whenever he looked into Mathias's striking blue eyes. But most of all, he wished he would be spared from the heartache to come. Win or lose, he that they'd want nothing to do with each other after the match.

Lukas still felt the tears coming and did his best to wipe them away and take a deep breath.

"Goodnight Emil," Lukas managed.

"Goodnight nerd."

---

Next: Chapter: 5-Too Clever by Half

a/n: OOOoooohhh things are definitely starting to happen now! I’m going to take this time to plug my non-hetalia work “ Intro to Love ” about a college student who struggles to keep her superpowers a secret and while making new friends.  How much of her normal life will she give up to save her friends from a mysterious villain that drains students’ brains and turns them into zombies? The complete Chapter 1 is out NOW AND so is Chapter 2.1-'The last of the Good Days'! Go read them! Right now! They're waiting for you!

Thanks again for reading! Send some feedback my way! Can’t wait to continue this story!

Quotev link: here

[thechosenburrito]

The Heart Gambit (Dennor): 4-Treat me like a Fool

Word count: 1,682

Summary: Mathias got hurt while he and Lukas were looking for Emil, so Lukas brings him back to his hotel room to patch him up a bit.

Author's Note: Finals are officially over!!! This means I can get back to doing weekly updates for both this story AND my original story on Wattpad (link at the end). I'm also thinking of starting a fanfic of Romano x Mexico OC but that would be like my 4th WIP so I don't think I'll start it any time soon unless there's a lot of interest in it for some reason. I have also come to the conclusion that I looovveee (and am way better at) writing dialogue! Much more than descriptions, unfortunately. I'm trying to get better but man it's hard! Anyways, hope you enjoy this part! Please interact and leave feedback! It goes such a long way!

Warning: Brief mention of injury

Previous: 3-One-Way Screen

Mathias kept his hand pressed to the cut on his head and watched eagerly as Lukas fiddled with the key to his room before finally throwing it open in a huff and stepping inside. Mathias hesitated, pondering the implications of being in another man's room.

"Don't just stand there! Hurry up before someone sees!" Lukas hissed. "I can't believe I'm even helping you."

"I think I figured that out the first 100 times you said that under your breath on the way here." Mathias stepped in and closed the door behind him. "Besides, you really should believe it considering who bit who."

Mathias sat on the bed, taking in the room around him. It was much simpler than he imagined. Two small beds were shoved up against the edge of the room, and the table had been away from the wall so that a chess board could be set up on it. The bed he was sitting on was still made, but the sheets were disturbed as if someone has been laying on it. The bed next to him was a bit more disheveled. It was piled high with books and yet another chessboard. Among the piles of books, a sweater and pants were neatly folded, waiting to be worn. "Sorry for the mess." "It's fine." Lukas made his way to the bathroom. "I think the first aid kit is in here. Let's make this quick so you can leave-" A scream rang out for the bathroom. It was quickly followed by Lukas's and Mathias's. Lukas slammed the door shut. "What the hell are you doing here!?" Lukas shouted. "...my business..." the voice replied meekly. "You're dead." Mathias perked up. "Woah! There you are, Emil! We were looking all over for you! To be honest, I kinda thought you were dead." A small click came from the door. "Yeah...I've kinda been here this whole time. I set you and Lukas up because he wouldn't stop talking about you!" Emil teased. Lukas flushed red and desperately jiggled to the door handle. "shut up shut up shut up..." "For real! All day and night! 'I wonder what Mathias is thinking about! He's ruining the sport but there's just something about him I wanna- '" "Alright!" Lukas shouted again. "Just pass me the first aid kit and you get to live for 15 more minutes." Some shuffling was heard in the bathroom. A single bandaid was pushed through the space under the door. This was followed by a single strip of gauze, then a small pouch of antibiotics, then wet wipe, then- "You are so difficult sometimes." "That's a funny way of saying 'you're welcome!'" Mathias chuckled, but couldn't shake the feeling of his heart pounding in his chest. Did Lukas really talk about him? Did he really spare him a thought aside from hatred? He placed his hand to his chest, trying to calm himself. Lukas made his way over with a handful of first aid supplies. "Alright. Let's get this over with," Lukas sighed. He opened a wet wipe and stood before Mathias. Lukas placed one hand on Mathias's head, by his wound. "This might sting a little." Mathias was at a loss for a moment. The warmth from Lukas's hand radiated through his whole body. He clung to this feeling, desperately wanting to remember his touch. "It's fine. I can handle it." he managed. He winced as Lukas began to clean the wound. "Sorry..." "N-no it's fine." Mathias wasn't sure if he meant to do this, but Lukas began running his fingers through Mathias's hair. Mathias felt his cheeks flushing. "Hey...pass me the antibiotic cream," Mathias met Lukas's eyes. Lukas quickly looked away, but he could still see that his cheeks, and more cutely his nose were lightly dusted pink. Mathias smiled. "Can you pass me the antibiotic cream? Unless you WANT an infection!" Lukas repeated, finally meeting Mathias's gaze. "You're pink." Mathias commented, trying to sound confident. "You're a dumbass." "You're cute..." Mathias knew he could be impulsive, but if he was any more impulsive than he already was, he would've chosen to throw himself out of the hotel window. How could he just say that!? OUT LOUD!? Lukas turned bright red and scoffed, looking away from Mathias again. "Just...hand me the cream already...before I personally give you an infection," Lukas muttered. Mathias was a bit relieved that Lukas didn't slap him or spit in his open wound. He passed Lukas the cream. "You don't have to do it for me you know... I can do it myself," Mathias said, weaker than he was expecting. Lukas shook his head, and Mathias felt the cool cream being applied to his injury. "It's fine. I don't mind really. I want to do it. Well... 'want' is a strong word..." Lukas cleaned his hands, put the bandaid on Mathias's injury, and placed his hand there. Mathias felt his heart skip a beat as he took Lukas's hand and pressed it to his cheek. He waited for Lukas to pull his hand away, but instead, he felt Lukas rub his thumb on his cheek. Lukas slowly pulled his hand away, and stiffened, realizing what had just happened. "Well...you can go now...don't let anyone see you leave," Lukas huffed, still bright pink. He grabbed a book, sat down, and immediately started reading. Mathias got up and slowly made his way to the door. He was still reeling, but his heart ached to be close to Lukas again. "Heh, you know, if you promise not to injure me again, you should meet me at the park again tomorrow morning,". Mathias watched his words very carefully, trying not to sound desperate. Lukas buried his head deeper into his book. "...fine. Tomorrow morning." "Yes!" Mathias mouthed. He peaked his head out to make sure the hallway was clear, and slipped out, closing the door behind him. --- "Is he gone yet!?" Emil called from the bathroom. Lukas slammed his book closed. "Yes. He's gone." The bathroom door swung open and rolled into bed. "Great. Goodnight." "Wait you're going to bed right now!?" "Yes. It's late." "Are we not going to talk about this?" Lukas asked, sitting at the foot of Lukas's bed and yanking the covers off him. "Hey! Come on I was just getting comfortable!" "I can't believe you tried to set me up with him!" Emil sat up. "You really can't believe it? He's all you ever talk about these days! I figured talking to him would get him out of your system, but here you are... talking about him... again." Emil replied, rolling his eyes. Lukas blushed. "I don't talk about him all the time!" "Oh my g- YES YOU DO!" Emil cried, yanking the covers back. "The past few months it's been the same pattern! Every interview, update, news headline with his name in it you feel inclined to talk about it! You always scoff and say 'he has so much potential' or 'why is he doing this' and it's been that way for God knows how long!" Emil turned over onto his side and turned off the lamp on the nightstand beside him. "He's the first thing you think of when you wake up, and the last name on your lips before you pass out onto a pile of books. Admit you love him already and let me go to sleep!" Lukas felt as though he'd been shot through the chest. He'd avoided that word for so long, haphazardly replacing it mentally with 'appreciate' or even 'admire' on the good days. It couldn't be love. The feeling of running his hands through Mathias's hair, letting him hold his hand to his cheek...those were just... Those weren't things acquaintances did. "I. Don't. Love. Him." Lukas spat. "I don't love anyone. Except you but that's different." He stood up and started pacing by his bed. "I don't care how I act around him or how much I think of him. I don't love him! I don't love anyone and I never will because there are more important things than him! Even if I did, it doesn't matter because I don't really know him and I never did! I can't believe you'd think I'd be in love with him! I'd never even met him before this!" "Just say you love him!" "NO!" "But you do!" Lukas slammed his hands on the table. "You're wrong! I don't love Mathias! I don't love anyone! And I never will! Because love is a waste of time!" Lukas shouted, quickly turning to wipe the hot tears that dripped down his cheeks. Emil let out a long sigh and turned over in the bed. "You know, Mathias really likes you. But if you want to push everyone away for a stupid game, then go ahead. And I hope you win so that I won't have to hear you complain about him this time next week since that's all you care about right? Winning?" Lukas could barely speak with the lump in his throat. Everything he screamed at Emil was something he's said himself every day. Every day he'd tell himself not to be distracted, to not need anyone, to not have a beating heart in his chest. And it had worked so far, but Mathias... Mathias was different. How? He couldn't understand how Mathias made his heart beat a little more or how when Mathias took

his hand his heart skipped a beat. It wasn't fair. He wished deep down that he could hate Mathias with every fiber of his being. He wished he didn't need anyone else in his life. He wished that his heart didn't beat a little more whenever he looked into Mathias's striking blue eyes. But most of all, he wished he would be spared from the heartache to come. Win or lose, he that they'd want nothing to do with each other after the match. Lukas still felt the tears coming and did his best to wipe them away and take a deep breath. "Goodnight Emil," Lukas managed. "Goodnight nerd." --- Next: Chapter: 5-On Mountains with You (Coming soon!) a/n: OOOoooohhh things are definitely starting to happen now! I’m going to take this time to plug my non-hetalia work “ Intro to Love ” about a college student who struggles to keep her superpowers a secret and while making new friends.  How much of her normal life will she give up to save her friends from a mysterious villain that drains students’ brains and turns them into zombies? The complete Chapter 1 is out NOW AND so is Chapter 2.1-'The last of the Good Days'! Go read them! Right now! They're waiting for you! Thanks again for reading! Send some feedback my way! Can’t wait to continue this story! Quotev link: here

[unsteadygalaxy]

all is soft inside

Mirage doesn't really think any Legend really, definitely cares about him for him. Not for his skills or his assets for a team- him specifically. But Bloodhound... Bloodhound is different.

And that confuses the hell out of him.

Also posted on ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26475064/chapters/64513456 

you are here at chapter 1 | next

A/N: I’ve made some revisions to the first three chapters! I think they flow a little better and I’m finally happy with them.

Update Feb. 2, 2021: Hi again! I just wanted to make a quick note in light of the release of Pathfinder's Quest. I started planning and writing this fanfiction before the lore book came out, so this fic will not align with either of their canon backstories. I absolutely loved the book and the canon backstory we have for all the Legends, especially Pathfinder and Bloodhound! I won't spoil anything, but you guys should absolutely get your hands on a copy as soon as you can. Enjoy!

1. i bear a shadow

The row of glasses set out on the counter are mocking him.

Come on, Elliott, he thinks, that’s dumb. He picks one up and starts to polish it. Cups are inanimate objects. They don’t have feelings. But the water spots on each glass seem to stare at him like little eyes, scrutinizing him, and yeah, mocking him. 

“You could leave me alone, you know,” he mutters, and he feels dumb for speaking to the open air. There’s no one in the bar- it had closed forty minutes ago, and only Elliott remains. But an empty bar plus an on-edge Elliott is a recipe for disaster, because his thoughts tended to wander.

And they are not wandering to the best of places tonight.

His thoughts are lingering on his mother, and he knows he isn’t doing himself any favors by dwelling on her. He knew her Alzheimer’s had been getting worse for months, but there was no way to prepare himself for what happened the week before. He called her every couple of days to check in on her- he’d been doing it for almost a year. When she had picked up the phone, she had seemed distracted and upset, but the worst moment of all came when she asked him who he was. 

‘Oh, Mom, you’re- you’re such a jokester,’ he stammers, his heart dropping straight into his stomach. ‘Ha, yeah, that was great. Good one. Anyways, Mom-’

‘Mom?’ she asks, and her voice is confused on the other end of the line. ‘I’ve got kids? Well, damn! Would you look at that?’ She laughs, and Elliott has to force himself to laugh with her, because his heart is churning in his stomach acid and he’s one hundred percent positive that if he didn’t, he’d be crying. 

He hasn’t told anyone, of course, because he doesn’t really know how to. How do you casually bring up the fact that your mother doesn’t remember you anymore? A cynical side of him whispers, Who would care anyway? But he pushes that away, because he knows he’s cared about.

He hopes he’s cared about. 

It’s not a secret that he’s been having a hard time in the Games lately. He’s been distracted and fuzzy-headed and frustrated, and he doesn’t think he’s broken top 5 in at least a month. The pay hasn’t been as consistent either, and while Elliott is managing, the margin between his income and his bill for his mother’s memory care was alarmingly small. He feels like he’s in a constant state of panic. If he wasn’t winning, if he wasn’t making as much as he needed, how would he-

The glass in his hand cracks and promptly shatters, sending water stained shards onto the counter below. One shard catches a ridge of skin as it falls, and Elliott swears profusely. The blood blooms across his skin, and the pain accompanies it. A sharp hiss flies from between his teeth, and he grabs a towel. He presses it to the fresh wound, grimacing as he stains the fabric.

“That looks painful, Elliott.”

Mirage whirls around to see a certain masked hunter leaning against the door frame, arms crossed. Bloodhound meets his gaze, or so he assumes; he can’t see their eyes behind their goggles.

“Hound! I, uh, no, what are you talking about?” he blurts, scrambling to hide his hands. “I’m fine, totally fine! More than fine, in fact. I’m totally peachy! How about you?”

Bloodhound sighs. “Elliott, please do not lie. I saw you injure yourself.”

“Lie? Who, me?” Mirage scoffs, though his insides have become uncomfortable with shame. Bloodhound’s sudden presence made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and he’s still waiting for his body to calm down.

Bloodhound sighs once more. They shake their head and pull a bandage from one of their many pockets and approach the bar swiftly.

“Really, Hound, I’m fine!” he insists, backing away from the bar. “Don’t worry about me, I can just go bother Ajay or something-”

“Elliott.” Bloodhound’s voice is commanding, yet gentle. “Be still.”

Elliott’s knees promptly turn to jelly.

Bloodhound takes a seat across the bar and removes their gloves. All thoughts of his mother forgotten for now, it strikes Elliott that he has never seen Bloodhound’s hands. Or any other part of them without their gear. Silvery scars stretch across their hands in spider web patterns, and their fingers are calloused and worn. 

“W-What happened to your hands?” Elliott stutters, before he can stop himself.

“That is a story for another time,” Bloodhound murmurs, their voice soft and quiet through the modulator. “Please give me your hand.”

Elliott does not press the matter. “Uh… hold on.” He pushes the spotted glasses aside and offers his bleeding hand. Bloodhound takes it gently. They cradle his hand in their fingers as though he is something valuable and precious, and Elliott’s cheeks redden. He finds himself feeling extremely glad he didn’t trim his beard this morning. 

Bloodhound guides him to the sink from across the bar, and turns the knob. They place his hand under the faucet and begin to clean Elliott’s wound. Their fingertips ghost across his skin and a silent hope forms in Elliott’s chest before he squashes it. Whoooaaa there, buddy. You barely know Bloodhound. Calm down.

Pain lances through his palm, and he flinches. Bloodhound notices this, and they say something in their language that Mirage does not understand.

“What was that?”

“Fyrirgefðu mér. I am sorry.”

“Oh. Don’t worry about it,” Elliott replies. “I’ve had worse. Much worse. In fact, this is the most boring la- lacer... injury I’ve ever had! Super easy to deal with, and-”

“Elliott, please,” Bloodhound says firmly. “You are allowed to feel the pain you bear.”

Mirage falls silent, shame and frustration rising in his chest. All of his emotions feel turbulent, roiling, volatile. The words bubble out and over like an exploding bottle of soda before he can stop himself. 

“No offense, Hound, but who are you to tell me anything? I don’t know a damn thing about you.” He jerks his hand away and wraps it back up in the towel, cringing slightly as his hand meets the old blood. “You’re this mysterious badass who always makes the top five in every damn match you play. How could you know what disappointment is like?” He turns his back to them and picks up the broken glass, then tosses it angrily into the trashcan to his left. “Who do you even have to lose? You don’t talk to any of us. You barely show up here. Why are you even here right now? We know next to nothing about you. Hell, I don’t even know your name! How am I supposed to trust you outside of the arena, much less inside?” HIs words are angry and bitter, and he spits them out like bullets firing from a gun.

“You think I do not know pain?” Bloodhound’s voice is quietly angry. Mirage stops in his tracks, and the shame washes through his stomach once more. “You think I have not lost anyone I love? You think that because I am successful, I do not know the meaning of suffering?”

“No, Hound, I-”

“That is not my name!” they exclaim, and for the first time, Mirage is afraid of the person standing in front of him. “My name is Bloðhundur, and you will address me as such.”

“Bloodhound, look, I-”

“I have known verkur of the deepest kind,” they snarl, standing up from the bar suddenly. “I have seen horrors that will haunt me for the rest of my life, horrors that would keep even the robot andskoti up at night. You think you are the only one to know suffering and anguish?” They scoff, and deftly slide their hands back into their gloves. “You think you are entitled to my story? To my identity? No, Elliott. That is a right few have ever received.”

“Bloodhound, I’m sorry. I didn’t think-”

“And therein lies the problem.” A pause. Then, “The presence of success does not mean there is an absence of pain. The path to victory is fullur af sársauka. Full of pain. Even outside of the arena.”

And with that, they leave as quietly as they came, leaving Elliott alone with his thoughts once more.

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 35: The Heir of Slytherin

Wet!

Alice automatically tried to pull away from such a thing, spluttering in disgust as she realized she was sunk in water with hands and knees. Splashing and flailing as she tried to get up in protest, she realized there really wasn't anywhere to go that wasn't covered in a thin layer of water.

Heart still thudding painfully in her chest from the last near death experience, she tried to lurch to her feet to find the new chamber. The first realization was how sick she was of the color green. Though it had no visible source, the hue managed to highlight the large stone pillars spaced every few feet in the shape of yet more snakes, as if she hadn't enough of a fright from those knowing the king of the species was slithering about somewhere.

Still gasping painfully for normal breath, she latched onto a new bit of color with painful glee and quickly hurried to Lily's side. "Oh thank goodness you're okay!"

She just nodded, getting to her feet in the same shaky but hurried way with Alice supporting her elbow. "Potter pulled me out of the way," she muttered, sounding quite like she'd been hit over the head anyways she was in such disbelief. "I, I've never frozen like that-"

"I'm so sorry, I thought you were right behind us!" Alice wasn't even listening, pulling her into a tight hug, nearly sobbing in relief, guilt, and lingering worry.

Lily patted her awkwardly on the back before trying to pull away, and Alice let her with the excuse of rubbing still dripping fingers over her face to brush the strands away clinging to her eyes. Together the two went about to everyone else, rounding their group into a tight circle with no protests. It was no secret that the dangers behind them were only the start of their worries. This was the basilisks layer.

Several heavy moments of silence not even broken by the drips of water anymore persisted before the eldest Black finally spoke up, "can you believe I'm related to such an atrocity? Moony, promise me if I ever start to looking like my ancestors, you'll put me out of my misery."

Regulus turned slowly on the spot from one of the too life-like statues to see Sirius gazing up, and up, at a statue of a brutish man with broad features and a cruel expression. He had to admit, Sirius was right in one regards, there didn't seem much of a family resemblance.

"We're supposed to be looking for the book to get out of here you bloody idiots!" Frank snapped.

"Well I don't see anyone wandering off to go find it," Potter snapped right back, no one even daring to shift their weight, let alone move from each other in pursuit.

"Anyone else going to give summoning it a try?" Pettigrew finally asked in the smallest voice imaginable. None yet had, they were all aware any trace of movement could summon the beast even faster to them, but it was either that or stand here like the most delicious thing this snake would have had in centuries like a waiting buffet. So taking one last breath of dread, he cautioned, "everyone close your eyes," following his own advice before finishing, "accio book."

His ears had been expecting a splash, but instead the book fell into his outstretched hand perfectly dry. They waited several more agonizingly long moments for anything but surely a beast of this size would have made itself known. Hissing the air, moving about in the pools of water, something. Cracking his eye open just beyond the lashes and letting out the smallest puff of breath in relief, Peter quickly began muttering out Harry's story.

James made a mad attempt at a laugh as his son described Salazar Slytherin as monkyish, giving Sirius a look that promised this would come up later in much better circumstances. For now, they had more important things they had to concentrate on.

Ginny was alive! That was honestly the first bit of good news any of them had been given in such a long time!

That was the last bit of good news they were likely going to get, as a ghostly figure arrived in front of Harry.

Small mercy though it was, they were all grateful no such apparition appeared before them. Unlike Harry, more focused on poor Ginny, every one of them were well aware something not right was happening for this to be appearing. Had the diary been some sort of magic supplicant? It was impossible he looked the same now as he did fifty years ago, but they were all at a loss what answer that could be. One thing was clear, he was somehow connected to this place, no way was it a coincidence otherwise. Explaining yourself away as a memory didn't seem like a good explanation at all.

The longer it kept going, the worse it got. None of them had ever wanted to sit around and laugh at a little eleven year old like this Riddle was doing, and the chills in the air as talk turned to souls only grew worse.

Amidst Riddle's rant of how he got Ginny to do all this was a sad story indeed, but what came next would quite honestly take the cake for surprising things he wasn't sure he'd believe for the rest of his life.

"Wormtail, I swear, now of all times! To be playing one of you're bloody word games! Tom Riddle's Voldemort, honestly," Sirius turned around to face him fully, eyeing him like he'd hand fed his mind to the awaiting basilisk. "He's a muggleborn from an orphanage, remember."

He didn't answer, his mouth was half hanging open, the words still echoing off his tongue leaving him with a nasty taste left over in surprise. Not a muggleborn, but a halfblood. Voldemort/ Riddle's mother was a descendant of the statue behind them as surely as Sirius, but only through half the lineage!

There was an odd noise Peter only noticed in the back of his mind, but one he quickly realized he should be paying attention to. It was a grinding, sort of scraping of stone moving across stone, and suddenly his heart ran colder than the murky water still covering his shoes. He did not want to look up. He did not need to look up. He knew better than to do it, even before he heard the horrified voices around him, and James' whispered, "Merlin, no."

Peter could only pray now in between reading faster than he ever had in his life that he was almost done, that he'd rather be sent anywhere else in the world than where they were now! He couldn't be shocked over the biggest news of their modern life if he didn't survive this place first!

Where was Fawkes?! Why hadn't what Peter said in echoing Harry summoned the phoenix to them in here again? A bird with healing tears would have bloody come in handy with where they were! No time to think about it, no time to think about anything-

Too late, he was always just too late on the uptake on everything, and this time was no different. No sooner was Riddle calling forth the basilisk through his words than the horrendous noise of something larger than their life was crashing into the waters below. Just as he realize what was coming for them than suddenly he couldn't see anything, the cloying black of an endless smoke over his face only just barely covering the sound of the spitting and hissing frustrations of a hungry beast.

There was no prompting to run as the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder thickened in the air, but the problem was, there was no where to run. The only way to get out of this place had to be opened by a parselmouth, and none of them had miraculously gained that ability! The only way to get away from this king of serpents was to finish reading the text, but the moment he gained his sight back he'd surely be faced with the golden eyes of death.

Someone reacted, there was no telling who, the eight tried to break into a run while desperately shooting any number of spells as the darkest of creatures edged forward. No matter what color the magic or where it struck, only the lingering black powder in the air kept it temporarily disoriented.

"Regulus!"

"Sirius-no-"

Too late, the brothers collided, falling headfirst into an even deeper pit of water. Both remained face down, for fear of moving of the creature above them or a worse reason he couldn't tell, and he wasn't going to wait around.

James and Remus were already on Sirius' heels the moment they'd realized he'd turned around, Peter right behind, but it was his slightly shorter pace that saved them. The basilisk's tail struck him across the chest, and he sailed out of sight up the tunnel when the other two had a chance to duck out of sight.

"No, no, no!"

"Finish the damn chapter!" Potter shouted, sidestepping back to where he'd last seen Peter as Remus kept trying to dance through the poisonous skin and teeth to Sirius.

Neither could move more than an inch without meeting scales, the snake encircling them and still spitting and hissing madly every second. It's tongue flickered the air again, head turning towards Evans as Alice tried to keep going, pleading with her voice to stop cracking. They were all cornered, the beast having every one of them pinned down, only the black powder in the air saving them from a perfect strike-

Squeak!

A rat should not have been the very last thing Frank would have expected to find down here, but really, where was the surprise? After seeing all the bones of its brethren in the previous chamber, of course it should make sense more would come out of hiding and run for better cover in all this chaos! It was also somehow their saving grace, as the gray rodent continued squeaking in fright, darting from one patch of water to the next. The basilisk's tongue flickered curiously in the direction, jaws widening and saliva dripping to the ground as a more common meal finally came across its path that wouldn't fight back.

The basilisk lunged, as Alice reached the final word.

[visander]

Something Hard.

Read on ao3 instead | Read the first part on tumblr or ao3. 

This is my submission for my @shadowhunterbingo square ‘Royalty AU’. This is also a shameless Skyrim AU. 

Being an orc, Magnus knew that the primarily nordic people of his village did not like him but Magnus didn't realize just how deep that hatred went. After it becomes clear Magnus is not safe, Alec and him decided to leave at any means necessary- even if it means running to Alec's family for help.

Tags: Violence, Depictions of Blood and Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending (full tags on ao3). 

Alec and Magnus had been together for nearly three months when it became obvious that the village they’d found each other in was not the place they wanted to make their home together. Magnus had grown used to the way he was treated and he’d come to accept it as a fact of his life but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a line of what Magnus could deal with.

Mostly, the people of the village ignored him. Magnus was allowed to buy food and clothes from the shops. Magnus suspected people just let him because they wanted his money, but other than that, Magnus was mostly shunned. People did not greet him. People did not smile at him but Magnus was okay with that, especially since he had Alec now.

The coldness from the village was alright. It was something Magnus could deal with but… he hadn’t expected that coldness to go any farther than that. The people in the village did not like him but Magnus didn’t think they hated him as strongly as some of them apparently did.

It happened on an evening that Alec was working late. Magnus knew after working such a long shift that Alec was going to be exhausted, so he’d decided to go out and buy he and Alec something special for them to eat that night. After, he’d even decided to make a quick stop at their local potion supplier and buy a light muscle relaxer, to make Alec feel better that night.

That accompanied with the fact that Magnus had already left a little late to go shopping meant that by the time Magnus was making his way home, it was already dark. Magnus tried not to go out after dark. It wasn’t safe for an orc like him to be out so late when people were bound to be making their way home in the dark, perhaps a little drunk and bolder in their hatred than they’d normally be.

Still, Magnus hadn’t expected it to ever go that far, even if he was cautious. He thought maybe he was at risk of getting pushed around a little, something that had happened before and probably would again but he never quite thought that anyone would be willing to do more than that but apparently, he’d underestimated just how much people didn’t like him.

He was caught on the pathway towards the tavern he and Alec lived in, a section of the road that dipped into darkness for a while before it came back into the light. Had Magnus been paying attention, he would have noticed the two men standing at the side of the walk way and he might have even noticed something sinister about the way they were staring at him but he wasn’t looking.

His arms were full of the things he’d just bought and in his head, he was thinking about Alec, wondering if he’d gotten home already or if Magnus would have time to try and bake some bread for tomorrow before he got there. He didn’t even notice the men until they stepped out onto the walkway a few feet in front of him, blocking his path.

Instantly, Magnus felt the hair on the back of his neck rise up. His heart quickened in his chest and he knew that he’d just walked into a very bad situation. He didn’t know how bad yet but his body knew and part of him felt like he should just turn and run.

Maybe, he should have but he swallowed his nervousness down and convinced himself it was okay, that maybe they just wanted money or even to spit some cruel words at him before they’d let him go. That had been his first mistake. He should have turned and ran until he could duck into the shop nearby but his feet stayed grounded into place.

Magnus had just been about to ask what they needed when one of them, a nord unsurprisingly, spoke. “You made a mistake coming out here so late, little orc.” The man said, his words dark, leaving no room to misunderstand them.

Magnus opened his mouth to respond but found his tongue had gone dry. What could he really say to that anyway? Nothing that would make them have any better intentions, Magnus knew. Nothing that would make him safe here.

“What, khajiit got your tongue?” The other hissed, making Magnus back up an instinctive step that they both followed. When Magnus tried to back up further, one of them leapt, a hand grabbing at Magnus’ shirt and yanking him forward.

For a terrifying moment, Magnus realized that he couldn’t move, not easily anyway. He was stuck and the man that was holding him didn’t seem too inclined to let him go. Still, Magnus didn’t panic. Maybe, they’d just say some mean words and let him go. Maybe, it was better if Magnus didn’t thrash and scream. Maybe, playing along would make them let him go quicker.

That or he was just too scared to do anything at all and pretending it had been a calculated choice made him feel better.

“I was just on my way home…” Magnus attempted, hoping they’d choose to let him go if he promised to flee their sight as soon as he could but of course, that wasn’t really what they were after. If they let Magnus leave, they’d have no place else to place their anger. They’d have nothing fun to do with their drunken rage.

“What do you think, Gauldan- should we let the orc go home?” One of them asked, laughing as if the whole situation was so incredibly funny. The man tightened his hand on Magnus’ collar, tight enough that Magnus felt like he was choking, though he wouldn’t dare show it.

“No, I think we should teach the orc a lesson.” The other said, lumbering forward until Magnus could smell nothing but the alcohol on the man’s breath. Magnus knew they’d been drinking but it was not a good sign for them to be that drunk. Alcohol in a nord’s stomach was never a good thing for anyone like Magnus, especially not in the dark where no one would see what they would do.

That was the first moment Magnus realized just how bad the situation he was in was. That and the next moment, in which the first man, still holding Magnus’ collar, yanked him forward before punching him in the stomach, his piercing cruel laughter echoing in Magnus’ head as everything he’d been holding fell from his hands.

Magnus heard the potion shatter on the ground but that was nothing compared to the sick crack he felt in his chest, followed by the pain that let Magnus know he’d almost certainly broken a bone. Magnus must have cried out but he couldn’t even hear himself through the pain of the next strike that followed just as quickly as the last.

After that one of them took the liberty of punching him in the face and then, Magnus didn’t remember much else. Magnus’ felt his feet give out under him and then, he was being held up by nothing but the man who was still holding him. Something was gushing across his face, blood Magnus realized later. Everything after that was lost in flashes of pain. The next thing Magnus knew, he was on the ground. He must have fallen but Magnus didn’t remember doing so.

He felt something hit him again and he wasn’t even sure what it was, only that it hurt so bad that Magnus was surprised he hadn’t passed out. They’d kicked him, Magnus put together later, judging by the bruise that had been left across his already injured chest.

He knew he was on the ground for a while. Someone found him but he wasn’t sure who. That person must have known enough to go find Alec or maybe, Alec heard some other way but either way, Magnus remembered being moved. Someone lifted him. It hurt. Someone was talking to him and then suddenly, Alec was there.

Magnus remembered hearing his voice but he couldn’t make out anything he’d said. He remembered something being forced into his mouth, a healing potion he learned later but when he woke up the next day, his whole body a deep painful ache, he learned that the potion hadn’t quite worked that well.

Healing potions were good for smaller injuries, which they’d heal almost instantly. They were good for speeding up the healing process but when broken bones were involved, there came a point when there was nothing to do but wait and let things heal normally, unless you wanted to spend money on an actual healer- money Alec and Magnus did not have.

The next thing Magnus knew he was waking up. Alec was beside him the moment Magnus let out his first groan and with bleary eyes, Magnus took in the concerned face of Alec hovering over him. Magnus was laying in their cot, with their soft blankets pressed around him, his feet propped up, his head cradled by pillows. Someone, clearly Alec, had taken care trying to make him comfortable but it didn’t quite work. There was no making him comfortable like this.

“It’s alright,” Alec murmured, even though nothing about the situation felt alright at all. “You’re okay,” Alec said, even though Magnus was very clearly not okay. Magnus must have passed out soon after he’d woken up because the next thing he remembered, it was some time later and Alec was there again, gently but insistently trying to press water into Magnus’ mouth.

Magnus wasn’t sure how he went to the bathroom in those few days. Maybe, he’d been eating and drinking so little that he simply didn’t have to go or maybe, Alec had just cleaned him up and not said anything about it but Magnus knew that he didn’t move for days. He couldn’t. He swarmed in and out of consciousness, feeling flashes of pain, brief moments of seeing Alec’s face, before it was all gone again.

When Magnus finally woke up, actually woke up, he felt no better than he had before but something had forced him awake and not let him drift back into sleep like he had for days. Alec hadn’t been there when he’d opened his eyes and Magnus had assumed Alec was working but he learned later that Alec hadn’t gone to work since Magnus had gotten hurt. He’d spent almost every moment by Magnus’ side but of course, Magnus woke up in the brief moments that Alec had left to go buy food and water.

When Alec came down the stairs and into Magnus’ view, he was carrying a few bundles of bread that he instantly threw onto the table so he could rush forward when he saw that Magnus was awake. Almost instantly, he was kneeling by Magnus’ side, his hands hovering awkwardly like he wanted to reach forward and touch him but he wasn’t sure if it would hurt him. That hesitation was understandable, considering how awful Magnus looked.

His nose had been broken. His cheek was so swollen that his whole face was lopsided and Alec had been terrified he’d broken his jaw. Magnus’ chest was scattered with dark, deep bruises and a few of his ribs were decidedly broken. Even one of Magnus’ tusks, which he had never been too fond of, was broken off completely.

He was a sorry sight but he felt even worse than he looked, which was saying something.

Alec encouraged him to try and drink some water. He frantically pushed a chunk of bread into Magnus’ hands for him to pick at, as if Alec thought eating would mend all of his wounds and make everything alright. They spent nearly that whole day curled together, murmuring soft words about everything being okay, Magnus trying to eat to appease Alec and mostly failing.

It was the next day that the soft words stopped and reality set in. Magnus woke up more lucid than he’d been for days. He woke no longer comforted by Alec’s words. He woke up remembering everything that had happened.

A sob had caught in his throat before he’d even been able to try and say anything to Alec but Alec knew why he was crying. Magnus didn’t need to say anything to explain it to him but eventually, he found words anyway. “I didn’t do anything,” Magnus choked out.

Alec clutched Magnus as close as he could, his words just as broken as Magnus’ when he replied, “I know. I know you didn’t.”

Magnus didn’t need to explain to Alec exactly what had happened. Either someone had told him or he simply knew. It wasn’t hard to try and figure out exactly why an orc would be attacked in their village late at night for doing nothing wrong.

It was a few days later when Alec finally brought up leaving for the first time. Magnus’ swelling had gone down. He looked far better than he had days ago but he was still covered in dark bruises, his tusk was still broken and his bones had yet to mend together. Still, he had managed to sit up that morning, which was a great improvement.

“I think we should move,” Alec had said, which did nothing but make Magnus frown.

Of course, they should move. This had never been a place for Magnus and Alec could do far better somewhere else. Especially after what had happened, Magnus wanted nothing more than to be anywhere else, maybe one of the cities that he heard could be far more accepting of people like him but that didn’t change the fact that they had no money to move, no reassurance they’d have jobs or a place to stay where ever they found themselves and no savings to catch them while they figured it out. They barely had enough gold to live now, even with Alec’s job.

“How?” Was all Magnus said back, expecting Alec to realize that it wasn’t quite a reality for them.

Instead, Alec stayed silent for a few long moments before he finally said, “My family.”

That had made Magnus’ frown deepen instantly. Alec had never spoken about his family. Magnus just knew that he didn’t get along with them and he hadn’t planned to speak to them again.

“They’re… well off.” Alec frowned himself as he spoke, refusing to look up to Magnus. “They live in Solitude. I don’t know if my mother will be happy to see me but she’ll give us a place to live for a while.” Finally, Alec looked up and when he looked at Magnus, he clearly had to hold back a grimace.

“We can’t stay here,” he continued, eyeing Magnus’ bruised face. “We need to leave. The stable boy owes me. He said I can take one of his horses. We can make the trip in a few days, as soon as you’re ready to move.” Alec fell silent for another moment before his eyes flickered away. “I think it’s our best option and Solitude is…” Alec hesitated.

“Rich,” Magnus mumbled.

Alec took in a sharp breath. “-not absolutely horrible.” He finished, ignoring Magnus’ point entirely. “People are nice in Solitude. I think you’d be safer there. There will always be…” Alec trailed off for a moment, clearly not sure how to reference what had happened to Magnus in any delicate way.

“People who hate me?” Magnus asked softly.

Alec glanced up to him for a second, frowning but nodding once, a sharp motion like it pained him to admit it. “I think it would be better and we could make more money there too. It could be a nice change of scenery,” he said, almost purposely wording it as if it was as simple as that.

They weren’t fleeing because Magnus wasn’t safe where they lived. They weren’t fleeing because Alec couldn’t be with him all the time and Magnus’ life could be in danger because people hated him so much for stuff that he couldn’t control.

It was none of that. They simply needed a change of scenery.

After a moment, Magnus nodded, or he tried to and was reminded suddenly of why he was trying not to move when the motion made his whole upper body light in pain. “Okay,” he finally said, when the pain subsided and he was able to speak again.

They didn’t really have any other options or Magnus didn’t really have any other options. Alec did. Alec could leave him. Alec could wipe his hands of him completely and move on but for some reason, he didn’t want to.

Magnus still didn’t really understand why.

It was nearly a week later by the time they decided they should leave. Alec hadn’t been working the whole time and their money was getting dangerously low. They had just enough left to buy some food for the trip and hope Alec’s family would actually help them when they arrived.

Alec seemed to think they would but he also didn’t seem too inclined to talk anymore about them. It was clear to Magnus that Alec wasn’t fond of them but he didn’t press to find out why. It was obvious Alec didn’t want to talk about it and if they were going to meet them, Magnus figured he’d find out eventually.

Magnus also didn’t ask how Alec’s family would feel about him and Alec didn’t offer the information. That alone didn’t seem like a good sign. A well off nordic family that his partner wasn’t fond of? No, Magnus imagined he wouldn’t be their prime pick of a partner for their estranged son to have.

Magnus just hoped it wouldn’t be enough for them to send both of them away empty handed. Magnus didn’t know what they’d do then. Finding work and a place to stay was easier in poor villages, where it was understandable that someone might want to exchange their service to get off the street but in a city, the capital of Skyrim no less, Magnus was sure that wouldn’t fly. They’d find no where to stay, if they didn’t have the coin for it.

Still, Magnus tried not to dwell on everything that could go wrong. Alec seemed to think his family would help them, so Magnus trusted him.

Still, riding a horse for days when his ribs were broken? Well, it was a rough couple of days to say the least and the cold that chased them the whole way and bled through all of their clothes certainly didn’t help and neither did the wolves they encountered and had to chase off their whole ride.

In the end, they decided not to stop and set up camp when night fell, like they’d intended. Alec thought it was too dangerous. So, despite how desperately Magnus wanted to stop feeling pain, even just for a few moments, they kept going. They rode for two days straight and then, they finally rode into Solitude around seven AM.

The city was more grand than Magnus had imagined it would be. He’d never been to Solitude before, nor any of the bigger cities really but this place had apparently been where Alec had been born and raised. He imagined Alec a child, running through the streets and it made him smile a little.

This place fit Alec somehow. It made sense his partner and his elegant speech grew up in a place like this. Still, in the same moment, Magnus felt exceptionally out of place. He’d never had more than a handful of gold his entire life. The dirt on his clothes and the bruises across his face made him exceptionally more aware of that. He was never made for cities as grand as this and he felt like that even before Alec rode them through the entire city and stopped them at what was unmistakably a palace.

For a few moments, it didn’t make sense to Magnus. Magnus couldn’t comprehend why Alec had brought them here when they were supposed to be coming to find his family and then, it clicked in Magnus head. All he felt was a wave of disbelief, as if he was somehow vastly misunderstanding but Alec’s silence said more than any of his words could.

At last, Alec spoke, “I should have told you but I just didn’t know how,” Alec mumbled, conveniently not being able to look back towards Magnus and also not seeming willing to jump off the horse, so they could face each other to speak.

Magnus tightened his hand on Alec’s waist, letting what this meant sink in for a few moments. “Your family…” Magnus trailed off, not even wanting to say it.

Alec nodded. “I should have told you,” He mumbled again. “I’m sorry.”

After a moment, Alec pulled himself off the horse and reached up to gently help Magnus down, though landing still hurt badly enough that Alec had to hold him up, so he wouldn’t topple over right there. Magnus felt like he wanted to throw up and it was both due to the pain, the lack of sleep and the enormous grand building they were standing in front of.

“Why did you leave?” Magnus asked finally, as Alec avoided his eyes and fed their horse a piece of carrot from his pocket.

“My brother died,” Alec responded numbly. “He was kidnapped. My mother let the rebels kill him because she thought it would be distasteful to launch an attack. I left and I had never intended to come back but…”

Alec trailed off without finishing. He didn’t need to explain why he’d changed his mind. It was because of Magnus.

Finally, when Alec couldn’t distract himself any longer, Alec took the reins of their horse and slowly led them towards the palace. Alec let the horse go in the courtyard and then at the top of the stairs, they were stopped by guards, who took one look at Alec and then appeared as if they’d seen a ghost. They hardly even glanced to Magnus before they were let in. Standing in the entrance way of the palace, where they’d been told to stop, Alec had a look on his face as if they’d entered a haunted house.

Looking around, Magnus understood that sentiment. He’d never seen more decorative, expensive objects in his entire life. Magnus saw a bowl full of flowers that was resting on a table, one that was probably more expensive than Magnus was.

Knowing that Alec had lived here and knowing that Alec had apparently been happy living with Magnus in a basement with almost nothing- the thought was almost inconceivable but apparently, it had been the truth all along.

A few moments later a woman, someone dressed in expensive robes, walked into the room and after staring for too long, Magnus realized this had to be Alec’s mother. The woman stared at Alec for a very long time, almost as if she didn’t believe he was there at all, before she was rushing forward all at once.

Magnus instinctively backed up before he realized that the woman was hugging Alec, not attacking him. She clutched Alec tight, murmuring something about her boy while Alec stood there completely limp and blank faced.

After a moment, the woman let go and they were both led up some stairs, into a room much like a living room, one with a blazing warm fire and couches more comfortable than anything Magnus had ever been invited to sit on in his life.

The woman quickly asked for food to be brought to them, for a room to be readied and when Alec asked, for a healer to be brought to check Magnus out. Magnus saw the woman's lips pressed when Alec requested it and shortly after, she asked if Magnus would need his own room, to which Alec responded no.

She didn’t seem pleased by that at all but she seemed to sense not to say anything.

A healer more powerful than Magnus had met before came and melted the bruises on his body, mended his bones back together and left Magnus feeling better than he had in a long time, possibly even before he’d been hurt. Then, Alec and him had been brought up to a room so extravagant that it had taken Magnus’ breath away for a few moments. Alec himself stared around at everything with a blank expression on his face, not as surprised or awed as Magnus was and clearly, none too happy to be there.

With the doors finally closed, leaving them both alone together, Alec seemed to breathe for the first time since they’d walked in the grand building. He took a few moments to close his eyes and drag in a few deep breaths before he opened them again and quietly asked if Magnus wanted to use the washroom and take a bath with him.

Magnus had never taken a bath before, not one like Alec was offering now anyway. Not one with warm running water into a golden tub big enough to fit them both. Magnus agreed and after they’d eased into the water and curled into each other, Alec let out a soft laugh for the first time, starting to gently lather soap across Magnus’ body. Magnus knew that Alec wasn’t happy to be here but with Alec, in water more soothing than Magnus had ever imagined was possible, Magnus found it hard to complain.

The horror of the past few weeks bled away. Later, they’d have to figure out what they’d do. Magnus knew Alec wouldn’t want them to stay here for any longer than they had to and he also knew that Alec’s mother didn’t seem too pleased with his presence but for now, they had food, they had each other, Magnus wasn’t in pain anymore and they were safe.

For at least the night, that was more than enough.

[scribbling-stiks]

Retrievers - XLIX - Blood Red

Russia smells the air for anything new, no matter how fruitless the action feels. He also keeps his magic glowing so he can keep an eye on the strange ball of static skirting around the edge of his sense. He closes his eyes and reopens them with the valve open. The magic glowing in his nose shimmers away and he stares past the leaves.

A blob of dark blue magic swirls around just inside the treeline. Russia watches it from behind the rocky wall. America's magic is closer and dull. Russia tries to ignore his worry at the dull sky blue. Then, the branches next to him begin to shift against his fur, picking and prodding him roughly enough to draw blood. Russia spins around and hisses at the blob.

Finland shuffles quickly and pulls everyone against Russia's back.

'Good. You need to hide them.'

He feels his group condense and crouch behind him. He glances back to see them laying over each other, trying to hide from outside view. America glances up at Russia with a wary but trusting look.

'I will protect you and our kids.'

The phrase still strikes Russia strangely, but he doesn't have time to give it any more thought. He resists the urge to jump to his feet when the night sky becomes visible again. Russia's whiskers catch the cold wind. Russia's fur puffs up and it gets partially pressed back by people trying to hide in it. Russia decides it's for the best.

He hisses loudly. He closes the valve and sees a heavily bundled person he could bite in half staring up at him. On the person's jacket is The Revolution symbol. Russia snarls and spits.

The person looks at him and then around him into the cave.

Russia's heart drops.

'Does he see anyone?'

Russia reaches out and slashes at the bundled person. The person jumps back with a shout. Then, the person slinks forward again.

"Why aren't you moving, bitch?" the guard, who sounds male, shouts, pointing a gun nozzle at Russia's nose.

Russia's eyes narrow, but the shapes pressing against his side keep him grounded. His tail wags in the air and his claws dig into the dirt.

"What the fuck are you-" a voice asks from around the corner.

Another guard peaks around and shrieks. Electricity runs down Russia's spine.

"Why the fuck are you fucking with that thing?"

"It's not moving!" the first barks, waving his gun at Russia's face.

"Maybe that's better for us! You've seen the shit that's been crawling out of the pit!" the second scolds, grabbing the first and marching away.

"Let me find out what's in that cave!"

"The only thing you'll find is death!"

The two march away. Russia's fur bristles at the cold wind blasting his face. Russia growls after them. Their scent carries on the wind, and Russia's eyes are trained in the direction they left in.

Once the scent fades, Russia's fur falls. His ears perk up again and he tucks his tail under his body. He feels most of the teens and a few adults disbursing around the cave, and he feels grateful for it.

His nose and ears tingle with the cold. Then, warm hands press against him. He turns and sees America pulling himself up.

Russia lowers his head to reach America's chest, and America holds the sides of his face for balance. The wind cools the space and Florida shivers against him. Mexico presses into his side.

"Thank you," America says, a teary smile on his face.

Russia meows, confused.

'What are you sad about?'

Russia very gently nuzzles America's chest, concern blooming in his chest. America laughs quietly. The wind howls outside and pushes into Russia's fur.

"You shouldn't have to shield us like this," America says, petting Russia's face.

Russia purrs happily at the contact.

'What if I want to?'

"I don't know what you're talking about. I could take them," Ukraine comments, crossing his arms.

'No, you could not, you idiot.'

Russia glares at his brother in disapproval.

"Most of us are not in the shape to fight," Kansas replies calmly, "so you wouldn't have almost any backup."

"You know, I could take them to," Ohio comments, "but I know that some of my siblings aren't up to defending themselves, so I'd rather keep them safe than fight."

Ukraine hums and sits back against a cave wall, rubbing his arms.

"<Okay.>"

"Thank you," America says, relieved.

"<You can understand me?>"

"Yeah? What's so weird about it?"

Ukraine looks around, absolutely baffled.

"Dad understands lots of things," South Dakota comments.

"Wait," Ukraine says, swapping to English, "How many comments do you understand during meetings?"

"All of them," America says with a smirk.

"Huh."

America laughs, but his laughter trails off. America heaves and kisses Russia's face just above his nose. Russia rubs against America, and America stumbles back. America falls on his back, his head hitting the wall.

Russia's heart skips a beat and he yanks his head back.

'I knocked you over! Are you okay? Shit!'

Russia leans over as far as he can without jostling too many people and sniffs America.

'You're not bleeding.'

Then, America swats at Russia's face. Russia recoils, purring to help calm his panic.

"I'm okay! I'm okay, Ruby. It's okay."

Russia slowly leans forward and lightly brushes against America's leg, trying to apologize. America pulls himself against the rock wall and limps up to Russia. Russia turns away.

"Hey," America coos, scratching Russia's chin.

Russia leans into it for a moment before pulling away.

'I don't want to hurt you.'

"Rue-Rue?"

Russia shyly looks up again, his head lowering to the ground. America kneels down and meets Russia's gaze. America smoothes back Russia's whiskers and scratches just behind them. Calm fills his mind. He resists pressing into America for warmth and affection.

'He still smells nice.'

"Ruby, you don't have to be afraid of hurting me. It's okay."

Russia purrs sadly.

America sighs. Russia closes his eyes.

'I'm sorry.'

America lays out on Russia's face, hugging him around his cheeks. America hums with his head between Russia's ears. Russia's eyes go wide with surprise.

"I trust you. It's okay. And I'm a lot tougher than you think," America promises, "besides, I know you don't mean to hurt me. It's okay. And I was going to fall over anyway cuz the whole missing toes thing is fucking with my balance."

'I could seriously injure you. You still trust me? You still want to be around me?'

America's aroma covers the smell of the bloody pine needles stuck to Russia's side. He purrs again, happier this time, and America giggles. Russia stretches out his front paws, trying not to knock anyone over. America kisses the top of Russia's head before sliding off.

America stumbles, and Russia helps him catch himself.

"We just need to get home and we'll figure all of this out," America assures, "we are going to be okay."

~

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Table of Contents

[cywolf10]

Clanswap AU - Nejiten

“Tenten,” her uncle intoned. The girl emerged from the shadows, silent and smooth-moving.

“Yes, milord?” she asked, bowing - her voice at exactly the right pitch and tone and volume, her spine inclined at the perfect angle, her eyes respectfully downcast.

“Take this to the captain of the guard,” Hiashi ordered, handing her a scroll.

“At once, milord,” she replied, again with the perfect tone of respect in her voice, and disappeared in a shunshin as fast and silent as any ANBU’s.

Hiashi watched her disappear, his eyes revealing nothing. Then he turned back to his paperwork, thinking of what Hizashi had told him, once, when they’d both been young and Hiashi had not been the enemy, the Main House - when he had only been Hizashi’s beloved twin brother, and it had been them both against the world.

‘When there is nothing left,’ Hizashi had told him, ‘Perfect service can be the most potent revenge. He will never dare to trust me. And he will never dare not to dare.’

His niece, as in most things, followed her father - a most subtle rebel. It was her birthright, after all - even her name, drawn from her foreign mother’s homeland, was in its own way a rebellion against the Hyuuga traditions.

***

“Shut up, Lee!” Neji hissed, elbowing his best friend. “It’s Tenten’s turn to throw!”

Neji watched, his hazel eyes wide, as Tenten took her place at the target range, holding his breath as she flung her kunai.

“Perfect score,” announced the teacher, eyeing the row of bulls-eyes she had just achieved. An admiring murmur rose from her classmates as Tenten inclined her head politely to the chuunin, quietly retaking her place in the crowd.

“She’s so awesome,” Neji sighed.

“She is very accomplished,” Lee agreed, squinting at the bulls-eyes. “I feel, however, as if she lacks a certain...passion? Vitality?” He crossed his arms. “She is very hard to approach.”

In reply, Neji kicked him in the shin. “Just because she’s so much cooler than anyone in the Academy!”

“Ow!” whined Lee. The two boys began to tussle.

“Rock Lee! Neji!” snapped their chuunin instructor, reaching in to grab the boys by their collars. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Their classmates giggled at them as they were shaken like puppies - all except Tenten, who merely watched with the blank expression that was her usual appearance. Neji wilted in front of it.

***

“Hinata-sama,” Tenten said, falling into step behind her younger cousin as class let out. Hinata ventured a shy smile.

“Ten-nee,” she said, hopefully.

And, as always, the smile faded away as Tenten continued gazing at her with that same polite, utterly bland expression. She remained where she was, a step behind Hinata as the other girl turned to head for home, picking the best place for a shinobi to guard her master’s back.

Perhaps one day they would walk home side-by-side, Hinata thought.

***

They were in their final year of the Academy, Tenten pretty much a lock for Rookie of the Year (the first time in years a kunoichi would win the title) when Uchiha Sasuke challenged her to a duel.

“Hey, Hyuuga,” he called, sauntering up to her with cocksure aplomb. Behind him, his classmates gasped at his boldness in breaking the unspoken recess-time rules - he was talking to an upperclassman! Without even being spoken to first!

Then Tenten turned her silver eyes on him, her face impeccably composed, and Sasuke stopped short. He swallowed hard, staring at the other doujutsu-user, and long-ago lessons in manners from his mother rose to the front of his mind.

“Senpai,” he said, in a more courteous tone of voice, and with a small bow, “Would you agree to duel with me? Please?”

There was another, louder gasp from his classmates - as much for the way Sasuke was speaking, that he had actually inclined his head, as for the fact that he had just challenged the older student. Hinata had begun to wring her hands.

Tenten regarded him for a long, silent moment, before bowing back with the exact same inclination of her head. The clanborn among their classmates noticed that, and thought about how their various tutors in clan etiquette would have pointed to the two as examples of perfect execution. “I would be happy to,” she said. “After class?”

“If that is convenient to you,” Sasuke replied politely.

“The Academy practice-yards?” Tenten suggested.

“That sounds good,” Sasuke agreed.

“See you there, then,” Tenten said, returning to the book she had been reading. Sasuke stared at her for a moment before turning back to his class’s side of the playground.

There, he was swarmed by gaping and admiring classmates, Kiba and Naruto howling that for a bastard he was a brave son of a bitch. Hinata stood apart, her gaze darting between Sasuke and her cousin.

Tenten was similarly swarmed, although she did not even deign to look up from her book. From high up in a tree, safely hidden, Neji glowered jealously at the younger boy, while Rock Lee bounced beside him in excitement.

***

For the rest of the school-day the two classes were in a lather of excitement, although both Sasuke and Tenten seemed calm, almost ostentatiously so. The students stampeded out as the end-of-class bell rang, both years streaming towards the practice-yards in a river of chattering humanity. The Last Uchiha versus the Hyuuga prodigy! Neji, still grumpy, pushed his way to the front of the crowd, finding himself standing next to a very loud-mouthed pair of younger students who immediately struck up a conversation with Lee, who had tagged along with his friend.

“Uchiha’s a bastard, but he’s our bastard!” bragged the darker-haired one, whose cheeks proclaimed him an Inuzuka.

“Sasuke’s gonna win,” agreed the blond next to him. “I mean, he beats me pretty often.”

“And who the hell are you?” snarled Neji, turning on the younger boy.

“Uzumaki Naruto,” proclaimed the blond, throwing his chest out. “Future Hokage!”

Neji sneered and was about to snap something cutting when Lee elbowed him hard. 

“Well, that may be so, but Tenten’s pretty good too,” Lee said appeasingly, trying to keep his friend from saying something he would regret. Neji was a nice kid, really - he just lost his head when it came to Tenten. “Plus, we have a year more training than you. More, maybe, because Tenten’s a Hyuuga and they start training young.”

“If that’s the case why’s Hinata so easy to beat?” Naruto wondered out loud.

Unseen, far back in the crowd, but able to watch with her Byakugan on, Hinata wilted.

Even more unseen, Tenten - in the middle of warm-up stretches - smirked to herself.

***

The fight was exciting, a highlight of their careers as students. They would speak of the fight for the rest of their time in school, and for many of the ones who did not make it to genin it would be the greatest fight they would see with their own eyes.

They started slow, with textbook-perfect Academy taijutsu and bukijutsu. Slowly they ramped up the pace, until they were darting at each other too fast for some of their classmates to see. Their respective fanclubs kept up a constant cheer, but the crowd was silenced when Sasuke, flung away by a powerful palm-strike, sent an actual fireball blazing at Tenten.

Neji made a strangled noise in his throat, making an abortive movement forward when he saw the fireball. But Tenten was already moving, rolling out of the way. When she stood up, they saw that her Byakugan had gone active, veins pulsing with chakra.

From there on the intensity kicked up several notches, Tenten’s Jyuuken strikes looking deceptively gentle as they brushed against Sasuke but his pained responses showing their effectiveness.

In the end, she won. But she bowed to Sasuke and actually smiled at him, saying, “That was a very good fight, Uchiha. Next week?”

Sasuke blinked, and then accepted with a nod. He swaggered back, his classmates regarding him with awe. He’d been beaten, yes - but look at how awesome a kunoichi it had taken to do it! And he could spit fire!

Hinata went home, Tenten one step behind her as usual but with a smoky smell of fire chakra attending her, thinking about how skillfully Tenten had executed the Jyuuken attacks.

Sasuke went home, bizarrely comforted by having been beaten. Hyuugas, after all, were nearly as good as Uchihas, his father had once implied - even if they were all stuffy snobs. And this girl was supposed to be one of their best. Eventually he, Sasuke, would become better than her, of course, he was still growing and still learning, but that meant there was still something to learn in the Academy - still people he could hone his edge on, in the Village.

Neji went home, half-excited by the fight, half-jealous that it had taken a younger brat to make Tenten smile, to make her use her Byakugan.

***

Later, that night, Tenten smirked to herself. The fight had been fun, a chance to let loose. But she hadn’t really - she could have beaten the boy more quickly, but she had deliberately drawn it out, kept her Jyuuken strikes just a shade less damaging so the Uchiha could power through - so that she had more time to perform. She had seen, with her Byakugan, several of her clan watching the fight from afar. And she had seen their expressions when she had faultlessly executed her Jyuuken attacks - foregoing speed and power for absolute precision, absolute fidelity to the Jyuuken canon.

She knew how well she appeared, in comparison to Hinata’s sloppy Jyuuken. To an outsider’s eyes Hinata’s carefully trained form would appear just fine, but to Hyuuga eyes every deviation appeared bright and sharp.

She didn’t need to show how much she despised her cousin; all she needed to do was let others know how much Hinata deserved that disdain.

Also, it had been nice to see Neji’s jaw drop.

***

[ckret2]

how tf do u write sir pen and alastor

Step one: rewatch this and this a million times specifically to focus on how they talk—the way they emphasize words, the cadence and flow of their sentences, pace, sound effects, mood, pitch, tone, etc.

Step two: reread their lines here or here (each one handles the transcript a little bit different—the first one is more comprehensive, the second one more objective, and they disagree on a few words) so that you can more fully absorb things like their vocabulary, length and complexity of sentences, etc.

Step three: keep those pages open constantly so that every couple paragraphs you can refer back to those pages to refresh their voices in your head when you get nervous about drifting too far off the accurate voice of a character who's got less than three total minutes of footage, which will be often.

Now you have their voices in your head.

Step four: Go write their voices!! Here are their voices:

Sir Pentious is pretentious. Alastor sounds like a radio host.

I know, I know, that sounds super obvious.

Sir Pentious will occasionally use vocab & sentence structure that makes him sound old-fashioned and dramatic on par with a parody of a Shakespeare villain. He uses phrases like "[they] dare not hinder [me]" or "the likes of I" or pronouncing "striped" as "stripéd." His vocab isn't wildly complicated—you shouldn't be sending readers running to the dictionary—but nevertheless he sounds intelligent.

Pretend that in his heart he's constantly on the verge of giving a villainous monologue about how his evil plan will let him effortlessly conquer the world, and anything else he's doing—whether it's trying to impress a crush or ordering lunch at a fast food restaurant—is either a practice run for that villainous monologue or a distraction from being able to give it. His casual conversations will have that hint of grandiosity. He's going to be mildly irritated at anything that undercuts his grandiosity—it doesn't have enough style, doesn't have enough class. He'll jump on opportunities to gloat, to talk about his goals & plans, to talk down his enemies—to try to make himself sound good, basically.

And—this is super important—remember that he thinks he's evil and is proud of it. He's not one of those villains who believes he has a just or justifiable cause. He's also not one of those villains who is villainous out of spite/anger/vengeance. He says that he is evil and he is gleeful about it. Don't feel the need to give him sympathetic/understandable/justifiable motives for his actions, because he doesn't think he has any and he doesn't care. He's power-hungry and he's bad and he's having fun. He embraces it. Embrace it when you write him.

Alastor is 100% performative at all times. Imagine that at every moment he's speaking he sees himself as a radio talk show host sitting behind his desk with a packed studio audience and the knowledge that thousands more people are listening live. He's animated and exuberant because he's trying his damnedest at all times to be an entertaining host for that imaginary audience. That's his job: put on a good show for the audience.

So every comment is snappy and interesting, he always sounds upbeat and energetic. When he talks about himself and his own emotions, it never sounds confessional, intimate, or sincere; even if he's talking about something that's genuinely been a heavy psychological weight on him, he doesn't present it like that. He presents it like a guest on a talk show telling the host a funny anecdote about his life, or a comedian telling a story to the audience: even if the anecdote is about something miserable, it's presented as an interesting/entertaining story for the consumption of the audience.

(See: the jokey way he says, "Hahaha, why does anyone do anything? Sheer! Absolute! BOREDOM!" The woe-is-me faux drama when he says "My work became mundane, lacking focus, aimless!" Those straight up sound like two depression symptoms. His voice does not sound depressed.)

So he speaks in anecdotes, one-liners, punchy comments. There's going to be very little "uh-huh" or "mm-hmm" or grunts or sighs or other such wordless sounds—everything he says is going to sound crisp and carefully enunciated for the audience at home trying to listen in over the radio.

(And you can play with that as appropriate: I have his performativeness go down when he's having an actual intimate sincere moment, and I have it crank up wildly when he's uncomfortable, secretive, feeling vulnerable, etc., and he wants to hide that.)

Step five: remember their weird speech quirks!

Hiss! Sir Pentious has got his hiss. Now, listen to me very carefully: if choossse to write Sssir Pentiousss'sss ssspeech ssso that every sssingle sssibilant isss emphasssized jussst like ssso, I ssshall sssneak into your houssse in the middle of the night with a Sssharpie and ssscribble an angry faccce on your forehead.

This is the best essay I have ever read on writing accents. And one of the most important points in it is: don't misspell every word to phonetically match how the character sounds, because it's incomprehensible, silly, and gives readers headaches. That applies to Sir Pentious's hiss.

Now, I feel like you can give him SOME hissing. If there's a word or phrase HE's trying to emphasize—if he's talking Extra Fancy, or if he's spitting an insult at someone, or if he's just being more pretentious than usual. Example: if a hero sneaks into a villain's lair and the villain captures them, the villain might sarcastically say "so nice of you to join us!" When I hear Sir Pentious giving that line I hear his voice jump up on the first word, "so nice of you to join us!" So I could write that as "ssso nice of you to join us!" for that extra emphasis. I wouldn't write it as "ssso niccce of you to join usss!"

Also: you can just not write his hiss at all. That's valid, we'll still hear it in our heads. I don't write his hiss when I'm writing inside of his perspective because he doesn't hear himself doing it.

If you DO write his hiss though, remember that it's not just on the S's. Sometimes he over-emphasizes his H's as well or inserts them where they don't belong. ("hhell will be mine, h'and everyone will know the name of Sir—") That's harder to naturally write into dialogue than the S's, but if you're looking out for opportunities you might naturally stumble across one or two. At least remember to carry the hissed H's in your head.

Radio sounds! Alastor's dialogue is loaded down with radio sound effects—studio audience applause (and different kinds of applause for "applauding a stellar performance" versus "welcoming a guest onto the show"), studio audience laughter, little trumpet sounds, snatches of music, xylophone scales, telegram beeps, drum rolls, the screams of the damned—you know, normal things you might hear on the radio. And less clear things too: a thousand different static sounds, muffled voices like you might hear when passing through stations and getting near but not actually on the right station, garbled humming, little second-long clips of songs he heard earlier.

You don't want to CONSTANTLY talk about the sound effects he's making; but like, also, constantly talk about the sound effects he's making. Strike a balance. Good luck.

Get familiar with sound effects—listen to the radio and pay attention to the sound effects used in bumper messages, listen to the sounds in old game shows, listen to radio dramas, find guides by people who work on sound effects for radio and see what they do, browse sound effect sites to see what kind of categories are listed and that people look for. Alastor shouldn't sound like a radio drama, but you can steal sounds from that. If you can hear a sound but aren't sure what to call it, try looking up lists of similar sound effects for sale and just look at what terms they use in the file names to describe the sounds. (Obviously you don't want to buy a $50 folder containing 500 radio sound effects, but oftentimes you can still see the names of the files.)

And—again, from that essay I linked earlier—the characters don't complain about each other's voices in canon. If someone's going to comment on Alastor's radio noises, there has to be a good reason for it, because it's a divergence from the norm. (Like, I have Sir Pentious commenting on and asking questions about Alastor's radio sounds to show he's curious about/interested in Alastor and how his abilities work on a deeper level than just "oh yeah of course the radio demon makes radio sounds" and to show that he's absolutely not too intimidated by him to risk annoying him—and that's intended as a deliberate exception from the norm, to the extent that Alastor comments on it once.)

Musical numbers! Occasionally Alastor will burst into song. Unless you're desperate to try your hand as a lyricist, I recommend against actually writing full songs for him, for this reason: when we see Alastor's full song in the pilot, it sounds like he's singing, because he is and we can hear it. When we see a full song in a book or a fic, it sounds like somebody's reciting poetry, because we don't know the tune and we can't hear the song in our heads. And "giving a poetry recital" is a very different vibe from "singing a song."

What I do to get around this is, when I think Alastor oughta be singing, I just take a song that actually exists and have him sing that one, and then I can fling the link at readers. Go get familiar with pre-1933 popular songs. I recommend vaudeville and musical theater as easy sources to draw from because it more often tends to be snappy, energetic, and oftentimes humorous, which fits Alastor's vibe. I also don't quote the entire song, just a couple of relevant lines—so that within the fic itself it comes across like dialogue rather than like a poetry recital. If you HAVE to include the whole song, mix it in with actions, description, narration, etc, so that it can still be read as dialogue rather than like a solid block of poetry. He's not just standing in one spot unmoving while he sings, is he? No of course not, he's Alastor. Have him dance and do dumb stuff.

Step six: remember their weird accessories, mention them from time to time.

One of the streams that I don't feel like digging up says that Sir Pentious's hat's facial expressions mirror whatever Sir Pent is currently feeling, even if Sir Pent's own expression is less honest to his true feelings. Personally, I go with that—his hat is always showing his genuine emotions—unless it's off his head, in which case it can have its own separate emotions for a moment (such as: reacting to the fact that it's fallen off its owners head). It's completely psychically connected to him and so it's never going to have a separate/independent reaction to what's goin on, just mirror Sir Pent's. There are other ways to headcanon his hat and so other ways to write his hat but that's the way I do it.

Alastor's microphone cane occasionally talk. In the show we see it do that when Alastor specifically prompts it. We don't know if the cane is its own person or if it's more like a magic ventriloquist doll Alastor talks through in order to banter with himself. I treat it as like, 1/2 a person: it's a direct extension of Alastor, and it's got some low-level intelligence, but like intelligence on the level of a chat bot programmed to try to have conversations with people but that doesn't really think for itself. Since it's an extension of Alastor it doesn't really have any thoughts/knowledge that he doesn't, but it's got a slightly snippier/crankier personality, and it might on very rare occasions say things that Alastor like, knows on a subconscious/instinctive level but is consciously denying. Its primary function is to give Alastor the reply he's looking for when he says something he wants a reply to, or to set him up for a snappy one-liner he wants to make but is unable to make unless someone else says JUST the right thing first. Again, there are other ways to headcanon/write his cane, but that's the way I do it.

Also Alastor has living shadows, one of which might be his own shadow, but like, I always forget about them so I don't do anything with them. It's fine it's cool it only shows up during musical numbers anyway.

Step seven: remember their body language.

Sir Pentious's overall body language is, unsurprisingly, pretty serpentine—he's got some wiggles, he's got some dramatic bends that show off his flexibility—and also rather elegant, or at least making a show of looking elegant. At least when he's busy posing in between doing actual work. And he likes playing with his bow tie.

Alastor's gestures are big and theatrical and his arms are always going everywhere.

However, that's not the part of their body language I want to talk about! That's the normal stuff! I'm here for the weird stuff!

Hood! Sir Pentious's hood is basically always flaring out and flattening down and flaring out and flattening down. (And I do headcanon it as a hood—just fraying along the bottom—not as hair. Every time I see fanart that treats it as hair and they braid it or put it up in a bun or whatever I have a moment where I picture his hood shredded up the length into strips and go "OH GOD, OH GOD.") Like, do not constantly describe every single time his hood flares, because it's every five seconds. But don't leave it out by any means. Pick important moments. Make sure it actually adds to the scene.

Eyes! In canon there's a few shots where we can see that Sir Pent's many many eyes move and blink, and they ten to look toward whatever Sir Pent is focused on. It seems likely that they work. If you want to say they work you totally can. I say they work. If you're gonna say they work, keep in mind what kind of field of view that gives him, and keep in mind what you can do with that knowledge. Like, if he's sitting at a dinner table with someone to discuss some kind of skeevy underground business deal and the other person slowly pulls out a gun under the table and points it at him, he's going to see that gun with his knee-height eyes and be able to kick that dude's whole chair over with his tail. 

Smile! Alastor's single most defining character trait is the fact that he's always smiling. The terrified sinners that named him the Radio Demon should've named him Smiley McSmiles. Therefore, there is no need to tell readers that he's smiling. They'll be like, "of course he's smiling. He's Alastor. We're not stupid." However, it's a good idea to mention from time to time that he's smiling, because like, Alastor's single most defining character trait is the fact that he's always smiling. And when it's that constant, it helps to occasionally bring it up to like, maintain that continuity, maintain that sense of the fact that his smile is always there. So you've gotta strike that balance between "don't just keep telling the readers that Alastor is still smiling because you don't need to tell them that" and "mention his smile from time to time." The way I do that is like, mentioning his smile in conjunction with other things, usually as an indication of his mood. Whereas with other characters you'd show changes in their expression by going "he smiled," "he frowned," "he grimaced in disgust," with Alastor you'd say like "his perpetual smile stretched wider into a more genuine one" or "he pressed his lips together as his smile thinned" or "he fought to keep smiling through the disgust"—that way, you're not telling readers that Alastor is smiling, it's something you're mentioning in the process of telling readers something different and more important about his mood.

Step seven: remember this ain't TV. Keep in mind the difference between how they sound when they’re talking out loud on screen and how they’ll sound when they’re just text in a fic.

To get their voice across, you might have to exaggerate some things in written dialogue that you wouldn’t in spoken dialogue. For instance, Sir Pentious doesn’t always have vocab that makes him sound like a pretentious, sophisticated supervillain. Sometimes he says “No other demon can compare to the likes of I!” but then sometimes he says “You wanna go, missy?” When he says that the latter line in the show, he still sounds pretentious, because his VA is still using his pretentious-sounding voice. In writing, there is no voice. Most readers KNOW what his voice sounds like, and if you’re writing close enough to his voice they’ll be able to hear it; but it’s going to be harder for them to hear it if you have him saying words that go against what his voice sounds like and they aren’t actually simultaneously hearing his voice IRL saying those words.

So, while “You wanna go, missy?” works on screen when we can hear the contrast between his voice and the dialogue, if that scene was written instead, it’d be easier to get his voice across with “Do you want to go, missy?” because it still has the unexpected/humorous casualness of “missy” in there but making the rest of the sentence very formal preserves Sir Pent’s pretentious speaking style.

Step eight: keep in mind that the question I'm answering is "how do you write sir pent and alastor," not "how should sir pent and alastor be written," so feel free to toss out anything that doesn't work for you.

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 58)

Full Circle

Sorry for the wait! Hope you like this one. Warning for abuse mention, and lots of conflict. 

Tagging @emily-strange ❤

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

I only got a few feet from the saloon when I spotted him; Micah, riding into Van Horn. I spurred Rayna forwards quicker, waving a hand and calling out to grab his attention. He noticed me and stopped dead, leaving me to close the gap, I stopped beside him. The look on his face was one of pure shock, clearly not expecting to bump into me.

"Hey, you better turn around," I said, jerking my chin back the way he came. 

He took a moment to respond, "and why's that, missy?" 

"'Cause there's Pinkertons in that bar," I answered, going to leave immediately. Micah reached out and grabbed my arm though, and I stopped Rayna suddenly before he could drag me off the moving horse. Rayna whinnied and I turned to scowl at Micah, wrenching my arm out of his grip. 

"And what're you doing drinking with the Pinkertons?" He asked. 

"I wasn't. I got out of there as quick as I could. And if you've got any sense, you'll do the same."

"How do I know you ain't working with them? You know we've been wondering who our rat is–"

"We ain't got a goddamn rat. Why'd you think they're out here in Van Horn, asking locals about us? They don't know where we are. Now come on," I hissed, carrying on. 

Micah turned and followed me, heading northwards out of Van Horn. He matched my pace, trotting alongside me for some ungodly reason. I could sense him looking at me, and when I met his gaze his eyes were narrowed, suspicious, analytical.

"It don't look too good, you know. You and Morgan disappear for the night, then I find you in Van Horn, knowing all about what the Pinkertons are doing," he growled at me, and a swell of nausea made my mouth water and my palms sweat. He was right. It absolutely didn't look good. "I wonder what Dutch will say." 

My eyes flashed wide and I stammered out my response. "Well, Dutch'll likely put a bullet or two in me if you go spinning stories like that."

"They ain't stories, though. The way I see it, I've got plenty reason to be suspicious."

"Well, I can't exactly deny that. I see how it looks, Micah, but I have to ask; why on earth would I choose now to drop you all in it?" I questioned.

"So you and lover-boy can get out with a mere slap on the wrist," he proposed, and I couldn't help but scoff.

"The hard-on the law's got for Arthur? Ain't no way in hell they'd strike a deal with him," I argued. "Anyway, they don't know who I am, I sat and had a full blown conversation with one of 'em and he had no idea."

"I don't know if we can trust you," he snarled at me with narrowed eyes.

"You think if I was working for the Pinkertons I'd've warned you about 'em? Hell no, I would've just sent you in and gone to watch when they hanged you, you moron," I snapped, rolling my eyes.

"Mm, I'm surprised you ain't tried killing me yourself– oh wait, you did," he rumbled dramatically and I grimaced in distaste.

"My God, Micah, could you exaggerate any more?" I sighed, quickly losing my patience. "You yanked my hair, you could've been going to strike me, or put a knife in me, I reacted on impulse."

"Sure you did," he drawled, baring his teeth at me. 

"My brother used to yank my hair like that right before he slammed his knee into my stomach, or my face, depending on how much of a mess he wanted to make. Ain't felt that in a long time, I weren't in control of my actions!" I hissed, raising my voice and glaring at him as though I could murder him with my gaze. Micah recoiled, blinking at me. "I need you to give me a goddamn break!"

"A break? Ain't that all you've had this past week?" He retorted.

"Cause healing after being set on fire's such a break. God, just leave me the hell alone, I ain't interested in speaking to you."

"That ain't nice. 'Specially since we're headed the same way, back to camp."

"I ain't going back to camp."

"Then where you going?"

"Back to Brandywine Drop, where I'm staying the night, lord knows I ain't ready to go back to that goddamn camp where everyone's walking 'round on eggshells. I did you a damn favour back there," I jabbed a thumb over my shoulder, "do me one and let me be."

"Oh but I did you a favour when I stopped Mr. Schwartz from having his way with you, remember that? I could'a sold you to him and you would've been in that house as his personal whore to this day, but I didn't, out of the kindness of my heart," he told me theatrically, bracing a hand against his chest and cocking his head at me. "I should've taken the damn deal, would've if I knew you'd be doing the same shit now just with a different feller."

"What do you mean?" I demanded and he tittered almost drunkenly.

"You're Morgan's whore, now. He's got you to take away from camp for a little hanky-panky whenever he needs to blow off steam. God knows that's all you're good for, 'specially since you stopped bringing money in."

I did no more than scowl at him, unable to think of something to say despite scrambling for words in my mind.

"Just a pity that I didn't get there first. I could've had you, hell, anyone could, I know it. He just had a head start," Micah continued, boiling my blood. It was so hard to rise above it.

"You keep telling yourself that, if it'll make you feel better believing I'd ever consider letting you near me."

"God, you're full of yourself!" He spat.

"Rather that than have such a low opinion of myself as someone must have to lie down for a man like you. When was the last time you had a woman, huh? Maybe that's why you're so insufferable to be around, maybe if you blew off steam as often as Arthur does," I was running my mouth now, letting the words flow as they pleased. I didn't care. I stopped Rayna in the middle of the trail, and Baylock stopped just a second after, putting Micah and I right next to each other, though I happened to be facing him since I was sitting side-saddle.

Micah chuckled darkly. "You're more fun when you're pissed off," the sharp pronunciation of his 'p' sent spit flying at my face and I flinched. 

"Dodging the question, I see," I quirked a brow, challenging him, almost.

"You seem mighty interested to know," he mocked, mirroring my tilted brow.

"Don't even think about suggesting what I think you're suggesting."

"You asked about it," he pointed out, shrugging his shoulders.

"You are insufferable," I growled through clenched teeth.

"Aw, it's okay, I know you're just scared," he cooed, leaning forwards. I leaned back.

"Scared of what, exactly?" I questioned.

There was a pause. An uncomfortable one where he was staring right into my eyes and I couldn't look away from the cold blue of his.

"The fire," he whispered. I blinked, thought about my burns, but it was as if he made the mental leap too and was quick to clarify. "The one that burns between you and I every time we bicker like this."

I screwed my face up. "Excuse me?"

"There's a lot of heady tension between you and I, the kind that feels like we'll either kill each other or fuck each other when it all comes to a head," he smirked with his teeth flashing, the gap that Arthur had made appearing almost cavernous as I eyed it.

"I know which one I'd put money on," I muttered.

"Me too," he hummed, and added in a voice that was low and teasing; "princess…"

"You gotta quit calling me that, I swear to God," I growled. He giggled like a child and I narrowed my eyes. 

"Like I said, you're more fun when you're pissed off."

"God, I hate you," I sighed, and went to ride again when he caught my arm, almost dragging me off my horse a second time. "Micah!"

"The more you say that the more I like you," he practically snarled, despite his words, his voice wasn't kind. "Oh, just think of the fun we'd have."

His grip slid down to my hand, gripping it tight. It was so weird, and I flashed my startled gaze up to his eyes. He tugged his reins to force Baylock closer and when he let go of them, his hand moved to my face, gripping my chin tight enough to hurt. I flinched a little but I was otherwise frozen in place as he twisted my face towards him, and wearing a somewhat smug smile, he leaned towards me and I panicked, sucking in a sharp breath a second before his lips met mine. 

I hated him. I had just said that to his face. We'd just bickered and argued and insulted each other and not ten minutes ago he was accusing me of ratting the whole gang out to the Pinkertons and suddenly he was kissing me. Something about the situation did not sink in immediately and I sat frozen on my horse, eyes sprung wide, just staring, as his lips worked against mine; harshly, almost could be described as an assault. His moustache scratched at my upper lip and I caught the scent of sweat and cigarettes and it was so different to Arthur's own smell that it pulled me out of my stupor and urged my muscles to move. 

I wrenched myself away, but swung the momentum his way so that he was the one shoved backwards, grappling for his reins before he fell off of Baylock; the horse whinnied and side stepped anxiously at the ruckus. I stared at Micah, my mouth hanging open wordlessly, so astounded by his actions that my mind was just blank.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I breathed, not having it in me to yell. He righted himself on his horse, turned his head just slightly my way to side-eye me. 

"What, you didn't like that?" He drawled with a shit-eating smirk.

"What is it with you kissing me?" I shook my head.

"I'm just having fun with ya', sweet thing," he laughed.

"It ain't no fun! I just don't understand you," I shook my head, hearing my own voice waver. A lump formed in my throat and my eyes prickled with moisture, and I wasn't completely sure why until the guilt caught up with me. 

I thought of Arthur. I thought of Micah's lips being against mine for far longer than they should've been, and how I hadn't shoved him away instantly. How could I have frozen like that and let it go on for longer than necessary? Arthur… this would hurt him. I knew it.

"Fuck you, Micah," I spat, then spurred Rayna forwards, riding quickly away, hoping that Micah didn't see the tears escape down my cheeks.

-

I set up the tent and the campfire on the other side of the train tracks at Brandywine Drop, clearer ground than before so I'd have a better chance at spotting any wildlife that came sniffing. I was still reeling from Micah's kiss, my upper lip feeling as though it was burning, like I'd taken a sip of coffee too soon, but it wasn't the pleasant warm tingle that Arthur's kisses always left with me. It was the wiry scratch of a moustache and the bruising insistence of unwanted lips. My hands still shook and I cried all the way back to our camp, trying to be quiet and subtle in case I passed anyone but unable to stop the sobs that rocked me every now and then when I thought of Arthur. My Arthur, the thing I loved more than anything on the Earth, and now I'd hurt him without him even realising. 

I couldn't stop crying! Even as I sat by the fire and tried to pull myself together, the pent up emotion from the past months flooded me and I let loose; it was so, so difficult to contain once the final straw broke the camel's back. I realised I'd suppressed more than I thought and despite feeling pathetic, I let myself take the moment. I hoped by letting it all out, I could have some sort of control over myself once Arthur returned, and I had to tell him.

Because I really did have to. This wasn't something I could attempt to hide from Arthur, even if I wanted to. Arthur and I had built a relationship on communication and honesty, I wasn't about to go against that. I knew that finding out about this would upset him, anger him, but not half as much as it would if he found out at a later date from Micah.

I spent the remainder of the daylight gathering berries and herbs and carrots from the surrounding area, snacking on a crunchy raw carrot while I waited for Arthur to return from his work. I calmed down eventually, drying my tears and pulling myself together, my emotion draining and leaving me feeling lethargic and placid. I understood that it would change once Arthur returned, and I still felt guilt churn up my gut whenever I thought about what had happened. 

I was sitting with my sketchbook, doodling Rayna as a distraction, when I heard hoof beats and looked up to find Arthur. But it struck me as I saw a figure emerge that there was more than one set of hoof beats, and immediately the hairs raised on the back of my neck and I dropped my sketchbook, pushing myself to my feet. The light from the fire touched the figure, illuminating it properly. It was a man, but not my Arthur, and he had his repeater trained right on me. A gasp pulled through my throat, and my eyes flashed to a second man. I recognised him immediately; considering I'd been speaking to him in the saloon only a matter of hours ago. 

"Agent Wilson of the Pinkerton Detective agency," he re-introduced himself as he swung down off the dappled grey horse he was riding. Strolling towards me, he retrieved something from his belt; a pair of metal cuffs. "Though we have been acquainted already, haven't we, Miss?"

"Yes sir, I believe we have," I said as confidently as I could, trying to keep the frown from my face. 

"We know who you are, Ma'am. Now, I'm gonna have to ask you to come with me," he told me firmly, and my hand twitched towards my gun belt, but the other agent's gun was still pointing at me. "Come on, now. Don't do anything stupid. Put your hands where I can see 'em. Go on, up."

I hesitated, looking between the two men. I weighed my chances. If I pulled my gun, I likely wouldn't have time to land a shot before the other agent did. He was aimed and ready. I was cornered, and soon made even more helpless by the additional three men appearing behind me, and two at my side, all on foot and each with another gun pointed at me. This was it, I had no way out.

I raised my hands up in the air, clenching my jaw as agent Wilson stepped towards me.

"Turn around," he ordered. With a breath I did as I was told, and soon my arms were being pulled behind my back, locked in place by the cuffs. I let my eyes fall closed and felt everything drain from me, going numb. I flinched as the agent crouched and lifted the bottom of my skirt to reveal my ankles, binding those with metal too. 

"What have I done? I've done nothing wrong," I argued, though my words were tired.

"We know you're with Van Der Linde. Nice little show you put on at the bar, but uh… some new information has since come to light," he told me. My mind instead turned to the possible ways that they could've found out. I'd said nothing, hadn't I? Did one of them recognise me? Why hadn't they done something about it while I was there?

"Where'd this information come from? What goddamn proof do you have? I'm nobody," I hissed, and Wilson just laughed, tugging me towards the horses. I groaned as he suddenly grabbed me and lifted me up, tossing me roughly onto the back of the other agent's horse. The thump against my stomach as I landed threatened to empty it. 

"Don't you worry about that," he answered as we started riding, going at a leisurely trot. My mind reeled. How on earth could they know? And how did they know where to find me?

I went cold as realisation hit me. There was only one person who knew the Pinkertons were in Van Horn. There was only one person who knew that I'd spoken to them. 

Micah.

"It was that goddamn bastard, weren't it?" I growled through bared teeth, rage flaring up.

I heard Wilson chuckling. "Calm down, Miss."

"You tell me, someone told you about me, didn't they? You've got a snitch. Goddammit tell me!" I yelled, struggling on the back of the horse, pulling at the cuffs on my wrists and ankles, crying out when it cut into my burnt skin.

"Stop moving or you'll fall off, and I ain't stopping to pick you up again every two damn minutes," the agent above me snapped over his shoulder.

"Micah! Micah Bell, he's working for you, ain't he?" I screamed. 

"Smart lady, this one," Wilson laughed and I panted, my eyes wide, breathless as I stared at the moving ground. I was stunned, my mind blank apart from the knowledge that this was real. Micah was the rat, working with the Pinkertons and screwing over every single one of us. 

It explained why he was in Van Horn. He must've been going to speak with them, but I interfered. And when I'd pissed him off a final time with that kiss, he'd told them exactly who I was… and where I was. I sagged on the horse, watching my hair swing in front of my face, watching the rocks and dirt kick up from the horse's hooves. The fight left me, and I wondered if I'd been better off going for my gun back there, taking my chances… It was useless. I almost certainly would've taken a bullet. 

But now they were carrying me off to God knows where. God knows why. They already had Micah, he was probably telling them everything they needed to know, they probably knew where the gang was camping, what they were planning, everything. So what would I be able to give them that Micah couldn't? I wasn't a high profile outlaw, I didn't have thousands of dollars worth of bounty money on me. In the grand scheme of things, I really was nobody.

Unless they were picking us off one by one. Well, it would make sense, they had been extremely unsuccessful in trying to ambush us as a whole group, it seemed it didn't matter how many men they threw at us, they weren't a match for the most capable guns in the Van Der Linde gang all joined together. The only way they could succeed would be by thinning the numbers, trying to get to the most capable men, strike while they were alone.

I swung my head up, eyes wide as I frantically looked around. There were just two men with me, Wilson and the unnamed agent whose horse I was on. The other five men… they were still back at my camp. Waiting. I felt sick, my mouth watering and my skin puckering up with goosebumps. 

I wasn't nobody. I was extremely useful. My ties to Dutch's best man, my relationship with him that Micah had almost certainly informed the Pinkertons of, it put me slap bang in the middle of the first phase of this new plan. I could've laughed – if it wasn't such a dark situation – at the way things had come full circle for me. 

I was bait.