#it was all i could to not slip and lose all the fish we needed data from

[the-best-bagel]

uuuuu i just had my worst week ever at work

[ladymarvel27]

So Skeptical | Carlos Sainz

Carlos Sainz x Reader

Description: He is suspecting you fell out of love for him.

Word count: 800+

f1 masterlist

He was noticing you were distancing yourself from him since the last race. You always looked busy. Not like in real busy but fake busy, as if trying to avoid him. Another thing that bothered him was that you were talking to Charles, even more than you were talking to him.

His heart sank seeing you rapidly texting someone discreetly on Saturday morning before the quali.

“Hey princess,” he appeared in front of you. You immediately shut your phone, shoving it in your pocket, and he felt his heart break a little.

“Hey, Carlos. Ready for the quali?” He could see your made-up smile.

“Yeah,” he nods, bringing up a smile covering up his little heartbreak. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to press a kiss on his cheek. “Good luck honey,” you say. He pulls you into his arms and you giggle against his chest, feeling warm and lovely. You were so perfect, the thing he has and he feels for you is so beautiful. He keeps wondering how could you do this to him, as his grip around you tightens. Maybe he is just overthinking? It was only frantic texting, fishing some information for your new venture. He found it so endearing how you were so passionate about your profession. You were so lovely, so adorable. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. He felt the urge to pick you and spun you around and kiss your pretty lips passionately and tell you how much he- “Carlos?” He is snapped of his thoughts by your voice. He pulls away and looks at you. “Are you fine?”

“HUH?”

“You are crying?” He didn’t even realise tears streaming down his face. You wiped it away. “Yeah just,” he trails off and you raise your eyebrows, making him continue, “I am glad that I have a girl like you in my life.”

“Me too. I love you my-” You were interrupted by his engineer calling him. “I should leave, huh?”

“Yeah, go smash in the quali!” You say with excitement.

As soon as he got free from the parce ferme, he ran to talk to you. He needed to. He was so tense during the quali that he couldn’t focus at all and ended it in heavy disappointment. “Y/N!” He sprinted to you, out of breath.

“Hey, Carlos,” you immediately hugged his sweaty body tightly, “You did so good. I am so proud.” He was confused as hell and scrunched his nose. “It was just P5.” He replied to your compliment.

“But you couldn’t even make it to Q3 in last race.” He felt bad when you spoke it out. “You improved Carlos!” You smiled brightly and shook him by his shoulders. “Yeah,” he chuckles lightly.

“Y/n,” he rubs your shoulders, “can we-”

“Carlos the media pen is starting,” his PR interrupts.

“Carlos. I am tired. I think this gonna take time, so I am returning to the hotel.”

“Oh yeah, you should. Bye. See you in the evening!”

As soon as he finished up all his daywork, he rushed to leave immediately to see you. He glanced at his wristwatch. 11:55 p.m. It’s too late. You would have fallen asleep. Gosh! He felt like time was slipping from his hand as sand. He feels something is wrong. Maybe you’re not doing but there is something. Maybe you just fell out of love? And it’s all your disinterest surfacing up but he isn’t catching. He rushed to the door and immediately placed the key card. The door buzzed open. The lights were off. He turned on the lights. You were nowhere to be seen. His heart sank. He slowly made his way past the room to the lobby area.

As soon as he turned on the lights, several voices shouted, “Happy Birthday!” You were standing between everyone, holding a small cake with a lit 30th candle. You went forward to him and brought it in front of him. He smiled brightly seeing the cake: with a customized picture of him from last year when he took pole in Monza. He was suspecting and overthinking so much, he forgot he had his birthday coming up. And how this could be the reason for it.

“Happy birthday, my bear.” He grinned with all his teeth out. “The cake Carlos, we got it specially for you,” Charles shouts from behind. He nods and blows the candles, his grin being a constant presence on his face. Everyone starts singing for him. “This the prettiest birthday cake I have ever got,” he spoke, “but we have to cut it, right?”

You chuckled at him. “Of course, you have to, Carlitos,” you wink. He laughs and cuts the cake, his heart swelling with the warmth and love he feels for you. You press a kiss on his cheek, making his grin wider.

A/n: Yeah, this is a birthday special, I wrote in just few hours. Thanks to my sister for proofreading.

Taglist: @faithshouseofchaos @itsjustvs4

[boyfiechan]

I keep thinking about this post lately and honestly, Chan talking you through it sounds about right.

It's nothing new that Chan seems like a very vocal person in general. Back when he was still doing Chan's Room, the major portion of the lives were just him talking. In english, in korean — sometimes mixing both up. Telling us about his day, answering questions, giving opinions on diverse topics, asking questions. Even on bubble, with the way he always translates his thoughts back and forth so everyone can read, to the way he keeps teasing us — asking if he should share some pictures, asking how we want to be called, asking what we are doing — he just enjoys sharing and holding a conversation so much that it wouldn't be different in more intimate settings.

See, he's a perfectionist. Even more, a bit of a people pleaser in a sense that he just wants to make you feel so good and he needs to know that he can do it. He might get off a little bit on that as well, enjoying himself when he can see your struggle to answer a question or tell him how you feel because his fingers are moving so fast, or his mouth feels so good, or the angle his moving his hips is hitting all the right places and even if you're not a natural talker, he might try to fish it out of you.

It might start with a simple is this okay? when the kisses get a little too intense and his instinct to roam his hands around your body get stronger because he just wants to feel you closer, to feel more, to touch more. If you're still new to each other, or if you are in any way less experienced than him, even more of a shy, innocent person his tones goes even gentler, softer as he asks if it's okay to kiss you, if it's okay to touch you there, if it feels good when he does it. And he's very attentive when he does, searching for your eyes, observing how your body melt into his, hoping to catch every single little sound that gets off your mouth because, to him, that's when he knows he's doing the right thing. He wants to make you feel good, he wants to know he's doing it the way you like it, and he want the praise for it.

It's not even intentional, most of the time. He doesn't ask you if he is doing good, but more if it feels good, and it almost seems like it's only about the sensation itself. He's just such a sweet person when it comes to telling people they are doing good — he likes praising people, he likes telling them how good they're doing on such mundane things — and even when he seems to not rely as much on receiving praise as he actually does, if ever a such thing as you're doing so good or you're so good to me leaves your mouth, he's a goner. It's the type of thing that makes him stutter a little, gets him a little dizzy, maybe even having to brace himself because for all that he knows, he could cum right at that very moment, just to the way your voice sounds all breathy and lustful.

And don't get me wrong, he can get very mouthy when the timing is good. Most thing with him escalate on baby steps — he is a slow paced lover, sex to him is not only about getting his dick wet and cumming, but more about the experience itself and to the way lust and pleasure can cloud his mind — and that applies to how his tone can change when you're getting more into it, as the air gets hotter and heavier and he starts to lose his filter. Fuck, you feel so good as his cock slips back into you so deep, so right and you're so tight as he feels you clenching around him because you can feel he is getting filthier and you like it. And again, he's so attentive that he knows you like it, and it's as if you've given him a green light to just say what goes through his mind, and he does it so well.

And it's a different kind of filthy, too. He won't simply ask you if you like when he fucks you or if you like his cock, but if you can feel how deep he is. You like it when I'm inside of you, yeah? You're so perfect, you take me so well as he holds both your hands on top of your head and gives you and open mouthed kiss that feels so messy, so lustful that you get yourself lost in the feeling of it, in the feeling of him. He can feel your getting closer, your moans getting louder and dragged out, clenching around him so often he's seeing stars and he wants you to do it, that's it, cum for me, baby. Wanna feel you cum for me, his voice so whiny it's almost impossible to hold back as you let yourself go, taking you with him because it's just too good.

Are you okay? he asks as lays on your side, catching you by the waist and pressing your body against his after calming down. He wants to ask if he did good, if it was good and maybe even tell you how much he likes you or loves you or how well you did but seeing how tired you are, eyes fluttering shut as he pays attention to his heart rate and the smell of your shampoo, his mind decides to leave the end of this conversation to another moment.

[karinadele]

Care

Ratchet x Cat reader

Based on @qiandai_suian's comic.

I scream again reader is a cat!! Gen reader ofc. Just fluff with Ratchet.

Nudging the cube of energon with your head, you let out an exasperated meow. One paw after another, you push it towards him. You’ve been here for weeks now, and have rarely seen him eat anything. Why is he so stubborn! Doesn’t he know he’ll die if he doesn’t eat?!

Back on the streets, you’ve lost more than you can count from the lack of food. Being the oldest of your family, you always did your best to hunt down scraps for your siblings. Leftover fish from the trash, stealing meat from the human vendors, even occasionally approaching kind humans for kibbles.

That evening, hiding behind boxes of trash, taking shelter from the light drizzle of the rain. A human boy approached you. Both startled and curious, you poke your head out. The human boy bent down, meeting you at eye level, reaching out. Is he offering his hand to you? You want something warm from this cold and wet nightmare. Stepping out of the box, you make your way to him. A gentle stroke runs under your chin, and you find yourself purring. Not a bad human after all. You could get used to this.

What you did not expect, was that he would not be your guardian. Passed between him, a spunky looking girl, and a young boy. None of them would be able to house you. 

Please don’t put me back on the streets. I Don’t want to lose this warmth. 

Fortunately for you, you do not need to be back wandering along the streets. Unfortunately for you, you’re in the care of a giant –and I mean giant, metal robot. His frame wasn’t soft like humans, hard and metal. But still warm and gentle. Your butler/guardian, as you've come to realize, is called Ratchet.

Adjusting to your new environment wasn’t difficult at all. Sure, everyone here is huge, but it’s never been more comforting and fun. Even the humans come to visit you sometimes. Finally, you’ve gained the freedom and love you've been longing for. 

—---

Excitedly Jack holds up the kitty in Ratchet’s face. “We can’t take it in. Mom won’t let me.” He tells Ratchet. Miko and Raf chime in that they can’t either. 

Stunned, Ratchet almost wanted to tell them ‘Why is this my problem?’ But with the little feline in his servos, it rolls around and dances on him. Unconsciously, he finds his spark warming up. This must be why humans love cats. It’s adorable. Paws up with those huge eyes staring right up at him. He doesn’t know what to do with it, but he finds faceplate lightly flushing up as the creature nuzzles on his digits.

This thing is huge. Humans are big enough, but this one? Giant. Does it matter? Hell no! Everything is a free game! Hopping off the human as you lunge into his servos. The metal touching your paw pads as you analyze him. He seems surprised, but you don’t feel an inkling of fear. Rolling over onto your back as you nuzzle your body into his palm. It’s hard, yet surprisingly comfortable. You could definitely get used to it. Walking over to his digit as you scratch your chin on it. Cheek and chin scratches are the best. Purring as you take advantage of this opportunity to get as much itches out as you can. 

He may not admit it, but he just fell in love. Such a tiny creature. Smaller than even humans, yet so bold and brave. Without a care in the world. Keeping up his grumpy demeanor, he tells the humans he’ll keep it. But under that hard metal exterior, he knows this soft creature has already made it’s way into his spark.

Without a second thought, you leap from his digit to his shoulder. You never get to enjoy being this high up. Occasionally when climbing buildings, but this one moves. Noticing the antenna on his back, you smirk and pounce towards it. Heh. It’s mine. Metal yet bendable, you bat at it. It bounces back every time it slips out of your paws, but that’s the fun of it! Rolling onto your side as you chase for it again. 

“Wait!” Ratchet calls out. “What are you doing?! That’s dangerous!” Picking the kitty off his back, bringing it to his faceplace. Such carelessness, doesn’t it know that it could fall and injure itself?! Scolding it as the usual cranky bot he is, but you? You don’t care. Music to your ears as you paw at his digit. Such an exciting situation! 

—---

Slowly but surely, Ratchet learns what it means to take care of a cat. A bed (graciously provided by Jack), learning to feed it with Raf, and Miko showing him treats and tricks. 

Such a tiny organism, yet has a huge appetite. Always crying for food, like it’s never eaten before in its life. If it was anything else, he totally would have snapped and told it to shut up and be quiet. Or even thrown it out. But it’s you. Fluffy and adorable, he can’t say no. 

Learning to feed it was an experience. It even consumes different fuel from what the human do. With accurate precision, –thanks to his steady servos. He may be old and a little creaky, but he still has excellent dexterity. Using his forceps to scoop up kibbles to feed you, as a surprised and curious expression creeps up his faceplate. A completely new experience to him, and one he knows he’ll latch on to. Who knows? Maybe he’ll be less cranky and more upbeat now.

You integrate really well into the team. A different family definitely, 3 different species under the same roof, –base. You don’t understand their language, but have picked up the sounds of certain things. Your name, Ratchet’s name, the humans, even some of the bots. Oh, and the sound of the groundbridge. A magical swirl of green and white, a portal to somewhere. Ratchet once had to chase you through it as you door-dashed out into it.

Flinging up and down in the air between Wheeljack and Smokescreen, you enjoy the company and thrill of being so high up and off the ground. 

Ratchet on the other hand? He’s about to lose it. ‘He needed that’ almost slipped out. Wrench in hand, as his optics widen so much that it could bend his optic ridges. “WHAT IN PRIMUS’ NAME ARE YOU TWO DOING!” as he smacks them on the helm. Huffing and puffing as he does. 

You on the other hand? Have no idea what’s going on. Your game just cut short by your guardian, Wheeljack and Smokescreen are now laying face down on the ground. Hopping between their backs, as you roll around and kneed on them.

He loves you. Over time the team has noticed how much more rested Ratchet has become with you around. Team Prime dubbing you the name of ‘Prime Kitty’. 

And you’ve grown to love him too. Nudging him next to his optics, as you sit on the corner of his helm. Being so small, you can meander in the smallest places of his, finding perfect nesting spots to nap in. The neck cables being particularly warm. His chassis also is a fantastic place to curl up on, though you’ve come to learn he rarely lays down. How can one sleep so little? You’re almost concerned about how little he sleeps. Humans already sleep so little! Everyone should sleep half the day away! Napping is the best!

His devotion only grows stronger as he spends his free time –whatever little he has, building you structures and towers. Made with metal and wood, laced with a soft velvet fabric. Servos on his hips, as he analyzes his work. Never has he been this proud of a creation.

Arcee? She’s judging. The doc bot has definitely gone off the rails. Yet no one will stop him. Not even Optimus. He may be spending too much time showing his love to you, but everyone knows. The cranky medic has finally found peace and love. Even Optimus can’t help but smile at the situation.

You love it. Never having such a luxurious experience before, and now it’s yours permanently. Napping everywhere on it, kneading it, and scratching it. You’ve even got a slide that you can roll off and enjoy. 

—---

Working away at his console, he hears a consistently scraping on the ground. Originally ignoring it as it’s probably one of the kids doing something, but the sound creeps closer by the minute. When he finally pulls his optics off the terminal, he finds a cube of energon on the ground. Popping your head out from behind it, as you paw at it. You brought him fuel.

He can’t help but find his faceplate soften into a smile. Picking up the energon as you hop onto his servo. Spark pulsing and glistening to a degree he’s never experienced before. You nuzzle the edge of the cube towards him, before opting to roll around and use his digits to scratch yourself.

Sipping the energon as he feels you roll around on his helm, now used to the fact you enjoy batting at his antennas and audials. The only sounds around you two are the soft humming of his engines, and your rumbling purring.

[icbgwy]

THE WAY THINGS GO ♱. ── 西村力

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⎯‎⎯‎⎯⠀⠀⠀⠀⋆⠀⠀⠀⠀ׄ⠀⠀⠀一

riki ‘ni-ki’ nishimura stood on the court of the basketball gym, missing every shot he took. on the rare occasions he would succeed, it was sloppy.

this court was his sanctuary— not the empty mansion his parents bought to show off to other parents in seoul when they first moved to korea from okayama, japan.

here, on the hardwood floor of the basketball court, his worries melted away. every negative emotion he’d been harboring throughout the years would be irrelevant.

riki was naturally gifted at the sport, and combined with his obsessive drive for perfection, he had become the best basketball player seoul yeonhwa high school had ever seen.

yet there he was, losing his skills, his spark, and soon enough, his passion if things kept going the way they were headed.

it had been like this for weeks now, and he had no idea why. physically, he was fine, the picture perfect representation of a healthy teenage boy. emotionally? somewhat stable, though he was still recovering from yet another breakup with his toxic on-and-off girlfriend, choi soyeon but that never threw him off his game, if anything it fueled his drive towards perfection.

riki groaned in frustration. jake and heeseung exchanged side glances as they worked through their own shooting drills, both debating on whether to say something to riki or let it slide once more like all the other times.

even the basketball coach had started noticing riki's game or lack there of, and he wasn’t shy about voicing his criticism.

“the hell is wrong with you? If you keep this up and can’t focus on the team, you won’t be on the starting lineup this season and heeseung will take full responsibility as captain.”

riki and heeseung both knew it wasn’t a threat but more so a promise, if riki didn’t fix whatever was going on with him soon. he’d be sitting on the bench… with the water boy.

not only were riki's skills on the court slipping, but his so-called “rizz”—a term jake used unironically, despite being told multiple times how cringe he sounded—was faltering too.

in a childish attempt to get back at soyeon, riki wanted her to see how easily he could move on from her for the umpteenth time these past few years.

although this time around, it wasn’t working like it always did. every girl he approached and flirted with—classmates, girls at parties, old hookups, even ones he knew for sure liked him—seemed entirely uninterested in him all of the sudden.

“dude, seriously, what’s this? week five of you being like this? the season’s creeping up on us. what’s going on?” heeseung finally spoke up, walking toward riki.

riki snapped out of his inner turmoil, facing his co-captain.

“nothing. i just need to try harder or something,” riki muttered, attempting another shot. he missed. again.

“nah, something’s definitely up. plus, i haven’t seen your fan club sitting on the bleachers lately.” heeseung raised an eyebrow skeptically trying to fish for a proper answer.

“maybe he’s cursed,” jake chimed in flatly, appearing out of nowhere, standing behind riki.

“jesus, jake! we told you to stop doing that!” riki jumped away, startled by the shorter boy’s unexpected presence.

“right… my bad,” jake shrugged.

“also cursed? don’t start with that spiritual bullshit again,” riki groaned in annoyance.

“it didn’t help you pick up girls then, and it’s not going to help me now either,” riki added on.

“so you admit it? something’s up with you.” heeseung smirked knowing he was right, slinging an arm around riki’s shoulder.

“obviously smartass.” riki rolled his eyes and shrugged heeseung’s arm off of him.

“you should visit a shaman. i heard they work miracles, don’t they, jake?” heeseung said mockingly, though jake didn’t catch the sarcasm, thinking heeseung finally saw the appeal on his new found interest of spiritualism and the occult.

“hundred percent. it’ll totally help!” jake eagerly agreed, looking like a puppy dog being offered a meaty treat.

“yeah, because that’s exactly what i need right now! a shaman to scam me out of my money,” riki shot back sarcastically, dismissing the idea entirely.

jake and heeseung gave eachother side glances then stared blankly at riki, who knew what they were trying to convey.

“…okay. my parent’s money, but the point still stands!” riki admitted almost defensively, in typical rich teenage fashion.

riki was slightly taken aback by the defensiveness in his own words. it was at times like this where he sometimes wonder how he turned out to be the snobby rich kid that he so easily hated when he was a lot younger.

“hey! it’s real, it helped my cousin a few weeks ago, she’s a brand new person now, even better than before!” jake whined, breaking riki out of his thoughts.

“that’s for pathetic and hopeless people who don’t know what to do with their lives, i’m not at that point,” riki shook his head.

“…yet,” heeseung and jake said simultaneously, earning a glare from riki.

It’ll pass. It has to.

ִ ࣪ 𖦹 物事の進み方 ָ ࣪ ׅ

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notes: i get to so embarrassed and shy whenever i write something, please don’t judge i swear i got some pans and pots to cook trustttt, also can anyone tell me if i edit a post with people tagged, does it notify them every time?

summary: at the start of his senior year, riki nishimura notices that everything feels off—his basketball skills are slipping, and his usual charm with girls has vanished. desperate for answers, he follows his co-captain heeseung's joking advice and visits a local shaman. she reveals the source of his bad luck: major karmic debt. to regain his balance, riki must make amends for his broken and abandoned childhood friendship with the one girl who truly knew him, y/n matsuzaki.

tag list ( open ): @tasnemluvs @elegancefr @jiiyen @skepvids @enhypenlovre @mylettterstoyou @delirioastral @who-tf-soddhi @aespaqq @nat123c @nodoubtily @right-person-wrong-time @beijinkaoya @awhrin @ami-soph @ravendove666-blog @dollrincess @notab1tchwho @starssfall @aryannabananas

[thegnomelord]

CH 1: With a Spark It Starts Just Like It Ended

CW: NSFW Blood, gore, cannon typical violence, M reader but can be read as GN, Mage reader, Monster 141 AU, reader is described as having thick fucked up arms.

AO3 3.7k words, more of an intro to what's to come lol.

Old man Abdul had lived a good life. A harsh one. But a good one.

He was amongst the first to grab a gun and raise the fight against the Russians, risking life and limb for the freedom of Urzikstan even as members of his pack bled and died to artillery fire and noxious gas. And he alone had survived to see his country set free of tyranny and chose to stay in the military long after his hair had greyed.

And how was he rewarded for his service?

With a 'promotion' to guard the basement of a conference hall. They even called it the 'Peace House' as if that made his position grander, though in his humble opinion the only peaceful thing happening within the halls above was the lack of physical violence.

"Hey, did you fall asleep on me old man?" Taim, a bright eyed and gap-toothed human private so young he could've been one of his grandsons, asks as he throws down five playing cards on the floor between them. Royal flush, again.

Old man Abdul's eyes are soft with a glare and he throws down his own cards, already knowing he'd lost. "Go fish." He huffs, leaning back into the chair they'd been able to squirrel away.

It was embarrassing to think that boredom could torture him more than the Russians did, but they were only a few hours into their shift and he was already thinking of biting a bullet. Chances were they'd stay down here long after the diplomats up top finished bickering about who knows what...

"Hey," Taim perks up, and from the few weeks he's known him, Abdul knows the glint in his brown eyes heralds something stupid. "How about whoever loses this round takes a shot from your leg?"

He is proven correct.

"How about I throw you into a minefield so we can match?" Old man Abdul responds, his tail wagging from side to side. His tail looks more at home on a rat than any werewolf, the fur there an accidental casualty of a Russian fire mage's spell that had taken his leg off. The prosthetic leg only fitting on his human body isn't nearly as insulting as the warding totem they'd given him to protect against lethal magic after his leg had gone flying.

Taim gulps and holds his hands up. "There's no need for that sir." He quickly adds, clearing his throat and reaching to the floor to pick up their cards and shuffle them.

Taim's warding totem slips out from beneath his jacket, but it's different from old man Abdul's. Not in appearance, with the same materials every mage will make theirs differently, but in feel. It feels different...wrong.

Eyes narrowing he reaches out and holds the piece of faintly glowing rock between his claws. Heat radiates into his fingers, the magic inside pulsing in a steady even thrum like a machine instead of beating like a heartbeat; like something not quite alive.

Abdul had been in combat long enough to know how good a warding totem is with how his body reacts to it.

The shit one he'd been given barely gets the remaining fur on his tail to bristle.

Taim's makes his skin want to melt off.

"Where did you get this?" Abdul asks, tail curling up as he lets go of the totem with disgust clear on his face. "That rock could probably protect you from L3 mage without cracking, maybe even L4." Call him paranoid, but a private getting a totem to protect him from mages rarer than unicorns doesn't make any sense.

"Oh, that-" The young man clears his throat, the totem laying flat against his chest like an insult to life. "Came from up top a few days ago, guess all those terror attacks spooked command and they want to keep us normal people safe." He realizes his words and quickly adds. "-not that I'm calling you not normal or anything sir, it's just that-"

"-You're squishier than me, yes, I know." Old man Abdul rolls his eyes, leaning back into his chair with a huff.

Taim gives a nervous little giggle, scratching at his curly dark hair. "No offence sir. It's just...you know."

"We all look out for our kinfolk first." Old man Abdul sighs, going to wave him off.

His pointy ear twitches and immediately he's jumping to his feet when his sensitive hearing picks up the sound of the elevator mechanism running. No one is supposed to come down at this time, and Abdul already has his rifle raised to point at the elevator doors by the time Taim is able to get to his own feet. The old werewolf doesn't even need to say anything for the young man to stand on opposite side of him, they work together well, both guns aimed at the person revealed by the opening elevator doors.

It's just the janitor.

Taim lets out a small breath and lowers his gun, relaxing as the janitor gives them a small greeting both of them have to strain their ears to hear as a face mask muffles their words.

"That was a bit embarrassing." Taim chuckles weakly, nodding his own greeting and taking a step back so the janitor can push the heavy cart past them. Abdul notes the janitor's hands are thick and large, the veins poking out beneath latex gloves. Murky water sloshes inside the mop bucket, the trash bag filled to the brim and budging.

It's just a janitor.

But like an annoying tick on his ass, something doesn't let old man Abdul relax.

There's a buzz in the back of his mind like the one he'd get when he was being watched, and when he catches sight of the janitor's eyes beneath the wide-brimmed cap that buzzing stops; Instead replaced with a flash sense of wrongness in his bones and the feeling of tar inside his heart and an indescribable scent — like stale beer and burnt grass and deep dark rot — it has his fingers moving to the trigger before the sight of magic melting through latex can make the short trip from his eyes to his brain—

Glowing lines spring into thin air to form magic circles before their eyes.

The warding totems shatter.

'Pop' goes a head.

Both bodies drop to the ground.

"Could have told me there was a dog." Your words scrape against your throat like shards of glass from the disuse, melted latex stretching into long strands as you take off the cleaner gloves and throw them away, your fingers steaming and glowing hot with mana before you hide them away in tactical gloves.

"I-" Taim tries to say but his voice fails him, eyes and mind still blinded by the harsh glare of magical fire.

"Save it." You cut him off, pulling open the lip of the trash bag to dig out your facemask helmet. It's both a full face helmet and a gasmask, scratched up from years of use but still able to protect your head while keeping you anonymous. A shame it can't filter out the stench of burnt flesh, but you've gotten used to it.

Taim's vision clears and the moment his eyes settle on the charred remains of Abdul's head— the hollowed out skull where concentrated flame had burned a hole straight through everything in it's path, the flesh and bone charred black —he's scrambling away as fast as his feet can push him, the shattered remains of your warding totem crumbling beneath his fingers. Bile rises in his throat and he coughs when he breaths in, but his stomach is thankfully empty so he ends up dry heaving.

"On your feet." Your words are hard to understand under your gasmask, but you don't need to raise your voice. The tone you use has him scrambling to his feet in seconds.

"I- I- yes sir!" Taim manages to stutter out, doesn't even have to fake his fear as he stands at attention. He watches you reach into the dirty water to pull out a Handheld Personal Computer and shake off the residual droplets to ensure it still works before putting it in your pocket.

"When is the next check in?" You ask, reaching further into the trash bag to grasp the handhold on the heavy gas canister hidden beneath office trash. You pull it out without much effort, setting it carefully on the ground so you can recheck that the release valve is intact.

"20 minutes sir." Taim responds and he doesn't need to know Arabic to know what's inside the canister when a grinning skull is printed on the metal.

You let out a low sound, and Taim tries not to peer too closely at you. Sometimes he wonders what face a person who burns people alive without a single second of hesitation could have, but then you look at him and he sees that unnatural glow of mana in your eyes behind the darkened lenses of the helmet and he's glad he's met with the emotionless visage of the mask rather than the one beneath it.

"You have 10 to get out before Hell opens up." You say, standing back up and picking up the canister without complaint. "Use the emergency tunnels, don't spook the VIPs."

Taim is human, not sensitive to magic like the monsters are, but even he can feel the latent mana in your veins that strengthens your body. Like maggots at the back of his skull. It makes a second round of bile rise to his throat. "Yes sir."

You pay close attention to him until he disappears down the corridor before going the opposite way. Alone, it is easier to calm the lingering heat in your veins until the eternal engine of mana in your chest fizzles down to embers like a sleeping beast. Can't have your mana mess with sensitive electronics, even if that does leave you exposed on the cams (as if there's anyone alive to watch them)

"Ifrit, status?" The small radio in your ear crackles.

"Moving to the target, encountered and neutralized a wolf." You answer, taking sharp turns as you follow a path you'd memorized beforehand. "No other monsters to report."

You were lucky to run into one down in the bowels of the conference hall instead of at the front gate. Otherwise your espionage mission would have turned into a frontal assault. Not that Khaled would have minded, you were getting paid to send a loud statement after all.

"Good." You don't need to see his face to know he's smirking, your employer wasn't a huge fan of subhumans. "Continue to the objective."

You respond in affirmative, coming to a heavy metal door, locked with a passcode and even a palm scanner; It's all a valiant effort to keep sensitive data safe, but it may as well be cardboard to you. You summon another circle, this time right on the door, biting your tongue. You're not good with 'subtle' but you haven't forgotten what Taurus or Sierra had taught you; first pushing a bit of loose ash magic between the large atoms making up the metal to disrupt the bonds, then a single pulse of fire ignites the volatile ash and has the entire bottom half crumbling into red hot shards.

Molten slag drips down to the floor when you duck down under the remaining half of the door to find yourself in the server room. Steam rises when the cold air meets your hot skin, but you hardly notice as you first head to the ventilation system at the back of the room. It's dark, but you don't bother turning on the lights, the subtle mana in your eyes enough to give you primitive night vision.

"Ifrit to Alpha-Actual, connecting the payload right now." You say, setting the canister down. The ventilation collects the air from the server room to push it through the entire building and then outside, so all you have to do is melt a hole through the exit pipe until it's big enough for the hose on the canister to fit snugly inside.

"And the files?" Khaled's voice sounds in your ear once you're finished.

"Going now." Standing back up you head to the central server. Taking out the HPC you hook it up to the mainframe, watching the screen until it shows 'connection secure'. "I'm connected."

"Copy that." Your eyes scan the cracked screen (which you broke less than a week after getting it), seeing the file transfer start before Khaled even finishes speaking and trying to read and memorize the names of dozens the files but they change too quickly. "File transfer ETA 5 minutes. Sit tight."

Giving confirmation you keep an eye on the doorway. Though you are positioned in such a way that you'd see the shadow of someone coming in before they see you, years of being behind enemy lines and acting as a friendly to your foes has taught you to be careful. Especially when you can't use more than a smidgeon of mana without frying the entire server system.

You are lucky that no-one comes, the remaining guards too busy guarding the diplomats above you to check what's beneath their noses. While waiting you access the public stream to watch the peace talks, setting the sound to the lowest possible setting so you can keep an eye on the diplomats in case you need a change of plan.

"Got the files, you're clear to finish." You're moving before Khaled can finish speaking, leaving the HPC to hang by the cord from the server. "Oh, and remember: Loud."

"You get what you pay for sir." Kneeling down next to the gas canister you check to ensure your gas mask is firmly on and breathing in deeply; It restricts your breathing and makes muscles work harder, but your body is so used to it that it feels like coming back home.

"Letting the gas out now." Even with the gas mask you still hold your breath when you open the valve, the gas hissing as it escapes the canister, the fan right next to you helping push it through the system. You know there's not enough gas to reach the diplomats on the top floor, it's part of the plan, so when the gas pitters out you cast another circle inside the pipe.

The servers around you flicker meekly and crackle with electricity when you use your mana fully; Something intense and suffocating burns behind your sternum for just a second before liquid mana is rushing down your veins into your hands and coming out through the magic circle as copious amounts of ash.

The rotating fan right next to you spews some of your ash right back at you, flooding the server room in magic that has long since accepted your body enough not to hurt you. But even your seasoned stomach feels tight when you breathe in the mixture of ash and toxic gas, the chemicals turning your magic a nasty shade of green, and you make a mental note to change the filter when you're done with the op otherwise the toxified sediment collecting in there will poison you for months.

You can hear the diplomats begin to cough over the livestream in the HPC, but it all feels so distant when you shift and feel cold dog tags press against your burning chest. They're light like a noose around your neck, yet the absence of weight mocks you in a way their owners no longer can.

There's a familiar sting in your bones when your mana reservoir begins dwindling, but it's easy to push through it until the engine in your chest goes into overdrive from the stress the magic puts on your body. You only stop when the burning mana in your veins starts burning small holes in the sleeves of the janitor jacket, revealing bits of your mage marked skin.

Stopping the flow of ash your hands find themselves in your pocket, taking out a lighter. It's one of those old zippo lighters, the exterior is rusted from years of action and numerous initials are scratched into the metal, but somehow it still functions; It's the strange thing about it— the more you use it, the longer it lasts. Stop, and it dies.

"It's a bit like you, firebug."

Absentmindedly you trace the scratched initials in the metal, trying to ignore the hollowness in your chest when the screams beyond the smokescreen of ash start sounding familiar.

"Going dark." You say to them, flicking it open.

One spark is all it takes.

. . .

With Makarov having gone underground like a wanker after his escape from the gulag, Price and Laswell had been stuck with their heads in mountains of paperwork searching for the bastard. Price had known he'd be in for a headache the moment he agreed to let the boys watch a live football game between England and Scotland, but he reasoned they'd all been working hard enough to earn even a small break.

At the very least it gave them all a moment of reprieve from the stress of a possible world war.

It didn't stop Soap from being a bloody muppet.

"Oh fockin' 'ell!" Soap roars and jumps to his feet, growling at the teli where a ref held a red card above her head. "That should've been a yellow! Fock, one more eye and the ref's a right cyclops." He waves obscenities at the teli as if the ref can see them, his tail hitting Gaz every time it wagged.

"Soap!" Gaz groans and stretches one black wing to smack the werewolf over the head with his long flight feathers to stop him blocking the screen.

Though Gaz's wings are hollow, the smack still hurts. "Ow, what's that for?" Soap groans, rubbing the back of his head.

"At least take your defeat with a wee bit of dignity." Gaz smirks, folding his wings.

"Bold assumption he has any." Ghost mutters next to Price, making him chuckle.

“Oh ho! I’ll get me dignity when the bloody ref gets off 'er knees an’ stops blowing the entire game.” Soap turns to playfully snap his teeth at Gaz. "And what's tha-"

The football match cuts out, replaced with a news segment.

"-Oh, what the fock?" Soap grows quiet when the newscaster begins speaking.

"We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you breaking news. As we speak, the conference hall in Al Mazra, where diplomats from over 40 countries had come to discuss peace and trade agreements with the newly reinstated Urzikstan government, burns in the flames of another terrorist attack."

The footage shifts to a drone filming a bird's eye view shot of violent flames spewing from every hole and window to engulf the entire three story building in consuming fire, heavy plumes of smoke rising into the sky like a maw of a hungering beast to spew a storm of ash and cinders down to the ground. The clouds of ash have a sick green undertone to them.

"Shit." Gaz sucks in a breath.

"Mokarov's done hiding." Ghost notes, leaning in to look closely at the screen with narrowed eyes.

"How the fock did we miss this?" Soap asks the question in their minds, turning to look at Price. "This popped up like bloody whack-a-mole."

At that same time Price's phone rings. The dragon quickly fishes it out of his pocket, seeing Laswell's name as the caller ID before he picks it up while the reporter drawls on.

"Price, are you-"

"Yeah, I'm watching the teli." He cuts her off, knowing what she's going to say. Distantly he can hear the same news report sounding on her end.

"Authorities warn citizens to vacate the immediate area as toxic gas has been detected in the air. Military forces are already enroute, but the prospects for the diplomats survival are nonexistent."

Price's draconic eyes focus on the screen when the footage shifts to that inside the conference hall. Two diplomats argue about something Price can't begin to try and untangle, his focus on one man near the back who begins coughing. More follow suit, and even over the screen Price can tell the signs of toxic gas inhalation by the way more diplomats begin wheezing and coughing wetly.

"This isn't the Russians." Kate says after Price has put her on speaker.

"How come? Looks like some terrorist shite Makarov would pull." Johnny says, his tail curled up and the tip wagging occasionally as he pays attention to the screen.

Seconds later plumes of blackish-green smog erupt from the vents above the diplomats, spewing out with such force it knocks the the camera and the man behind it down to the ground. Ash Magic, Price realizes when he sees smoldering cinders drift almost peacefully in the all consuming fog. Seconds later something causes a spark and the volatile ash magic explodes.

"Ash mage." Ghost grunts, "Just great."

"Makarov doesn't use mages." Price says, scratching his beard.

"No, but Al-Asad does." Kate's voice drifts through the silent room as they watch several APC's arrive on the scene, armored soldiers exiting. But without any monsters who can stomach the heat like Price and with the fog of ash so thick it could be cut with a knife, the best they can do is secure the perimeter. "The CIA intercepted his broadcast before it went public, this is just the start."

Gaz hops off the couch, crossing the small distance to tap one claw at the screen. "What is that?" He asks. Seemingly hearing him, the drone camera focuses on where the main entrance of the building had been.

A dark silhouette of a person can be seen in the flames, growing darker and more refined until finally a featureless helmet emerges from the flames, a deep glow emanating from behind the lenses. It's followed by a body, clothes burnt away in some parts but the flesh beneath unharmed. Price can tell immediately it's a mage by the state of the arms — even from far away it's easy to tell the mage marks, the skin turned rough and dark like cooled magma, veins brimming with volatile mana.

Before the soldiers can fire a single bullet you lift one hand up, the dark mage marks turning to bright like fresh lava when mana flows from your chest to your fingers. A magic circle etches itself into the ground in an instant, so large the surrounding buildings fall into it's perimeter.

And with a second motion of your hand everything erupts into an all consuming cloud of ash.

Laswell's voice rings out. "That's Khaled's new attack dog."

Price and Ghost share a look, both know what will happen long before some nervous soldier caught in the ash cloud pulls the trigger. The cloud of ash explodes the second a spark is created in a weapon's chamber, plunging everything into chaos.

Great, a new wanker to worry about.

Price sighs, brows furrowing. "That's trouble all right."

Tag list: @resident-cryptid @diejager @lovingtyrantkitten @lieutnt

Masterlist <- Chapter 1 (you are here) -> Chapter 2

You can imagine the helmet however you want, but it's in the style of the Devtac Ronin helmet.

[softshuji]

'Is there a reason you haven't called recently?' As always, Ran is quick to get to the point.

You like that there's no here and there behaviour with him and he tells you-often this is- whatever you need to hear without mincing it all.

This time, you'd no choice but to pick up and you'd made the mistake of clicking on his unopened text so the excuse of feigning busyness hasn't seemed to work. You twirl the end of your hair around your finger still though- wracking your brain for some other reasoning that's airtight and waterproof and solid enough for him not to see through. Not that you know he won't, because he's always been far smarter than ever lets on.

'Oh y'know just....'

'If you're going to say you've been busy then that's fine. As long as that's actually what it is and not something else.'

You open and close your mouth like a fish out of water, hand still closed tight around the end of your shirt with the phone pressed to your ear.

There's a long pause then and the line is undulated by the rush of cars on his side, and the scratchy shuffle of him shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto the arm of the sofa, a faint grunt as he bends to slip his shoes off- and the hum of the heater on your own side.

'Maybe I am busy, I have a life you know.' You don't mean for it come out like that. Venomous, and with a bite that you can't help because it's easier to scratch and shrug him off than it is to let him in. He's the kind of man that's strictly off limits to you and it's not to any fault of his own. You know what he's like that's all- a girl on each arm, a girl for every day of the week and always something new because he likes to pick and choose when he wants to chase something. Or so you think.

Ran frowns, a stone cascading to his stomach. 'I did not imply you didn't. Would it be remiss of me to say I missed hearing your voice that's all? I thought maybe we could do something since it's been a while.'

There is no way a man like him could be sincere about an offer like that and there is no way a man like that could be interested in a girl like you when you're...what you are. You wonder if he likes playing this game with every one of the girls. Whether he likes toying with them before he gets bored, watching them succumb in some way to his charm- just to rip something that looks like hope away from them.

You keep him at bay for this reason and you're convinced a man like him could only ever cause you harm. That for all his wisdom, giving him the key to your heart would be like losing a war.

You choke back a sigh. 'That's nice of you, but I'm sure you can find someone else to go out with huh? Your secretary for one, I think she likes you.'

You sound jealous, vindictive and it's a look you absolutely loathe, a scent that reeks of something unsaid.

'Huh? Well I don't like her. I asked for you.' And then, as if it's an afterthought. 'You can say no if it bothers you this much, I just thought i'd ask.'

'I'm just not feeling so hot right now Ran, it's nothing personal, I just don't want to bother you.'

'mhm I see. I'll come over then, at least to keep you company.'

'You really don't have to do that.'

'I wasn't asking permission Princess. I'll be there soon yeah?'

A thick and cloying tightness finds a home in your chest, a bare and terrifying vulnerability. 'Why?' you ask, and it comes out small, comes out tired.

But Ran chuckles as he shrugs on his jacket again. 'Because I can, because if you're saying it for yourself then that's fine but it shouldn't be because of me.'

You hate how soft it is, how warm and tender, a cloak of sunlight and radiance that filters down through the phone, and it makes sense when you think about it- how so many people find it in them to love him when he is just like this, so bright and smart and full of life, charismatic and charming to a fault.

'You don't have to deal with this.'

'Oh but Princess, I want to,' he says, a mirth to his voice as he slips into his car. 'Leave the door unlocked yeah?'

And the call ends as you stare at his name, leaving the hibernated safety of your room to unlock the front door just as the familiar drone of his car zips into the driveway. Like coming home, like a familiar warmth, like him.

reblogs appreciated

[tumb1rprincess]

I know Arthur’s trauma and grief has been talked about a lot, but for some reason, I just started thinking about his loneliness and how that follows him around almost as much as his trauma and grief does.

He’s felt cut off from everyone ever since he was a kid. The loss of his parents made him different from everybody else and he knew it. He tried to raise Faroe on his own and that must have been a very lonely feeling, being a single parent and knowing your kid is relying solely on you. Then she slipped through his fingers, just like Bella did, and he’s alone again, until Parker finds him. But eventually, he’s gone too.

Then John shows up and everything changes and he’s even more different and cut off from everybody else. But he still clings onto John, even after he hurts him, because he doesn’t want to lose anybody else and be alone again. He makes the deal with Kayne to not only save John, but to have someone with him, the loneliness is just too much to bear.

As much as he cares about John though, he still longs for a human connection, and tries to find it in New York when John starts slipping away. But then Oscar gets hurt and he has to leave him behind and it’s so painful for him. Anyone who’s brought into his world runs the risk of getting hurt and he feels he needs to cut himself off to keep people safe. Noel is lost too, who knows what happened to him. Then he’s sent to medieval England and he’s a fish out of water, stuck in a completely different timeline, where he’s more out of place than ever.

The loneliness is a part of him just as much as his trauma and grief and isn’t that something we all can relate to? That feeling that you’re different from everybody else, you’re outside the circle, you’ve gone through things you feel nobody else could understand? And letting someone in is such a vulnerable feeling, but if your loneliness is too great, you’ll risk it anyway. And it’s so much scarier when you’ve been hurt in the past.

[galaxiasgreen]

🍭☀️A Cruelty Vivid and Sweet

Slow burn angsty Ominis x F!Reader [T-Rated, 8.7k words]

"I can't lose him," he whispered, a shattering realisation. "Not like I lost Anne, and... and you." "You haven't lost me." "You are the one good thing in my life right now," he said, voice broken with rage and pain, "and we can't even talk in the hallway!" You leant against him then, shoulder to shoulder. And there it was, like clockwork. Strawberry laces. "Then let's be two normal people right now. Just... for a little while. Like before."

In which, with his relationship with you a secret, Ominis tries to pull his best friend from the brink of darkness.

Tropes: angst/ romance/ drama, slow burn, black cat x golden retriever, opposites attract, forbidden love, pure-blood culture, canon rewrite, book!canon compliant, Ominis meets the Sallow Twins, Forced Proximity, Denial of Feelings, duelling practice, the Relic Quest.

[MASTERLIST][FIRST][PREV][NEXT] [read on AO3, read on Wattpad]

3. A Secret Friendship

From then on, your friendship together was a secret.

Ominis' growing feelings even more so.

There was a forbidden agreement between you that, to save you, and to save himself, you wouldn't interact in the outer world. No cheerful waves in the hallways, no hanging off each other's arms between lessons. The only way to communicate was through notes, traded like secrets, a folded scrap of parchment slipping into his robe or your pocket. Ominis doubted Perry Malfoy and his cronies would bother to learn braille at his expense, after all, and this way you could keep in contact without breaking the façade.

Your grasp of it was clumsy though. In your impatience, you forgot words like the and a, your cadence was robotic and primitive, and one time you forgot the L in public, which made him snort so hard he got detention in History of Magic.

When notes weren't needed, or seemed too risky, there was the language of touch, even more heretical to his family's values, and even more seducing. Your elbow a gentle nudge to his side, in the hallways, on the front lawns, your pinkie brushing his in class, lightning through his skin. They were fleeting, these moments of connection between you, but no less potent.

No less desired by him.

Even though you were a social creature, most energised when you spent time with your friends, you took to this naturally. No matter how tedious, you lived for the notes, for the secrets you shared. Your mood improved drastically, he could sense it, freed of your previous burden.

He felt the same too. Lighter on his shoulders, his heart.

On days when the both of you felt the most daring, where the stars aligned for a culmination of your letters, you met him under the Astronomy deck, when everyone was away at the evening feast, to have a little feast of your own, an eclectic mix of sweets sent from your family and treats bought at Honeydukes. It often left Ominis feeling a little sick, but he never minded, not when it meant he could spend time with you. Sometimes Sebastian joined in – but mostly not, his attentions captivated by his search for a cure.

And, Ominis was starting to realise, by Missy.

"He fancies her sooooo much," you said to him one day.

Ominis reclined against the wood. Even wrapped in blankets by a lit brazier, hushing the cold, he wasn't comfortable – he never would be, not when this meeting was illicit, stolen from beneath the stars. But there was something about you that relaxed him enough to forget it all, even temporarily.

"Do you think it's requited?"

"Er, yeah. Those two are always flirting." You threw a popping candy into your mouth, and it crackled as you spoke. "And goodness, you should see the looks they give each other. Seb makes googly eyes every time she looks at him, and she makes googly eyes when he's not looking."

For once, Ominis was grateful he didn't know what googly eyes were.

"What's she like?" he asked, curious. "Missy?"

You waited a moment, fishing for the right words.

"Intense."

"Like Sebastian then."

"In a different way. Sebastian is hell-bent on finding a cure for Anne. He has one goal in mind. But Missy isn't driven by one thing alone... but I don't know what drives her. She's extremely good at everything she does, spells and history and theory, but she always seems... guarded."

"Naturally, you took that as a challenge."

You made a raspberry noise. "No! I just happened to stand next to her in Flying. She's the sort of person you want as your friend, not your enemy."

That alone troubled him. "And paired with Sebastian makes a dangerous cocktail."

"You think she's encouraging the Dark Arts?"

"I know she's encouraging the Dark Arts."

You didn't reply to that, as unsure as he was.

"She's not a bad person, but she's definitely... hiding something."

She had her secrets. He had his as well, but his didn't try to lead his best friend into the waiting arms of Dark magic. Into Unforgivable Curses and choices that could not be taken back.

Letting Sebastian embrace the darkness was an option Ominis didn't even think to entertain. He was family, after all. Like you were, like Anne. A steadfast companion through thick and thin, through his best days and his worst – and now, when Sebastian needed him most, Ominis would not turn away.

A choice made despite its painful consequences, he now realises.

He remembers the first time he met him, all those years ago. It was not, in fact, in the dungeons of the Slytherin common room, their beds next to each other in the dorms by fate, but earlier, when they were both eleven and the Malfoys hosted an expensive soirée to officially welcome the new incoming year into the magical world.

Ominis already had his new wand and was relying on it excessively, since he discovered with its power his senses were more acute to his surroundings. It pulsed intermittently, moulding the world around him to a language he could understand. The Malfoy Manor ballroom was lit by chandeliers, torches burning along the walls, and a hearth, twice his height, the heat from it alone enough to make the whole house swelter. The floor was polished, heels squeaking along its smooth surface, and scents interwove like tapestry, roast pork and lavender bouquets and a tangle of overwhelming perfumes. How vast it all was, how grand. He imagined this was what it was like to see, to drink in the sights greedily, the world beyond his fingertips fascinating.

Unfortunately, to everyone else, it was not as fascinating as he himself.

"Behave yourself tonight, Ominis," his mother hissed to him as she shucked her coat, dropping it with a whumph onto a tiny house-elf's waiting arms. His father hadn't been able to attend, so she had taken his place, just as callous and stern, caring as much about family connections and alliances as the rest of them did. "Make friends with the older students. They will be your guides. The Nott girls are two years your senior, for example, and one of the Lestrange children three."

"Isn't there anyone starting in my year?"

"A few." Her sneer was audible. "The Reyes have a daughter – Imelda. I've never liked her mother, so uptight and condescending. The McDowells as well, but there's a rumour her father was unfaithful, probably with some Mudblood. It's a shame. The Malfoys, Blacks, and Ellingboes all have their children starting next year."

For some reason that brought him relief. His mother didn't let go of his collar though, thrusting him in front of her society friends and their progeny, sometimes too young for Hogwarts, sometimes having already started. Questions arrowed his way were never about his personality, his likes or dislikes – always, they opened with his eyes and their murkiness and the sight he did not have. One boy even farted and asked Ominis whether he could already smell it, which earnt a cuffing from his father, and led Ominis' mother to pull him away in disgust.

"Ominis," his mother said at one point, dropping her forced, sycophantic pitch. "You remember Phineas Black? He's the current headmaster at Hogwarts."

Oh, Ominis remembered Phineas Black all right. His unpleasantness was legendary.

"You will behave, won't you, Gaunt?" Professor Black spoke down to Ominis, voice a dismissive rumble that said he'd soon forget this exchange ever happened. "Every year there's always someone making unnecessary paperwork for me. Last year a group of sixth-year Gryffindors thought it would be funny to jinx my quills to sing every time I wrote a letter. If it were up to me, I would've had them lashed for insolence."

"It's what they deserved," his mother agreed.

"Alas, capital punishment is rather frowned upon these days. I had to settle with detention instead. And scrubbing the entire Hall of Herodiana with a single toothbrush."

Staying silent, Ominis thought, was the wise move.

Soon his mother tired of brandishing him like a prized Puffskein, leaving him unattended at the buffet table to entertain her friends. Ominis was alone – lonely, when the sounds of laughter and music were suffocating from the inside. He clutched his wand, using it to navigate to the closest wall, where a cascade of belladonna draped over stone. How was he supposed to network? There were too many bodies, too much noise.

"You're Ominis Gaunt."

In the chaotic din of the ballroom, he hadn't heard the snooty boy come up. He tuned to the voice, scolding himself inwardly. Pay more attention. "Yes."

"I'm Peregrine Malfoy."

Well, at least finding the Malfoys had been easy. Ominis frowned. "You're nine."

"Nearly ten."

"You don't start Hogwarts for another year. What do you want?"

"My father says I should introduce myself." Peregrine barely gave himself enough time to pause for breath. "What's it like being blind?"

The question fatigued him. "It's like being blind," he snapped, unable to help himself.

"That's not an answer."

"I can't give you an answer since I don't know what it's like being not."

"If you can't see, how are you going to do schoolwork?"

He thought about telling him about braille, but he was smart enough to know that Peregrine didn't actually want answers. He just wanted to prod where he didn't belong.

When Ominis didn't say anything, however, Peregrine took it as a sign of composed aloofness, and dragged him over to his own clique of friends. It was an overwhelming few moments, shaking hands, first names flying into one ear and out the other, the only one he recognised being Dorothy Ellingboe – his cousin once-removed. He barely knew her, the Ellingboes being an old wizarding family that originated in Norway that extended a branch into England to strengthen the line. Yet Dorothy was a sneering, simpering girl that thought herself better than everyone else, ugly in temperament as well as voice.

"So you're blind?" asked the Fawley boy. "Why can't you just use a spell to make yourself unblind?"

He resisted the urge to sigh. He'd done this rigmarole a thousand times before.

"It doesn't exist."

"Bet it does. You just need to think about the Latin. Vide means see. Have you tried doing that?"

Never, because his parents had already done it.

"Maybe," the boy continued, "you could take a potion. The powdered root of asphodel, for example—"

"Quiet, Hector," Peregrine muttered, facing the door. "Look who's just come in!"

"No way," said Dorothy, sniggering. "I'm surprised they could afford the Floo Powder to London!"

"They look like they've just climbed out of a fireplace, all right," said the Black boy, Ominis didn't remember his name – some pompous star, no doubt. "Like those peasant Muggle chimney sweeps."

"Who is it?" Ominis asked, feeling stupid and left out.

"It's the Stone-Broke Sallow Twins," said Peregrine. "Look at what they're wearing!"

Ominis couldn't see, but he could guess – plainly adorned breeches, or a threadbare frock. He felt the shift in the room as they entered with their uncle Solomon. His mother had babbled about the Sallows once or twice – their parents had been Hogwarts professors who died in a freak accident – often accompanied with similar contempt, but she disdained almost all of pure-blood society, so who really knew what they'd done to invite so much ire.

"We should invite them over, shouldn't we?" asked Peregrine. "That's the courteous thing to do."

"Ugh, this again?" said Imelda Reyes, with an audible roll of her eyes. "Can't we just have one party where we don't butt heads with the Sallow twins?"

"You're one to talk, Imelda," Hector muttered. "Butting heads is all you do every day."

"Only because you make it easy."

"Don't be a spoilsport," Peregrine jeered at her. "Honestly, you're just as bad as Kaydence Lestrange. If you're going to ruin the fun, run along to your parents and be dull with them."

Imelda made a noise like she was going to beat him, physically throw a punch, but instead stormed off.

"Oi, Sebastian, Anne!" With no one to stop him, and Ominis a quiet observer, Peregrine called out across the ballroom. "Come over here!"

Even with this supposed history between them, Sebastian and Anne came over. The tension ratcheted up.

"What do you want, Perry?" muttered Sebastian.

"Peregrine," the boy snapped. "I wanted to introduce you, because it's polite – not that you would know politeness. You remember Hector Fawley, Antares Black and Dorothy Ellingboe, and meet my new friend, Ominis Gaunt."

Friend? Hardly. Ominis had half a mind to run off with Imelda Reyes, and fought to keep a shudder off his face.

"So, who did you bribe?" asked Dorothy.

"What?" said Sebastian.

"To get in, of course," she said, like she was asking about the weather. "No way Edwin Malfoy invited you."

"He invited us," Sebastian said through gritted teeth, "because we're starting Hogwarts next year."

Hmm. Ominis' mother had failed to mention that.

"Can you even afford a wand?" Antares laughed.

"Yes." A soft whip noise as he withdrew it. "Would you like to see how it works?"

"Sebastian," Anne cautioned, grasping his sleeve.

Antares wasn't deterred. "Oh, please. I doubt you know a single spell."

Peregrine laughed then, laced with taunting. "Even if he did, I wouldn't worry, Antares. It's not like that wand chose him. It's probably a hand-me-down from his dead, mud-loving parents."

Ominis was suddenly knocked to the ground, wand scattered out of his grip. There was a struggle above, and Anne's voice rose above the boys' grunts.

"Leave it!" she demanded. "For goodness sake, Sebastian!"

Sebastian shook her off, but the fury was there. "Say one more word—"

"You'll what?" spurred Peregrine. "Cry about being a sad orphan?"

"Boys," came a thundering voice. This one Ominis recognised – Edwin Malfoy. "What's going on?"

The scuffling stopped at once. There were two wide steps back, echoing in the sudden quiet of the ballroom.

"Just some light banter, Father," Peregrine said immediately, still and cool. "Nothing to be concerned about."

Sebastian hastily cleared his throat. He knew the boundaries, too.

"Nothing at all, sir."

Edwin made a noise of disbelieving. "Play nice, Peregrine. You'll all be going to school together soon enough."

But when he left, and Peregrine did too, Hector, Antares and Dorothy dogging his heels, it was with a loud snigger, one that promised that this altercation wasn't the last. Ominis wasn't sure whether anyone even noticed him, left on the ground, panicking as his wand was nowhere close. He palmed the floor in frenzy, terrified someone would tread on his hands.

"Here." Anne tapped his arm, then looped hers with his. "Let me help you up."

He stood. "My wand—"

"It's here." Sebastian pressed it into Ominis' shoulder, and he took it, grateful. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push you over."

He was pretty sure it was Peregrine's elbow that went wide, since he was standing right next to him, but an apology of any kind was novel.

"Are you hurt?" asked Anne.

"Just my ego," said Ominis, which made her laugh.

"Ominis Gaunt, right?" Sebastian contemplated a moment. "So you really are blind— ow! Anne!"

"Don't be so rude!" she snapped. "He already knows!"

He did, but he couldn't help but grin anyway.

"You don't like Peregrine Malfoy?"

"Don't like?" Sebastian crowed. "I'd rather lick the underside of a Graphorn's arse than—" He seemed to remember himself. "I-I mean, you know, he can be, er, difficult—"

"It's all right," said Ominis, grinning. "I bet a Graphorn's bottom spews a lot less manure."

Sebastian let out a hysterical bark. Even Anne giggled.

"Thank goodness. We thought we were the only ones who didn't like him. He's so pretentious."

"Hector, Antares and Dorothy can shove it too," said Sebastian. "Mean gits with bad manners. They're all the same. And we're the twins here!"

Ominis tried to picture them, identical, but all he could imagine was their voices, how they inflected the same, laughed the same, spoke in the same accents.

"Dorothy is my cousin, actually."

"What?" said Sebastian.

"Oh, no," said Anne quickly, "h-he didn't mean—"

"And she's horrible."

This time they all laughed.

"I don't understand though. Why don't they like you?"

"Because we don't have money," Anne said, harrumphing as she did. "Because we live in a hamlet and not a fancy house, like this one. Stone-Broke."

"And don't forget Mama and Papa," Sebastian added. "They didn't care about blood or whatever, and taught everyone at Hogwarts when they were professors."

"Like they could turn away the Muggle-borns!"

Aunt Noctua, then, wasn't the only pure-blood to have such radical opinions. He may not have totally agreed, not when he'd yet to meet a Muggle-born, yet to have these notions proven, but it made him like these two, this odd pair the society kids disdained, all that much more.

He stayed with them for the rest of the party. The pair were hoping to follow their parents into Slytherin, same as Ominis; Sebastian liked Aurors and fighting magic, whereas Anne was eclectic, her interests broad yet undefined. Both of them shared an insatiable thirst for knowledge, and eventually even Anne caved to asking about Ominis' condition: how the wand helped him, how he sensed the world. This time he didn't mind their questions. They treated him like a person, not a pet.

When the party was over, Sebastian and Anne promised to wait for him when he arrived at Hogsmeade Station on the first of September. They promised to see their first few months together, as a team. Ominis left the party feeling lighter than he had all summer.

"The Sallows?" A hum escaped his mother's lips when he told her of his new friends. "They're poor. No money to their name, and their parents were happy to educate the Mudbloods at school. Still, they're dead now, and I'm loath to admit they both come from good breeding..."

That had been good enough.

And indeed, Sebastian and Anne had been waiting on the first of September, as they said they would, on the platform. They'd walked into the Great Hall with arms linked, taking in the new sights, smells and sounds, and rejoiced when they were Sorted into Slytherin together. Anne had sought to make her own friends and establish herself independently, free from Sebastian's influence – the last thing she wanted was to live in her boisterous brother's shadow for her entire Hogwarts tenure – but always she came back to him and Ominis. They hung about in the Undercroft, playing Gobstones, testing new jinxes, enjoying their newfound freedom and space.

Eventually she grew fond of you too, like he had. When your schedules worked, you were a tenacious quartet, three pure-blood Slytherins and one, odd little Muggle-born Hufflepuff.

Once you were all best friends. You were family.

Now the darkness threatened to ruin everything.

When the Astronomy deck was occupied, Ominis invited you to the Undercroft. It was dismal there – a reason you didn't enjoy it as much as anywhere else in the castle. Not a reason he understood, of course, but he never pretended to comprehend your particulars, nor your need for natural light. Nonetheless, you agreed on occasion. It was private, it was his, and it was safe.

Until it was no longer any of those things.

He headed down the lift to meet you, excitement brimming in his bones. December had long since arrived, and the chill along with it, weeping from the underground walls. He'd come earlier than planned, prepared to make the place as welcoming as possible. Lit torches, pillows and blankets, sweets, whatever it took.

But as the lift clunked to a stop, a female voice drifted down the hallway.

And it wasn't yours.

"Don't you think you should tell him?"

"What? About our frolicking around for the triptych?"

"It's not funny, Sebastian," Missy scolded. "You can't keep the relic a secret. It's thanks to him that you have this spellbook in the first place."

Ominis' excitement vanished, replaced with the emptiness that came after a string of broken promises.

"I know that," Sebastian admitted, "but if it works, then he'll see we have nothing to worry about. If the relic really can reverse Anne's curse, he'll see that nothing was in vain."

"He'll find out one way or another."

"It won't be from me." There was a hopeful inflection to him. "And... from you?"

She sighed. "I... suppose not."

"I promise," he said, so believing of own delusions, "it's for his own good."

Ominis threw up the gate then.

"I'll decide what's for my own good."

He sensed it then, the small things. A sharp intake of breath. Sebastian's fingers on crinkled paper – his feet moving to block the book.

"You lied to me," Ominis said, thrusting his wand at his friend. "You swore—"

"I actually said I understood—"

"Don't be deliberately obtuse. You knew exactly what you were implying."

"Ominis, please, see reason." Sebastian was calm, which was even more infuriating. "I love Anne, more than the world. Wouldn't you do anything for someone you loved?"

"You're arguing a pointless moral question."

"Am I? You have Gibby, after all."

It was like stone in his gullet.

"Don't you dare compare our situations."

"Why? It's no different."

"I'm not resorting to Dark Magic to talk to her!"

"But you are half in love with her. You're willing to risk being a blood traitor to your family for her."

Hearing him say it out loud was unfathomable.

"I— I'm not—" he stammered. "This is besides the point—"

"It isn't." He pushed past Ominis, spellbook in hand. "We're both willing to do whatever it takes. You do it your way. This," he said, "is mine."

Sebastian had gone through the gate when Ominis yelled, "Your obsession will cost you!"

His friend didn't reply. Soon the lift ascended the shaft, and Sebastian was gone.

Missy stepped forwards. "Ominis—"

"No, you don't get a say!" he barked. "You shouldn't even be here. This is my place. I didn't invite you. Sebastian shouldn't have brought you here!"

"He— he thought you'd be okay with it," she said quietly. "I would've found this place eventually."

"How? Only the Gaunts know of it!"

She didn't answer. Typical.

"I know you've been encouraging this— this madness—"

"I want to help him," she insisted, "but I'm trying to rein him in. I promise."

"Your promises mean nothing to me."

The gate opened then. In you ambled, jovial and beatific.

"Hello!" you piped. "I passed Sebastian on the way here, but he— Missy? What are you—?"

"She was just leaving," Ominis said.

Missy hesitated – a second, two. There was more she wanted to say.

Then, "Yes. I'm sorry to disturb you both."

When she left, you pattered over, joy diminished.

"Something happened, didn't it?"

He blew breath from his teeth. "Something always happens."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Frankly, all he wanted to do was scream, but telling you would do for now, though he was careful to leave out the being in love with you part. The way Sebastian threw it out there so casually... it unsettled him that these secret feelings he'd been trying to quash were so conspicuous. Sebastian was reckless and willing to do anything – would that include divulging Ominis' darkest secret? Did he have to fear the power his friend had over him now, too?

By the time he was done, both of you were leaning against the pillars, your legs tucked against your chest, his anger decaying to a low ache.

"But he doesn't know where the relic is?"

"It's only a matter of time." Ominis was certain of it.

You hummed. "I didn't realise how bad it was. Poor Anne..."

Anne, the victim in this, had her voice filched by her brother a long time ago.

"I'll write to her tonight," you said. "Sebastian has always been too headstrong for his own good."

"I can't lose him," he whispered, a shattering realisation. "Not like I lost Anne, and... and you."

"You haven't lost me."

"You are the one good thing in my life right now," he said, voice broken with rage and pain, "and we can't even talk in the hallway!"

You leant against him then, shoulder to shoulder. And there it was, like clockwork.

Strawberry laces.

"Then let's be two normal people right now. Just... for a little while. Like before."

Before. The nostalgia was painful. He missed those simpler times, when it was you, him, Sebastian and Anne, parading around Hogwarts without a care in the world.

Now Anne was cursed.

Now Sebastian was obsessed.

Now you had become a dirty secret.

And he clung to you, begging fate not to steal you too.

He smiles now, a memory coming back to him fondly. A memory of first year, after Christmas lapsed and the snow and ice were finally retreating from the grass. Exams were looming on the horizon.

And you were doing terribly in Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Though you were Muggle-born and humbling to the magical world, though you knew your grades were poor enough to raise concern, you swaggered into the Clocktower Courtyard that afternoon like an untouchable knight.

"Someone's confident," said Anne. She, and Ominis and Sebastian, had been waiting for you.

"Always," you trilled. "I may be the worst duellist in Hufflepuff—"

"Try the whole year," muttered Sebastian.

"— but I have the most fun, so who's really winning?"

Ominis snorted. You swatted his arm lightly.

"You're going to fail the class if you don't get better at duelling, so," a little teasing fluttered through Anne's declaration, "we're going to be your new teachers."

"You may only address me as Professor Sallow from now on," said Sebastian airily. He paced, drawing Ominis' ear across the courtyard. "And I don't plan on going easy on you."

Your bravado vanished "Do we really have to do this? Have you all fight me at the same time?"

"Diamonds are made under pressure, aren't they?"

"I don't want to be a diamond. A nice, sturdy rock would do."

"You sound scared, Gibby."

"Of course I am! It's three against one!"

"All you have to do is protect yourself," said Anne. She stepped backwards six paces, and Ominis copied. "A simple Protego spell. Okay?"

"If I say not okay, will you leave me be?"

"Stupefy!" Sebastian cried.

"EEEEEK!" Instead of blocking, you pitched to the ground as the spell hissed on stone behind you. "Hey! I-I wasn't ready!"

"Sometimes you won't be ready!" Sebastian said darkly. Then, "Come on, Ominis. Help me."

He wasn't certain attacking you this way was the best way to learn, but, well, there was something about diamonds and pressure. Hogwarts was a safe haven, protected by enchantments more powerful than a dynasty, more ancient than a family tree, but the outside world wasn't so kind. It was cruel. He wanted you to prepare, because Sebastian was right: one day you might not get the chance.

He shifted his weight. "Impedimenta!"

You dodged that one, too.

"Ominis!"

"What?"

"You're being— mean!"

He threw up his hands in exasperation.

"Come on, Gibby! At least try!" Anne's boots scraped against stone. "Accio!"

You stumbled forwards. "Ack! P-Protego!"

"Crus Vacillare!"

A soft thud. You tripped over yourself.

"Too weak," Sebastian called. "You have to mean it."

"I-I am meaning it!" You stood. "I-It's just— hard!"

"How about we make it more interesting?" he suggested with a flinty smugness. "If you don't cast Protego successfully... we all get to eat your sweet stash."

Your gasp was unfiltered. "You wouldn't."

Ominis sighed. He would.

Sebastian danced on the balls of his feet. "Again!"

Anne's voice was clear. "Aqua Eructo!"

"P-Protego!"

Water gushed forwards, but judging by only the slight squeal you let out, your charm had been slightly successful.

"That's more like it!" Sebastian yelled. "Again! Impedimenta!"

"Prote— ah!" You were laughing suddenly. "Look! I'm sooooo slooooow."

"Gibby!" Anne cried. "Do you want us to eat your year's supply of Fizzing Whizbees?"

"And all your toffee nougat?" added Sebastian.

"And," Ominis smiled, "your strawberry laces?"

"Okay, okay! I swear I am trying." You inhaled deeply. "Give me the one-two, Ominis!"

He wouldn't attack you very hard. Despite everything, he couldn't bring himself to.

"Levioso!"

"Protego!"

Zing. The spell lanced off the shield.

"Ah!" you cried. "I-I did it!"

Anne came closer. "Only because Ominis is holding back," she sang.

"He's not!" A pause. "... Are you?"

Ominis grimaced, which made Sebastian snigger.

"Boo!" you pouted. "I-I could defeat you, for real!"

He sincerely doubted that. His family had been instilling duelling technique and practice since he got his wand, in first year. It was imperative, they believed, that Ominis learn to defend himself, use his magic to the fullest potential, to prevent their 'enemies' from taking advantage. Their words. It was why he knew Crucio so early into his education, why he knew too much about Dark Magic. He suspected there was more to it – that they feared, because he was blind, he was more susceptible to defeat. Still, he liked to think he'd done well to keep up.

But he was nonchalant with you, not wanting to pop the balloon of your confidence. "Are you challenging me to a duel?"

"Yeah, I am! Let's do this!"

He swung around to create space between you, amused – but if it helped to improve your grade, he was glad.

"Two Sickles says Ominis ends up on his arse," Anne muttered.

Sebastian let out a single, hysterical laugh. "I'll happily take that bet."

"Thanks, Anne," muttered Ominis.

"Thanks, Anne!" you chirruped.

She was right though. For someone who'd only just learnt Protego, your ego was inflated. He had been holding back because he didn't want to injure you, nor your pride, but there was a fine line between that and arrogance. He raised his wand in your direction, preparing a list of spells to use.

"Duellists, bow!" Sebastian called.

He dipped his head. Presumably you dipped yours.

"Ready?" Anne called. "And... go!"

"Impedimenta!"

"Pro— eeek!" You rolled out of the way. "Wait— let me think— Stupefy!"

The spell skimmed his ear. Well. That was unexpected.

"Accio!"

"Protego!"

A great block. You squealed delightedly.

"That's it, Gibby!" yelled Anne.

"Flatten her, Ominis!" yelled Sebastian.

Ominis scoffed. "Impedimenta!"

You parried the blow again, retaliating with your own. He was starting to enjoy the competition, the fierceness of your pushback. You traded blow for blow with him, soon finding a rhythm that worked for you.

Sweat was collecting on his brow. "Diffindo!"

You cried out then, a wild howl, and crumpled to the ground.

"Nice!" called Sebastian.

Ominis smiled.

"Gibby?"

You didn't respond. You didn't move.

Horror washed over him – he hadn't meant to hit you so hard... he only wanted to graze!

Panicking, he ran over, robes fluttering. "I— I'm so sorry—"

"Flipendo!"

Suddenly he was gyrating through the air, spinning and helpless—

"Arresto Momentum!"

Anne's spell prevented him from smacking his head. Instead, he plonked to the ground, unharmed. Then you were standing above him, clapping, jumping with joy.

"Hahah, you fell for my trick! You did!"

He grunted, sore. "It was... clever."

A mistake. You let it fuel your slightly maniacal laugh.

"I am undefeatable! Unstoppable! Un... Un-attackable!"

"That's not a word." Still he filled with pride and got to his feet. "Well done."

"Yeah, good show, Gibby. Now you won't fail DADA miserably," said Anne. Then she coughed. "Looks like someone owes me two Sickles."

Sebastian grumbled and placed the tinkling coins in her hand.

"I have you all to thank," you said, humbler now. "I will carry these lessons forever, Professor Sallow, Professor Sallow... and Professor Gaunt."

But that wasn't end of them. From then, Ominis didn't underestimate you. He duelled you again and again, testing you, noting your mistakes, but he'd learnt from his own – not to fall for your trickery again. For any trickery. It gave him a sense of peace to know, should the time come, you could hold your own now.

A time, Ominis anticipated, that would come sooner rather than later.

"Where are you going?"

His and Sebastian's clashing ideas had been left unspoken, like shattered glass left on the ground between them, neither willing to pick up the pieces.

"I don't like the accusation in your tone, Ominis," said his friend, shunting another article of clothing into a bag. Their dorm was empty, a rare moment for a Friday morning. "I'm just going to visit Anne for the weekend. That's all."

But Ominis wasn't stupid – he heard the clinking of glass, the sharp, clinical scent of dittany. Who packed Wiggenweld Potion for a weekend home? It honed his suspicions immediately.

"I see," he said at last. "When do you plan to go?"

"Tomorrow morning, after breakfast."

"May I come along? I haven't seen Anne in a while."

But Sebastian was hesitant. "I'm sorry. I just... don't think it's a good idea."

Ominis relented. For now. When he left the dorm, he summoned the house owl with a click of his fingers. For once, he didn't give a damn if he got caught – this was something too worrying to go through the discreet channels with you. He had the Quick-Quotes Quill scribble the note.

Wooden Bridge, 6pm. Urgent.

At six o'clock, during the feast, he was there, waiting, leaning against the crooked panelling and let the biting wind chop across his hair and face. The air was parched today, snow impending but hesitant to fall. Even stacked in layers, a chill ran through him.

He heard the tell-tale clop of your boots, hurrying to meet him. Your breaths came out in shuddering pants.

"What's wrong?" you asked at once. In public, yet you didn't care, coming right up to him, halting a hand's reach away. "Are you hurt?"

"No," he said. "I'm sorry to call you out here, but it's Sebastian."

"Is he hurt?"

"I think he's about to do something stupid," he murmured. "And reckless."

You sighed. "I would have so many Galleons if I bet on him doing something stupid and reckless."

A fair point, but it was especially poignant now. After the argument, the feeling of trust in his friend had eroded. Now that trust was pocked with holes, and those holes were quickly filling with suspicion.

"Have you seen Missy?"

"Today? We did some homework during our morning free period. I asked her if she wanted to finish it tonight, but she said she was going to pack for Irondale. She's going there for the weekend – some catacombs, I think, to pay respects."

Irondale wasn't far from Feldcroft.

It seemed to click for you at the same time.

"You don't think— the relic—"

"I do," muttered Ominis. "In fact, I have a feeling I know where they're going." His heart thundered. "You said she was leaving tomorrow?"

"Yep."

"Have you seen her since this morning?"

You hesitated. So that was a no. Sebastian hadn't been around since the morning either.

They've already left.

You stomped your foot. "Oh, sugar, honey, iced tea!"

"... What?"

"Sugar, honey— never mind, Muggle thing. What do we do?"

"We have to go after them. If they've had a break-through with the artefact, it could put them in grave danger."

"But if they left earlier today, they could be there by now!"

He struggled to think. "Then we fly."

"We— fly?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

"But, Ominis— I'm a terrible flier! Madam Kogawa has made me take first year classes every year!"

He wanted to reach for you, to imbue you with confidence. Flying was your weak point, he knew. You loved the sensation – not so much the control it required.

"It has to be you. I can't navigate." He didn't want to push you, but this time he insisted. The stakes were too great. "If we don't do this... Sebastian and Missy..."

"I know," you said, defeated. "Ugh, okay. Meet me at the end of the bridge. I'll get a school broom."

It took you little over ten minutes, to rush to the front lawns and snag a broom from the cupboards. He heard the one you chose guttering over the horizon, shakily hovering to a stop next to him. You took his sleeve.

"I really think this is a bad idea. What if— what if we crash?"

"We won't crash."

"What if you plummet off the side and I can't catch you?"

"I won't plummet."

"What if Ranrok's loyalists shoot us down?"

"They won't spot us."

"... You're suspiciously optimistic."

"I'm moderately realistic," he corrected. "We don't have time to waste."

"Okay." Your grip wavered, even as you guided him to the broom. "Hop on."

It was a sudden hesitation that gripped him then, stuffed cotton down his throat. Because he hadn't considered how, exactly, he would be travelling. That for this to work, he would have to share a broom with you, holding onto your waist for support.

He swallowed, though his mouth was dry, and settled over the broom shaft. Already you were close – too close for him to fathom, the scent of strawberry laces suppressing the billows of pine and lake waters that swept in from the south. His fingers hovered, mere centimetres away from your waist. Even the brush of your coat was enough to drive his mind to catatonia.

"Are you, erm," you said shyly, "are you going to hold on?"

"Y-yes," he choked out stupidly, "right."

He reached around, looping his arms around you, pulling you close. Your back fit neatly against his chest, your heat and warmth abolishing the cold, your head tucking beneath his chin, a swathe of your hair under his nose. Already he was nervous, already he gnawed with worry for Sebastian and Missy, and yet this was the moment he almost unravelled. You were his safety. You were the wind beneath him, buoyant and uplifting.

"Hold tight," you mumbled, voice a vibration through his own chest, which only made him even more delirious. "Three, two—"

You pushed with your legs, sending you both cracking into the air. Stomach yanking down to his legs, his grip cinched, and he cried out as you shot them upwards so fast he didn't get to take a breath. You were hitting max speed too quickly. Wind churned around his ears, sluiced along his toes – you might have yelled something that he couldn't understand.

You steadied the broom, levelling them with the horizon, but he didn't dare loosen his grip. Flying was terrifying, and magnificent, and it was twice as terrifying and magnificent with you.

"Merlin's beard, Gibby! Slow down!"

"S-Sorry!" you called, fear and exhilaration evident. "I'm going right. Brace yourself!"

You leant starboard, and he leant with you. Now that you were pulling on the shaft, the broom slowed to a decent pace, enough that he could hear the sky. The distant rush of train and trees, the snake of the river that ribboned through the valley, a humming thread. Wind, carding through his clothes. He rested his chin on you, and your hair curled against his face, each tendril like a cat's tail, flickering and restlessness.

A thought came to him, unbidden. What would it be like to kiss the top of your head? To draw the hair away from your neck, and place his lips there too? Desire burned through him, drunk on adrenaline and nerves, and he had to clench his jaw to dispel the feelings.

Now was not the time. In fact, there was no time when such thoughts were appropriate.

Yet they came to him nonetheless.

"W-We're going between Irondale and Feldcroft," he pushed out through gritted teeth, through his useless feelings. "South of the mountain peak!"

He feared landing with you even more than take-off, but by some miracle, you managed to shakily jettison them between a cluster of trees, on an even patch of grass. The ground came up hard though, and he took the brunt in his knees, crying out as he fell to the side, the handle tangled between his legs. You stumbled off the broom into a patch of honking daffodils.

"Ack— Gibby?"

"I'm okay!" you chanted, voice pilfered by the tooting flowers. "Just bruised my bum! You?"

"I bruised my everything."

"... Touché."

You came over, sliding the broom from beneath him and helping him to stand. The touch was innocent, and yet your hand in his, with the flight fresh in his mind, hyper-aware of the proximity of you, stoked his cheeks to flames and his heart to a marching drumbeat.

You let go almost instantly, but it was enough.

"Well," you said, "that wasn't so bad."

"We almost died," he muttered. "Twice."

"My lowest record yet, so be grateful. Are we close?"

He withdrew his wand, and the scenery fell into place in his mind. The evergreen honeysuckle, dotting the nearby dirt paths, wending through the uneven terrain of the countryside. A flash of hard, callous stone. A funny taste of smoke and ash, like an unpleasant bonfire. Strange. Nonetheless, you were close – very close, in fact, that he recognised the nearest stretch of fencing, leading towards the Feldcroft Catacombs.

"It's just south of here," he said. "Let's go."

When you reached the cave entrance, the great stone wall had been moved. Someone was already inside, and casting Revelio showed that it was not too late, that the footsteps before you were fresh. You propped the broom aside and went to go in, but he reached for you, held you for a moment – that stupid feeling stirred within him again.

"Wait. Let's— let's think. I don't think it's a good idea they see us."

"Why?"

Truthfully, he didn't know. Perhaps it was only to see what they were doing. Perhaps it was only so he could have you to himself, just a little longer.

"We ought to be cautious," he amended.

You gasped, suddenly excited. "Ominis Gaunt... are you suggesting a stealth mission?"

"Hardly," he retorted. "Let's just— keep our distance."

"Okay." But you were practically bouncing. "We have to catch up to them first. We'll need to be quick."

"Lead the way."

So you closed your hand in his, and led him inside.

The way was dark and cold, a bone-deep sort of eeriness. You cast Lumos, and he did too, to help you see. Together you ran across the dust-ridden earth, over bones and rat droppings and the splattered blood of spiders, pricking the air with a tangy note. You shuddered when a few of the babies crawled into view, but it seemed that Sebastian and Missy had cleared the larger ones out.

Still, you didn't let your fears daunt you. It was quite something to feel your determination, vibrating through your touch, the tremble that went through you as you held his hand to guide him. It gave him courage and might, especially when the quiet sank deeply into him, an omen of trouble to come.

Only at the heart of the catacomb did familiar snippets of voice quell the silence.

"They're close," he whispered to you.

You cast Disillusionment, and he quickly followed. Your boots steps were light, but still the ground crunched. It was enough to let them pursue, closer and closer, until the voices crystallised.

"The relic must be nearby," Sebastian was saying – the desperation in his voice was like nothing Ominis had ever heard before. "I can feel it."

Missy tsked. "Stay focused. I believe there's another chamber ahead – and we have yet to face any of the matriarchs."

"Bet they'll be thrilled when they find their friends dead."

They hurried ahead – you followed.

"Thank you," Sebastian said suddenly. You stopped, causing Ominis to bump into the back of you. "Thank you for doing this."

"It's nothing."

"Nothing? You're risking your life for me, and for Anne."

She didn't reply.

"Why?" he asked into the brazen silence, surprise tinting his voice. "Why are you helping me? I know you partway agree with Ominis, and you barely know Anne. You barely know me."

"Can I not help anyway?"

"No one wants for nothing."

Missy was quiet a moment.

"Perhaps. I'm not entirely altruistic."

"So?" he asked again. "What's your price?"

And she said, "Redemption," like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Redemption?" you muttered to Ominis, at the same time Sebastian said, "Redemption for what?"

But Missy simply scuffed a rock. "Come, we're nearly at the end."

Intense and guarded indeed. You crept forwards on light feet, and Ominis dogged your heel, unsure what to make of the conversation.

There wasn't time to dwell when the spiders descended, great hulking beasts that shook the ground, all the way through his feet. He felt you stiffen beneath your grip – the sight of them must've been terrifying.

"T-There's so many—"

Still, Sebastian and Missy had charged in, spilling enemy blood against the walls.

"S-Should we help them?" you asked.

Ominis hesitated. "No. Perhaps— perhaps it will deter them."

But of course it didn't. The spiders kept coming, vicious wave after vicious wave, and yet, Sebastian and Missy's resolve never puddled.

"Depulso!"

Missy sent the spider soaring. Unfortunately, it landed on its feet.

Right next to you.

Disillusionment wasn't strong enough so close. The creature heckled, then screeched, sucking up venom through its body, guttering, preparing to shoot—

"No, look out!" you yelled.

It spat venom and you shoved him, hard against the ground. The concealment broke, but the venom hissed against the rock face where his head had been.

"Sorry— it was going to hurt you—"

"No time." He got to his feet, helped you and readied his wand. "Ready?"

"Can't really say no." Then, loudly and brashly, "Confringo!"

The spell blasted the spider backwards. Despite your terrible fear of spiders and insects, you ran into the fray and zapped another off its perch above. Pride reared through him again. That duelling practice, all those years ago, had not been for nought.

"Gibby?" Sebastian yelled. Then, with even more shock, "Ominis?"

"Less talking, more blasting!" he said.

One by one, the spiders were felled. It seemed endless, the onslaught – when one died, three more would surface their way up to take its place. He worried for you, panicked nearly, but remembered to trust you to defend yourself. In fact, you all shielded one another, in tune like an orchestra, thrumming to each other's beat. Sebastian's Exploding charms gave you the opportunity to flee when you were overwhelmed. Missy froze the spiderlings to let Ominis deal with the mothers. Then there were moments he couldn't explain – moments where even magic didn't seem to be the answer. Explosions like lightning, striking down their shrieking enemies, the air charged with a sharp tang of it. Always it followed Missy like a storm cloud, she its wild epicentre.

"Ominis," she called, "watch out!"

The spider had been in front of him – he was certain of it. But suddenly it was not, and Missy was stomping down, crushing shell and bone beneath her boot. How, when it is twice the size of me?

He let the questions fester until the spiders were all dead. Hot breath escaped him in shallow bites, there was foreign blood splattered on his front, and his arm was sore from casting so much, so frantically – but he was alive, and so were you, and Sebastian and Missy.

"What..." Sebastian managed a long breath. "What the hell are you two doing here?"

It was the offence he took that boiled Ominis' blood.

"I could very well ask you the same thing," he snapped back, advancing on Sebastian. "You told me you were going to see Anne!"

Still, Sebastian did the unthinkable.

He turned away.

"I knew it. You are here for the relic!" Ominis yelled. "Don't you dare, Sebastian—"

"Or what?" Sebastian challenged, swinging back to face him. "Why are you so determined to stop me? To stop me from helping Anne?"

"Because you are losing yourself! Because the Dark Arts seem harmless until it is too late."

"Anne is in pain every damn day!"

"A Dark artefact will. Not. Work!" His wand hand shook. "It will not reverse the curse and it will require a sacrifice too steep to pay!"

"You haven't tried! You can't possibly know what will happen!" He laughed suddenly. "Your family is broken, Ominis. You don't understand what it's like for me to fight for mine."

He was enraged, but a new feeling came swooping in, extinguishing and final. Hurt.

"That... that is a low blow—"

"Wait," Missy said, perturbingly cool. "Let's not argue."

"Yes," you agreed at once. "We can compromise."

"And you?" Sebastian scoffed at you. "Are you going to stop me, even though you love Anne too? Are you going to side with Ominis because you always do?"

Your reply was injured. "T-There are no sides, Sebastian—"

"If you're going to stop me, then there are sides!" he bellowed. Ominis heard the wooden whip of his wand. "I'm taking that relic. So step aside."

Ominis gripped his wand tightly.

"I will not."

"Stop," snapped Missy, and this time, she was no longer composed. She was firm, commanding. "We're not fighting. That's absurd."

"Only one of us gets our way," Sebastian muttered. "Are you going to strike me, Ominis? Are you?"

"Sebastian, go stand over there. Cool off, for goodness sake." Suddenly someone hooked Ominis' arm – Missy, dragging him away. "You, with me. Gibby—"

But you were already heading towards Sebastian. Ominis hoped you were talking it out, telling him why it was a bad idea – he had to trust that you could convince him.

He yanked off Missy's grip. "You can't seriously think taking that relic—"

"I know it's risky," Missy hissed at him, "but Sebastian has made up his mind. There's no convincing him otherwise. I tried."

"Not hard enough!"

"He's relentless, Ominis. The only thing we can do now is to let it play out, and minimise the consequences."

It was so ridiculous he laughed. "What was it you said you sought? Redemption?" He flung the word back at her. "Tell me, how does encouraging Dark Magic redeem you?"

By the elongated pause, he'd cracked through her impervious armour.

"How did you—?" Then, he was met with cold steel. "My reasons are my own and not for you to know. I'm trying to take the middle path here, but you're both being impossible."

"I'm trying to stop him making a stupid mistake!"

"And are you willing to ruin your friendship over it?"

His next words rammed themselves back down his throat.

Because the answer was no. He wasn't.

"Ominis," and he hated how perfectly reasonable she sounded, "there will be no talking him out of this. He is beyond reasoning now. So you either step aside, or fight. Your choice."

He knew what it was like to steep in the Dark Arts. He understood its allure, its false promises. Yet even so, he couldn't possibly let these years slip through his fingers like sand. He couldn't possibly release all the joy and jokes, the laughter, the pranks and brotherly love shared between the two of them. Sebastian was an anchor in the perpetual raging sea of Ominis' life. Anne had already been taken from him too soon, and you were teetering close to the edge, risking so much with his family's hatred encroaching you.

If Ominis lost Sebastian, he lost everything.

"You—" Anguish tore him from within. "I... I will step aside."

"A wise choice."

"But I will not stop fighting for him. I won't."

She didn't reply. She merely called Sebastian over to the relic, which fell into her pocket for safe-keeping, and then they were leaving.

"For what it's worth," Sebastian said as he passed on the way out, voice broken with his own hurt, "I... I'm sorry we can't agree on this."

Ominis didn't respond.

They left.

He was alone with you.

There was nothing to say, nothing that could be said. He felt his chest breaking, fracturing into pieces, slowly but surely taking his resolve down until it was lying in dereliction before him. A lump that had swollen in his throat became painful.

Why? he wondered. Why does the darkness haunt me so?

You didn't have to say anything. You simply took his hands in yours, rubbed your thumb over his trembling knuckles.

And he fell into your arms, and cried.

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[Divider credits]

[spectres-n-soap]

Your Warmth is Fading - Soap x You x Ghost

Content Warnings - pregnancy complications, hospital stuff

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

It was late at night, long past visiting hours but your nightmare still haunted you. The taste of bile still lingered on your tongue and sweat still stuck to your skin. At least your breathing returned to normal. The quiet of the military hospital room was off putting but the machine showed Soap was still alive. The pattern of his heart beat, the IV bags hung up and the soft breathing of his soothed you.

You slinked over to the chair next to his bed and sat down. Soap looked better, no longer on death's doorstep even if all the tubes and wires connected to him unsettled you. His face was relaxed despite the discoloration of his right cheek. You thought back to what the doctor who had first reviewed the two of you had said. The comment was still bitter in your mouth. The doctor had called you both lucky. What a load of shite. Luck would have stopped it all from happening in the first place.

You kept an eye on Soap a little longer until sleep started to pull at you again. You stood up and before you left, your lips grazed his forehead. At least he was still alive.

"You're joking." you say, looking at the doctor with your brows pinched so tight you could feel your skin pulling tight.

"You should be in bed rest for the last month of your pregnancy." the doctor reiterated. "For your safety and the baby's." Simon looks between you and the doctor. He wants to side with the doctor and also strangle him. How could he have not caught this sooner? "Your baby being positioned like this will only cause more harm to your body the longer you move around.”

You shake your head, anger making your face turn hot. Those fucking Braxton Hicks hadn't been all Braxton Hicks but a major sign of your baby, Johnny's baby, being sideways. If it wasn't so fucking terrible you might be laughing. "How did you not catch this sooner?" you snarl.

"This is why we insist on check ups every week. So we can catch things like this.”

"But what about all the other check ups?" you huff and sit up, grasping onto Simon's arm for a little extra support. "What if you had missed it completely?”

"Ma'am please, getting aggressive will not do any of us any good.”

"A month I have to spend doing nothing." you grumble and cross your arms over your chest. You wonder, a thing you've been doing often, how Johnny would react to all of this. Wonder if he would be spitting mad and yelling at the doctor with a thick Scottish accent. You can almost hear it. Pulling from memories of him training recruits or yelling at an insubordinate recruit.

"It's for the best." Simon says, physically stopping himself from adding a 'love' to the end. He was sure you would throw your shoes at him if he let it slip. You had always been a firecracker and pregnancy seemed to amplify how quickly your anger flared up. It would be cute, he thinks, if he didn't know that you could gut him like a fish.

You glare at Simon the entire trip back to the flat, refuse his help getting out of his truck and slam the truck door shut hard. The last few weeks you've struggled up the stairs to your flat and now you're marching up them like you weren't advised to keep exercise low. “Would ya fuckin’ wait?” Simon huffs. Your glare could melt steel and you slam the flat door behind you. Simon groans and opens it to find you pacing back and forth.

“Just sit down.” Simon says and grabs you by the shoulders. You push him away a little, stumbling yourself from the force needed to do such an act.

“Don't tell me what to do.” you snap and run your fingers through your hair. You were sure you would lose your fucking mind if you had to rest all day for a month.

“You should update Mrs and Mr MacTavish on the situation.” Simon suggests, “Maybe Mrs MacTavish has gone through this before.” You glare at him but pull out your phone anyway and begin to type.

You're there when he wakes up, this time not high on pain meds. “Lass?” he groggily muttered and tried to rub at his eyes. Soap hissed when he felt the IV needle in his arm at the movement. “What ‘re ye doin’ here?”

“Waiting for you to wake up.” you stated, voice cool and Soap sunk further into blankets and hospital bed. He knew that look in your eyes, you were on the verge of an explosion. “What the hell were you thinkin’?” you snapped and flicked his forehead for good measure. “Running into that building like a man with a death wish.” you tossed your hands up in the air.

“Well I'm not dead.”

“I had to perform CPR on your MacTavish!” you snarled, “Blood loss might've fogged that part over but I remember!”

“Lass-”

“Do not ‘Lass’ me.” you stood from your chair, the spot you had nearly grown roots into if not for the different appointments you had due to the wounds on your hands. “You nearly died and I had to watch it. Do you seriously think I wouldn't be upset?”

“Lass I'm fine.” Soap tried to say and sit up. He groaned and clutched his side when the pain shocked through his system. “Bleeding Christ.”

You sat back down in your chair and wiped at your tears so he wouldn't see them. “You pull that shit on me again MacTavish and I'll let the crows eat you.”

“I'm not on bed rest yet Simon.” you huff and nudge Simon away and out of the kitchen. “I can make my own food.”

“Never said ya couldn't.” Simon mutters as he takes a step back.

“Go finish setting up the baby changing station.” you say, swallowing the snarl. You keep reminding yourself that this isn't Simon's fault. Mrs. MacTavish has texted back, telling you that she once had a friend with the same complication but not to worry. The month would pass quickly. You had to also turn off your phone to stop from messaging something hurtful. The military had always kept you moving. Running courses, training recruits or deployed into the field. Pregnancy had already shown you down and put you on light duty until you took leave.

You tap your foot as you stir the soup and your eyes drift to the front of your hands. The scars had faded well thanks to treatments but sometimes you wish they hadn't. Just as a reminder, something to run your hands over that wasn't your bulging stomach. You reach and turn on your phone, holding your breath as well as you could bring 7 months pregnant as the brands sign flashes.

You stare at your lock screen, a group picture of the 141. Back when Soap was alive. A ding as a notification pops up, a message from Mrs MacTavish from several hours ago.

“Would you like a baby shower before you have to go on bed rest?”

A baby shower? You had a small one at four months. Just Price and Gaz, Simon wasn't invited. The baby clothes you had were from those two. You really didn't want another. So much stress and surely more people. You had seen the family pictures on the wall in their house.

I owe it to them, you think as you type up the one word response, at least I owe them this much.

“Yes.”

[deepdisireslonging]

No Cum November Part 7: Double Possession

The team found the last details needed to defeat the ghost. It requires another ritual with the reader in the middle, and their ability to keep their mind when the Winchesters lose theirs to possession.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester

Warnings/Promises: ritualistic SMUT

Word Count: 1100

Note: For those of you participating in the challenge, how are you holding up? This was a fun one to write, and the inspiration for the series. Let me know how you guys are enjoying it in the comments and reblogs. Happy reading!

Part 6: Dripping

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” Dean held back from finishing a knot. “We can switch places, easy. The ghost doesn’t care who’s the receiver.”

Turns out for the campus ghost, there was a grave. A special one, reserved for the professors descended from the first dean of the college. It had taken three more study sessions to puzzle out the location. It was hidden behind the Classic’s library, the old school’s original library before the larger, modern one was built. Where, fifty years ago, the Greek rituals professor worked. The texts for the summoning the fertility god, Priapus, had been in the older library. And it was close to the student’s first orgy. Having found it, you were all going to try the ritual again. One of the first victims had been a student of the professor Dean talked to earlier. Apparently, the grad student was fishing for a PHD concept, summoning Priapus through the ghost of the long-retired professor, and they had taken down two other students with them. You all had disturbed the grave again, opening it fully for this ritual. This time with you tied to the deceased’s tombstone.

“I can do it.” You arched into Sam’s hand as he copped a feel. “I can do it. Start reading.”

This time, they both took position. Dean in front, with Sam behind you. The cold headstone bit into your stomach. The ropes, a soft cording that was helpfully slippery, crisscrossed over your joints, knotting at sensitive zones. Sam knelt, pushing your panties out of the way. Due to the semi-public nature of the location, the boys had opted for you to keep your bra and panties on. But as Sam dove into your sex, you wondered if your underclothes would survive the ritual.

Dean palmed himself as he began reading the text. His voice strained as his cock swelled in his jeans. It wasn’t long before he brought it into the open, tapping the head at your lips. You took him into your mouth. Sucking and hollowing your cheeks made his chanting falter. Behind you, Sam stood, satisfied with how much your sex was dripping. He joined Dean in the chanting, filling you an inch at a time between verses. You heard the flick of the lighter, soon followed by the dripping of hot wax onto your back. He let them fall methodically into the symbols. Dean kept your hair out of the way, careful not to disturb the circle as he had in the first attempt.

Something was different.

When you all had done this in the school, all you could feel were the boys. But now, the air was crisper. More frosty than autumnal. If Dean’s cock hadn’t been in your mouth, you’re sure your breath would have fogged.

The air shifted.

That was your cue.

You easily slipped out of the ropes, prepared to take it upon yourself to keep the professor’s ghost occupied while the guys salted and burned the grave. What you hadn’t taken into account was that while you’d be able to get easily out of the ropes, you wouldn’t necessarily be able to get out of the boy’s grip. They continued to fill you, tease you, take what they needed. Only then did you notice that their chanting was unnaturally even and in synch.

You managed to look up at Dean. His eyes were closed. You gently scraped your teeth along his underside to make his gaze flutter. Under his eyelids, a silver film had taken over. You were sure Sam’s eye looked the same.

A fifth hand ran along your spine. It drifted a finger around the wax circle, tracing the runes. Sam’s candle drips never stopped, and they fell through the hand as if it wasn’t there.

This was it. You would have to move quickly and delicately. Somehow the grave had to be destroyed. But the Winchesters couldn’t leave your holes, or the ghost would take their place and you’d cum yourself to death. Not the worst way to go, but you’d rather it be because of one or both of your lovers, not due to the ghost of some horny professor’s poltergeist.

Dean groaned as you reached up and tightened your hand around the base of his cock. It held him in place, but knocked him off balance. His foot fell back, keeping him aloft. But it knocked the bucket of salt over. Giving his a twist sent his steadying foot into the can of gasoline. You gave it a few moments to leak over the remains before turning your attention onto Sam.

It was hard to focus with how hard he was pounding into you. And the wax kept coming. What had started as a manageable circle had grown to an outward spiral of wax. Each drop made you shudder. Sam wasn’t going to last much longer either. He leaned forward, reaching around with his free hand to flick at your clit. It spotted your vision with stars. You clenched your walls frantically, flexing around Sam’s cock suddenly enough to loosen his grip on the candle. The drips drifted over your back until the candle fell into the grave.

The pit ignited. Beside you, the professor’s ghost went up in flames. The slightly sweet smell told the back of your brain that the Greek god had been dismissed as well.

Still, Dean and Sam continued to fill you. You managed to give Dean’s waist a hard shove, sending him flailing into the grass. Kicking Sam’s ankles and shins also sent him flying. You rolled onto the ground behind the tombstone, shuddering with another stolen release. As you panted, you watched them continue to hump the air as they returned to consciousness.

“Y/N?”

“Heya, Dean. You alright?”

He ran a hand over his eyes. “Yeah.” With a growl, he tucked himself away so he could roll onto his stomach. The ground muffled his complaints.

“Sam?” you called back.

“I’m good. You?”

“Alive.”

“That’s good.”

They crawled over to you. Whispering apologies into your skin, they joined you in a heap on the ground. Dean recovered first. He managed to wrap you in the robe they’d brought. Sam helped you to your feet after he managed to get to his.

“You know,” you cupped the side of Dean’s face, “that Priapus guy isn’t very good. I’d rather have you two any day.”

Sam chuckled. “We appreciate that. Ready to go home?”

“One more thing.” The books sparked when they landed in the grave, going up in smoke in minutes. You watched them reduce to ashes before following the boys to the Impala.

***

Part 8: Exorcism Play (with Demon!Dean)

Series Masterlist

[sparkles-rule-4eva]

"Sonic vs. Tails - The Ultimate April Fools Battle"

AO3 link if you'd rather read it there ;)

6:38 a.m.

Early on a Monday morning, Sonic awoke to a rocking sensation. For a moment it was nice, soothing even, and he thought perhaps he'd fallen asleep on a hammock or something.

Except, it was in fact not soft fabric beneath him, but wooden boards.

A faint smell of salt alerted him next. Then a strong gust of wind. Then the cry of a seagull.

A seagull?!

His eyes shot open and he sat bolt upright, panic immediately flooding his chest upon seeing a huge mass of water all around him. He found himself sitting in a wooden fishing boat, smack dab in the middle of it.

He jumped up to his feet with a squeak of true fear, wobbling as the rocking of the boat nearly made him lose his balance.

He raced to the pole where the sails were attached and jumped onto it, full-body clinging to it with both arms and legs. "HOW IN MOBIUS DID I GET OUT HERE?!" he yelled indignantly, as loudly as he could for having just woken up.

A snicker sounded above him, and he jerked his head up so fast he nearly got whiplash.

And whom should he see perched atop the sails post but his little brother, Tails, his namesakes waving around and mischief practically written all over his face.

"Happy April Fools," the smug little fox greeted him, still giggling.

Sonic relaxed slightly, but shot Tails a feigned death glare. "It's on," he shot back, unable to hide a smirk.

-

8:23 a.m.

He had to be subtle about this. Tails was obviously very well aware what day it was. He had to be sly.

So, for his first prank of many, Sonic ran out to buy a cheap whoopie cushion, then slipped it in the Tornado's cockpit, at a perfect angle so Tails wouldn't see it until it was too late.

He was pretty proud of himself for keeping it cool, going on runs and swinging back by the workshop every few minutes to see when Tails needed to go out for a flight.

Except it was taking too long.

If he didn't get that over with, all his time to come up with more pranks for the day would be gone. And that simply wouldn't do.

"Hey, Tails!" he called from the roof, where he'd been leisurely lounging for the past five minutes. "Wanna go for a shopping run?"

After a pause of silence filled only with the sound of some metal clanging, Tails called back, "For what? I thought we were stocked."

"No, we need more— flour." He quickly improvised, having not actually checked the pantry beforehand.

"Why do we need more flour?" Tails sounded both distracted and confused as he continued whatever he was clanging around with.

"Because bread." Sonic flipped onto the ground and leaned his head through the window. "We should make bread."

Tails finally pulled back his goggles and shot him a look. "Why do you want to make bread?"

"Don't question it, Tails! Why can't I be allowed to wanna try new stuff?"

"Because it's April Fools, that's why." Tails smirked and pulled his goggles back down, studying the chunks of metal he was abusing. "There's probably a prank waiting for me at the store or something."

Sonic clasped a hand to his chest dramatically. "You seriously think I went and sabotaged public property just to pull a prank on you?!"

Without missing a beat, and without shifting his eyes from his work, Tails replied, "Yeah."

Sonic huffed and crossed his arms. "Well, I didn't. And the only way for you to see that is to come on shopping with me. I'll even let you pick the store so that you can be sure."

Tails looked at him, arching a brow and resting one hand on his hip. "You're so random," he said, shaking his head with a grin. "You realize you can go shopping by yourself, right?"

"Well, sue me for wanting to spend time with my darling little brother," Sonic pouted, trying his best to pull off a puppy-dog-eyes look.

"Since when did you become so clingy?" Tails laughed, finally setting aside his things and flying over to the window.

Finally!

"It was inevitable. You're too loveable." Sonic yanked him into a hug, right before letting him start flying towards the Tornado.

"I don't know whether to feel touched or suspici—" Tails abruptly broke off as he hopped into the cockpit, and the whoopie cushion immediately squeezed beneath him, filling the air with its awful sounds.

His face went beet red for a moment, then he closed his eyes and sighed. Sonic had already fallen over laughing, tears springing to his eyes at Tails's expression.

"Bread, huh?" Tails sounded way too calm as he turned to face his brother, but there was a terrifying glint in his eyes.

"You bet!" Sonic laughed. "Come on, what are you waiting for? Let's go get flour!"

Tails picked up the whoopie cushion and hurled it full force at the hedgehog's face.

-

8:52 a.m.

After the whoopie cushion incident, Tails forced Sonic to go out shopping anyway. He even managed to trick him into thinking he was doing it as an apology.

Oh, was that poor hedgehog mistaken. He was so in for it. Tails had sent him out shopping— alone— so he could set up his revenge prank.

He decided to go with a simple one. Perhaps he would save the more intricate and wild pranks for later in the day.

This one would still be personal, though.

Barely suppressing a little cackle of glee, Tails snatched a large bottle of clear super glue and generously poured it all over the welcome mat at his front door. This glue wouldn't fully dry for another twenty to thirty minutes, and since Sonic was only getting one thing from the store, he wouldn't take nearly that long.

Sure enough, five minutes after he'd laid the prank, he heard the distinct BOOM in the distance of his brother's impending arrival.

Tails already knew Sonic wasn't going to notice the glue. If it wasn't immediately obvious, and he wasn't in danger, he didn't pay attention to detail like that.

The door handle jiggled for a moment, then was followed by a banging on the door. His muffled voice called, "Tails, if you're gonna send me out to buy stuff we don't actually need, the least you could do is leave the door unlocked for me to actually give you the stuff we don't need."

"Oh, dear chaos!" Tails called back, deliberately sounding way too dramatically surprised. "How did the door lock itself?!"

It didn't matter if Sonic caught on. If he was banging on the door, it was too late for him.

"I don't like your tone, young man." Sonic definitely sounded suspicious, and Tails could barely suppress his triumphant laughter.

"Sorry, Dad." With a snicker, he unlocked the door and swept it open, where he found Sonic standing with a hefty bag of flour, shooting him a look.

He was standing right in the middle of the super glue puddle.

"Seriously, bro? Locking me outside? That's the best you g-GAAUHH!" Sonic broke off as he tried to take a step forward, only to pull the entire doormat up with his foot and lose his balance. He tried desperately to right himself, but only ended up pinwheeling his arms, losing his grip on the bag of flour, and falling square on his chest. A second later, the bag of flour came down on his head and immediately popped open upon pricking his quills.

After the flour dust settled, the two brothers looked at each other for a solid ten seconds, the younger standing tall with his arms crossed and a smug smile, the older slumped on the ground, covered in flour to the point of looking like a ghost, glaring daggers.

He sneezed. "That was low. I like my kicks."

"They'll be fine," Tails insisted, brushing off the flour that had drifted into his fur. "I've got a solution that'll cancel out the glue."

Sonic shook himself off, then stood up and sneezed again. "You owe me twenty rings for the waste of perfectly good flour that we didn't need."

Tails stuck his tongue out at him, then started blowing the spilled flour out the door with his tails.

-

9:35 a.m.

Sonic took a shower after the flour incident, and he made it quick enough so that Tails didn't have any time to try anything more on him, since he was still cleaning up said flour.

Once he'd gotten out and dried off, Tails brushed past him into the bathroom, and a few seconds later he heard the shower start up again.

No way there was this golden opportunity just dangling in front of him . . .

Grinning, Sonic first went to the kitchen and hit the switch for the power hose. Next time Tails went to wash the dishes, he was in for a little surprise.

Then, very quietly, he nudged the door open to the bathroom (where Tails was still in the shower), reached in, and flushed the toilet.

A second later, there was a high pitched "Yipe!" and one very startled, very wet fox kit scrambled out of the tub at the suddenly freezing water.

Sonic heard his name screeched furiously from over his shoulder as he laughed and booked it for the front door, only to catch on the doormat and faceplant the sidewalk, his socks now stuck in the super glue still coating the mat.

-

10:14 a.m.

He deserved this fate, Tails claimed.

"It's called revenge!" Sonic yelled through the door from where he lay on the ground outside in the yard. "Sweet, totally fair, revenge! Can I have the anti solution for the glue now?"

"Nope," Tails called back.

"C'moooon. These are my last clean socks, I can't just take them off and put on dirty ones. Do you want me to defile the house with smelly feet?"

"Ohh, manipulation. That's a new one!"

"Tails!"

"Just wear flipflops. Or go barefoot. I dunno."

"I don't like flip flops!" Sonic squirmed onto his side. "And I don't like being barefoot! Running barefoot is painful!"

"Ah, well. Guess you'd better apologize for ruining my lovely shower and forfeit all your desserts to me for the next three months, if you ever want to run again."

"Sorry, who was being manipulative?"

"You were!"

Sonic huffed. "You know, I could just do laundry. Yeah. Do laundry and be free."

"Wow!" Tails sounded way too amazed. "That's so genius!"

"I'll wash all my socks! I'll wash all the socks!" With caution, Sonic forced his way back onto his feet, then hopped inside the house, doormat still attached. "I'll be free in a matter of . . . hours." He frowned. "Hey Tails, can dish soap clean clothes? And how fast does a fur dryer dry clothes?"

Tails was standing in the kitchen, pouring the remains of the flour that hadn't touched the floor into a canister. He eyed his brother for a moment, then smiled sweetly. "There's one way to find out."

Without thinking, Sonic broke into a relieved grin and started hopping his way into the kitchen. "Good, because if I have to be stuck like this for one—"

He turned the faucet on, and immediately a powerful spray of cold water shot out at his face from the power hose. He yelped and sputtered, immediately switching it off as he suddenly realized he'd fallen for his own prank.

Or, more likely, Tails had seen right through his prank, and had made him fall for it.

Sonic looked down at him, water dripping down his face and off his quills. Tails had lost his cool composure and was doubled over, squeaking with laughter.

-

10:30 a.m.

"I deserved that one," Sonic grumbled, toweling off his face.

Tails sat beside him on the porch, eyes closed in smug contentment as he brushed out his tails. "Yes. You did."

Sonic turned and grinned devilishly. "You realize this isn't over, lil bro."

Tails turned a fanged smile right back on him. "Far from it."

-

11:04 a.m.

Sonic burst through Amy's door and immediately said, "Ames, I need a favor!"

Amy nearly jumped out of her skin, dropping her paintbrush onto the carpet. She sighed, but picked it up without complaining, set it on the ledge of her painter's stand, and gave him her attention. "What's up?"

"Sorry for that," he said quickly, then added, "Could you make a batch of chocolate chip cookies, but like, make three of them with raisins instead?"

Amy wrinkled her forehead even as she smiled. "Wait, what? Why?"

"It's April Fools. I need to get back at Tails."

"Oh, no." Amy laughed as she stood up and started heading for her kitchen. "What'd he do?"

"Oh, many things." As Amy set to making the cookies, he told her all about the events of the day so far. He told her about the pranks on both sides, just to keep it fair.

Amy was aware of their April Fools traditions. The same basic thing had happened the past two years as well.

It had been last year that they learned the hard way not to prank Knuckles. Or Shadow.

"You should really learn to bake," Amy commented as she eventually pulled the batch out of the oven. "It's really very fun! And satisfying."

"You know what'll be satisfying?" He snickered. "The look on Tails's face when he thinks he's gonna taste chocolate and tastes raisins instead!"

Amy shook her head with an amused sigh. "That too, I guess."

They hung out together for another twenty minutes or so, then Sonic bid her farewell and took off back to the workshop.

-

12:22 p.m.

Tails had resumed working on whatever project he'd been doing earlier that morning.

"Yo, Tails!" Sonic raced into the room, holding the container of cookies. "Amy made us cookies!"

"Ooh, she did?" Tails immediately paused what he was doing and lit up, but then suspicion clouded his face. "Wait . . . what's going on?"

"Bro, it's just cookies," Sonic laughed. "What, do you think they're poisoned?"

Tails kept hesitating, but Sonic could see him scenting the air. Since the majority of them were chocolate chip, he was detecting that— not the few raisins.

"Okay. I'll take one," he finally relented, and Sonic handed him one with raisins.

He started heading back to his project as he took a bite, but immediately stopped in his tracks. Sonic watched him stop chewing and look at the cookie for a long moment, then turn and shoot him a deadpan look.

"You're so mean," he complained, mouth still full with the bite he refused to swallow (he hated raisins). Then he tried to spit it out onto Sonic, who yelped and raced away, dropping the container of cookies on the floor.

Tails picked it up, having already figured out that most of the others were actually chocolate chip. Jokes on Sonic, now he had all the good cookies to himself.

-

1:01 p.m.

Their prank fest had delayed lunch a bit, so Sonic (after eventually returning) told Tails to kick back and relax while he made chili.

Tails seemed a little too pleased with the idea, but Sonic barely noticed, too hungry to care.

As he stirred through the pot, Tails watched him, grinning in anticipation for the meal. Earlier, while Sonic had been lying around the front yard with the doormat glued to his socks and complaining, Tails had switched out the salt and sugar.

Half an hour later or so, they sat down together to eat. It seemed Sonic thought they had reached a temporary truce, but oh, little did he know.

Tails deliberately took his sweet time in spooning the chili onto his hot dog, eyeing his brother in his corner vision. Sonic had made his in no time, digging in with two big bites before Tails had even finished dressing his.

Almost immediately Sonic paused, blinked a couple times, then kept chewing. Then paused again, frowning.

His eyes flicked to Tails, who quickly resumed dressing his chili dog.

Sonic finally swallowed. "That's weird."

"What's weird?" Tails asked innocently, actually being subtle this time.

"Chili tastes more like dessert." The hedgehog squinted at him. "Did you sabotage the chili cans?"

Tails sniffed. "How dare you accuse me."

"Did you?"

"No, I didn't. The cans were sealed, weren't they?"

"Hm." Sonic took another hesitant bite, but stopped again, shaking his head. "This tastes so weird. Have you tried yours?"

Tails shrugged. "Try salting it," he suggested, avoiding the question.

Sonic grabbed the salt shaker and generously covered his chili dog with its contents, then took another bite, only to actually choke over it this time.

"Okay, did you—?!" He snatched the shaker again, shook a little onto his finger, tasted it, then chucked it at Tails, who laughed and dove out of the way. "You switched the salt and sugar?!"

"Well, duh!" Tails switched to hovering over the table, snickering. "There are no truces today, dearest brother!"

Sonic threw the too-sweet chili dog at him next, inevitably splattering chili over the table.

"You're cleaning that up!" Tails called in a singsong voice. "I'm going out to Josef's Pasta Alla Paccico!"

"OH, NO YOU DON'T!"

-

2:10 p.m.

They both ended up eating out at Josef's, and even though they did truly call a ceasefire for a grand total of twenty-five minutes, they split the time between actually eating and blowing their straw wrappers at people, having mini sword fights with the butter knives, and constructing architecture with the plates and takeout boxes.

Needless to say, the only reason they didn't get kicked out was probably because both Sonic and Tails were practically world-renowned.

Not long after they returned to the workshop, Sonic inevitably crashed for a nap. He usually couldn't make it through a day without a nap at some point, which was always unfortunate for him on this particular day of the year.

Tails studied him where he slept, on a branch of the tree in his front yard. He knew he'd been the last one to pull something, but hey, who said they were taking turns?

There was simply no way he was passing this up.

First, he grabbed a sharpie and very carefully drew an elaborate mustache worthy of Eggman across his brother's face. He added a few random smiley faces on his cheek and arms, as well as the phrase "SLO-MO" on one shoulder.

Then he grabbed an assortment of potato chips and began carefully stacking them on his head, in his hands, on his stomach, in an entire tower.

He made sure to take pictures through the whole process, then— leaving him there to sleep, still covered in sharpie and potato chips— flew off to print the photos.

Going above and beyond, he put the printed photos in a fancy envelope, marked them as "priority mail," addressed them to Sonic's post office box, disguised himself, then dropped them off at the post office.

An hour passed after he had done all that, and Sonic finally stirred awake.

Upon seeing the stack of chips in front of him, he promptly fell out of the tree with a yelp, and Tails started giggling.

"What did you do to me?" Sonic whined, brushing all the crumbs off his head and chest as he stood up, still groggy.

"You think that's bad?" Tails teased. "Go check the mirror."

A look of horror filled his brother's eyes, then he was gone in a flash. Tails kept giggling, and laughed harder when he heard the yell from inside: "WHY DID YOU MAKE ME LOOK LIKE EGGFACE?!"

"It's called revenge!" Tails called back gleefully. "Sweet, totally fair, revenge!"

Sonic came storming back outside. "How dare you use my own words against me."

"Sorry," Tails told him insincerely.

His brother scrubbed at his cheek. "How long will it take for this to wash off?"

Tails shrugged. "A couple days, probably."

Sonic's resulting screech was loud enough to startle away all the nearby flickies.

-

4:32 p.m.

Sonic spent at least half an hour in the bathroom desperately trying to scrub the marker out of his fur, but only succeeded in making it fade a little.

"Taking advantage of my sleep cycle," he huffed, reaching out to mess up Tails's bangs from where the fox kit sat on the couch. "So rude."

Tails tried to fix his bangs, while Sonic flopped onto the other end of the couch. "Consider it payback for you dyeing my fur green last year."

"You still looked cool, at least!" Sonic protested. "If Egghead sees me like this, I'm never going to hear the end of it."

"I looked like a lime!" Tails shot back. "I had to hide from society for an entire month!"

"It wasn't a month."

"Three and a half weeks. Close enough."

"Mm."

Tails shot him a look, and Sonic reached over to mess up his bangs again. He was rewarded with a throw pillow to the face.

Sonic threw it back, and it was just about to escalate into a fully fledged pillow fight when the doorbell rang.

Both of them froze, and Sonic zipped away in a flash. "I'm not here! You don't know me! If anyone asks, I'm in Holoska on a nice, arctic vacation!"

"Chicken!" Tails taunted after him, then flew over to the door and pulled it open to find Amy and Knuckles standing on the other side.

(Thankfully, the super glue had dried hours before.)

"Hey, guys!" he greeted them, stepping back to let them in. "What's the occasion?"

Amy said sweetly, "We just wanted to make sure you and Sonic were doing okay!" at the same time Knuckles said, "We came to supervise."

Tails rolled his eyes. "We don't need babysitters."

Amy glanced around. "Did Sonic leave?"

Knuckles frowned as Tails snickered. "I guess he did. He's telling everyone he's going to Holoska."

"You can't stop me!" Sonic's muffled voice shouted from somewhere towards the back of the workshop.

"Nobody's trying!" Tails called back, his voice catching on a laugh. "Just be sure to warn Jari-Pekka about your new look!"

"New look?" Knuckles echoed.

Amy facepalmed. "What did you do to him?"

Tails waved a hand flippantly. "It'll come off in a few days."

"And this is why we thought you two needed supervision," Knuckles groaned. "Today always gets out of hand."

"Do we need to separate you two?" Amy asked, although she was grinning.

Sonic chose that moment to burst explosively out of the closet, zip to his brother's side, and pull him close in a protective hug. "No, don't separate us!" he insisted, forcing a huge smile. "Everything's going just fine!"

Knuckles and Amy took a solid ten seconds to stare at Tails's artwork all over Sonic's face, then started laughing, albeit good-naturedly.

Tails grinned at where he was still trapped in his brother's hold, only to start violently trying to squirm away when said brother slipped a sharpie out of hiding and started drawing his revenge on the fox's face.

-

6:00 p.m.

Knuckles and Amy chose to spend the rest of the day at the workshop with them, just to make sure things didn't get any crazier than they already had. By the time dinnertime arrived, both Sonic and Tails had sharpie all over their faces, although the "art" on Tails's face could hardly be called as such. Because of his squirming during the whole process, it was nothing more than random scribbles of blue in random places on his face.

"Next year I'll dye you blue," Sonic promised him as the four of them had dinner together (after Amy switched back the salt and sugar). "We can match!"

"Pass." Tails swallowed his bite. "I'll just look like some kind of mutant smurf."

Sonic snickered. "All the more reason to do it, then!"

Amy groaned. "Boys . . ."

"Hey, we should rope you into this!" Sonic exclaimed suddenly, staring straight at Amy.

"If you want a hammer to the face next, feel free!" Amy stuck her tongue out at him, although she had to hide a giggle.

"As long as you leave me out of it, do whatever you want," Knuckles put in wearily, sounding much like a parent tired of trying to control his children.

Tails smiled at all of them. Knuckles was right; this day was always crazy, and sure, things got out of hand sometimes. But he had no regrets. It was fun. It was a stupid way of bonding with his brother, and that was something he would never regret.

A Happy April Fools Day, indeed.

[bluegalaxygirl]

Amnesia (KidKiller X Reader) P11

Plot: After an explosion reader wakes up in a hospital with no memory of the past few years, her parents want to take her home so she can recover and get back to a normal life while the Kid pirates want her back on the ship where she belongs.

Warning: Bad language, Medical stuff, family issues and Violence.

Reader is Female, Poly Relationship, established relationship, Kid X Reader X Killer, Reader is a member of the Kid pirates and is in charge of the money, Budgeting and negotiating the best price.

< Previous part ….. Next part >

You've been in and out for a while remembering several things even though your head hurts something trying to keep them locked away but as time goes on its almost as if what ever had a hold on you is losing its power letting your memories come back. It hurts less and less the more you remember and you should be happy about that but all you can feel is sadness, you were so happy in those memory's nothing like what your parents said happened, your starting to believe the pirates more but your parents and even the doctors are telling you that they kidnapped you. They could have held you for ransom later on, maybe you let slip who your family was after trusting them? Opening your eyes you look around the slightly dim room, its clear you've been out for a while but at least someone stayed by your side, your mother sits on the chair next to your bed her full attention on the book in her hands not noticing your eyes on her. Turning your head to the other side you see Kid leaning against the window looking out at the ocean, the setting sun perfectly highlighting his face almost taking your breath away. A twinge of pain in your shoulder forced you mind to snap back into reality, letting a groan escape your lips you try to push yourself to sit up. "Y/n, sweetie, are you ok?" Your mother asks putting down her book and reaching over to place a hand on your thigh as you sit up and move back a bit to let your back rest against the bed frame, nodding you taking her hand off your sore leg. "What happened?" You ask looking over to your mother but its Kid who answers you, still leaning against the window but his eyes now on you "You passed out, you good?" The red head asks looking you over with a straight face, he looks tired but there's also something else going on. "I'll get the doctor" Your mother quickly stands when you don't answer fast enough but you stop her from leaving by grabbing her hand "Wait, don't bother the doctor, i'm fine"

You wanted to say that your starting to not trust that doctor but you know she wouldn't believe you or tell you your being silly, with a sigh your mother turns to you and takes your hand off hers. "I'll get the nurse then, You missed your last round of meds so someone needs to check on you" Your mother gives you a small smile before leaving, you know its fake by the way her eyes glared at you, she just wanted you to do as your told. After watching her leave you wait until she's out of ear shot before turning to Kid who's still looking at you but has made no move to come near you, for some reason it makes your heart sink but you push that aside knowing there isn't much time to talk in privet. "I remember House, Heat and Wire-" You go to say more but the red head rushes to your side and grabs your chin with his fingers making you look right at him "What do you remember?" Your taken aback by his actions and wide eyes but you somehow know he's not going to hurt you and if he did it would be on accident. "I helped House with training and Heat was there, then there was some kind of ship wrack that i went into… Kinda stupid of me to do that but Heat was there and then when we go back to the ship Wire was there, he taught me how to fish." You try and recall as much as possible while the smile on Kid's face grows, his hand moves from your chin to your cheek cupping it as he lightly places his forehead against yours, as much as your body seems to want to relax into it instead you tense up unsure of what he's doing and why "That was still the first week we met. You were reckless back then, always going off and doing something stupid…. Now i know why, finally free." His voice was mainly a whisper as if he was thinking all of this and not meant to say it but it brought a tear to your eye.

Your shoulders relax almost in disbelief, Free, finally free, Is that what it really felt like to be free? "I leave for a few minutes and you already have your hands on her, what did i say?" Your mother yells walking into the room with the nurse following close behind, Kid groans and pulls away from you his hand sliding off your cheek as he stands up, a part of you wanted to grab onto him and pull him back but you manage to stop yourself from doing so. "I'm glad your awake, here are your meds" The nurse walks over to the bed and hands you a small paper cup of pills and a glass of water trying to ignore the glare your mother is giving the red head, looking into the cup you notice more of those blue pills making you nervous, did you have another seizure? no one mentioned it so maybe it wasn't but if so why more blue pills? "Something wrong?" The nurse asks with a concerned look, snapping out of your thoughts you shake your head deciding you can talk about this with House later since your too tired to deal with it now. After downing the pills you hand the glass of water and paper cup back to the nurse who nods and quickly takes her leave, a long awkward silence fills the air slowly making you feel very uneasy, Kid goes back to leaning against the wall looking out the window while your mother sits back on her chair glaring at the pirate. "So, I'm guessing i missed something while i was out" You state looking between the two sensing clear tension but also a sense of compromise between the two.

Kid sighs and nods as your mother huffs crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back in her chair "We finally came to an agreement, but i see someone hasn't been keeping up their end" Your mother glares at Kid who keeps his eyes focused on outside "Our agreement was that we wouldn't fight if you kept your comments to yourself" Kid spits out trying to control his anger as to not start a fight that might hurt you again, they didn't know what triggers your memories, but they hope to make it less painful for you by not adding loud arguing into the mix. Your Mother rolls her eyes when the red head doesn't continue, "And you and your pals won't touch her" Kid huffs letting a small smile show "Actually as Killer pointed out you specifically said 'You and your pals aren't aloud to touch my daughter while we're around', you weren't in the room, there for if she'll let me, I'll touch her" Your mothers face drops as you slap your hand over your mouth trying to control your laughter over Kid's impression of your mother. It was so perfect, from the wording to the hand gesture he made, your mother was about to get up and yell at the red head but you caught on before she could even make a move hoping ti distract her with something else "I know Fathers probably off working but where is Killer?" You ask the two managing to break your mother's angry gaze from Kid "Yes, he has some business to attend too but i'm here, so don't worry" You mother smiles talking about your farther while completely ignoring your question.

Luckily Kid was happy to fill in the rest, gesturing towards the window the red head smiles almost fondly "Kill, went back to the ship to check on the crew and make dinner for them all. He'll be back later tonight though, with some off your stuff" Your eyes light up at the thought of seeing what was yours on the ship, has your style changed? what books do you read? Do you have new hobbies? Do they have your glasses? A gasp leaves your lips before turning to Kid who lets out a laugh already knowing what your thinking "Yes Y/n, He'll bring you your glasses" His smirk alone made you smile more but you couldn't wait to wear glasses again since your parents said they couldn't find them, you know thats a lie, their either in the trash or left at home, your mother sighs leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest "I brought you contact's, just use those" Your smile didn't drop despite her words just happy that you can read while feeling comfortable, there are so many books in the room and now you'll be able to read them "They hurt her eyes" Kids quick to comment making your mother tense up, that glare back on her face but this time its much worse, turning to your mother you place your hand on her knee getting her to stop glaring at Kid and turn to you. "Mother, he's right, plus there's no harm in wearing glasses, i think they make me look smarter" You laugh trying to break up the moment in hopes it'll calm everyone down but your smile drops when your mother leans closer to you her anger now directed at you making you lean away from her a little.

That smile you hate forms on her face, it looks so loving and caring yet her eyes burns into yours as her hands grip into fists, pulling your hand way from her your body tenses up making your movement a little jagged, you know she won't hurt you in front of someone but you know if you continue then later on, when no ones around it'll be a different story, she knows where to point her comments and what to comment on and if all else fails you know she'll turn to more drastic measures. "I'm telling you, sweetie, glasses aren't good for you, they'll mess up your perfect nose" Your heart sinks in your chest making you gulp in response, a part of you wants to tell her to shut up and that she can't control you anymore, that your nose will be fine but you push that feeling away instead looking down at your lap in defeat. Kid growls his hand clutching onto his coat in anger, he was trying to hold back but couldn't anymore not when you reacted like that, he could tell your parents are controlling but this was different. "Will you shut up, Y/N's been wearing glasses for years and her nose is fine" He argues taking his eyes off the window to glare at your mother who looks up at him in slight shock still not used to being talk to like that. You look up at Kid secretly pleading with your eyes for him to stop, as much as you enjoy him and Killer standing up for you now is not the time, you know once they leave she'll take out her anger on your by yelling and screaming, maybe even grabbing your injured legs just to put you in your place but Kid was too focused on your mother to notice. "Unlike you, Pirate.. i have my daughters best interest in mind, she has a beautiful face and i don't want it ruined, they'll dent her nose and bring her score down" She scowls with her head held high.

Shock hits you making you want to cry, tears peaking out the side of your eyes but you can't, you won't cry, not in front of people especially not your mother, you hoped she would have changed over the years you've been gone, but she hasn't, she still thinks of the contests and your looks, not who you are as a person, clenching your fists on your lap you look down at them trying to hold back the tears feeling your chest tighten from her words. Your still just a pretty face to your mother, it hurts more than you thought it would, you've spent years dealing with this so why does it still hurt so bad, your injured, in pain and lost your memories at, yet she still only cares about your looks. Kid has no idea what your mothers on about but seeing your look of sadness and knowing your holding back tears from her words make him see red, storming over to the bed the captain placing his hand on it lean over to glare at your mother. You look up due the sudden action only now noticing his metal arm is gone but it doesn't distract you from the fight your literally in the middle of. "Fuck you lady, If you haven't noticed Y/N looks fucking hot when she wears glasses" Your cheeks go bright red as your eyes widen in shock, you've never been called that as far as you can remember but it brings you so much joy, normally you hate people commenting on your looks and your body but you've never been called hot before, its always beautiful, pretty ect. Heat forms in your chest as a strange fluttering feeling flows through your stomach making you feel a little ill yet there's a need for more, What does this feeling mean?

Your head starts to feel fuzzy but you can't take your eyes off Kid despite the pain starting to from behind your eyes. "How dare you speck to me like th-" She's interrupted by the red head his hand gripping the sheets of the bed trying not to lash out at anything around him, only for your sake, he hopes you get your memories back soon, so he can bring down this place. "I'll talk to you however i want especially when you belittle her in front of me" The captain's voice is low but full of anger, he's trying not to raise his voice as not to hurt you but at the moment your in a trance, unable to take your eyes off him even though the pain is starting to spread from your eyes to your head. "Belittle? That's a big word for you pirate, and she's not your girl, she's my daughter and i know what's best" Your mother leans forward her anger getting the batter of her. "Yea? Well, My girl tough me that word because she has a brain, she can think for herself, she's not stupid like you make her out to be, She's a fucking smart ass " Your heart warms at his words, it's been a long time since someone has called you smart but calling you smart ass triggers something in your head, it hurts but the images are more clear than normal, it still feels like something is trying to stop the memory from coming back but it doesn't seem to have much of a hold. The two continue to argue back and forth but their voices start fading in and out, Kids eyes widen seeing your eyes going glossy again and places a hand on your cheek getting you to look up at him "Hay stay with me" He commends as your mother yanks his hand off your cheek "Get your hands off her" she yells sitting on the bed and taking your head in her hands, everything around you goes blurry as the memory finally pushes through.

----- Memory -----

You've dusted the cabinets, mopped the deck and was just finishing up cleaning the windows when you notice a room full of messy papers scattered all over a wooden desk and floor. Wiping the window on the door clean you can't help but let curiosity get the better of you so you open the door and step in able to see more mess than the window allowed, there are no files or books keeping everything togeather just pieces of paper of all different shapes, sizes and shades of white scattered all over the room. Looking them over you soon realize that their all to do with money, some are recites, some are details of treasure they've collected and the rest are what they have spent. It's no organisation to it, there are recites placed together but almost a year apart, and they weren't even from the same place or for the same object. With a sigh you knew this needs sorting but you can't just start messing with things without the captain's permission, then again he seemed like a prideful man and would probably yell at you for even stepping foot in this room. On the other hand his first mate and friend, Killer seems to be able to talk some sense into him and calm him down much better than anyone else on the ship so maybe you should talk to him first. After leaving the room you finish cleaning the windows before heading to the kitchen where you knew the masked man will be, it's a few hours before dinner but you know by now that the first mate likes to take his time when cooking and preparing meals for the crew.

Stepping into the kitchen you can't help but smile and smell the air, his cooking is amazing and something you will dearly miss when you have to leave "Smells good" You call out letting him know your there as you go to put the cleaning supply's away, he gives you a hum keeping focused on the large piece of meat he's expertly carving up. You walk up to the kitchen and lean on the counter close to the first mate but not close enough to be in his way, Killer always has his mask on no matter what he's doing, it doesn't bother you but some times you want to know what he's thinking or feeling when ever you were around, you can't tell if he's annoyed at your presence or just didn't care. "I've finished everything but i was wondering if i could help out with something else" You state not sure of how your going to go about asking, yes Killer seems more level-headed then Captain Kid but that doesn't mean he doesn't have out burst of anger too, you've seen it before and scarier then when Kid gets angry which is saying something. "I don't need your help, i can cook fine on my own" Killer finally speaks making you stand up straight at his commanding yet deadpan voice "oh no, i didn't mean with the cooking, when i was cleaning i came across a room full of scared recites and stuff… I was hoping i could sort it all out for you guys" you smile at him hoping you didn't offend him by asking, the masked man stops chopping and turns his head to look at you "And what would you want in return?" his voice sounds slightly angry but you try to ignore it.

Leaning your back against the counter you cross your arms over your chest "Honestly a good nights sleep. After seeing that mess i'm gonna have nightmares until its sorted… might also need therapy" you jokingly say but there was some seriousness to it, it's going to be something you can't stop thinking about and knowing the way you are you will lose sleep over it until its done. Killer suddenly turns his head away from you his shoulders starting to shake while has hand grips the counter top, you raise an eyebrow at him wondering if he's ok, but he suddenly starts laughing. Its quiet at first but it soon gets louder and you can't help but stare at him in aw, you've never heard anything like it but its so beautiful, it makes your head feel fuzzy and your chest feel light. The masked man soon manages to compose himself and look back over at you seeing your slightly wide eye'd yet star stuck expression, his hand grips the knife tightly causing it to ask and you can feel his eyes burning into your soul with an intense anger but you ignore it instead focusing on how your chest flutters and how your ears beg to hear more. "You have an amazing laugh" you whisper not sure if you should say it or not but there was serenity in your voice, a small smile soon grows on your face, Killer's shoulders relax as his grip on the knife loosening "I'd like to hear it more" you say a little louder without thinking, its like your mind forced it out of your mouth in hopes to hear it again.

Killer looks away from you and down at the cut up meat "I'll let you sort it but you'll do it in here and you let me check your work when ever i want, even if your in the middle of working something out" He states making you smile more and nod, "Awesome, I'll grab my stuff and the papers then bring in here, ok?" He gives you a nod letting you run out of the room to grab your stuff, after picking up a few things from your room you head over to grab all the paperwork, going through some draws in the desk you find way more but you manage to carry all of them back to the kitchen/dining room. Pushing the door open with your foot since your hands are full you have to feel around with your leg to find the dinning table since you can't see over the large stack of papers your currently balancing. Once you find the table you put them down along with bag of stuff that you start taking things out of. Killer turns to look at you putting his knife down and wiping his hands on a towel as you take your reading glasses out of your case and slip them on. "I'll be done before Dinner, i promise" You give the man a smile as he nods at you watching as you sit down and start to work, he watches for a while seeing you put papers in different piles while writing on a spare piece of paper, once in a while you would type on your calculator seeming to check if something was right or not. The masked man turns back to cooking feeling confident that you'll finish before dinner with how fast your going.

An hour and a half later your done, everything is in the right piles and in order of dates, some of the numbers where off on the old stuff but the newer stuff was correct, the only problem you did have was with someones short hand but you managed to decipher it in the end. Killer once in a while would look over your shoulder and pull a piece of paper away to look at it but you just let him do what he wanted even if you were working on it. You stretch your arms over your head and let out a relaxed sigh knowing you'll sleep well now all this is done "Despite the mess you guys have done a good job keeping track of things, although if you move some money around you'll be saving more in the end" You state once Killer has placed some stuff into the oven, he turns to you and walks over pulling out the chair across from you and sitting down "What do you mean?" He asks sounding kind of interested, it excites you since not many people want to hear how, they just demand you do it and save them the trouble, leaning forward you grab a fresh piece of paper and draw a pie chart "Well the best way to go about things is to follow the 50, 30, 20 rule where you spend 50% on essential needs like flue, repairs for the ship, food and medical supplies. 30% is spent on things you want like eating out or going to bars and then 20% is savings, put money to the side so over time it builds up, you can then use that for emergency's or something important. At the moment you guys are doing 50% on wants and 45% on needs which leaves 5% on savings, at this rate you'll run out of money for things you need." Killer nods along while looking at your work "So if we follow this rule we'll save more?" he questions while pulling the paper closer to him, so he can read over all your work.

You shrug a little, it's a good rule but at the end of the day these guys are pirates, they'll steal what they want when they want and most likely won't follow any budget but there's no harm in trying "Sort of, the crew is small so i recommend that for the moment you can do 40, 30, 30 as the crew grows you'll have to change it up to the original rule, it's a lot of numbers and math i know but with this you'll always have money left over if you need it… Oh! and i didn't add the treasure into all that since i honestly don't know how much a gold crown goes for" You laugh a little hoping you didn't over complicate things "Thank you, this will help a lot" Killer suddenly says while standing up and gripping the piece of paper you did all your work on "I'll let Kid know and see what he says, don't be scared if he comes barging in to ask a load of questions…. When the timer goes off turn the heat off" The masked man states before walking out of the kitchen, you nod staying in your seat even after he leaves, a smile grows on your face as your cheeks turns a little red. Its not often you get thanked for your work, even when you had to do your families taxes for a year after their accountant quit you never once got a thank you or a well done. It's the only time they wanted your smarts but when the new accounted came along it was back to the same old routine and you realized then, that there was no pleasing them unless it had to do with your looks.

A few minutes went by until there are loud voices coming from outside, they weren't shouting or angry just loudly discussing something until the kitchen door slams open. Kid and Killer both became quiet as they enter the room, the piece of paper the masked man took was clenched in the captains hand as he makes his way over to you. Your heart sank in your chest at his deadpan look unsure of what he was thinking, you've seen him lash out before and you don't want that to happen to you. Your eyes flicked to the door which Killer was leaning against his arms crossed over his chest "How the hell do you know all this?" Kids voice brings you back to him, looking up at the red haired man you gulp still not sure if he's angry or not "I-I urm… i went to a lot of business and math lectures and urm… Did people taxes and stuff" You stutter not wanting to give away too much of your past and who your family is, Kid chuckles a little before placing the piece of paper on the table making you raise an eyebrow "Looks like we have a smart ass on the ship… You've saved me all the hassle of doing it myself, if your not careful i might have to keep you around, your starting to impress me with your smarts, pip squeak" Kid grins down at you as Killer moves away from the door to check his food seeing that the situation as become more relaxed. You let out a breath you didn't realize was stick in your throat as the captain takes a seat across form you "So Smart ass, tell me how to make money" he grins leaning back in his chair while crossing his arms over his chest.

[aealzx]

Fishing his cell phone from its pocket wedged under his shell, Raphael hit the speed dial for Mikey. The easiest way to check on him was just to call him after all. Especially since they had two additional bases now that he and Leo were taking turns manning for this rotation. That explained why Leo had been caught since the other three weren’t with him. But it didn’t explain why their alarms hadn’t been tripped. Unless Leo had been outside the base on patrol, like he sometimes did when he was restless.

Okay Mikey that’s five rings, pick up the phone-

“You’re speaking to the greatest turtle of all time, hero of the realms, Nexus Champion, Michael Angelo Spliterson.”

For once Mikey’s voice was a welcomed relief instead of a complete annoyance, and Raphael found himself smirking instead of wanting to throttle him. “I’m gonna beat you for that, bozo,” Raphael responded, more on reflex than an actual threat.

“Awww, but Raphy buddy, you’d actually have to win against me for once to do that,” Mikey shot back. Harmless banter at this point. Despite the hundreds of sparring matches they’d gotten into, Raphael still hadn’t managed to win against Mikey even once. But they had saved each other's lives often enough it no longer truly mattered.

“Well get over here then.”

“Uh, I’ll pass,” Mikey declined quickly. “Got the ole second base to watch over y’know. Can’t leave her on her own. What would Don say if I just abandon-”

“I mean it Mikey. Get over here, Leo’s been caught by Augustine,” Raphael interrupted, ton growing completely serious now.

“HUH-?!” Mikey’s outburst cracked over the speaker and made Raphael pull the phone away from his ear. “Whadda you-?? Start with that you-! I’ll be right there!”

The call ended with a beep before Raphael could give a retort, but he just sighed and lowered the phone to tap a different speed dial. They would need their usual backup for this one, and he also had some words to get out. Thankfully this time his call was answered on the second ring.

“Yo Raph, what’s up? Miss me that much?”

Casey. The one that had been with Leo on base sitting duty that night. “Say goodbye to your son, then get back to home base asap. I’m gonna kill you for losing my brother,” Raphael growled simply, then took his turn to end the call without a goodbye. It would be better to talk to both Mikey and Casey at the same time, in person.

Once both people were contacted Raphael slipped his phone back into its place and approached Don, raising a brow as he was mildly impressed once again by how fast his genius of a brother was manipulating his precious computer. Touch screens and a custom keyboard really sped up his process, as did state of the art equipment. Coming to stand at his shoulder, Raphael remained quiet, knowing Don would speak when he formulated his thoughts enough around what he’d found.

Sure enough, it was only minutes of watching screens flashing by incomprehensibly that Don started his report. “Interesting. I ran an analysis for interdimensional breeches, and there’s a significant outlier from the usual comings and goings of people like the Daimyo and the others we’re used to visiting.”

“So…….,” Raphael started, a request for Don to pause and let him catch up with his own thoughts. “Augustine succeeded in creating an interdimensional machine despite us having stolen what she needed for it?”

“Yes…. and no,” Don confirmed and denied. “It wasn’t stable. The bridge between dimensions was quick, and horribly uncalculated. Like a misfire from trying to modify a weapon. I think she was trying something else, and got more than she bargained for.”

“An accident,” Raphael reworded simply, then sighed. “Great. And we still don’t have enough evidence to get her locked up?”

“Not yet. But this might be a tipping point once we get it solved,” Don responded with a mirthless chuckle. If only it were that simple. Augustine was eccentric, and unstable, but apparently still too valuable for the EPF to be willing to let her go. “I’ve got a good guess where she’s hiding out now. Three of the signatures converge at one point, including the one that matches the readings I’ve remotely pulled from our third outpost. And the location is part of our list of potentials.”

“...Texas? Really?” Raphael complained, raising a brow when the location was singled out on the display.

“Yep. Texas.” Don nodded, then caught sight of an entry register on another screen and turned to meet the one who’d arrived.

“Guys! You gotta help me- I think Leo’s gone missing! You gotta help me find him.” Casey’s arrival to the home lair was announced via a stomping run as he shouted his distress, one of Leo’s swords in his hands. “He went off to do a patrol like he does, but then he didn’t come back, and then I went looking for him to come back here, but all I found was his sword thing, and he never leaves that laying around. I think he got snatched! Do you have a tracker or something on him?”

As Casey started to explain his side of the story, Raphael could only fold his arms as both he and Don stared blankly at their friend. It may have seemed like a weird ploy with ulterior motives, but after having spent so many years with the man they both knew that Casey wasn’t faking anything. He just apparently didn’t have two dots connected in his mind just yet.

“....Did you figure that all out before or after I called you?” Raphael asked simply, continuing to give Casey a dry look.

“What? Uhhhhh…… After-.... Ohhhhh,” Casey seemed confused at the apparent unrelated question. But Don and Raphael could swear they could see the dots in Casey’s mind clicking together as he remembered what Raphael had called about in the first place. “You guys already know. Heheh. Uhm….. So where we going?”

Don could only chuckle as Casey sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. Before he could answer Casey the room gained another body as Mikey came dashing in. “I’m here! Let’s go! Bags are packed! Are we flying or driving?” Mikey rushed, stopping to jog in place once he reached the landing the rest were on.

“Hold on, bro. We haven’t even gone over a plan yet,” Raphael chastised, though he couldn’t hold the amusement from his tone.

“You can debrief me on the plane. Or truck. Whichever. Time’s a wasting,” Mikey continued, still jogging in place. “Did you get to talk to him? Or get a picture? Bad guys love sending kidnapping pictures. Does he look- Oh!”

At the mention of a picture Don clicked a few keystrokes to change the view of the monitors back to the video they had received. Catching sight of it, Mikey abruptly stopped moving, turning to gape at the picture. “Woah….. Ohhhh no, the crazy lady grabbed some other poor mutant ninja turtles inste- wait- is that ME? Mini me? He’s so small. But the orange headband is my thing- ohhhhh we didn’t stop her, did we.”

Raph had to snort at Mikey’s reaction to seeing the other two mutant turtles that had been kidnapped along with their brother. Only then did he start moving to comply with Mikey’s earlier prompting to get going. “Accidental cross dimension kidnapping. Is what it looks like anyway. We won’t know for sure until we ask their names once we rescue them.”

“Alriiiight. Time to finally bash this lady’s head!” Casey cheered, rotating his arm with a fist and moving to follow Raph.

“Ah ah. Not you. People with kids under the age of ten are strictly on backup duty, remember? You stay here and keep an eye on April… and Master Splinter since I’m assuming he’ll be on babysitting duty again. Keep them and Junior out of trouble, alright?” Raphael countered, whipping around to poke Casey in the chest and push him back.

“Awwwww maaann. Really? That applies even for rescue missions?” Casey whined, though he didn’t seem too upset about it. He did get to stay with April and their son after all.

“It applies for all missions. Especially breaking into government bases,” Don confirmed, slinging his prepacked backpack over his shoulders. “I’ve already messaged April, she and Leatherhead will meet you here and infiltrate their systems to give us support. Make sure Master Splinter gets to bed on time too, will you?”

“Guhhhhh, finnnee. Just punch someone good for me, alright?” Casey relented, making a show of throwing his head back in a pout. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of your dad too. Just don’t take too long.”

“We’ll be back before you know it,” Raphael assured. “You better not eat all the nachos,” he added as a warning, pointing a finger at Casey as he and the others left the raised terrace.

“Stealth plane Mikey. We’re headed to Texas,” Don directed, taking the lead to their underground hangar.

“Texas?” Mikey repeated, pausing verbally to consider a thought. “You think we can grab any kolaches while we're there?”

___________________

Previous Next (image of bloody mouth)

___________________

03 Mikey is just fine X'D He's just at a different, smaller base.

by the way, the 03 boys are in their 30s for this, if it wasn't apparent from them being scarred up and having more armor and stuff X'D

[russellsppttemplates]

Santa Claus has been (George Russell)

A sneak peek into Christmas in the Russell household

Note: english is not my first language. Before New Year comes around, let me get the holidays is somewhat of an order!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Do we have all the supplies we need?", George questioned as Arthur set the glue down, "yes, we're ready, daddy! Can you help me make sure I'm writing it correctly, please?", the little boy asked. While Olivia was fine to write on her own, Arthur had started second grade a couple of months before, and sometimes he still had a little slip here and there.

" 'Dear Santa, my name is Olivia Russell, and this year I have been a good girl. I have always helped mummy and daddy around the house, and I only hurt my brother, Arthur, once and it was an accident because I didn't think I was that strong when I threw the ball at him. ' Do you think that's good, daddy?", your daughter wondered, wanting to know her father's opinion.

"That's good, darling. Now you go on to tell him what you'd like to get from him", George praised, turning his attention back to Arthur's letter, "That's good, well done! Just this one here, it's two 's' and not just one", he pointed to the spot in the paper.

"Are you and mummy also writing a letter for Santa?", Olivia asked once she was finished, hands already holding glue and glitter as she bedazzled her letter, "Me and mummy got eachother a gift and that was it, we have everyhting we need already", George said as he kissed both of their heads, "but I do think Santa is bringing something for mummy as well, but it's a secret between me and him, so you guys can't tell her!", he mused.

.

"Do you think he knows we're coming?", Arthur wondered as you walked along the Christmas themed park.

"Of course he does, daddy spoke to him, didn't you?", Olivia reasoned back with her brother, "he told us he knew him because he spoke to him!".

"Does daddy know Santa, hm? I didn't know that!", you looked at your husband, quizzical look as you silently wondered where the kids got the idea.

"Daddy knows a lot of people, don't I?", George urged as they walked, winking at you as you made sure you didn't lose anyone in the sea of people, missing the way Olivia apologetically looked at her father, whispering "sorry, daddy!", as she realised she nearly outed her father's secret.

"The line isn't that long", you commented, seeing three families in front of you, "I have your letters here", you fished them out of your bag, handing them to each kid who held onto them.

"Do you think he'll remember us from last year?", Arthur wondered, "well, you two have grown a lot, maybe he'll have some trouble first", you reasoned, not sure what to say and knowing the kids would ask the person in the red and white costume.

"You guys are next!", a young woman dressed in her elf costume clapped, "do you have your letters ready?", she added.

"Merry Christmas! Oh, look at you! What are your names?", the old man in costume asked as he received them inside his house.

"I'm Arthur", your son said, sitting in the bench as his sister followed, "and I'm Olivia!", your daughter cheered, "and that's mummy Y/N and daddy George!", she introduced. "We wanted to bring Maya and Winston", Arthur explained, "but mummy and daddy said that they could get scared so they stayed home, but they're out family too!".

"Do not worry, my friends, I will make sure I leave something for them when I go by your house, I'm sure they've been good this year too", the man winked, gathering them so they could take a picture and talk a little about what they wanted for Christmas.

.

Leaving things for Santa

"So, we have cookies we baked, a glass of milk if he's thirsty, and then some carrots for the reindeer!", Arthur said, checking if nothing was missing for your visitors.

"Now we have to go to bed, or else Santa won't stop here!", Olivia said, putting a few extra cookies in the plate.

After putting the kids to bed, you and George began to work on your plan. Grabbing the boots, you sprayed them with oil and then dunk the sole in flour, attempting your best to create footsteps, "it's not snowing outside though", George pointed out, wiping the remnants of flour in hopes of making it realistic enough, "Lapland has snow and he still had some on his feet", you shrugged, continuing your task while he filled the stockings and put the big presents under the tree.

Just as you were about to fall asleep, a tiny thought came to your mind, "love?", you called, checking if your husband was still awake.

"Yes?", he acknowledged your call, "I wrapped all of the presents with the same wrapping paper. Which means our presents on the stocking and the presents from Santa Claus are going to be wrapped in the same paper. And we have very observant children!", you hissed.

"We'll just say that Santa's Elves and daddy and mummy have the same taste", George cuddled you, rubbing his lips on your forehead, "sleep, darling, you and I both know we'll need it as much as we can".

You slept for about four, five hours, you guessed until you were woken up by footsteps.

"I heard the door, they're coming here", you groaned into your pillow, feeling George's arm around your waist squeezing you closer to his body, "you're just listening things, darling", he replied.

"Oh yes? Why did you wake up too, then?", you snickered, looking the moonlight peaking through the curtains, "the sun is not even out, George, my goodness", you muttered, snuggling further into your husband as you heard the door open, "Winston can't do that", you grumbled, "neither can Maya", George reasoned with you, making you both groan in unison, "it's the kids".

"Mummy, Daddy", Arthur was the first to speak, "we think Santa has been already, we heard his footsteps on the roof!", Olivia said as she climbed in bed with you, "can we go and see? Please!".

"Don't you guys want to wait a little bit? Warm up in bed with us?", you attempted, hearing the huff from both kids, "we really want to go, mummy, please! We can sleep later!", Olivia reasoned.

Getting up and grabbing a fluffy robe, you and George followed the kids, seeing the grey cat look at you weirdly, "they probably just heard you, Winston, there isn't actually someone else in the house", you petted him as he followed you to the living room, seeing Maya at the corner of your eye who huffed, not understanding why her humans were up that early.

"You can go to sleep, Maya, although they're probably going to start squealing soon", George petted her caramel fur.

"HE HAS BEEN! LOOK, OLIVIA! He ate all the cookies, and the carrot is bitten!", you heard your son excitedly say as he looked for his presents with his sister's help.

"It's your genetics that make them get up this early, I think I'm still asleep", you murmured against your husband's clothed chest, hugging his waist as they unwrapped and gasped at what they got, "my genetics also make them incredibly cute, along with your genetics that make them irresistible, so that's how we do this", George kissed the top of your head.

"Mummy! Santa thought you were a good girl this year, too, look! You have a big present!", Olivia said, "Oh, I'm the best girl, specially for being up at this hour!", you chuckled.

[haybels]

a note

I was eight. I have friends over- those friends you have because your parents are friends. We’re playing with our little sisters, and they want to dress us up. I get put in a tutu, and take it off as soon as possible. My heart is pounding- not out of embarrassment, but because I wish I could wear things like this more often.

I was twelve, laying in bed way after my bedtime. I had my iPod touch, the one I got the day I went to the Odyssey of the Mind competition in Iowa. My body was starting to change, and I was starting to lose sight of myself. In passing on the internet, I hear about a way I can make myself more comfortable. I throw myself into it- read about everything relating to it. Knowing it exists helps me. I find resources, learn the lingo, and cry as I realize how much I want it, but how much it seems out of reach. I Google if I can get hormones and surgeries without my parents permission.

I was fourteen. We were in the car, the whole family, shopping for new furniture for the living room. I was tuning everything out- a girl, my age, had jumped off an overpass on a freeway. Her parents found out she was transgender and kicked her out of the house. She took her own life. I see posts talking about her, showing awareness to the plight of people like her. I share the posts, wishing I could have the support I see her having. Her name was Leelah Alcorn. I still think about her every night before I fall asleep.

I was sixteen. I’m not a particularly good athlete, though I still go out for sports whenever possible. I get told I’m not a real man, and that feels good.

I was eighteen. I want to watch the Super Bowl, so I find some friends going to a fraternity house to watch the game. I make an impression, and I get an invitation to join. I lay in bed, night after night, thinking about what it would mean to join. I swallow my feelings, try to accept what I always will be, and sign the bid.

I was nineteen. I sit next to some people I met in class- I had sat next to them last year but never managed to talk to them. This year, they find me. We bond over being in the same major and how much we hate the required class we’re in. I tell them the secret, the one that I told myself I’d never let slip, and they become the only ones I can trust.

I was twenty. I stay inside- I can barely bring myself to leave my room. How can I face myself these days? I let myself grow unkempt. Long hair to represent what I want for myself, and unkempt facial hair to show what everyone else sees me as.

I was twenty two. I return home after graduation. All my friends are off to bigger and better things, but I don’t. It’s hard to care for your future when you haven’t felt anything in years, when you feel like there’s nothing to look forward to. I still haven’t found a job, and the failure is getting to me. If I’m not the smart one, the one who has it all together, then what’s the point. It’s clear I’ve been left behind. I sit in the garage, a rusty fishing knife pressed to my wrists, and think about finally doing it.

I was twenty three. I swallow my pride and decide I need it, that life isn’t worth living anymore if I have to tiptoe around everyone else’s feelings. I call a clinic and schedule an appointment. I get my prescription and decide this is the time I need to come clean. I’m told I don’t know what I’m talking about, that I haven’t thought this through, that I need therapy before I can make this decision. I start my treatment and lie, saying I had taken their advice and waited. Lying has become as easy as breathing, my tells becoming suppressed. What’s lying about one little thing when I’ve been hiding the truth for my whole life?

I’m twenty four. I’ve struggled for so many years. Tomorrow is when I’m reborn, but I’ve known for so many years. I’m proud of myself, but also mad that I’ve caved to others for so long and delayed what I’ve wanted my whole life. But it’s over. I’m going to be free.

I’m finally going to be happy.