#its just a casual little test knit no pressure!

[feraltwinkseb]

Does anyone want to test my knitting chart for a Sebastian Vettel ''save the bees'' inspired mittens?

🐝SNEEK PEEK🐝

It's literally just a chart with no instructions so you'll need to know these basic things:

able to read knitting charts

colourwork (stranded)

basic Norwegian mitten construction

seaming

All I am asking in return is to fill a form letting me know what size needles/yarn works best!

If you’re interested just send me a message!

(I don’t know how many people will respond so I don’t know how many people I’ll pick yet, send me your Ravelry profile if you have one too if you’d like)

[lune-hime]

Garden of Tulips (Levi/Reader) Chapter 3

~Click me for more chapters~

“What did it look like?”

“Hmm?” Levi looked up from his place next to your sleeping form. “The titan that tried to snack on my darling granddaughter.” “Ugly as fuck.” “Aren’t they all?”

Levi recounts memories of the reader and their shared life together while she recovers from a serious injury.

!!WARNINGS!! - Violence, gore, smut, wholesome content ;)

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

Tulipa kolpakowskiana ~ A tulip whose golden glow resembles the sunrise of a new day.

↞↠↞↠↞↠

Levi regained consciousness with a jolt, heart racing and tears bubbling behind his eyes.

Another nightmare.

I guess a good night’s sleep was too good to be true. He honestly didn’t remember how he dealt with his nightmares before you, and now you weren’t here to help. Levi had to resist his urge to leap up and crawl into bed next to you. Your well-being and your grandmother’s threat kept him in the guest room.  

The sky was edging with light, signaling it was early in the morning. Levi knew from over 20 years of garbage sleeping habits that he would not fall back into slumber, nor did he want to. Instead, he opted for rising with the sparrows chitting just outside the peeling window. He lifted himself up from the sheets, and groaned as the tightness in his joints fought back. Releasing the tension from his body with several alarmingly loud cracks, he arose and turned down the hall towards your room. The light casted a muted glow over your bed, the sheets bathing in a cool yellow hue. Your form was still as motionless as it was yesterday; arms neatly folded at your sides, hair neatly brushed out of your face. You looked like you a model in a museum exhibit which sent Levi’s stomach churning. Your grandmother must have already attended to your wounds because as he sat down next to you he regarded the fresh bottle of alcohol and roll of bandaging. That would explain your clean look as well. A partially eaten jar of applesauce and used spoon were neatly placed on the nightstand. Levi let out a sigh of relief that you were able to keep some food down.

“Good morning.” He greeted in a hushed tone. Usually in the early hours of the morning, he would be conscious of how loud he was being as to not drag you out of sleep. But now all he wanted was for you to wake up, to respond to his voice. Your skin looked as fragile as glass, with too much pressure you would shatter into the satin. Warmth was rising to your cheeks, though, which was an improvement from yesterday.

He wasn’t sure if you could hear him but he continued to talk to you anyway, about the expedition, about his interactions with your grandmother, about the beautiful tulips. He could have remained by your bedside for an eternity until a rancid smell passed through his nostrils. Repulsed, he looked around the room for a clue to its origin until-

Oh shit, it's me.  

The master bathroom was rather spacious with polished tiles and copper embellishments. The tub was enormous , so large that Levi felt like a child within it. Where had the old woman acquired all of this lavish furniture?

Treading over to the basin he twisted the golden knob and let the water run over his other hand, testing it until it was a soothing temperature. Leaving the tub to fill, he wandered around the bathroom. He turned in the mirror to regard the back of his shoulder. A sparse breath puffed from his lips. He had never actually bothered to look at his wound the night before. His skin was stained a deep purple that spanned most of his shoulder.

Disrobing fully, he carefully stepped into the tub, goosebumps prickling all over his body when the warmth kissed his skin. He sunk into the water, the steam visibly emanating from the pool. Levi let out a breathy sigh and his pupils lulled to the back of his eyes as he relished in the soothing hands of the water. He couldn’t hold back his moan as the water numbed his swollen skin and sent him into a temporary state of peace.

↞♞♘↠

“I feel so icky.” You whined, bouncing in an exaggerated manner. The way your limbs were flailing around made Levi snort. Expeditions were never fun and neither was coming home from one. The unwanted pinching along your ribs, the dull aching everywhere, and discolored plum pigmented spots that bloomed on your skin never failed to be your welcome home present.

It had become a tradition for you and Levi to sleep in his quarters after particularly taxing scouting excursions as he claimed his bath was more effective at getting the blood and soot out of every crevice of the body than yours. Honestly you didn’t doubt his reasoning with all the cleaning products he used on a daily basis.

“Me too.” Levi dittoed, exhaling with a groan as he removed his left boot. The leather leaving his foot made a satisfying pop. Lifting the shoe to his face, he examined the contents with a knit brow. He must have been unsatisfied with what he saw because his features contorted into a grimace and his tongue peeked out from behind his teeth in distaste.

You barely heard the softly spat fucking disgusting before he removed the other one and neatly set them in the corner by the door. Upon releasing his other foot from its confines, he then immediately retreated into the bathroom. As you began removing your own boots, the harsh sound of water running filled the otherwise quiet room. The moment you bent down to remove your shoe, the pinching in your side intensified.

“Fuck.” You hissed breathily, hand reaching awkwardly to massage the tender area.

“What is it?” Levi’s call was distorted by the flowing bathwater. He apparated into the doorway, nimble fingers halting at the fourth button on his shirt.

“Nothing, I just have a cramp.” You explained, attempting to wave his concern off with a small grin. Your foolery was cut short, however, when your body refused to bend further than your knees. You stretched half way down your legs before your body decided that was far enough, leaving you rocking back and forth like an inchworm as you grappled at the lacing on your boot.

Levi pursed his lips, inhaling his almost-chuckle, and left his post in the doorway to kneel before you. He gently rose each foot and slipped both your boots off, cringing when more foreign substances were discovered. Your eyes met in silent disgust, neither of you really wanting to investigate further. Once your socks were removed, Levi’s fingers danced over the sole of your foot mischievously. A crackled squeak left your lips and you lightly kicked him with what strength you had left. He didn’t attempt to cage his laughter this time and his hearty chuckle danced around the chamber.

“I can get my shirt.” You stated, a determined glint shining through the bags under your eyes.

“Oh?” Levi challenged with a hint of jest in his tone. With a raised brow he rose to his feet and disappeared back into the bathroom.

It was going well until you missed one button and that was all it took for you to become a tangled mess. It was like you were playing a game of twister by yourself. Levi barely heard the tiny help that was muffled by the haphazardly folded fabric wrapped around your limbs. You waited for a moment, staring at the inside of your shirt and your arm starting to get tingly from its awkward position at the back of your neck. Then a light tug cleared your vision and you were faced with Levi’s bare chest. He had successfully managed to remove the garment off your constricted torso without causing your side to act up.

“My hero.” You thanked in a sweet voice, more fatigued than you should have been from that ordeal. He responded with a kiss on your forehead before resigning towards the bathroom yet again.

“Do you want to go first?” You proposed, running your fingers through your mussed hair to check for any unidentifiable materials. Fortunately they came back empty handed.

“I thought we could go together.” He suggested, his belt coming undone with a metallic gingle. Once it was coiled and placed in his dirty hamper he turned towards you and waited expectantly.

“Lemme just put my clothes away and I’ll join you.” You said, undoing the buckles of the straps that snaked around your thighs.

“You need help with your pants?” Levi offered casually as he began to fiddle with the zipper of his own.

“Trying to get into them, Mr. Ackerman?” You retorted with the quip of an eyebrow.

“Only if it gets you into the bath faster.” Levi returned your accusation, his eyes shining with amusement. The lazy familiarity in his gaze beckoned you to remove the rest of your uniform with haste.

Now clad in only your underwear, you shuffled into the lavatory a few minutes later. Walking into the room felt like entering the inside of a soothing flame. The candles Levi had lit casted the room in a warm and silky blanket of light and their comforting atmosphere almost made you melt into a pool of candle wax the instant you entered the space.

The luxury of his bathroom was a stark reminder of your days as a cadet and you constantly thanked the heavens that you no longer needed to take community showers. The time you had accidentally walked into the boy’s shower room left a deep scar that had the situation playing forever on a loop.

Your companion had himself already submerged under the frothing water. The airy bubbles outlined his reclined form and clung to his pale skin as if they were afraid he would part from their lavish cradle. The smell emanating from the bath was of lavender, a scent you recognized as Levi’s birthday gift from Erwin. He was too crass to admit it, but the amount of times he used the bath salts and the way his body practically became one with the foam betrayed his indifferent fasad.  

He had not yet registered your presence, the enticing embrace lulling Levi’s eyes shut and parting his rosy lips. Your heart could not contain itself and began fluttering against every surface of your body. He lolled his head back to look at you when your steps hit the tile with a little too much force. His lips upturned and eyes slowly opened into a blissful expression.

Reaching back to unclasp your bra, your gaze momentarily fell to the side of the tub. Just as you began to slide the straps down your shoulders, a slight sloshing of water from the tub halted your movements. Levi was regarding you boyishly, an enamored smile gracing his porcelain features. The pure domesticity of the situation caused a garden of warmth to cultivate in your heart, spreading through your bloodstream and pooling at your cheeks. Your faltering caused a velvety chuckle to rumble through his chest.

“What? I can’t watch you?” He purred, blinking slowly and smiling contently. To him, you were the most exquisite thing in such a grimy world. Even if you were grimy, too, at the moment.  

“I- uh, no it's okay.” You flushed and continued to undress. The garment fell to the floor with a soft clatter. You eyed him once more as your fingers brushed the silky hem of your underwear.

His smile only deepened, and his eyes refracted the candle light and the way the flame danced within them mimicked a sunset along a silvery sky. He had stopped hiding his smiles from you long ago.  

“You know I can’t count the amount of times I’ve seen you naked before.”

You breathed out a laugh, too exhausted, too flustered, and too eager to relax to come up with a snarky comeback. You planted yourself at the side of the tub and made a moving gesture with your hand.

“Scoot up.” You instructed. Levi blinked a couple times before obeying, the bubbles relentlessly sticking to his skin as he glided up the tub. You slipped in behind him, immediately feeling the bruises and scratches of the battle being subdued by the heated water. Guiding his shoulders back so his body was pressed against your chest, he practically melted into your embrace at the feeling of your plush skin.

Delicate hands glazed over his torso, spreading the bubbles up his chest with the tranquil pitter-patter of water. A shiver followed in their wake, chasing the feeling of your touch when your hands left him to lather themselves in shampoo.

“How are you feeling?” You asked sweetly, working your foamy palms through his obsidian locks.

“Nothing hurts more than usual.” He sighed, muscles involuntarily flexing under your minstraitions.

“That’s not what I meant.”

His response was not surprising to you. You had grown accustomed to the delay in response in regard to emotional questions. While Levi often confided in you, he still had his affliction with expressing is inner turmoils. Yet, the closer the two of you grew and the more time you spend together, the shorter that intermittent silence became. Your teeth worried at the inside of your cheek in anticipation as you massaged the clipped hair at the base of his head.

“Nothing hurts more than usual.” Levi repeated but this time with a gentler tone. It signaled not to press further but allowed you to sense meaning behind his words. You nodded in understanding. Seasoned soldiers became numb to the bloodshed of war to a certain degree but any weathered scar still holds the potential to bleed.

“How are you feeling?” Levi asked and gingerly traced patterns along your thigh.

“This expedition seems like child’s play compared to the one in a few weeks.” You said with a tinge of worry lased in your statement. Levi hummed in agreement and craned his neck to give you better access to the area of hair next to his ear. The two of you had avoided talking about it too in depth as you knew what dwelling on heavy tasks during the time of a current expedition would place you both in a bad mental state.

“It will be risky, but Erwin knows what he’s doing. He-” Levi was unable to complete his train of thought when you tugged just right on a section of his hair. He let out a husky moan that mingled with the steamy flush of the tub and what heat resided within your face was now pooled between your legs.

His body went rigid in embarrassment and you immediately halted your massaging. His sensuous reaction surprised both of you but it was endearing that even after all this time, the two of you could still be so bashful in front of each other. You could never get enough of his vulnerability, a side he reserved deeply for you.

“Felt good?” You giggled, smoothing your palms over his shoulders. The plush press of your breasts against his back drew a shaky breath from deep within him. In one fluid moment, Levi sank under the water and reemerged facing you. The sight before you sent an electric stream volting through your nerves. The dark expanse of his wet tresses framed the ravishing galaxy that swirled vividly within his eyes. His canines toyed with his lower lip, determined to get even with you for laughing.

“Not as good as how you are about to feel.” His voice was so low it seemed to vibrate the whole tub and sent a shockwave of pleasurable currents across your skin. He licked his lips languidly, carefully grabbing your thighs and adjusting your legs so they rested atop of his. Now it was his hands that smoothed down the heated skin of your arms, stomach, thighs, the cusp of your breasts, and gliding along your shoulders. He placed tender open mouthed kisses against the shell of your neck, collarbone, and then again to the swell of your breasts. The touch left your skin burning with desire and with every exhale the steam thickly materialized above you. Your body curled into his, the need for friction becoming unbearable. It was Levi who now chuckled in delight when his fingers found your core. The moan he drew from you made him light-headed and left his consciousness as fuzzy as the humidity of the bathroom.

Just as Levi began intensifying his strokes, his movements began to grow lazy. You started feeling sluggish as well, the sultriness of the room lulling you into a sleepy daze. As the immense exhaustion from the expedition caught up with your bodies, the two of you let the water earnestly lap at your slumped forms. For how long, you did not know. Levi’s eyelids drooped and you became aware of the dark lilac bags residing under them. Your sore side too decided it wanted in on the fun and started singeing the right half of your body. You were about to tap Levi to get him to move when his head suddenly dipped, the sweet release of sleep getting the better of him. His head only touched your shoulder for a second before it snapped upward. The disoriented expression he wore caused you to bark with laughter.

“I’m trying to be sexy.” He pouted, the cosmic hue of his eyes fading to a dull gray. He squeezed your thighs playfully.  

“If we don’t get out of this tub soon we are both going to fall asleep and drown.” You squeaked, hitting his shoulder lightly and moving off of him to step out of the tub. He gently held you in place.

“I need to wash your hair first. Turn around.” He said tiredly. You could barely distinguish his request through his lofty yawn.

“Okay, but don’t take too long or we’ll get all pruney.” You remarked after popping a stray bubble caught on his cheek.

~

“SIR! REPORTING FOR MORNING CLEANING DUTY.” The shrill voice cracked with the breath of a fresh morning. Whoever was yelling really had pipes.

“Shut the hell up, Jaeger. She’s still sleeping.” Levi’s annoyed chiding was much harder to hear from the otherside of the closed bedroom door. Shuffling and muffled fumbling for what you expected was the sanitation equipment followed the commotion.

“How are you so energetic at the ass crack of dawn?” Levi tsked and playfully hit the cadet atop the head with a folder just as the boy picked up his duster.

↞♞♘↠

Levi’s head had begun to ache with a dull blurriness after spending a sizeable amount of time in the bath. His temple cooed under the pressured glides of his pruney fingers before resigning to get up, lest becoming the embodiment of a raisin. He heaved himself out of the heavenly pool, dizziness immediately enveloping him when his feet touched the bathmat.

Upon returning to his room he found a freshly folded pile of clothes awaiting him on the leather lounge chair. The garments were a little too posh for his liking but anything was better than the tattered remnants of his uniform. The finished look made Levi huff in mild surprise. The scarlet dress shirt fit snugly on his shoulders and highlighted the curvature of his biceps. He got rid of the excess billowing of the torso by tucking it snuggly into his slacks. The pants were expertly tailored, an indication they originated from a higher class, and complemented every outline and muscle of Levi’s lower half.

Except for length.

Muttering to himself about the inconvenience in the height difference between the previous owner of these clothes and himself, he began thinking of ways to alter the outfit so he didn’t look like a child or walls forbid a hobbit.

After rolling each pant leg up neatly just past his ankles with slight irritation, he perched the suspenders utop of his shoulders and padded over to the mirror. Clearly whoever these clothes belonged to was much taller than he. But he didn’t hate it. In fact, he sort of liked how he looked. He twisted his body this way and that to garner as close as he could get to a 360 degree view. He gave himself an approving nod and grabbed a piece of stationary and a pen before exiting the room. He made his way downstairs but not without peeking into your room once more.

The house had a much different aura than the night before. The sunlight extended its pale tendrils through the polished glass and beckoned Levi to sit at the small table in the corner next to dutch door window. He placed the stationary on the carved wood and gasped when his back suddenly cracked. It was then he realized just how sore and exhausted he still was even after the bath.

He needed caffeine badly. Your coffee addiction was, unwantedly at first, rubbing off on him. Before the two of you were close he had no interest in dirt water as he called it. However, you slowly opened him up to a new world where long nights were made substantially easier and when his tea just didn’t cut it. Levi had been conditioned to like the strong way you made it, but it was indeed an acquired taste.

Thumbs absentmindedly played with the fabric of the suspenders as he scanned the spacious room for a french press. Now that yesterday’s adrenalin had been cleansed from his head, he could see the room clearly. The room was filled with life, literally. Plants were everywhere; potted and leaves overflowing from their confines. The wood was more polished and artistic than his glazed eyes had seen the night before. The decor emitted wealth and pretentiousness yet it gave him the opposite feeling. He felt like he was at home, and he didn’t know what to do with that feeling.

Locating the french press next to one said plant, Levi brewed his drink under the warm morning embrace and the lithe song of songbirds. Once he obtained his cup of coffee, he resigned back to the table and wrote his letter between sips and gazes out onto the yard.

Erwin,

As I’m sure you are aware, Y/N and myself were separated from the left flank during the expedition. We’re okay. We are staying on the outskirts of Krolva.

Y/N has sustained heavy but not lethal injuries.

I’m fine.

Don’t worry your eyebrows off.

Levi

“How long have you been awake?” A familiar gruff voice hollered from the hall. Levi had just finished sliding the letter into the envelope when your grandmother appeared in the doorway.

“A couple hours.”  He said with characteristic plainness.

“You look a lot better than yesterday. Cleaner too.” She commented and returned to the hall to discard her lightweight coat.

“I took a bath.” His thumb eagerly pushed against a paint chip in the elegant coffee mug.

“Well good for you, I’d figured you would know how to properly bathe.” She chided with a jestfull tone. From his seat next to the window, Levi could see the woman shuffling around the shoe rack. He gave her appearance a once over; mud encrusted baby blue paddock boots, an apron with a floral design embroidered into the front pocket and gardening gloves just as dirty as her boots. When her outdoor clothing had been discarded by the front door she padded back into the sunlit kitchen. His eyes were still fixated on the dry dirt that littered her apron, work pants, and shirt. His nose wrinkled automatically.

“I was gathering tulips.” She responded to Levi’s silent inquiry. He simply nodded and when she turned towards him a satisfied smile chuffed her cheeks. Her hands were perched attentively on her hips.

“Well don’t those clothes look nice on you. I was afraid they would be a little loose fitting.” She clicked her tongue approvingly. Levi idly attempted to hide the extremely rolled up pants by crossing his legs at his ankles.

“Those were my son’s clothes. I know he had a couple inches shy of a good foot over you but they suit you. You both had a similar style.”

Levi stiffened when your grandmother revealed who’s garments he adorned. It didn’t bother him, per say, but it did feel a bit strange wearing something that belonged to your father. Curiously intimate. Like this whole experience, Levi reckoned.

“Yeah, they fit alright. Thank you.” His curt response made your grandmother purse her lips. She was determined to get him to open up to her.

“Oh! You made coffee how delightful.” She said giddily as she made a beeline for it. When she had poured the amber liquid into delicate china she took one sip, smacked her lips in a sophisticated manner, and gagged.

“You make it just like her, strong as shit.” Your grandmother muttered sounds of disgust that hid Levi’s breath of amusement. She hastily retrieved the sugar and milk from the pantry and remedied the deathly drink to her liking.

“While I was out there I fed the horses-” She added after a satisfying sip of her coffee.

“And your corps horse is a huge pain in my knickers. You know, in all my years serving in the military I’ve never met such a spoiled creature before.” She ranted as she sauntered over to the tiny corner table. She sat down opposite of Levi, taking her apron off and waving it out to get some dust off. Levi dodged it the dislodged particles.

“The bugger went to bite me whenever I tried to look at his wounds and even feed him. I don’t know how he passed his horsey exams because he’s so disobedient.” She scoffed and took a particularly violent swig of her drink.

“I’ll go check on him later.” He said, furrowing his brows when his cup no longer contained his energy source.

“Humor me. Why don’t you just get rid of the thing? It’s too ornery.” She proposed slyly, the aged wood of the chair creaked as she leaned back against it. Levi noted her posture, she may act prickly but she walks with the grace of someone raised inside the innermost wall.

Levi harbored the same sentiment about the horse. It still blew his mind how Zacharias even chose him in the annual foaling. If he had the choice, Levi would have been born with the ability to wiggle his fingers and magically make bratty horses disappear far away to a distant farm where they would never be heard from again. Scratch that. Anything or anybody that was a brat. What a heaven that would be, half the cadets turning into stardust. Levi’s eyes were glazing over as he became lost in his fantasy but your grandmother’s harsh cough reigned him back in.

“It’s Y/N’s horse.” Levi stated simply. Her mouth formed an O shape and she nodded in understanding. As much as he thought it was a pain in his ass, he loved the smile that creature brought to your face.

“Well, that will do it, huh.” She affirmed pushing off the table and abruptly taking his empty cup.

“How’s the shoulder?” She questioned as she poured a fresh batch of coffee into the reservoir.

“Still aching, but better.” He replied, rolling it around a little to show her. She nodded silently and drew closer, placing the drink gently in front of him. He returned her gesture with a small smile.  

“Do you think you have enough energy to help me with my shipment?” She suddenly inquired, hand resting on the table.

Levi stopped mid sip and looked at her with a quizzical expression. Shipment?

“I have to ship out some tulips today, some dusty politician has a banquet tomorrow.” She said dismissively.

“What about Y/N?” Levi said this as more of a statement than a question. Surely one person had to be around in case something came up. What if she awoke an no one was there to assist her? Even worse scenarios swam through his mind.

“I have a so called housekeeper .” Your grandmother rolled her eyes. Damn your family really was more well off than you had led on.

“I insist that she stops coming but that lass is hellbent on helping me with this estate. If you can even call it that. ” Your grandmother mumbled the last bit. “She comes by everyday around 11 am whether I like it or not. So we will leave once she arrives.”

Levi’s brow knitted with worry. Would a housekeeper be able to care for you as your grandmother did if your body suddenly rejected the applesauce? If a stitch came undone and the river of blood became unclogged-

“Son, don’t worry. The girl has known Y/N all of her life. She’s an apprentice at the apothecary in our village, I couldn’t think of more capable hands besides our own to leave her in.” Your grandmother comforted his silent spiral into anxiety. It was curious how she was able to continue to hone in on what he was feeling.

Levi contemplated her statement for a moment, finger idly running along the rim of the china.

“Sure.” He agreed. Even though the idea of parting with you in this condition made his nerves flare up, you trusted your grandmother with all your heart so that meant Levi should too.

“Splendid, I will begin the preparations.” She cheered, clasping her hands together and pushing off the table.

A warm bowl of oatmeal and another cup of coffee later, Levi found his arms shaking slightly under the wooden crate. Who knew flowers could be so heavy. Of course his body wouldn’t have recovered within a day but he had never felt so exhausted in his life.

“Is there a post office where we are going?” Levi asked asked between heaving breaths as he loaded another crate into the back of the carriage. Your grandmother rounded the vehicle and dropped her gaze to the paper sticking out from his pants pocket.

“Mhmm, we’re going to drop them off in town. It's about a quarter short of an hour's drive from here. From there, a royal attendant will pick up my goods and we can be on our way.” She explained. Before turning, she pointed to the parchment.

“Is it a love letter to the Commander?” She smirked. Levi rolled his eyes and went to grab another crate. With every box he placed onto the polished surface, a waft of fresh scent would pass through his nose. He's never smelled anything quite so aromatic and pleasing before.

“That should be enough. This is one of my smaller orders.” The little woman stated with satisfaction. She turned with the poise of an ex-soldier and moved to sit on the porch steps. Levi mimicked her movements and settled himself onto the heated wood.

"And now we wait for that troublesome girl."

[knicks-knacks]

@sandwyrm how dare you u know i cant back down from a challenge

alright fine, a tiny bit from my Varian/Vol'jin fic where they get taken prisoner at the Broken Shore, taken out of context lol. This is their first meeting within the Tomb of Sargaeras.

tw for imprisonment, mentions of torture/violence/demons, also warning for my weird draft writing

He’s tossed in by the arm, body skidding across the stone floor, and then the door slams shut and the locks click again.

Varian groans. He takes a moment to regain the air that was knocked out of him, and stares at the top of the cage. They give him a vague sense of unfamiliarity, the bars looking- different, somehow. Was he put somewhere else than usual? It’d happened before, a move, but it’d been a long time since...

With one last bracing breath, Varian rolls to push himself up and see more of his surroundings - and promptly yelps when a keen pain shoots from his elbow. He jerks it back to take the weight off and shoves into a sitting position with his uninjured arm. He grits his teeth and closes his eyes through the wave of pain as it fades back into an ache, clutching the offending limb to his body.

When he opens his eyes, he comes face to face with Vol’jin.

Varian freezes where he sits, looking up at the troll in surprise. Vol’jin observes him, nearly unreadable but for the quirk in his brow betraying his own surprise. They stare at each other awkwardly for a moment more before Varian frowns with distaste. He drags himself to the other corner of the cell with as much dignity as he can, as far as he can be from Vol’jin. It's an old instinct rearing its head, a wolf trapped in a cage with a stranger. He scowls at the chieftain, pouring every ounce of threat he can into that one look. Vol’jin curls his lip at him and sniffs, but seems to get the message, keeping to his own corner and turning to instead observe the guards outside their cage. Varian glares at him a moment longer before turning to take in his surroundings - being sure to keep one eye on the troll locked in there with him.

He’s somewhere he’s never been kept before, though all of the rooms in this place look similar. Beautiful, if not left to crumble and rot and be tainted by fel. By habit, he quickly finds the exits - two archways on opposite sides of the room, leading into dim green halls. He clutches his arm and lets his eyes follow the lines of the archways and masonry, and then back again because there’s really not much else to do.

He also observes Vol’jin. The chieftain hasn’t made any move towards him or acknowledged him since that icy greeting he gave. Vol’jin was watching the single demon on guard like a hawk - tracking its every movement and twitch, not paying Varian any mind. He’s still suspicious. There’s no telling why he was tossed in the same cell as him. It could be a trick, a demon in disguise, poised to jump him when he lets his guard down. This might actually be the real Vol’jin, and they put them in here together hoping they’d fight. It could also just be… a mistake. These demons weren’t the brightest.

Then, Vol’jin sits up a bit, ears canting minutely outwards. Varian follows his sightline to see a second demon has entered. It speaks in low tones to the demon on guard - they glance back at the captors for a moment before they both lumber out of the chamber, leaving them alone.

Not an especially rare occurrence, to be left alone with no guard. What were they going to do, escape? Leaving them unattended was an arrogant move that the demons had more than earned.

Still, not having one of those demons hanging around always released a bit of tension within him - as if a weight that had sat on his shoulders so long he’d long since forgotten it was there was taken off of him. He slumped against the bars and then instantly regretted it as the pain returned to his arm at the motion, causing him to flinch and jerk back.

The troll across from him stands and is at his side in a single long stride, and Varian attempts to stand to defend himself, but with how weak he is from the beatings, all he can manage is raised hackles and a snarl falling from his lips. Vol’jin ignores this and kneels in front of him, eyes trained on the king's arm that he clutches protectively to his chest. When he reaches towards him, Varian pulls his fist back to strike him - which the troll blocks easily with his other hand.

“Relax, manthing,” Vol’jin says shortly, looking steadily into his eyes and keeping the unbroken hand held in his fist, “I’m just healin’ ya.”

Varian yanks his hand out of the grip and stares up at the troll. If this was a new form of torture, it was a weird one. Most likely meant to lull him into a false sense of security, give him a shred of humanity, only for said humanity to tear him to shreds with ragged tooth and nail.

But, if this was real…

Varian, muscles taut as a bowstring, hesitates for a long moment. Long enough that Varian almost expects ‘Vol’jin’ to give up the disguise and get to whatever it wants to do. He doesn’t. He only waits.

Warily, Varian uncurls and extends his broken arm to the troll slowly.

Vol’jin takes it - one hand loosely holding his wrist and the other hand hovering below his elbow, not touching just yet. Now the troll hesitates for a moment, and his eyes travel from the kings arm to his scarred face, “This gonna hurt.”

Varian grimaces, and he sounds resigned when he mutters, “Just get on with it.”

Vol’jin squints at him and lets out a breath. Then, he pulls his wrist gently, extending the limp limb a little more, and it twinges again. Varian tries not to think about how easily the troll could tear his arm right out of its socket - even if he wasn’t a demon in disguise. The palm cups his elbow carefully, and Varian watches the trolls brows knit in concentration as rich purple liquid-like smoke bubbles up out of his palm. It does not feel wet when Vol’jin brings it up and presses it to his skin, but it stings as the purple fizzles into pink and bubbles on contact with his skin, like molten iron meeting water. Varian bites his lip through the pain, one eye open to watch it boil and pop around his injury, tinted smoke curling around his arm and dissipating into the air. Then the magic pulls from Varian’s skin, and with it so does the pain and pressure. He watches with fascination as the fluid drips upwards, crawling around Vol’jins arm in veiny patterns. It all gathers around the chieftain’s own elbow and seeps into his skin until nothing but a wisp of smoke remains, fluttering sedately for a moment before fading completely.

Varian, assuming it done, tugs his arm a bit and Vol’jin releases him. He twists and flexes it for a moment, testing, and is a little amazed to feel nothing but a very dull ache. The swelling even seems to have disappeared.

He glances back up to see Vol’jin studying his own arm, inspecting the place that the magic had seeped into, rubbing it slightly. He must feel Varian’s eyes on him for he glances over and immediately stops. With nothing but a frown, Vol’jin pushes up and flops down on his own side of the cage, lounging almost casually with his arm resting on his raised knee. He goes back to watching the door.

So… It’s the real Vol’jin, then? The magic, whatever it was, didn’t have a trace of fel in it. He’s tempted to ask what it was Vol’jin just did, but something told him any inquiries he might have would be shot down. So he keeps his questions to himself. There was one thing in order, though.

“Thank you, Warchief.” Varian says, voice quiet, but with an earnestness that surprises even him.

Vol’jins amber eyes slide over to study him for a moment before he blinks slowly and turns them away again, “... You’re welcome, ya Majesty.”

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

Whumptober No. 2

“What is the nature of your medical emergency?”

Rios could imagine the EMH flickering into existence beside him, asking his ridiculous question even while looking at the bone sticking out of Cris’ arm. Of course, the hologram had been programmed to go through a standard catalogue of inquiries, but after several years of service aboard La Sirena, including a variety of medical emergencies (all of them involving Rios, the only crew member with an actual human body), Cris had a feeling the EMH had stuck to that question only to annoy him.

How he wished he’d annoy him now. 

Cradling his broken arm, he gingerly shifted to find a better position leaning against the spiky wall of rock that made up his prison cell. Not that there was a lock or even a door. Not even a force-field. The cave-like structure had a roughly triangular shape, its tip opening to a corridor that disappeared into a right turn. It was mocking Rios to get up and run, but even if the pain in his arm didn’t make him gag at the simplest movement, the collar around his neck kept him from even trying.

Oh, he had tried, of course. He’d pushed himself to his feet, breathing through the agony that lit up in his arm, and taken a few unsteady steps to the exit. But, nearing some sort of invisible trigger, he’d felt the thin, cool band around his neck starting to hum in warning. And then the pain had hit him. Not like an electric shock. That was child’s play compared to the searing, all-consuming wave that had travelled through his blood and bones - broken or whole - while refusing to grant him the mercy of unconsciousness. All he’d been able to do was drop to the ground and ride it out, waiting for the agony to pass or for death to please please end it. 

It had passed, eventually, after seconds or minutes or hours; he couldn’t be sure. He’d fallen asleep after, right where he’d dropped, and dragged himself back to the furthest wall of his cell when he’d woken again, shaking and with his arm pounding as he tried not to move it. Whatever technology was behind that fucking collar - he was not going to test it again.

Thus, he’d resorted to waiting. Waiting for his crew (he had a crew now, he reminded himself) to either break him out or get the Hul’t’arah what they wanted: six tons of Anthysium, a rare mineral from a small planet in the Delta Quadrant. Rios had no clue what the fuck the Hul’t’arah were planning on doing with it - it was mainly used as a medicinal ingredient - and, honestly, he didn’t care right now. All he wanted was to get out of here before his arm could fester and fall off.

Stupid enough of him to let himself get captured in the first place. Even more stupid to put up a fight when two hairy, six-eyed, seven-foot tall humanoids with the strength of an ox had you by the arms. He’d paid for his resistance with a casual twist of his wrist that had snapped his ulna and radius like twigs, one jagged bone end sickeningly penetrating his skin. He’d screamed. He’d thrown up. He’d become used to the sight and the pain in the last… what? Two days? Three? 

But he had a crew now, he kept telling himself as his stomach churned from hunger and pain and the open wound on his arm wept suspiciously milky fluid onto his dirt-encrusted pants. A crew that consisted mainly of holograms, but with the recent addition of a little blonde doctor who’d stuck around, an old former Star Fleet Admiral who frequently booked him as a pilot and a recovering addict who sometimes came along for the ride. 

They weren’t exactly the cavalry, but they were on board of La Sirena, and he was pretty certain they would not just let him rot down here.

And they didn’t. Later, when he’d curled up into a ball against the onset of fever chills, his arm throbbing with every heartbeat, he was roused from his haze by noises outside his cell. Animalistic grunts. The hiss of phasers being fired. Bodies dropping to the ground.

Two figures stepped into his cell, and in the murky darkness, Rios recognized the wild curls before Raffi squatted down in front of him, Soji at her side.

Soji?

“Cris, babe, we’ve got to go. Can you stand?”

Raffi helped him uncurl and flinched at the sight of his arm. It was Soji who hooked him under on his good side and easily, gently pulled him to his feet.

Rios gasped a Spanish curse when a wave of pain rolled over him. His head swam.

“I c-can’t get out of here,” he stammered. “I can’t… the collar.” He stretched his neck to display it. “It’s tr-triggered when I-“

But Soji was already on it. Her free hand closed around the thin band, and Rios felt a tickling sensation, then heard a crack, like wood splitting in heat, and the collar fell away.

Raffi kicked its broken halves aside and carefully slung her arm around Rios’ other side. In spite of the women’s support, he felt his knees threatening to buckle.

He shook his head.

“I can’t w-walk.”

“You don’t have to, babe.”

Raffi plucked something rectangular from her belt and attached it to Rios’ chest like a com badge.

A flickering pillar erupted above their heads.

“Channel established! Three ready for transport!” She spoke loudly, locking eyes with Soji.

“Aye, Raffi,” Picard’s voice, distorted, sounded from a distance. “Hold on tight.”

Picard’s warning was justified. This transport was a rough ride that had nothing to do with the seamless blink-of-an-eye relocation of molecules Rios was used to. As Raffi and Soji held him by his belt and around his back, he felt a wrenching sensation travelling through his body. They had to be breaking through some kind of force field. He wasn’t sure if he screamed - there seemed to be no air in his lungs, in the spray of pixels that was his lungs as his body was dissolved and then reassembled in a dizzying whoosh. Every cell in his body burned when he landed on a hard surface, eyes closed against the pain. Hands were on him immediately, and then he finally heard it:

“What is the nature of your- oh, bloody hell!”

It was the permission Rios needed to sink into unconsciousness.

***

He woke to the smell of very clean surfaces, humidified oxygen and Agnes. Her hand was at his cheek when he opened his eyes. Her face - tired worry lighting up - appeared above him, haloed by circular ceiling lights. 

Sickbay.

“Hey,” Agnes said softly, mouth widening into a grin.

“Hey.” Dios, he sounded awful.

“How are you feeling?” 

Rios swallowed, looking down at himself. Most of his body was covered by a medical blanket, but he could see - even if not feel - his injured arm. It was encased in a holographic ossifier that was blinking and whirring away as it knit his bones back together. Underneath the blanket, he felt his skin prickle where the biobed’s micro-injectors fed medication into his system. An oxygen clip tingled under his nose. There was no actual pain, but his whole body felt heavy and flattened to the bed as if coming out from under a serious illness.

Mierda.

“I guess- ” He had to clear his throat. “I guess I’ll be al- “

“You will be perfectly fine, Captain Rios,” the EMH chimed in, materialising by the bed. “Now that the sepsis is abating and the compound fracture in your arm is fusing. Although we did have a bit of a close call when your kidneys were attempting to shut down - a process, which, quite fortunately, I was able to reverse in time.”

Rios rolled his eyes at the hologram’s self-indulgent gloating. Agnes chuckled.

Weakly, Rios lifted his good hand and waved it at the EMH. “Deactiv-”

“THAT won’t work,” the hologram said with barely covered smugness. “Not until your body functions have returned to a satisfactory level. Remember?” He pointed at himself with a tricorder that had appeared in his hand out of thin air. “Emergency hologram. Self-activates until the emergent situation has been fully resolved. It hasn’t.”

He fucking smirked. Rios felt his head beginning to ache. 

Frowning convincingly, the EMH looked at Rios’ vitals projected against the wall of the cubicle. 

“Your blood pressure and cortisol output are elevated,” the hologram observed, immediately wielding the tricorder to point it at Rios. “Are you experiencing any kind of discomfort?”

Yes, Rios thought, it’s called ‘annoyance’.

“No,” he said as firmly as possible, when Agnes looked at him with new worry. “I’m fine.”

“Still,” The EMH replied, checking the tricorder’s readings with exaggerated concentration. “I would like you to get more rest. Your body has been through a serious trauma and needs to repose.”

Rios would have liked to roll his eyes again, but it hurt his head too much, so instead he merely sighed while Agnes, instinctively, stroked his forehead. 

“He’s right,” she said gently. “You should sleep. You look exhausted. And you’re not missing out on anything. Picard, Enoch and Emmett have things under control.”

The old man, his Irish fanboy and the tattoed narcoleptic. 

Rios’ headache intensified. He closed his eyes with a groan. 

“Rightt, that’s enough.” 

Something beeped and, alarmed, Rios tore his eyes back open.

“Oye! You’re not going to inject me with-“

Too late.

He heard the hiss of the hypo spray and felt its cool contents permeate the skin of his neck. The last thing he registered before sleep took him was the EMH’s sorrowful remark:

 “He really doesn’t get any nicer.”

__________________________________________________________

(Read all my Whumptober 2020 fics on AO3, here.)

[lallemanting]

59!!!!

ah kat! thank you for sending this in, sorry it took me awhile lol 💛 hope you enjoy!!

#59 from these autumn prompts: scary movie // also on ao3

Autumn is undoubtedly Eliott’s favorite season. The weather is cool and crisp, but not freezing. There are vibrant reds and oranges and yellows, coloring the world in shades of sunset at all hours of the day. The food is warm and rich and decadent, the stuff that clings to your bones a bit and makes you feel at home. 

Not to mention it makes a beautiful backdrop for a certain boy that never seems to leave Eliott’s mind these days.

He and Lucas have been teetering on that line for a while now is the thing. Eliott can’t help but notice the looks, the constant texting, the occasional flirting that took a while for him to catch onto. He’s always been a bit oblivious when it comes to that stuff, generally making the first move, making himself clear and letting the other person catch up.

But with Lucas it’s different. Eliott’s had a bit of a crush on him since he first transferred to his school – has always appreciated his deep blue eyes, the way his hair seems to have a mind of its own, the fierce loyalty he shows his friends. But at the time, when Arthur had first introduced him to Lucas, when he had welcomed Eliott into their friend group, Eliott hadn’t wanted to risk losing the only friends he had. Not to mention he’d still been with Lucille. So he hadn’t done anything about his feelings, just letting them stay there, close to his heart.

But a few months ago, things began to change. Or maybe it’s just that Eliott started to pay more attention. 

It was something Basile had said actually, that had made him start to wonder. They’d all been sitting at a café – Eliott, Lucas, Yann, Arthur and Basile – and Lucas had gotten up to grab another coffee. Bas had asked him to get him a snack and Lucas had told him to stop being a lazy piece of shit and get it himself. But then he’d turned to Eliott and quietly asked him if he wanted another coffee too.

Eliott hadn’t really thought anything of it at first, but Bas, annoyed at Lucas’ lack of empathy at his apparently growling stomach had leaned across the table, whining as Lucas had made his way to the counter. “Why does Lucas always do nice stuff for Eliott but not for me?”

Yann had shot Bas a glance, his jaw clenched. “Because you’re an idiot.”

That had made Bas go off on another tangent about how everyone was always mean to him, but it had made Eliott think. And the more he thought about it, he realized that Lucas did tend to treat him differently than everyone else.

Lucas was nicer to him, more attentive, paid him more compliments, invited him to more things. And maybe, hidden there in all of that, there had been some flirting. 

(But Eliott had always been bad at subtlety, so he wasn’t really sure. When he wanted something, he tended to go for it, lay his cards on the table in a way that really couldn’t be ignored. He’s never really had to do this before – play it safe.)

What Eliott does know though is that he treats Lucas differently. A good different. 

Because the thing is Eliott knows his heart beats faster when he sees his phone light up with a text from Lucas, is well aware of what he’s doing when he compliments Lucas just to see the way his cheeks blush in beautiful shades of pink, seeks out every opportunity to be near him, touch him. 

But he doesn’t know what it means for Lucas.

Maybe that’s the problem – it’s only ever been this surface-level stuff. Friendly banter, gentle flirting that could seem unserious, light touches that could mean nothing. And maybe it’s supposed to be like this, maybe Lucas wants this to be the extent of their relationship, but Eliott knows he’s falling and he’s falling fast. 

He can’t figure out if Lucas is falling too. 

It’s timing, after all. The timing has always been off. When Eliott first met Lucas, he’d been with Lucille, and even though he’d immediately noticed Lucas, it wasn’t like he could do anything about it. And then they’d actually started talking and it turned out they got along great – better, in fact, than Eliott had ever gotten along with anyone before. 

But he sorted out his feelings too late, much too late. By the time he ended things with Lucille for good, the subtle flirting had just become part of their relationship and Eliott had somehow managed to become Lucas’ friend instead. 

It wasn’t that Eliott didn’t like being Lucas’ friend, but these days they walk the gentle line between friendship and what could be and it drives Eliott crazy.

They’re sitting at lunch one day towards the end of October, just the two of them. Eliott is trying to focus on his food, he really is, but there’s a bright yellow tree just outside the window they’re sitting by and the sunlight is streaming in at just the right angle and from where Eliott sits, Lucas looks like he’s been lit in a heavenly glow.

So when Lucas says something, Eliott has to ask him to repeat it.

“I asked what you were doing on Friday,” Lucas says casually. 

Eliott nearly chokes, his heart skipping like it does every time Lucas asks him to hang out. (Because maybe this time, it might mean something different.) “I don’t think I have plans.”

“Want to go to a movie?” And Eliott can’t help the way his thoughts spiral out of control at Lucas’ question. A movie? Just the two of them? 

He’s slow then, testing the waters, trying to figure out just what this is. “Uh yeah, sure. What movie were you thinking?”

“Well, there’s that new horror film you know, for Halloween? Thought that might be kind of cool.”

And there are two things Eliott knows with absolute certainty: 1) he hates scary things, especially horror films and 2) he’d go anywhere if Lucas asked him. So unfortunately for him, he’ll be going to this movie.

“Yeah, sounds good,” Eliott says like he’s not at least a bit hesitant to have to sit through an hour or two of intentionally scaring himself. But it’s fine, better than fine actually, because he’ll get to spend time with Lucas.

Lucas smiles at him, taking another bite of his sandwich. “Okay I’ll come by your apartment around 7? And we can take the bus to the theater together.”

Eliott’s mind is racing and he can’t believe that this might finally be what he’s been hoping for but then –

“We’ll meet the rest of the boys there since they live in the opposite direction.”

And oh, Eliott tries hard not to pay attention to the way his heart drops at the mention of the other boys. He likes them, he does, but this means it’s a friend thing, a platonic thing. It means it the same as it always is.

– 

On Friday Eliott finds himself sitting there in the dark theater, trying to keep his attention on the screen. He’s trying to focus on the idiot family walking into their (clearly haunted) house. He tries to listen as the father reassures his family that the rumors aren’t true, the house is just old. But the thing is – and isn’t it always this – Lucas is there, sitting so close to him their knees are almost brushing, and Eliott is finding it hard to pay attention to anything else.

It’s heartbeats and breaths and gentle knees. A glance as Lucas offers Eliott more popcorn, a little shake of his head to say no, the settling back into the seats, fingers inches from each other.

And Eliott is dying.

But it can’t be like this, he won’t survive the two hours in the theater like this, so he turns his attention back to the screen, trying to get invested in the movie (even if he knows he’s going to hate it).

And it’s just his luck that as he turns his attention back, focuses all his energy on the story unfolding in front of him, something black and dark and scary with a gaping mouth and dead eyes pops up on the screen and Eliott nearly screams.

It’s this, Eliott hates this feeling of losing control over his reactions, his body kicking into fight or flight mode, pulse racing, muscles frantic. He needs to be grounded.

So without thinking, in the split second that it takes for his eyes to catch up with brain, in the moment it takes between the fear and the recognition that it can’t hurt him, Eliott reaches for the one thing that makes him feel safe: Lucas.

His hand finds Lucas’ and then he’s clenching Lucas’ fingers tightly in his own, his shock from the scare making him lose his ability to fight the urge to hold Lucas’ hand, the urge he’s been pushing down for months.

He squeezes Lucas’ hand. And Lucas squeezes back.

It brings Eliott back into himself, that feeling of Lucas’ hand responding to his, pressure that anchors him, touch that sets him on fire. He glances over at Lucas and Lucas’s face is split into a wide smile as his eyes finds Eliott’s and he’s laughing, chuckling at Eliott being scared by the movie. Because to Lucas it’s no big deal, he watches these movies all the time, they don’t surprise him.

Eliott rolls his eyes and he’s very aware of Lucas’ hand in his, the feeling of skin on skin, reveling in his touch. But then he’s remembering that as much as he’s wanted to do this, they don’t do this. They don’t hold hands. It crosses their unspoken line, bends their informal rules too much.

And the last thing Eliott wants is for Lucas to feel uncomfortable. So as he turns around, eyes trained back on the screen, he moves, just a little, to let Lucas’ hand drop from his own, go back to that space of platonic friendship with a dash of flirting. 

But as he relaxes his grip, moves to bring his hand away, his eyes trained on the movie in front of him, he feels Lucas’ hand chase his, grasping it again and lacing their fingers together.

Eliott can’t breathe, he really can’t. They don’t hold hands. And they certainly don’t hold hands like this. It’s the line, the one that’s been drawn for so long – you can flirt, but only just. You can touch, but not too long. Interlacing fingers are not part of the game they play.

Eliott gasps at the contact, reveling in how good it feels to have Lucas’ palm against his, fingers intertwined, knitted together under the armrest, resting on the scratchy fabric of the seats. He glances back towards Lucas, looking for a sign, something that will tell him why Lucas is doing this, why now. But all he finds is Lucas looking stoically ahead at the film on the screen, though maybe the hint of a smile plays at the corner of his lips. It’s too dark to see clearly. 

And Eliott could panic. He could snatch his hand back, break the contact rough and sharp, stay behind the line that’s become his comfort zone, scared that moving outside it might change their relationship irrevocably for the worst. That he might lose Lucas, his deepest fear realized, ending up alone.

But now Lucas, it seems, is pushing that line a little farther, pressing on the limits of what they’ve allowed, testing to see how Eliott responds. And if this is his chance to make his case, Eliott can’t let it slip away.

He pulls their joined hands onto his lap and lets them rest there, tracing shapes with his thumb. He turns back to the screen and normally he’d have to look away, normally he’d be hiding his eyes, fear gripping his chest, heart beating rapidly as he watches terror unfold.

But a different kind of fear has taken its place, with Lucas there, hand in his. But this fear is lighter, more exciting and daunting. Less fear really, and more nervousness, his mind racing quickly thinking what is this, what does it mean? And there aren’t answers yet and there can’t be, not really, as they sit in the dark, fingers laced. 

In the end, Eliott doesn’t watch the movie really. The pictures flash in front of his eyes, but his heart is beating so loud it drowns out the screams and creepy music echoing from the speakers. For a moment, Eliott almost laughs to himself at the setting because he’s always been a hopeless romantic, has imagined holding Lucas’ hand like this for so long but it’s never had this backdrop – no matter how fitting for an October evening. 

But it doesn’t matter really, because sitting like this in this moment, the only thing Eliott knows is the fire burning in his chest, Lucas’ gentle touch the spark that set it aflame.

–

When the credits roll and the lights begin to come up Lucas finally lets go of his hand. They must have been sitting there like that for nearly an hour. But Eliott gets it –  the light always makes it harder.

Eliott is also a little grateful because the last thing he needs right now is for one of the other boys to see and ask about it. It would undoubtedly become a thing and Eliott doesn’t think he’d be able to keep of his facade of being only interested in Lucas as a friend if he gets hit with too many questions.

So when the lights turn on, Lucas pulls away and Eliott lets him go. 

As they all make their way out of the theater, Eliott finds himself in a daze, his head swimming, his heart bursting, nervousness piercing his chest. And he looks to Lucas for the next move, for what comes next, only Lucas isn’t looking to him.

In fact, Lucas doesn’t look at him at all as they walk out of the darkened room, down the hallway to the lobby and eventually out the doors onto the sidewalk. Instead, Lucas runs up to whisper something to Yann and then they’re joined by the rest of the boys loudly talking about the parts of the movie that scared them or were particularly gross, as Eliott trails behind. 

Out on the darkened sidewalk, out in the cool night air, the fire that had been burning is starting to wane and Eliott feels his confidence and excitement failing him as Lucas continues to ignore him. Sure, Eliott wasn’t expecting a frank discussion of what happened in front of everyone else, but maybe just a glance, something to let Eliott know it affected Lucas as much as it affected him.

As they all stand there saying their goodbyes, Eliott starts to panic. Because this is where they head off in separate directions, where Eliott and Lucas generally head to their area of the city, and the other boys go the other way. 

And Eliott had thought they’d be heading back together, him and Lucas, but Lucas is standing off to the side, whispering with Yann and maybe, Eliott thinks, he’s trying to find a way to stay over at Yann’s so he can avoid the awkward walk home with him. 

Eliott’s thoughts are spiraling a little out of control when Yann suddenly gives Lucas a look and shoves him gently in Eliott’s direction. 

“Come on boys,” Yann says loudly, clapping Arthur and Basile on their shoulders. “Let’s head out.” He nods in Eliott and Lucas’ direction, where Lucas has ended up standing closer to Eliott, his back to him. “See you two later.”

And then the other three are turning up the sidewalk and heading out into the darkness, leaving Eliott alone with Lucas. His heart is beating so fast, Eliott is scared it might burst out of his chest.

He just needs to reassure Lucas, he thinks, make sure he knows they can still be normal, that it doesn’t have to be anything more, no matter how Eliott feels. He opens his mouth to say that when Lucas whirls around.

His eyes meet Eliott’s for the first time since they left the theater and there’s something new there, that Eliott can’t quite place. It’s not bad, but it’s strong, determined. He smiles gently at him. “Can I walk you home?”

Eliott nods.

It’s not a particularly long way to either of their places. The bus is quicker, but Eliott and Lucas had both gotten in the habit of walking home when it wasn’t too far and there wasn’t a certain time they needed to be somewhere. They could take their time that way, hang out for just a little bit longer. Or, at least, that was always why Eliott had suggested walking.

They walk in relative silence through the dark streets, night falling earlier and earlier with each passing day. It’s rained since they’d gone in for the movie, the cobblestone streets reflecting in the light from the lampposts, and leaving the air cool but fresh, a slight mist swirling. Eliott takes a deep breath. He loves nights like this.

They’re walking side by side, and despite Eliott’s fear, Lucas isn’t really keeping his distance. Their shoulders are close, their hands closer, and Eliott can’t help but notice the warmth of Lucas’ body next to him. 

Eliott wonders if he should say something. There’s silence, yes, and it’s not necessarily uncomfortable, but he also doesn’t want to go home without at least talking about it. He turns words over in his mind trying to knit them together into something smooth and cohesive, something to mask his nervousness, his feelings, as they get closer and closer to his apartment.

And they’re walking so close it’s bound to happen and maybe, Eliott thinks later, it was intentional, but their knuckles brush as their hands hang at their sides and Eliott feels the fire light up again.

So it’s not his fault, really, when he reaches for Lucas’ hand again. When he grabs Lucas and tries to intertwine their fingers like they had only a little earlier in the evening. 

Only he feels Lucas stiffen slightly at his touch, pulling his hand away and then Lucas stops moving, rooting himself to the concrete sidewalk.

All Eliott can think is shit and then he’s feeling slightly nauseous as he turns to face Lucas where he’s stopped on the street, bracing himself for what he’s sure is coming next. Kind, gentle words that will inevitably break his heart.

And when he turns to face Lucas, he finds him staring straight at him, his face slightly contorted, a little frantic. Lucas takes a deep breath and Eliott suddenly loses the ability to speak.

But luckily it seems like Lucas has also been thinking of things to say on their walk because he’s taking another deep breath as he looks at Eliott.

“Eliott,” he says quietly, his voice small in the darkness. “When you held my hand in the theater, were you holding it because you were scared or because it was my hand?” 

And Eliott wasn’t really prepared for a question, and certainly not that one. He swallows, his eyes flickering over Lucas’ face, trying to discern why he’s asking.

“Eliott,” Lucas repeats and Eliott knows he can’t get away without answering.

Eliott shrugs, his hands finding the pockets of his jeans as he tries to keep Lucas’ gaze. “I uh...well,” and it’s now or never, “I just wanted to hold your hand.”

And Lucas is still looking at him, but he’s burning brighter, if that’s possible, as Eliott speaks. Eliott feels the words hang heavy, because for the first time, Eliott has intentionally crossed that invisible line they’ve drawn, has been clearer than he’s ever been before about how he feels. And he hopes Lucas hears him, he hopes it wasn’t a mistake.

Lucas isn’t saying anything again, and his gaze drops to the floor as he takes a deep breath. Eliott is just starting to regret saying anything at all when Lucas looks back up at him and something is there that wasn’t before.

“Fuck it,” Lucas whispers, his eyes blazing, and then he’s taking the last two steps towards Eliott, grabbing his face and kissing him quick, pressure barely there and then gone again.

Eliott’s eyes go wide, and he has no chance to respond, the pressure of Lucas’ lips against his own barely there long enough for his brain to register it as something other than wishful thinking.

When Lucas pulls back, his hands stay on either side of Eliott’s face and he’s looking at him like he’s waiting for some sort of reassurance that they’re on the same page.

And even though Eliott’s imagined confessing his feelings to Lucas hundreds of times, he’s not prepared for this, was never prepared for Lucas to make the first move, so the shock takes over and his mind goes blank as his heart soars.

He can’t believe this is finally happening.

Only, maybe Lucas can’t tell what he’s thinking because suddenly Lucas’ warm hands are gone from the side of his Eliott’s face, and moving instead to cover his own as he steps away from Eliott.

“Fuck,” he moans, hiding his face in his hands, “I am so sorry, Eliott. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He moves his hands, letting his arms drop to his sides, but he’s looking at the ground. “I just, I don’t know, I let myself get excited when you held my hand and…”

“Lucas,” Eliott whispers, as his brain catches up with him.

“Fuck,” Lucas says again. “I’ve just had a crush on you for so long and Yann was saying…” He manages to lift his eyes then, locking onto Eliott’s. “Well it doesn’t matter what Yann was saying. It’s fine if you don’t feel the same–”

Eliott doesn’t let Lucas finish. He can’t. Not when he’s looking so sad under the yellow glow of the streetlamps, his hair messy from the wind, his cheeks pink from the cold (and a little from the moment, Eliott thinks). He reaches out, one hand clasping Lucas’ wrist and he pulls him close, the other hand reaching up to brush along Lucas’ cheekbone, moving to wrap around the back of his neck.

And then their lips are touching again, only this time it’s stronger, more sure, because Eliott knows. I’ve just had a crush on you for so long.

It takes a minute for Lucas to catch up but then he’s relaxing in Eliott’s embrace and he’s kissing Eliott back, strong arms wrapping around Eliott’s waist, pulling him closer. They sway into each other on the sidewalk, lips moving, Lucas grasping at the front of Eliott’s jacket, Eliott cradling Lucas’ face in his hands.

It’s like a dam has opened and Eliott can’t get enough. He pulls back from Lucas slightly, laughing, unable to stop the smile that’s spreading on his face. 

“So if you couldn’t tell, I have a crush on you too,” Eliott says, letting his thumbs dance across Lucas’ cheeks.

Lucas grins at him, shaking his head slightly. “I think I got that,” he whispers, closing the space between them again.

Lips touch, mouths open, and the line, the one they drew for so long, is smashed to pieces. But they don’t think twice as they leave it shattered there on the sidewalk. With Lucas’ hand in his, for real this time, Eliott thinks there something to be said for breaking rules.

[angstars]

hello!!! can i request rei, natsume and wataru for 11 pm and 1 am? c:

ofc babu *^* im sorry this took awhile!

ミ☆

[11:11 PM] with Rei

The sky rains heavy tears on your already drenched form, unnoticed to you when the feeling in your chest just seems to numb everything there is. The streets are empty, street lamps not bright enough to light the road much like how it seems with the feelings coiling inside of you.

It's a strange feeling to be so hurt; feeling so damaged yet unable to feel at the same time. Your heart automatically shielding you from the pain but the numbness makes you frustrated. How were you supposed to face him again when you can't understand what you're feeling?

The rain pours heavily on you. Water droplets heavy and loud as they make contact with the pavement you walk on but it drowns when you hear your name called. Somehow... he's standing in front of you; six, seven steps away from where you are and it's suddenly hard to breath.

A step closer to you— you take a step back.

He looks hurt when you do and your heart is numb. Your name is whispered cautiously, testing your reaction and when a look of hurt crosses your face he freezes.

“I’m sorry,” you start because you never wanted to act this way- not in front of him. There wasn't an explanation to how you were feeling. Perhaps the week had been too pressuring and unable to let it out, it bottled up before spilling over when you couldn't finish a certain task before its deadline.

Rei had been there when you ripped the documents apart in frustration, the assignment no longer of use and he looked so taken aback, you rushed out without another word. It was already late and the walk to your apartment was quite before the rain started and your heart builds a shell to protect you from the cold.

The rain lightents a little, maybe in accordance to the crack in your walls when Rei takes three steps forward. “You don't have to say anything, but please,” he takes another step forward and stops when you flinch. ”it’s alright to rely on others once in a while. I'm here.”

The walls crumble, shattering to pieces and maybe it was never there when Rei takes your hand, pulling you to him and you take three steps forward. You're wrapped in Rei’s arms, his scent filling your senses, his warmth filling your heart and his heart, beating loudly in your ears.

“It’s for you,” Rei murmurs, kissing the top of your head and he explains, “it beats for you.”

You laugh, throat soar but the small sound of happiness makes you feel and it's enough when Rei is holding you. The rain stops when your walls are no longer there.

~~~~~~~~~

[01:16 AM] with Rei

Your eyes are heavy, your body protesting for lack of sleep with a headache but with a rub to your temple and small shake of the head you focus back on the documents in front of you. Management is never easy much like any task given to others but you can't help question why you were put in charge of group management for an upcoming live.

Your phone is quietly playing a soft instrumental Tsumugi suggested to calm yourself and help you focus but you feel neither both when your stomach rumbles in need of nutrients.

”Why...” you huff loudly, head dropping to the desk with a small bang and firming your resolve, you take your phone, pausing the music before making your way to the small kitchen with a mission.

You make use of the cereal in the counter and a small click reaches your ears from down the hall as you plop down on the couch. Rei trudges in towards you with a small frown, eyes slightly swollen and a few buttons of his sleep clothes are unbuttoned.

“I heard you get up and thought you were finally coming to bed-” he sighs, falling on the couch and you raise your hands to try and keep your midnight breakfast safe as Rei lays his head on your lap. “You never entered the bedroom so I took it on myself to see what you were doing so late. I need to express my frustrations.”

His sigh is a bit harsher this time but there was no malice or anger in his voice; not when he just sounds tired and in desperate need of sleep. You can only pat his head lightly, treading your fingers in his hair and Rei groans when you do, burying his head to your stomach.

You stay like that for awhile; finishing the cereal as Rei waits for you with his eyes closed. Though the light breathing coming from the raven makes you worried he fell asleep.

Preventing yourself from shifting too much for Rei’s sake, placing the finished bowl of cereal proved to be a struggle and Rei lifts his head for you to finish the task before laying his head on your legs again when you're done.

“Do you want to go back to bed?” you question, peering at Rei’s covered face and he hums, though not moving from his position.

“Rei, if you're tired you should've slept earlier. I was planning on finishing after eating.”

Finally lifting his head, Rei looks at you with a perplexed expression, as if struggling with an inner conflict as he entangle's your hands together. “No, no, you don't seem to understand,” he sighs, pulling you in a hug and placing his forehead on your shoulder. “I can't hold you when you’re not in the room. It requires a special type of warmth for me to be able to sleep and a blanket isn't enough.”

So late at night, you wonder how he can be so casual when making your heart swoon despite head clouded with fatigue. Untangling yourself from him, you pull Rei to the bedroom and his statement stands true. A warm feeling shared between the two of you as Rei holds you close to him, worries faded away as you take the much needed rest.

~~~~~~~~~

[11:37 PM] with Natsume

In this garden filled with empty landscape and plain scenery is where secrets and promises are spilled. An invisible delicate spark in the air spreading bright lights of tranquility. It was nothing special, plain in sight and empty. Showing the surface of abandonment and forgotten.

But it was the place you find yourself unable to leave from.

Coming back right before the clock strikes a new day in the world. Before the day fully ends and a new tomorrow arrives. You find yourself coming back during these time of loneliness. Spending the last seconds until it ends.

The pavement is a bit wet, rain pouring hours before and wet puddles drying slowly in time. In this run-down place of loneliness, a secret garden of yours is where you meet him.

“Ah,” the voice exclaims softly, the sound small yet held no surprise in them; as if he expected your arrival. He always does.

”What brings you here?” Natsume asks, smile on his lips and hair brushed back neatly, clothes a bit dirty with small patches of earth covered here and there.

He looks fine.

You frown, the sparks are invisible but you can see them, Natsume can too. “You look fine.”

He laughs, standing closer to you and a sudden silence filters the air. You breath, somehow struggling a bit and your eyes start to water. Natsume still stands next to you. He moves closer.

“Natsume,” you whisper, voice breaking near the end and he hums. “Why?”

He’s silent, the smile still on his face and you think you can see the bruise on his neck. Natsume’s hands are crossed behind him before he pulls his hands away to show you something in his pocket.

“This was the first thing you ever gave me as a present,” he holds a piece of paper in his hand, crumpled and covered in dirt but your writing is still visible. A small necklace is attached.

“There’s no reason.” He states, the answer to your question so curt it makes your eyes water again. He turns, facing you properly and you can see the cut on his lip, his brow trickling small tresses of blood. Natsume takes your hand gently and places the necklace in your hand.

“No, no, please. D- don't leave.” You plead, tears blurring your vision and you think you're heart is breaking when Natsume only smiles. He brushes the hair from your eyes, kissing your forehead and the sparks are brighter.

A whisper reaches your heart and it's enough. The spark is blinding, flashing before fizzling out like a dying firework. In this secret garden in your heart where you first met Natsume is the place you last see him, the news the morning months ago fresh in your mind of an accident near the place your heart longs for.

You clutch the necklace tighter, a parting gift from the one who left you with the promise whispered in your heart.

The garden isn’t perfect but you visit every night, the first and last confession of the one you held in your heart- his whisper gentle and warm; “I’m always with you.”

~~~~~~~~

[01:32 AM] with Natsume

“Focus a bit more,”

Your brows knit together, eyes still closed and sitting crossed leg in an attempt to stay relaxed. The task proved difficult when you felt anything but relaxed. A frustrated sigh leaves your lips and Natsume’s hands are on your shoulder.

“You don't seem very good at focusing.” He’s statement is playful and he squeezes your shoulder lightly. His hands rubs the sides of your arms in a firm yet soft manner as he tells you to focus again. “Don’t open your eyes.”

Another sigh leaves your lips and you break your position of straightening your posture though your eyes remained closed. “I find it strange- when we’re doing this in the middle of the night—” you pause a bit, stuttering slightly when Natsume gave you a hard squeeze on the tension between your neck and shoulder, massaging the stiffness but you move forward as to avoid him.

“It’s past midnight and you couldn't sleep. This is affective- now don't move.” His hands hold your head still, pelvis craddled in his hands as Natsume tilts your head from side to the other slowly before snapping from the position in a long pop.

Your eyes widen and a panicked sound leaves you lips though strangled in your throat but Natsume laughs at your misery as you turn around to for him with a pillow.

“I apologise but how do you feel?” his apology is words on paper but the question is held with a meaningful smile, almost smug and you slap your hands on his lips.

“Better... actually,” much to you distaste, the tension in your neck did subside and you find yourself relaxing. Natsume takes your wrists and pulls your hand from his lips to then tug you on his lap.

“Great. Now let's sleep. I can't have you walking to the kitchen every other hour because of neck pains.”

He doesn't really let you object the statement nor does he acknowledge how he’s the reason between your neck pains when turning you into his personal pillow but you don't really mind when he holds you so closely even in his dreams.

~~~~~~~~

[11:42 PM] with Wataru

Soft fingers thread through your hair in gentle motions, brushing the stray tresses from your eyes with care and untangling the few knots tied at the edges. Wataru is attentive especially when caring for your hair in such late hours when your mind didn't allow you to sleep. Racing with thoughts to then plunge into an abyss when your eyes close for some rest.

He stays by your side when you jolt awake, breath staggering and clutching at the bedsheets. Wataru’s eyes would open in a struggle to stay with you, sitting up and pulling you into his embrace. It was a habit you find yourself grateful for but something you couldn’t live with.

When will the nightmare end?

“It’s alright,” Wataru murmurs in your hair, kissing the spot his fingers carrases and laying his cheek atop your head. “No need to fret. We all have nightmares, don't we?”

His voice is soothing, the hint of fatigue and raw emotion at such an hour bringing forth a side Wataru would rarely show you during the day when he lived to perform and basks in the smiles that rewarded him.

The air is warm when you're in his embrace. Wataru’s arm protecting you from the abyss with a warm glow when you’re head is near his heart; beating life into you as if to drive the nightmares away.

The thoughts rushing through your head like orbiting meteors pummeling through space stirs away when Wataru is the center of your galaxy. He the sun and you the earth; you could only ever orbit around him without coming closer in fear of burning. Tears brim your eyes in harsh pricks as if you had been exposed to light radiation.

He shushes you- your thoughts. “The nightmares will go away. I’ll stay here until they do.” His words are whispered with empty promises. He doesn't need to be here to stay.

The countless times your heart longed for salvation are the times Wataru circles around you, as if you were his orbit and you were his destiny; the center of his universe.

Wataru doesn't need to promise you empty words. He proves it to you with staying in your heart, countless times of warm embraces and saccharine emotions pored all for youー you are the center of his universe. You the sun and he the admirer.

~~~~~~~~

[01:20 AM] with Wataru

Those sleepless nights spent empty and cold in your room are distant when Wataru dutifully comes to your room with a flutter of cards. Pouring them onto your bed with a giddy smile as he ushers you to play a game with him.

It was always the same routine. Past midnight when your mind plagued with fatigue yet racing with thoughts didn't allow you to sleep, Wataru enters your room with a hushed announcement before getting on your bed to began his ’practice’ of tricks and riddles.

You would amuse him and this time was no different.

The card in your hand is an Ace and you hold it between your palms dutifully as Wataru chatters with all the energy he pulls from the bottom of his heart (his bottomless heart which is why there’s endless energy). Snapping a finger, he gestures you to open the card and you do, the card you held now added an addition of letters to the A as it spells in cursive letters Amazing.

You nod your head a bit, eyes blinking as you stare at the previous Ace card in your hand, turning it around to see what sort of trick was applied to it.

“Do not worry! Though it has changed, it's past identity is not lost,” Wataru began but you cut him off before he could start ranting.

“Ah, ah. Right. Er, how about we finally try and get some sleep?”

Wataru blinks comically before smiling again, gathering the cards strewn around your bed and crushing them between his palms to make them disappear as if it was the simplest cleaning method an elementary student usually does.

“Of course, of course. We all need our rest yes! Then I shall wish you a good night’s rest-”

You grab onto his hand before he could leave. Tugging him closer, your other hand taps the pillow on your bed. “I meant here. I need to hold something to fall asleep and I’m short on pillows.”

A pink hue dusted Wataru’s cheeks though not entirely visible due to the dim lighting. He laughs, though the sound sounded a bit strained and embarrassed. “O- of course.”

Though the late night routine of yours with Wataru is a scheduled habit shared between you, it always ends the same with you holding onto Wataru’s hand as your mind drifts to sleep.

[peacefulwriter88]

F**k Buddies

Johnny Storm x WoC

Warnings: Language (duh) SMUT (also duh) so 18+ children

A/N: I am feeling not great enough to write for any of Seb or Chris’ other characters right now but I can write random, no plot drivel with a not so serious character like Johnny Storm.

I can also foresee this fun little one shot becoming a mini series. So maybe prep for that. And by maybe I mean it's probs gonna happen. As usual moodboard by me so give credit where it's due!  

As always moodboard created by me so like/reblog for credit 

_______

Your room danced in cotton candy pink, sorbet orange and candy corn yellow, flickering over your cherry oak dresser, a small pile of discarded clothes and the large queen size bed your aunt had given you when you had decided to move to New York.

Its bright enough to make you groan as your hand naturally reaches out at your nightstand, grabbing your phone and checking the time.

8:05 a.m.

Why did you naturally wake up so early on Saturdays?

You throw your phone back on the cheap oak wood, turning over to your side and nearly scream.

Sleeping peacefully by your side, mouth slightly ajar and long lashes tickling his cheek was no other than your handsome though very annoying brother’s best friend.

“What are you doing here!?”

Your voice is too loud, causes you to wince and grip at your pounding head hating, hating, hating whoever had convinced you to pound the tequila that you knew would take the next two days to work its way through your body.

Johnny moans, his eyes pinching together before he opens one, his bright blue eye greeting your own.

“Oh shit….” he closes his eyes, snuggles deeper back into his pillow as he mumbles, “you actually slept with me?”

“I did not -” you want to finish the statement, want to make it adamantly clear that you did not allow Johnny Storms nasty most likely STD ridden dick to enter your vaginal walls but a shift under the covers reveals your nakedness, the delicious soreness that can only come from a fresh fucking and you groan, shaking your head.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my gooooood.” you squeak and Johnny chuckles, shifts his body to situate himself closer to you.

“Relax. I feel like a truck might have hit me but I feel like we were pretty good together.”

“Oh no. No, no, no - none of that,” you shift, trying to push him away from your body but he’s sturdy - fuck his pounds of muscles that your hands were enjoying just a little too much as they slid over his chest. “Get away! Go home!”

“I live on the other side of town,” he groans, easily throwing an arm over your body and placing his face in the crevice of your neck.

“Can’t you flame your ass on then? I need sleep. I need a tequila detox. A Johnny detox. Probably need to get tested for cooties. And STD’s.”

“Ouch Y/N. What did I ever do to deserve that string of insults?” his face is still hidden in the crevice of your neck, the vibrations of his words tickling your neck, “Besides. I’d love a sober play by play of last night's events.”

“No. Johnny - this isn’t a good idea,” already probably one of your worse. “We made a promise to each other. In the 11th grade when I kissed you after my asshole boyfriend broke up with me prom night. We wouldn’t sleep with each other. We wouldn't make it weird.

This. This just made it weird.”

Johnny sighs, looks up from his place at your neck,

“Jesus Christ Y/N can’t you give yourself a day and not be a tight coil of fucking stress?”

“You know I was diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder.”

“Yeah you and the other 90% of un-diagnosed American’s in this country. It's called societal pressure and it only affects you if you give two shits in what the masses thinks about you.” he deadpans and you scoff, before smacking his head.

“Oww,” he laughs. “The fuck was that for?”

“Being rude. Anxiety isn’t funny.”

“I never said it was. I simply - “

“Simply had to open your stupid mouth and prove how smart you are. Noted. Got it. Whatevah.”

You throw your head back on the pillow sighing and Johnny exhales, raises his head higher to get a better view of your face. Your eyes are focused on the ceiling, he can feel the way your right finger taps quickly against your mattress as you take deep, long breaths.

“Y/N,” he says softly and you flicker your eyes over to him, “What's really so bad about sleeping with me?”

“Beyond the fact that you can’t keep your dick in your pants?!] You’re just this player asshole guy that like will fuck anything that breathes with a vagina, you don’t have any respect for any girl and, and and….” you don’t want to say the rest.

You don’t want to get attached to the human torch.

Johnny was funny, witty, talented. But he was a lady’s man and an asshole, his ego had grown monumentally since becoming the torch (and that was saying a lot for someone’s ego who was already as big as the sun) and so what you crushed on him since you were in 6th grade. Johnny didn’t take women seriously. They were a past time or a hobby.

Like baseball or knitting.

You didn’t want to be a past time in the Johnny Storm little black fuck book.

“And……?”

“Don’t fucking worry about it. Just….leave.”

Johnny watches you, eyebrows raising before shaking his head,

“No.”

“No!?” you ask incredulously, looking down at him and he smirks, nods.

“Yeah, no. I don’t want to leave yet. I want to revisit what happened last night.”

“Listen I don’t know how attending a scientific museum gala to honor Reed and Susan turned into me taking a lot of fucking tequila shots and then dragging you to fuck me stupid at my apartment...oh fuck!

I hope, pray, will that Julie left last night. Fuck.”

You throw your hands over your eyes, not caring that it's going to shift your fake lashes. If Julie knew that you fucked Johnny she’d never let you leave it down.

“Fuck Julie and I are Eskimo sisters.”

“Not technically,” Johnny says, his hands moving over your lush thick thighs, dancing to your center, “Technically Julie gave me a blow job and I didn't return the favor. So really, you’re more like Eskimo cousins? Second cousins?”

Right. Because that would make it better.

Though you couldn't get that out, no, not when Johnny’s large hands were distracting you.

“What are you doing?” you ask shakily, wishing you could combat what he had just mentioned about your roommate but unable to focus on anything but the way his long fingers slowly spread your legs a part.

“What are you talking about?”

“You! What are you doing?”

He smiles as he looks back up at you, full lips tugging into a smile as his index finger skims up the folds of your vagina, causing you to catch your breath as your eyes fall on his. He’s watching you, curiosity dancing in his irises.

“Stop it.”

“Okay. Though...I think you like it…”

He dips a finger in, teasingly and you naturally hum, arch into him.

“....you’re being manipulative.”

“I’m being curious. Besides, you look beautiful in the morning.”

You snort out laughter as your eyes fall on him,

“Wow. That an original that normally works on the ladies?”

Johnny pulls a finger away from you completely, out from under the covers,

“No, I don’t normally tell the ladies anything of the sort. Sure if there hot I’ll give credit where it's due but I’m not responsible to build their self-esteem. That's what their future boyfriends are for.”

“But you care enough to build mine? Right...” your voice is skeptical as he inserts the finger that was just in you in his mouth, sucking on it slowly before releasing it from the grips of his tongue with a pop.

“Hmmm. Delicious.”

You lick your lips, shift your eyes away from his face. Move it away from the satisfaction on his face from your flavor and he smiles as he pulls the covers down,

“It doesn't have to be serious if you like.”

“You’re never serious Johnny,” you whisper as your breast spring free from your comforters confines, your nipples betraying your attraction and he bites his lip as he flickers his eyes down to them. “I just don’t want to soberly be …..dumb.”

“You couldn’t be dumb even if you wanted to be Y/N,” he bends down, his hot breath hitting the fatty tissue of his breath, “But if you want to fuck on and off casually I’d be down for that. I could commit to fucking you regularly if you did the same.”

“That’s called dating Jonathan.”

“Whatever.” his mouth encapsulates your left breast and you moan, hands naturally moving to his buzzed hair as his hands widens your legs, fingers finding your clit and squeezing it lightly, causing you to whisper out his name.

“Fuck yes…..” your voice wavers and Johnny smiles against your skin, looks up at you.

“You’re fucking hot when you’re turned on.”

His tongue darts out, slowly teases around your pebbled nipple, eyes never shifting from your own and there is something enticingly erotic about it, causing you to watch him as he plays with your clit slowly, watching the way you react to him,

“Okay...” you groan, annoyed that he won. Annoyed that he knew how to tug on your strings so he could win.

“Okay what?” he asks innocently, mouth moving towards your other breast and you throw your head back on your pillow as you moan out,

“Okay let's be fuck buddies.”

He snorts, shakes his head as his mouth envelopes over your right breast, gently bites down on it. You push him closer, causes him to moan around the same time you do and he ruts his hips into your mattress, causing your vagina to clench around nothing.

You wanted him in you so bad it wasn’t fair.

“Great. That’s all I’m asking. Nothing serious. I fuck you. You fuck me. Maybe we get takeout or go to a game but only if it means I can fuck you in the bathroom of said game.”

You laugh as you shake your head,

“Johnny you don’t like fucking more than one girl.”

“Other girls normally bore me.”

“But I don’t?”

“No, you don’t. Never have. So what do you say?,” his voice is a mumble against your skin, his hands moving lower to push your legs wider, “you in?”

You close your eyes, think about all the ways this would go south and blow up in your face. Then you look down at Johnny, who’s fixated on your breast, eyes closed as his mouth makes your breast your prisoner, yanking another moan out of you as your core clenches deeper, your body shaking with pleasure.

“Deal.”

He snaps his eyes open as he pulls away from your skin, a large gob of spit glistening on his lips as he smiles at you.

“Great. You’re not going to regret it.” he hovers over you, the head of his cock teasing at your walls as he smiles down at you.

“Shall we seal the deal?”

You roll your eyes as your hands find his hips, moving your hips up to meet his as he enters you slowly and you both groan as you whisper,

“Do me a favor and shut the fuck up and fuck me dumb so I have an excuse for making this dumb deal.”

He leans down, presses a kiss to your lips that catches you off guard, causes you to naturally open your mouth to greet his tongue, allowing him to dominate over you as he pulls away and snaps his hips into you.

“Consider it done.”

_____

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[quantumrpg]

NAME: Kathryn Atkins AGE: 31 SPECIES: Human (Dormant Werewolf) OCCUPATION: Adult Film Star YEAR OF DEPARTURE: 2016, end of year RESIDENT FOR… two years FACECLAIM: Diane Guerrero

t i m e  i s  a n  i l l u s i o n,  b u t  n o t  o u r  s t o r i e s…

Thick humidity and patches of moss covered her childhood home. It was old, barely standing since it’s purchase in the early 1900s. In Delight, the hottest spot was a run down creek with empty beer bottles tossed between a few reckless teenagers. The small town barely held three hundred in its population. Her father worked in construction while her mother stayed at home to mold her children into model Evangelists. Between double shifts and late nights, Maria wasn’t tending of her children. So long as they remained well-behaved and docile, she didn’t make the effort. Instead, a string of different friends ventured to her room. She never caught their names.

A lover of God and extremely well read, the brunette would remain seated on the front row of service each Sunday. While her brother waved an acceptance letter from Harvard, Kat sat in the Arkansas musk near Wolf Creek with a stolen cigarette. Once Rob left, there wasn’t anyone to guide her. The role of both parent and sibling whisked away on a full ride to become a doctor. She didn’t admit the twinge of jealousy that twisted in her gut. He got to leave, but not many did. Her grades were mediocre in comparison. Everything was. The only way she could thrive past her brother’s shadow was through theater.

Maria hyper focused near the end of high school to ensure her daughter thrived. It was a double edge pressure. Kat would make qualms against her mother’s adultry to get away with what she wanted. Exhausted from the peering looks from her mother and the aggravated tone of her father’s as his greasy hands clenched on his fifth beer, Kathryn gave in. After applying around to different universities, the brunette merely waited on her decision. She was never necessarily passionate about school, despite her academic achievements. The ringing leader was NYU. She decided to take a trip, staying with her brother as he showed her around the campus. It was almost too good to be true - - - away from their soul eating parents, living on their own, and creating a new life for themselves. She accepted the offer.

She returned home with a newfound motivation towards high school graduation. After an after party near the outskirts of town, Kat and her best friend, Roy broke into private property. It was a drunken idea to create crop circles that ended with a gun pointed between a bottle of everclear. Roy was shot out of self defense, despite being unarmed. Rather than stay by her injured friend, the teenager stumbled drunk through corn husks until authorities stopped her by the main road. She was thrown into a squad car as the investigation continued. Eventually, it was swept under the rug.

As the summer drew to a close, Kat settled into an undergraduate degree of pre-med biology. Her first year at university felt like a hiccup. She finally settled into what her parents wanted, but none of it felt right. In a skew of finding herself, she went out on a limb. Her first job in college was nude photography. It lined her up for other opportunities aside from a wannabe SoHo magazine. The photography was just side money at first. She couldn’t afford her medication through the university insurance, and needed some way to pay for room and board. It wasn’t until her second semester at NYU that she dropped off the grid completely. She cut off all contact from her parents and anyone back home. Her photography progressed into a career in adult film. It fulfilled the checklist in her life: acting, fame, and money. She bounced between traveling around the nation and keeping up with contract jobs in porn. Bouncing from her girlfriend’s apartment, she hitched a ride with a band. Washable was on the rise, stationed on their second studio album. She bummed in the bus for the second half of their tour before stopping back in Los Angeles. 

From Los Angeles to New York City, Kat got a taste of what it was like to feel herself. She soon became a pillar in the adult community – striking a name recognizable almost anywhere. Between the twelve hour sets and hectic atmosphere in her friend group, she slowly slipped from recreational to substance abuse. It started off with prescription, popping a few Xans when she was wound tight. Then, it was almost daily. It was an issue well hid even from her current relationship. New York offered more than anything in LA. She kept her head down and worked hard on sets. In the string of highs and lows, she ended up hooking up with a familiar face from Washable. Rather than keep it casual, it eventually progressed to a full fledged relationship. The star juggled both until one merely favored over the other. As she progressed in the new relationship, so did old demons. He never mentioned her use and she mentioned his. Drinks and pills ran together well until it slipped down the wormhole. Nearing a year celebration of their relationship, Kat fell into heroin. It was cheap and easy to curb stress. It was the high she sought after, warmth gathered in a calm sleep. It should have worked well. She did what she could to hide her use from Jake. It all ended with dead eyes locking as she stretched in a tub. A spoon and a bundle was all the evidence he needed. Rather than confront, he left the apartment with a duffle bag. 

He was supposed to come back. She focused on the same voicemail for weeks as the come downs were harsher. She couldn’t stop, but the police knocked on her door. His friend, Silas filed a missing persons report. There were never any leads, but vague surveillance footage. It was as if the man simply disappeared. Kat plunged further in her use, only finding clarity when a pregnancy test pinged positive. She didn’t have a choice, but get clean. She forced herself through detox and religiously attended doctor appointments. A new start was born. She tried to focus solely on a child, hoping that everything else tied to. She hoped that a body would show up, or at least, him. It was a false hope that lead to a self concluded closure. 

She married, though the love wasn’t genuine. It offered a better chance for her newborn. Jonah was a focal point in her life. It was clear only seven months into the marriage that it wouldn’t last. Clarke wanted a larger family, determined to coax her out of sex work as a stay at home mother. He pleaded for her to consider her family, guilting every opportunity she returned to work. The final strike was a crack of her head while her son cried in the living room. She scooped the toddler and a duffle bag. The next day a lawyer served papers. It took months for Clarke to make a move. He refused to sign them without talking it through, while Kat refused to talk with him without a lawyer present. Eventually, the dotted line was signed. There was never a fight for custody, which only confirmed her suspicion that the man never considered Jonah as his. 

Throughout the divorce, she held onto friends. The tight knit group of Washable, coworkers, and brother was a large key for her sobriety. She clocked in three years as she considered the idea of dating once more. She kept it on the back burner as she started casually seeing an old friend. Jer was brash and confident. It was a strange change from her usual, but determined to keep them loose in terms of a relationship. She didn’t want anything after Clarke. Both of them needed to concentrate on their sobriety.

Her first relapse was six months into the eventual relationship. Breaking off four years was the hardest one to keep in the scale of a bathroom. It was hard to stretch her manipulation, breaking on the first call from a pseudo father. Another week and she was out of detox with Jonah convinced he spent a fun week over at his grandparents. It was difficult to maintain a relationship when the other half couldn’t remain sober. It only grew worse when Jer had tour. Things broke off quickly after an explosive argument and a mutual understanding. Another year stretched as her career progressed to more directing than acting itself. No one was keen to hire an addict for major projects. It took over a year to gain any project longer than a month. 

Before the #MeToo movement, the adult film industry generally swept everything under the rug. Once Kat approached the company with an assault complaint against one of her directors, they were quick to cut ties with her. She was dropped from the company and much of her contracts were burned. A lawsuit slowly followed from staff on set with similar allegations.

She slipped into a gas station restroom, a stop on her way to pick up her son from elementary. She stepped out of the restroom and continued onto the school as normal. When she couldn’t find her son, a frantic call from the police shoved her into the waiting room of the station. It took over a day to realize that her son wasn’t actually missing, but in a different space completely. 

It’s been a little over a year since she slipped into the liminal space. Her apartment is bare bones. Though her portfolio is still available, she struggled to find another job in the city. It took a few months and a lesser rate than her usual. She hasn’t moved past the idea that she’s stuck there. It took months for her to leave the apartment, forcing some semblance of a life. She couldn’t slip back down the hole, despite alcohol being an easier vice.

t e l l  m e,  a r e  w e  a  p r o d u c t  o f  w h o  w e  u s e d  t o  b e?

Lothric and brash, Kat packs a majority of her personality in wisecrack jokes, anger, and spontaneity. She is generally distant in personal conversations unless she’s familiar with you. She’s messy with relationships, breaking them off as easily as she gained them. She likes to pretend she’s enigma, but she’s really just an inked girl with a two dimensional personality with a bag of hot Cheetos.

[bravonovel]

Mesmerized by a Lie read novel online - Summer Sutherland & Wyatt Malcolm - Bravonovel

Mesmerized by a Lie https://www.bravonovel.com/mesmerized-by-a-lie-8270

Blurb : There was a saying that Wyatt Malcolm was born a bringer of bad luck. When he was 9 years old, both of his parents died, and when he was 13 years old, his sister passed away. As he became an adult, three of his fiancées had passed away one after another.For the sake of her grandmother, Eleanor Sutherland, she was willing to sacrifice herself and let herself marry him.

Mesmerized by a Lie novel is a Romance story about Summer Sutherland and Wyatt Malcolm.

You can read Mesmerized by a Lie novel on Bravonovel Web or App.

Mesmerized by a Lie novel Chapter 1

“Should I… undress myself first? Or… do you want me to take off your clothes for you?” Summer Sutherland asked carefully while standing at the bathroom door with a bath towel wrapped around her.

It was the first night of her marriage on this night. With a piece of black silk covering his eyes, the man who was sitting on the wheelchair would be her husband from now on.

In fact, this was her first time meeting him. Pictures didn’t do him justice at all, as he looked way better in person. His well-defined features, including his nose with a prominent bridge, thick dark eyebrows, as well as his tall and fine physique—all of it just screamed the heartthrob of her dreams.

Unfortunately, he was a blind man sitting on a wheelchair.

There was a saying that Wyatt Malcolm was born a bringer of bad luck. When he was 9 years old, both of his parents died, and when he was 13 years old, his sister passed away. As he became an adult, three of his fiancées had passed away one after another.

Upon hearing the rumors, Summer was indeed a little frightened, but her Uncle Andrew had said that if she would marry Wyatt, the Malcolm Family would be willing to pay for her grandmother’s hospital bills. For the sake of her grandmother, Eleanor Sutherland, she was willing to sacrifice herself.

Seeing that the man didn’t reply, Summer thought he didn’t hear her, so she repeated once again.

“Hmph!” Slowly taking off the black silk that was covering his eyes, the arrogant man darted a glance at her. “Do you actually know who you are married to?”

Noticing the frosty glare from his eyes, Summer instinctively shrunk back. On second thought, she figured there was nothing to be afraid of—he was blind after all.But then again, how could a blind person have such an intense stare?Since Summer had never met anyone who was blind, she wasn’t too sure. “I do,” she answered honestly to his question.

With his thick eyebrows knitted together, he asked, “Aren’t you afraid of death?” After he had taken off the black silk from his eyes, he appeared even more cold and arrogant.

“No, I’m not afraid,” Summer replied as she felt her heart hammering away in her chest. Gazing at him, she continued in an even more determined tone, “I owe it to you since you have saved Granny. I’ll surely keep my promise, bear your children, and take care of you for the rest of your life.”

After observing her for a moment, Wyatt could tell that her face was filled with determination. A while later, he smirked. “In that case, you can help bathe me.”

A moment of hesitation later, Summer replied, “Sure.” From the moment she had promised Mr. Wayne Malcolm to marry his grandson, Wyatt, she never thought of going back on her word. After they were done with their marriage registration, she would officially be his wife. Considering her husband was disabled person, it should be her duty as a wife to help him take a shower.

“I’ll get the water ready then,” said Summer as her petite frame could be seen entering the bathroom.

Gazing at her back, Wyatt’s eyebrows furrowed heavily. Just in case, he had hired someone to do a background check on her. Surprisingly, this woman’s background was as clean as a whistle. All for the sake of her grandmother’s hospital fees, this country bumpkin was willing to marry him, a person with a reputation of bringing bad fortune to others.

All three of his previous fiancées were well-known young ladies from the upper class society who were born into well-off and reputable families of Blackburn City. However, one after another, they were all assassinated before their wedding. Hence, Wyatt wondered how someone as dimwitted and innocent as Summer could survive until now.Perhaps she looks too dumb, which explains why they didn’t even bother to lay a finger on her. Or maybe she’s just putting on an act?

While Wyatt was still absorbed in his thoughts, he heard the sound of the bathroom door opening. Lifting his gaze, his eyes glistened with a hint of shock, as a dainty woman slowly walked out from the bathroom, which was now filled with water vapor. Her ebony silky long hair was damp due to the steam, and there were even wisps of vapor lingering around her collarbone. By now, the bath towel that was wrapped tightly around her was drenched, which accentuated her slender bodyline.

“Give me a second,” she said as she crouched down, and pulled out a carrier bag under the bed. After that, she opened the suitcase and there was a range of lingerie neatly arranged on the top. Taking out a set of ivory lace lingerie, she tore the tag off and put it on.

Assuming that Wyatt was unable to see her, she casually changed right in front of his eyes. Yet, all of her innocent acts had a different meaning to his eyes. He wondered whether she did that on purpose in order to test whether he was really blind.

“Whew…” Once Summer was done changing herself, she walked toward Wyatt and pushed the wheelchair toward the bathroom door. Supporting Wyatt with one hand, she began to take off his clothes one by one after they were in the washroom.

Through the mist, Wyatt squinted at her and noticed her unwavering clear eyes. With her head lowered, Summer was so focused on what she was doing that it was as though she was working on an assignment during class. Firstly, she took off his watch, then his shirt, which was followed by…

In the end, there was the last piece of garment left. Flinching a little, she stammered, “C-Can you still have that on during your bath?”

While he was reading her expression, Wyatt had an evil smirk on his face. “With that on, I think you’ll miss washing up some parts.”

“Well… I guess you’re right.” Tilting her head, Summer reached out her petite hands.

With a darkened expression, Wyatt darted a frosty stare at her as his eyebrows drew together.Is this woman truly dumb? Or is she trying to play dumb? Does she have no sense of shame?

“This way to the tub.” As though she wasn’t bothered by the differences between their bodies, Summer supported Wyatt and helped him into the tub.

Nonetheless, her face did turn a little scarlet. After he was in the tub, she patted her cheeks and tried to calm herself down. “You don’t mind a little pain right?”

“No.”

Hearing that, Summer tucked her hair behind her ears and turned around to search for something from the cupboard. In the next second, she took out a piece of cloth that seemed quite coarse.

A vein on Wyatt’s forehead was pulsing as he thought,On our first wedding night, she’s going to give me… a back scrub?

Without asking for his opinion, Summer went straight to his back and started scrubbing. “Let me know if it hurts. I’ll reduce the pressure.”

Wyatt was left completely speechless, while Summer worked in earnest. Before marrying Wyatt, she had been taking care of her ill grandma for some time. During bathtime, her grandma enjoyed it very much whenever she gave her a back scrub, and she said it helped her to sleep better throughout the night. Similarly, Summer thought Wyatt would like it as much.

Squatting down beside the bathtub, she scrubbed every inch of his body. Though she was scrubbing with all her strength, Wyatt only felt like she was tickling him. Then again, he could tell that she was really serious and diligent with her work, as sweat soon started to form on her forehead.

Frowning, Wyatt began to doubt whether he had misunderstood her.What bad intentions could an innocent and silly little young lady like her hold up her sleeves?

“Uhm…” As soon as she had scrubbed all other parts of his body, Summer pointed at that specific region, and she asked with her face flushed, “Do you need me to wash you there as well?”

“What do you think?” Wyatt questioned in return as he stared intensely at her.

After pondering about it, Summer said, “I guess… I might as well do it.” With that, she took the cloth and went straight for it…

Without warning, the man caught her by the hand and stopped her from moving any further. The atmosphere turned as silent as the grave.

“How am I supposed to clean you up if you’re holding my hand like that?” Summer asked, an innocent look on her face. Little did she know that it would have been an utter disaster if that piece of cloth was used to scrub its intended destination.

“Get out,” the man demanded in a frosty manner.

…...

Continue to read the chapter 2 of the novel Mesmerized by a Lie https://www.bravonovel.com/mesmerized-by-a-lie-8270/chapter-2-200912 Read more exciting novels on Bravonovel App https://www.bravonovel.com/download-bravonovel-app

[cyclone5000writes]

The best moments are the unplanned ones

Digimon. Pairing: Taichi x Koushiro. 3258 words. Warnings: Fluff and stuff. Implied/established relationship

Summary: Koushiro wanted to take Taichi out on a nice date to show how much he cared. He planned one out at least. 

Written for the Digimon Secret Santa Event hosted by @secretsantamon

Hi there @reverend-spines! I was your secret santa this year!

Ahhh, I’m sorry I’m a little late with your gift. I tried my absolute best with this fic. I really did. I wanted it to be as sweet and fluffy as possible. But also making it entirely unique to them. (If that makes sense....I fiddled with a lot of possibilities before settling on this one, lol)

I hope you’ve had a wonderful year and that you do enjoy this little oneshot! Happy holidays! :D

Outside the weather was feathering into the night through a gentle snowfall. The small snowflakes frosted the edges of the windowpanes, allowing some of the light from streetlamps and large displays of Christmas lights managed to shine through. The small amount of Christmas glow entering through the modest apartment.  

There was some level of romance to snowy nights. The landscape being adorned by pure white snow, or colorful vivid lights to set the awestruck mood. The kind of details that could encourage someone to be intimate or cozy. A perfect setting to walk through the streets outside while sharing cold Eskimo kisses and the warmth of hand holding.

Details, that were completely and utterly meaningless to individuals who had better things to do, deadlines to meet, and expectations to exceed.

All of this and more applied to Koushiro.

With fingers typing steadfast on his keyboard, Koushiro’s eyes focused on the surroundings as wide as his laptop screen. Data was processing at a constant rate, his laptop was juiced to the best of his customizing capabilities, but at moments like this, the laptop specs were pushed to its max.

With a low groan Koushiro knit his brows together yet again as his laptop took a second too long to jump to its next line of code. Honestly. He’d rather be doing this kind of work in his office where he had multiple screens and servers to avoid these minor lagging issues. He technically could have just ran to his office, sat down at a proper desk and put his entire focus and being into this project…if he had foresaw a work emergency in the first place. Or, at the very least, if this had happened earlier in the day.  

Koushiro bit back another groan as he internally told himself to keep calm and continue working. He didn’t have the time to consider what-ifs scenarios no matter how tempting it might be. He had pressure weighing down on his shoulders, the grit of irritation of having his plans completely interrupted and sidetracked. He just wanted to get this done.

With a harsh click of his enter key, Koushiro paused his robotic typing to evaluate the input he just inserted in the code. A series of numbers and algorithms flew on one side of his screen, while the desired output was on the other half. With a stationary gaze that drilled focus to a point as dark as his eyes, Koushiro waited to see if the outcome of his project was fixed or not.

“…uh, Koushiro?” A voice called out to question. It wasn’t strong enough to actually take in Koushiro’s complete and undivided attention, but enough to be coherent, “you done?”

Koushiro tapped along the edge of his keyboard, his fingernail clicking like an unforgiving metronome to a novice musician. His eyes narrowed, but didn’t close, not until the code stopped to an unforgiving halt at the sound of a beep and the red flashing FAILURE flashed over the output side of his screen.

Temperance was Koushiro’s known qualities. But even Buddha had his limits.

“No.” Koushiro held down the backspace key before resuming his rhythmic typing.

Koushiro could recognize a small chuckle, one that tapered off into a good willed, “No worries.” Before another silence. Koushiro hummed in response, limiting his focus back on his computer once again.

He shifted in his seat, moving to be more upright as he tried another method. He sourly missed the lower back support of his office chair. And started feeling another bitter rise of anger at the low height of the coffee table in front of him. Hell, eve the couch cushions that were way too soft to stay firm under his weight. He adjusted himself one more as he took a brief moment to pause to swing out one of his wrists.

“Neh, Koushiro,”

“Ham,” Koushiro hummed out automatically when he recognized his name. Out of habit of being in a similar situation one too many times, he internally knew what to do to stay productive on his task without seeming too heartless to the people around him. He wasn’t completely clueless, he’d learn from when he was ten.

--Except that his laptop lagged again and it bothered him again, and he completely zoned out (save for that tiny detail) once again. Missing whatever else was being said to him.

There was silence again. The kind that, Koushiro knew that he had to give some kind of response to. He didn’t want to have to ask for a repeat, so he just shrugged casually and muttered a small, “Okay.” His go-to response when he forgot to listen in on what someone was telling him while he was working.

There was reply that was spoken out with an upbeat attitude. Something ending in a reassuring smile that was spoken out in good manner. Before Koushiro could illicit out some response, the weight on the couch shifted and the cushion Koushiro was perched on puffed up slightly.

Koushiro was about to glance away from his screen, a part of him even wanted to turn his head away completely to follow the traces of footsteps that were fading. His gut was already in knots over this dilemma in the first place, but having things drift further away from his original plan would definitely backfire in his face.

--Beep!

Koushiro’s computer flashed failure over half of the screen again. While deep set in a frown he checked over his last line of code and saw where he mistyped a command on accident.

His dark eyes burned. With a frustrated groan Koushiro rubbed his eyes slowly before shaking off his emotional flare.

Nothing else mattered right now. He was going to finish this in time. He was going to get this to work done even if he had to claw to a final product by the skin of his bones.

Koushiro’s fingers were still working at a steady pace. The clicks of his keyboard was a constant series of taps that faded into the sounds of the apartment. Even has the blue light from the screen burned into the dark irises of Koushiro’s eyes as he silently absorbed through the content of his program without fail.

With definitive click of his enter key, Koushiro stopped typing as he let his program work through another test. As he watched the results of his work stipulate through the lines of code, Koushiro cleared his throat to try and shake off the scratchiness. His heart thumped each time his program successfully passed a checkpoint that his previous attempts couldn’t. Unable to remain entirely positive, Koushiro clenched his sweaty palms into fists, trying to stop himself from ghost typing along the edge of his keyboard.

--Beep Beep!

A green OK, flashed over the program. Koushiro felt his quickened heartbeat pump out the breath he had been holding as he unclenched his fists. The stony gaze that was fixated on the screen instantly broke as nerves buzzed with relief. His lower back ached, his wrists cramped, and his eyes watered—but finally. He did it.  He completed it. He was finally done!

“Thank goodness...” Koushiro murmured to himself as he rubbed his eyes and stretched out his back. Saving his completed project, he could almost feel himself getting giddy with the grand sense of completion. Koushiro relaxed against the back of the couch, shaking some blood flow into his legs as he shook off any remnants of work stiffness.

In the midst of the bliss that Koushiro was ready to revel in, he noticed the surroundings that he was so keen on ignoring just moments before. The ceiling fan above him had short chains that were impossible for Koushiro to reach.  The television set in front of him that had cheery holiday commercial playing that wasn’t clear on the product it was selling. Details of the small apartment were recognized as quickly as the feeling of utter regret. When Koushiro realized just who’s worn out couch he was sitting on, he chastised himself and shut his laptop closed.

As he pushed his laptop onto the table in front of him, Koushiro saw the curled up figure of his boyfriend. Face smashed onto the armrest with his mouth wide open, the formal button up shirt creasing horribly as he wedged himself in the corner and was snoring softly. Koushiro huffed out a breath, his shoulders drooping out of guilt as he gently shook him awake, “Taichi-san,” He called out quietly.

It took a few more shakes, but Taichi soon yawned as he fluttered his eyes open. He stayed curled up with his hands under his chin until his eyes fully opened and his sight settled on Koushiro. With a dopey smile, Taichi pushed himself up, “Hey,” Taichi broke off in another yawn, “Nnh, all done?”

Koushiro smiled sheepishly in response. The guilt of their ruined plans eating inside of him as he nodded, “Yeah, I just did…Taichi-san I’m…”

“Wait—hold on,” Taichi broke out in a loud yawn, he stretched his arms behind him as far as he could, ending his cat-stretch by sinking closer to Koushiro with the same dopey smile, “What time is it even?”

Koushiro flipped to his watch, “It’s um…close to midnight,” Koushiro felt bad as the time was actually close to being the next day, “Taichi-san I’m really—“

“Mnh, okay,” Taichi shrugged, “Are you hungry? I got food earlier. It’s in the fridge if you want it.”

“Oh, that’s fine but—“

“Ah crap, I was watching one of those holiday movies, but I think it stopped playing…”

“Tai—“

“Whatever. Nothing the Internet can’t fix, right?”

“Taichi-san!” Koushiro fussed his eyes closed as he yelled. He didn’t like to yell over others, but sometimes it was just impossible to get through to Taichi otherwise.

Thankfully it worked, and instead of Taichi ranting off on another topic he paused for a moment before tentatively whispering, “Yeah?” As he turned to face Koushiro. Taichi’s back was slouched against the couch as he silently waited for Koushiro.  

Koushiro sighed, Taichi’s eyes were entirely too open and warm for the regret Koushiro was feeling at the moment, “I, um,” he rubbed the underside of his eyes before taking a big breath, “I’m sorry, for all of this. For ruining this evening, it’s—“

“Koushiro,” Taichi interrupted with an easy-going smile, “You didn’t ruin anything. It’s fine. You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

“No, yes I do,” Koushiro held up a finger, “I was the one that said we should do something. I was the ones who made plans for tonight. I called to make reservations for that new restaurant that was next to the street that’s covered with all of those lights.”

“Yeah but—“

“But then, I completely ignored you because of that work email I got. And—I did think that I’d be able to settle that issue really quickly. But I was completely wrong about that as it ended up being a much bigger issue that I anticipated. I shouldn’t have rushed this project in the first place, but either way, I let work impede on personal matters again.”

Taichi scoffed, he propped his arm against the sofa and leaned his head against his arm, “Mhm,” Taichi hummed. His expression unchanging as he let Koushiro ramble on.

“Really, I should have known better! Because I was trying to finish it so quickly, I wound up omitting a crucial component of the program that prevented it from working like how it was supposed to. I didn’t realize I forgot to add that part in until trying out every other possibility first.”

“I see.”

“But because of my misstep, I wasted the entire evening. It’s not right or fair of me to ask you to keep tonight free, only to wind up being busy myself. Or to keep telling you to wait around when the restaurant and shops began to close. And I’m just—“Koushiro stopped, seething within the depths of his eyes before deflating completely, “I’m sorry. I really am. I’ll…I’ll make it up to you I promise.”

Koushiro knew that personal relationships were just as important as work. Having the ability to find someone who you enjoyed and cared for so much was a rarity. A treasure that was worth keeping and maintaining throughout the years.

There was no one else like Taichi. It was a friendship that Koushiro was grateful for, and as challenging as it was to change their dynamic from platonic to romantic, it was one that Koushiro was happy to take on. With how busy the both of them were on a day to day basis, Koushiro just wanted to take some time to spend with Taichi…but it didn’t matter how good his reasons were if he never actually followed through with his intended plans.

Taichi’s smile seemed to grow as Koushiro stopped apologizing. Koushiro sat in silence as he saw the corners of Taichi’s eyes crinkle as he broke out into a soft laugh, chuckling louder as his lips broke into a grin. Koushiro, taken aback by Taichi’s sudden giggling fit, frowned, “What. Why are you laughing?”

“Take a wild guess,” Taichi whistled through his teeth. His chuckling tapered to an end, but he was still grinning from ear to ear, “Come on Koushiro, you’re making this into a way bigger deal than it is. Its work. I understand that you have to deal with stuff when things go wrong. It’s okay, you don’t have to feel so bad about it.”

“But tonight’s plans…” Koushiro trailed off, “It would have been nice, and you would have really liked it.”

Taichi shrugged “Eh, things happen, it’s not your fault,” the cheeky grin was still plastered on Taichi’s face as the depths of his eyes twinkled, “Besides, seeing you get so worked up about date plans and showing me a good time? Oh. Shoot, I like that more than actually going out tonight.”  

“Wha-what?”

“You loooooove me,” Taichi exaggerated, “You want to take me out on fancy dinners and cliché romantic walks.”

“I—I made these plans based off of some suggestions I got!”  

“You’re even asking other people for love advice! Aww, Koushiro you’re so sweet!”

“No! Not like that!”

“You know I’ve been holding back on the romantic gestures because I thought that it’d too much. But now, pffft,” Taichi stuck his tongue out before his snapping his fingers and winking, “I’m not going to hold back anymore. I’m talking PDA, grand romantic gestures—you know what. I was going to buy you one of high tech thermos bottles for Christmas. But now? Forget that. I’m going to buy a star and name it after you—No wait!” Taichi clapped his hands together, “I’m going to buy you a calendar and fill it with all of our firsts!”

“What?!” Koushiro’s cheeks reddened as Taichi snickered.

“The first time we met, the first time you let me hold your laptop,” as Koushiro’s blush deepened, Taichi inched closer and closer, “when we confessed to each other, oh—can’t forget when we first held hands and kissed!”

“Now who’s making a big deal out of nothing?” Koushiro near cried, “We were just going to go out to eat and some window shopping! Stop saying such embarrassing things!”

“But it’s so much fun!” Taichi exclaimed, giggling as he practically crawled on top of Koushiro, “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure I shower you with affection and appreciation too!”

“Hey—get off!”

“Nooope!”

Koushiro tried pushing on Taichi’s shoulders, but with pressuring giggles and over exaggerated kissing noises, Taichi’s weight won out. He pushed Koushiro down onto the couch, wrapping his arms around Koushiro’s waist as he laid down fully over him. Taichi couldn’t help but feel a streak of victory as he saw the prominent blush over Koushiro’s face. Sometimes, Koushiro had an air of indifference and stoicism around him. But when it was just the two of them and Koushiro was completely unguarded and full of character, Taichi couldn’t help but feel a plethora of happiness.

Koushiro knew the soft side grin on Taichi’s face all too well, “You enjoying this?” Koushiro mumbled without any bite or drawback.

“I always enjoy being with you,” Taichi was a breath’s distance away, his nose grazing Koushiro’s, “Doesn’t matter if it’s at some couple’s retreat or just us wasting time at home.”

“…Yeah,” Koushiro whispered, staring back at Taichi’s loving gaze and feeling the warmth trickle down all the way to his quickening heartbeat, “Me too.”

“Good!” Taichi rubbed their noses together, “So, you’re going to stop feeling bad about us not going out tonight?”

Koushiro pressed his lips together, “…Fine,” he leaned into Taichi’s touch, “But I do want to make it up to you still.”

Taichi rolled his eyes, “Fine,” he compromised, “It’s not that late yet, why don’t we just make the most out of tonight.”

Koushiro found himself catching Taichi’s smile, “What do you want to do then?”

“You find the movie I was watching earlier, I’ll reheat the food?”

“Really. That’s all you want.”

“Well we’ll be cuddling and stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“Well,” Taichi dragged out the syllable before clicking off into a smile, “You’re trying to make it up to me right? You can figure that part out.”

With a slight scoff, Koushiro shook his head slightly, “Fine.”

Taichi got up first, helping Koushiro sit back up before trotting off into the kitchen. As he heard the press of the fridge being opened and the microwave being utilized, Koushiro took his time finding some movie that’d be enjoyable for the both of them to watch while finding the stray blanket Taichi kept in the living room for nights such as these.

“Ready?” Taichi asked when he came back in the room, plopping down on the couch as he placed two plate on the table in front of them.

Koushiro draped the blanket over them, and simply leaned against Taichi’s touch the second he felt an arm wrap around him, “Yeah.”

It was easy to feel relaxed as they sprawled out on the couch. It wasn’t the image that Koushiro had set out to achieve when he first settled on plans. But as movie continued and the hour got late, Koushiro found himself settling in the warm proximity of their intimacy.

Closeness, it was something that was made abundantly clear since they were stubby little kids with little insight as to what would happen between them. Koushiro didn’t exactly expect for his relationship with Taichi to become this personal. But during moments like this, each and every moment that connected them deeper felt so natural, that Koushiro couldn’t picture his life turning out any other way. Whenever Koushiro thought about that, he wanted to showcase this and more. To somehow let Taichi know just how Koushiro enjoyed spending time with him by making feel as special as Koushiro felt with him.

Taichi nuzzled against Koushiro’s neck and would place random kisses. With a soft smile, Koushiro leaned back into Taichi’s touch, snuggling up against him before turning around to meet him in the middle.

Koushiro only paid attention to the world that began and ended with Taichi’s touch. All he cared to hear was their breaths mingling to the background noise of the television and their hearts drumming against each other. Even if Taichi’s living room wasn’t exactly the ideal romantic date spot that Koushiro asked and researched about. Koushiro was glad to spend this winter’s eve here with Taichi.

[beanjuice-duh]

“Bringing Home Ham”

This is going to be a three part introduction to what might turn into a full fledged Tumblr-base Hamilton (and other musical inspired) fanfiction. I wanted to keep going but I as nearing 2000 words and decided to break it up, see how I feel...idk I had this really vivid idea how the cat and Alexander, the modern day and all sorts of stuff. So this is my take on it all. I will include rating and themes as I post. As of right now, its as safe as you can get lol. No trigger, no smut, no cursing. (Enjoy, comments are greatly appreicated and desired)  Cast: Martha Washington, George Washington, Marquis de Lafayette Word Count: 1,994 Part 1 of Bringing Home Ham. Setting: February 2017, New York, New York Themes: Hamilton, sitcom-ish themes, possibly other themes __________________________________________________ There is nothing like winter in the city. People running a muck while the streets are far from pretty and there is trouble in the air. “Martha.” A very firm, curt almost glass cutting voice pierce the somewhat quiet walls of the two bedrooms, brown stone apartment. A small but luxurious place nestled in Harlem’s west side. It was on the expensive side, but twenty years in the NYPD, George earned himself a pension. The added bonus he might have retired as a cop but he continued to ‘work’. Taking pride of being a history teacher at the same private school his wife worked. They made a good living, comfortable at the very least. “Martha…” His voice was still firm but somehow unable to carry far to the kitchen where the water was running. Martha standing by the sink cleaning the remains of today’s dinner with a smile on her face, washing and passing off the dish for her temporary ‘son’ to dry. Beside her was a tall, slight muscular young teenage boy with a large puff of thick, textured curls tied into a bun. He was well groom, well mannered and constantly smiling casually. In contrast, Martha was a small and stout woman. She stood no taller than four nine and had the body of a young Mother Goose. Her skin was a beautiful marbled pattern of bright ivory and deep, rich mahogany. A patchwork of two tones that was both striking and somewhat hypnotic. Her hair slicked back and pin straight as black as ink and a pair of kind, warm almond shaped eyes. Of course she wasn’t this boy’s mother but by the looks they shared no one could have told the difference. “MARTHA!!!” This time the voice was no longer firm and conversational, it was demanding, harsh. The pure robustness of the voice was enough to make the walls quake. In one slip Martha lost control of the wet dish and dropped it. It nearly hit the sink when a fast hand came from under it and grasped it in time. “Thank you, Lafayette.” She exhaled deeply, placing a small hand to her chest. “Le Bienvenu(your welcome), mama.” He beamed. “Le Pere(father) sounds…how you say…in distress.” Martha nodded in agreement. She patted Lafayette’s back while he finished up at the sink. The little woman trotted lightly down the hall to the master bedroom. “A’right Mr. Washington” she began with a Southern sweetness that her decades in the city never took from her. “There better be a good nuff’ reason why you’re hollarin’ this time at night. You’re going to wake everyone on the block.” She chuckled, though once her gazed settled she noticed something was not right with her George. His back was towards her, hunched over not revealing his true height. His hands firmly on the dresser top. “Martha…” he spoke her name again kinder but still very stern. “George…” she answered hesitantly not sure where he was getting at. She approached him slower, holding out a hand to touch his back. “I’ve told you time and time again.” He whipped around so fast her hand recoiled to her side immediately. His body no longer shielding what was upsetting him. On the dresser were five sets of ties completely ripped to shreds? “Why George, your ties, how did you manage to rip them.” She was playing with him now, her face was a dead giveaway. Martha knew George could see right through her. Nearly thirty years of being married and twenty of policing the streets there was not a thing she could get past him. Exasperated. That was his expression as he clasped his large hands together as if to pray. He held them to his face and steadied his tone. So help him, he loved his wife but this was the last straw to his steely patience. “Where is it?” He demanded, when he opened his eyes his black gaze were cutting through her soft browns. His expression was controlled but just on the cusp of losing it. George’s brows couldn’t be knitted together anymore; their bushiness nearly turned into a solid unibrow on his reddened, cue ball head. Martha didn’t speak, she merely tucked her hands behind her back and looked off knowing well she was not in good waters. “Martha-May Dandridge Washington, where is the DAMN cat!?” He stormed out of the bedroom and was on the move now, Martha behind him. “No-Now George, wait!” She struggled to keep his stride. Each step he took were at least four to five of hers. “What makes you think I’m housing that cat? You’ve already told us we can’t have it.” Her voice was light and sweet, trying to sooth his anger but her forging innocence was not working. At this point Lafayette was leaning against his closed bedroom door, his hands behind him clasping the handle. “George, you’re acting like a mad man! Calm down, remember your blood pressure.” She tried to chastise him. “Marquis.” George paused in front of the tall French boy. The home stay student they housed while he was attending their private school, the boy was well behaved, polite, but not uptight. He was a natural and so very casual. As if life was just a breeze and he was the kite gliding over it. So George knew that this sudden tense smile on his face meant something. “Lafayette open your door.” He huffed. A stare down, he looked up at George’s face. For a man who was never going to be called ‘father’ he had the look and the aura down to a T. Lafayette shot his mother figure an apologetic look before twisting the door open. George waltzed in and scanned the room. Nothing. “See, you’re over exaggerating. Truly, Georgey.” She used that nickname. The nickname back during their dating years in high school back in Virginia, she was his sweet summer love. He was her strong teddy bear of a man. Married while they were still seniors and moved out to New York for a bigger and better life. That nickname, much like his wife, still unhinged him. Made him glow like he did when first saw that southern peach and knew she was going to have him. His anger did cool; he turned his head and wondered perhaps his instincts were rusty. He opened his mouth to apologize when a meow came out. Lafayette blinked a few times, “Pere did you just meow?” George eyed the bed and with a mighty heavy his hands lifted up Lafayette’s bed with all the contents still on top. Under there was a large, long haired white and ginger cat staring up at him with its tongue out. Meerrrow. George huffed, the cat was mocking him, using one hand to keep the bed up and the other to grab the cat from the back of the neck. “Explain THIS.” He huffed holding the cat out at arm’s length towards Martha and Marquis as he dropped the bed with a thud. Martha and Lafayette exchanged guilty glances. “Now George” Martha had some serious explaining. “Its just so cold…and the poor dear keeps coming back to our window.” George glared, not having it now, he was going to be made of fool!? Not in his house, he was putting his foot down. “The cat keeps coming back because you two keep feeding the damn thing.” He barked back, before Martha could rebuttal he kept going. “It’s a street cat Martha. A dirty, disease ridden stray you have no idea where the hell its been.” “But Georgey…” “Don’t. Georgey me!” He bellowed. “And to add insult to injury I find this pesky thing has clawed up my good ties and you lie to me!? Get Marquis to follow suit?” George’s face couldn’t have been any redder; a vein was nearly popping out of the skin along his temple. “You have some nerve, woman.” Oh, and did she. Martha was a sweet summer peach most of the time but only one man could test her enough to turn her tart and that was her husband. He could tell his last sentence struck her hard and it was no longer her trying to sooth him. The body language went from house wife, to run for your life, with a cock of her hip and a bend in her knee Lafayette moved aside when Martha Washington responded to her husband. “You listen here, Mr.Washington. That poor, defenseless creature is an animal of god and as a good god loving woman I opened my home to it. It needed love and affection and I will not let you blame your careless actions of leaving your ties out in the open be a reason this lil’ thing gets kicked out in the freezing cold.” “My…’careless’...! Martha I pick out my ties a week in advanced, its productive!” “Its stupid!” Even when glaring and red in the face, Washington had to admit he loved his little wife. He was a strong man, stronger now because he had a strong woman beside him. But no amount of undying affections in his heart could sooth this disrespect. He moved her aside, much to her discontent and started walking. “George! Be reasonable!” She had tried being nice, tried using their faith, now she was working on flat out begging. “I want him!” She finally yelled from the hallway. George made it passed the living room and paused at their front door. Martha always wanted things George didn’t want… George would give her the world if he could and he has basically done it. Give or take some things he couldn’t help. “George Washington you take one more step.” Empty threat, he could smell it. And with that he jerked opened the door and tossed the cat out. The animal landed on the snow banks made by the street cleaners and ran off into the dark streets of Harlem. “And there, back where he belongs.” He smiled closing the door, the winter air hitting his overheated face did good to calm him. George closed the door behind him and turned towards Martha, water gathered at the ends of her turned up, almond eyes. “Martha.” “Well I hope your manly bravado keeps you warm tonight Mr. Washington. The couch is ALL yours.” She turned with a sound hmph. Her body scurried to the room, passing Lafayette who was still standing by. The master bedroom door slammed shut and snapped as she turned the lock. George ran his hand over his smooth head, calmer and clearer of mind he realized perhaps he had gotten a bit too upset over a few ten dollar ties…From the corner Lafayette leaned on the wall and smiled at George. “What?” He looked at the teenage boy who simply shrugged. “I’m not going out there. Its freezing.” George spoke as if reading Lafayette’s mind. “Pere…will get the chat(cat) for mama. Because Pere is a good man.” He tossed him his house keys which George instinctively caught. “Be safe.” Lafayette waved and started retreating back to his bedroom. The older man glowered a little, “Haven’t I told you to call us Mr. and Mrs. Washington!? We’re not your parents!” Though …even in French he did like the term. It was a word he would never hear from his own children. He couldn’t have any…perhaps it was why Martha was so dedicated to serving. She became an English teacher to be around kids, a part time guidance counselor for them…she would watch them grow and graduate. The closest thing to children she could have given George’s infertility. The crippling loss of an adoption falling apart…the home-stay nearly saved her aching heart. A void to be needed and to care for another thing, a need George should have known Martha was going to defend even if it was just a cat. Defeated, he tossed on his coat, equipped himself with his phone and keys, bracing himself for the chill of a February night.  

[asterdeer]

in some other world lev and loreleaf become a thing. they stay on earth safely tucked away, at first living with the d’arvilles until they get the hang of their brave new world and then lev goes out and gets her own apartment. the day she leaves - not far away, not the lightyears and centuries away from loreleaf that they were scared of, just about twenty minutes away on the other side of town - that’s when they kiss for real, for the first time, her hands cupping his face as he presses as close as he can get because, and they both know she’ll come back for him as soon as he’s ready

he’s terrified of even this smallish, sleepy southern town and for a long time she has to walk its streets with him, gripping his hand tight, until he settles down. strangers make him shy away and cars scrape his nerves raw. lev is totally at home - she knows cities, she knows towns, she knows people and civilization and this quiet place even sets her at ease. she’s happy to guide him into it, to let him stay at home even as her grasp of english and ease at assimilation lets her find a job - manual labor, but it pays pretty well. her apartment is not fancy but she makes it work. and the first time she takes him to see it, they fall asleep that night curled up on the sofa with their hands locked together. it’s their apartment at this point and it doesn’t take long for him to move in completely

they both have wildly differing views of marriage. for lev, it’s a legal thing - getting married is about getting stuff, perks, exemptions - marriage, in her mind, is something far more fluid and utilitarian than it seems to be in this town. for loreleaf, it’s more deeply crucial and inherently religious than it is even for the town’s inhabitants - it’s about souls and the afterlife more than it is about bodies and feelings. (lev is a little weirded out by the fact that the closest word for the bond between loreleaf and brightsword is “marriage” but then the torkans have several types of “marriage” as there are frequently several words for different types of “love”. it’d be different, loreleaf says, before hesitating and finishing, for different people, even though lev hears for us)

the point is that it’s not something that lev considers, not for a long time. she knows something is bothering him after a few months in the apartment, after they’ve fallen into a routine that feels disconcertingly but comfortingly like domesticity. (they make out a lot. a lot. loreleaf, she finds out, likes being touched, and she does too, and it’s great, even if he’s not comfortable going farther. she’d be a lot more than okay with it if he was but, ultimately, she doesn’t mind.) finally it comes out when she finds loreleaf in their bedroom with a few english dictionaries, struggling over the definitions of “marriage,” and he tries to explain the torkan marriages, that idea. it’s nothing he wants to rush into, he emphasize. but i’m thinking about it. it’s cute, and flattering, and lev tries to give the suggestion all the gravity that he does, even though it’s just not something that she can culturally understand

it’s about a year later - they’re settled, loreleaf doesn’t scare at cars that much anymore (unless they honk) and he has a part time job at a nursery where he’s able to save up money and where he doesn’t have to talk much, and lev has a few friends from work and she’s experienced to know what she likes at the local coffee shop. she comes home from work one evening to find..... the apartment littered in plants. not flowers, not decorative succulents, but plants - fruit tree saplings, vegetables plants, vines, a fricking tomato plant already heavy with growing tomatoes. loreleaf is waiting, nervous and dirty from work. it’s the closest i could make, he tells her. i understand if you want to say no. i know you don’t understand or really care. but i wanted to ask if we could marry now. 

lev agrees. how could she not? it matters to him; for all she cares, they’re pretty well knit together anyway. there are little rites and ceremonies he goes through every day for the next nineteen days - the moon here is different than the one he knows, so he tries to work out the days manually - and lev takes part in them as best as she can. they’re simple, brief, and it’s worth it to see the seriousness with which he goes about them, like he’s studying for a test or performing life-saving surgery. the tomato plant, he tells her, is the final rite - they eat the first full-grown piece of fruit they grow together, and that’s it. they’ll be together.

he gets more and more nervous as it goes on. he doesn’t touch her as much, is hesitant with his kisses, like he’s scared that he’s pressuring her or assuming too much. lev tugs him closer every time he pulls away, trying to strike a balance between patronizing him - he’s an adult, his feelings are natural, just because his misgivings seem minimal to her doesn’t mean she should find them humorous - and expressing that his fears are unfounded, even ridiculous. if i have to tell you i love you on the hour, she says, i will, but i wish you’d believe me in the morning and take it from there. 

he says he’ll try. a little bit of fear leaves his eyes, but it’s there again a few hours later.

she comes home on the last day of his ceremonies to find him nursing a bloody hand. it’s terrifying at first - she’s counted the scars on his arms more times than she could recite - but he waves her off, explaining that he cut himself trying to cut their tomato. his hands were shaking too much. kissing his forehead, she takes the tomato from him and slices it, giving a wedge to him and taking one for herself. he watches her as she takes her first bite, only then shoving his whole wedge in his mouth. she laughs, and he smiles past the mouthful. it’s casual. it’s quiet. they’re married, to him - and that’s enough for her, too.

+

there’s a baby happening three years later.

i don’t mind trying, loreleaf had said softly, his hands not trembling, his voice steady as he looked up at her, if you want to.

lev had promised to be careful, to stop if he wanted to at any point, that she wanted them both to feel good (but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t planning on enjoying this)

he hadn’t minded. not totally. she could tell he was disconnected from it in some way that she wasn’t, but most of his aversion to the idea of it sprang from distrust. and, apparently (she thought about this all night, long after he’d fallen asleep) he trusted her (she thought about it all night as she held him close, his body tucked against hers, her finger strumming over the scarred skin over his ribs)

they didn’t do it often but it seemed that one of those times had been enough.

loreleaf is terrified. he acts like he’s hurt her, like he’s infected her with a disease, all against her will. lev is scared too - of course she is - but she does wish he would stop feeling so guilty, looking so hangdog whenever she gets sick in the morning, when he finds her eating odd things in the kitchen at odd hours. 

(she wishes sixes was around. she knows he wishes brightsword were here. they make do with advice from the d’arvilles, from sammy lightness, from mrs. t, and especially from velvet.)

it’s not, she believes, that he thinks of the baby as a curse; he just thinks that she resents him for it. she’s never thought about wanting a baby, not really, but the more she thinks about it... hell, why not? she has the calm, non-murdery life she used to want, back at the Days. it’s a little strange - it’s not normal - there is literally no other person on this planet who speaks her native language, and that’s the least of her worries as someone who’s who-knows-how-many years in what she still subconsciously thinks of as the ancient past - but this is her life. and she likes it. she has friends, a home, a way to support herself, and gods help her, she has what amounts to a husband.

bring on the baby. she has enough love and strength for ten babies (but one will do).

one night, she and loreleaf fight. he’s tired out by fear and work and nightmares that have been happening more and more frequently. he snaps - makes one too many frustrated, well-night passive-aggressive comments about her relatively cheerful mood. she snaps back, tired of the tiptoeing the two of them have been doing around each other. he slips into torkan, agitated, and she’s angry enough to demand what he’s saying “in english, not your forest hick language” 

I’M SCARED THIS IS GOING TO BREAK, he shouts, his voice cracking. I’M SCARED I AM GOING TO BREAK IT.

oh, she says, as if that’s news to her. but, apparently, it was news to him.

they talk the rest of the night. he wants the baby, too - maybe even a little more than she does - but he’s so scared. he’s always so scared. lev can’t remember what feeling fear - real fear - even feels like. it’s so much better here that she can’t imagine anything interrupting this. but loreleaf...

it’ll be fine, she says. it’s going to be amazing.

when she makes him put a hand against her belly - that’s when the tears start. he cries and she pulls him to her - he buries his face in her neck and murmurs something in torkan, over and over - and she might cry a little bit too. they’re having a child, the two of them are

he tells her that he was largely raised, after his parents were killed, by his village’s healer, and he picked up a few things for pregnant women. unfortunately most of the actual treatments his healer-sister used aren’t available on this planet, but some of the tips he gives her actually do help. he tends to her when she comes home like she’s a queen. even before lev has never had this - she’s never wanted it, not really, but it’s hard to deny that it’s nice. it’s really nice to come home, food warm and the house clean and the air smelling like their plants (still alive) and the incense that he makes himself. it’s not that pregnancy is fun - but the perks, she decides, are nice

the baby comes as all babies seem to come, amidst chaos and nerves and yelling and the pain is definitely not like anything even lev has ever felt and all of her happy feelings towards the baby are utterly obliterated in those hours in the hospital. throughout the birth she hears loreleaf’s voice constantly - either clearly or as background noise to her own yelling and cussing - and it sounds like he’s praying to someone, tears thickening his voice as they all wait it out. she all but passes out when it’s done.

when she’s recovered enough to be conscious of her surroundings, she sees him next to her, the baby cradled in his arms, softly crying, his head bent over it, his hair shielding its face from her sight. she says his name and he looks up, his eyes full and his smile fragile and brilliant. it’s a girl he says, and if she were awake enough, she’d cry, but she’s not, so she just smiles at him and keeps smiling until he comes to sit on her bed, letting her see their daughter - a tiny, mumbling thing, with wispy dark hair and soft, reddish-brown skin closer to her father’s than her mother’s. 

what do we name her? lev asks, because between the two of them, they have only names that probably won’t fly where they live now. loreleaf shrugs. some names are also plant names, right? is tomato one of those names that goes for both? lev doesn’t think so but she decides to ask judah. (judah laughs way too much at this. it’s kind laughter, but still.)

when loreleaf suggests lavender, lev almost cries again. it sounds like yours, he says, and no child could ask for a better mother to be named for. she wants to protest but she can’t, there’s no reason to protest when it sounds so right. not because it sounds like her name, no, but because... it is right. a beautiful flower, strong and good and lovely. no child could ask for a better name, period. lev kisses her daughter and kisses her husband and when she does start to cry - who could have ever looked at her eighteen-year-old self huddled in her bedroom in greenrow, nursing her scars and tending to her boys and struggling against death every day, letting herself be used as a murder weapon just to stay alive herself, and predicted that she would become a woman who’d stepped from that world into one like this, a place where her strength and urge to protect would be channeled into a quiet life, nurturing her friends and loreleaf and now this small, beautiful speck of life? - when she starts to cry from gratitude, from thanksgiving, loreleaf is right there, softly weeping too, soothing her dreadlocks and kissing the tears on her face, murmuring over and over i love you, i love you, i love you so much, i love you both so much

there are many kinds of happiness and lev had been able to say she’d known must of them in her life - the happiness of simply being alive, the savage joy of successfully protecting her boys, the ecstasy over the prospect of a new life, the bone-deep relief at having a home to come to at the end of the day, the simple contentment of a job well done, the handful of unique thrills that come with fulfilled romantic love. 

she can’t imagine any more kinds of happiness after this. it’s not that this is better than those other kinds; it’s just that, finally, she has her own personal version of the full set. 

loreleaf falls asleep next to her; lavender sleeps in the crib near the hospital bed. it takes a while for lev to drift off, her mind consumed with what comes next. she’s looking forward to feeling those happinesses all over again - along with everything that comes with them, makes them worth something, too.