#look at his curly hair and the ribs + the tail?? he did SUCH a good job on it BYEEE

[lususnatura]

okay, BUT i'm giggling and kicking my feet right now because i got a sketch back from a commission i ordered for blamore, and although this is just the first phase of the process OFC... it already looks? so good?? LIKE AHHH I THINK I'M ACTUALLY GOING CRAZY OVER IT

the artist is just so talented and i love it so much!! but yeah, y'all ABSOLUTELY need to check them out on here if you're looking to commission artwork or just look at cool stuff because their content is just *chef's kiss* their URL is @ ddoodler, and i'm slamming my hands on the table (in a good way, OFC LOL) right now because of this

[ma-yawntu]

mine, all mine. ii.

chapter two: paradise

pairing: neteyam x female!metkayina!reader

summary: As a punishment, your parents decided you and your siblings would have to teach the forest Na'vi the way of water; you weren't sure why he got under your skin so much.

word count: 4.0k

warnings: mentions of a blade, parental scolding, one swear, idk it's cute, NO USE OF Y/N

now playing... saturn by sza

chapter one

“I am here!” The attention of the entire Metkayina clan seemed to snap to the source of the declaration, Neteyam and his family doing the same. The crowd parted for you, a telltale sign of the status you held in the clan. You were clearly the oldest child of the Tsahik and the Olo’eyktan, the spitting image of your mother and sister. But there was something different about you; the way you held yourself and took every step with such certainty. You were intimidating, not as much as your terrifying mother, but just from looking at you, Neteyam could tell you weren’t to be pissed off.

And it was at this point that Neteyam was so utterly sure he had never seen a more beautiful woman in his life. Sure, there were a lot of pretty Omatikayan girls, but he was always so preoccupied with learning to plan hunting parties and raids that he never had time for any of that stuff– not that he was ever really interested in the first place, but you– you were the picture of beauty. You were soaking wet, your hair a total mess but honestly, it fit you. He peered around his father to get a better look at you, trying to be subtle about it. You had delicate intricate tattoos similar to your mother’s on both of your ribs, disappearing beneath the woven and beaded material of your top. 

Lo’ak caught his brother’s staring, trying to suppress a grin as he followed his brother’s gaze to you. The two brothers clearly had a type. Lo’ak let out a small laugh, hiding it with a harsh intake of breath through his nose. Neteyam looked at his brother with an unimpressed expression, swatting his arm to get him to shut up and behave. His tail swished behind him anxiously as you peered at him and his family curiously, studying the unique appearance of the forest Na’vi. 

Neteyam found he couldn’t take his eyes off you, watching the gentle sway of your tail in rhythm with your hips as you walked. Your hair dried remarkably fast, small ringlets of hair framing your face from where they fell out of your messy braids. The stark contrast between you and your sister was staggering. Your sister was so well-kept, her braids looking as if they were redone regularly while the rest of her hair was out in perfect curls down her back. 

But you; you had a freedom about you, your hair was loose and curly with messy and loose braids keeping the hair out of your face. Small pearl beads and coloured twine were braided through your hair, and you seemed so carefree and fun. Neteyam felt his eyes unable to let you go, fascinated by your mere presence. He felt somewhat excited knowing you were going to be teaching them how to be reef Na’vi– well, you and your siblings.

“Mother,” you greeted, bowing your head as you always did when you greeted your parents. You moved further into the healing marui, becoming acutely aware of your mother’s stern gaze upon you. Tsireya trailed behind you and you prayed your mother wouldn’t send her away to tear you a new one about your disappearance off the island. 

“Tsireya,” Ronal said sternly. The two of you felt your shoulders stiffen, ears pinning back at your mother’s commanding voice and presence. Tsireya let out a nervous breath, giving your mother a tight-lipped smile.

Tsireya turned to look at Ronal, knowing what was coming. “Mother?”

“I wish to speak with your sister.” That was enough said for Tsireya to nod her head, give you an apologetic smile and scamper out of the healing marui. Ronal waited for her youngest child to leave before she dropped the healing salve she was working on and gave you a stern look. 

“Mother, I–” you started with a shake of your head.

Your mother held up her hand, “you do not speak,” she raised her voice. You curled in on yourself, bowing your head in shame– though you were more upset that you had been caught. “Where were you this morning? What keeps your attention so occupied that you disappear? Ignore your duties as the tsakarem?”

“I was hunting outside the reef,” you quickly said, your voice meek under your mother’s intense gaze. While going outside the reef wasn’t exactly forbidden, it was only meant for hunting parties and experienced hunters– not the daughter of the Tsahik and Olo’eyktan. 

Your mother didn’t seem to believe you, her harsh glare boring into you as you stared at the ground, fiddling with your fingers as your tail swished anxiously. She stared at you for a moment longer before shaking her head with a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose as she turned her back to you. You raised your head, watching your mother pace. 

“You will teach those forest children our ways, ‘ite,” your mother said authoritatively. “Every morning; I expect you to be punctual.”

You wanted to protest, mornings training with Teyoa were the one thing you looked forward to, a reprieve from the endless duties you were plagued by. But now your mornings would be occupied by the forest Na’vi and their childlike abilities when it came to living among the reef Na’vi. “Mother–” 

“I have spoken,” she interrupted, her voice slightly raised as she spun to look at you. You knew better than to argue with your mother. Your father was a little softer than her; he was always weak for his daughters and you were able to sway him occasionally. But your mother, she was a force to be reckoned with and you undoubtedly got your rebellion from her. You wanted to make your parents proud, live up to their expectations and be the perfect daughter– but you held so much passion and fire inside you with nowhere to go. You wanted to hunt, be a warrior, provide for and protect the clan. But your parents did not see that. They did not see you. 

“Can I go?” You muttered, eyes glancing at anything but your mother as you bit the inside of your cheek, trying to stifle yourself. Ronal sighed, closing her eyes for a moment before she looked at you again, nodding her head toward the opening of the marui. 

You didn’t stay a second longer, making your way out as you tried to breathe through your anger. It was not the Sully’s fault for seeking uturu, but you did not want to be a babysitter to their four children– that hardly seemed fair. You brushed past the opening of the marui, your eyes almost instantly rolling when you saw your brother Ao’nung and his friends.

“In trouble again, sister?” Ao’nung teased with an amused grin.

“Being a nuisance again, little brother?” You questioned, your shoulder knocking with his as you pushed past him, going nowhere in particular just away from him. When you were younger, your brother used to be somewhat of a crybaby– always sticking to your mother’s side and pestering you, his big sister, to play with him, braid his hair or hold his hand. Now that he was grown; become a man– he was a pain in your ass at the best of times, always sticking his nose in your business. 

“You know,” Ao’nung started, following behind you with Roxto and his other friends on his tail.

Here we go, you thought, rolling your eyes once again. Your brother liked to pick a fight and bicker with other young Metkayina. He never picked on your little sister, she was soft and sweet, but you and your brother shared the similarity of being competitive, always picking on each other. 

“I have always wondered what else you manage to get away with,” he teased with a laugh. “Considering you’re always disappearing and blatantly lying to our parents who are–” he turned to his friends, “–none the wiser!”

You spun on your heel quickly, “must you pester me? Surely you could be doing something more productive with your time instead of talking out of your ass,” you replied sternly, giving him an unimpressed and slightly annoyed glare. Your brother stayed quiet for a moment and you gave him a sarcastic smile, “thought so.”

You began to walk away when your brother yelled an insult from behind you, “skxawng!”

“Vonvä!” You yelled back just as childishly, turning a few heads. 

You found yourself on the secluded part of the beach, having retrieved your heavy bow from its hiding place beneath the rocks in the reef. You sat in the sand, carving the details of your spirit sister’s tattoos into the wood of your bow. Teyoa always told you warriors made their weapons their own– and you thought what better to make it your own than the tattoos of your spirit sister Nanti. You had studied her markings so many times during her visits that you could easily picture them in your mind. 

“What are you doing?” You almost lept out of your skin at the sound of a child’s voice. Her voice was high and she began to giggle when you jumped in surprise. You turned to face her– it was the youngest forest Na’vi– Tuk was her name. How did she find you? Who was letting her wander this far away from the village?

“Should you not be with your family?” You questioned with a grin, knowing you were equally as curious at her age. Tuk shrugged, her tail swaying behind her as she walked down the beach, taking a seat beside you to look at your bow. 

“A bow!” She beamed, “I didn’t know reef people use bows,” Tuk said, looking up at you curiously. 

“They don’t,” you replied before bringing your finger to press to your lips, “it’s a secret,” you whispered.

“Oh, I’m good at keeping secrets,” Tuk replied with a stern nod. 

“Well, that is very good to know,” you said with a smile, continuing to carve small details into the wood with your worn blade. Tuk watched you with curious golden eyes, her tail tapping against the wet sand. You carved one more small detail into the edge, refining the design before holding it up for the two of you to inspect. “What do you think, Tuk?”

“I like it!” the little Na’vi smiled, her toothy grin making your heart swell. You may be hard-headed and rebellious at times but you were always notably good with children– the little Metkayina children were always drawn to you, adorning your hair in handmade beads, giving you bracelets and braiding your hair messily whenever you went to visit the children learning to weave or prepare food. 

“What are you doing all the way out here, little Tuk?” You asked again, peering at the girl with a curious eye. 

“I wanted to explore,” Tuk replied, drawing with her finger in the sand. 

“Well, you better keep this place a secret, too. I don’t want anybody else knowing about it,” you said softly, “but I like you, so you can stay.”

Tuk beamed at your words before nodding her head with a smile, “I won’t tell anyone!” She drew a cross over her heart. You gave her a questioning look and she quickly explained, “my dad said it means to promise.”

“How strange,” you giggled.

“My dad used to be one of the Sky People, you know,” Tuk said, “he says a lot of funny stuff.”

You had heard the stories of the man who became a Na’vi, born of the Sky People but learned the ways of the people. The same man who was Toruk Makto– the very story you were obsessed with as a child. You stood up from the sand, picking your bow up before reaching your hand out toward Tuk.

“Come,” you said softly, “your family may start to worry.”

Tuk stood up, wiping the sand off her legs before grabbing your hand, happily skipping along beside you as you guided her through the mangroves back toward the village. You stashed your bow in the nook of a tree, Tuk talking your ear off the whole journey back. You let her ramble on, finding it endearing how she felt comfortable enough to talk to you. She talked about her life back in the forest and how much she missed it already, she talked about her journey across the sea and about her family’s ikrans. You happily hummed along, replying enthusiastically with your own stories and comments. 

Tuk asked you a lot of questions about your clan as her little fingers toyed with the songcord wrapped around your wrist. She asked you about the different beads you had earned, the most recent earned from passing your Iknimaya and getting your first tattoos. She also asked you about the meaning of your tattoos, telling you how much she admired them, which you thought was adorable. 

“Did they hurt?” she asked curiously.

“I didn’t think so. Though, many of the men say they are very painful,” you replied with a small laugh.

Just as you arrived on the outskirts of the village, you saw Tuk’s oldest brother Neteyam frantically looking around as he called for his sister, “Tuk! Tuk, this isn’t funny!” You hadn’t heard him speak until that moment, he had a slight accent to his voice, probably due to the differing dialects between the forest and reef Na’vi. 

“I told you you would worry your family, little Tuk,” you said matter-of-factly, Tuk’s hand still squeezing your own.

“I just wanted to look around, Neteyam always gets so worried,” she sighed, pulling you toward the edge of the mangrove forest. Neteyam spun around at the sound of leaves and branches rustling, relief flooding his body at the sight of his little sister. But he soon felt his shoulders tense again at the sight of you. You seemed to move in slow motion as you moved some of your hair over your shoulder, glancing down at Tuk with a gentle smile. 

“Tuk,” he sighed with relief, quickly walking toward his sister and crouching down in front of her to inspect her for injuries.

“I’m fiiiine,” Tuk whined as Neteyam pulled on her arms, spinning her around to inspect her back and arms. Tuk swatted at her brother and you covered your mouth as you laughed, the scene reminding you of you and your siblings when you were younger.

Neteyam��s golden eyes looked up at you as you laughed softly, the sound like wonderful music to his ears. He found that his eyes were lingering on you for a little too long and he quickly stood up, clearing his throat, “thank you for finding my sister.”

“He speaks,” you teased, tilting your head at him. 

Neteyam let out a huff of a laugh, “I apologise,” he said.

“Only teasing, forest boy,” you smiled teasingly before turning your attention back to Tuk, crouching down to her eye level. “Now, little Tuk, don’t go wandering off again,” you grabbed her hand gently and she listened to you intently, “remember to keep our little secret place to yourself,” you whispered, but you knew Neteyam heard you. 

“Promise,” Tuk whispered back with a little nod.

You stood back up, glancing at Neteyam for a moment before brushing past him to return to the village, leaving him to revel in the scent of your hair. It smelled like sweet fruits and sea water, a perfect mix in his opinion. 

“Why are you staring at her?” Tuk asked comically loud, staring between you and her brother. You heard her words and laughed to yourself, peering over your shoulder at Neteyam who seemed utterly embarrassed by being caught and called out by his kid sister.

“Thanks for that, Tuk,” he replied with a sigh, quickly grabbing her hand and pulling her back toward their family’s marui. 

Being beneath the water was always where you felt most as home. Though it was fitting you felt that way considering your entire body was designed to thrive in the water. You enjoyed the silence and solitude of being beneath the waves, curious eyes exploring the reef and gathering shells and various plants for your mother’s salves. You worked quickly to gather plants into your woven bag, various creatures brushing past your arms and legs as you worked. 

The sound of the surface breaking above you caught your ear and you turned to see your sister waving at you happily as she swam toward you, Ao’nung and Roxto not far behind her. You moved the sash of your woven bag over your shoulder, quickly signing at your sister.

‘Teaching the forest Na’vi?’ you signed, your eyes glancing toward the surface where the three siblings treaded water in a rather unorthodox way. You peered back and watched as Kiri swam around happily watching the creatures in the reef.

‘You must join us, sister,’ Tsireya signed back. You frowned at her, shaking your head. She gave you a pleading look, ‘you are a good teacher.’

‘I don’t want to babysit,’ you signed.

‘They are trying,’ Tsireya frowned at your words, signing back quickly.

You looked up at them for a moment, noticing how all of them had their heads underwater, watching you sign with your sister. Your eyes moved to Tuk who quickly waved at you. You let some bubbles out of your mouth, the little pockets of air bobbing to the surface, ‘fine.’

Tsireya smiled happily, squeezing your hand tightly before she began swimming to the surface. You watched as Roxto and Ao’nung signed to each other, making fun of the forest Na’vi’s diving abilities. You rolled your eyes at them before following your sister to the surface.

“You guys are too fast, wait for us!” Tuk whined, rubbing her eyes. You tilted your head at the little Na’vi resting your hand on her shoulder.

“It is okay, Tuk. We will go slow,” you smiled, moving one of her braids out of her face. Ao’nung and Roxto suddenly surfaced behind you.

“You guys are not good divers,” Ao’nung snickered, “may be good at swinging through trees but–”

You quickly swatted the back of your brother’s head, splashing him in the process as Roxto laughed, “you would be wise to shut your mouth, brother.” Ao’nung made a face at you, rolling his eyes.

“We don’t speak this–” Neteyam vaguely gestured with his hands, “–finger talk. We don’t know what you’re saying.”

Tsireya looked at you for a moment, “we will teach you, won’t we?” She looked at you again with a pleading smile.

You sighed and rolled your eyes, “yes, we will teach you,” you nodded. “But first, if you want to swim with us, you must learn to do it properly.”

“We are swimming properly,” Lo’ak replied.

You chuckled softly, “I wouldn’t call flailing your arms about like that, swimming,” you replied. “Move with the water, use your arms like this–” you motioned with your hands as the three Sully siblings listened intently. 

“Come,” Tsireya smiled, “we will move slow.”

You spent most of the afternoon showing the siblings how to swim, Tuk occasionally reaching for your hand so you could swing her forward through the water, the little Na’vi finding so much joy in speeding so fast through the water. You watched as Neteyam seemed to find it a little harder to adjust to swimming, finding it more frustrating than anything. 

You sympathised with them, understanding it must be hard to adjust to a new environment which their bodies were not adapted to. Tsireya swam with Lo’ak slowing down so he could keep up with her and you felt a responsibility to check on Neteyam.

“Are you alright?” You asked, surfacing just behind Neteyam. He turned to look at you, seeming slightly tired from all the swimming you had been doing. 

“I’m fine,” he replied with a sigh, “I just can’t seem to get the breathing part.”

“It’s okay,” you said, sort of hating how genuine you sounded to your own ears, “I will show you.”

“We breathe from here,” you pressed your hands flat against your chest and stomach, sitting in front of Neteyam. He watched you closely as you showed him how to breathe, your sister and Roxto showing Kiri and Lo’ak not far from you. Tsireya watched you teach Neteyam one on one, grinning softly to herself which you quickly rolled your eyes to. 

You glanced at Neteyam but he was already looking at you, his golden eyes were rather beautiful you thought, though you would never tell a soul. You cleared your throat and he quickly snapped back to reality, “sorry, sorry.”

“From here,” you repeated, taking in a deep breath to fill your chest and stomach, “in and out.”

He did the same, fixing his posture to copy your actions. He wasn’t able to take in as much air as you, but it was a good start.

“You must slow your heart,” you said softly, “focus on your breath.”

“Right,” Neteyam muttered. You scooted forward slightly, reaching your hands out to press on Neteyam’s stomach and chest.

“Breathe in,” you breathed in with him before nodding your head, “and out.” You noticed his heart beating rapidly under your palm, a smile pulling at your lips, “Neteyam, your heart is fast. You must focus, try to slow it down.”

“Yeah, right…” Neteyam quickly nodded at your words, “I’m sorry.” He was so glad there was no one else around to hear what you said, feeling slightly embarrassed that he’d been caught.

Okay, maybe your sister was on to something. He was a little cute. 

“I want you to keep practising,” you said, pulling your hands off his body, “you must learn to breathe if you want to keep up with us.”

“Right,” he muttered before he looked at you curiously “...will you still be teaching us?”

You tried to suppress a smile, “yes, it’s my punishment.”

“Punishment?” Neteyam asked curiously, “we can’t be that bad.”

You laughed softly, “It is not like that, forest boy,” you stood up, brushing some of your hair over your shoulders as you walked back toward the village. 

“Well, what did you do to earn such a punishment?” Neteyam asked, running to catch up with you, almost slipping on the wet rocks. 

“You like to ask questions,” you said.

“Just curious about you is all,” Neteyam shrugged.

“About me?” You turned to him with a curious look. You noticed how Neteyam towered over you, so did your brother but Neteyam staggeringly so. You thought it must be because forest Na’vi were lean and tall by nature. 

“Is that not allowed?” He asked, trying to suppress a grin as he tilted his head at you.

You watched him for a moment, wondering if you should toy with him or tell the truth, you decided the former would be more fun. “I was sneaking out,” you said with a shrug before turning on your heel, making your way back toward the village.

“Sneaking out? What for?” He asked through a chuckle. 

“I think that’s enough information for now,” you replied.

“But I wish to know more about you,” Neteyam called behind you, struggling to keep up with you. You had walked across these slippery rocks more times than you could count– Neteyam not so much. “Oh, shit!” 

You heard a loud splash, whipping your head around to see that Neteyam had disappeared from behind you and slipped into the water, a mass of bubbles indicating where he had fallen. You stood for a moment, waiting for him to surface.

“Neteyam?” You called. No answer. Oh, no. “Neteyam!”

You quickly dove into the water, bubbles of air forming around you as you whipped your head around, looking for him. You swam down toward the reef, thinking he had hit his head and was sinking toward the bottom. You had fear written all over your face before you saw him, slowly swimming toward the surface. You let out a noise of annoyance before quickly rising to the surface.

“You scared me!” You scolded, splashing him with water as he laughed. 

“Those rocks are slippery,” Neteyam simply said.

“I thought you hurt yourself,” you frowned.

“And you came in to save me?” he grinned.

You stared at him with an unimpressed expression for a moment, “don’t flatter yourself.”

Neteyam could only laugh in response as you pulled yourself out of the water and back onto the rocks.

a/n: hope you like this one! let me know if you want me to continue with these two :)

[doomsdaybby]

Hiii! You said you wanted some Steve or Eddie request and you could probably do this for them both if you want!

But I was thinking angst/ hurt, say Eddie or Steve said something not thinking much about it, something like, I wish you did it like this instead of this or, your perfumes to sweet, immature ( I like cotton candy scents lol ), I wish you dressed differently, her body looks good ( completely different than your body type ), your hair looks better when it’s straight ( it’s naturally curly ), you have to much energy, ect……

You start to act different, straighten your hair, change perfume, act tamer, stuff like that. They notice you start to act different or change it or whatever.

ommmggg 🥺 I never really write angst so I hope this is okay! thrown in some fluffy sweet comfort at the end bc 😭😭

small cw/tw for mentions of body types / slight body shaming (self deprecating)

Steve didn’t mean it. Really he didn’t. Sometimes he slips up, lips not connecting with his brain before he allows words to flow free, ones he doesn’t realise hurt.

It had only happened twice before, where he had said something off the cuff and blasé, that wonky half-smirk in your direction and a swift nonchalant adjust of his hair. And it was the fact that he was so oblivious to it that had your stomach tying in knots and mouth zipping closed.

Steve didn’t mean it. Really he didn’t.

You had stared at him glass-eyed and saucered, the rush of heat to your cheeks spreading a blush pink across your face and chest.

“Ow! Hey, loosen up the claws there, wolverine” he breathed out a concerned chuckle, eyebrows creased as he gave your hand a gentle wobble. You hadn’t realised the malicious dig of your nails into his soft skin, glare a sharpened knife’s edge.

Starcourt Mall, merely one week ago. Steve had just handed in his lacklustre resumé to Scoops Ahoy ice cream parlour, mumbling to himself the entire time that he wasn’t going to get the job anyways.

Crossing the food court, swarmed by candy crazed kids and soda sticky tables, you passed the shiny glass doors of the gym that had then held a women's aerobics class. The room was fit to bursting since there was a 20% first class discount running in honour of opening week.

Lucky Steve.

Lycra and spandex, gyrating hips of sparkling fuscia and metallic cerulean. Bouncy curls and sweaty bodies, lean and shiny. Rotations of full hips and perfectly cupped breasts that sat just right in their leotards.

And he was just... staring. That kind of vacant, jaw unhinged and glazed over dreamy look in his eyes sort of stare. One that had your heart sinking and adrenaline spiking. It rushed in your ears like wild fire, the hasty pump of your heart gasoline to the licks of flames.

Cue the talons, leaving deep crescent moons in their wake.

It lasted all of five seconds total, over just as quickly as it happened, and it shouldn't have wounded you as much as it did. You felt silly for it immediately after.

"Eyes forward, hot shot" you grumble through a half-hearted laugh, a softer, more apologetic squeeze of his hand. The sting lingered though, a splash of ice water at the base of your neck that travelled right to the tail of your spine.

It had sat there then, right at the pedastal of your ribs for the following week. Stewing, swelling. You almost resented him for it, not pinpointing your anger, your hurt.

You had been quieter the days after, near having to force a smile in his direction. Steve knew something was up, more reserved and less forgiving. The smallest of things that you would usually brush off festered at the back of your mind, metastasising against your will.

Now, Steve is spread out across the couch transfixed on some shitty sitcom. If you were in any better mood you would have eaten him up like your last meal - hairy thighs

You would’ve teased him, kissed him, loved on him. You really wanted to, to settle over those thick thighs, whispering into the warmth of his neck how he looked like a fucking harlot and only dressed to attract your constant attention. Though that thought was stomped out before you could chew it over too heavily.

You cross the living room behind him, Steve’s old Hawkins High basketball shorts hugging your thighs and tank top accentuating the dip of your waist.

You were highly aware of the way your stomach rolled when you sat at the bottom steps of the staircase to hastily tie your sneakers, craving some space, imagining how ridiculous you would look in a sparkling bubblegum pink leotard right now.

“Where you going, gorgeous?” Steve asks, the slight jerk of his head in your direction, taking in the curves of your body that were showing off just right in your ensemble out of the corner of his eyes.

“For a run,” you respond blankly, focusing on the loop of your mud-stained shoelaces.

"You don't run,” he snorts, only with jovial intent, eyebrows raised as he turns his head more, laying his arm over the back of the couch. You almost wanted to match his parted lips, the ripples of his cheeks amongst that lopsided charming grin.

Though Steve’s expression drops low when he notices the crumple of your face, the kissing of your lashes. Puppy dog pout and blush to match.

Snap. It had all become too much.

"No, and I certainly don't fit in some skimpy neon pink lycra that rides up my ass, do I?" you bite, a stifled sob gluing to the back of your throat, though Steve had already heard it, so you choose to petulantly avoid his gaze.

"Woah, woah. Hey," Steve's voice is mellow, as warm as the early morning sun though you can sense the maim in his voice, wobbling there in his throat. It was comforting in a way, except the dull ache in your chest remained regardless.

But the air is suffocating, the threat of fat tears welling in between your lashes. Steve rises from the couch, stepping closer, slow and methodical as if cornering a terrified animal, hand outstretched towards you.

The closer he got, the more it bubbled, the week-long mulling over of your ribboned heart and bruised ego, and you can't quite bring yourself to look in his direction.

Steve didn't mean it. Really he didn't.

"Hey," he's next to you now, hushing himself as he crouches down on one knee, dipping his head to try and meet your gaze. You avoid it, of course, crossing your arms in protection across your sternum. A cascading wave of embarrassment washes over you then, he was being so kind.

"Baby, what's going on?" he reaches for your face, and you allow it, his thumb brushing delicately over your jaw to caress the plush of your cheeks, fingernails tingling the skin at your cheekbones. His thumb cradles the angle of your jaw, and you scoff.

The tears fall then in globules against your will, thick rivers that stain your skin and patter onto the polyester at your lap.

"I just feel... really shitty." You begin, swallowing thickly. "You were staring, Steve. Tongue on the floor gawking at women that I look nothing like".

"I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he’s stuttering, not even certain of what he’s apologising for just yet, confused as to what you were even talking about. Steve’s heart aches watching you crumble like this, stifling back the sobs and guarding yourself from him.

You recognise the realisation that takes over his pretty face, his infuriatingly pretty face that has you pining to go a little easier on him.

“Is this about the mall?” he dips his head again, cherry soda and a hint of peppermint on his breath, curls of chocolate brown crossing over his eyes, moving to station himself closer between your legs.

Your eyes are wide and glittering, water collecting at your tear ducts threatening to overspill again. Nodding at him, his face twists, a culpable expression and you knew he meant what he was saying.

“Honey…”

God, why does he have to be so fucking sweet? A saccharine lilt to his voice and his touch so soft.

“My girl,” he coos down at you, palm on your cheek and you can’t help but lean into his touch. A baby bird with a broken wing right in the centre of his hands.

“I think you are so beautiful,” he starts, honeysuckle eyes searching yours, stemming the tears that continue to spring free with his fingertips. You listen, waiting.

Steve continues, “There was a-“ he gestures theatrically in the air, puffs of wary chuckles punching out from his chest, weighing out what to say, “-a LOT, going on there, you know?”.

Your eyebrows meld together, clouding over the your lids and he startles.

“I mean, it wasn’t them, baby. All I was picturing was you.”

“You were?” your bottom lips worries and Steve is quick to soothe the shake with a tender swipe of his thumb. “Why didn’t you say anything?”.

Steve’s mouth falters, tracing his gaze over the staircase beneath you as he thinks. “I didn’t even really give it a second thought, babe. You came to mind immediately and we just-“ he waves into the air again, “Moved on?”.

The bile in your throat retracts then, pounding pulse settling when he rounds his hands to frame your jaw, touch skimming and fragile.

“After you mangled me of course,” his laugh is breezy, bright and it sparks right at the centre of your chest. You return it easily, melting into him and allowing all of the blooming anxiety to bleed away with every passing moment.

“You are perfect.” Steve whispers, pressing his forehead to your own and noses kissing at the tips. Your waterline ripples again, but this time out of pure relief.

“I love this…” fingers release your face to cascade down the sides of your neck, spotlighting the curve of your chest when his hands still for a moment and you shudder as he goes, trailing after his movements.

“And this…” further down he goes, grasping sweetly at the fat of your hips and kneading the flesh beneath your shorts. He’s beaming through every moment, shaking his head to himself as he takes you in.

“And these…” he reaches for your hands, bringing them to soft lips so he can kiss every knuckle. You choke over a sob again as you watch him, in disbelief that he was even yours.

“Especially this…” his palms swallow the frame of your face once again, brushing back every strand of hair so he can see each millimetre of your beauty before him.

“I love every-,” Kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Single-,” Kiss to the apple of your cheeks.

“Inch of you,” Kiss to the corner of your lips, murmuring all of the sweet nothings you had been craving to hear all week, what you’ve needed to be told to snuff out those racing doubts that bottom out your stomach.

“Don’t forget that, okay?”.

[enbysiriusblack]

There was a loud knock on the door, followed by hushed arguments. Lydia and Cora both made their way to the door.

"It was definitely too much force."

"Then you should've knocked!"

"I'm not knocking! This is terrifying enough."

"You killed a giant snake, I think you can knock on a door."

The door abruptly opened, Lydia peering out to the four late teens awkwardly standing in their front garden.

"Mrs Pettigrew?" The only girl asked, curly brown hair bouncing as she pushed past two boys, "We're sorry to come to your home unannounced like this, but we got your address from Headmistress McGonagall."

"She's the head now?" Lydia blinked.

The girl nodded, "Yes. And my friend here thought we should come visit to talk to you about something that may be quite upsetting."

The girl's gesture to the boy on her left got Lydia's attention, as she looked at him properly and suddenly found herself in the past- James Potter showing up out of the blue practically every week during the summer, begging to grab Peter to hang out with.

"James?"

The boy almost rolled his eyes as he stepped forwards and awkwardly waved, "I'm Hari, actually. James was my dad."

Lydia's eyes widened, "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Well I should probably be saying that to you."

She paused, "Excuse me?"

"Hari!" The girl hissed, elbowing him in the rib.

Lydia opened the door wider, "Why don't you kids come in, we've just put the kettle on."

"Thank you", the girl smiled, grabbing the hand of a ginger boy behind her as she walked through the doorway.

"What if they're evil rat people too?" The ginger boy not so quietly whispered.

Cora guided them to the sofas, "Us? I wouldn't say we're evil and sadly not rat people, I do love those little worm tails."

The ginger boy snorted, cheeks turning red.

Hari took a seat, followed by a fourth boy.

Lydia poured them all a cup of tea, "So, you came here to tell us some upsetting news? Best get to it, our usual tea companion usually gets right to business with telling us bad news."

The girl nodded, "Yes, right. Well, Hari? Did you want to tell them?"

"No, not really."

She huffed, placing her own tea cup down, the ginger boy wrapping an arm around her waist, "I'm really sorry to tell you this, but your son is gone."

Lydia smiled, sipping her own cup, "I'm well aware, my dear. He's been gone for a long time now, seventeen years."

Hari frowned, "Do you not know about what's happening in the wizarding world?"

Lydia shook her head, "Not a clue. I left that place behind completely when I was about your age. Only stepped my toe in now and then when Peter needed me to. And my wife's a muggle so we've never really felt the need to go back there."

"Your son wasn't really dead", the girl started to say.

"But he is now", the ginger boy continued.

Hari nodded, "He got killed for being a traitor."

"Right, but by his own side, or hand, I suppose."

"Is your hand not on your side, Mione?"

"I really don't think that's the point, right now."

"Anyway, he died properly this time. When before he was a rat so he escaped and was ron's pet."

"Can we not mention that?"

"Right, sorry. And then he helped voldemort again and now he's proper dead."

"There's a funeral for him. A second one, I suppose. But that's why we're here, to tell you and invite you to the funeral."

"Sounds a bit bleak."

"Well, death is a bleak subject, Ron!"

"I know that!"

"Everyone knows that!"

Cora coughed, trying to get their attention, "Can we maybe explain this a little clearer?"

The fourth boy sat up straighter, "I brought a newspaper with me, I thought it might make it easier."

He passed the paper to the two women. They carefully read it, articles on Peter being a spy for the order and his recent death.

Lydia clutched the paper tightly, reading the words over and over and over again.

Cora smiled hesitantly at the four teenagers, "Thank you for coming to tell us. When is the funeral?"

"The fifth of next month", Hari spoke, "I found a graveyard close by here, I thought that might be what you two wanted."

Cora nodded, "Yes, that means a lot. Thank you."

They all stood up to leave, Cora showing them to the door.

Hari turned to her, "We'll all come to the funeral. But I wouldn't expect the place to be very full."

"Of course."

The fourth boy stepped forwards, a bouquet in hand that he passed to her, "I grew these for you. The flowers represent loss and innocence."

Cora smiled back, "Thank you, although maybe that last meaning isn't so accurate anymore."

The boy shrugged, "Well, there is a certain innocence through death, isn't there? No matter what you did in life, your body is now giving back to the world as you decompose."

"Neville!" Ron shouted.

Cora laughed slightly, "Right you are, neville, was it?"

He nodded, "And. Well you and your wife knew Peter Pettigrew at his most innocent. So no matter how much darkness he put into the world, you still hold the memories of his innocence. Which may have been tampered out but were still very much real."

Cora squeezed Neville's shoulder gently, "You're a good kid. And I know my wife would want me to tell you this, so can I just say. Your self worth comes from here", she pointed to his heart, "not from the outside world. And if people aren't paying you enough attention then get right in their face and just shout at them. What you do for others isn't what makes them care for you, they just do care for you. Okay?"

"Yes", Neville nodded, "I, um, I think I already knew that."

As the door shut, Lydia stood in the darkened hall, staring at the shut door, a photo of a young Peter clutched in her hand and the other holding the newspaper.

"He reminds me of him."

(for @jegulily-stuff <3)

[the-admin-but-dumber]

Soren Faces Consequences

See how I laugh at you! You’ll never understand, no you’ll never understand, no you’ll never ever ever understand.. See how I run from you... No I’ll never understand, no I’ll never understand, No I’ll never ever ever understand... WARNING! The below short story contains violence.

This wasn’t possible!  Soren took a step back, horrified gaze casted up at the scaled beast looming over him. The dragon was dead, he killed it!.. Or.. Poofed it away. This wasn’t real, this couldn’t be real, it shouldn’t be.. The dragon turned its head down, plooms of smoke rise from its nostrils, its gaping maw glowing with a dangerous purple flame. Soren raises his arms with a gasp, closing his eyes in preparation for impact.   The flame flies past his head, lighting the endstone behind him aflame in a ring. He was trapped with the beast that snarled towards him, approaching with rumbling footsteps. Soren yelps, stumbling backwards until he was practically brushing backs with the purple flame that raored behind.   “Soren The Architect.”     Soren’s blood grows cold as his voice is growled from the beasts jaws, it echoes, the voices of thousands merges together into a haunting melody. The endermen inhabiting the end screech and scream at the dragon’s appearance, linging outside the ring of flames with their jaws agape.     “Ho-..H.. How do you Know m-..My- My name...?”   He manages to choke out in response, the dragons chuffs, blowing a plume of smoke into his face that causes him to fall back onto his arse. The flames crackle and burn only inches away, the heat burning the back of his curly hair.   “I am the admin, Soren.. I know all, I know what you are, and what you’ve done!”   A large clawed hand slams into the stone right beside Soren, the architect letting out a wail of panic and leaning backwards. The beasts head leans down, hovering only inches from his, he can smell the sour stench of smoke and ash in his nostrils. He heaves, the smoke filling his lungs and leaving again.    The Admin?... Admins didn’t exist, book after book he’s read, they weren’t real! And yet he managed to make such a fatal mistake one was at his footstep, with a look that rang the alarm to run as fast as he could.    “You slaughtered Jean, my dear mother’s beloved pet... Blinked her out of existance with a power that wasn’t yours, stole her egg and left it to die in the overworld’s air... And for what... Fame?” Soren stammers pathetically, babbling out apologies as he tries to sit up, the beast pulling its head back with a disgusted grunt. “I’m sorry! Truly, We didn’t mean to misuse the Command Block! We just got out of hand with it, we never meant the harm we caused, they apologized!”    The man pleads, in and instant an enraged roar leaves the beast and he’s thrown to the side, through the flames into the endstone, the dragon trailing after him with steps that rock the island beneath them. The endermen rush to attack, back are merely shoved aside by the beast’s tail, teeth bared it shoves Soren into the stone, clawed paw pressing into his chest. It’s claws pierces his armour, green eyes tearing through what little courage Soren still had.  “THEY APOLOGIZED BUT YOU DID NOT, SOREN THE ARCHITECT. YOU ARE SELFISH, YOU DESTROYED THE DIMENSION I CARED FOR AND MURDERED ITS HEIR.”    It bellows loud in his ear and he cries out in horror, grabbing into one of the dragon’s claws to try and pry the object out from his armour. He wheezed, the dragon’s crushing weight putting pressure on his ribs and lungs. His face goes red, his breathing growing heavy as his head spun. His hearts going down quickly...   And then it lets go, leaving Soren gasping for breath and clutching his chest with unsteady heaves.   “Im sorry! I was just a boy, I was young, I couldn’t have known better! Please you must believe me!” “But you did know that the command block’s power was not to be used, it was to be ‘kept hidden’. And yet you didn’t, you used it for your selfish human greed, created weapons and armour no one could have dreamed of overpowering, gave yourself the materials to ruinthe fortress and turn it into your sorting machine.”    Soren looks into the dragon’s eyes, they burn through his pride, destroy every piece of self worth he claimed to have. Its growls vibrate in the end’s air, its rings in his ears.    It steps towards him, the stone cracking under its weight as its flops onto the ground, tail creating a ring around the two. Soren stands up after a moment, quick breaths causing his lungs to burn and his chest to tighten. His eyes doesn’t leave the beasts’ flaming maw, clouds of smoke raise into the air. “You wanted to play god, so now you will. You want to prove you’re innocent? Now you’ll do as I say and as I say alone, if you don’t want to pay for the lives you took with your own, that is..” Soren swallows, the beast sits itself upwards and holds out a clawed hand and within a egg forms into existence. it glows brighter than the one in the overworld, it’s cracks pulsing like a heart beast. It’s alive.. Soren makes a face, looking up to .. ‘The Admin’, confused. He opens his mouth, but it snarls at him to shut up, and so he does. Only staring at the beast and its newly created egg, a sense of dread dropping into the pit of his stomach. Guilt comes in, the other’s words ringing in his head, it stuns him in place. Though it seemed he didn’t have anywhere to go even if he chose to run, hoards of enraged endermen surround them, their shrieks greatly overpowered by the admin’s booming voice. “Ye- yes.. Yes, Mr admin... Sir.” “You will raise this creature, you will stay imprisoned in this dimension until it hatches and the heir is born. You will be responsible for this child as you killed the first, you will recapture the end just as you have freed it.”  “But I- I can’t do that, no no no that just won’t do! The endermen, they’re be under.. ‘it’s’ control again! The end’s been free for so long I cannot simply imprison it again!” “You do as I say Soren, that is the deal! You will raise this chick and free it into the end, or I will tear you apart and hatch it myself/”   It roars and Soren is forced to cover his ears, he trembles stepping away from the dragon masked admin with a quick nod. He babbles out incoherent sentences, but eventually settles with giving yet another, firmer nod.    The beast almost grins, showing off its toothy maw to the architect as if it were threatening him. It raised a claw, placing it just under his chin and tilting his head up to look into its eyes that soften with a sickly malice glinting in its eyes. “Good, now raise your hand, boy.”   He does as told, fearing the punishment for not doing as such would belosing them. The egg is dropped into his hands soon after, the weight nearly making him collapse as his knees tremble under him. He huffs, hoisting it up closer to his chest and he looks up to the beast that was now standing. It’s scales almost glow... They are glowing!    Soren closes his eyes to escape the light, blinking moments later to be met with a relatively tall woman, he stumbles backwards with a careful hand placed under the egg to prevent dropping it.     The woman approaches him with a coy smile, dressed in green and white armour, her hair hanging past her shoulders. She definitely didn’t look human, her very presence radiating a power similarly to what he’d melt with the command block. “I will return in six months when this egg is to hatch, if I find out you have left it to die yet again i will not make the rest of your days merciful.”     “Six months! I willbe trapped in this world for six months??”   Soren’s mouth gapes as he trails after the admin, tensing when she’d lifted up into the air and hovered just above him, looking down on the architect with a scruntinizing glare. “From what I recall, you had no issue with isolation before. You will live, time works different here afterall.” She was gone before Soren had a chance to respond, or get a word in. He was now left alone, The Haunting of endermen had luckily dispersed but now he had an egg. His heart raced in his chest when he stared down at the egg, a new sense of terror beginning to set in. The End was no longer free. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- They’re so silly, I wanted to show a darker part of Wheatley. While yes Wheatley is a known pacifist and isn’t really keen on violence or murder, trauma stays for years and doesn’t go away quickly, certainly when you don’t get help for it. Romeo’s manipulation reached much further than even he recalled, and while Wheatley is very good at treating The Overworld residents with compassion and kindness, they’ve not forgiven Soren for destroying Xara’s dimension.  This is also what I meant when I mentioned that Wheatley ‘tries’ to befriend most of the old order, some grudges are too great to put aside and Wheatley cannot see themselves ever see Soren in a good light, especially when they were indirectly the cause for the Command Block fiasco. Sometimes nurture takes over nature and things need to be set back into place, even with unorthodox means. (Sorry for all the Soren lovers, I love him too)

[sketchyschipperke]

(IDs under cut bc they're long)

Some sketches I did over the last year of visibly disabled characters/concept art for a novel I'm writing in which human-animal hybrids are often disabled (mentally too, but those aren't specifically depicted here) due to the animal parts and human parts not meshing well. I am open to constructive criticism only from disabled people about the portrayals of the disabilities.

[ID #1: A sketchy, uncolored digital art piece depicting 7 characters strewn about the page in no particular organization. Notes are written next to each character describing their features. When necessary, the notes will be transcribed, but most are self-explanitory.

Character 1 is a woman in a plain sleeveless top, pants, and shoes, with her hair in a ponytail, very small eyes, and large bat-like ears in the place where human ears would be, bat wings in place of arms, and shoes that are bending upward. The note to the left reads "malformed toes".

Character 2 is a woman with featherlike hair, microtia, and a wide-eyed stare wearing a plain shirt and shorts. She is holding her arms in a t-rex pose and leaning awkwardly to the side. She has small wings attached to her rib cage on the right and hip on the left, a thick and malformed left leg, and a right leg that looks like a bird's. Both legs are bending inward at awkward angles, especially the right.

Character 3 is a teenage boy with down's syndrome who is smiling. He is wearing a plain t-shirt and shorts and a collar on his neck, and his hair is short and straight. He has floppy dog ears in the location of where human ears would be and a tail reminiscent of a Pomeranian. His feet are severely pigeon-toed and his hands/fingers are malformed and vary in size.

Character 4 is a boy wearing a plain shirt and pants. His face is bent too far down to be seen, and his hair is straight and short. He has hooves instead of feet and his legs are so bent that his knees are almost touching the ground. On his head are large horns reminiscent of a Texas Longhorn cow, placed unevenly. The caption for this reads "crooked, oversized horns destroy neck muscles".

Character 5 is a small woman sitting on the ground with one knee pointing up and the other knee pointing forward in a "W" sit. She has short, wavy hair and is clutching one arm to her chest while staring intensely into the distance with heavy eyebags. The caption above her head reads "heavily dissociated due to trauma" and "rabbitish facial structure". She has rabbit-like ears in the location of human ones, which droop down, a rabbit-like tail, and elongated feet resembling a rabbit's. The caption to the right reads "poor posture from disability and abuse (difficulty standing/walking)".

Character 6 is a girl facing away from us while sitting criss-cross on the ground. She is wearing a plain shirt and shorts and has her hair in pigtails. We can see the stump of an amputated leg, but the rest of her limbs are hidden. Two growths that resemble insect legs are attached to her neck. Crooked on her back are a pair of fly-like wings, the left one partially ripped off.

Character 7 is a woman with curly/kinky hair that is tied partially up in pigtails. She sits in a wheelchair and is wearing a plain sleeveless shirt and a midi-length skirt. Her left arm is congenitally amputated at the elbow, and both of her feet are congenitally amputated. Her right arm is resting on the armrest of the wheelchair. She has patches of fish scales covering her body, especially her arm stump which is almost entirely scales. Her visible ear is missing the top half and she wears a hanging earring, and there is a close-up sketch next to it as her hair partially covers it. She also has vestigial gills on her face and neck and aniridia. The caption to the right reads "weak legs".

End ID #1.]

[ID #2: A traditional art sketch on lined paper that depicts a girl with a cane and a closeup of the cane.

The girl has her hair in a bob, and no facial features are drawn except a large birthmark on the left of her face. She has wolf-like ears on the sides of her head, slightly above where human ears would be. She wears a plain shirt with bows on the shoulders, a necklace, plain shorts, and socks, and has a wolf-like tail. Her knees are bending backward slightly and her feet are malformed and barely differentiable from her legs. She is leaning on a her cane.

The cane has three legs and a flat top, and is decorated with a simple outdoor scene. From the bottom to the top, it is a field of flowers, a sunrise, daytime sky with clouds, and nighttime sky with stars.

End ID #2.]

[ID #3: A traditional art sketch on lined paper that depicts a girl with plain forearm crutches.

She has curly/kinky hair that falls to her shoulders, sheep-like ears where human ears would be, and is wearing a plain shirt, cardigan, necklace, and shorts. Her left ear has a rip in it and there are two large scars on her face over her left eye and right jaw. No other facial features are defined. She is leaning on her forearm crutches. Her feet are malformed and barely differentiable from her legs.

End ID #3.]

[ts-janus-rp-blog]

Virgil was walking home one night when he was ambushed and kidnapped. When he had woken up next he was inside of a shed, stripped of his clothes, and chained by his ankle to the ground. To make matters worse...there were many weapons and sex toys on display across from him...and a large table against the wall with restraints. That can"t be good.

He was in there for at least two days before the door finally crept open. And someone entered the shed. It was hard to see this person in the darkness, but this person's green eyes seemed to glow in the dark...

"Why, hello there, little one~" The voice purred out. "I bet your wondering why you are here? Well... Your father actually sold you to me! Could you believe that? He actually sold you on the Black Market, and I was hoping on having another sex doll around my place. What you say about that, hm?"

Virgil gulped at the stranger, shaking his head. Surely they weren't telling the truth, right?

You don't believe me, do you?" The man giggled loudly, then he grinned ear to ear. And when he did...his teeth... It wasn't just normal teeth, no, they were...fangs? It looked similar to canine fangs? What...?

And when the man walked closer Virgil was able to see him more clearly. He had very wild and curly dark brown hair, and a crazy look in his green eyes. But he also...appeared to have wolf ears on the top of his head? And...a tail behind him? What...is happening?

"Well, I don't care if you don't believe me or not." He reached down before Virgil could move out of the way, his hand wrapped around Virgil's neck and he pinned him to the ground. Then he moved to sit on top of him. With his other hand he started stroking Virgil's cheeks. "You are such a cutie, do you know that? Such soft delicate skin... You'll definitely be perfect as a sex slave, yes~"

"M-Master?" Suddenly the door creaked open again, and a small face poked into the shed. It was another man, but this one was much much smaller than the one holding down Virgil.

His black hair was a mess too, it was all over the place. He had very very pale skin. And his dark blue eyes glanced over to them. But also, he was naked. Completely naked. He had chains around his wrist and those chains were attached to the collar wrapped around his neck. And a muzzle...an actual muzzle strapped over his face. And he was...so skinny. So very skinny. So skinny that his ribs were poking out. He looked like he hasn't been fed in days.

When he saw Virgil though his dark blue eyes suddenly turned bold red. His pupils enlarged, and his eyes started glowing. He started panting heavily, wheezing, so much so that his body was vibrating with his wheezes.

Suddenly he threw himself down the stairs of the shed and he raced over to virgil. but before he could reach him the man grabbed the smaller ones collar and lifted him into the air...like a mother cat would do to their kittens.

"No. Logan. I haven't given you permission to feed yet. You still need to be good for me for another...week before I'll give you permission." He snarled, "If you can survive that long, vampire."

[toms-cherry-trees]

A Little Slip || Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Dad has been left alone with the children for the first time. What could possibly go wrong?

Word count: 2408

Warnings: cuss words, minor injuries, Tommy being a disaster

Author’s note: I honestly have no idea where did this one come from. Enjoy!

Let me know if you wanna be in my taglist

The task was easy enough. Mommy needed a girl’s day off, which she was entirely entitled to. After all, raising a three year old toddler and a 11 month old infant could be a tiring mission, and she deserved a break. Frances had caught the flu, which meant she had been forbidden from approaching the nursery until she had recovered, and Tommy didn’t trust the other maids enough. Which meant that he had been tasked with looking after the kids that Saturday afternoon. They were his children so it should be easy enough, no?

Wrong.

The first problem arose five minutes after mom set foot out the door. Their eldest son, David, demanded to know the whereabouts of his toy horse. Because none of the other eleven horses neatly stacked in the shelves of his nursery would do, he wanted the one with a missing ear and almost no tail hair left. None of the maids had seen it, and no matter how many beds and sofas Tommy looked under, the toy refused to appear. The funny thing with children’s crying is that it appears to be contagious, for the more his son wept, the more his daughter Vera pouted, until she too let the tears spill from her Shelby blue eyes, bawling like a wounded animal for no apparent reason other than her brother’s own sorrow. This in turn made David cry even harder, which got them stuck into an endless cycle of tears and despair. 

It hadn’t even been an hour and Tommy could already feel a vein bulging in his temple. He could withstand many things, but crying had a particular effectiveness in fraying his nerves. So, in a desperate attempt to placate the storm, he put a child under each arm and marched towards the stables like a man on a mission. He knew from a fact that horses always solved everything, and if they didn’t at least the crying wouldn’t sound so loud in the open fields. But just like magic, the second the beautiful brutes came into view, David scrambled out of his father’s grasp and rushed towards the horses. His favourite in particular was an old one who, much like his own battered toy, had a missing chunk off one ear and virtually no tail nor crin left. His wife had saved that one, having found him abandoned on the side of the road. Tommy suggested putting him out of his misery, but she would have none of it, and she and Curly nursed the equine back to health. He couldn’t trot very well nor reach great distances, but David loved him to pieces, and for that Tommy felt extremely thankful at the moment. 

His joy, however, was short-lived. It is easy to lose track of time outside, and by the time Tommy noticed, Vera had become quite fussy, being way past her usual nap time. Her high pitched wails could arouse the dead, and make the living run for cover; she could be a star of the Royal Opera House one day with that pair of lungs. But for now Tommy wished for nothing more than to soothe her and enjoy five minutes of blessed silence. But he had yet another issue at hand. The stablehands had the day off, and Vera couldn't sleep without her milk bottle and her blanket, but also David could not stay outside alone, but if Tommy took him back inside he would throw a royal sized tantrum. 

He doubted in the soles of his feet, his ear ringing from the deafening wails of his little girl, while his son tried to climb the stable door to get on top of the horse, even if he was still too small to even reach the stirrups. After a few more seconds of hesitation he simply uttered ‘fuck it’ and grabbed David, hauling him under his right arm like a sack of potatoes and carrying him back inside, doing his best to ignore the screaming and kicking. An unfortunately aimed shoe kicked him right under the ribs; the kid definitely had some strength. Now more than ever he admired his wife’s ability to wrestle both kids to bed, and felt a pang of guilt at the countless times he could and should have helped her. 

Thomas marched towards the kitchens with the two howling banshees, startling everyone in his way with the noises, contrasting dramatically with his stony expression. He moved like a man on a mission, seemingly unaware of the chaos surrounding him. He bursted into the kitchen, set both kids down on top of the table, and pulled out the cookie jar from the pantry. Just like magic, David quieted down the second the baked good reached his hands. Meanwhile a warm milk bottle had been prepped, and Vera had fallen asleep halfway through it, slobbering all over her dad’s fancy shirt. David got the privilege of a second cookie to keep him happy while Tommy put his daughter down on her cot, but he had forgotten a little detail; feeding sugar to a toddler was like feeding gunpowder to a cannon. 

Now there was no way to stop the boy, who could run impressively fast for his young age. Now matter how fast he ran, or how long his steps were, Tommy could simply not grab hold of his son. The boy climbed over armchairs, jumped over flowerpots and slid under tables. A porcelain vase they had received for their wedding had already fallen victim to the chase, and Tommy knew he would have to give explanations for it. Just when he thought he finally had David cornered, like a hunter after a long chase, with his clothes in absolute disarray and hair sticking out in every direction, David had the brilliant idea to try and climb the staircase railing. Who knew a little boy could have so much skill? He clambered up a side table, knocking over a chandelier and another vase, and held for dear life onto the staircase railing, his little fingers barely managing to tighten around the smooth wooden bars, and hoisted himself up a couple inches. But the recently polished surface offered little traction, and the toddler inevitably lost his grip and crashed down.

He began crying before he had touched the ground. 

Panic immediately bubbled in the pit of his stomach. He dashed forward, slipping on the fancy Turkish rug and crashing down next to his son. He meticulously inspected every single inch of his body, looking for any injury or sign of internal damage. But it seemed that besides the tears and an already forming lump on the back of his head, his little champ was fine. Tommy sat on the floor, rocking David to soothe him while also trying to calm his own hammering heartbeat. His admiration for his wife and mothers around the world grew with each passing second.

“Oh for fucks’s sake” He could feel the migraine throbbing behind his left eye. 

David had fallen asleep in his dad’s arms, victim of the physical activity and his own pain. Tommy managed to pry his shirt away from the vine grip his son had on it and laid him down to nap on his bed. Silence fell over the house at last. 

For five minutes.

While he occupied his time chasing the devil, Vera had awoken from her nap, happily babbling away at her stuffed animals. But she couldn’t take not being in the centre of attention for long. The maids rushed to her side, but no amount of cooing or soothing would distract her. The cries became so loud Tommy thought his daughter was in great peril. He rushed to the nursery, only to find his little Vee in the arms of a maid, while the other one presented her with different toys and shiny objects to distract her. But all the fuss stopped the second she laid eyes on her dad, her sobs turning into laughter as she made grabby hands at him. Tommy simply could not resist the shine of delight in her eyes.

He dismissed the maids for the evening and sat down on the fluffy rug with his daughter, surrounded by toys and stuffed animals which she showed off to him happily, clumsily stumbling with her chubby legs which had just begun to give her their first steps. Her foot occasionally got stuck into the folds of fabric and caused her to fall, always being saved at the last minute by her dad’s outstretched arm. She remained unbothered and continued to display her vast collection of toys.

“What do you get there sweetie? A teacup? And what do we have here, a teddy bear, poor lad looks worse for wear after being on nap duty for so long. And that’s an - oh fuck” Vee tripped and dived head first into the floor, being stopped and pushed back by Tommy’s quick reflexes. The girl sat still for a moment, wide eyes staring straight at her dad, before her lips parted into a joyous smile “Fuck”

His heart skipped at least three beats. Torn between the utmost joy of hearing a child’s first word, and the sheer panic of said first word being fuck. She was his child, of course her first word would be something of the sorts, but he could be sure his wife wouldn’t be too happy about it and would have his head on a platter for it. He immediately tried to clean up his mistake

“No baby, no fu- no that word, daddy said…he said..erm…duck, can you say duck?” He tried to repeat the word several times very slowly, hoping to reroute her towards that path and dodge the bullet, but Vera would have none of it.

“Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck” The child was delighted at her newfound voice, bobbing up and down and clapping her little hands with each repetition of the word. Even if it sounded strange in her toddler dialect, with the final sound being more like a G, it was still clearly understandable. Oh, nothing like having an eleven month old girl cussing out all day long, following in the steps of her family. 

Tommy tried every single thing he could think of. From repeating several other words a thousand times, to reading her books, playing songs, even trying to maintain full worded conversations with her just to distract her attention. But it seemed to be causing quite the opposite effect. The more he spoke to her, the more she talked back, but all she continued to say was that word. He had already begun to pull on his hair, trying to figure out how to clean up this mess in just the 2 hours he had before his wife returned home. Maybe he could convince her that he had just taught Vera a Roma word…or he could take the next steamboat to America and disappear for a little while. 

In the end, he had to dig out his last resort. He took Vera outside to the stables, let her run freely in the gardens, played with her every toy, danced with her, let her chase after David, all in hopes of wearing her out enough that she’d be fast asleep before mommy arrived, and hopefully she would have forgotten how to talk by the following morning. And it worked. After dinner and bathtime, not only was Vera fast asleep, but David was tucked in and dozed off as well. Somehow he had pulled through.

At half past ten, he had perched himself in front of his desk, with whiskey on his hand and a cigarette on his lips, catching up with all the work he had ignored that day. Stacks of paper littered his desk, waiting to be read, signed and either filed or destroyed. But he had virtually no energy left for that. His back had begun to ache, and he found himself fighting to keep his eyes open. Not even pumped full of spirits and nicotine he would be able to survive even an hour of work.

He didn’t look up when he heard the Bentley pull on the driveway, instead straightening his back and placing a pen between his fingers, hoping to achieve a laid back and relaxed posture, as if he had had an easy day. He heard his wife’s heels clicking towards his office, and he cleared his throat, placing a random sheet of paper in front of his eyes. He could almost see her gloved hand turning the handle, and pretended to ignore her as she walked to his side and placed a tender kiss on his cheek. 

“How was your evening?” He leaned back to lock eyes with her, feeling the tickling of some loose hair strands on his neck.

“Good. Lizzie took us to this new pub near the Bull Ring. Of course they didn’t want to serve us, but she pulled out one of your presentation cards” His wife chuckled, the sweet sound like bluebells on his ears. Her arms laced around his neck, her chin lightly posed every his shoulder. “A guy tried to mess with her and she broke his nose with a single punch. I’m not sure they will serve us again.” She chuckled again and slid her hands down her husband’s shoulders softly “I’ll go tuck in the kids and go to bed. See you upstairs in ten?” He nodded and placed a kiss on the back of her hand. She walked off, with Tommy closely watching her elegant figure enveloped in a green velvet coat disappear behind the mahogany door. He smiled to himself, thinking about how he had almost been surpassed by the day but emerged victorious as usual, and now he got the prize of enjoying the night with his beloved. 

Ten minutes later he had gone upstairs, loosening his tie and undoing the buttons of his shirt on the way there. His wife sat in front of her vanity wearing her silk robe,a silver comb in hand, gently undoing some knots in her hair. She seemingly ignored his presence, waiting until he had sat in front of the fireplace to speak

“Vera had woken up”

Oh.

“Can I ask something?”

He froze for a brief moment, but quickly regained himself “Anything”

She turned to face him, a mixture between anger and amusement in her features 

“Why did our daughter just said fuck to me?”

[13uswntimagines]

Pretty Girl (Christen x Reader)

Request: Christen and reader go to the zoo and reader either works with animals or is just a huge nerd and literally obsess over the animals and christen kinda just falls for her even more

Author’s Note: Special thanks to @literaryhedgehog​! 

You were in your element and Christen was living for it. While she had always been adept at soccer, Animals and Biology were your specialties. You looked so cute in your little safari outfit, and Christen couldn’t help but drop by when she was in town to surprise you, and take one of your legendary tours. Tobin, who had been unlucky enough to be sharing a car with the woman, followed along behind her, not sure how she felt about being dragged along on this excursion. 

“Now if you come over here you can meet Darth Vader!” You said excitedly, pointing to one of the clear cages on the wall, taking a step towards it. 

“He’s a black rat snake, and look at him use the force of his muscles to climb up his exhibit wall. Gravity-defying right? Now do any of you kids know anything about snakes?” You addressed the group of kindergarteners assembled in front of you, listening attentively as some of them piped up about snakes they had seen (and you wholeheartedly ignored the burning gaze of the only two soccer players in the group). 

Most of them got closer to the glass to look at your favorite reptile, but there were always a few who took went to hide behind their moms, who had a tendency to call your snakes either “scary” or “gross.

“The pretty girl on the right is a Ball Python named Snickers,” You smiled, stepping towards the glass. “She’s almost 20 years old, which is the upper end of the lifespan of her species. Though ball python populations are growing rapidly in areas of Florida, they’re actually indigenous to west and central Africa. They’re what we call invasive species- species that invade the habitat and can eat other species that are natural to areas of the Everglades,” You shook your head sadly. “That’s why it’s very important to never release a pet into the wild. It can decrease the quality of their lives but also really hurt native species that are already there” Stupid people releasing pets they should have never had, destroying the environment. 

“Did your girlfriend just call a reptile a pretty girl? Isn’t that her nickname for you?” Tobin joked, nudging Christen’s ribs with her elbow. Christen felt her cheeks turn a little pink. 

“No, I’m superstar,” Christen mumbled, glaring at the chill middy. 

“Hmm, it’s cute how into them she is though,” Tobin smiled. It was amazing how much you lit up around the animals, even if it was a little weird when you called slithery things pretty. You were kinda like Steve Erwin she guessed. 

“You don’t get a Ph. D. if you’re not interested,” Christen laughed, and Tobin nodded. No one wrote a 50-page dissertations on things that bored them. 

“Can you take the guinea pigs out today?” The little girl with pink pigtails looked so hopeful, you almost felt bad that you had to say no. Except that you hated the guinea pigs.

“Sorry I wish I could, but this is the guinea pigs’ day off today.” You saw your coworker Jenni come in and waved her over. “Also my shift just ended. But Jenni here can tell you about anything else in the exhibit you’re curious about!” 

You disentangled yourself from the crowd of youngsters and made your way over to your girlfriend, standing on tiptoe to give her a quick peck on the cheek. “Hey superstar.” 

“Hey, do I finally get your undivided attention?” Christen asked, pulling you into her arms and kissing your lips. You smiled, showing off your dimples as you nodded quickly. 

“Good luck with that around all these… what did you call them? Pretty girls?” Tobin said, facetiously, smirking as she leaned against the wall. She jumped, as a thump sounded behind her. The animal house didn’t have any solid walls, and instead featured glass enclosure. 

“Oh shit, that’s just Milo, he’s kind of an attention whore,” You laughed, pointing to the 36 inch blue racer that had just fallen from his branch to the bottom of the enclosure. 

“He’s gorgeous,” Christen marbled at the bright blue snake, 

“Don’t let him hear you say that. He’ll get a big head,” You smirked at your girlfriend, unable to maintain the serious expression. 

“He’s a snake. They don’t have feelings,” Tobin scoffed, watching as Milo flicked his tongue at her. 

“You just say that because you haven’t met him yet. I have held many a snake and let me tell you, Milo is positively clingy!” 

“Yeah, no thanks,” Tobin started to say, but then Christen piped up. “That’s a great idea! We would love to meet Milo in person, Y/N!” She continued smiling as Tobin elbowed her in the side, and you caught the wicked glint in her eyes. 

“You know, it just so happens that he’s on the schedule for interaction today!” You smiled giddily at your girlfriend, dancing in place for a second before flipping through your keys for Milo’s enclosure. 

“Hey pretty boy, wanna say hi? I got some nice people that really wanna meet you and pet your beautiful scales,” You said, stroking his neck a few times to get his attention. The snake slowly began moving forward, encouraged by your warm, steady hands and you carefully picked him up and set him on your shoulders to support his spine. 

“I thought your girlfriend was a Gryffindor. Aren’t Slytherins the ones who can talk to snakes?” Tobin whispered, using your girlfriend as a shield from the snake. 

“That’s a common misconception. It’s heirs of Slytherin who can talk to snakes, but who's to say that all of Slytherin’s descendants would choose to be there?” You smiled sideways at the woman, not quite taking your attention from the blue noodle wrapping around your wrist. 

“If you come closer you can see his scales shimmer in the light. He just shed last week, so they’re really pretty right now.” 

Christen took a slow step towards you, looking more at your loving gaze than at Milo. It was incredible how calm he was with you, and the care you clearly had for him. 

“Gorgeous,” She said, her fingers coming up to just barely fun her fingers over the cold reptile. He brought his head up to stare in her direction. She froze. 

“It’s alright Chris. He’s just checking you out,” You hummed, lifting the snake slightly and bringing him within reach of your girlfriend if he wanted to go to her. “Can you blame him? They don’t call them foxii for nothing,”

“You say that like he isn’t contemplating how long he would have to starve himself to eat you both,”

“Sounds like you’ve been reading too many clickbait articles. Actually blue racers are foragers, not active hunters,” You raised your eyebrows at the clearly terrified midfielder, feeling comfortable enough with Christen watching Milo to take your eyes off of him. “But I’ll put him back if he makes you feel uncomfortable.”

You brought Milo back to the door of his enclosure, waiting for him to decide he wanted to head back in and being careful to unwind him from your nametag (he always liked to play in your lanyard), he flicked his tongue at you and you took it as a thanks for patently untangling his tail. You locked up the door before standing up straight. 

 You took your girlfriend’s hand and began to lead her from the room. “Come on, lets go to the insectary, I know the gal who works there will let us hold Dot if we ask nicely.”

“Who’s Dot?”

“A super adorable curly-haired tarantula,” you said, grinning, intentionally not looking behind you to see the source of the gagging noise. 

“Why can’t you think normal things are cute like giraffes or elephants or like literally anything else,” Tobin huffed, crossing her arms. She should have listened to Sonnet when she warned her about visiting you at the zoo. At least you hadn’t tried to introduce her to Spike the giant snapping turtle. 

“You’re mean,” you said, turning to stick your tongue out at Tobin over your shoulder. 

“Well I think you’re cute, so I think that makes up for it,” Christen smirked. Sure, you liked the less conventional animals, but seeing you with them made her fall for you just a little bit more.

“I love you,” You melted, leaning in and kissing your girlfriend softly.

“Love you too babe. Now let’s go get me introduced to Dot,”

[wiypt-writes]

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Ch7: Old Habits Die Hard

Part 2

Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Summary: It’s the day of Pooch’s wedding, emotions are running high and it all comes to a dramatic conclusion.

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson

Warnings: Bad language and a whole heap of angst. Smut (NSFW, 18+)

A/N: So here is part 2 of Chapter 7…and it’s explosive! Translation: Chinga tu madre, Cabrón = Go fuck your mother, asshole.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. We do not own any characters in this series bar Stella Stevenson and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

TLAYLI Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 7 Part 1

Lay your demons at the door, this is what we're fighting for, trying to clear the air but nobody's talking. We've been breathing this disease, trying to find a way to see, but the end is in your eyes, let's finish this tonight.

“What I don’t get,” Jensen looked at the bridesmaid who watched him with rapt attention, twisting a strand of hair round her finger, “is why come to Mexico and not get married on the beach?”

“Well they thought about it, but then Jolene decided she didn’t want to get covered in sand.” The red-head shot back. “So they chose this terrace, it’s kinda on the beach, I mean, you can see the ocean.”

“But if you don’t want to get sandy, why come here in the first place?”

“Because it’s cheaper.” She shrugged.

“So you’re saying Pooch is a cheapskate.” Jensen raised his eyebrow and she hesitated before she shook her head.

“No, that’s…” she began to talk, protesting that wasn’t what she was saying when he heard Roque shout out Stella’s nickname.

“Hey, Arty!”

Jake instantly glanced over his shoulder to look for her, and when he saw her, the air was completely knocked from his lungs.

Her dress was a gorgeous watercolor-like ombre blue. The deepest of sky blue shade covering her shoulders with wide straps and a deep v-neck line that wrapped at her breasts and it lightened just at the lower ribs to a cotton blue, before trailing down at the hemline in a pale blue almost white shade. The cut exposed her leg to mid-thigh, giving just a peek of the petunia inked into her skin. Her hair was pulled back off her face in an elegant, sleek pony tail and her lips popped a deep, burnt red. Her blue eyes stood out under thick lashes and perfectly lined eyebrows, the rest of her make up remaining neutral. She'd only been in the sun a day, but just as it always did, it had kissed her body in a way that made each little freckle pop and her entire frame glow.

The salty sea air and sunshine always looked good on Stella Stevenson and today, the overall effect made Jensen's mouth water.

“Holy shit.” He muttered, turning away from the girl and conversation without so much as a goodbye, leaving her stood there shooting daggers at his back.

Stella smiled as Roque kissed her cheek, then Cougs and finally Clay before she stepped back and smiled as their Colonel’s arm curled around the slim, petite brunette to his right.

“Stel, this is Emma, Emma this is Stella.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” Emma smiled, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Why doesn’t that fill me full of confidence?” Stella laughed and Emma shook her head, smiling.

“Oh, no, I assure you, it’s all been good!”

As the two women continued to chat and laugh, Jake stood there, waiting for his turn, hands jammed into the pockets of his dress slacks. Eventually, Stella nodded and turned to him and he flashed her a smile.

“You know, that’s the second day in a row I’ve seen you looking like a grown up!” She quickly scanned him up and down, taking in his well-fitted, steel grey suit. The top button of his jacket fastened, nipping in at his slim waist and spanning over his broad chest and shoulders. The crisp white dress shirt underneath stood out against the suit, and matched his white pocket swatch, the entire ensemble pulled together by the steel grey tie which matched his jacket and slacks.

As she was looking, Jake leaned forward, her perfume sending him lightheaded as always. He placed a gentle peck to her cheek, his chin brushing her ear slightly. “You look stunning.” He whispered, and he didn’t miss the goose-bumps that appeared on her skin as she swallowed and pulled away.

“Thanks.” She stood still, simply looking at him, and the two of them were locked in a gaze before Stella cleared her throat, breaking the spell. “You guys know where we’re supposed to be seated?”

“Yeah, we’re on the right,” Clay gestured, “Grooms side or whatever.”

The gang moved to find their seats, Jensen stepping forward ready to offer Stel his arm but Roque beat him to it.

“Always the gentleman, huh?” She smiled at him and he chuckled, a deep, low timbre rumbling from his chest.

“You know me, Arty.”

Jake watched them go, before he gave a yelp and clutched at his side, glaring at Cougar.

“Stop drooling, Jensen.” Cougar peered at him from underneath his hat, smirking as Jake rubbed at the place on his ribs where he had dug him with his elbow.

“I’m not drooling, shut up Cougs.”

Thankfully, Cougar left it there and they moved to take their seats along the row that Clay, Emma, Roque and Stella had already occupied. Cougar, whether on purpose or not, reached the end of the row first and slid in next to Stella, separating her from Jensen. Jensen rolled his eyes, but before he could get too pissed about it, Pooch arrived, in a simple black pinstripe three piece with an ivory and red striped tie, and made his way down the aisle, greeting everyone. He stopped at the row that contained the Losers and smiled, Jensen pulling him into a hug, clapping his shoulder as he pulled away.

The thing with weddings, is that no one can actually tell you were the day goes. They seem to pass in a whirl and Pooch’s was no exception. What felt like mere seconds after The Groom had arrived, but was in fact more near to twenty minutes, the music started and Jolene appeared at the large arch at the back of the terrace, walking slowly with her dad down the aisle, in a gorgeous knee-length fitted lace dress, which set off her curves and legs perfectly, her curly ebony hair pinned up elegantly at the back of her head. As she reached Pooch, she reached up and straightened his tie and Stella heard a “Pay up, Captain” to her right. She turned to see Roque reaching over Emma, handing Clay a twenty, not even looking at him, and she let out a soft snort, shaking her head.

The Bride and Groom exchanged simple vows and Pooch head tears in his eyes as he made his declaration. At that point, Jake couldn’t help but take a glance at Stel to find her looking down at her hands, the fingers of her left twisting the white gold and ruby solitaire ring that sat on her right ring finger, a gift from him for her twenty-first. He swallowed a little, as he hadn’t seen her wear it in a while before she glanced up, and he took the opportunity to study her pretty profile for a second before he turned his attention back to the front for the ring exchange.  Before long the new Mr and Mrs Pooch headed down the red carpet in the middle of the aisle to cheers and the guests filed their way back inside for drinks whilst the staff set up the outside terraced area for the reception.

To Jake’s delight, there was no huge stuffy sit down meal, it was just a large buffet which meant he could eat what he wanted and how much he wanted, which suited him perfectly. What didn’t suit him, however, was that he didn’t see that much of Stella, at all. Post eating and listening to the speeches, whether intentionally or not, she avoided him, spending most of the time sipping champagne and cocktails chatting to Emma and few of Jolene’s friends. Jake was left to mooch around, mainly with Cougar who was absolutely trying to get into the blonde bridesmaid’s panties. Unfortunately, she was stuck like glue to the red headed one that Jake wasn’t interested in.

“You make a shit wingman.” Cougar gave a jab to Jensen’s rib with his elbow as the two girls wandered off.

“Good job I’m not a pilot then.” Jensen shrugged, taking a pull from his beer as his eyes scanned the room for Stella.

At that point they both got strong slaps on their shoulders as Pooch drew up behind them both, leaning between them a little.

“Your momma was a pilot.”

Cougar and Jensen both looked at one another before they slowly turned to glance at Pooch.

“Did you just drop a momma joke on your wedding day?” Jensen snorted

“A shit one at that.” Cougar added, tipping his hat slightly with the neck of his bottle.

“Come on guys! As you have just said it’s my wedding day so let’s have a drink together before Jolene’s, sorry my wife’s,” at that he grinned, “bridesmaids hunt you down again.”

“What if I want to be hunted?” Cougar shrugged

“Hence why I said before. Pay attention Cougs.”

“Chinga tu madre, Cabrón.” Cougar smirked, causing both Pooch and Jensen to snort as they knew that insult very well having heard it a few times.

“I dare you to say it to her face.” Pooch looked at him as Cougar merely smirked, giving him a wink.

Pooch rolled his eyes, “what about you, Jensen?”

“I don’t wanna fuck Momma Pooch!”

“Why? What’s wrong with her?”  Pooch looked at him.

“What? Nothing, that’s just gross!” Jensen pulled a face.

“He’s considering a trip down memory lane instead.” Cougar teased and Pooch groaned.

“Dude! Seriously, you need to get over it!”

At that Jake turned to look at Cougar. “No I’m not, stop making shit up!” Cougar shrugged, smirking slightly and simply held his gaze as Jensen groaned. “Whatever, man.”

Cougar merely shrugged, as chilled as ever whilst Pooch laughed and handed them a drink from a passing tray. “Well, I think that deserves a toast. To the first married Loser…oh, wait, that would be me! And to Jensen who seriously needs to stop flogging a dead horse!”

Jensen took a deep breath, once upon a time he’d fully expected to be married by now, full disclosure, to Stella. Maybe a kid on the way if there wasn’t one around already. And that thought gave him a perfect way out of this current train of conversation.

“How long till Baby Pooch comes along?”

“Dude, if it was up to me he’d be on the way already!” Pooch grinned.

“He?” Jensen shook his head. “Nah man, you want a girl.”

“What? No! I want a little Pooch. Why would I want a girl?”

“A girl always loves her daddy.” Jensen shrugged. “Like Gracie, man, she’s awesome. There’s just something about seeing her with Robert. It’s cute.” He paused and grinned. “I want a girl. Imma call her Daisy.”

At that Cougar let out a snort as Pooch began to howl with laughter.

“Who’s Daisy?” Clay asked as he appeared with Roque, the pair of them smirking at something.

“Jensen’s first born. Apparently.” Pooch wiped his eyes.

“Wait, what?” Roque frowned and turned to Jensen. “You have a kid?”

“No, it’s a hypothetical one.” Jensen shook his head.

“Good.” Roque blew out a breath. “Do me a favour and never reproduce, Jensen.”

“Fuck you Roque,” Jake snapped back. “I’d make a great dad.”

“Yeah, well, you might wanna start ‘daddying’ that chick in the red dress over there, because she’s eye-fucking you shamelessly.” Roque nodded over his shoulder and Jake turned around. He gave the girl a once over, she was pretty but…his trail of thought died as he spotted Stella was stood alone at the bar. He necked his drink and holding up his glass he stated, “need a refill.” before he turned and headed over the room.

“Yeah, sure.” Pooch rolled his eyes as Cougar gave a low chuckle.

“Told ya.”

“Man he just can’t help himself, can he?” Roque shook his head as the three of them watched Jensen who approached Stella, his hand dropping to the small of her back as he leaned over to talk to her.

“Nope” Clay let out a sigh as Stell laughed at something Jake said. “Ahh, leave him to it, we can always do damage control, as usual where he is concerned.”

“How do you damage control a suicide bomb?” Pooch looked at Clay and Roque snorted.

“Pooch is right, dude is basically a hand grenade right now.”

“Don’t get involved guys.” Clay shook his head and Cougar nodded.

“I agree with boss. If Jensen’s gonna pull the pin, he can dive on it.”

“The problem will come when he tries to ‘pull her pin’ and she kicks his ass. But, fortunately I will be enjoying my wedding night.” Pooch shrugged. “See ya, Losers. Don’t have too much fun!”

The three of them watched him wander off over the room, shouting to someone, and Clay’s eyes fell on his date, Emma, who was smiling at him and waving from her spot at a table.

“I will also be enjoying Pooch’s wedding evening.” Clay winked and walked off.

Roque turned to look at Cougar. “Don’t even think of it…”

Cougar merely chuckled, tipped his hat and also wandered off, hands in his pockets as he sauntered over to a group of girls.

“That’s okay, just leave me here, I’m good!” Roque called after them before he let out a sigh. “Assholes.”

****

As the hours passed they drank, a lot. And naturally, where alcohol is involved inhibitions start to lower. There was a lot of fun being had, a lot of jokes being shared and other stupid activities being partaken in, such as a raucous drinking game Stella and Jake played against  Pooch’s uncle and his brother.

Which they lost, spectacularly.

Stella was feeling fairly light headed thanks to the mix of champagne, beer and cocktails running through her system, along with a few shots of tequila and somehow, she had no idea how, the two of them ended up on the dance floor, dancing to some really random shit when ‘La Bamba’ started playing. Jake grabbed Stella’s hand with a whoop of joy and started twirling her round, her face creasing in laughter as they let loose, Jake showing off his pretty neat footwork

“I thought you said he wasn’t taken?” The red headed bridesmaid gestured to Jake as she stood next to Pooch and he snorted.

“He’s not”

“Could have fooled me.”

“It’s complicated.” Pooch shrugged. “Long story short, she’s taken, he’s not. He wishes she wasn’t as it’s his fault she is.” He turned to the woman besides him. “If that makes any sense.”

From the look on her face, it made no sense at all, which wasn’t surprising to Pooch as he struggled to make sense of Jensen and Stella’s fucked up dynamic, but before she could reply there was a slap on his shoulder.

“Ten bucks says they end up in bed together,” Roque slurred.

“No way man.” Pooch shook his head, “she won’t cheat on Evan.”

“Fuck that guy,” Roque snorted. “Look, she’s hammered, here alone, I’m calling it.”

Pooch was about to tell Roque that Evan present or not, Stella would cut Jensen’s balls off if he tried anything when the familiar opening bars of ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ cut across the dance floor.

Both Stella and Jake paused a little, Jake running his hand through his hair as he gestured to the tables, clearly asking Stella if she wanted to quit dancing when she shook her head, giving him a smile, which Jensen returned as she took his hand, the pair of them beginning to sing and dance along.

“Twenty bucks,” Roque hiccupped, upping his stake.

“You’re on.” Pooch shook his hand as the bridesmaid snorted.

“And you’re losing.”

Pooch watched her go and then turned back to the dancefloor to see Jake and Stella now dancing pretty close...

This had always been their song. That was why Jensen had asked if she wanted to sit it out when it had come on, but she’d refused, and as such he’d been twirling her round to the music just like he always had. After one spin, they end up facing one another, singing very loudly as Jake threw his arms up and around, Stella snorting and laughing at his antics.

“Do you remember dancing to this at prom?” Jensen grinned as he continued to throw his arms around wildly, Stella shaking her head. He smiled, his mind straying back to that night, how amazing the entire evening had been, not least for the fact it had been the first time they’d fully given themselves to one another. He remembered laying there, after, as they both giggled and kissed and cuddled, thinking there and then that was it for him, there’d never be another girl who came close.

And then he’d pulled a Jensen, and ruined it.

“Of course I do.” Stella smiled. “Life was simpler back then, huh?”

“Isn’t it always?” Jensen asked as he spun her back round, pulling her in so her back was to his chest, hands dropping to her hips as the electric guitar solo struck up signalling the song was almost at and end. He felt Stella take a deep breath.

“Well we were kids.”

“But it was easy.” Jensen dropped his chin to her shoulder, his cheek brushing hers. “It was just you and me and the rest of our lives ahead.”

Stella tilted her head to look at him as the song faded into ‘I’ve Had The Time Of My Life’ and she pulled away, turning to face him with a shrug.

“Didn’t quite work out the way we thought though did it.” She asked, her hands sliding round his neck.

Jensen sighed, his fingers flexing against her hips. “I know. I fucked up.” He swallowed, the lump thick in his throat and Stella shook her head.

“Don’t.” She warned. “Not now.”

But Jensen wasn’t listening. He had to get it off his chest, he couldn’t stand the sick, hot feeling he got every time he thought about her and Evan. He needed to tell her, even if she told him there was no chance for them ever again, at least he’d know.

“No, just listen to me, Stelly, please.” His eyes locked onto hers. “There’s not a day goes by I don’t regret it. You know that, right? And no matter what happens I’ll always-“

He was cut off as Stella landed a harsh, stinging slap to his left cheek, his head whipping to the right. He took a deep breath, stunned, before he turned his head to face her, shocked splashed across his handsome features.

A few people around them stopped dancing, and Stella could hear a few hushed whispers, along with a louder shout of ouch, from who she had no idea. She opened her mouth to say something, the tears spilling from her eyes before she realised she needed to get out of there, and fast. So she did.

She hurried out of the room towards the hotel lobby and elevator, wiping the tears that were falling down her face. She knew she shouldn’t have done that, and maybe it was a little harsh, but the anger she felt towards Jake at that moment in time was insurmountable. He had left her, twice basically, and continued to fuck with her head, and then had the audacity to try and ...well, she didn't even know what he was trying to do. Her head was a mess, a fuckery of conflicting feelings, and she was as drunk as she could remember being in a long time, which wasn't helping.

She was also well aware that she'd just made a complete scene at Pooch's wedding, potentially seen by his entire family and friends, and that not only embarrassed her, it also made her feel like crap for being that asshole guest that everyone would be talking about for months to come.

*****

Jensen ignored both Roque and Clay who had crowded round to ask him what the hell he'd done to deserve a slap, but he simply pushed them out of the way, only one thing on his mind, getting to Stella and making her listen. He hurried out of the room, skidding to a slightly unsteady halt in the corridor before he jogged down the hallway and into the lobby where he spotted her at the elevator.

“Stel!" He yelled her name in an attempt to stop her, drawing intrigued and surprised looks from the guests and staff alike in the atrium. "Stella, wait!"

She didn't turn around, but he could tell she'd heard him, well, everyone in the lobby had heard him, but if that wasn't evidence enough to show that his calls across the foyer had reached her, the fact that she began angrily slamming her hand against the elevator call button certainly was. Jensen hurried across the shiny tiled surface, the heels of his dress shoes clicking as he went, expertly side stepping a couple who were walking through with cases, cursing as he saw Stella stepping into the elevator. He continued running, but just as he skidded to a halt he caught a glimpse of her angry tear stained face as the doors shut.

"Fuck!" He shouted, banging his hand on the wall just above the call panel. Spinning, he almost collided with a young couple who were looking at him, and the man shot him a filthy glare as he pushed between them, running to the stairs. He took them two, sometimes three at a time as he raced to the fourth floor in an attempt to catch her, and he burst into the corridor in time to see her stalking to her room.

He paused to take a breath, relief flooding his system at the fact he'd manage to catch her before she got to her room, before he realised he still had to stop her.

“Stel!” His shout was a desperate plea, and she spun to face him, her face surprised clearly at how he'd managed to get there so quick, and whilst she was still he took his chance. “Look, I’m sorry I made you upset but-“

With that she gave an angry growl almost as she turned around and carried on, the heel of her shoe catching a little as she did, causing her to stumble and Jensen felt his anger boiling over, this was fucking ridiculous, and here he was shouting down a hotel corridor, to her fucking back.

"For fucks sake, Estella, will you a stop being a bitch and just listen to me?"

At that she stopped dead and wheeled round, sheer venomous disdain etched across her face. "I am SICK of listening to you Jacob." She spat his full name back at him, in response to him using hers. "It’s always the fucking same. You know if anything I should have listened to you years ago when you dumped me and stayed the fuck away from you and your stupid-"

"You just slapped me, Stella!" Jensen exclaimed "In front of everyone in the fucking room! The least you can do is hear me out, I deserve that surely?"

"You don’t deserve shit." She snorted. "Now take a hint and leave me the fuck alone!"

"What, like your boyfriend?"

The words flew out of Jensen's mouth before he had even registered them, and from the look on Stella’s face she was as shocked as he was that he'd gone there. She took a deep breath, looked at the floor before she raised her head and stared at him, fresh tears in her eyes and Jensen sighed in frustration at himself.

"You know, just when I think you can’t go any lower." Her voice was soft and sad now, and Jensen stayed silent as he knew that had been a low blow. She took another shaky breath, shaking her head. "I’ve never come so close to hating you as I have right now. You are an asshole."

"Stell, look, I’m sorry. I shouldn't have said that..."

"Go to hell." She stated, her voice flat as she turned and carried on walking towards her room.

"Cougar told me what Evan said." Jensen blurted out, more words he hadn't planned on saying, and once more she stopped dead.

"Fucking-"

"Did you say it back?"

There was no answer.

"You didn't, did you?" Jensen continued to press as she started walking towards her again. "That's why he isn't here, aint it? Because you couldn't say it, and you fell out, and-"

"You tell me," she stopped at the door to her room, foraging in her purse for her key, "I mean, clearly you have all the answers and know everything about how I feel and-"

"Damnit Stella, just-"

"You know what?" She spun to face him as he stopped besides her. "Evan might not be perfect but he’s never dumped me for no fucking reason, then used me as and when he wanted. But, I suppose that’s on me because I was never strong enough to tell you to fuck off and now that I am, you don’t like it." She raised her hand and jabbed him in the chest. "You don’t like the fact I’m not there when you want to fuck something because I’ve got someone else in my life-" another jab "-someone who… who loves me and I-."

"And you what Stel?" Jensen interrupted her rant with a snort and she fell silent, her eyes flashing. "See you can’t even say it, can you?"

Stella glared at him, a look that would make anyone else quiver in their shoes but not him, not now. He was too far gone trying to make his point, trying to make her see his point, to care how angry he was making her.

“Just admit it Stella," he arched his eyebrow, stepping forward. He planted one hand by her head, palm flat on the surface of the door as he leaned closer to her, his voice level and even as he stated, “you don’t love him, you never will.”

“Fuck you.” Stella stumbled over her words a little, before her hands planted on his chest and she shoved him. Jake stepped back, slightly off balance more to the alcohol in his system than the force of her push, but he steadied himself, moving forwards again. She made to shove him once more but this time he was ready, and his hands caught her wrists, fingers curling round them as her room key fell to the floor.

“Fuck me yourself.” He shot. At that she shook her head and scoffed. “What’s the matter, Stel?” Jake’s voice dropped a little as his grip around her wrists tightened, and he pressed her further into the door, his head dropping, face inches from hers. “Scared you might like it, still?”

“Asshole.” Her voice was nothing more than a whisper and she pulled her arms violently to the side, Jake letting go. Once more she pushed him, this time he stepped away so she could bend and retrieve her room key from the floor, which took her a few attempts, her hand and eye coordination impaired from the drink. Eventually, she grabbed it and stood, a little unsteadily, turning her back to him.

As she slid the card into the slot, Jake was once more in her space behind her, his hands softly on her waist and he leaned towards her, his breath hot on her ear.

“Don’t be a chicken, Stel.” His voice was gravelly and he braced, waiting for another blow, but it never came. She swallowed a little, her chest heaving, and she made no attempt to stop his advances. She'd let go of what she had to say, and now she was physically proving him right in his assumptions and her denials

Emboldened by this, Jensen placed a soft kiss to her neck as she pushed the door to her room open, causing her breath to catch in her throat. She turned to him, her eyes locking into his and Jensen could see the conflict behind them. There was a war going on between her head and her heart and, had he been sober, Jensen probably would have walked away, knowing what he was doing was pretty shitty and unfair. But he wasn’t sober. He was drunk, and not just on alcohol but sheer desire for the woman stood in front of him. His Stelly. The girl he still loved.

As her large, clear blue eyes bounced across each of his whilst she grappled with her internal turmoil, Jake stood stock still waiting for her to make her move. He took a deep breath, expecting her to shove him away for that final time, and he would have taken it then, having already proven his point to both her and him, but then he saw it, that familiar darkening of her eyes.

The spark Stell still carried for him, that small flicker of a flame that for so long had been starved of oxygen, suddenly exploded and she reached out, grabbing his loose tie, bringing his lips crashing down to hers. Jake surged forward, pushing her backwards as he continued to kiss her, kicking the door to her room shut with his foot before he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close,  pouring every single bit of emotion and frustration he’d felt over the past few months into the kiss.

It was urgent, it was desperate, and the pair of them stumbled around the hotel room, Stella pushing his jacket off and tossing it to the floor somewhere before she yanked off his tie, her fingers moving to undo his shirt. Jake's hands fumbled with the floaty tulle skirt of her dress as he pulled it up around her waist, trailing hot kisses down the side of her neck whilst Stella pushed his shirt down his arms where he shrugged it off. Her hands planted on his chest as she smoothed her delicate palms over the solid planes of muscle, sliding them down over his defined abs and he gave a soft hiss as he felt her nimble fingers undoing the buckle of his belt. In a quick move that made her squeak slightly, he reached down and grabbed her ass, hauling her off the floor, her legs wrapping around his waist as he backed her up against the large sliding doors which led out to the balcony. His lips pressed back to hers whilst her back hit the thick glass a little harder than he had intended, drawing a soft grunt from her mouth as it rattled in the frame.

“Ow.” she mumbled against his mouth, grabbing a fist full of his hair and tugging harshly so he looked at her. He gave an apologetic grin she looked at him for a moment before her hands moved and plucked off his glasses, in a movement that really shouldn’t be hot but for some reason it always was. He took them from her, depositing them in his pocket as his lips gently latched onto her neck, sucking at the pulse point. A barely there whimper sounded in his ear as he nipped at her skin and his attention moved downwards, hot, open mouthed kisses traced down her sternum which was exposed between the deep V neckline of her dress. A low moan left her mouth and her hips pushed down against the bulge in his trousers and he pressed into her, giving her the friction she was asking for. Her hands skimmed down his spine, her fingers making his skin burn and prickle as they danced over his back, coming to rest on his broad shoulders , digging into his muscles as Jake pushed his hips up again, grinding against her.

Neither of them were thinking straight, it was way past that point. This was a pure, carnal desire between two, once-upon-a-time long term lovers, both desperate to scratch that deep itch that they still had for one another. But still Jake paused, pulling back so he could take a moment to look at her. She was slightly dishevelled, strands of her hair had fallen loose from her up-do, framing her heart shaped face. Her cheeks were flushed, lips swollen from his kisses, but it was her eyes which caught him. He'd always loved her eyes and now they were staring at him with a wild, lust filled look that he knew so well. He swallowed a little, before she moved her hands to his cheeks, pulling his face back to hers. Jake moaned into this kiss and his hands moved round her back, her feet landed on the floor as her back slipped slightly against the smooth surface she had been pressed against. Their mouths remained open, pressed together, sharing air as Jensen slid the zipper of her dress down, causing it to gape a little at the front and he reached up, thumbs gently running on the underside of the straps before he slid them down her arms, placing a soft kiss to each of her shoulders in turn. As he pushed the soft, blue chiffon of her dress down to her waist he couldn’t help the carnal growl that rumbled in his throat as he saw she wasn't wearing a bra.

"Fuck, Stel. You're beautiful. You’ve always been beautiful." He muttered, his lips back on hers as his hands cradled her face. She stepped out of her dress, his hands moving down to grip her hips, fingers curling over the softness of her flesh as he pushed her back against the cold surface of the window. His lips claimed hers again before he moved his mouth, nibbling his way down the column of her throat, tongue dipping into the hollow at the base of her neck, teeth grazing her collar bone as he mapped his way down her body in a way he had done so many times before.

Stella felt Jensen's hands sliding down her bare thighs as he sunk to the floor and her brain had barely registered the fact he was on his knees, when he hooked one leg over his shoulder, shifting her soaked panties to one side. At the first touch his mouth made to her inner thigh she sighed in pleasure, the raw scratch of his short beard a contrast to the warm, softness of his mouth as he moved upwards before he finally gave one long lick over her sex, dipping his tongue into her a little, causing her to cry out in pleasure, one hand falling to his head, the other palm slapping against the glass surface behind her. He repeated his action, his tongue flicking up through her sensitive outer lips and this time he sucked on her clit, causing her back to arch, her had dropping back in sheer pleasure as her shoulders pressed further onto the glass in an attempt to keep herself up-right, all the time writhing at his actions.

His tongue and lips worked in tandem, un-doing her lap by lap, all the time she was vaguely aware of the fact she was begging him not to stop, her words punctuated by gasps and pants, manicured nails digging into his scalp as her hand curled over his head, fingers tangling into his short hair. It wasn’t long before Stella felt that familiar tightening across her stomach and her leg trembled slightly as she fought to keep herself upright.

“Fuck, JJ,” she stuttered, as he let out a groan, the vibration so pleasurable it was almost painful as his tongue dipped in and out of her entrance, continuing to fuck her the way he had always been able to do. The burning in her stomach suddenly took over her entire body and she gave a loud cry as she came, her head falling forward before it rolled back again against the window with a hard thud as the world around her went silent. She grasped Jensen’s shoulder as her leg gave way and he quickly stood up, catching her easily, a grin on his face as she opened her eyes and looked at him, her pupils blown with lust, her thighs once more locked round his waist. He kissed her again, the kiss absolutely filthy as he stepped back and turned them, crossing the room where he dropped her gently onto the bed.

She knelt up on the soft mattress, her now almost completely loose hair falling over her face as she hooked her fingers into the belt loops of his dress slacks and pulled him to her. In one smooth, fluid movement of her hands she’d undone his flies before she slid his pants and boxers down in one swoop. She dropped her head and took him in her mouth without so much as a warning, her eyes locked onto his.

“Shit, Stel” he mumbled, his hands tangling into her hair, guiding her softly as she moved, her head bobbing back and forth before she pulled away to lick along the base of his shaft, tracing the vein in the underneath, and Jensen knew then if she carried on he was going to blow his load before he’d even gotten to the main event.

“Get up here.” His voice was low as he cupped her face and guided her back up, kissing her again. With a gentle shove, Jensen pushed her back on the bed, stepping out of his remaining clothes before he crawled over her, sliding her lace underwear down her long, smooth legs. He didn’t give her a chance to say anything before he gave her ankles a soft tug, pulling her down further on the bed, crawling between her thighs, his mouth tracing its way up from her belly to her breasts which were heaving, nipples pebbled in excitement. Knowing exactly what would leave her nothing short of a wreck underneath him, he turned his attention to her right breast, lapping and sucking, grazing with his teeth whilst his hand palmed at her left. She let out a soft, breathy moan, which was music to Jensen's ears as his mouth and hand traded places. He worked her over, till she was begging to feel him where she needed him, her knees clenching around his slim waist, desperate for something to help the burning that was between her legs. He shifted his position a little, propping himself up so he could kiss her deeply again, hands on either side of her face as he buried himself inside of her, with a loud groan.

“God you feel so good, Stel.” His mouth moved over her jaw to her ear as he praised her, nipping at the lobe. At his words Stella gave a loud groan as he thrust up into her again, deeply, burying himself to the hilt before he rotated his hips in a dirty grind, a move he knew drove her wild. She cried out, clawing at his back and he groaned as she tipped her hips up to meet his.

"You know,” another thrust, "he’ll never be able,” another thrust, “to fuck you the way I can," he rotated his hips for another grind which caused her once more to cry out, nails biting at his back as he drove a little deeper, "because he doesn’t know you like I do."

To prove his point, one hand moved and gently wrapped round the front of her throat, giving the gentlest of squeezes but he knew that would send her feral. It was something he had discovered a long time ago, being so in control the rest of the time, Stella loved when he would take over like this, dominate her a touch and whisper cheeky, dirty little things into ear. It had always driven her crazy and tonight was no exception. He’d succeeded in throwing fuel onto the fire that was already raging, and a sharp, strangled wail of his name stuttered from her lips as he felt her fluttering around him.

"You were made for me, Baby Girl." Jensen’s own voice was a low growl as his hips picked up their pace, Stella's head falling back onto the pillows as Jake's mouth claimed hers again, the kiss sloppy and desperate matching the rhythm of his thrusts.

Because he was. He was desperate for this woman. Desperate like he’d never been desperate before.

“Jakey.” She keened underneath him, hands still clawing the muscles of his back which were flexing under her touch, equally as needy for him as he was her. He reached down to hook a leg over his shoulder causing her to mewl loudly at the change of angle and depth as he continued to drive into her like his life depended on it. He bent over, mouth swallowing another loud moan as he did, feeling her sweat soaked skin slick against his.

“Fuck, baby I’m close,” he stuttered, his hips snapping back and forth, “see what you do to me?”

Her beautiful eyes were wide, her mouth pressed to his as she let out a broken lament as her walls fluttered around him again, causing him to almost purr in delight as she did. She was close, so fucking close. And it felt good. As his cock dragged in and out of her, the feel of him sliding up against her spot had her worked into a complete frenzy, and she was teetering right on that edge.

“Don’t stop,” she panted, her head falling back further onto the pillow as she grasped his arms whilst he continued to fuck her into the mattress. And then, her stomach tightened and she felt the rush of pleasure that she knew was the end, beginning to wash over her. "Oh, God, Jake...I'm..."

"Come on, Stel." Jake growled, his hips still pumping in and out of her "Cum for me, Baby, just like you always do."

At his words, she gave a low, sultry whimper and her eyes fluttered shut, nails digging into his biceps as she shuddered underneath him, her back arching as her walls clamped down on him, milking his cock and that was it. He was done for, just like he always was when it came to this woman.

“Shit, Stel," he groaned as he felt his abs tighten as he came with a force he hadn't felt in a long time. His hips faltered as he cried out, shooting his load straight into her, before after one final, deep thrust he collapsed on top of her, his face buried into her neck.

The room was silent bar the sounds of their deep, heavy breathing as they both came down, fighting for control. Jake felt her hands gently move round to tangle in his hair, nails scratching his scalp and he raised his head, eyes still closed, enjoying her touch.

“Jake,” she finally whispered, still slightly out of breath but he didn't miss the tremble in her voice and he raised his head, opening his eyes to see her looking back at him. Her cheeks were flushed, hair all over the place and fuck, he’d never see anything so damned beautiful in his life as her undone underneath him. But her eyes, they were misting over with tears and he swallowed, shaking his head.

"Stel… " he began, and she turned her head away from his, screwing her eyes shut as her face crumpled.

"Fuck, what did we just do?" She whispered, opening her eyes and she looked at the wall to her right for a moment before Jensen tipped her face back round to him.

"Don't." He shook his head, pressing a kiss to the bridge of her nose. "Don't do this, not now." He pressed their foreheads together, his nose bumping hers and she gave a quiet sniff as he pressed his lips to hers softly.

“Do you want me to go?” He didn’t really want to ask the question, for fear of her answer but she shook her head, her eyes a little lost as she looked at him.

“No, I don’t. And that’s the problem.” She whispered.

He wanted to try and assure her that it was all okay and that they hadn’t done anything wrong but his words died in his throat, because he knew technically they had. Whatever was going on with her and Agent Shitname, she was still with him, meaning she’d cheated and he knew that would be cutting her up inside.

And now Jensen felt like shit for putting her in that position.

He gently pecked her lips again and with a soft movement he pulled out from her and lay on his back, his hand rubbing his chest. After a little pause he felt Stella turn into him and her head lay on his chest, his arm curling round her shoulder as she sniffed a little, turning her face into his sternum.

“It’s gonna be okay, Stelly.” He pressed a kiss to her head.

It was lame, but it was all he could thing to say. He wasn’t surprised when she didn’t reply, and there wasn’t another word spoken between the two of them before they both fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.

****

Stella woke the next morning, her bare back pressed into a hard, muscled chest and didn't even need to turn round to know whose arm was thrown round her waist. As the memories of what had happened the night before flooded her brain she squeezed her eyes closed, taking a deep, shuddering breath, fighting the urge to snuggle further back into the arms of the man she knew so well. Instead, she gently untangled herself from Jensen and without a glance back headed quietly into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She glanced in the mirror and grimaced as she saw the previous day’s make up was streaked all over her face. Grabbing her cleanser from her toiletries bag she wiped it away, tossing the cotton pads into the trash before she turned on the shower and stepped into the stream. She stood there for a while, her face titled to meet the water as it beat down on her, washing away the silent tears that were pouring down her cheeks.

Ten minutes or so later she stepped out, almost working on auto pilot and dried herself off, before grabbing one of the hotel provided towel robes. Once wrapped in it, she squeezed the water out of her hair, dragged a brush through it and then opened the door.

Just as expected, Jensen was still flat out in the bed, although he'd now turned onto his back. It had always been a joke between the two of them that he could sleep through a damned earthquake after a heavy drinking session, yet never failed to hear his alarm. Stella took a moment to study his face, a face she knew by heart, every freckle and line, the curve of his nose and angle of his jaw. Biting her lip, she moved towards the back of the room, made herself a coffee as quietly as she could before she retrieved her phone from her purse that had been tossed down carelessly the night before and headed out onto the balcony, closing the doors behind her.

She sank into one of the chairs, tucking her legs under her and glanced at the screen. There wasn't much battery left but she had a couple of missed calls. One from Clay and another form Cougar, both probably wondering where she had bailed to, and one from Evan. She swallowed as she also spotted she had a message from him too.

Ev- Hey, Pumpkin. Look, I'm so sorry about how things went down the other night. I overreacted, and that's on me. I really hope you're having a good time. Please call me when you can, and we can talk when you're home xx

Stella felt the guilt twist in her gut even more and she gave a sigh, tossing her phone onto the table.

"He’ll never be able to fuck you the way I can, because he doesn’t know you like I do."

Jakes voice rattled around her head and she took a dep breath, looking over the balcony down at the pool area below. Try as she might, she couldn't even deny he was right. The sex with Evan wasn't bad, in fact she would go as far as saying it was pretty damned good, likely to be earth shattering to most women. But, to her, there had always been something that held her back.

And now she was forced to admit head on what she'd been trying to deny for months. It was because he wasn't Jake.

Jake Jensen had worked her way into his heart from the day they had met when they were merely eleven years old, and try as she might she couldn't shake him. That year they had been apart, she'd tried so hard, and had been sure she'd managed, and then she'd seen him and they'd fucked, and fallen back into that awful cycle of being together but not being together.

She couldn't stay with Evan. She'd known that even before last night had happened but the fact she'd basically opened her legs so easily for Jensen went to prove that she didn't love Evan, and she wasn't sure she ever would.

She took a shuddering breath and then her attention jerked upwards as Jake opened the balcony door, his hair mussed, top half bare as he rubbed his eyes, his glasses in his hand.

"Hey." he offered, almost shyly and Stella gave him a nod.

"Hi."

There was an awkward silence as he sat down on the chair opposite her, slipping his glasses onto his nose. He watched as she avoided his gaze, glancing over the balcony, occasionally looking at her hands which were worrying one another. Eventually, he could stand it no more and he reached over to take her hands in his.

"Stel, look, last night..."

"Last night was a mistake." She spoke, her eyes locking onto his. Jensen felt his gut churn, her words an icy blade digging into his heart.

"So, you’re just gonna pretend like it didn't happen and go back to that prick?" Jensen looked at her, his voice measured and Stella shook her head.

"No, I can't do that. Not now. Me and Evan are over, I'm gonna tell him when we get back. I don't love him, you're right. Because if I did I would never have given in and slept with you." She licked her lips.

Jake swallowed and looked down at his hands which were clasped around hers before he raised his head to stare her straight in the eye. "I'm sorry." he said eventually. "I'm sorry if you felt like, well, like I pushed you..."

"No, that's not what I'm saying." She squeezed his fingers. "I just, me and you, we can't keep doing this. We go round and round in circles and…" She took a shuddering breath as she trailed off, unable to articulate what she was trying to say.

"No, I get it." Jake gave her a small smile. He let go of her hands and stood up. "I should probably erm, go,” he gestured to the door, “I need to shower before breakfast and the taxi to the airport arrives."

"Okay." She nodded.

She watched him open the door to head inside, before he paused and turned to face her.

"I know you said what happened last night was a mistake, but I just want you to know that I wouldn’t change it for the world."

With that he gave her a final smile and headed back into the hotel room. Stella could see him through the glass doors as he hastily dressed, before without so much as another word he left, and as she heard the door to her room close, the tears once more began to fall.

**** Chapter 7 Part 3

[itsmoonphobic]

𝐓𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤. ☾︎

𝑁𝑒𝑤 𝑄𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡!: 𝑀𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑟,𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑢𝑛𝑏𝑒𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒.

-> For my friends [a group of losers :)] Thank you,it's been a hell of a run,but all good things must come to an end one day. I will come visit soon,until then: I'll be lurking somewhere in the shadows. ☁️

"𝑰𝒕'𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓,𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒈𝒐 𝒐𝒏." ❥︎

moon's time on mcytblr election server: 10/12/2020 - 05/17/2021 ❣︎

He felt cold.It had been so long since he felt this cold.His head was clouded,throbbing with regret and guilt of the things he said.It felt like somebody was constantly ripping his mind apart,putting it back together and taking it apart all over again.His hands shook, pale fingertips tracing his black gloves aimlessly and blue eyes shining brightly under the dark indigo sky. Moon ruffled his wings,cupping his back with the furred leather in an attempt to comfort himself and calm down his beating heart. The hollow bones hummed,crisp wind gliding over their shells and further cold nestling into his veins. No clouds were on the canvas above him,only little shimmering freckles splattered across the deep colored tarp. Moon cocked his head to the side,observant orbs gliding over the stretching landscape ahead of him. The tavern was close now,the phantom hybrid could pick up the faint chatter of people,gentle strumming of guitars,and soft ballads. The lights of houses,vibrant mosaic windows of the church he remembered visiting as a child. Moon breathed deeply,closing his eyes and nuzzling his face further into the black mask covering his nose.

His thoughts continue to buzz. He missed them. He hurt them. The young hybrid would never forgive himself for making his family and friends cry,no matter how many times they reassured him they weren't upset. Was he being selfish? He shook his head, black hair messily falling over his eyes,he brushed the strands away with the back of his hand. Teeth gritting and nose scrunching up in the process,his hair was a disaster - just like the rest of him. The assassin sighed,dropping his shoulders and retracting his wings under his black robe. They felt heavy,he didn't want to fly tonight,flying was considered a award and Moon definitely didn't deserve one after what he did tonight.The black haired hybrid rubbed at his eyes tiredly,everything felt wrong.His ears perked up at the far dong of the city bells,it ringed too loud for his liking. His sensitive senses were overwhelmed by every little noise surrounding him. Bugs and mice crawling over the moist grass under him,bubbling brooks and croaking frogs sitting by the flowing water of the river close by.

Moon clasped his hands over his pointed ears,taking a moment to calm himself and cool down. He couldn't keep this behavior up,it was unnatural for him to act like this - act so vulnerable. He hated this side of him,he wanted to cut it off with one of his blades, throw it away and never have to experience it again. Though,like most things are in life,it wasn't that simple. He would pull his knees to his chest,curl his tail around them,drape his wings over his shoulders and turn into a ball of his own fears and worries. Moon dropped his hands down abruptly,eyes filling up with tears and glazing over his blue eyes. Near. Near would hug him. They would open their arms and wait for Moon to accept their embrace himself,not wanting to push the unstable hybrid further by ambushing him with physical affection. Moon's lips quirked up - the motion so small that not even he himself seemed to catch up to it. He will miss that. He will miss it alot.

Moon cracked his neck,straightened his back and rolled his wrists. He needed to keep moving for tonight,he knew a place he could spend the night and in reality it didn't matter when he would arrive there,but his head is pounding and his thighs are aching. He just wanted to eat,drink some hot beverage and sleep. He slid his tounge over his canines,propping his hands on his knees and jumping off of the branch he was settled on. His black combat boots landed soundlessly on the furry moss,it felt nice. After a moment of processing and calculating the route that would lead him to the tavern the fastest,the hybrid was on his feet and running away into the night - his slender form blending perfectly into the shadows.

•

To say Moon was happy to be in the town center again would be a big fucking lie. It was loud,crowded and the smells were intense. Being a ghost story amongst the lands was making his problems only worse,he couldn't stroll carelessly down the brick concrete path,he needed to hide. His black hood covered his head,a shadow casted over his face and keeping him anonymous to the world. He watched the people casually,pings of jealousy climbing along his brain like wines on trees. Little kids were dragging their friends along,enthusiastic hands grabbing eachother's limbs.Their laughter and giggles filled his ears and his eyes furrowed in annoyance.The image of Violet and Rib popped up in his head. Two overly irritating brats that only seemed to get on Moon's nerves whenever he arrived at the guild. Yet the hybrid smirked fondly,he adored the two like his own siblings and would kill anyone who even dared to look at the them the wrong way. It sparked a flame of protectiveness in him that Moon never knew he could have over a pair of bothersome kids.

Moon's head peeked up behind the alleyway,his eyes cold. He scanned the crowd,spotting the tucked away motel in a corner. It wasn't far now,he just needed to successfully navigate his way though the ocean of people. The assasin pushed his back away from uncomfortable surface behind him and looked at it with disgust,middle finger flying up. Moon's hands pulled his hood down futher,extra precautions to keep himself safe. With one final sigh of uncertainty the hybrid collected all of his confidence that seemed to dissapear under all the stress,and headed towards the oak wooden doors. Focusing perfectly still,trying his hardest not to pry his eyes away from his goal and get distracted by the shiny jewelry and crystals being sold all around him. Kiosks lined the streets,both sides filled with diverted goodies that he just wanted to touch and maybe even slip them into his pockets unknowingly.

He had money,golden coins and silver medals. But the thrill of stealing was just so much more fulfilling. He knew it was morally wrong,blinking away the fact that he was a trained killer,but it didn't bother him in the slightest,Moon stopped thinking about morals a long time ago.He shook his head once again,stomach growling loudly under piles of felt and cloth. He cringed,grabbing his belly irritatingly - a pathetic attempt to stop his hunger.His throat burned,a dry wasteland dancing over his tounge. Thankfully Moon made his way over to his sanctuary for the night without problems. His feet stopped automatically infront of the small timber doors leading into the pub,cracks and ripped bark decorated the pale wood. The phantom hybrid pushed against the doors lightly,opening them in a swift motion.

Immediately the smell of cheese,dried ham,honey and bread filled his nostrils. Rum and beer,wine and herbal teas. Smoked salmon pomegranate and roasted oranges. He picked up many fragrances. And he enjoyed them to the fullest, some were stronger than others but he couldn't deny they were pleasant. Bright eyes inspected the large citadel.Dark spruce tables and chairs,cussions made of cotton,soft wool and silk. His fingers twitched,he knew they were soft,he wanted to lay his head on them and breathe in the smell of lavender and mothballs. An image flashed again. Goose used to give him scented candles to help him fall asleep. They were nice to him,they always helped around the guild. He would give them lettuce and greens in return as a thank you.Moon pushed them aside,he needed to focus on the task at hand,getting his hands on some proper food to satisfy his empty stomach.

He dragged his feet across the dirty floor,boards creaking loudly under his heavy steps.The sound attracting curious faces. Silence overtook the room slowly,the sound awfully loud. Moon didn't react,he knew they were directed at him. He could feel more and more sets of eyes settle on his form,unnerving shivers traveling along his spine. His wings shuffled quickly - defense mechanism. Puzzled murmurs filled the space of the bar,the people clearly confused about the mysterious stranger. Moon was pretty sure he looked like death itself at the moment,dark clothes covering his body,knives rattling threateningly,face completely redacted. He didn't spare any of them a glance,knowing how they would react. Fear and commotion was the last thing he wanted to cause with his presence.

'For the love of god I just want to eat some fuckin' food in peace'

With long but slow strides Moon made his way over to the bar. His thoughts from earlier in the forest slowly creepin back into his brain and biting at his cold pricked skin. Goosebumps tenderly rose over his arms and collarbone,he felt them tingle. It almost made him stop in his tracks but he kept pushing his tired feet towards the chair. He gripped the smooth wooden object rougher than intended and a soft 'sorry' brushed past his lips. The bartender stiffened,eyes widening for a brief second before collecting herself again. Moon eyed her carefully under his hood. Her skin was peachy tanned,blonde curly hair pulled up in a simple bun,eyes the color of his birth stone,Peridot. She didn't seem to catch his piercing eyes,instead shakingly grabbing one of the clean glasses and drying them off. Her back was turned to him,but he easily noticed the way she would throw a sneaky look at him over her shoulder. He took in her white dress,spiraling designs flowing over her waist,colorful flowers sprawled down her chest.

Moon breathed. It was hard,exhausting just to take a small huff of air and release it again. He kept the warm air inside longer than expected and huffed it out tardily. His head was still hurting like a bitch,like somebody breaking his shull open with their bare fists. Another imagine crossed his mind. The cozy atmosphere and smells of the motel made him recall buried memories,times when he felt warm and safe. The hybrid dropped his head tiredly,rubbing his face exhaustingly.He pulled at his mask warily,giving it a second thought before finally deciding on not caring any longer. He needed to relax,needed to feel human. His hood stayed up. Songs started playing again in the background,the aura in the pub returning to the one he felt when he entered through the doors.

It was nice. He would occasionally pick up on a few cautious looks but his body was too tired to react. His elbow rested on the desk infront of him,his other hand flying to his knife holder instinctively. Empty. He fumbled with the holsters hastily,sharp blades touching his exposed fingers,but one spot -his favorite spot- was empty. Where the fu- oh.

<- memory lane ->

"Vibes."

The owner of the name looked at the black haired assassin expectedly. Their big grey eyes lightning up with curiosity,soft dimples sneaking onto their face. Moon smiled fondly at his friend, tenderly taking their hand in his - never breaking eye contact. Vibes watched cautiously as the hybrid reached towards his ribs, guiding his gloved hand towards his knife holders. Vibes gasped, breath cutting short as they observed what Moon was holding out towards them. Soft yet fond whispers were heard behind them,yet both of them chose to ignore them and focus on the special moment being shared between them.

"I need you to take care of something very important for me while I'm gone okay?"

The silver blade reflected gleamingly under the torches and chandelier of the guild citadel. Sharp edges and curved points. Tiny,barely visible if not payed enough attention to,engraved lettering on the shiny metal.

Simon.

Vibes' eyes glanced up at Moon contentedly,their grin further widening as the realization finally fully hit them. The masked assasin flicked their forehead playfully,Vibes letting out a small 'oof' at the impact of Moon's slender finger against their skin.The phantom hybrid smirked teasingly,ruffling their hair warmly.His ego tugging harshly at his heart strings in the process. He pushed the feeling far away,concentrating on making his last visit a memorable one. His lips returned to their usual bored line,sharp canines peaking over ever so slightly.

Vibes stopped messaging their now reddened skin and patiently waited for Moon to continue. Said hybrid once again held out his palm,this time however the blade was weightlessly resting upon it. Unsure hands reached out towards the sharp weapon,grey eyes beaming up at the phantom. Moon understood the wordless question: 'Are you sure about this?'

"Go ahead."

Moon couldn't help it,for the hundredth time that night he smiled. He watched as Vibes dragged their finger pads,nails and palms over the knife. Taking in the weapon from every angle in awe.They stopped their movements,locking eyes with Moon once again:

"I'll take good care of him!"

Moon rested his hand on their shoulder,their marigold hoodie crinkling under its weight. He breathed.

"He's in good hands."

<- end of memory lane ->

Right. He gave Simon to Vibes. Moon once again couldn't help but feel the threat of a smile ghost over his lips - Vibes. They were a good friend,somebody he got along with from the moment he joined their little group. His trust in them grew over the months, everyone probably saw it coming that Simon would end up theirs.

"Moon?"

The hybrid's eyes shot up,a little too fast to be considered normal, at the mention of his name. Hands flying to grip his knives and wings threatening to escape under his robes. The moment he caught the female's eyes he stopped in his tracks.

Des.

He relaxed,falling back into his chair. He calmed down the rushing of blood in his ears,head thundering at the combination. His pale eyes watched as the giddy female propped both of her elbows down on the wooden bar table and she comfortably rested her chin on her crossed hands. Her brown hair was disheveled,soft hazel eyes searching for his blue ones. Her freckles dotted over her milky skin as always,a big contrast to his paper white color.She wore her simple white button up,few of them popped open to expose he collarbone,denim overalls keeping it in place.The last time Moon saw her she wore the exact same outfit and the hybrid really started to think that she either didn't own any other ones or that it was simply put her favorite.

She reminded him of Clove. He missed them the most- the two of them had their fair share of memories and even though they still send eachother letters every day,he misses their personal conversations. He left only a few hours ago but it felt like he was gone for months,years,decades. Clove was nice. Moon's eyes filled with a thin cover of salty tears,blinking them away swiftly before they could spill over. Clove and him used to go on walks together, they would talk about all the stupid and useless shit that came to mind,he liked their company.

They would bail him out of time out and sometimes even drag his ass in there themselves.He breathed.

"My,my - look what the cat dragged in." Des didn't even make any effort to hide her surprised and teasing tone while she threw her question at him.Moon shifted slightly in his seat,wings lowering back to their natural pressed form.He slid his mask off of his face, blinking dull up at her. She noticed his unsure movements. Not wanting to further rile him up,Des dropped the joking manner and instead happily asked him what he wanted to order.

"The usual please."

Des smiled,nodding her head at him sharply before turning away and beginning to prepare him his food and drink. Caramel glazed aprikot cheesecake and Strawberry citrus tea,Moon's favorite.The young hybrid had found his way into her hub for many years now and she knew him like the back of her hand. He used to arrive regularly,once or twice a week. She knew the assassin wasn't really able to settle down without bounty hunters being on his tail and searching the whole town when people would say they spotted the infamous 'Nighchaser' running through the streets. But things changed when Moon only started arriving once per month,his attitude along with his hair being well taken care of. She had asked him where he spent his time and he always replied the same:

"With a group of morons."

Des knew,of course she did. She knew the young hybrid found a place where he actually liked going back to,she figured he had people waiting for him back there,somewhere. Time passed and she watched him grow up,bringing back more and more stories from this mysterious place where he stayed at and introducing her to new people everytime he stopped by on his travels. He grew on her and Des knew that whoever those people were,they made Moon feel happy and that's what mattered the most.

Her hands gripped the porcelain plate gingerly,petite hands cartying the sweet goodness over to the tired assassin. She noticed his dark bags the moment he placed down his mask.They were a stark contrast to the color of his skin,ghostly pale. She didn't comment on it,she simply placed down his meal and watched as he stared at it hungrily. Moon gave a low hum of appreciation and started to dig into his food.

•

"So", Des started,Moon watched as she washed off the last of his dirty dishes and placed them organized on the counter above her, "where are you heading to this time?" Moon glanced at his hands, his thumbs twirling around eachother,fidgeting quickly while he thought about his answer.

"I don't know." He had told her truthfully,shoulders shrugging. Becouse honestly? He really had no clue where to go from here. His decision to move on and explore the world by himself was abrupt and sudden but he knew it was right,he knew his friends and family weren't mad at him but he was still angry at himself for leaving them behind. He loved them but he also knew he had to take care of himself. He wanted to scream,cry and rip his hair out becouse he felt like absolute shit. All of his worries and guilt that were lingering at the back of his head now came rushing in and they uncomfortably sat atop of his shoulders. He just wanted to sleep and let the darkness consume him so he could shut off everything around him.He breathed.

He missed them alot. Fox,even if he wanted to bash their head in most of the time made him smile. Dis,his grandma was a kind soul, she was always nice to him even if she did get on his nerves. He knew many people,he still knows them and he will keep it that way till the day he dies,he will carry their names in his head into his grave. Moon shuddered a breath,slowly getting up from his chair, interrupting Des before she could question him further:

"I'll head off for tonight,thanks for the food." With a small wave of his hand,Moon grabbed his bag and climed up the staircase, red rugs removing any trace he stepped on them , where he knew a soft bed filled with blankets and warm milk with honeycomb waited for him.

"Anytime little one." Des smiled.

•

Dropelts of water fell from his hair,the smell of tulips and eucalyptus danced in the air,flushing delicately against his torso. The room was quiet,windows wide open letting him hear the hushed howls of wolves and crickets chirping,moths gliding with the cool summer wind.Moon tangled his hands into his wet hair, fingers untangling his wild locks.His eyes closed as he slowly massaged his scapl,nails ever so slightly scratching the sensitive skin on his head.He had changed his clothes,neatly piling them up on the rocking chair in the far left corner of the small room. His tail swung carelessly behind him,the bones rattling against the wooden floor. He hid away his wings,laying his bare back against the soft,fresh bed covers. Blankets and pillows drowning him in the best way possible. He sighed contently,looking out towards the clear sky and resting his gaze on the moon.

In that moment the phantom hybrid smiled,a tear slipping quietly down his cheek. His hand came up to brush it away - but they kept coming back no matter how many times he wiped them off. The assasin draped the covers over his chest,muscles relaxing into the soft material almost instantly. His head cooled down and for the first time that night Moon breathed properly.

He breathed,closing his eyes and finally got the rest he wanted.

He loved his friends to the moon and back. ♡

<- Author's note ->

Hi. This is a little something I wrote for my dear friends over on the mcytblr election server. You guys changed my life these past months and I can't thank you enough for that. I needed to take a rest,move on and chase my dreams - no matter how cheesy that sounds we simply ignore it. I love you all so much and I will definitely,not only visit,but return one day to tell you all about how crazy the world gets out there.

Love you idiots :)

[Ps: Story is set in my personal AU of the discord - I didn't manage to personally mention all people individually so bare with me: You all are important to me <3]

[justatiredpotato]

Set Me Free | Chapter 7 (Ending)

Chapter List

Pairing: hybrid!Yoongi x human!reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, coffee shop AU, hybrid AU

Word Count: Chapter: 4,000~  Total: 40,000~

Updates daily at 10pm MST

Warnings: mentions of physical abuse, injuries, blood, trauma, a lot of crying but there’s a happy ending I swear

Summary: Yoongi, a cat hybrid, has been hurt time and time again by a world that would have him believe he’s worthless. One day he finds himself in your protective care, and gets a new family to boot. But is it really that easy to escape the past and embrace a new beginning?

Author’s Note: In this fic the reader’s name is Yeoji

Another Author’s Note: Thank you so much to everyone who has read this fic! It took a long time for me to finish and edit, but I’m so glad I finally got the idea out of my head and into the world. I’ve been kicking around ideas for a little epilogue (something short and fluffy) if anyone would be interested in that. I also have plans for future fics with the other boys in this same AU. :)

As soon as you recognized the man in the video, you called the police. Kwon Hyunjoong’s name wasn’t unfamiliar to the city police. They’d had multiple run-ins with him investigating hybrid crimes. But he was always careful enough to worm his way out of the charges. The lax hybrid rights laws didn’t help the situation. Even with all the progress and new policies implemented in recent years there was often next to nothing that could be done to stop the atrocities. Fortunately, since Yoongi was registered as yours, the police could pursue it as a theft and potentially damage to personal property. Depending on the degree of harm, it could be brought to trial as an animal abuse case. You didn’t like it, but it was the only way they could help you. 

The problem was that Hyunjoong had multiple establishments at different locations, so the police weren’t sure where to start looking. Luckily the head of the hybrid crimes division, Detective Moon Bora, was more than happy to take it as an opportunity for a police raid on several of his known locations. Hopefully that would give them a chance to gather evidence and shut at least part of his operation down. Still, you needed to find the place he’d taken Yoongi too. You remembered the business card the snake of a man had given you when he came into the cafe. You quickly dialed Jin, who was still at your apartment with the rest of the guys.

“Jin, can you look for something in my desk? It’s a business card, mostly purple with some kind of logo on it. Should say the name Kwon Hyunjoong on it,” you said, not bothering with a hello.

“On it,” Jin said. You heard his footsteps and then the shuffling as he rifled through your desk drawers. “Got it! The Eclipse Club. *** W. **th Street. Is that where he is?”

“Maybe,” you responded, then hung up. You quickly called the police back and told them what was on the card. They assured you’d they’d send units there immediately, but you couldn’t bring yourself to just wait. So you snagged Namjoon’s keys out of his pocket and ran back to the car. By the time he, Jimin, and Jungkook caught up you were already pulling out of the parking lot. Namjoon banged on the window and tugged at the door handle but the doors had locked automatically when you put it in drive and there was no way you were stopping the car. You didn’t even glance in the rearview as you drove away, not seeing your little brother run his hands through his hair in frustration, Jungkook frantically dialing for a cab, and Jimin watching with wide, frightened eyes.

You punched the address into your phone’s GPS at the next light. To say you were speeding would be an understatement of comical proportions, but none of the cops that zipped past you with their sirens blaring, seemed to care. It both comforted and terrified you to see the pure volume of police heading to the same destination as you. You pulled up in front of the club to find several police cars already stopped near the entrance. The officers were trying to set up a perimeter so no potential witnesses or perpetrators could slip away. They weren’t being nearly as cautious about letting people in, so you managed to shoulder your way through the writhing crowd of sweaty and inebriated club-goers. 

Once inside you suddenly felt overwhelmed. You had no idea where to start looking. With no better ideas, you started elbowing people aside and moving through the building, screaming Yoongi’s name. A young girl—she couldn’t have been more than nineteen—with round black ears nestled in her curly white hair bumped into you. One of her eyes was blacked and a split ran through her pretty doll-like lip. She hurried to apologize, straightening her microscopic tulle skirt as she bowed. You quickly grabbed her arm drawing her eyes back up to meet yours.

“Yoongi!” you shouted at her. She frowned, understandably confused. “I’m looking for a guy called Yoongi,” you said again, leaning closer in hopes she could hear you better over the deafening sound of the crowd and the music still blaring through the speakers.

“Yoongi?” she said, clearly not recognizing the name. Your heart sank as you realized with horror that Kwon Hyunjoong might not have brought Yoongi here. “Yeah. Smallish guy, soft cheeks, honey-blond hair, little black cat hears and tail.” You described, hoping to jog her memory.

“Suga?” she said, coming to a realization. “They just brought him back. The master took him to the cage.” She nodded to a hallway in the back where several police officers were already shoving their way though the crowd. “He looked angry,” she added with a frown, ears twitching nervously.

“Thank you,” you said, giving her arm a squeeze as you started pushing through the crowd again. You reached the hallway relatively easily but your progress slowed when you came upon a crowd of officers gathered around a doorway, trying to usher two burly men in handcuffs through the throngs of inebriated people. You continued pushing your way through, managing to escape their notice for the most part even as you elbowed a few cops in the ribs. When you got close enough to the doorway you saw a set of metal stairs leading down, and heard a familiar voice echoing up the passage. Even in the form of pained wails and animal panic, you knew that voice.

“Yoongi!” you screeched, lurching past the last two people between you and the door. You practically fell down the stairs in your haste, the cops behind you shouting at you to stop. The officer at the door downstairs was shocked still for a moment by the appearance of your small, frantic frame. He came back to himself as you pushed past him, and he caught your arm to prevent you from entering. The wild swing of your arm caught you both off guard as you wrenched your arm free, stumbling forward onto your hands and knees and catching the officer in the jaw with a backhand in the process.

“Hey, stop right there!” the man shouted, but you were already moving toward the pale figure trying to make himself disappear into the corner. Yoongi hunkered there, pale and shaking in just a pair of boxers. Blood splattered the fabric where it dripped from lashes in his back and thighs. Two police officers, a man and a woman, stood a few feet away trying to get closer to help.

“What do we do?” the man asked.

“I don’t know. We might have to tranquilize him if he won’t let us get close.”

“S***, I hate to do it though. He’s already pretty messed up.” The male officer eyed the tranq gun in his hand unhappily.

“He needs medical attention thou-” the woman started. You’d heard more than enough. 

“Yoongi!” you cried again, sprinting across the room to him, the officer from the door right on your heels.

“Miss, stop! It’s dangerous.”

You got within a few feet of Yoongi, but pulled up short when he hissed, actually hissed at you. He tried to shuffle further away. That was when you noticed one of his legs stretched out, held by a chain bolted to the center of the room. Everytime he tried to escape further the chain bit into his flesh, the skin already raw and bleeding there.

“Yoon? Sweetheart, it’s me. It’s Yeoji-noona. Yoongi, baby, please.” 

His head lifted just the tiniest bit as he looked at you. “Noona?” he said weakly. His voice was raw and wobbly, barely audible, but that was all you needed to hear. You were at his side in a heartbeat. He finally moved forward a bit, no longer pulling against the chain and you heard him draw a breath through his teeth at the sting as the metal shifted against the wound on his ankle. He pressed himself to you, burying his face in your chest. You did your best to hold him without touching the raw skin of his back. 

You pulled away for a moment and he sobbed, panicked, so you hurried to peel off your sweater and pull it over his body. He didn’t even put his arms through the sleeves, more concerned with getting as close to you as possible. Your scent enveloping him made him feel so safe despite the intense pain he was in, and that only made him sob harder. You knew the movement from crying so hard must hurt considering how bad his injuries were, so you patted his hair soothingly, wrapping an arm over his waist and hip—the least damaged section of skin you could find—to hold him closer. It took a moment to realize that it wasn’t just his cries filling the room, you were crying with him. 

The cops gave up on pulling you away from him, so you sat like that for several minutes. The voices in the room seemed very far away, not that you could hear very well anyway over your own breathing and pounding heartbeat. Someone touched your shoulder, lightly trying to pull you away. You shook them off with a terrified cry that didn’t even seem human. It was a primal wail of heartbreak and terror at even the hint of separating you from Yoongi.

“Noona.” A warm voice broke through your emotional haze. “Noona, hyung, it’s Hoseok. It’s okay. We’ve got you.”

You lifted your face from where it was buried in Yoongi’s hair, and found Hoseok standing there, emergency response bag in hand.

“Hobi,” you said, voice barely holding. “Help him.” Despite your words, you didn’t let Yoongi go, only turning with him in your arms so Hoseok could get a look at his back. He packed some gauze onto the wounds and then waved over two men with a stretcher.

“We’ve gotta get him to a hospital. The staff at my hospital is fantastic, they’ll look after you.” You bristled as the two paramedics settled Yoongi on his stomach on the stretcher, never letting go of his hand.

“You aren’t coming with us?” you asked. 

“Yoongi-hyung isn’t the only person here who needs medical attention. Some of them are going straight to the shelter. I need to stay and help out.”

“Take us to the shelter too,” you decided. “Someone else can go to the hospital. I only trust you and Jin’s staff.”

“Noona…”

“Hoseok,” Yoongi, mumbled into the cushion of the stretcher. He winced as he spoke, not continuing, but you both took it as him weighing in on the argument. Hoseok sighed and turned to the paramedics.

“Take them to Remedy shelter. Taehyung will be waiting for you at the emergency entrance.” Hoseok placed a comforting kiss on top of your head and hurried off to help elsewhere.

The ambulance ride was silent and tense as you hovered over the paramedics’ every move. You shot daggers at them when Yoongi so much as winced. You knew it wasn’t their fault, but your protective instincts were in overdrive, especially after having failed him so recently.

Taehyung was indeed waiting at the emergency entrance for you. Other ambulances were also unloading patients. Apparently Detective Moon had been serious about the extent of the raids taking place that night. Tae was frantically checking patients in and dealing with drivers and medical staff.

“Yoongi-hyung!” he cried, abandoning the conversation he’d been having as soon as the ambulance doors opened. He appeared around the door, eyes puffy and red, obvious tear tracks staining his cheeks. His voice hiccuped as he spoke and it made more tears fall from your eyes. To be honest they had never really stopped. Yoongi didn’t answer, passed out from a combination of pain, pain-killers, and exhaustion. Tae looked at you anxiously, the question clear in his eyes.

“He’s- He’ll be okay. I think he’ll be okay,” was all you managed.

A doctor met you at the door. He was young, handsome, and remarkably calm. “Dr. Ko Shinwon,” he introduced himself as the paramedics wheeled Yoongi to a trauma bay and transferred him to a hospital bed. They briefed Dr. Ko on Yoongi’s condition before returning to the ambulance. A nurse stepped in to assist him as Dr. Ko started working.

“Miss, I’m going to have to ask you to wait outside,” another nurse asked. She placed a gentle hand on your arm to guide you away.

“No! No, I can’t leave him.” You stepped closer to Yoongi’s side. 

“Miss, I really have to insist.”

Yoongi groaned, making Dr. Ko and the nurses glance at him. He slipped his hand off the edge of the bed and felt for your fingers, threading them together and holding on tightly. “Noona, please,” he whimpered.

“It’s fine, Nurse Jung. Please just try to keep out of the way, miss.” He gave you a serious, appraising look before going about his tasks. You crouched next to Yoongi, gently petting his hair and whispering sweet nonsense, shushing and cooing every time he winced at pain that managed to cut through the numbing. The stitches were the worst part, and it was all you could do to avert your eyes and not pass out. Once the wounds were dressed Dr. Ko excused himself to see his next patient and the nurses checked monitors and IVs. They told you to call if anything changed, then slipped out and pulled the curtain shut.

A few moments later Yoongi shuddered and whimpered a little. “Cold,” he said. 

You straightened and looked around, spotting a blanket folded in the cupboard next to the bed. You pulled it out with the hand Yoongi wasn’t clinging to and draped it over him. Then you paused, considering. Yoongi shivered again and you quickly made up your mind, slipping under the blanket next to him. Your body was only half way on the bed, wanting to leave more than enough room for him, but you didn’t care. He immediately shifted, wincing a little at the movement, and settled with his head on your chest, side pressed tightly to yours. You ran your hands through his hair. 

You sat quietly for a while, listening as his breathing evened out and his muscles relaxed. The familiar warmth reminded you of the night before, and the thought brought tears to your eyes again. How could you have been so blind to Yoongi’s feelings? You hurt him so badly, and you almost lost him because of it. You held back from crying harder again, not wanting to disturb Yoongi, but your guilt over the whole situation ate at you.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, looking lovingly at the boy before you.

“‘m sorry, noona.” 

You startled at the sound of his voice, surprised he was listening. “Don’t be sorry, baby. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Made you uncomfortable. Shouldn’t have done that. Made you worry. ‘s bad. Sorry.”

“No. You didn’t do anything wrong. You aren’t bad. My sweet honey boy, you are so perfect. I love you,” you said. Your voice was thick with emotion but you said the words clearly, with certainty.

Yoongi chuckled, flinching as he did so. You could feel the movement against your chest. “Not the same. ’s okay. Doesn’t have to be the same. Just let me love you ‘n I’m okay.”

You craned your neck to look at him. “What if it is the same? Yoongi, it is the same. I love you so much, I can’t believe you haven’t seen through me yet.” He tilted his head up to face you, uncertainty creasing his brow. You smiled softly and ran your thumb over his face to smooth out the wrinkle. “I love you, Yoongi.” You hesitated for a moment, then leaned down and pressed a firm but gentle kiss to his lips. You’d imagined doing this an embarrassing number of times, but somehow, they were even softer than you expected. The kiss only lasted a second before you pulled away, examining his face for a reaction. He didn’t disappoint, gracing you with the gummy smile that could single-handedly keep your heart beating. His eyelids were heavy, but he clearly had things to say.

“Love you,” he mumbled. His next words were more or less unintelligible.

“Shh,” you stopped him, running your fingers through his hair and scratching gently at his ears. “Talk tomorrow.”

He grumbled a protest, but didn’t try to say anything more. Instead he leaned his face up toward you expectantly. You chuckled and gave him three quick pecks, one on his forehead, one on his button nose, and one on his pouty lips. He smiled into that last kiss, then nuzzled into your neck where your scent was strongest. The combination of your perfume and your natural fragrance lulled him into unconsciousness within minutes, one of his hands finding the soft flesh of your hip to knead at. You smiled, wiped the tears from your cheeks with your free hand, and closed your eyes.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Yoongi was in the hospital for two weeks. The beating had done some internal damage and the doctors were concerned about infection in the lacerations on his back. The boys helped out, taking care of things at the cafe so you could spend every possible moment by Yoongi’s bedside. 

The relief you felt when they gave him the okay to go home was indescribable. It felt like you finally had permission to get back to normal. But of course, things weren’t entirely back to normal. Sometimes it felt like all the progress Yoongi made when he came to live with you had evaporated. He was jumpy and timid again, shying away from the boys when they came around. He even flinched away from you sometimes when you moved too fast. 

You realized quickly that you couldn’t have him working with the public in the cafe again. Not yet. So Jimin and Jungkook picked up extra shifts whenever they could. You thanked them at least once every time you saw them, but they just brushed you off. You had to fight tooth and nail for them to take the pay for their extra hours. Every time you had to leave Yoongi and look after the business it broke your heart. He always watched you walk out the door as if you might not come back to him.

One particularly warm spring afternoon Jimin burst into the cafe, running late and still wearing his clothes from dance practice.

“Sorry I’m late, noona! Let me go get changed,” he panted as he slipped behind the counter.

“No worries. You can use my room to change in.” You nodded back toward the apartment and he ran off to get cleaned up for work. When he reemerged barely ten minutes later he managed to look more put together than you did after a half hour of effort. His bubble-gum pink hair nicely coiffed instead of the disheveled state it was in when he arrived.

“How do you always look so nice?” you marveled. You reached up and scratched his ear, careful not to disturb his neatly styled hair. He purred happily at the compliment. You hoped someday Yoongi might purr as freely as Jimin did.

“Thanks!” Jimin smiled, eyes turning to little crescent lines as he did. “I can take it from here. You should get back to Yoongi-hyung.” He paused for a moment, like he wanted to say something else. “Noona, aren’t you guys…?” He let the words hang in the air, but you knew what he was asking.

The truth was, after your confession that night in the hospital, you hadn’t really talked about your relationship. With everything that happened, it just never seemed like the right time. You spent much of the time since then wrapped in Yoongi’s arms, or him in yours, even placing the occasional peck on his cheek. But it was like both of you feared going any further. You saw the hesitation in his eyes everytime he stood just a little too close to you, or looked into your eyes a little too long. He couldn’t seem to find the courage to say or do anything, and you didn’t want to push him too far. He would make a move when he was ready, right? 

You blinked, realizing Jimin had been waiting for you to speak while you stared into space. “I- I don’t know, Jimin. We were. At least I thought we were… something. I told him I loved him, in the hospital.” Jimin’s eyes widened, a hint of a smile on his lips. You leaned on the counter and let out a sigh before continuing. “He seemed happy. He even said it back. But we haven’t talked about it since then. He was so high on adrenaline and painkillers then, I’m not even sure he knew what he was saying.”

Jimin stopped you before you could make any more excuses. “He knew. Noona, he’s loved you for so much longer than you realize. But you know better than anyone else how scared he must be. If you rejected him, he might never recover, so he can’t do anything at all. I’m sure he feels like you’re too good for him. He needs you to assure him that you love him, and he deserves that.” You looked at Jimin, amazed at the wisdom he’d just dropped out of nowhere. He smiled, clearly pleased with the advice he’d given and your reaction. “I sounded pretty cool just now, huh?”

You grinned pulling him into a vicious bear hug. “Yes my sweet Chim Chim, you were super cool just now. Thank you.” You pulled back and he examined your face, clearly reading the nervousness there and in your scent. “I need to go talk to Yoongi.”

You took a steadying breath and he patted your shoulder. “Fighting!” he cheered as he waved you off.

Back in the apartment dinner was already finished. Yoongi was waiting at the table scrolling on his phone.

“I’m sorry I’m late Yoongs! Let me go change real quick.” You quickly peeled off your work clothes and put on shorts and a tank top, knowing the apartment was already warm, and it would be warmer when Yoongi inevitably wanted snuggles later. You returned to the table and took a chair across from him.

“Wow, this looks great!” You looked over the table, genuinely impressed. Yoongi had been cooking a lot lately. He found it was a relaxing way to pass his time, and he loved to see you enjoy what he prepared. You’d purchased several new kitchen tools and appliances for him, and he used them all. “Did you make this pasta yourself?” you asked, incredulous as he served you a generous slice of lasagna. Glancing at the kitchen counter you found the pasta press out, still dusted with flour. He nodded bashfully in response.

“This is my first attempt, so don’t expect too much. I’m just hoping it’s edible.” You both laughed and dug into the food. It was great. All of Yoongi’s first attempts seemed to end up delicious, unlike your kitchen misadventures.

After dinner you settled onto the couch together. He was sprawled half on top of you, laying between the back of the couch and your body, head on your shoulder. He was focused on the TV—he’d been watching obsessed with old Iron Chef episodes of late—but you were focused on him, hands gently stroking his hair and ears. A satisfied smile spread on your face when the now-familiar rumble started from his chest. You decided that now, when he was happy and relaxed, was as good a time as any to talk about everything.

“Yoon?” you called softly, brushing his hair off his forehead.

“Hm?” He looked up at you questioningly.

“Can we talk about something?” You tried to phrase it in a non-threatening way and keep your tone light, but his brow still furrowed as he grabbed the remote to pause his show.

“What do you want to talk about?” He propped himself up on one elbow and avoided your eyes.

“It’s nothing bad. At least I really hope not,” you said with a nervous laugh that did little to ease Yoongi’s anxiety. “Do you remember that first night in the hospital?” 

Yoongi’s eyes widened, then looked away again. Clearly he remembered something. “Some of it. It’s a little blurry in spots. What about it?”

“We… We talked about some things. Do you remember that?” You looked at him expectantly, but he stayed quiet. “I told you I love you,” you said quietly.

He looked at you sharply. “That was real?” he asked, almost more to himself than to you.

“What?”

“I thought I dreamed that. I was on so much pain medication that I figured I was hallucinating or something. You- You actually said that?” he asked, incredulous.

“Yes. And I meant it. I still mean it. I’d like to be more than just your friend, if that’s something you want.” You put a hand on his cheek so he’d hold your gaze, stroking it gently with your thumb. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Yoongi said without hesitation. His eyes were glassy and he studied your face for a moment. Half of him expected this to be a cruel prank, but you didn’t laugh. You just smiled softly, admiring the soft features of his face. You reached down to clasp your other hand with his.

“Does that mean you’ll be my boyfriend?” you asked, still somehow nervous now that everything was out in the open. 

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he kissed you. After a second he leaned back and looked at you to gage your reaction. You smiled and leaned up, bumping his nose with yours. He grinned and kissed you again. His lips moved against yours, gentle but you could feel the emotion in every move. You ran your fingers through his soft blond hair, tugging on it a little and he nipped teasingly at your lip. You let out a surprised gasp and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. You enthusiastically followed his lead, wrapping your leg over his hip to pull his body closer to yours. Your hand pulled free from his to rest on his waist. He shuddered as you trailed your fingers down his side. The hand not supporting his weight grabbed your hip. Your fingers found the edge of his t-shirt and slid under it, finding the warm skin of his back.

At the feeling of your fingers on his bare skin he tensed, breaking the kiss. You looked at him confused, but immediately stopped touching him, removing your leg and releasing your gentle grip on his hair. He sat up, his body shaking a little.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Are you okay?” you asked, growing concerned at his obvious distress.

“Yeah. Yeah, I just.” He squeezed his eyes shut and slowed his breathing. You waited, resting your hand palm up on your lap so he could take it if he wanted to. He did. He twined your fingers together and took a longer, slower breath before he spoke. “I’ve never had someone I actually like, y’know, touch me, or kiss me. It felt nice, but when you touched my skin, my scars…” Your fingers tightened on his hand, heart aching as you realized what he was getting at. “I just started to remember all the bad times, the bad people, the things they did, the things they made me do.”

“We can go as slow as you need. Whatever you’re comfortable with, that’s enough for me.”

He huffed, frustrated tears welling in his eyes. “I just- I want this. I love you and I trust you. I hate that I’m letting them take this from me; letting them beat me.”

“Hey.” You wiped a tear from his cheek and kissed his forehead. “They are not beating you. You’re here, with me. You are safe and healthy. You’re still able to love someone, and you are loved. You have a family. Despite everything you’ve been through, you survived. Sure, you have scars, but you’re working hard to heal. I am so proud of you, Yoongi. You deserve a happy ending, and you’ll get one. We both will.”

“You think?”

“I know. I promise, we’ll get through this.”

He nodded and lay back down, resting his head on your chest so he could listen to your heartbeat. You resumed the forgotten episode of Iron Chef and went back to playing with his hair. You were just dozing off, his purr lulling you to sleep, when Yoongi spoke again.

“Noona?”

“Mhm?”

“I really love you.”

You smiled, already half in a dream. “I love you too, honey boy.” You kissed his head and fell asleep with your face tucked in his hair.

[ask-those-dumbasses]

Lore Post About The Gods

There are many gods in this universe, we are only going to be talking about the relevant ones. Otherwise this is gonna turn into the Greek God family tree very fast and trust me we don’t want that. So, let’s talk about some gods!

The God of Time - Avus Tempus (Grandpa Time)

General information: 

The oldest god and the god that interacts with people the most, Avus Tempus is the most well known. He is the keeper of time, making sure it passes normally with no great disturbances. He watches as time passes, but does not interfere with mortal disagreements, even if he disapproves. He says that it is not his job to interfere.

Avus is older than time itself, and is the creator of the other gods. Avus was also the creator of the first Time Demons - which he calls his children with great glee. He has been given many nicknames over the years, with the most common being “Grandpa Time.” The limits to his powers are unknown, but is it commonly known that he can control the flow of time, and can open portals to different dimensions or various periods throughout time by roaring. People also know that he, with the help of his two direct children, Moíra and Apeiro, killed the Titan of War during his rampage.

(Bonus: Grandfather clocks were named after him)

Appearance: 

Avus appears as a long serpent like dragon with no arms or legs, green scales, golden horns and eyes, with long white hair down his spine and on his chin, making a beard of sorts. Legends say that his body extends forever, able to loop around the earth. Avus himself jokes that he has not ever seen his own tail. His fur is said to be as soft as clouds, and his scales are so tough that no spear could pierce it. However, despite being immortal, Avus himself is not completely immune to the effects of time. His eyes are pale and milky, showing that with age his sight has gotten very poor. Today he would be considered almost legally blind.

Where they live:

Avus lives in a huge palace on the top of the largest mountain on Earth. The mountain is called “Mortum Manga,” and is on the “Multi Ossa” mountain range. Inside his palace are intricate carvings on the walls that tell the history of the world, from Avus’ creaton on to current day. There is also a fountain which is called the “Fountain of Youth.” Contrary to popular belief, this fountain does not make you immortal or young, but instead heals all sicknesses. It was named the Fountain of Youth because it was used to cure a large plague that was mostly killing children. 

Along the side of the mountain is a small village called “The Village Of Lights.“ These people often interact with Avus directly. In fact, every 5 years they hold a festival where they light various sky lanterns and send them into the sky. Afterwards, Avus comes down to the village and talks to them. He specifically likes to meet with all of the children - who he likes to call his grandkids. 

Personality: 

He is an extremely friendly and passive god, often inviting people to come and have tea with him in his palace. Overall, Avus is very polite and is more than willing to shelter anyone if they ask. However that is difficult for most - since not only does he live atop the highest mountain, he also does look very intimidating. In reality he just wants to talk about how your day has been going. Avus is most certainly the kindest god that mortals can talk to. 

He tries his best to keep up with new terms, words, controversial topics, etc. Because of his old age it can be hard for him to keep up. He ends up coming across as that overly supportive and sweet grandparent that doesn't understand but is trying to. (Ex: “Are you a boy or a girl? I cannot tell. My vision isn’t what it used to be. Oh wait - are you one of those non-berries? Not binaries? So sorry I don’t remember.”). Because of his age he is also considered very knowledgeable and wise, and people will sometimes come to him or pray to him for advice and counsel. 

Avus is mostly considered to be extremely patient and calm, however there have been reports of him being fiercely protective of his “little village.” Those who have dared to harm those living or seeking refuge there have mysteriously ended up turned to stone. 

The God of Life, Death, and Fate - Apeiro

General Information:

Apeiro is the god of life and death, which means it’s their job to make sure life is balanced. Apeiro can keep populations down through plagues, famine, natural disasters, or other means. Aperio can also bless certain times with good crops, more births, or other means to make sure populations stay up if need be. It is important to remember that Aperio’s job is NOT to make life/death fair.  Apeiro also makes sure that spirits end up in their proper afterlife. Apeiro can also tug on the strings of fate, not manipulating them completely, but pushing them where they want it to go.

They stand against large acts of necromancy, however, they made a deal with Alita long ago. In this deal, Totems Of Undying were allowed to be created and sealed deep inside Jungle Temples. It is unknown exactly what Apeiro got in exchange for allowing this to happen but people have speculated that it has something to do with the existence of Wither Skeletons, which guard Nether Fortresses, and Withers, which can be made with a combination of three Wither Skulls and Soul Sand. 

Apeiro also assisted Avus and Moíra in taking down the Titan of War. 

Appearance:

They have a dark gray cloak/robe that wraps around them and flows dramatically to the floor. It drifts behind them, rippling and waving like there’s constantly a breeze. At the edges of the cloak there are dozens of tiny white stars. They don’t have a face, just a black shadow that flickers around the edges when you look directly at it (which is something you should never do). They do have hands that look like skeleton talons that float separately from their body since they do not have arms. They also have horns that used to merge as a sort of crown above their head. Now, from previous battles, those horns have been splintered and broken in two.

Where they live: 

Apeiro lives inside a castle, which has the foundation of the skeleton of an ancient colossal dragon. They live with their younger sister, Moíra. Apeiro specifically lives in the head - which has been remade into a massive throne room mixed with a fancy ballroom. The neck leading up to this room is a very long hallway that has many statues of many different people. These people are referred to as “Champions,” and they are previous winners of the Champion’s Cup. 

This skeleton castle is called the “Fossa Palace” and it can be found in the middle of the “Decaying Wastelands” desert. It is unknown what killed the colossal dragon, but rumors have spread that Aperio did it themselves and decided to make it their home. Regardless, when the wind blows in the cold of night, people say they can still hear soft roars and hums of the dead dragon. 

Other than living with Moíra, Apeiro lives completely alone and does not normally travel outside of their castle. They only do so in big emergencies such as universal threats or large acts of necromancy. 

Personality: 

Apeiro is very dramatic and adores big and grand theatrics. The Champions Cup itself was created out of boredom since messing with mortal lives from the sidelines can only entertain a god for so long. Speaking of which, Apeiro finds great entertainment in watching mortal lives, and loves to play with them. Whether this is good playing or bad playing, depends on their mood. Apeiro finds it amusing to poke and prod at people’s lives from time to time, and is considered a being of madness from a few of their victims. Apeiro laughs as a witness to human wars, and sees all mortal conflict as beneath them. They will sometimes even find glee in watching other gods squabble over petty things. 

The Goddess of Karma, Justice, and Fortune - Moíra

General Information:

Moíra is the goddess of karma, justice, and fortune. This means she mainly watches over humanity and tries to keep people’s lives fair, even, and balanced. She gets very angered when there are big atrocities happening in the world, or even just when excessively unfair things happen to good or bad people. She is often the judge and jury and innacts justice as she sees fit. Moíra is a very patient force as well, and ensures that eventually, in one way or another, that good things happen to good people and bad things happen to bad people. karma is a patient force. 

She also blesses those she sees fit with various fortunes (whether this be money, something more spiritual, or something emotional will depend), or will take away from those who have committed horrendous crimes, 

Moíra also helped Avus and Apeiro kill the titan of war, and was the main one leading the charge against him. 

Appearance:

Moíra wears an extravagant white robe with golden patterns of leaves as an accent. She appears as a youthful human woman with dark skin and curly hair, but is very unnerving to look at. Her eyes are pure gold, dripping liquid gold down her cheeks. She has large curling goat horns which are decorated with various gems. Moíra also wears a laurel headpiece as a crown, with a bright red ruby in the center. She constantly floats just above the ground in order to keep herself clean. 

Where they live: 

Moíra lives inside a castle, which has the foundation of the skeleton of an ancient colossal dragon. She lives with her older sibling, Aperio. Moíra specifically lives near the top of the rib cage - which has been remade into a large fighting stadium. This stadium is where a tournament called the “Champion’s Cup�� is held once a decade. There is an observatory hanging from the top of the dome ceiling, this is where Moíra resides. However she can also commonly be found with Aperio, or in the castle's library. Moíra does travel outside the castle for business purposes and works with people a lot.  

Personality: 

Moíra is much more careful about keeping balance then Apeiro is, and is much more responsible with her powers. Moíra also tends to scold her older sibling very often and is not very trusting of them. People think that the only reason Moíra lives with Apeiro is because she wants to keep a close eye on them.

By and large, Moíra is a very patient and slow god. She takes her time and thinks her actions through for a long time before acting. She thinks, a lot, and makes very calculated decisions like some sort of gamemaster. Moíra is willing to play the long game and waits for the pieces to fall into place so she can enact her plan properly. 

Moíra is also very vengeful, and remembers all of the little wrongdoings people have done. However she is very fair with her punishments, at least, she sees what she has done as fair. 

The Goddess of The End and the Keeper of The Void - The Enderdragon 

General Information 

History says that long ago there were Colossal Dragons; dragons that were born small and slowly grew throughout their lives until they were bigger than mountains. They have largely gone extinct because food became scarce and they were unable to eat enough to maintain their size. Some of their skeletons can still be seen to this day.

People know whispers of an old tale, about a dragon larger than mountains who rules The End as queen, and controls the Endermen as slaves to her will. That long ago she attempted to wipe out all life on this planet, but failed due to an intervention from Moíra, along with Avus who both banished her away from the Overworld. They say that one day, The Enderdragon will return, and have her revenge on everyone who dared forget her name. 

The majority of people don’t even believe she’s real, and some have never even heard of her. Most people believe The Enderdraon is a made-up myth tale that was made by man to explain the unknown creation of Endermen. Some people see The Enderdragon as a sort of boogeyman figure, a tale Dragon Riders will tell their children to get them to behave; Others believe she’s just some rumor made to prevent people from exploring The Stronghold. The only thing people know for certain, is that people who have dared to enter The End have either been never seen again, or come back with horrifying stories and with their children being cursed and becoming Endermen hybrids.

Appearance:

In stories she is illustrated as a large black dragon, bigger than mountains, with large grey horns and wings. The wings are usually torn, along with many scars from various battles decorating her body. The most prominent feature is her bright purple eyes. It is said that she breathes hot purple fire. 

Where they live:

In the End, one of the many different dimensions in this universe. It is mostly illustrated as many floating islands made of pale yellow sand. There are various crumbling purple buildings, along with purple plants that grow an odd fruit with teleportation abilities called “chorus fruit.” Endermen in the overworld are sometimes seen holding these. In the center of these islands are 10 tall obsidian pillars- each with an odd crystal that contains healing abilities, but only for The Enderdragon. 

Underneath the islands of the end is an endless void of darkness. It is unknown what could possibly be down there. Those who have tried to find out have never returned. 

Personality: 

In the legends, The Enderdragon is painted as an angry, vindictive, and spiteful dragon who wants nothing more than to watch humanity burn.

The Goddess of Magic - Alita 

General Information:

Alita is the keeper of all the different types of magic. There is Protection Magic, Elemental Magic, Combat Magic, Enchantments, and Necromancy. Alita is the higher power that can control all of these types of magic over others, and because of this is considered very dangerous. She can grant magic to people if they sacrifice something of great value. If she gives you magic then your spells will always appear as pure black.

Alita can also freely travel through the different dimensions - The Overworld, The Nether, and The End. She also creates permanent portals that are scattered all throughout the world. One of these portals is The Stronghold - which is a permanent portal to The End. It is unknown where others may be.

Alita is also the mother to all Kitsune, each born under a different type of magic. Kitsune are made to help Alita watch over the Overworld since she lives deep underground in The Nether. However, it is not uncommon for Kitsune to diverge from this purpose and instead do their own thing. Alita does not see a problem with this, since not only can she freely make new ones, but if she really needs to she can force her will onto the Kitsune that rebel against her wishes. 

Appearance:

Alita appears to be wearing an elegant masquerade mask that looks like a peacock. You can barely see one white eye and a small beak peeking out from the mask. Nobody, except for a few other gods, knows what she looks like under the mask. Anyone who has seen does not remember. Alita generally appears to be avian-like, being part Peacock. She has peacock tail feathers that fan up whenever she gets angry. However, the eyes seem a little too real, and people have reported getting headaches from looking at them for too long. Over her body is a beautiful silk purple dress with silver accents on the ends. She also wears many different rings and necklaces that have been given to her. 

Floating around her are five multichromatic flaming orbs that flash different colors. Each one stands for a different type of magic. Protection magic is represented by an icy blue, Elemental Magic flashes between red, dark blue, and light green depending on the element, Combat Magic is represented by royal purple, Enchantments is represented by orange, and Necromancy is represented by a dark green.

Where they live: 

Alita lives very deep underground in the nether, in the darkest caves surrounded by bubbling lava. Various bones decorate the entrance to her cave and she has a massive throne made of gold.  

Personality: 

Alita is described as the cruelest of the gods. While Aperio may mess with fate, that is their job and they ultimately keep some semblance of balance. Alita will play games with the mortals who dare to visit her simply for the fun of it. She is very playful and likes to toy with people, forcing them to make extremely difficult decisions and pay the price for their hubris. 

Alita can be won over with attention and praise however. She adores it when people grovel and give her positive attention just for a silly favor. While she may not often go out into the world, Alita is always open to visitors of any kind. After all, the visitors are often very entertaining. 

The Titan of War, also known as The Blood God - Sanguineous 

General Information:

Not much is known about the Blood God. He has mostly been lost to ancient legend. They say he was an old titan that became more powerful the more he killed. So, he became power hungry and so full of bloodlust that he attempted to wipe out all life on Earth. Because of this, he was killed by Moíra, Avus and Apeiro. His name is only known from old tapestries and ancient texts; Sanguineous.

Some say that he is not dead, but is simply resting for the right time to strike again. Some say his bones are what made the Multi Ossa mountain range. Some say that his presence can still be felt to this day. Some people do know that those who have been touched by his presence have pure red eyes. Other rumours tell of pockets of underground lakes that still hold the old Titan’s own blood. There are whispers that those pockets hold unimaginable power, if only someone could find and harness them. 

Appearance:

Old paintings and tapestries depict the Blood God as a creature made purely of bone - but only an upper body up. His chest is shown to be a human skeleton, with the hands mutated into large claws. His head, however, is depicted as a large ram skull, with humongus black horns and glowing red eyes. Sometimes, he is depicted holding a large netherite axe which he attempted to split the earth with.

Where they live: 

Since the Blood God is dead, he does not live anywhere. When he was alive he did not live in any particular place. He simply wandered the Overworld.

Personality: 

The only thing known is that he wanted nothing but for blood to be spilt from each end of the earth. 

[ickle-ronniekins]

duet | the fire in his veins

DUET MASTERLIST

desc: it’s the final year, and george wants to make things happen. but there are a lot of feelings hanging in the air, aren’t there? he’s stressed to the max, and it’s not helping that you are, too. your schedules don’t match up, umbridge is on his tail, and hormones are raging. he finds himself spreading himself far too thin and eventually things boil over and explode. he worries if you can both recover from it all. but when he holds you in his arms, he wonders if staying angry at one another would even be possible.

a/n: hello! it’s been a bit, sorry, i've been rubbish at writing this chapter. i had no inspiration. but then it struck! so sorry for the angst, except I'm not sorry at all -- it was needed. we’re back to the final year at hogwarts this year, loves, so we’re backtracking a bit, but we hope you enjoy. remember when y/n had visited the burrow the summer before seventh year and everything had seemed so perfect? l o l. enjoy, and please don’t hate me! ps: full masterlist is linked above if ya need a catch up!

word count: 5.3k (sry nt sry)

warning(s): angst and things

The corridors seemed weirdly empty as he strolled slowly through them. But they weren’t empty -- not in the slightest. Excited second and third years were scooting past the very nervous-looking eleven-year-olds on the steps leading up to their newest and greatest adventure. He found himself reminiscing, because how could he not? It was his seventh and final year, after all.

George found himself feeling a mixture of emotions as he entered the Great Hall -- sadness. Fear. Relief. Exhilaration.

But there was one thing he seemed to feel that was stronger than everything else. Stronger than the anxiety he was feeling that it was his final year at his favorite place. Stronger than the happiness he felt at the thought of him finally being able to pursue his dreams. Stronger than the fear he felt of the unknown that awaited him after leaving school.

He found you standing near your table with your usual smile painted on your face, the yellow ribbon tied in your hair, your hand on your hip. You threw your head back in laughter at something a fellow Hufflepuff had said, and he relished the thought of hearing it again. Not that it had been long, really. You’d only left the Burrow a week before the start of term in order to go home, grab any last minute belongings you might’ve left, and were about to take your usual spot next to him and Fred on the train, but much to George’s dismay, you were dragged away by your very dramatic housemates who had pulled you away, prattling on about it being the final year. You’d looked so painfully beautiful when you frowned at him, he couldn’t help but smile a bit. “Sorry”, you’d mouthed at him through the window of his compartment. George had just shrugged and smiled brightly as you were yanked by a very distraught looking girl with curly black hair, and he turned back to Fred who had been feverishly working on their inventions in the boxes placed at their feet. George had loads of work to do before the train arrived at Hogwarts. But he still couldn’t shake that painful twinge of jealousy that had overtaken him. Dramatic, yes. But couldn’t he just blame it on the love he felt instead?

When you looked up from your conversation and met his gaze, you dropped your arm and your eyes immediately softened. He felt the all too familiar butterflies begin to dance in his stomach -- the feeling he got whenever your lingering gaze had locked with his across large rooms. Yeah, he could absolutely blame it on love. Because that’s what this was, right? That’s all he seemed to feel for you. Love. Nothing but pure, genuine, head-over-heels, massive feelings of love. He noticed that grin he knew all too well spread itself across your face, and you began scooting your way through students to get to him. “Erm -- ‘scuse me -- sorry, love, trying to get to someone --” George’s heart had nearly constricted when you’d said the word love. He wanted you to call him that. He felt his cheeks flush cherry red at the thought, and thanked Merlin that neither you, nor Fred, nor anyone else could hear his embarrassing inner monologue.

“Okay, okay, so what did I miss on the train?” you asked, finally getting to him as you pushed your way past a group of Ravenclaws. “A hug, for one!”

You locked your arms around his shoulders, and he noticed you were standing on the tips of your toes in order to be able to hug him. It was so adorable, he could scream, but he reckoned that wouldn’t be the best thing to do in a room of crowded students. He slung his arms around your waist and breathed in the scent of your hair.

“Nothing too exciting,” he lied. He did not like the fact that Fred had sworn him to secrecy about their products and the fact that they’d be opening up a shop after graduating school -- or, perhaps, even sooner. You can’t say a word to anyone, Georgie! He’d shot Fred a quizzical look, with an eyebrow raised, and Fred had pointed a finger at him threateningly. No, not even Y/N. Not until the products are finished and we start testing them out on the first years. George had scoffed dramatically while Fred had fallen into a fit of laughter at his own joke. So keeping his word he’d made to his twin, George swallowed down all the words he wanted to say, and instead just said, “We missed you, though.”

“I’ve missed you too! Merlin, all the girls did the entire train ride is complain about it being the final year. They’re so silly! I will admit, I was sad at the end of last term,” you threw your hands up in surrender as George cocked his head to the side and smiled at you. He knew how much you’d cried thinking on it being the last and final year, “but I reckon we’ve got to make the most of it, haven’t we? Which is why --” you teasingly poked him in the ribs and echoed yourself from the conversation you’d held with Fred at the end of last term, “-- we’ve got to spend as much time together as we can!”

George felt his throat tighten a bit. Could he? Could he really spend as much time as possible with you while also focusing on the inventions, on the shop, all while keeping up his studies and staying out of trouble, and more importantly, detention? Bloody hell, he’d make himself do it, wouldn’t he?

Before he could answer, a very pompous ‘hem-hem’ came from a plump woman dressed obnoxiously in all pink as she scurried her way through students and over to the main table at the front of the hall. You and George both exchanged a look of disgust, and suddenly he didn’t feel so confident about this year anymore.

“Why,” you breathed, raising an eyebrow, “does she look like an advertisement for one of those medicines you take when you’re feeling ill?”

George could not help the very haughty laugh that involuntarily escaped his lips. A few students peered over at you both, and the sheer fact alone that you’d made him laugh just a few minutes in seemed to lighten his spirits tremendously.

The crowd of students in the middle of the Great Hall seemed to part like the red sea at the arrival of this woman. She shot incredibly fake grins at a few of the older students, who did not return her welcome, and she carried herself with such an air of arrogance that George swore he saw Dumbledore roll his eyes from next to McGonagall.

“Who is she?” you asked, crossing your arms in front of your chest and jutting out your hip. Both of you did not take your eyes off of the pink lady, and watched as she took her place at the Headmasters table. Oh, no.

And the laugh that had escaped George just a few seconds ago felt as though it was lightyears away. He shook his head and groaned audibly, thinking that there couldn’t possibly be another professor as awful as Professor Snape. Little did he know, she’d be even worse. “Think she’s our new worst nightmare.”

-- -

You were positively peeved, for lack of a better word. You were seventeen -- you were allowed to be dramatic, weren’t you? You flopped back onto your bed in a huff and placed a pillow over your face to muffle your scream -- and you screamed. Why was George being such a bloody idiot? Hadn’t you told him, multiple times, how much time you wanted to spend together this year? Your unwavering love for him aside, he was your best mate, and for Merlin’s sake, it was your final year at school! You’d both be off in a few months time, doing adult things and seeing one another significantly less, and this stupid boy could not comprehend what “hanging out” seemed to mean. Ugh.

“Heading down for lunch,” your dormmate said to you, “care to join?”

Begrudgingly you agreed, but only because you couldn’t stand the hunger that overtook you. You would’ve stayed there and yelled the entire afternoon if you could.

You felt a pang in your heart at the sight of him, surrounded by his siblings and his friends at the Gryffindor table. It was moments like these, moments of pure jealousy, that made you want to be a Gryffindor. You resented that very much. You loved being a Hufflepuff, but still. The idea of being able to see him in the early hours of the morning in the same common room, groggy from sleep with his (undoubtedly) adorable bedhead intrigued you to no end. You’d be able to see him more often than not, and you knew, with how the two of you got on, that you’d stay up until the late hours of the evening, sharing silly stories and joking until the sun rose.

But no. Instead, he was joking around with them, and you’d been yelling into the void in your dormitory.

You noticed that he and Fred were busy fiddling with something in their hands, as their fellow Gryffindors looked on in pure admiration. You rolled your eyes and made your way to the Hufflepuff table.

You sat down, willed yourself to not look and began to scoop considerable amounts of food onto your plate. You weren’t sure if it was the hunger that was overwhelming, or the jealousy. The anger. Regardless, you bit into your sandwich rather aggressively.

You let yourself be weak, just once, and turned to peer over at him again, hoping he’d meet your gaze, just like he always did. But this time, he didn’t. He was busy chatting animatedly with a few other seventh years -- you recognized a few of them from the Quidditch team, but most of them you didn’t know. The jealousy inside you spread through your bones like a rapid fire. You gulped down the rest of your pumpkin juice in a rage, swung your bag across your shoulder, and sauntered out of the Great Hall without making any eye-contact. It’s not like he’s looking anyway, you thought dramatically.

Little did you know, George watched you storm out of the Great Hall, and his heart and mind followed you all the way to your Transfiguration lesson, aching terribly along the way.

You hoped you wouldn’t run into him on your walk from Transfiguration to Potions, but luck didn’t seem to be on your side today.

“Hey!” he called out to you. A bright grin was painted across his face. He seemed far too happy for someone who’d just come from a lesson with Umbridge. You ignored his calls and made your way swiftly toward the dungeons, but he was quicker. He was panting when he finally caught up to you. Familiar hands grabbed your shoulders and you sucked in a breath. You turned to face him and scowled. He peered at you questioningly. “You alright? Why so glum?”

“Why d’you think?” you asked coolly. You pointed flatly toward the staircase. “Heading to Snape’s lesson.”

George furrowed his brows at you, seemingly taken aback by the irritated tone to your voice. You tried to soften, but you were still pretty angry. “Is everything alright? Haven’t seen much of you..”

“Well whose fault is that?” you snapped. You didn’t mean too, but the resentment was bubbling up inside you like that of a volcano -- you couldn’t help if you exploded. For years, you’d always felt tiny next to him, especially because his 6’3 frame could easily swallow you whole. But now, as he looked down at you with concern and guilt whilst you seemingly boiled over, you felt bigger and better. “I’ve tried spending time with you, George, but all you seem to want to do is be with other Gryffindors. I’ve tried to make plans, tried to sit with you at lunch, but Umbridge doesn’t let us..” your voice trailed off and you huffed a bit, “that’s besides the point. It doesn’t help that we’re both on completely different schedules and the DA meetings are the only time I get to see you, and even that is barely anything because we’re so bloody busy trying to learn!” Most of his lessons were different than yours, since you were now en route to becoming a Healer. “I told you at the beginning of term that I wanted to try and spend as much time as we possibly could together, but apparently to you, that just means insignificant chats in the corridors between lessons and smiles across classrooms and not much more than that.”

You were actually pretty impressed with yourself that you’d been able to say that all in one breath; you breathed in deeply and looked up at him, a very childlike pout on your face, and watched as he uncomfortably adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder and shifted his eyes toward the floor. You knew you’d hit home. Guilt. That was always his look for guilt.

“I’ve been a right awful friend. I know.”

And just like that, all feelings of aggravation seemed to subside and your temper seemingly calmed down a bit, just by the sheer fact that his voice sounded so small. So innocent. So pained.

You shook your head and scoffed at yourself. A few passerby stared at the two of you. “Look. I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have blown up at you. That was wrong of me. Think I’m just dreading this Potions lesson.” You let out a sigh and the two of you laughed softly at one another. “I just -- I just miss you, is all.”

“You don’t have to apologize -- you’re right. I miss you, too. We haven’t spent nearly as much time together as I would have liked. I’m the one who’s sorry. The fault is completely my own.” You hated how adult he sounded, but you couldn’t help but grin at him -- not when you were nearly swimming in the innocence of his chocolate brown eyes. In a quieter voice, he continued, “I’ll explain it all tonight. You free?”

“Erm --” you looked around you to make sure nobody was listening. You gave him an answer that sounded more like a question. “Yes?”

“Meet me near the Architect of Hogwarts statue after the feast.. I’ll sneak you up to my common room. I’ve got something to tell you. To show you.”

Your heart soared at the thought. Maybe luck was on your side. You tried to push all hopes and wishes of him confessing his love to you aside. It was probably something else. And yet, you couldn’t help the very bright smile you gave him. To think, just seconds ago, you’d been so angry. It was difficult to stay mad at George Weasley.

“Yeah?” you asked, trying to hide the eagerness in your voice.

He placed a kiss onto your cheek when the bell signaled the start of the next lesson in exactly two minutes. Merlin, you needed to get down to the dungeons, but how could you now that your feet were cemented into the ground? Your breath hitched at the feeling of his lips softly grazing your skin. The upturned corners of his mouth made the butterflies in your stomach swirl. To think that Gilderoy Lockhart had won Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile Award, when George’s was far more charming, more intriguing. So much easier to melt in. “See you later?”

“Yeah,” you replied breathlessly. He then squeezed your shoulder and headed off in the opposite direction toward his next lesson. Maybe you could tell him, perhaps, if the theatrics of the night were exciting enough. You relished the thought of sneaking him up to your dormitory and cuddling up next to him in your bed, instead of another night yelling straight into your pillow, crying over the boy you loved so very deeply.

He turned around at the other end of the corridor and winked at you before vanishing completely down the next hallway.

Somehow, the prospect of spending the next hour and a half in Potions didn’t seem so awful after all.

-- -

The Quidditch grounds were really cold. So much so that you were certain you couldn’t feel your fingers. You pulled your hat tighter over your head and breathed into your hands. And yet, you were there, because you needed to be, didn’t you? You needed to be a supportive Hufflepuff for Gryffindor in this match versus Slytherin. For Fred. For Harry. For George.

It had been a few weeks since George had told you all about the inventions he and Fred had been working on, and how they were going to open up a shop after graduating. It was thrilling, the entire idea of it, and you noticed a change in him when he’d animatedly told you everything there was to know that night in the bustling Gryffindor common room. His eyes were wide with electrification. The fire in his veins set him aflame.

“This is wicked! Which one is your favorite?”

“Love potions, I think.”

“You guys are bloody brilliant! I’m so proud of you!”

That sheepish, childlike grin crept onto his face as a feeling of warmth flooded him at your compliment. “Thanks, Y/N.”

And it really was brilliant -- it was unfair, you thought, that people only saw George and Fred as pranksters. As the two blokes who always make people laugh. As the ones who always end up in detention. They were so much more than that, weren’t they? They were so incredibly brilliant -- not to mention the type of magic they needed to understand and manage to do in order to create some of these inventions was beyond some of your other fellow seventh years. It was incredibly advanced, especially for two seventeen-year-olds. Why didn’t more people understand this?

You were so proud. How could you not be? You relished the thought of one day being able to visit them and their booming business. It was such an exciting endeavor that you simply felt nothing more than pure adoration toward them both.

And here, now, watching them impress you yet again with their incredible Quidditch skills, you wanted to yell. Look! Look at them both! Look at Fred and his fantastic flying skills as he zooms between other players, leaving dust in their wake! Look at George and how he’s able to pummel a bludger across the length of a field and barely break a sweat whilst doing it!

You grinned at the thought; they really were both more than just the surface of their personalities. They were so much more than just twin brothers. You wished people would notice their differences the way you did.

Things had still been tense, though. You now understood why George had been so occupied and not able to spend as much time with you as you’d both wanted. You kept on apologizing -- you felt so bloody awful about snapping at him that one day in the corridor -- and he kept placing his hand to your knee and telling you to not think on it anymore.

But he’d made an effort, and so did you. Lunches near the Black Lake even in the cooler autumn air, late night strolls throughout the castle, choosing seats closer to one another in lessons to share those smiles you secretly thought about nearly every moment of every day. You loved them far much more than you’d let on.

You were pulled from your thoughts when Ginny gently elbowed you in the ribs. You felt your face flush and thanked Merlin that she couldn’t hear your thoughts. When you turned to look at her, though, her face was flooded with worry. You followed her gaze and noticed a very angry Harry, Fred, and George making a beeline right toward Draco. They looked so incredibly different. So angry. So animalistic.

Before you could register what was happening, Ginny grabbed your arm and tugged you down toward the field.

-- -

George found himself yelling swears he knew his mother would most certainly not approve of, and if she’d heard him, he’d be on the receiving end of a very angry Howler at any moment.

He couldn’t help himself though. A new, dangerous type of fury took him over. How dare someone as misguided as Draco Malfoy insult his family? He’d taken the insults before. He’d heard them and let them roll off his back. He’d ignored the snickers. He’d ignored the gentle pokes and prods people had tried to make to piss him off. He hadn’t wanted to be a bad influence on Ron and Ginny, especially when they were younger and first starting out. He’d warned Fred not to let it bother him, either. But now, with his stress levels through the roof about his studies, and the shop, the inventions, his over-the-top emotions when it came to you -- he felt like he was about to explode. And unlucky for him, Malfoy was in his line of fire.

He felt his blood boiling. He didn’t know where Fred was and quite honestly he didn’t care -- he grabbed Malfoy by the collar of his shirt and lifted him right off of the ground. “How dare you?” he yelled -- his voice sounded foreign and ferocious in his own ears as it echoed across the pitch. Next to him, Harry was red faced and vibrating with rage. For the first time in his entire life, George felt nothing but pure, genuine hatred toward this despicable excuse of a human. The very terrifying and unnatural feeling of wanting to inflict pain and hurt coursed through his body. He wanted to punch Malfoy straight in the jaw, he wanted to kick him in the ribs enough times to break them, he wanted to watch the blood trickle from his mouth.

He felt nothing but loathing.

It was before George could fully register his own actions that you were there -- in front of him -- your eyes flooded with concern and worry as you ripped his hands off of Malfoy’s chest.

“George, calm down,” you said. Next to him, Ginny and Hermione were attempting to tame Harry, as Ron watched, wide eyed and scared. Fred was just barely being held back by Katie, Alicia and Angelina, the veins in his arms were pulsating with rage. You grabbed the collar of George’s uniform and he seemed to come out of his trance. “It’s alright -- you’ve got to stop, this isn’t you --”

He felt as if his angered self had stepped completely out of his physical body when you brought your hands to his cheeks. Your eyes were bloodshot and he felt a pang in his heart to know that you might’ve been crying at this whole exchange. He immediately began scolding himself, especially when he felt a firm yank on his sleeve.

He was dragged immediately toward the castle, with Harry on the other side of him, leaving you standing shrunken on the field amongst a shocked group of students. He turned around once and locked in eye contact. There was a look of disappointment in your eyes and he felt his heart sink quite quickly into his stomach.

Your eyes were the last thing he could focus on before preparing himself for a severe punishment that no doubt awaited him and his ridiculous actions.

-- -

You were sitting on Ginny’s bed, twiddling your thumbs and tapping your feet melodically against the hardwood floor beneath you, waiting for her to return with any sort of news.

It had been a strange, terrifying ordeal, watching the boys nearly throw themselves at Draco like that. They’d looked like they were about to commit some type of murder. You felt your heart begin to pound at the sheer thought of it all. The animalistic look in his eye, the subhuman way he’d grabbed Malfoy by the collar of his uniform, like he wasn’t really here. He wasn’t really present. It made your skin tingle in the worst of ways.

Just then, Ginny popped her head in. “They’re here.”

By the time you got downstairs to the very desolate looking Gryffindor common room, Fred had already huffed his way up to the boys dormitory. George, though, was slumped in an armchair, rubbing his temples generously and ripping away parts of his uniform. He was incredibly disheveled looking.

“Georgie?”

You wanted to yell at him. You wanted to scream at him so bloody terribly. How could you have been so stupid! You could’ve been expelled, you silly boy! You could’ve been hurt! But when he looked up, his eyes distant and exhausted and painted, all you saw flooding through his expression was pure guilt. He’d probably gotten enough tongue lashings for one evening. You sighed and slid yourself next to him on the couch.

He let his head fall into his hands. “I’m a bloody idiot. I know.”

“Not what I was going to say.”

“No?”

You sighed again and placed your hand gently to his knee. You could’ve sworn he’d sucked in a breath at the exact moment of contact, but you ignored it. “What.. what happened out there?”

“Draco and his bloody comments,” George snapped angrily. You jumped a bit at the harshness in his voice and he immediately retreated, placing his hand gently on top of yours and apologizing. He took in a deep breath. “Just -- couldn’t handle it anymore. ‘m sorry if I scared you.”

“You really did, you know.”

He fell backwards onto the couch and shut his eyes tight.

You continued when he didn’t, “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

“Wouldn’t it have been better if I’d come out of it with a black eye, or something?”

You both laughed a bit and you traced your fingers across his cheekbones slowly. He swallowed thickly. “No. It wouldn’t have been better. Don’t like seeing you hurt.”

“I know.”

You were both silent.

“Got banned from Quidditch.”

You shot up straighter, shocked. “What?”

“Remember when I said the first night that Umbridge was going to be our worst nightmare?” he sighed, shaking his head. “Never knew I was going to be so bloody right.”

“George, I’m -- I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s my own fault.”

You both sat uncomfortably in the very thick silence that hung in the air between you. George sat up and straightened himself out. He ran his hands very quickly through his messy hair and took a few deep breaths as if he was still trying to calm himself down from the events that had just transpired. You reckoned he should be more upset about being banned from Quidditch. It was his favorite thing. Why was he not bursting at the seams with anger? Deep in your soul, you knew this was different. This wasn’t about Quidditch, or the fight with Draco, or the tenseness of it being your last and final year. This was more.

“George,” you breathed, preparing yourself for whatever was to come, “just tell me.”

It felt strange when he took your hands in his. You weren’t a couple. Not even close, no matter how many nights you dreamt of it, no matter how much of your days were spent imagining it, no matter how much you tried to will it into existence -- he wasn’t yours and you weren’t his. So this, him holding your hands and peering at you on the couch in the desolate common room, felt fraudulent. Selfishly, though, you wanted it to last forever.

“You know,” he started, and his voice sounded hoarse, “the plans that Fred and I have.”

“Of course I do.”

“About the inventions. And the shop.”

“Yes, yes, I know all of this.”

You tried not to let your anxious mind meander whilst he took his sweet time telling you what he needed too.

“We’ve been talking a lot lately. Fred and I. Which I suppose is why I’ve been so bloody stressed and just… lashed out at Quidditch today. We’ve had a change of plans.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and swallowed over that all too familiar lump in your throat that appeared each time you got nervous. Your hands felt like ice. “What kind of change?”

He squeezed your hands. He took a deep breath. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. “We’re leaving sooner than we thought. End of April. Right after the Easter holidays.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing -- not really, anyway. Which is why you felt so embarrassed when his facial expression didn’t change as you laughed. You shook your head and smiled at him, because this had to be a joke, right? You’d been talking with him about graduation since the day you met one another. He wasn’t really planning on giving that all up?

“You’re.. you’re serious?”

He just nodded and bit his lip nervously.

“Um..” you hated the fact that you were brought to tears so quickly. If you hadn’t been so emotional you would’ve been able to notice just how wobbly your voice sounded and you would’ve been able to scold yourself. “I’m.. so happy for you guys.”

George reached out to try and pull you into an embrace. “Y/N--”

“No, really, I am,” you bit down hard on your lip to try and push back any tears rising to the surface of your eyes. You didn’t want him to see you cry. You couldn’t. But you could only do so much before the tears were escaping you without any effort, and you were letting George pull you into his chest as he traced gentle circles into your back.

Through a few choked sobs, you tried to tell him how you felt, truthfully -- that you’d never been more proud of him than in this moment, that this endeavor was just the beginning for them, that you would support him and Fred with every ounce of your entire being, that you were so thrilled to watch as their business would no doubt boom and their inventions would take the Wizarding World by storm. That he doesn’t know how bloody brilliant he is. That he doesn’t know just how much you love him and believe in him. But you couldn’t seem to find the right words. You couldn’t seem to speak coherently. All that seemed to trickle from you were tears. Somehow, though, you had a strong feeling that he already knew all of those things. “I’m really going to miss you,” you cried.

You felt him tense up in your arms and you just held him tighter. You rolled your eyes at your own dramatic self. He sniffled a bit when he breathed, “I’m really going to miss you, too.” But when his voice sounded just as wobbly as yours, you reckoned it was okay to cry if he was going to cry, too.

The two of you stayed there like that for a while. Gryffindors seemed to flood in and out, not questioning the tiny Hufflepuff girl in the middle of their common room. And for the rest of the evening, as the two of you had both calmed down a bit, you reminisced. You both shared stories about your first thoughts on Hogwarts when you’d arrived as a first year. You both talked about the last seven years. You both told one another what had been your favorite parts of your years at school, and what you’d disliked about the castle and curriculum. What you wouldn’t miss at all. What you’d miss the most.

One another.

That night, when you went to bed, it was restless. Disturbed. Nothing, if not very, very awful. But when you did finally catch some sleep, you dreamt very vividly of the thirteen-year-old boy who caught your attention in Charms class with that silly paper swan, and how you’d continued to fall in love with him every single day since that chance encounter.

tag list: @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @darling-details @laneygthememequeen @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @waschbiber @dreamer821 @feffffffy @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @obsessedwithrandomthings @sleep-i-ness @shadowsinger11 @harrysweasleys @shadychaoticcollection @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @hood-and-horan @geeksareunique @insearchofnewdreams @notstandingstill-imlyinginwait @lumos-barnes @thatfuckingliardavidtennant @slytherinqween @xinyourdreamsx @skiving-snackboxess @wildfire-whizbangs @dwarfwizard-from-panem @diary-of-an-onliner @answer-the-sirens @woakiees @black-widow-fangirl @theheirofnightandday @summerstardust @whysoseriouspadfoot @chocok22 @myhopesareanchoredinyou @siriusblackisme @illusivedaydreamer @zeeneee @writingwitchly @wolfpotter12 @obsessedwithrandomthings @carolinesbookworld @shadowsinger11 @pit-and-the-pen @summer-writes @peachesandpinks @gweaslvy @alpinewinchester @letsfightsomeorcs @theweasleysredhair @purpleskiesstorm @hxfflxpxffs @wand3ringr0s3 @finecole @angelinathebook @highly-acidic @90shermione @zreads @susceptible-but-siriusexual @parker-potters

[ravens-rambling]

Just Keep Swimming, Just Keep Swimming

A/N: Some morreeee

Soulmate September! by @tsshipmonth2020

aanndddd

100 (G/T) prompts!!! - Rise

summary: Two partners have been looking for their last soulmate for years, and they finally found him in the least likely of places. 

WC: 1,645

ships: Romantic Roman x Patton x Janus

warnings: Scarring, Mention of wounds, People being treated like animals, Neglect

Tag List: @punsterterry @stormcrawler75 @frostedlover @mycatshuman @mutechild @panicattheeverywhere15 @overlord-winter @analogical-mess @saddestlittlebabe

~

“Roman… you really don’t have to get the fish for me, it’s okay. Let’s just go home, alright?”

“But you said you really wanted this fish! And so I’m gonna get it! Don’t worry, this next one I’m gonna win, just you wait!” He tossed another ring towards the gold center and he groaned when it hit close to the edge but completely went off course. “Dammit! This thing is ringed! I swear it is! But I don’t care, my boyfriend wants that fish and I’m gonna get it for him!” He slammed down another dollar. “More rings! Now!”

Patton had to chuckle softly at that, he always loved how headstrong Roman could be at the simplest of things. He definitely won’t be this determined about one game if he was Roman. And he knows that…once Roman is fired up nothing will stop him until he gets what he wants. So he knows they’re going to be here for a while.

Luckily, the very next ring he tossed managed to go around the middle golden pole and they both cheered. The carny behind the counter even looked surprised, and Patton knew that it was rigged for sure.

But once they finished cheering they were handed the small bag with the supposed fish inside. But the water was so murky that neither of them could see inside. However, they both were too happy to care right at this moment and they thanked the staff member before heading out. It was getting rather late anyways and they both have work tomorrow. They thought they could have a cute date to the carnival while they have half a day to waste. And they had a blast.

Once Roman started driving, however, Patton looked down at the bag and frowned. “Uh… Roman? Are waters for fish suppose to be this murky? I can’t see anything in there… Are you sure they didn’t just give us a bag full of old water?”

Roman paused and he snorted, “Well if they did then I’m gonna sue. I spent twenty dollars on that one game! It may not seem like much, but we could’ve gone to a store and bought a fish there for that much! Course, that game was obviously rigged so… who knows really.” He sighed but once he came to a stop he reached for the bag and looked underneath. “Oh, wait, I think I see a bit of a gold tail on the bottom here, you see that?” He pointed and Patton looked at the bottom too.

“Oh, yeah… I see it. Huh… then maybe he’s just shy. Well, once we get inside you look in the attic cause I know we had an old fish tank from a few years ago stored up there and I’ll get everything else ready? And I’ll look up what type of water a goldfish needs? Oh! And we gonna come up with a name for this little guy! Once we see him properly then we can name him!” Patton reached over to kiss Roman’s cheek. “Thank you for this, Ro-Ro. Your so amazing.”

“Mhm, sounds like a plan. And no problem, Patty. How could I say no to your adorable face?” Roman purred back and kissed him before the light went green and he started driving again.

What they didn’t realize is that their second soulmate timer on their wrist…just went to zero.

Once they got inside Roman went upstairs to look for the tank and Patton was already looking up about the filters and such for the goldfish. Luckily the filter they had before would work perfectly, so he started gathering everything up that he could and making space for the tank. After that, he went upstairs to help Roman search, and after quite some time of searching around, they did indeed found the tank. They brought it downstairs to clean it and the filter, then they poured water into it and waited for it to be filled up. And once it filled up they gently tilted the murky bag into the new freshwater. They saw a golden thing dart down into the water and hide behind one of the huge plastic grass they had. They didn’t see what it looked like, other than a dull golden tail…

“Aw… he’s just shy! Let’s leave him alone for the night to get used to his new home! And let’s go to bed, we have work in the morning.” Patton kissed Roman’s cheek and giggled as he rushed upstairs. Roman chuckled and followed right behind him.

That morning they had found that their second timer had gone down to zero last night, it must’ve been at the carnival. So their soulmate was with them at the carnival! But there were so many people there it would’ve been like trying to find a pin in a haystack! Patton had suggested going back to the carnival tonight, and they would be really crunching it in terms of time, but it won’t be impossible… so that was their plan tonight, and needless to say that they both were so excited. They’ve been looking for their last soulmate for years! And they had just passed their soulmate last night!

The moment they got off work they headed straight to the carnival and split up to search around. They’ll know if they have found their soulmate if their timer starts glowing faintly. But they searched for hours and…nothing…

Patton was the most bummed out, he really wanted to meet his last soulmate. And even Roman had to admit that he was…sad. Very sad.

Every day they went to the carnival to try and see if they could find their soulmate. And every day was…no luck. They were starting to think that their soulmate won’t be coming back to the carnival and they truly lost their only chance at finding them… to make matters worse the goldfish they had gotten hasn’t come out of its plastic grass for days! Ever since they bought him the little guy hasn’t even come out for food….they were starting to think that the little guy died.

So, all in all, it really wasn’t…a good few days for either of them. It felt like they both had the poorest luck known to man…

That was until one day came along that changed it all for the better.

Roman was cleaning up the house while Patton is at work, he figured he could straighten up some while he’s gone. He was cleaning up near the fish tank when he started hearing weak hurt whimpers of pain. It was so quiet and dull that he had to strain his ears to listen, but it was there. He looked around and looked under the table…nothing. It sounded like it was coming…from in the tank? What?

Slowly his pale brown eyes turned to face the tank, and what he saw there made his eyes widened and a loud gasp coming from his mouth.

Trapped under some decorative shiny rocks…was a golden tail. But it wasn’t any normal golden body of a fish. No, this little guy had the tail of a goldfish but…the body of a human! That’s…a merman! And a very stuck and hurt merman!

“Oh, dear! Oh dear, I’ll save you! Hang on!” Roman didn’t even think before he dipped his hand into the tank and gently lifted up the rocks, he tossed them aside out of the tank then he gently scooped up the tiny little golden merman and rose him towards his face. He was so tiny that he couldn’t even fit fully in the palm of his hand.

“Hello there… Woah… your so gorgeous…”

This merman had light brown curly hair that stuck to the sides of his face. And he was skinny… very… very skinny… Roman is certain he could see the little thing’s ribs! The poor thing had…a lot of scars too, the most noticeable one was the burnt scar covering half of his face, it went from his nose all the way down his neck and shoulder. That side’s eye was pale white, and it was clear to Roman that he was blind in that eye. The rest of his body was covered in burns and other tiny scars. And…he was so tiny…he must’ve been only a few inches tall!

And…another thing…the merman looked terrified while being in Roman’s hand. He was panting heavily and trying to scoot away from his face. So, Roman gently placed him back inside the tank.

“Woah, woah, I’m not doing anything to you, little guy. You have some cuts there but I don’t think you need any bandaging. But I’ll keep an eye on it anyways, it could get infected. You really are beautiful…”

Roman saw a faint glowing gold in the corner of his eye and blinked. What is… but when he looked down to see his wrist, his timer that went down to zero a few days ago, was glowing this dazzling gold color that is an awful lot like the scales of this merman…

“Oh…. Oh, my God…” Roman whispered and looked back at the small creature carefully. He looked at the other’s wrist, and if he squinted he could see…there’s a timer on his wrist too. And it was glowing red, he even had another timer below that one. And both of those timers were on zero! Even the creature looked shocked as well.

Roman couldn’t believe it! That’s why they couldn’t find their soulmate again in the carnival! That’s why it took them years to find their third! Cause it was a merman all along!

Frantically Roman dashed off to find a phone to call Patton, leaving a very confused and startled tiny merman in his sight. The multicolored eyes of the merman glanced down to his timer and swallowed.

“Maybe all humans aren’t so bad after all…”

[bindi-the-skunk]

The son of Frankenstein chapter 15

Henry was about to ask what on earth she could possibly want, well wondering how fast he could get into his wheelchair to go find Robert, or even if he should call Creature to remove her from the house when something glowing green caught his eye as Frankenstein pulled it from her coat.

His eyes widened in horror when he realized what it was in her hand.

No, it couldn't be! How did she ...impossible...

But there it was, in her hand was a mixed-up H-J 7 potion, stirring inside the beaker as if it was alive, eager to break free of its clear prison and jump down its host's throat to start the painful transformation process.

She must have broken into his office...picked the lock to his desk like she did his recovery room...she truly did have no shame...

Just looking at Frankenstein's face, he knew there was no getting out of this, no words he could spin would help, even shoving her down might just make her more eager to see what happened when Hyde came out, thinking he just did not want to share his discovery with anyone else.

Hyde was strangely silent, but there was an undertone of fear that Henry could feel, like this one time he did not want to be out in the world despite his way out being right in front of them both.

The chemist took the potion into his hands, feeling the heat radiate from the glass, the bottle feeling strange in his right hand as his left had been the one broken, Henry wondered momentarily if she had even mixed it properly, but if she had not, the chemicals would have caused a very different look, this was the potion that brought Edward Hyde to the surface.

Taking off the cork, the brunette, soon to become blond, did not gag as the smell that hit his nose, used to the once overwhelming stench after so long of forcing it down his gullet.

The split man tipped the glass to his lips, the disgustingly lukewarm slime slipping past them without much prompting, and drank it, ignoring the loud footsteps behind him and the resounding shout that followed them.

"HENRY, NO!"

Pain, white-hot pain split through as Henry did not bother biting back his screams, who did he have to muffle them for? Robert was right there, he would know now, everything was already lost for him, just get it over with.

Bones cracked and reformed, fingers twitching as if trying to grasp for some salvation from the agony, hair lengthened and lightened, but the damage done to the shared body did not heal...and no doubt more damage had been done from the violent seizures caused by the transformation...

And when the horror was finally over, a shaking and crying Edward Hyde lay on the floor having fallen from the sofa, clutching his hurt wrist to his heaving chest and broken legs spasmed in pain.

Robert stared in shock at what just happened, the man he loved turning into someone he held nothing but disdain towards and was torn between rushing forward to help the other back onto the sofa to recover from the obvious strain and sitting down himself to keep from fainting.

Frankenstein smiled at the new arrival and stepped forward to scoop him up, with Edward trying to recoil from her grip, now feeling like he did before and could feel Henry felt the same, the adrenaline rush that made him chug the potion wearing off as his pain faded because he was no longer in his physical body.

They both felt like a paticuarly fat bird caught in the claws of a playful cat whose hunger was just starting to pick at their belly.

The other man eventually snapped out of it and jogged forward, nudging Frankenstein out of the way with his shoulder making her shout in indignation and put his hands under Edward's legs and upper back in a way that he hoped would cause the least pain for the other and quickly lifted him onto the couch, earning a mild grunt but no crying or screaming, though the blond was still sniffling from his earlier trauma, and Robert tried to let go to confront Frankenstein, but found Hyde clung to him like a scared child with his good hand clutching at the bicep of the other.

"No....no...s-stay" Was all Edward could squeak out, he normally was confused by what he felt for the freckled man, but right now he knew Robert meant safe, Robert meant no pain, remembering how he had at least attempted to defend him from Lucy throwing him out into the streets to be at the Bazaar exhibitors none-existent mercy.

He never would have led the coppers there if he had not been trying to flee a KIDNAPPING!

Edward had no doubt he would have been beaten and bloody if he had not gotten the five-minute head start and had the skills to roof hop, those hallucinations had almost led to him being caught several times, but he managed.

Robert let himself be used as a teddy bear as Edward hid his face in the other man's shoulder, too exhausted and in pain to care about his image, he wanted some affection and Robert was the closest available source that did not do more damage in the attempt.

The Lanyon heir was feeling a swirl of emotions, on one hand, he was happy that most of the less than savory theories of who Hyde was and where he came from had been confirmed at that moment to not be true, on the other this meant he had a SERIOUS talk to have with Henry when he came back out!

Robert was both angry and upset that this had been kept from him for so long, that his lover had gone under his nose the whole time with this secret, yes, they would be having a VERY serious talk! But for now, he would let things cool down a bit, both Henry and Edward needed to recover both physically and mentally from the past few day's events, then Robert would be able to get his answers.

And he had to admit... the little gremlin was sort of cute like this when he was not swearing like a sailor and was in Henry's too big clothes curled into Roberts's chest for comfort, sort of like a kitten, a ratty looking one but still, smiling softly, the curly-haired man gently pulled down the shirt that was starting to ride up on the smaller man making the blond make a contented sound.

"So you are Edward Hyde, I have heard a lot about you.." Frankenstein said, alerting the other two she was still in the room and breaking whatever peace bond the two had started to form.

"Hi, mum..." Edward said sleepily, not bothering to pull his nose out of Robert's shoulder as he stared at Victoria with a look that was between fear and irritation, he wanted to go to sleep, the stuffy man was surprisingly comfy as a bed and Hyde was fully intent on using him as one.

"Well, that clears it up, your different people" Victoria could not help but drone out upon hearing the 'loving' term as she reached out to pat Edwards head, ignoring the almost snarl Robert threw at her "You both were holding out on everyone if I had even a hint Henry was capable of such a thing-"

"You would have what? Not smacked him in the face?" Edward bit, he had been rudely dragged out of his pity corner and thrown into a broken body that shot pain through every nerve with each small twitch, something that was driving Edward insane as he was used to moving as he pleased, not to mention his pride was still wounded from Lucy's own dressing down and following throwing him out onto her stoop...even though she could not have seen the monsters outside, it was still devastating.

So, he was in no mood to play nice despite how he would not be able to physically harm the other "Not caused a loon to break into the society after your creation and led to this whole mess with the coppers being after me!?"

Henry would have pointed out a few flaws in Hyde's argument, but he was having too much fun, another emotion barreling in to replace the fear and self-loathing, he was not in pain from his mind space and could enjoy the thud from Frankenstein digging her own grave from the mirror that hung over a table nearby.

This! This must be how Hyde felt most of the time! It was a sick sort of glee that Henry partially felt bad at feeling at all, but that same part was the dirty mind...LINT that had been beaten back from the past day's chaos and was currently whimpering in a corner to lick its wounds, the lowly thing would not cause its host any trouble.

Neither side was in the mood to be kind, what had kindness with this person done for either of them? Nothing, she would learn EXACTLY what both of them thought!

Frankenstein wanted to see Hyde so badly?

She got him fully loaded! Hurt to boot, and mad as a rattlesnake with a toothache and snapped off tail.

Henry sat back and watched, smiling, savoring the swelling of sadistic joy that built behind his ribs.

Let the show begin!