#it’s not the scuttling it’s the speed it made me jump even though I knew it was going to happen lol

[crowcryptid]

Feeling very enriched rn

[cazimagines]

Born to be wild - Chapter 5

Synopsis: Joining F1 as one of the first female drivers you knew was going to be a challenge but you weren’t prepared to deal with one particular asshole on the tracks. With the urge to win so strong within each racer, will romance pave the way? Or will it destroy everything?

Word count: 1.4k

Author update: I have a lot of important things starting to come up so updates might be a bit slow but I am determined to get one out at least once a week if not more.

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Every time you thought about that day, you felt the anger towards Niki swarm over you again, like a fiery itch in your veins. You couldn’t believe the arrogance of the man who not only rudely gave you advice but said advice being for his own benefit so you wouldn’t crash into him. You had half a mind to swerve directly into him in the next race, but you knew he would just use that to argue how he was right and that you were an inferior driver.

That thought weighed heavy upon your mind throughout the next few races, though. Were you an inferior driver? Was Niki right? That first race where you came 4th was your best position so far. In all these other races, you were lucky to get into the top 10. You wouldn’t even see Niki and James on the track with them being too far ahead of you. Patrick told you not to sweat it, and you will find your speed again, but you couldn’t help but feel depressed about the whole ordeal.

Yet, it made you more determined. You were determined to fix your car to your needs no matter what Niki said about you wrecking the engine. You grew up fixing cars; you certainly knew more than a rich boy who paid his way into F1. You pulled the underside apart, rewired the engine, changed the fuel consumption, chose better tyres, different metal to use on the outer side and slowly, you started to see an improvement in the car.

It was certainly faster, but it still wasn’t enough. You were missing something, something important, which would improve your game massively. Deep down, however, you knew it wasn’t a problem with the car but instead your own driving, which was holding you back.

Things took a turn for the better, however. A silver lining approached you, a ray of sunshine through your gloomy clouds, which turned out it would be the match to start your fire of a legacy. And that came in the form of James Hunt.

You were on your break for the afternoon before the next race tomorrow. You were eating your sandwich when you heard footsteps as he jogged up to you. Seeing him approach your field of vision made you glance away nervously. The last time you had spoken to him was the night of his party. The night where you had become so drunk, you made the rash decision to make out with him. Since then, you hadn’t spoken to him, feeling embarrassed about the whole situation, and you were hoping he wasn’t approaching to bring it up.

Seemingly James understood you didn’t want to speak of it, or he had been so drunk he didn’t even remember as not once did he mention it as he started to talk to you. Instead, he said something else which grabbed your attention.

“Do you want to go out on a ride around the town?” he asks you as he leans on the wall by the side of your table, looking down at you with that classic smirk.

“You...want to take me out on a ride?” you reply, suspicious of his motives.

“It’s a nice place we are at, plus I could show you a few tricks I know about how to handle the cars. It might help you.”

Instantly you perked up, excited to think that you might be able to learn tricks from the F1 master. Quickly putting the rest of your food away, you followed James over to his car, which was over the top representing his personality. Still like the gentleman he apparently was, he opened the side door for you and let you into the car. Then he jumped over his door into the car without even bothering to open it.

Showing off, he made the car shoot down the empty roads as you left the garage, definitely going over the speed limit. Despite all of James’ recklessness, he was a good driver, and as you observed the way he steered the wheel or pushed the gearbox, you began noting down ways he managed to control the car in a way you hadn’t figured out.

James felt your eyes upon him, and he smiled when he noticed what you were doing.

“If you give two tugs to the gearboxes here, it can give you a little boost which is useful if you are neck in neck with someone and you need to get ahead,” he tells you, demonstrating it, and as he says the car shoots forward with a quicker speed for a few seconds.

“I had no idea about that!” you say, feeling gleeful in realising how much you were learning from James.

Continuing down the road, James proceeded to show you more little tricks he had with the car. He talked you through each one and told you how he had managed to figure them out, and eagerly you hung onto his every word. You two didn’t even notice how many hours went by as he drove you around the town, just getting lost in your conversation till the sun slowly started to sink beyond the horizon.

By the time you and James pulled back up at the garage, only a few lights were still on, and the silence was broken by the laughter of the two of you. James jumped out of the car and jogged over to your side to open the door before you could, and jokingly, you gave him a curtsy for thanks. James opened his mouth to say something, but he chose to turn and look behind himself, and instead of words about how he enjoyed this afternoon, a groan left his lips.

“Well, if it isn’t the rat, I had heard they were nocturnal. Truly living up to your name.”

“You are never usually around the garage at this time, James. Are you planning on sabotaging my car?” the familiar Austrian accent rang out.

“I was just showing y/n a few tricks I have picked up over the years.”

James now moved out of the way, and Niki was brought to the awareness of your presence. He was holding a suitcase in his hand, but after seeing you, he crossed his arms over his chest and gave a displeased look which in turn pulled a frown onto your lips.

“Now it all makes sense. Do you think it’s a smart choice to show the opposition, though I doubt your tricks are worth much”

“Yes, yes, go and be the condescending twat that you usually are. You can’t seem to comprehend the thought of being nice and helping someone,” you mutter, moving forward to stand by James, copying Niki’s movement by crossing your arms.

Niki just scoffed, however, and rolled his eyes, “I heard what happened at the party. This seems to be more than just being nice and helping someone.”

You felt a blush spring on your cheeks as the words left his mouth. Your mouth hung open in shock, your eyes wide. You knew people would likely talk about you and James drunkenly kissing, but the fact that someone like Niki even knew made embarrassment course through you. How would you ever prove yourself if people thought you were just trying to get with an F1 driver?

“Leave her alone, Niki,” James said, stepping forward, and Niki instantly took a step back, uncrossing his arms to raise his hands defensively.

“I was only saying what I had heard, what everyone is talking about.”

Niki, deciding it was best to leave before James forced him, started to walk away from the two of you. James muttered, “come on”, and started walking in the opposite direction, but you had to say one more thing to Niki.

“Why are you always being so rude to me? Simply for one mistake?” you yell at his disappearing figure. You weren’t sure if he would bother to turn around and dignify you with a reply; after all, to him, you were just an idiot, but he did.

“Do you think if you were a guy, James would have taken you out today? I treat you and everyone else here like an asshole. They all treat you like something special so they can get their dick wet. I would have thought you wanted people to treat you the same as everyone else, but it seems like you enjoy the special attention.”

Niki’s eyes flicker back to Jame, who had turned around and was glaring at him.

“Now run along; your toy for the evening is waiting.”

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[oloreaa]

Vencuyanir Ch.2 - The Sandcrawler

vencuyanir [ven-COO-yah-neer]: sustain, keep alive, preserve

Summary: Many things happen on their way to the Mandalorian's ship. Bean is unfazed and trying to be helpful, Elana… not so much

Words: 6.2k oof

Notes: Thank you for your lovely comments and reblogs, they mean so much to me🥺

Warnings: canon-typical violence (gore/blood, gun violence), hostages

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……………

The next morning, Elana was woken by the Mandalorian.

"Get up," he said, standing right in front of her, staring down. She startled awake, squinted up, brows furrowed and dark hair unruly. Then, she looked at the pram, seeing green ears peeking out of the pod. Not even a second later, dark eyes followed, peering at her. He cooed and stretched a hand out to her, smiling widely. The Mandalorian got close and uncuffed her without a word before retreating away again.

Elana got up, combing her hair with her fingers before putting it into a low braid while walking over to Bean, greeting him with a quiet "Good morning".

"We have to move," the Mandalorian said, strapping his rifle across his shoulder, walking a few paces before he stopped again, looking up at the canyon walls.

Taking notice of the filled water bottle, she put the moisture bead away and got the ration packs out. Offering one to Bean, she broke it in half in order for him to hold more easily. He started to gnaw on them, but his little face told her everything about what he thought of the taste.

"Yeah, honey, I know," she murmured, stroking his ears, "they're not tasty. We can get you something better later on." Bean pointed to the Mandalorian, and made a questioning sound. Elana could not control the face she made, and shook her head slightly.

"We're not asking him for food," she said so quietly that the bounty hunter would not be able to pick it up, "also he probably doesn't have anything better anyways."

Bean frowned, mouth turning downwards. She had to smile at his disgruntled face, and with a last boop on his nose, she straightened up and started to pack the things away into her backpack before walking towards the Mandalorian.

He had been waiting patiently, allowing them a short time to properly wake up and prepare for the day, for which she was grateful.

The Mandalorian held out the cuffs then, and with a clenched jaw she let him attach those to her wrists. He tilted his head towards her in a slight nod, then set off again, Bean's pram floating with him. Watching how his tattered cape swung across his broad back, Elana held back a sigh and started to trail after him.

It was much more difficult to walk in comparison to yesterday, since her legs ached with the effort, muscles unused to so much exercise and climbing across the rocky terrain. But taking step after step, setting one foot in front of the other, the ache slowly dwindled to an amount where it was annoying but not actually bothering her too much. They walked for at least an hour, the pace less gruelling than the day before, but it was still exhausting after a while.

The canyon walls decreased in height around them, and the path they walked on was getting lighter and lighter, both due to the fact that the edges of the cliff were lower and let more daylight in, and the sun rising higher in the sky. The rock formation curled above them, giving them some semblance of protection even if the canyon itself was becoming more shallow.

Where yesterday the surface was bare and devoid of life, down in the canyon there were lizards scuttling around. Across the bond she could feel Bean watching those with big eyes and rising interest, leaning over the edge of the pod to peek out. The Mandalorian kept walking, stride purposeful, unbothered by the reptiles.

More lizards appeared again, and Bean leaned out even more, squeaking quietly, eyes growing huge. Elana watched him, glad that he seemed to be entertained by them even though he could not get out and play. Crossing over a small trickling stream, they continued walking without a break. The packed earth beneath their feet was not bone dry anymore, but had occasional patches of wet mud here and there, making the walk more difficult.

Some of them were actually mud puddles and Elana was suddenly glad that Bean was sitting properly in his pram because he would have definitely tried to play in them and make a mess of himself. And she would probably have let him, giving him an hour to tire himself out so he would sleep better at night.

"Mrah," Bean said quietly, eyes wide as he tried to get a better look.

The lizards that tailed them were approaching fast, a group of them gathering around them. Elana looked at the ground, keeping an eye on them. Are they venomous?, she suddenly asked herself, anxiety spiking, and inched closer to the pram. But before she could open her mouth to ask the bounty hunter, they scattered in a matter of milliseconds.

The Mandalorian stopped walking.

Elana held her breath automatically as he stood still as a statue, the only sound she could hear for the moment the wind whistling.

A shadow passed over them, too quickly for Elana to see the source behind it as she whipped her head around. The Mandalorian turned his torso, slowly looking around.

"What is--" Elana started to ask quietly, but he held a hand up sharply, effectively shutting her up. His leather gloves creaked as his hand wrapped around a blaster.

Elana jumped when a figure, a Trandoshan dropped down from the top of the canyon with a roar, stumbling back as fast as she could, getting away from them.

They knocked against the Mandalorian's rifle, and with a fast movement, he pushed Bean's pram backwards. A sharp rapid beeping filled the air, and she stumbled backwards as fast as she could, placing herself in front of Bean. Her heart beat fast in her chest as the Trandoshan advanced on the Mandalorian, sparks flying as he hit his armour. Getting the upper hand, the Mandalorian knocked him down, only to whirl around when another one dropped down. While he deflected a hit, a third one appeared, getting involved in the fight as well.

The Mandalorian held himself against three opponents easily, blocking hits and kicking out, every slice that broke through his defence sliding harmlessly off his armour. Using the end of his rifle, he stabbed at one of them, blue electricity crackling, knocking the Trandoshan back a couple of paces.

Seizing the opportunity of the distracted bounty hunter, one of them ran towards Elana and Bean, the former shielding the pram protectively with her body. She squared her shoulders, preparing to defend Bean with her life even while cuffed, but before that could happen, the hunter vanished into thin air.

Eyes wide, she stared at the golden sparks floating around them, her gaze dropping to the pile of fabric at her feet that had not been there before.

The hunter had disintegrated.

Her heart dropped into her stomach, and she had to gulp. The Mandalorian still had his rifle raised, pointing directly at them. A moment passed, not one word was said. Breathing hard, the visor of the Mandalorian was trained right on Bean, and the child was staring back. Elana was wide eyed, looking rapidly between them, unable to decide whether she should check upon Bean first or rip into the bounty hunter for firing a weapon right when Bean was in range.

She turned and crossed the short distance to the pram, wishing she could take him out of the pram and press him to her, but it was impossible with the cuffs. "What is wrong with you," she got out, voice shaking and hands trembling, overwhelmed with the need to feel Bean. Him, alive, in her arms, "You could have hit him!" Chest heaving, she glared at the Mandalorian, heart beating fast in her chest, every possible scenario that could have played out making it seize up.

"Good thing I didn't," he replied, before taking the beeping fob and crushing it with his boot. His helmet turned around to her, "We're being followed."

The statement hung in the air.

They looked at each other, the impassive shield of the beskar mask making it impossible to gauge what was going on in his mind. "Why do they want him?" he asked, sounding tense.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. "I don't know," she said, shoulders hunching. It was not a complete lie. She had some ideas as to why anyone wanted Bean, starting with what the little one could do, but actually knowing? How could the people who wanted Bean know that he could make things float? How could they know about the bond?

"We need to move if we don't want to get ambushed again," the Mandalorian said, and turned around, taking off again.

Elana stared after him, worry lingering in her chest. She knew that there were many bounty hunters coming to Arvala-7, and she knew that they had tried and failed many times to get Bean. This was the first time that someone had come so far in actually getting them.

Now, the other hunters would have easy picking with them out in the open, especially considering how close it just was, how easily they should have overpowered the Mandalorian.

Elana did not even dare to think what would have happened to Bean if the Mandalorian had not quickly pushed the pram away from the scuffle, and silently thanked the Maker for his reflexes. Starting to walk again, trailing after the Mandalorian and the floating pram, she was left alone with her thoughts, running at hyperspace speed. She suddenly noticed the cut on the Mandalorian's arm, the sun reflecting the glistening of blood.

"You're hurt!" Elana exclaimed, not thinking as she went to inspect it, some kind of instinct taking over. She was stopped though, by an arm pushing her away when she got too close, and the bounty hunter stared her down.

"Don't touch me," he threatened quietly, and Elana instantly shrank back, heart pounding. Feeling a flush rise up in her face because of how foolish she felt, she just held up her palms a little awkwardly because of the cuffs, trying to placate him.

He simply turned around, and ignored her timid "I'm sorry".

The day was crawling by at a snail's pace, and they only stopped for water and food. If Elana had thought that she felt disgusting yesterday, she was not prepared for today. Her entire body was sticky with sweat and dust, and when she rubbed across her arms dirt clung to her, baked into her skin. Her hair was a tangled mess, the only saving grace was that it was in a braid and could not get much dirtier. She longed for a water shower where she could scrub her entire body raw, some soap to wash off the grease on her face and her scalp, and clean, dry clothes that she could put on afterwards. Elana might have actually cried if that opportunity arose. Thank the Maker that Bean was not a sweaty baby, and with his pram he was the cleanest of them all.

Despite all this, she pitied the Mandalorian, who must have been sweating buckets underneath that coarse weave and the durasteel armour, not to mention the cape he was trailing behind him. Was it only for the aesthetic, to look even more menacing, or did it serve some purpose? It looked like a good emergency blanket for cool nights, though.

When night finally fell again after a gruelling day underneath the sun, they made camp outside the canyon, on the edge, where they would continue towards the Mandalorian’s ship the next day.

The Mandalorian took out a small heater lamp while Elana gave Bean water, turned on the moisture bead after he was finished, and fed him his ration packet. Unhappy with the consistency, it took longer than usual for Elana to get Bean to eat, the baby whining and frowning at her every time he had to take another bite.

"I know it doesn't taste good," Elana said, holding the packet with a stern face, "But it's all we have right now."

The Mandalorian was inspecting the wound on his arm, hissing lowly in pain when he must have grabbed it too hard, and then took out a device from one of the pockets on his thighs. Watching the Mandalorian settle down, Elana pulled her knees to her chest, scooting closer to the rock behind her, once again scolding herself for her moment of weakness before. Why did she want to help him? Why did she constantly offer him help, water, food when he would not hesitate to let them die?

Why was she like this, giving away precious resources that could go to Bean to their captor?

He did not spare her a glance as he shuffled around on his seat, and pressed the device in his hand to the cut on his arm. Horrified, Elana gasped as it flared bright red, and the flesh sizzled. "What are you doing?" It escaped her before she thought about it, "Is that a cauterizer?"

"Yes," was the only thing he said, before pressing it to the cut again.

The sound was gruelling, and when the Mandalorian gave a low groan at the pain, goosebumps spread over her whole body. "Stop that," she demanded, chest seizing up at the smell of burnt flesh, "You're hurting yourself."

"It'll get infected," he explained, infuriatingly calm, as if she were a child.

She huffed. "Doesn't that increase the likelihood of infection? With the inflammation--"

"I don't have time for that," the Mandalorian interrupted her.

"Fine," she rolled her eyes. Get septicaemia for all I care.

He continued holding the cauterizer to his wound, sizzling filling the air, and Elana did her best to ignore the pained grunts and heavy breathing the Mandalorian let out, trying to stave off the nausea from the thought of someone doing something like that to themselves. Suddenly, Bean appeared right next to the Mandalorian, stretching his hand out, reaching up. Elana had not even noticed that he had left his pram. Grimacing at the strain, Bean stretched his hand out some more.

Before she could say or do anything, the Mandalorian softly pushed him away with his hand, and took Bean under his armpits, lifting him back into his pram in a matter of seconds, Bean making a disgruntled coo at the manhandling. She would have made a sound of protest if he had not been so... gentle with Bean. Staring at him, wide eyed, Elana felt something akin to hope fluttering in her chest.

Since she had started to care for Bean, she had noted that she could make many assumptions about a person, and be proven correct most of the time, simply by the way they treated the little one.

The Niktos had shown a full range of possibilities on how to gauge personalities. Those that did not spare him a glance veered towards the spectrum of untrustworthy, and those that cared enough to check up on him once in a while were the ones that Elana could go to if there was a problem. There were many impatient ones she did not care for in the slightest, since they had punished the baby for the smallest of things. But overall, the Niktos had been neutral to Bean, guarding him like they were hired to, but nothing more. And based on how the Mandalorian treated Bean, there was hope that he could be convinced to not hand them over to those that put a bounty on his head. It was basically impossible not to fall in love with Bean upon sight, anyways.

The Mandalorian started to repair his chest plate after sitting down, fixing something on it, the circuitry making violent sparks fly. Something clicked, and the chest plate gave a whirring sound, the Mandalorian exhaling in relief as it booted up.

Elana had a sharp eye on Bean now, quietly observing what he was trying to do. After jumping out of the pram, landing lightly, he waddled towards the Mandalorian, and stretched out his hand again, whining slightly. A choked off sound that came from the Mandalorian as he noticed Bean made the little child warble even more, his voice almost scolding. If it was not so bizarre, Elana would have laughed.

After a short glance towards her, the bounty hunter stood up, bent over, carefully picked Bean up again, and set him down in the pram. Bean looked up at him, big eyes questioning, ears perked up, cooing at him. The Mandalorian hesitated before he pushed a button on his vambrace and the lid closed with a hiss.

The man looked at her, visor menacingly tilted down. "What did he want?" he asked, still a bit breathless, chest probably heaving from the brutal way he had used the cauterizer on himself.

Elana looked up, and could not help but feel proud of Bean. "That, Mandalorian," she said quietly, "was him trying to help you."

His body language was incredulous. "Why would he do that?"

She glared up at him, straightening up. "Because you were in pain."

The Mandalorian scoffed slightly. "He should not care," he said stiffly, which made Elana scoff as well.

"Do you think he understands that?" she snapped, brows furrowed at the bounty hunter, "The only thing he could see was that you were cauterizing your cut with that kriffing atrocious thing."

He said nothing, just turned his head to the pram, watching it quietly. Then, with a sigh, he returned to fiddling with his chest plate, not sparing her another glance.

She made a face at him, before turning around and laying on the cold floor, pulling the threadbare blanket around her shoulders. Keeping her back firmly to the rock formation behind her, she fell asleep with the light of the lamp illuminating their makeshift campsite.

The next morning, she woke before the Mandalorian did, sunrise announcing itself through the pink and purple swirls in the sky. Watching as it turned gold, she tucked her hair neatly into braids, and finished as the Mandalorian gave a start and sat up.

Looking at the pram first, then at her, he started packing the lamp and other supplies away while she folded the blanket and put it into her backpack. Frowning at the leather straps, discoloured from sweat, she sighed. When they arrived at some place with water she would try to clean it up some. Button pressed, the pram opened, and Bean sat up sluggishly, blinking, still half asleep.

Whining slightly, he held his arms up, wanting to be taken, and Elana quickly put her backpack on, scrambled up and hoisted him into her arms. He snuggled into her, and gave a slight snore, evidently falling asleep again. Taking a look at the Mandalorian, already finished with packing and waiting for them, cuff in his hand. Elana held Bean closer, sending him a glare. The Mandalorian only sighed, and packed the cuff away for now.

They took off, Bean still in her arms until he was fully asleep again, and Elana put him back into the pram once the bond let her know that he was drifting into dreams, letting him snooze a bit. As if he had been waiting for Elana to have her arms free to use again, the Mandalorian was quick in securing her the moment Bean was in the pod.

The sun rose behind them, elongating their shadows in front of them, and they worked their way up a steep hill. She was glad when they went over the ledge, and the ground evened out to a flat, which went on for some kilometers all around.

"We're not far now," the Mandalorian said suddenly, and she could not help but to tense up.

"Where are you taking us?" Elana asked.

He exhaled with a crackle of the modulator in his helmet. "To my ship," he said. She scoffed.

"Ha, ha, very funny, I did not gather that," Elana muttered, "Where are we going?"

"To a client."

"And they are?"

"Confidential."

She looked at him, face deadpan, and opened her mouth for a retort before she thought better of it. If he did not want to talk, fine. It was unlikely that he would give any more information to her. And she did not even know what information could help her in some way.

They walked for at least half an hour before something blinked a kilometer away, reflecting the sunlight. Based on the relieved slump in the Mandalorian's shoulders, even though he did not make a sound, she gathered that it must be his ship.

The countdown started, she thought grimly to herself, and felt herself tensing up. No way back. She took back everything she had thought the last two days, every sullen complaint that she ached, that she wanted to be out of the sun, that she was tired and thirsty, because the complete fear she felt made her long for the moments where the end was not as apparent.

In a few hours Bean would be handed over to some client of the Mandalorian, and Maker knows what they wanted with her child.

They had to take a longer route around though, since a canyon was cutting straight through the more direct path, and soon the glinting disappeared. Making their way towards the ship from another angle, it steadily came closer with every step they took. A spark of hope grew in her heart as she heard some noises, carried over by the wind.

It sounded like Jawas, her mind supplied, and the Mandalorian must have come to the same conclusion, for he increased his pace. They walked over the rocky stone edge, shouting filling the air as the bounty hunter became more and more tense with every step. When they finally arrived at the overhang, there was a huge Sandcrawler next to a silver ship, the smaller one half disassembled.

The Jawas were whooping in joy and talking amongst themselves as they manhandled the pieces to their Sandcrawler.

The Mandalorian took off his rifle in a smooth motion, yanked the end piece off and held it to his visor, and Elana realized that it must have been some scope. He then lifted his rifle, it gave a click under a practised flip and started whirring in a foreboding manner. He fired.

A Jawa disintegrated.

She flinched at that, the knowledge of the Mandalorian having such a weapon still making her nauseous.

Bean leaned forward, interest suddenly spiking along their bond. The Jawas started to flee, running into their Sandcrawler, but the Mandalorian got another shot in, and reloaded his rifle. The little child watched the Mandalorian take out several Jawas, ears perked high, and Elana grimaced at the fact that Bean was exposed to this much violence in the span of only a few days. It would be a marvel if he did not have any sort of nightmares afterwards.

The huge structure started to move, and the Mandalorian was quick to give chase, the pram floating along.

"Hey!" Elana yelled, scrambling to get behind them, "hey!"

The Mandalorian was wickedly fast, gaining speed quickly while she struggled with jumping down the rocky terrain without breaking an ankle, especially with no free hands to catch herself if she fell. She caught up somewhat when the bounty hunter dropped to his knee, Bean’s pod right beside him, and fired at the machinery in the back of the Sandcrawler. He then ran behind it again, his frame becoming smaller and smaller in comparison to the looming structure, before he jumped up, pulling himself onto the fast moving thing.

He is crazy, Elana thought, running behind them, not knowing what else to do. Stay? Then she would be left alone while he was doing who knows what, and since Bean was attached to him, his pod swerving safely around any obstacles, she had to go after them. Even if she could not keep up with the running or the speed for long, she had to stay with them, so she could at least follow what was happening with her eyes.

The Mandalorian was trying to climb up the Sandcrawler using the ladder, and the Jawas veered to the side, trying to scrape him off on a rock, but he somehow managed to stay on top of the ledge he was positioned on.

She could see how the Jawas started to throw parts at him, doing their best to slow him down, but the bounty hunter was still unerringly trying to get to the Jawas, climbing with visible effort.

Elana could not follow everything while she was running behind them, for the parts that the Jawas had thrown to slow down the Mandalorian succeeded in slowing her down. Having to watch her step carefully so she would not skewer her foot by stepping on some rusty pipe or stumbling over a Jawa corpse, she missed the point where he launched a rope from his armour, using that to pull himself up.

He's crazy, she thought, breathing hard as she ran as fast as she could, switching her focus between small white pram floating behind the Mandalorian, and the Mandalorian himself, He’s lost it.

How did he think that he had the slightest chance against the whole Sandcrawler and the tribe inside? Completely nuts.

Elana could not believe her eyes when he actually reached the top after some struggle, his frame now tiny because of the distance, but the begrudging respect that budded was quickly replaced with dread as the Jawas electrocuted him.

She could see him swaying slightly before falling down, the moments seeming endless. Wincing at how hard he hit the ground, Elana tried to increase her speed, but it still took too long until she was near enough, the speed of the Sandcrawler putting a decent distance between them.

Arriving at the fallen Mandalorian, wheezing in exhaustion and heart beating fast from the run, it took everything in her to not just collapse on the spot. Placing her hands on her knees and taking a few moments to suffer, Elana gasped for air, feeling her sides burn.

The Mandalorian was sprawled out across the ground, completely still, but his stomach continued to move up and down.

"He's breathing," she told Bean, who was watching with worried eyes, soft coos coming from the small creature, and she straightened up, breathing deeply, "He is probably alive."

Elana really hoped that he was. Not necessarily because she liked him, quite the opposite, out of necessity. If he died, she and Bean would be kilometers away from any kind of civilization, in the middle of the desert, food and water, even with the moisture bead, scarce. And if the hunters from yesterday were any indication, they were probably wanted by even more people.

She would rather take her chances with the Mandalorian, who had not hit them when he fancied it in the last two days, who treated Bean gently, and had not made a pass at her, knowing that she could not properly defend herself.

It was not the highest of standards, Elana had to concede, but it was unlikely that other hunters would be as 'pleasant' as the Mandalorian was.

Getting closer to the sprawled out Mandalorian, she peered down at him, brows raised. Then, she looked back at Bean who was watching them. Then back to the Mandalorian again.

She nudged his leg slightly with her foot. "... Mandalorian?" she asked, tilting her head as she nudged him again, this time against his side.

He did not stir.

Feeling worried now, she dropped to her knees, and poked him, instantly withdrawing in case the Mandalorian woke up and took her finger off without a warning. Bean sent something that she could interpret as worry, and a picture of blue sparks and a fuzzy feeling flooded the bond. He was showing her what happened, Elana realized, and looked at the Mandalorian again.

She honestly did not know what to do. Should she take his armour off to check for injuries? The way he fell, he could have sustained some heavy damage. Broken bones? Concussions? Maker, spinal injuries?

Could he have split his head open and Elana would not notice? Was he bleeding out somewhere beneath the armour? Hesitant fingers hovered above his armour, before settling on his chest plate, giving him a tentative shake.

Nothing.

Elana bit her lip, feeling conflicted. She knew that there was something about a Mandalorian's helmet, that it should not be removed by others, or was it that only they could remove it? And he had only taken it off to drink or eat when she was tied up against the pram. For a short second she thought about manipulating the bounty hunter's arms in a way to take off his own helmet but discarded that thought just as quickly as it had appeared in her head.

"What do you think, Bean? What should I do?" Elana asked, looking to the baby as if he could give her an answer.

Bean cooed, tilting his head to the side.

"I don't want to disrespect the guy's culture, if you get me?"

Bean nodded gravely, as if to say 'yeah, I get you'.

Elana exhaled a breath, lips pursing, contemplating what to do. She really did not want to take off his armour and maybe do something culturally insensitive, but what if he had an injury that she could treat? She did not have many medical supplies, but if there was a small wound? What if he needed to sit up? What if there was something that needed instant medical attention?

Elana shifted on her knees, and leaned over the Mandalorian, taking notice of how he was breathing. Still breathing?

"Oh Maker," she huffed in despair, "Maker above."

She settled her fingers slightly around his helmet, and tried to gather enough courage to pull it up, heart beating fast in her chest.

"I'm sorry, Mandalorian, if this is something extremely taboo that I'm doing here, but honestly--" Elana gave a short nervous laugh, "Yeah, I'm sorry. Please don't kill me afterwards, that would be very much appreciated." She tried to lift it, not even raising it half a centimeter before his hand wrapped tight around her wrist, almost giving her a heart attack.

The world suddenly went flying and she found herself pinned under the Mandalorian, his hand curling around her throat, the other pressing her into the ground. She gasped, both in shock and at the force with which he had slammed her into the ground, and clawed at his hand, scrabbling underneath him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she got out, "Thought you were injured, tried to help--"

The words grew more panicked as she tried to speak around the pressure on her windpipe. Elana could faintly hear Bean squeaking in alarm.

"It is forbidden," he snarled at her, voice impossibly rough, before letting up, leaving her gasping and floundering on the floor.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, tears in her eyes, coughing from the steel grip that had only just been on her throat. Rubbing against it, she winced. Would that leave a bruise? She hoped not.

The Mandalorian's breath was ragged as he clumsily stood up, chest heaving as he stood above her. "I should kill you for that."

Elana swallowed thickly, staring up at him with watering eyes, trying to hold back the cough building in her throat. "I did not know it was forbidden, I swear," she tried to explain herself, "I know that Mandalorians don't take their helmets off but I assumed, with injuries--"

"Yeah, you assumed," he interrupted her, sounding angry, hand twitching towards his blaster. She flinched back, and apologised again, staring at the ground, blood rushing in her ears. Bean was squeaking indignantly in his pram, a frown on his face.

"I only wanted to check for injuries, I swear," she whispered, hoping the Mandalorian would believe her.

He turned around, and looked after the huge trail the Sandcrawler had left, before letting out a huge sigh. Elana stood up, discreetly patting down the dust on her clothes and checking up on Bean, who was making questioning sounds at her, his ears hanging low. I'm okay, she sent to him, along with a smile.

The Mandalorian looked back to them, his shoulders dropping again. "Just this once, caretaker," he said, towering above her as he stared her down. She nodded quickly, shrinking back in fear. With that threat, he stalked past her, whole body tense, and started to walk back the way they had come.

She stared after him, heart beating fast in her chest, mind reeling. Bean's pram floated past her, and he cooed at her, hand stretched out as if he was urging her to follow.

Elana might not have understood the scale of what had just happened, but she knew that the Mandalorian would not have hesitated to shoot her. Or snap her neck. There were several times when she wanted to open her mouth and ask whether or not he was all right, he did fall from an incredibly dangerous height onto his back, but she was too scared of him going off at her again. They walked back in silence, the Sandcrawler having left an unmistakable path they could easily follow. Looking up into the sky, she noticed that it would not be long until the sun set. The Mandalorian walked with a straight back, but his step was slower than before. She contemplated asking if he was injured again, but thought better of it.

It took a while until they arrived at the Mandalorian's ship, various pieces of it lying on the ground around it. The ship was stripped, pieces on the side missing, and from what she could spot the engine was basically gutted. There was no way that the ship could make it into space.

The Mandalorian let out a string of curses that crackled through the modulator, and pointed a finger at her. "You stay here," he commanded, body tense, and he pressed the button on his vambrace so Bean's pram did not follow him, inching it towards her with a motion of his arm before whipping around, starting to examine what was left of the ship.

It was large, unpainted and silver except for some faded designs on the sides, and a model that was older than herself. Scratch that, it could very well be from the time before the Empire. Elana wondered how well it was holding up before the Jawas got to it.

Seeing this as a good moment to rest her legs, she sat down on the ground, Bean's pram next to her, and she took out the water bottle. First giving Bean something, the little one drinking in big gulps, obviously thirsty, and then took sips herself.

She heard a loud bang from inside the ship, and exchanged a glance with Bean. "Someone's angry," she said to Bean, and he cooed in agreement.

A movement from the cockpit drew her eye, and she could see a glint through the viewport, which was probably the helmet of the Mandalorian. Shortly after, the ship started whirring, and the left repulsor gave a huff before shutting down. Then, the right one did the same.

"The ship can't fly, you see, Bean?" Elana could not help but smile, feeling exceedingly petty. Bean nodded in agreement, ears perking up as he babbled to her. She reached a hand into the pram, and he grasped at her fingers, holding them tightly. He held out his other hand, and beckoned for her to pick him up. Elana did, and put him in her lap.

Bean frowned at her, and wriggled. She frowned right back. "You don't want to be held?" Something creeped across their bond, and she could not help but raise an eyebrow at what he wanted.

"The Mandalorian? Are you sure?"

He pointed towards the ship, and started wriggling again. Setting him down, he started to waddle directly to it, and a tug across their bond made her follow him. Bean struggled across the packed ground, and then up the ramp into the ship. She was right behind him, watching the small one like a hawk so if he stumbled or fell she could instantly get to him.

Bean reached the top, and chirped loudly into the ship, ears high and reaching his arms inside.

"Where is your caretaker?" The Mandalorian asked Bean, voice rough. She poked her head into the ship, and gave a tiny, only slightly sarcastic wave. He sighed, before pushing himself up from the cub he had been leaning against.

"Shouldn't you know better than to let him wander?" He accused, tilting his head at her.

Elana shrugged instead of answering, eyes narrowed. How dare he try to tell her how to handle Bean?

The Mandalorian pushed past her, his steps ringing loudly on the durasteel floor of his ship. "Come," he said, and started off walking again.

Elana rolled her eyes, and scooped Bean up, who protested with a whine.

"Where are we going?" she asked, almost afraid of an answer.

"Somewhere safer than here."

……………

Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it!

@mndalorians Cass YOURE the GOAT even though youre a little crabby lmao. Ilysm its unreal

Tags: @binggrae-banana-milk @b0n-chann @pisss-offf-ghostt @chibi-liz05 @din-damn-djarin @soldade @yourexcellentboiiii @chaotic-noceur @ezrasarm @hdlynn @mndalorians @over300books @agirllovespasta @crookedmoonsaultpunk @teaofpeach @shadylightbearherring @mitchi-c @concussed-to-pieces

[death-himself]

Cat and Mouse

Part of the Four Human-Eating Monsters and An Apathetic Florist AU!

Summary: The boys decide to play a little game of cat and mouse out in the forest at night

Warnings: Horror elements, Cursing

Word Count: 1,575

Previous (AO3 Link)

Virgil’s feet pounded across the dirt floor of the forest, dry and dead leaves being kicked up with each step. He flicked off his flashlight, hiding behind a large rock. His heart pounded in his ears, a hand covering his mouth as he attempted to quiet his labored breathing. He knew they would find him soon. They knew his scent better than any of their other prey.

“Oh Virgil~” The sound of a long slithering body grew closer, their smooth voice cooing his name. “Come on out darling.” Virgil had never expected Janus’s voice to instill fear in him, but now a shiver went down his spine, the drumming in his ears growing almost deafening. He couldn’t stay here much longer.

He turned on his flashlight and ran out from behind his boulder, shining the light in Janus’s face. The naga hissed and covered his eyes, the light disorienting him just long enough for Virgil to run. “He’s going that way!” He heard Janus call out. 

“Got it!” A voice called back. Shit, Patton. Once out of view of Janus he grabbed ahold of a sturdy tree branch, catching his breath for a moment before pulling himself up. He used to climb trees all the time as a kid; getting up and down would be easy. While it wouldn’t stop Logan, and it definitely wouldn’t stop Patton, it would take two of the four out of the equation.

He stopped roughly thirty feet up when he saw Patton slowly floating up to him, with Logan climbing up branch by branch with inhuman speed. “Hi Virgil!” Patton said cheerily.

Virgil gasped for breath. “Hey Pat.”

“You having fun? This was your idea.”

“Having a grand ol’ time, don’t worry ‘bout it.” He coughed out between breaths.

“If you say so...” The vampire cleared his throat, his eyes glowing a dim red in the darkness as he pulled his glasses down the bridge of his nose.

“So Virgil—” He slammed his hands over his ears, recognizing Patton’s hypnosis immediately. Logan made his way up, looking Virgil up and down—knowing him he was probably checking for any injuries—then making a grab at his legs.

Virgil kicked away and moved to a branch further from the ghoul, his flashlight falling all the way down to the ground below. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as the glowing sets of red and blue eyes came closer.

He knew it took a lot to kill Logan; Logan wasn’t human, as were all the others. Which is why he barely even hesitated when he kicked Logan hard in the chest, causing him to lose his balance and fall from the tree with a startled yell.

Patton yelped and flew down after him, giving Virgil enough time to carefully drop down from the tree, grab his flashlight, and run for it. Logan had landed on the ground with a thud, and Virgil prayed to whatever god was up there that he hadn’t just accidentally killed his nearly unkillable ghoul boyfriend.

He ran for a good five minutes, and had begun to hear a voice shouting his name approaching. “Virgil! I haven’t seen you in half an hour! I’m bored!” And there was Roman. He looked around for somewhere to hide, only seeing the trees surrounding him. He was too tired to climb. He shone around his flashlight for somewhere else to go

But then his light landed on four pairs of black and red eyes. The world seemed to pause for a moment, just for them to stare at each other. An excited grin spread slowly across Roman’s face, and then the world went into times two speed.

The drider scuttled across the forest floor, so fast that a shot of adrenaline went into Virgil’s veins and he scrambled up the tree screaming curses. Roman laughed at his panic, shouting up “Oh now I can scare you!”

“Fuck off!” He shouted back, his voice cracking a bit from his fear. He looked around, debating whether it was a good idea to jump from his tree to another, before deciding the gap was far too big and he would just break something. So he had to go down.

He looked down at Roman, who now had a confident, cocky grin on his face. “You can just climb down if you want to, love! You survived longer than any other human would have!”

Perhaps it was some sort of fatal flaw of his—something that would most definitely be the thing that would kill him—but Virgil refused to lose, especially not to Roman. He pulled his jacket off, the cool fall night air biting at his sweat-covered skin. With adrenaline still in his system he dropped the jacket onto Roman and fell from the tree.

He landed in a roll and jumped to his feet, taking off in a blind run with his flashlight off. Roman yelped as the jacket fell over his head, disorienting him for a moment and leaving him in complete darkness. Unlike the others, Roman had no way of properly navigating in the dark. He groaned, realizing how utterly lost he was, giving up and sitting at the base of the tree, clutching Virgil’s jacket with an annoyed pout.

Janus was the best of them all at spotting prey in the darkness, especially moving prey. While not necessarily being able to see in the dark, the heat coming off prey’s bodies stood out like a lightbulb. Which is why he couldn’t help but stand by for a bit as he watched Virgil nearly run full force into a tree trying to escape Roman. That human really had no idea what he was doing, did he?

With Virgil’s light turned off, it made him an easy target for him, and he had begun to grow bored of their game. He crept up on Virgil as silently as he could, the rustle of the leaves under his tail being the only thing to give him away. Virgil stopped for a moment to gasp for air, and that’s when he struck.

He wrapped his tail around, quickly trapping Virgil’s legs and pinning his arms to his sides. Virgil squeaked in surprise, before recognizing the sensation of Janus lightly squeezing him, nowhere near tight enough to keep him from breathing, and the human let out a sigh of relief, allowing his head to droop down and rest on one of the coils of muscle.

Janus chuckled, running a hand through Virgil’s sweaty hair. “You didn’t have to push yourself so hard, love.” Virgil hummed.

“I had fun.” He mumbled. “You guys were scary as shit, though.”

“Well, we do try.” Janus yelled out into the forest for everyone, and soon out of the darkness came their boyfriends, Patton happily chattering with Roman, Logan seeming perfectly fine after his fall, as Virgil had expected. Janus slowly unraveled himself from Virgil and, after a long-winded argument where Roman refused to give him his jacket back, they began heading home for the night.

Virgil was quiet on the walk back, part of his mind feeling too tired to form thoughts, while part of his mind raced with the memories from their game of cat and mouse. His boyfriends had gone easy on him; he had known that from the start. But how easy they had gone was more evident in how many times they could have killed him, but didn’t to prolong the game.

He counted at least four. And in each of those four situations they would have had the time to kill him multiple times over. He looked over at Logan. Virgil pushed him out of a tree and he fell thirty feet to the ground, and here he was without even a scrape on him, acting as if it was just a normal everyday occurrence.

They weren’t human. None of them were even close to human. They could kill him in the blink of an eye if they wanted to. They all knew he was the weakest. And he couldn’t help but feel a bit fearful of that realization.

Remembering how they all acted compared to how they first met quelled that fear. He had seen how they actually hunt firsthand, in the position of their prey before they knew each other. He saw none of that bloodlust in their game, just excitement when he escaped and concern when he was tired.

The five laid down in bed, Janus’s tail curled over Virgil’s body as Logan held his hand in the darkness. “You did well out there, starlight.” Logan said, a smile on his lips barely noticeable from the dim glow of his eyes. “Pushing me out of the tree was quite clever.” Virgil smirked.

“Were you not scared you were gonna die?”

“Would it make you feel better or worse if I said that I wasn’t?” At that Virgil didn’t really have an answer.

It was a weird relationship he had, one where he had to fear his partners somewhat, but that fear not necessarily being a bad thing. His relationship felt like a constant struggle between logical fear, and raw overpowering love, and he was okay with that.

He was strangely content, happy even, to hold the hands and kiss the lips of those who have killed humans no different from him, knowing full well that—had things been slightly different—he would have been their prey rather than their lover.

[wallwriterstuff]

If you're available I would love to see a Twilight request! The reader has a one or two year old child. She falls asleep with the child in a nearby playpen napping as well. Edward, Jacob or Emmett(Or even the Cullen family returning home from a hunt) arrive and find the child awake, out of their playpen, face covered with marker marks and in the process of coloring sleeping mom's legs. Thank you so much in advance!💖💖

So this took a while because I really struggled to think of a way to write this at first, but I finally got an idea I was happy with because it combines a cute request with some quality Emmett and Rosalie fluff! I hope you enjoy it chickadee :D 

Dream A Little Dream

Words: 2756 

Warnings: None, just a simple bit of fluff! 

Summary: Emmett needs a reprieve from Rosalie’s temper tantrum, so he goes to check on a DIY project, only to find someone else is living their dream. 

“C’mon Rose, talk to me, just tell me-“

“Get out Emmett!”

The door had slammed between them before he could dare say another word, but Emmett was nothing if not persistent. He had spent 66 years married to the woman after all and if he had learned anything from that experience, it was that Rosalie’s temperament was as precarious as an unweighted seesaw - he was confident she’d be cuddling him by tonight.

“Babe.” He rapped his knuckles against the door to the garage but the only reply he received was the loud and sudden blast of a bassline from the CD player. His eyes rolled and he puffed out his cheeks, exhaling in a huff and turning away from the garage to leave his wife to cool off. Edward remained seated at the piano, grinning down at the keys while his fingers diligently moved across the ivory keys.

“No, I have no idea what’s wrong with her.” His voice drifted through from the music room, carrying on the sweet notes of the song he’d composed. He hadn’t played for quite a while but it was a nice, soothing change to listen to the melody he plunked out, Alice’s sugary soprano harmonising beautifully with the key he played in. Emmett scowled in his general direction, moving through the house towards the front door.

“Where are you going?” Carlisle’s voice made him stop and turn, his hand on the door handle.

“Out. Rose needs space.” He answered. Carlisle’s brow furrowed, his expression troubled. Emmett couldn’t quite understand it himself. He had never really seen the downsides to vampirism, not when it had gifted him an eternity with his very own angel, not when it came with the added perks of agility and strength and speed he could only have ever dreamed of in his human days. He didn’t have it in to lament for his soul or whatever the rest of them seemed to do. They were vampires, and vampires drank blood – accidents were inevitable. So what if the Swan girl fell prey to Edward’s temptations? They moved on and returned in a few decades when the memory of her had faded, as they had done before and would no doubt do again.

It really wasn’t rocket science! They all knew the laws and neither option was a particularly bad one to him. Either Edward got a good meal, or he had a chance at finding his epic love, his Rosalie, and he might stop brooding for the first time in over a century. Rosalie’s desire to kill the girl was understandable but so was Edward’s urge to protect her, but Emmett didn’t need to be Alice to know there was no future in all the realms of probability that could ever exist where Bella Swan would grow old and grey. Isabella was destined to die one way or another.

“Be safe.” Carlisle’s words made him snort, a smug grin crossing his lips as he opened the door.

“Me be safe? I’m the most dangerous thing out there.” He quipped. Emmett left without looking back. The forest flew past him in what should have been a blur of greens and murky browns, but his eyes saw every detail. Each crack in the bark, the dew glistening on cobwebs, the smallest of insects scuttling up the stems of leaves…it was all a gift to him. He would kill for Rose to see the beauty in it all as he did but she never would. Rose had had all her dreams taken from her by Carlisle long ago, and she was forever going to be bitterly frozen, trapped in her own cycle of self-loathing. He’d burn the world if it put the faintest smile on her face; had taken her to the most incredible places with the most astounding views, bought jewellery so expensive it made even the richest men shudder in disgust at his actions. The one thing that would make his love truly happy was the one thing he could never give her, but he had been thinking of ways to at least soften the heartache.

There was a house (a small ramshackle thing a few miles out from their own sleek residence) that he’d visited once or twice. He’d taken photos and done some minor fixing up of the place, making sure the roof no longer leaked, that the walls were weather-proof and so on. Emmett had laid floors, plastered walls…he’d made the small house viable once more and the only thing he had yet to do was take down a portioning wall between what he envisioned would be the kitchen and lounge space. It would be his anniversary gift to Rosalie, a place she could truly make her own, where she could build her own home. There may not be little feet pattering on the wooden floors, but he could give her two out of three couldn’t he? Renew their vows so they were confirmed husband and wife once more, help build her a home…

He slowed when he neared the site, his nose twitching. Emmett inhaled deeply, an odd mix of smells drifting up his nose. He didn’t remember peonies, and…was that lavender? Emmett approached his little project cautiously, straining all his senses to read his environment, predatorial instincts rising to the surface. A heartbeat, odd rhythm…no, two heartbeats? One slower, one faster, neither the same sort of pace or rhythm as any animal roaming the woods. Humans then? Emmett frowned deeply, struggling to understand why hikers would come all the way out here as he picked his way over the tree roots trying to trip him up, hand dragging over moss covered bark.

A billow of white was the first thing he saw, a sheet in the light breeze. It fluttered, surrounded by bright coloured clothes much too small to be adult sizes, and damp towels. There had been a brief moment of sun this morning but Emmett still had to scoff. Whoever had stolen his project from him was clearly no native to Forks or they’d have known better than to hang their laundry on the line at the slightest bit of sun. Sunshine rarely lasted in Forks. Emmett paused, looking at the fence now enclosing the house he had transformed with his own bare hands. He definitely hadn’t put that up, nor did he recall painting a fence bright green. He hadn’t installed a laundry line either but someone had driven that stake into the ground, the line coming from some sort of contraption nailed into the exterior of the house.

Someone was definitely living in his DIY project, and he was not-

“Shhhhh!”

Emmett was paralysed briefly by the little giggle that followed. It was a soft sound, full of innocence he could never recall having, and it came attached to the sound of scratching and squeaking. His brows pulled low over golden irises, his body moving of its own accord. It had to be a child, but who would leave a child alone in front of their house? Was it even supervised? His curiosity had piqued and though he wanted to be frustrated he just couldn’t be. Maybe Rose wouldn’t ever get to live in this house with him but someone else had clearly made it their home, someone who had achieved the dream Rose had always wanted. He wasn’t quite sure how he had managed it but he had to sigh, because only he could attempt to resolve his wife’s bitter disposition and end up adding to it instead.

He didn’t recognise her. From the exterior alone Emmett could tell that in the few weeks it had been since he’d last visited this place, she’d put a lot of effort into making the house a home. The outside had a fresh lick of paint, the windows clean and windowpanes a freshly painted grey, the front door a bright green to match the fence surrounding the house. A wooden picnic table had been added just in front of the kitchen window, and she was sat folded over with her head resting on her arms, eyes closed and skin peppered with goosebumps. Stray wisps of hair blew about her face as his eyes tracked down her figure, noting the gentle, even breathing and the way her eyes twitched about under their lids in her sleep. Beneath the picnic table was the source of the musical laughter.

Emmett crouched, forearms resting on his knees and lips curling into a small smirk as he watched a curly haired little boy press a marker pen to her leg, scribbling a design into her skin. She didn’t even appear close to waking, but the temperature had dropped and clearly the little boy had escaped from the playpen across from the picnic table, the door open and the locking mechanism snapped, paper strewn about the garden by the breeze. Emmett could see the dirt under her fingernails as he got closer, a pair of gardening gloves on her opposite side. She’d clearly done her laundry and a bit of gardening while the sun was out, leaving her son to play in his playpen, but the little boy had seen an opportunity once she’d fallen asleep and took it.

He had the cutest little dimples when he smiled, green eyes shining bright with mischief. Emmett chuckled lowly, zipping about the garden to clean up the papers he’d spotted before approaching the picnic table and clearing his throat.

“Excuse me, miss? Miss?” he called. Her eyes fluttered open, confusion evident in them for a second before she jumped, straightening in her seat and watching him with wary eyes. Emmett watched her glance to the playpen, her eyes widening. He could hear the way her heartbeat leapt in her chest, the panic stricken expression she wore telling.

“Oh my – no no no –“

“Erm Miss? Don’t panic, he’s under the table.” Emmett smiled, flashing his own dimples in an effort to calm her. He was a naturally unnerving being after all and most humans tended to be either hopelessly attracted to him or deathly afraid – there wasn’t really an in between. She whipped her legs out from under the picnic table, moving so swiftly Emmett was left in awe. She very quickly scooped her son out form under the table and swung him onto her hip, cradling him close and closing her eyes. Her heartbeat began to calm, her breathing growing less rapid now she knew where her boy was.

“Oh god, thank you. I…I guess I fell asleep, the weather was a lot nicer earlier,” She shivered a bit, hand cradling the back of her sons head until he wriggled in her grip. “Not now baby just – really? Oh Damian!” she groaned exasperatedly. Emmett watched amusedly as she licked her thumb and rubbed furiously at his cheek.

“No Mama! No!” the boy cried, squirming in her grip. His face was covered in marker pen, a mixture of blacks and blues and pinks all swirling over his cheeks and down his nose. Emmett couldn’t help but chuckle.

“He’s a real mischief maker huh? He got your leg to.” He informed her. She looked down to her leg with another soft groan, her cheeks turning pink.

“Sounds about right. Have you ever tried to renovate with children?” she questioned, shaking her head. Emmett shook his head, his eyes stuck on the little boy. He shared his mother’s dark hair though not her eyes. Emmett wanted to be upset his plans for Rose’s anniversary surprise had fallen through, but he had been stupid enough to not check the market for this property and it had gone to someone who clearly needed it, though the property was fairly out of the way and an odd choice for a young woman and her child. She seemed intent on making it somewhere nice to live for them both though, and for that he couldn’t fault her.

“Never had any of my own, but your boy sure is a handsome guy. I did renovate this place though, I’m glad it went to someone who needed it.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. Her eyes widened, the surprise in them obvious.

“Oh! It was you! The real estate agent said they had no clue who had started the renovation’s, but it didn’t stop them selling it to me…we didn’t know it was taken.” She bit her lip, hoisting her son higher up on her hip. Damian was still wriggling slightly, looking up at Emmett with wide, curious eyes. It was clear what she was worrying about it, but Emmett shook his head, hands held up before her.

“It’s yours, really, me and my wife live nearby, this was a second property we didn’t really need. It wasn’t like I checked it was for sale or anything either, you won it fair and square.” He promised. The relief was palpable in her eyes as her son squirmed again. She set him down, hand running through his curls briefly before he darted back into the house. She watched him go with a small smile.

“Well I’d be happy to give you the tour of the place, if you like? Show you what I’ve done with it Mr….”

“Cullen, Emmett Cullen.” He introduced himself with a nod, knowing his frigid skin would put her off if he dared shake her hand, and he didn’t want to put her off. Emmett’s brain was spinning a hundred miles an hour, and he was starting to form a plan. Rose might not get to live in the house, but she could spend time perhaps with the one thing she wanted more than anything. Her smile brightened.

“Y/N L/N. Maybe if you give us a little time to clean up first you could drop by later? Neighbours seem rare out here, it’ll be nice to know someone.” She admitted, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Emmett tilted his head slightly, glancing up at the house.

“Yeah. Yeah I er, would you mind if I bought my wife to? She had plans for this place, think she’ll enjoy seeing how you designed it for yourselves.” He said. She didn’t hesitate to nod and he tried his best not to feel too pleased with himself.  

“Of course!” she agreed, and with a time organised between them Emmett sped off home to barrel his way into the garage. Rose was stuck beneath a car still, her BMW to be precise, though Emmett could never fathom what exactly she found to tune up on that thing – he was sure she spent more time under the car than under him. When she didn’t respond to his tapping on the hood, he pulled on her legs till she wheeled out, her expression sour and a smudge of grease across her cheek.

“Emmett.” She huffed. Emmett grinned down at her, completely unperturbed by her pouty glare.

“Rose. Come on, shower, dress up, do whatever it is you do, we got an appointment to keep.” He told her. Rose’s glare was enhanced by the way her nose wrinkled.

“An appointment? Emmett I swear if you’re trying to get me to go to marriage counselling again-“

“I’m trying to make you smile again.” He groaned exasperatedly. Her expression fell immediately, her golden irises softening from hardened topaz to gooey caramel. Emmett sighed, pulling her to her feet and reeling her in close. She was made for him, her body fit perfectly in his hands, against his. She was his shining light but she had been so dim since Bella had come to Forks.

“Emmett-“

“Rose, babe…I know you. I only have eyes for you. Who cares about some human? This family is immortal, we’ll survive it like we’ve survived everything else that comes our way. For one afternoon, just one, can I please, please have my wife back?” he pressed his forehead to hers, running a hand up and down her back. Rose remained tense for a while, but slowly her arms wound around his torso.

“What did you have in mind monkey man?” she tilted her chin, her lips a fraction of a centimetre from his own. Emmett’s smile returned.

“How’s about I take you to meet a really cute baby?”

By the end of the afternoon, seeing Rose smile at the young boy in her arms while he pretended to admire the newly fitted kitchen in Y/N’s house,  Emmett started to understand what made her dream so beautiful, and so painful to wake from.

[leejeongz]

watching a scary movie with cravity

😎 thanks for requesting and for the cute compliment <3! i hope you like it 😎

serim:

this MAN omfg. he suggested the scariest movie of the year for you pair to watch and it was all just to see you scared and so he could protect you. before the film, he had gathered the largest amount of snacks you’d ever seen and placed them on the table. you aren’t sure how you two managed it, but you finished them within the first half an hour of the film, leaving you with nothing else to do other than watch. you didn’t really seem that bothered by the film which made him a lil sulky, so he just cuddled you anyway. although on the odd occasion that jumpscares actually got you, he’d giggle about it and tease you a little bit because he’s cute like that.

when he realises you do like horror movies tho he probably finds it quite hot and will definitely brag about it to his friends, even if you were just acting like you were having a good time.

“why aren’t you scared? you were supposed to get scared”

allen:

i think allen would be the only one to watch the movie with you because he actually wants to watch the movie. you pair sat on the couch, watching attentively, even though you found the movie quite boring. you could see he was into it though, so you kept your mouth shut. his arm was loosely draped over your shoulders, sometimes he’d remove it, getting closer to the edge of the sofa just before “a good bit”. afterwards though, he’d definitely scuttle his booty back to you and put his arm back. he could see that you were bored and asked multiple times if you wanted it turning off, but you said no every time, so putting his arm over your shoulder was the least he could do, he thought. if you were actually scared though, he’d change it over at the speed of light.

“next time, you can pick the film, i promise”

jungmo:

you suggested a scary movie that had recently come out and jungmo told you that he was excited to watch it because his friends had all been raving about it. he claimed he didn’t want to make you watch it before now because you’d be too scared but he was clearly covering up for the fact that he didn’t want to be scared in front of you.

just 1 second in and it’s scary and jungmo lives for this because he would do anything to have you cuddle up him (it would make him feel so good about himself SO U BETTER DO THAT 😤😤.) he wraps his arms around you during any film, but this one, he wraps them around you extra tight and he doesn’t let go, not even to get snacks. he uses you as a shield to not watch the movie but says he just wants to look at you for a bit. he would probably have to be the little spoon that night.

“i mean, it wasn’t the best, i’ve seen better. also will you come upstairs with me, i don’t wanna go alone”

woobin:

feels like he’s been waiting for this day to come all his LIFE. you made him go to a theme park, now he’s making you watch a scary film as payback. he doesn’t care about the film he’s put on, all he cares about is putting you through what you did to him on that one date. obviously if it got too much he’d turn it off, but he’d be having the time of his life up until then. he would offer to cuddle you, but he’d still be laughing at how cute you were, even if you weren’t scared of the film. after about an hour, he’d calm down and would actually start comforting you without teasing you because the reality is him seeing you scared really breaks his heart. he would get all your favourite snacks from the cupboard and look after you like the gentleman he is, but not before he’s taken his revenge.

“no, you’re right, i’m not watching the movie because your reactions are far more entertaining, babe”

wonjin:

he suggested a new film to you but he didn’t know it was a horror. you knew it was and you assumed he did too so that’s why you didn’t mention it. he was pretty okay with it to be honest, and he dealt with the horror scenes pretty well, the first one did shock him a bit though. maybe he was more shocked about you not getting scared though. you were lay on the bed, spooning as usual, his arms wrapped around you while the movie played on. when he didn’t feel you jump in his arms he was impressed however he felt a little embarrassed when he did jump and laughed a little. you turned to face him and gave him a little peck on the lips after giggling with him. the rest of the film was fine, he was just happy to be in your presence and he hoped you felt the same.

“his eyes popped out of his head, it was a natural reaction, okay?”

minhee:

could have honestly murdered you when you suggested a horror film but you’re his little cupcake so he decided to endure it, just for you. he literally couldn’t hide his fear the whole way through, hiding behind a cushion for the duration but protesting every time you tried to turn it off. when he finally pops his head from behind the cushion, he’d ask you lots of questions because he wasn’t really paying attention to the plot, plus your voice is a lot more soothing that whatever was going on in the film and he’d much rather listen to that. you both made a pact to never watch scary movies together again and stuck to that for the whole relationship, one traumatic experience too many for minhee. if you ever joked about his reactions or told anyone, he wouldn’t hesitate to pull out some tragic story of yours to divert everyone’s attention

“NO ONE CAN KNOW ABOUT THIS INCIDENT, OKAY Y/N?!!?”

hyeongjun:

he honestly was sure how to react when he walked in on you watching the opening to an obviously, very scary film. he joined you in the bed, but he already knew that he was going to get scared so he was questioning his actions already, he just felt a little sad that you didn’t ask him to watch it with you. he slowly creeped his way down the bed with every minor scare the happened, looking at you in bewilderment because you could watch it without getting scared??? by the end of the film, he was under the covers, clinging to you but still listening to the movie. you pulled up the covers and he looked up at you sheepishly. he was so cute at the moment you couldn’t do anything but “awe”. he felt a little embarrassed and he now realised why you didn’t ask him to watch with you, you were just looking out for him.

“please remind me to never do that again”

taeyoung:

he put the movie on before you entered the room, and so you lay next to him in the bed oblivious as to what you had gotten yourself into. the old, creepy structure in the opening scenes really should have given it away. while the movie carried on you could tell taeyoung wasn’t watching the film, his eyes on you the whole time. you had somehow fallen into a position where your head was resting on his chest, it was comfortable for both of you because you could still watch the film and he could still watch you, and since you were enjoying the movie he wasn’t watching you to tease you, he was watching in adoration.

“i never knew you liked horror films, since when? we should make this a regular thing”

seongmin:

his worst nightmare but he wanted to challenge himself. you suggested watching the movie as a joke, but he actually agreed and now there was no turning back. sat on the couch like two baby chicks, you and seongmin had successfully squished every single cushion and thrown them all to the ground. the only things left now was each other. you both clung onto each other tightly, until seongmin dolphin screamed right down your ear and you turned it off. you felt the need to put on a relaxing, childish film to recover, just in the background while you tidied the room you had completely destroyed. there was no chance either of you were watching a horror ever again.

“that was the worst thing i have ever witnessed and i’ve seen grown men attempt to act cute.”

gifs aren’t mine

[retroateez]

Prophecy - Chapter Fourteen

hi my loves! probably the last update of the year so in advance, happy holidays and a wonderful new year to all my lovely readers! i adore every single one of you <3

Prophecy Masterlist wc; 3199

No. Absolutely not. Not a chance in hell.

"We've been through this, Iris." Yeosang sighs. "You have to go!"

You stare up at your mentor, gritting your teeth and trying to contain your rage as best you can. He had found you in the castle gardens, sitting contentedly amoung the radiant blooms to completely ruin your day by telling you Hongjoong was arranging dancing lessons for you.

Because you didn't 'look as though you knew how to dance', apparently. (He was right.)

The prospect of going to the ball was bad enough, let alone have one of his stupid cronies teach you how to dance.

"Why can't you teach me?" you splutter, bursting into your room in an attempt to get away from him.

"Because I won't be dancing." he explains, following you into the room and standing in the threshold. "I'm just a guest. But you, you're an honourary guest."

Honourary guest?! What does that even mean?!

In the end, Yeosang pleads with you to please just do as he asks, and not to cause a fuss. So reluctantly, you agree. He tells you that he doesn't know who your dance teacher will be, and that you should also look for a dance partner to go to the ball with.

"You can't attend a ball alone." Yeosang says as if that is common knowledge.

He turns to walk away, but suddenly remembers something he had forgotten to tell you.

"You also have a dress fitting, by the way. You'll have to talk to Hongjoong or someone about it."

And with that he leaves your room, missing the way you collapse onto your bed with an overwhelmed grunt.

A ball, a dance partner, an elegant ball gown? It was all too much at once, especially for somebody who had never been introduced to anything remotely regal before. How were you supposed to act? What were you meant to say? What if the others could tell you came from a poor background and laughed at you? How were you supposed to dance in a dress? What if-

"Hey, are you alright?"

You snap your head up to the door frame, where the sight of Wooyoung's concerned face soothes your growing panic. He strides across the room and sits down beside you, throwing an arm over your shoulder and pulling you against his chest. He's wearing a billowy white shirt, which you've noticed he likes to leave fairly unbuttoned, plain black trousers and shiny black boots, that you assume have just been freshly polished.

"Are you alright?" He echoes his previous question, knitting his eyebrows together and leaning closer to your face, causing you to flush and rapidly turn your head away.

"Yes," you lie. "I'm just worried about the ball, that's all."

"You're worried? Why? It's going to be so much fun!"

Glancing up at him, you notice how genuinely excited he is, and it settles your worries for a split second. You imagine Wooyoung is an excellent dancer, incredibly graceful on his feet and one who loses himself to the feeling of the music.

"I have no idea how to dance." you shyly admit.

"Really?" The elf shoots up, grabbing your arms along the way. He tugs you roughly so you're standing before him, yet he fails to understand his own strength, and you crash into his chest. Luckily he catches you, with your arms trapped uncomfortably between you both, and he grins, hot breath fanning over your face.

"Then I'll teach you."

"Is that so?" You question sarcastically, wrenching yourself from his grip to hide how flustered you are.

Wooyoung pulls your body back towards him, this time wrapping your arms around his slim neck and settling one his large hands comfortably on your waist.

"Yes." He answers confidently. "All good elves know how to dance."

You glare up at him for a few moments, but you quickly realise his mind is set, and that he isn't letting you go anytime soon. So you yield, relaxing your arms and your legs and Wooyoung grins triumphantly as you do so.

"First of all," he instructs you. "You move your left foot backwards, and simultaneously, I move my left foot forwards.

Hesitantly, you take a step back with only your left leg, and Wooyoung follows suit and moves his left forward.

"See?" He breathes, smiling warmly at you. "Just like that."

He takes you through some more steps, moving your right leg this time, how to move your torso fluidly, and not 'shifting it bulkily from one place to another like an orc'. He teaches you where you should rest your hands, one on his shoulder, and the other clasped firmly, but not tightly, in his own. He scolds you for being too tense, grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you like a ragdoll to loosen you up a bit.

Soon, the two of you are twirling about your shared bedroom. Clumsily twirling, but twirling nonetheless. Wooyoung's grip on you is gentle, guiding and despite how cheesy it sounds, it's right. In the last few weeks you've felt increasingly comfortable around him. He is your comfort zone, your safe space and happy place all rolled into one, lanky, pointy-eared, star-loving, amethyst-eyed living being. It's shocking too, how long it has taken you to realise just how much you care about him.

And it's shocking how you remain oblivious to how he feels the exact same way.

To the way his heart speeds up when he knows you're close, the way his stomach lurches when your hand squeezes his as you spin around the room. His gaze on you growing softer as you both relax into each other's hold. Even to the way he subtley glances at you when you're both attending meeting with the king. Like he knows deep down it's wrong, that the two of you shouldn't be getting close in this way.

But it makes him so happy.

And that's all Wooyoung wants.

And heaven knows what Yeosang would say if he found out about Wooyoung's feelings for you.

But he'll cross that bridge when he comes to it, he thinks, and decides to instead concentrate on not stepping on your toes and not letting his hand accidentally fall too far down your waist.

You both continue to dance in silence. There's a definitive lack of music in the room, but you're both hearing the same melody in your heads, feeling the same beat in your bones and nothing could interrupt the harmony between you.

Wooyoung guides you once more through the room, but this time, in one grand gesture, dips you down whilst keeping a secure hand in the middle of your back. You tip your head backwards and close your eyes, trusting that Wooyoung won't let you fall.

Your eyes pop open to see Wooyoung leaning over you, his face so close to yours you can feel his breath on you.

"See?" He pants, flashing his killer smile. "You're a natural."

You shrug shyly, and he pulls you up so you're both stood facing one another.

"So, about the ball..." Wooyoung begins, suddenly looking nervously down at the floor and beginning to play with your fingers. "Can I tak-"

"Iris!" You and Wooyoung jump apart at Yeosang's bellow into the room. "I've been looking everywhere for you! Where on earth have you-"

Yeosang stops in his tracks, taking in the sight before him; Wooyoung's hands planted firmly on your waist, the deep blush spread across your cheeks.

"What are you two doing?" He asks suspiciously. No answer. "Whatever. Iris, you're late for your dance lessons. And Wooyoung, Hongjoong wants to speak with you."

Wooyoung bows his head respectfully, shot you a half sad smile and quickly hurries out of the room. Yeosang's curious gaze watches after him, then the mage suddenly turns to you.

"Well?" he snaps. "Off you go!"

With a start, you jump and scuttle off towards the grand hall where your mystery dance instructor was waiting for you.

Panic begins to flow through you then; who are they? Do they dance better than Wooyoung? Probably not. Are they going to be a strict teacher? You don't think you could handle anybody barking orders at you today.

You round the corner and discover the giant doors held open, not firmly closed like they usually are. Standing in the threshold, you take in the sight before you.

A collosal hall, stretching so far either side of you, you think it could probably fit double the entire kingdom's population within it. The floors are a pristine, freshly polished beige tile that looks perfect to dance on. You can imagine how amazing the clicking sounds of twirling heels would sound ricocheting off each of the mountain-high, stone walls. Embedded into the walls are multiple stained-glassed depictions. To name a few, you spot a man of impressive stature working away at his glass anvil, smithing something you've never seen before, something both round and spiky. You'll ask Yeosang later, you think. He'll know. On another window, there's powerful bears made out of honey-coloured glass, tearing into their prey; a venison of sorts. Through the years, the crimson dye of the wound had bled through the other panels, making it look as if the venison truly was writhing in pain and trying to escape the picture.

You frown.

The long, mahogany tables are pushed against the wall opposite you, presumably to create space for your lessons. There are benches stacked atop them neatly, and you salute the poor soul who was forced to put them there.

To your left, set proudly on a platform so as to raise its occupant higher than everybody else, is the throne. The centerpiece, the main focus, the pièce de résistance, is Hongjoong's special, reserved seat. Carved out of the richest, darkest wood the entire continent has to offer, you know that there probably isn't a finer throne to be seen. The backrest boasts an intricate design of swirls and stars, which run all the way across the armrests and even down to the bottom of the seat. The ends of the armrests curl inwards, and then curl in on themselves even more like a snailshell. A velvet cushion the colour of Wooyoung's vibrant amethyst eyes sits on the seat of the chair and you can't even begin to comprehend how comfortable it must be.

What catches your attention most though, is the exquisite, intricately detailed fox head, sculpted into the middle of the backrest. The light from the vast windows behind the throne shines through the gaps in the carving, forming the face of the fox in a natural way.

You imagine Hongjoong lounging in the chair, glittering crown upon his head, royal cloak draped over the armrests as he watches his subjects with a bored expression. The king strikes you as somebody who would find balls and banquets just as mundane as you do.

Seonghwa is stood in the middle of the hall, facing your direction and is mid-conversation with somebody else. He spots you and waves you over, extending a long arm well above his head. The other person turns to face you, and you scowl as your eyes meet with-

"San." you growl as  you approach the men.

"Good morning, Iris." he smiles at you, but the look in his eyes is pure poison.

The kingsguard doesn't catch on however, and claps his hands togther before addressing you both.

"Great, you're finally here! San here," he gestures to the younger man who is sporting an incredibly unimpressed frown. "will be teaching you how to dance, and how one should conduct themselves at a royal function."

"Lovely." you speak through gritted teeth.

Seonghwa wishes the two of you luck, and informs you he will be back in two hours to check your progress. If you haven't gotten any better, he says, you'll have to keep practising until Hongjoong decides you're good enough.

Brilliant. A minimum of two hours being stuck with an-

"Idiot." San snarls. "You're holding your arms completely wrong."

You glance at your arms which are rung hesitantly around his neck.

"Shut up, clown. My arms are perfectly fine."

"I'm a jester, not a clown." He seethes. And no, your arms are too heavy. You need to relax them, or you'll crush the poor soul who has the misfortune of dancing with you."

You glare furiously at him, but relax your arms nonetheless. As much as it bruises your dignity to listen to him, you don't want to spend any longer with this insufferable human being than you have to.

"Fine." you huff, and let your arms hang more loosely.

"Better." San nods.

Luckily, your training with Wooyoung proved extremely helpful. You could see on San's face he was impressed with the way you moved your feet less clumsily than he had originally anticipated. Of course, he wouldn't ever admit that to you. Dancing with San was fairly straightforward, but it felt totally different to dancing with Wooyoung.

Probably because you couldn't stand San's guts. But whatever.

San's hands on your waist were easy to ignore, the fact that his face was ridiculously close to yours didn't bother you in the slightest. Almost the polar opposite to the way your heart would race and your palms would sweat when Wooyoung even breathed near you. All you could hear was the echoing of shoes on the polished tile floor and San's steady breathing in your ear.

The jester was in the middle of teaching you a new step when Seonghwa entered the room, tailed by a certain, nervous looking elf.

"So," Seonghwa looked at San. "how's it going?"

"Well. She seems to know what she's doing." San replied simply.

You shot Wooyoung a knowing, shy glance and his heart lurched up into this throat.

"Satisfactory enough for the ball?"

"Most likely, your time will be better spent teaching her royal manners rather than dancing."

You glare at San, about to berate him for insulting you, but you're interrupted.

"What exactly are you implying?" Wooyoung spits, his pupils narrowing in anger.

"The pigs in the courtyard have more elegance than she does." San retorts. "Step down, elf, I wouldn't try anything. I'm sure you're more than aware of what your fate will be if you even dare to start anything."

Wooyoung grits his teeth, knowing full well what would happen to him. He growls lowly in frustration before falling back to your side, and you can almost feel the anger radiating off him.

"Anyway..." Seonghwa's gaze flicks between the three of you, awkwardly trying to defuse the situation. "I think we'll leave the dancing lessons at that for now. San, join Mingi in the music room. There's a new routine for both of you to go over."

San nods, shoots both you and Wooyoung an irritated look, before hurrying proudly out of the hall.

"Apologies for him." Seonghwa addresses you both, straightening his posture and fixing the black strand of hair that hangs over his left eye. "He doesn't take to newcomers very well, I'm sure he'll warm up to you both in no time."

He adjusts his pristine uniform, bows shortly to you and follows San out of the room, leaving you and the elf alone in the hall.

"How stra-"

"Go to the ball with me."

"W-what?"

Peering up at Wooyoung, you notice his pupils are still dilated in fury. His nostrils are flared too, yet he speaks in the same calm tone he always holds.

"Go to the ball with me." He repeats, this time grabbing your hand tenderly in his and bending his head down a little to match your height. "Nobody has asked you already, have they?"

"No, but-"

"Then, I would be honoured if you would accompany me to the dance."

"Wooyoung I-" you lock eye contact with him, searching his amethyst eyes for any hint of malice or intent to humiliate you, but you find none.

He's dead serious.

And just like that, you're frozen. Of course your brain is screaming at you to say yes, and your heart is roaring at you to say yes. In fact, every part of you is blaring 'say yes', but the shock renders you speechless. You could sense something between you and Wooyoung had changed, but does this mean Wooyoung had sensed it too?

Sure, friends could dance at balls together too but-

It was different.

"Yes." you blurt, finally. "I would love to."

His face lights up like a kingdom parade, his eyes practically sparkle in the light and he smiles wider than you've ever seen, flashing a glimpse of his sharper, elfin canines.

"Really?" he grins. "Okay. Okay!"

"You're going to have to teach me more dancing, I'm still pretty bad at it."

"Nonsense." He says, leaning down to kiss the tip of your nose. "You're an excellent dancer."

Wooyoung waves goodbye to you then, stating he has some 'important business to attend to, immediately'

You wave back meekly, stunned from the peck on your nose. He disappears into the hallway and now your worries about the ball have increased tenfold. Now that you actually have somebody to impress? You'll be tripping over your feet and stepping all over Wooyoung's toes. But the thought of Wooyoung wanting to go with you makes you feel giddy.

So giddy in fact you practically skip up the castle stairs to your room. You grab your cloak and sling it over your shoulders, yanking the hood up and over to hide as much as your face as possible.

Like a ghost, you pad through the hallways until you're met with a small side-door underneath the stairs that you're convinced nobody knows about. Perhaps only San and Mingi, but they're busy. You steal out the door, closing it silently behind you. Rushing through the dingy stone hallway, you find another door with sunlight filtering out underneath it.

Just what you were looking for.

-----

You push the door open with a determined hand, flinching slightly as the bell above you obnoxiously announces your arrival.

"Welcome to the Ateez Apothecary! What can I- oh, why, long time no see, little lady!"

"Afternoon, Yunho." You respond to his usual, cheery grin with a small smile of your own. He's as tall and baby-faced as ever, this time donning a summery blonde mop in place of the gingerbread hair he had the last time you saw him.

"No Yeosang with you today?" He notices. "You're not doing anything sneaky, are you?" he chuckles playfully, fully expecting you to laugh along.

But you don't. You keep your face kind, but serious as you reply.

"Actually... yes. Kind of."

Yunho's face falls a little, but an intrigued glint flickers in his eyeballs.

"Oh? And am I correct in assuming you require my assisstance? And that you would prefer it if this was kept from Yeosang's knowledge?"

You nod.

Yunho smirks, leaning forward onto his elbows on the wooden countertop.

"Then what exactly can I help you with?"

You adjust your hood anxiously, biting your lip as you watch Yunho's excited demenour. You wonder if this is something that you should be doing. The obvious answer being no. But you refuse to be a pushover. You refuse to blindly follow the rules put in place by other people who have no obligation to follow those same rules. And you know that there's nobody else who would help you. Except maybe Yunho.

It's a chance you're willing to take.

"I want you to teach me magic."

Chapter Fifteen

[aticklishtem]

Weakness of Doom

((oh boy here I go bringing my bullshit into a new decade again~ this is dedicated to @ticklishjevil bc she is 100% to blame for my descent into ZADR hell and generally inspiring/encouraging the creation of this...thing!! I hope you’re proud of yourself darling 💖

ALSO I’m very sorry if the spacing/formatting is borked tumblr mobile is terrible but I am doing my best to fix as we speak ;w; ))

***

“Give it up, Zim! You’ll never get away with this!”

Dib had lost count of how many times he’d said that by now. Eight years, countless crazy schemes, a couple near total obliterations of the galaxy as they knew it and an almost equal tally of humiliating defeats and triumphant (if temporary) victories for both sides - somehow, it always seemed to come back to the two of them. Dib, Zim, the doomsday device of the day and this seemingly endless chase that remained as frustrating yet exhilarating as it was the day the green kid first rocked up to class. Would it ever end? That almost didn’t seem to matter at this point - this was the life Dib had chosen. As long as Zim was around, he had a purpose, a reason to get up in the morning, a duty to the rest of humankind to keep protecting his planet from impending extraterrestrial invasion...even if most of them remained too dumb to appreciate his efforts.

“You’re too late, Dib-stink!” cried the bug-eyed bane of his existence, waving around some kind of remote with a red button. “Just one press of this button, and every single whiffy signal -“

“...do you mean wi-fi?”

“Zim knows what Zim means!” he barked, an antenna twitching with irritation. “As I was saying, every signal will be scrambled, and without their mind-numbing entertainment, your fellow earthworms will inevitably turn on each other! Leaving the planet defenceless for when I, Zim...figure out how to do whatever it is I need to do to destroy you all!”

“Noooo! That’s…” Dib paused mid-dramatic wail. “Actually a pretty solid plan? I mean, I can see your logic. It’s definitely an improvement on some of your others, like that one with the rubber chickens -“

“Silence!” Zim pointed an accusing claw at him, though Dib could’ve sworn he preened a little at the almost-compliment, puffing up his chest and planting his free hand on his hip. “Of course it is foolproof! And if you imagine for a second that the amazing Zim could ever become so distracted by his own ingeniousness that he could be lured into monologuing until a hypothetical opportunity might arise for someone to take - hey gimme that back!”

Fortunately, some things had changed in all those years; puberty had been at least kind enough to Dib so he could now dangle his superior height - literally and metaphorically - over Zim’s head. “Sorry, what’d you say?” he taunted, holding his prize high out of his enemy’s reach after snatching it from his claws. “I couldn’t hear because of how much taller I am!”

His moment of glory was cut short, however, as Zim launched himself at him with a hiss like a feral cat, sending them both crashing to the floor in a tangle of limbs and antennae. They were still surprisingly evenly matched; Zim was a lot stronger than his size would suggest, but Dib now had the advantage of longer arms and legs to attempt to hold him off as they wrestled for the device. He might even have been winning - right up until Zim grabbed his side, claws digging into the sensitive spot just below his ribs.

Dib yelped, reflexively slamming his arm down to protect himself; before either could do anything, the remote flew out of his hand and across the room until it disappeared under one of Zim’s experiment tanks. Instead of running after it, Zim took advantage of the distraction to seize Dib’s wrist, pinning him to the floor.

“Ha!” Zim loomed over him, now straddling Dib’s waist so his maniacal grin filled his whole vision. “You flesh-bags really are pitiful, cowering in pain from the slightest touch!”

“That’s not what that - was…” Dib froze, heat rising to his cheeks as his nemesis bore down on him, now painfully aware of his compromising position. Zim couldn’t - did he even know what tickling was? Because this would be a really bad time for him to find out.

“...Eh?” Zim narrowed his eyes, curiosity flickering across his face alongside the usual suspicion and irritation. “What are you smiling about? Why is your grotesquely ginormous head so red?!”

“My head’s not bihihig!” Dib bit down on his lip, but he couldn’t stop a few embarrassing giggles from slipping out when Zim jabbed at his ribs again. He struggled to bat his hand away, but with only one arm free and Zim basically sitting on top of him, he wasn’t having much success. “Quihihit ihit!”

A shiver ran down his spine as he could practically see his doom unfold along with Zim’s smile, sadistic delight sparkling in his eyes, and oh god no Dib thought he was prepared for anything but please not this, anything but this, he’ll never live it down…

“Well, well - you really thought you could conceal such a glaring weakness from me?” he demanded, mercilessly prodding and pinching his way up Dib’s side. “I’d...sort of imagined more writhing in excruciating agony, but this is rather amusing too, watching you squirm like the wretched worm you are!”

“Thihis isn’t fahahahair!” Dib spluttered between peals of laughter; he hadn’t been tickled since he was a little kid, but this was so much worse because it was Zim and he hated giving him the satisfaction but was equally powerless to stop his body from reacting as those probing claws dug right into his horribly exposed armpit. “Zihihihim!”

“Yes, yes, I am Zim!” his foe cackled, releasing Dib’s wrist to attack with both hands, one even scuttling under his shirt - which was so far beyond fair - and scratching at the tender skin almost hard enough to hurt, but his gloves dulled the sensation so it just tickled even more. “If I had known you were this easily incapacitated, I could’ve built a device to take care of you long ago! Now, laugh, pathetic Dib-thing - admit your annihilation, or perish in helpless hysteria at the merciless claws of Zim!”

“Nehehehever - !” Dib had not foiled so many of Zim’s plans to let him win this one by tickling him, of all the cruel and unusual methods. There was only one way to fight back, and he had no idea if it’d even work on an alien, but what else did he have to lose, more of his dignity? Arms flailing as he tried desperately to suck in his stomach before those treacherous claws could get to his bellybutton, he eventually managed to grab a handful of Zim’s side and squeeze it repeatedly.

Zim let out a squawk like a bird having its feathers pulled out, letting go of Dib as he scrabbled to slap his hands away. “D-do not touch Zim with your fihilthy meat-sticks!”

Huh - that sounded like a game-changer, and now it was Dib’s turn to grin like a mad scientist as he kneaded Zim’s sides like his life depended on it - which it might - until he had an armful of squirming Irken trapped in an almost-hug, one arm around Zim’s waist with his PAK pressing against Dib’s chest.

“What’s the matter, does it tickle?” he asked, smirking from ear to ear as he savoured the sweetness of revenge - and possibly the most important discovery of his career as a paranormal investigator. “Is the mighty Invader Zim ticklish?”

“Lies! Cease! Ihihi’m gonna destrohohoy yooooou…!”

It wasn’t like he’d never heard Zim laugh before - only like every day since they were at skool - but this was different; less controlled and mocking, more free and almost joyful, even if it was a joy forced upon him as he writhed, kicked and cackled under Dib’s skittering fingers, exploring the surprisingly soft and smooth skin under his shirt. It wasn’t exactly an autopsy, but the thought that he might be the first to hear - the first to make Zim almost squeal when he wiggled his fingers under his arms - that was more deeply, weirdly, sadistically satisfying than anything he’d imagined. “Wow, I think you’re worse than I am! So are all Irkens this ticklish, or is it just you?”

“Zihim is telling you nohothihihihing!” Zim’s laughter seemed to jump an octave when Dib felt around his back; the skin around his PAK was slightly raised where it was embedded, which was interesting, mainly for the way he bucked and squirmed frantically as Dib traced it with his fingers. “GIR! Where are you?! Do something to make this stohohop!”

“Yes, master!”

Dib looked up just in time to see Zim’s robot assistant propelling towards him at alarming speed, his eyes blazing red. Before he could move to shield himself, however, GIR came to an abrupt stop, eyes flickering back to cyan and his metallic mouth stretching into its familiar hyperactive smile. “Ooooh! Tickle fight! I wanna plaaaay!”

“Now, GIR! Fire the - wait, no, what are you doing?! Put that back!” Both Zim’s and Dib’s eyes widened - in horror and intrigue respectively - as GIR plonked himself down on one of Zim’s legs, picked up the other and pulled his boot off. Dib had never actually seen his feet before, he realised; he had three toes, clawed like his fingers but a little shorter. Judging by how he scrunched them up when GIR prodded them, they were also pretty sensitive.

“This li’l piggy went to Foodcourtia,” GIR chirped, wiggling a toe; Zim made a strangled noise of protest and attempted to pull away, but Dib was still holding onto him. “This li’l piggy went home - aw, we outta piggies! And thiiis li’l piggy…”

“GIR - nooo!” Zim begged, and Dib could actually feel him tremble in his arms as his toes curled in anticipation of what was to come. “Don’t do this! You’re supposed to attack the intruder, not -“

“...went weeweeweeweeeeeeeee…!” GIR hugged Zim’s foot and scribbled furiously all over it, his tiny metal hands a blur as his master shrieked with laughter, helpless to escape his ticklish doom.

“How’s it feel, Zim, betrayed by your own minion?” Dib snickered along with him as it occurred to him he should probably be recording or taking photos of possibly the greatest moment of his life to date, but holding Zim captive and laughing helplessly was way too satisfying, tickling under his arms while GIR happily went to town on his foot. “Maybe I’ll just keep you like this - you’re not much of a threat to the Earth when you’re just a cute little giggly alien puddle…”

“Wh-whahahahahaaaaa?!”

The sheer incredulous outrage in Zim’s voice tore through the air, and Dib couldn’t help but wince, recoiling as the ear-splitting screech assaulted his eardrums. As his grip loosened, Zim wriggled free and kicked GIR off of him, scrambling back to his feet, and the chaos was replaced by an unusual and equally uncomfortable silence. (Apart from GIR eating popcorn out of his head as he watched them, and that was the most normal thing about this situation.)

“I - uh...“

“He thinks you cuuuute!” GIR giggled, grabbing Zim’s cheeks and squishing them together comically.

“No I don’t!” Dib felt his face flush under the spotlight of both GIR’s carefree smile and Zim’s laser-beam glare, the protest coming out just a little too quickly. “I was teasing you - it’s just a thing people say when they…”

He trailed off, because man, things had gotten weird, even by their standards. But this was still Zim, and he was still a jerk and evil and the total opposite of cute, even a little breathless with his clothes all rumpled and one foot still bare, antennae lowered and quivering and what looked suspiciously like an olive-coloured blush staining his cheeks. That warm feeling was just Dib enjoying the sight of his enemy humiliated in defeat, like anyone would. Right? That made sense.

“Give me my boot, GIR.”

“Go long!”

Zim caught the offending item without looking, but instead of putting it back on he hurled it at Dib, who dodged just before it smacked him in the face, bouncing off his shoulder instead.

“Ow - hey, that’s sharp!”

“Good! Suffer! That’s what you get for trying to taint the mighty name of Zim with your disgusting lies like…” He screwed up his face as if he could barely bring himself to spit out the word, making dramatic finger-quotes, “cute!”

“Okay, geez! It’s not like I meant it…” Dib rubbed his shoulder, shifting awkwardly - he wished they’d stop repeating the word like that. But even this momentary weirdness couldn’t change the fact that he’d just uncovered a significant weakness in his nemesis, even if he inconveniently shared it. He’d be an idiot not to exploit this for all it was worth, a smug grin tugging at his lips again as he picked up Zim’s boot. “But thanks for this. I bet I can get all kinds of useful evidence from a genuine article of alien clothing…”

“You…!” Zim’s eyes almost bugged out of his head as he let out an indignant splutter - only to break into a dangerously familiar smile before activating his PAK legs, towering over Dib with a renewed gleam of vengeance in his eye. “Enjoy your last few seconds of freedom, Dib-worm - we shall soon settle who is cute!”

“I’d like to see you - wait, what?!”

Dib didn’t have time to figure out what Zim meant by that as he darted for an escape route, still clutching Zim’s boot - but when he was quickly seized and hoisted into the air by a pair of metal spider legs, he was pretty sure things were only about to get a whole lot weirder.

But this was the life he’d chosen - and would he really want it any other way?

[transformers-extrication]

Seaspray’s anniversary

Words: 3,129 It’s a special day for Seaspray! Many cheerful memories to be had!... Many... memories...

The Ark’s internal chronometer, adapted to the Earth's cycle, alerted it’s crew to the dawn steadily encroaching their world. A sound beyond human hearing thrummed away in the rooms of those who had not been on any sort of night-guard, rousing their sleeping systems up from a well-earned rest. If you listened carefully you could probably hear the creaks and groans of stiff metal and fibre stretching as various bots got up from their rest and eased their systems into motion. A loud thud echoed from one room as a body hit the floor with unnecessary force. Seaspray was too excited to care that he’d flopped out of bed so unceremoniously, forgetting to put his arms out to cushion the fall. It was a brilliant day for him, as it was every other time this date rolled around. In a quick dive-like motion forward Seaspray flattened his body and pushed with his arms, sending him into a controlled slide across the smooth metal, the automatic door opening for him and letting him out to the Ark’s hallways. Using his arms and short legs Seaspray avoided a head-on collision with any walls and slipped between his fellow Autobots as carefully as possible, disgruntled growls from Ironhide were easily shrugged off. Jazz had organised a schedule for various mechs and Seaspray had already had a lengthy chat with the relaxed senior officer who had been more than fine with allowing the aquatic mech some time off, at least enough to cover the day, something Seaspray always tried to do for this day with varied success (usually depending on who he spoke to, of course). Regardless, he still put aside some time for it no matter his schedule. Getting to the Arks entrance was easy, getting outside wasn’t so. Earth’s surface was so varied and changed on a dime or was a mishmash of textures and bumps. It wasn’t as if Seaspray couldn’t get about on Earth it was just that it felt odd and was often a bit jarring if he was just zooming out the Ark without a care in the universe. Regardless, pushing up with his flat, spread legs along with his arms he moved quicker across Earth's surface in an ungainly looking waddle.

---------------- “Hey! You lookin’ a bit nervous there!” Seaspray jumped with the sudden sound and jerked his head around to the beach. The time was far, far in the distant past, Cybertron was still… alive and bustling. The sun was high in it’s peak of the current solar cycle, and on the beach a very young charcoal-coloured mech lay, optics staring at Seaspray. Equally as young as the tiny figure gazing at him with the type of curiosity only younglings had Seaspray sunk into the water a little bit before mumbling. “N… nothing...” “M’ names Coldseep! I live near here!” The other child seemed somewhat oblivious to Seaspray’s shyness, “Haven’t seen you around before is all!” they chirped. ‘Oh’ Seaspray thought, this was one of those moments his parental units told him about, one where he should really speak up. “I’m Seaspray… I, uh, we just moved here… recently…” He barely emerged from the water anymore, just a pair of optics above its surface. Coldseep immediately burst into excited squeals and thrashed his way into the water, coming to a halt s short distance away from Seaspray, arms in the air. “YAY! New friend! We can see each other every day!” Coldseep practically bobbed up and down in his excitement. Seaspray, however, wasn’t quite at his level of excitement. “I… I dunno” He muttered back, rising out the water a little more, “I live on the water-side… I’m more of a sea-mech” “Oh! Tha’s okay! I’m a submaran! Marin! Dangit!” Coldseep fumbled over his words with a frown deepening on his face plates. “A… A submarine? You’re a Submarine?” Seaspray rose up a bit more, daring to get closer to examine him with a curious optic. “YEAH! Tha’s it! I always mess up the end bit!” Coldseep’s grin could’ve split his face apart. -------------- In the present Seaspray had slowed down to a very slow amble only pausing slightly to watch his own hand press into some sand and sink down. Feeling the loose grains softly envelop his digits before slowly pulling it away and looking fondly at the imprint he left behind. --------------- A much smaller imprint was left in the sands of a newly local shore. Since meeting him Coldseep had come to see Seaspray every day, he was indeed a submarine and joyfully accompanied Seaspray on several swimming excursions. Coldseep would always claim he could make a bubble-ring simply by swimming in a circle fast enough. He never did and would just throw off his balance, even underwater, it was fun though Seaspray often giggled at this antic and promised he’d swim rings inside the bubble when he made it!. Seaspray would point out various local sea life and promised to one day help Coldseep find and see a Warwhale! The two spent so much of their time swimming that it was like a cold slap to the face when Coldseep bounded onto the beach after a dive and ran around, somehow still having the energy to after all their underwater antics. Seaspray came out of the water, but only halfway. “Hey!” Coldseep snapped him out of his moment of silence, “You should come to my place! I can show you some cool shells I found!” “Uh” Seaspray retreated back an inch becoming worried. “Eh? Wha’s wrong? D… don’t you wanna come over?” Coldseep caught his nervous tone and promptly deflated. “No! No! I do!” Seaspray panicked, he didn’t want to upset his first friend of his ‘new life’, or at least that’s what his parental units called it, “I just… I just can’t get out the water…” “Whaaaaaaaaat! Of course you can silly!” Coldseep’s manner flipped like a switch and he returned to grinning. “It’s true! Well, I can barely move when out the water… I hate it… and… and I have to go to the education centre here when it’s b-back open” Seaspray started to sniffle, “An I, I gotta go an… and it’s on land… I don’t” Seaspray flopped to the ground and covered his face, “I’m gonna be a freak! Everyone will laugh!” A long silence ensued between the two children. Seaspray couldn’t bring himself to uncover his face, it only became harder when a weight suddenly pressed upon him. “You’re forgettin’ I go there too! I’ll fight anyone who says meanie-aft things about you! They know I will! It’s how I got sent to the nurse with a bent rotor once!” Coldseep announced with a loud pride that made Seaspray uncurl a little, mostly out of shock at his volume. “Th… thank you” Was all Seaspray could whisper through the tail end of his sniffles. There was a brief silence again. Only this time it got broken by a scream as Coldseep gripped Seaspray’s sides and yanked him out of the water and onto land. Coldseep bellowed with laughter as Seaspray flopped about in a panic trying to get a footing but only wiggling his rear fruitlessly. It took a few more astroseconds of laughter before Coldseep got up and grabbed onto Seaspray. “Hold on buddy, hold on!” Seaspray responded to his words by wrapping his arms around Coldseep’s, “There, not so bad now!”. Seaspray whimpered only just opening his optics to peer around him. “I bet I can help you walk on land just fine! I also totally bet an awesome tub of Energon ice cream that I could even get you running on land too!” Coldseep announced. ---------------- Just like him, brash and loud. Never stood down when he knew he could push on. Seaspray sighed as he clambered over some rocks, nearing the Ocean. He could distinctly remember Coldseep holding his middle and helping him work on his locomotion above water. It still wasn’t graceful but he was able to move on-land with little issue, Seaspray chuckled to himself remembering when the weather turned colder. The ground had gone icy and more compact in various areas, Coldseep had hidden away behind a rock, only to rush him and push him, causing him to slide along the ground. Seaspray allowed himself to let out an actual chuckle, remembering how they had spent entire days sliding around on ice, reaching high speeds, Coldseep often riding on Seasprays back as they whizzed up and down. Tactics he still used to this day, they never failed him. ---------------- The learning room hushed as the one designated to oversee their communal learning held an arm out, presenting another youngster that was to be added to their sector. “This” they announced, “Is Depth Charge. I want you all to welcome them here and make them comfortable”. Depth Charge had blues and purples across his frame and gold accents, yet his red optics scoured the class with cold anger, many of the others in the class avoided their gaze. Coldseep looked over at Seaspray with a cocked optical ridge. “What a nerd” He whispered. “Wha! What do you mean?” Seaspray kept his head ducked down glancing at Coldseep and back to the rest of the room, “He’s scary!” “Nope!” Coldseep grinned, “Watch” The teaching section of the day went quietly, no one really wanted to interact with the angry-looking new kid, but it came to the ‘free’ section of the day. Building bonds with your fellow mech was always a promoted activity, so a good amount of free time to talk and strengthen your social connections even at such a young age was encouraged. Cybertronians are quite social afterall. Coldseep nearly had to drag Seaspray with him to the corner of the yard where Depth Charge sat glaring at everything, but mostly his own pedes. With one last drag Coldseep dropped Seaspray, letting him scuttle behind him to put some distance between himself and the new guy. “Whas’sup nerd?” Coldseep had his hands on his hips and another one of his big grins on his face. “What do you want?” Depth Charge snapped back his optics darting away from the pair so quick they probably should’ve fallen out. “Seaspray here says he’s gonna show me a Warwhale one day!” Coldseep made a slight move to show off the nervously shuffling mech behind him. Depth Charge slowly turned his head around to look at the pair giving a look up and down between the two. “That’s dumb” he grunted, “They don’t live remotely near our waters” “HAH! KNEW IT!” Coldseep suddenly jumped, pointing a triumphant finger at Depth Charge. In response Depth Charge shuffled back and tensed up. “You don’t know anything!” He snapped back. “You’re a neeeeerd” Coldseep lilted, “One of us!” He changed to a chant, “One of us! One of us!” Depth Charge continued to shrink back optics snapping in different directions as if searching for a way out. Seaspray finally managed to pull himself from behind his friend, realising the motion of distress. Closer to him Seaspray had a better view of the panels that spread from Depth Charge’s back. “You’re an aquatic mech too” He uttered. “SO!?” Depth Charge finally snapped his optics down, “Just what my family unit are!” He hissed. “Uh, duh!” Coldseep stopped cheering to roll his optics “So are we! Dum-dum!” A silence fell over their corner and Depth Charge finally seemed to look up and truly take in the pair that stood before him. “Our lot know a lot about sea-stuff! You just have a grumpy face! Plus this is a coastal place!” Coldseep beamed, “Seaspray moved here too! Better suited for us!” Depth Charge seemed to soften up a little bit, which was good because if he got any tenser he looked like he might’ve snapped a few muscle fibres. “Y-yeah” He stammered, “Better than Vos...” “WHOA! You came here all the way from Vos!?” Coldseep immediately glued himself to Depth Charge’s side sitting obnoxiously close to him, “Fliers live there! What was it like? Why’d you move? Isn’t that place super cool!?” Seaspray also moved in, but slower, hoping to appear more normal and less in-your-face than Coldseep who had clearly startled Depth Charge. ------------------------ Seaspray remained perched on a rock looking out at the section of the beach, taking in the salty wind that washed over him. So different from Cybertron, yet, it made him feel more at home. The memories that washed over him with an equally constant flow, his circuits tingled with surges of nostalgia. Depth Charge had moved from Vos due to an altercation at his other learning facility. Apparently he got into frequent trouble with a trio of Seekerlings that also attended that place, he didn’t know their names merely referred to them by colour. The blue one was the oldest, and thought it was funny that he couldn’t fly, only ‘fly’ in water, the red one was the worst, often making snide comments yet able to twist situations to cover his own back, probably, Depth Charge had claimed, to ‘cover’ for how short he was. The purple one was an idiot but tagged along anyway. He’d spotted them teasing another student and tried to defend them, but it didn’t work out and Depth Charge was kicked out for his behaviour. He always lamented not being able to help or protect the other student. “Hmph” Seaspray mused, that was just like Depth Charge. Depth Charge who stood up for them when someone mocked Coldseep’s lively attitude, or Seasprays own awkward gait. The trio almost never left each others side, they were as the humans say ‘thick as thieves’ despite no thievery taking place. It was even Coldseeps idea… he was the one who named them the ‘Sea Seekers’ a trine of the best sea-fairing mechs Cybertron will ever see, or so he’d claim. They were all into it, Depth Charge in his awkward manner had decided to take this as a cue to announce how he’d protect them with his life. Guess that was his way of showing how thankful he was to have them. Protecting others… Seaspray allowed himself a sad flop onto the sand below. Depth Charge always took it personally when he couldn’t defend others… Probably why he was given charge of a peaceful sector that’d refused to take part in the war. Then Rampage came along… The Decepticons unleashed that… thing upon all of Cybertron. It had slaughtered anything in his path… Seaspray curled in slightly, remembering the look on Depth Charge’s face… how hollow he’d become, a hollowness that became filled with hate. He was like a different mech, he scared Seaspray now. Yet, Seaspray refused to leave him they were a trine! Despite Coldseep… they weren’t going to lose each other. They already lost Coldseep, he followed the Decepticons lead. It was odd, Coldseep almost seemed to change into a different mech more and more each time he snuck out to meet them. He’d begged Seaspray and Depth Charge to join him. That Megatron promised to make Cybertron equal for everyone!. It was like Coldseep couldn’t see how Megatron was just taking everything for himself, and merely lived in a fantasy world where all of Megatron's lies were true. It almost broke him when he finally agreed that Megatron wasn’t acting right, he said he was going to leave… he said… It didn’t matter now… Seaspray dragged himself upright and slowly to the Ocean’s edge, the light glittering off it’s surface turning bitter in his mind, churning up bad memories. He tried, oh how he tried, he tried keeping up with Depth Charge after the ‘incident’ but he couldn’t. Depth Charge went to ridiculous lengths to fulfil his desire to fight Rampage. He punched Seaspray when the latter suggested he stop hunting him. Seaspray sucked it up, Depth Charge wouldn’t abandon him if he was in his place! He’d wait until the time was right, until they were ready to accept the help then stand by them all the way! He was all Seaspray had left… his last friend. Then they found Rampage, his trail of destruction easier to follow than initially believed. The fight lasted for barely a few astroseconds, Rampage was too strong for a battalion let alone these two mechs. Depth Charge said he had a plan. Depth Charge told Seaspray to get a head start and he’d join him. Depth Charge lied. Seaspray looked into his reflection in the Ocean, his optics were getting as watery as it’s surface. It was too late. Seaspray didn’t know. Depth Charge had stolen the Energon Destroyer, made by the late scientist Rhinox. He’d taken it and charged Rampage with it. Seaspray didn’t have a chance to react as a Autobot team grabbed him and rushed him away, having discovered the weapon was missing they took Seaspray and fled from the blast. It was like an explosion, but in reverse. The ground broke off in chunks, rising into the air as it crumbled. It was as beautiful as it was vile, the aim of that weapon… horrid. It did its job. Rampage was gone. So was Depth Charge. All that remained was a crater. Tainted by the blast, no life would EVER return to it after such an action. And like that… Seaspray was alone… The water made a quiet sound and Seaspray broke from his minor trance, tears streaking down his face and dropping into the sea. “I miss you guys” he sniffled, lying down and letting the water lap over him and around him. If he pretended hard enough it was as if the two were there, beside him. On the anniversary of them becoming a Trine. --------- Several miles down the beach, a dark and stealthy shape prowled along, looking to the water with a deep longing, yet painful apprehension. Ravage was a Decepticon and never allowed himself to be taken by emotion. Megatron wouldn’t allow that, be it by words, fist or the end of his cannon he would not allow it. Ravage had to be far away from his leader for this… curious emotion to thrum through his damaged Spark with no repercussion. Looking across the landscape he spotted a yellow figure, also at the water's edge. The enemy. THE ENEMY!. Ravage cringed hard, his face plates bunching up as he forced down the raging senseless anger that arose everytime an Autobot neared him. That one. That one was okay. Ravage didn’t know why, but that yellow one was okay. Ravage also had no idea why he felt the compulsion to be here today. Just that for him it held some sort of significance. Settling down to rest Ravage nosed the water, and ignoring the tear that rolled down his face.

[thatkinkytrashcan]

Broken Blades pt. 6

Summary: After a moment of desperate passion between brothers, Vergil falls into the hands of their father's greatest enemy.  With his very mind and soul stolen by Mundus, Vergil knows nothing but the want to fulfill his Master's every desire.  And to protect their precious son, Nero.

Pairings: Dante/Vergil, Vergil/Mundus, Vergil & Nero, Dante & Nero

Warnings/Tags: Sibling incest, DT sex, knotting, cum inflation, m-preg, Vergil is Nero’s mom, rape/dub-con, mental and emotional manipulation, brainwashing, amnesia and identity issues, forced c-section without anesthesia, child abuse, threat of future sexual violence made to a child, Mundus is a really bad parent, rampant speculation on demon/half-demon biology

VI.         Tempering

Nero skidded around the corner, heart going a mile-a-minute.  He hadn't expected to be chased by demons before he even made it to the stairs.  If Father were here, they wouldn't have dared to even approach him, but on his own he was a sitting duck.

"Just leave me alone!" Nero shouted as he barreled forward--

Right into a solid, living mass.  Hands grabbed his shoulders, and Nero lashed out with his fists, pummeling whatever beast thought to touch him.  

"Whoa there!  You're the one that ran into me!"

The voice lacked the demonic distortion he was used to, and Nero glanced up and into a face that made him gawk.  "M-Mom?"

Silver eyebrows rose as the man in red stared back with a strange expression.  "Uh, not your mom, but…  Who are you?"

It was weird how much this man looked like Mom, from the color of his eyes to the line of his nose and the shape of his jaw.  Was this guy the 'other one' Father was talking about?  Hope jumped into his throat.  "I'm Nero.  Who're you?  Are you here to help us?"

"Name's Dante," the man said, still staring.  "And who's 'us'?"

"Me and Mom," Nero said urgently.  If Father was worried about this guy, then he might be just the right person.  "You've gotta help us get out of here!  My Father is really bad, and he hurts Mom and--"

"Slow down there, kid.  Not that I don't want to help, but who exactly is your dad?"

Nero hesitated, fingers gripping at the straps on Dante’s vest.  "Mundus, the Emperor of Hell…"

Dante's eyes widened in surprise but quickly narrowed.  “Someone told you he’s your father, huh?  Okay.  Why don't you take me to your mom, and I'll see what I can do."

"This way!"  Nero grabbed his gloved hand and tried to tug him along, but Dante scooped him up off his feet and under one arm instead.

Ignoring Nero's indignant shout, the man in red smirked at him.  "I’ve got it covered, kid.  And I'll be pretty mad if you try to roast this kid, Trish."

"I wouldn't dream of it."  Nero frowned at the human-looking artificial demon who flipped her hair over her shoulder.  He’d seen her briefly before, running some errands and kneeling to Father while he gloated.  Her smile was cold but she took a few steps backward when Dante aimed his sword at her.

"Because he's your boss's kid?" Dante asked.  "Or because he's Verg--?"

"All I was supposed to do is make sure he wasn't hurt," she said, hands up.  "I'll take him back where he'll be safe if you'll let me."

Dante cocked his head, watching her for a second before he looked down at Nero again.  Then he grinned.  "Hold on tight."

With a burst of speed and a crackle of demonic energy, Dante was past Trish and down the hall before she could react.  Nero dug his fingers into whatever he could, though the arm around him was secure enough that he probably wouldn't go flying off.  Probably.

"You're like Mom!" Nero cried in delight.  A half-demon!  Maybe that was why they looked so much alike?

"Guess we'll find out," Dante said, voice echoing with power.  "Which way?"

"Left!" Nero said.  "Right!  Right again!"

They zoomed down the corridors, blowing by the sentries and leaving them in shambles.  Dante was amazing, and Nero started to really hope he could save them.  Father was strong, but he wasn't fast.  Maybe Dante could outrun him!

"That big door over there!"  Nero pointed to the partially open doorway, and Dante lowered his shoulder to shove it the rest of the way open.  It banged loudly against the wall while Dante stumbled to a halt and set Nero back on his feet.

"Not sure how much time we'll have before someone comes, so where's your mother--"  The red man's jaw snapped shut, and his devil shape blinked back into human.

Mom had frozen where he'd been hurrying across the room toward them and stared wide-eyed at Dante.  Thankfully, he’d put on some clothes since it would’ve been embarrassing to explain that to a stranger.

"Don't worry, Mom," Nero said, running over to grab his hand.  "He's here to help us!"

"Vergil?" Dante whispered, and he physically shook himself, expression hardening.  "I knew it!  The second I saw that kid, I knew he had to be your-- Wait.  Did you call him Mom?"

Nelo Angelo swept Nero behind him, putting himself between them and taking a defensive stance.  "I don't know… who you are… but…"

"Mom?"  Nero grabbed for his hand again.  "Mom, are you okay?  Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine.  I just… I need…"  He clutched at his head, breathing hard, and a bolt of fear hit Nero hard.  Had Father come back?  Had he done something to Mom?  This was bad.

"What do you mean you don't know who I am?" Dante asked.  "What the hell is going on here, Vergil?"

Nelo Angelo clenched his jaw tight, and a bead of sweat dripped off his face.  "Stop calling me that.  I don't… know you.  We don't need you… to save us!"

"Mom, please.  He can help us," Nero said, squeezing his mother's shaking fingers.  "I don't want Father to hurt you ever again, so please!"

Dante was curiously still, gaze darting from Nero to Nelo Angelo and back like he was figuring something out.  "Your mom…"  Slowly he reached up and pulled something from underneath his shirt, and Nero gasped.  A silver amulet.  Exactly like the one Mom wore all the time, just a different metal.  "You don't know me, huh?" Dante said.

"That… That's…!"  Nelo Angelo trembled and fell to his knees.  He squeezed his eyes shut and turned away.

"That bastard did something to you, didn't he?" Dante pressed, coming a few steps closer but stopping when Mom dragged Nero into his protective arms.  "And him being Mundus' kid?  Bullshit.  What's the truth, Vergil?  Who's his real father?"

Nero's jaw hung loose in shock.  Could this guy be right?  Was he really not Mundus' son?  Never in his life had he questioned what he'd been told, but if there was even a sliver of possibility, he was going to cling to it.

"I don't know you," Nelo Angelo protested, but even Nero thought it sounded weak.  "I don't… I…"

Dante dangled the amulet from his fist and took another step towards them.  "You've gotta remember, Vergil.  Whatever he did to you, fight it.  You're stronger than him, I know it!"

"You're wrong.  I'm not strong.  I can't fight him.  I could never--"  Nelo Angelo pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, struggling for breath.  "I can't."

The sound of scuttling demons coming down the corridor made Nero tense up.  He turned to Dante but knew he didn't have to say anything from the look on Dante's face.  It was taught and serious when he glanced over his shoulder at the door.  "I'm going to end this, Vergil.  Whatever it takes, I'll set you free."

"Wait!"  Nero grabbed the necklace around his mother's neck, pulling in just the right way so the clasp came loose like he’d done by accident a few times when he was younger.  He threw it to the stranger who was promising everything he wanted.  "You need this!"

"Nero!  What are you doing?!" Nelo Angelo exclaimed.  He started to get up, but even just looking at Dante seemed to be causing him a lot of pain, and he sank back down.

"If you have that, the guards won't attack you," Nero said quickly.  "Father… Mundus said that will open some of the inner doors too."

Dante looked down at the gold amulet in his hand and then smiled at Nero.  It was soft, gentle in a way that no one but Mom had ever looked at him, and he felt unexpectedly warm.  "Thanks, Nero.  You just look after your mom.  I'll come back for you both, I promise.  You don't have to be afraid anymore."

The man in red spun around and raced out the door.

"What have you done?  You've sent him to his death, and when Master finds out that you helped him..." Nelo Angelo whispered.

Nero lifted his chin, refusing to let the hope give in to the fear.  "I did it to save you, Mom.  Because I love you.  Dante's going to win, and then we'll be safe."

Nelo Angelo -- or was it really Vergil?  Nero wasn't sure what to think yet -- leaned back on his heels and pulled Nero into his arms again.  "I… hope you're right."

They stayed like that for a long, long time, hanging on to each other for support, until the whole castle started to shake.  Nero got up and tugged his mother with him out into the hall.

"I… I can't possibly leave!" Mom said, hesitating just outside the door.  "Without Master here, I can't--"

"I'm not leaving you," Nero insisted.  "And I'm not staying here.  You're coming with me, Mom.  Please."

He saw the flicker in his mother's blue eyes and knew he wouldn't refuse.  Mom could never refuse when Nero pulled out the magic word.  "L-let's go, then.  Just be careful," Nelo Angelo said.

Maybe it wasn't smart to go running when Dante had said he'd come back, but Nero had a feeling.  He yanked everytime his mother wavered, not stopping as they hurried down through the halls and to the stairs.  The lack of demonic guards was a relief, and Nero even felt a moment of spiteful satisfaction thinking of what Dante must have done to them.

They spiraled down the stairs, passing several floors, and Nero started to realize he'd never gone this far from their rooms.  They reached the bottom before he'd come up with a plan.

"Um, I think… This way?"  Nero glanced at his mother who seemed even less sure than he was.  "Yeah, this way.  Let's go!"

He grabbed Mom's hand again and headed in the direction he felt a welcoming tug from.  The presence seemed like it was getting nearer.

"Vergil!  Nero!"  Dante appeared around the corner, looking a little beat up but grinning like a maniac.  "Great timing.  We gotta go."

"I told you, Mom," Nero looked up at his mother whose face was pinched with pain, and he towed him along.  "It's gonna be okay now.  Dante's going to help us.  Everything will be just--"

The moment they made it into the main entrance hall, the ground rumbled.  He saw Trish's eyes go wide just as the floor collapsed out from under them.  Nero tried to hold on to Mom as best he could, getting the wind knocked out of him when Nelo Angelo landed partly on top of him, but they both were in good enough shape to scramble to their feet.

"Nero!" Nelo Angelo gasped and pulled him close.  "Nero, are you hurt?  Please tell me you're alright!"

"I'm okay, don't worry," Nero said quickly.  He looked around the underground chamber, finding himself in thigh deep water.  It was cold, but not unbearable.  He spotted Dante and the demoness just a little further in.

Then the world ripped apart.

It was like someone shredded a hole in the wall right through to the Underworld.  The horrible, snarling, too-many-eyed blob that lurched partway through the gap wasn't like any demon Nero had ever seen, but he knew what it was anyway.  Father was now just as ugly on the outside as he was on the inside.

Nelo Angelo hauled Nero as far away as they could get, curling over his son protectively.  "N-no… No, no, no!" he babbled.  "Master, forgive me!  We didn't mean to leave!"

"Wicked little whore!" Mundus snarled, massive hand pawing through the water.  "I should have known your foul bloodline would betray me again.  I'm going to kill you and that half-breed spawn of yours like I should have when I found you!"

Nero felt his mother suck in a breath against his spine only for it to stutter back out.

"No one talks to my brother like that," Dante said menacingly.  He held up two weapons Nero had never seen the likes of and aimed them at Mundus.  "You lied to them all this time, didn't you?  Nero was never your kid at all.  He's mine, and there's no way in hell I'm letting you lay a hand on either of them!"

Mouth dropping open, Nero could only stare in shock as the blonde demon lent her power to Dante and the pair blasted Mundus back through the rift.  He flinched when Father -- No, not Father, he thought -- tried to hang on and pull himself back through.

"Dante, I will return!  And I will rule this world!" Mundus shrieked, clawing vainly at the edges of the portal until his grip gave way.

"Goodbye!" Dante taunted with a salute.  "And when you do come back, give my regards to Nero when he puts a sword through your ugly face, will ya?"

The gate snapped shut with a rush of air, cutting off Mundus' desperate scream, and Nelo Angelo scrambled forward, sloshing through the water toward the empty space.  “No, Master, don’t leave me!  Master, I need you!  Please come back!”

Grabbing onto his Mother’s waist, Nero dug in his heels and practically picked the man up off his feet.  “Mom, stop!  He’s gone, okay?  We don’t need him anymore!”

“How can you say that?!”  Nelo Angelo spun to face his son, eyes wild and lost.  “I need to go to him, don’t you understand?  I need to--”

“So you’ll just leave me?  Are you going to abandon me for him?”  Nero set his teeth, but he knew the words had struck hard by the horror that washed over Mom’s face.  With shaking hands, Nelo Angelo reached out and cupped his jaw, mouth opening without any sound.

Dante’s hand on Mom’s shoulder seemed to break the moment’s spell.  His eyes were full of the love that had always been absent from Mundus.  “I don’t know everything he did to you, Vergil, but swear I’ll help you get back to yourself.  Just as soon as we get off this stupid island…”

"We're too late!" Trish cried over the sound of stones falling and splashing into the water.  

"No, Trish.  It's never too late."  Dante yanked them all out of the way as a big… thing came falling down.  Nero had never seen anything like it before, but the huge smirk on Dante's face told him it was something good.  "Com'on, gang.  This is our ride!"

Dante pulled Mom up first, saying something quiet to him but not pausing even when Nelo Angelo -- Vergil barely responded.  He looked like he was in some kind of daze.  Trish was next, cramming into the seat with Mom, and then Dante easily lifted Nero up and into the contraption to sit on Mom’s lap.  "You ready to blow this joint?" Dante asked, and Nero grinned back.

The rest happened fast.  The plane, as Dante called it, turned out to be able to fly.  It was noisy and shook almost as badly as the castle, but it lifted them into the air and away.  The island exploded just as they got clear, shock waves making the plane rock for a terrifying moment.  Dante just laughed and pretty soon Nero did too.

He’d never felt so weightless in his life.  The constant fear, worrying that Mundus would go too far and seriously hurt Mom, that Mundus would decide that Nero wasn’t good enough and just get rid of him.  He hadn’t realized how heavy it was until now.

Trish stared out at the sky, trying to take it all in at once.  Nero couldn't blame her.  He'd seen pictures in books, but this was something else. "The sky!" she exclaimed. "So clear! So blue!"

"Sure is.  What do you think, Nero?  You like it out here?"  Dante glanced over his shoulder.

"It's amazing!" Nero cried.  He wanted to say more, to ask a million questions, but Mom's silence was starting to worry him.  He could feel how tense Vergil was against him.  "Mom, it's gonna be okay now," Nero said, hugging him again.

His mother blinked as if he'd just woken up from a terrible dream.  Looking down, Vergil lifted a hand and gently ran his fingers through Nero's hair.  "Y-yes…  It hurts, but… You're here.  You're safe, and that's what matters."

"We're both safe," Nero stressed, laying his head against Mom's shoulder.  "Dante told us the truth.  He saved us."

"And you don't have to worry anymore," Dante piped up as the plane banked off toward land.  "I'll look after you two as long as you'll let me.  You’re stuck with me now!"

"That…" Vergil started only to cut off for a moment.  Nero glanced up and saw a new clarity in his mother's eyes that made his heart warm.  "That doesn't sound so bad at all."

Previous: https://thatkinkytrashcan.tumblr.com/post/631365355814748160/broken-blades-pt-5 Next: https://thatkinkytrashcan.tumblr.com/post/631365536305053696/broken-blades-pt-7

[their-destinys-writer]

ML Secret Santa

Merry Christmas @breathing-and-writing​ I’m your Secret Santa! I was afraid I wasn’t going to be able to finish it, but thankfully it’s here. Thanks to the @mlsecretsanta team for organizing this fun event every year. Hope you enjoy this little fic I wrote for you!

Winter Wonderland with Ladybug and Chat Noir

“How much longer?” Chat Noir whined, tightly holding his staff.

“Just one more second... There,” Ladybug said at last, when the star was properly placed on top of the twelve-foot tree in the middle of the park next to Marinette’s home. As soon as she said the last word, Chat Noir lowered his staff to bring her back to the ground. With the speed, Ladybug yelped.

“Awesome job! It looks great!” he breathed.

“You could’ve warned me first!” Ladybug complained, as she steadied herself.

“My bad,” Chat Noir chuckled, scratching the back of his head. Ladybug shook her head.

“Okay, that’s done. What’s left?”

“The bag.”

“You think you can handle it?” she asked.

“Who do you take me for?” Chat Noir scoffed and started flexing his arms. “With these, I can carry anything.”

“Sure you can,” Ladybug snorted. “Please don’t rip it on the way here.”

“You got it,” he said, with a two-fingered salute, right before running off.

Meanwhile, Ladybug took a deep breath before turning around and heading to the other side of the tree. There, children between the ages of three to ten were standing in a line and started cheering the second they saw her. Standing next to a large red chair was Mayor Bourgeois speaking with several people who seemed to be employees of City Hall.

“Mr. Mayor?” she inquired.

The Mayor jumped at hearing her voice and quickly turned on his heels.

“Thank goodness you came!” he exclaimed, immediately grabbing her arm and dragging her in front of the chair. “You’ll be sitting here, or standing, whatever you’d like. And, uuh, where’s that—Aha!” He took a Santa hat and shoved it on Ladybug’s head. “Just be nice to the kids. And the presents. Where are the presents?!”

“Here, Mr. Mayor!” Chat Noir pipped up from where Ladybug had come, seeming to be struggling to hold the giant velvet bag. With as much care as he could, he placed it on the ground. “We got everything.”

“My reputation is saved—I-I mean, Christmas is saved! Good job, you two,” Mayor Bourgeois said nervously. “You can start whenever you’re ready. I need to attend other matters.”

He then scuttled away with the employees he had been arguing with before. Ladybug and Chat Noir couldn’t help but exchange deadpan looks at the Mayor’s priorities. Taking deep breaths, Ladybug gave Chat Noir a resolute look and asked: “Ready?”

“Absolutely.” Chat Noir grinned.

The line was opened and children started walking in. While Chat Noir took out the presents from the giant bag, Ladybug grabbed them and gave them to the kids that continued walking in. While the heroes were disappointed with the Mayor’s political reasoning for the activity, Ladybug couldn’t help but enjoy herself.

The children were excited to see them. They asked for pictures and advice on how to be heroes themselves. They were grateful with whatever they got, whether it was a ball or a doll they could play with. Somewhere in the excitement, Chat Noir got a Santa hat, too. Where he got it, no one knew.

Ladybug was especially proud that they stopped a kid from crying, and even managed to make them laugh instead. Other kids that were scared seemed to have gotten at ease when they realized they weren’t meeting Santa, but their favorite heroes instead.

To their surprise, they found themselves having… fun.

During the entire activity, Ladybug and Chat Noir continuously exchanged looks. The less presents were in the bag, the more the butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Until, two hours later, there was nothing left.

“That’s everything,” Chat Noir announced.

“Good thing we’re out of kids, too,” Ladybug sighed in relief.

“Thank you for coming, Ladybug and Chat Noir,” Mayor Bourgeois said, running out of nowhere and shaking Ladybug’s hand. “You have truly saved my butt with this activity. I never thought XY would cancel in the last minute.”

“It was our pleasure, Mayor Bourgeois,” Ladybug assured him, placing her other hand on top of his. “It’s the least we could do for the children of Paris.”

“Yes, yes, for the children,” the man assured, though it seemed to be more for himself than for anyone else listening. “How may I repay you for this?”

“No need,” Chat Noir intervened, taking off his hat and placing it on the red chair. “We’re here to serve the community, not for recognition.”

“Exactly,” Ladybug agreed, taking her own hat off. “We just hope that the rest of the festivities go well.”

“Yes, everything seems to be going as planned,” the Mayor said in a relieved tone. “Thank you again. I hope you can enjoy the rest of the Winter Wonderland.”

“Thanks, but we have a previous engagement,” Ladybug said, exchanging a look with Chat Noir, who immediately blushed. “But I hope everyone else is having fun. Chat, shall we?”

“Y-Yes!” he stammered.

With one last goodbye to the Mayor, they jumped away from the area. A few swings and vaults later, they landed together behind one of the vendor stalls, where it was secluded from the rest of the crowds.

“Ready?” Ladybug asked.

Chat Noir grinned. “Yeap.”

In unison, the heroes called on their detransformation phrases. Two flashes of light later, Marinette and Adrien were standing before each other, snuggled in thick winter jackets and earmuffs.

“It’s so cold!” Tikki complained, immediately diving into Marinette’s scarf. “Can we get that hot chocolate now?”

“With cheese!” Plagg pipped up, less bothered by the cold.

“We’ll make sure to get as much hot chocolate and cheese as you guys want,” Adrien chuckled. “But right now, I need to do something first.” He bowed and extended his hand towards Marinette. “M’Lady, would you give me the honor to finally take you on our first date?”

Marinette giggled at the boy’s antics. Nevertheless, she placed her hand on his, the butterflies from before fluttering with higher potency.

“I would love to go on this date with you, Chaton.”

Adrien squeezed her hand as he stood straight. His grin grew so much, almost all of his teeth were visible. And Marinette couldn’t help but grin dorkily back.

“Where to first?” He asked.

“Hmm.” Marinette placed a finger on her chin. “I think we should start in the pastry stall, so Tikki and Plagg can get their goodies first.”

“Thank you!” Plagg dramatically swooned in midair. With a deadpan look, Adrien grabbed him by the tail and pulled him into his coat.

“You seem to forget you’re supposed to be hiding,” he scolded.

“Marinette, he’s being mean to me again!” the kwami yelled, half muffled by the clothes. He then poked his head out. “Defend me!”

“Maybe if you weren’t such a nuisance, your charge would be a little nicer,” Tikki retorted, narrowing her eyes at her partner.

“Now, now, this is not the season to be grumpy, you three,” Marinette said.

“Why three? I’m completely innocent!” Adrien and Plagg said in unison.

“They really are made for each other,” Tikki giggled. Marinette couldn’t help but laugh, too, her cackles growing louder when Adrien pouted.

“Come on,” she said at last, pulling on his hand. “We don’t have all night, and I really don’t wanna spend it having silly arguments.”

“You’re right,” Adrien agreed, a lopsided grin curving his lips. He then proceeded to kiss the back of her hand, powdering her cheeks with pink. “I wanna enjoy tonight as much as I can with you.”

“Me too,” Marinette said, with a giddy smile.

The couple stepped out of their hiding place and finally properly admired the Winter Wonderland the city had built for the occasion. Christmas lights decorated all of the vendor stalls, trees, and even the benches. The smell of coffee, chocolate and pastries filled the air. Couples and families walked about, children were having snowball fights. And there was a group of carolers singing Petite Papa Noël on a stage on the far end of the park.

It almost looked like something out of a magical Christmas Movie, complete with light snow starting to fall.

“Chocolate first, right?” Marinette turned to look at Adrien as she spoke, but immediately noticed he was staring off into the distance. “Hey, are you okay?”

“This is the first time I spend Christmas outside of my home, away from my family,” he said quietly.

Marinette gave his hand a light squeeze.

“You’re still with family when you’re with me.”

He looked back at her, his eyes glassy but a fond smile on his lips.

“I know,” he whispered. “It’s just weird.”

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want.”

“No, I’m very happy to spend it with you. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Marinette’s smile returned.

“Okay,” she said, standing on the tip of her toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Lead the way, then.”

Softly, he leaned down to kiss her temple thanking her for her understanding, sending a wave of warmth down Marinette’s body. With a last knowing look, they officially entered the festivities, hoping this was only the first of many more dates to come.

[verus-veritas]

Antonio

A very well-written story by “Collan” on Male Transformation Blogspot. He really knows how to draw you in. /Verus

"Give those back!" shouted a whiny, boyish voice. "You can't do this! It isn't fair! You have no right!"

The early morning sun felt warm and soothing on my bare torso as I stood by the side of the path near the old wooden picnic tables at the far edge of the park. My right arm was raised in the air, holding a small device and a pair of glasses in my hand, well out of reach of the much smaller boy who had shouted at me. We were both seniors in high school, but he looked years younger than I did, and even though I was already naturally tall, he was so short that I towered over him by almost a foot.

"Give what back, Georgie? These?" I asked nonchalantly with a false expression of concern on my face. I reached up with my left hand to pluck the glasses from my right and examined them briefly with a look of mild pity. "Shame you're so terribly blind without these. I suppose it would be too cruel to leave you here without them. Here you go." I said, and with an expert flick of the wrist tossed them far over his head to land in the still-wet grass behind him.

I took a moment to marvel at the dexterity in my left hand as I watched Georgie track the arc of his glasses to see where they landed. His short, pudgy body scuttled across the grass to retrieve them, and he dried them off with the hem of his overlarge t-shirt before putting them back on and then turning to glare at me in fury.

"You fucking bastard! You ‘know’ what I mean! That's ‘my’ body! Give it back, or I'll..."

"Or you'll what?" I interrupted, with a tone of quiet condescension in my newly low baritone. "What will you do, Georgie?"

"Stop calling me that! ‘I'm’ Antonio, you little faggot!" The anger on his face looked oddly out of place on his rounded features. The expression just didn't work on him.

"Little faggot?" I asked him dangerously as I felt a surge of anger rush through me. In the immediacy of the moment, I hadn't really allowed myself yet to settle into his mind, and the emotion caught me off guard. Damn, but this boy had anger issues, and testosterone to spare to fuel it. It almost overwhelmed me for a moment, but I managed to rein it in.

Still keeping the device out of his reach, I moved towards him with a little bit of a strut and an evil grin playing about my lips. I loved the way this body language felt so natural already. God, I wished I could see myself from the outside right now. I was probably sexy as fuck. Oh well, I had plenty of time for that later. I needed to stay focused on playing out this inevitable little drama and get it over with.

"You might want to calm down a little, Georgie. You're starting to make a scene. You sound a little crazy there. ‘I'm’ Antonio and ‘you're’ Georgie. ‘I'm’ the tall, sexy Italian stud and ‘you're’ the fat little nerd. Just look at yourself-" I said with a note of disgust. "How could anyone confuse ‘that’ with ‘this’?"

I deliberately teased him and pretended to give him the opening I knew he'd be looking for, lowering my arm and using the hand that held the device to gesture first to him, then to me. Right on cue, he made an attempt to try and grab for the device, but my reflexes were far too fast for him, and I whipped it instantly out of reach again. I knew he could never match me physically, since of course I knew his body's capabilities, or the lack thereof really, far too well. It was truly a miracle I'd managed to pull this off at all, but the reward was definitely all the pain and suffering that had led up to it. I realized I was starting to drift mentally again and brought myself back to the moment.

"Ah, ah, ah." I said and wagged my finger at him as if scolding a small child. "No grabbing for things that aren't yours or you'll have to go in time out!"

He shook his head as if to clear it and pressed his palms to his temples in frustration. "God, this is some kind of nightmare! It has to be!"

The opening was too good to pass up and I took it. "Yes, Georgie, it ‘is’ a nightmare, and I'm guessing it's just going to get worse for you."

"How? How can it get worse?" he almost whimpered, as unbidden and unwanted tears started to fill his eyes. God, I was so glad I had left that uncontrollable urge to cry behind! It was time to take the gloves off, push all his buttons, and make him start to see the agony that I had endured at his hands.

"Because," I replied, lowering my voice further so there was no chance of accidentally being overheard, "I can see that what is starting to happen to me is starting to happen to you too."

"But what do you mean? None of this makes any sense!" he cried, sitting back down at the picnic table and burying his face in his arms.

"It will soon. Very soon now," I said. "You'll know it all shortly, so it's time to drop the pretense."

That caught his attention. He lifted his tear-stained face to look at me, and I almost laughed as he realized his crying had smudged his glasses again, and he had to take them off, clean them, then put them back on again to see me clearly.

"What I mean is this. Thanks to this little device here," and I brandished it briefly as I continued, "I jumped my consciousness into you, and because we were both touching it when I pushed the button, you've retained your own consciousness and are aware of the switch. And let me tell you, setting this up and pulling it off was a total bitch. Letting you torment me every Saturday morning for weeks so that when the time came, you wouldn't think it was strange that I was sitting here waiting for you. Practicing maneuvering myself so that I could click this little button while we were both touching the device at the same time. With your size, strength, and speed against mine it could have gone wrong at any moment, but it didn't, thank god."

He was looking at me incredulously, his mouth hanging open, but no words came out of his mouth.

"I could have just taken you over from a distance," I went on, "and you would have turned into Georgie with no memory of ever having been Antonio. But I couldn't have that. You ‘had’ to know. You ‘have’ to know! To fully ‘know’ the suffering I've endured for years because of you! And you will!" My temper had risen again, stronger this time, and I was startled by the sudden violent urge I had to lash out and hit. Something, anything, him! This ‘thing’ in front of me that had made my life a misery for so long!

"But it's not possible!" he protested.

His statement surprised a bark of laughter out of me and broke through the growing anger. I shook my head in amazement. "How can you say that when you're sitting there in that pathetic body? Really ‘look’ at yourself, well, your ‘new’ self." I chuckled, but then grew serious. I began to direct him verbally, knowing from his crying moments before that his new emotions were beginning to take hold of him and an urge, a hunger, to obey me, to be dominated by me, his fantasy man, was lurking just under the surface.

"Look at your small, plump hands," I told him. "Look at your pale, pale skin. Feel the limp, thin hair on your head. Feel the paunch at your belly. Look... Feel... Touch... Touch your bicep and flex it. Not much there to flex, is there? Now how can you say this isn't possible?" My voice had fallen into an almost mesmeric cadence that I wasn't aware I was capable of. A vaguely erotic thrill rose in me at the thought of the control I was wielding, as I watched my nemesis examine my former body, following every direction I gave him almost without thought.

When I finished, he hugged his arms to his body tightly and started to tremble as if it were the dead of winter instead of a beautiful late spring day. I suddenly realized what was coming and jumped back in time, noticing in passing how much farther back I had jumped than I had expected to and how easy it had been. He turned towards me and vomited, heaving violently into the grass where I had just been standing. I waited while he emptied the contents of his stomach out onto the ground in front of him.

"What's happening to me? I feel like I'm losing all control of myself. Why are you doing this?" he asked hoarsely while he continued to cough and spit to clear his mouth as his sickness subsided.

I started walking towards the next table over, and I knew he would follow. It was as much to get away from the puddle of puke in the grass as to give him the opportunity to rinse his mouth out at the nearby water fountain. I wanted him paying attention to me, not the foul taste in his mouth.

I pointed him to the fountain, then continued. "What's happening to you is that you're in my body just as I'm in yours. I didn't expect you to blow chunks like that, but I guess if I had gone from this to that with no warning, I'd be pretty repulsed too. Plus I'm sure the pile of greasy sausages I ate for breakfast didn't help. I do love the taste, but they always do a number on my stomach. Well, ‘your’ stomach now. A little welcome gift from me to you." I snickered, and he glared again as he finished rinsing his mouth out at the fountain.

"You're also starting to feel my mind, just like I'm starting to feel yours. The emotions are beginning to make themselves known, and the memories will start filtering in after that. As the integration accelerates, you'll start living on my autopilot essentially. You'll still be aware of having been Antonio, but your speech patterns, your body language, your emotional reactions, your wants and loves and hates and fears will all be Georgie. ‘You’ will be Georgie. You ‘are’ Georgie. That's what's happening to you. And ‘I’... ‘I’ will be Antonio.”

Source: “Caption This!” 14/06/2014

[d3-iseefire]

Beneath the Surface Chapter 3

This is going to end up being five chapters as even when I’m finished I can still read through and end up going, that should be a chapter break. I’m gonna post this morning, evening and tomorrow, though, so it’ll still end on time! 😊

Chapter 3

She became aware of the cold first.

It lay on her like a thick blanket, pushing through to her marrow until her bones felt frozen inside her. 

For a few seconds, she was convinced she was dead, a cold corpse upon a slab in some forgotten corner of a hospital morgue.

Then the dull ache and swelling on her face set in along with the burning pain on the soles of her feet and she realized she was still very much alive.

She hadn’t expected that.

There was metal under her fingertips, rough and unfinished, and the air had a strange, musty quality to it. Bilba couldn't hear anything so she forced herself to take a deep breath to calm her nerves and opened her eyes.

She was in a cage.

A metal ceiling hung low several feet over her head and she could see part of one corner where thick, iron bars ran down toward the base. Given the situation before she’d passed out it wasn’t a surprise, but it was still unnerving.

Her throat was so dry it burned, and she struggled to find enough saliva to swallow. Just how long had she been unconscious? Her stomach was trying to gnaw on her spinal column, and it felt like she’d had nothing to drink in days.

Carefully, she spread her palms flat on the ground and started to push up. A gasp of pain escaped her as bruised muscles protested. There seemed to be more than before, including what felt like long, thin scrapes and gashes along her bare legs.

They’d dragged her in here, she realized, with zero regard for her physical safety. It didn’t bode well for what they planned to do with her.

She managed to struggle to a seated position, only to freeze with a gasp at the sight of two men sprawled out unconscious on the other side of the cage.

Gingerly, Bilba scooted back the last few inches until she was pressed fully against the bars. It wasn’t very big, even back as far as possible left her only a foot or two of space and she doubted the taller of the two men (who appeared very tall indeed) would be able to even sit up straight.

Neither appeared close to waking up so she risked taking in her surroundings through the bars. It wasn’t very exciting, simply a large basement with all manner of industrial looking equipment. Most of it was covered in filth and some appeared to no longer be in working order.

The floor it all sat on was concrete and equally dirty with what looked like years' worth of dust, cobwebs and debris scattered about.

A low moan dragged her attention back to her two unwanted companions, and she tried to press back even further into the bars. She drew her legs up, balancing her feet on their heels; tugged her skirt down as far as possible and wrapped her arms around her knees.

The shorter man woke up first. Bilba wished he was actually short, and maybe a little less threatening, but the adjective only referred to his height in comparison to the giant next to him.

He was older than her, probably in his mid 20s, with short brown hair and a rugged looking face. He wore a button-down shirt over a black t-shirt, and a denim jacket over that.

He swore under his breath, one hand going to his head, before he started to push up to his feet. He caught sight of the other man and paused to check his pulse. Then, almost as if some weird alarm went off for him, his head suddenly snapped up and his eyes laser focused on her.

Bilba gasped and drew in tighter as if she could somehow magically make herself invisible through sheer force of will.

The man studied her for a second, and then slowly raised both hands, palms outward, “Hey there,” he said, his voice low and quiet. “My name’s Dean. What’s yours?”

Bilba hesitated but then decided it really didn’t matter if he knew her name or not. “Bilba.”

He gave a nod. “Please to meet you, Bilba.” He slapped the other man on the arm and grinned. “This here’s my brother, Sammy.”

Bilba’s lips twitched at the obvious affection in Dean’s voice. “Pleased to meet you.”

The other man, Sammy, chose that moment to groan and Dean shifted to help him sit up. That revealed the man truly was as tall as she’d thought, with saggy brown hair. He dressed similarly to his brother, if not a bit preppier, and appeared to be a few years younger.

Dean said something to him as he sat up and Sammy gave her a concerned look. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Bilba whispered. Her throat felt like she’d gargled with razor blades. She tried to clear it, only to immediately regret the action as it simply made it worse.

"Here." Dean tossed her something and she flinched, only to relax as Sam caught it midair with an exasperated look toward his brother. Dean shrugged and went back to examining the bars.

Sam handed her the item and Bilba saw that it was a throat lozenge. "Thanks."

"Can't vouch for its age," Dean said absently, without looking at her. "Been in there since the last time Sammy got sick."

Sam sent him another look. Dean didn't take his eyes off the bars but grinned as if he could see it.

"Better than nothing." Bilba unwrapped the lozenge and popped it in her mouth before adding, "my...friend, Fili, saw me get kidnapped. He might have gotten the license plate."

"Won't help," Dean said. "Car was most likely stolen." His eyebrows drew together suddenly, and he half turned toward her. "Fili Durin?"

Bilba's heart jumped and she nodded.

Dean frowned, and then snapped his fingers and pointed at her. "Bilba. You're that Bilba."

"That Bilba?" Bilba repeated blankly.

"Man," Dean shook his head, "you messed that kid up."

"Dean!" Sam's voice was sharp, but Dean simply rolled his eyes.

"You saw him. Kid's been moping for weeks."

"Was he?" Bilba was a little ashamed of the hopeful note in her voice. It wasn't that she wanted Fili to be upset, per se. It was just the thought that someone, somewhere out there had been upset over her, and that she hadn't been the only one miserable... "I thought perhaps he wouldn't care."

She hadn't meant to say that out loud, and immediately felt her face flush with heat as embarrassment crept over her.

Sam and Dean had both gone still and were looking at her with unreadable expressions.

"Trust me," Dean finally said, breaking the silence. "He cares."

Sound came from overhead, and Bilba flinched again, drawing into herself. "What were those things?" she whispered.

Sam sighed. "You probably don't want to know." He smiled at her. "Don't worry, all right? We'll get you out of this."

"If Fili doesn't get here first." Dean smirked. "That kid's gotta be pissed right now."

Sound again from overhead, and now the tortured screech of rusted hinges echoed through the small room as a door was wrenched open. Bilba clenched her teeth but couldn't stop the whimper that escaped.

As if on signal, Dean and Sam moved back to their original positions. Dean tugged lightly on the hem of her dress and Bilba scooted over to the far corner of the cage, behind them.

"All right," Dean said in a low voice as he and Sam sprawled back on the floor. "Try to make them come in after you."

Bilba wanted to ask how they were so sure the person coming in would want her, but then immediately decided she was probably better off not knowing that.

Sam and Dean closed their eyes and went limp. Bilba curled up in the corner of the cage, drawing her legs up and wrapping her arms around them.

One of the men she remembered from the house sauntered around the corner and Bilba stiffened and drew in closer, pressing against the bars until they dug into her back.

The man punched a code into a keypad set in the door of the cage and, with a beep, it clicked, and the door popped open. "Let's go."

Bilba shook her head but couldn't find her voice to say it.

The man scowled and slammed his hand against the bars, causing Bilba to gasp and jump. "You won't like it if I have to come in there, little girl. Now, come here."

Bilba doubted she could have gotten up even if she wanted too. She was shaking violently, and her legs had turned to jelly. Dean was closest to her and she curled her toes under his shoulder. They said they'd help her, she reminded herself frantically. They weren't asleep. They were just pretending. It'd be okay.

She hoped.

The...man...or the thing pretending to be a man had been insanely strong and had the ability to trick others into seeing things that weren't real. Did Sam and Dean know how to deal with him...it?

The man swore and crouched down. "Obnoxious bitch," he growled as he crawled into the cage. "I'm really not the sort you want to be pissing off right now."

The cage was so low he was forced to crouch. He did, and then went to his hands and knees. Bilba wasn't sure why until, without warning, he suddenly scuttled forward with unnatural, startling speed. He scrambled over Sam and Dean's bodies and reached out to grab her.

Bilba shrieked and tried to press back, but there was nowhere to go. She shut her eyes and tensed, waiting to feel his hand wrap around her arm and yank her forward.

Nothing happened.

Instead she heard a strangled intake of breath, similar to the sound someone might make if they'd been punched in the stomach.

Tentatively, Bilba opened her eyes. The man was still there, just in front of her, but his eyes were wide, expression frozen and he seemed paler than before. She looked past him, and saw that Dean was up on one elbow. His other hand held the handle of what looked like some sort of blade. She couldn't tell for sure, because it was currently buried to the hilt in the man's stomach.

"Correction," he growled. "I'm not the one you want to be pissing off."

He shoved the man off into another corner of the cage and pulled the knife out. He cleaned it off on his pant leg with a scowl and then slid it down inside his boot.

Sam had already sat up and was checking the man where he lay crumpled in the corner. "Looks like silver works."

"Usually does." Dean sounded overly cheerful considering the situation. He got up into a low crouch and held a hand out to her. "Come on, what do you say we get out of here?"

Bilba nodded shakily and took his hand, allowing him to help her out of the cage. "You just stabbed him." Her voice wavered. She'd never seen a dead body before, let alone someone killed in front of her.

"Trust us," Sam spoke up from behind her. "He was planning to do a lot worse."

"And he was going to die pretty soon anyway," Dean added. "Just as soon as his girlfriend got a snack."

"His girlfriend?" Bilba repeated blankly. "What was she going to eat?"

Sam shot Dean an annoyed look, and he raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes in an exaggerated inquiry.

Bilba's own eyes suddenly widened as the answer hit her. "Oh," she whispered. "That's why it mattered that I had no one, so no one would miss me."

Sam grabbed her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "They secrete a pheromone that lets them interfere with memory. They go after people without connections to ensure there's no lingering sensation of someone being gone. They just failed to realize that most people have at least some connection."

"Which means people noticed," Dean interjected, still strangely cheerful, "and we showed up, met up with the Durins and are handling the problem."

"By getting captured?" Bilba forced a small smile, trying for a bit of levity now that her nerves were beginning to settle just a bit.

Dean chuckled and shot her a cocky grin. "Worked out didn't it? We were here to keep you from being monster chow."

"Dean." Sam sounded exasperated but Bilba surprised herself by laughing, just a little. That laugh vanished as soon as they grabbed her hands just outside the cage door and pulled her to her feet. White hot pain blistered through her feet and she bit back a strangled cry as her knees automatically buckled, trying to take the pressure off. A wave of dizziness swept over her and, when it cleared, she was sitting back on the ground, breathing rapidly, with Sam and Dean both crouched near her feet.

"Don't--" Bilba started, panic settling in and strangling her voice. Don't leave me. That's what she wanted to say, but her mind was stuck on one setting and the only word she could force out was "Don't," over and over again.

Sam moved back to her side, slid an arm around her back and another under her legs and stood with her. "It's all right. We said we'd get you out, and we will."

Bilba was still too upset to speak but managed to nod shakily.

"I wouldn't want to be you if Fili sees you carrying her." Dean quipped as he led the way toward the stairs.

They made it to the top where Dean pressed against the door and tried to hear if anything was on the other side. "I hate bugs," he grumbled.

"They aren't bugs," Sam interjected. "And you're just sore they took your weapons."

"Shut up, Sammy," Dean said without heat. He pulled his boot knife back out and waved it. "And that's most of my weapons. You're just jealous they found all of yours."

Sam had carefully set Bilba on her feet against the wall, grimacing in apology as he did. When he turned back to his brother he'd somehow produced a massive hunting knife that he held up in a few fingers and waggled at Dean. "You were saying?"

Dean scoffed and went back to the door. "Whatever." He slid the door open, risked a look out, and almost immediately jerked back inside and shut the door. "Well, that's going to be fun."

"What is it?" Bilba asked, and then, before he could answer, amended, "never mind. I don't want to know."

"You really don't," Dean agreed. He nodded at Sam and went and took up position just behind Dean's right shoulder.

"You'll be safe here," he told her over his shoulder. "We'll clear out the corridor and then come back, okay?"

Bilba nodded, not because it was okay but because she really didn't have all that much choice. She wouldn't be able to walk well, or run at all, and there was no way Sam could carry her and fight at the same time.

Dean held up three fingers, then slowly curled one down, and then a second. When he curled the third down, Bilba's stomach clenched and she bit down hard on her lower lip as, together, the two opened the door. For the briefest second, she heard what sounded like a strange scuttling, skittering sound. Then the door slammed shut and she heard nothing.

She pressed against the wall, trying to brace her weight against it so she could balance on her heels and not touch her blistered feet to the ground. With death no longer imminent her adrenaline began to fade, and her body's complaints started to make themselves known.

For one thing, she was freezing. She'd been vaguely aware of it being cold but now the temperature was downright biting and the thin dress she'd worn did absolutely nothing for it. She'd lost her shoes and the floor beneath her feet was like ice, which numbed the pain a little but not enough.

After that she could feel the myriad cuts and bruises she'd picked up along with the burning in her throat. She was hungry, and thirsty on top of all of that and fatigue hung on her like a blanket, trying to convince her that lying down for a nap was a perfectly fine idea.

Looking back later, it was probably for that last reason that she utterly failed to hear footsteps creeping up the stairs from down below.

Rough hands grabbed her and, before she could react, a hand was clamped over her mouth, forcing her jaw closed against the scream trying to escape it.

"Your friend missed my poison sack by an inch," a, by now, familiar voice hissed in her ear. "A pity for you."

And, with that, he put his other arm around her waist, tightened his grip and dragged her through the door.

[danetobelieve]

One Shell Of A Dinner Party, pt. 2 || Ricky, Skylar and Winston

“Dee, please don’t argue, lock the doors, Ricky says you need to get the gun and anything that has a shell just shoot it and stay safe … yeah, listen Dee, Dee, DEE! I gotta go, stay safe.” Winston hung up the phone as they heard a claw tap against the glass door that overlooked their garden and back porch. “Guys,” they said looking around helplessly for something they could use as a weapon before grabbing a fire poker that was way too heavy for a fire poker, “I think it’s going to get in….” Winston’s mind was racing. They had a tazer upstairs, but what was a tazer going to do against something of this … well size. It was huge for a crab. “Fuck, fuck … fuck…” they swallowed nervously as the crab tapped against the window again, “what’s the plan?” They needed a plan otherwise they wouldn’t make it out of this alive. 

Skylar held her knife tightly, though she had zero ideas on what she would do with it. Ricky found a bat and Winston was now wielding a fire poker, which were both much, much smarter options. But, she didn’t have any better ideas. As the large lobster looking things began to hit the glass windows harder, Skylar glanced over at Winston. “Hit it till it dies? I have zero plans, all I’ve got is a knife.” A knife. Before she could say anything else, one of the larger monsters managed to force its way through glass, sharp fragments shattering across the floor as the labrador sized creature began to skitter across the smooth floor, its legs unsteady. “It can’t get a good footing in here!” She said before letting out a scream as the beast’s massive pincers began to snap wildly.

“THOSE FLOORS ARE FUCKING ANTIQUES!!” The bellow seemed to surprise the karkinoid almost as much as it surprised Ricky himself as he charged across the dining room, slamming the baseball bat down as hard as he could against the creature’s head, “It can’t get good footing because it’s scuffing up my beautifully fucking maintained wood floors!” He heard the sound of a shotgun ring out across the night and snapped his head up in time to see Dee on her back porch, smoking gun in one hand, middle finger lovingly extended to him and Winston on the other. “Fair enough.” he muttered, taking in the karkinoid corpse in front of the older woman, “Don’t get cornered and don’t try to take on more than one. Those claws are sharp as fuck and a crowd of them will kill you pretty damn quick. Aim for eyes and joints. If you can knock them on their back they’ll struggle to get up.”

Swallowing gently, Winston moved forward. “Ok, so we go for the joints, we go for the joints,” they felt lightheaded, their hands were sweaty, they felt short of breath. Sweating gently, they adjusted their grip on the slick handle of the fire poker and spotted another lobster stepping through the door. This was not exactly their idea of fun, but they had to help. “Oh fuck me,” they grunted as they stepped forwards and somewhat clumsily hefted their fire poker, bringing it slamming down on the joint of crab with a sickening crunch and squeal of pain. That was not something that Winston had been expecting and it turned their stomach. They gagged for just long enough to miss the lobster slapping their legs out from beneath them. Winston tumbled to the floor and scrabbled to their feet. “Fuck, fuck, why don’t we have a gun? Or an axe?” Who knew Deirdre would be right. 

“I really wish we had a gun right now!” Skylar screamed as she ran away from the largest lobster, avoiding the claws. As she booked it away, she saw that another smaller lobster thing had crawled through the broken window, roughly the size of a small dog. As it dropped onto the floor, it began to head towards her, claws snapping together menacingly. “Nope!” She yelled, winding her foot back and punting the monster away from her. The tip of her boot smashed into the lobster thing’s underbelly, but it was unyielding. All she managed to do was kick it across the room. “Heads up!” She winced.

“THIS COUNTRY HAS A GUN PROBLEM AND I WILL NOT BE A PART OF IT!” Ricky punted the small karkinoid out the now shattered glass door and followed it into the night, desperately running for his workshop in the garage, “Dee get the fuck inside!” he shouted as he ran, charging through the door to the darkened space, the faint echo of a “Up yours, Ricardo!” following him into the space. He emerged as quickly as he could, axe slung over his shoulder, running back into the kitchen. Seeing Winston get knocked to the floor, Ricky ran to slide between them and the karkinoid bearing down on them, “Get. Absolutely. And resolutely. Fucked.” He swung the axe down as hard as he could, relishing in the squelch he heard as it broke the carapace. His joy, however, was short lived as he saw several more advancing across the darkened lawn, “I just wanted a nice dinner party. Was that so much to ask?”

“I don’t mind being part of it if it saves me from an apparent group of crab things that are trying to cut us up into teeny weeny little fucking pieces RICKY!” Winston scrambled to their feet and decided that it was probably a good idea to punt these things away if they could rather then try and fight them head on. That had just worked so well the very first time. Except when they tried to punt one, all they succeeded in doing was hurting their foot and they stepped back painfully as the crab they’d just kicked to little avail turned to face it. Bringing their poker whacking down on it, they swallowed as the poker bounced off, cracking the shell a little, but doing little to stop it’s advances.

Startled by Ricky just barrelling out into the darkness, Skylar looked at the bat left in the room. “I’m just gonna borrow this!” She said, tossing the knife back on the table before scrambling over to grab the bat. Hefting the bat over her shoulder, she ran towards Winston, determination and adrenaline fueling her movements. “Just die!” She growled and slammed the bat into the monster’s shell. The wooden bat did very little and the impact made her arms shake as it bounced off the chitin. She wasn’t an athlete, definitely not an athlete. “Oh, come on!” Skylar said as she began to back away from the now very angry lobster monster. 

The problem with Karkinoids, Ricky was rapidly discovering, wasn’t their anger or their pincers, or their strange scuttling speed… it was the armor. The axe was great for it. Ricky took very good care of his tools, and this one was no exception. But every great swing of it took energy, a lot of it, and Ricky was very acutely aware of the fact that he only had a finite amount of it before he could no longer swing the axe. That, coupled with the fact that he had no idea how many of them were going to keep coming through the door, made him very very nervous. “Skylar!” he snapped, unkindly for a moment before he realized, or perhaps remembered, that humans weren’t as used to this as he was, “Grab our plate, frisbee the fish as far out into the yard as you can.” Turning to make sure Winston was back on their feet he beckoned them over, “The minute she gets the fish clear we’re gonna flip the table and try to block the door with it. Yeah?”

Grunting from the exertion, Winston wiped sweat from their brow and raggedly tried to catch their breath in a second before slamming their fire poker down onto the crab that was approaching Skylar. If they could keep distracting it from Skylar for as long as possible then all the better. Backing away from the crab and heading in Ricky’s direction, Winston nodded tentatively. “That sounds like a better plan than any of us have right now,” Winston said as they worked furiously to catch their breath, “Come on,” they screeched at the crab thing smacking it again before darting out of the way of it’s claws. This was all a bit much but they had to do something. They weren’t lucky enough to have brought a gun to a claw fight like Dee had.  

Not even registering Ricky’s tone, Skylar immediately made a beeline towards the table. The lobster around her and Winston was moving menacingly towards her, but they were doing a good enough job of keeping it away from her. Jumping over and dodging around the pincers, she grabbed the plate and yeeted it, along with the fish, out the window. “Is that what you meant?” She asked, hoping that was what Ricky had wanted. And that she hadn’t just chucked his grandmother’s prize plates out into the yard on accident. Letting out a yelp, she jerked her legs back out of snipping range from one of the lobsters.

“Fuckin’ Kobe up in this bitch.” Ricky hoped his congratulatory tone made up for being snippy as he brought the axe down on the lobster that threatened Skylar’s achilles’ tendon. “Now Win!” His heart broke a little as they heaved against the heavy table, flipping it on its side and pushing it up against the hole in the glass, “oh I’m going to have to do so much repair work.” He muttered under his breath as he retrieved his axe and peered over the top of the table. He was heartened to see that Dee had gone inside. “I’m open for suggestions as to next steps.”

Winston wasn’t convinced that they really did any of the heavy lifting there. In fact it felt like Ricky and Skylar could’ve done it on their own without them there. Either way, Winston wasn’t going to complain that they had a few seconds to regain their composure and get their shit together a little bit. Taking in ragged breaths, they peered over the table and spotted three crabs, that made five in total after Ricky had dealt with two. But three was still a lot more then Winston was comfortable with. “Uh, we could try calling the police?” Winston asked hoping that it would be met with agreement, “Though who knows when they’ll be able to help us, we might be on our own for a little while.”

With the table firmly pressed against the opening into the house and the two monsters in the house dead, Skylar hurried across the room to join the other two. “The police? Do you know any police officers who’d be cool just shooting that,” She gestured to one of the smashed in lobster things in the room, “without asking any questions?” Shaking her head, Skylar bit the inside of her cheek. What could they feasibly do? Looking around the room, she began to take stock of some of the stuff they had available to them, eyes landing on the liquor. “Would… would a moltov cocktail do anything? Like, everything’s afraid of getting roasted, would fire scare them off?” She asked, directing her question to Ricky.

“There’s some fake woke joke here about police willingness to shoot anything they can but it isn’t the time for it.” Ricky tried to steady his ragged breathing, quickly retying the corona of curls that had burst free during his fight, “I mean… I don’t know. Is the honest answer. All the fish rain must have lured them out. They’re bottom feeders… usually just off whatever scraps float down but all of this fresh meat on land must have convinced them to come out in droves. Theoretically they’d be unchill with being set on fire, but I don’t know that I have anything that’s a high enough proof to light like that. It’s been a hot minute since I stocked Everclear in my liquor cabinet. I’m not making jungle juice anymore.” his heart rate was slowly returning to normal and he cracked his neck as he calmed himself further, “We can pray that throwing the fish outta the house will be enough… but I’m really not sure. This is completely abnormal behavior for karkinoids.” 

Winston knew that their dad, who was a police officer at the WCPD would happily shoot these things, though they were also beginning to wonder if their parents were as oblivious to all of this as they appeared to be. The karkinoids were snapping up the fish and Winston suspected that soon it would be gone. Sure enough, they appeared to have finished and were starting to round on the house. Swallowing they pointed that out to their companions. “Whatever we’re going to do, now would be a good idea of working it out, we’ve got a barricade, maybe we could make some sort of weapon,” they dashed upstairs and came back with a can of deodorant and a lighter. “Flame thrower, not quite a molotov cocktail but it kind of worked once before, maybe it’ll work again?”

Peeking over the table, Skylar took a good look at the lobster-karki-whatevers. They looked to be about the size of dogs? Like, the dogs with the floppy ears, not the big labrador dogs. Dogs was a bad size comparison. “Flamethrower, that sounds good. And an ax. And a fire poker and a bat.” She said, rattling off inventory just to keep herself calm. “I’m no McGyver and this isn’t my house. Whatever you guys can think of works for me. Just tell me what I need to do and which one I need to hit and I’ll do… my best.” She said with a weak smile, trying to hide the way her hands were shaking. Now that the initial attack had ended and she was fully processing what was happening, the sheer terror of the situation was sinking in.

“I swear to the tides Winnie if you burn this house down I’m kicking you out.” Ricky was rapidly tiring of being attacked by lobsters he couldn’t eat with a nice garlic butter afterwards. He was very very literally out of his element. In his true body and in the ocean karkinoids wouldn’t be a problem. But he couldn’t swim through air. A small thought flitted through his mind, reminding him of the last time he’d made pho. “Fish sauce.” Scrambling to the fridge he pulled the bottle of the rank-smelling but delicious-tasting condiment out of the fridge before passing it to Skylar. “When Win is ready, throw this so it shatters on the back porch. I’m willing to bet they’ll come running for it. Then Winston can light them up and I’ll vault the table and start axing.”

“I swear to god if you keep calling me Winnie then I will deliberately burn this house down, I’m not a yellow bear.” Nor a Chinese politician. They scrambled up the stairs and grabbed everything that they needed before scrambling down the stairs again. “I’m ready,” Winston replied as they quickly got ready, setting their fire poker down, Winston got every can of deodorant that they had been able to find in the house and began to line them up so that they would have easy access. Grabbing their zippo, they flicked it open and readied their finger by the flint. “Whenever you’re ready Skylar.”

Not expecting the jar of sauce to be tossed her way, Skylar bobbled it for a moment before getting a firm grip on the fish sauce bottle. “If you two are going to be risking your lives against these lobster things, I’m going to help too.” She said, determined to make some difference. She wasn’t just going to sit by while Winston lit them on fire and Ricky was out there hacking the karkinoids to bits. Picking up the fire poker in her other hand, she looked at the two roommates. “I’m going to chuck this bottle and then, I’m going to go out there with you and try to smash those things.” She said. Without waiting for the two of them to give her permission, Skylar threw the bottle out the window and watched it sail into the backyard, smashing against the porch. The effect was instantaneous, like a switch being flicked. All three of the karkinoids halted their attack on the house and skittered towards the puddle of glass and fish sauce.

“Well now I have to take the novelty Christmas stocking I bought for next Christmas back to the store. You’ve ruined Christmas. How do you feel about that?” It was, if anything, a testament to how strong their friendship was growing that they could quibble about nicknames when death was a very real and immediate possibility. The minute he saw the bottle leave Skylar’s hand Ricky was in the air, pushing himself over the protective bulwark of the table and out onto the porch. As he jolted himself into action he felt something jar loose, and heard a clatter on the wood as the top set of veneers he wore clattered to the ground. That, while definitely an issue to face, was an issue to face later. There were more pressing issues to take care of now. He swung the axe toward the nearest karkinoid, slicing into one of its legs but ultimately only slowing it a little. “Fire, please!” He called back toward the house. 

“If it means I’ve avoided the big sticky yellow bullet that is Winnie the Pooh then I’m sure that somehow I will survive.” Winston wasn’t exactly devastated by the nickname, not from Ricky. But they weren’t going to take it lying down. As Ricky leaped over the table they had used to barricade the entrance, Winston grabbed a handful of deodorant cans and followed after them. They watched the veneers tumble to the ground and scooped them up tucking them safely in their pocket before flicking the lighter on and spraying deodorant through the flame. The effect was instantaneous as the night air was split open with a blinding flash of orange as the flame roared forwards and engulfed a karkinoid that squealed in pain as it cooked inside of it’s shell. 

When Ricky vaulted over the table, Skylar followed behind him in rapid succession, doing her best to squash the fear that had jolted inside her. Now wasn’t the time to be afraid. She saw Winston pause to pick something up off the ground, but didn’t have time to question it. Darting out of the way of their spray of fire, Skylar took aim at one of the karkinoids that was clawing at the fish sauce and wound up with the poker like it was a golf club. She let the poker fly and the hooked end of the fire iron pierced through the underbelly of one of the lobsters, causing it to screech in pain. Letting out a scream of her own, Skylar gripped the iron tightly, the karkinoid impaled on the end of it. “Fire! Fire over here!” She said, hoping that Winston would get what she meant by that. 

It was, all told, probably the weirdest dinner party Ricky had ever gone to. Definitely the most potentially lethal. As Skylar skewered one of the Karkinoids and Winston lept to light it ablaze, Ricky swung his axe, clipping the legs out from under another one. In the dark of the night it was hard to tell if there were more coming for the house, but one small silver lining was all the bait they’d used had definitely cleared them away from the main house, and Dee inside of it. He’d been about to call out to his friends that it looked like the worst of it was out of the way when he felt something hard sweep his legs out from under him, “Son of a bitch.” he grunted as he went down, the grunt turning into something more akin to a squeak of pain as sharp mandibles tore neatly through his shirt and into the flesh of his torso beneath, “Oh fuck alllllllll of that.” The axe had fallen out of his reach and with the karkinoid bearing down on him for another attack he had few choices, “Help!” he called out before baring his own sharp teeth and biting into the creature’s claw, feeling the carapace splinter between his fangs.

Winston rushed over to Skylar’s side and felt their deodorant can drain as they poured fire onto the karkinoid. This was all a bit much. They felt like they were in a video game. Their heart pounded and their blood roared in their ears. Adrenaline filled their body and it almost felt as if they were floating outside of their body right now. Surreal as it were, Winston found their deodorant can run empty and tossed it. Flicking the zippo open and closed again they put a hand into their back pocket reaching for a can of deodorant.  Sadly, they came up empty and realised that in all of the commotion they must’ve lost it. But they could see their best friend, in this moment, his teeth sunk into a crab that was larger then all the rest. They could hear the pain that they were clearly in and they felt the adrenaline surge in their body once more. They weren’t entirely sure what happened next, all they knew was that suddenly the fire at the end of the zippo exploded into life and engulfed the crab, sending it reeling off of their friend. A second later and they felt faint, the zippo tumbling from their hand and clattering to the ground. It wasn’t long until Winston was following suit, their knees felt weak. The decking, spattered with crab guts rushed up to meet them

[megalony]

Stay with me

A Roger Taylor imagine I came up with that contains a lot of angst. (Edited).

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @luvborhap @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @rogahs-drowse

Enjoy.

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

Reaching a shaking hand out (Y/n) tapped the button that closed the doors of the elevator. Her worn out eyes watching the anger burning in Roger's gaze when the doors closed in front of him just when he ran up to them, her body jumping when the drummer slammed his fist against the closed door.

His angered words vibrating against the door and becoming mumbled on the other side so neither (Y/n) nor John could work out what he said. Taking a deep breath (Y/n) pushed herself into the corner of the elevator that was allowing her to lean on it to keep herself upright. Her head was beginning to spin at the look on Roger's face that was burning itself into her mind.

It had been her last choice. This tour meant she was with the boys nearly every hour of every day and that meant she couldn't escape Roger when he wanted to talk about the argument they had just had. The drummer never liked to leave things unsolved like that and so had taken to running after her when he spotted her only to have the doors closed in his face.

It was no secret to the other three boys in the band that Roger and (Y/n) were together behind his wife's back. (Y/n) had been on past tours with them for promotional reasons so she could take promotional pictures or sort out the recordings of shows and after all, she was their tour manager. Roger was very thankful when she became in charge of all of their tours and music videos because it meant she was around them almost every day and that she had to go on all of their tours now and it was easier to be with her this way.

Roger could never help but tell (Y/n) that their situation wasn't going to be forever. In his heart he wasn't sure what their situation would be, come a year or two but he knew that there was no way he was letting her go, she meant more to him than he ever thought she would and he was afraid of a life without her in it.

(Y/n) simply smiled and nodded along with his promises, knowing better than to put her heart and soul into them because there was a big chance they would get crushed. But (Y/n) couldn't care anymore what promises he made to her, even if she knew most of them weren't going to last or be true they never stuck in her mind anymore. She knew their affair couldn't continue if he still wanted to go home to his wife at the end of the day because she wasn't going to stand for it because it wasn't fair.

(Y/n) was already preparing two different speeches in her head, one where she told Roger it was fine to cut their affair off, knowing he would go back to his wife because she was the one he was married to and the one he had a child with. The other speech was her telling him she wasn't going to hurt his family anymore, that she would end it if he didn't.

But either speech wasn't having an effect on her like it should. She wasn't getting upset or angered at the fact the inevitable outcome was not being with the one person she had fallen for. There was a timer in the back of her head that had started before today. It had started counting down how long she had left to be with Roger before he found out what was wrong or before something happened. When she found out the results from the doctors about something that was either going to be a small effect on her health or a timer until her death she would know what to do. (Y/n) had been planning this already and now Sarah was here it had speeded things up.

Her heart had been causing problems leading her to go to the hospital for tests, and there was a chance that nothing could be done for what her heart was doing. She had an uneven rhythm, and it could be due to a faulty valve due to heart disease or it could be a different type of heart disease, and the type they were testing for was one they couldn't treat. If that was the case, (Y/n) had planned to quit being Queen's tour manager and stop working for them, as well as cutting all ties with Roger.

She didn't want to burden them and carrying on with him when there was a timer on her life didn't seem right, it felt like leading him on and trying to self destruct herself. Now it didn't matter what the results were, because either way she wasn't putting Roger or his family through this anymore because it wasn't fair to anyone.

"What's happened?" John questioned quietly, concern showing in his eyes as he took a step closer to (Y/n) who had cramped herself into the back of the elevator when her heart decided to clench and disrupt its usual rhythm.

"I don't know what to do. I shouldn't even be with him, should I?" (Y/n) knew John would never say what she wanted him to. The bassist would never tell her straight that being the other woman had no perks or upsides, or that she held no advantage in this situation because Roger was married and not to her. She didn't have the right to play hurt or play innocent because she was ruining his marriage, his wife was the one who was hurt and the true innocent and John would never be so rude as to tell her this even though she wanted him to.

(Y/n) craved for someone to tell her bluntly what she was already telling herself because then she would be more liable to listen to what was being said if someone told it to her and forced it into her head.

"You can't help who you fall for." It was plain to the band that (Y/n) wasn't fooling around or being with Roger for the sheer fun of it. The drummer wasn't leading her on like he had done once or twice in the past, he may promise her things he couldn't give her but there was meaning behind his words. Roger may have made promises to (Y/n) but she wasn't so desperate or dumb that she believed every one that came out of his mouth. She wasn't with him because of what he promised to give her, she was with him because he was intoxicating and she loved him. 

(Y/n) did love Roger and being the other woman was something she could stand but didn't necessarily like. But if Roger and her were ever together, there would always be that doubt that if he had cheated on Sarah he could easily do the same to (Y/n) without a second thought.

"I have to do the right thing." As soon as the words left her lips (Y/n) allowed her body to crumple to the floor, looking like a piece of paper someone had crushed up and dumped. Her body coiling inwards as she let out a harsh breath, everything beginning to hurt and feel like it had been set on fire as she allowed her eyes to close and the elevator around her to turn black. All of her senses numbing as her mind drifted, body slouching forward to be cradled by the carpeted floor. Her mind turned off before she had a chance to worry about the fact that she wasn't alone in the elevator, and that no one knew of the worries about the condition and state of her heart.

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

Looking around the room (Y/n) tried to find the door that would lead to the corridor in the direction of the lobby. For once the after party of the latest concert was being held in the hotel they were staying at, meaning that she didn't have to call a cab to get back to the hotel at an ungodly hour. Also meaning that she could try and get out of the party and go to her room and escape the prying eyes and now hands of Roger who was trying desperately to talk to her.

Ending things with him hadn't gone as smoothly as she thought it would have. The drummer wasn't taking no for an answer because he wasn't ready to let her go but still didn't want to give up his wife either which caused more problems than it was worth. (Y/n) couldn't carry on like this, her heart was already in bad shape and it couldn't take much more of this. Just as she scuttled out of the vast room and into the corridor a hand grasped her wrist stopping her from running off. Though her heart wouldn't allow any form of exercise other than walking at this moment in time.

After the spell in the elevator (Y/n) had been very thankful it had been John who was with her when she had her spell. The bassist easily believing she had just fainted from feeling unwell and had gladly helped her back to her room. Also promising that he wouldn't tell Roger as she feigned she didn't want to worry him, which (Y/n) didn't but she knew he would be able to tell she was lying about simply fainting. And him finding out about her worries of her heart condition wasn't something she was ready to tell him about yet, maybe not even ever. 

She didn't want to be treated as if she were made of glass and it would be much harder to try and break things off with him and quit working for the band if he knew she was ill.

"Stop running from me we need to talk." He hissed, pulling her back into his chest before taking a few steps away from the room so they could talk without people hearing through the noise of the music.

"Why do you insist on being with me?" Her question caught Roger off guard as he almost choked. His eyes narrowing in on her as he pushed her against the wall, hands resting either side of her penning her in as if to secure her so she couldn't try and make an escape from him. He didn't think they would turn out like this, he thought she would either dump him after a while or they would just fizzle out because he knew to be the other woman to a married man was never something any girl wanted and it didn't have an upside. But she didn't, and he couldn't break off what they had because it wasn't simply a fling to Roger, it was special.

"What kind of question is that?" His question gained no response except her eyes locking with his own, silently pleading for him to give her an answer. "You're special to me, I can't not be with you that's a life I don't want to live." She saw it in his eyes, the hesitation to say something that would lead to a whole different conversation. Everyone thought of love as some kind of fairytale feeling and thus it had lost its meaning.

For Roger to say I love you meant the attraction was one he felt for more than just a day, it meant their relationship gave him a feeling he hadn't felt before because saying he loves his family was different to loving someone else. But (Y/n) had seen the look in his eyes as the words built in his throat but inevitably became swallowed.

Roger hardly ever told his wife he loved her because he couldn't bring himself to say the words he knew held little meaning in his mind and heart. She knew this although she wasn't too happy about it, he expressed his feelings in other words and ways because he just couldn't say those words. Marriage was something he couldn't take seriously either because it was a sheet of paper and a ring binding you to someone else. He didn't see it as a big event that made his life worth living like a lot of others he knew did.

"But your married Rog, you have a family. Doesn't that mean something to you, because it does to me. It means I'm carrying on with someone who shouldn't think twice about me, it means I'm breaking a woman's life and going to ruin a little boys life if he finds out." In her mind, the ring on his finger should be like some kind of sensor or reminder for if Roger looks at someone else like it would give him a signal to remind him of the person he was meant to be with and not cheat on. The thought of her carrying on with someone else behind Roger's back made her sick, and knowing he could be with her when he was tied to someone else hurt but she knew it shouldn't.

"You think I just planned to cheat on my wife? I admit I've been reckless in the past but I really tried this time, but I can't help it because you're a drug to me you mean something and that scares me." His words only made her feel worse, she had come along and twisted his head without meaning to, she had ruined his marriage.

"What scares me is if we carry on your going to realise your throwing your marriage away if she realises you haven't stopped. When you realise I'm a very big mistake your making and I don't want you to one day shout at me for breaking everything you have." She watched as her words seemed to cut the strings on Roger as his expression fell dramatically, his eyes burning into hers so much she had to avert her gaze to the floor.

"So is that it? You don't want to do this because you think I'm going to turn on you when I realise what a fucking prick I'm being?" His words came out slightly harsher than he intended. "I know what I'm doing is wrong and I wouldn't blame you because you didn't force me into this, I thought you wanted this-"

"This isn't going to end nicely Rog can't you see that?" She snapped back in response, watching his eyes darken. "You can't carry on with me because she's just given you a second chance and when she realises you're breaking it she won't give you another. And I can't keep being with you behind closed doors it's not fair on anyone and someone is going to get hurt but I'll gladly be that someone if you just let us go."

"Let us go?!" He almost shouted incredulously, eyes widening as he felt his chest heaving at her words. (Y/n) was fine with being hurt by their ending relationship if it meant everything would be fine for Roger and his wife if he wasn't going to leave her. "I can't let you go." The words were almost a plea that he begged her to listen to.

The way he cradled her face so gently made her knees go weak, and the way he kissed her like his life depended on it like it was the last time he would ever get to do that made her cry. It hurt so much, it hurt to know that she couldn't find it in herself to let him go when it was what needed to happen. Roger wanted the best of both worlds, he wanted his wife and he wanted (Y/n) but it wasn't fair on any of them.

It needed to stop.

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

All she wanted was to sit down with Roger but she couldn't because he was home, where he should be. After their argument (Y/n) couldn't bring herself to avoid him or ignore him because they were working together on the tour after all.

But that was two weeks ago, now they had come back home it had been so easy yet so hard at the same time to ignore him. (Y/n) didn't ring him, barely spoke to him when he rang up or simply ignored the phone altogether and stayed hibernating in her flat. It was fine to ignore him but the yearning to be around him was becoming overwhelming, especially since she hadn't been out of the flat all week. The band always had just less than a month off after a tour to be at home before starting in the studio again, and they had planned to meet up for dinner a few times this week but (Y/n) had to decline due to such throbbing pains in her heart.

Taking a deep breath (Y/n) tried to keep her eyes open but it didn't work, the pain and drowsiness that was consuming her being made it too hard to look at the floor of her apartment she was laying on. The results of her heart hadn't come through yet and now (Y/n) was beginning to fret that it was already too late. Her heart was screaming in her chest and her mind had already blacked out, coming back to consciousness to show her she was laying on the floor but not allowing her to do anything about it.

Rapping his knuckles on the door Roger glanced his eyes around, not being able to lock his attention on anything in particular. Something told the drummer that (Y/n) was home today.

He had called her non-stop since they got back from their latest tour but she had answered only once, and even then the conversation had been short and painful before she hung up on him. She seemed to either know exactly when Roger was going to call or she simply didn't answer the phone at all no matter who was calling. The drummer had finally plucked up the courage to go to her flat when she had cancelled on the band when they went out to dinner. None of them had seen her for the two weeks they had been back and it was worrying Roger to no end. He wasn't stupid, he knew there was something wrong with her and he needed to know what it was and to make sure she was alright because she meant too much to him for him to walk away without knowing.

"Babe open the door, please." Roger pleaded, his knocking becoming more persistent as he tried to control his breathing which was picking up pace. He needed to see her, it felt like he was having withdrawal symptoms and he needed a fix quickly.

A whining cry drawled from her lips that sounded like a desperate attempt to gain Roger's attention, needing someone to hear her pleas. A fire beginning to burn in her chest as her heart continued to beat dramatically like it was being shaken. Fear pulsed along through her veins as she wondered what was happening, her heart had never felt this pressured or agonised before and tears streamed from her eyes at the thought that she was dying. What if this was her heart giving out on her? What if this was it? She needed help, she needed to see Roger.

"Baby what's wrong?! Talk to me what's happened?" Panic was very evident in Roger's voice as he couldn't keep control of his breaths that were escaping his lips too quickly without him taking enough oxygen back in. His stomach muscles tensed and pulled inwards as he started a fight with the door handle that was refusing him access into the apartment.

"Hurts, p-please help me." A pain was growing in Roger's heart rapidly as he started shoving and kicking at the door, tears falling desperately from his eyes. 

This was the first time he had talked to her in over two weeks and she was begging him for help because something had happened to her. He didn't even know what was wrong, she could have fallen and hurt herself, or suddenly come over ill without help. She could even have been attacked and needed his help and he couldn't even get through the bloody door to try and help her.

Profanities flurried from his lips as he growled before the lock on the door finally gave way to his anger. Snapping like a twig and allowing the door to swing open, the drummer falling into the flat in a hurry to find (Y/n). Glancing his eyes around the flat he knew like the back of his hand Roger couldn't seem to find the ability to breathe when he found his girl only a few feet in front of him.

She was laid on her side on the floor next to the sofa, her eyes half open as she tried to look at him but he felt like she was simply looking straight through him as if he weren't even there. Stumbling forward on shaking legs Roger collapsed down at her side, his hands shaking as he scanned her over, unsure of what to do to help because he didn't know what was wrong with her.

"What hurts baby, what have you done?" Roger questioned, pain and agony evident in his tone as he couldn't fight the tears welling in his eyes.

"H-heart pains." (Y/n) breathed harshly through the words as everything seemed to spin in front of her eyes causing her to have to shut them tightly to try and bring back the feeling of being motionless. Realisation swamped her mind that Roger didn't know about her heart problems, and here she was asking him to help her with a problem he didn't know about until this moment. Roger had to force himself to breathe at those two words that sent him spiralling.

What was she talking about, why was her heart suddenly hurting or having some kind of malfunction?

"What? Why what's wrong w- is this why you've been avoiding me? Baby- hey, look at me come on." Pressing his hands either side of her neck Roger ran his fingers gently over her skin when her head lolled to the side like he had broken and become limp. Her eyes staying closed as he attempted to wake her up again, needing her to be conscious as he tried to think about what he could do.

His finger feeling her pulse that was pushing against his skin, feeling that it was uneven meaning there really was something happening to her heart that he couldn't work out.

"Stay with me, I'm gonna help you baby just- stay with me." He croaked, slipping his arms under her frame at seeing he wasn't going to get her to wake up any time soon so he needed to get her to the nearest hospital.

Why didn't she tell him something was wrong?

[oneofyatosfollowers]

One Of A Kind Chapter 3

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20191861/chapters/49790405

Fanfiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13360973/1/One-of-a-Kind

After a week, the pretty human girl had scanned about 20 square miles. Followed- in somewhat secret- every step of the way by Yato. She now found herself in what was once a park, shifting through piles and piles of trash. What ever she was searching for much be important, her search had slowed down here so she could scan every inch. Maybe if she saw how fun it was here, with him, she would give up on whatever she was searching for.

"Now, remember the plan." Yato whispered to the cockroach on his shoulder. Nora squeaked in acknowledgement, her antennas twitching. They hid inside an empty store, on the second floor of the mall. Below, the young woman was scanning the check out area.

Yato and Nora nodded to each other before she leaped off his shoulder and scurried down the escalator. Yato watched as Nora made her way across the large tile floor, and came a couple feet behind the alien. Nora's chirp echoed throughout, signaling the young woman to whip out her gun and fire at the noise.

Yato swallowed a shriek, fingers coming to cover his mouth. He nearly cried in relief when Nora crawled out of the smoking hole in the floor and hissed at the taller girl. The latter blinked at the small insect, slowly putting down her gun. At this, Yato let out a sigh of relief, the plan working.

Nora took a step back to shake herself out and chirping again at the newcomer. The girl's eyes widened at the sight and she put her gun away with a cute gasp.

"A periplaneta americana!" she gently reached out a hand and let Nora inspect it before climbing on. The brown-haired woman then brought the insect closer to her face, holding her palm at eye-level.

"This was one of the few species suspected to still be surviving! But I haven't seen yet so I assumed it wasn't true!" she rubbed a finger along Nora's spine just the way she liked it, causing her to buzz. Yato melted at the sight, then resumed the plan with renewed vigor. He patted behind a collom and took a deep breath, cupping his hands around his filter.

"Nora!" Yato called. More often then not this was met with a blue hyper beam of destruction. This was one of those times.

"Ack! No! Wait- its- wah- its me! Stop!" Yato scrambled behind one column at a time, each one blasted his wake by the trigger-happy girl below.

She stopped shooting at the sound of his cries. "Ugh. Yato!"

"Why hello! Fancy meeting you here!" Yato leaned back against a pile of shopping carts that wobbled before falling on him.

"I told you to stop following me around! I'm on a mission!" her shout carried over his groans of pain. He quickly got up and shook it off, pausing to desperately unhook the wires tangled on his compactor.

Yato hopped over the railing to the first floor. "Don't be like that! Besides, I'm not here for you! I'm here for Nora."

At this she gave him another funny look- one that had increasingly more annoyance in it each time- and put her gun down.

"And what, is a Nora?" she put her fingers to her head. Yato noted with slight hurt that she still didn't put the gun away. He crossed his arms and cocked his hips.

"Not a 'what', a 'who'." Yato pointed down at her feet.

She looked down at the cockroach, then glowered back at the Wall-E, thorughly done with his nonsense. But before she could tell him off again- or better yet, blast him- Yato began quickly tapping his shoulder and made clicking noises. To her surprise, the cockroach perked up, then scuttled over to him and up his leg. Planting herself happily on his shoulder, facing the young woman to chirp.

"This is Nora. Cockroaches weren't perticulally liked a long time ago but they're actually quite smart." Yato said. He booped Nora's face with his fore finger, then froze, and turned to look at the only other person besides him.

"You're not here for her are you?" He sounded reserved, almost scared or hostile.

The girl in white blinked at the tone. After a brief pause, she sighed.

"No. No I'm not."

Yato watched her with a small frown as she leaned back against a bench.

"Why can't you just tell me what it is you're looking for? Maybe I can help you!"

"I told you it's classified!" Her voice rose back to it's annoyed state, "It means it's none of your business!"

"Come on! Who am I going to tell? There's no one here! And I don't have contact with the mother ship! Or any ship for that matter! You're not going to find someone who knows this planet better than me!"

"I already told you, it's not really something you can carry around or keep on a shelf! I can work so much faster by myself instead of you holding up item by item and having me scan each one! "

"Well I wouldn't do that if you told me what it is!"

They both huffed at each other, glaring as Nora looked between them. This common argument ended with her whispering how the information was classified. As awful as it sounded, Yato relished even these interactions. At the very least, his speech was starting to be more 'up to date'.

"Can I at least get your name?" Yato spoke softly, pleading. The young woman squeezed the nozzle of her gun and pressed her lips together.

"Just stop following me around. Leave me alone." She spoke to the floor. Yato watched with slumped shoulders as she stepped quickly out the store, glass doors sliding shut behind her.

Nora hummed against his neck, trying to snap Yato out of it. The silence seemed to stretch on as Yato's systems did a check on what was putting stress on his heart. He held up his finger to nudge Nora away from tickling his neck.

"I think I've been away from work long enough, Nora." Yato said.

The sun was starting to go down, officially making it one month since the space ship brought the brown-haired beauty to Earth. It proved to Yato, at the very least, that people still existed far beyond the Milky Way. There was still a chance for them to return. And when they did, he would be ready and waiting, with a cleaned-up world behind him.

Yato and Nora found themselves self working on the piles near the ocean port two days after his fight with the girl in white. He still watched her on the television, at first doing everything in his power to ignore her, but finding he simply couldn't. He spent yesterday charging, then compressing the shopping carts he jumbled up.

Now most of his squares consisted of old fishing nets and discarded glasses from cruises. His body jumped when he heard the sound of an object flying through the air at break-neck speed. It was a noise that found it's way into his dreams recently. He looked around to see her flying from behind skyscrapers, her eyes and scanner pointing toward the ground.

When she landed on one of the ships, Yato found that he was moving towards her. He didn't want to give up. Maybe he should get her something nice, the people who left to live on Heaven's Sun were said to be very materialistic. Yato didn't realize he was running till he slowed to a jog when she rose up out of the ship. The wind was strong today, and it whipped though her pigtails. Her white suit practically glowed in the sunlight. She was defiantly something not of this world, someone from Heaven.

She flew to the next boat. A large cargo ship made for transporting large hunks of metal or cars. He picked up the pace when her boots caught the attention of the crane magnet. The large disc swayed towards her, she seemed to freeze for a moment before she flew in reverse. The exhaust pipes of her boots hit first, she let out a yelp of alarm.

Yato knew how to turn those things off, but he couldn't fly. She would have to dangle there while he figured out a way on the ship.

"Aarggh! Take this!" Her body twisted and she fired a series of shots at the magnet and flew free. She then turned to fire at the ship. The outside of it cracked open as heat borrowed through it. It couldn't handle the destruction, the ship fell onto the one next to it. Then the next one, and the next one. The boats fell like dominos, each erupting in a ball of fire.

The woman drifted back towards shore, landing softly on the ground between the boats and Yato. She plopped down with her back to him, and pulled her knees to chest. As Yato got closer- seeing the light dance across her face- he found himself feeling the same awe as when she first stepped out of her pod. He then remembered the look she often gives him, and decided to take a slow approach. By the time she noticed him there, and pointed her gun at him, Yato already had the compactor in front of his face.

"It's just me," he said above the roar of the fire. She didn't say anything, but he heard the gun clack on the hard dirt. The Wall-E sat on the ground a little more than three feet away, his compactor on the ground next to him. Yato found himself glancing at her now and again. Her gaze was unfocused, her eyebrows knitted together.

Ceasing his chance, Yato scooched a couple inches closer to her. And again when she didn't look up. The third time he moved closer, he let out a sneeze. Scaring her, her head whipped to face him.

"Gesundheit," she squeaked. Yato yelped at being addressed, the dragged his compactor a little closer. They held each other's wide-eyes before relaxing slightly. Yato kept his eyes on her, even when she turned to look at the fire again. Always on her.

"So, find it yet?" Yato said after some time. She looked at him with tired eyes.

"No," she replied.

"Is it really that important?"

She turned on him with fury he knew wasn't anger, but determination.

"Yes! I can't tell you exactly why- that's classified, you know that- but I would be revered! Someone my family could be proud of, even though it's a job they didn't want for me!"

"I see. Good for you, it's important to do what you want. Even if it's not the same as what your mom or dad want." Yato murmured.

Hiyori rarely shared anything about her life before she landed here on Earth. Whenever she did, she would immediately kick him, or try to shoot him. This time, to Yato's shock, her scanner turned on him again, buzzing when he came up negative. Yato turned to face the fire, not wanting to push his luck.

"So, um," she sounded unsure, "Does that thing you carry on your back, help with your- uh- work?" Her words sounded more confident at the patient, reassuring look Yato tried to convey. He perked up at her question.

"My compactor? Yeah! See, this big square is actually two. The one on the end opens up to be a hallow cube, with one wall missing. This is where the garbage and the second square go." Yato stood and made his way to the closest pile of waste, just enough for once trash cube.

He swung his handle, the empty cube just scraping the ground and scooping up all the trash, with practiced ease. Yato covered the trash with the second iron square and pushed the handle down. It slipped down the cut-out slat on the opposite wall a little farther than normal, but it got the job done. Yato then pulled the handle up, letting the compressed trash roll out.

The woman let out a noise of understanding, even as the trash collapsed sightly. Yato sat back down, this time much closer to her. She didn't move away, instead watching him re-flatten the compactor and fasten it to his back.

"Tada!" Yato pointed at the squished cube with jazz hands. His mouth opened when she actually laughed. How he missed that noise. Yato gave a toothy smile back. After her breath evened out,  her brown eyes flickered down to the ground. He long legs stretched out a bit and her fingers twirled together. They looked at the fire together again, the air lighter as it whipped around them.

"Hiyori Iki." she said. Yato turned to look at her with same smile.

"Huh?"

"My name. You-you asked remember? It's Hiyori Iki."

Yato flipped on his knees to face her, eyes wide and shining.

"Oh? Oh! Hiyoriiki! What a nice name!"

"No, no!" She waved her hands in font of her face and Yato immediately backed off.

"Not 'Hiyoriiki' it's Hiyori. Iki is my family name."

Yato copied her position, holding his own hand over his knees. He had heard of 'family names'. They were something old-money humans had. Yato hummed in acknowledgement and thought of his own name. The one that was miss-read on the application his Father filled out. Yato covered up whatever his expression was with another smile. He then remembered that his mouth was always covered by the filtration mask. No wonder she thought he looked 'creepy', as she put it, he hoped one day she could see his smile for real.

"It's still a beautiful name."

"Th-thank you!" Hiyori's face turned into a nice pink color. Yato felt warm, his body heat had increased. It made it a little harder to breathe. Yato straitened up. No it wasn't him, it really was harder to pull oxygen through the mask. Yato looked around, his sensors buzzing.

"What wrong?" She fell away from him when his speaker started to blare an alarm. The word 'Warning' filled his vision as the wind picked up rapidly. A dust storm. Coming across what used to be the ocean, from behind Hiyori. Yato lunged at her with his hand outstretched, only for his forehead to be met with the nozzle of her gun.

"Hiyori!" Yato looked again behind her wide wide eyes. There was no time to make her understand. The natural disator program in his mainframe kicked in, his body moving almost without thought. Yato whipped off the compactor and dug the handle into the ground, holding onto it with both hands. He pressed his forehead to the squares- effectively covering his face- and shut his eyes.

"Yato? What is it- What's going on?" The ground trembled as Hiyori stood up, turning around just in time to see the storm take her. Her feet left the ground and she tumbled backward, Hiyori could barely see her hand in front of her face.

"Yato? Yato!" The wind tore apart her call, but he heard her anyway.

"Hiyori!" Yato looked around, eyes much more suited for this type of weather. The glowing blue lines of her suit flickered a couple meters behind him. Yato stood on got his ground, putting away the compactor, he made his way towards her. She was looking away from him when he called to her again.

"Yato?" Hiyori looked at him through her helmet, feeling his hand wrap around her wrist. It was large and calloused, warm and slightly damp.

"Come on! This way!" Yato tugged her towards his home, his gps pointing the way on a small map to his lower left. He couldn't stay in these conditions long, so he pulled her to go faster. They ran, her confusion and protests drowned out by the wind in his ears.

"Do you have night vision?"

"Wha-?"

"Do you have night vision? Can you see?"

"No! I can't see a thing!" As if to prove the point, Hiyori stumbled on something Yato served around. At her cry of pain and alarm Yato halted and faced her. The glass of her helmet hit his chest hard, they met eyes for a second before he bent down and gathered her in his arms.

Now he was sprinting, every thud of his legs jostling the girl he carried bridal-style. Hiyori eyes were wild and her mouth worked uselessly. She tried to tell the Wall-E of piles and objects appearing out of nowhere, but he leaped and ran around without a second thought.

Yato came to a stop at some looming structure. He put Hiyori down, but kept a tight hold on her arm. The whirling of a mechanism sounded piercing against the wind. She was then pulled forward, her booting hitting metal. Yato closed the door, and the storm abruptly cut out.

"Yato?" she tried again.

"It's okay. We're safe here."

Hiyori blinked for a moment as unnatural light illuminated the space. Christmas lights and other funny bulbs showed that she was in a rectangle cuboid made of metal. The side lined with rotating shelves, covered in things he collected over the years. He had told her about the cooler of treasures he carried, but she hadn't given it much thought.  

"Welcome to my home! I'm sorry I don't have a place to sit, or a drink to offer, but there's my bed! So make yourself comfortable!" Yato waved his arms around and gestured to everything. He didn't know if she had heard him, if she did she didn't show it. Her wide eyes scanned the shelfs, she brought a hand to cover her open lips.

Yato stayed silent with a smile as she picked up things off the shelfs, throughly inspected it, then gently put it back. She scanned things once and a while but eventually made her way to the back of the trailer.

"We could be in here a while, so I thought we'd watch a movie! It's my favorite, a love story between a- No wait! Don't shoot Mr.Fish!" Yato scrambled to his feet and ran to hit the button on the singing wall fish. The trailer went quiet again as the plastic bass went still. Yato then turned to look at the girl pointing her gun at it.

"It's just a toy. No need to get worked up." Yato tapped the barrel of the gun with his finger. Hiyori glanced at the gun then back at Yato with narrowed eyes. When she let the gun fall to her waist, the man tsked at her.

"Ah-uhn. My house, my rules. That thing goes away. Can't have any holes in the walls." Yato stared with his hands on his hips till she took the hint and re-clipped the gun above her tail-bone. Both their attentions were stolen by the magical noise of the Capybara Movie's musical intro.

"A Capybara Movie? I've never seen this one."

"You know Capybaras?" Yato shouted with glee, "I love Capybaras! This is my all time favorite movie! Aren't they just the cutest thing! There's an amusement park across town but Wall-Es are only suppose to work, so I never got to go. But once I was alone I learned to hack into the coasters! I know which ones are safe so we can go together!" At some point during his speech, Yato started dancing with a silver trash lid on his head. Hiyori let out a chuckle at the sight, his childlike excitement, ignoring the pity in her heart. He sometimes slipped bits and pieces about his life during their conversations. Those pieces did not show a happy picture. Hiyori wished-in these moments- she could take him back with her.

"You know we have a Capybara Land on Heaven's Sun. It's a bit smaller than the old one, but still." Hiyori offered. She had to shield her eyes from the dazzling happiness the Wall-E radiated.

"For real? You do! That's amazing! You have to take me!" Yato pulled her into a hug. Hiyori fought her way out of it.

"Take you? Uh, oh, well I don't know. The ship is really for trained Eve-scouters."

Yato's stomach plummeted. She couldn't take him back with her? She was just here to get something then leave? Was she not just the first one here?  Humanity wasn't coming back?At his pained expression, Hiyori quickly backtracked, palms held up to try and pacify him.

"What I mean is, um, I have to get a ship for the two of us. You know? So I can come. Pick. You. Up?" Hiyori's voice trailed off at the end. Yato's face morphed into something unreadable. No goofy smile. No whining or teasing. He wasn't even blinking, his vivid blue eyes stoping her breath.

"Sure, Hiyori. That sounds nice." Yato quirked the corner of his mouth up. Hiyori tried his name again, but it came out as a whisper.

"But hey, nothing we can do now, right? Let's just watch the movie." Yato made his way to the television, showing the capybaras struggling through a famine. Hiyori squeezed her fist above her heart, then made her way to sit cris-cross next to him on the flat mattress. He pulled her up to dance for every song, spinning her around while she clumsilly stepped on his iron-toed boots. When he talked though the entire movie, pausing only to sing along to the songs, Hiyori only smiled.

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