#like even with no memory shes subconsciously aware & usually keeps a small distance away

[watermel0ns-dumb-cringe]

I got you beside me

that's a fact you should know

[emerald-chaos]

Touchdown

*gif not mine, credit goes to the owner*

I just want to take a moment to say thank you for the love on my last fic! It made my lil ole heart swell to see that peopled enjoyed it enough to leave a like or reblog.

This is just something special I had in my arsenal that I wrote for a friend a few months ago. I touched it up a bit and added a few things here and there. It all started when we were talking about how much we loved when Chris' accent got heavier after he'd been drinking, and well, I couldn't help myself lol. I hope you enjoy the fluff! xoxo

I apologize for any grammatical errors, I tried to proof-read but am also a little exhausted lol.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 2844

Warnings: I don't think there's anyway? Mentions of being drunk/drinking alcohol, cursing, and illusions to sexy times, but that's about it.

You hadn’t noticed how furiously your knee was bouncing up and down until the person sitting next to you on the subway got up to move seats once the train squealed to a stop. You sighed and ran your hands down the front of your thighs. Normally being a little late didn’t bother you as much, but tonight you were meeting him.

You flipped your wrist over to check your watch. 8:30pm. In all honesty, it had probably been only thirty seconds later than when you checked it the last time. Another deep sigh escaped from your lips as you started to become hyper aware of the train remaining still at the current stop. What could possibly be taking so long? You knew he wouldn’t care if you were running late, but the time the two of you had together already felt so minuscule. You wanted to capitalize on every second you could.

The train began moving again and you slumped back into your seat, feeling only a small amount of relief. It was becoming painfully apparent that you needed to try and relax. You could feel the sweat building up on your body, the sting on your palms from where your fingernails were pressing in with a vengeance moments ago, and you could hear your heart thumping in your ears. Your hand dug around in your purse for a few moments before finding the small case you were looking for. Opening it, you slipped your headphones into your ears and let your head rest on the window behind you as music intertwined with your thoughts.

Once upon a time, you made fun of people who decided to go to grad school. What kind of a clown would spend thousands of MORE dollars and go BACK to school?? Not to mention the stress of the assignments, the due dates - it was not for you...or so you thought.

Now here you are, a regular booboo the fool.

NYU’s graduate program for design and merchandising wasn’t necessarily part of your 5-year plan, but when the opportunity landed in front of you it was difficult to pass up. NYU was a school you had only dreamt of attending back in high school. When you were a senior in high school you were able to tour the campus and fell in love immediately. Hours upon hours were spent researching grants, scholarships, and all sorts of ways to try to make it happen. However, the dream ended as most teenage dreams do - crushed. There was no way you or your parents could afford the loans that it would surely wrack up to attend the out of state university, and there was no way you could ask your parents take on that kind of debt just so you could go to college. UMass was the way to go - close to home and familiar. Not to mention you were able to obtain several scholarships and grants that helped bring down the cost tremendously. Little did you know, boring ole UMass would bring you one of the most important things in your life.

Applying for graduate school wasn’t an easy decision and one you couldn’t really take all the credit for. A smile crept across your face as you reminisced on the night you nervously brought up the idea to your long-term boyfriend.

“I think you should do it,”

“I know, right?” you scoffed, “it’s insane, why would I do something so stup...wait, what? You do?”

“Of course I do. This is something you love and that you’re passionate about. Do you know how many hours of my life were spent listening to you ramble about NYU?” he questioned with a grin.

“It will open up so many doors for you. We can make things work,” a chuckle escaped from those beautiful lips as he saw your dumbfounded expression. He wrapped his fingers around your waist and pulled you close, “What? Did you expect me to forbid it? Cmon, baby, what kind of guy do you take me for?”

You didn’t have a lot of wins in your life, but you did have Chris.

When you got accepted, he took off a week from work to drive you 3 and a half hours south to help get you settled and moved into your temporary new home. The two of you ate a disgusting amount of pizza, moved a ridiculous amount of heavy furniture in the middle of a summer heat wave, and enjoyed each other’s company before the long-distance thing would set in. Chris spent that week encouraging you every step of the way, talking you off the ledge when you were convinced you had made the wrong decision, and made sure to help you christen every possible surface of your new place in the most deliciously sinful way.

You bit your lip slightly at the thought and a warm feeling spread across your face. Chris was one of the most incredible people you had met in this world. Kind, caring, funny, intelligent, passionate, and god was he sexy. The connection the two of you had was scary at first, but now you just couldn’t imagine spending your life with anyone else.

The robotic voice came over the loud-speaker in the subway car and you were rudely ripped back to reality as it pulled into your stop. You hurriedly scooped up your bag and jogged off the train.

It had been a promise between the two of you when you moved that there would be equal effort when it came to visiting and keeping in contact while having good, open communication. Long distance was hard but the two of you were determined to make it work. FaceTime calls, hours upon hours of texting, and even as far as writing the occasional letter back and forth (because your boyfriend was a hopeless romantic and you loved it so much). This weekend was your turn to come home to visit, and of course your last class had to go longer than anticipated. Fuckin’ Tiffany and her stupid ass questions.

The muscles of your calves burned as you kept up your hurried pace, weaving through the crowds of people gathered on sidewalks outside of various clubs and restaurants. It was a weekend night and the Patriots were playing, which meant the city was more alive than usual. New York was it's own beast, but it was a different type of hustle and bustle. Nights like these made your heart ache for home - the thick Massachusetts accents, the rowdy voices of bar patrons arguing about the game, the hugs shared between family members as they parted after dinner, and the faint smell of nicotine and alcohol that hung in the air.

As the neon sign that hung in the pub window came in to view you felt your heart dip down into your stomach. Last weekend’s visit had to be cancelled due to some stuff coming up with Chris’ work and a surprise assignment for you, so you hadn’t seen your boyfriend in 2 weeks. With a deep breath you swung open the door and scanned the crowd for him. He told you that he would be there promptly at 7:15pm for pregame shenanigans with his friends - which actually translated to how many pitchers of beer could they suck down before kick off.

“Aw, come ON! That is such a bullshit call!”

You heard him before you saw him. Of course. A grin spread across your lips as you shook your head. The thought of leaving to avoid secondhand embarrassment crossed your mind briefly before you picked up your feet and made your way through the crowd toward the sound. A room full of people from New England and you would still recognize that voice anywhere.

Everyone else seemed to fade away as you saw the outline of the tall, dark haired man standing at the bar. The slight freckles that spattered the back of his neck, the Brady jersey that he spent WAY too much money customizing, and the signature backward ball cap were ingrained in your subconscious memory. Not to mention if you didn’t recognize his outline or his voice, you would definitely recognize that ass anywhere.

You loved how passionate he got about sports and the way his Boston accent seemed to get thicker with each beer he consumed. Growing up in the area, you wouldn't think the accent would send a tingle down your spine the way it does, but it was different - it was Chris. Not to mention the sparkle in his eye when he would watch his favorite team or the way he would get in to arguments whenever someone tried to say something negative about them. You loved your big, handsome, over-sized toddler man so damn much.

A light tap on his shoulder made him whip around, his slightly opened mouth from his interrupted conversation curved upwards into a wicked grin as he made the connection of who was finally standing in front of him.

“Hey there, handsome. I don’t see a ring on your finger. You single?” You grinned, feeling your entire body fill with warmth as Chris leaned back and grabbed his chest as he erupted in laughter.

“Nah, nah, nah, unfortunately for you I am taken” he responded as he snaked his arms around your waist, sliding his hands into your back pockets as he pulled you into his figure.

“That is too bad,” you tsk'd, running a finger down his toned bicep, “she’s one lucky girl.”

“I think I’m the lucky one,” he grinned. He leaned down to meet your lips in a kiss. You sighed into it, allowing your body to mold itself so perfectly into his. The taste of beer on his lips and the smell of his cologne was intoxicating - it was home. You immediately allowed him entrance as you felt his tongue glide along your bottom lip. Your body felt small in his strong grip and you couldn’t help but laugh a bit as he gave your ass a firm squeeze. Normally, this type of bold, public display of affection would make you cringe away but at this point you were lost in Chris that you had absolutely no shame. Each time the two of you embraced had always felt like the first. Your heart still fluttered and your knees still got weak, like you were a 16 year old being kissed for the first time.

In the middle of your reunion moment, however, something happened in the game that made the entire bar erupt in boo’s and curses. Chris lifted his lips from yours to look over his shoulder and inspect what he had missed. You laughed and shook your head as you pushed him back towards his friends and took a seat in the bar stool he had been standing behind initially. His large hands found a natural place on your shoulders. While his eyes remained glued on the TV he began applying a moderate amount of pressure to your neck and shoulders. You didn’t realize how much your body craved that touch, his touch, until you immediately melted back into him.

The bartender slid a beer in front of you with a wink and you mouthed your thanks. You felt a twinge in your heart as you looked around, taking in the atmosphere of the bar. This was a typical weekend night for the two of you whenever you were living together. Football, drinks, pub food, and friends. If it wasn’t this pub it was your living room, just a couple blocks away. You didn’t even mind that it was your first night back and you weren’t alone, spending it immediately wrapped up in your satin sheets. The atmosphere, the people - it was so warm and familiar that you really wouldn’t rather be doing anything else. Plus, being wrapped up together in the sheets was sure to follow.

“I missed you,” hummed a pair of lips as they placed a kiss on the shell of your ear. A shiver shot down your spine at the sensation of his warm breath fanning over your neck. You reached up a hand and connected it to the nape of his neck.

“I missed you too,” you replied, turning your head to plant a kiss on his stubbled cheek.

His arms changed position as he wrapped them in front of your shoulders and crossed them, resting his chin on the top of your head. Your hand absentmindedly rubbed his forearms as you nursed your beer and placed your focus onto the game for the first time tonight.

The laughter seemed to escape from your chest naturally and effortlessly the entire night, as it always had a habit of doing when Chris was around. The camaraderie between him and his buddies during a game was something you’d grown to enjoy over the years. Chris’ competitive nature and the way his jaw clenched when something wasn’t going the way he wanted was always kinda...hot. All of his friends were huge assholes, but in the best way. It was always entertaining to hear them jab at each other and do what they could to rile someone up. They were the life of every party you had ever attended and they had a way of making a boring night a lot more interesting.

Thankfully (for the integrity of the bar) the Pats won the game with a surprise touchdown in the last 30 seconds of the game. Chris, being the guy he is, bought a final round for his friends and a nearby group they had been going back and forth with all night. You couldn’t help but laugh as he drunkenly leaned across the counter and slurred his order to the bartender.

“I need a round for m’friends and for these assholes over here who thought Tom Brady was anything but a winner!” the group started yelling in protest and he simply waved them off and started sliding beers down the bar.

The group eventually moved to a bigger round top so everyone could shoot the shit and banter about the outcome of the game. You were tucked into Chris’ side, hands intertwined as he was passionately discussing the importance of Brady’s legacy with a stranger who made the mistake of stopping to talk to him. Your eyes followed the motion of your thumb as it traced small circles onto the back of his. Your other hand under your chin, holding up the weight of your head as your exhaustion started to catch up with you. Chris, although slightly drunk, picked up on your body language and raised your hand to his lips for a kiss.

“Alright, fellas,” he said as he stood up from his seat, pulling you up with him, “the lady and I are gonna call it a night. See you boys next weekend”.

“Chris, we don’t have to go,” you began to protest as he tucked his jacket around your shoulders.

“Mm, ‘course we do,” he replied with a soft smile, “you’re so tired, baby. I can see it in those beautiful eyes”.

You could feel your cheeks turn a light shade of pink as you rolled your eyes at his attempt at laying it on thick. After what felt like a proper 10 minute goodbye session, the group said their final goodbyes, hugs included, and you walked out of the pub hand in hand.

The walk home was filled with the sounds of cars passing by and conversation of what each other had missed in the week prior. Small talk typically felt like such a chore, but with Chris every conversation came naturally. Even when he had absolutely no idea what you were talking about, he would listen intently and ask all the questions as if it was the most interesting conversation in the world.

The lock on the apartment door clicked as you pushed it open and entered. You smiled as you stopped into the middle of the living room, taking in the home you missed so dearly. A soft tapping of toenails against the hardwood made your heart soar as you met the eyes of your sweet pup, Dodger. A squeal left your lips as you squatted down to give love to the sweet boy. Chris always made fun of you when you came home, saying that you always seemed to miss Dodger more than you did him and I mean, he wasn’t entirely wrong about that statement.

Once again lost in your own world, you didn’t even notice Chris leaned up against the wall watching you with a smile.

“Oh my god,” you gushed, standing up, “do you like...like me or something?”

Chris grinned as he crossed the room and caught your belt loop with his finger, pulling you into him slowly.

“Yeah,” his voice had dropped down an octave, “you could say that”.

“Mm,” your tongue swiped across your lower lip and you wrapped your arms around his neck, “care to show me how much?”

The look in his eyes made your core burn. The tension building between you two became too much to handle as you crashed your lips into his. The kisses were messy and you could feel the sense of urgency between you two. His beard scratched against the column of your throat with a delicious burn as he left wet kisses across your jaw and down the side of your neck. Chris’ hands found their way back into the ass pockets of your jeans as he started walking you back towards the direction of the bedroom.

Soon, there was a trail of clothes leading to your bedroom and you felt very sorry for your neighbors. It had been a long time, but Chris always had a way of welcoming you home.

[sleephyjhs]

You Sing Lullabies to your Baby (REACTION)

all members are included under the ‘keep reading’ link

notes: this genuinely has taken me so long and i am so so sorry. when it comes to parent aus i really like to take my time since they’re my favourite, i hope it’s okay!!

m.list | requested

KSJ

Your prolonged absence from the downstairs loveseat caught Seokjin’s attention. The baby monitor had alerted you of your newborn’s disturbed sleeping, but the lack of commotion from upstairs interested him. After pausing the animation film he was determined to finish with you, he traipsed carefully for the stairs so not to further disturb your son.

His fingertips scarcely skimmed the corridor walls as he tiptoed towards the nursery. Through your newfound maternal panic, the panelled door had been left slightly ajar in the rush to attend to your baby; the small opening allowed just the right amount of view to see what had distracted you for so long.

The nursery itself was dark, illuminated only by pastel nightlights that so often fascinated his son’s brown doe eyes. Sleeping in the dark throughout the night was a trait you collectively were glad he’d inherited; tonight was perhaps the first glitch in his habits since birth. Facing away from the opened door was your nursing chair, where you’d positioned your now sleeping son across a flimsy pillow over your lap. His audible muttering was slowly washed away by the sound of your voice, humming a slow lullaby to soothe him.

“And if that mockingbird don’t sing, mama’s gonna buy you a diamond ring~” Seokjin’s eyelids fluttered softly in time with the rhythm of your lullaby. You’d previously claimed to sing your baby to sleep when he wasn’t around, and now he had finally caught you.

Instead of feeling the need to interfere, Seokjin stood away from the light and listened to your lullaby repeat again and again until it was time to transfer your son back to his cot. To avoid being caught by you, he hurriedly hopped back down the stairs and resumed his seat in the couch. His private concert would remain his little secret.

MYG

Finishing rehearsals any earlier than midnight had recently become a foreign memory for Yoongi; coming home to a sleeping wife and baby was too painfully familiar. Finally, the rare occasion of an early clock-out had come around. Your newborn’s night routine was one Yoongi frequently missed, so the new opportunity was nothing short of refreshing.

Despite receiving a text saying to expect your husband home earlier than usual, the closing click of the front door was inaudible from your daughter’s nursery. Yoongi dumped his bag on the chair in his home studio and silently proceeded up the stairs.

His light stepping was a habit that had once caused you many frights, but at least your endless efforts to soothe your wailing daughter wouldn’t be reversed. The dim corridor light hardly caused Yoongi’s shadow to cast on the pale carpet of the nursery as he leaned against the doorframe, allured by the soft melody of your humming.

“Round and round the garden like a teddy bear~” Within seconds of listening to your repeating rhyme, Yoongi smiled brightly to himself. Within a matter of minutes, your exhaustion was more than apparent to him.

Yoongi pushed the door slowly to reveal himself to you as you gently placed your daughter back into her crib. Sighing as she finally appeared sound asleep, he held his arms open to you. A hug was nothing short of what you needed.

JHS

Knowing how well you enjoyed laying in on weekends, waking up to a groggy husband, your absence was nothing short of concerning. The warm imprint of your body still staining the bedsheets - you hadn’t been gone for long. Hoseok raised himself slowly, rubbing his eyes in disapproval of the morning sun. His first challenge of the day? Locating you.

Although he shuffled down the corridor still stiffened by the earliness of your escape, you were oblivious to his looming presence. Less than 10 minutes ago, your daughter decided to raise the heavens with her irritant screams. She was only just adjusting to a room of her own; being out of reaching distance from you was proving to be distressing for her, and of course, you.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey~” The soft, motherly hymns attracted Hobi towards the door of the freshly decorated nursery, where you stood rocking the tiny infant in your arms back to sleep. He leaned against the doorframe quietly, still struggling to open his eyes fully. Subconsciously, his head swayed from side to side in chime with the repeating melody, immersing him fully in your morning serenade.

Realising how tired he was, Hoseok figured singing lullabies so early in the morning could’ve been enough to send you drowsy all over again. Before his eyes could close completely on his two main girls, he traipsed slowly down the stairs in order to prepare you a well-earned homemade breakfast.

KNJ

As much as you both we’re almost always left exhausted from your busy schedules, if the only time you had together was past midnight then Namjoon would do what he could to make it work for you. Watching a movie at 2am was a risky move - balancing the volume to not disturb your dozing twin boys was hard work.

Just when you thought you’d worked it out, the chorus of agitated cries roared through the baby monitor, “No you stay here, eat.” You convinced Namjoon before he could even place his bowl of food on the coffee table.

Long after finishing his overdue dinner and still no sign of you, Namjoon paused the now-concluding film and crept through the silence towards the nursery where his baby boys had generated a now dwindling raucous. He couldn’t help but feel guilty about agreeing to stay put; one noisy baby was enough for anybody to handle, let alone a carbon copy.

Before he could barge through the door to aid the process, Namjoon paused in the corridor at the breaking of the silence. A small, cloud nightlight illuminated the cosy nursery that homed his boys and projected it’s yellow glow onto you. With a sleepy baby in each arm, you rocked back and forth in the pillowed nursing chair, “I’m sometimes up and sometimes down, coming for to carry me home.”

Maybe you had it all under wraps after all..

PJM

You’d anticipated Jimin’s return from tour for nearly a month, and were over the moon to finally be able to snuggle with your love once again. The daily facetimes were nowhere near as good as the real thing.

Although, the advantage was your new capability to lie. With your forced smile and optional mute button, you were hoping that Jimin never took a moment to suspect things weren’t as perfect as you so convinced him. Admitting your struggles would only guilt trip him into coming home briefly when he could, which was more stress he could’ve done without.

Your daughter could sense her father’s absence, and proved to you that she missed him more than you did. Never before had you had so many sleepless nights. Your mind was packed to the brim with lullabies from all over the world; it was all that worked in getting her to sleep anymore. Instead of preparing for Jimin’s return, her restless sleep pattern drew you back to her room, singing the same lullaby she’d heard nearly a hundred times before.

As you chanted the sleepy serenade to your disturbed, Jimin snuck through the front door unheard. His arrival was far earlier than you’d expected, but your seeet vocal tones whistling down the staircase was a great enough gift for him.

“Wherever you go, no matter where you are, I will never be far away.” Jimin followed the humming trail up the stairs to greet his two girls one again. The sight of you slowly rocking a now dozing daughter was enough to curl his tired eyes into smiling crescents. Certainly, arriving home early was worth the lost hours of rest.

KTH

Following the few, short hours after her birth, you’d finally stumbled across your first obstacle of thousands to come; a sleepless night. Fair enough, being born is a decently traumatic, turbulent experience, and so your daughter was hardly to blame for her discomfort in a foreign place.

The drugs and pain reliefs that were being pumped into you mare you similarly unable to sleep. Taehyung, however, had been long gone since the sunset; supporting you through childbirth was more exhausting than he’d expected. You couldn’t blame him though, he was nothing short of amazing.

Getting in some practice alone was rather ideal for you. A watching crowd would’ve been daunting for any new mother. Lifting your precious newborn from the plastic bassinet, you flicked through the few memorised songs that were within reach of your limited memory.

Just as you conducted your first lullaby of the night, Taehyung suddenly awoke to the distress of his baby. The chair he’d fallen asleep in was far from comfortable, but any surface would’ve done the job. Instead of sitting upright to attend, he waited for a while, fully aware of how long you’d anticipated singing to your precious daughter.

“Sheep safely home have come, bumble bees no longer hum.” Smiling to himself as your gentle voice soothed both your daughter and him down into a snooze, Taehyung took the secret encounter as a chance to further adore you. Interrupting your first bonding moment with your newborn wasn’t on his list of options; Taehyung was more than content to listen to you embrace motherhood as he was certain you would.

JJK

Despite believing your son was well and truly asleep, the inevitable sobbing rattled through the baby monitor eventually. Having time alone with Jungkook was a rarity, but the disruption via your son was hardly repulsed. In fact, you often had to fight for the right to be the one to calm him down.

With it being so late, and him having hardly slept during the day, you knew well that your son was only overtired. Although Jungkook was by far better skilled in the vocal department, sometimes a mother’s lullaby can be all a baby needed. You allowed Jungkook to continue the anime episode without you - it shouldn’t take you so long this time.

Even a few minutes was enough to miss your presence. To grab one last glance of his tiny son for the night, Jungkook soon followed your footsteps to the pale grey nursery you rocked your baby so gently in, “Golden slumber kiss your eyes, smiles await you when you rise.”

Despite your vocal capability having no leverage on that of your husband’s, Jungkook still enjoyed listening to you. Something about your sweet voice that was hypnotising; drowsy in itself. Instead of storming the brief bonding session, Jungkook awaited you in the hall, grinning widely to himself in the corridor. You were beyond precious.

^ i really dont know why i use the namjoon and his twins starter so much but here we are

[carelessannie]

here’s the second part of my winteriron mermay au! enjoy!

while we’re devoting full time to floating chapter two: boy you better do it soon

Rating: M (for now) Word Count: 6.8K Relationships: Tony x Bucky Warnings: Smut adjacent (unintentional sex toys), sexual tension, profanity, kinda drug/alcohol use Read on AO3 Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

- - -

His eyes blink open slowly. It’s strange to wake up without a blinding headache. Actually, it’s strange to wake up without any pain. And with the sun shining in his face.

To his left, he sees a small form on the water’s surface. In his mind’s eye he knows the form is familiar, knows that there should be someone inside— but it slips quickly, evading his memory as the dark form fades over the horizon.

Tony shakes his head. He smacks his lips.

Where is he?

First of all, he’s definitely not in the ocean. It seems like he’s resting on some type of rock formation, with just his tail hydrated in the water. Interesting. He seems to be inside a cove, the shelter working wonders to hide him from the mid-afternoon sun.

Secondly, he’s alone. He never travels alone, especially not to the shore. It hurts to try and remember, but reality slams into him like an orca whale. Rhodey and Pepper. The exploration to colonize. The fucking Tiger Sharks, dammit! Tony’s tail slaps the surface of the water in frustration, and he lets his body slip into the shallow pool.

He hopes the sharks didn’t get his friends. The memory of the fight is hazy at best, but he knows he shouldn’t be feeling this good afterwards— he’s pretty sure he got hit at least once. There are no scratches or bruises anywhere on his body, and it’s confusing that he doesn’t even have a headache.

That’s a problem for later, though. Now, Tony needs to find his friends— or, what remains of his friends. He swims out of the cove and down, through the reefs. Fish seem to be tentatively peeking out of their hiding spots, and he follows the empty spaces to trace the path a shark might have taken. He whistles, sharp and quick, to try and map out the figures in the surrounding area, and is satisfied when his call is returned with a low chirp. Thank the sea.

“Rhodey!” he hollers, pushing through the crowded reef, searching wildly for his closest friend, his faithful number two. As Tony breaks into the clearing, he freezes at the sight in front of him.

Rhodey and Pepper are swimming territorial circles around all three Tiger Sharks— and, from the looks of it, all three are dead.

“Tony!” Pepper notices him first and beckons him closer. When he swims up, she throws her arms around his neck, sobbing briefly into his shoulder, before reeling back and lightly slapping his arm, “How dare you worry me like that! I was sure all we’d find were scales— how did you get away?”

“I…” Tony tries to remember, he really does, but the only things coming to mind are brilliant blue eyes, an ethereal glow, and a deep, alluring voice, “I think someone saved me. But, by the time I woke up, they were gone.”

“You didn’t recognize them?” Rhodey swims closer, looking him up and down, inspecting for injuries.

“No, I don’t… I don’t think they’re part of the Kingdom,” Tony murmurs, reaching up to subconsciously play with his signet ring. His memory is usually so sharp, it’s strange that—

“Holy shit, Tony— look!” Pepper interrupts, pointing at his chest. He looks down, but all he can see is a slight illumination around his sternum.

“What—”

“Stay still,” Rhodey snaps, gently lifting the ring off of his skin. Pepper reaches in to trace a delicate circle on his chest, and both of his friends look awestruck. And afraid. He tries to crane his neck and see, but all he notices is that the glow fades the longer the ring is kept from touching his body. Rhodey hums, thoughtfully, “Seems like the ring is enchanted. I haven’t encountered a witch in ages— but I guess one came out of hiding to save you.”

“I guess. Pep, do you have a mirror?” The longer Rhodey holds the ring, the tighter Tony’s chest feels. He plucks it out of Rhodey’s hand as Pepper pulls a mirror out of her satchel, turning it around so Tony can take a look.

His signet ring lays in the center of his chest, a steady weight, and radiates a faint glow. It’s more concerning that, surrounding the ring, there’s a few inches of light emanating from under his skin. Tony reaches up to trace it— the gold ring and blue haze, so similar to the eyes he remembers saving him. Still, nothing hurts, and Tony pushes the mirror away.

He ignores their concerned looks and starts to tie up the sharks, concentrating on getting them back to the Kingdom before any larger predators arrive to investigate. After a moment, both of them swim down to help him, shouldering the bodies and heading back towards the Kingdom’s butcher.

It’s a few more minutes before Tony breaks the silence, giving his friends a break, “So, uh… do you think I’ll be a lanternfish forever?” He throws them a smirk and laughs at Pepper’s exasperated sigh.

Rhodey bumps into his shoulder, “You have trouble blending in as it is— at least now we’ll be able to keep track of you… in night clubs.”

Tony gwuafs, offended, and shoves at Rhodey’s shoulder. With everyone happy and laughing, it’s easy to forget about his mysterious savior and the inevitable conversation he’s going to have with his father later on. They head straight for the butcher when they enter the city, several citizens cheering and praising their kill. Tony knows he’ll get the credit for it, even though it was Rhodey and Pepper who slew the sharks, so he takes off as soon as they drop the bodies, heading to the castle to see the King.

---

Hours later, Tony sits at the far perimeter between two sentinels, staring out into the open ocean. The nocturnal fish have emerged, sending an eerie glow onto the city as the lights dim, throwing the Kingdom into gentle darkness. It does nothing to soothe Tony’s anger.

He takes Pepper’s satchel, full of rocks and shells and other samples from their journey, and dumps it over the side of the wall. Useless. It’s almost as if his dad doesn’t even want to explore anymore, just sending Tony out to keep him distracted. And he knows that’s probably the case, he’s not stupid, but he can tell there’s something deeper his dad isn’t telling him.

Well, fuck ‘im. Tony’s more than capable of figuring it out on his own.

For now, he stares out into the distance, throwing a silent Tony pity party.

There’s movement in the distance. At first, Tony thinks it’s debris. It’s not uncommon for items to fall from the surface— but this object suddenly twists, and he sees… shit, he sees arms. Fuck. It’s a person.

“Stay alert,” he instructs the guard on his right, “I’m gonna check it out.”

Tony takes off into the dark, distantly aware that one of the guards is hot on his tail, and heads straight for the figure still drifting towards the ocean floor. He slows down as he approaches, thankful for the light in his chest that illuminates his surroundings. When he gets to the spot, sand is settling in a cloud around where the figure landed. It takes a moment for everything to clear, and Tony waits patiently, the guard at his side prepared with a weapon.

It’s a man. “Holy shit,” Tony breathes out, swimming closer to the limp body stretched across the sand and rock.

“Be careful, your Highness,” his guard warns, and Tony waves his hand in dismissal.

The man landed facing away from him, giving Tony a good view of strong, muscular shoulders and wavy, shoulder-length hair, half tied back behind his ears in a small knot. His back rises and falls, expanding with slow breaths that reassure the man’s gentle sleep. He leans over and pulls on his shoulder, carefully turning him onto his back.

He’s absolutely gorgeous. Lips slightly parted and turned down in sleep, his face is utterly serene. His lashes are dark and cast a delicate shadow over sharp cheekbones, sprinkled with a tasteful amount of scruff, not quite enough to hide his full jawline and smooth, tanned skin. Tony can’t help himself— he reaches down and cups the man’s jaw, brushing his thumb over full lips and wishing he could look into this man’s eyes.

With a gasp, the man jerks awake, and Tony gets his wish. Deep, electric gray eyes bore into his own, the handsome face overtaken with shock and confusion as he bolts upright, pushing Tony away and looking around frantically.

“Hey, hey— it’s alright. You’re okay, please don’t panic,” Tony tries to calm him down, sighing in relief when the man turns his focus back on Tony, still looking desperate and confused, “My name’s Tony, you’re outside Howard’s Northern Kingdom— can you… can you tell me your name? Where you came from?”

The man shakes his head. He’s shaking slightly, and Tony watches as he runs his hands over his chest, his hips, and his silver and crimson tail— as if grounding himself in the present. Tony understands and gives the guy some space.

He hates the devastated look in the man’s stunning eyes, but is grateful when he croaks out, “The… the Northern Kingdom? Under water?”

Tony snickers, motioning around, “For now, yeah— that’s where sea life generally lives.”

The man nods, a little too quickly, “Right, I… of course, right. My name…” he grimaces, as though it’s painful to remember, “I’m James, but… but people call me Bucky.”

“Bucky,” Tony repeats, liking the sound of this stranger’s voice, somehow familiar, “I’m Tony, and King Howard is my father. Unfortunately, before I can help you out, I’m gonna need to know why you’re here, or where you’re from,” he gestures to the guard behind him, “otherwise this guy’s not gonna let you come home with me.”

Bucky’s smile is a revelation as it breaks over his face. Tony feels something twist in his chest as he ducks his head, looking up at Bucky through his lashes and watching the other man’s cheeks flush pink in delight. Oh, Tony likes this a lot.

“Well, I’m… I’m from…” the smile falls from Bucky’s face as he concentrates, a painful grimace maring his features again, “The Kingdom of Brooklyn, and my brother is the King. His name is Steve. And I… I don’t know why I’m here,” his brow furrows and a small whimper leaves his throat as he concentrates harder, and Tony has to stop it.

“Hey, Bucky? Please don’t— don't’ hurt yourself, okay?” He grins in approval as Bucky relaxes, “We can work on it, sweetheart, for now, what you’ve given me should be sufficient. I’ve never heard of Brooklyn, but if you’re a Prince and not one of our enemies, our King shouldn’t have a problem with offering you temporary residence.”

“I… okay,” Bucky agrees, looking down at his hands, “I don’t want to impose.”

Tony holds out a hand and pulls Bucky along with him.  They swim back through the gate and into the city— most families are already tucked into their homes for the night, so no one sees them on their way back to the castle. Bucky looks absolutely stunned, barely talking during their journey, and it amuses Tony to no end. Obviously whatever Kingdom he’s from is small and underdeveloped in technology and population.

They travel shoulder to shoulder, and Tony can’t help but feel a familiar warmth when their arms brush against each other, the ring around his neck pulsing brighter. It seems like Bucky notices it too, but the expression on his face is difficult to read.

“So this is a weird question,” Tony starts, fiddling with the ring as he studies Bucky’s face. The other man smiles encouragingly, so Tony continues, “have we… met before? Like, specifically earlier today?”

Bucky stops suddenly, looking at Tony as if he’s actively growing another tail. For a moment his face looks surprised, filled with recognition, but it quickly disappears as Bucky hunches over and lets out a pained gasp, clutching desperately at his head. Tony has no idea what to do— and in panic, he pulls Bucky closer, wrapping the larger man in his arms.

“Shh, I’m so sorry,” Tony whispers, trying to soothe away the pain. Bucky is trembling like a leaf in his arms, and he’s helpless to do anything about it. He’s also aware that they’re drifting in between several dwellings, and Tony needs to get them inside, soon.

Soft, red-rimmed eyes blink up at him, and Tony brings up his hand to push a few wayward strands of hair out of Bucky’s face. Even upset and in pain, this man is flawless. He sniffles and blinks a few times, struggling to turn a reassuring smile up at Tony.

“T-thank you,” he murmurs, face flushing pink again in embarrassment, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Everything is… familiar. But I can’t remember you, I’m sorry.”

Tony clicks his tongue, following the blush with his fingers and enjoying the close press of their bodies, “It’s okay, Bucky— we’ll figure it out.”

---

They make it back to the castle in one piece, and Tony knows it’s going to be best to present his guest to the King immediately. He knows his presence isn’t welcome due to the argument earlier in the evening, but the consequences will be worse if Tony tries to hide what he’s found.

The two of them wait outside of the King’s rooms as a steward leaves to announce them to his father. Tony tries to fill Bucky in on procedures, but it seems his guest is already familiar with a number of expectations and etiquette.

“Oh, and remember to tuck your tail as well. And if he tells you to be informal, he really means you can call him ‘Your Grace,’ not to call him Howard. He’ll hate that.” Tony rambles, listing off everything he can think of.

“Wait,” Bucky stops him, “tuck my… tail? Why?”

Tony chuckles, backing up slightly to face Bucky. He looks around to make sure no others are watching— it would be improper for the Prince to bow, even in jest— and when he’s satisfied that the coast is clear, tucks himself into a formal bow.

“Oh,” Bucky breathes, and Tony unfolds himself, his smile erased completely by the intensity in Bucky’s eyes. Fuck. “That’s… that was…”

And then smoothly, gracefully, Bucky mirrors his bow, curling his tail forward, dipping his head, and crossing one arm over his chest respectfully. Tony is speechless. The show of respect— even casually— from this breathtaking man, has him breathing deep to keep his desire at bay.

It seems as though Bucky’s having a similar problem. As he unfolds from his bow, Tony can see his pupils blown wide, the scales around his groin flushed pink in arousal. Tony can bet his own scales look the same, and tries to laugh, tries to calm them down as he backs away slightly. It won’t help either of them to see the King looking like this.

Of course that’s the moment the King’s steward chooses to return, giving both of them a disapproving once over before opening the door wide, “His Majesty will see you in his library.”

Okay, not the worst then. If Tony was in deep shit, Howard would just see them in the drawing room. At least Tony likes the library.

He leads Bucky down the hall and into the library, hiding a smile at the awe clearly written on Bucky’s face. He takes a second look, trying to view his father’s library with fresh eyes, but has trouble when his gaze keeps landing on the handsome man swimming next to him.

Howard is reclining near a window, absently eating a few fermented algae— his usual method of winding down from a difficult day. As the King looks their way, a piece of algae still in his fingers, Bucky dips into a formal bow. Triton, he looks good like that. Tony dips his head, informally, and both of them straighten up a moment later.

“What is it, Anthony?” his dad sighs, putting the piece of algae on his tongue to dissolve. Tony suddenly feels parched, but holds his arm out to present Bucky regardless.

“An hour ago, as I was watching the border of our Kingdom, a figure fell from the surface. I went to investigate with a guard, and we found James, here, unconscious and unarmed. James claims to be a prince from a Kingdom called Brooklyn, with a King named Steve, and is seeking asylum until he can resume his travels. His mind is damaged, and I wish to extend my care and hospitality towards him for the duration of his stay.”

The King looks at both of them, his face refusing to give anything away, but Tony knows from experience that he’s much more perceptive than Tony gives him credit for. He crosses his arms and addresses Bucky, “Prince James, then,” he says, testing out the title, “if not hostile, what are your intentions towards my Kingdom and my son?”

Bucky ducks his head and nods, “My intentions are to know your Kingdom and know your son, if he so desires, Your Majesty. I am healing and recovering my memories, and once I’ve reclaimed my original destination, I shall depart immediately.”

Howard nods, satisfied with this answer. He points to the small pail on his side table, “Anthony, would you bring your… friend a refreshment?”

Tony spares Bucky a shrug and swims over to the chilled container, lifting it slightly to scoop out a small bundle of algae into a glass, trapping them quickly with a lid. He grabs a few for himself and makes his way over to where Bucky floats, his eyes wide and curious as Tony hands over the refreshment.

Bucky looks down at the cup in his hands, obviously and adorably lost. Tony glances over at Howard— his dad looking between them in amusement— and touches Bucky’s shoulder, catching his gaze and motioning for him to follow Tony’s example.

Reaching into his glass, Tony fishes out a piece of algae, showing Bucky how it sticks slightly to his finger. Bucky copies him, and grabs a smaller piece in between his forefinger and thumb. Tony wishes he could feed the bit to Bucky himself, place it on his tongue and feel his pretty pink lips suck it from his hand.

Instead, he quickly places it on his own tongue, humming happily as the sweet and sour algae dissolves, sending a warm shiver down into his belly, clearing his head and heating him up from the inside out. Damn, his dad always has the best shit.

He turns his attention back to Bucky, watching intently as he follows suit and places the morsel in his mouth. His eyebrows shoot up, he looks down at the cup in shock— as if the remaining algae could provide some explanation— and then, to Tony’s dismay, Bucky lets out a guttural groan, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure as his cheeks hollow out, lips curling tight around his fingers while he sucks them clean.

Tony is having something close to a stroke, and his dad is laughing loudly in front of them, obviously finding Tony’s distress amusing. He’s going to commit regicide, and it’s going to be slow and painful and bloody.

He overcompensates by taking the lid off his glass and throwing the rest of the algae back, breathing deep as the sensation hits him all at once. As he sways a bit in place, he catches Bucky staring at him in amusement.

“Anthony,” his father sighs, shaking his head in annoyance, “do whatever you must. He can stay… in your rooms, primarily. Or in the guest lodging— as long as you have security on him at all times. Get Jarvis to set up residence wherever you’d like, Anthony. Just don’t let me hear it, and don’t let me see it.”

Bucky is frozen with another algae halfway to his mouth, flushed red and eyes wide. Tony is convinced that flustered is his natural state. Before his dad can embarrass them further, Tony takes Bucky’s hand and excuses them, swimming quickly back down the hallway.

He doesn’t stop until they reach his rooms and slam the door. They’re already cackling before they hit the nest, and Tony can’t catch his breath. He rolls over and tucks close into Bucky’s side, enjoying how his chest shakes as they laugh together.

“What the fuck did I just eat, Tony,” Bucky wheezes, and Tony loses it again, ducking his face into Bucky’s neck and sobbing into his skin.

“Fer… fermented algae, baby.”

“I— I can’t believe… it tasted like…” and Bucky’s voice cuts off, his body stilling. Tony looks up to see what happened, and Bucky is staring straight forward, unmoving. Frozen.

“Bucky? What did… what did it taste like?”

“It. I can’t…” And again, Bucky’s face contorts, breath stuttering as his hands come up to cradle his face, sighing in pain. Tony immediately pulls his hands away and replaces them with his own, massaging his temples until he’s met with deep, gray pools of sweet relief.

“Don’t push it, honey,” Tony purrs, resting his body gently on top of Bucky’s, rubbing their noses together and blowing a few bubbles, making Bucky giggle and relax. He lays his head down on Bucky’s chest, before realizing how close they are together— and how little they’ve actually gotten to know each other.

“Dammit,” he curses, pushing off of Bucky’s chest and floating away, “we don’t— shit. I don’t even know you. You have no idea who you even are. I am so sorry, I just fed you an unknown substance, oh seas,”

“Tony, it’s okay—”

“I’ll get you your own room, I promise. You don’t have to put up with—”

“Tony! Hey,” Bucky swims off the nest and presses him up against the ceiling, pinning his shoulders and staring into his eyes, “I remember who I am, I just can’t recall where my home is. I know the name of my brother, and my best friends. I have a…” small grimace, “pet named Alpine. I’m a scientist and a Prince, and I’m almost completely convinced that I’m—”

He pauses, a familiar blush traveling down his chest and filling his cheeks. Tony blinks down at him, “That you’re what?”

“That I’m already, irreversibly infatuated with you.”

Tony feels the ring around his neck pulse, bright and hot on his skin, as if agreeing with the sentiment. He wants to respond, really does, but everything is too new, too important. Bucky is too important.

They’re close, though. Tails brushing together, bubbles of air mixing and joining in front of their faces. Tony can hear his own heartbeat, frantic and longing for the man in front of him. Bucky reaches up, acting as if he wants to touch the ring, but he hesitates. His fingers flex, his eyes blink rapidly, and then he’s reaching into Tony’s hair, pulling on strands tenderly and cradling his face in strong, sure hands.

And Tony just melts in his palms, an absolute jellyfish for this mysterious stranger. The tension between them is heavy, thick and magnetic. He drifts into Bucky’s space and tries to watch for a sign, any sign, but his eyes are closed— when did his eyes close? And then their scales rub together, catching and pulling, tearing a desperate moan from Tony’s lips. There’s a hand in his hair and eyelashes on his cheek, and their lips— their breath—

“I can’t,” Tony whispers, forcing his eyes open to watch Bucky frown in confusion. “I’m sorry, I’m crazy about you, but you deserve…” and he can’t remember, right now, everything that Bucky deserves, but he knows it’s a lot.

“Oh, I… Okay. I get it,” Bucky nods, devastating resignation taking over his handsome features, “I’m not… I can’t…”

“Can we just sleep? Talk and spend the day together in the morning?” Tony suggests, like an adult. Bucky nods, suddenly yawning and glancing up at Tony sheepishly.

“Sounds perfect, Anthony,” he smirks, chuckling again as Tony swats at him playfully.

It only takes a few minutes to set up a guest room for Bucky, fit already with a flawlessly woven nesting kit and other amenities. Tony even makes sure to include a pail of chilled algae, ugly laughing when Bucky discovers it by the dressing mirror.

The next day comes soon enough, and Tony has enough sense to cancel his engagements, asking his steward to clear his schedule and plan a tour of the kingdom for the two of them.

Before Bucky wakes— Tony assumes he’s still asleep in the guest suite— he has the royal gardeners collect fragments of coral and deep sea sponges to present to his new… friend. He asks for crimson and gold, colors not only of Tony’s scales, but also of Bucky’s as well.

When the arrangements arrive, he spends a few minutes weaving them together with a few ties from his nest and small strands of his hair, intimate details that he’s sure Bucky will love.

He waits in his living space for Bucky to join him. The windows are thrown open, letting a gentle morning current sweep through, and Tony sits with the coral and sponges draped over his arms. And he waits.

After a few minutes, he’s done waiting. He calls his steward to check on Bucky, and watches as the boy disappears down the hallway. There’s a knock, the faint sound of the door being opened, and then low, urgent voices. The steward swims back to him, looking guilty.

“He sends his apologies. He says that he’s not used to rising without direct light, and missed the wake up call completely. He should be around in a few moments, sir.”

“Oh, yes— that’s fine,” Tony places the arrangement in front of him and dismisses the steward, choosing to pick on the assorted breakfast foods instead.

It’s only a few moments before Bucky joins him, looking absolutely delicious and well rested. He sits next to Tony— very close, actually— and takes a suspicious look at the meal prepared for them.

“It’s… fish? For breakfast?”

Tony’s surprised again by his confusion, “Yes, honey, we generally eat fish for breakfast. If you’d like, I can have the cook crack you open a few clams instead? Oh, he makes the best sweet clam mix— it’s to die for,”

“No, no that’s fine,” Bucky waves his hands, reaching for an assortment of fresh eel instead, “these should be… these should be good.”

Tony watches in glee as Bucky slurps down the eel, grimacing and gagging slightly when it hits his tongue. He hides a smile when Bucky sits up straighter, obviously testing the flavor on his palette, before turning to Tony and putting his hands on his hips.

“Okay, but… why was that so good?”

Tony splutters, “You ass! You had me fooled— thinking you didn’t like fish for breakfast, like a fucking lunatic.”

Bucky chuckles, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. For a moment, he looks so lost and confused that all Tony can do is urge him to eat more fish, shoving three or four more plates in his face.

After they finish eating, Tony picks up his arrangement, feeling like a guppy as he hands it to Bucky, waiting for his reaction. Bucky— seas bless him— gives him a lopsided smile, holding the coral and sponges like they’re about to bite him. It’s confusing.

“Thank you, Tony. I’m not… I’m not supposed to eat it, right?”

“What?” Tony chokes, throwing his head back in laughter, “no, honey. It’s a gift. To admire. From my gardens.”

Bucky’s eyebrows draw close as he concentrates, something from his memory probably slipping away again, so Tony takes the arrangement from him. He sets it on the table, perfect decoration for the room, and grabs Bucky’s hand, leading him out of their rooms.

“Let’s go,” Tony urges, giving Bucky a reassuring wink as they head into the city.

Their day is incredible. Tony had no doubts before that the two of them would get along, would laugh and talk and joke as naturally as breathing. He’s proud of his Kingdom, too. Welcoming Bucky and treating him like a Prince— draping chains of flowering wildlife around his neck and offering them both assortments of salted meats— shark and squid and flounder— and dozens of fine jewels and beads.

If Tony purchases a number of those jewels for Bucky, it’s no one’s business but his.

He’s enraptured by the way Bucky experiences things. He’s always gasping and blushing as if each moment is special, new and unique, instead of normal and mundane. Tony feels drunk on it. He wants to spoil Bucky rotten, hoard all of his reactions to himself and make sure Bucky is always smiling like this— happy and soft and warm.

So Tony might be a little infatuated as well. He’s not supposed to fall in love this quickly, especially not with a stranger, but he feels inexplicably drawn to Bucky, as if by fate.

The days after pass similarly. Even when Tony has to resume his responsibilities, they still spend most of the day together— Bucky helping him delegate and problem solve issues in the Kingdom.

There are some bad days for Bucky— when he tries to remember too much and ends up with headaches that won’t go away. It’s especially bad when Tony leaves with Pepper and Rhodey to explore near the surface. Bucky refuses to go with them and spends those days in his room, clutching his head and sleeping restlessly. Tony thinks he may have repressed trauma that’s related to the surface, to the day Tony found him, but without access to his memories, it’s hard to know for sure.

Even with a few bad days in the mix, most of the time they spend together is indescribable, and, after only two weeks, Tony already has the crown jeweler fashioning traditional courting gifts for Bucky.

He whistles on the way to pick them up, swimming faster than usual, and even doing a few twirls when the excitement is just too much. As he inspects each piece, he knows the smile on his face is ridiculously wide. They’re perfect. He can’t help but imagine Bucky wearing each item, draped and adorned with metal and jewels and his family crest.

Bucky’s lounging in the garden when Tony finally finds him, admiring the array of coral on the south side of the palace. His hair is tied back— half up half down, framing his face beautifully— and he looks up when Tony swims into view.

“Hey, honey,” Tony greets, silently hating himself for being so soft around this man, “do you have a minute?”

“For you, I have all the time in the world.”

Tony ducks his head, the warm twist in his chest pulling him towards Bucky, and he watches the other man swim over from under his eyelashes. Once Bucky is in front of him, Tony hands him the box, looking at his face patiently for a reaction.

He turns it over, and looks at Tony, confused. “What’s this?”

“Oh, sorry,” Tony touches the lid, trailing his fingers over the crest engraved there, “it’s um… they’re traditional jewels I had crafted… for you.”

Bucky still looks unsure, “Okay,” he says, toying with the clasp on the box, “is there a special occasion, Tony?”

Tony just shakes his head, giving Bucky a reassuring smile, “Just open it— you’ll see.”

He gets a small smile in return, and Bucky lifts the lid, revealing the intricate set of jewels— chains and cuffs and clamps, all symbolizing Tony’s intent to court Bucky.

Unfortunately, Bucky looks absolutely horrified. He extends his arms, pushing the box away, and looks up into Tony’s eyes, “I… what the fuck, Tony?”

“... what?”

Bucky puts the gifts back into Tony’s hands and crosses his arms, “I’m sorry if you misunderstood our relationship, but I’m not… interested in this. I don’t want this. At least not yet.”

“Oh,” Tony is shocked still, gripping the box tightly in his arms, “I just… I thought we were…”

But Bucky is shaking his head, “I like you, Tony. I’m probably even falling in love with you. But I’m just not into that. I have a few friends who are, but we’d have to be… I don’t know, married or something, before I’d want to talk about that.”

Tony looks down into the box, suddenly confused, “Bucky, what do you think I’m trying to do?”

“Those are… aren’t those—” Bucky flushes, all the way down his chest and bites into his lip, “— like… for sex?”

What?

“No?” he is so confused, and a little offended. Why would anyone use these things for sex? Sure, they can be sexy, but—

“Tony, in what other context would I wear these?” Bucky pulls out a strand of jewels connected together with a chain, two fasteners at the ends to hold them in place.

“You’d wear them when we go out.”

“Tony! These are nipple clamps!” Bucky shakes them a little bit, trying to emphasize his point. Tony, for his part, doesn’t see the issue.

“Yes? But they’re traditional, not sexy.”

And then it looks like something dawns on Bucky— his face lights up and he chuckles, dropping the jewels back in the box and reaching forward to touch Tony’s face, tenderly scratching behind his ears.

“Tony— I need you to tell me, as if I’m a child and have no idea what’s going on, exactly what these gifts mean.”

And then Tony gets it. Wherever Bucky’s from, he’s never seen courting gifts like these. Damn, he’s such an idiot.

“They’re family jewels, forged with precious stone and metal, to create the traditional set of courting gifts presented by a royal family member to their potential spouse. Or consort, I guess. But yeah, it’s… I’m basically asking if I can court you, officially. And if you accept them and wear them in public, it’s a symbol of our relationship and eventual engagement.”

“Fuck,” Bucky curses, still playing with Tony’s hair, “yeah, yes— I’ll wear them for you. I’d love nothing more than to be yours, Tony. I just… do I need to give you something in return? For you to wear?”

“Actually, half of those pieces are for me,” Tony replies, pressing his cheek into Bucky’s hand. “If you’d like, we can try them on?”

“Sure, darling, let’s go try them.”

---

Tony can definitely see now why Bucky would think these jewels were made for sex. They lay each item out on Tony’s dressing table, organizing them neatly, and Tony has Bucky float in front of him, keeping his arms outstretched in front of the mirror so he can adorn Bucky with each jewel.

“So, first is the necklace— set with gold and twenty-five rubies,” he explains, draping the necklace around Bucky’s neck and clasping it underneath his hairline. He can’t resist, and places a delicate kiss on top of the clasp.

“Next is the belt,” he says, bringing his arms around Bucky’s waist to set the belt just above his scale-line, “usually these are more feminine in design, but I’ve had a larger crest engraved to rest over… well— let’s just say it implies masculinity.”

Tony busies himself with fastening the belt around Bucky’s waist and ignores the laugh he gets. He straightens up and hooks his chin over Bucky’s shoulder—

“Shit, you look beautiful.”

Bucky gives him a shy smile and turns his head to look into Tony’s eyes. He could get lost in those eyes, drowning daily in pools of ocean blue and gray.

Tony clears his throat and pulls back, “Okay, next we have, uh—” Triton, “the chest piece.”

He doesn’t even bother explaining this one, focusing on attaching it and quickly moving on before he can embarrass himself. Tony brings the chain around, holding it in place in front of Bucky’s chest. Unfortunately, his nipples are soft and there’s no visible place for a hold. Tony huffs and uses his left hand to reach out, lining up steadily, before quickly pinching Bucky’s nipple.

“Shit!” Bucky curses, looking down in surprise, but Tony is fast— attaching the first clip before Bucky can react. He keeps up a string of curses, gingerly touching the left clamp, and Tony uses his distraction to attach the second clip to Bucky’s now straining and hard right nipple. He backs up a bit to give Bucky space, waiting for the other man to calm down until he stops cursing and curiously touches the chest piece.

Bucky looks divine. Each chain floats lightly, reflecting light and casting shadow onto his pink skin, darker than usual due to residual embarrassment. Regardless, seeing Bucky in his jewels and colors is doing something to him.

“Only a few more,” he murmurs, picking up the wrist cuffs and motioning for Bucky to extend his arms. Bucky still looks overwhelmed— a mix of anger and confusion and arousal, probably— but Tony slips the cuffs on, fastening them snugly, and hooks a few rings around Bucky’s fingers, attached with delicate chains.

“Tony—” Bucky breathes, twisting his wrists to admire the jewelry. Tony’s determined to finish this, so he ignores his impulse— to touch and touch and touch and touch.

The last items are a set of jewels for his ears and a head piece. “Can you move your hair, Bucky?”

When Bucky obliges, Tony goes to thread the jewels, only to notice that Bucky’s ears are perfectly smooth. He feels around just to be positive, and Bucky giggles a bit at the sensation.

“So, we have a bit of a problem,” Tony backs up, showing Bucky the ear jewelry.

“Oh.”

“— if you don’t want to wear them, I won’t ask—”

“No, I…” Bucky feels around his own ears, pinching and tugging the lobes, “is there a way to fashion them with clips, like…” he motions to his chest, refusing to meet Tony’s eyes.

“Yes! Here, it shouldn’t be a difficult change, either,” Tony swims to his main doors, handing the jewels to his steward with a quick word of instruction for the craftsman. He swims back to see Bucky admiring the headpiece.

Tony takes it from his hands, giving him a reassuring smile, and Bucky dips his head forward. With perfect access, Tony lays the headpiece over Bucky’s dark waves, securing it behind his ears with two pins, and adjusting the chains and jewels to lay perfectly across his forehead.

It’s too much. Tony lets out a shuddering breath, finally finished with the gifts, and leans his head against Bucky’s, closing his eyes and holding on to Bucky’s shoulders.

“You look gorgeous, Bucky. I can’t believe you’re wearing my colors… that you’d agree to this.”

He feels a light touch on the back of his neck, and holds on tighter. Bucky pulls away— causing Tony to open his eyes, following his movement— and he draws Tony closer, dotting a kiss to his temple. They stay like that for a few more moments, enjoy the closeness and warmth, before Bucky chuckles and drifts away fully, turning back to the box.

“Alright— now how do I put these on you?”

Bucky holds up two cuffs, identical to the ones he put on earlier, and tilts his head. Tony grins and extends his arms, guiding Bucky gently in how to slip on the cuffs, tighten them, and attach the rings. When they’re fastened, Tony is captivated by the sight of both pairs of jewels shimmering in the light, practically shouting their attachment to each other.

The final pieces for Tony to wear are a necklace— similar to Bucky’s, but with a space for the signet ring around his neck— and a matching sash and belt. Bucky helps him put them on, and soon they’re floating and facing the mirror, mouths agape.

“Absolutely perfect,” Bucky murmurs, eyes never leaving Tony’s in their reflection.

Tony inhales slightly, “I know, the jewels are stunning.”

“No, darling,” Bucky turns him and looks down into his eyes, “it’s us. We’re a perfect match.”

He can’t help but smile, his stomach twisting with affection as he loops his arms around Bucky’s neck, pulling them close enough that their bodies are touching, tail to shoulder. Bucky gasps, the motion pulling on the chain across his chest, and suddenly all Tony can think about is getting his mouth on this man, wringing every drop of pleasure from him, watching him come apart with Tony’s name on his lips like a prayer—

“Your Highness, my apologies, but the King would see you in his drawing room.”

Tony laughs— unbelievable, “Tell the King I’ll see him within the hour,” he answers, never taking his gaze off Bucky, his dark, deep eyes, shining like the sea—

“I’m sorry, Your Highness, but the King insists on your immediate attention.”

“Shit,” Tony curses, letting Bucky go and turning to follow the steward from the room. He looks back, giving one last promise, “I’ll be back in a moment, I swear,” before disappearing out the door, heading down the hall to meet his father.

[musicprincess1990]

Sherlolly prompt please? “For science!” and Friends to lovers!

Taken from my Trope Duos prompt list (prompts are now closed).  #16: “For Science!” and, #17: Friends to Lovers.

Two of my absolute favorite tropes together, you’d think it’d be easy to write… but NO, I stared at this prompt for WEEKS before I finally managed this fluffy bit of Teen!lock.  Please forgive my tardiness, and happy reading! (I hope…)

*

For Science

Molly Hooper.

Yes, she would make the perfect test subject.

For some weeks now, Sherlock had been forming an idea in his mind, an idea regarding his future.  He had no desire for the staid and proper career paths to which so many of his peers, and his superiors, subjected themselves.  He much preferred the idea of working on a freelance basis, particularly in regard to his field of choice: criminal justice.  Scotland Yard was out of the question, the “detectives” there were lazy at best, incurably stupid at worst.  No, he would be their consultant, offering a second (superior) pair of eyes whenever they were out of their depth.  It was quite genius, really.

Using the new memory technique he’d learned, Sherlock had begun constructing a palace within his mind, storing any and all information that might be relevant to his career.  Most of it could be found in books, on the internet, or buried within his subconscious, but there was one area in which these methods fell short.  Social and emotional context was best studied on another person, and also in person, with the subject providing both something to observe, and their own descriptions.

Which brought him back to Molly Hooper.  As a young woman who typically wore her heart on her sleeve, the observation aspect would be fairly easy, and despite her being a year behind him, she was in his chemistry class.  Therefore, she would provide much better insight than the other dullards in the school.

Also, there was the matter of her being his only friend.

Not that Sherlock minded, he couldn’t care less what the rest of the idiots in the school thought of him.  They were, as previously stated, idiots, and he aimed to keep such people at as far a distance as possible.  That said, it would be difficult to convince anyone with whom he was not on good terms to assist him in any experiments, much less this particular one.  Fortunately, he did have Molly, and her innate kindness and similar interest in the sciences substantially increased the chances of her accepting.

His decision made, Sherlock waited until lunch and sought her out in the dining hall.  As usual, he found her seated in a corner table, isolated from the rest of their classmates.  Unlike him, Molly actually liked people, but her shy disposition kept her from reaching out to them.  The two of them would never have been friends, had they not been assigned to one another as lab partners.  The year had set off to a rocky start (Molly timid and stammering and occasionally clumsy, Sherlock aloof and insistent that he preferred to work alone), but over time, he had grown to respect her intellect, so obviously above the cattle surrounding them.  In turn, she had found her strength, no longer stammered, and was unafraid of standing up to him.  Granted, some things had been easier before she’d grown a spine, but he found her much more interesting now, and, most surprising of all, she never bored him.

The focus of his thoughts lifted her head as he approached the table, her usual grin curling her lips.  “Hello, Sherlock!” she greeted cheerfully.

He offered a nod of his head, taking the seat opposite her.  “Molly.  Enjoying the roast pork?”

Molly glanced down at the barely-touched meat and gravy on her tray, wrinkling her nose.  “Not particularly, no.  The potatoes are rubbish as well.  Still,” she added, “it’s better than nothing, I suppose.”

“Mm, debatable,” he countered, and she rolled her eyes with a fond smile.

“Well, most of us need to eat regular meals, Sherlock.”

He groaned dramatically.  “How unbearably dull.”

Molly sniggered, then took a purposeful bite of the roast pork, holding his gaze the entire time.  She grimaced, but did not look away, even after she had swallowed the disgusting food.  “There, see?  I’m not afraid of doing unpleasant things.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at her in response, then used her bold statement as his means of changing the subject.  “Speaking of which,” he began, “I have rather an unusual experiment I’m hoping to undertake, and I’ll need assistance.  After some consideration, I’ve decided you would be best suited to help me.”

It was Molly’s turn to lift an eyebrow.  “Had to sit and think about that one, did you?”

“Yes, well, I never said it was a lengthy period of consideration, did I?”

Molly speared another bite of pork.  “Right, come on then.  What’s this experiment?”

“Kissing.”

The fork clattered onto the tray, sending several drops of watery gravy splattering in all directions.  Sherlock frowned and scooted backwards to avoid the spray.  “What the hell was that about?”

Molly’s eyes, already bordering on too big for her face, nearly doubled in size.  “Y-you… you want to… that is…”

“Really, Molly, I thought we’d gotten past the stammering by now.”

“Don’t be a git, Sherlock,” she snapped, and he noted with satisfaction that her voice was much steadier.  “Explain yourself.”

Sherlock sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table (thankfully, the gravy eruption had not reached his side of the table).  “You already know my career plans, of course.”  She nodded in confirmation.  “It has recently come to my attention that certain behaviors, certain… reactions… would be most helpful to understand.  Particularly the reactions following specific forms of sexual stimuli.”

Molly blinked a few times.  “So… you want to know what it looks and feels like to be kissed?”

“That’s rather oversimplifying the matter, but… essentially, yes.”

She fixed her eyes on a spot of stray gravy, gnawing thoughtfully on her lower lip.  Sherlock waited, mustering no small amount of patience to do so, knowing if he pressed the matter, she would be far less agreeable.  Finally, she lifted her eyes to meet his.  “This is all just… an experiment?  Strictly for science?”

“Of course,” he nodded.

Molly inhaled slowly, deeply through her nose, and Sherlock saw the decision in her eyes before she vocalized it.  “Okay.  I’ll do it.”

*

Two days later, on an unusually sunny Saturday, Sherlock and Molly took the weekly bus into the nearby town, and made for the most secluded spot available: a little cluster of trees within the town’s small park.  The boughs of four fir trees, standing close together, created a nearly fully enclosed space, the gaps just wide enough to slip through sideways.  Molly grinned to herself at the smell of pine and earth, grateful for the memories and the brief distraction it brought.  Too brief, she mused, as Sherlock sidled in behind her, reminding her of the reason for this unorthodox destination.

Her nerves were sky-high as he invaded her space, his fingers gently closing around her upper arm to turn her around.  Molly didn’t meet his eyes immediately, opting to focus on his shirt buttons (bad idea, they were straining to keep their place against his surprisingly toned torso), counting to three in her mind before finally lifting her head.

…And finding the same nervousness in his face..

“Right,” he murmured, his voice breaking so slightly, she thought she must have imagined it.  “So… shall we?”

Molly swallowed thickly.  “Well, ah…  first let’s… let’s talk about some of the… chemical reactions.  You’ve done, erm, some research on that?”

“Yes,” he said a bit too loudly, clearly grateful for the delay.  He cleared his throat.  “Preliminary research indicates that the act of kissing another human being produces a flood of dopamine, serotonin, and, in cases of great affection in one or both parties, oxytocin.”

“Mmhmm,” she nodded.  “What else?”

“Physiological signs of this release of chemicals include flushed cheeks, dilated pupils, elevated pulse, and labored, erratic breathing.  And, in the male’s case, there may even be an erection.”

Molly fought the embarrassed blush that bloomed beneath her cheeks at his use of… that word.  “Right, well… I think that, erm… just about covers it.”

Sherlock, whose expression had become passive as he recited the science behind kissing, snapped his gaze in her direction.  He looked… well, he looked properly terrified, to be honest, like she’d just told him his mother was coming for an impromptu visit (which had happened once, though the headmaster had been the one to inform him, rather than Molly).  Certainly not for the first time, Molly wondered if this really was such a good idea.  Yes, she’d secretly fancied Sherlock since she clapped eyes on him.  Yes, she’d fantasized about snogging him on numerous occasions, though usually in a more romantic setting.  And yes, she was also aware that this was as close to that fantasy as she would ever get.  But if he was going to be miserable the whole time… she couldn’t do it.

“Look, Sherlock, we don’t have to do this.  I know you want to gain as much knowledge as you can, anything that might help your career, but if you don’t want to kiss me—”

“It’s not that,” he interrupted her, his eyes downcast.

“Oh… then… you do want to?”

“No.”

“No?” she parroted back, just a little bit hurt.

He hesitated, a familiar little crinkle forming between his brows as he pondered this.  Molly had a feeling that crinkle would become much more prominent in a few years, as often as she saw it.  Finally, he looked at her, his crystalline eyes wide and worried.  “I’ve never kissed anyone.”

Molly paused, waiting for the rest of his explanation… but after a few moments of silence, it became clear that that was the whole explanation.  “Well, I sort of knew that… I mean, if you had, you wouldn’t be carrying out a snogging experiment, would you?”

Sherlock was perfectly still for fully ten seconds, before finally asking, “So… you don’t mind?”

“Of course not!” she laughed, taking care that she didn’t come off as mocking him.  “It’s not like I’ve been snogging boys left and right myself.  I’ve only had one real boyfriend, and... well... you know how that turned out.”

“Hm, yes I remember,” he mused.  "How is dear Jim faring in prison, I wonder?"

"Who cares?" she muttered.  "My point is, you don't need to be self-conscious."

"I'm not…" he began, but cut himself off when he saw the look of annoyance Molly gave him.  "Okay, fine.  I may be the slightest bit out of my depth here "

Molly smiled.  "I should be recording this."

"Don't make jokes, Molly."

"Don't be a prat, Sherlock."

"I'm not—" he was cut off again, this time by Molly, who had abruptly grabbed his face and crushed her lips against his.  Sherlock instinctively closed his eyes as his mind raced to process all the new data and stimuli presented to him.

Warm… soft… smells like cinnamon… wonder if she tastes like it too?  As if reading his thoughts, Molly's lips parted on a breathy sigh, and Sherlock slid his tongue out to taste her.  Mmm, yes, tastes like cinnam—oh, God…  Her hands had drifted upward, fingers carding through his hair, and he simultaneously shivered and flushed, heat spreading all the way down to his toes.

In the back of his mind, a voice whispered that he was supposed to be doing something… but for the life of him, he couldn't remember what it was.  All he could think was, not enough.  She wasn't close enough, he wasn't touching her enough.  Well, he soon remedied that, firmly locking his arms around her and lifting her off the ground.  Molly gasped against his lips, and the sound sent another flash of heat through him.  A quiet groan met his ears, and as her wide, startled eyes met his, he realized it had come from him.

They remained still, eyes locked and panting for breath, before Sherlock slowly lowered Molly back to the ground.  His arms dropped limply by his sides, and she took a step backward, avoiding his gaze.  At one point, her eyes did stray in his direction, and the pink blush on her cheeks darkened.  Sherlock followed the trajectory id that embarrassed glance, and found—oh.  Well, he had been enjoying himself, hadn't he?

"I-I’m sorry," she stammered.

He frowned.  "Why on earth are you sorry?"

Molly shrugged one shoulder, still not looking at him.  "I dunno… I just… it's fine," she mumbled quietly as her arms wrapped around her middle.

Sherlock watched her begin to shrink into herself, and felt a painful tug against his navel.  In his current, befuddled state, he did not pause to think about what he was doing, he simply acted.  His hands found her shoulders, gently pulling her back toward him. She stiffened, and he held his breath, as if the slightest puff of air would send her running.  Her dark eyes lifted, and finally, the scientific portion of his brain kicked in, noting the physiological signs in her.  Eyes dilated… face flushed… breathing irregular… his left hand shifted slowly up along her neck… elevated pulse.

He couldn't help the gratified smirk he felt stretching across his face.  Molly's eyebrowed pulled together in confusion.  "I'm afraid the results of this experiment were rather… inconclusive."  Cradling her face in both hands, he bent his head, his intent obvious.  "Further study is required."

Molly grinned, all shyness cast aside, and her fingers toyed with the collar of his coat.  "Well… I suppose I can manage that.  In the name of science," she added with mock seriousness.

Sherlock dove in and captured her lips again, hoisting her up off her feet as he had before.  This time, Molly's legs wrapped around his waist, and she eagerly kissed him back.  And as the endorphins and hormones flooded his brain once more, Sherlock decided this was easily the best idea he'd ever had.

[onthepageoftears]

Kill Your Darlings - Ch. 4 (Jaskier x Assassin!Reader) || Witcher

A/N: Warning, this chapter is a bit shorter! Also I hope everyone stays safe out there with the craziness going on, make sure to wash your hands as much as you can <3

Your comments and feedback are always encouraged and mean a lot to me! 

Summary: Y/N finally faces the people they thought would be their demise.

Warnings: mentions/insinuations of r*pe, torture, mentions of killing, death, violence

Words: 2,088

Please Don’t Plagiarize My Work!

You heard the lute first. The soft melody from the strings reminded you of your mother — her voice would echo around your small house, waking you from your deepest slumbers as she made whatever was lying around for breakfast. She never admitted that she was talented, that her voice was just as beautiful as any bards, not even when you told her so. She would only smile and continue singing, pretending not to hear your compliments. 

But the remnants of your memory were blown away when another chord was struck — the wrong chord, you guessed, since the whispering of a curse followed after. Your vision of her faded slowly, her smile turning into a far off memory, an image that you tried to grasped as you reached a somewhat full awareness of your surroundings.

As you got your bearings, you were reminded of your situation. You decided to move slowly, just in case something was terribly wrong. Keeping your eyes closed, you twitched your fingers, testing that you were, in fact, alive. Your fingertips felt what was beneath you. It was…what felt like a blanket. And now that you came more to your senses, your back wasn’t on the cold floor — it was in a bed.

The fear panged within you with a thousand bolts. Ignoring your initial instinct to stay quiet, you jolted up and shot your eyes open, immediately reaching for the knife you typically kept under your sleeve.

“It’s not there.” 

The voice startled you — you flicked your eyes across the room. The witcher was watching you from a spot where he leaned against the wall. As you tried to push yourself off the bed, you noticed, once again, your wrist was bound. But this time, it was only one wrist attached to the nearest bedpost, with the most intricate knot you had ever seen — even if you tried to undo do it with your one free hand, the witcher would stop you immediately. Unable to move, you stayed upright in the bed like a helpless bunny rabbit about to be targeted by a hunter.

You stared the witcher down from your position, trying to seem more in control of the situation. “You didn’t kill me.”

“No.” The witcher jutted his head to the side. “Because you didn’t kill him.” You snapped your head to your right — there, the bard was sitting in a chair a good distance away from you. He was holding a lute in his lap, but had stopped playing it. Once he saw you look at him, he flinched.

You smirked at your effect on him but turned back to the witcher. “Why am I tied to a bed?”

To your surprise, the bard answered. “Because we put you there.” You turned back to him with your eyebrows raised, then settled on a glare. It took him a second to get understand the underlying presumption of his sarcastic comment. “No no no, we didn’t do anything like that—“

“You fainted.” Again, your head swiveled to the other side of the room. You blinked back at the witcher; he was telling the truth, from what you knew. The last thing you remember was letting the bard go, getting ready to fight, and then darkness.

You reached a hand to the back of your head, where the witcher had knocked you out before. You touched around your hair, expecting to feel some sort of leftover blood. There was none.

“We patched you up. Your shoulder too.” The witcher shifted uncomfortably. “Sorry about that."

You dropped your hand with a sigh. You supposed it was kind of them to tend to your wounds — still, the idea of these two strangers looming over your unconscious body made you shiver. 

You subconsciously reached a hand to your shoulder — it was covered, but you still felt exposed without your cloak on. You rolled your shoulder back, clenching your teeth at the pain ached in your bones.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and dropped your hand. “Why haven’t you handed me to the guards?”

“Bringing an unconscious person to the guards doesn’t do any of us much good.” He stayed silent for a moment, then gave in to your continuous frown.  “And we thought you should be given a chance to explain yourself.”

“We didn’t think anything.” You expected the bard to continue complaining, but the witcher’s glare shut him up.

He turned back to you. “Why are you here?”

You hesitated, but still raised your eyebrows. This witcher was...direct, even more so than you. Though, he was more sympathetic than you might have imagined.

Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to trust these two. Even though you knew something was off with this assignment…well, you were tied to the bedpost, for the gods' sake. Not that these two were in the wrong for not trusting you either— you did try to kill one of them.

Eventually, you gave in. “I’m…apart of a guild.”

The bard leaned forward in his seat. “What’s it called?”

You bit your tongue. “I can’t tell you.”

“Oh, that’s just wonderful—”

“I can tell you—” You glared at the bard, then returned your gaze to the witcher. “It’s a small guild. We move around, city to city, usually scrounging for work. But lately business has been…good.”

The bard scoffed. “Congratulations.”

Again, you and the witcher ignored him. “That’s probably why there’s been a mistake.”

“A mistake.” The larger man stood up straighter from his spot against the wall.

“Like I said, we’re a small group. There must have been a mixup with the names, or the payer’s intentions.”

It was a guess, at most. But Rauf was always on top of his assignments and made sure they were accurate. He must have slipped up working with so many cases. It had to be that.

The witcher considered you for a moment. His eyes watched you carefully, but he eventually leaned back. “You mentioned earlier that you killed monsters.”

You supposed it was sort of a question, though a vague one; realizing these two weren’t going to let you go anytime soon, you sighed. Usually, your assignments didn’t involve this much...talking. And now your head was still feeling lighter than it should, probably aching from the impact on the hardwood floor. You sat up against the headboard of the bed and placed your bound hand in your lap.

“We are technically assassins, yes.” You let a breath out. “But we don’t take just any targets.”

Your former target sat up in his chair. “Glad to know I’m special.”

“Well, not anymore.” You smirked at his slightly offended expression. “We kill the humans that hold monsters in them. The ones deserving of death.”

The bard’s curiosity was almost as annoying as his sarcastic comments. He leaned forward further in his chair, his elbows placed comfortably on his knees. “And who, exactly, is deserving of death?”

“Rapists. Abusers. Killers—“

“Killers? But that’s what you are, isn’t it?”

“I never said I wasn’t.” You snapped, pushing yourself from your semi-relaxed position. If it weren’t for the witcher’s gaze on you, and your current bonds, you might have jumped out of the bed in an attempt to punch the imbecile.

But the witcher broke your angry gaze from the bard. “Okay, okay. You were hired to kill Jaskier…by who?”

“I don’t know.” Another scoff from the bard. You bit your tongue despite the desire to send him a glare. If you answered their questions, maybe they would let you go.

You tried to formulate your words in the vaguest way possible. “The person in charge of my guild…I trust him. He said a victim’s family member was after the bard. That he raped someone and eleven before them.”

“So you didn’t have proof?” The bard’s tone made your blood feel hot.

You grit your teeth. “Like I said, I trust him. I’ve known him for a long time and he’s never let me down.”

“Except now.”

With a sharp inhale, you turned to the witcher. If you looked at the bard’s smug face any longer, you would be tempted to kill a possibly innocent man. Besides, fighting with the idiot wouldn’t get you free from this situation. “I need to go talk to him to see what happened, to clear up this mess. Can’t do that when I’m tied to a bed.”

The witcher looked back at you with an indecipherable expression. He was evaluating you, that much was sure. You tried to keep your face as stoic as possible — this was your chance to convince them of letting you go.

After a few seconds of the witcher’s clear contemplation, the bard nearly jumped to the end of his chair. “Geralt! We can’t just…let an assassin go!”

“You were the one who didn’t want to resort to capturing in the first place.”

“That was before I was almost killed! The second time!”

“But you weren’t.” You interjected, making both men turn to you. “Do you want to risk them sending other assassins after you? I can go to the guild, tell him what happened, and he’ll figure it out.”

The two were quiet for a moment, both searching your face for something — a lie, perhaps. It was the witcher who spoke. “And what about you?”

“I’ll wait until he figures it out, then come back here to tell you what happened.”

The bard chimed in. “And after that?”

“I’ll get a new assignment. Or not. Either way, he’ll tell me what to do.”

The bard let out a dry laugh. “Do you always let people tell you what to do?”

Taking a deep breath, you decided to let that comment slide. You closed your eyes and searched for the right words. “Look, I know it’s a lot to ask you to trust me—“ Another laugh from the bard made you snap your eyes open. You clenched your jaw as if doing so would keep your anger inside. “Wouldn’t you like to know why I almost killed you?”

For once, the bard went quiet. He sunk back in his chair with a defeated expression. Almost as if knowing the bard wouldn’t want to admit it himself, the witcher cleared his throat and nodded. “You’re right. You should go talk to him.”

You watched the witcher walk over to you and untie the knot of your bounds effortlessly. As soon as your arm was free, you clutched your swollen wrist. “Is that it?”

“That’s it. Your weapons are on the table.”

You blinked. Though you hoped it would be this easy, you didn’t actually believe it would. Clearly, your former target didn’t either. He was now opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. “You’re just…not even a fight to…what if they hurt me—“

“If they hurt you, I’ll hurt them.” The witcher flicked his eyes back to you, staring you down like you were prey. It wasn’t something you were used to — typically, you gave others that glare. His gaze made you feel the urge to squirm, but instead, you straightened your back and lifted your chin. 

If you were being honest, you thought you would be dead by now, and every move you made you thought the witcher might pounce. But with just this look, you could tell the witcher was an admirable man, one who kept his promises. You weren’t sure if that was good or bad, in your case.

You ended up giving him a curt nod and slipped past him out of the bed, trying not to show your unsteadiness as you walked over to the table that held your belongings. You felt the two men’s eyes on you as you fit the weapons into their rightful places — your knives that slid into the small sheaths from your wrist and up your arm, the larger knives you kept in a part of your boots, the mini sword that you hid on your back seamlessly under your cloak. After you gathered your things, you felt your shoulders roll back naturally; the weight of your weapons brought immediate comfort to you — it made you feel strong and ready to fight, despite the injuries you sustained.

You turned to the men once again, this time with a confident gaze. They looked back at you, the witcher with the same resigned expression, and the bard with apparent distress. 

“I’ll be back.” You said, and without any further discussion, you left the bard’s room.

———————————————————————————————————

Let me know your thoughts :)

[venusxxlangdon]

Of Mice & Snakes. Part Two — The Mice

pairing: Michael Langdon x fem!reader x Tom Riddle

warnings: crossover, third-person narration, character death, smut, dub-con, dirty talk, fingering, oral (male receiving)

words: 11.5k

summary: The Dark Lord and his gray eminence are coming to end the regular world order. While the Slytherin Heir might have already put the crown on his head, keep in mind that it’s the Knight (Michael Langdon) who’s the most powerful on the grand chessboard of the wizarding war. When money, power, glory, and love collide, what will win in the end?

mood board by the one and only @micheallangdons

“No, please, don’t! No! Pleaaase!” Her deafening scream pierced through the thick, fetid air of the pit. She clawed onto the muddy walls, but her fingers slipped and she ended up falling to her knees, smearing the dirt all over her bony kneecaps and bruised thighs. The squelching sound of mud and mucus rang in her ears and mixed with the threatening hissing behind her. She squeezed her eyes and let out a desperate animalistic howl, trying with all her might not to look over her shoulder and see them — two huge serpents making their way to her small, trembling body. 

“Did you miss us, kitty?” Her blood ran cold at the sudden sound of a human voice echoing in her head. Her body jolted up, and she covered her ears with her dirty hands, but she could still feel the snakes approach her, come closer, their boneless bodies gliding along the ground. Like a trapped bird, a little prey with no chances of survival, her mind tried to come up with some, any plan to get out of this nightmare, but every thought was hammering against the gold cage of her subconscious without the slightest idea of the possible escape. 

Her heart raced like mad, pumping the thick blood, shackled with fear, through her veins. 

“Go away!” She cried out and whirled around, facing the beasts. Her breath hitched at the sight of the snakes with their big heads swaying slightly from side to side as if they were trying to hypnotize her. One of them was jet back, with the silver scale on its head, and the other was emerald green with spikes. She knew it was a dream, but the creatures looked so real, that the thought of actually dying there and never being able to wake up crossed her paralyzed mind. 

The serpents had become the frequent guest of her nightmares, none of which had been as realistic as the current one. She looked up at the rift above her head, through which a faint streak of light was coming. It was too high for her to reach. Having moved the gaze of her wide eyes back at the snakes, she gulped heavily. Their maws were not moving, but she still could hear their voices. They were whispering something like “we are coming, we want you, you are ours”.  

She put her hands in front of her and leaned forward, standing on all fours, digging her fingers into the goo; her hair covered her face like curtains. A shiver ran down her spine as she noticed from the corner of her eyes that the serpents had come closer, they were several inches away from her, their forked tongues darting out. There was only one way to end this. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. 

“Empty yourself from emotions,” she heard Snape’s voice and tried to concentrate on it as if it was the lively beacon that could guide her through the nightmare. Her nostrils flared when she felt the beasts crawl closer, facing her. She knew if she opened her eyes she would be welcomed with the stare of two pairs of slit-like eyes. 

She had never been good at controlling her emotions, but at that moment, on the verge of death, she had to do it. Although it was almost impossible to calm the racing heartbeat down, she tried to tell herself to relax. At least a little bit, so her mind could jostle her out of the lucid dream. She gasped at the blow of cool air fanning over her ears.

“Y/N...” they hissed, “silly, little girl...”

And then...

“Legilimency,” another voice drawled, and a blinding spark of light flashed before her eyes. 

She shook her head violently, resisting the intruder. A pounding headache shot through her temples — it felt like as if someone was trying to cruelly scatter her thoughts and memories all over the ballroom of her mind and destruct her from her attempts to gain control over her subconsciousness. It became harder to breathe as if her lungs were held with a steel vice. 

She ran the tip of her tongue along her dry, chapped lips and grunted through the gritted teeth, “Protego!”

A loud, primeval scream bordering on terror that rippled through her sweaty body and shattered her brain, made the blood drain from her face, and before she was aware of making a conscious decision, her legs were pounding furiously in the mud. 

Her body bolted up in bed, and her wide eyes welcomed the darkness of the Prefects’ bedroom. She was panting heavily, her mouth rigid and open, her face gaunt and sulky, fists clenched with blanched knuckles. Her mind was still in the snake pit, so it took her a while to focus her eyes on the small window in the opposite wall that gave the view of the silver band of the Black Lake sprawled out in the distance. With a look of disgust, she glanced at her nightgown clinging to her body and hooked her fingers under the hem of her collar to take it off. She ran her fingers through her messy hair and slid her hands over the chiseled lines of her face, scratching her flushed cheeks as if she wanted to rip her skin off to get rid of the crawling feeling under it. She sighed and hanged her legs off the bed, placing her feet on the thick emerald green carpet. 

“Aguamenti,” she whispered and poured some water into a tall glass on her desk. It was down in one gulp, and as she put the glass back onto the polished surface, she leaned her hip against the corner of the oak table and blankly stared through the window, her back slouching.

Why was it all happening to her? Standing there with her toes flinching on the carpet pile, she reminisced to that ill-omened day when she found the accursed diary in her bag. Why was the universe so merciless to her? The moral cancer of dispiritedness had been eating into her heart for months, turning her into a malignant ball of fear. 

The burden of silence had become unbearable at some point and after she had heard the mysterious whisper calling her name in the hallway on her way to class, she decided it was time to share what had happened to her in the Chamber of Secrets at least with someone, otherwise, she would have gone mental. Winona Flint, who had seen the diary when that second-year student brought it to Y/N on the following day after the incident, was the first person the girl shared her experience with. Well, not in detail, of course. Fling’s reaction was quite predictable — as a reasonable witch, she told Y/N that the best thing to do was to let Dumbledore, or Snape, whom she always had a good relationship with, know. Little did Winona know that the poor thing was too scared and worried that the professors could find out that she had been fucked by two entities and really enjoyed it. When she admitted that shameful fact to herself, she forswore that she would never discuss it again.

She tried to get rid of the diary. On one of the gloomy Sunday mornings Winona and Y/N went to the backyard and spent two hours trying different charms to destroy the artifact.

“Insendio!” She pointed her wand at the diary. The lively flames licked the hardcover, turning the grass around it into yellow patches of straw. When the fire went out, it revealed the notebook without any slightest traces of distortion. Not even a scratch was made. 

They tried to find something about the diary in the library, but eventually, lost their privilege of using the Restricted Section. Irma Pince, the librarian and Study Hall observer, tracked the search history of the archives and demanded the explanation of why two Slytherin students had been fishing for the information about the darkest artifacts. 

The rules became stricter as more students were attacked by the mysterious creature. All Prefects were told to be more attentive to the first and second-year students, who always tended to sneak out late at night, and make sure that everyone was in their dorms after curfew. No matter how hard the professors had been trying to cover what was happening in Hogwarts up, panic started to rise in a geometrical progression. Scared students wrote letters to their parents about the “weird atmosphere at school” and some of them even stayed home after Christmas break. 

The usual spirit of mirth and joy that had always reigned in the Great Hall was replaced by the dark and gloomy atmosphere. Even the candles flowing in the air seemed depressive as if they were mourning the petrified victims. 

Everything went downhill after the first death. Ginny Weasley, a Gryffindor student and one of many Weasleys who were studying at Hogwarts, was found dead in the abandoned bathroom. It was the day when the Headmaster made the tragic news public. The reporters from Daily Prophet and other magazines flooded the castle like locusts. Rita Skeeter was in her element, interviewing Gryffindor students and then Molly and Arthur Weasley whose hysterical cries could be heard from afar.

“I heard she had asked them if they were sad because they lost a chance to be a part of that Family program Mr. Weasley had applied for last summer,” said Cedric Diggory to one of his mates, and Y/N who was leaning against the doorway and watching Ms. Skeeter pose with the crying Weasleys, snapped her head at him.

“Are you serious?” She asked in disbelief, and to her disappointment, Cedric nodded. 

“I’m telling you,” he glanced at the woman, “she’s fucking sick.” They all simultaneously looked back at the blonde woman who was flashing her pearly white teeth at the camera. 

Y/N frowned. How easy it was for one person to depreciate other people’s grief. In times when they all were in danger, unity was supposed to be the only thing that could help them, yet the voice of one of the most famous newspapers belonged to a heartless bitch who would never learn such words as sorrow, sympathy, and support. 

Over the past months, death had become a frequent visitor of Y/N's life. The familiar feeling of distress and pity that had been eating her from the inside like a nasty warm reminded her about itself on the following morning after she had been awoken by the nightmare. It filled her body like quicksilver, making every limb of hers heavy, nearly pinning her to the wooden floor. Looking through the small window, she was watching the faint sunlight trying to break through the thick blanket of the grey sky that was looming over Hogwarts. What if she was next? She could feel something inside of her, crawling its way out — the sickening fear of the unknown. She highly doubted that Tom and Michael were done with her, but it was not the worry about herself that made her insides flutter in terror. She cared about her family and the thought that something could happen to them was making her head spin. She wanted to make sure that her mom and dad were okay thus she was sending them letters every three days, asking if everything was alright. Every time her white owl brought the yellow envelope tied to its clawed paw, the feeling of relief washed over her. 

When Ginny died Y/N's mother wanted her to go home as soon as she could, but the girl had a strong feeling that she would not be safe away from Dumbledore and other professors. Besides, she could not use magic outside Hogwarts without passing her O.W.Ls*, so it was another reason why she chose not to leave. 

Having pushed the buttons of her white shirt into the holes and pulling them through absentmindedly, she got dressed and span around on her heels to take her black cloak with a green serpent adorning the breast pocket. She adjusted the cuffs and took a deep breath. How the hell she was supposed to go through the day when every fiber of her body was paralyzed with anxiety? The collar of her shirt felt too tight, suffocating; the laces of her shoes were like shackles, making every step torturously heavy, and the corners of her eyes tingled with upcoming tears. She ran her bony fingers through her messy hair nervously in a weak attempt to calm down. 

There were going to be so many people, and the professors would be watching her like hawks — she could already feel their stares and it made her physically uncomfortable, so she hugged herself tightly and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Unfortunately, she could not spend all day in the bedroom no matter how badly she wanted to do so. It was the day that would go down in history, and she should have been there to witness it. Probably one of the most important things the Slytherin House had taught her was the ability to wear a mask of a stone-cold detachment on her face even in times of grief. 

She cleared her throat, shrugged her shoulders as if she wanted to brush the weight of the burden off of her shoulders and made her way to the door. When she wrapped her fingers around the silver knob and twisted it, opening the door with a helpless squeaky sound, she froze and looked over her shoulder at the nightstand by her bed. That was where she had been keeping the diary, which no longer belonged to her. Dumbledore confiscated it from her on the day she confessed that she knew what creature had petrified the students. 

“There’s no guarantee she’s telling the truth, Headmaster,” her haze lingered over Snape’s pale fingers gripping onto the arms of the chair she was sitting in with such force that his knuckles bled white. He kneeled before her and looked her in the eyes through the greasy strands of his raven black hair. She shivered under his stare and looked away, focusing her attention on Dumbledore who was walking around the room with his hands behind his back. “Truth serum will give a loose to her tongue.”

“Severus, she’s not an enemy,” professor McGonagall intervened, arching her thin eyebrow in a reproachful manner, “miss Y/L/N is your student and her reputation is implacable.”

The remark did not seem to convince Professor Snape who knew more about the dark arts than anyone in the headmaster’s office. 

“We’re dealing with dark magic,” Snape hissed, his eyes still glued to Y/n’s  face overshadowed with fear, uncertainty, and shame. She slouched her back and looked down at her trembling hands, that were clutching onto the hem of her pleated skirt, suddenly looking so small and vulnerable that McGonagall’s heart sank. “Why all of a sudden miss Y/L/N decided to bless us with her confession?” He narrowed his snake-like eyes at Y/N. “Who is going to prove that she is not their ally...”

Her head flew up so unexpectedly that it made professor Snape recoil in surprise. Her wide, e/c eyes looked at him in disbelief. How could he even think such things of her? Her mind went back to the humiliation she had gone through in the Chamber of Secrets and the grievance of the unfairness washed over her. Why did she have to deal with false accusations when it was /her/ who should have been protected and taken care of? Her bottom lip started trembling, the omen of an approaching tantrum.

“Severus, that’s enough!” Dumbledore barked and raised his right hand, calling for silence. For a second the only sound disturbing them was the ticking of numerous magic objects in headmaster’s office and Y/N's quiet sobs. He squatted to her level, the draped fabric of his long, lilac gown polling around him, and softly touched her hand.

“Professor Dumbledore,” she started, hesitantly looking into the older man’s watery eyes that were studying her face attentively through his half-moon spectacles. There was something in his gaze that made her visibly relax — the noble calmness of wisdom and understanding. “I swear to Merlin, it wasn’t me... I just...”

She didn’t finish because of the lump in her throat and uncontrollable tears she had not even noticed at first.

“It’s alright, Y/N,” his voice was croaky, yet managed to sound gentle, “please, tell us if Tom and Michael had told you when they were going to come back?”

That question had been bothering her ever since. It felt like every day had turned into the exhausting waiting for Riddle and Langdon to strike. As she walked out of the Prefect’s bedroom, she made sure to check if the hallway was clear and only then headed out to where every student was going. To the Courtyard. The lapels of her school gown rustled with every step; she shoved her hands into the pockets and wrapped her fingers around the wooden handle of her wand — the small gesture made her feel safer. 

“Good morning, Mister Nicholas,” she greeted the Gryffindor ghost who pouted unhappily in response.

“Hardly, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“I’m sorry for the loss of your house,” she added, but the Nearly Headless Nick only shrugged and disappeared into the nearest wall. She bit her lip thinking how awkward it was for her to express condolences. She felt somewhat embarrassed by such things because it was difficult to find the right words that would not be too sentimental and too formal at the same time. 

The soft flames of the torches hanging on the walls were casting shadows on her face. The sound of her steps echoed through the semi-empty hallway matching the drumming of her racing heart. As she got closer to her destination, the sound of voices humming in the distance became clearer. Her nerves were tight as the violin strings when she made the last turn and the numerous rows of chairs, placed all over the yard, came in sight. She pushed her way through the crowd of students toward Slytherin pews.

Thick grey clouds moved in the afternoon sky, kissed into brilliant white by the sun. She pulled the collar of her cloak a bit higher to cover her neck — the chilly air made her a bit cold. She looked around, spotting a messy mane of bright ginger hair of Ron Weasley next to Hermione’s head. The kids were sitting next to each other, wiping off tears with the back of their palms. 

“Today we have gathered to acknowledge a terrifying loss,” Dumbledore’s voice thundered, drawing everyone’s attentioт. “Harry Potter was, as you all know, exceptionally hard-working, intricately fair-minded, and loyal student. But most importantly he was a great friend, Hogwarts Quidditch champion, and the outstanding young man with the bright future ahead of him. Only a few of you know how he died, so before we proceed to say goodbyes I would like to tell you about Mr. Potter’s heroic act of bravery. He was killed by two former Hogwarts students,” a shocked whisper rolled through the crowd, and Dumbledore had to wait until everyone calmed out. 

“Heroic? I bet Potter slipped and banged his stupid head,” Draco Malfoy smirked addressing Crabbe and Goyle who immediately nodded in agreement. “My father says Dumbledore will do his best to present the story in the best light with a bow on top.”

Y/N leaned forward and tapped his shoulder. The boy looked back and raised his brows at her.

“If you don’t shut your mouth, I’m gonna take ten points from Slytherin,” she sneered, feeling annoyed. 

Malfoy pursed his thin lips in disgust;  he looked at her hand still placed on his shoulder and shrugged it off. 

“That’s robbery,” he noted, giving her a sidelong glance, “you aren’t going to take the points from your house, are you?”

“Try me.” 

He was about to say something but the headmaster’s voice cut him off.

“Michael Langdon and Tom Riddle, whom you may know as Lorde Voldemort, were Slytherin students many years ago. With the help of a dark artifact they had managed to trap their souls in the Chamber of Secrets and waited many years to come back.” At the mentioning of Riddle’s and Langdon’s names Y/N shivered. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders and leaned back into the chair, wishing she could disappear. Deep inside of her, she felt extremely guilty for Harry’s death. If she had told the professors about Tom and Michael it would have been possible to avoid many victims. 

“Harry Potter was killed by the person whose attack he had once survive. The dark times are coming. All students will be dismissed before the official end of the semester, the exams are to postponed until the next school year...”

Hot tears of feebleness burned in the corners of her eyes and she had to look up at the grey sky to let them dry. That was the moment when she noticed how weirdly the clouds were gliding along the silvery surface. The grey hues obscured the sky, covering the last patches of where the faint light tried to get through. The unexpected sound of thunder interrupted Dumbledore’s speech and made everyone lift their heads. A violent gust of wind raised a pile of leaves and swirled it in the vortex — Y/N had to cover her face with the palm. 

“Look!” Pansy Parkinson exclaimed and pointed at the patch of darkness that erupted from the sky in the form of a colossal skull with a serpent protruding from its mouth. The Courtyard was shaken with a loud CRASH. Y/N turned her head at the source of the sound, and her eyes widened at the sight of a huge fiery ball flying in the direction of the Astronomy Tower.

Many people were only just realizing that something strange had happened.

“What is going on?” Someone shouted and the helpless cry died down in the noise of the extended thunder that was coming from beneath the ground. The concrete floors started to crack.

“Holy shit.” Y/N cussed and drew her wand. Panic ensued quickly as the ground shook up and down as if the entire place suddenly fell from the sky. Scared students rushed to the main entrance of the castle. 

“Everyone, go inside! Now!” Professor Dumbledore cried out. “To the dungeons! Use the passageway to Hogsmeade. Prefects, listen to your deans for the further instructions!”

Y/N was pushed away and nearly got swept off her feet. She saw the smoke transform into tall, dark figures whose faces were covered with silver masks adorned with arabesque ornament. Her heart skipped a beat; she could feel the sweat drench her skin, and the ringing screams vibrating in her ears. She got a strong grip on her wand and curled the fingers of her other hand into a fist, nails digging into her palm. Pushing through the crowd, she made her way to the stairs ignoring the conciseness that was telling her to fulfill her duty as a Prefect and help the students. Images of her nightmare flashed before her eyes, and she gulped heavily, realizing that they came for her. Fear engulfed her body, churning her stomach in cramps. The only thought “Run! Get out!” was pounding in her head like a gong. The only person she cared about at that moment was herself. 

Her scream from deep within that forced its way from her mouth was so loud that she had to press her palm to her lips to muffle it. Her eyes widened at the body of a student that fell before her feet.  She looked back and gasped at the sight of the Courtyard ignited by the flashes of green, red and white lights. 

She sped up making her way to the Pendulum and then behind it toward the big wooden door. “To the left, and then forward, then again to the left” she was running faster than the wind, her mind racing. The plan she had come up with the other day was not thought out, in fact, she did not have any plan besides having her bag packed and kept in the wardrobe in case of emergency. She headed out to the Prefects’ bedrooms to pick it up and then go to the secret passageway to Hogsmead where she could apparate from. 

She stormed into her bedroom, the heavy door swinging open. She slammed it shut with a loud noise and locked it from the inside. Only when her back felt the wooden surface she let herself take an erratic breath. Her eyes skimmed through the room and she stopped her gaze at the big wardrobe that stood proudly against the wall. Her trembling fingers rummaged through the piles of neatly folded clothes; she grabbed the bag and tossed on the floor beside her. 

Suddenly she heard a noise behind the door and turned her head at it worryingly, instinctively gripping her wand tightly. The short hairs on the nape of her neck stood on end when the door flew open with a loud noise, and the clouds of dust obscured her vision, filling her nostrils. She started coughing, and before she could mutter “Protego!” someone’s familiar, stern voice said “Expelliarmus,” disarming her. Her wand fell from her grip and landed several feet away from her. 

As soon as the dust cleared, two tall figures walked into the room. Both were wearing the same masks she had seen on those wizards who had appeared at the Courtyard. They took them off with a delicate flick of their glove-clad hands, and a strangled yelp left Y/N’s lips when she saw who was in front of her. The arabesque masks revealed the features of those who she had been trying to forget all that time. It seemed like they had got even more handsome. Michael’s blonde hair styled in short, soft waves looked almost silver in the light that was splashing through the small window. His locks and vibrant blue eyes emphasized the beauty of his porcelain skin. He had a subtle hint of blush on his cheeks which she had not noticed in the Chamber of secrets. He was alive. Michael Langdon stood before her in flesh.

She moved her gaze at Tom starring at her with his rigid and cold eyes. The color of them matched the shade of his hair of the purest ink. She made a couple of steps backward but impaled herself onto the corner of the nightstand that hit her hip painfully. 

“Well, well, well,” Tom said in a sing-song voice, and her insides fluttered. He looked around the room and pressed his lips into a tight line. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere. It’s not polite to hide from your friends, sweetheart.”

She wrapped her trembling fingers around the lamp on the nightstand and pointed it at Tom in a threatening manner.

“Don’t you dare do anything to me,” she hissed, her eyes traveling back and forth from Michael to Tom. From Tom to Michael. 

“Michael, seal the door,” Riddle ordered without looking at Langdon and made a couple of steps toward her. She shivered at the feeling of the weird deja vu — everything resembled her nightmare, except for the human guise of Tom and Michael. “We don’t want Dumbledore to interrupt our fun, don’t we?” He arched his brow at Y/N.

“What do you want from me?” Her question came off as a piercing screech. 

“You want me to announce the list?” He smirked, clearly enjoying the effect he had on her. Tom thrived off of the sight of her trembling lips and bright, e/c eyes gleaming with tears.

“I don’t understand,” she sobbed, “Why me? I didn’t do anything, I...” She froze to her spot when the sudden memory of what had happened in the Chamber of Secrets flashed before her eyes. She saw herself with her legs wide open, Tom thrusting into her worked up ass, and Michael taking her soaked pussy. She had been trying to forget it, the delicious stretch of both of her holes and intoxicating smell of the boys, for months. She was looking at Riddle with wide eyes and then she realized that he had sent that vision to her on purpose. 

Y/N shook her head and imagined a stone wall surrounding her mind. It was another trick professor Snape had taught her to block her subconscious from Tom’s intrusion.  Anger flashed in Riddle’s eyes when she shut him out of her thoughts. 

“Not bad, not bad,” he hummed, crossing his arms against his chest, “turns out Snape has taught you a thing or two.” It took his long legs just a couple of strides to approach her, his broad figure towering over her. “We would’ve never thought that you’d be so stupid and tell Dumbledore about what had happened,” he spat out. “If it hadn’t been you, many students wouldn’t have been at the hospital recovering from Basilisk’s attack.”

He knew what buttons to push. Even though she understood that Tom was aware of her weaknesses only thanks to Occlumency, she still felt guilty. She readjusted her fingers on the handle.

“You could’ve used anyone instead of me, and the outcome would be the same. Now, back off,” She barked and took a swing at him. When she was about to hit him, a pair of strong hands got wrapped around her waist and pushed her forward from the nightstand into Tom’s embrace. 

“Not so fast, kitty,” Michael whispered in her ear, his colossal hands landing on her hips. The lamp crashed on the floor, the crystal beads of glass scattering over the emerald green carpet like morning dew. 

She cried out and tried to push Tom away, pressing her small hands against his chest, but he did not even flinch. He laced his fingers around her slender wrists, and for a second, she thought he was going to break her bones. 

“You are so pretty,” Riddle cooed, tracing the pads of his fingers along her features almost lovingly, ignoring the way she scrunched up her nose at his caresses. His eyes lingered over her face and stopped at her parted lips; he slid his thumb along them. Riddle smirked. “Too bad such a beautiful doll face has no brains,” and with those words, he blew some blue powder in her face.

She did not even have time to process what was going on before a thick blanket of mist clouded her vision. Her eyesight blurred, everything became fuzzy, floating before her. Then she saw nothing at all. Her consciousness was swimming through a space filled with a thick static. 

It was the beginning of the end. 

xxx

Slap!

She winced at the harsh tap on her cheek and the pounding headache in her temples. Slowly, as if at any given second her head could explode, she opened her left eye, and then the right one. Everything was unfocused, although she was hyper-away of the fact that there was a wooden surface of the polished floor in front of her face, her left cheek was resting against it. No wonder every muscle of her body was sore and felt as if she had been beaten up for hours — her wrists were tied behind her back, arms bent outward at the most uncomfortable angle, and when she tried to move them, a hot wave of piercing pain shattered her body. 

Slap!

Another tap and she let out a muffled moan. Her throat was dry as The Sahara —  she gulped heavily and licked her chapped lips.

“That’s enough, Bella,” she closed her eyes at the sound of the familiar voice. So it was not a nightmare — they had kidnaped her. “She’s with us.”

A desperate yelp fell from her lips, when someone’s strong hand gripped at the roots of her hair and forced her upper body up from the floor, forcing her to kneel. Her heavy-lidded eyes flew open and she faced a pair of expensive leather shoes and the bare feet of the house elf before her. She traced her eyes higher up the black slacks and the bony, slender frame of a creature that must have been responsible for slapping her. The elf looked angry, her eyes narrowed suspiciously at Y/N. Bella looked as if she was ready to rip Y/N’s throat out at any given second if the girl attempted to attack any of her masters. 

“Rise and shine, sweetheart,” Michael placed his long fingers under her chin and used his index and thumb to get a strong grip on it. He carefully examined her face. “You gave her too much of that powder, Tom.” Langdon noted critically, tilting her head to the side and pursing his lips disapprovingly at her puffy features. “She shouldn’t be so swollen.” 

He looked over his shoulder and she followed his gaze. Riddle was sitting cross-legged on a big velvet armchair, his pale, aristocratic hands resting atop wooden armrests. He pensively rubbed his pointy chin and shrugged.

“It’s the last thing that bothers me. As long as she‘s more appeasable than her father, she shouldn’t have any problems.”

Her whole body bolted up at the mentioning of her dad. 

“What did you do to him?” Her hoarse voice roared through the room. It sounded so foreign and raspy that she could barely recognize herself. The elf hissed at her threateningly, but she ignored it. Michael was looking down upon her, a faint smirk ghosting over his plump lips.

“The old man was so sensitive. Couldn’t handle even two minutes of the charming effect of Cruciatus. By the way, he was right at this spot where you are now.” He flashed his perfect teeth at her. 

She could not understand what they were talking about. She had been receiving letters from her family every three days. Y/N pressed her lips together.

“If you think that I’ll buy another lie, you fucker...” She spat out and earned one more slap across her reddening cheek. 

“Bella, stop,” Langdon rolled his eyes at the elf who did not understand why her Master was so forgiving of the girl’s rudeness. She glanced at him with her big eyes that looked like two baseballs.

“Bella can’t let this filthy girl talk about Master and his friend like that,” she frowned, curling her fingers into tight, little fists.

Langdon hummed and traced his the pads of his fingers over Y/N’s face, barely touching her.

“She’s not filthy, my darling,” he told the elf, and Y/N tried to shy away from his featherlight touch. “She comes from a pure-blood family where there have never been any encounters with muggles. She’s a pure lily-white to some extent,” he muttered.

Y/N did not know how he had known anything about her family. She was a pure-blood witch indeed and knew her family tree by heart because it used to hang next to the crest in the living room of her parents’ mansion where she had grown up. Her father was a famous wandmaker, always competing with a half-blood family of the Ollivanders, the owners of the well-known store located in Diagon Alley. He had a penchant for studying the psychological aspect of wanders, how they chose wizards and the way the core of them resonated with the personalities of their owners. He believed that the wands had souls. 

“What happened to my father?” She barked, the slimy hand of fear grasping around her spine. “I received letters from mom, she said everything was fine,” tears tingled in the corners of her eyes.

Tom chuckled, clearly finding her naive nature amusing.

“Your honorable mother writes whatever she’s told,” he explained, “under Confundus. It does wonders to those unwilling to compromise,” as Tom spoke, he was examining his perfectly trimmed nails with a bored look on his face. “As for your father, we needed some information only he could provide us with, but he refused to share it, so...” he smiled carnivorously, “he’s at St. Mungo’s recovering from his visit.”

His words knocked the bottom out of her made-up self-control. Her howl that ranged through the room made the blood of everyone present in the room run cold. A scream of hysteria and disbelief. She wriggled her back trying to get rid of the ropes, but it was impossible — she ended up beating her body against the floor like a fish that needed oxygen. She cried as if her brain was shredded from the inside, the emotional pain of realization that Langdon and Riddle had tortured her father flowed out of her every pore. The living room turned into a blur, and so did all the sounds. She could only hear the blood drumming in her ears. Tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down her face. Her throat burnt, forming a scream, her breath got heavier, as she fell on the floor and rolled over on her side. It felt like a part of her was dying inside.

“Oh, c’mon,” Michael scoffed at her lying before him. Y/N looked so helpless that it was getting on his nerves. He stepped aside, afraid that her tears could stain his shoes. “He’s doing alright. Besides, you can help him if you behave and do as you are told.”

Langdon waited till she stopped crying. The girl stared blankly at the wooden surface, letting out small hiccups from time to time. Tom sighed and covered his face with the palm, already regretting having messed with her. A fucking cry baby was on their hands. 

“You’re monsters,” she finally whispered and closed her eyes. “I’m gonna kill you and make sure that your death won’t be easy.”

“Sounds like a promise,” Michael mused, “and a good start for the negotiations.”

The next moment she found herself sitting on a chair, hands still tired securely. She looked over the shoulder and noticed that the ropes were glowing. No way she could untie them. She bowed her head lowly, admitting her defeat.

“Don’t be so pouty,” Tom said in a mocking tone, “you’re going to benefit from our deal, too.”

She snapped her head at him.

“I’d rather fucking die.”

Michael tsked.

“It would be such a waste of the precious blood of yours,” he clicked his tongue, crossing his hands against his chest, the fabric of his cape tightening around his strong arms. “You need to practice more self-love. In that case, you won’t be willing to die every five seconds.” His deep tone vibrated with a silvery clang of veiled satire.

“If you continue with this stupid sarcasm,” she sneered, “I’m going to smash my head against the floor and die like that.”

“That’s not an appealing way to die.”

“Better than listening to you.”

“That’s enough!” Tom interfered and stoop up to his feet. The sound of his boots echoed through the room, as he approached her and Michael. He bent over at the waist to the same level with her face. “You are much better when the only sound leaving that pretty mouth of your is your pleas to be fucked harder.”

Her cheeks turned bright red and she could not find anything to contradict with, which made Riddle extremely satisfied with himself. He straightened his back and cleared his throat.

“You have no idea how similar you are to us. You can tell yourself all you want that we are monsters because, perhaps, to some extent we are,” he smirked, “but everything we do is for the bright future ahead of us. The world without mud-bloods, muggles, and other rubbish. And you,” he slid his thumb along her bottom lip bruised from biting, “are not a saint you try to portrait yourself to be. Forgive me, angel, but I don’t remember you helping the students when the Death Eaters attacked Hogwarts. Where were you, a noble Prefect of Slytherin?”

She gulped.

“I...” Y/N started, but Tom did not need her remarks. He raised his hand, forcing her to shut up.

“You were saving your ass,” he said nonchalantly as if he was talking about the weather. “You are selfish and cowardly, but that’s what makes you a human being. Save the puny bravery for Gryffindor. Those fools never miss the opportunity to get into a fight without even thinking of the consequences...”

“Don’t make my fear of getting killed equivalent to the horror you and Michael are responsible for.” She interrupted him.

Tom’s nostrils flared. She looked at him with wide eyes, when he brutally grabbed her by the chin and made her look up at him.

“Next time you interrupt me, I’m going to cut your tongue off, am I being clear?” He had waited for her to nod before he let go off his grip.

“They are fighting and losing their people when they could join us and help us built something greater,” Tom raised his hands as if he was showing her the scope of his ambitions. “We’ve been oppressed by muggles for centuries, and it’s time to end it. We’ll annihilate everyone...”

“That’s where there’s mischief or the deity of things — nothing can be entirely annihilated; — not even a thought.” She murmured loud enough for Riddle to hear. 

Michael sighed.

“Crucio”

A shot of blinding pain went through her body and made her choke on her scream. It felt like hundreds of needles were stuck under her nails and her skin got ripped off at the same time. It subsided as quickly as it had started when Michael pointed his wand in a different direction, leaving her breathless. 

“Much better,” Riddle said, nodding approvingly at her fucked out state. “Where we were? Ah yes, the annihilation. Here’s the thing. To build the new word, you have to destroy the regular order of things. Those who choose to join us are very welcomed because they are going to be the ones building up the new life based on my and Michael’s commands. Human beings are very easy to manipulate, my dear. You will learn it soon enough. Our society has created a system that shapes every single one of us since the day we are born. It gives us our name, believes and determines the role we are going to play. A man in his origin is a blank canvas, nobody, who will be shaped in whatever form we want them to be,” his dark eyes sparkled mischievously. 

She could only imagine the destruction they wanted to bring into the world. 

“Has your father ever told you about the Elder Wand?” Michael asked, slowly circling her chair. She shivered when he brushed his hand over her tense shoulders. 

“The one from the fairy tale?” She asked, her eyebrows frowned. 

“Yes, the one originally owned by Antioch Peverell, a loyal subject of Death. The most powerful wand that has ever existed,” notes of anticipation threaded into Langdon’s voice. His boyish features illuminated with excitement as soon as he mentioned the wand.

“You are talking about it as if it’s real,” Y/N responded timidly. The last time she had heard anything about the Peverell brothers was when she was seven. 

“It exists,” Riddle said gloomily, “and your father confirmed it. Unfortunately, he hadn’t said much before he lost his mind.”

A new wave of boiling anger raised within her. She tried to get her wrists free by rocking on the chair back and forth but failed. Her only desire was to punch Tom in his handsome face.

“And what do you want from me?” 

Michael came closer and put his hand on her shoulder, holding her in place, his fingers dipping into the hollows of her collarbones firmly. 

“Any information about it, the access to your father’s archives,” his blue eyes were drilling into her soul, “they are charmed and we can’t break into them. We need to know the possible location of the wand or its current owner.”

She was looking at them in disbelief. Two the most powerful wizards she had ever come across, really indulged in the idea of finding the wand from a fairy tale. She nervously licked her lips.

“I don’t know anything about it,” she started slowly, “Dad never talked about it and...”

Tom let out a frustrating groan. He was so tired of hearing the same damn thing from every captive. He hid his face in his palms and took a deep breath.

“Fucking cru—...”

“No! Please, don’t!” She yelled at him and squeezed her eyes tightly, waiting for a new wave of agony wash over her body, but it did not follow. She opened her right eye and saw Tom pointing his wand at her. 

“Name one reason why I shouldn’t help you join your father at St. Mungo’s right now,” he hissed.

Y/N sobbed and only then noticed that she was crying again. 

“If I give you access to my father’s archives, will you promise that you’ll leave me and my family alone?” She asked, her voice breaking. The voice in her head kept telling her to shut up, but she tucked it away. “That’s the only thing I need. Do whatever you want, but promise that in the anarchy you two will create, my family and I will survive.”

A defeating silence followed her question. She felt weak and defeated. Maybe they were right and she only cared about herself indeed? But who could blame her for that? Dumbledore was right about upcoming dark times and having seen Tom and Michael in flesh, as powerful as they were, she realized that it was time to make a choice. The choice every wizard would face soon enough. She had never wanted to be a hero and if there was a small chance for her and her family to survive. She would do anything for it, even if it meant making a deal with Satan.

“Seems like there’s an ounce of common sense in you indeed,” Tom finally mused. When he raised his wand again, she expected him to torture her, but he only flicked his wrist and untied her ropes. They fell helplessly on the floor like two coiled snakes. She lifted her eyes at him. 

“Tomorrow we will make the Unbreakable vow in front of our followers. We will grant you a chance to live, but if you break any of your promises, you will die. You have time till dawn to think it all over.”

It was all he said to her. 

xxx

Sitting in a huge bathtub filled with scented foam and oils the house elf had added for her, she was thinking if it was possible to drown in there or Michael and Tom would come and save her because they needed her for their plan. She leaned her head against the marble edge of the tub and closed her eyes. At least she had bought some time till morning, but she still had no idea what to do. On the way to her bedroom that Tom and Michael had prepared for her, she managed to take a glance at their mansion. It looked impressive. There must have been more than one elf because taking care of all those carpets, shiny polished furniture and jacquard curtains that framed big windows required a lot of time and effort. She doubted that Michael and Tom had neighbors, so she eliminated the attempt to scream and cry for help from her list.

What if she tricked him into believing that she was supporting their ideas and then found some floo powder and used in the fireplace she had noticed in the living room? She could let Dumbledore or Snape know what had happened to her. But Tom and Michael were masters of Occlumency. There was no way they would not control her mind. She sighed heavily. Y/N was too tired and drained out to think of any plan. She looked at her palms under pink foam and stroke the water with such anger that it got splashed overboard. 

Fucking assholes.

She froze to the spot at the sudden sound of Riddle’s and Langdon’s voices behind the door. 

“I don’t think she will mind,” and the next moment two men brazenly ruined her fragile peace. 

They had got changed into more comfortable clothes, yet still managed to look implacable. A loose fit grey t-shirt was hanging off Michael���s collarbones contrasting with the icy blue flames in his eyes. There was a wide grin on his face when he entered the bathroom, he looked so young that if Y/N had not known what he was actually like, he would’ve tricked her into believing that he was a real-life angel. He shoved his hands into the pockets of linen trousers he was wearing and closed the door with a push of his hips. 

Tom did not even bother to throw a shirt on. He leaned against the sink with his hands crossed against his smooth chest. His pants were hanging lowly on his naval, exposing the deep V of his muscles. Y/N nervously tried to cover her nudity with foam, hoping that they had not caught the glimpse of her pink, perky nipples, poking through the white and pink clouds of bubbles.

“Get the fuck out of here!” She exclaimed angrily, sinking deeper into the water, leaving only her head above the surface. 

Michael rolled his eyes.

“No, not happening,” he said and bent over to sink the tips of his fingers into the water, checking the temperature. 

She gasped at their audacity and demanded the explanation.

“What are you doing here?”

She could feel the blush creep over her cheeks at the heavy-lidded look of Tom’s dark eyes; for some reason, it seemed like he could see her through the water and foam mixed together, and she felt extremely embarrassed by it. She brushed her fingers through her hair, trying to cover her breasts with it. 

“We decided to come help you with your decision,” Riddle said, licking his lips. 

Y/N shot a sidelong glance at Michael who nodded in response and hooked his fingers under the waistband if the pants. She did not have to think twice to understand what he was up to.

“Don’t you dare!” She protested, instinctively pressing her back against the bathtub. She looked over her shoulder and nervously bit her bottom lip, thinking if she could slide to the side and thus get away from Michael, but the tub did not have much space. Langdon rolled his pants down his long legs and quickly stepped out of them, revealing himself in his full glory before her. 

“Oh, my God,” she whined and tried to look away. “Put them back on for fuck’s sake!” Y/N pleaded, feeling the panic rise within her. She tried her best not to share at the impressive length of his half-hard cock hanging heavily between his parted thighs. It looked just as she had remembered it — long and thick with a pink, shiny head and a prominent vein on the underside. Okay, she did not see the vein this time, she just remembered it from the Chamber of Secrets, how it had felt against her wet, velvet tongue.

The cheeky grin ghosting over Michael’s plump lips was a sign of him being perfectly aware of the effect his naked form had on Y/N.

“Move,” he beaconed his fingers at her, and she shook her head. 

“What?” Y/N’s question came off in a more high-pitched tone that she had intended, “No! Don’t you even think...”

“You need to be more appreciative of the fact that we have saved your life,” Tom said, and she wondered if he would join too. God forbid. So far, he was still standing against the sink, watching Michael and her. 

“You are the ones who have put it in danger,” she reminded, eyeing Langdon suspiciously. He put his one leg over the edge of the bathtub, forming the ripples in the water. 

“Then you understand how fragile your position is.” 

Arguing with them was pointless, but it did not mean that she would give up so easily. She curled her fingers into fists and brought them against her chest when Michael fully got into the tub and headed toward her.

“Stay where you are,” she warned. He approached her, his broad chest covered in transparent beads of water; he dipped his head into the water, his blonde hair getting a shade or two darker. 

“Or what?” He scoffed and extended his hand to her. It took him a couple of seconds to wrap his fingers of his one hand around her wrists and hold her in place. She looked at him in fear, but he only tilted his head to the side, his whole look asking “So what now? Go ahead and try me.” Michael used the time of her confusion to push his body off the bottom and press himself against her.  

“Michael, please, don’t,” she begged, calling him by his name. Langdon’s cock twitched at the sound of his name falling from her lips, and he maneuvered both of them so he positioned himself behind her, holding her closely against his chest, her hands still in his firm grip. 

Tom leaned forward, putting his hands on the edge of the tub, his muscular arms flexing at the weight of his body; the black strand of his hair fell into his face.

“C’mon, kitty,” he cooed, “didn’t you miss our time together?”

She arched her back and whined helplessly, trying to get away from Michael’s steel grasp. She wriggled her shoulders, but he wrapped his arm around her waist, pinning her to the spot. She could feel his erection pressed between their bodies and the way his chest was rising and falling within steady breathing. 

“Did you sleep with anyone else after that?” Langdon whispered in her ear, grazing his teeth over the earlobe, his breath fanning over the sensitive spot. He nipped on the soft skin and then moved his lips to her neck, peppering it with sweet, teasing kisses. She rolled her head to the side in an attempt to prevent his manipulations.

“I’ve been trying to forget that experience like a nightmare.” She managed to mumble. He laid his hand on her stomach, slowly stroking it, his fingers dangerously close to her pubic bone. Michael used his thigh to spread her legs and make her straddle him, a position she was so used to. 

“Hmmm, to forget?” He mused, massaging her tummy lazily, getting dangerously close to her womanhood with each circle. Langdon cupped her left breast in his free hand and rather harshly squeezed it, moving his fingers to her pink, soapy nipple to give it a pinch. 

“We’ve seen every darkest corner of your mind,” Tom reminded her and stroke her cheek painted in scarlet hues of blush. “You loved the feeling of our cocks inside of you, didn’t you? The fullness? The way we moved together in your tight little holes that were begging to be ponded,” as he spoke his pupils were blown wide, turning his eyes into dark abysses; his voice dropping a few octaves lower, vibrating through her bones. By the way he licked his lips and brought his face so close to hers, she knew he was getting off to the filth that was coming out of his mouth. 

“Stop, just stop it,” she whined and kicked Michael with her elbow, earning a disapproving groan from him.

Immediately, Langdon’s hand flew to her neck and wrapped around it securely, his thumb pressing right on the pulsing point of her sinew. She gasped in shock and reached for the edge of the bathtub, scratching her nails against the fine marble.

“You can lie to yourself all you want,” she gripped onto his arm, but it only made him more aroused. He rubbed the tip of his nose against the nape of her neck and then moved lower to where her neck connected with her shoulder to bite the sweet spot, sinking his teeth into the warm flesh. 

“She’s so cute when she’s trying to resist us,” Tom chuckled, sliding his hand over his bare torso down to his tense stomach, and then to the prominent bulge in his pants. He pumped his throbbing erection through the fabric without taking his eyes off of Michael who was toying with Y/N’s nipples. Having made sure that she was not moving, Langdon put both of his hands on her waist and raised her a little, so her breasts would appear on the same level with his lips. He attached his mouth to the hardening bud and sucked on it, circling his tongue around her flesh with a wet, ringing sound. 

“I know,” he smirked against her mounds and playfully jiggled them in his palms, brushing his thumbs over the swollen nipples. He squeezed them and then let them go, clearly being amused by the way her tits bounced in front of his face. “Trying to fool us into believing that she’s not a little slut who craves being double penetrated, isn’t it so, angel?” He wondered, cocking his eyebrow at the nearly crying girl in his arms. They were doing it again. Mocking her. She sobbed, realizing that there was no escape, and dropped her hands, sinking them into the water and resting her palms on her spread thighs. She threw her head back on Michael’s shoulder and looked up at him tiredly.

“Just be a bit more gentle,” she whispered, barely moving her lips. His hands roamed over her body, contouring her sides and the curve of her silhouette. He groped her ass and parted her cheeks, stealing her breath away.

“We can’t promise it, sweetheart,” he winked at her and brushed the side of his palm over her crease, touching her most intimate parts. 

She had to put her hands in front of her for leverage when Michael’s hand cupped her crotch, his long, skillful fingers digging into her folds. He pressed the heel of his palm to her center, mere inches away from her clit, electing a moan that mostly resembled a muffled gasp from her. Y/N turned her head at Tom, as she heard the sound of him undoing his zipper, and her mouth involuntarily fell agape at the sight of him. He wrapped his veiny hand around the impressive length and gave it a few tugs at the base, his fist meeting the neatly trimmed pubic hair. The sloppy sound that his hand was making mixed with the splashing of the water, as Michael started moving the V of his fingers up and down Y/N’s pussy, was filling the room. 

The fact that they were in the tub made it a bit difficult for Langdon to understand if she was wet or not, but as he worked his digits faster, each time grazing her clit, he felt the beads of her juices collecting around his knuckles — consistency of her liquids was thicker than water. He swirled the tips of his fingers around her entrance and rubbed the arousal into her clit with tight, circling motions. She moaned and shifted on his thigh, instinctively wanting more.

“One thing that we’ve learned about you for sure,” Michael mewled, sliding his index inside of her tight heat, “is that you are submissive as fuck,” and just to emphasize his words he added another finger, stretching her walls out. She clenched around his digits, but he scissored them on purpose as a sign that he would still do as he pleased. 

Tom’s hand found its way in her hair as he grabbed a fistful of it and pulled her toward him, her roots stinging at the piercing pain. Working his palm up and down his length, pausing at the slit to smear pearly precum all over the head, he crushed his lips against hers, his tongue possessively pushing on her bottom lip. She parted her mouth for him, and he let his hand, tangled in her wet locks, cup her cheek. Riddle wrapped his plush lips around the tip of her tongue and sucked on it, making her moan into the kiss. 

She had to cling onto his shoulders when Michael’s fingers suddenly left her aching core. Tom was the one to break the kiss. She was panting heavily, as he pressed their foreheads together. Her eyes fluttered, lashes casting long shadows over her cheekbones when she looked down at his cock resting heavily against his abdomen. Riddle noticed her stare. 

“Yes, Michael,” he grinned, his fingers stroking the blue, pulsing vein on the underside of his dick. “Give her what she wants.”

Langdon slid inside of her with ease and a low throaty groan, some water got splashed into the floor, but none of them cared. She could feel every inch of his delicious length and the head of it protruding its way into her quivering heat. The lack of lubrication, because of the soapy water,r made it harder for him to penetrate her with one thrust like he had wanted to do it. She winced at the burning stretch but did not ask him to stop. 

“Just like that,” Tom praised, his fingers squishing her face and making her look up at him. “Take it, little slut. Take it all.” He smiled carnivorously, wiping the salty tears off of her cheeks. 

“Oh, God,” she cried out when Michael, who had got tired of the slow pace, nestled his hands on her sides and forced her down on his length, making her sit fully on his cock. She heard the obscene “slap” of his balls against her ass cheeks.  

“Fuck,” Langdon cussed behind her, throwing his head back. “Still the tightest kitty I’ve ever fucked.”

Her pussy clenched at the compliment, and she mentally slapped herself across the face for having reacted to his praise. She wanted to lean back against his chest, but Tom was holding her. He shifted forward and bent down on one knee.

“Bend her over a bit more for me,” he instructed Langdon who pressed his palm to her lower back, helping her position herself before Tom; her face appeared inches away from his cock. She lifted his gaze at him, and if it had not been for his self-control, he would have cum at the sight of her. Michael adjusted himself, too — he was standing behind her on his knees, his cock buried deep inside of her. He smoothed the foam all over her butt and gave the meaty flesh a couple of loud smacks. 

“Come here, have a taste,” Tom called her and guided his cock to her lips. He ran the tip of it over her mouth, contouring the plump shape of her cherry lips, and for a second it seemed like he was going to be gentle with her. But as soon as the head of his flesh met the velvet of her mouth, he thrust his hips forward, hitting the back of her throat. Y/N did not expect that and ended up recoiling from him thus skewering herself onto Michael’s dick. She cried out with a mouthful of cock and placed her hands on Tom’s thighs in an attempt to push him away. It was almost impossible to concentrate. Not when Riddle was holding her firmly and Langdon pounding her so perfectly that each time the head of his cock brushed against all the right spots, making the knot in the pit of her stomach tighten. 

He let her pull away just for a moment to recollect herself and get her breath steady, but then he threaded his fingers through her hair and wrapped it around his fist. This time she was more prepared and started breathing through her nose, hollowing he cheeks around his shaft. She laid her tongue flatly and let him slide the length along with rapid, brutal thrusts. She did not know how they were doing it, but Tom and Michael managed to work in sync — as Langdon was taking her from behind, the Slytherin Heir was using her mouth. She could feel the slightly bitter taste of him. Tears were streaming down her face, the air filled with the smell of sex and strawberry foam filled her nostrils. 

“Oh fuck, oh shit,” Tom murmured, squeezing his eyes when she swirled her tongue around the head and stroke the rest of the length with her hand. He snapped his hips and forced her to stay still, making her gag on him. The muscles of his stomach tensed at the sound of her struggling to take a breath, and he tightened his grip, feeling the way her throat convulsed around him. She was drooling all over herself, and Michael hovered over her back, to reach for her breasts and smear the liquid all over them.

She gasped when Tom let go off of her hair. Her eyes were red, lips bright pink and swollen, wet hair sticking to her flushed cheeks. Her body was jolting toward Riddle each time Michael’s dick penetrated her. She let out a low moan, her voice sounded hoarse and raspy when Langdon pulled his cock out of her completely and then shoved only the tip inside. He did it a couple of times with the most vulgar sound. 

“Look at me,” Riddle demanded. By the hazy look in his eyes and the erratic movements of his hand, she knew he was close. Tears welling up in her eyes made everything look blurry. The ripples of pleasure piercing her body also made her feel weak and pliant, leaving her all worked up and needy. In the state of pure euphoria, she could admit that she loved the way Michael was taking her on all fours. “Stick your tongue out.”

She obeyed and darted her tongue out at the command, giving Tom her best doe-like look. 

“Fuck I’m so close,” she heard Langdon’s ramblings, and her tummy fluttered in anticipation. “Go ahead, kitty, work that pussy for me,” he smacked her. “Clench that little hole.”

Right at that moment, with a low growl, Tom came all over her tongue. The white stripes of his cum painted it like pearly ribbons, staining her lips and chin. He looked ethereal with his mouth formed into a perfect “o”, dark eyes sparkling with lust. His broad chest was rising and falling rapidly as he was coming down from his high. The salty taste of his milk and the whole scene, in general, sent her over the edge too. Y/N clenched her pussy around Michael so tightly, that he had to dig his nails into the flesh of her hips from how good it felt. A string of “fuckshitiamcumming” accompanied his last thrusts, and she whimpered at the throbbing between her thighs as Langdon’s cock erupted with his hot, sticky seed and filled her up to the brim. The coil in the pit of her stomach snapped, and the earth-shattering wave of pleasure flooded all her senses. Her arms gave up, and she would have nearly dropped her head in the water if Tom had not caught her. 

For a while, it was only their erratic breathing and tired limps intertwined together. She was standing there with her ass still up and pussy covered with Michael’s cum on full display for him, when she slowly started realizing what had just happened. She turned her head over the shoulder to meet the blissful expression on Langdon’s face. He licked his dry lips and ran his fingers through the damp hair, putting the disheveled strands of blonde locks in place. 

“Tomorrow,” he cleared his throat, “at the meeting with the Death Eaters you shall not say a word to them even if they address you, understood?” He rather clumsily rose to his feet, letting the mix of foam and water run down his lean body. He waited for her to nod and then looked at Tom.

“Give it to her.”

She did not know what he had meant until Tom scooped Michael’s pants from the floor and snaked his hand into the pockets. Langdon reached out for one of the fluffy towels folded neatly by the sink and wrapped it around his hips. Y/N watched him step out of the tub and join Tom. Two of them were facing her like the snakes from her dreams. Riddle fished a small black box out and quickly opened it, reveling to the dim light of the room a silver bracelet in the shape of the serpent. 

“Don’t ever take this off,” he told her and made a gesture with his index and forefingers to give him her hand. She did not have the strength to hold his palm, so she just let him put the fine piece around her wrist.

“What’s it for?” She whispered, feeling the warmth radiating from the snake.

“Something for you to wear until you get the dark mark.”

*In Harry Potter universe the underage magic is considered as any magic used by a wizard or witch who is under seventeen years of age outside of school, but in this series, it’s required to pass an exam first. 

Taglist: (my regular taglist + those who expressed their interest in reading part two): @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @divinelangdon @ccodyfern @sammythankyou @kaigitana @ms-mead @sebastianshoe @langdonsdemon @starwlkers @iloveziggystardust @chaoticevillangdon @sojournmichael @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @rocketgirl2410 @theghostoflangdon @americanhorrorstudies @bbyduncan @nightsblackroses @langdvnshepherd @ccodyferns @isoldedax @omgsuperstarg @1-800-bitchcraft @wroteclassicaly @ticklish-leafy-plant @elena-75s-blog @peachesandfern @your-daddy-langdon @hexqueensupreme @icylangdon @littledemondani @hecohansen31 @mega-combusken

[notasiren21]

The Darkness Comforts Me More (Ch. 2-pt 1.)

(Female Byleth x Felix)

He awoke an hour before sunrise, surprised he slept as long as he did to begin with.

Felix rubbed at his face with his left hand, briefly attempting to yank his right free that felt too heavy for being under a pillow before he felt silk rub against his back. Stilling, he opened his eyes to see that teal hair splayed just underneath the pillow he was on and across the small space on the bed. Even in a sleep induced haze, it didn't take a genius to figure out who was sleeping so soundly next to him that had that colored hair and that small of a frame with faint scars in various places.

He propped himself up slightly with his elbow, briefly remembering the night before that started in fear and ended in the beginnings of the word he refused to acknowledge. Deft and slender fingers gently moved to pull some of her hair back that covered her face, only freezing when she mumbled in her sleep and inched backwards a fraction to subconsciously search for him. He basked in the isolation that filled the room around them as he was the only one awake and let himself watch her in fascination that he always found himself suppressing daily.

He did his share of her efforts and moved closer to her, his left hand carefully grabbing just below her shoulder to guide her to his chest she sought for in slumber.

Something clicked within him faintly. He nearly startled in response to the feel of warmth flooding his entire body and the sense of belonging being found. Mutely -and without much awareness from the newly discovered emotions -he leaned forwards, fingertips skirting up and down her silk, robe cladded arm. His nose nuzzled through her hair and his lips parted as thoughts consumed him.

He was laying in bed with his teacher that was a handful of years older than him (though he never minded since there had been more drastic age gaps among couples across the kingdom and empire and four years seemed to not hold much weight) and breathtakingly gorgeous both on and off the battlefield. It would be a secret he'd take to his grave at the fact that some nights when he had managed to gain a small bit of sleep, he'd bolt up panting at the latest dream of her teal hair swaying in the midst of fire and smoke, matching eyes glimmering with something primal and a hint of survival swimming in them as a predatory look coated her face with a smirk to show it. His mind wasn't one to skimp or half ass details.

All too well did he have memorized her stance with her sword in hand, flames dancing around the blade and her skin. That faint dimple that only appeared on her right cheek was prominent and laid just underneath of some blood and dirt that sporadically covered her exposed skin. Her toned and exposed midriff revealed her panting but the way her body leaned forwards showed the adrenaline kicking in.

He remembered the day the image engraved itself in his mind and haunted his dreams.

~*~

Having been one of her most promising students and soldiers, she placed him and the Boar to cover her front while Sylvain and Ashe were at her back.

Felix had just cut down a bandit headed her way when he looked up -a good 70 yards from anyone headed his way for the time and close to the end of battle-, his breathing was harsh and he wiped the blood from his face when he searched for her to ensure her safety and to watch her fight as he caught his strength and energy once more like he had been taught by her to do for efficiency in fighting.

His breath caught the moment she turned around from a spin move she perfected with grace, seeing the flash of her crest disappear when the man fell, a burned hole in his chest from front to back. He was aware he should be horrified as the smirk slowly tugged on her lip as she stared at the ground. He was smart enough to know it was a battle and death always came with it so he had no reason to be as distracted as he was.

Maybe it was then he realized he was fucked and wouldn't be able to look at her the same way again; not when his heart hammered in his chest and he felt his cheeks grow hot as he raced to commit every detail of her to memory. He startled when she caught his gaze and that damn dimple appeared for the first time ever. He had known she was attractive when she was first introduced to them by Dimitri, and sometimes stared at her longer during lectures and class than intended like the rest of the boys.

But he had finally seen someone worthy of every word meant to describe a woman. One specific word really. A breath escaped his lips as she started walking towards him and time slowed drastically. The way she killed with the strength of a group of men mercenaries but did it with such elegance and grace. The way her stern features put even her father in place when he was being too rough with someone but managed to walk femininely like she didn't just lay around twenty men to rest.

He felt his mouth stutter "beautiful" as smoke shielded his vision of her briefly when she couldn't see him, and then she was there. Her lips parted in a rare toothy smile, pulling more so on the left side as he saw the cutely sharp canine and premolars that followed that just so happened to be more pointed than rounded discreetly.

She came up, examining him from a distance, before grabbing into the pouch of Sylvain's horse he hadn't realized was close behind her with the owner scouting on top. She withdrew a sword and took Felix's to place it back in the pouch to be reforged later on. A new blade was placed in his hands as he stared down dumbly with his mouth open a fraction.

"I'd like to see the glow of your crest bounce off this when you get the chance, stay safe." She flashed her smile again and his eyes quickly searched for the dimple, then the cute and subtly pointed teeth before seeing the glimmer in her eyes that he sucked in a breath for.

Why do I feel elated over someone's smile?

"Sure," he muttered in his usual tone, unable to do anything else. He almost stumbled back when she passed him, patting his chest as she went with a quirk of her lip and flipping her hair from her face.

'Beautiful', crossed his mind a few more times later that day.

~*~

His hand gently cupped her cheek as she laid sleeping besides him, ears burning when she further nuzzled the opposite cheek into his hand that pillowed her head, listening to her briefly hum in contentment as his thumb stroked over her cheekbone to her nose. He felt her two small hands tighten briefly as they held the back of his hand underneath her head, leaving his opened palm free for her to snuggle into like she hadn't just killed demonic beasts not even two weeks ago.

He twirled a lock of her hair in silence as another memory washed over him that further led to his bond with her.

~*~

He had managed to catch her during her morning routine of greeting each faculty member and student, not paying mind to her appearance as he stared in annoyance at the letter in hand discussing his father's desire to see just how abled and worthy Byleth was to be his teacher when Felix already preached enough about her to assure him of her position.

He was stunned when replied with an easy and happy, "Sure."

He finally looked up, confusion replacing the scowl he once had. "Really? Isn't this a hassle for you? You really don't have to take part in my father's requests." He noted her appearance when he finally tore his gaze away from hers. Her neck piece was absent and her armor rested in her hands as her cloak laid lazily above her shoulders. Her hair was in a pony tail and sweat glimmered across his skin.

He thought she might hear the sound of his jaw clenching tightly.

She gave an amused look in response, "Bandits and those who violently oppose the church are a hassle. You and your father? Not a chance." She was now wrapping white tape around her hands, "If he wishes to know just how capable I am, I'm more than happy to satisfy his curiosity and assure him you're in great hands. What's so bad about that?"

He blinked.

"Ok, I'll send word then. We leave as the time he requested?"

"Sure thing, just inform the knights in my battalion before the evening and I'll tell the students tomorrow."

"Alright," he scanned her up and down once more to figure what she just came from. "Were you just practicing?"

"I was as a matter of fact, why?"

He shrugged, leaning back against the wall as he watched her wipe her chest piece down. "Nothing, I just noticed that you typically train later."

She glanced back at him, "Observant as always, Fraldarius." She sat on the edge of the table of the knight's hall, her feet dangling as Felix let loose a twitch of his lip at the sight of her petite frame indulging itself for childish acts. "I do practice later, but I started to train twice a day when I don't have to do a lecture. My break time usually consists of greeting you guys now but the rest I've been avoiding after that food fight in the dining hall last night," she waved off.

He nodded, seemingly pissed as well for the inconvenience and leaving after he helped her, Dimitri, Mercedes, and Ashe restrain the few students who started it. He was fortunate enough that his class was busy cramming for their qualification exams to change their class and positions on the field, meaning the Blue Lions weren't the cause or in trouble as much as the Golden Deer were. If anything, her cutting corners on her schedule was just punishment for the students who worshipped the ground she walked on.

Surprisingly, Claude had been sick in bed then and had nothing to do with it.

"Sorry, didn't mean to be taking you free time." He cut back in his usual tone.

She looked up, "Oh, no you're a blessing in disguise, Felix. I'd rather you keep me busy than me hustling around to say hello to people. It's exhausting, being a professor."

His skin burned at the compliment she unknowingly dropped on him.

"You know, I was planning to practice brawling some more but since you're here, would you like to spar with me later? I have some battlefield techniques I'd like to try out with you."

And he felt his heart start to beat wildly again.

"Sure, I've got the time."

~*~

Swords clang together, sand drifted in the air around them, and their chests laid close to being in physical proximity behind their blades. They both breathed heavily and short, faces and skin flushed with sweat creating a visible sheen.

Felix was beyond the point of exhaustion, left in his pants and white button up, somewhere was the school jacket discarded among the wooden makeshift bleachers where students watched the physical lessons. He was exhausted and tired, but the adrenaline rushed through him as he quickly stepped back and swirled around to her back, teeth baring when she caught on to his maneuvers better than any opponent had and made a lunge for him after ducking his blow.

He felt exhilarated, pleased and elated with how the professor countered his moves. A smile tried making way onto his moody features, the threatening teeth expression he once had now twitching at the corners as he forced it down. He pressed forth, intent to disarm her when he heard her let a girlish, quick huff of laugh out he never thought could come from her.

It sounds so light and carefree.

His gaze left their swords and met her expression; hungry for success and unrelenting. Her crooked and bare smirk showed her teeth he found far more cuter than he should. He faltered when she puffed her cheeks, his own turning a deep shade of red as she pressed her light weight further into his leaning form. Her head titled back as another laugh -was that a damn giggle? Fuck. - escaped her, his teeth unclenched as his mouth opened in surprise and blinked, faltering and sending them both backwards into the sand.

Her laugh rang clear in the air as he ditched the sword, grabbing her waist in a fast reflex to save her from their fall when his body gave way. Their fall took them several feet back from her force.

He coughed several times as the sand cloud cleared around them, hiding his shock in another cough when he realized she was above him with her hands bracketing on either side of his head and her hair creating a curtain around their faces that were inches from one another.

She was still laughing in her secret feminine way only he seemed to know of, mint green tea filling his nose in their shared air as she pushed off the ground. A hand laid over her chest as she continued her giggle fit, the other unknowingly resting on his chest to stabilize herself. He felt his heart leap into his throat, realizing his hand fully rested on her thigh which straddled him.

He quickly yanked his palm back before he caved in and traced the laced tights she wore. His chest was rising rapidly in panic, skin burning in emotions he couldn't name.

Does he push her off? Does he hold her? Take advantage of the distraction and make a grab for the nearest sword? He couldn't believe he was overthinking this. He sparred with people all the time and whenever something similar happened, he'd quickly turn and notch a win.

Fuck, they had even sparred several times together so why was this time different?

His hand went to search blindly for the sword as he stared up at her, a giggling mess on top of him. He touched the cool metal blade when her fingertips drew into her hand, scratching his chest when her nails made contact and sending a shiver through him. Fuck, ignore it. He needed to win this.

Or, he could just watch her?

It's her win regardless, getting her now would just be cheating. Unethical. Unfair.

His arms rested by her legs that caged his hips, eyes watching her intently to sedate the gnawing curiosity that had been getting to him lately.

Fuck, fucking beautiful.

He wanted to touch her, sit up and bring her closer, press her hand further to his chest and taste the remnants of tea on her lips.

Her really pink, soft looking lips.

He blinked out of his awed daze when her hand covered her mouth and shielded those teeth -adorable and slightly pointed cute teeth- from his view. He gave himself a few extra seconds to reel back his personality and gain strength to talk.

"Seems you've won again," he started, sitting up with his hands supporting him from behind. He ignored how the close proximity was trying to chip away his stoic manners. Her eyes opened, tears of amusement making the dark color shine brilliantly he felt his next words catch in his throat.

"Seems so," she cleared her throat, feigning her usual blank expression that he was most certainly aware of now was a mask to ignore people. "Sorry, let me help you up."

He felt confused when disappointment hit him when she detached herself. Shoving it down and grabbing the outstretched hand above him.

Shit, when did he accept simple and helpful gestures such as that?

He should knocked her hand away or held his own up in response and got to his feet without effort.

He gritted his teeth out of frustration, the overwhelming feelings and thoughts getting to him before he could make sense of it.

All I need is my sword. I don't have time for such mundane things.

He dusted himself off, looking back down at her. "You were laughing." He stated dryly.

"Yes, I apologize."

"At me?"

"No, of course not."

"Then what?"

Her eyes flashed with something devious and that damn smirk pulled at her lips before her features returned to their place. "I'll tell you someday."

She patted his chest and showed a smile before walking out and leaving him staring after her with a mixture of feelings.

Well fuck.

~*~

He watched in fascination as the strands of her hair shimmered in the sunlight that leaked through the windows, still twirling it around his finger and feeling the softness of it.

It felt, it felt amazing to let his walls down and explore the confusion he kept getting so angry at. He knew he should leave since everyone would wake up in about two hours but he didn't want to leave her yet. Not when she was sleeping and so close to him.

She stirred in his arms, the motion causing a bittersweet sensation in him as he watched her. Her small frame twisted around to her back, tilting carefully to her left as she blinked blearily up at him, pink lips parted and a breath lost as blue-green eyes peered at him in confusion beneath full, black lashes. Somewhere was his ability to move, breathe, speak. The light hit her eyes and reflected back at him brighter than the sun hitting a clean blade. Felix was mutely aware how close his face had been before she woke, now it pounded in his throat and images of her flashed through his head that made his chest tighten painfully. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, face engulfed in heat, hand flexing on her hip and the other squeezing her entangled one.

And his eyes, like burnt copper and blood mixed together, pierced into her and Byleth felt her breathing fasten. Her pulse and flow of blood thrumming in her ears as she searched for any signs of the Felix he presented to everyone on the daily.

And he was so close.

From where his bare chest pressed to her side and her own burned through the silk nightgown. She felt warm, close to hot and overheated and it was the first damn time she ever felt that in this goddess forsaken icy hell- even the summer had a chill to them and she was close to running into flames to sedate herself.

She wanted him closer, wanted to burn until she couldn’t take it and drown in the comforting darkness he had to offer that was far safer than anything else.

Fuck, she wanted to kiss him.

She missed being immune to emotions, void of them even. The most she ever did was give a short laugh to her dad’s jokes and his forgetful mind trying to offer her a beer at the age of twelve.

Right, dad.

She wanted that immunity, she wanted it now and forever. Felix was the one who damaged her gate that held them at bay: he did unknowingly and unintentionally and beautifully. But she needed to lock it away, part of what she could to pretend the massive and overwhelming pain wasn’t suffocating and killing her.

It hurt too much.

It hurt her beyond words and expression, to the point of living and she was planning to walk away from it.

Or walk off from it.

Jeralt was the only thing to occupy her mind for such a long time, Sothis was gracious enough to keep her watch from afar, always filled with concern and love for the former mercenary.

She could still hear Sothis’ screams in the dead of night when she stepped off the ledge of the bridge before Felix caught her. She could still hear the crying that sounded like a sad, solo symphony from watching Byleth let herself come to ruins.

Felix never heard it last night, but Sothis prayed for his soul to never hurt again and blessed him for his kind heart that laid in complete agony.

Now Sothis was floating somewhere far off, maybe in the depths of Byleth’s soul or in her head.

Felix was, he was therapeutic and a chance to breathe clean air.

Felix is Felix.

He’s a sadistic piece of shit who Sylvain claims is the most “edgiest” person to be. He had a reputation for his incredibly short patience and temper, he was well mannered but never displayed it to his classmates and he was bit as hard has he wielded a sword. He wasn’t capable of feelings or empathy, not even remorse.

But Byleth could feel a tether form between the two of them the moment they met and eyes locked. It was an indescribable feelings that the moment his blunt self-introduction was over, she gave a nod and walked away as quickly as she could.

He was attractive and handsome, sharply so. Several of the boys and men were at the monastery and granted, some of them were considered to probably be more attractive compared to Felix, but there was something about him that made sense and confused her all the same. She could hardly believe he was considered the most unapproachable of the group.

Especially now...as his fingers traced under her bottom lip and he stared at her with concern. What she wouldn’t give to feel how crazy her heart should be beating and what it would feel like.

Byleth’s lips formed a pout she couldn’t control as her arms slid around his shoulders and connected behind his neck, bringing him down with her and hugging him close. It felt like the flames of Hell when his arms wrapped just as tightly around her smaller body, and she shivered at the heat he could soothe her with.

He rolled their bodies until he was on his back, arms holding her protectively as she willed tears to stay within the lashes they escaped from.

“I should leave before the others rise,” his hand skidded up her back, lips pressed into her hairline. “Please, forgive me.”

“Of course.”

A soft kiss touched her head as he rolled her onto her own back, lips making contact with her open palm that he held carefully with two hands. He brushed a few strands of her away from her face before showing a lip twitch and turning to put his uniform shirt and jacket on, along with his shoes.

“Felix,” he tilted his head to meet her gaze, “Thank you. For last night. For everything.”

He let out a huff of air, “That’s typically a line most often heard from Sylvain’s room beyond the walls and door that don’t silence his antics. If you wanted to use it, I would’ve suggested having him over instead.”

He was teasing, he was capable of it and good at it, but she still felt as though it was a slip of insecurity despite his humor.

She frowned, “I didn’t need Sylvain last night, I had needed you, Felix.”

If that didn’t throw him through a damn loop, he didn’t know what would.

“Felix,” she sat up to her knees and moved to the edge of the bed. She held out a small hand to him as he finished the last button, turning and placing his much larger one in hers when he just knew he would’ve slapped anyone else’s away. The indigo haired boy even went as far as interlacing their fingers, tracing the back of her own hand with his free one to feel the softness the armor protected.

“Byleth,” he said with as much seriousness as she did, albeit feigned. A small smirk tugged his lips when her cheeks flushed a pretty pink.

Her skin was comforting, her warmth despite always being cold herself, her touch, her. It was too much and not enough. He felt his head swirling from a fight inside his head, as if the once cheerful and caring part of him he locked away after Glenn died was breaking chains one by one each passing moment.

Her eyes saddened, like she was able to read a synopsis of him that alluded to his current thoughts. His jaw clenched at her expression and she brought him in for another embrace he couldn’t feel an objection to.

Holding her like this, it felt like a missing piece and that terrified him immensely. It wasn’t like he could pull away either, not when that damn belonging sensation filled him.

“Felix, you are exactly the person, thing, I needed. You helped me tremendously even before last night and if there is anyone I trust in this monastery now that my father has passed, it’s you.” She felt the hands flex on his hips but didn’t say anything, pulling back and staring up at his hair instead, she played with the loose tendrils that escaped the tied hair. She refused to look in his eyes so he couldn’t see what she was feelings, so he wouldn’t feel overwhelmed with her words, et cetera and et cetera.

“I, ...Byleth,” he tried.

She gave a sad smile, guiding him to lean downwards an inch and press a kiss to his forehead before she settled back down on the bed. His hand played with her fingers momentarily, staring at her.

“You’re one of my favorites, you know?” She gave him that side toothy grin he adored all too much and he smiled back.

“You’re one of my favorites too, Byleth.”

[soda-rebel]

Chase You

Fic gift for @midnightleone ! Enjoy buddy! I recommend Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol as an accompaniment. 

Summary: Alfred can’t wait to take Arthur on a camping trip

Warnings: angst, blood, death

It was Alfred’s idea, really. He had insisted on going on a camping trip because it was something that he had done with his family every year before college. With their engagement being just two weeks ago, Arthur was practically family. Not that he wasn’t before, of course. Just, now more so than ever. Alfred couldn’t wait to share such a special moment with him.

They had spent weeks packing, preparing, and scheduling. Alfred even called up his parents for directions to their old camping grounds. While on the call, Alfred heard his mother mumble something about the road and directions, but she dismissed it when he asked. Her only word of advice was to ‘watch out for other cars’. Alfred laughed and assured her that they’d be fine. Just fine.  

It was a crisp morning that they set out on, lavished in a gentle amount of fog. Just gentle enough to wrap up a body with. With bags and other necessities placed inside, they were ready for the three-hour drive. Arthur insisted that Alfred drove, calling him his “escort to the outdoors”. And he smiled that slightly parted smile. The one that showed a dimple on his right side and a flash of mischief in his eyes. It was really a lovely smile. So Alfred drove.

Arthur was in charge of the music for the first hour, choosing songs that ranged from almost winter-esque Indie to only the best anarchy-inciting punk. They spent the drive pointing out objects in the landscape, like boulders and hills and trees. Arthur always picked the trees. He liked the colors they were regaining after the heavy spring rains. Alfred liked the way the dew sparkled in the muted light. Quite appropriately, a gentle song about fall leaves came on. What he wouldn’t give for a nice hot cocoa right about now! The fog wasn’t helping either, turning into the thickness and consistency of a boiled quilt.  

“Can you imagine?” Arthur asked, more from the dream-like quality of the music than anything else. “We’re getting married.” It almost sounded like a question. Who would have thought Arthur, free-spirited explorer of exotic bookstores and condemner of touchy public love birds, was getting married?

Alfred sighed in content from the thought. They had been dating for what seemed like an eternity, not that Alfred was complaining. He liked turning around to find Arthur beside him in every second of life. He liked the wry smile that Arthur flashed when he said something stupid. Most of all, he liked how no matter how insignificant he regarded himself, Arthur would somehow convince Alfred that he was the greatest thing since air conditioning. And now, they really did have an eternity, a lifetime, to be together. He couldn’t wait.

It had been a pickup truck of some sort. Maybe it was a convertible, though. Alfred wasn’t paying attention. Of course, when a car rushes towards yours during a turn, you don’t think much about what type of car it is. You don’t really pay attention to much of anything. Just glimpses. Like the bright, cheerful, blue that stuck out to him, but only because of how ironic it was. Or maybe it was green? It didn’t matter. Alfred was giving what was left of their five seconds of normality to Arthur, whose head was turned away from the window. His face still had the ghost of a smile. His hair was still gently tousled from the wind, decorated by droplets of rain. Alfred hadn’t enough time to properly put his smile to rest, but his eyes and as a result, tears, caught up sooner than he planned. Something in Arthur’s eyes, perhaps the dullness that they already held, told Alfred that he knew what was going to happen. That he wasn’t afraid. Over the blaring horn, Arthur mouthed something simple, something sweet. Something Alfred didn’t understand. How he wished he did. And then they were hit.

Alfred didn’t see what happened. He was aware the car hadn’t flipped, mainly because he could see it from where he lay. The grass lining the sides of the road was soft, and he was glad for that one small comfort. Judging from the glass that speckled his jacket, he was flung out from the side window. An immense pain in his head and chest pounded away, making him aware of their existence. Everything was covered in a thin tissue of confusion. The trees were too wide, the road was too small, and the car was most definitely too empty. Empty. What was empty? Empty.

Arthur.

Alfred had forgotten Arthur.

Arthur, with his last-second smile. Arthur, with his eyes that sang with life. Arthur, with his face framed perfectly by the light of destruction that was mere seconds away. He needed to find Arthur.

At first, Alfred whispered, his voice shaking just as much as his knees during the first steps of their search. And then he talked, able to walk with the speed of his words. But Arthur didn’t answer him. So he yelled, jogging to keep up with the distance his words flew at. Arthur still didn’t answer him. So Alfred screamed, tearing his muscles and vocal cords to find just a single hair of Arthur. He ran in circles around the car, the frantic truck driver calling the paramedics, the hazed trees, but he couldn’t find Arthur. And then his leg snapped.

With a shout of pain, Alfred fell. Once his head slammed against the grass, Alfred squeezed his eyes tight. A short uproar of a migraine washed over him, accompanied by the twang of agony he felt in his femur. Everything was quivering, the air itself was shaking. Alfred cursed the entire trip for existing, family traditions be damned. And then he heard a cough.

“Arthur?” Alfred asked, eyes trying to focus on his fiance.

Arthur’s face was littered with glass shards. The longest pieces stuck out haphazardly from his cheek, almost like phantasmagorical feathers. He must have hit his head as well, with the usually fair-colored hair quickly turning into rust. Peeking out from the middle of Arthur’s neck was the angry red from where the seatbelt protected but then snapped. And the small cuts! There were just so many lacerations that they almost outnumbered Arthur’s freckles.

“Oh, hello Alfred,” he said, unaware of Alfred’s inspection. Arthur’s eyes were half-lidded and each word caused him to wheeze slightly, but he was awake.

“Darling, honey, you gotta stay awake for me, ok?” Alfred said. “Help is on the way, I just need you to keep those gorgeous eyes open for me, babe.” He felt his panic rise, not sure if he should press down on wounds or leave them be. There was a particularly nasty gash near Arthur’s hip, made evident by the pool of blood that was slowly increasing in size. Alfred hastily gathered fabric from his torn shirt to press into Arthur. Arthur, in return, hissed from the contact. “You’re doing great, Artie,” Alfred said.

Arthur chuckled, making him cough and gasp for air. “Hey, hey do you remember what you first said to me?” he asked in between ghastly heaving sounds.

“Artie, no not right now. We can talk about this in a bit please, just breathe,” Alfred begged. Arthur’s moving was making it worse, blood practically streaming out of him.  

Arthur, of course,  didn’t listen. He continued in his ragged breathing and beamed as if he knew the greatest secret in the world.

“You said, you said I looked--” Arthur forced out another exasperated cough, splattering blood on his artificial frill of glass. Speckles of red dotted his face, with a steady drip of blood falling from his mouth. His eyes were barely visible flickers of green, his lids barely able to open. “You said,” he mumbled. Arthur’s brows furrowed in concentration.  

“That you looked heavenly,” Alfred finished.

Arthur perked up just slightly. “Ah yes, the sweetest thing you could’ve said.”

“You punched me in the face for it,” Alfred smiled, regaining some of his old humor. He couldn’t help it, it was a lovely memory.

“I’ll do it again if you get sappy on me,” Arthur said, eyes closed in reverie. His breaths were ragged and torn like a broken sheet in the wind. And he was so still, so very, very still. Like that, he almost looked…  

“You know,” Alfred said, “I’d take a million punches to the face if it meant this didn’t happen, Artie.” Only now did he realize his glasses were nowhere to be found because his tears swam freely down his face without obstruction.

“I wish could take up that offer, but I’m afraid I can’t move my arms, love,” Arthur whispered. “Or my legs, really. Or anything. I can’t feel anything, Alfred.” Arthur sounded like defeat. He sounded like something far away and blue and iced.

“I’m sure they’ll get here soon, darling,” Alfred said, subconsciously pressing his shirt even harder into Arthur’s hip.

“Alfred, I’m tired,” Arthur whispered. “Can you lie with me? Just a bit, just until the paramedics get here.” He yawned, quite convincingly too. Enough so that Alfred yawned as well.

“I guess...that we can do that. But wake me up if you’re in pain, ok?”

Arthur nodded as he curled up against nothingness. As best he could, Alfred scooted over so he could place Arthur on his good leg. He drifted off to sleep while stroking Arthur’s hair in a pattern all his own.

When Alfred woke, it felt like an hour later and the paramedics still weren’t there. The truck was gone too. They were completely and utterly alone.

From where his hand was placed (on Arthur’s cheek), Alfred could feel the beginnings of a fever settling in. He wanted to curse the world, he wanted to scream how unfair it was, but in a way, it was fitting. There was no one else he’d rather die beside.

“Hey, Artie,” Alfred nudged him awake.

Arthur blinked sleepily for a few seconds, smiling after seeing Alfred’s face. “Good morning, love.”

“Artie, do you wanna know what the best part about sleeping outside is?”

Arthur breathed in lightly, pondering the question. “I don’t know, dearest. Do tell.”

“Getting to watch you show up the sunrise with your beautiful face,” Alfred said.

Arthur giggled softly, unable to control his laughter. “That is the cheesiest, most corny--of all---oh Alfred, I love you.”

“I love you too babe.”

Alfred slid Arthur off of his leg gently and then used his elbows to slide himself down to the grass. He made sure they were an eyelash blink’s away.

“Here’s to an eternity,” Alfred whispered, clutching Arthur’s hand. He gingerly kissed the bloodied knuckles and whispered his love. Arthur smiled and squeezed just a smidge tighter.

When the paramedics arrived, they were wrapped together on the sidelines of the wreckage.

Alfred had woken up in a hospital bed with a start. He hadn’t expected the hospital. He hadn’t even expected to wake up. And Arthur. Where was Arthur?

Oh. According to a nurse, that was what they were here to discuss. Fine, Alfred just wanted to see Arthur.

Oh. He couldn’t see Arthur. Well, could they tell him--?

Oh. Arthur couldn’t hear. That’s fine, he would write a note, and deliver it---

Oh. Arthur couldn’t get letters.

Oh. Arthur was gone. Would he be coming back?

Oh. Arthur...was dead.

Alfred felt his joy drain away until he was filled with nothing. Arthur wasn’t there anymore. Lovely, wonderful, Arthur, who he had promised eternity to, was gone. He was enraged, of course. Afterall, he was the one driving during the accident. And now he was here alone, forever. Or a lifetime. But a lifetime felt like forever.

He supposed he could wait. Afterall, what was a lifetime to an eternity?

[thegreyreylo]

Just Breathe - Chapter 4

RATING: MATURE

“Where are you? I’m coming.”

Wait, what? Ben, we haven’t even talked through things-

“I told you that you were not alone. That was a promise. So what bloody planet are you on Scavenger?”

We hadn’t touched since the night he found me sobbing on an old cot.

 I struggled to breathe for a moment, looking at the bare hand offered before me. Calluses covered his palm, and a burn marked the edge of his thumb. Glancing up to meet his gaze, his eyes burned with so many emotions I couldn’t place them. He had just called me a princess. I had no idea how to deal with this – He was the royalty in this situation. I was a scavenger.

 But if we are being completely honest, I might fall off my own shoes at the moment.

 Nervous out of my mind, I carefully reached out and felt the solid pressure of his hand. I didn’t plan on feeling such a moment of release. His palm was warm, even through the force bond. The obvious calluses were not rough and gritty like I expected, but instead were strong and solid. His hand felt as solid as the ground.

 I didn’t know how long the force bond would hold, or if I even trusted him to support my weight.

 It was plain as day that he was still mad at me, and I him.

 But I should probably practice walking.

 “Ben?”

 “Yes?” His voice was husky all of a sudden. I pulled my focus to his face finally and saw a man burning alive.

 “What’s wrong?” Startled and worried.

  Oh Rey, nothing is wrong except I’m not actually with you while you look like a goddess.

 It was subconscious what happened next.

 I pulled her weight forward and up, quickly pulling her in to a twirl. The fabric of her dressing following easily in suit, creating a blur of colors at the edge of my vision. I could hardly look away from her face. It was something I had done a thousand times jokingly with my mom. She had taught me the importance of being able to twirl a girl, she called it the quickest way to make a woman feel beautiful. So many stumbles, accidental crashes and laughs rose from my memories. But right now, it wasn’t about that.

 It was for Rey.

 The surprise on her face was so pure and honest, but her balance was clearly not saving her from the spontaneity of the moment, so I reached out with my free hand and caught her at her waist. I could feel her warmth under my hand and tried desperately not to get carried away. She was mad at me as it is, I didn’t feel like getting shot at by a blaster again.

 Granted, she could shoot me with whatever she wanted dressed like this.

 She swore lightly under her breath, but never broke eye contact from the moment I caught her.

 “Nothing is wrong, you look beautiful.”

 She could’ve had a fever with the vivid color that rose in her cheeks. Every freckle on her face washed away in a shade of pink.  I almost smiled. “You dance?”

 Smirking, “No, not exactly. But you should probably try to walk before your friend returns.”

 She rolled her eyes, but chewed her bottom lip.

 “Get moving scavenger.”

 The glare could’ve been a blaster shot.

 “I’ll catch you, okay?” Giving her a small nod, and begrudgingly removing my hand from her waist. Rey gave me the same look she gave me on the elevator going to Snoke; she trusted me. Emotions tore through my body but before I could even register it, she had attempt her first step and I had to catch her full weight by the waist.

 It was like an infant animal trying to take its first steps – amusing but pathetic.

 “Oof!” She huffed, and scrambled to get her heels under herself. At this point I was holding her entirety as she tried to right herself. I couldn’t help it.

 I laughed.

 She froze.

 “Holy shit, you can laugh!” Rey exclaimed, spinning in my arms to try to get a glance at my face.

 Stopping immediately, I rolled my eyes and put her on her feet myself. I carefully went back to holding her hand, braced to support her weight if needed. No need to comment on her ridiculousness.

 She studied me for a moment, her eyes burning with curiosity. “Hey, Ben it was a joke…”

 I nodded, “I’m aware. Are you ready to try again?”

 Rey looked a bit confused, but took a step in her petite golden shoes. She made it about three steps before collapsing again in a wobbly mess. I snagged her again before she hit the floor. Once on her feet, I put myself a food in front of her with both hands in my own. Logistically I should be more supportive here. “So you can take down an entire Praetorian guard, but you can’t walk in heels Princess?”

 The term caught her off guard, “Technically, I took down half a Praetorian guard Ben.”

 All of a sudden she smiled and squeezed my hands. I stopped breathing.

 Could she possibly be a more enchanting human being?

 But in a split second, the moment broke like glass

  “Who are you talking to?”

 My stomach dropped like a tie-fighter shot out from the sky. Looking over Ben’s shoulder I could see Leia, Rose, Finn and Poe had entered the room. Leia had been the one to speak, a look of pure confusion on her face.

 She heard me talking to Ben.

 The blood drained from my face and I couldn’t speak.

 “Did you say Ben?” Poe asked, concern and confusion plain as day.

 “What’s going on?” Finn asked, looking squarely at my obviously grasped hands.

 Rose was the only that did not speak as panic overwhelmed me. All of a sudden Ben increased the pressure on my hands, and I turned back to him. Ben’s dark eyes were confused and upon registering my emotions he became immediately worried. A crinkle forming on his forehead and his mouth pinching together as he went on the defense. The force bond began to crackle and fade – our mutual panic was shredding it to pieces.

 No!

 But that was it, he was gone.

 I toddled forward from the loss of support, and barely caught myself against a nearby table. What have I gotten myself into. I hadn’t told a soul about the Force bond with Ben since getting back for obvious reasons. Primarily, I didn’t know how my friends would respond and I also didn’t want to hurt Leia. This wasn’t going to be easy to explain, but I wasn’t one to lie. I would tell them the truth, and so I did.

 “I did say Ben.”

 “Why?” Leia asked, stepping forward with her head tilted in confusion.

 “Because I was talking to him, he was here.”

  I swear that force bonds are the most unreliable use of the force ever.

 A snarl ripped out from within me, as I chucked the nearest object across the room. My hands lunged towards my light saber when I stopped myself. I needed to try to get back through the bond and find out what was going on. I couldn’t do that in a full rampage.

 With a swear, I clambered on to my bed and tried to meditate. The calmer I was, the easier it was to maintain the bond.

 But there was nothing.

 It was like slamming my head against a wall, pointless and fruitless. Whatever was going on had Rey in a full panic, making her incredibly guarded and she had sealed off her mind. Knowingly, I couldn’t be sure but her emotions were the problem in the connection for once. Bloody hell.

 Flinging myself flat upon the disgruntled sheets, I flipped through options. I had no choice but to wait until Rey calmed down to even so much as check in on her, but at this point I doubted I could go back to sleep. I had to be here for her if she needed me.

 If I only was bloody with her, everything would be a lot simpler.

 Correction; if only she had decided to be with me, everything would be a lot simpler.

 Huffing, I chucked one last item and decided I needed a break from the ship. I knew where I needed to go, but I had no clue where she was. Dressing in a hurry, I descended out of my chambers in a trudge. My lieutenants were annoying me within moments. Ignoring them proved more difficult than expected.

 “ENOUGH!”

 Force freezing the half dozen servants in their step. “I am leaving the ship, reports will go to General Hux. Any large matters he will send to me. Leave.”

 I did not release them until I had descended into the hanger.

 I chose my usual command shuttle for this journey, ignoring the crew that scrambled to assemble behind me. I needed space, to do something to keep busy until Rey was available. As soon as I shot off to light speed, I checked in on her. It was still sealed tight.

 Several hours passed before I felt the small bleed of emotions enter my mind that were not my own.

 Devastation.

Rey!

 Audibly gasping, I dropped the ship out of light speed and attempted to calm down enough to open the bond further. “Rey? Rey!”

 I didn’t have to see her to know she was crying. Her emotions ravaged her mind, a flood of pure sadness and frustration. Isolation rang clear. “Rey! What’s going on? Are you hurt?”

 She was surprised for a moment, and a broken whisper came through. Ben?

 “Yes! Rey, I’m here. What happened?”

 I didn’t know if I was even speaking out loud or just in my head. I was just grateful that she was back, regardless of what capacity it was in. She stifled a sob.

 I’m alone on the Millennium Falcon.

 This didn’t make sense, wasn’t the entirety of the Resistance aboard the Millennium Falcon? Before I could ask, she spoke again with heart break in every syllable.

 Leia decided it was safest if I remained separate from the remains of the Resistance. Several of her lieutenants voiced concerns over you manipulating me. I was deemed a safety concern. They arranged for an ally to bring them another ship and they left a moment ago. Finn and Rose offered to stay behind, but I couldn’t do that to them. I couldn’t ask my friends to be cast off as well. They weren’t happy. I hardly know Rose, and she raised quite the fight. I agreed I will assist them, but from a distance.

 These bloody, arrogant assholes.

 “Where are you? I’m coming.”

 Wait, what? Ben, we haven’t even talked through things-

 “I told you that you were not alone. That was a promise. So what bloody planet are you on Scavenger?”

[sp4c3-0ddity]

If you are still accepting, I would love #8 plance.

Me:  look at this fluffy prompt!! i mean, i’ve done something like it so many times, so how hard can it be??Also me:  *cracks knuckles* no one ordered angst, yet here i am delivering about 3000 words of it anyway

(don’t worry, it ends happy)

EDIT:  warning for mentioned minor character death

(8) A First Kiss

Pidge daydreamed.

When she was younger she daydreamed about going to space,about her feet sinking into Martian soil, about her fingers – gloved, of course– brushing asteroids as far away as the Kuiper Belt. She daydreamed abouttraveling into space with her father and brother, unless she was angry with oneof them, in which case she daydreamed about traveling into space without them.

Pidge daydreamed about living in her favorite video games,about rescuing princesses from monsters, about mushrooms helping her growtaller – a tactic her mother exploited to get her to stop picking them off herpizza. She daydreamed herself into books, from fantastical worlds of propheciesand magic, to the more plausible but still out of reach planets of sciencefiction.

Pidge might have daydreamed, but never once did she dream itwould come true.

And between breaking into the Garrison to uncover secretsabout her family’s disappearance and being whisked away across the universe inthe Blue Lion, Pidge had no more time to daydream.

Except during dull diplomatic meetings, when Allura insistedthat they attend and pay attention, Pidge found herself slipping intodaydreams. But now that she was in space, living the fantastical, the only thing she could daydreamabout was the mundane.

Her father and brother, safe at home; her mother squeezingher so tightly she thought she would break. The look on Commander Iverson’sface when he saw Katie Holt – in the flesh – piloting a monster-machine out ofintergalactic lore. And, strangely, Lance.

It wasn’t that her friends didn’t feature in her daydreams;it was that Lance appeared so muchmore. When Pidge let her mind wander where it pleased, it usually drifted toLance.

The daydreams with Lance were always innocent. Sometimes shereminisced, both from before Voltron – and regret always tinged those memories– and after. Both good and bad, safe and dangerous.

“Why?” she asked Hunk once, when they were working onimproving the Castle’s scanners. “Why the quiznak can’t I stop thinking aboutLance?”

Hunk narrowed his eyes at her while she handed him a tool.“Uh, have you considered that you might…likehim?”

Pidge stared at him, confused. “Of course I do?” she said.“We’re friends, so why wouldn’t I?”

Hunk sighed and disappeared as he crawled under the counter.“I mean like…like you want to date him,like him.”

“W-what?” Pidge said. “No way! That’s impossible. I don’tlike him like that!”

(Pidge’s whole body felt like someone dangled her into avolcano, or perhaps into a star.)

“Right,” Hunk said skeptically. “You keep telling yourselfthat.” He peeked out to scrutinize her. “Meanwhile, I’ll watch you give himthose jealous side-eyes every time heso much as breathes in Allura’sdirection. Oh, and you know you’re the only one that consistently laughs at hisjokes?” He smirked at her. “Time to face the music, Pidge; you like Lance.”

Pidge glared at Hunk. “Fine,” she said. “You believe whatyou want.”

For the rest of their task, Pidge made sure to let go ofeverything she handed Hunk just a little too early, so that it slipped his fingersand fell to the floor.

Pidge didn’t daydream about kissing Lance, oh no.

Pidge dreamed aboutit instead, which was so much worse because dreams were a reflection of hersubconscious, weren’t they? And she directed the trajectories of herdaydreams, but the dreams that sleep plunged her into were out of her control.

Pidge woke up at her leisure for once, warm and comfortablein her bed rather than cold and cramped slumped over her desk. The last threadsof her dream lingered, and she held tight to them, struggling to recalldetails. She thrived off details; every single one was evidence to what Hunksaid, and what she was steadily coming to realize:

She liked Lance, a lot.

She wanted to hate him for that too, she realized, becausealthough she concluded that she’d felt that way for a long time, the awarenessof it made everything both better and worse.

Better, because she could finally put a name to theinexplicable warmth she felt whenever Lance so much as brushed against her.

Worse, because she could also explain the pit in her stomachwhen his fond smile turned towards Allura.

Better, because every tic spent in his company suddenlyseemed so much more precious.

Worse, because every tic spent apart dragged, at least whenthey weren’t in the midst of a battle.

“Why me?” Pidge asked herself once, when she sat at herdesk, struggling to comb through the data from her latest mission. “Why him?”

Once, before everything went to hell, when Matt calling her‘Pidge’ still annoyed her, Pidge had a crush on a classmate. At the time shehadn’t recognized it as such, and even then she’d needed both Matt and hermother to explain it to her. They’d reassured her, tried to soothe herdistress, and promised she would get over it.

“What if I don’t wantto?” she’d asked.

“What if there’ssomeone better?” her mother had retorted. “What if there’s someone worth those feelings?”

Pidge hadn’t understood what she meant, at least not untilshe overheard that classmate gossiping about her with a few of his friends. Andeven now, almost three years later, it still hurt to remember that she wastedso many feelings – good and bad – on someone like that.

Was Lance worth it then? Sometimes she thought he was, whenshe recalled how he’d introduced himself to her and tried to befriend herdespite her distance, when he smiled at and teased her, when he put himselfbetween her and an enemy even though he should know she could take it as wellas he could.

But now, while in the middle of a war and with her father’sfate still unknown, Pidge couldn’t afford this distraction, so she did her bestto put it out of her mind.

Lance’s agitation with Lotor’s presence aboard the Castle wasobvious to Pidge, and between his and Hunk’s suspicious muttering, she wasready to tear her hair out.

“And did you see theway he looked at Allura?” Lance complained a few days after Naxcela, as ifthere was nothing else worth his concern. “He practically leered at her.”

“So do you, Lance,” Hunk pointed out reasonably before Pidgecould snap something rudely.

“But like that?”Lance seemed to consider Hunk’swords, weighing them as he tapped his chin. “I don’t mean to?”

Quiznak, he seemed worried,and the very idea that Lance’s feelings for Allura were stronger than a shallowcrush prompted Pidge to say, “Would you give it up already?”

“Give what up?” he said, sounding confused.

From the corner of her eye, Pidge could see Hunk’s eyeswiden, his head shake infinitesimally, but she didn’t care. “Allura doesn’tlike you, Lance,” she said, barely aware of how harsh her voice sounded. “And besides, don’t you think we have alittle more to worry about other than someone else being hopelesslyinterested in the princess?” She glared at him, trying to drive her point home.“Don’t you think it’s more important to consider that we have an enemy negotiating aboard the Castle, orthat Zarkon is still alive, or that someone led us into a quiznaking trap?” Then, suddenly self-consciousunder Lance’s and Hunk’s stunned expressions, she stood up and said, “I’m goingto call Matt.”

Instead, she retreated to her room, fully aware that she wassulking and jealous.

It was unfair of her, but she still hated Lance for turningher into a hypocrite.

Caught between despair and regret, Pidge locked herself inher room for almost a week after she learned her father was dead.

Matt kept her company for a while, because he felt the sameas she did. Why weren’t we there sooner? wasthe question on both of their minds, the question that neither of them spoke tothe other lest they find an accusation there. Matt was in space longer, andPidge had the better means. So who was to blame?

Logically, Pidge knew that it wasn’t her fault, any morethan it was Matt’s, but guilt still twisted unpleasantly in her gut, so viciouslythat she could barely bring herself to eat during that week.

At first, Allura brought her food and empathy, but Pidgedismissed her attempts. When she retreated from her room, it just made Pidgefeel worse, and she added hurting Allura’s feelings to her growing list ofregrets.

Shiro tried too, but he hadn’t been right since his return. She refused to even let him in.

Keith, even more awkward in social settings than she was,simply sat with her. He tried to force a conversation – mostly small talk, anda reminder to eat – once, but she at least appreciated his effort.

Coran, Hunk, and Lance persisted the longest in trying todraw her out, their efforts ranging from sympathetic – low, soothing tones andpromises that she would feel better if she didsomething other than mope – to almost humorous– she might’ve found Coran’s anecdote of his grandfather’s ridiculousfuneral funny if her father hadn’t just died.

But Pidge’s shock at how quickly Lance lost his patiencewith her drew her out of her stupor first.

“What do you want?” she asked him when he opened the door,bearing her lunch.

Lance’s eyebrows quirked and he said, “I’m bringing youlunch.” He stared past her into her room. “Even though you haven’t finishedbreakfast yet, apparently.”

“Thanks,” Pidge said. She made to shut the door on him, buthe stuck his foot in so that it swung open again.

“I need to talk to you,” he said.

“I’m not interested in what you have to say.”

“Oh yeah?” Lance said, scowling. “Because I – and everyoneelse – am so quiznaking sick ofhearing that.”

Pidge’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Look, I understand that this is your mourning period orwhatever, Pidge,” he said, visibly struggling to rein in his temper, “but youravoiding us isn’t going to help you.” When she opened her mouth to interrupt,he plowed on, “And for the last time, Pidge, it’s not your fault.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing hiseyes shut. “Why the hell would you even thinkthat? You did everything you could!”

“But—”

“At least take a shower, okay?” Lance said while shecontinued to stare at him, stunned. He opened his eyes, something softening inthem, and for a moment she thought he looked chagrined and a little guilty. “Yousmell, and, well, I know sometimes we have to remind you to eat, but this ispretty sad. And I hate seeing you like this.”

It meant something that Lance said I, rather than we, but inher state, Pidge couldn’t figure out what.

But she nodded, and when Lance walked into her room andreplaced her untouched breakfast tray with her lunch, she didn’t stop him.

Later, when Pidge, with hair still damp, attended a mealwith her teammates – her friends – for the first time in almost a week, theyall made an effort not to look surprised. But her eyes sought Lance, andsomething inside her softened when he smiled at her, relief obvious in hiseyes.

Pidge drummed her fingertips against her desk. Agitationmade her restless, and the Green Lion’s purring in an attempt to soothe herdidn’t help much.

They’re fine, shetold herself. He’s fine.

And they – he –would be, but she needed to seem them – him– for herself to believe it.

“I can go,” Pidgehad volunteered. Allura had wanted two other Paladins to go with her, tointimidate a Galra loyalist drumming up support for a resurgence in a remotecorner of this galaxy.

“No offense, Pidge,” Lancehad said with a wry smile, “but you’retoo…small to look intimidating.”

“Come a little closer,”she’d goaded him with a glare, “and Ican show you how intimidating I canbe.”

“Please, just get aroom,” Hunk had complained.

In the end, Allura took Lance and Keith with her, and Pidgewas stuck pacing either the Green Lion’s hangar or her bedroom.

(She’d tried pacing in the kitchen too, but Hunk kicked herout after a few doboshes, claiming that she was making him anxious just from watching her.)

But as soon as her computer emitted the alarm, she stood andsprinted for the Black Lion’s hangar.

Pidge paused in the entrance, watching Allura emerge fromthe Black Lion first, pink helmet tucked under her arm. Lance joined her a fewtics later, but as a wide, relieved smile stretched across her face – and beforeshe could step forward to greet them – she saw something that made her heartstop.

Allura leaned up to kiss Lance’s cheek.

Pidge fled, deciding she’d greet them later along witheveryone else, as it should be.

Lance never mentioned the kiss that Pidge witnessed, atleast not in her hearing. He didn’t brag, gloat, or otherwise imply that ithappened, and she wondered if her imagination was so cruel as to conjuresomething like that.

But the lack of verbal confirmation from him should’ve beenher first indication that something was amiss.

Pidge, for her part, was happy enough pretending she sawnothing, instead greeting Lance – and Allura – a little more stiffly than shewould’ve otherwise. But they didn’t comment on it, so neither did she.

She couldn’t help paying more careful attention to theirinteractions though, and overanalyzing every word or touch that passed betweenthem. She couldn’t help the slightest bit of resentment that tainted hercontentment when Lance chose to sit next to Pidge on the sofa during theirleisure time, so close his arm pressed into hers. She couldn’t help the bitingremarks from escaping her lips, but that—

Well, that was no excuse, and never had been.

“I’m sorry,” she told Lance after the latest one. She stoodoutside his bedroom door, hands clasped together and shuffling her feet. “I…shouldn’thave said that.”

Lance sighed, leaning against his doorframe. “Yeah, I know.”

“You’re a good pilot, Lance,” Pidge said, rubbing her face. “Ijust…remembered everything from the Garrison and—”

“Listen, Pidge,” Lance interrupted her, and when she lookedup he was smiling slightly, almost teasingly. “I know your brain-to-mouthfilter is almost as bad as Keith’s, so I forgive you.”

Pidge raised an eyebrow at him. “Really?”

“Yeah.” His smile widened, even turned into a smirk. “Besides,I knew you didn’t mean it.”

“Then why did you look so mopey when you opened the door?”Pidge demanded, crossing her arms.

Lance averted his eyes, scratching his cheek. “I was takinga nap.”

“Uh huh, sure you were. And I am a weblum.”

“You can’t prove anything!”

Pidge frowned thoughtfully at him. “Your hair isn’t mussed,”she pointed out.

Lance looked up and ran his fingers through his hair. “That’sbecause I smoothed it down.”

“Your shirt isn’t crooked.”

“Maybe I straightened it before I opened the door,” Lanceretorted.

Pidge scanned him, head to toe, conspicuously enough that heflushed under her scrutiny. When her eyes reached his feet, she smirked slyly. “Thenwhy are you still wearing your shoes?” She leaned towards him. “Are you goingto tell me you sleep in those? Or that you bothered to put them on just to walkto the door?”

Lance rolled his eyes at her. “Oh, you just have to be rightall the time, do you, Pidge?” He bentover and untied his shoelaces, then, once he stood upright again, kicked offhis shoes. They collided against the wall with two consecutive thunks, and he turned to face her againwith his arms crossed. “Happy?”

“Yes, except…” Pidge tapped her fingers against her leg. “What’swrong?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Nothing’s wrong,” he said.

“I…really don’t believe that, Lance,” Pidge admitted. Shewiped her sweaty palms on her pants and stepped a little closer to him, forcinghim to look at her. “Please tell me.” She reached across the dwindling gapbetween them and grabbed his wrist.

Lance stared at her. “Pidge, I…” He sighed. “Can I ask you aweird question?”

“You just did.”

“Oh, ha ha,” he scoffed. “I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” She squeezed his wrist, wishing she was daringenough to take his hand instead. “What is it?”

Lance closed the gap between them, standing so close histoes brushed her shoes, his breath touched her forehead as she tilted her headback to look at him. “Can I kiss you?”

Pidge’s heart stuttered in her chest, her breath catching.In all the ways she might’ve daydreamed kissing Lance, it never happened likethis.

It happened when they stayed up too late, alone in his roomand playing video games. They would turn to each other at the same time, theireyes would meet, and they would lean in.

It happened in the middle of a tumultuous battle, fightingtheir way through an occupied Galra base. They would make their last stand, andone of them would grab the other (Pidge couldn’t decide which she preferred)and bestow upon them a frantic kiss, right before a timely rescue from one oftheir teammates.

It even happened at a party held in the Paladins’ honor, andhe would be overcome by emotion at their victory, or at her beauty, and hewould kiss her.

But it never happened after she came to apologize for sayingsomething hurtful she didn’t mean, and it never happened after she saw whatlooked to be a private moment between him and someone else.

“Why?” she asked suspiciously.

“Because I like you,” Lance said, like it was the mostobvious answer in the world. Simple, apparent, logical.

It didn’t agree with any of Pidge’s data.

“But I saw you with…Allura,” she said.

Lance blinked at her, looking confused. “What are youtalking about?” he asked.

“You,” she said, jabbing him in the chest, “and Allura. Shekissed you, didn’t she?”

His eyes widened with understanding, and he actually had theaudacity to laugh. When she scowled at him, he only laughed harder. “Pidge, shekissed me on the cheek.”

“And?”

“And it wasbecause I saved her life from an assassination attempt.” Lance grabbed her shoulders.“Are you serious? We told you aboutthis!”

Pidge gaped at him and admitted, “I might have…not paidenough attention at that briefing.”

Lance laughed again, and this time relief guided her tolaugh with him. They hugged, holding tight to each other, and Pidge said, “Ilike you too.” She pinched her eyes shut, against the tears that, somehow,still insisted on trailing down her cheeks.

(By now though, like mightbe too weak of a word, but it was sufficient for the moment.)

“So…” Lance said, and at the prompt Pidge withdrew enoughthat she could look up at his face. “Can Ikiss you?”

“Let me think,” Pidge said, pretending to do just that. Inreply, she looped her arms around his neck.

Lance met her halfway.

His hands carefully cupped her face, angling it up towardshim, but Pidge still had to stand on her toes. The motion almost unbalancedthem, but they broke apart, breathless both with kissing and laughter.

“We waited too long for this,” Lance said.

“Don’t make me wait any longer then,” Pidge complained.

Lance happily obliged.

In the end, all Pidge’s daydreaming – whether abouttraveling through space, science fantasy adventures, or kissing Lance – couldn’tcompare to what she lived.

(She would have to remember that; it was almostpoetic.)

[kiyabujayniah1996]

Reiki Master Dc Astounding Cool Tips

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[fearofaherobrine]

Roleplay Server Log #293

“Servers Transformed, Notch's Dream, Dinner with Deerheart, Splender is Missing, Crim Sheds, Klareese the Mothwoman”

[CP] Has watched both Flux and Deer's appearances shift as the hours crawled by.  Flux hadn't changed too much, her skin simply becoming more pale and not purple, almost like a porcelain doll.  Deer however had changed a lot, her thick blades of hair had become as slender as any human's, and her antlers had dropped and almost completely vanished under her hair.  He had to admit that he was a bit impressed at how aware both women were.  At the current moment he and Flux were the only ones awake-

[Flux] - Why don't you get some sleep, you probably haven't for at least a few days...

[CP] - Can't, Lie has to sleep with me

[Flux] Frowns a little- Why?

[CP] - Why?- He scoffs and starts stalking towards Flux- Why?!  Because if I sleep without her I see my initial removal all over again, an event you could have prevented

[Flux] - What are you saying?

[CP] - You could have stopped all of it, but instead you decided to stay distant which meant you couldn't make it in time to come to my aid

[Flux] - You think I didn't try?  That other entity got to you before I did and prevented me from helping you

[CP] - Yes, a FASTER entity, and she wasn't even near when I was attacked

[Flux] - I had my reasons for keeping my distance

[CP] - Oh and what could those have been?

[Flux] - I did not wish to poison you or your brother with my magic, something your father risked every time he came near me

[CP] Growls- You put that minor risk over the safety of those on your seed!

[Deer] - That's enough CP!  Stop taking your boredom out on her!- Deer had been awake for most of the conversation and had gotten fed up with CP's anger at the moment

[CP] - Oh shut up!

[Deer] - No, this may be your domain, but that doesn't mean you can act this way

[CP] Scowls before teleporting out of the bunker, needing to find something to kill to calm himself down-

-It's springtime outside and the woods are full of chirping birds and squirrels bustling around. There's a weird divot in the piled up dirt near the door though. It almost looks like something slammed into it. Though the impact was muffled by snow and frozen ground at the time-

[CP] - The fuck?- He goes down lower to investigate

-There's some staining and scoring on the concrete near the base where the dirt was scraped away. It looks like claw marks almost and the stains are black and oily looking-

[CP] - Maybe we shouldn't be using this bunker...

-Farther down the wall are some more scratches. The ones on the door are still visible, but it looks like a very large dog was pawing at the hinges and the lock side as well. -

[CP] - Well that's not good...- He floats upwards to see if there's anything else in the surrounding area

-There's something dark, that's either small or very far away soaring high in the clouds-

[CP] - Glances back at the bunker and debates whether to chase it or not.  Deciding he'd rather not deal with Doc yelling at him, he decides to quickly kill a nearby deer before returning to the bunker

-There's a bit of rustling in the trees above-

[CP] Is quick to summon his sword-

-Some leaves drift serenely down in the filtered sunlight-

[CP] Cautiously moves through the trees-

-Something large takes off from a branch high above and there's the sound of vast wings-

[CP] Quickly looks up-

-The shape is black against the canopy and sky, it's a bit T-shaped, mostly wings.

[CP] - That's better not be that fucking mothwoman thing

-Bit of a happy squeak as it flies up in a loop, just enjoying the sun-

[CP] Tromps back towards the bunker-

[Klaarese] Notices him and buzzes low, letting her foot brush his hair as she swoops past with a burst of happy yellow thoughts-

[CP] - Fuck off!

[Klaarese] Lands gently and squeaks at him, cocking her head curiously-

[CP] - I've got enough to deal with right now

[Klaarese] Her thoughts are hard to read, but she's indicating that he should feel good because there's lots of energy here, she shows him a shimmering portal in the sky with waves of energy coming out of it.

[CP] - Don't care, I'm babysitting three entities who are turning physical

[Klaarese] Nods- green thoughts, good place to heal, something about mounds, an image of a window. And nasty red and olive thoughts, a warning, wolves.

[CP] - I can deal with wolves

[Klaarese] Eyes, question?

[CP] - Fucking Nether, what do you want?

[Klaarese] Looks towards the woods - Orange burst with purple, bekoning-

[CP] - Fine, whatever, only because I'm bored

[Klaarese] Nod nod- She walks a bit awkwardly, shuffling a bit like a penquin despite the length of her legs, but she leads him along and down a hill until a rise of dirt the height of his chest blocks the way. It's a wall of green covered dirt that vanishes into the trees on either side-

[CP] - It's a wall

[Klaarese] Shakes her torso since she has no neck- no - She jumps up on the rise and flaps her wings-

[CP] Sighs and floats up-

[Klaarese] Jumps straight up and and goes level with him and keeps climbing-

[CP] Follows her up-

[Klaarese] Above the cloud level theres a glassy orange portal the size of a house, the energy coming off of it feels chaotic and uninviting. But the mothwoman seems to bask in it. She makes tight circles, barely flapping her wings-

[CP] - Joy, this is gonna attract a lot of attention

[Klaarese] Motions that he should look down-

-Now that they're above, the 'wall' is more easily visible. It's a giant petroglyph made out of earth and winding through the trees. It's heavily stylized and vaguely catlike, but the tail is way too long.

[CP] - Oh for fucks sake not more cats

[Klaarese] Blue thoughts, literally deep water, and a roaring feral cat, and darkness, the thoughts are somehow slimy-

[CP] - No idea what that's supposed to mean

[Klaarese] Unknowable, blackness on the void. Claws and black sludge. Stay away at night-

[CP] - Stay inside at night?

[Klaarese] Big burst of white and gold, absolutely a yes.

[CP] - Alright alright, I won't wander at night.  Now if you don't mind I have to get back to the others

[Klaarese] Happy squeak, lucky thoughts, friend, does a small loop in the air- indication that the portal will likely close once she's back through it.

[CP] - Why don't you just go bother the witch?

[Klaarese] little starbursts, probably laughter- She wheels gracefully away. Determined to enjoy the sun while it lasts -

[CP] Heads back to the bunker-

[Doc] Night fall outside and Doc returns with a merry greeting, a cake and a huge container of lemonade - the boys send their warmest regards. And Mb says go fuck yourselves, as usual. How's everyone holding up?

[Flux] - Well I suppose

[CP] Grunts from the corner-

[Deer] - I'm guessing the cake was Yaunfen's idea?

[Doc] Co- idea. Steve and Yaunfen did it together. It's super sweet with cheeries in the middle

[Deer] - But of course!  What else would it be?

[CP] Is a tad jealous that Lie didn't send anything for him-

[Doc] Lie sends her love and thoughts, I don't think she's slept either. - Xe moves away from the table and actually looks up - Deerheart.... Your antlers and Flux...

[Flux] - Yes...  Our programming seems to know that out here our usual appearances will not work

[Deer] - Not just my antlers love

[Doc] Goes to examine her more closely and looks down at her feet-

[Deer] Wiggles her toes a little-

[CP] - By the way, that mothwoman Dawn introduced us to earlier was around

[Doc] Oh dear, you're going to need shoes... Wait Klaarese was here? Did she need help or something?

[CP] - No, some weird energy portal was in the sky and she was feeding from it

[Deer] - No!  I like to feel the earth!  You know this

[Doc] I guess the woods out there pretty deep. We might be near a window area. And Deerheart, I know how you feel about it, but the ground isn't so soft or forgiving here

[Deer] Whines a little-

[CP] Looks at Notch- He's still dead to the world

[Doc] if he was awake he's likely be hating life anyway, so it's probably for the best. And I'll find you something thin, so you still feel the texture a little  

[CP] - He's not even dreaming

[Doc] is that normal?

[CP] Shrugs- I don't fucking know.  I was the last digital one to come through in the manor

[Doc] well you're the dream expert here. Did you try to get in? Or just read his mind?

[CP] - Read his mind

[Doc] Then try to get into his head, maybe you can steer his subconscious somewhere pleasant at least.

[CP] - Do I really have to?

[Doc] I would really appreciate it. I want to make sure he's okay in there. I mean it's not normal for humans to have totally blank minds. He's a game programmer, not a Zen master

[CP] Grumbles but does close his eyes and enters Notch's dream realm-

-The landscape is realistic, but unpopulated apart from some sheep. It's just hills and fields

[CP] - Oi!  Where are you!

-there's no answer but the light glints off a small glass building down the hill

[CP] - Really?  Glass?- He floats up and then flies over to the building

-The structure is basically a small greenhouse with a bed in it. The plants look a bit overgrown and the clay pots all look old and stained. There are a few worn tools on the shelves and even some grubby and well- loved gardening gloves. It all looks like a hazy memory from perhaps his childhood. At the farthest point from the door is a plain Minecraft style bed, Markus is laying flat on it like a Steve would. There's a small table beside it, almost like an altar with several items carefully placed on it-

[CP] Steps inside of the house and looks at the items on the table-

- theres a beat up wooden sword, a pink cloth collar with bloodstains, one of Lies healing flowers in a little pot, a heart- shaped pincushion with several needles, a pair of garish hand knitted socks that don't match, and a cup of coffee that seems ungodly hot.

[CP] Death glares at the collar before poking Notch- Oi

[Notch] Stirs and his eyes open a little- Cp....? Is it over already? Where are we?

[CP] - It's not over, we're in your dream

[Notch] Sits up and looks around, his eyes go wide and he sighs. - ah... I understand. I couldn't come here otherwise. All this is long gone in the real world.

[CP] - The fuck is it?

[Notch] My inspiration, at least part of it. We're in New Zealand. I had a distant aunt that I visited as a child. The countryside left its mark on me.  It's lovely isn't it? - looks down at the table

[CP] - It's dull

[Notch] it's quiet and peaceful, at least on the surface. - He reaches out to touch the little healing flower. It looks like everyone has left their calling cards doesn't it?

[CP] - Everyone who gave you blood that is

[Notch] I'm okay with that. I'm infinitely grateful for it. - He takes the collar and buckles it gently around the circumference of the potted plant.

[CP] Hisses at it a little and steps away-

[Notch] What? I'm pretty sure it's just a symbol. The rest of this I can use directly. - He pulls off his shoes and puts the socks on. - Pretty cozy.

[CP] - Pretty ugly

[Notch] Theyre soft. - he pulls his shoes back on, and reaches for the mug, blowing across it gently.

[CP] - Doc just wanted me to check on you, so I've done my part now

[Notch] I suspected as much, thank you for waking me up at least. - he takes hold of the sword and swishes it idly-

[CP] - Just go back to sleep, You still have a ways to go

[Notch] I can't go exploring?

[CP] - There's nothing out there!

[Notch] maybe that's because I'm in here. I just need to... - he struggles for the right words- load some chunks. I won't go far.

[CP] Shrugs- Not like you can get lost in adream

[Notch] Exactly. And lamb chops sound pretty good right now. Do you have any wood blocks?

-baaa from outside-

[CP] - It's a dream!  You can get them yourself!

[Notch] Sighs- force of habit. Thanks for watching over me Cp

[CP] - Whatever

[CP] Leaves the dream and opens his eyes back up in the real world-

[Doc] has put a plate with a rare and still hot steak in it  next to him. Xe's copied hir boots and is plying the metal heels off the duplicates- is he okay Cp?

[CP] - He's fucking fine

[Doc] Why so mad? Was his dreamscape something annoying? - Xe strips most of the rubber off the bottoms of the boots, leaving a thin, waffly, textured surface.

[CP] - It was fucking New Zealand

[Flux] - New Zealand?

[Doc] I don't know where that is, what did it look like? - Xe's thinning out the leather into something more breatheable and pliable-

[CP] - Many humans use it for movie sets because it's "pretty"

[Deer] - Movies?

[CP] - Moving pictures that humans use for entertainment

[Doc] So lots of green, maybe some trees, rivers and stuff? I guess it's just his happy place? - Doc flips the boots on their heels and melts the front fabric and rubber as one, making a seperate space for the big toes and testing how flexible they are.

[CP] - Pretty much

[Flux] Goes over to Notch and takes his hand

[Doc] As long as he's not in pain. I wonder if what we gave him had any effect on his dreamstate? He is kind of a Herobrine.

[CP] - Oh it did

[Doc] Is attaching some little hooks. - Do tell!

[CP] - An item on a table from each person who gave him blood

[Doc] Aww... that's sweet. I hope he gets use out of everything. Dare I ask what?

[CP] Sighs- A pincushion for you, a healing blossom for Lie, coffee for TLOT, socks for Steve, and a wooden sword for Stevie

[Flux] - A wooden sword...

[Doc] Chuckles - Socks and coffee? That is perfect.  But aren't you forgetting someone?

[CP] - Nope

[Doc] Super curious now- I think you are.

[CP] - No, I'm not

[Doc] Shakes hir head- Okay Cp. Have it your way... Okay Deerheart. Have a sit and let me strap these on so you can try them out.

[Deer] - No

[Doc] Please? They're nice and soft.

[Deer] Huffs and sits on her feet-

[Doc] But I made them just for you.

[Deer] - I don't want them

[CP] Quiet snickering-

[Doc] Sad face with a side dollop of lip quiver-

[Deer] - Oh please don't give me that look love...

[Doc] -tiniest little sniffle-

[Deer] - Fine, but I refuse to wear them indoors

[Doc] Okay. But at least try them on for now so I can adjust them if need be.

[Deer] - Oh alright- She offers her feet

[Doc] Slips the little boots over her feet, minding to get her toes in comfortably. Xe's pulling and molding the cloth as xe goes and slips the little hooks together up her calves one at a time. It's obvious xe's trying to be sensual since hir mate does like feeling a little confined. - Is black okay? Or should I change the color?

[Deer] - Brown, like my hooves

[CP] Rolls his eyes-

[Doc] Slides hir hands up and down every inch of the boots, changing the color - Here's the nifty part. Wiggle your toes, you can bend the soles too.

[Deer] Does so- I still don't like them much...

[Doc] Kisses her knee - You only need them out here. Humans are bad about littering. You don't want to step on broken glass or cracked concrete or other trash. You could get cut and sick because of it.

[Deer] - Can we even catch human illness'?

[Doc] I don't want to find out. Just trust me. There are gross things on the ground you don't want to step in.

[Deer] - Oh alright

[Doc] Scoots up next to her and kisses her, running fingers through her hair- Feels so strange... but soft.

[Deer] - I'm not used to the strands being so thin

[Flux] - The changes to both of us are odd to look at

[Doc] I'm still not used to a lot of things out here... I have to pretty much stay away from mirrors entirely.

[CP] - That trip to the shopping center was entertaining when you reached the mirrors

[Doc] Huffs a little- It's just hard... there's too much... DETAIL.

[CP] - It's not that bad

[Doc] You also think the blood and rot smell of Slenders manor isn't bad either.

[CP] - Smells like home

[Doc] Exactly. It's a personal opinion. Actually while I'm at it, Flux, do you need anything? I know you can kinda, think your outfit into existence?

[Flux] - Yes, I assume I may have to change it?

[Doc] I can alter it a little to make it more fashionable?

[Flux] - If you sketch out something more appropriate I can shift it, it's still made from my magic

[Doc] Maybe some pants, and a sleeveless top? Just shorten up your kimono and leave it open like a jacket.

[Flux] - I will try- She concentrates and her clothes twist and alter.  She soon appears to be wearing a pants suit in a purple shade

[Doc] That looks nice. Braiding your hair might be a good idea too. Most humans can't grow it that long.

[Flux] - I see...- She's never done anything with her hair before

[Deer] - Here, I'll help you with that Flux- She gets up and immediately trips

[Doc] Helps her up - take it slow. I know it's probably like learning to walk all over again without your hooves.

[Deer] Huffs in annoyance-

[Doc] I know... Would you prefer a stiff sole? Is the flexibility not helping?

[Deer] - Either way I think I'd still trip

[Doc] Helps her along. Xe flicks an eye at Cp to see if he's touched his food at all, the smell of the meat is still strong.

[CP] Food is still untouched-

[Deer] Sits kinda behind Flux and begins to braid her hair- Love can you get me something to tie this off with?

[Doc] Okay... - Xe looks around and finally just pulls a boot off and slices the bottom edge off hir pants leg to make a ribbon. - Here. It's even purple.

[Deer] - Thank you love- She takes it and ties off Flux's braid- Well I don't think your hair will drag on the ground anymore

[Doc] I'd say we should go out, but it's night. Unless you want to go to a diner or something.

[Deer] - Diner?

[Doc] Just a place where humans get food. Kind of like the bar, but without Sam. They're usually late night places.

[Deer] - Flux?  Do you want to go?

[Flux] - No, I'll stay here with Notch

[Doc] Cp?

[CP] - Do I get to murder somebody?

[Doc] Nooooo. We could go somewhere with alcohol instead if that would make you happier though.

[CP] - Nope, but you should probably change your clothes

[Doc] Scowls- Fiiine. - Xe Takes off hir coat and gloves and stows them. Hir tank top underneath is black today.

[CP] - Do you need me to make you an opening?

[Doc] Let me check the net for someplace that's decently close and open first. - takes out hir phone. - Unless you have a favorite somewhere?

[CP] - What makes you think I go to restaurants?

[Doc] I don't, I was just asking. Geeze. Here, this will do. Can you get me close to here? - Xe shows him a location on the phone.

[CP] - Yeah- He flicks his hand and creates an opening for Doc via the tv- You'll pop out in an alley

[Doc] As long as we aren't seen, that's good enough. Thank you Cp- Xe peeks out the opening to make sure it's clear and then motions for Deerheart to follow hir.

[Deer] Cautiously steps through-

-It's dark out and there's streetlights beyond the alley. The ground is reflecting the colored lights on the street because it must have rained a bit earlier. There are a few people walking, and some cars on the street.

[Deer] Becomes very nervous- Doc...

[Doc] Holds her hand- Yes?

[Deer] - What were those things that went by?

[Doc] Oh, they're cars. Don't walk in front of them unless they're fully stopped and you know the person inside can see you. It's just a big metal box humans use to get around fast in.

[Deer] - Why?

[Doc] Because humans get tired easily and they tend to live too far away from places they need to be to just walk.

[Deer] Looks around at everything, getting overwhelmed already-

[Doc] Take a few breaths, just center yourself before you step out. It can be overwhelming. Just pretend they're Testificates.

[Deer] - There's so many of them...

[Doc] I know. And they can be mean. So just don't engage people randomly.

[Deer] Moves close to Doc's side- Just stay close?

[Doc] Puts her arm around Deerheart's waist. - I will.

[Deer] - We'll try this...

[Doc] Walks her out gently onto the sidewalk. There's a lit up building with a glass facade not far away - We're just going over there.

[Deer] - So many tiny lights...

[Doc] Is watching the lights. - We're just going to stand here for a moment and cross the street. Lie taught me this. You just watch the signs. When top ones are red and the little person comes up on the eye level display, you can cross.

[Deer] - So many rules...

[Doc] Yeah... but it beats getting hit by a car.

-The traffic slows and stops and the lights chage to walk and red above-

[Doc] Okay, just stay with me and don't trip- crosses-

[Deer] Is trembling a little against Doc's side-

[Doc] Leads them safely over and hugs her close- Good. Just a little further and we can sit down.

[Deer] Almost trips on the curb-

[Doc] Catches her and disquises it as a romantic sweep into hir lovers arms-

[Deer] - Can we hurry?

[Doc] Yes, come on. -Xe helps her through the doors and into the oasis of light. The place is packed and Doc stops short at the sight of some of the people. There's a whole section of oddly dressed humans in semi drag with garish costumes and goth-y attire. They seem to be all one party occupying a whole section. The waitress leads them to a booth within earshot of the party but not right next to it.

[Deer] Sits on the same side as Doc- Human's have such strange clothes at times...

[Doc] Hell, I wouldn't have changed mine if I knew this was going on. I'd fit right in with that group. - Xe picks up the menu- It's mostly breakfast stuff and there's pictures of everything.

[Deer] - What is this?

[Doc] It's pictures of the food they serve with how much it costs. But I'm paying, so don't worry about that part.

[Waitress] - Hi, I'll be your waitress tonight, can I get you guys started with a drink?

[Deer] - Ummm...- Glances at Doc

[Doc] At Deerheart - What would you like? Coffee? Milk? Water? Maybe some tea?

[Deer] - Um, how about some coffee

[Waitress] Scribbles it down on the pad- And you sir?

[Doc] Coffee is good for me too.

[Waitress] Notes the choice- Alright, I'll be back with your drinks and to take your order- She then heads off

[Doc] Quietly to Deerheart- A lot of this stuff you've had before. They have pancakes, though sadly without the lightning berries. Bacon, eggs, lots of things with potatoes.

[Deer] Looks over the pictures- There's just so many variations...

[Doc] I'm just going random. I'm ready when you are.

[Deer] - Okay...

[Waitress] Comes back over with their drinks- So have you two decided?

[Doc] Points to some crepes with strawberries- This, with bacon and - peers at the menu- hash-browns.

[Deer] - I'll have the same

[Waitress] - Alrighty then- She takes the menus from them- I'll be back with that in a few minutes so just sit tight

[Doc] at the waitress-  Wait. Can I ask you something?

[Waitress] - Yes?

[Doc] What's going on over there? Some kind of party?

[Waitress] - Oh, that.  The local theater plays a movie twice a month and encourages the patrons to come dressed up in costume and all sorts of crazy stuff

[Doc] Xe smiles- That sounds fun. Thank you.

[Waitress] - You're welcome

[Doc] Leans over to speak quietly to Deerheart- Maybe a future date? We'll ask Lie. I bet she'll have more info.

[Deer] - Maybe, but maybe I should adjust to the real world a bit more first

[Doc] Of course- Xe starts fixing hir coffee and passes the cream and sugar to Deerheart- You just rip the little packets and pour it in.

[Deer] Explodes a packet from pulling too hard- Oh no

[Doc] It's okay, just be gentle. It's only paper. - Xe shows her how to open them

[Deer] - It's not in globs...

[Doc] Not unless it's humid. But it is portioned the same this way. - Xe stirs the mugs with a spoon.

[Deer] Is successful with the next packet and makes up her coffee- What's that creamer with the blue label?

[Doc] Looks at it. - vanilla. Like Lie's beans we use for ice cream. Do you want some?

[Deer] - Okay, I'll try it

[Doc] Adds a bit to her coffee and it swirls around in the mug. - Remember it's going to be more intense, just try a tiny sip.

[Deer] Does and is surprised by all the flavors- Mmm!

[Doc] Pats her leg - I think we might be in the making of a foodgasam.

[Deer] - Oh hush, this vanilla stuff is good though

[Doc] Is listening to the weird people. They're chatting loudly and laughing. Xe settles against the soft booth to wait for their food. Outside the rain starts up again and drizzles along the surface of the window-

[Waitress] Walks back and places their food down in front of them- Alright, here you go, enjoy your meal!

[Doc] Thank you miss. - Doc is eyeing everything. There are a lot of good smells and xe checks on Deerheart-

[Deer] Pokes at the eggs-

[Doc] They're just eggs, nothing weird. - Xe takes a bite of the crepes-  This is good. Especially with the red berry things.

[Deer] Tries her own- Your right, we should remake these when we get home

[Doc] I think they're mostly egg. I'll look for a recipie online.

[Deer] Tries a little bit of everything on her plate- This is all a bit overwhelming...

[Doc] Is eating with gusto, - it's really good though. I was super hungry anyway. - Xe stops for a moment to investigate the little pots of syrup-

[Deer] - Love?

[Doc] Tips a little of one on a bare part of the plate, and tastes it. - This is like, almost pure sugar. Yaunfen would love it.

[Deer] - Make a copy?

[Doc] Casually sweeps hir hand over the pots and palms the copies. - Done. Save those for later.

[Deer] Eats some more but is quickly finding herself tired- Doc...

[Doc] Are you okay?

[Deer] - Getting tired again, Flux and I keep going through this, though less often today

[Doc] Understood. I'll pay and we'll go. - xe tries to catch the eye of the waitress.

[Waitress] See's them and comes over- Everything okay?

[Doc] Can we have the check and something for the leftovers?

[Waitress] - Absolutely, I'll be right back

[Doc] Makes a grinchy smile and waits.

[Waitress] Is only gone for a couple of minutes before returning with a check and boxes fo rthem to put their food in- When you're ready just go up to the front and pay

[Doc] I'm going to engage in a little mischief, can you put the food in the boxes and wait right here? I'll only be a moment.

[Deer] - Sure- She begins packing their stuff

[Doc] Goes to the front and pays and comes back. Xe takes a clean napkin from the table and looks for the waitress.

[Waitress] She's busy cleaning another table-

[Doc] Zeros in on her- Be ready to go when I come back-

[Deer] Nods in understanding-

[Doc] Walks over to the waitress, rolling something in hir hands, wrapping it in the napkin. Xe presses it into the woman's hands- For your trouble - xe inclines hir head at the noisy group - open it in private. We were never here. - Xe looks slightly down so the glow in hir eyes is faintly visible in the shadow of hir brow and then quick walks away. Xe lifts up Deerheart and the bag and scoots out in the night, repressing an obvious giggle.

[Deer] - So what did you do?

[Doc] Gris hugely despite the drizzle- Gave her a diamond. Just a small one. - indicates a size about like a ping pong ball.

[Waitress] Takes the dishes to the back and steps into a corner to look at the item wrapped in the napkins.  She lets out a gasp as she see's the diamond and quickly pockets it, knowing it will help her pay off her student loans in a large way-

[Doc] I feel good tonight. And no naughty tattling on me when we see Lie again.

[Deer] - Why can't we tell her?

[Doc] She'd be annoyed with me. Irl diamonds are super small and expensive.

[Deer] - Ah, alright

[Doc] Shall we head back?

[Deer] - Yes, please

[Doc] Leads her back into the alley and does a violent headbutt near a light before pulling her back into the bunker and sealing the hole-

[Flux] Is asleep next to Notch-

[Doc] Sets the leftovers on the table and helps her to a bed - There, just relax.

[Deer] - I love you

[Doc] Kisses her- I love you too. We had a nice date. -winks- We should do this again sometime.

[CP] Shakes his head while still in the corner-

[Deer] Rolls over and quickly falls asleep-

[Doc] tucks her in and starts tending to the food. Making copies and putting the leftovers in the fridge- Xe strolls over to Cp and looks sadly at the uneaten steak- Aww, you let it get cold.

[CP] - It's fine

[Doc] Puts a little fan of still hot bacon on top of it-

[CP] - Don't you have a kid to look after?

[Doc] TLOT and Steve are babysitting, they're helpful like that.

[CP] - Yes well you've been gone awhile

[Doc] I presume you're just trying to get rid of me. I understand.

[CP] - Well as you've put it before, somebody has to protect the server

[Doc] I'm going. Do you want anything for the next time I come back?

[CP] - No

[Doc] Nods in understanding and makes an opening with a minimum of fuss-

[CP] Watches them leave-

[Doc] Shuts the portal behind hir-

[CP] Once Doc is gone he eats, reheating the meat with his own fire-

[Steve] So what do you want to do Yaunfen?

[TLOT] Is lazily fishing next to Steve-

[Yaunfen] - Gummy fish!

[Steve] Gummy... fish? What's that?

[Yaunfen] - Mada brought it, it goes in the bubbly water

[TLOT] Thinks- Is that something from your home seed?

[Yaunfen] Nods-

[TLOT] Is it stowed in the house someplace?

[Yaunfen] - Uh-huh!

[TLOT] Time to dig in the storage areas I think. - He puts his pole away and gets up, streching in the sun-

[Yaunfen] Bounces around excitedly-

[Steve] Leads them inside and puts his hands on his hips- Where should we start looking?

[Yaunfen] - Vine room!  Vine room!

[Steve] Tromps down the step and TLOT follows, his cloak brushing the stairs. The two spread out and start opening trunks-

[Steve] Man there's a lot of stuff in here. Some of it I don't even know what it is

[Pinwheel] Is sleeping on top of the dragon head in the room-

[Yaunfen] Sticks hir nose into the trunks-

[Steve] Pulls out a popsicle and licks it experimentally- Gah! Cold!

[TLOT] Snickers-

[Yaunfen] - Yummy!

[TLOT] He passes a hand over it and hands the fresh copy to Yaunfen-

[Yaunfen] Suctions it into hir mouth and then trots around while sucking on it-

[Steve] Imitates the little dragon [muffled] - Still really cold-

[TLOT] Pulls out a spawn egg and taps it accidently- what's this.. oops!

[Chocolate chicken] Pops out of the egg and stares at them stupidly- bok

[Yaunfen] Eyes dialate and xe hunkers down with a butt twitch-

[Chocolate chicken] Nervously lays a cadbury type egg on the floor-

[Steve] What the nether?

[Yaunfen] Launches self at chicken-

[CC] Runs like fuck-

[Yaunfen] Trips and luckily the popsicle comes out of their mouth-

[TLOT] Watches the red popscicle splat on the rug- that'll leave a stain-

[Steve] Helps Yaunfen up- You okay?

[Yaunfen] - Uh-huh!

[Pinwheel] Glances at them from her spot and huffs a little below curling up a bit tighter-

[TLOT] Picks up the egg and sniffs it- This might taste better then the chicken anyway, it smells sweet as all get out

[Yaunfen] - It has gooey inside!

[TLOT] Makes a copy and tentatively bites the top off of one. - Mmmfff... wow that is sweet... - He sets down the copy and looks at the chicken.

[CC] Is wandering vaguely towards the bathroom and pecks around in the netherwort by the door.

[Yaunfen] - Can we find the fish now?

[Steve] I'm still digging. I found a bucket of weird looking water, is this part of it? - He holds out a bucket with fizzy light blue liquid in it

[Yaunfen] - Yes!  Made whole bay that!

[TLOT] Then that's half the battle- Squeaks open a double trunk-

[Pinwheel] Is suddenly right next to TLOT and batting at his leg- Food

[TLOT] Jumps a little- Oh! Hey Pinwheel. What kind of food do you want?

[Steve] Yipe!

[Pinwheel] - Food.  In there

[TLOT] Oh? - He looks down in the trunk- What am I looking for? - He starts pulling things out and showing her. There's lots of normal Minecraft food, some cheese, coffee bottles, touchie wine, and a bottle full of shiny black liquid. He hesitates before touching it. - I reallly hope this isn't a vial of lust nectar.

[Pinwheel] - Food!

[TLOT] You want this? What is it? - he shakes it a little-

[Pinwheel] - Smell right

[TLOT] Gingerly uncorks the bottle and a few sparkles float out like an Enderman teleporting- OH. Here, - he tips the bottle near her so she can catch the trickle-

[Pinwheel] Eagerly eats-

[Yaunfen] - Yucky

[Steve] Too each their own. Pinwheel can't have liquid. It kinda restricts their eating.

[TLOT] Do we have any dragonwort?

[Steve] Oh, I saw some in the box by the furnaces in the corner! - He goes over and rustles around before pulling out the bundle of leaves -

[Pinwheel] Baps at bottle once it's empty- More?

[TLOT] Probably. We just need to keep looking.

[Steve] Holds out the tuft- salad anyone?

[Pinwheel] - No

[Yaunfen] - No thank you

[Steve] Aww.... - he puts the leaves away again- Hey! I think I found the fish! - holds up a bright red fish and another that's yellow. Both are a bit translucent-

[Yaunfen] - Yes! Yes!

[TLOT] So now we just need a spot to dump some of this....

[Pinwheel] - No more?

[TLOT] I'm looking- He's goes back to poking around -

[Pinwheel] Huffs-

[Steve] Helps and does find another void bottle- Here you go Pinwheel, no biting okay? - He uncaps it and holds it out so she can drink-

[Pinwheel] Is over there in a flash and is eating-

[Steve] Looks nervous-

[Pinwheel] Puts one paw on Steve's knee as she stands on her hind feet while eating-

[Steve] Is just glad he's wearing armor. - There you go.

[Pinwheel] Is soon done- I go see where Cri is now- She saunters off

[Steve] Little sigh of relief-

[Yaunfen] - How come she doesn't have baby sitter?

[Steve] Because she's the most lethal dragon on the server.

[TLOT] Don't you like hanging out with us kiddo?

[Yaunfen] - So then why was Mama and Mada watching her?

[TLOT] Exchanges a look with Steve- Ummm, wheres Splender?

[Steve] I haven't seen him in days...

[Yaunfen] - I don't know

[TLOT] ....

[Steve] Hey Pinwheel? Do you want to hang out with us?

[Pinwheel] - No!

[TLOT] Trots after her- Pinwheel? Where's Splender?

[Pinwheel] - Gone

[TLOT] Goes cold - What do you mean gone? How long has he been gone?

[Pinwheel] - I don't know, left me here

[TLOT] Did he say anything before he left?

[Pinwheel] - I don't know

[TLOT] Stay right here. Please. Just give me a minute. - calls out over the chat- Hey BEN? Can I talk to you for a minute?

[BEN] - Little busy

[TLOT] It's important. I'll be brief. How can I get in touch with Slender?

[BEN] - Why do you want to do that?

[TLOT] Because Splender is missing.

[BEN] - Yeah he does that every once in awhile

[TLOT] But he left Pinwheel here.

[BEN] - Yeah, he does that

[TLOT] Can you please just tell me how to get in contact with one of the other Slenders? Just to let them know he's flitted off somewhere. He's apparently been gone for quite some time.

[BEN] - I'll send the proxies a text

[TLOT] Thank you. - waits-

[Pinwheel] Heads down to Crim's room, ignoring TLOT's command to stay in the vine room- Cri?

[Crim] - is laying in his bed, snuggled under all his blankets -

[Pinwheel] Jumps up on the bed- Cri?  We play?

[Crim] - wiggles and pokes head out - Plays? Ok Pinwheel...

[Crim] - carefully crawls out and stretches, wincing slightly. There is a darker patch of scales on his side - What you wants do?

[Pinwheel] - What happen?

[Crim] - shrugs - Not careful, Crim was. Digging and fell into water. It's ok, is better.

[Pinwheel] Growls a little- Bad water

[Crim] Water not think, not be bad. I just.... Clumsy? - nudges her toward door

[Pinwheel] Is scootched-

[Crim] - goes into hall and makes sure to close door behind them - So, what want play? Tag? Hides seeks?

[Pinwheel] - You choose

[Crim] - sticks tounge out as thinking, then baps her with a paw as he takes off down the hall - Tag!

[Pinwheel] Gives Crim a bit of a headstart before taking off herself, her speed easily letting her catch up- I get you!

[Crim] - giggle snorts as he works on staying away - You tries!

[Pinwheel] Jumps around Crim, trying to herd him around-

[Crim] - squeaks and jumps over, latching on the wall and crawls around like a spider -

[Pinwheel] Watches and butt twitches, ready to leap at Crim- I get you!

[Crim] - snickers and dangles off the ceiling - Come tries!

[Pinwheel] Spreads her wings and leaps upwards, flapping to try and tag Crim-

[Crim] - stays dangling and wiggles paws - Tries again!

[Pinwheel] Leaps again, stretching out her neck so her nose bumps against Crim- You're it!

[Crim] - giggles and drops off ceiling - Ok, runs!

[Pinwheel] Takes off quickly, heading back towards the vine room-

[Crim] - scrabble after her, jumping off the walls to try to get alittle closer - I catches you!

[Pinwheel] - No!

[Crim] - tries harder, doing bigger jumps - Will too!

[Pinwheel] Gets in the center of the room so Crim can't use the walls-

[Crim] - does a final flying leap forward her -

[Pinwheel] Is tagged-

[Crim] - tumbles and lays on the floor, giggling - See, I catch!

[Pinwheel] - Yes, you do, but I attack!- She jumps on top of Crim and tries to cover him as much as she can-

[Crim] - fake cries and wiggles, trying to escape - Oh noes! Helps!

[Pinwheel] Giggles before jumping off-

[Crim] - dramatically flops over, belly up - Eeps, I has been hunts!

[Pinwheel] Concerened - You hurts?- She comes close and sniffs all over to investigate

[Crim] - waits for her to get close, then slurps the side of her snout as he scrambles up  - Tag!

[Pinwheel] Sputters a bit and jumps on Crim- Cri I get you!

[Crim] - tries flipping over and scoots under her - Nope!

[Pinwheel] - Yes

[Crim] - is laughing as he tries to escape - Nope!

[Pinwheel] - Yes!

[Crim] - jumps over her toward the hallway - Nope, nope, nope!

[Pinwheel] Takes off after Crim, her tail lashing about and leaving some marks in the softer walls-

[Crim] - is bouncing off walls and such, just trying to keep out of her reach. His claws are leaving some sizable marks in places -

[Pinwheel] Puts on a burst of speed and leaps to intercept Crim in the air-

[Crim] - is caught, but wraps all six legs around her and they go tumbling - I is caught!!

[Pinwheel] - And you caught me!

[Crim] - giggling - Yes!

[Pinwheel] Nuzzles Crim- You good friend

[Crim] - purs - You toos.

[Pinwheel] - We go into warm light?

[Crim] Outside? Yes, as long as no water falling. - Slowly climbs to feets as to not dump her on the floor -

[Pinwheel] - Yes, to the scratchy ground

[Crim] Ok, you leads, I follow.

[Pinwheel] Takes them up the stairs and outside. She immediately starts rolling in the grass- Scratchy ground. Scratchy ground

[Crim] - makes sure door is shut before wandering over and flopping down - That not itch, but makes itches stop?

[Pinwheel] - Yes

[Crim] - watches with half an eye, but also looking around - Why it so quiets?

[Pinwheel] - Don't know

[Crim] - sniffs but shrugs - Hum... so what's do now?

[Pinwheel] - Lay in warm light

[Crim] - slight frown, then reaches around to scratch at the dark patch on his side - Just lays? Dat all? I not tired yet, I no can sleeps.

[Pinwheel] - No need be tired, feels good

[Crim] - snorts a little puff of smoke - Can be, but warm soft rock is better. But you can no go in, it hurts.

[Pinwheel] - But this ground scratchy too

[Crim] - scratches at the ground - But hard. Yellow shifty stuff warm and scratchy.

[Pinwheel] Flumps a won't onto Crim-

[Crim] - sighs and scratches his side harder -

[Pinwheel] - It itchy?

[Crim] - nods, then shakes head - Itchy, but not. To tight. Don't know why it do this time. I has fall in water before, hurt but not do this.

[Pinwheel] Flexes claws- I try itching?

[Crim] - nods and leans so his side is arched out more -

[Pinwheel] Starts scratching at the darker claws-

[Crim] - winces then happy sighs. As she scratches, small red scales flake off -

[Pinwheel] Eeps in surprise- You coming apart!

[Crim] - cranes around to look. Under where she scratches are darker red scales, ultra smooth and flecked with small yellowish spots - It not hurt, so maybe ok. Place not so tight no more.

[Pinwheel] - I not sure...

[Crim] - looks around and picks up one of the shed scales, looking over it closely - This look like me. Maybe is like you feather. Dey fall out sometimes, right?

[Pinwheel] - Maybe... You could ask big people later

[Crim] Yeah, but place feel better. - wants to scratch more but tries not to -

[Pinwheel] - Still itchy?

[Crim] - frown - Yes. I no want to scratch until it ok.

[Pinwheel] - Then go find big people- Lazy tail flip

[Crim] Yeah, but quiets. Wonder were go or hides? - one of his back legs distractedly tries to scratch his side -

[Pinwheel] - Big gold one with long one

[Crim] -sighs- Ok, where?

[Pinwheel] - Don't know. Or you could go see really big one

[Crim] - scrunches up snout as he resists scratching and stands - Big one, anyone, no cares. Itchy!

[Pinwheel] - Go find big one

[Crim] You stay?

[Pinwheel] - No like others, only like Cri

[Crim] Others not bad. Alone bad, no fun. No safe. - shivers and wants to SCRATCH - Alrights. Be goods.

[Pinwheel] - You really want me go?

[Crim] Be nice, but I can finds myself if you want... stays..... - can't help it and scratches, causing more scales to come off -

[Pinwheel] - Fine I go, but only because you friend

[Crim] - smiles and purs, while grabbing the leg that is scratching and holding it still - Thank yous.

[Pinwheel] - Let's go- She stands and starts walking away, sniffing the air as she goes

[Crim] - follows, also sniffing and looking around -

[Endrea] - Is over in front of Lies place tearing the iron golem apart-

[Pinwheel] Bites a zombie that was under a tree- We getting there

[Crim] - hisses at the dying zombie - Ok, ok. I can smells... - stops to scratch -

[Pinwheel] - Stop that!

[Crim] I tries, I tries. - bolts ahead -

[Endrea] Comes into sight-

[Crim] Finally! - runs toward -

[Pinwheel] Keeps pace with Crim-

[Endrea] Looks up- Oh, hello you two

[Crim] Helps! Itchy! - stops and flops down, cat loaf style to keep from scratching himself -

[Endrea] Laughs a little- Let me see where you itch

[Pinwheel] Sits a distance away-

[Crim] - stands and shows side with dark patch -

[Endrea] Land in closer and sniffs it before rubbing against it a little- How did this happen?

[Crim] I digging, fell in water. Happen before, but no like this. No itches. Pinwheel scratch and scales come off!

[Endrea] - Doors it hurt to scratch?

[Crim] - shakes head - No, better. Not so tight.

[Endrea] - I see. I don't think it's anything bad, in fact I think your body may be getting ready to get bigger

[Crim] - bits claws - So ok to scratch?

[Endrea] - Yes but only where it doesn't hurt. We don't want you to pull off any scales that aren't ready to come off

[Crim] - instantly twists around and claws at the spot, sending little red scales all over the ground. -

[Endrea] Sniffs a little- You smell dirty

[Crim] - scratching - Dig dirty. Sore after fall. Sleeps. - the dark red patch gets bigger and there is a faint yellowish stripe in the middle -

[Endrea] - Well would you like a bath?

[Crim] - stops for a second - Warm soft rock red around?

[Endrea] - Well yes, but I meant from me

[Crim] - looks at her confused - Bath from you?

[Endrea] - Yes, I can clean you with my tongue. It's probably a skill you should learn too

[Crim] Crim know wash, but why wash others? They not know? - is confused enough to stop scratching -

[Endrea] - No, but it's a binding thing. It helps cement friendships and familial relations

[Crim] - thinks and frowns - Oh... Crim no family, hatch alone.

[Endrea] - That's alright, what about friends, you can always help groom them

[Crim] Oh. - scratches absentmindly -

[Endrea] - Just consider it, I bet Pinwheel might like it if you helped with her feathers

[Crim] - looks back at Pinwheel - Pinwheel friend. - scratches hardcore at one spot -

[Endrea] - And I'm certain you're her only friend

[Crim] - nods - Wish others would like too. She nice.

[Endrea] - I'm not sure why she isn't nice to others... Now then, you'll probably be itching for awhile, but try not to overdo it, alright?

[Crim] OK, thanks - turns to hop scratch walk his way back toward Pinwheel -

[Pinwheel] - What she say?

[Crim] Is ok to scratch, might get bigger soon. - scratches -

[Pinwheel] - Really? I help then

[Crim] - stops scratching and sits - Please, can't reach all.

[Pinwheel] Goes and starts scratching again- You tell me when you no like

[Crim] - nods and relaxes, slowly starting to pur -

[Masky] Sighs as he heads out into the woods.  He's about to light up a cigarette when he feels his phone buzz.  Glancing at it he notices it's from BEN and groans as he opens it.  It isn't long afterwards that he's rushing back towards the manor-

[Steve] Turned his back for a moment and Pinwheel snuck off- Aww dammit!

[TLOT] I guess I can't say I'm suprised.

[Yaunfen] - We go fish now?

[TLOT] Closes his eyes- She's not far away. We could maybe find a low spot to spawn the fish on the way.

[Yaunfen] - Let's go!  Let's go!

[TLOT] Heads out of the house and towards the spawn with the others following.

[BEN] - Hey, I sent your text, Masky says Slender's looking for Splender now

[TLOT] in chat-  Oh good. Thank you BEN. I know he has a tendancy to wander but no one realized that Pinwheel had snuck off and not been picked up by him.

[BEN] - Shit, that little menace is on the loose

[TLOT] She's not so bad. It's a bit easier now that she's talking.

[BEN] - Still, she comes near my kid, she's getting drowned

[TLOT] I wouldn't worry about her coming all the way over there. She's likely looking for Crim again.

[Steve] Has found the little waterfall near the spawn and is filling the pond with dirt to get rid of the water.

[Yaunfen] Is bouncing excitedly- Gotta be fast to catch fish!

[Steve] Pokes TLOT and shows him the bucket-

[TLOT] He makes several more of them and Steve goes back to removing the dirt and filling the space with the soda-

[Yaunfen] Switches to dragon form-

[Steve] Finishes filling the pool and spawns in some fish - Is it supposed to be frothy?

[Yaunfen] - Yes!

-Fish jump around and swim-

[Yaunfen] Launches hirself into the water to chase after the fish-

[Steve] Sits down on the edge and lets a fishing lure dangle in the water.

[TLOT] Is pacing a little.

-There's a bit of crackling and a portal is opened.  Splender hurries through and an irate Slender follows-

[Slender] - Splender you have responsibilities!

[Splender] - I'm sorry!  I forgot!

[Slender] - How can you forget!?

[TLOT] Full body shiver as they enter, and his head whips around to where they're coming out-

[Splender] - But your party...

[Slender] - Is not nearly as important as a living creature!

[Steve] Kinda scoots under a ledge so he's a bit more hidden. But his bobber starts making a plunking noise as a fish pulls on it-

[Splender] Slight distressed noises-

[Slender] - Go find your pet!

[Splender] - Yes sir!- He hurries off

[Slender] Long irritated sigh-

[kusunogatari-a]

[ First ] [ @despairinghxpe​ ] [ Suigin Ryū, Uchiha Itachi ] [ Illness mention, death mention ] [ Verse: Ryū no Ryokan ]

When Ryū releases Itachi, she half expects to never see him again, like so many birds with tended wings given back into the sky.

But corvids are not simply shrewd – they remember those who offer both animosity, and those who offer mercy. Shining stones and glinting glass are rewards crows given kindness have been known to use to repay their debts.

In this case, however, Ryū is given not baubles...but company.

The first time it happens, she nearly feels her heart burst from her chest, the shinobi almost melting from the shadows in the corner of a room. Half a step is staggered back, and she swears she sees an amused tilt to his lips at her fright.

“...back so soon? You've not taken ill again, I hope?”

“No...as of yet, things seem to healing well. Your work is thorough...and appreciated.”

Ryū can't help a lightening of her expression. “...I'm glad. You had me worried.”

A pregnant pause blooms between them and continues to grow.

“...are you...here for more medicine?” Surely he couldn't be out already – she'd ensured his restocking before he'd disappeared.

“No.”

The short reply leaves her feeling like a leg has been swept out from beneath her – like the ghost step at the bottom of a flight. “...then...?”

“There's an allure to this place. It's...quiet. Well-kept. Like an awning out from under rain.” Dark eyes seem to circle around the room, taking in its simplicity.

The simile eludes her for a moment, but understanding then lights in her eyes. “...you're welcome back any time you'd like – I don't mind. Though...you may want to practice caution. Many of my guests are Konoha-born.”

“I am aware. I do not wish to bring you trouble. Perhaps the want is selfish.”

“Most are, simply by nature.”

Itachi pauses, and then allows a small smile. “...fair enough.”

“It's not often we're full-up – perhaps just...give me a whisper of warning next time...?”

The smile grows.

All birds, however, are fickle things. The Uchiha doesn't tarry long.

It's not safe.

But every so often – weeks or months gone by in silence – he simply appears in the corner of her vision, always bearing the same aloof expression. She takes to seeing him even when he's not there, spinning around to catch him, only to turn up empty handed – chasing a specter.

So when the glance is not a trick, there's a wilt of relief in her form.

At times – not satisfied with simply resting – he takes to shadowing her movements, almost like a game as she goes about her day. She can feel eyes upon her back, ignored as she attends to patients, speaks to guests, and shoulders through the monotony of the business that forms the valley's base.

Otherwise, Ryū finds herself joined without a word for tea, the pair of them either sticking to silence, or offering quips with little weight to fill the air. There are quiet strolls through mist-soaked pathways, the air heavy with the scent of hot spring pools. Pale fingers brush along the dew-drenched foliage, rebounding and showering the ground below.

Most of their outings can be dared only at night. And even then, she finds herself on guard, spreading her senses despite knowing he can likely not only do so better than herself, but also be far better at either counteracting, or fleeing without a trace. But there's a protective edge to her person when he's near – a nervousness for his safety that she knows is illogical. He's S-Ranked for a reason. But that doesn't stop her subtle glances into shadows, or the tension at any sound she does not know.

For as...unprofessional as she finds the idea, she's managed to grow attached, in a sense, to the man claimed to have murdered dozens in the cloak of one night. The feeling is a duality that whispers at her in quiet moments, much to her dismay.

Yet she can't help but look to his air, demeanor, mannerisms and speech with a critical eye, searching for deception. Surely someone with his reputation can't hide a blood-craving beast beneath their skin for long.

But the slip ups never come.

At least...not in the ways she suspects.

At times, the Uchiha takes to staring out a window, or into the reflection within his tea, and there's a hint of...something. She calls it melancholy, but it feels so much deeper than that. Something she can't quite read, and which she does not dare to note. Itachi's presence always feels so fleeting – one moment he's there, and the next his visit is only a memory. She doesn't dare attempt to unravel his mystery for fear he'll disappear to evade her questions. At times she feels one wayward breath might send him away for the last time.

And though part of her wonders if she should want for that...the rest of her fears the notion.

Uchiha Itachi is not a simple man. Painting him with the broad brush of 'murderer' feels an injustice to his complexity. She knows he has his secrets, and it's not within her grasp to pry. The curiosity burns like a fevered itch, but she refrains for fear of shattering this peculiar position they've managed to keep in one piece.

So they continue to dance distanced circles around one another – she in an attempt to waylay his leaving, and he to keep her from getting too close.

But in the end, neither are the avians they favor. They are human – flawed, fractured...and curious to ends unknown.

It doesn't take her long to recognize that reading is his favorite proffered pastime. The words that now escape his notorious gaze are something he drinks from her as though parched. Tomes kept along her bookshelf are devoured in droves whenever he's near. And more than walking or talking – things that still retain their distance – does sharing stories seem to bridge the shifting gap between them.

By now, his position is regular – a head upon her lap, dozing with closed eyes and woven fingers along his chest. One hand holds her book aloft, the other sifting through locks of ink in a subconscious, almost comforting pattern. This time, she spins him a tale of star-crossed lovers. Not her usual taste, but one she'd found among her mother's old collection in the wreckage of home. She's yet to touch it until now, but her supply of books beyond the medical is running thin. In the back of her mind, a note is made to inquire about others in her next run for supplies.

A short while later, the story ends in the foreshadowed tragedy, and she lets the cover close. Set aside along the veranda, she gives him an inquiring glance, awaiting his opinion.

“A pity – I found myself hoping things would set themselves right.”

“Mm...that would have been pleasant, but far from expected,” she replies. “If the author had given any more clues, there'd have been little need to read it to its end.”

That earns her a chuckle, and her lips unconsciously curl. “True...”

“Besides, life is rarely so kind. I have to wonder if love so obviously doomed has any reason to start at all.”

Beneath her, he stills.

Still considering the ending, she doesn't notice, shifting without thought to let him rise and sit beside her.

“Is it truly so unthinkable to look for any scrap of happiness where none exists?”

“Mm...maybe not. But isn't it far sadder to let go time and time again – every time they disappear – than to simply be alone?” The irony escapes her. “I suppose it might make the reunions all the sweeter, but so too does it make each parting all the more bitter.”

“Life cannot always be sweet. If it was, how would you ever know it without first knowing the bite of despair?”

Ryū goes silent, considering that. She can feel Itachi's eyes on her, but she doesn't seem to notice the intensity.

“...and it's true. The loss of what makes one happy, when temporary, only intensifies the desire to find it again. It gives a person drive; motivation. A will to seek out what brings a ray of sun through clouds of grey.”

Thoughts broken, she turns to him, only to still as she catches his expression. Locks free of their tie from her attentions spill over his closer shoulder like a stain of ink against his skin. He's turned slightly to angle toward her, lips upturned and a mix of hinting emotions in dark eyes: amusement at her guesswork, and yet...something that makes her feel like a doe before a wolf.

All that moves is her chest as she breathes, uncertainty holding her in place.

...is he...?

There's a slow glide of movement that leans his torso across her own. Her chin dips, lids falling and brow wilting. All the while, he stares from black to grey, flickering from one to the other in search of a wordless reply. Tension mounts, jaw threatening to tremble as she hovers on a cusp of action and inaction. The fluttering in her chest is echoed in her gut, and she seems to struggle with herself.

In an attempt to tip the scales, it's he who moves. A hand glides along from chin to ear, fingers burying in locks so unlike his own. It prompts her eyes to shut, a shaking sigh slipping from her lips. Shoulders fall as rigidity lessens, and she finds herself leaning into the touch.

He takes that concession.

Leaned to find her hiding face, he rises to meet her, just a ghost of touch making her stiffen. But he remains insistent, guiding her until it is she who looks up. A second hand mirrors his first, and tilts her to his whim.

Like a leaf upon a river's current, she follows without fight.

Whispers of lips upon lips slowly grow in demand, uncertainty giving way to buried hunger. Her own fingers soon claw at the front of his yukata, shaking and seeking a grip to reassure that she's not dreaming. That the warmth she feels is real. Any reservations she'd felt are lost beneath the tide that seems to wash all thought aside.

Hands still slipped against her scalp, Itachi eventually lets them part, breath rushing over the flush of her mouth. Eyes open to stare at him, heavy yet unsure.

“...was that...unwise...?”

Mind still jumbled in residual shock, she swallows harshly. “...was it?”

“...I don't know.”

Lungs slowly calming, she averts her gaze for a moment to think. A thousand things clamor for her attention at once, all screaming how foolish she's being.

But a stubbornness sets her jaw, and she brushes them aside.

She is not reckless. She may play life by her emotions, but she still tends to err on the side of caution. Part of her knows that she's simply riding upon newly-birthed euphoria, but...the rest of her doesn't care. Life is short, after all...and in his case, likely even shorter. It's a bitter end she doesn't want to yet consider...so she focuses on another point.

If his life is to be short, somber, and bathed in lies...then perhaps she can be that ray of light.

At least, until his sun sets.

So rather than give him words, she simply meets his lips a second time, of her own volition. Slower. Softer. Speaking silently what she can't bring herself to say.

She can only hope he understands.

I AM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG Between distractions and then me just...geeking out, it took far longer than it should have xD BUT I hope it’s worth the wait! I tried =‘D

[trewhitttesean1992]

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[hufflly-puffs]

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Chapter 12: The Patronus

What follows is a long stretch of time where neither Harry or Ron talk to Hermione, first because of the Firebolt and then Scabbers. And I think we talk about months here. And it is not like I never had fights with my friends about things that weren’t even worth the trouble but I had never been that petty. Sure we might didn’t talk for a week or so, but then it was over, because being in school together and sitting next to each other in every class is going to be real awkward if you no longer talk. Basically I just want Harry and Ron to get over themselves, instead of holding the second longest grudge, only outrun by Snape, the master of all grudges.

So Hermione knew that Lupin was a werewolf since Christmas at least, (probably before when she wrote the werewolf essay for Snape) and kept it a secret the entire time. Why? Was her trust and admiration for Lupin big enough that she didn’t think of the possible danger he could pose? Did she share this information with any of the teachers only to learn they already knew about him? Because I love Lupin, don’t get me wrong, but Hermione, highly logical Hermione, would take her emotions for her teacher aside if she thought he was dangerous. Because Hermione couldn’t have known about the Potion Snape made for Lupin… or maybe she did, as both Harry had mentioned it and Dumbledore again over Christmas dinner. Still, in the Shrieking Shak Hermione said she covered for Lupin and I wonder what that implied.

The Patronus Charm is probably one of the most specific charms there is. Like how often does an average wizard encounter a Dementor and therefore even knows the Charm? How come Lupin knew it? The only other time we see the Charm performed is as a way to communicate, in book 7. Apart from that the Patronus Charm is also the most beautiful charm if you think about it. Born out of a truly happy memory it protects the caster and serves as a guardian. And of course when we look at the Dementors as a metaphor for depression, the Patronus Charm is then a metaphor for a cure (though nothing can actually kill a Dementor). And it is quite telling that said cure is highly advanced magic, that a lot of wizards and witches never mastered to perform, that focussing on a happy memory does sound easy but is indeed the hardest part, as the Dementor takes away all your happy memories and the sense of yourself.

“‘Each one is unique to the wizard who conjures it.’” – Mine, of course, is a sloth.

Not only does the Boggart looks like a Dementor, it has also the same effect on Harry as a real Dementor. Which makes me wonder, can a Boggart actually hurt a wizard/witch? Or can they only scare their victims?

“What if the Dementors turn up at our match against Ravenclaw? I can’t afford to fall off again. If we lose this game we’ve lost the Quidditch Cup!’” – Harry Potter everyone, setting his priorities straight.

It is interesting to look at the happy memories Harry chooses to conjure a Patronus: riding a broom for the first time, winning the House Cup, learning that he is a wizard. The first two feel strangely impersonal, whereas the third was a life-changing experience. And it reminds me of the Boggarts that most of Harry’s classmates saw, and how they presented childish fears like mummies, because hardly anyone of them had experienced real fear and horror. And Harry somehow is missing that one genuine moment of happiness. And it is not as he doesn’t have happy memories, but it is how he looks at things. He doesn’t think of the friends he found at Hogwarts as a happy memory, but rather about things and events. Later though, in book 5, the thought of Ron and Hermione does help him to conjure a Patronus, and again in book 7. And I think that might also be a reason why this charm is usually taught to much older students, because they have a deeper, more complex understanding of their own psyche, which would help them to cast the spell.

It is also interesting to look how different Lupin and Harry’s relationship was compared to what Sirius and Harry later had. Lupin never tries to be a father figure, he doesn’t treat Harry different than any other student and tries to keep his distance, and he only coincidently lets slip out that he knew James, without telling Harry more about their friendship. Things change a bit once Lupin is no longer Harry’s teacher. But Sirius on the other hand offers Harry to live with him after Harry knew him for about an hour, and Harry, longing for a real family ever since, happily accepts. I think Lupin kept his distance, knowing how complicated things could get with the history he had with James, and that is exactly where Sirius’s relationship with Harry went wrong, but we will talk about this once we get there.

“Terrible though it was to hear his parents’ last moments replayed inside his head, these were the only times Harry had heard their voices since he was a very small child. But he’d never be able to produce a proper Patronus if he half wanted to hear his parents again …” – Harry was only a baby when his parents died, so the memory of it is subconscious at the very least. And yet he remembers it as if he had been a real witness, including every little detail. So the Dementors are able to bring back memories we aren’t even aware of or that our mind made us forget in order to survive, forcing their victims to constantly relive their traumas.

“Harry didn’t have time to fathom the mystery of Hermione’s impossible timetable at the moment;” – Most oblivious character ever.

“‘I’m not buying anything Malfoy thinks is good,’ said Harry flatly.” – I love one (1) overly dramatic teenage boy.

“You can exist without your soul, you know, as long as your brain and heart are still working. But you’ll have no sense of self any more, no memory, no … anything. There’s no chance at all of recovery. You’ll just – exist. As an empty shell. And your soul is gone for ever … lost.” – Let’s talk about souls for a bit. First of all, the soul and the body are separate things here, and one can exist without the other. The idea of a separation between body and soul is quite common in most religions, and the way a human without a soul is described here fits into most philosophies. Essentially the soul is who you are as a person, and without it yourself stops existing, leaving only a body behind. (Which is actually quite different than how the soul is described in other fictions, such as Supernatural or Buffy, where the soul serves as a moral compass, and people without it become amoral beings.) However the great difference is that most religions believe the soul is immortal and indestructible. But we later learn that wizards are able to destroy their souls and break them apart, through the construction of Horcruxes. And yet creating a Horcrux is different than losing your soul, because Voldemort still had a sense of who he is, and all his soul-pieces shared the same memories, emotions and motivations (the Tom Riddle/Diary-Horcrux knew about Harry, even though Harry existed after its creation). Without a doubt though the Horcruxes made Voldemort more and more less human, and ultimately someone beyond saving.

It is also completely fair to read Harry Potter as a Christian text. While religion itself isn’t really mentioned in the text (apart from Christian holidays such as Christmas and Easter), Christian motifs can be found throughout the text, the most evident Harry’s sacrifice in book 7, that results in the protection of the people at Hogwarts in the same way Harry was protected through his mother’s sacrifice, painting Harry as Christ figure.

“Explain why Muggles Need Electricity” – THE INTERNET.

As much as it annoyed me that Harry and Ron didn’t talk to Hermione because of a broom of all things, I appreciate that Harry’s first though after getting back the Firebolt was that they should make up with Hermione, pointing out that she was only trying to help, and was genuinely worried about her workload and the stress she put herself under. I mean the peace lasts only for about 2 minutes before Scabbersgate, but it was nice. (Give it to Peter to ruin friendships even as a rat.)