#i will say that this must be a very sudden whiplash in tone from my last post about sex. from sex to awful horrific abuse

[shalom-iamcominghome]

I've been doing a lot of reflection as of late, especially after this past class.

This past class was about the Torah and Tanakh in general, and the way the rabbi talked about the commandments (specifically the ten commandments) has made me really reflect on how I interpret them, specifically the fifth commandment, or honoring your mother and father.

This is a commandment I have wrestled with for a long time - in fact, it brought me away from g-d at multiple times. I was severely abused when I was incredibly young by my mother, and I used to feel insulted at the implication that I were to honor her while she got to live a better life. It was hypocritical, in my eyes.

But this rabbi surmised that this particular commandment was because parenthood is an act of creation, something that is like the g-d from which we come from. My realization is this: I don't think we're necessarily meant to take even these commandments literally.

I this particular commandment is more of a call to honor creation - creation is a gift, and like any gift, many people simply will not like it and will discard it. The person who abused me created me, but she did not honor creation. She didn't honor me, but I can still honor it.

I have started to honor creation much more. I'm too young, too unstable, not mature enough to be a father (though I fantasize about it), but I create all the time. I create relationships, I create with my hands through crochet. I create memories, I create my world. And I can honor who I am and where I came from that made me who I am. I've been learning one of the mother tongues of my family (Italian, since part of my family originates there) and it was judaism that inspired me to do this.

I don't think g-d wants me to honor my abuser. I think He wants me to remember the Holy action of creation. When I am a father, that act of creation will be Holy, and indeed, I am already joyful about the thought.

I have seen many people struggle with this particular commandment, but I think this perspective helps me personally. I don't think I ever have to forgive my abusers (plural), and I don't think I am commanded to simply because they happened to be family. I am commanded to recognize the holy, to elevate the mundane. In doing so, I will remember g-d. Through creation, I honor g-d and everything he has done for us, for me, and for our collective people.

[jellyluchi]

Mother Language

A/N: My first selfship fic for POTO... Naveed is my hc name for the Persian, and he (or the Sultana from Persia) is not related by blood to Rose. I can answer how Rose came to be at the Opera house but I could not tell you why or how she came to live with Erik… There's not enough mommy kink fics with Erik so I wanted to change that.

Pairing: Erik x Rose Sultana Genre: NSFW Content warnings: cunnilingus, mommy kink, use of the term little boy Summary: In which Erik struggles with his personal projects and throws a tantrum only to be put into his place by his lover...

AO3 Link

If graves were homes of the dead, every tombstone would shelter beneath it a cold and empty living room, followed by bed chambers and wash closets. But the dead do not need such facilities. Yet, Rose must ask herself how different could it be living five cellars below ground to the unmoving corpses.

For one who detests the shadows, Rose became accustomed to its presence with terrifying quickness. Perhaps it was his influence. Or maybe she dug deep enough into her heart to reveal a desire for complete isolation. With him by her side, it is difficult to tell. 

It is no wonder a man such as himself should live like the dead, pin drop silence and darkness ever present in his abode, and the morbid stench that follows him like a shadow permeating from every surface. 

But as he likes to speculate, everyone must grow used to eternity. And every step out of India cemented her feet firmer into her personal timeless existence. That, Rose accepted long ago. 

Perhaps it is the reason for which she finds herself encased between the dank walls, still warm and protected from whatever creatures lurk the opera’s belly. Fingers curling around her book, Rose enunciates the foreign words with difficulty. Soft light accompanies her solitary presence in the living room, the fire by the hearth her only companion. She used to wonder about the final destination of the rising smoke but now knows better than to question his engineering process. 

Speaking of which… 

Sudden loud thuds, shrieks, and shattered glass echoes through the wet walls, muffled but still alarming. Quickly setting aside her reading, Rose races to the study. Fear and worry grip her heart in equal measures. But not for her own life as it is for Erik’s, a sentiment that mirrors uncle Naveed’s in the way the Opera Ghost does not enjoy.

But his display of such foolish recklessness was just starting to lessen with every season. Apprehensive of how he could harm himself, Rose throws open the door in a flurry. 

“What the devil is wrong?!” Rose has always limited her inappropriate language to a handful of special occasions. And this seems very fitting. From the papers littering the floor to a broken lamp which thankfully did not ignite a fire, the state of disarray could only reflect Erik’s psyche at the moment as he crouches across from her position. 

“Erik?” She starts, cautious but collected so as to not alarm him. How such a tall statured man could lower himself nearly flat on the ground and look so small she can never understand. 

“Leave me!” Erik blares, hands wrapped around his temple and the yellow glow of his eyes so blazing in the stark darkness, Rose should be shaking under her skirts. 

“You do not speak to me that way,” she says, her tone even  and her steps getting closer. “Erik, please tell me what's wrong. Please.” 

Oh how she wishes she knew his tongue now. If only to break open into his heart that he could not conceal in his mother language.

His mother language…

Sniveling in the corner, Erik makes no indication of having heard her plea, deciding not to answer the question. He can be so secretive whenever he pleases, pushing her out of his sphere with such violent resistance, it gives her whiplash. But that is why she must be this way…

“If you will not tell me,” she counters, moving to the desk for a look, “I will simply have to-” 

The black of Erik’s mask conceals his expression, but the low agitation of his voice makes him sound like a predator ready to pounce. “Do not!” 

Rose manages to find red inked papers partially torn and annotated, unfamiliar music notes dancing across the pages before a flurry of movement stops her completely. Her lover’s imposing figure stands before her, a strong grip on her arm that forces the papers out of her hands, gliding to the floor in a dramatic flourish.  

Gasping, Rose faces the eyes that burn with yellow fire at her miscalculated action. “Ah! You’re hurting me,” she exclaims with pain, her wrist unable to move due to its restraint. 

Suddenly, as if released from a trance, the man loosens his fingers. Ashamed, Erik takes away his hand, the worried expression of his face completely masked but his eyes dim their glow considerably when meeting Rose’s deep brown ones. 

“I have hurt you,” he says, tone dripping with shame and panic. “Erik has disappointed his little Rose…” His voice trails into a pained whisper and telltale signs of his particular rhetoric threaten his descent into madness. 

The once towering form standing nearly two heads above her, falls onto its knees and Rose knows he will beg for her forgiveness before he even utters a single word. While the momentary shock melts from her mind, she takes the opportunity to direct his attention away, knowing these instances are crucial for him. 

“Are you quite sorry, Erik?” She probes gently. “Come here.” 

Sitting on his desk chair, she gestures him forward, finding it amusing the way he crawls to her like a kicked puppy looking for food. She allows him to rest his head on her skirts, caressing the few locks of hair that remain atop his head. 

Patience has always brought the best results with one such as her lover. She imagines not many have afforded Erik the luxury of their time or care. The most she can do would be to let him speak on his own terms.

“Erik is sorry,” he says, his words wet with tears and no doubt snot under his mask. Heaving at the realization of his mistake, Erik’s mind threatens to spiral into melancholy. At the thought of having to be alone within the walls, at the thought of his little painter leaving him for good. “You will leave your Erik…” 

The silk of his mask which covers his mouth moves from the pressure of air passing through the fabric, a new style that facilitates more kisses among other things. At his declaration, Rose can only shake her head no. 

“I know you are sorry,” she replies. “Do you want to fix it?” Sometimes she gathers he is much too exhausted with himself to even right his wrongs. 

“Yes,” comes his response after a brief pause. Erik always sounds uncertain of himself during moments such as these, looking for her guidance like a dying light in a storm. 

“Good.” Her lips curve into a soft smile, voice still controlled by its volume. “Why don’t you start with setting the lamp?” Rose suggests. And her words do not fall on deaf ears as Erik scrambles to fulfill her request, looking to Rose for approval.

“Very good. And your music notes?” 

It is the wrong suggestion, because as soon as the papers are within his grasp, Erik makes the mistake of looking upon his failures, and the frustration starts to eat at him once more, growling and tearing them to shreds. 

“Erik!” Rose calls. “Look at what you’ve done…” Disappointment palpable in her voice, she does her best to regain his attention. Immediately regretful, Erik’s mood pendulums to the other extreme, begging for her forgiveness. 

“Erik is sorry!” He says, tears of frustration now wetting the silk as he crawls about. Finding the hems of her dress he clutches them for dear life. “Please let Erik fix it!” 

“Do you promise to do better?” 

“Erik promises!” His desperation heightens, voice sounding distressed, and Rose realizes perhaps a different approach is required. 

“Why don’t we give you a reward,” she says, guiding his hands. Cold, long fingers send little shocks to the skin of her calves as she uses his digits to push her skirts higher. The chill of the study permeates within her and she feels a gentle shiver. 

Speechless at the revelation of her legs, Erik watches with rapt attention, hands shaking in her grip yet hungry for more contact. She forgoes any stockings while at home and Erik’s heart threatens to give out at the sight of her plump thighs, the skin soft to the touch. Even in the darkness, her warm brown skin manages to possess an ethereal quality. 

When the little tufts of intimate hair peeks from beneath her open drawers, Erik’s breath hitches, his music forgotten. In fact his brain matter is nothing but mush. His anger now simmering and turning into desire makes him dizzy. “Rose…” he says, breathless, and the longing in his voice nearly breaks her.

“Use your mouth, Erik,” she says, and this time it is not a question but a command which she knows he will obey. 

From the gentle nudge of his hands to her thighs, Erik lowers himself to her, allowing her hands to pull the silk out of the way. It’s a strange sensation feeling his icy, rigid skull on her skin. Rose squeaks, feeling his inexperienced tongue dance around her entrance. Despite the times they have shared this exact activity, he still hasn’t found his footing quite clearly. 

Breathing little moans of pleasure, Rose does not shy away from her praises. “Good boy,” she whispers, feeling the ice of his thin lips turn cool from the heat of her folds. “Very good boy.” 

Her words have their intended effect as Erik groans into her, the glow of his eyes never leaving her form. “Maman…” he says between licks getting lost in the pleasure that is not even his own. “Maman, please…” 

“Here,” she guides, moving her hips to his mouth with more force,  enjoying the lewd groans that seem to escape him with every minute passed. After several tries, Rose finds her climax, panting for breath only to cry out from the overstimulation. 

“That’s enough! Erik has made maman proud,” she tells him, stopping his movements to a gentle halt. Erik’s stare boars into her and she knows what he wants. 

“Do you want to know what maman will let you do if you clean the glass?” 

Smiling at his enthusiastic nod, Rose utilizes her silver tongue once more. And thinks of every little thing that makes this dreary, lonely tombstone home feel every bit less solitary. 

[zhongliologist]

Shibari + Zhongli canon compliant nsfw

Pairing: Zhongli x Gender Neutral!reader

Genre: SMUT SMUT SMUT!! 

Words: 3.9k

AN: Hi anon!! Sorry this took a while! THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS ONE!! I’m glad I had experience writing something like this before skajdha I decided I can’t fit this into a small drabble, so here’s like a really long version lmao my two itty bitty braincells are now in no-brain mode, so this might be full of typos or errors. 

*WARNING!! THIS IS PURE SMUT. IF YOU ARE A MINOR, IT IS UPON YOUR DISCRETION. PLEASE READ RESPONSIBLY*

***

When Zhongli first heard the word while on a stroll late one night, he had realized that there was indeed an artform he had yet to encounter or at least heard of. His curiosity peaked, it was only a matter of time before he finally had to give in and ask you what it was.

“YN, if I may,” he began, settling the cup of tea to the table. “There is something I wish to know.”

Attention caught, you raised your brows at him—surprised that there was actually something Zhongli has yet to know—as you took a mouthful of wonton noodles.

“Sure, ask away,” you replied, chewing.

“Well, this was several nights ago,” Zhongli recounted, his deep voice serious. “I was passing by a group of shipbuilders and I couldn’t help but over hear their conversation.”

You hummed, prompting him to continue while stuffing another serving of blackened bass in your mouth.

“Their discussion involved an artform popular in Inazuma, and apparently has spread all over Teyvat as well,” he continued. “Unfortunately, I have yet to hear about this certain artform. Could you care enlighten me please?”

Leaning your head to the side, you wondered what it was. There wasn’t any popular art trend nowadays which Zhongli doesn’t know, so you became to grow curious as well.

“Did you catch the name of it?”

Zhongli nodded. “Yes. It’s called shibari.”

You almost choked on the food you were eating.

“Are you sure that’s what you heard?”

“I believe it is what I have heard,” he replied. “Is there something wrong?”

Sighing, you were going to have a lot of trouble explaining it to him. It was painfully obvious how Zhongli is so out of touch from the pleasures of mankind.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you decided it was best for him to know, before he does something unexpected.

“It’s kind of a sexual play,” you told him, but despite your words, Zhongli only glanced at you, eyes blinking.

Watching him, you noticed he had placed his hand over his chin—a habit he had whenever he was thinking. Whatever comes out of his thoughts, you were beginning to become nervous.

“I see. So, performing art during intercourse…interesting,” he mumbled to himself. “It is not too far off considering the fact that intercourse could also be deemed as a form of art, wherein it takes specialized honed skill to elicit a pleasurable result. To take two art forms and combine them in one act…I am astonished at the inventiveness of man.”

You took a bite from a dumpling, eyes jaded. “It’s not that grand, you know.”

“Now that I am aware of its existence,” Zhongli continued, paying no heed to your comment. “I wish to experience it myself. YN, I must request for your assistance.”

The dumpling you were eating fell back to your plate. “…what?”

“This…this shibari. I wish to partake in this now popular art form,” he repeated, but you only became more flabbergasted.

“Didn’t you hear me say that it’s a sexual play?!”

“I did. That is why it must be you,” Zhongli replied, taking your hand and placing it over his smirking lips. “You are my lover after all.”

Flustered, you had no choice but to agree. You knew of Zhongli’s immense curiosity and nothing is going to stop him from finding out what he wants to find out. Moreover, you wouldn’t really want him to experience it with someone else.

“F-fine,” you conceded, still nervous. “But give me a month to prepare. You should also ready yourself.”

Wondering why he had to wait and ‘ready’ himself, Zhongli leaned his head to the side. “Very well, but why a month?”

You scratched your nape as you averted your gaze somewhere. “I don’t have the right stuff, and I don’t have enough knowledge to do it properly. So give me some time.”

*

It had been a month since that conversation had occurred, and Zhongli began to feel a little bit antsy as the day drew near. It wasn’t common for him to feel this nervous energy, always maintaining his calm and composure. But it was different this time.

Since that discussion with you, you had banned any sort of sexual act from sex to masturbation, all except from small kisses; and as someone who had gotten used to your presence in his arms at night, Zhongli instantly felt withdrawal symptoms cloud his dignified countenance.

Zhongli inhaled sharply as soon as you entered his room, anticipation deeply running in his veins. You took a shower right after him, making him wait and allowing his imagination to run rampant inside his head.

“Sorry, did I make you wait?” you asked, making your way to the bed in nothing but a bathrobe.

“No, it’s alright,” Zhongli replied, his long hair now freely flowing after he had taken off his ponytail when he was taking a shower.

Running your hands through his dark hair, you admired the way they slipped against your skin as if they were made of silk. Absentmindedly, you began to braid his hair in a lose coif, making him relax underneath your touch.

“Um…er…YN, are we going to—”

You hummed, interrupting his words as you smiled. “Eager, aren’t we?”

“I fear that I may longer be able to contain my anticipation,” he confessed, feeling your hands on his back through the thin robe he was wearing.

Grinning, you knelt down and embraced him from the back; giving his temple a small kiss. “It seems like I don’t have to ask you if you’re sure about this.”

Loving how you felt so warm around him, Zhongli smiled as well as he intertwined his fingers between yours. “I do feel nervous, but it was I who wished to know; thus I must see it to the end.”

“Well, that settle’s it then,” you replied as you removed yourself from his shoulders. “Before we start, I need to remind you that we can always stop if you can no longer handle it, ok?”

Zhongli sighed. “I am confident that I can handle something like this.”

“Please stop being so stubborn,” you retorted back, annoyed that he really has to insist he wouldn’t need it. “Since it will take you forever to decide, I’ve picked one for you. It’s Rex Lapis. Say it when it gets too much.”

He scoffed. “You retaliate in the most absurd of ways, yet very well, I’ll keep it mind. Nonetheless, that does not mean I will use it.”

You grinned. “You’ll take that back soon enough.”

As you said those words, you shifted from your seat and faced him; hands cupping his chin. There was a look of surprise in Zhongli’s expression as soon as you tilted his head up to meet your eyes—too slow to react at the situation.

“Now, from here on out, I’m the one in charge. Any misdemeanor will warrant due punishment,” you began, voice firm and authoritative. “Are we clear, Zhongli?”

It took him some time to adjust at the sudden shift in the air; stunned at the tone you were giving him. This was probably the first time he had seen you take the lead, and it might’ve given him some sort of whiplash.

“Answer me,” you demanded, which made him jerk his attention back to you.

“I—uh…yes…”

“Very good.”

Smiling at his response, you removed yourself before him and sat just beside him with an easy expression. “Well then, why don’t you take off that robe? Just the robe though, leave your underwear on.”

Brought on by the awkward situation and the fact that you just ordered him to strip, Zhongli’s face immediately heated up to a few degrees. It was strange that he was feeling it for some reason—was this the actual appeal of the performative art form? Or was this simply one of your whims?

As he removed the silk tie tying his robe shut and slid it on the floor, you instructed him to quietly kneel down on the bed before you; hands neatly placed on top of his lap.

“Y-YN…? What is this…?” he asked, confusion marring his youthful face. It was embarrassing to sit on the bed that way, wearing nothing but his underwear, his dick beginning to form a tent.

Yet you only smiled at him.

“Don’t worry. We’re getting to the actual act,” you replied, crawling towards him before placing your hands on his bare chest. “If you can hold on till then, I might actually award you, you know?”

Leaning down, you immediately captured his lips in a deep kiss, moving softly yet sensually against his. Cupping his cheeks, you pushed your tongue inside and easily played with his. For some reason, this felt way hotter than the kisses you previously shared, with Zhongli unable to keep his hands to himself and began to wrap his arms around your waist.

You broke off the kiss with a click of your tongue; your thumb still on his swollen lips.

“YN…”

“What did I say about touching?” you asked, eyes holding nothing but pure mischief.

As soon as he heard you, Zhongli knew he had made a mistake and instantly rescinded his embrace; eliciting a chuckle from you.

“I—uh, forgive me…” he hurriedly told you, his voice beginning to lose their strength as he stuttered and tumbled at the words he used to be so eloquent with. As someone who has prided of his calm demeanor, Zhongli felt a surge of embarrassment at how he easily succumbed to your touch.

It was so adorable to see him like this; all flustered and nervous, making you want to see more of those reactions you have yet to see.

“Stay there. I’ll be right back,” you told him and stood up; an idea forming in your thoughts.

The moment you left; thoughts of things he might’ve done wrong kept repeating inside his head. He was scared that he might’ve crossed something which he shouldn’t have—the sounds of you rummaging through your belongings only exacerbated the nervousness that was already in his system.

However, you were not gone for long. He could sense you behind him, daring not to move or look back, and as soon as you draped a cold silk cloth over his eyes, he instantly realized what he had eagerly signed up for.

For one, as the Geo Archon, it was unimaginable for him to be in such a position, but for some reason, Zhongli found it incredibly arousing to have him at your mercy—to be restricted and ordered around; to be at the other end of the spectrum from what he was used to?

This is strange indeed…

“Don’t you agree that everything feels more vivid when you’re blindfolded?” you asked, now back on his lap; and despite being robbed of sight, he could tell you were smirking. “Does it feel good, Zhongli?”

“I…I cannot be certain…” he replied, the feeling of your intense stare sending shivers down his spine. “I haven’t experienced something like this before…”

At his hesitation, you could only giggle and gave him a small kiss. “Well, there’s a first for everything, but this one here…”

Your voice trailed off, your hand effortlessly finding his half hard dick and pressed on it harshly; eliciting a strangled moan from him. “It’s been feeling good for a while now, don’t you think so Zhongli?”

“I…I—!” He was at a lost for words; the pleasure he felt intoxicating his mind. You were right, the blindfold seemed to heightened his senses to such degrees of vividness.

“I can’t blame you really,” you told him, still toying with his member with your finger but not fully committing on pumping it up and down. “I did tell you to hold off for a month, of course, you’d be unusually sensitive and horny.”

If Zhongli thought his face was hot enough before, he hadn’t anticipated for it to feel full out burning as if his blood was set on fire. He tried holding off the sounds he was making whenever you pepper kisses on his shoulders, but to no avail. He was gradually becoming heady at the immense pleasure your hand was giving. By the time you continued talking, he was already panting heavily, skin flushed and hands balled so tightly into a fist, his knuckles turning white.

“Y-YN…” He wanted to say ‘too much’, but he didn’t want to stop you either.

“I’m impressed you can keep your hands to yourself,” you remarked playfully, rewarding him with a love bite just underneath his jaw. “Why don’t we move on to the actual thing itself?”

Even with the blindfold, Zhongli could feel you standing up; anticipation once again beating wildly against his chest. What were you going to do to him this time?—that was a thrill he had never expected to feel pleasure from.

You returned once more to his side, now with the appropriate items you needed, and brilliant grin on your lips to top it off. It was weirdly exciting for you as well, finally doing something as erotic as this to a dignified gentleman such as Zhongli. Which is why, you couldn’t help but talk him through it.

“I did tell you that shibari some sort of sexual play, right?” you began, as you seized both of his hand and pinned them on his back. “It involves tying someone up with rope, in patterns that are not only visually pleasing but are also designed to make you feel good.”

Zhongli could feel the roughness of the rope cling to his skin as soon as you tied his wrists together before doing various knots up his torso and down to his legs. It was incredibly strange—you were only tying him up but for some reason, he felt so exposed and so turned on.

“The reason why it’s so popular is because it gives a sense of security if you will,” you continued, remembering the patterns you had religiously practiced over and over again for the past month. “As if you were surrendering everything to that one person, trusting that they can give you security, give you pleasure. That is what this art form is.”

Every time he felt your soft hands brush against his damp skin as you tightened the rope around his body, he would control a shudder that kept on surging through him like a multitude of waves. This was beyond the ordinary, a situation Zhongli had not anticipated—you were right when you told him to prepare himself. He definitely did not heed your advice, and it came to him with a price, especially when you finally wrapped some rope around his dick as it stood straight and hard between his legs.

“If only you could see yourself right now, Zhongli,” you told him, pressing firmly on the ropes around his member before nibbling on his earlobe. “Aah, I just want to eat you up.”

With your sultry voice directly sending shockwaves down his lower parts, he could only dig his fingernails on the palm of his hands as the hemp ropes dug deeper in his skin. Even though they were not too tight, the restrictive sensation enveloping his body, plus the way you were touching him now was making him lose his mind.

“YN…YN…p-please, I—!”

He spoke between gasps as he felt your lips suckle on a sensitive point on his neck, his dick twitching as he tried to jerk up.

You hummed amusingly. “What is it, love? Where do you want me to touch you?”

Raking up your fingernails up his toned chest, you smirked as he groaned, unable to find any sort of friction he had been seeking for some time now. The way his long dark locks stuck to his skin because of how much he was sweating, or the way he trembled and shivered at every touch of his skin—you loved them all. As much as how Zhongli was intoxicated by pleasure, you were also heady with the power you had over him.

Not waiting for his answer, you crept your hands up and suddenly pinched his nipples—making him jolt straight up at the abrupt stimulation with a loud moan.

“Do you like it here?” you asked, now lavishing your tongue over a hardened nub; relentless and teasing.

“Ahh…! YN…! Wait, please!”

All of his thoughts had already vanished, replaced only by the sensations of your tongue on his now sensitive nipples, of the ropes wound tightly around him, of how painfully hard his dick was. It felt good, he had to admit it. It felt incredibly good.

“Do you want me to stop? I can always stop,” you asked, smiling. “If not, tell me where else I should touch you.”

Breathless as his chest heaved, Zhongli tried to find the words he wanted to say even as his lips trembled.

“Um…please touch….m-my…”

He was blushing furiously, the word seemingly unable to pass through his lips.

“Your what, Zhongli?” you asked him again, almost cooing but inwardly laughing at how he just can’t say the word ‘dick’.

Biting his lip to stop it from quivering too much, it seemed like he really has to throw every sense of dignity he had in him just to relieve his arousal.

“M-my…pe—ahh!!"

You pinched one of his nipples, pouting. “Don’t you dare call it penis, or else I won’t let you cum. Now, as you were saying?”

If only his head wasn’t too hazy from all the sensations stimulating him simultaneously, he would’ve made a mental note to make you suffer at a later date, but right now, his brain was being ran by his dick.

“P-Please…YN…! My—my…d-dick…I can’t…” he forced between pants as his sweat made the ropes feel even tighter and his underwear feel even more sticky.

Smirking at your victory, you pressed a kiss on his lips, your hands finally removing his dick from the constraints of his underwear. You could feel him groan on your lips as you began to move your hand up and down, and making sure to reach his most sensitive spots.

“Look at you, getting this hard after being tied up,” you whispered to his lips, a grin plastered on your face. “I didn’t know you were this dirty, Zhongli.”

“I-I’m…not!”

He tried to deny it but you kept his mouth shut by squeezing his cock tightly.

“Really now?” you asked, voice low as you kept on pumping him, his voice becoming nothing but dirty noise. “Are you about to cum?”

“YN…!” he growled, the ropes keeping his legs folded biting on his skin. “T-too much….! I’m…!”

Mercilessly, you continued to jerk him off as he crept closer and closer to climax. However, there he realized that the ropes around his member had gotten tighter, and the painful throbbing he felt was because he couldn’t cum.

“Oh? Did you find it out?” you asked, chuckling at the look of desperation so evident in his face. “If you can endure this in a few more minutes, I’ll reward you. How about that?”

“N-no, no….! YN…p-please, I c-can…no longer….” Most of his words were incomprehensible, affected by the pleasure and the pain on his cock.

You hummed playfully once more. “Do you want me to stop then? You can always say the safe word, you know?”

“No! W-wait…please! I n-need…I can’t…!”

“Then endure,” you replied, an idea blooming in your head. Your free hand then reached for the blindfold covering his eyes and unraveled it, allowing him to finally see.

However, he did not have time to recover when you immediately caught his attention.

“Look how hard you are, Zhongli,” you told him, his amber eyes blow wide by his current state. Yet strangely, the thought of him so aroused and at your mercy, only made him harder.

Laying down on the bed with your chest on the mattress, you looked up to him, his dick on your hands; your eyes reflecting mischief. “If you can hold on for a few minutes, I’ll let you cum, alright?”

Zhongli only gazed down on you, face as hot as the sun and as red as beet. He watched as you took his dick in your mouth and began sucking him off. At the sensation, he instantly threw his head back. This was totally different from your hands. This was just incredible.

With lustful eyes, you watched him convulse before as you assaulted him with your tongue—sucking and licking at every sensitive point you knew. The underside and the tip were particularly sensitive and that was where you concentrated.

“A-ahh…! Oh…shit…YN!” he groaned, his deep voice and the way he was now cursing sent you reeling as well. “T-too good…I’m…f-fuck…!”

You chuckled, the vibrations on your throat making his dick twitch as you kept on bobbing your head. Gazing up, you both exchanged glances as you kept on sucking the tip; his eyes tightly closing at the intensity.

“Are you going to cum?” you asked before diving in once again, your hands secretly making their way underneath his underwear and finding his hole. “I’ll help you.”

“W-wait…! T-that’s!” he jolted up yet unable to do anything but feel your fingers brushing around the rim.

Prodding at his hole, you enjoyed watching the pained yet lustful expression he was making on his otherwise stoic face. His eyebrows furrowed, his cheeks flushed pink, his mouth ajar as drool poured down his chin. It was fascinating, addicting. You can’t help but tease him endlessly, relentlessly as he kept on moaning your name again and again as if under a spell.

“P-Please….let me…I can’t…I’m going to….Y-YN…!”

Deciding that this was finally the limit of his first time, you cleverly untied the knot on his back which kept the rope around his pelvis secure, allowing it to loosen.

Still sucking him off and poking on his hole, you could feel him twitch inside your mouth, an indication that he was close.

“YN…! I’m….ughh…c-coming!”

In a few pumps, Zhongli climaxed in your mouth; his warm cum on your throat. It was a bit too much, and a little thick so you were unable to swallow everything, allowing it to drip down your chin.

Released from his high, Zhongli couldn’t believe he just had his biggest nut of his life after being tied up. It was in every ounce, shameful and embarrassing but it just felt too good for him to resist at all. Maybe it wasn’t too much of a bad thought to do this once in a while.

Eventually, you loosened the ropes that were still on him and took note of the rope markings on his skin, reminding yourself to give him that special balm you got for this exact purpose. As soon as you released him, you pulled him to a deep kiss which he gladly reciprocated.

Unlike your previous ones, this kiss was one of concern and care—asking and answering questions that were difficult to convey. As your lips moved against each other, your chest began to warm and float, glad that you were able to deliver his request. When you both pulled away, the normal Zhongli was back; his eyes warm and lively.

“I’m glad it felt good,” you told him, cupping his cheek. “I was afraid I might hurt you or something.”

He only chuckled and gave you a pat. “I did tell you I can handle it.”

You sighed in relief, loving the way he was touching you. “So, how about we sleep—"

Zhongli however interrupted you, pushing you down the bed, pinning your wrists. He was smiling but you definitely knew you were screwed.

“I reckon it is time for me take my revenge,” he gazed at you, eyes turning feral. “No one will be sleeping tonight.”

[arcadejohn127-9]

Hello! :) Is it ok if i request the brothers (and the undateables if possible 👉🏻👈🏻) with a teenage MC who's not afraid to call them out whenever they do something stupid/harmful/immoral and has very high morals in general? Like, when Lucifer tried to kill Luke they were furious cause he wanted to kill a child (actually 2 but..), or (this is based the first chat with him after ch.16) when Belphie goes "come on, that's mean!1! >:(" They reply with, "hahah! Wanna know what else is mean?(◠‿◕) The fact that you literally killed me for EXISTING, and when you found out that i was your sister's descendant you were all buddy-buddy with me. You're an hypochrite(Is that how you say it??) And you're a shitty person in general, you killed a CHILD. So i think it's very clear who's the mean one here." (GSJSGSJ I'M SO SORRY THAT IT'S SO LONG AND SASSY-) or they go full on rant about CONSENT with Simeon for the angel event. They also don't really accept opinions about their morals, like:

Diavolo: *lectures them about how humans and demons are different and how things that are clearly wrong in the human world are not in the Devildom*

MC: hm... That's a very well-elaborated and and valid arguement, but something doesn't feel right so i'm gonna just stick with my previously elaborated opinion!(✿^‿^) (wich translates into "i think your opinion is bullshit but i can't exactly tell you that so i'm just gonna be polite about it.")

I think they'd be embarassed being called out by someone who's literally an infant compared to them GSJSGSJ

you can ignore it if too similar to the sassy MC! ^^ i'm sorry it's so long 🥺

While this is very similar to my previous ask, I can do something for you! Hope I was able to put your prompt into proper essence, whilst writing this I got quite heated myself as I started to think how insane it must be for MC In the game

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I'm tired." You suddenly barked out, everyone turned their attention to you.

There was a big meeting including the student counsel and the exchange students. You were sitting at the end of the table; every second of noise was like a hammer to your self control. Your anger slowly rising higher and higher until it felt like you were suffocating in it. Satan was the first to notice; sensing the sin like it was a strong disgusting smell.

"What...? Are you really interrupting the meeting just to say you're tired?" Lucifer snarled at you.

"Oh, of course Lucifer is the one to make a rude comment, what? Annoyed I'm making my feelings known?!"

None of them understood what the sudden uproar was. All of them staring at you with wide surprised eyes. You were often one for remarks and expressing your thoughts but this was different; you've snapped. The hatred and anger in your eyes were uncomfortable. They made you look like a completely different person.

"What is the meaning of this? You're being unnecessarily angry-"

"I'M UNNECESSARILY ANGRY?! Oh ho ho~ you tried to kill Luke for being in the house! A LITERAL CHILD!"

Lucifer was stunned; freezing under your intense glare. Everyone's eyes darting over to his figure. He wanted to say more, he wanted to make you shut up. You could understand that look on his face all too well; you exactly what he wanted to say to you. But no, he couldn't possibly do it Infront of Lord Diavolo.

Your anger was only fueled more as you stood up from your seat.

"All of you are a threat! I'm a teenager, DAMNIT! How many times have I had my life put at risk because of one of you or have been threatened to be murdered or harmed - the only reason you didn't do it because you didn't want to cause issues with Diavolo or wanted me for your personal gain!"

"Do you know how meaningless that can make a person feel?! All of you are rotten, horrible beings!"

They all shared a shameful and uncomfortable look; the exchange students weren't sure if they were supposed to be in this conversation. Seeing as the focus was set on the brothers actions. Barbatos tried to warn something like this would happen but no one would take his words seriously. They expected something alot less intense.

"Come on, don't be mean-" Belphie tried to speak, keeping his tone playful as if believing that would fix it.

"You know what's mean, Belphegor? Killing a defenseless child for simply existing and then never apologizing - mind you, NO ONE HERE HAS EVER APOLOGIZED FOR THREATENING ME OR TRYING TO KILL ME - and then having the AUDACITY to be buddy buddy with me after finding out I'm related to your sister."

All the brothers expect Satan winced at your words. Their sister being a sensative topic and to hear you speak of it with such venom in your voice. They weren't sure what to do, some wanted to yell at you, others wanted to leave. But no one did anything. It felt as if they were all frozen.

Was this your magic? Was this harsh feeling of someone stepping on their chest coming from their pacts with you?

But that was just the brothers; the others were feeling a similar discomfort but they knew if they dared tried to leave it would end in chaos.

"But no, I'm mean,I'm the big meanie here who isn't being sweet and forgiving over being put into continuous danger, I'm SO sorry."

You forced a tight sarcastic smile, pretending to be upset.

"Now, let's all calm down, you have to understand - Demons and humans they just don't work the same, what is immoral to you won't be the same here, this is very different kind of society, you came here to be taught and learn to understand these other realms you were unaware of-"

It was now Diavolos turn to be utterly destroyed.

"Everything about that made me feel disgusted, so you're fine with all sorts of immoral acts? That's what you're telling me?"

The demon prince caught onto what you're implying and realized what his words meant, he quickly tried to fix his mistake but you weren't having it. Speaking over him, raising your voice as much as you could to drown him out.

"How about YOU understand MY society and my world's rules!"

"Here's the thing, your lordship, I didn't consent to be here, I didn't agree to be whisked off from my normal life and away from everything I've known, you forced me here and expected me to just deal with it - Solomon knows more about this program than me!"

"You're right, there should of been better preparation but you have to understand the differences between-"

It seems no one has learned. Your head snapped towards the older angel. You began to slowly trudge over to him.

"I'm so glad you decided to speak up, Simeon, because talking about consent, did you even know what those bangles would do to the brothers??? Did you just think it would be all fun and games to just make them angelic again despite knowing their history? None of them were okay about it and you just went ahead with it anyway - THEY WERE PRACTICALLY BRAINWASHED!"

Everyone in the room felt a sharp whiplash from your words. From one moment being furious and despising the brothers to now scolding someone who's harmed them.

"I didn't know it would be like that-!" He truely didn't, he felt awful about what they did.

"And yet you didn't seem to be in a rush to do anything about it, to me you seem to rather enjoy seeing them like that."

He couldn't say anything. He couldn't even try. Simeon just let his head drop in shame, knowing your words were true.

"Everyone here expect Solomon and Luke are innocent - Barbatos you're on thin fucking ice."

You snarled, pointing over to the butler. He didn't flinch under your gaze. Just staying composed and beside his master.

"I'm out of here." You declares, spinning on your heel and stormed out.

Luke suddenly jumped off his seat; tears streaming down his face and rushed after you. Calling out for you as he ignored Simeon's pleas.

The room was silent as everyone mewled over your words. Stunned they all got cussed out by a mere teenager and all of them knew; you were right.

[magickastiel]

Somewhere Off in the Dark (Dean/Cas) 7.3k

It’s easier to be with Cas in the dark.

Dean hasn’t got to see those eyes at full brightness, boring into his soul. Instead he can just talk and not worry about the embarrassment scalding his face or the discomfort twisting his spine.

It’s dangerous being with Cas in the dark.

Gift for @jackttwist for the @starrynightdeancas gift exchange! ✨

mild warning for a scene during early s13 so dean is very self-destructive and doesn't care about his own life. It's along the same times as the show but if you're triggered by that, skip from: 'Dean is sick' and pick up again at: "The Empty?" Dean whispers, feeling cold' for the cute stuff!

a03 or keep reading 💖

_

Dean will never get used to waking up and seeing eyes peering back at him.

He starts awake, half-reaching for the gun tucked under his pillow before he can pull himself back. He glares and throws the blanket off his lap, immediately regretting it when the cool night air hits his legs.

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel says, voice dry and face impassive. He watches without shame as Dean clambers to his feet, eyes skimming over his legs, his rucked up t-shirt, the scowl on his face.

A chill shoots up Dean’s back and, not for the first time, he wonders how many pairs of eyes Castiel really has. He walks from the couch to Bobby’s kitchen for something to do with his overly observed body.

“I’ll shoot you one day.” He says over his shoulder. “That’ll show you.”

“What will that show me?”

Dean wants to be annoyed but instead he snorts with laughter. Castiel seems to have this affect on him.

“Nothin’. Forget it.” His eyes itch with fatigue and he rubs them with the back of his hand. “You want coffee?”

“I have no need for - ”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Dean turns to lean his back against the counter and almost jumps again when he sees that Castiel has silently followed him to the kitchen. He can count the number of worn tiles between his bare feet and Castiel’s shoes. He has to swallow before he speaks. “Didn’t ask if you needed it. You want some?”

The angel’s eyes travel over him again and Dean feels like an ant under the hot glare of a magnifying glass on a sticky summer’s day.

“Yes.” He says eventually.

“Right.” Coffee.

He potters about, feeling eyes on him wherever he goes. He doesn’t let his hand shake.

By the time they’re sat back on the couch with two half-empty mugs, Dean’s body has loosened as he becomes accustom to the silent scrutiny. There’s no looming threat and no harsh judgement because Castiel is as he always is – curious. Every movement is apparently fascinating to him, every sentence Dean says is worth contemplation and every sip of coffee is a new experience to mull over. Again, Dean is surprised how little it annoys him.

“You remember the first time you woke me up here?” He says after a long pause. “You threatened to throw me back into Hell. Real nice of you.”

In the dark, Dean has to rely on Castiel’s voice to judge his expression. “Yes.” The word sounds solemn, like he’s disappointed that Dean remembers it. “I did say that.”

Dean takes the last glug of coffee to think. There’s an obvious question that’s been lingering between them for the last ten minutes.

“Why did you come here tonight?” He asks and doesn’t know what he wants the answer to be.

Even though he can’t see him properly, he’s sure Castiel is staring straight at him even as he ponders his answer. It’s another reminder of how alien he is. He doesn’t have that need to look away, to hide his face as his mind races to find the right way to say the right thing. Dean envies him that.

“I wanted to apologise.”

“Apologise for what?”

When he speaks again, his tone is unnervingly soft. “Your friends.”

Ellen. Jo.

Dean’s heart clenches and he feels the urge to move, unable to sit still in his grief. His knee knocks against Castiel’s solid thigh but the angel stays perfectly still.

“I should have been with them.” Castiel continues his voice low and smooth. If it wasn’t for the subject matter, Dean might think he was being read to sleep like a troubled child. “I should have protected them.”

“Not your fault.” He mumbles and means it. It never occurred to him to blame Castiel. He’s been too busy blaming himself to consider anyone else’s actions.

“I arrived with them and I should have stayed with them. I let them down. I – I let...”

Castiel is hesitating. This is new behaviour for him and it’s dangerously human.

“I...let you down.”

Dean feels like he’s been doused with cold water. He doesn’t blame Castiel for not wanting to say that. It’s so ridiculously untrue and so goddamn weird to say that he let Dean down specifically. It’s too much focus on him, on them.

“You didn’t let us down, man.”

“You are being kind.” Castiel says in neither admonishment nor gratefulness. He just states it like it’s a sure fact. “Thank you. But I shall endeavour to make it up to you.”

“Oh.” Dean says feeling dumb and strangely warm. “Right. But like I said, nothing to make up for.”

“You are not sleeping.”

He almost gets whiplash at the sudden change in conversation. “Uh well, no, not right now. You did wake me up.”

“Allow me to clarify: you do not sleep enough.” The still air is disturbed by the rustle of his trenchcoat and the sharp clack of the ceramic mug being placed on the table.

“Kind of a lot going on, dude.” Dean says, trying to protest as Castiel pulls his mug from his hands and places that on the table too. “Uhhh, what are you doing?”

“Lie back down.”

Dean does as he’s told but frowns too. He tells himself it’s a good compromise. “You gonna stare at me until I fall asleep or something?”

“I could but I believe that will be unnecessary.” He stands and looms over the couch. He looks intimidating from down here – tall as a skyscraper and dark as a void. Dean clutches at the blanket for something tangible to hold on to. “Your body still hasn’t recovered from the physical and emotional trauma of the last week. And when you sleep you have nightmares thus reliving the pain. You must rest completely to correct this and regain your full strength.”

Dean snorts. “Oh, yeah? So what you gonna do – zap me to sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Wait – ”

Two fingertips brush his forehead and he sleeps.

_

Dean can’t stop looking.

Even as Benny regales them with some batshit story, even as he eats his handful of berries, even as he wanders the perimeter of their little camp.

Cas is here.

Like, actually here.

He hadn’t let himself lose hope but it had been slipping. Just around the corner, he’d think. One more fight and he’ll be there. On and on.

And then there he was, alive and washing his face like he’d just woken up after a bad night’s sleep at a motel.

Dean’s eyes flit over to him again. He isn’t used to it yet. They only found him a few hours ago. Man’s gotta bask in having his best friend back.

“Dean? You hear me?”

He sighs and turns back to Benny who, to his credit, doesn’t even look annoyed. “Yeah, yeah. Sleeping, shifts, food.”

He snorts. “Got the gist, at least.”

“I’ll take the first shift. Gotta...” He glances over his shoulder at Cas again. He isn’t quite sure what he’s got to do, but he knows it involves Cas.

“Like that, huh?” Benny says, a slight smirk on his face.

“What do you mean?” He mutters, grabbing a stick and poking the meagre fire for something else to focus on.

“Nothin’, nothin’.” He waves a hand, but the smirk hasn’t left his face. “Just startin’ to feel like a third wheel, is all.”

Dean’s face heats unpleasantly. He knows it’s not like that but he can’t quite bring himself to argue about it. Instead he stares into the fire as Benny wanders off to rest. He feels horribly cracked open. He’s gotten used to his hardened shell – Purgatory took all the resilience he had and coated him in it. But the first sight of Cas had split him apart and now his usual racing thoughts have come rushing back with the force of a ten tonne truck. He almost wishes he could go back to how he was yesterday, pure focus and drive.

Now he feels small next to the fire, between a vampire and an angel.

He’s just one slightly shitty human lost in Purgatory.

“Dean?”

Cas joins him suddenly, with that eerie angelic stealth. Dean only just manages to stop himself from jumping like a kid. Cas sits on his left, watching him intently.

Everything is kind of colourless in Purgatory. It drove Dean insane for the first few days; everything seemed slightly off and unreal. Then he got used to it – the lacklustre trees, the blank water, even the fire looked kind of grey.

Cas’ eyes are still very blue.

It’s the first real colour he’s seen in months.

“Dean?” He says again, sounding slightly alarmed. “Are you alright?”

He clears his throat. “Yeah. Just...weird to see you, I guess.”

“Oh.” Cas blinks. “I...I suppose it is strange to see you too. I have seen you from a distance a few times. If several leviathans caught me at once, it would take me a while to kill all of them. Each time, I was very aware of how you were likely closing in on my location. Then I would catch a glimpse of you through the trees and that was when I knew I needed to get ahead again.”

“You what?!” Dean hisses, only keeping his voice down for Benny’s sake. “You mean you’ve been in spitting distance before and you didn’t say anything?! You could have...” He thinks about the sleepless nights, the desperation to find him alive. “I was afraid you were dead.”

“I am sorry, Dean.” Cas squints and tilts his head a little. Dean feels his anger dissipate. “I wanted nothing more than to join you. Together, I am sure we can conquer almost anything.” Right. That’s a total normal thing to say to someone. “But I was the one who released the leviathans. It was my responsibility to deal with them. If they got to you I would never be able to forgive myself.” His gaze drops to the fire. “I will never be able to forgive myself.”

“Don’t.” Frustration pushes at Dean’s skull, making his eyes water. “Yeah, ok. You did something pretty dumb. But you did it because you were trying to save the world. I should have...if I hadn’t been so damn caught up with other stuff. If I had just been there more - ”

“Dean, you cannot blame yourself.” Cas sounds genuinely horrified at the thought. “It was my decision and the consequences are mine to bear. All I can hope is that you can find a way to forgive me. And Sam - ”

“Sam’s good now.” Dean says quickly, half to reassure himself. “You screwed him over, not gonna lie. But at least you fixed it.”

Neither of them speaks for a while. Cas seems intent on watching the fire while Dean’s shell shatters a little more. Had he really had forgiven Cas just like that? He thought of what John Winchester would say about that. To say Cas had ‘screwed Sam over’ was a bit of an understatement. He had totally destroyed his mind. And here Dean was, casually forgiving him like it was no big thing.

It isn’t just words either. Dean really doesn’t feel any animosity towards the angel at all. Look out for Sammy. That had been drummed into him since he was four years old, when he carried his baby brother from their burning home. He still lives by it too. So it’s unnerving to forgive someone who hurt Sam. He’d been angry at first, sure. Upset, if he was being honest. He’d been hit with the double whammy of worrying about Sam and being betrayed by the only real friend he’d ever had. The only one that sticks around.

Well, that isn’t quite true. Cas always leaves but he always comes back too.

Now Dean just feels happy. And tired. He’s pretty tired too.

“You should sleep.” Cas says, softly. “I can watch over you.”

His knee jerk reaction is to tell the angel that’s weird. In any other situation it is weird. But here, he really does need someone looking out for him.

“’Angels are watching over you.’” He says, thinking of soft blonde hair and a warm smile. He swallows around the lump in his throat. “That’s what my mom used to tell me every night when she put me to bed. Guess that’s true tonight, huh?”

“I suspect she did not imagine that to come true in Purgatory while you are travelling with an angel and vampire, but the sentiment is lovely nonetheless.”

Dean can’t stop himself from grinning as he settles down, wedging his jacket under his head like Benny did.

“Do we have to travel with the vampire?” Cas grumbles beside him, sounding wonderfully like himself.

Dean raises his eyebrows against his makeshift pillow. “What, you don’t like Benny?”

“I don’t like the way he acts.” His eyes narrow, glaring at the sleeping figure the other side of the fire. “He looks at you like he wants to...consume you.”

Dean laughs and, for a moment, the clearing rings with it. “Dude trust me: Benny ain’t gonna eat me. He’s got plenty of food around.”

But Cas still looks unsure. “That’s not...” He sighs. “Yes, I suppose you are right.” He gives Dean one of those rare, small smiles as he looks down at him. “Sleep.”

Dean does as he’s told for once, letting his aching limbs stretch out next to the warmth of the fire and under his best friend’s watchful gaze.

But after a few moments, he can’t resist another look, even as his body succumbs.

“You can sleep, Dean.” Cas says, almost chastising. “I’ll watch over you.”

“Ain’t that. Just...” His tongue feels too big for his mouth and his heart feels too heavy for his chest. “Just checkin’ you’re still there, is all.”

As he falls asleep, he hears his voice one more time.

“I’m still here. I’ll always be here.”

_

When Dean asks Cas where he can drop him, the ex-angel avoids his eyes and says something about being ‘between places’.

Yeah, Dean’s the worst friend in the world.

He drives them to a motel because that’s the least he can do.

He mentally berates himself on the drive there while Cas is quiet in the passenger seat. This really is the least he can do. He should be driving Cas home to the Bunker, buying him dinner on the way back. He should be apologising for throwing him out. But if he starts apologising that means he’s got to start explainingand that’s something he really can’t do. Not yet.

So he drives his awesome best friend to a shitty motel and books them a shitty twin room and orders a shitty pizza.

Once they’ve eaten in relative silence, Cas perches on the edge of one of the beds staring wide-eyed and blank faced at the television. Unfortunately, it’s not Dr. Sexy. Just some grim drama about murders and family betrayals. Like they don’t have enough of that to deal with already.

He looks small and Dean has the sudden urge to rest a hand on his shoulder.

“Dude,” He says, busying his restless hands with clearing up the greasy napkins and tossing them into the bin. “Don’t sit that close to the TV. You’ll get square eyes.”

For what seems like the first time in an hour, Cas blinks. “Is that possible?”

Dean chuckles and settles back on his bed, kicking off his boots with a groan. “Nah, just somethin’ parents tell their kids. Dad used to say it to me all the time.” His smile slips as John Winchester’s dark eyes narrow in his mind. “Used to watch so much Scooby Doo it drove him mad. ‘Turn that TV off and do something useful! Ain’t got no use for a son with square eyes!’” He fidgets on the bed, fighting the urge to pull a blanket over himself.

“Oh.” Cas half turns away from the TV. “That seems unnecessarily harsh.”

Dean shrugs. “Just watched it when he was gone.” Had plenty of time.

“I assume you had plenty of time to watch it then.”

Huh.

Dean’s stunned into silence long enough for Cas to look over. Something on his face makes Cas look guilty.

“I’m sorry. It isn’t my place to comment on your father.”

“No.” Dean says but isn’t sure if he means it.

Cas stands, flicking off the TV and sitting against the pillows of his own bed. The quiet makes Dean realise that he’s alone with Cas in a motel room. He isn’t sure why it sets his teeth on edge – it shouldn’t be any different from sharing with Sam. So why does he feel a bit too hot under his shirt?

“Family is a complicated thing.” Cas continues, oblivious to Dean’s discomfort.

“Y-yeah.” The word sticks in his throat. “You miss ‘em? The other angels?”

In the soft lamplight, Cas’ profile looks striking as he thinks. “Yes and no. I miss the simplicity of being with them.”

“Simplicity? Can’t imagine Heaven ever being simple.”

“Oh, it’s not, not really. But I knew my place and I knew what I required to do. And I was known. Understood.”

“You think I don’t get you?” Dean asks before he can stop himself.

Cas leans back further, turning slightly to rest his head on the pillow. His eyes look almost velvet in the soft light. Dean finds himself turning a little too, cheek brushing the cotton pillowcase.

“I think you understand me more than I could have ever hoped for.”

“Oh.” Dean feels struck dumb and something inside his chest clunks. “That...that’s what friends are for, I guess.”

“Yes.” Cas smiles, gummy and a little crooked where he’s resting his head. “It is.”

Dean rolls onto his back, heart hammering as he stares at the ceiling. Cas’ eyes are still on him – he knows the feel of that gaze like a dangerous coastline knows the relentless glare of a lighthouse.

The silence drags and his fingers itch to switch the TV back on.

“Coulda got you your own room.” He mutters, almost to himself. Least I could do. “Give you some privacy.”

“No.” Cas says firmly. “This is...this is good. Thank you.” He sounds so earnestly grateful Dean almost cringes in shame. “I spend quite a lot of time alone. It’s good to have company.”

“Right, yeah. Of course.”

“But if you’d rather - ”

“Nah, it’s all good.” He says and is surprised that he means it. He’s counted the stains on the ceiling three times and his heart is slowing to its normal pace again.

“Dean?” Cas sounds a little slower now. “Tell me something?”

“Uh, sure. What?”

“Anything.”

“Like a story?” Dean frowns and looks over to see Cas’ eyes are already half-closed.

“Hmm.”

“Uhhh...” He flounders. He hasn’t done this since he was a kid, making up stories for Sammy to fall asleep to in the back of the Impala. “Ok. Once, this guy woke up. Let’s call him...Dan. He woke up and realised he was underground, being suffocated. So after he panicked a bit, he dug his way out and almost goddamn blinded himself ‘cos it was a sunny day, right? He walks to this old gas station and keeps thinking ‘how am I alive?’ ‘cos he’s pretty sure he was dead.”

He knows he isn’t telling it well but it doesn’t seem to matter because Cas hums again, sounding pleased this time. Dean feels his own body melting like hot wax into the bed as he watches Cas’ eyes close.

“Then he looks in the mirror and sees he’s got this mark on his shoulder. A handprint. So he’s like, ‘who the hell left that there?’”

Cas chuckles, mouth thick with sleep. Dean pulls a blanket over himself and wraps an arm around one of the pillows.

“Turns out, his best friend left it there. But here’s the thing: he ain’t met him yet.”

Dean smiles as Cas’ breathing gets even and heavy. He watches for a moment and squeezes the pillow tight against his chest before turning out the light.

He dreams of Hell but when he wakes, all he can remember are dark wings beating hard against fire.

_

Dean is sick.

He throws up until his body is shaking, until his throat is raw and his eyes are bloodshot.

He slumps down next to the toilet and takes in breaths he doesn’t really want. The cool title presses against his burning back and he closes eyes. Which is a horrific mistake.

A beam of light streaming from his mouth, from his eyes, from the hole in his chest -

His body jerks and his foot knocks the empty whiskey bottle with a jarring clatter. Yeah, that’s rule one, buddy. Don’t close your fucking eyes.

He stands on shaking legs, picks up the empty bottle and goes back to his room where he’s stashed another. Thankfully, he doesn’t pass Sam on the way. He can’t deal with the pity, he can’t deal with the logic and he can’t deal with his stupid, childish hope. Mom’s gone. Ain’t no sense in pretending otherwise. Gone just like –

Nope.

He opens his door and chucks the empty bottle down again, letting it roll off to some dark corner of his room. He scoops up the next one and cracks open the top, taking a deep swig. It hits him hard; neat alcohol on his turbulent stomach makes him gag but he perseveres. He’s exhausted but he can’t close his eyes.

So he’s aiming for blackout.

It can’t be too far away – he can’t remember when he last ate. He’s aching all over, boiling hot and he’s...

Sobbing.

“You...you son of a bitch...” He sways a little when he looks up at the dingy ceiling but he’s trying to talk beyond that. “Whydya hav’ ta...fuck!” He rushes over to the sink and throws up the whiskey he just swallowed. It burns even more on the way up.

Once he’s stopped retching, he tries to take another swig but his body won’t let him do it. He collapses onto the floor again, legs too weak to stand. The bottle clangs in the sink, probably spilling all of its contents down the drain. He makes a weak sound of protest but doesn’t move.

His eyes feel tight and dry against the salty wetness on his face. He wonders how far above him Heaven is. If he’s even there. Something tells him he isn’t. If he is, surely he would have found a way to get back.

Dean whispers his name, a private prayer of desperation. There’s still some dumb part of him that thinks he might just appear again, slightly dishevelled and annoyed at Dean for not looking after himself.

But he doesn’t.

The silence stretches and Dean contemplates hitting his head on the floor. If he does it hard enough, there’s a good chance it’ll knock him out for a while, maybe a few days if he’s lucky.

He tries to lift his head but it’s too heavy. A wave of panic rushes over him as he starts to feel paralyzed – trapped in his own body and smothered with grief.

“Cas?” He chokes, a fresh wave of tears rushing down his face. “You...you’re meant to come back. You always come back. You gotta...you gotta come back, man. Please. Please, I can’t - ”

I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to. Don’t make me.

With all his might, he rolls onto his side before he’s suffocated completely. His head spins as he turns, his stomach churns and his eyes roll back. When he finally passes out, he doesn’t see anything at all.

_

“The Empty?” Dean whispers, feeling cold.

“Yes.” Cas whispers back. He’s only whispering because Dean is. Dean feels completely normal about that and not giddy at all.

“What was it like?” He doesn’t want to know but has to ask all the same.

“Empty.” Cas says, deadpan.

“Oh ok, smartass – thanks for clearing that up!” Dean huffs good-naturedly and has to grip the railing until his knuckles turn white. He’s got so much happiness in him his body doesn’t know what to do with it. He feels energy thrumming through him and he has the sudden urge to start sprinting and laughing.

They’ve stopped at a motel on the drive back from Colorado to the Bunker. Sam is already asleep, hair all splayed out on his pillow like Sleeping Beauty. But Dean...well, Dean was dead for a couple of minutes today so he figures he’ll enjoy being alive for a bit longer. He leans on the rail overlooking the parking lot and lets the cool air fill his lungs.

He’s got company.

“How is Jack?” Cas asks, obviously expecting a better answer than the quick reassurance they’d given him earlier.

“He’s doing ok. I was...” Dean trails off, his good mood momentarily dipping into guilt. “I was kind of a dick to him at first - ”

“What a surprise.” Cas sighs, world-weary and affectionately irritated. Dean wants to make him sound like that every day.

“- but we’ve gotten better.” He knocks Cas’ shoulder with his. “I’ve gotten better.”

“Good.” Cas smiles at him and he has to grip the railing again.

Dean watches him stare up at the moon, the pearly light making him look as otherworldly as he is. Dean is reminded there are wings somewhere behind Cas. Broken, yes, but still there. It’s weirdly exciting that Cas isn’t human. A strange thrill shoots through him when he really thinks about it. He feels like one of those people who inadvertently tame some dangerous beast and have their photos taken with the thing sat on their couch with them. It’s that precious feeling that you’ve been chosen, that something that would normally kill you with a snap of jaws or a click of its fingers saw you and thought you were special. So it decided that it wanted you to live. That it wanted to spend time with you. That he wanted –

“Dean? You’re staring.” Cas turns back to him with a raised eyebrow and a slightly smug expression. “You usually tell me off for that.”

“Right.” Dean doesn’t stop looking. “It’s just...you’re back.You came back again.”

Cas’s expressions softens and he edges a little closer. Suddenly – wildly – Dean thinks if Cas kissed him now he’d be fine with it.

He doesn’t.

“It was suffocating.” He says instead. “The black emptiness was...all encompassing. Like no matter what I did or where I went, I would never escape the feeling of total despair. Of being painfully alone. It was like - ”

“Choking.” Dean says and swallows hard against his healing throat.

“Yes.” Cas’ fingers twitch on the railing and Dean thinks that if he moved his left pinkie, he could feel his skin. Cas’ hand drops before he can really contemplate doing it. “But I did escape.”

“Yeah.” Dean’s full of energy again, happiness buzzing around his body like a swarm of bumblebees. “You got out, man.”

“I was afraid that feeling would follow me. That I would still feel that fear no matter how far I ran.”

“And?”

“I don’t.” Cas turns to the moon again, bathed in pure light, eyes shining as bright as his grace. “I don’t feel scared at all.”

Dean blinks back the sting in his eyes and smiles. “Me neither.”

_

Dean pushes open the door with a sweaty palm.

Cas stands next to him, staring into the room with his lips slightly parted. Dean’s gaze lingers on them for moment before he drags his eyes away.

Just because Cas...said what he said, doesn’t mean he wants that. Maybe he didn’t really mean it. Or maybe he did mean it but like...friends. Best friends love each other. Of course they do. Sure, it did seemlike a momentous romantic confession made by a guy madly in love with his best friend before he sacrificed himself to save said best friend but maybe...maybe it wasn’t really like that.

“You did this for me?” Cas sounds almost tearful and Dean can’t look at him like that. It reminds too much of –

“Yeah.” Dean clears his throat. “Well, Sam helped too. Turns out he’s kinda nerdy about plants too. But I bought ‘em all and watered ‘em and...Jack got you that stuffed bee, by the way.”

Cas steps inside the room and Dean can finally look up from his feet. His eyes go straight to Cas’ broad back, casually dressed in one of Sam’s sweaters. The sleeves are too long but Cas says he likes it. He’s wearing a pair of joggers that Dean kept aside for him and a pair of socks with a hole in the toe.

“I love it.”

Dean’s heart literally skips a beat. Great, he loves it. Loves it in the way he loves –

“Wanted you to have something to come back to, you know? I know this was always kinda your room but there was nothing in here and I thought...after what you said before about the Empty...thought you’d want something good to come back to. Bright and full of life...or whatever, I dunno. Just thought you might like it.”

“It’s incredible.”

Dean thinks that’s over stating it. It’s not that good. Not nearly enough to repay his debts. Not anywhere near what Cas deserves. He deserves a real home, a huge garden, a fucking mansion with butlers and people who bow to him and call him ‘sir’. Instead Dean has given him his old room back. Sure, it’s got a few shelves up, a new rug, bedding that Jack picked out called ‘jungle dreams’, a load of plants and a tall lamp that gives everything a nice glow but it’s still the same room.

Dean has never felt more pathetic.

Castiel is an angel. Ok, barely an angel now (and whose fault it that?) but still a celestial being. He might get tired sometimes, he might get hungry and he might be able to get drunk but he’s still an angel.

He’s still better.

Better than this stupid room, better than this miserable Bunker. Better than Dean.

“Is this your blanket?” Cas asks suddenly, plucking the Scooby-Doo fleece blanket from the bed.

Oh, that. “Uh, yeah. Thought you might get cold now. Don’t want you to get numb toes or nothin’.”

“That’s...” Dean isn’t prepared for the open, raw joy on Cas’ face when he looks up. It almost sends him reeling backwards out of the door. “That’s very kind of you. You didn’t have to do all of this. It’s...”

Stupid. Stupid plants, stupid lamp, stupid goddamn blanket.

“It’s wonderful.”

“It’s stupid.” Dean blurts, feeling awkward and childish. “Shoulda done something more. Shoulda got you - ”

“You got me.” Cas says firmly. “You got me out, Dean. You and Sam and Jack...I will never be able to thank you enough. And then to come back to this room that you worked so hard on, that you filled with things you knew I would like...there is nothing better than that in the whole world. The whole of creation. To be known and to be wanted is the best thing there is.”

Fuck.

Dean doesn’t know what to say to that. What can he say to that? What can he say that would ever compare to what Cas said? What he said before –

“Right. Ok. Great. That’s...good. I’ll just...” He gestures over his shoulder to the door. Being in here with Cas is too intense, like staring at the sun or holding your hand over an open flame. “You probably want to rest.”

Cas hesitates before saying, “Yes. I suppose I should. Thank you again for this. I really love it.”

“Yeah, man.” Dean almost winces. “No worries. I’ll just...leave you to it.”

He steps back into the open doorway, unwilling to take his eyes away from Cas because he’s here, in the room Dean has imagined him in for weeks. It’s kind of annoying that Cas doesn’t have the same trouble. He turns his back, wandering towards the plants on the shelves and gently touching the leaves.

Dean lingers, like a moth perched on a lightshade.

“Are you - ” Just leave. “Are you gonna be ok by yourself? I mean, you said before that it was lonely being in the Empty. Thought maybe you’d want company?”

Cas seems surprised when he faces Dean again. “Oh. Well, yes, of course. I would enjoy you staying for a while. But please don’t feel like you have to.”

The idea of Cas thinking he’s keeping Dean against his will is laughable.

“So, er - ” He sits on the bed, fingers clutching at his blanket. “What do you wanna do? I could get my laptop and we could watch a movie? Or we could watch one of those nature documentaries that kinda send me to sleep? You know the ones with the British guy with smooth voice - ”

“Actually, I should rest. I am quite tired.”

“Oh.” Dean tries to not look crushingly disappointed. “Right, yeah.”

“You could rest with me.” Cas says, just like that. Like it’s not a big deal at all. Like guy friends just clamber into bed with each other all the time and die for each other and confess their love for each other...

“Sure.” Dean’s mouth decides for him. “We could – we could do that.”

So they get into bed together.

Cas slides in as though this is his regular night time routine, looking totally at ease in his new ‘jungle dreams’ bedding and borrowed blanket. Dean’s hands shake as he lifts up the covers and slides in too. He waits for it to be weird, waits for discomfort and his father’s face swimming in front of eyes.

Instead, he just feels warm.

They’re led next to each other, unmoving and flat on their backs. Dean’s right leg is about to fall off the bed and Cas’ shoulder looks like it’s digging into the nightstand. Maybe this bed wasn’t made to fit two fully grown men too afraid to touch.

“Dean, are you comfortable? I am not.”

He laughs and rubs a hand over his face. “Yeah, this isn’t great. Maybe if we...uh - ”

“What about if we do this?”

Cas’ hands are suddenly everywhere, manhandling him in a way that Dean has never experienced before but wouldn’t mind experiencing again. He ends up with his head resting on Cas’ chest, forehead pressed against his neck. His right leg has nowhere to go but to hook around Cas’ legs, entwining them together.

And Cas is holding him.

His arms are wrapped around him and not just because they haven’t got anywhere else to go. Because he wants them to go there. Because he wantsto hold Dean. Possibly all night.

Dean starts to panic.

Led like this, his ear is pressed against Cas’ chest – his heartbeat the loudest thing he can hear. What if someone breaks into the Bunker without him knowing? What if something is happening to Sam? To Jack? And he hasn’t even brought a gun with him. He squirms a little, debating on popping back to his room to get one when Cas says,

“Are you thinking about getting a weapon, Dean? I promise you, you won’t need it.”

Cas’ deep voice rumbles through his body, rocking him out of his spiralling worry so quickly Dean briefly wonders if he used some of his remaining slither of grace to do it.

“I would never let anything happen to you.”

“What if someone comes in?”

“An intruder? Judging by our current position, I assume I am the being most visible from the door.”

Dean’s fingers curl in Cas’ borrowed sweater. “You mean you’d be shot first?”

“Yes.” Dean feels his arms tighten around him for a moment. “And I believe my body would shield you from the vast majority of attacks.” He sighs and his breath tickles Dean’s hair. “Of course, if someone were to gain access to the Bunker, it’s likely they would be a supremely powerful being. That would reduce our chance of survival by quite a lot. However, if you really insist on being armed, I am confident that in the few seconds I could shield you, you could at least reach for a makeshift weapon. Whatever good it would do.”

“Right. But...” Dean doesn’t really feel comforted. “I don’t want you to...” He can’t quite say the word.

“Die?” Cas finishes for him as his fingers begin to move, leaving warm trails over Dean’s back. “No, I cannot say that I am enthused by the idea either. I have no desire to leave you again.”

“Not ever?” Dean asks and despises himself for the needy edge in his voice.

“Not ever.” His hands are moving now, big and slow in soothing motions against Dean’s back. He can’t remember the last time he was held like this. Mom, he thinks. When he was a kid. He knows he must look pathetic – six foot plus guy that’s been to hell and back being held like a baby. He should move, should pull away, wipe his eyes and tell Cas it’s time he went back to his own room.

He doesn’t want to.

“You love me.” He says instead, face burning and mouth dry.

He feels Cas smile against the crown of his head. “Yes.”

“You’re like...in love with me.”

One of Cas’ hands moves higher, fingertips trailing over the back of his neck leaving goose bumps in their wake. “Yes.”

Dean will never admit to the half moan, half whine he lets out. He buries his face in Cas’ chest and breathes him in. The smell of him fills Dean’s lungs and Cas’ arms start to feel like a weighted blanket, pressing gently on his body. It makes his eyes soft and his limbs heavy.

As he drifts off, he feels Cas’ lips brushing against his temple.

Dean wakes slowly.

He’s cocooned in softness and warmth and he has no desire to rush anything anymore – least of all to the leave the comfort of his (new) memory foam and his angel. He shifts a little, nuzzling his nose against stubble.

“I thought you were making breakfast.” Cas’ voice rolls over him slow and sweet like honey.

“Hmm.” A murmur, breathed into Cas’ neck, is all Dean can manage.

“Dean, you did promise them.” Cas says, with barely a hint of firmness. His voice is a little husky, like he’s still battling the urge to sleep.

“Oh, yeah? When?” Dean’s lips brush over warm skin.

“Last night.”

He pretends to forget. “Can’t take anything I said last night serious, Cas.”

“Oh?” He sounds a bit more awake now – that familiar dry, teasing tone creeping in.

Dean feels a pang of something in his chest so intense he almost squirms. “Alright, maybe some things were serious.”

“Hmm.” One of Cas’ hands rubs languid strokes up and down his back. “I should hope so.”

The memories come back easy and bright, playing like a dream behind Dean’s heavy eyelids. The stillness of their bedroom is punctuated by the sound of quiet voices in the living room. He grins at that, relishing waking up with the love of his life and his family just in the next room. Happy. Safe.

“Screw ‘em.” Dean says, more to himself than Cas and rubs his foot along his leg a few times, settling down again.

Cas doesn’t seem to have any objections. His hand strokes higher, fingers brushing through Dean’s hair and his blunt nails lightly graze his scalp.

Dean almost whines, his head lifting to follow the touch. He half opens his eyes again and sees a smile, unhurried and adoring. Cas leans down a little and kisses him, stubble rough and lips soft. Dean’s fingers curl against skin and his legs squeeze a muscled thigh beneath the blankets.

They stay that way for a while – bodies warm and entwined, gently greeting each other as the new day dawns. The rising sun has drenched the room in rich yellow light, soft and muffled through the curtains.

Cas’ hand is just caressing his hip and his tongue is getting hotter and more demanding in Dean’s very willing mouth when there’s a knock at the door.

“I know you’re both awake.” Sam’s voice rumbles through the door, amused and still a little sleep rough. “And don’t think we forgot about breakfast either. Eileen wants pancakes and she says I don’t make them right.”

“Not unhealthy enough!” Eileen voice calls out, a little further away.

Dean laughs against Cas’ lips.

“Alright, alright! Gimme five.”

As they slowly detangle, he catches a glimpse of silver as Cas stretches. Dean’s hand feels heavy and warm, like someone’s been holding it for hours. Dean yawns and dangles one leg out of bed, then another. He’s easing himself into the day, taking it a bit at a time.

He can do that now.

He laughs as Cas drags him in for one last kiss before he slides away, shoving his feet into his slippers and tugging on his trusty robe. His ties it around him and wanders, a little stiff-legged, to the window. He pulls back the curtains and from the bed Cas both grumbles and raises his face to meet the sunrise.

Dean watches the sun bathe him in bright light and remembers seeing him like this before. But then it was moonlight and he and Cas were at some shitty motel just out of Colorado. Not in their own house, not in theirbedroom. Dean has his first unbearably intense wave of wild happiness. It won’t be the last one today.

“I like having a window.”

“I liked having eyesight.” Cas mutters, burying himself into the covers.

Dean laughs and thwacks him on the thigh as he passes out the door. Cas’ll be up in his own time.

Four steps and Dean’s in the kitchen.

His brother is perched on one of the chairs at the little island separating the kitchen from the living room. Eileen is signing at him and he’s watching, completely enraptured, with a look of total adoration on his face. Dean would have laughed at him for that once. Now, he knows what it’s like when someone looks at him like that. Now he knows what it’s like to look at someone like that.

But he might still laugh a bit. That’s a big brother’s right.

“Mornin’!” He calls cheerily, rummaging in the fridge for eggs and milk. He emerges triumphant, plopping them onto the counter with a grin. “If the lady wants pancakes, the lady gets pancakes.”

“Best brother in law ever.” Eileen says and Sam almost falls off his seat. She just shrugs cheekily. “Unofficially.”

“For now.” Dean winks and Sam splutters.

“Right, well. Once you’ve finished marrying me off, can we get some breakfast?”

“Alright, alright!” Dean glares but he’s itching to get started. “Goddamn demanding baby. Eileen you could do so much better. Sadly, I’m already taken - ”

She laughs and so does Sam. He wraps an arm around Eileen’s waist and she plays with his hair as they all talk. They talk about Jack getting hyperactive on sugared almonds, about Claire and Kaia wearing matching suits, about Jody and Donna getting drunk and singing karaoke until they were booed off the stage.

Then Cas stumbles out of their soft-lit room; hair wild and face crumpled. He bids them all good morning in a slightly rough tone before shuffling over for coffee. He cradles his mug in both hands as he leans against the corner counter, basking in the sun with his eyes closed.

Dean watches him, aching with joy.

Being in the dark with Cas is easy. But being with him in the light is better.

He twirls the whisk in his hand and it knocks against the ring on his left hand, so new it glows against his skin. Cas kisses his neck as he passes into the living room and Dean grins, looking up at his family.

“Hey, Eileen. What’s the sign for ‘husband’?”

[sebbybooks]

Wreck My Daydream

Part Two

Sebastian Stan x Fanfiction

18+

Tagged🎄

@wayward-mikaelson

Cataglottism

(n.) kissing with tongue

I’m already wet and Sebastian barely even touched me.

I hardly gave myself a moment to be ashamed or even stir in the crass words I was using even if I had only thought them. Like a diary I suppose there was no need to lie to myself considering it was one hundred percent true. I, Nellie Lennox, was unabashedly met with unending desires that washed away my trepidations that led up to this moment.

In its place I felt this newfound sense of possibilities that I wasn’t actually making an ass out of myself with my sudden confession of feelings for Sebastian. In my defense I didn’t just wake up one morning after having some epiphany as to why I wanted to be with him. The thought of us together made itself at home in the back of my mind.

Almost like a what if. . .

However, I couldn’t help but be terrified of all the ways it could go wrong. What if I had made things weird between us forcing us apart? Life would be a bitter existence if Sebastian wasn’t around in some capacity. For the longest time I tried to find him in different relationships. It is a messed up philosophy, but it almost worked. Whenever things would get too serious it nearly terrified me. I was their someday and they were my maybe. I owed this last relationship that is still so freshly cut more than that.

I owed myself that.

On the unique and rare chance I somehow got lost in a very realistic maladaptive daydream, I’m pretty certain Sebastian wants this too. Just thinking about what he had told me seconds ago made my heartbeat drum to a dizzy rhythm. Imagining myself getting fucked to the beat of it was a completely different type of sensation.

Retraining my focus on the now I could see it in Sebastian’s face all the wheels going around in his head. Confusion? Uncertainty? Regret?

“You don’t get to do that.” I tell him. I felt like I was going to climb out of my own skin if he left me suspended in the silence for a second longer. Sebastian tipped his face closer to mine, our lips gingerly brushing against each other. Perhaps he was feeling ambivalent in regards of his feelings for me? After all this was sprung on him in the middle of the night.

Sebastian shook his head as if he was at war with himself. “I want to.” His voice was strained and dangerously low, like something was causing him utter misery being this close, yet not knowing exactly when to pull away.

“Then why don’t you.” I dared him.

I was growing impatient with this slow burn we had somehow started. I wanted to play with this fire. If I got burned in the end by his touch then so be it. At least I would forever be marked with a reminder of knowing that I at least went after something I wanted with no apology. I wanted to see how far he was willingly to go.

Sebastian removed his hand from the security of being wrapped around me. I feigned a disappointed sigh at the lack of contact. My entire body must have been on autopilot , because I didn’t recognize the position I was in. I practically sat in his lap with one leg wrapped around him and the other one mindlessly dangling over the bed. Of course the mind reader that Sebastian was naturally grabbed ahold of the side of my thigh and wrapped it around his back.

It wasn’t like I was naive to sex or never had my fair share of romantic conquest. Regardless of my experiences I still felt like a gigantic ball of nerves. The way he stared down at me with a heated look in his eyes as if he wanted to posses every inch of me. Hell, I felt like I could come undone from that alone.

The hand that was planted on my back slowly drifted downward trailing the curve of my backside gripping my ass through my thinly silk hunter green shorts that matched the top. Earlier I had berated myself for wearing scantly clad pajamas to bed. Now I am thanking my lucky stars I opted out of the option of wearing a red Christmas onesie that had polar bears wearing scarfs around their necks. They were ones my mother insisted the whole family wear.

If I had I probably would not have been able to feel his erection that was restrained in his sweatpants. Trying to situate myself closer I rocked into him slightly, massaging myself on him. My ears didn’t miss the subtle groan Sebastian let out from the feel of my weight pressing further into him.

His silence wasn’t lost on me and he still hadn’t answered my question so I did it again. I wanted him to say something. My nervousness abated at this point. I twined my arms around his neck, grinding myself against him again and again. All the while Sebastian watched my every movement with a hint of a star struck look in his eyes. The feeling was certainly mutual I was even shocking myself at my behavior.

“Nellie,” Sebastian finally says, voice husky. He usually only ever calls me by my nickname so I was more than sure that he was not fully himself.

“I’m a big girl Sebastian I can handle whatever you need to say.” I tell him, holding in my breath.

“Alright,” he said with uncertainty. “You and me, this, it’s not a good idea.” His tone was barely audible and even more so he sounded hurt. Everything in me froze.

“And why is that?” I asked him more confused than ever. Suddenly feeling absolutely self conscious as I over analyzed every intimate word I just shared with him. I was even more horrified by the fact that I was dry humping my best friend.

He let out a darkly laugh. “It’s pretty damn obvious Nells.” Sebastian says rather ominously.

“...It’s not actually.” For someone that wants nothing out of this, Sebastian was holding on to me like an anchor and I on the other hand just wanted to get away and sink.

Admittedly, I was losing this game of tug a war. There was only so much I was willing to endure even I had my limits. “You’re giving me whiplash Sebastian .” I tell him honestly, “ I’m not like those other girls you go for that are satisfied with you just dangling yourself in front of them like a piece of cake that I can’t have. I meant what I said when I told you I didn’t say it just to hear you say the same.” My voice could only rise so high in pitch.

I definitely didn’t want to wake up the upstairs guest that would love nothing more than to recap this conversation over breakfast. Then like an unexpected bolt of lighting startling you from a distance, Sebastian kissed me.

Sebastian

I am a selfish bastard.

My mind fell quiet when I looked at her. I wanted to swim in the serenity and peacefulness that was this smart, vibrant, sexy, and uniqueness this woman possessed. I only wondered even in the darkness could Nellie see my eyes as plainly as I can see hers. If so could she see the shame reflecting in them? I could feel the nagging weight of my conscience siting on both of my shoulders, arguing back and forth over what I should and shouldn’t do. It was kind of ironic that the devil in my ear insisted that I give in to the angel in my lap.

God knows I waited for her and that I would keep waiting if I had to in this lifetime or the next. It was always going to be Nellie for me. I wanted to tell her all of this, but the longer I held on to this slice of heaven I was given during this random hour. I also knew that this moment was fleeting. I basked in the way she looked at me, the way she held on to me like I was an object of virtue. I also got a sample of what it would be like to lose her the second she began to slip away on her own accord. So, I did what any poor fool would do in my position. I kissed her.

It wasn’t exactly suave or how I imagined it would go. My mouth sort of crushed against her unmoving lips in a rushed and unskilled manner. Frankly, I wasn’t sure what I was doing, I certainly could do a hell of a lot better than this. An yet, it was still like I predicted it would be, filled with pure unadulterated pleasure. Nellie’s lips were sweet and warm, exactly how I imagined forbidden fruit to taste like.

A perfect mixture of firm and softness that drove me wild. She flattened her hands on my bare chest as if to brace herself. Nellie pushed herself away, but her face was still so close to me. She didn’t speak and neither could I. I forced myself to look up at her and hoped that she could see I would do everything in my power to earn her forgiveness. That it was a mistake I will make right somehow.

“Nell,” I let out an exasperated breath. “ I have a need for you that goes deeper than just lust and I know that it will never truly be sated. The killer thing is I’m already at risk of losing you before I even had you.”

Nellie stared hazily up at me.“You already have me.” She whispered, our lips still grazing. Those four simple words set off a firework in me. This time when I kissed her our mouths came together like we needed to feed off of each other’s oxygen in order to survive. I’d suffer if I didn’t have it.

My mouth was greedy for hers, and I could imagine she felt the same. The moment I felt her lips slightly part open to let me in, less than a second our tongues slid together in a torrid and sensually slow pace. We kissed like a couple of eager teenagers. My heart threatened to leap from my chest when the tip of Nell’s tongue moved across my bottom lip. She tastes like gingerbread , mixed with some other divine flavor that I can only assume is Nellie. She arched herself closer into my chest and I could feel the points of her hardened nipples through her top. I seized the opportunity to press her body close because I needed more.

I wanted to feel the heat of her soft skin on mine. She returned her arms back around my neck tightly holding me in place as she angled her head kissing me back with the same ferocity. Deeply, and oh so thoroughly by the way she sucked on my tongue. I had a rough grip on her ass keeping Nellie steady as she straddled me. I was so damn hard for her. If my dick could get even harder it was bound to. Nellie did that thing again where she grinds down on my erection and I cursed at myself to not combust. I grabbed ahold of her hips guiding her to move faster, harder.

I kept telling myself to savor her, fucking take my time with this moment. I couldn’t just rip those tiny little shorts off and sink myself into her over and over until we’ve both had enough. But even then I would always need more of her. I wasn't a sentimental man, with Nellie I at least wanted to try. I wanted my first night with Nell to be a little less spontaneous than this. It wasn’t like I came prepared for festivities filled with endless fucks. Plus the added fact I couldn’t let things get too carried away especially since she still didn’t know what I have done.

Yeah, I am a very selfish bastard.

I didn’t want this to end. I wanted my mouth to explore every single part of Nellie. I wanted the taste of her to live on my tongue. I wanted to go as far as she and my consciousness would allow me.

“I need to touch you.” I panted, between every nip and kiss I left on the delicate area of skin under her jaw.

“You’re already touching me.” She says with a soft laugh, which was a melody to my ears. I was but at the same time I wasn’t. I needed to rid Nellie of any barrier that prevented me from branding her skin with my touch.

“This…off.” I tug gently on the bottom of her tank top before returning my hands to rest on her thighs, caressing them as I sucked on her neck for dear life. Going back and forth between grazing her neck with my teeth then licking over the area to soothe any imprint I’ve left.

Nellie crisscrossed her arms reaching for the hem of her top gracefully pulling it over her head. She purposely fell backwards onto the mattress aiming her shirt at my face. For as long as I’ve known Nell she was never one to be shy in her own skin.

“Imagine how unsexy that would have been if I hit my head on the headboard.”

“As long as you didn’t hurt yourself I would have just pretended that I didn’t see a thing.” I teased.

“Ah, to think they wonder where all of the good men have gone.” Nell scrunched up her nose pretending to be lost in critical thought.

I cock my head to the side. “Mm-hmm. Are you mocking me?”

“What if I am?”Her plump wet lips spread into a smile.

It was miracle I caught a word of what she said to me. I swallowed a groan as my eyes drift over the area of her body that was naked from the waist up. Nellie was clearly a stolen painting from the Louvre that I had no intention of returning. All I could do was stare.

With her legs still draped around me, my hands slide up the curve of her torso passing her ribs. I sensed that she was watching me, but I didn’t dare take my eyes off of her just yet. The pads of my fingers traced over to her breast and my mouth practically watered at the sight of them. She was ethereal.

“Don’t suddenly go mute on me Sebastian.” She let out a shaky breath.

I’ve heard her say my name a thousand times. Hearing her say it in this state created a feeling of warmth that filled my chest. I could only begin to imagine the different ways I wanted to hear her call out my name. My gift, my best friend, my Nellie. Those last words had a sting to them even as I thought them. Deep down I knew that was never going to be true.

I eased all the way down my tongue traveling around the dip of her navel. Creating a path up the center of her abdomen. I knew that Nell was extremely ticklish. The slightest form of contact would automatically turn her into a ninja. From the way she was pressing herself back into the mattress I knew she was trying her hardest not to flee. Of course I found it rather enticing so I made sure to spend extra time over the areas of her exposed skin I knew to be the most sensitive. Brushing the tip of my nose between her breast my mouth finally latched on to what I’ve been waiting for.

“So fucking beautiful.” I say as I graze my mouth over the stiff peak of her nipple. I was in awe over the ability that they simultaneously could feel hard yet felt extremely soft. I dragged the tip of my tongue around the bud of it in a languid movement before sucking it in deep. I loved listening to the sounds she made while I sucked and devoured as much as I could fit into my mouth. I wanted to hear a symphony of the noises that escaped from Nellie.

Going for one after the other not wanting to miss out on either. Nellie kept a limp hand pressed into my hair keeping me close as if I dared to stop.

Writhing underneath me Nellie gasped,“Touch me.”

Now she understood what I meant. My own body felt betrayed by my decision. I literally ached from pain and pleasure. Truthfully I wouldn’t opt for a better scenario than this. I would be more than gratified with giving Nellie an orgasm or two.

Still leaving featherlight kisses across her chest. With one hand I reach down and brushed along the dip of Nellie’s hip, then began to tug away at her shorts. To my surprise she was bare underneath. This was a new and uncharted territory we were crossing.

Tell me to stop, say that this is just the wrong time, tell me we would never work. Those words never escaped me, the sound of the goddamn doorbell intervened for her. My movements hesitated then shortly I picked up on inaudible chattering out in the hall. Nellie turned her head in the direction towards the door which I hoped like hell was locked. “Maybe we should go see what’s going on.” Her eyes widened.

“Or we could stay here and not shame the fact that I was two seconds away from wrapping your legs around my face while I tasted the slickness between your thighs. ” Nellie released a ragged breath and I meant every word.

To my dissatisfaction we were composed in under three minutes. I felt a strange sense of comfort and pride seeing that ever so often I’d catch Nellie looking in my direction smiling like she had some big secret she was bursting to tell. Which only made me feel like an even bigger asshole. The walk downstairs was surprisingly noisy. Someone had plugged the Christmas tree back up and there was a chilly wind breaking in as the front door came to an immediate shut.

Nellie’s parents were both moving around in a fast pace trying to find new spots to put a couple of suitcases. I had to swallow down a chuckle at the sight of their bold choice of pajamas. Nellie had already beaten me to the bottom of the staircase just as I rounded the corner of the spiral stairs.

“Cousin!” Vanessa squealed rushing over towards Nellie, who excitedly embraced her the same. They exchanged a few excitable words to each other that I tuned out. I was busy focusing on the six foot son of a bitch with a puppy dog expression on his face standing awkwardly behind them.

“Now you know Nells Bells you can’t have Christmas without good ole St. Nicholas can you?” She winked at a stone faced Nellie who just looked straight ahead at her ex boyfriend Nick. “I hope it’s okay I brought him over with me. I saw him at the airport dozed off in a chair.” Vanessa whispered as she leaned into Nell, like she just earned a gold star. Soon as Vanessa’s wild dark brown eyes caught ahold me I knew my bubble was about to pop.

“Something told me I was off the naughty list this year.” Vanessa bit at her glossed up lips and made a beeline towards me, wrapping her arms around my waist. She smelled like an overtly sweet perfume that tortured my sinuses. “Did you forget how to work a phone or what? I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for days. I miss you.” She cooed.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Nellie watching the two of us. This was my punishment.

[erzaguin]

Huntmira After: Chapter 2

This is also available in Wattpad and Ao3.

“I’m scared,” mumbled Steve. “The look in her eyes is really unsettling.” 

"Why does she keep side eyeing us?"

"I don't think she's looking at us."

“Her laugh is creeping me out. I don't know how much longer I can take this.”

“Captain, maybe you should say something” suggested one of the guards in a hushed tone. 

It had been hours since the masquerade ball had ended. All of the guests had already left and they had been assigned with clean up duty with Kikimora supervising them. Although currently all of the guards were feeling extremely uncomfortable due to her current behavior.

She kept mumbling under her breath too fast and low for them to make out what she was saying. She kept looking around almost like she was expecting someone to jump out at her. She had an almost crazed look in her eyes which made her sudden bursts of laughter seem maniacal. The guards were afraid that she had finally lost it and would randomly attack one of them.

The captain looked at the other guards who looked completely disheveled by their commander's odd behavior. She let out a sigh before making her way to Kikimora. She was responsible for every individual in her unit which also included Kikimora. It was her duty to make sure everyone was ok no matter how much she didn't want to.

She cleared her throat to get Kikimora's attention "Ma'am…"

“Hehehe this is so wonderful?! The Golden Guard made a complete fool of himself.” giggled Kikimora “Did you see? One dance with a girl he just met and he turns into a complete fool. He was so embarrassed after I pointed out he had lipstick on his helmet that he went to hide in his room" laughed Kikimora.

So that's why she's been acting so weird. Kikimora always seems to lose herself when it comes to matters involving the Golden Guard. Though she was right about one thing after the dance the Golden Guard disappeared and nobody has seen him since. 

 "After tonight I’m sure Emperor Belos will realize how incompentet that  brat is and how I am clearly far superior." gleed Kikimora who looked to be doing a little jig. "You'll see that come tomorrow I'll be promoted!"

Hunter

"I can't believe that happened. Wait what if it didn't happen and it was all in my head" mumbled Hunter to himself as he continued pacing back and forth in his room. 

It had already been some time since the ball had ended and he still had a hard time believing that he had spent most of the night dancing with Em. He couldn't help but blush whenever he recalled the events of the night. 

"I can't believe I kissed her" the sudden realization almost completely filled him with dread. 

"What if she thinks I'm a creep now? She's probably mad at me," he was interrupted by a chirping sound coming from the small red feathered bird sitting on his bed.

Hunter's expression visibly softened at the sound of his companion. 

"You're right she did kiss me back," he said as he smiled to himself. "I still can't believe you tagged along."

In response he received more chirping sounds from his small friend. The little rascal had followed Hunter without him noticing. It wasn't until he had jumped on Hunter's head to meet Emira that he found out he had tagged along. Apparently he has been very excited to meet her after hearing Hunter speaking about her.

"You and I need to have a conversation about boundaries some time" noted Hunter as he took a seat on the bed next to his friend. 

". . .So do you think she likes me?" asked Hunter looking down at his boots so his friend couldn't see his eyes.

The question earned him a sharp peck to the head from his companion who seemed to be angry at Hunter's self doubt. He had never really liked seeing Hunter being down and now that he could understand him he made no attempt to hold back his opinions.

"Ouch ok I get it no need to be so aggressive." said Hunter as he nursed his head. 

His companion settled back down on the bed and started chirping away. Scolding Hunter for doubting Emira’s feelings for him especially after tonight. 

He had to give it to the little guy he really knew how to get through to him. He really helped in keeping negative thoughts away. 

Hunter took a deep breath to steady himself and released it. "You're right buddy, thanks," he said as he gave the little bird a gentle pat on his head. 

Just then there was a sudden knock on the door which sent the little palisman into hiding. It was important that nobody found out about the palisman. If Emperor Belos where to find him no Hunter did not even want to think about that. 

"Who is it?" responded Hunter after making sure his friend was out of sight. 

From the other side of the door came a voice that stated "Sir Emperor Belos wishes to speak to you." Hunter relaxed once he realized it was just a guard. 

Even though he had already changed into his regular uniform hours ago he still made sure that he looked presentable before stepping towards the door. If he was going to meet with Emperor Belos he had to make sure that everything was in order.

 Hunter opened the door to find one of the guards standing there doing his best not to make eye contact with him. "Thanks you are dismissed" said Hunter in an authoritative tone.

The guard, who seemed to have been startled by Hunter opening the door forcefully and closing it quickly behind him, gave Hunter an awkward solute before scurrying off. What can you expect even if he was young he was still Emperor Belos' right hand man. A lot of the guards felt intimidated being in his presence and Hunter’s deminor did not help to ease their nerves about him. 

As Hunter made his way to his uncle's throne room he kept thinking about how upset he must be. He was not surprised that his uncle had called for him. In fact he had been expecting it. He had completely disappeared after his first dance with Emira and never came back to his post. 

"Way to fo Hunter he probably thinks you were too embarrassed to come back out" thought Hunter to himself as he came face to face with the doors of his uncle's room. He was about to knock on the door before stopping. In that instant he was completely consumed by the sudden sense of dread. The realization that Emperor Belos might be angry at him had just hit him. He could be in serious trouble. What if he retaliated against Emira? He knew who she was? If his uncle was mad enough at him he could do it and get away with it. No, he had to make sure to keep her safe. Even if it meant never being able to see her again. 

He was brought back by the sound of the door in front of him opening. The small surge of defines he had felt at the thought of Emira getting hurt was completely overtaken by the fear he felt at that moment. 

“Come in Hunter” came a voice from inside the room.

Hunter hesitated for a moment before making his way inside and closing the door behind him.

“Come let me take a good look at you” said Belos as he becond his nephew forward. He was not wearing his mask anymore. He was dressed in his casual robes which was rare to see. Hunter always felt more comfortable speaking to his uncle when he did not have the mask on so seeing him now made his nerves settle a little. He made his way forward to his uncle who placed his hands on his shoulders. 

“So, you had your first kiss” noted Belos with a warm smile on his face and an almost childish joy in his eyes. Hunter felt his face grow warm and found himself at a loss for words. But just as fast he felt the blood drain out of his body.. Was he teasing him? How did he know that he had kissed Emira? Ed had created an illusion so that nobody could see them. How did he know? Did he see? Does he know about my palisman too? 

“I would not have thought you would have become smitten after just one dance and a kiss on your helmet” teased his uncle. “You know after that dance you disappeared but I couldn’t help but notice that so did she. Tell me, did you return to the party?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. 

If someone were to enter the room at this moment  they might have interrupted this as a tender moment between him and his uncle but the tension Hunter was feeling was so intense he could hardly breath. He was not sure if the kiss his uncle meant was the one Emira had given him in front of everyone. How much did his uncle know? Lying to him would be dangerous especially if he knew more than what he was letting on. Besides, Hunter had never been able to lie to him. 

“I..um… yes I did” started Hunter feeling his face growing hot again. “I wanted to ask her to dance not as the Golden Guard but as Hunter.” he mumbled, unable to make eye contact with his uncle. “Her brother created an illusion to keep us concealed and we ended up dancing for the rest of the night.” Hunter tried to focus all of his concentration on keeping his breathing steady.

“I see well I am glad that you followed my order to have fun” he said, placing a hand on Hunter's head, “but i'm sure that dancing was not the only thing you did.” added his uncle in a tone that made Hunter’s veins turn to ice. His mind was racing trying to come up with a response for his uncle but his thoughts were suddenly interrupted by his uncle ruffling his hair as he let out a warm laugh. 

“So you really did get your first kiss tonight?” he continued to laugh as he made his way to take a seat on his throne. “I have to hand it to you, you really do know how to follow an order.”

Hunter was beginning to feel light headed due to the emotional whiplash. He could never read his Uncle. Talking to him always felt like he was treading through a minefield filled with live and fake bombs.

“You know when I said that I wanted for you to stay safe it was not to punish you but to keep you out of harm's way. The titan has big plans for you Hunter so until the day of unity arrives you have to stay safe. So starting tomorrow you will be reassigned.” noted Belos in a somber tone. 

“But sir,” started Hunter but stopped as soon as his uncle lifted a hand signaling silence. “As I was saying, starting tomorrow your new mission will be to find the Blight girl..." Hunter felt his heart drop at his uncle's mention of Emira. A thousand thoughts filled his head in that instant but he clenched his fists in an attempt to restrain himself.  “...and ask her out on a date.” finished Belos with a soft smile on his face.

“Sir?” Hunter’s mind was spinning. Did he hear that right? No that couldn't be. Did his uncle just order him to ask Emira on a date?  

“Who knows how many days of peace we will know once the day of unity arrives. Go enjoy the few days you have left. Now go it’s late and I need my rest.” stated Belos as he dismissed Hunter. 

“Yes Emperor Belos,” responded Hunter with a bow before quickly making his way. He walked back to his room in a daze trying to make sense of what had just happened. Was he that disappointed in him that he no longer wanted to send him on missions? Or did he honestly want to keep him safe and happy. This was very unlike his uncle and Hunter was sure that there had to be a bigger motive for his actions. 

Upon reaching his room he confided in his palisman everything that had happened with his uncle. The small bird convinced Hunter to not overthink things and to ask Emira out on a date. 

“I don't know, it doesn't feel right to just send her a message. What do you think?”

The small bird responded to this with a few chirping sounds. 

“That’s actually a really good idea. I think she would like that a lot.” noted Hunter as he took out a pen and paper to write a letter to Emira. 

Once he was done he attached the letter to the small palismans foot. 

“Ok buddy I’m counting on you.”

[hood-ex]

I'd be thrilled if you did a crash (plane or other vehicle) in winter weather with Dick and Roy 🤣 ok, we all know I'd just be thrilled to read any hurt comfort or whump with Dick, and bonus Roy is a bonus 😁 excited to see what you come up with for all of these prompts.

Roy’s running, and he’s running fucking fast. The air he sucks in through his mouth is cold enough to make his teeth throb, and his legs are burning as he pushes them to go faster. It’s a relief when the adrenaline consumes his whole body and leaves everything numb except for the erratic beating of his heart. Now he can focus on getting to the hunk of aluminum that just went down with Dick inside of it. 

Holy shit, he can’t believe that just happened. He can’t fucking believe the plane Dick hijacked started spiraling towards the ground after the pilot nosedived. If Kyle hadn’t acted when he did... if he hadn’t caught the plane before it crashed... 

Roy shudders. He doesn’t want to think about that. He doesn’t want to imagine Dick’s body burning up into nothing but a pile of ash. That’s just... no. That can’t happen to Dick. Nothing’s supposed to touch him. Roy’s not supposed to let something like that touch him.  

He’s only about fifty feet away from a motorcycle when a H.I.V.E. goon tries to intercept him with his gun, and damn, can’t the yellow wearing H.I.V.E. freak see that Roy doesn’t have time for this? He quickly notches an arrow and shoots it in retaliation. It’s one of his trick arrows that shoots out a screen of smoke, and Roy grins because now the yellow fuck can’t see what he’s shooting at. 

His legs eat up the distance to the bike before the smoke dissipates, and he swings himself up on the seat in one fluid motion. He’s panting, and his throat feels like the Snow Miser just pissed in it, but he hardly pays attention to that because he catches sight of the key in the ignition, and relief washes over him. One of the H.I.V.E. freaks must have planned on coming back for the bike and just left the key behind for easy access. 

Roy’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He takes off like a shot down the paved road past the H.I.V.E. freaks who are wasting their bullets on Kyle. Then he passes H.I.V.E.’s honeycomb shaped building and heads towards the back of it where the plane went down. The closer he gets, the more he can see a runway that stretches on for miles and miles with grass growing on either side of it. He guesses the runway is the reason H.I.V.E. built this base in the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania. 

The plane is sitting upright in a patch of grass to the right of the runway in the same place Kyle had set it. Roy wastes no time flinging himself off his bike as soon as it comes to a stop. His heartbeat pulses in his ears, and shit, even though it’s 18° today, he feels his hands sweating and shaking inside his gloves. 

He’s not sure what he’s about to walk into is the thing. If Dick didn’t have time to strap himself into a seat then there’s no telling what kind of damage he could have taken during the plane’s freefall. The idea that Dick might be dead is almost more than Roy can handle, and he has to try and take some deep breaths to calm himself down.

The door of the plane is already open, and thank fuck for that because otherwise, this whole thing would take longer, and Roy’s nerves are already shot to hell from waiting. He’s not sure if the open door means someone already got off the plane or not. There’s no telling how many people were inside of it other than Dick and the pilot. Roy thinks probably not many since it’s a private plane that only seems big enough to have about eight or ten seats in it. 

He arms himself with a knife just in case, and he has to remind himself not to bulldoze his way inside no matter how badly he wants to. Dick taught him to be stealthier than that. 

His footsteps are as quiet as he can make them when he climbs up the small number of stairs on to the plane. The first thing he notices is that it’s just as cold in here as it is outside, which isn’t surprising considering the open door. The second thing he notices is that the door to the cockpit is open with no one inside of it. A look towards the cabin shows no sign of anyone either, and now Roy is cursing a thousand times over in his head because where the fuck is Dick?

“Wing?” he says quietly, maybe a little too quiet. 

He heads further into the cabin, checking each of the plush seats for any signs of black and blue. By the time he starts to near the end of the cabin, hope and anxiety are boxing each other in his chest. Anxiety over finding Dick dead, and hope over the idea that maybe Dick is fine enough to have gotten out on his own. 

Both feelings sucker punch each other when he gets to the two seats in the back that are facing one other. The one facing Roy is empty. The one turned away from Roy is where Dick sits with his head slumped over his chest. 

The fact that Dick is wearing a seatbelt—and Roy is itching to know how the fuck he pulled that off—is such relief that Roy has to clutch on to the arm of the seat and just breathe. Things will be okay, right? Dick’s here. Roy found him. Things are gonna be fine. 

He’s not moving, Roy’s brain screams at him, and Roy wants to tell the voice to shut the fuck up. He wants to walk over to the toilet and shove that thought into it and flush it until it’s gone forever. But no matter how much he wants to ignore it, he can’t deny that Dick isn’t moving a damn inch. 

Dick’s dead. There’s no blood or wounds on him, but he’s not moving. He has to be dead. If he’s not dead then he’s got a traumatic brain injury that’s keeping him from waking up, and Roy feels like he can’t breathe because neither are good. They’re both really fucking bad, and Roy can’t... Dick can’t... 

“Wing?” he says, and his voice is weak and strangled. He doesn’t remember the last time he sounded like this. Probably not since Donna. 

He can’t lose him. Not Dick. Never Dick. Dick is supposed to be untouchable. He’s always there. Always there when Roy needs him. Always there when other people need him. He’s not dead... he can’t be dead. God, please don’t let Dick be dead...

He takes his glove off, and even though his hand is shaking, he reaches out to place his fingers against Dick’s pulse. He imagines not feeling anything, and he thinks he’s going to throw up. 

The pad of his middle finger barely touches Dick’s skin before Dick suddenly jerks hard to the right. It scares the absolute shit out of Roy, and he flails backward with a yelp, heart thundering in his chest. 

“Arsenal?” Dick slurs. His head rolls in Roy’s direction, and Roy has never hated Dick’s mask for deceiving him more than this very moment. 

Something like a whimper slips out of Roy’s mouth, and he dives in for a side hug that has his cheek pressed against Dick’s. Their faces are both freezing cold, and even though this is probably one of the most unpleasant hugs Roy’s ever had, it means everything to him. He feels like someone replaced all of his bones with jello, and he can’t help but slump against Dick like he’s a kid seeking comfort. 

“I thought you were...” Roy tries to clear his throat, and it’s nearly impossible with how tight it is. “I thought...”

“My head,” Dick interrupts quietly. Roy pulls away from him and sees Dick raise one of his hands to lightly prod at the right side of his head. “Hurts...”

“Must have hit it when the plane was tumbling around,” Roy says a little numbly, thinking that the way Dick is slurring and moving slowly is because he’s concussed. “Probably got nasty whiplash too.”

“I fell in a plane?” Dick says more like he’s talking to himself rather than asking Roy. 

Amnesia of the traumatic event. Another concussion symptom. 

“Yeah,” Roy says quietly, not wanting to irritate Dick’s senses when they’re bound to be sensitive right now. “You fell.”

Dick’s face twists in confusion. “How did I—”

“GL caught the plane before it could crash.”

“Oh,” Dick says. His mouth is a hard line like he’s trying to make himself remember. “We’re at the H.I.V.E. base getting the kryptonite.”

Roy brushes strands of black hair away from Dick’s eyelets to give his hands something to do, and then he remembers that Dick is still strapped into the chair. 

“Yeah, we’re at H.I.V.E.,” Roy says. He gently maneuvers Dick’s arms up so that he can undo the seatbelt. 

“I can do it,” Dick says, making zero attempts at it. 

“I know,” Roy murmurs. 

“We need to get back to the others,” Dick says, and the leader in him that leaks out makes Roy want to smile and roll his eyes all at once. Trust Dick to compartmentalize his near death experience to focus on the mission. 

“No, I need to get back to the others,” Roy says. He’s sure that Dick is glaring at him behind his mask, so he quickly tacks on, “You’re staying put until I can send GL to you because you might have hurt your spine or something else during the fall.” 

“I’m f—”

“You’re not fine!” Roy hisses. He immediately feels shitty about it when Dick flinches at the loud tone. “You’re not,” he says softer this time. He takes a seat in the chair across from Dick’s and places his hand on Dick’s knee. He’s not sure which of them he’s trying to ground. “You know what I thought when I saw you bent over like your neck was snapped?”

“Arsenal—”

“I thought you were dead, Wing.” And now he knows he’s got Dick’s full attention because Dick cocks his head to the side like he’s assessing Roy’s well-being. “You weren’t moving, and I thought you were just... gone. Gone like GA.” He feels so fucking tired all of a sudden, and he knows it’s the adrenaline crash kicking his ass. “Gone like Troia.”

Dick tenses at that, and Roy hates bringing up bad memories for both of them, but he just needs Dick to understand. 

“I need you to be okay,” he says, lightly squeezing Dick’s knee. He stares down at Dick’s feet because it’s better than having to see Dick looking at him like he thinks Roy is fragile. And shit, he kind of is fragile right now, isn’t he? His hands still haven’t stopped shaking for fuck’s sake, and there’s still a sense of fear etched into him that he doesn’t think is going to go away until Dick’s been to a hospital. “I need you to trust me to do this without you like you trusted me with the Titans.” 

Dick inhales sharply through his nose and presses his shoulders back against his chair. Roy knows this is hard for him. Hard for him to just sit here where he can’t help keep the team safe. It’s hard for Roy too, knowing Dick is vulnerable in his current state. It kills him that he can’t put Dick on the bike and get him to safety without possibly causing irreparable damage to his body. 

“I always trust you,” Dick says, and it warms Roy’s heart to hear it. Getting validation from Dick has always felt kind of like a reward. “And I guess you’re right. I won’t be much help to any of you out there.”

Dick’s face suddenly gets a pinched look, his hand going back to the side of his head. Roy nearly forgot about Dick’s concussion because Dick’s so damn good at faking that he’s okay. 

“You’ll be alright?” Roy looks at Dick urgently because he really needs to get back to the others. It’s not like he’s been with Dick all that long by normal standards, but by mission standards, it’s been way too long. 

“As alright as I can be after getting my body shaken like a maraca.” 

“Nightwing...”

“Yes, I’ll be fine. Now hurry up and go.”

Roy gives Dick’s knee one last comforting squeeze before he goes. Leaving Dick behind makes him feel like a nervous wreck all over again, and he swears that if something happens to Dick while he’s gone, he’ll never forgive himself. But he leaves all the same because he’s got other friends to take care of, and Dick is trusting him to look after them. 

Roy won’t let him down. 

[lovehotelreservation]

Formulaic

Summary: There was a process to every solution.

And while Cid was aware of one particular solution he so dearly wished to attain, the process was simply too formidable to even attempt:

To confess his feelings to Maria, the Warrior of Light.

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: WoL!OC/Cid

EVERY TIME I SEE CID I GET WHIPLASH THAT HE’S ONLY 34 HEWWO ??? MANS LOOKS LIKE HE’S GOT WERTHER’S ORIGINAL KISSES NOT LA CROIX MAKEOUT SESSIONS!!!

ANYWAY HFLKAFHAKL THANK YOU TO MY DEAREST COMMISSIONER FOR THIS OPPORTUNITY--ESP SINCE I PROGRESSED FURTHER ON THE OMEGA SERIES BECAUSE OF THIS!!!

---------------- Cid regretted ever fixing that damn kettle.

While doing so finally got the whinging pursed lips of Nero to finally hush up so he could hone his focus upon Garlond Ironworks’ current endeavor of seeking out Omega, the repair of the Mark XIV Thermocoil Boilmaster only served to give his lifelong rival all the opportunity to cozy up to the very person that Cid wanted him to stay the furthest away from.

Or attempt to at least.

A personality utterly kind and demure, eyes grey like rain clouds on a cozy morning, soft and silken locks of gold that cascaded to the middle of her back, a mind so brilliant and witty.

Eorzea’s Warrior of Light, but his own precious weakness.

She was Maria and oh how his heart yearned for her.

All while his eyes bore holes into the ground beneath which Nero stood every time he approached her with a mischievous glint in his eyes and an arrogant smirk on his face.

While Cid was more than overjoyed to see Maria fix herself a cup of tea during the lulls between endeavors in the Datascape, whenever she went to pour herself a drink, Nero was sure to be trailing after her, going on about superior blends in Garlemald and how he was more than ready to show her the breadth of his refined palate.

His intentions were clear.

And though Cid was ever prepared to step in as need be to keep Nero from pestering her further, the crux of the underlying issue in face of all this remained present in place:

His own feelings for Maria.

If the situation called for it, he could easily give a fully articulated lecture on the Allagans while inebriated to the point he was face planted on the floor in a drunken and naked slump right in the middle of Sapphire Avenue during peak Starlight shopping season.

But to confess how he genuinely felt about the woman who captivated him so dearly, who inspired him to go beyond any boundary?

The thought of risking the friendship that he treasured with her like nothing else was enough to push him to drink.

After all, with how often that the world relied on her strength to help defend it, he was protective of her--even lamenting that time he jokingly declared his need for her mainly due to her usefulness while he was guiding her through the tumultuous depths of The Praetorium.

Yet with the aftermath of that infamous night in Ul’dah and her subsequent escape to Ishgard, it was then that he began to realize that his fondness for her went beyond mere allies, mere friends.

This was made apparent the moment they were properly reunited after her far too close encounter with the Vundu at the Sea of Clouds, having successfully escaped pursuit by the Bismarck.

What with the way he could not hold himself back from taking her into his arms, hugging her close as all tension within his body was swiftly relieved as he took her in.

Her presence, her scent, her adorably surprised stammers as he embraced her right in front of Hauchefant and Emmanellain.

Along with Wedge and Biggs, with the former letting out a startled “Chief--!” while the other released the hearty chuckle of “Aye boss, demonstration of affection’s handled a whole lot differently in Ishgard, you know!”

For all his intentions to never let her go from the moment he feared the worst upon her disappearance, he was ever quick to relinquish her, a faint dust of pink spreading across his cheeks.

Cid was thankful that she didn’t seem to catch onto Biggs’s cheeky remark, looking so gorgeously flustered more so from his sudden embrace, despite her attempts to look composed in light of their reunion.

And it was from then on that he happily took his place within her journey, whether physically together during their attempts to thwart the return of Alexander, or when they were apart and remained joined together by way of letter or linkpearl.

To hear her say or see his name in her handwriting was a joy that could not ever be replicated by anything else.

As a pursuer of knowledge, he had to abide by what was factual.

There was no denying of his longing for Maria.

Not while he had Biggs, Wedge, and Jessie chiming in to ask if he had been talking to her whenever they handed her letters to him with knowing smiles on their faces.

And now, with Maria dedicating her time and effort to assist him and the rest of Garlond Ironworks with Omega’s ongoing trials, he could feel his heart welling with his increasingly overwhelming desire to express how he felt.

It was just only more irritating that Nero had stoked the flames by his pompous ways, of which left plenty on Cid’s mind, especially with the completion of the first gambit of battles under Omega’s watch and the return to Rhalgr’s Reach for some needed rest and recuperation.

Though, relaxation was in the furthest corner of his mind, whether by the mystery of Omega’s intentions or his current predicament of his feelings towards Maria.

With the hour late, rather than try to force himself back to sleep within the sleeping quarters set aside for Garlond Ironworks, he thought a walk around the now quiet compound would serve him better instead.

A change between sleeping clothes to a light shirt and a pair of pants--more suitable for the arid Ala Mhigan weather.

There was a small grin on his face as he emerged from the sleeping area.

Already he could hear Maria’s voice of exasperated curiosity with the inquiry of “How are you not evaporating?” whenever she saw his usual day to day attire.

Yet the voice that was in his head was heard by his very ears as he entered the common area that led out to the rest of Western Rhalgr’s Reach.

“Cid?”

Seated at one of the communal tables was none other than Maria, her expression curious and mug in her hands steaming, all while the Mark XIV Thermocoil Boilmaster presided by her on the tabletop.

The gods may toy but sometimes their mischief was simply too much.

His heart aflutter and his grin widening, Cid approached where Maria was sitting. “Well now, someone’s up late.”

The corners of her mouth quirked into a small smile as she proceeded to take a sip. “I see it as being up early.”

But though her tone was jovial and her expression relaxed, there was a distant look in her eye that signified a preoccupation.

He knew that look.

“I see--though, a warrior like yourself ought to get her rest, no?” Pulling out the chair beside her, he proceeded to take a seat, all while his grey eyes gazed towards her with concern. “Tell me, what keeps you up on this good night, Maria?”

While it was often joked that Cid was married to the pursuit of knowledge, he liked to think that his devotion to his studies made him especially perceptive of properly assessing emotion.

For surely, who else happily devoted one’s efforts to knowing so much of Maria such as he?

It was then that she set her mug down on the table.

Just before she turned towards him, her lips forming into a pout.

A pout he so dearly wished to kiss.

Huffing, she remarked as her arms folded over her chest, “Are we speaking about the general burden of being the go-to person for everyone’s dilemma, or that Nero is getting under my skin again? Take your pick.”

No words in modern and/or Allagan vernacular could fully describe the relief that washed over Cid’s body.

Still, always wishing for her to be at peace, he responded in turn with a sympathetic grin as he chuckled, “Ahh, one of those pesky reasons to stay up. What has our comrade in reluctant arms done this time?”

Maria turned her attention towards her mug on the table.

Her favorite one of the Garlond Ironworks’s collection, which Cid always made sure to have on hand whenever she was working alongside them.

Though many thoughts were swirling in her mind at this very moment--especially with Cid sitting right beside at an otherwise romantic hour--she continued as disdain intertwined itself with each word she spoke, “Earlier, Nero insisted that I try his cup of tea, and right when I did, he started gloating about an indirect kiss.”

If the thought of Maria’s voice energized his soul to go on a walk at such a late time, the mere utterance of Nero thinking himself to be so charming he could think to flirt in such a way made the inklings of a migraine begin to form within Cid’s head.

With her body visibly cringing at the recollection, the late hour had her lamenting out loud, “Is every brilliant mind from Galemand as big of a pompous know-it-all like him?”

“Well I like to think of myself as a humble servant to the majesty of study,” Cid teased with a shrug.

Setting her cheek against her palm while her elbow set upon the table, she remarked with a shake of her head, “You’re the exception.”

Cid had to wonder if he just gulped down a mug of tea himself with the rush of heat that suddenly surged through his chest. He let out another laugh, richer, deeper. “I take it that you’re not as keen to receive Nero’s odd attempts at courting?”

Maria’s eyes closed as she groaned at the thought, “I’d rather kiss the floor of the Gold Saucer during the summer season.”

“Then, would you prefer a kiss from elsewhere…?”

And then her eyelids fluttered open.

The lightheartedness in Cid’s tone had subsided into one of sincerity, as matched by the look in his eyes while he peered directly towards her.

Though unsure of how to feel or proceed, everything within her body encouraged her to step forward towards what she had yearned for so long.

And so, ever shyly but with her eyes gazing right into his, she murmured, “...If it must come from elsewhere, it can only come from one person.”

His breath caught in his throat. “‘One person…?’”

Her face grew warm from embarrassment. “I think you can figure it out, humble servant to the majesty of study.

Cid couldn’t resist from gasping with delight. “Gods Maria--”

His hands swiftly cupped her cheeks and their mouths met for a long awaited kiss, the warmth of the tea on her lips making them both melt further into their connection.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, bringing the two of them closer. 

It was yearning now fulfilled, a flood of long withheld affection bursting forth, a craving for one another looking to be satisfied, to be changed from midnight fantasy to joyful fruition.

Kisses once shy and careful turned earnest and heated, tongues stumbling against one another as hands groped with need.

Were it not knowing her penchant for reservation, he would have ravaged her right then and there at the commons table.

Instead, he opted to lift her up into a carry, her arms and legs hugging around his shoulders and waist as he hurriedly brought her back to his quarters, his walk and her tea forgotten.

Surely, this had to be a dream in some way, no?

But as her back fell upon his mattress, as their hands continued to undress and feel each other as physical confirmation that what was occurring was very much real, the joys of the present couldn’t have been more sweet.

And how Cid savored her moans like that of an addictive confection.

Even without trying to be mindful of others at this late hour, Maria stifled her moans out of shyness, all while her back arched into warmth of Cid’s lips as they kissed over her dribbling core, the bristles of his facial hair scratching against her quivering as he eagerly lapped his tongue along her slit with long and indulgent strokes.

Though, she couldn’t quite be as quiet when she was eventually seated on his lap, her face buried into his shoulder as she rode his cock, all while one of his big sturdy hands held onto her hip while the other fondled her ass, guiding her up and down the length of his thick dick at a brisk pace.

This provided an ample opportunity to plant his lips along the crook of her neck, gentle suckles leaving red marks in their wake.

While he knew that Maria would do everything in her power to understandably cover up, the thought of Nero thinking twice to pursue her while seeing the marks on her neck was satisfying.

But nowhere near as satisfying as feeling the muffled whimpers of his name from her lips against his skin, the hot and slippery confines of her slick walls squeezing around his cock, up until they reached their orgasms with her core clamping onto his dick and his seed flooding inside her in a lascivious, scorching burst.

Much like as they began, they ended with their lips on one another’s yet again as they fell back onto his mattress, joined together now by their arms embracing one another, fingers intertwining, his lips against her temple, her head nestling upon the sturdiness of his chest.

Though they would have much to fully confide and earnestly convey once their bodies were properly rested, both Cid and Maria were relieved, their hearts feeling warm.

Far warmer than any brewed cup of tea.

[megalony]

After the show

This is a Harry Styles imagine that I hope everyone is going to enjoy, feedback is always appreciated.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogermeddow @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh

Masterlist

Summary: Harry and (Y/n) finish up a show and he helps her when she doesn’t feel very well.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With a sigh of utter relief, (Y/n) moved her hand to rub at her neck where a particular muscle was beginning to tighten like it was on a string that was being tightened.

The heels of her shoes clicked against the metal stairs she descended down, trying to hurry and get herself to the dressing room and change before it was time to disappear from this venue and get some much needed sleep. She couldn't have been more thankful that there was no meet and greet after this particular concert, in fact, a lot of the shows on this tour didn't have a meet and greet after the show and it was a God-send to (Y/n). As much as the fans meant to her, the concerts always took every ounce of energy and reserves she had left and trying to keep up the act of pretending to be okay wouldn't be easy after a concert.

It took all (Y/n) had not to grimace and groan in discomfort when the tightening feeling in her neck spread up until it spiralled around her jaw that was becoming very tense as of late. The aching in her jaw felt like someone was hacking away at the bone with a hammer, chipping little pieces off and causing (Y/n) the most pain but also drawing that pain out to make it last.

The ending of the concert couldn't have come soon enough for her liking. Being out there performing to the crowds was something she knew she wanted to do for the rest of her life because it was everything (Y/n) ever wanted. But doing this for the rest of her life didn't seem like a possibility when finishing this current tour was turning into a difficult task in itself.

When (Y/n) turned a sharp left corner and headed into the dressing room backstage she just caught sight of Harry following her and she shivered at the sympathetic look she could see in his eyes.

The pair had been doing this joint tour for two months now and Harry could never quite seem to be able to overcome the sadness that washed through him whenever he saw the pain (Y/n) went through. When he saw her coming off stage looking like she was about to cry from pain was not something he thought he would ever have to witness. It made Harry sad that doing the job she loved gave her so much pain because if singing gave him half as much pain as it did her, he wouldn't know if it was truly worth it.

Harry had done many tours so he knew how much they could take out of a person. He knew it took a lot of energy to go on stage for two hours and dance and sing and be happy and try to interact with everyone. But he didn't know how (Y/n) did it when she had a muscle disease that made singing painful after a while.

(Y/n) had muscular dystrophy which affected the muscles and it made them weak and deteriorate and it affected her heart too. The type she had was affecting her upper back, neck and face first and it would spread in years to come. Knowing it spread very slowly over time didn't help (Y/n) when the disease had gone for her neck and face first which affected her career. She could still speak properly, she could sing, she could move her head and her neck and jaw perfectly. But the disease made her affected muscles tense and pained because they were growing weak and it meant that singing hurt after a while.

The rushes of adrenaline and the music and crowds didn't help her heart either but (Y/n) couldn't quit. Music was her life and performing was what she loved and was good at, in a few years time it might not be a possibility anymore and so she needed to make the most of it now whilst she still could.

"Are you okay?" Harry tried to keep his tone light as he entered the dressing room behind her before shutting the door so no one else would come in or hover around like the crew sometimes did.

He watched (Y/n) look around for some clothes to change into and he almost felt bad for asking but he couldn't help it. She looked like the pain was worse tonight and he wanted to make sure she was okay and see if there was anything he could do to help. They had been a couple for a few months now and it was very clear to Harry from the beginning that (Y/n) didn't like admitting when her condition was flaring up or starting to get her down. He had to guess when she was trying to hide it and wear her down until she finally talked to him and let him help any way he could.

"I'm okay, just want to get back to the hotel."

"You can say if you're in pain you know. Two and a half hours of that surely can't feel amazing." Harry changed his shirt before his eyes locked with (Y/n) who looked like she wanted to admit how much pain she was in but was deciding against it.

She had to put on a mask when on stage and force herself to smile whenever she felt any kind of pain because none of the public or the fans knew of her condition and she wanted it to stay that way. Plus it wouldn't be very nice if she was frowning or hissing in pain or looked angry like she wanted to leave when she was performing a concert.

"Everything feels like it's on fire and my heart is burning from the adrenaline." (Y/n) saw the look of sadness in Harry's eyes because he couldn't imagine how that must feel. He knew the feeling of his heartbeat pulsing in every vein and artery in his body but that didn't hurt, it just made him feel alive. For (Y/n) it felt like each beat of her heart was becoming harder to do and it felt like she was going to be sick or faint.

(Y/n) held her hand out for Harry so they could go back to the tour bus, the sooner she had her medication and got back to the hotel, the better she would feel.

As they headed back out into the corridor and started to head down to get out into the car park, they felt the crew following them. There was their tour manager, a few bodyguards for precaution and a few other crew who had to tag along. It always felt strange to both singers when they were followed by an entourage wherever they went, it didn't seem right when they had both grown up as part of normal society where bodyguards had never been needed up until they became noticed by the world. Not to say they weren't thankful for the crew, it was just strange, even now after years of going through these tours.

When they got down to the last corridor that led out into the car park, Harry turned to look at (Y/n) when she started to slow down

"What's wrong?" Harry leaned his head closer to her own so he could whisper the words in her ear without anyone else listening in but he felt his anxiety growing when (Y/n) looked like she was about to pass out or fall asleep standing up.

A sudden flurry of white spots danced across (Y/n)'s vision when she felt her heart shuddering in her chest, a familiar feeling signalling that the impulses in her heart weren't working properly. Her body gave way for a split second as her mind felt like it had some sort of glitch, as if she was about to pass out but stopped herself at the last second.

Her knees caved in and her head was suddenly too heavy for her to hold up causing her head to snap back which felt like her neck had broken when the muscles started to scream. Her breathing stuttered as a burst of agony flooded through her whole body.

Turning his head so quickly he almost got whiplash, Harry stumbled to a stop when he felt (Y/n) crumble beside him. He watched as her head fell back and her eyes fluttered like she had blacked out for only one second. Harry let go of her hand so he could wrap his arms around her to stop her from falling to the ground. (Y/n) managed to move her shaking hands to grab onto Harry's arms for support and she tried to force her knees to straighten out when Harry gently pulled her up so she was standing again.

He took most of her weight before moving her backwards until she was leaning up against the wall. He turned her head so she was looking up at him, noticing it took her a few seconds to focus her eyes on him.

"(Y/n), you with me?" His tone was concerned yet sweet like it was dipped in honey. He leaned his head down a little due to the height difference so he could look at her properly, brushing his thumb across her cheek as she managed to nod, lips twitching from the pain the movement caused in her neck.

"J-just my heart." She responded, breathing through the words as Harry watched her come back to Earth rather quickly. In any other situation Harry would have commented on how she spoke like that was a normal thing, but then again this was sort of a normal occurrence for her.

Harry knew he needed to get her back on the tour bus so she could get her meds and get her back to the hotel quickly.

"Do you think you can walk, we need to get you to the bus."

(Y/n) took a deep breath before nodding and she pressed her head into Harry's shoulder when he took her weight again, pulling her from the wall and into his chest. His arm secured around her waist keeping her glued to his side as he guided her down the corridor with everyone else following behind, unsure what was happening.

Harry opened the door in front of them to get them outside, noticing some of the production crew were already outside and waiting nearby or already on the tour bus. They all looked over at the pair with rather confusing looks when they noticed how unwell (Y/n) looked. Harry glanced wearily at the crowds that were beginning to flood around them outside, clearly wanting an autograph or to have a chance to meet them both which clearly wasn't going to be an option tonight. He felt a surge of relief when the crew seemed to understand something was wrong and they made sure there was a barrier so none of the fans could get close to the tour bus.

It didn't take them long to get to the tour bus and after taking it slow up the steps to get inside, Harry kept his arms tightly around (Y/n) as he guided her down the bus. The crew on the bus started to crowd around them, asking if they needed anything or what was wrong and it made Harry want to snap. Surely they knew (Y/n) wasn't very well but Harry and the crew were the only ones who knew of (Y/n)'s condition so it wasn't as if they hadn't seen her in a similar state to this before.

"It's alright, let's just get back to the hotel." Harry stated, making sure to keep any annoyance out of his voice because he didn't want to be rude.

He sat down with (Y/n) at the seats at the very back of the bus, watching with sad eyes when she started to subtally shake which made him shake when she wrapped her arms around him like she was trying to disappear.

Their eyes met when he held her hands and moved them to rest in her lap, his eyes telling her that it was alright as he kissed her temple. Harry's eyes told everyone else on the bus to leave (Y/n) alone and to stop pestering her with their persistent questions of 'are you alright' and 'what can I do'. He knew what he was doing and them fussing around her wasn't going to make things better because they weren't doing anything to help, they were only making her anxious and overwhelmed.

He watched (Y/n) in slight pain as she curled up in the seat against the window, tears silently falling down her face as she watched where Harry was going.

The first time Harry had witnessed (Y/n) be in pain from her irregular heartbeats or when she was in pain from her tense, sore muscles he didn't know what to do to help. But now he had come to know which medications she was on and what they did and he tried to figure out different methods and things to do that could help alleviate her symptoms and her pain.

Walking over to the seats that held all of the bags, Harry rummaged around, grabbing the small black bag with the rough exterior material that scratched at the skin. He unzipped it and grabbed one of the many medication bottles before he grabbed a bottle of water and an ice pack from the cooling bag beside him.

Harry sat back down beside (Y/n) and placed the bottled water on the table before he undid the medication bottle and took out two beta-blockers which would help calm down (Y/n)'s heart impulses and muscles. (Y/n) gratefully took the tablets from him and took them with a large gulp of water before she wiped at her eyes with her sleeve to rid her face of the tears she had started to shed.

(Y/n)'s eyes darted up to look at Harry when she felt a sudden shock of cold on her neck. He had his right arm resting o the back of the seat they were leaning against as his left hand was holding the ice pack to her neck to try and calm down the tense muscle. It was a ritual for (Y/n) to grab an ice pack after every show and sit with it plastered to her neck for the ride back to whatever hotel they were staying at. She hardly went anywhere without the cooling pack that was a medication in itself to relieve the pain she always seemed to be getting now as medication simply wasn't doing enough for her weakened muscles.

Leaning over (Y/n) rested her head on Harry's chest just under his chin, relaxing against him when he said nothing in protest against her actions. His hand keeping the ice pack pressed to her neck as he pressed his lips to the top of her head.

Neither of them could wait until they got back to the hotel and got some peace and quiet.

[snowdice]

A Twist of Fate {Part 4} (Everything’s Fine Universe) [Dice Roll 13]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Remus & Janus & Patton, Remy & Patton

Characters: Janus, Patton, Remus, Remy

Summary: It wasn’t unheard of for people to gain soulmarks later in life, but it was quite rare. Usually fate was set in stone. Yet, when one’s fated death was prevented, fate had to make some adjustments.

As he fell, Patton may have felt a strange prickling feeling across his skin. He however, was not paying attention to that, far too distracted and confused. All he knew was that by the time he hit the ground, both of his hands were covered with marks. Later when he went home he’d notice even more in other places, but the ones he noticed when he hit the ground were the obvious ones on his hands.

Then, there was Janus. Janus had only one soulmark on his body. At least. He had only one soulmark that hadn’t been burnt off years ago. When he landed on top of Patton, he did not notice the marks that suddenly appeared on his arms and face. Patton did, however, notice two little designs appear on him: one along the side of his nose and the other right below the scaring on the left side of his face. The second was already colored in by the time they hit the ground.

Universe: Soulmate AU and Superhero AU

Genre: The Dice Roll said fluff and it is… but… it’s more fluff and angst, hurt/comfort-ish

Notes: Child abuse, homelessness, malnutrition, acid burns, platonic soulmates, car accidents mentioned, blood mentioned, death mentioned

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

It took a moment for Patton to get his breath back after he collided with the ground, his back stinging from where it had slid slightly against the pavement. He heard a car zooming by where he’d been standing a moment before.

Had he almost died?

He hadn’t even noticed the car; it had come out of nowhere, and he would have gotten hit if a young boy hadn’t tackled him. How the boy had been able to notice the situation and react to it that quickly, Patton didn’t know, but he was certainly grateful.

He caught sight of the back of his hands and was surprised to see what he immediately identified as soulmarks even though that made absolutely no sense because he’d never had soulmarks on his hands. Suddenly having soulmates was something he’d never dared wish for, and now he had at least 5 more just on the back of his hands, one of which was already filled in.

Without even making the decision to do so, his hand came up to cup the boy’s cheek gently. “Hi,” Patton said softly. He could help but stare at the soulmark on his face, also colored in and the shape of which perfectly matched the one on Patton’s hand.

“Are you okay?” the boy asked.

“Fine,” Patton replied. “My back’s probably a little scrapped up, but it’s better than the alternative. Are you okay?”

The boy didn’t seem to expect the question. “I’m fine,” he said. His face was half taken up by a burn, Patton noticed, and it was perhaps silly that he was only just noticing it now, but one might forgive him considering his mind was elsewhere. The pattern… didn’t look random. It was a thought which made Patton feel a bit queasy. It was also clearly not fresh. He was so young; how old must he have been when he’d gotten it?

The boy appeared to notice the way he was staring at the scar and seemed to grow visibly uncomfortable. He looked down at his hand currently on Patton’s chest and grimaced for some reason that Patton could not puzzle out. He seemed confused and perhaps even a bit horrified looking at his own arm. Patton added that fact to list of questions quickly growing as his heartbeat settled back into its normal rhythm.

His attention returned to the matching soulmarks once again. The location of the mark on Patton’s hand inarguably indicated a parent child relationship was destined between them, but the boy was older than Patton would expect, 10 to 12 probably. He recalled from when he’d read up on adoption that one is more likely to have a soulmark that drifted to the wrist if one met their child soulmate later in development. Usually by the time a child was a preteen, it would be on the wrist or even towards the palm. Yet, this soulmark was firmly planted in the center of Patton’s hand.

Patton had definitely been staring at him for too long and the slight discomfort from before started to shift into something worse. He looked like he was getting ready to bolt.

“We should probably move from the middle of the sidewalk,” Patton suggested, hoping to keep him from running. “Why don’t we go to the bakery? I’ll get you some food and something to drink in thanks, and we can calm down from that fright.”

Patton watched a war happen on his face. Whatever was wrong seemed to be challenged by the prospect of getting food, and Patton couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a very bad thing. Judging by his skittishness, Patton felt it was probably a bad thing.

He nodded hesitantly after a moment, and Patton smiled gently at him. “You’re going to have to get off me first kiddo,” he pointed out.

The kid rolled off of him, and they both got to their feet. Patton offered him a hand without even thinking about it and after a bit of wavering, he took it.

“Um… look both ways?” he suggested when they turned to the street.

Right. Patton very carefully looked both ways and listened intently for any sounds of approaching vehicles. He imagined he would be doing something similar whenever he crossed a street for a while going forward. When he was sure it was safe, they crossed the street together.

There was another child loitering near the bakery door, one that Patton recognized. He shifted back and forth on his feet, staring at them.

“Jimmy,” Patton said confused. He glanced around but there were no other adults nearby. “Why are you here alone? Where’s your…” He remembered he didn’t actually know the nature of Jimmy’s relationship to the soulmate who always brought him to the bakery. “Where’s the man you’re usually with?”

“Uh,” Jimmy said. “He disowned me and abandoned me on the street.” Patton saw the boy whose hand he was holding make some sort of gesture out of the corner of his eyes. “I mean…” Jimmy said. “He slit his own throat to get away from me.”

“No,” the second boy hissed.

Jimmy threw up his hands. “That’s the gesture you were doing!”

“…Why don’t you come inside too, Jimmy,” Patton suggested as he unlocked the door. He was far too young to be out on his own especially when it was going to be getting dark soon. Plus, the two kids clearly knew each other, despite the fact that Patton had never seen the boy who’d saved him before.

“Kay,” Jimmy agreed easily.

Patton shepherded the two boys through the door. “Um,” he said. “How about cinnamon rolls and juice? At least to start.”

Jimmy’s eyes lit up. “We’re getting food?!” he asked excitedly. “Bonus food!”

“I, yes,” Patton agreed because he didn’t know what else to say. “Bonus food.” He went around the counter and grabbed two cinnamon rolls and a couple of bottles of juice, making a mental note to reimburse the bakery for them later. He set them down at a table and gestured for the two boys to come over. Jimmy skipped over without any pause, but the other boy stood at the door for a moment before coming over. Jimmy started snacking on his cinnamon roll the moment he set down, but the other boy just looked at the food for a couple of long moments.

Patton took a seat on the other side of the table from the boys. “What’s your name?” he asked the boy who’d saved him.

“Why do you want to know?” was immediately shot back.

Patton didn’t react to the sharpness of his tone, though he internally wondered about the sudden defensiveness. “Well,” he reasoned. “You just saved my life. I’d like to know who I’m thanking.”

“Evan,” he said after a moment.

“Well, hello Evan,” Patton said. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for your help before.”

“It…” Evan said. “I was there.”

“So you were,” Patton agreed. “Still, thank you.”

Evan shrugged and looked back down at his cinnamon roll.

“Would you like something else?” Patton asked. “I can get you something different if you want.” He turned to glance at Jimmy just to see that he’d already finished his cinnamon roll. He was grinning widely and swinging his feet back and forth, his face covered in icing. He’d even managed to get a bit on his ear. Patton couldn’t help but smile at the adorable picture. “I can get you more too if you want Jimmy.”

Jimmy’s face dropped so suddenly and violently that it just about gave him whiplash. “You’re really nice,” he said, and there were tears in his eyes that spilled over without warning. “I’m glad you didn’t get crushed underneath a car and bleed to death alone on the road before the ambulance got there,” he cried.

Patton found himself reaching out to him as he sobbed, trying to give some form of comfort. Before Patton quite knew what was happening, Jimmy had scooted of his chair and climbed directly into Patton’s lap. Patton’s breath caught as his skin tingled, another of the soulmarks on his hand coloring in. Yet, he was too concerned with the sobbing child in his lap to wonder about how or why all of this was happening suddenly. Instead, he wrapped his arm around the child and hushed him. Jimmy nuzzled his cheek into Patton’s chest as Patton stroked a careful hand through his hair.

“It’s okay,” Patton soothed. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Patton glanced at Evan over the top of Jimmy’s head. Evan appeared distressed at Jimmy’s distress but tried to blank his face out when he saw Patton looking. Patton didn’t know much about what was going on with these boys, but he suddenly felt a strong wave of protectiveness for the small child trying to keep an image of strength and coldness as well as for the even smaller child curled up in his arms.

Jimmy drew back after a few moments to peer at him, still teary eyed. Patton let his thumb trace the light blue mark that had appeared under his left eye. There was another one on his chin, Patton realized, and it was one that definitely hadn’t been there before. Patton had specifically noted that he didn’t have any parental soulmarks. This one was not filled in unlike Patton’s.

Jimmy reached up to touch Patton’s face, mirroring the touch Patton was giving him with his slightly sticky fingers, and Patton caught sight of the other filled in soulmark on the boy’s forearm. Where was Jimmy’s uncle or brother or whatever he was? Patton had to wonder. He’d never seen Jimmy or the man without the other. It was strange that Jimmy wasn’t with him now, and more than that, didn’t seem worried about finding him.

Jimmy was no longer crying. He looked at Patton for a long while with far too old eyes that made Patton’s heart ache a bit for reasons he couldn’t name. “Can I have apple juice instead?” he finally broke his silence.

Patton snorted out a laugh at the sudden question. This was why Patton had always loved kids: wailing one moment and critiquing his drink choices the next.

“Sure, kiddo,” he agreed. “I’ll get you some apple juice.”

He glanced over at Evan as Jimmy crawled out of his lap. The other boy was looking over at Jimmy with a fondly exasperated look and Patton blinked, studying him. The look was strangely familiar. He studied Evan a little more intently. He was wearing clothing that was far too big for him and looking at them, they looked very familiar. He recognized that shirt from being on a taller body earlier.

It took him a few moments, but Patton was not stupid. The missing guardian, the way he’d looked at his hand earlier and grimaced, the clothes… Patton tilted his head to look and saw the soulmark on the Evan’s wrist that matched the one on Jimmy’s forearm.

He was a shapeshifter. It was the only thing that made sense. Evan was the man who usually came in with Jimmy. He must have shifted himself to look like an adult and shifted the scar off his face. It would explain why he seemed afraid earlier when Patton had been looking at the scar. He must have lost his shift when he’d tackled Patton.

Patton didn’t voice his revelation as he got to his feet to grab a different juice box from the bakery refrigerator.

The question then, of course, became what the circumstances were that made Evan need to shape shift to look older so frequently. It clearly wasn’t a game. From the little Patton knew about that specific superpower, it took a lot of energy and the power usually was one that wouldn’t fully develop until his late teens. He remembered a girl in high school came fully into her powers during their last year. She shifted into one of the teachers once for a joke and then proceeded to consume an entire pizza because it had burnt so many calories. Yet, Evan had managed to consistently fully shift into a convincing adult on a regular basis. It was impressive, but extremely worrying. Patton’s and the unfilled soulmark were the only ones on Evan’s and Jimmy’s faces which painted a worrying picture. No one was taking care of them, were they?

So, Patton guessed it fell to him now. The last thing he’d expected was to become a dad today or ever really, but that’s what was happening.

“What’s on your face?” Evan asked Jimmy as Patton walked back over.

Jimmy’s eyes flickered to Patton, telling Patton that he already very well knew what it was. “Sprinkle,” he muttered.

“Bullshit!”

“That’s maybe not the best word to use, don’t you think,” Patton said with a frown. “It’s a bit mean.”

Evan narrowed his eyes at Patton. “You’re not my dad,” he hissed. Jimmy twitched nervously at that. Evan must have noticed because his head shot to look at him. “What?”

“Um…” Jimmy reached forward and pushed the silver reflective napkin dispenser towards him.

Evan looked into it, blinked, and touched the filled in mark on his face. “What the fuck?”

“That’s not a nice word,” Patton said.

Evan looked at him, lips pulling into a snarl. His teeth almost seemed to sharpen… in fact considering he was a shapeshifter they may have. “Go stick a cactus up your fucking ass.”

“O-oh,” said Patton, startled.

Evan turned on Jimmy. “What the hell is going on?”

“You saved him, fate was changed, and so we got more soulmarks,” Jimmy explained calmly. Jimmy reached to take Patton’s hand and Patton let him. He showed the marks on the back of Patton’s hand.

“Absolutely not!” said Evan, standing up and shaking his head. “Nope, this isn’t happening. We aren’t doing that.”

“I-” Patton said, but Evan cut him off, putting his arms out in front of him like he was trying to keep Patton away from him even though Patton hadn’t taken a step towards him.

“I am not putting myself at the mercy of some random person just because I got a weird freckle on my face,” he said. The way he phrased it combined with everything else he’d inferred about their current situation made bile rise in Patton’s throat. “Fuck that noise!”

“It wouldn’t be like that,” Patton promised.

“I’m not an idiot,” Evan retorted.

“You stayed with me because of a soulmark,” Jimmy said softly.

Evan hesitated. “That’s different,” he stammered. “A-and I would have stayed without it.” They looked at each other for a long moment. Jimmy crossed his arms. Evan looked lost and stressed. “We can’t,” Evan said. “You know why we can’t.”

“You don’t have to stay with me,” Patton said even though the thought broke his heart. It was not about him, he knew. There was something else going on and as much as he wanted to grab them both and bundle them up in bubble wrap, soulmarks or no, he could tell it wouldn’t go over well. “I won’t keep you, but why don’t you come to my house, just for a visit. I’ll cook you something good for dinner and you two can get cleaned up. Maybe you can even sleep for a bit. Then you can leave in the morning or at any point if you want. How about that?”

“Like I’m supposed to believe you’re actually giving us a choice,” Evan said bitterly. “I know adults. They lie and break promises all the time.”

“Go then,” Patton said even though it stung. The worst thing he could do right now was try to make them stay. Clearly, they’d been hurt before, been trapped before. He wouldn’t do the same thing to them again. He had to believe fate would bring them back no matter what they chose. “I won’t stop you. I’ll ask that you take my address just in case you change your mind, but I’d never force someone to stay with me.”

“You’re lying,” Evan said.

“I’m not.”

“You’ll call the cops on us as soon as we go and have them deliver us to your doorstep. They won’t even question it because of our soulmarks.”

“No,” Patton said.

He searched Patton’s face for a long time and then he looked at Jimmy. Jimmy just bit his lip and looked down. “I can’t see right now,” he said. “Anything. On the streets would be more dangerous.” Patton wasn’t sure what that meant, but it seemed to stress Evan out even more.

He looked back at Patton.

“One night,” Evan said. “You don’t separate us and there needs to be a way for us to leave at any time.”

“Okay,” Patton agreed with a soft smile. He was relieved. They were giving him a chance. He just had to do his best to convince them to stay.

Want to read more? Click below!

Part 5

[lizacstuff]

SCK ask (more 36/37)

(Asks under the cut)

Anonymous said: I agree with your takes on how the writers just aren't nuanced with Serkan's character, but there's also parts of the criticism that dip into acting choices rather than script especially knowing how much they improvise. I've seen people annoyed with certain tiny things like "why aren't they holding hands here" or "why doesn't he LOOK in love here" and it kinda makes me uncomfortable? If, for the fandom, basically everything edser do is "unscripted" then it feels like they're almost blaming Kerem

Oh boy this fandom and their “unscripted” this and “Edser left the chat” that. I can’t tell you how uncomfortable that makes me. It takes 100s of people to make this show, Hande and Kerem are not the writers, and while their personal closeness may impact their comfort levels while working, everything Edser does is NOT evidence of a relationship. Sheesh. So insulting to them as actors. 

You know what narrative I’ve seen spring up that is also insulting? The “Kerem is so over this and has just checked out.” WOW, way to indict him and call his professionalism into question. I have not seen anything on screen that makes me believe this is true. The fans who say that I think are just really butthurt about this storyline and projecting it onto the actors, but they should realize what they’re saying when they do that. It’s extremely rude. 

As for scripted vs unscripted, the actors make 100s of choices per episode that were not verbatim in the script, that is what they are supposed to do. They and the director interpret the script. As for fans criticizing Kerem for things like, “why aren’t they holding hands here” or “Why doesn’t Serkan look more in love there” not sure where that criticism is coming from, but that is probably during dialogue, that is scripted, where they are trying to create a certain mood and perhaps hand holding wouldn’t work in that moment. Or the exact look a random fan wants, wouldn’t work in that moment. Whether we like it or not, this set of writers have decided Serkan is an actual robot, that is not Kerem’s doing. At all. 

Obviously, all that being said, there are a lot of wholly improvised scenes in this show. More than on any show I’ve ever watched. Anytime there’s a montage of them doing something, that’s improvised. The script probably says “Eda and Serkan make sandwiches” or “the gang plays volleyball” or “Eda and Serkan recreate the pottery scene from Ghost” and the actors go to town. We know from Kerem’s recent tweets that parts of when they were high were improvised, because he tweeted about how the horsey sound was inspired by the BTS video of 25 that he posted, and he talked about being inspired by the movie The Mask when improvising the tango scene. These actors are good at it, I’m glad the show recognizes that and continues to create opportunities for them to do that. But that shouldn’t be confused with them having control over the over-arching story that is being told. They don’t deserve any blame for this mess. 

Anonymous said: i think the problem (about feeling disjointed that you were talking about in your asks) has to do with drastic tone shifts, which i feel has always been a prevalent problem in the show. the balance between too MUCH drama and heaviness to all of a sudden super light-hearted fluffiness, but none of the payoff for the past drama that occurred. or maybe some of the payoff is still coming with this new selin drama because i don't see what the other use for it would be.

Yes, lets hope there is payoff still coming. And good observation on the tone shifts, I agree with you, but I think prior to 29, the drama was less impactful to the viewer.  The crash/amnesia storyline was so heavy and so upsetting that it’s like whiplash to have the lighter stuff when the characters are in that sort of agony. But I agree with you that that balance is where a lot of the disjointed feelings come from.  They try to insert comedy to lighten up and against this horrible backdrop that only ends up either making the side characters look callous, or the main characters like they don't remember the last scene. 

To your point about it always being there, I remember being like “whoa, what was that” when the narrative would be going merrily along and then suddenly throw some very heavy character stuff at us.  Like in 6, when it’s a battle of wills and a merry race against time and then all of a sudden we are learning about Serkan’s brother dying and getting the first glimpse of his childhood trauma. Or in 10 when the tone shifts and we learn about how Eda’s parents were crushed by a retaining wall and the terror surrounding her claustrophobia. I remember thinking at the start this is such a light fluffy show, but they’ve really given the characters some heavy mental health stuff to deal with. Serkan has panic attacks, Eda has claustrophobia and some sort of narcolepsy, Aydan is agoraphobic. It’s always been pretty heavy underneath it all. 

Anonymous said: You know what would be nice to see after the rejected proposal? If Eda doesn’t really give Serkan a reason and he decides that she must have said no because of the way he treated her during the amnesia days. And then we see him anguishing over it. The writers could actually have another chance here to write a better conversation for them. Will they do it? Probably not but it’d be nice.

If this is a device for Serkan to self-reflect, I’ll all for it. It would be nice!

Anonymous said: Do u think we’ll get another fragman? Maybe tmr or thursday?

I think we’ll get one later today, we shall see. I don’t know whether to eagerly await it or be terrified at the prospect. Hopefully, some of the footage they shot yesterday will be in it! 

Anonymous said: For the next episode, I am manifesting a scene of Eda putting Selin in her place when she shows back up in the office. Not in a “Serkan is my man kind of way” but more you need to remember that “I have 45% of the shares & I am done putting up with your crap.” Would also love a scene of Selin saying that Serkan asked her to come back and Eda saying she does not care.

I’m kind of hoping that Selin never steps foot in Art Life again, but we shall see. However, I take your point, a scene like that would be satisfying to watch. Selin did not show nearly enough deference to Eda when Eda was a partner, while Selin demanded it when the tables were turned. It was maddening. 

Anonymous said: So I am really hoping the fragman was misleading and the writers do not have Eda spending the whole episode trying to find out if Selin is really pregnant or not. Admittedly I am a tad bit bitter after the lack of a real apology from Serkan in the last episode and him telling Selin to stay at the company but that is still an awful story to give Eda after everything she has been through. Plus Deniz tells Eda to be careful of Selin and that she is after something which if it is just trying to trap Serkan with the pregnancy then why not just say that. Seems like Selin is up to something else as well. The scenes in the fragman do not seem to go together so hopefully this episode will actually be full of some good surprises.

We shall see. I think they have to have Eda investigating on her own to find out whether Selin is really pregnant or not for the plot. Anyway that’s what I’m speculating. She has to find out Selin’s  really pregnant, without talking to Serkan (because I still believe he can debunk it immediately because he didn’t sleep with her), and decide to leave. Which will lead to what I hope we may see in the second fragman today. Airport scene!  

However, that is just spec, we’ll have to wait and see. 

[whitherliliesbloom]

the instagram boyfriends club

[ ffxivwrite2020 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #16 - lucubration ]

[ various wol/npc ships ] ★ [ 2,576 words ] [ highschool / modern au ]

haurchefant greystone, estinien wyrmblood and alphinaud leveilleur. mentions laurelis by @ancientechos​, peppermint by @mintdrop​. illya is also mentioned and appears briefly at the end. may be a little ooc but do i care?? a lot of the jokes were stolen from this youtube video, which was also the main inspiration for this fic. 

instagram pics are #seriousbusiness

Saturday mornings were typically an uneventful affair, and thankfully so. His duties as the student council president often meant hectic school days filled with a mountain high of paperwork on top of his already impressive laundry list of assignments. Alphinaud was thankful for any little moment of peace he can get - weekends in particular were sacred, reserved only for either relaxation or outings with his family, friends or girlfriend.

And yet...

[[One unread message from Estinien]]

Estinien: meet me at haurchefant’s house in 1 hour. You: Wait. In an hour??? What for?? Estinien: just be there You: ???? You: This is so sudden. Is something wrong?? You: Estinien???

Of course he’d be left on read, as was common when texting Estinien.. sometimes at the most egregious of times. This in particular would be one of the absolute worst examples of Estinien’s utter lack of prudence. No matter how many times Alphinaud would dial his friend’s number, the unanswered ringing would only cause his nerves to spike.

Within the campus grounds he was a well respected figure who possessed more authority than any of the other students of his cohort.. and yet outside of it, he’d always be reduced to being something of a pushover, one who couldn’t help but to allow himself to be pulled by the whims of his friends. 

He could only pray that whatever it was Estinien’s decided to drag him into this time, it wouldn’t take too much of his precious saturday rest.

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

“You want Haurchefant to teach us how to take instagram photos??” Alphinaud’s voice raises in pitch, nothing short of bewildered by Estinien’s request to their mutual friend as he stepped inside of the house. “I never took you to be the type who cared about that-”

“It’s not for me.” With a low grunt, Estinien mutters between grit teeth before settling himself onto the couch with a burdened thud. “It’s for Totomi.”

In an instant, it all made sense, and Alphinaud has to withhold himself from letting out an audible chuckle. It’s no surprise that an outgoing girl from the drama club who has a penchant for the extravagant and flare would like to post photos online for her following to see. Though Alphinaud himself wasn’t exactly an expert on the matter - his own instagram profile was only ever updated semi-regularly with ordinary photos of classmates and student council activities, he was at least aware that there were others who practically lived their entire lives on that app.

“Ah! You wish to learn how to take better pictures for your beloved! How wonderful!”

Haurchefant’s jovial tone elicits a grimace from Estinien, whose grip on his phone only tightens.

“I’m just sick of her asking me to constantly retake shots. I’d rather not have to stand in the middle of the street for ten minutes just to take a single picture of her in front of a brick wall.”

“And you thought to ask Haurchefant...why?” Alphinaud asks with an inquisitive tilt of his head.

“You seriously don’t know??”

“Know what?”

“Haurchefant is called the god of instagram boyfriends.. or some dumb shit like that.” 

“Uh... what?” He’s heard of instagram. He’s heard of instagram models... but what in twelves name was an instagram boyfriend?

Haurchefant’s shoulders pull back in pride upon hearing that indirect praise, however, evidently more than a little pleased that his reputation and ‘fame’.. if it could be considered that, was beginning to spread by word of mouth.

“I’m so truly flattered that you would think so highly of me!” With a raise of both his arms, Haurchefant grins. Estinien rolls his eyes and mutters ‘i wasn’t praising you’ beneath his breath. “Indeed! I will admit to be at least well experienced in the art of taking instagram pictures for my beloved!”

“Laurelis? Pardon me for asking.. I’m not surprised that she has an instagram account.. but what makes you so special?”

Right on cue, Haurchefant raises up the screen of his phone, proudly displaying the profile of the ever familiar pink-haired miqo’te. Admittedly, Alphinaud didn’t know very much about Laurelis. What little he did know was only informed to him by her best friend, who just so happened to be the very same young lady he was dating. And from the few times they’ve spoken, he could see the miqo’te as being quite an instagram addict too - as most extroverted types typically are.

Upon seeing the numbers listed on the profile, however, Alphinaud’s eyes very nearly pop out of his sockets.

“Over five thousand followers?!” That’s more than the entire student body and staff members of Eorzea academy combined. The twelve knows it will take an eternity for Alphinaud himself to see that amount of followers on his account. 

“My dear is something of a minor celebrity! And I take great pride in knowing that I was able to play a small part in helping her take the pristine, ‘aesthetically pleasing’ shots as they say that she is known for today!”

“Good for you.” If estinien’s eyes could roll any harder they’d roll to the back of his skull. 

“Ah, but what of you, Alphinaud? Are you here to learn how to take better photos for Illya?”

The shorter elezen widens his eyes in surprise, not having expected to have a question directed straight at him, but he is quick to shake his head in response. As far as he was aware, Illya wasn’t exactly more instagram savvy than he himself was. She did have an account, one he naturally followed, but it would only ever be updated once every several days - and rarely with actual photographs of herself. Food, plant life and animals made up the majority of her profile’s portfolio, not that Alphinaud ever failed to double tap on any of her pictures, no matter how menial they seemed. 

Though, he supposes she could be considered slightly internet famous as well - just not at all in the same way her best friend was. He hears that her gardening blog has just reached a 2 thousand subscriber milestone, recently.. which he imagines to be quite a feat especially considering it was by all accounts quite literally a website filled with nothing but gardening tips, tutorials and floral arrangement pictures.

“Not exactly. Estinien forced-” he nearly continues to speak, but the low grunt emitted from the couch causes Alphinaud to swallow his words “-encouraged me to come along for the lesson. He said it’d be....livelier with the three of us.”

“Well, there certainly is no harm in more company! Regardless of your reasons for being here, I’m sure the things you’ll learn today will help you and Illya in the future!” 

Haurchefant moves over to the couch, tapping on Estinien’s shoulder who could only let out a groan in annoyance.

“Now then.. shall we get on with the lesson?”

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

“Now, let’s do some practice shots! Say that I have asked you to take an OOTD picture!” 

“The hell’s OOTD.”

“Ah, outfit of the day, my friend! Now let’s have you take a picture of me and I shall give you my candid feedback! Starting with you, Alphinaud!”

The shortest of the trio thinks to protest for a moment, but quickly presses his lips together and reluctantly holds his phone up to snap a photo of his taller peer, who has already taken station by the window and posed for the camera.

“Ah a perfectly serviceable photo, my friend! But it has one critical, devastating flaw.”

“I-It’s that serious?? What is it?”

Haurchefant points to the bottom of the picture where his legs were cut off and shakes his head.

“You must never, ever cut off the feet in a full body shot, especially for an outfit of the day picture! This is one of the most common pitfalls of instagram boyfriends!” With an exaggerated wave, he gestures to his boots. “Remember! The shoes are part of the outfit!”

The sheer enthusiasm of Haurchefant’s loud proclamation only gives Alphinaud further whiplash when he turns to look at Estinien, whose face has darkened with the deepest frown he’s seen his friend wear in a long while. 

“It’s just shoes... why the hell does it matter?”

He’s more than a little disgruntled as he recalled the way Totomi had asked him to take a photo of her new wool sweater and jeans, and her numerous loud demands for him to retake the shot with her bright red sneakers in frame. It wasn’t even a new pair - but one she’s worn for years...unable to appreciate the effort she’d went into making sure her entire wardrobe was perfectly color coordinated.

“Grumble all you wish, friend, but these are things of great importance in the eyes of our ladies! Now, repeat after me! The shoes are part of the outfit!”

“T-the shoes are part of the outfit...” Alphinaud mutters, as Estinien grumbles even further. His uncooperative behavior only causes Haurchefant to grow more pushy.

“Louder! With more gusto! THE SHOES ARE PART OF THE OUTFIT!”

“Nobody gives a damn about your shoes!”

No wonder Totomi has to nag him to retake her photos...

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

“The angle you take the photo can either turn the picture into a stunning piece of work, or an unaesthetic disaster! Please Alphinaud my friend, demonstrate by taking a photo of Estinien sitting on this chair.”

Alphinaud has never held his phone in his hands for as long as he has on this day, so much that he can practically feel the heat from its overuse start to scald his palms and fingers. And yet he dares not to argue, and instead quickly snaps a photo of Estinien as instructed, who looks just as unamused and tired as he was, if not even more so. 

“Splendid, Alphinaud! The focus is just right! However, you would have done better were you to have taken the photo at a higher angle.”

“What difference would that have made?”

“A high-angled photo slims down the face, while a low-angled picture elongates the legs! Indeed, it may seem surprising, but such small, subtle differences in even the height at which you hold your camera could make all the difference in the world!” One would assume they were listening to a professional photographer speak from the way Haurchefant lectured them about the intricacies and importance of camera placement in taking instagram photographs.. and Alphinaud wasn’t sure if he was more exasperated or amazed. “Now, take a photo of Alphinaud and show me your fine work, Estinien!”

With yet another roll of his eyes, and a barely audible grumble, Estinien steps forward and holds up his phone, towering over his seated friend and quickly snaps a photo.

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

“Now, we shall practice taking pictures of one another within an imaginary scenario.” The cups of coffee and plates of biscuit Haurchefant had fetched from the kitchen were gently placed upon the dining table, before he steps back and gestures towards Alphinaud. “Say your lady and you are on a date, and she asks you to take a photo of her at the table.”

 “Um.. well, something like this?”

Alphinaud holds his phone up to Haurchefant, whose smile falters for but a brief moment.

“Oh dear, my friend.. Did you not notice the misplaced broom in the background?” He leans down and taps on the side of the photograph, where sure enough a blurry and seemingly innocuous broom stood just on the edge of the frame. It seemed harmless enough to him, and yet that mistake seemed enough to cause even Haurchefant, whose joyous demeanor never seemed to be breakable, to slump his shoulders. “The secret to success is a keen eye and attention to detail, my friend.”

For the first time in three hours, Estinien lets out a smirk and a chuckle. It seems the only way he’d get any enjoyment out of this little photo taking lesson is to see Alphinaud be told off and dejected.

“You suck at this, don’t you?”

Alphinaud’s shoulders rise and fall with a nonchalant shrug.

“Pardon, but at least my photographs are in focus.” 

“You wanna say that a little louder again, punk?”

“Now, now! Let us not fight! We are brothers in arms, and there is still much and more to learn! For our next lesson, I shall teach you how to take pictures of food and drinks!”

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

Alphinaud’s phone battery has never once died on him in his life. Even with his normally liberal use of his applications such as the notepad, calculators and on the rare occasions, prolonged social media use, he’s never used his phone enough in a single day for the battery to ever run out.

That day had certainly been the first.. and it was also at the end of that saturday, upon watching the light and life from his smart phone die out on him, that Haurchefant urged him to get a portable charger... among other things such as a selfie stick. He’d even downloaded one of those photo editing applications, one that he has still yet to fully figure his way around. 

If there was anything he’d learn on that fateful day, and thought to himself as he walked home under the hues of the setting sun that evening, it was that taking instagram pictures was seriously not a joke.

And here he was on a date with the gardening club president a mere week later.. and a far changed... and scarred man.

“Is something wrong, Alphinaud?”

Illya had caught him staring at a brick wall with a piece of particularly ‘aesthetic’ looking graffiti, and for a moment his head had been filled with naught by red blaring sirens and a words that repeatedly chanted ‘photo op’ in his head. It was only by the grace of her voice, and a slight tug of her hand in his that his attention would be pulled away, a forced smile upon his expression.

“Oh, forgive me. I was just.. distracted.”

Illya has never asked him to take a photo of her, much less stopped their date dead in its tracks in order to take a picture for her social media. She never was the type who cared much for arbitrary internet fame and followers.. and he thought he had been as well. 

T’would seem however, that he’s taken Haurchefant’s advice to heart, a little too much for his own good.. and he’s certainly far more attentive of his surroundings and much to his own horror, of the outfits that the people around him wore. One thing he hadn’t exactly counted on however... was an interest being ignited within him, an urge to take photos at golden opportunities in life when he would have otherwise thought it too mundane to capture before his lesson with Haurchefant and Estinien.

And as he stands stock still with a phone in his hands, his adorable and well dressed girlfriend by his side.. and an incredibly aesthetically pleasing looking brick wall.. And the motto of the instagram boyfriends club Haurchefant had asked him to repeat like a mantra that day echoed incessantly in his ears.

‘Her likes are your likes’

The eyes of the camera were to be treated like a gods’.. and if they thought their girlfriends beautiful, what better way to express that love than to capture that beauty on camera and share it for the world to see?

“Would you like to take a picture, Illya?”

[heartofsnark]

This Is Love (Chapter Nine): That Melts To A Shriek

Notes: Hello~, school has been stressful af, but luckily(?) for y’all I sometimes write to ignore my feelings/schoolwork. So, chapters have been getting done anyway. 

Word Count: 11596

Chapter Warnings: Implications of abuse, not sure the best way to word this; acts of violence/property damage done against cops for being cops but very nearly hurt/killed a civilian.  

For chapter one and the warnings about this fic’s overarching themes, please click here!

For the previous chapter; click here

Taglist (trying this out, these are folks who interacted with the post over on my personal or contacted me privately, if you’d like to be added just message me): @enchantedbythebidders, @tender-wounds, @satanscaffeinatedfriend

Dahlia skids her bike to a stop in the diner parking lot; Cassie is sitting in the dirt just outside the building with her knees pulled up to her chest. She parks and makes a beeline to the girl, as she pokes her head up, looking at the deputy through a curtain of dark curly hair. Her cheek is red, just beginning to bruise, the imprint of a hand visible in the moonlight. 

“Cassie,” Dahlia speaks her name delicately, seeing the tears tracking down the girl’s face. And she sinks down next to her and hugs her. Cassie hugs her back and sobs into Dahlia’s shoulder; trying to talk but everything muffles through chokes of crying. 

Eventually, Cassie’s tears slow and her sobs lessens, fading into soft hiccups as she clings to Dahlia. 

“I know it’s hard, but can you tell me what happened?” Dahlia asks once the young woman has calmed. 

“My mom,” she wipes away her tears as she breaks their embrace, “I, I guess, I crossed a line. She kicked me out.” 

“She hurts you?” 

“She’s intense….I guess.” 

“She’s put her hands on you.” 

“Yeah.” 

“A lot?” 

“Yeah…” Dahlia wipes away the fresh tears that fall from the girl’s eyes, heart breaking for her. 

“You didn’t cross any line, you know that, right? Nothing you’ve done makes it okay.” 

“I just wanted to keep one paycheck, one, that didn’t have to go towards her bills or her clothes, or her whatever. Just one I could keep for myself and it was too much to ask and now…,” she searches for her next words, “I don’t know where to go…” 

There’s no homeless shelters in Hope County, no emergency housing for people struggling, the exact reason so many of the drifters in the area sleep in abandoned train cars. It’s ridiculous, no rehabs despite the county having a drug problem and no shelter for people who need it. How the fuck are people supposed to get through?

“You can stay with me,” Dahlia offers, she sleeps on the couch anyway, no reason not to offer her bed to someone in need. 

“No, I, I couldn’t. I bothered you enough, I-“ 

“Nonsense, we need to get you somewhere safe and I can’t think of anywhere safer, right now. Unless you wanna go out of county.”

“No, no, god no, I don’t wanna leave Hope…” 

“I ain’t got much, but I got room for you.” 

“Thanks…” 

“You got anything with you?” Dahlia asks, when she notices all Cassie has are the clothes on her back, a thin jacket thrown over her waitress uniform. 

“No…couldn’t grab anything…” 

“Okay, then, we’ll make do tonight and tomorrow, I’ll see about getting your clothes back. That alright with you?” 

“Yeah…just don’t…” 

“I won’t do anything crazy, promise.” 

“Okay…” 

“Here you,” Dahlia says, handing over her motorcycle helmet to Cassie. She takes it and Dahlia knows Cassie is taller, a little older too, but in this moment, she seems so small and young, almost like a child. 

Once the helmet is secure, Dahlia gets on her bike, allowing Cassie to climb on the back of it, instructing the girl to hold on as tightly as she can. Thin arms wrapping tight enough to dig into Dahlia’ s skin. The night air is cold, Cassie’s body all that much warmer in comparison as it presses in against and around the deputy. 

There are a few eyes watching the girls as they ride into the trailer park, Dahlia coming to a stop by her porch. She’s gentle as she helps Cassie off the motorcycle, taking the helmet from her, the taller girl’s dark eyes dart around nervously, straying near where a Moonflower resident is glaring at the pair. Dahlia rubs a hand through the back of Cassie’s hair, ruffling the dark curls, mimicking Sheriff Whitehorse and his method of calming her. If it works for her, maybe it can help Cassie.  

“Don’t worry about them, go on inside, I’m gonna lock up my bike okay.”

Cassie nods her head and walks off into the trailer. Dahlia catches eyes with the man who was glaring and she glares right back, flipping him off before locking up her bike. She could give a damn less what anyone does to her, but she’s not going to let them give Cassie hell. The girl has been through enough. 

The older girl is on the couch when Dahlia walks back into the trailer, Cassie’s eyes looking over everything. 

“Hey, you, uh, want anything to drink or eat? I don’t know how to make coffee, but there’s coke, water, uhhh…?” Dahlia pauses, arm still gestured outward as she tries to think of what else she can offer. 

“Actually, I just wanna  grab a shower and sleep, if that’s alright.” 

“Of course, I’ll go grab some clothes you can sleep in, the bathroom is just right here,” Dahlia tells her, tapping a hand to the bathroom door. 

“Thanks.” 

Dahlia scurries off to rummage through her clothes, finding warm oversized sweatshirt and sweatpants, finding the warmest but least…Dahlia’s aesthetic to offer Cassie. She knocks on the bathroom door, giving Cassie a warning before she opens the door and quickly drops the change of clothes in the room before scurrying off.  Trying to be welcoming, homely, nice, she doesn’t even know; she tries to get some food together. Store bought cookies and instant bag mix cocoa with hot water. It’s bad and shoddy, but she doesn’t have much to offer in the way of hospitality. This entire night has been a whiplash for her and she can’t even imagine what it must be doing to Cassie, she doubts shitty hot chocolate or mass produced cookies can fix it, but it’s something. 

A few moments pass, Dahlia cramming cookies in her mouth as she waits, and finally Cassie leaves the shower. Despite being taller than the deputy, the baggy black clothes look big on her, the skulls along the sleeves don’t suit the woman much either. 

“Thanks for the clothes.” 

“No problem, uh, sorry they’re…so, me, I guess?” 

Cassie laughs and a bubble of tension bursts inside of Dahlia, her shoulders finally able to relax as she smiles back. It no longer feels like walking on eggshells around a scared animal, Cassie at once seems more comfortable and happy even if only for a moment. 

“It’s okay,” Cassie tells her after a moment, “seriously, I just appreciate, all of this. Don’t worry so much.” 

“Hey, I’m happy to help, uh,  help yourself to anything I shitty whipped together and oh I know. I need to show you where you can sleep,” the deputy fumbles about and then walks down to the bedroom, opening the door, “I know it ain’t much, but hey, bed’s a bed, right?” 

“You have a second bedroom?” 

“Huh, oh nah, I sleep on the couch.” 

“You don’t have too, I don’t expect you to give up your bed for me, I-“ 

“No, no,” Dahlia gently touches Cassie’s shoulder before she can get too worked up, “I just do that, nothing to do with you.” 

“Oh….that’s…weird.” 

“I appreciate your honesty…I think?” Dahlia makes a huffy laugh, unable to hold down the corners of her mouth, the little insult? Dig? Whatever, someone might call it has brought a bit more levity to this and fuck knows the situation needs it. 

There’s not much conversation for the rest of the night; Cassie visibly exhausted, only grabbing a cookie before excusing herself to sleep for the night. Dahlia eventually falling asleep on her couch later that night. 

It’s back to work the next day, Dahlia planning on making a visit to Cassie’s mom during a quiet moment, claiming it as a lunch hour. She has no intention of using force or being aggressive, but she knows her uniform could add some….incentive for someone to be more helpful than harmful towards her. 

Maybe it’s that, knowing she’ll want the full effect of it, or maybe it’s because she missed working, but she wears her uniform the proper way and with a bit more pride than she did before. She says goodbye to Cassie, the words clumsy and stumbling from her lips, as she tries to grow more comfortable with someone else in her home. 

The morning hours pass by without much of note, harassing Pratt whenever the time presents itself and searching for affordable housing or shelters, or whatever the hell is available for Cassie. And she comes to the same conclusion she had when searching for her own housing ; The Moonflower is the absolute most dirt cheap. 

A buzz and crackle over the radio, dispatch starting to break through. 

“Boshaw’s parked out in Falls End at his bullshit again.” Dispatch doesn’t even pretend to have decorum and Dahlia knows there’s more than one Boshaw, the owners of the Moonflower being Boshaw’s themselves, but given his history and the tone she immediately thinks of Sharky. 

“Oh god, really, can no one else go?” Pratt asks, looking like he wants to jump into traffic more than deal with this. 

“Nope, everyone else passed the buck, so just go tell him to scram.” 

“Fine, fine, fine.” 

“It that Sharky guy?” Dahlia asks once Pratt starts to drive. 

“Un-fucking-fortunately, pain in my goddamn ass.” 

“He stealing again or…?” 

“Hmm,” there’s a sudden glint in Pratt’s eyes, a smirk on his face and Dahlia already regrets coming into work, “actually, this seems like a good welcome back for you, Rookie.” 

“I’m gonna want to strangle you after this, aren’t I?” 

“Definitely.” 

She groans as the police cruiser makes it’s way through Falls End, ultimately coming to a stop in a store parking lot, a few other cars are around but it’s mostly deserted. Pratt points out a dark green jeep within the lot. 

“That’s Boshaw’s truck, go knock on the window and tell him to scram.” 

“Jeep…” 

“What?” 

“You called it a truck, that’s not a truck, that’s a jeep.” 

“Does it fucking matter?” 

“Not really, but it bugged me, and I don’t know why.” 

“Go knock on the fucking window.” 

“What’s he even doing? Drugs? Or?” 

“Go knock and find out.” 

“I swear to god,” Dahlia grumbles and finally opens the cruiser door, she has no idea what the fuck she’s walking into. 

She’s able to see Boshaw through the driver side window of his jeep, eye closed and head leaned back. Dahlia speeds up, she’s heard of residents overdosing in their cars, he never struck her as a hard drug user but one can never really tell. Dahlia raises her fist to knock on the window and then she sees it. Boshaw’s hand rubbing up and down the length of his dick. This is her life. 

“What the fuck!” She yells out and closes her eyes, because she does not need the image of his dick burned into her brain, she’s still dealing with the image of John fucking Holly rattling around in there. What is wrong with people? 

“Shit,” she hears him curse, a shuffling of something, a window being rolled down, “what the hell-“ 

“Get the fuck out of here or I’m charging you public indecency, right fucking now, christ!”

She waits until she hears an engine starting up and then makes a beeline back to the cruiser, not wanting to even chance seeing that weirdo’s dick again. Dahlia stomps her way back to the patrol car, Pratt’s laughing hitting her as soon as she opens the door. She kicks into the car, not hard, just a quick jab of her boot into his arm before she pulls back. 

“What the actual fuck, Pratt!?” 

“What, get an eyeful?” 

“What the actual fuck, does he just do…that!?” She’s cringing as she climbs into the passenger side seat. 

“Yeah, he just, is like that if he isn’t jerking off in public, he’s setting something on fire. Or both.” 

“Dear lord, what is wrong with people? What’s wrong with you doing that to me, asshole!?” 

“Ah, don’t get your panties in a twist, I’ll buy you lunch.” 

“Save your apology food for tonight, I got something to take care of during lunch.” 

“So, you’re abandoning work?” 

“For an hour max and you can call me if anything comes up.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m just giving you shit, it’s fine.” 

She rolls her eyes as they go back to the station, just a short drive away in the small town. The young deputy waves off her patrol partner as she climbs onto her bike, making sure her ringer is turned on this time, just in case something does manage to come up. Cassie gave her the address this morning and she quickly finds the little house surrounded by woods, as so many of the houses in Hope County are. 

Dahlia lets out a breath before knocking her knuckles against the door, firm and heavy despite the knot twisting her insides. After a few moments pass and then finally the door opens; an older woman staring back at Dahlia. The resemblance between her and Cassie is strong; the same pitch black hair and dark eyes, just to an older face. 

“Oh god, she didn’t drag you all into this did she?” Her words drip with condescension and venom and a muscle in Dahlia’s cheek twitches, her jaw tight. 

“I’m sorry to bother you ma’am, but I was hoping to collect Cassie’s clothes and personal items.” 

“Pff, what’d she tell you, some sob story, I’m sure.” 

“This isn’t a criminal matter,” yet, Dahlia would like to add, but decorum or something, “if that’s what you’re concerned about and I don’t have a warrant either, for full disclosure. I’m just kindly asking to get her things, I can collect them myself or you can hand them to me if you’d rather I not enter the home, whatever you like.”

“You can come on in, I don’t have anything to hide,” Cassie’s mother lets her in. 

“Thank you so much, where is her room, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

“Right this way, I swear she’s so fucking dramatic.” Her mother bitches and complains, taking Dahlia there and showing her an open duffle bag that she can put clothes in. 

“I just know she asked me to get her things.” 

“I’m so sorry she dragged you into this deputy, I’m sure you have better things to do.” Her mother talks as Dahlia tries to gather as much as she can into the bag, not only clothes but things that could be important, books and a laptop. 

“I’m always happy to help out where I can, thank you so much for your time and patience, ma’am.” 

A hand catches Dahlia’s bicep, Cassie’s mom stopping her. She turns to look, not sure what exactly is going on now. 

“So, where is she staying?”

“I don’t know ma’am, I was only asked to bring her things to the police station, but I assure you she’s in a safe place. No worries. Have a lovely day.” 

Dahlia pulls away from the woman’s grip and leaves the house, she keeps an eye over her shoulder as she leaves, insuring that the mother isn’t following her. Just in case she takes a few odd turns to make sure and then finally makes her way back to the Moonflower. 

She’s compelled to knock on her own trailer door, not sure what Cassie might be doing with her alone time. Cassie’s dark eyes peek through the window and Dahlia waves, before the door opens. The girl’s head tilted to the side slightly, eyebrow raised. 

“Did you forget your key?” 

“No, I uh, just wanted you to know I was here, I guess.” 

“Okay, uh, you really act like a guest in your own house, don’t you?” Cassie points out as Dahlia walks into the trailer. 

“Ehhh, like ya know,” she makes a vague noncommittal wiggly gesture with her shoulders, “anyway, I got your clothes. No trouble, no issues, check through and make sure I grabbed everything.” 

“Thanks, really, you have no idea how much this means to me,” Cassie gushes as she looks through it. 

“It’s not problem at all, there is one thing I wanna talk to you about.” 

“What’s up?” 

“So, I’ve been trying to look around, see what options are available for you to move into. The cheapest housing in Hope is right here, if you wanna save up to rent a trailer. Then things get pricier, you’re looking at the trailers at Silver Lake which are twice as much, and even more than that for renting an apartment in Falls End or god forbid you’re trying to buy a house.” 

“I…don’t really wanna live here on my own… The people here are…” 

“Rough?” 

“We’ll go with that. But, it’s not like I can afford anything else.” 

“Well, there’s affordable housing like section eight in the bigger places, b-“ 

“I don’t wanna leave Hope either, I-, oh god.” 

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m not trying to freak you out or overload you. You don’t have to know right now, you don’t have to know anytime soon. You can stay here as long as you need, no rush or pressure. I just wanted to let you know what I found.” 

“Thanks, I just gotta save up some money and then…” 

“Hey, I still got some time for my lunch break, I’ll treat ya if there’s anywhere you wanna go.” 

“Uh, I could go for some pizza.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

Dahlia takes them both to the 8-Bit Pizza Bar, the rest of her lunch break isn’t very long, so they don’t get much time to chat. Finishing off a pizza and talking about video games before Dahlia has to drop Cassie back off at the trailer to head back into work; warning her new roommate that she’ll be going to The Spread Eagle after her shift. And finding out what she can bring Cassie home for dinner. 

Whitehorse is out in the bullpen style offices when she arrives back to the precinct, discussing something with an officer. She waits as patiently as her baseline personality will allow her, unable to help tapping her fingers against her thigh, also brimming with some sort of uncontainable energy. Surely, Whitehorse might know someplace Cassie can turn to? Someplace that can help her. 

“Something on your mind, Rookie?” 

“Yeah, you remember that waitress, Cassie?” 

“Something happen with her?” There’s a furrow in his brows and a clench in his jaw, worry and concern darkening his eyes. 

“She called me, her mom hurt her, threw her out, she’s not interested in pressing charges. So, she’s staying with me right now, safe. But, uh, she’s…not really happy at the Moonflower. Rough folks ya know, give her dirty looks ‘cause she’s hanging out with a cop, that whole mess. So, I was wondering if there’s literally anything available to help her out?” 

“I’m sorry to say, there’s not a hell of a lot around here, Rook. Moonflower’s cheapest place she’d find to live, but as far as charity goes, Hope County runs low on it.  Churches use to help out when they could, you can always try with them, but not sure they can afford to help anymore.” 

“Never thought I’d be upset at a lack of religious involvement in anything, but what do you mean they can’t afford it.” 

“Most of ‘em are bleeding members. Pastor Jerome’s church in town and the old Lamb Of God Church only got a few regulars right now. Most folks jumped to Eden’s Gate.” 

“Does….Eden’s Gate do any sort of help?” 

Dahlia raises an eyebrow, Joseph certainly seems nice. The way Layla and Waylon talked, the church is no stranger to helping the crestfallen. Certainly, they do some sort of outreach? Even the worst of churches tend to do something; hell her own shitty step-dad’s church helped rebuild the community after the hurricanes. It’s good PR and a way to draw people in. 

“Sure, but for most people they’re a last resort and for good reason.” 

“’Cause they’re buzzkills and no one likes them?” 

“That’s one way to put it,” he gives her shoulder a comforting squeeze, “good luck and if there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know, alright?” 

“Will do, thanks, Sheriff.”. 

Later in the night, shift ending with little trouble, the three deputies make their usual Spread Eagle trips. But Dahlia can’t seem to settle. She assumed it’d feel easy and nice to be back to her completely usual routine, a celebration when she returned,  but everything draws her mind back to Cassie. Dahlia can’t help but feel guilty when she thinks about it, despite opening her home to the older girl, she can’t say she’s been there much. Having to go to work today and only sparing her a half hour for lunch. And now she’s out with friends… She tries to focus on what Pratt and Hudson are saying, but only finds herself worrying about Cassie. She’s alone in an unfamiliar place… probably still scared and worried about every shadow. 

“You alright, Rook, you seem out of it.” 

“Yeah, uh, actually, my head is starting to hurt, injury and all that. So, if it’s cool, I’m gonna split early tonight.” 

“Alright, but if you think you’re getting a rain check on that free food, you’re out of your mind,” Pratt taunts her and she laughs, flicking his ear. 

“Somehow I’ll live, see you guys tomorrow.” 

She orders some food to go for her and Cassie then heads out. There’s that familiar end of shift exhaustion as she pulls into the Moonflower, bones and muscles always a little leaden. The desire to just stuff her face and veg out in front of the tv for a while. It’s an all too familiar feeling of trudging back to her trailer, but this isn’t the same as all those nights. 

Darkness and silence don’t greet her as she opens the door, the clawing feeling of loneliness doesn’t strike her like a snake hiding in underbrush. Her trailer is alive, it seems, lights and tv on, brightness and a burble of noise. Cassie sitting on the couch, curled up as some romantic comedy plays on the tv. Her entire body turning to greet Dahlia, bright eyes and a soft smile welcoming the deputy. 

“Hey, I thought you were gonna be late?” 

“Yeah, turns out I wasn’t feeling it tonight, brought dinner though,” Dahlia shows the bag off, “what’re you watching?” 

“10 Things I Hate About You. I know it’s cheesy as hell, but it’s one of my favorites.” 

“Never seen it.” 

“What, oh my god, you have to watch it with me! It’s so good.”  

“Okay, okay, let me settle in and we’ll have a movie night.” 

Once she’s changed out of her uniform, Dahlia settles in on the couch with Cassie, who’s rewinded the movie back to the beginning. They’re cramming food into their mouths as it plays and it’s adorable. A guy being paid to date a girl, so another guy could date her sister due to some dumb dad rule, but then alas he falls in legitimate love. Cassie says lines along with the actors, showing just how many times she’s watched it, able to quote characters verbatim. She does a nervous little glance over at Dahlia now and again as it plays on, checking Dahlia’s interest, the deputy makes sure to smile a little brighter when those eyes land on her. 

“I want you to want me, I need you to need me, I’m begging you to beg me~!” Cassie sings along to the final song that plays the movie out, a band conveniently located on the schools roof, because why the hell not?

“I see why that’s one of your favorites.” 

“Sorry I couldn’t shut up,” Cassie apologizes, cheeks red. 

“No, no, it’s cute. Shows just how much you’re enjoying yourself.” 

“I still remember when they showed it to us in class, I just fell in love.” 

“They showed that in school?” 

“Yeah, it’s actually based on an Shakespeare play, Taming of The Shrew, so they showed to us in English. Along with the DeCaprio, Romeo and Juliet.” 

“Ah, I haven’t seen that movie either.” 

“You haven’t seen many movies have you?” 

“My family wasn’t big on tv and honestly, if my school played anything, I probably slept through it or don’t remember it well.” 

“I mean, your memory can’t be that bad, high school was probably not that long ago for you, was it?” 

“Hey, you don’t know that, I could be pushing forty for all you know.” 

“Oh yeah, and dermatologist just hate you,” she rolls her eyes, “seriously, how old are you?” 

Maybe, it’s the food warm in her belly, the comfort of her own trailer, or the shared smiles; but she feels a little more honest than usual. 

“Twenty…ish,” she says, with a little smug smirk, knowing the question to follow.

“Ish?” 

“Hmmm, well, between you and me, I may be a little shy of it.” 

“You’re nineteen?” 

“Only for the next three months or so, but, yeah…” She admits, trying to do the math, she turns twenty in September. 

“So, you’ve just been lying about your age?” 

“It’s three months, okay, nineteen just hits the ear differently. I have a hard enough time getting anyone around here to respect me without being called a teenager.” 

“But, you are a teenager.” 

“Technically, my age does contain the word teen in it.” 

“And what do you plan on doing when everyone expects you to turn twenty-one and you don’t?” 

“The only people who know when my birthday is would be the Sheriff, you kind of, or in Louisiana. As long as you and Whitehorse don’t run around alerting everyone, there’s no way of any of them knowing, I can play it off as my birthday being further away.” 

“Is that worth it just to not be called a teenager?” 

“Considering all the shit I get about my age and rank already; yes.” 

“I mean, you do look like a baby faced high schooler.” 

“Oh you’re one to talk,” Dahlia laughs, reaching out to pinch Cassie’s own round cheeks, the girl giggles and shoves at her in response. 

“Shit, it’s late,” Cassie says after a moment, catching the time. 

“You headed for bed then?’ 

“I, uh, actually needed to ask you something first?” 

“Sure, what’s up?” 

“I got today off because of…everything…but if I wanna start saving money back up, I gotta go into work. But…I don’t have a car…” 

“What’d you do before?” 

“I just used my mom’s car, she didn’t let me have my own, said it was too much…” 

“And public transport ain’t exactly booming out here.” 

“You can’t even get rideshares out here.” 

“What’s your shift hours?” 

“Nine to five.” 

“You okay with getting there early and hanging out there later? If so I can drop you off on my way to and from work, my shifts are just a bit, lengthier.” 

“Yeah that’s fine, hell, I could chock it up to overtime and probably get a coworker to drive me home at the end of my shift, if you can just get me there in the morning.” 

“We can do that.” 

“Thank you, thank you,” Cassie throws her arms around Dahlia, “seriously, this just thank you.” 

“You’re welcome, you’re gonna get through this and I’m gonna help you every step of the way, promise.” 

She rubs a hand up and down the girls back, then she hears it. Maybe it’s just everything hitting Cassie, maybe it’s the deputy’s words, or the comforting touch; but something pushes the older girl to tears. Broken whimpers and cries, tears wetting Dahlia’s shoulder as she does her best to comfort Cassie, holding her tight and letting her just let it out. 

It’s unclear how long it lasts, the outpour of emotion, but at some point, Cassie is finally able to pull away with red rimmed eyes and apologies on her lips. 

“Nothing to apologize for, mon cher. Why don’t you head on to bed, morning will be here before you know it.” 

“Okay, night, and I know I sound like a broken record, but thanks again…” 

“No problems, now go get some sleep.” 

Cassie leave for the bedroom and Dahlia chews her lips, thoughts racing through her brain. There’s a thought pressing on her, she didn’t bring it up to Cassie and likely won’t until she settles in a bit more. But, she wonders if Cassie could once she gets her footing, just chip in for rent here? She said she feels more comfortable in the Moonflower with Dahlia around, they get along well, and Dahlia likes having a friend to come home to… But a conversation for another day… 

It’s the following afternoon when Pratt and Dahlia are called out to a local veteran’s house. Redler is an older man, older than Whitehorse, with steel gray hair and deep wrinkles creased into his face. Despite his age, he’s strong and sturdy, shaking Dahlia’s hand with a near bone crushing strength when she greets him the next day under the afternoon sun. She can feel the years of work in the rough calluses that mar his hands. Pratt told her that he fought in Vietnam when they got the dispatch call, someone tried to break into his home last night and they were asked to check everything out. 

“Pleasure to meet you, sir,” Dahlia says after introduction, feeling the need to straighten her shoulders around the veteran. 

“Thank you both for coming out, I’m sure I’m just being paranoid, but I’d appreciate if you’d check everything out. I can’t get around quite like I use to.” 

“We’re happy to help, Redler.” 

Pratt and Dahlia start to walk around the house and property, searching for anything that could be considered suspicious or out of ordinary. There’s nothing that jumps out at Dahlia, Redler said he heard something last night but when he yelled out, whatever or whoever it was went away. 

“You think they managed to do anything before he scared ‘em off?” Dahlia asks Pratt. 

“Nah, some of the local teenagers just like to be a pain in his ass.” 

“Why?” 

“He’s an old sometimes crabby guy, kids are pains in the ass, like you.” 

“Haha,” she mocks dryly, “you’re so funny.” 

“I’m hilarious, in fact I had a very eye-opening experience this morning.” 

“Yeah, what was that?” 

“I woke up.” 

“Ughh,” she groans what an awful fucking joke, “you corny dumbass.” 

She raises her fist to give him her usual playful punch against his shoulder, then he steps out of the way. Her knuckles swinging through empty air before connecting with the glass behind Pratt. Blood drains from her face as the window shatters from the force of her punch. She…broke Redler’s window. 

“What the fuck, Rookie!?” Pratt looks at the window and at her, hazel green eyes wide with shock. 

“I, I, you moved!” 

“Oh no, oh no,” he shakes his hands emphatically and smirking, “you’re not blaming this on me.” 

“Why did you move!?” 

“How hard were you trying to hit me?!” 

“No harder than usual, I, I-“

“What the hell was that?” Redler’s voices rings out, steps following after his question, no doubt he heard the shatter. 

“Oh god.” She buries her head in her hands, embarrassment and shame hot in her face, she broke the man’s window over a shitty dad joke. Pratt is cackling at her expense and she knows she’s an idiot. But why did he move?

“What the hell happened here?” Redler asks as he comes around the corner of his house, seeing the broken outside window. She’s sure the inside is a mess of glass, oh god, what is wrong with her?

“I’m so so so so sorry,” she gushes out loudly from behind her hands, “I accidentally punched your window. I didn’t mean to, really. I’ll clean it up and fix it, I promise, I’ll pay for everything. I’m so sorry.” 

Her words slur and run into each other, as guilt forces her to practically beg for forgiveness. 

“Dear lord,” Redler sighs, the heavy sound a vice around her heart, dear god he must think she’s the stupidest person ever and he’s right, “I have the supplies to fix it up, you know how?” 

“Yes, sir, I could build you a brand new house if you gave me the time and supplies,” she tells him, which okay, maybe an exaggeration. But, if he asked her to, she’d try her damndest.

“That won’t be necessary, c’mon now.” 

There’s two different sheds, or shed like structures on his property. One is locked up tight, a keypad on the door and she finds herself wondering what might be in it as he brings her to the other building; helping her gather what she’ll need. Dahlia gets to work on fixing the disaster she’s created, first by cleaning up the broken glass inside and out of the home. Pratt on standby to snicker at the young deputy. 

“You punched a window…” He says, voice straining to contain laughter. 

“I know.” 

“Because of a dumb joke.” 

“I know.”

“Why are you like this?” 

“I don’t know!” 

If it wasn’t for the guilt and embarrassment; she’d probably be laughing at the ridculousness of the situation. But for now, every chuckle from her superior officer just fills her with a fresh dose of shame. Once she’s moved onto fixing the broken window itself, glass cleared, Pratt’s finally shifted his focus away from taunting her.

“Hey, Red,” he talks to the veteran while she works to clear out the dirt and old caulking from the window frame, “you going to the Rye barbecue tomorrow?” 

“Yeah…” 

“You don’t sound thrilled.” 

“Gah, it’s nothing, Grace and her dad are taking me, since I can’t drive or walk too well anymore. Just-“ 

“Don’t like having to be helped?” 

“Yeah, hazard of being my age, I’m afraid.” 

“It’s nice to see the veterans looking out for each other, though.” 

“Pff, use to see it a hell of a lot more because that damn Eden’s Gate bought the veterans center out from under us,” he sighs, heavy and deep for a moment before the older man looks over at her, “what about you, gonna break some of Kim and Nick’s windows tomorrow?” 

He’s smiling and Pratt laughs; at least Redler finds some humor in this she supposes. Her face is beet red as she tries to search for a response through her embarrassment. 

“Not that it stopped me from breaking yours, but, uh, I don’t know Nick or Kim. So, I’ll be steering clear.” 

“Still hung up on that,” Pratt rolls his eyes, “I told you, just show up with some food, no one gives a shit.” 

“I’m not showing up at a strangers house for their barbecue; that’s just asking for awkwardness and I have enough of that in my life as is.” 

“C’mon; me, Hudson, Whitehorse, even Beau will all be there. Ain’t like you won’t know anyone.” 

“All done,” she cuts off the barbecue talk, finished glazing and setting the window, it’s good to go. 

“Would have preferred you didn’t break it, but thanks for getting it fixed so quick.” 

“No problem and like I said,” she pulls cash from her wallet, more than enough to cover all she had to use, “’cause no reason you should be out for the stuff. Sorry again.” 

“And goes without saying, we didn’t find anything amiss, so you scared the brats off before they did anything,” Pratt chimes in. 

“’Preciate you two coming to check it out and despite the trouble, I suppose having some company was nice, I’ll see you around.” 

With that the pair of deputies leave the veteran to his evening, hopefully one that will contain significantly less broken windows. Dahlia rubs  a hand down her face when she sits down, tension leaving her back and shoulders now that she’s managed to fix the mess she made. 

“You should seriously come to the barbecue.” 

“Pratt….” 

“It’ll be a chance to meet some more folks, you’re talking about not knowing people, this is how you meet people.” 

He’s not wrong and she knows it, if she ever wants to make friends beyond him, Hudson, Cassie and Eden’s Gate members who’re hated by everyone else, then surely she needs to try to be social. 

“Fine, fine, I’ll buy something to bring tomorrow.” 

“Store bought crap isn’t exactly a way of winning folks over.” 

“I can’t cook, Staci.” 

“Who the hell can’t cook?” 

“Me, asshole.” 

“Oh please, you can throw something together.” 

“I mean if you want me to give the county food poisoning, I can.” 

“I’m sure you’ll manage,” he rolls his eyes and starts up the cruiser, he doesn’t seem to understand just how incompetent she is in the kitchen. 

The moment her shift ends, Dahlia is in a grocery store with her phone on searching for recipes. She needs something good, but more importantly, absolutely idiot proof. She wonders for a moment if she could get away with just freezing juice and sticking toothpicks in them for popsicles, that might be the only thing she’s incapable of fucking up. Though knowing her luck the freezer would just explode. 

She’s gonna kill Pratt; actually, physically kill him. 

No bake cookies, she spots on a list of recipes, that should be easy enough. Probably, it doesn’t even have to be baked, what’s the worst that could happen? Dahlia gathers up ingredients, enough for a few batches, in case she fucks up the first few attempts. Which she will. And some store generic brand sugar cookies in case she fucks up every attempt. Which she probably will. 

Cassie is on the couch watching movies, having grabbed that ride home from a coworker, when Dahlia comes home with bags filled with ingredients. The older girl raises an eyebrow, watching as Dahlia drags these bags to the kitchen, which she hasn’t touched since she made shitty instant hot chocolate. 

The deputy rubs her fingers idly against the burn across her palm, her step father having held it to the stove when her mother tried to teach her to cook and she hadn’t listened. It stands out among her colorful history of abuse at his hands, the burning of her own flesh a sharp and brutal contrast to the bite of a belt or the strike of a hand. It may only be second to the snake incident… 

She shakes her head, trying to shake off her memories like a dog drying itself. She’ll have time to review Father Monroe’s greatest hits later, for now she needs to try to make cookies without destroying her trailer. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m going to the Rye barbecue tomorrow, so I have to make something…” 

“Oh those have always been fun.” 

“You’ve been?” 

“Yeah, everyone loves Nick and Kim.” 

“Well, I’ve never met them and I’m terrified.” 

“Pff,” Cassie laughs, “they’re sweethearts, though Kim’s a little hormonal with baby.” 

“I…ya know what it doesn’t matter, what does matter is; you wanna play hooky from work and go with me?” 

“I need money.” 

“Ugh, you and your need for basic survival requirements,” Dahlia dramatically roles her eyes, “if you must disappoint me by ‘needing money’, you can least make up for it by making the cookies.” 

“Not happening.” 

“God damn it, fine, I got this.” 

Dahlia dumps the ingredient out on her counter;  sugar, milk, butter, cocoa powder, vanilla, peanut butter, and oats. So, she needs to line baking pans with parchment paper… the fuck is parchment paper? Why was this not mentioned in things she needed? 

“I don’t think I got this,” Dahlia announces. 

“It’s been a minute.” 

“What the fuck is parchment paper?” 

“Its paper so it doesn’t stick to the pan, I think you have some non-stick spray, that may help?” 

“Okay, okay then.” 

“Do you even have pans?” 

“Yes, I have pans, I’m not a cavewoman.” 

“You sure about that?” 

Cassie merely laughs at Dahlia’s pout, the deputy then grabbing the pans and spraying them down, this should be fine? She shrugs to herself, what’s the worse that could happen if she uses spray and not paper?

“Okay then,” Dahlia starts to read the rest of the recipe, “wait what?” 

“Do you already have a new crisis?” 

“…maybe… These are supposed to be no bakes, why am I heating shit up on the stove? That makes no sense.” 

“Well, that’s not baking.” Cassie shrugs like it’s obvious and maybe to her it is. 

“What?” 

“Baking means it’s in an oven,” Cassie speaks slowly, eyes wide at the realization of how deep Dahlia’s incompetence runs, “if it’s on a stove that’s more like cooking.” 

“There’s a difference?” 

“Yes.” 

“What the fuck? Why do you need more than one word for making food hot?!” 

“Do…do you know anything?” 

“Clearly not!” 

Dahlia curses under her breath, already frustrated at her lack of knowledge. Why is she such a fucking idiot with this stuff? She just wants to make a good impression on people and she’s such a fucking mess. Ruminating will get her nowhere; she ties her short hair back into a sloppy little ponytail and takes her deputy uniform shirt off to tie around her hips, knowing the stove will quickly heart up her small kitchen then sets her phone to play some music. 

“You need music to cook?” 

“Need it to function.” 

“Some parts of my brain are probably still sleeping I wish I could tell but I'm probably still sleeping.”

Dahlia starts following the instructions , humming along to the music, something upbeat to help her not want to die through this entire process. She eyeballs the amount of  sugar, butter, cocoa powder and milk into the saucepan; trying to make it look like the pictured amount and turns on the heat. The recipe calls for her to whisk it, but she doesn’t have one those, so she stirs it off and on with a spoon, this isn’t too hard so far.

“Uh, are you measuring that?” Cassie asks and Dahlia leans on the table to talk, tapping her fingers along to the beat. 

“The recipe doesn’t say how much, but like, it can’t be too hard.” 

“Uhhhh deputy….” 

“I look to the window, I look through your eyes

I can see my reflection, but I can't close the blinds.”

There’s a burbling noise followed by sizzling and Dahlia turns in time to see chocolate milk boiling over the pan. It runs down onto the floor, sizzling as it hits the burner. The word shit is said under Dahlia’s breath like a chant as she shuts off the heat. 

“So…too much milk?” Dahlia wonder out loud as she cleans up the mess.

“Like I know.” 

‘Someone has to, ‘cause I sure as shit don’t.” 

“It's like someone's determined to change how I think

But if I just close my eyes I'll wake from each dream”

Dahlia cleans up the mess and dumps out the chocolate milk soupy mess within the pan, ignoring Cassie’s snickers of laughter as she works. She just had to do this with a peanut gallery, didn’t she? But hey, she was prepared for the first couple attempts to fuck up.  She combines the ingredients again, using much less milk this time. 

“Maybe you should find a recipe with measurements?” 

“I already have the ingredients for this recipe,” Dahlia says, if she switches now there could be shit she doesn’t have, right?

“You’re so stubborn…”

“What?” Dahlia asks when she notices the trail off, storing the new mixture which is thicker and becoming harder to stir in seconds, is that good?

“Holy fuck.” 

“You okay?” 

“I don’t know your name.” 

“Yeah, you just realized ? Umm, is that smell normal?” The chocolate mess is starting to smell like burning tires…which is probably bad.

“Would it let you down if we don't grow up?

Would it make you proud if we gave up?

What about anybody?

They're all just chasin' money”

“How is that possible? I’m living with you and don’t even know your name.” 

“Don’t beat yourself up over it, Whitehorse is the only one who knows my full name.”

“What the-do you not tell people your name?”

“I mean, I never avoided it, but I usually just call myself the new deputy and we move on. Just sort of happened and now I just think it’s kinda funny, uh this is definitely not good is it?” 

“Jesus fuck, no that’s not good!”

Pitch black smoke has started to roll off the pan; solidifying burnt chocolate sticking to it. Dahlia swings the pan around to the sink, rolling it under cold water before it can spark fire. She huffs, blowing lose strands of hair up and out of her face, sweat and flush on her skin as she turns to face Cassie. 

“So, not enough milk that time.”

“You giving up?” 

“Of course not, third times a charm, mon cher,” Dahlia bolsters her fake confidence as she grabs a new pan, surely she can salvage one batch?

“Would it let you down if we don't grow up?

Would it make you proud if we gave up?

What about anybody?

They're all just chasin' honey”

Dahlia recombines finding a middle ground for the amount of milk to avoid burning or boiling over; she hovers over it, stirring the entire time as she watches for any signs of a new disaster. The entire time Cassie seems to be watching her, but she doesn’t talk as much this time, Dahlia can feel eyes on her arms in particular. She looks down at her arm, half expecting to see a spider, a pimple, or something that’d draw attention. But all she sees is her own bicep, maybe it’s the tattoos. Nothing complicated, as she couldn’t afford much, two solid black bands around her right bicep. 

“If ever you want me, if ever you need me

I may not be conscious but baby I'm honest

I'll look to the mirror, I'll look through your heart

I can see good intentions but we tear them apart”

“Do you like tattoos?” Dahlia asks, wondering if that’s why Cassie’s eyes have been drawn to the ink. 

“Huh, oh, uh they’re alright, I don’t have anything against them, do you have a lot?” 

“Just these and one on my lower back.” 

“You have a tramp stamp?” Cassie raises an eyebrow, a smile to her lips.

“No, tramp stamps are across the middle, it’s on the left side, so ha.” 

“So, it’s tramp stamp adjacent?” 

“Shut up.” 

“What is it of?” 

“A quote from Lady Lazarus; ‘and like the cat I have nine times to die,’ Sylvia Plath.” 

“That’s,” Cassie blinks, taken aback, “a lot more…pretentious than I expected from you.” 

“Someone I use to live with had all these books of poetry, philosophy, all the deep shit you could dream of. It was my first real time reading that kind of stuff, so a lot of it stuck with me. Cats are kind of a…theme in my life. They called me their stray, got me the helmet, I even had a cat for a…short period of time. So, it’s the quote from it I picked.” 

She can’t help but smile thinking of the shelves of books that Lloyd and Caroline had; when they first took her in, after years of being hidden away from anything ‘sinful’ or ‘worldly’, she was desperate to consume any media she could. She read every book in their house, spent days in front of the tv just binge-watching stuff she wasn’t allowed to watch as a kid. Mostly pokemon cartoons, horror movies, and Sailor Moon if she’s being honest. Caroline was the one with the love of poetry, telling Dahlia about Sylvia Plath when she found the books of poems one night. 

The idea of constantly being killed only to be brought back, over and over, a constant revolving door of pain. A cycle you beg for release from but are never afforded the mercy of it; Caroline explained how Plath struggled with suicidal thoughts… Dahlia never thought herself suicidal through her childhood, but she couldn’t deny how often she wished for death, an escape of any kind…  The symbolism with the condemnation of Jewish people, knowing the half of Dahlia’s background that her mother threw away for Father Monroe and made Dahlia throw away too, yet still they were called such vile and slurs… It just stuck with her. 

“Was there another contender?” 

“Yeah, I love the poem all around but two parts of it have always been my favorite.” 

“The cat one and…?” 

“Dying is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well.” 

“God, you’re a dork.”

“So rude, what am I gonna do with you,” Dahlia laughs, shaking her head as she moves the pan off the burner. So far, it’s going alright, all she should need to do is mix in vanilla, peanut butter, and oats. Wait…she may be dumber than originally thought, which is saying a lot. 

“Something wrong, you look like you’re doing math in your head or something.” 

“A lot of people are allergic to peanuts…aren’t they?” 

“It’s like one of the most common allergies, yeah.” 

“And I chose food with peanut butter in them…” 

“Wasn’t gonna burst you bubble quite yet, but I’m pretty sure Nick is.” 

“What!? Why would you-!? What were you waiting for, me to kill a man!?” 

Cassie just laughs and Dahlia’s face feels like absolute fire, she’s frustrated and dumb. And between this shit and Redler’s window, who let her be like this? Did no one ever realize that she clearly does not have a brain? Was she born like this and the doctor was just like eh it’s fine and threw her little empty headed baby body out into the world? 

“It’s not a b-“ Cassie tries to speak through red faced laughter, because Dahlia’s misery is hilarious. 

“That’s it! I’m moving to Alaska, bon voyage, I’m out!” Dahlia claps her hands and swings her arms dramatically before dropping onto her back on the kitchen floor, crossing her arms over her chest. It’s so dumb, eyes stinging and throat feeling tight. It’s just cookies, she actually wants to cry over cookies, but dear god she can’t even make fucking cookies! It just feels like another failure. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Cassie stands up and comes around to talk to the dejected puddle of deputy, “it’s not a big deal, don’t be dramatic, alright?”

“I’m not being dramatic, between this and Redler’s window, I’m just gonna dye my fucking hair and run away to Alaska so no one knows who I am and no one can find me.” 

“What happened to Redler’s window?” 

“I broke it…” 

“Why’d you do that?” 

“I was trying to punch Pratt and he moved!” 

“Holy shit.” 

“Aren’t you suppose to be helping me?” 

“Umm, pack plenty of coats and I wouldn’t recommend going blonde.” 

“I hate you. Why do all my friends bully me?” She asks, thinking of both Cassie and Pratt being shitheads with her. She expects it from him, but Cassie, really?

“We do it with love, I assure you, now get up.” 

“No.” 

“I’m serious, okay, you can write a note and put it by them, most people expect no bakes to have peanut butter anyway.” 

“I can’t write a note.” 

“Wh- oh yeah your handwriting is…” 

“Dog shit, I know.” 

“I’ll write it for you then, okay, now get up.” 

“Thank you…” Dahlia reluctantly climbs up onto her feet, still pouting when she looks at Cassie who just smiles at her before ruffling her already messy hair. 

“You got this.”

“Do I?” 

“No. But I’m trying to be positive.” 

“Okay, fuck you too I guess?” Dahlia says in mock anger, laughing at the ridiculousness of all of this.  

She rubs a hand down her face and gets back to mixing up the rest of them mix, then spooning it onto a pan, after that it’s a matter of letting them set so they can solidify. When she sucks some of the mix off her thumb, she’s pleasantly surprised, half expecting with her luck for it to be inedible, but it tastes fine. Chocolate, hint of peanut butter, and oats. Nothing fancy, but she’s not gagging which is something. 

“Here, that should help, if you end up taking these,” Cassie says, showing a notecard with a warning for peanut butter on it. 

“What do you mean ‘if’ I end up taking them, they’re not bad, they actually turned out pretty well.” 

“Well, they might not set.” 

“What?” 

“Sometimes no bakes don’t set properly and you end up with just puddles of chocolate oatmeal instead of proper cookies.” 

“What the fuck…what?” 

“Not to literally bring you down again, but, um, no bakes are kinda finicky and not a great choice for beginners.” 

“I’m never baking, cooking, broiling, roasting, or whatever the fuck else you call this shit ever again.” 

“That’s probably best for everyone…”

“I hate you.” 

“Yeah, yeah, love you too. I’m gonna head to bed now.” 

“Yeah, now you got your fill of entertainment.” 

“Don’t stress too much.” 

Dahlia sighs as Cassie leaves, shoulders still tense. She just wants to make a good impression, she nearly ruined her chance at that with the church barbecue, only by the grace of far too patient people did she manage to come out of it with hopefully some friends. Dahlia doesn’t have the religion barrier in this situation, so she should be better off? She hopes, she doesn’t expect to be best friends with anyone or be welcomed like family, but the more people around here like her the better. Hopefully with Pratt there, some of her nerves will be tamped down on. She’s closer to her coworkers now and has a few friends, so it shouldn’t be too bad, despite her struggle with crowds and socializing. She crashes down onto her couch, yanking her hair tie out before she goes to sleep. 

She’s up early to take Cassie to work before she goes to the barbecue, the older girl bustling to get ready as Dahlia checks on the cookies. Her finger sinks right into one, still wet. Oh no. Maybe they just need some more time, yeah, that’s all. 

Once Cassie is safely at work, confirming a coworker is going to take her home, Dahlia heads back home. The cookies are still wet… She’s going to scream.  There has to be a way to make them set? She considers holding a hair dryer to them, but on second thought the heat may just make them melt further. 

Frustrated and the time to leave getting closer, Dahlia goes to get ready, hoping by some twist of fate that they’ll be set by the time she’s showered and dressed. 

Hair still damp, dressed but with a towel across her shoulders to catch stray droplets, she checks again. Cursing under her breath when they’re still just lumps of wet chocolate oatmeal. She might as well show up with a Tupperware container of slop. 

Dahlia slam dunks her failure cookies into the trash a little harder than needed before grabbing the store made sugar cookies. It’s probably for the best with the peanut butter anyway… She throws on her jacket, boots, and helmet before headed out west towards the Holland Valley. Pratt told her the Rye’s property is just outside of Falls End. 

Her shitty directional skills manage to not get in her way, thanks in no small part to the signs for Rye and Son’s Aviation. Small blessings she figures. There’s a driveway that cuts through the woods, a cozy house closer to the drive-way, then an outside building and the hangar beyond it. 

People are gathered in open space near the hangar, picnic tables and a grill set up. There’s an airplane out, a vivid yellow seaplane with a shark design. She parks her motorcycle along with the rest of the cars and trucks, still a short walk from where the party is. She’s searching for familiar faces, before she walks forwards, Pratt mostly. She doesn’t find him. 

Hudson is speaking with Mary May and two women she doesn’t know. One with long dark hair and fatigues, the other a noticeably pregnant woman with hair shaved at the side. They talk and laugh. Despite having felt a little less awkward with Hudson, since spending more time with her, the idea of interrupting or cutting in feels wrong. 

Whitehorse is talking to a man she doesn’t know, but judging by the pastor’s collar she can assume his job. Catholicism isn’t particularly common out here and the only catholic church she can think of is the one in Falls End. Not exactly comfortable jumping in there either. 

There’s not really an easy place to put herself in,  nothing that feels comfortable or right. Everything feels like an intrusion. 

“Everyone’s gonna think you’re a creep, if you keep staring like that,” a familiar voice taunting her, Pratt’s standing beside her and she can’t help but smile, tension easing. He’s a jerk, but he’s her jerk. 

“Shut up, dickhead, I was trying to see who I knew,” she explains, grabbing the store-bought cookies from the under-seat storage. If Pratt’s by her side, she feels a bit more confident joining in.  She’s not sure when he became a rock for her in a situation like this, but maybe it’s best not to question that.

“So, you just bought store crap?” 

“Okay, judgey, what did you make?” 

“Pff, I can’t fucking cook, the hell are you talking about?” 

“What,” she glares at him, if this was all an excuse to fuck with her, she’s killing him, “you said everyone cooks, no store bought crap!” 

“And you believed me? Food is food, no one gives a fuck where it came from, well there’s the one time the Seeds brough this gross ass mac and cheese, but that’s another story.” 

“What the fuck Pratt? I was up all night trying to make something edible.” 

“Take it that didn’t go well?” 

“I’m gonna fucking kill you.” 

“Hey Beau, hey Nick,” Pratt calls out and then goes rushing off towards the crowd, he’s leaving her. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Sorry can’t hear you, need to be near witnesses, bye,” he’s laughing through his words and she finds herself wanting to grab the back of his shirt, to drag him back just so she won’t have to go in alone. But that’s childish…so she watches as her rock runs off to join everyone else. 

And once again she’s the sore thumb and maybe if she tried, she could make a new friend. And maybe if she’d just get the courage to talk to someone, she’d be fine. And maybe if she wasn’t such a damn coward, she’d do that. But she’s been the outsider looking in for her entire life and there’s a level of comfort in the loneliness; familiarity in isolation. 

When she thinks of it, the people who breach that comfort zone rarely do so because either of them make that step. Circumstance, not courage, is what always brings people into her life. Pratt and Hudson are her friends, because they work together, Pratt more so because they’re made to spend almost everyday together. Cassie because she was in an awful situation and needed a home. Lloyd and Caroline because she needed one. Hell, Eden’s Gate members are the closest to it, but they still sought her out for another body in the flock, not because they wanted her as a friend. Circumstance, desperation, pity, and religious duty. 

And as her throat tightens, feet frozen in place as she debates trying to socialize, she realizes…maybe that’s okay. Not happy or pleasant to think of, but okay. She’ll stay in her bubble for another day or the rest of her life; one of the two. 

Dahlia throws the cookies back into the under storage and slips her helmet back on, climbing onto her bike, riding away from the barbecue. Music blasting in her ears and racing down backroads on her motorcycle; it feels like home. 

Songs change, hours pass, the sun sets and the moon takes it’s place with the stars keeping it company. She’s spent the entire day riding and her heart feels lighter for it, she thinks as she pulls over to get gas, filling the tank. The entire barbecue and cooking thing is a fucking fiasco, but she’s happy now and that’s what matters, so fuck it. She got to spend an entire day doing one of the things she loves most in this world and she has a friend, no matter how they got there, who’s waiting for her at home. 

Then her phone rings and Dahlia feels her heart leap into her throat, the hair on the back of her neck raising. That little sixth sense warning her that something is wrong. Because as she’s learned quickly, even her most minor of happy moments must be interrupted by total fucking hell.  It’s Cassie and her fear only raises. 

“Deputy…” And she’s brought back to the night Cassie called her, that broken and scared voice asking for help, no longer the happy woman who’d taunted her last night.  There’s something in the background; some sort of yelling and music. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I…I don’t know, someone broke a window, I, there’s yelling, they’re doing something, I’m scared to check.” 

“You’re at the Moonflower.” 

“Yeah, I, I don’t know what going on.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” 

Dahlia keeps her on the phone as she races back, a repeat of Wednesday night it feels like. Just when Cassie was feeling safe, just when things felt good, because of fucking course. She has no idea what hairbrained idea the Moonflower folks got in their head, she knows they hate her and fine, she gets it, but to scare Cassie like that is so fucking wrong. 

It looks like they decided to have their own party while so much of the county was away at the Rye’s. There’s a stench of booze around the entire trailer park. Rage is white hot inside of Dahlia when she sees the cluster of them around her trailer, a few cursing when they see her getting closer. She could give a fuck less about the damage, the broken windows or the PIG spray painted across the trailer, but Cassie is there. Curled up and crying, surrounded by broken glass as they shove and push at the home. 

“Everybody stand back!” Liam calls out; lighter in one hand, bottle of booze with a rag in the other. And she’s on him, tackling him to the ground beneath her. The lighter and would be Molotov thankfully fall away without igniting. Instinct and anger pushes her to raise back her fist and slam it into Liam’s face. 

She’s blacked his eye, skin breaking at his eyebrow and making his blood stick to her knuckles; then someone is grabbing her from behind, pulling her off of him. Dahlia slams her elbow back into the person’s gut, making them let go of her, she watches as Liam gets up, The crowd is surrounding them, no doubt ready to dogpile Dahlia if she tries to go after him again. He’s smiling and laughing, like an asshole, she wants to punch him again. 

“Quite a temper you got there, deputy.” 

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” 

“Fuck is wrong with me? You’re the cop running around hitting people over a trailer,” he taunts her, reminding her that she should be better than this. 

“Fuck you, this ain’t about the god damn trailer!” 

“Wh-“

“Deputy…” A broken timid voice rings out from behind Dahlia, Cassie… When Dahlia looks over her shoulder, she can see her friend on the porch, just poking her head out from behind the door. Her eyes are wide and Dahlia wonders just how much of this mess she’s seen. 

“Shit…” Liam murmurs and the smirk is wiped off his face, eyes wide. 

“Everything okay, Cassie, I’m taking care of it. Go back inside, okay?” She watches as Cassie goes back in with a timid nod. 

“I… we didn’t know anyone was home…” 

“Oh so it’s all okay, everything’s fine ‘cause you didn’t fuckin’ know! You could have killed her, you dumb fuck!” 

“I-I’m-“ 

“Save it! Get the fuck away from me before I do something I regret.” 

Liam gets the picture, he has something more to say, everyone else there seems to too. But, no one’s stupid enough to test their luck or maybe smart enough to know this isn’t the time to talk. Once they’re all gone and she knows they’re not going to do anything stupid, again, Dahlia goes back to the trailer. 

Cassie is curled up on the couch, knees pulled up to her chest. The inside of the trailer is a mess; broken glass from windows, beer bottles, trash, rocks, and a brick that was probably used to break it. All thrown inside while Cassie sat horrified. 

“I’m so sorry,” Dahlia says and sits next to her, extending an arm to hold her. 

But Cassie flinches away, curls up deeper upon herself, as if Dahlia’s even attempt to comfort had scalded her. And the deputy’s heart seizes in her chest, pulling her arm back, seeing the blood on her knuckles. Did Cassie see her hit Liam? How much of her rage did she witness? Bloody knuckles, red faced, and nearly frothing at the mouth as she screamed her anger out… She must have seemed more like a monster than a friend. 

And Dahlia’s reminded of Genevieve all at once, the child of Dahlia’s mother and Father Monroe, the deputy’s half sister. The young girl, she’d be no older than eleven or twelve by now, was his blood and his golden child for it. And he told her of every one of Dahlia’s so called faults, sins he believed she committed, and convinced the child Dahlia was a monster in their home. And for so long she treated her like it; flinched from her affection, cowered at her sight, and shrunk away from her at every moment. As if Dahlia was the boogeyman, she fought for years with silly stories and blanket forts to coax her own sister into loving her. But, progress was always quickly undone. Every effort to chip through the wall he’d built between them was met with abuse, egging on her anger so he could make a show of her sin , so Genevive would always see Dahlia as the monster who’d spit her blood and bare her teeth rather than give in. 

Now, she’s there again, another person  flinching from her, terrified of the monster she’s shown she can be. Scared that one day those bared teeth will be at her throat instead of at another's. And Dahlia truly can’t blame her. 

“I…know it’s the only option…but I really don’t like it here…” 

Dahlia had wanted to offer an invitation for Cassie to stay, those passing ideas of having a roommate, how nice it’d be. At the time Dahlia thought she could keep Cassie safe, that this is better than the hell she had with her mother. And maybe for a few days it was, but if this is the kind of shit that can happen, all Dahlia’s done is taken her out the pan and placed her in the fire. Almost literally… Cassie could have been burned alive if Dahlia hasn’t made it back in time…

Cassie needs someplace else and the conversation with Whitehorse resurfaces, Eden’s Gate. They take people in, the only conflict she was saw was when Layla was at a store, but the church and the compound were safe…protected. They have plenty of land to house anyone who needs it and apparently they have the heart to do so. The Seeds can be a little off, but they’re not bad… 

“I got an idea,” Dahlia speaks up.

“What’s that?” 

“You got anything against Eden’s Gate?” 

“I mean, I’ve heard some stuff, but I don’t know much about them. I’ve seen Faith a few time and she seems nice.” 

“She is, they, uh, they take people in sometimes…I can take you up to Joseph’s church and we can talk to them.” 

“You think they’d help me?” 

“Yeah, I do.” 

“I think I’d like that.” 

“Okay then,” Dahlia jumps up from the couch, “get dressed and lets get you packed up.” 

“Right now?” 

“You wanna spend the night here?” 

“God no, lets go.” 

It doesn’t take long for Cassie to get dressed and pack everything up in the bag Dahlia got from her house. They may be counting their chickens before they hatch, already getting her things packed up, but Dahlia can’t see Joseph turning Cassie away. He’s too kind for that. And even if he were too, Dahlia will find something, even if she has to go barge on Whitehorse’s door. 

Dahlia has an arm around Cassie as they leave the trailer, hoping to offer even the smallest modicum of support. Cassie pulls on Dahlia’s helmet, at this rate maybe she should invest in a second helmet. And then with Cassie’s arms wrapped tight around her waist she rides out of the park. 

Eden’s Gate is quickly becoming one of the only good places to be in the whole damn county; they got to help her… All Dahlia can do as she rides through winding roads is hope that her faith in the church isn’t misplaced.  

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs  “Teenagers.”

Hello everyone, sorry for vanishing for a few days, but now I am back and ready to write.

I would ask for any prompts or ideas you guys have for stories. Sometimes I go through times where I can't think of any ideas, and this is one of those times. Your help is appreciated 

Somewhere between Mars and the asteroid belt

The Delta-5 passenger transport had fallen out of warp rather violently. Granted, with a delta class warp engine she could only make jumps inside the solar system, but at any range, coming out of a warp unexpectedly is violent.

The brightly painted yellow of the passenger ship was a streak in the darkness for a single moment before the emergency engines kicked in and pulled her to an abrupt halt. Inside, the ship was filled with startled screams and cries of pain, from the twenty person class of Martian students on a return trip from the asteroid belt.

Not all schools have the funding for their own spaceship, mind you, but as one of the most prestigious boarding schools on the solar system, there were some perks. However, violent whiplash wasn’t appearing to be one of those perks, and in the commotion, no one noticed as a lone student silently slipped back to their seat, handily concealing a shiny silver object in the pocket of her pants.

A distress signal followed the sudden loss of warp, and it was almost an hour that the students sat there before a call of awe came out from the back of the ship, and all the students piled together to see out the cramped side windows at the massive military warship bearing down on them from above. She was massive, almost the size of two football fields from end but reaching skyward. It’s rear engines glowed with blue power as it gently slid next to them despite it’s cumbersome bulk.

A single line of white lettering could just be seen at the spine of the ship reading

 U.N.S.S Harbinger.

***

Krill and Sunny accompanied Commander Vir from the bridge, arriving in the docking bay just as the small, yellow passenger transport was pulled in from the airlock and gently dropped onto the deck. Once secured, the doors were opened.

As Krill and Sunny stood next to the commander, they couldn’t help but notice his uncharacteristic lack of good humor.. In the light of the docking bay his arms were crossed, his mouth had been pulled into a deep brown, and his single eye was narrowed with distrust at the little yellow ship.

The doors were opened, and the students came spilling out. Krill didn’t have much experience with this sort of human…. Teenagers. Physically, they had smoother faces, and the males and appeared skinnier with reduced muscle tone, but other than that, he wasn’t likely to be able to tell the difference.

“Look at them.” The Commander muttered under his breath, “Little Vultures.” 

Krill and Sunny exchanged a confused look, and rill ventured a question, “I’m sorry Commander, but I…. don’t follow.”

The Commander’s expression remained dark, “Behold my inhuman friends, the worst kind of human, the bane of earth, the very incarnation of Evil itself. They have the magic ability to pinpoint whatever insecurities you have and used it in psychological warfare against you.”

Krill and Sunny turned to watch the humans. Some huddled together in small groups, others standing alone shoulders hunched looking down at the floor, and still others gazing around the docking bay in wonderous amazement 

“Sure…. Commander…… Evil.” Sunny said watching two of the humans hug each other, in a clear attempt to find comfort, “I’m shaking.”

The commander glowered at her, and then turned on his heel to march towards the line of humans.

Sunny chirped an approximation of a laugh, “Wait, hold on commander, my knees are weak, I can’t keep up.”

He continued to ignore her as he marched up to the line of students. Of course, with the clanking of his mechanical leg, they noticed him coming long before he made it, and as they strolled up, Krill couldn't help but notice as a group of them broke out into a fit of giggling as they watched the commander approach, a fact that was not lost one the man, not that the students would have been able to tell.

However, Sunny and Krill knew him well enough to see the stiffening of his back , and the slight redness at the base of his neck, “Alright, the lot of you, quiet down.” His voice was loud enough, and commanding enough to get partial attention, but even as they looked at him, there was still ore snickering, giggling, and students checking their personal devices. A couple of them continued to whisper quietly in the back of the group. Of course quietly actually meant one grade below a normal voice.

Sunny was able to pick out the word “eyepatch.” from the conversation.

The Commander’s frown grew deeper, and he turned to Sunny. 

She was happy to oblige the request, quickly clearing her throat, and then releasing a screeching battle cry that made the walls and floors rattle. 

That got their attention.

“About time you all shut the hell up.” He growled. Sunny shifted uncomfortably not entirely sure what had gotten into the commander. 

Krill watched the students, and quickly became aware that many of them only had one default setting, and that was the continuous rolling of their eyes, often accompanied with a deep sigh.

“Now, I find it very unfortunate that your ship broke down, mostly because now I have to babysit you, which I would rather not do. But here we are, and there are a few ground rules you need to follow.”

More eye rolling, which was not lost on the captain.

He turned his eye on one of the worst offenders, “Go on, roll your eyes again, see what happens.” The stare the commander gave him could have coagulated blood, and the student looked away as his classmates snickered, “That a bunch of disrespectful bullshit, and they don’t pay me to tolerate it. If you want to be a little shit while I explain life-saving rules to you, than I won’t feel bad when you wander somewhere you shouldn't and radiation causes all your skin to deglove. Yes, that is exactly what it sounds like….. am …. I ... clear?”

The group of them nodded rather slowly, and Krill noticed a couple of eyes twitch. A couple others looked back and forth between each other exchanging looks.

“I am Commander Vir, and this is the UNSS Harbinger, this is my weapons specialist Sunny, and my chief medical officer Krill. I am in charge of the ship, and while you are on board, you will follow my orders just like any member of my crew. I will not tolerate shenanigans, whining, complaining, arguing, and any other accompanying bullshit that you may be likely to bring aboard my ship.”

He turned his head in another wide circle making eye contact with each and every one of them. 

As his eyes passed over a group of the students, Krill watched them burst into another fit of giggling turning to look at each other.

The single eye snapped around to glower at them, “Something Funny!” He demanded 

The girl in question went bright red and then stammered out a, “N… no.”

More giggling erupted from somewhere in the back.

The commander didn’t look pleased. A rope that was already beginning to fray snapped, “Alright, that’s it, the brig,  the lot of you.” 

A gasp rose up from the students, and the teacher as she protested.

The commander turned, “If you cannot take the rules seriously than you go exactly where you belong. The brig. You may leave when we reach Mars.”

Sunny and Krill exchanged a glance as the commander stormed off.

“Changeling, brain injury, or mind control.” Sunny wondered 

Krill shrugged, “Search me.

No one noticed a form slipping away quietly as the rest of the students were  shepherds away.

***

Sunny and krill sat quietly in the darkness of the bridge watching their friend, as he leaned against the upper platform railing glowering out at the field of stars, and the small red dot that was Mars.

He had been like this all evening sullen and silent withdrawn into himself.

Sunny noticed the figure in the doorway before krill, and quietly stood not recognizing the figure.

“I thought I sent you all to the brig.” The commander said, his voice echoed eerily in the darkness. As far as either of them had seen, the commander hadn't turned to look, so there was no way he could have known who was at the door. The figure paused, and then deciding against running stepped into the room.

It was one of the teenagers. 

She was somewhat muscular for her size with short dark hair colored half purple. She had a squarish jaw and long legs despite being well over half a foot shorter than the commander. 

She did not appear bothered that she had been caught. 

Wandering inwards, she paused next to the captain’s chair, and then in a shocking breach of decorum, she took a seat throwing her legs over one of the arms.

Krill was pretty sure “teenagers” had no sense of personal safety.

Commander Vir turned slowly to face her frowning eyes narrowed.

She locked eyes with him blowing a large pink bubble which popped loudly in the intervening silence.

“Get out of my chair.”

Another bubble, “Why.”

“Because if you don’t I'm going to rip off your arm and beat you with it.” To her credit, she withstood his gaze for longer than your average person might half before finally signing and sliding form the seat and onto the floor. The commander watched her go, as she crossed the ten feet to the navigators chair and made herself comfortable there.

It was the Commander’s turn for a deep sigh.

Krill and Sunny watched in fascination. Like watching a puppy chew on the tail of a wolf.

The commander glowered at her, and she glowered back.

He looked about to say something but was cut off as the student opened her mouth, “Why do you hate teenagers so much?” 

That caught the commander off guard, and whatever he had been planning to say died on his lips.

“I mean I saw you once or twice on the TV, and you usually aren't this much of an asshole, so you must hate teenagers.”

silence .

“Where you bullied in school. Because I-”

He cut her off, “You think you’re edgy don’t you.” It was her turn to be cut off, “Let me guess edgy teenager with some sort of tragic backstory. Maybe mommy is dead, maybe daddy is mean perhaps they are both fine, but they don’t pay attention to you, and so you act out, pretend like you don’t care about anything try to look edgy so you can be different because no one understands you or something, right.”

“Don’t pretend-”

“Don’t pretend to know you, want to know something kid- I WAS you, and let me give you a little secret.” He leaned in,  “You aren’t special, your problems aren't personal. You are exactly like every other kid in there who thinks no one understands them and their problems are special and that the world is unfair, well guess what your problems aren't special, of course the world is unfair, but it’s unfair to everyone. So quit the edgy bullshit because it doesn’t make you cool it makes you an asshole.”

She remained quiet. Krill and Sunny looked on in fascination. Some of the wind seemed to have been taken out of her sails, but she remained quiet, “My turn?” She asked 

“Go ahead, I would like to hear it.”

“You aren’t special either, lots of people were bullied as kids difference is not all of us grow up to be successful. So you don’t even have anything to be mad about.”

He took a seat in the captain’s chair to look at her, “I’m under no illusion that I’m special. I am also under no illusion that I try to be different, just like you. Difference is, I can admit what I’m doing. I’m just like everyone else, a normal guy who got lucky and am now in a place to do something good for once. As for the difference between you and I, I NEVER ruined public property to get what I want. What did you do cut the power outlet to the fusion cables.”

She was quiet.

“It’s either tell me or face jail time, you’re call.”

She sighed and leaned her head back on the seat, “I just….. Wanted to see your ship, ok.” There was silence in the room, “Yeah, I get it was stupid, but my life isn’t likely to go anywhere, but i saw my chance and I took it to at least SEE my dream, and maybe get lucky enough to meet you, but low and behold, I get aboard the ship, and my hero turns out to be a masive Dick, so i guess we both lose.”

There was silence.

Turning to look at Sunny Krill found an expression of shock on her face eyes wide mouth slightly open. She hadn’t gotten up from her seat.

His voice had softened, and Krill watched as the look of anger melted from his face replaced with some mix of shame, “I….. what makes you think your life is going nowhere.”

She kicked her feet, “I’m not exactly good at the whole school thing.”

The commander shrugged, “So what, join the UNSC, and then you can see space all you want, that’s what I did.”

She shook her head, “No can do chief, I’m sick, they wouldn’t take me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. Maybe they won’t let you join the marines, but a support position is fine. As far as medical equipment, we practically live in a flying hospital, so whatever you need could be done for you on a ship.” He got up from his chair and stopped to stand next to her staring out at the darkness. With a sigh, his shoulders slumped, “You’re right, I’m sorry. I had a bad time in school and I’m taking it out on you and the others…. It’s not very adult of me…. Or very professional for that matter.” 

She waved a hand, “Its ok most of them belong in the brig anyway.”

He gave a dry chuckle, “Even so, I should probably go apologize.”

“Wow, not every day I meet an adult who can admit when they’re wrong.” 

Commander Vir turned towards the door, “Yeah, if you’re going to join kid, you need to get rid of that hatred for authority complex. Most of us are just doing our jobs and occasionally…. We actually care.”

I wouldn’t go as far as the commander and say that teenagers are the incarnation of evil, but I would, perhaps, suggest that they are the incarnation of the devil’s advocate. They have questions queries and demands that are designed to challenge older humans. If the exchange is met correctly, both will learn something. The younger will gain knowledge from the older, and the older might just understand their own reasoning better than they had before, or even identify issues with their own logic.

If the exchange goes wrong there will only be anger and enmity between the two parties. Young humans need a lot of direction, but they also need the ability to choose their own path. It is an older human’s duty to impart the knowledge allowing the younger human to make the best decisions, without trying to control them.

However, Despite the philosophy, I think there is some argument that can be made for the devil incarnate…. 

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

Provide more food for the seagull. For the soulmate AU, number 16 with doppio, but ah could you centre the time frame around the doppio vs risotto fight, you know I’m a slut for pain and I want it all.

Alright here's the food, enjoy you masochistic seagull!

Whiplash

(yandere Doppio X female reader)

You always seemed to get unexplainable injuries, even more then most. These kinds of injuries could range from simple bruises to deep severe cuts with no reason as to why. It hadn't a big problem until maybe mid middle to early highschool when this became more common.

Of course most would say you weren't paying attention but your grandmother believed otherwise. You remember one cold winter's day when she had you over. She spoilt you with toys and warm food; the memories alone were enough to drift you away and transfer you into the warm place you once knew.

You remember just before she tucked you into bed she told you a story, about an Australian soldier in Gallipoli and a woman in Germany during world war one. The two had never met however every wound the male received she felt and every scar they both shared, even thou they were so far away from each other.

One faithfully the two met each other by chance and they knew that it was true love at first sight, they were soulmates. They lived in Germany and had two kids. They were a happy family living despite living among the rubble that Germany had become for several years until world war Two. During the Nazi raids they had managed to get their children out of the country in time but not themselves... They were sent to two different concentration camps. On the night in which the Australian man had be executed the woman was found dead, foaming from the mouth.

She admitted that the story was a bit graphic for a child like you but that was the only example that she could give for your possible circumstances.

"It is a very rare chance that these can happen, not everyone has a soulmate and even if you do it doesn't mean that you'll ever meet each other and there are many different ways that soul mates can be connected. Some people have been color blind for all their life only to then be able to see it when they meet their soulmates, others have matching or incomplete markings, others senses are connected but they say that being able to feel each other's pain is the deepest form of connection" she explained

"Those bruises and scrapes must be from your soulmate" She said.

At times you were sceptical but there wasn't any other explanation. Until your Capo Bucciallati had encountered the boss.

You felt something tug at your heart as you had approached the veincian church, your breath was shallow and laboured but you were drawn so badly towards it.

"Bucciallati, I think I should take Trish in" you said through harsh breaths.

"No (y/n), I know you want to comfort her but I should bring her since I'm the Capo. Besides you need to rest, you look like your about to pass out" he argued before stepping of the boat.

Everyone thought you were coming down with a fever or something but you knew this wasn't a fever, you knew that it was something beyond you. After a while you froze as an image of Bruno being blown through the torso flashed into your mind. You screamed in the top of your lungs as you grabbed Fugo and cried out as tears flowed down your eyes.

"Bruno's in danger! Please we have to do something! He's going to die!" You screamed as you shook him.

"(Y/n) your just hallucinating, calm down" Fugo explained as he grabbed you.

"As if, Bruno's just bringing Trish to the boss, we kicked those assassin's asses so I don't think there is anyone else that's coming after us. Besides even if there was another enemy stand I think Bruno is capable enough to sort em out" Narancia said Before Giorno looked up from the laptop and placed one foot on the dock before Abbaccio tried to stop him and you passed out.

When you woke up Bruno was standing in front of the group. You couldn't quite understand most of what he said due to the horrible ringing in your ear. He mentioned how he was no longer apart of Passioné and that he was going to persue the boss after attempting to murder his own daughter.

Like most of the others you hopped back on the boat. Leaving Fugo and Narancia to their lives.

"Oi Bruno, (Y/n) was acting really strange earlier... She saying that you were in danger and that you were going to die, even now she still looks as sick as a dog" Mista stated as he pointed to you. Bruno put his hand on his chin, obviously thinking about something.

"I don't think she was sick at all, I've heard that soulmates are naturally drawn to each other by fate... What (Y/n) could have been experiencing may have been her body reacting to her soulmates presence" he explained. Your heart skipped a beat as he said that, you had a really bad feeling about what he was implying.

"But the only other person it the building was the boss, wouldn't that mean-" you were about to say before he cut you off.

"Yes I'm afraid so, you must be the bosses soulmate..." He gave a light sigh.

"Fate is a cruel woman to match me with a man willing to kill his own daughter... But I will not fall for such a twisted man, I will still work along side you..." You said.

"I always felt a certain way towards Trish that I couldn't understand... She may not be my daughter but I will protect her like one, I'd rather die a cold and lonely death then be with such a man" you said before everyone's attention shifted to the water where Narancia was swimming, desperately trying to catch up with you.

✂️✂️✂️

The trip to Sardinia had been a rather bumpy one, if bumpy meant having to steal an aeroplane only to crash it in the middle of the ocean that is. To you it was a relief to be on solid ground again, you almost wanted to kiss it.

Right now you sat inside the tortoise along with Trish awaiting for the all clear. She seemed awfully quiet, even more then she normally was.

"Trish, I'm proud of what you did back there" you said which snapped her out of her thoughts and she let out a small hum, she probably didn't here you.

"Stands can be hard to get your head around but you used your today like you had been using it for your whole life, eve after a few years I still have a hassle of using mine" you explained to her with a kind smile on your face.

"You have a stand?" She asked.

"Yes, every member of Passioné does... Mines called Temple of the king and it's actually similar to this one" you said as you pointed to the roof of the room.

"I tried to use it to protect us from prosciutto's greatful dead but it had effected me enough to not be able to use it" you explained and the pink haired female leaned in with curiosity in her eyes.

"To put my ability simply, I can create a copy of the area I'm in, like a spiritual clone of where I am... From there no one can see me or any one I drag in with me and no stand can effect anyone in the area... It's not a very offensive but it's definitely good in terms of set up, however if I do get hurt badly I'll lose my focus and the copy will disappear" you explained.

"It sounds interesting" she replied.

"Every stand reflects it's user... I can interpret yours might be formed from your retaliation against you father, you've become more then just poor girl he wished to kill... You have become your own person and taken charge of your fate and are fighting back" you explained and she shook her head in agreement.

"But how do you feel about killing my father, your his soulmate after all?" She asked which left you stunned.

"How do you know that?!"

"I head you and Bruno talking about it earlier" she said as she twirled her hair.

"I'm willing to go to that extent... If he's my soulmate then I'd rather say that I never had one" you explained.

"But as his soulmate I only see one role as such and that is to protect his daughter... Whether he likes it or not... You don't have to look up to me as a motherly figure or anything like that... I just want you to know that I'll take care of you, I know how it feels to lose a loved and to be betrayed by another" you explained as you held onto her hand. You wanted to give her the comfort and security that you wished you had instead of isolating yourself from it all.

Tears began to build up in your eyes as you felt her hug you but you refused to make yourself look like a crybaby after your promise to protect her.

"God why does everyone treat me like a kid?" She asked in a joking tone.

"Coz your the youngest but don't worry, I'm six years older then Bruno and he still treats me like a kid" you explained as you hugged her back before you heard Bruno call your name.

"I gotta go now" you said as you pulled away before returning to the real world.

"Yes Bucciallati?" You asked.

"I want you to stay with Abbaccio while he's using Moody Blues while we watch out for anything suspicious" he explained.

"Of course, I'll use Temple of the king right now" you said as you summoned your fox like stand to quickly create the spiritual clone as the others left. You felt and aching sensation on your nose before wiping your wrist over your nostrils only to see a dark red liquid on it but you just simply shook it off as a simple nosebleed and nothing more.

It seemed like minutes that you and Abbaccio sat in silence as you waited for Moody Blues' replay when all of a sudden you felt your face being cut apart causing you to fall back in pain and your stand to disburse.

"(Y/n) what's going on?!" Abbaccio yelled as he picked you up. You were stunned and unable to talk.

"Is it an enemy stand?" He asked with concern in his voice.

"No... I think the boss is in a confrontation-" you said before you yelped out in pain as you felt  painful pricks in your skin, you could practically taste the blood on your lips.

"What on earth makes you think that?" He asked.

"An old tale no grandmother told me... That some soulmates can feel each overs pain... It must be a stand user he's up against if... And a deadly efficient one at that..." You said through you gasps for air as you kneeled over and coughed up blood before letting out yet another pain filled scream as you felt something embedded under the skin of your neck, you desperately clawed at your skin as you tried to get whatever it was until your neck tore open, you just hoped to God that it hadn't torn any vital points. Whatever the ability was it was savage enough to tear up someone from the inside. This attack wasn't just a simple attempt to kill, it was full of malice and rage... The stand user was obviously a person with no remorse for the boss.

You began to feel light headed and the world began to spin as you felt your body go limp. You were losing to much blood. You could quite possibly die but if the the boss was going to die then you didn't mind being dragged into hell with him.

"(Y/n) I need to get you to the others?!" He yelled as he tried to pick you up.

"No you stay right here, you have to find the bosses identity!" You yelled in response.

"I swear to god... if you even stop Moody Blues... I'll kick your ass..." You muttered before you passed out.

✂️✂️✂️

You woke up again to see you were still in the same place however you felt a strong pair of arms holding you close. You looked up to see Abbaccio and you gave him a hazy glance followed with a worn out smile.

"(Y/n) you had me worried, you could of died" he said in a harsh tone that hid all of his worry.

"I'm... Fine" you said as you looked over to see Moody Blues had almost rewound completely.

You pushed yourself off of him before slumping onto the ground and leaning against the rock he sat on.

You still felt horrible after being unconscious for who knows how long. Your clothes were covered in blood and you felt the dirt cling to your bloody skin. You then that horrible feeling you felt back in Venice returned. Dread filled you as you felt it only getting worse.

"Abbaccio... The boss is on the island, I can feel his presence" you muttered in a ghostly tone full of fear. you tried to summon your stand but you couldn't do anything.

Your feeling of dread only grew more and more as you could feel him getting closer and closer until it became unbearable and made you want to passout again. The only thing that seemed to catch your attention was a stray soccer ball that got stuck in a tall shrub beside Abbaccio. A young male approached you two and Abbaccio flicked the ball off and the boy chased it.

Your vision doubled as you felt such an unbearable pain. A certain male in the small crowd that followed the boy caught your attention. You knew that he was the boss.

"Abbaccio look out!" You tried screamed but it was too late, he had already been impaled by his stands fist. As his body fell you caught it in your weak arms. The world seemed to go by as if nothing happened. Nobody came to aid you, nobody battered an eye.

You swayed back and forward as you drifted in and out of consciousness as you saw the pink haired boy from before approach you and kneel down to eye level with you. He held a shoe to his ear as one hazel eyes watched you while a emerald green eye darted all over the place.

"What about her boss?" He asked with a voice of pity.

"You would let me? Your too kind boss" he remarked.

"Oh you want me to wait here for the other traitors?" he asked before you grabbed the males collar and yanked him forward.

"Listen to me you bastard, the other are going to kick your ass into a grave for what you've done... And tell your boss he's a fucking coward... And that he's going straight to the ninth circle of hell for all of the sins he has committed" you hissed through deep breaths. The male flashed you a wicked grin as the hazel eyes turned the same shade of green as the other.

"There is a difference between being cowardly and being smart... I know you won't be conscious long enough to say your good byes to your dear team mates, I'll tell them that you had your complete trust in them..." he said in a completely different voice.

✂️✂️✂️

You woke up, wishing that you had passed away and gone to heaven but instead you were bound to a chair in a dimly lit room full of white sheets covering objects under them.

You inspected the room further to realise that it was a ballroom.

You wanted to gag as the smell of resin wafted through the room. This was one of Passionè's soirèes which gave you a terrifying thought as to what might lie under the sheets.

You flinched as you heard a pair of footsteps approach you from behind. You summoned Temple of the king and quickly hid yourself.

"(Y/n) you can't trick me, I know what your stand does" the soft voice of the boy from Sardinia echoed through the large room.

"You don't need to hide, I promise I won't hurt you" his sickeningly sweet voice rang as he stood in front of you. You  sighed as the second area disbursed.

"Your such a sneaky little fox" he mused as he rubbed your cheek. Tears flooded your eyes as he held you in such an endearing way.

"What happened to Trish?" You asked him, his eye turned into that eerie green.

"The girl was tough, she definitely got some of my traits but in the end she couldn't match me, eventually I just ended up strangling the life out of her" he explained your froze in horror as you heard this monster tell you how he mercilessly murdered his own daughter. You just wished you could have kept your promise to protect her.

"Why, why didn't you just let me die" you sobbed and the males eyes returned to their original hazel

"Now why would you want to die?" He asked as he hugged your form.

"You killed the people closest to me! You killed your own child!" You screamed.

"What on earth are you talking about? I never killed anyone and I don't have a child, besides why care about them, they're long gone so why don't you just love me... We're soulmates after all" he said with a sweet smile on his lips.

"Do you really just want to see your friends... I will show you them if you really want me to" he said in a creepily monotone voice. You stared down at you lap as you heard the boy's footsteps echo and then the in your peripheral vision the white sheets fall to the ground one by one, five in total.

You looked up, deep in your gut you knew what to expect but you still screamed in terror as you saw the mangled and disfigured bodies of each of your team mates cast in a thin layer of resin. Abbaccio had the same hole through his chest that you had seen inflicted earlier, half of Bruno's head was smashed to the point where it was bearly recognisable, Narancia's head hung limply to the side and his legs were bent in an unnatural manner. Giorno had a pole of sorts jammed into his chest that quite possibly went straight through his heart and the supposed luckiest of the group, Mista was riddled with bullet holes, he would usually just get back up and treat it like it was nothing but you knew there was no way he would have survived this time.

"The boss wanted each of their bodies to be preserved to show everyone the consequences of betraying him" he explained.

"So am I next?" You asked.

"Of course not, the boss told me to keep you and I'm happy he did" he said with such childish happiness but you were slowly figuring out this situation. The boss must have split personality disorder. It would explain a lot, how he was able to keep himself completely anonymous yet still know every thing that happened, why his eyes kept changing and why how the hazel eyes him seem totally oblivious to some of his actions and you realised that the boss was only keeping you alive as killing you would more then likely become suicide.

"(Y/n) I know we bearly know anything about each other but I'm sure after a while you learn to love me" the boy smile before pecking your cheek.

"We're fate bound lovers" he continued.

"No...no...no" was the only thing you could mutter which looped over and over like miserable chant.

You just couldn't stop crying, everyone you knew was gone and you were left to the overly affectionate alternate persona of the boss. More then likely you would be under lock and key for the rest of your Life...