#luckily i have an ao3 so the text was not lost

[sugoi-and-spice]

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Chapter Twenty-Five - Leap Without Looking

Summary: Tomura Shigaraki was her dad’s boss’s son. He was the creep that stole girls’ underwear and tried to grope her in his room. But it’s not like he could get her Dad fired just because she wouldn’t sleep with him, right? …right?

CW: Quirkless!AU, Explicit Smut, Dub-Con, Coercion, Blackmail, Cheating, Sexual Guilt, Humiliation, Unhealthy Relationships, Virginity Kink, Groping, Power Play, Hate to Love, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Animal Death, Slow Burn, Misogyny

Notes: Happy 2024 friends! We have officially crossed the 600 page threshold with this fic and my husband has informed me that in that amount of words, I could've finished three novels by now... I think I've spent my time wisely on this xD

Anyway, thanks as always for following the progress of my long-ass, over-emotional dub-con fic!

Read Full Chapter on AO3

[excerpt]

What was she doing? No seriously, what the hell was she doing?

That’s all she could think as she paced anxiously in her living room. She hadn’t even planned on calling Shigaraki, her fingers had just moved before her brain could. She’d been so worried about leaving him hanging the way she had at the arcade, that he was going to do something drastic, she knew she needed to get back to him as soon as possible. That action, she didn’t kick herself too much for.

But then he had texted her.

Shigaraki

[on the train]

[b @ ur place in 20]

She should’ve corrected him. Told him to meet her at a restaurant or a train station or a diner. Wait, yeah! A diner! That’s what she’d told him earlier, they’d go to a diner! A public, safe place that would pose a much lower risk of clothes being lost (although, not a zero chance, she admitted bitterly as she remembered one of their last serious talks over dinner). 

But no, she’d been too preoccupied trying to work out what to say, that when she’d finally gotten her head put on straight, about fifteen minutes later, she’d found a new reason to lose it. Tomura Shigaraki was going to be in her house, in the middle of the night, when her parents weren’t home. 

Nevermind the rather important question regarding how exactly he knew her address already, just what expectation was she setting with that?! Especially right after telling him that she and Mirio broke up. There’s no way Tomura Shigaraki of all people was coming over with anything other than sex on the brain. 

All of the fully rehearsed words she’d had suddenly didn’t feel sufficient anymore. This was way more serious than she was ready for. It was all happening way too fast. She didn’t even know what she wanted. She hadn’t even had the courage to fully admit to herself that she had very serious feelings for him, didn’t even know if she wanted to date him, so just what the hell was she supposed to say now in her house?!

Her heart just about beat out of her chest when the doorbell rang. That terrible cheerful little jingle that signaled the demise of her self-control. What was going to happen when she opened that door? How could she stop whatever he tried to make happen?

Especially when it was something she deep down really wanted to happen.

Luckily, she didn’t have to think of a solution. Because when she opened the door, she did not find Tomura Shigaraki holding flowers or video games or ready to sweep her off her feet (and into her bed). She saw him instead, hunched over panting, soaked to the bone, and not wearing shoes.

“O-Oh my god!” she practically shrieked.

“I didn’t bring anything,” was all he managed to say through heaving breaths. 

As if she would’ve expected him to bring a home gift under normal circumstances, let alone when he was hunched over and dripping onto her welcome mat.

She huffed in confused exasperation and pulled him into the house by the front of his sopping wet shirt, “Get in here right now!”

“W-Wow. It’s warm…” he muttered, looking around the living room in a daze as she closed the front door behind him.

“Yeah, I’m sure!” she snapped, “What happened to you?!”

“You said you wanted to talk in person.”

“So what, you ran all the way from Roppongi?!” she demanded.

He looked away, a blush dusting his cheeks, “I took the train too…”

She shook her head in disbelief, “You’re not even wearing shoes…”

Before he could say anything more, embarrassing himself further, she pressed a hot hand to his neck with a quickness that had him shuttering out a sigh. But she didn’t notice what she was doing to him. 

(She never truly did, did she?)

“Oh my God, you’re freezing!” she grabbed his shirt suddenly again, this time pulling it straight up over his head, “Take these off— take them off now!”

It all happened too fast for either of them to really process or be embarrassed about. She peeled his clothes off piece by piece, all while shoving him frantically down the ever-warmening hallway of her home. At some point he blinked and found himself stripped down completely and standing alone in the middle of her bathroom, fluffy beige towel in hand.

Shigaraki blinked as he finally had a coherent thought for what seemed like the first time in the last five hours. That thought being that when he’d pictured himself naked in her house, this is not the way he’d thought it’d go. 

He looked around the room, still in a bit of a daze. It was a typical Japanese bathroom, a nice one, he supposed, with its auto-filling tub and real tile, notably not laminate. But it was cozy (the nice way of saying small) and the only one for the whole household. The whole house seemed to be that way, from the quick glimpse he saw of it all. Simple, modest, warm. Quite a difference from his own luxurious and picture-perfect, but admittedly cold household. 

It surprised him a bit, the modest part. Though maybe it shouldn’t have. The more he learned about her and her family, the clearer it was that maybe she wasn’t as overtly privileged as he’d once assumed, as he was used to. Sure her family was comfortable, but there was a much wider gap between them, the family that packed onigiri and Don Quixote-purchased lawn chairs for swim meets, and he who had a Kurogiri at his every beck and call.

By the time he got to running his fingers along her slew of floral body washes and shampoos, he couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh over the situation. The ridiculousness of it all. How panicked he’d been, how undoubtedly panicked she’d been waiting for him. How all of it seemed to go instantly out the window the moment she saw him and had something all new to worry over. No, not just something. Someone. Him. Him and his well-being. 

Well wasn’t that something new.

Continue on AO3

[me-sploh-rada-imas]

jance, 7 😌

hi💜thank you for sending me the prompt i suggested you send me because you inspired me when we were talking about them!! they always somehow end up 500x softer than i originally intend them to be when i write them so uh idk how this happened but yeah.

the prompt is a kiss to shut them up, which i also posted to ao3 here

For as long as they’ve known each other, Nace has always suspected that Jan somehow exists in a different dimension. It’s not that he’s careless or lazy; he just seems to operate on a different time scale from all the rest of them that doesn’t translate easily into the real world, despite Nace’s best efforts at learning his language. Whenever the band are making plans together, they always have to give Jan at least a half hour buffer if they want any hope of him arriving on time. It’s such a big problem that, for particularly important events, one of them has to be placed on ‘Jan watch’ to ensure that they can’t lose him. Nace has come to appreciate the importance of this job on another level now that he’s become Jan’s designated minder rather than Jure or Kris. 

It’s not just an important consideration when scheduling band events; Nace also has to be mindful of Jan’s wonky internal clock when they spend time together in a more personal capacity. The first time he invited Jan over for dinner several months ago, the meal he’d prepared had already begun to get cold by the time Jan showed up. Nace can’t hold this forgetfulness against Jan when it’s such an intrinsic part of him. He suspects that it’s a side effect of being a genius that the rest of the band have simply learnt to live with. Nace himself is slowly figuring out how to work around it; he’s started texting Jan a reminder of the event an hour in advance, he’s created a shared calendar in the hopes that Jan will check it more regularly, he convinces Jan to spend the night at his before any particularly important occasions. It’s not foolproof, but it’s certainly helped coordinate their lives more effectively than any measures the rest of the band have tried.

Jan is bad enough at remembering when he has to leave the house, but he’s hopeless at recalling when he’s offered to host instead. Nace has shown up multiple times on Jan’s doorstep to a disgruntled and still half-asleep Jan with the excuse that he lost track of time in the early hours and overslept. Nace has yet to come up with a solution to this problem, but he has plenty of time to think it over in the next few months as Eurovision approaches. Jan is certainly much better at remembering that the rest of the band exists when he has to share a hotel room with one of them.

It’s snowing heavily when Nace pulls up in front of Jan’s place and he takes out his phone to send him a message. As beautiful as this weather is, he’d prefer not stand outside in the freezing cold for half an hour if Jan has forgotten that he’s invited Nace over for lunch today. He’d also rather not pique the interest of the neighbours, who surely have noticed by now that Nace frequently shows up without the rest of the band accompanying him. It’s not exactly suspicious behaviour, but he knows that Jan would rather be as surreptitious as possible and not broadcast their budding relationship to his neighbourhood. Luckily, Jan answers Nace’s message within a few minutes, and Nace pulls on his winter clothing, gets out of his car, and hurries across Jan’s driveway to his front door.

Nace must have inadvertently interrupted a jamming session because when Jan answers the door, he still has an acoustic guitar in his hand. He’s clearly wide awake and well-rested, and he smiles brightly at the sight of Nace.

“Good morning, Mr Jordan,” he says cheekily.

“Good morning to you too, Mr Peteh,” Nace laughs, and steps forward to get out of the snow and the cold. 

Jan has other ideas. He blocks the doorway by propping his guitar up with an elbow against his chest and begins to play the opening riff of A Sem Ti Povedal. Nace is being serenaded by Jan, and suddenly there’s something tight in his chest that’s making it hard to breathe, and it’s not just the minus-ten-degree air outside. It’s wildly romantic considering that Jan is not usually one for grand gestures such as this, and it’s also embarrassingly public, even if the only possible observers are Jan’s neighbours. No one is out with the weather as bad as it is, but Nace still feels unbearably self-conscious, and he bundles Jan inside and closes the front door swiftly behind him. Jan is still playing and looking at Nace in a way that makes him feel raw and desperate. They’ve never said they love each other before, but this feels like the kind of moment in which Nace won’t be able to hold his tongue for much longer, and it’s not that he’s unsure of how Jan feels about him, he’s just terrified of scaring him off when he’s become one of the best things in his life. He’s overwhelmingly hot in his outdoor clothes in Jan’s warm house, and he tears off his hat and scarf but it doesn’t help the commotion in his brain, and Nace is suddenly desperate to shut Jan up before he says or does something he regrets.

He fists a hand in the collar of Jan’s shirt and tugs him in to kiss him hard. Jan’s fingers stall against the strings and he drops his pick as he reaches up to cup the back of Nace’s head with one hand and pull him in closer. The guitar is still between them and Nace fumblingly removes it from Jan’s grasp and sets it on the floor against the wall without breaking the kiss, leaving him free to move further into Jan’s personal space.

They’re panting when they break away, and Jan looks down at his empty left hand as though he hadn’t registered Nace taking his guitar away from him.

“Didn’t you like my playing?” Jan asks breathlessly.

“I loved it,” Nace says and laughs. The forbidden words are on the tip of his tongue and he has to take a moment to hold them back before he can continue. “No one’s ever serenaded me before.”

Jan kisses him again then, brief but hot, and Nace chases Jan’s lips futilely when he pulls away.

“You don’t know what you’ve got yourself in for,” Jan says. “Soon you’ll be wishing you’ll never have to hear me play ever again.”

“Absolutely not,” Nace protests. “It’s definitely a perk of dating you if you play for me like that.”

“I’m always playing for you,” Jan says sincerely, though he seems a little surprised to have said it. “I love you.”

Nace’s heart skips a beat and he pulls back so he can properly look Jan in the face. If he felt hot and bothered before, it doesn’t hold a candle to how he feels right now. There’s no air left in his lungs to say anything, and even if there were, he suddenly feels as though he’s forgotten how to speak. Jan is smiling a little nervously at him and Nace realises that he’s been staring at Jan, speechless, for far too long.

“I love you too,” Nace chokes out past the lump in his throat, and then he’s kissing Jan again fiercely, unrelentingly, like he doesn’t know how to stop, all lunch plans forgotten.

[sequinsmile-x]

Domestic older hotchniss always have a special place in my heart, can you write more of them pleasee 🥺

hiiii bestie <3

They have a special place in my heart too and I haven't written them in forever!!

I hope you like this!

-x-

Salut d'Amour

Emily has a long, very bad day. Luckily, her husband never fails to make her feel better.

-x-

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: none

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily was having a long day. 

It had started well enough. She’d woken up to her alarm to find that her husband was already out of bed. He was still an early riser despite having been retired for a few years, and he was almost always up before her, already working on breakfast for her and the girls before she was even half awake. 

Aaron already had coffee ready for her when she walked downstairs, and she’d thanked him with a kiss, something which had pulled groans of disgust from their teenage daughters, both Hazel and Violet protesting just like they always did when Emily and Aaron showed each other affection. 

She’d left the house whilst the girls were still eating breakfast, nodding along as Hazel reminded her about her violin recital after school as she promised her daughter she’d be there. 

Her day had gone downhill the moment she’d arrived at work. 

There was enough paperwork on her desk to make her consider retiring herself and she had more meetings than she even wanted to think about. She liked her job most of the time, but it wasn’t lost on her that her promotion to Section Chief a few years ago had injected more politics into her career than she’d ever wanted. She’d taken the job to allow herself more time with the girls and Jack, something she was grateful for now he’d moved to college and the girls were getting older. Violet barely needed her anymore now she was 17 and Hazel was 15, on the cusp of pulling away entirely, forever claiming her need for independence. 

Everything had only got worse once the deputy director had pulled her into his office just before she was due to leave and insisted she and the BAU stayed behind to catch up on paperwork, news she had to deliver to the team herself. Whilst they were her friends, people she considered to be family, she hated being their bosses boss sometimes, that she’d stepped into a role where she controlled their days so heavily. They’d been mad at her, as if it was her choice to keep them all at work late, as if she didn’t want to get home because she had somewhere else to be. 

As soon as she knew she was going to be late, that she was going to miss Hazel’s violin recital, she’d tried to call the teenager to let her know. When she didn’t pick up, something she never did that always drove Aaron crazy, Emily had sent her a text apologising, explaining she was stuck at work. Hazel’s reply had been short, her annoyance clear.

Emily had also called Aaron who had assured her he’d film the recital for her, his ability to placate her concerns even over the phone one of the many things she loved about him. 

When she got home late any relief she felt as she walked into the house is gone the moment she tries to talk to Hazel who ignores her, storming off up to her room without even looking at her mother. 

Emily blows out a shaky breath and heads to the living room. She sits on the couch, sinking into it as she tries and fails to relax. 

“What a fucking day,” she says to herself, closing her eyes for a moment to try and centre herself. 

“Hi sweetheart,” Aaron says as he walks into the room, his smile soft and gentle as he places a glass of wine on the table in front of her, “I thought you could do with this after the day you’ve had.” 

He sits on the couch next to her and she hums gratefully, resting her head on his shoulder, “Thank you. How was the recital?”

He puts his arm around her and pulls her closer, “She was amazing as always,” he says, hating that Emily tenses against him, that he can practically feel the guilt flowing from her, “I recorded it for you and Vi did too,” he says, chuckling slightly, “She said her phone is better and that she ‘actually knows what she’s doing,’” he smiles at Emily when she looks up at him, “Apparently my giant hands mean I always cover the microphone.” 

Emily smiles softly as she imagines their eldest daughter saying that to him, how she would have rolled her eyes in a way Aaron always said was all her. “If it helps, I’ve always been fond of your giant hands.” 

“Oh I know,” he says, making a point of grasping her thigh. He watches as she smiles at him, how it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, how he can see how the day she’s had has impacted her. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

In the end, after a day of being yelled at by various people and having her nerve tested at every turn, her husband’s kindness breaks her. The unwavering love and affection shining in his eyes as he reaches for her hand and links their fingers together, a touch so common to her, so much a part of her life, that she can’t remember what it was like to live without it. The sob breaks free from her chest with such force she’s surprised it doesn’t crack a rib, her lungs heaving as she tries to suck in air as it escapes. Aaron pulls her into a hug immediately, his arms tight around her as she fits against his side like a puzzle piece, as if they’d been made for each other. 

“Oh sweetheart,” he says, kissing the side of her head, his heart cracking at the way she cities against him Her sadness had always had a profound impact on him, even years before they got together. It had always made him want to seek out whatever had made her sad and tear it to pieces, to defend her whatever had snuck through her iron-clad barriers. His wife was strong almost to a fault, she was stronger than him most of the time, and it felt like nothing short of a privilege to be the person she felt comfortable enough to do this with, to take off the armour she’d worn since she was a little girl who was too small to carry it all, the weight of it on her shoulders something that had never gone away, “I’ve got you.”

She grasps at his back, her short nails digging into him through the material of his polo shirt, and she presses her face into his neck. She swallows thickly and shakes her head at herself as she pulls back, looking at him through eyes that are shining like glass, her ears still gathering at her lashline. 

“I feel so stupid for crying,” she says, leaning into his hand as he cups her cheek to wipe away her tears. “It’s just a bad day,” she smiles shakily at him, “We both know I’ve had worse.” 

He leans in and kisses her, the salt of her tears pressed against his lips for a moment before he pulls back, “Em, you’re allowed to be upset. What is it we always say to the kids?” 

She rolls her eyes at him and presses her lips together to stop herself from smiling, love for him that came as naturally to her as breathing swelling in her gut, “Feelings are never stupid.” 

“Exactly,” he says as he winks at her and kisses her forehead before he pulls her in for another hug, his hand running up and down her back, “And you know what Haze is like, she reacts first and thinks later,” he smiles at her as he pulls back, mischief she would have once thought he wasn’t capable of carved deeply into his dimples, “Not sure where she gets that from.” 

She pinches him lightly through his shirt in retribution, his implication clear enough she’s sure Sergio has picked up on it from where he was sleeping in the corner of the room. She loves that he knows her well enough to know that, no matter how bad her day had been, disappointing their daughter had been the worst of it. The look on Hazel’s face when she got home enough to reopen wounds from when she was the teenager's age that had never fully healed.

“I just hate that I let her down,” she says, the force of the emotions she’s trying to keep back making her chin tremble, “She wanted me there and I was at work.” 

He can hear what she hasn’t said, the comparison she’s made. It was something she had worried about ever since they’d found out she was pregnant with Violet, a concern that had only increased when they found out she was a girl and when Hazel had come along a couple of years later. She’d spent the girl's entire lives, and every moment of Jack’s since she’d stepped into a parental role for him, proving that she wasn’t Elizabeth. Their children were the centre of Emily’s world and everything she did was for them. 

He squeezes her hand, “You’re not your mother, Em.” 

She sighs and shakes her head, his ability to dig into what she was upset about without even trying still a surprise after all this time. 

“For someone who is not a profiler anymore, Agent Hotchner,” she says playing with the collar of his polo shirt, “You’re damn good at it.”

He hums, “Maybe I just know my wife.” 

She smiles softly at him but it fades and she blows out a steady breath, “She was so disappointed.” 

“You’ve been at every recital except for this one,” he says, tucking some of her hair behind her ear, the grey locks somehow making her even more beautiful than when they’d met, “You’ve always been there in the front row, even back when she was terrible and it sounded like a dying cat when she played,” he says, and she shakes her head at him, a smile flicking across her face, “Once she’s calmed down she’ll be fine, and knowing her she’ll even apologise.” 

She knows he’s right. Hazel was exactly like her in every way, but she hadn’t needed to learn to control her emotions quite as tightly as Emily had. She’d been encouraged to feel them, to deal with them healthily, but she was still a teenage girl at the mercy of her hormones. She knew her daughter well enough to know that she’d feel bad for yelling at her, that she’d be in her room simmering in her guilt until it came to a boil and she’d come to find her, her apology already halfway out by the time she was hugging her mother. 

“Yeah,” she says, the assurance not making her feel any better, the fact she’d missed something so important to her daughter still lingering in her belly, a heavy weight she knew she’d carry for days, “I guess.” 

He wants nothing more than to cheer her up, than to see her real smile brighten up her face, so he smiles at her, “Failing that, you could always get your own back by embarrassing her in front of her friends this weekend.” 

She laughs, a loud and bright thing that surprises her as she shakes her head at him, “There’s always that,” she says, biting her lip as she looks at him, “How do you always do that?” 

He frowns, his eyebrows furrowing as he tilts his head at her slightly, “Do what?” 

She runs her fingers through his hair, smiling at how the grey flecks in it shimmer in the light of the living room, “Make me laugh just after I’ve cried.” 

He smiles and he leans in to kiss her, his hand on her cheek as he holds her in place. He rests his forehead against hers, “We have been married close to 20 years, sweetheart. It would be sad if I didn’t.” 

She nods in agreement, but is cut off as they hear a clearing of a throat in the doorway, and she pulls back from Aaron to see Hazel standing there, her arms tight across her chest and a half smile on her face. 

“Just once I wish I could walk into a room without the danger of seeing you two all over each other,” she says jokingly, her smile shaking slightly before she clears her throat, “Mom, can I talk to you?” 

“I’ll go get started on dinner,” Aaron says as he squeezes Emily’s knee reassuringly before he stands up.

He makes a point of placing his hand on Hazel’s shoulder as he walks past her, smiling encouragingly at her as he leaves the room. He turns back around only a few seconds later to see them hugging and he smiles, the two of them together a sight that had always warmed him from the inside out from the very first time Emily had held Hazel when she was a newborn, a tiny dot of a thing pressed against her mother’s chest. 

He leaves them to it and heads towards the kitchen, grateful for the ordinary life he once thought he’d never have. 

-x-

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[watchoutforthefanfics]

achievement unlocked 🔓 (part five) || Streamer AU! Reddie (IT)

Part 1, 2, 3, 4

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration: this prompt

Summary: Richie liked to play video games, and by some stroke of luck, it became his job. Being primarily known as Trashmouth on stream, he found his own little group of streamer friends and they became intertwined: The Losers Club. It never did feel quite complete, though. Well, until, he got his very own backseat gamer in chat.

TWs: innuendos, lots of talk of sex (it's Richie), vague mention of toxic relationships, low self-worth, a little angst, loneliness, imposter syndrome, cursing, and shameless flirting.

[[A/N: We got friends in on this one, babes. The Eddie train expands !!! And Richie continues playing some of my favorite games. I'm Southern so the accent joke can fly. Enjoy :))]]

It was stream day.

Richie was skimming through some of the submitted games. He had a form where people could submit games they wanted him to play: it ranged from dating sims to horror games to Mario. He'd found one he liked early last week, but he knew it'd be long-term so he waited on it.

That being said, he'd already downloaded and was currently checking that it ran properly. He still had a few hours until the stream started up.

e.kaspbrak

You're streaming today, right?

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

yeah new game why

e.kaspbrak

What time?

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

wow eds u call yourself a fan ?

e.kaspbrak

Your schedule is shit, you know that.

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

it's at like 12

gonna be chowing down on stream

e.kaspbrak

I'll be off of work by then.

What game?

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

that's for me to know and you find out spaghetti 😉

guess you'll just have to watch my stream :)

e.kaspbrak

I already am going to dipshit.

Richie laughed, he felt like he always was with Eddie. So fucking cheesy.

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

no playing favorites here eds

e.kaspbrak

Whatever dickhead, I gotta get back to work. See ya then.

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

see u spagheds :))

e.kaspbrak

I'm just going to ignore that fucking horrible nickname. Bye, Rich.

He smiled again, something about only his closest friends calling him Rich. It made him feel a little warm, and made him want to maybe run up and down the street -screaming about Eddie.

Luckily, he didn't.

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

byeeeeeee

Richie huffed a breath out and kept working on his computer. It all seemed to work well, luckily. There was no troubleshooting that he had to run through for hours-

And then he got a text.

Staniel 🐦😤😠

Call me.

Shit. He'd forgotten to tell him like anything. Shit, had he figured it out? God, he was going to hear it. Like really hear it.

Or maybe something was wrong. Wrong enough to constitute a call. Fuck.

Richie didn't hesitate another second.

"Richie?" His voice crackled over the line (sometimes the distance really messed with their calls), "-Can you hear me?"

"Yeah, hey," Richie started quickly, "-Is everything okay?"

"Of course," Stanley reassured instinctively, before continuing, "-I just talked to Bev."

Fuck.

"I was going to tell you about Eds, I swear-"

"Eds?" He questioned, seemingly genuinely, "-That's the person in your chat, right? Bev just told me that you were talking to someone. Are you... Wait."

Richie spoke, a little nervously, "I might have found him on Instagram."

"The person you're talking to is... Eddie?"

"Yeah," he fidgetted with his fingers, "-the guy who cusses me out in chat."

"You're so fucked in the head," Stanley commented, flatly, "-How are you into that?"

"I don't know," he mindlessly added, "-but somehow he makes it cute, so that's where I'm at."

"Is he gay?"

They had like zero faith in him. Damn. Was he that much of a lost cause?

"Yeah, he is," Richie sighed out, "-I know I've had a shitty dating history, but fuck, man. Have some faith."

"I would," he replied, flatly, "-if you didn't have a terrible record otherwise."

"Oh, c'mon, Staniel," Richie offered, "-It's not that bad-"

"You haven't had a boyfriend since you became an official Twitch streamer, Rich," Stanley pointed out, "-and even then, that guy wasn't even out. He couldn't even take you on dates."

"And I was okay with that," Richie clarified, "-Not everyone feels comfortable with being out-"

"Richie," Stanley interrupted, sternly, "-it wasn't about personal preference, the guy was shitty."

Thinking back on it, he can kind of remember some shitty things the guy did. Like bash his love for comic books, tell him to shut up (not in the cute way), physically hide him from his friends and family-

"You deserve someone proud to be with you," he continued, interjecting into Richie's thought process, "-And I don't... I don't understand why you don't seem to know that."

"You're not the only one, Stanthony," he pursed his lips, somewhat deflecting (Richie was never really good at peeling back layers of himself), "-Steve tells me shit about it all the time, 'You seek validation in other people'. Blah, blah, blah."

"You know you pay a therapist to listen to them, right?"

"Obviously," he chimed in response, tapping his fingers along the desk -mindlessly eying the clock, "-I am. It's just... Your brain is wired a certain way, and sometimes it's hard to rewire it. If that makes any fucking sense."

"It strangely does," Stan commented, thoughtfully.

There was silence for a second, and it felt a little heavy on his shoulders. His love life really was in fucking shambles, huh. Richie wasn't sure anyone had actually loved him. Sure he'd heard the words, but it was never genuine. Always had... an agenda. Manipulation, or love-bombing (as Steve would say). Or at least he thought it was.

It kind of fucking sucked that he might be susceptible to that again, that he might have put himself right where he'd started. That Eddie held a lot in his hands because Richie had willingly put it there, that he could just do something-

"What about Eddie?"

Richie blinked, clearing his throat, "What about him?"

"Is he-" Stanley started before pausing, seemingly trying to figure out his words, "-Is he a good guy? Do you think he's actually... invested?"

"Well," he laughed a little nervously, "-there's fucking nothing to be invested in right now, Stanley."

"This wouldn't be as big as it is if that was true, Rich," he replied, swiftly, "-I know that."

Richie took a deep breath in, "Okay, yeah, I do. Mike... Alright, so apparently he lived where Mike and Ben did when they were younger?"

"The town in Maine?"

"Yeah," Richie quickly confirmed, "-Anyway, Mike sees Eds as an old friend, so he called me to make sure I was being... genuine-"

"Let me guess," Stan hummed, "-he called Eddie too? Asked him the same thing?"

"It's scary when you do that, Staniel," Richie responded, playfully, "-You're like some fucking prophet or something sometimes, it's scary as fuck-"

"Did Eddie tell you himself?" He continued, unwavering, "-That he was genuine?"

"Yeah," Richie swallowed, something in him deeply uncomfortable, "-yeah. Said that he likes when I talk and that sometimes he's a dick to people he cares about-"

"He likes when you talk?" Stan interjected, near immediately.

"I fucking know, right?" Richie replied laughing, the idea had been bouncing around in his head for a while, "-Isn't that batshit crazy?"

"Not entirely," Stanley replied, still ever-so-calm, and just seeming to process it. He always thought about what he was going to say before he said it, the exact opposite of Richie (most of the time anyway). He thinks it kind of why the two of them work so well together.

"It's just good," he continued after a moment, "-when has a guy you're with ever said they like that? That they like to listen to you?"

"First off, I'm not with Eddie," Richie corrected, mind humming with a hopeful 'not yet', "-Secondly... never. They always used to tell me to shut up, mostly. And not in the cute way that Spaghetti does."

He could nearly hear Stan's frown, "You know if we were friends back then, I would've kicked their asses and then yours for doing that to yourself, right?"

"'At's what happens when ya live in a town stuck in the eighties, pal," Richie chimed back in a strange southern accent (more hillbilly than beauty pageant), "-the internalized homophobia grabs ya by the ankles and drags ya-"

"I get it," Stanley interrupted, flatly.

He stopped the impression and then started up a little quietly, more genuine. He could tell when Stan meant no bullshit.

"I like him," Richie spoke, maybe a little louder and squeakier than expected but he'd never admit it, "-I really fucking like him."

Stan didn't say anything for a second, wordless. Once again probably debating what wise words he was going to graciously depart onto him-

"I'm glad," he said, "-I'm really glad, Richie."

And that was that.

It was about an hour before stream now, and his phone dinged.

It was embarrassing how much he hoped it was Eddie, and how much he deflated when it wasn't. He didn't deflated completely though, because it was Bev.

reddy.bevvy ✔️

give me Eddie's insta

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

what why

reddy.bevvy ✔️

I wanna get to know him

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

u tryna steal my mans marsh?

reddy.bevvy ✔️

he's gay

and if he's your friend rich he's gonna be mine too

so suck it up and give me his insta

God, he loved his friends. Especially his dear Bevvy, that one was something special.

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

@/e.kaspbrak

He waited a moment, not sure if he should expect a reply. Beverly was a wildcard sometimes-

reddy.bevvy ✔️

thx

see u at the stream 😘😘😘

Richie let out a breath, something clawing up his stomach. His friends weren't going to harass him, were they? God, he'd worked so hard to not scare him away, it would be so fucked if they did. He might never forgive them, ever actually. And that was saying something because he fucking loved his friends.

After an hour of going between worrying and checking his equipment, the stream started.

Richie had actually prepped himself a bowl of Ramen that he currently was eating -waiting for his chat to flow in. He knew some people got off on the eating thing, and others found it gross, but that was in the character of his channel and himself so... he didn't really fucking care.

This time the game was in the title of the stream. One called The Quarry, some sort of choice-based game, people most certainly were going to die at his hands. Either for being stupid and getting them killed, or doing it purposefully. Richie didn't know which one would win this time.

"As long as I got my suit and tie, Imma give it up on the floor tonight," he murmured to himself, checking his audio.

Honk, honk.

eddie.kaspbrak donated $5: what the fuck are you eating

"Eds!" He chimed happily, maybe a little too happily in retrospect, "-Ramen, it's lunch time, everyone should be chowing down."

trashy.tozier: 🍝🍝🍝

dizknees: eddie has arrived guys stream is legit now

babey_boy: SPAGHETTIIII

elite._.gamer: just here for the game but hi eddie

trashmouth-for-me: 🍝🍝🍝

girlie-pops: 🍝🍝🍝

trashy.tozier: I'm eating chicken fried rice

trashmouth-for-me: @/trashy.tozier food check !!!

hello>_<89: 🍝🍝🍝

girlie-pops: I'm eating toast w jelly

smell.ya.later: 🍝🍝🍝

dizknees: I'm eating leftover spaghetti ironically

trashmouth-for-me: @/eddie.kaspbrak watch out @/dizknees has a taste for your blood

hunny_bunny75: I'm new here but this is my favorite game ever

smell.ya.later: I'm eating ramen too !!! we are kindred spirits 🧘‍♀️

trashy.tozier: @/hunny_bunny75 welcome ur in for a bumpy ride

bridger_my_ton: I'm eating a turkey sandwich

toziers-trash: 🍝🍝🍝 EDDIE

too.tough.to.cry: ice cream w chocolate sprinkles

"Hey motherfuckers," Richie started on instinct, "-I don't know shit about this game, other than it's one where people can die based on my choices-"

eddie.kaspbrak donated $5: do you know how much sodium is in that shit

"Enough to matter," he laughed, "-apparently. Guys, do we feel li-"

eddie.kaspbrak donated $5: do you even own any vegetables ???

"Spaghetti," he dramatically held a hand over his heart, feigning heartbreak, "-do you have no faith in me? Of course, I do. I've got baby carrots right in the fridge."

eddie.kaspbrak donated $5: you should eat that instead dickweed

Richie fell into a little bit of an incredulous laugh, something swirling in his chest (he has odd ways of showing he cares but Richie was definitely into it). He pushed his lips together into a thin line, everything itching in him to listen. God, he was so gay-

"Well, guys," he laughed again, "-I don't think Eds here is gonna stop until I switch out my meal. So, I will be right back, do not blow yourselves up while I'm gone."

trashy.tozier: wait did that just happen

brilliant_minds: is that his bf or something

trashmouth-for-me: say that 🍝🍝🍝

benny.boy: where's richie?

trashy.tozier: @/brilliant_minds 👀👀👀

reddy.bevvy: @/benny.boy went to get some different food

all_i_say_is_beet: beet

toziers-trash: @/trashy.tozier no this is starting to make sense

stan.the.man: I've been trying to do that for years @/eddie.kaspbrak

smell.ya.later: @/trashy.tozier how the turntables are turning

barbie._.gurl34: has the stream started ?

In the silence of Richie's room, the alarm went off.

eddie.kaspbrak donated $5: I am not his boyfriend

trashy.tozier: that's suspicious that's weird

gay.shit.guy: 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈 GAY SHIT MENTIONED 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

only-here-for-trashmouth: you could be though

ghoulie-boogie: when is he starting the game

dizknees: I smell a ship coming on

your._.mom: the question is do you want to be 🍝

girlie-pops: @/dizknees reddie ?

trashy.tozier: @/girlie-pops no wait THATS SO GOOD

should-i-stay69: is this the gay game ? About werewolves ?

elite._.gamer: @/should-i-stay69 there is a gay couple and it is about werewolves

baby_gurl456: just got here but I'm kinda invested in the 🍝🗑 drama

trashmouth-for-me: @/baby_girl456 NOT THE EMOJISSSS

trashy.tozier: guys he's coming back !!! spam the chat he can't know of our secrets !!!

Richie came back to a slew of chats, including letters and random emojis. He was only a little surprised his mods didn't do anything about it. It was Trashmouth Tozier, they did questionable shit. And he didn't disapprove of some spamming, not always.

"Jesus, guys," he laughed again, "-What the fuck did you do?"

They did not answer him for the rest of the stream. Initially, he just wanted to do a villain run but then he found out about the gays ("Wait guys, there's gay potential in this?! We have to save them, fuck-").

And Eddie didn't message again, surprisingly. Richie wasn't 100% sure why he took it so hard, but at the same time, he knew exactly why. It worried him a little bit, then, and then it worried him a lot when he got off stream to no messages.

He stared at his phone for the remainder of his day, just watching and waiting.

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

eds?

He was probably just overthinking it. Like he always did. He might just need a day, they didn't have to message every minute of every day. They had actually already messaged that morning, so that was normal, so normal-

At least, that's what he'd tell himself when he went to sleep that night.

[14muffinz]

@terrapin-might gift for your first prompt!

no need for a date, I have a dumbass

ao3

@tmnt-write-fight

i'll clean this post up later, I'm in the middle of class rn and I am def out of time

Raph is not a fan of suits.

He isn’t a fan of a lot of types of clothes, because he swears that they’re all manufactured to be tearable and itchy, but there’s a special type of hell that comes from being forced around to lug a jacket along with him everywhere when he’s in a cramped gymnasium with music slamming into his brain.

In all honesty, he doesn’t even know why he came.

At some point, Raph had lost the rest of his family in the crowd. Under normal circumstances, they’d usually be easier to pick out, but everything’s too crowded, everything’s too loud, and with the weird lighting he can’t pick out the specific shades of green he’s searching for.

Really, he just wants to leave already.

Raph manoeuvres his way over to the snack table, and shoves some food in his pocket because he knows it's a bad idea, but this entire night feels like a bad idea and goddammit, he’s hungry.

He finds his way out of the gym, and luckily the halls are a little less crowded. He can’t get very far through them, because the majority of the school is blocked off for security reasons, but getting away from all of the loud sounds and bright lights make him feel a lot better.

It’s by chance, when looking for an actually empty place to chill, that he gets found by Casey.

“Not your scene?” He asks without preamble, and there’s something annoying in his tone that leaves the impression that he already knew this wasn’t the best situation for Raph.

Raph shrugs. “Yeah, but it feels just like yours.”

“Ehn,” Casey looks off to the side, hands shoved deep in his pockets. “Everyone else who I’d chill with came with dates, and I just sorta came for the experience. It’s depressing as hell to be alone at one of these things, I can sorta see why not bringing a date is a taboo.”

“I thought that was just one of those human things I’m never meant to get,” Raph admits.

“Nobody gets social things, that’s the fuckin’ point,” Casey dissmisses. He starts walking the other direction, and Raph follows. Raph reaches into his pocket and slowly pulls out a snack, trying to eat silently. He fails, and Casey twists around to make insistent grabby hands. “Cough it up, Red, I haven’t gone into that shithole in like, an hour, I’m hungry as hell.”

Raph rolls his eyes. “Y’know the snack table is right by the door, right? Nobody would’ve known that you came alone.”

“Yeah, but it’s the principle of the thing,” Casey explains. “Who the fuck only comes to prom for the snacks?”

“Me,” Raph says. He realises that Casey’s definitely leading him to the exit, and can’t really find it in himself to care, even though he knows he’ll be receiving a million worried text messages the moment the tracker on his phone leaves school grounds.

Casey rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but your family is, like, smart. You don’t got a reason to care that you’re weird, and the fuck are people supposed to say? If they blame it on being mutants, that makes them into a piece of shit, even though if you weren’t born as a turtle, you’d probably have a real different life.”

They shove open the doors and walk out into the night air. It’s pleasant, warm but windy, and it makes Raph’s skin itch to go up. Since getting actual legal papers, he hasn’t gotten a chance to parkour, and he’s missing it.

“So, Red, what d’you want to do now?”

Raph shrugs. “It feels sorta dumb to go home, at this point, but partying doesn’t sound too appealing.”

“Maybe we could find an arcade or something,” Casey suggests. “I know where some afterparties are gonna be hosted later, and those’ll probably be pretty chill if we show up early, even if that’s weird as hell, but not gonna lie, I sort of just want to goof off for a bit?”

“Same.”

“Or maybe we could break into the rink,” Casey says thoughtfully. He rubs thoughtfully at his chin, as though he has a goatee to stroke, but in reality Raph is pretty sure the guy doesn’t even shave, not that Raph’s the one who can really make that point. “They never mind, and I still gotta teach you how to skate.”

“That’s going to be a shitshow,” Raph says, but with good humour. He knows himself and he knows that he’s going to trip and fall the moment he gets on the ice, then Casey will laugh at him, and that’s why he’s been avoiding it as much as possible.

Casey claps him on the shell then starts walking with more purpose, and Raph can only assume that he’s headed in the direction of the rink. Raph doesn’t know how to get to it from the school, but he’s been there enough that he could easily recognise it if he saw it. “Aw, c’mon, have some more faith in yourself. You’ll do great.”

“If you knock out one of my teeth, I’m going to stab you,” Raph threatens half-heartedly.

“And I’m sure I’ll extend you the same courtesy when you finally start teaching me ninja shit.”

“Never gonna happen.”

“Oh, just you wait, Raph. Just you fuckin’ wait.”

Raph snorts. “Stop trying to be ominous, Case, you’re shit at it.”

“I’m in hockey, not drama.”

“You’re built for both, though.”

Casey punches him.

⠀

⠀

Is not as much ‘breaking into’ the rink as it is Casey coming up to the back door with a key and then just striding in through the unlocked door. Which is good, because Raph knows that Casey would be a menace if he got to watch Raph’s ninja skills in action again.

Casey grabs two sets of skates off of the shelf behind the desk and brings them over to the benches, then silently starts putting them on. Raph allows himself a moment to be grossed out by the skates, because he doubts that they’re cleaned at all between uses by different people, then he reminds himself that he lives in a literal sewer, sucks it up, and starts lacing up his own skates.

The first challenge is trying to walk over to the rink. Raph’s got good balance, but that doesn’t make him automatically adjust to being held up only by two metal blades. Embarrassingly, Casey has to help him over to the rink, but at least he’s a good sport about it.

“Okay, so,” Casey starts as he steps onto the rink. Raph is leaning on the door and hoping that he doesn’t fall over. Casey spins around to face Raph and starts moving slowly backwards while holding eye contact. “It’s a lot easier than it looks, I swear. And if you want to grab one of the supports, I promise I won’t tell you how much you look like a grandma.”

He just poked the fucking bear.

Raph decides that he’s going to prove that no, he does not need to look like a granny, and steps onto the ice. His first angry step immediately sets him off balance, and then he tumbles onto the ice. Casey starts to cackle.

“I’m going to ruin this suit, aren’t I,” Raph sighs, already resigned.

“I think you should have called that a lost cause already,” Casey teases. He has a point, but like hell is Raph ever going to tell Casey Jones that he’s right about something. “C’mon, I’ll get you doing laps in no time.”

‘No time’ does not come to pass.

Raph hovers one hand by the wall as he slowly skates around the rink, and whenever he can get a proper support from the wall he’ll chuck some pocket crumbs at Casey, who is not as good of a teacher as he seems to think he is.

Eventually, though, he trusts Raph enough on the ice to head into the locker room, and returns a few minutes later returns with two hockey sticks and the familiar temptation violence in his eyes. Raph pretends that he’d made a full circle around the rink while he’d been alone, and Casey laughs at him like an asshole.

It’s a bit easier to balance with the stick. Casey clearly knows that Raph’s putting some of his weight onto it, but luckily he doesn’t comment.

“So hockey is just lacrosse but with more safety gear, right?

Casey starts pouting, which may or may not have been Raph’s intention. “C’mon, Red, after all the games I’ve made you sit through, you seriously don’t know the rules? Do you even know the rules of lacrosse?”

He huffs, then lifts up his stick. “Nope.” Then he shoots, overbalances, and falls onto his shell.

Coming here was absolutely a mistake.

Maybe the ads about prom were right, Raph’s going to treasure this day forever.

“Oh yeah, Red, you’d definitely be my first pick in a scrimish,” Casey taunts. “You’d be a real boss in a real game.”

If asked by Splinter or Leo, he would claim that he absolutely does not try to stab Casey with his skate. If he were asked by one of his other brothers, though, he’d complain that he missed the mark.

“How about you grab a bō, I grab my sai, and we see what fuckin’ happens, punk.”

“I can kick your ass with a stick,” Casey declares.

Raph gets a great idea.

He starts to stand back up, grabs the hockey stick, and sweeps Casey’s feet. It’s a lot easier when his opponent is balanced only on a metal blade.

“So can I,” Raph says proudly. He focuses all his energy on not wobbling so that this looks as badass as he wants it to.

“Point taken,” Casey allows. Him getting back up to his feet is unfortunately more fluid than Raph, and it probably helps that he’s not shivering in the faint cold. “A truce to kicking ass?” He requests, extending a hand.

Even while he takes Casey’s hand, Raph asks, “What does that even mean?”

“Fuck if I know, man, I’m failing English.”

⠀

⠀

They go at it for another two hours, until Raph is shivering too hard to keep going. Casey doesn’t make any jokes about it being because Raph’s a turtle, but Raph’s not entirely sure how he’d take one of those yet, so it’s fair. The amount of jokes Casey makes at his expense would be far past pushing it for anyone else.

When they grab their phones, April has updated them on Leo’s whereabouts via a picture of him flopped over on her bedroom floor (which Raph is definitely going to taunt him about tomorrow holy shit what was he thinking) and Donnie and Mikey confess that they both got dragged into the afterparty and will be back to the lair later in the morning.

Raph wraps an arm over Casey’s shoulder and they pose for a selfie, and they’re definitely on the same wavelength because both of their smiles are a touch devious, and they start laughing when they see the picture before they send it.

“Do you think that there’s any ice cream places open at 11pm?” Casey asks.

Concerned, Raph demands, “Wait, we just spent the last two hours ice skating, and now you want more ice? At midnight!?”

Trying and failing to play it off, Casey raises his chin and declares, “You don’t no my life.”

“Yes, I do,” Raph sighs, then yanks Casey forward by his arm. “C’mon, let’s walk through a drive through and piss off the nightshift worker.”

“I like the way you think, Red.”

“Is that supposed to be news?”

They walk through the drive through, because they’re little shits, vigilantes, delinquents, and definitely not pussies. Though, the expression the woman is wearing when they make it to the window makes Raph feel like they’re not the first teenagers to have had this idea, though considering that the afterparties are now in session, they might be the first ones so far that haven’t been drunk.

Their school is huge, so that’s just Raph’s assumption. He was raised on shitty movies, though, so maybe he’s a little off base with his guesses, even still.

On that thought, as Raph and Casey continue down the dark streets of New York, munching on burgers while precariously balancing their boxes of fries, he admits, “Y’know, we used to think that highschool would be like the Disney movies.”

Casey chokes on his burger and his laugh rumbles through his disgusting mouth full of food. “Dude, no fucking way.”

“Yes way,” Raph argues, grinning. “We saw this outdoor movie night of Highschool musical and were like, well, if the humans are watching it, then it must be pretty accurate.”

Casey’s cackle probably echoes for blocks, and since Raph is Raph and not Leo, he doesn’t bother to silence him, and even goes as far as to grin when he sees a few windows get lit from the inside.

“Thank god we wound up being normal before it was too late,” Raph tacks on, and Casey’s laugh picks up for a few more seconds.

Eventually, Casey manages, “Dude, you’re joking about the being normal thing right?”

Raph elbows him and does not feel bad when a few of Casey’s fries fall out of the box. “No shit, sherlock. I’m a fuckin’ weirdo and I’m proud about it.”

Casey wraps an arm around Raph and whoops.

Raph can’t imagine a life where he’s still trapped underground, going stir crazy and feeling closer and closer every day to snapping.

(Well, he can, but it’s depressing as hell so he tries not to.)

He can imagine his life now, though, in crystal clear quality. He’ll keep showing up to Casey’s hockey games and be a real ass about it, and eventually they’ll both go off to college and Raph will be intentionally be more dramatic about missing his best friend than any of his brothers, and then he’ll get bullied into a group hug like he always pretends to be.

Later, he and his friends and family will have an even better prom night down in the lair, while listening to rap music that’s more than just mid at best, and then eventually they’ll settle down to watch a romcom movie that Dad insists is good, and they’ll all get to throw popcorn at the projector screen.

Walking down the street, arm in arm with his asshole of a best friend, still feels like just the start.

[yakkolicious-writing]

The Ghost

"Envelopes" by Kevin Steinhardt is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.

Genre: Angst Fandom: Papa Louie Central Relationship: Maggie & Prudence Wordcount: 1,242 words Summary: It's been a week since Maggie made Allan cry. Prudence hasn't texted Maggie in a week. However, luckily for Maggie, Prudence wrote her a letter. What does it say? Warnings: Nothing I would consider "triggering," per se, but this might be a tough read if you've been ghosted, are having issues with a friend, or are going through a bad break-up. Rating: G. Suitable for all audiences.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55098451

This fic is a sequel to another one-shot titled "It's My Party." I'll post it here if anyone would like it, but you can read it on AO3 right now if you would prefer. You might need to read it to get the full context behind the events of this fic. I hope you enjoy this new story!

It was an ordinary afternoon in Tastyville. At the Pizzeria apartments, Maggie sat on her sofa, her arms crossed and a frown on her face. She was all alone: physically, that is. Her parents had just left to have a dinner date at the Lobsternaut in San Fresco and didn’t bring her along. Maggie was fine with this though; she didn’t ask to come, and if her parents wanted a little bit of private time without her, then so be it. She liked her privacy too.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Maggie turned her head. Her parents told her not to open the door for strangers or invite any friends over. Maggie hadn’t invited any of her friends over. The last outing she had with her friends was a party a week ago. It was a combination birthday-welcome back party, but it didn’t go too well: mostly because of her. The party was thrown for Allan, an old acquaintance of hers who moved to Oniontown back in high school. When he came back, he had changed a lot: he lost a tooth, his hair got bigger, and his fashion sense became edgier. He changed so much that Maggie refused to recognize him, even calling him a freak. Maggie had been thinking about what she did all day. Looking back, it was completely uncalled for. Just because she didn’t recognize him didn’t mean she had to be such an open jerk about it. She could’ve just stayed close to someone she trusted if she was so unsure. Instead, she ran her mouth and sent him running off in tears as Papa Louie tried to clean up her mess. That was the first hint she got that he was the real deal: he was just as sensitive as he was back in freshman year. Now, Allan was gone. In addition, her friend Prudence hadn’t even texted her since the party. She was particularly defensive of Allan at the party, completely sure it was him. She was right, but Maggie was too stubborn to listen to her when it mattered. The “freak” comment must’ve struck a nerve with Prudence too. Her other friends Rita and Penny texted her when they could, but Prudence seemed to have completely disappeared.

Maggie sighed. She was thinking too much. She hated thinking too much. Why was she thinking of this party so much? What she did was awful, but if she lingered on it, soon, her entire identity would become calling Allan a freak one time. It was over, and its impact was lasting, but she couldn’t let herself be the mean girl at the party. Maggie knew she was more than that. Right now, there was someone at the door, and she needed to find out who it was.

“Who is it?” Maggie asked.

“Just good ol’ Vincent!” a voice replied, “is that one Maggie McCoy I hear?”

“Yep!” Maggie exclaimed.

Vincent wasn’t a stranger: he was the coolest mailman in the world. He knew everyone’s name, and he knew something about everyone. Maggie had talked to him before, and her parents had too. She didn’t invite him over either, so surely opening the door for him would be fine. Maggie stood up, walked to the door, and opened it up. There, Vincent stood, a smile on his face and a pink envelope sealed with a red heart in his hand.

“Hi Vincent!” Maggie said.

“Hey there, Maggie!” Vincent replied, “I think somebody likes you.”

Vincent offered the envelope to Maggie, and she took it. She examined the front of it carefully. In the center was her name and address, but in the top left corner, she saw the name “Prudence Wagner” and her address. She gasped and grinned.

“Hey!” she exclaimed, “it’s from Prudence!”

“Ooh, you sound excited!” Vincent noted, “you like her back?”

“Oh, no.” Maggie waved her free hand with a smile. “No, no, no. I don’t like girls. Prudence doesn’t either. She likes her men tall, dark, and handsome. She just uses pink envelopes and heart seals for all of her letters.”

“Ohhhh, OK, I gotcha now. Sorry for assuming.”

“It’s alright. I’m more excited that Prudence wrote me at all! She hasn’t texted me in a week!”

“Well, I gotta get going. I hope this letter is full of the nicest words you could imagine.”

“Oh, thank you, Vincent!”

“You’re welcome! Have a great day!”

“You too!”

Vincent and Maggie waved goodbye to each other, and Vincent went off on his way. Maggie closed the door and looked at the envelope with a smile. She then began to rip into the envelope. Once it was ripped enough, Maggie opened it up and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Maggie unfolded the paper and began to read the letter.

“Dear Maggie,” it began.

“I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you after the party. It’s been a while since the incident, and if I’m being completely honest, I’m still a little upset about what happened. I know it didn’t happen to me, but I still don’t understand why you were so mean to Allan. I know he looked a little different, but you didn’t have to call him a freak in front of everyone. Allan kept in contact with me after the party, and he seems to be doing alright now, but what you did was awful. After the party, I’ve been questioning our friendship. It’s an awful thing to say, but you deserve to know the truth, and the truth is that I don’t want to be your friend anymore. If you’re going to be so quick to make an assumption like that, then I’m worried that if I get into a fight with you, then you’ll call me names or spread rumors. I’m also worried that you might do it again to another person, and I’d hate to see it happen. I don’t want anymore drama, and I don’t want to feel like I’m walking on eggshells around someone I consider my friend. I just want you to know that while I am mad at you, I don’t hate you. I just don’t want to be your friend. Sincerely, Prudence.”

Maggie’s heart sunk as she read the letter. Prudence cut her off by letter. She didn’t even want to make the effort to do it face-to-face. She said she didn’t hate her in the letter, but Maggie was sure she was lying to preserve her feelings. If she was going to write an entire letter stating that she didn’t want to be her friend anymore with flowery language, how else could Prudence feel? Prudence knew that Maggie preferred it when people were straight to the point. Maybe Prudence didn’t want to waste the paper, but if she was concerned with wasting paper, she could’ve simply cut the paper she used to write the letter and save the rest for later. Surely the only explanation was hatred.

“Great,” Maggie whispered, “just great. Prudence ghosted me.”

Maggie sighed, went to her room, got on all fours, and slipped the letter under her bed. Her parents couldn’t know: they’d only rub it in. When the letter was hidden, Maggie laid down on her bed and pulled her comforter over herself. Tears formed in her eyes before rolling down her cheeks, but she didn’t make a sound. Right now, all she wanted to do was disappear. How could she have been so stupid?

[shadowsandlint]

20 Questions for Writers

Thanks for the tag @beesays ❤️

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

I have seven works on ao3; four one shots and three with multiple chapters.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

85,777 words!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Only ACOTAR so far, but I'm not opposed to dabbling in others.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Words We Use in the Shadows

Autumn Winds Across the Sea

Your Scars on My Pulse

O Holy Night! The Stars Are Brightly Shining

O Night Devine!

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes! I try to do it as quickly as possible, but sometimes it takes a while to think out what to answer, especially if the comments are long.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Oh, definitely A Court of Self-Destructive Coping Mechanisms! It's about Nesta before her "intervention", so the angst is high.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Eeeh, I don't feel like I have written any with explicitly happy endings? It's a lot more ambiguous, with happiness existing alongside more painful feelings. But maaaybe Autumn Winds Across the Sea?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Noo, but sometimes I get frustration because of what the characters do, ehe

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Not a lot of smut, but some. I mostly write Azris, so M/M with soft dom vibes, though the one smut scene (so far) in WWUitS is kind of dark and angsty.

10. Do you write crossovers?

No crossovers per se, but my AU Words We Use in the Shadows has a modern university setting where Azriel and Eris study literature, and so other literary works are very important to the story. There's a selection of poems that make an appearance, as well as Marcel Proust's In Search of Lost Time. The latter is the story's founding father, so to say.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, luckily.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but that would be cool!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

AZRIS!!! But I do enjoy other ships too, both with and without those characters. :)

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Hmm, maybe Mor's origin story for Your Scars on My Pulse? I'm not the biggest fan of her, which makes it hard to write her as the MC.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Writing feelings, especially angst. What can I say, I've got that Big Sad Energy.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm a slow writer. That perfectionism is really out to get me.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I'd love to if it fit in with the story! I am bilingual, so it's definitely doable.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

ACOTAR is the first fandom I've posted my works for, but I'm sure there are some embarrassing teenage texts on an old computer somewhere.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Words We Use in the Shadows is my favorite, even if it's not done yet. But I think that Autumn Winds Across the Sea is my best writing.

[surrealsuriel]

Every Day Is Like A Battle (But Every Night With You Is Like A Dream)

[Title from New Romantics by Taylor Swift]

Masterlist // AO3 // BONUS SCENE

Little Elucien Fic

Summary: Elain is trudging through her new life as fae. She doesn’t recognize herself in the mirror anymore and feels hopeless as she faces the eternity before her. She loses sleep pondering how to cope with the new future she was forced into.

Luckily, her sleepless nights continue to lead her to run-ins with a certain red-headed male who is all too happy to see her.

Basically, five times Elain and Lucien share their nights as friends plus the night it all changes for the better.

Fluff, angst, some making out. My ideal trio.

Warnings: None <3

Word Count: 5803

I.

Elain tossed and turned as she tried to quiet her mind. Her thoughts were racing and she couldn’t hold back how her anxiety resulted in her body physically shaking. Her mind was a well of darkness intent on reminding her that this was now her eternity— her own personal hell.

While maybe others she had grown up around would have started wars or committed murder for a chance to be fae, Elain had never wanted that life. She wanted to marry, to raise children, and to make the most of her beautiful, brief mortal life. Now, that was ripped away from her and she was trapped— far from home in a body she didn’t recognize and tied to a male she could barely stomach to look at. All he did was remind her of all she had lost and all that she was forced into with this new life.

She had spent enough time crying over her new fate that now when she felt the usual pull of tears, nothing came. She was empty. Slowly, she sat up, deciding that sleep clearly wasn’t coming and wandering aimlessly would at least remove her from the lake of sorrow she was currently treading through.

Elain stepped out of her room and decided to hit the library first. Maybe she could find a book to read, but if nothing else the windows in the river house’s library overlooked the glittering city below, and Elain found that this often brought her a spot of peace. The door creaked as she stepped through it, and Elain cringed, hoping she wouldn’t wake anyone, especially Nyx.

As she continued to wander the stacks, grazing her fingers along the spines of all the books— ancient texts full of old languages and new smut options Nesta had surely added— Elain heard the familiar creak of the door opening again. She wished she didn’t immediately know who it was, but her entire body and soul reached for the male currently making his own way into the library. She felt the golden thread within her stir and her nostrils flared at the scent of spiced orange and crisp cedar that accompanied none other than Lucien Vanserra.

She heard him stop in his tracks as his body surely had the same reaction to her presence. “Elain?” he called out in a whisper. Knowing she couldn’t hide from a male quite literally supernaturally bound to her, Elain revealed herself, stepping out from behind a shelf. She willed her heart to beat at a normal pace as she took in his rumpled form. It seemed as if he had also been struggling to find sleep as he stood before her in loose trousers and a crinkled sleep shirt. Elain had never seen him looking so relaxed and underdressed. In fact, something she admired about him in the quietness of her own mind was his proper attire he was always dressed in.

“I’m sorry, my lady,” he bowed his head, a motion she was sure was only enacted for her mortal benefit. “I truly did not know you were in here. I’ll just leave and come back—”

Elain didn’t know what possessed her as she quickly protested, “No, don’t leave!” She felt her face flush. Maybe it was the late hour and exhaustion making her brave or maybe it was her crippling loneliness that urged her to find anyone who could maybe understand her, but Elain’s soul seemed to sigh whenever he was around. Despite knowing it was the mating bond within that calmed her in his presence, she couldn’t deny herself the rest of feeling a slight reprieve from her own emotions.

“As you wish,” he replied, looking at her gently. She felt all too exposed before him despite her modest nightgown and arms wrapped firmly around herself. “I recently returned from the mortal lands, and I’m hoping to find some additional readings to maybe help Queen Vassa. It’s a long shot but I figured I’d look for her. Just couldn’t sleep so I started early,” he offered up as his explanation for being in the library. “If I may, what are you doing here so late?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” was all she got out. He nodded as if he understood what was left unsaid, as well. “Care to help me look, or would you rather be left alone?” Elain pondered his question. Sometimes she felt like she never got a say in anything she did these days, so it was a relief to make her own choice, no matter how inconsequential the choice was.

“I’ll help,” she decided as Lucien fought back a smile. “I’ve roamed around here quite a bit and I may know where books sort of related to her condition may be. This way,” she called as she began to walk further into the library. She found out long ago that the books the furthest back were usually the ones favored by Amren. Many of them held ancient texts that she struggled to comprehend, but anything from Amren’s time boggled Elain’s mind. She explained as much to Lucien when they finally stopped in the back corner. He lit a candle with his forefinger so they could see better, and Elain found she didn’t feel disgust at his minuscule show of magic, but she actually found the small flame to be sort of cute.

They both fell into a comfortable silence as they began searching through the books. Every once in a while either Lucien or Elain would potentially find something and they would add the text to an evergrowing pile on a table nearby. Elain’s mind felt calm, and as she sat down in a cozy armchair tucked in the back to dive into another book, she found herself drifting off into sleep. No nightmares plagued her, only the steady lull of Lucien’s breathing and the sound of turning pages.

She awoke only a few hours later to a ray of light hitting her in the eye. Lucien still sat across from her, dutifully scanning the page before him. He looked up as she raised her head. “Well, good morning sleepy head,” he said with too much fondness. Elain felt a blush rise up her cheeks and looked away from him.

Lucien sighed deeply, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to grow too comfortable, there. I just,” he paused considering his words carefully, “I just need you to know that I liked our time together tonight. I say this with no underlying intentions or expectations from you, but your presence…. it calms me.” He seemed embarrassed to admit the last part which helped Elain admit, “Your presence calms me too.” They sat in silence for a moment, chewing on this.

“What if,” Lucien began, “we could just be friends?”

“Friends?” Elain repeated dumbly.

“Yeah,” Lucien said hopefully. He continued more gently, “I know that everything that has happened has taken its toll on you, and I know that our situation must bring you a good amount of emotional turmoil—”

Elain cut him off, “What do you know about my emotional turmoil?” She tried not to let too much anger seep into her tone but she hated being told how she was feeling. Being mates with the man did not mean he knew her every thought, or at least she hoped.

He looked taken aback by her question. “Elain, I can feel it,” he said dumbly, placing a hand over his heart. “I couldn’t sleep last night because I felt consumed by a despair that was not my own. These past few weeks the string that tied us together has felt… heavy within me. Do you not feel me?” Despite how shocked Elain was at his words, his demeanor seemed much more quizzical than pitying, like he was truly trying to figure out this bond nonsense.

“I guess I can feel you. I try and ignore it mostly,” Elain also tried to ignore his flinch at those words. “But whenever you feel really strong emotions… it’s hard for me to ignore,” she admitted. Lucien nodded contemplatively.

“Interesting. Well, what do you say? Friends?” He held out his hand to shake. Despite her mind screaming at her not to, her heart and body willed her hand to reach out and grasp his— one of the first times they’d touched since he had draped her with his jacket after she had been spat out of the cauldron. It felt electrifying to touch him, to feel the callouses along his hands, and to see for herself how his bear paws of hands dwarfed her delicate ones.

“Friends,” she said decidedly. He smiled at her roguishly, “We’re basically friends with benefits, except the benefits is peace of mind rather than”, realizing Elain had quickly turned bright red, he cut himself off with a cough. “Not important.”

Surprising both Lucien and herself, Elain barked out a laugh. She could blame her exhaustion still, but honestly it just felt good to laugh with someone again. Suddenly she couldn’t stop, “I can’t believe you just said that to me! That has to be the most improper thing anyone has said to me!” She gasped out the exaggeration around her continued giggles. Lucien laughed along with her, no longer looking all that apologetic. “There’s much more where that came from, Elain, trust me,” he smirked.

She giggled again, excited about the prospect of having a friend.

II.

Despite their agreement to try out friendship, Elain still kept her interactions with Lucien in front of her family very cordial and apathetic. She hoped she wasn’t hurting him, but she just couldn’t deal with the sidelong glances and schemes of her sisters trying to get her alone with her mate. She was happy to be Lucien’s friend and she didn’t need them meddling with that.

Because of Elain’s indifference towards Lucien publicly, not much improved between them due to their friendship pact. As a result, Elain found herself a little desperate to run into him again during her nighttime escapades. He was currently staying at the river house with her family, and so she hoped to have run into him again by now, but no luck. She knew that to some extent Lucien could feel her emotions. While this scared her, Elain still hoped that he could somehow tell she was currently awake in the middle of the night and in need of her friend.

She wandered her gardens aimlessly to try and find a friend amongst the petals and leaves of her own labors, but all she found in return was thorns that acted as a reminder that her plants were not real people who could comfort her with their conversation. As Elain walked through the gardens, she explored the golden thread that rested in her chest, wondering what she could say to it to make it tell Lucien to get the hell out there. Slowly in her minds eye, she reached out and gave it a gentle tug. Nothing happened. So with more force, Elain reached out mentally and yanked it. Startled panic filled Elain and she quickly realized that this was what it felt like to feel someone else’s emotions. Elain reveled in the feel of him growing closer and closer to her as she heard the sound of someone approaching her from behind.

“Elain? Everything alright? I felt— I don’t know what I felt. It felt like you were calling to me. If I’m mistaken, I’ll be happy to go, though,” Lucien appeared even more rumpled than the last time she had seen him. His appearance this time was not due to a lack of sleep though, but rather Elain’s rude and sudden awakening.

“How crazy is that?” Elain laughed incredulously. “I was imagining pulling on the bond and you felt it! And now you’re here!” Lucien cracked a smile, unable to deny a giggling Elain the pleasure of seeing his own joy in return. “It was more a firm yank, but yes, felt all the same.” Elain suddenly felt a pull against her own heart and she stumbled towards him, looking up at him accusingly. “Hey! What was that for?”

“Revenge? Payback? So you could feel it too? You choose,” he grinned at her. “Now, what prompted my lady to call upon me at this hour?” Lucien questioned as he began to walk them forward, observing the gardens.

Elain turned red both at his use of “my lady” and at having to admit, “I just didn’t want to be alone.” Lucien stopped them from walking with a hand on her shoulder, facing her to himself. “I am honored to be beside you right now. Anytime you need a friend, you have my complete permission to yank as firmly as you want to on that thread. Understood?” Elain nodded shyly.

They walked beside each other for about two hours, talking about nothing and everything. Elain learned about Lucien’s favorite part of the Spring and Summer Courts, two places he vowed to bring her to someday when she admitted that those places sounded like heaven. In return, Lucien learned stories about her girlhood and how she got into gardening in the first place.

When Elain began yawning, Lucien subtly turned them back towards the house. He dropped her back off at her rooms with a bow and a short sentence that made her entire night. “It’s fun being your friend. Sleep well, Elain. I can feel you are tired.” It was fun to be his friend, too.

III.

The third time Elain and Lucien find each other in the night, Elain is once again drowning in her sorrows. Sleep was evading her and in its place were the dark claws the ghosts of her hopes and dreams scratched her with. With a start, Elain felt a sharp tug against her heart. Lucien was calling out to her. Without fully knowing where she was going, Elain followed the constant tug Lucien was using against her until she found herself standing before him in the kitchen. On the counter before Lucien was a spread of ingredients. He waved his hand out dramatically above them, “Want to bake?”

All the sorrow Elain had been consumed by moments before dashed at the sight of Lucien slipping an apron over his head and then turning around to place one around Elain, as well. She couldn’t help but giggle when she realized that every single apron in the kitchen was her own, and thus fit more like a shirt on Lucien. His pants would be covered in flour before the end of the night.

“I must admit to you, Elain,” he sighed, “I have lived nearly 400 years and I have gone to every land I have been given access to. I have seen amazing sights and the wonders of the world…”

Elain rolled her eyes, “Out with it Lucien!” she finally exclaimed. He looked down at her guiltily, “Despite all this greatness, I have never once baked cookies.” Elain fake-gasped in horror, “You deceive me!”

He hung his head in mock defeat, “I am a disgrace, I know!” Elain laughed outright at that before clapping a hand over her mouth. “We should probably be quieter, everyone else is asleep!”

Lucien nodded in agreement before asking in a dramatic whisper, “Elain, oh master of baked goods, will you teach me the art of the cookie?”

Elain bowed in return, “I would be honored to be your master, Lucien,” she replied mocking seriousness. He suggestively quirked his eyebrow at her use of the word master, and she punched him lightly in the shoulder. “Get a clean bowl out and a cleaner mind, please.”

Elain had more fun that night than she could recall ever having in her entire life. She fell asleep not only peacefully that night, but with a smile on her face.

IV.

Elain had been getting to sleep easier these days, but tonight it was the nightmares that awoke her. The worst part? She wasn’t even sure her nightmares were fully hers. She would see flashes zoom by of the darkness of the cauldron, feel the drowning sensation again, but then the scene would shift to a throne room and a woman chained up, being put to death. Elain was sure this wasn’t her memory, so what scared her even more was that she was positive it was Lucien’s.

From his end of the thread connecting them, Elain could feel his own panic coming through, and she gave a light tug against the bond to comfort him. He didn’t pull back.

Fearing he may still be asleep, plagued by these horrible visions that terrified Elain, she ventured somewhere she had never been to before in the house: Lucien’s door. Timidly, Elain knocked against the wood while simultaneously tugging at their bond. C’mon Lucien, open up.

She felt another wave of fear hit her through his end of the bond, then blind panic, and finally everything settled into a steady buzz of anxiety. Elain heard Lucien gasping for air on the other side of the door, and she gave him a minute to compose himself. Then, the door swung open to reveal Lucien— sweaty and clad in only his boxers, heaving for breath still. Elain took him all in for a second, trying not to ogle him too much but being unable to look away. Logically, she knew Lucien was beautiful, but his current state of undress proved just how beautiful he was. His stomach and pectorals were craved by the gods, all leading to a defined v-shape that lead down to a place Elain tried not to think too much about. He was so big, Elain could see the outline of his manhood through his underwear and she quickly ripped her eyes back up to his face. Despite the circumstances, Elain couldn’t help but blush wildly at his state. He blanched as he came fully to and realized it was Elain at his door while he remained almost completely naked. “Elain!” he gasped. “What on Earth are you doing here?” He reached blindly over to his bed, grabbing the shirt strewn there and tugging it on. Elain tried to ignore the part of her that hated his shirt.

“I’m s-sorry,” she stuttered out, “I saw your nightmares and when they woke me up, I could tell you were still in them and I couldn’t just let you continue to sleep through that,” she rambled. His gaze softened, “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

Before she could stop herself she asked, “How do you deal with it? So much has happened to you. I see it right here,” she gestured to his scar and missing eye, “And I see it mixed in with my own nightmares. How do you manage?” She knew her tone was desperate, but she had to know.

Lucien continued to gaze at her softly. “Can I take you somewhere?” He asked in lieu of a direct answer. “We’re not dressed!” Elain argued. “We don’t need to be, just let me show you.” He held out his hand, an invitation. She knew if she decided to walk back to her rooms now, he wouldn’t be disappointed or upset in the slightest. He’d accept her decision just like he always has. It was that thought that had her taking his hand and allowing him to winnow them wherever he desired.

When the world came to again, Elain was greeted by a warm sea breeze and the sound of crashing waves. Her eyes widened as she took in the vast sea before them.

“I can’t change what happened to me or what happened to you no matter how badly I wish I could,” he began, “Much like the sand can’t help but be continually beaten by these waves or how the waves cannot help but respond to the pull of the moon. Things are the way they are and trying to hold back fate would be like trying to hold back this entire ocean. I find peace in knowing that I am like these pieces of sand, small and constantly being dragged under, but surviving all the same, day after day facing refinement and yet never disappearing.” He looked over at her with a sad smile, “I believe those Valkeries actually have a similar ideology.”

Elain nodded, understanding. She wondered if she would ever be able to understand the waves that crashed against her, but she supposed that that wasn’t Lucien’s point. Understanding the waves wasn’t his goal, but rather accepting they would happen and steeling himself to survive and adapt nonetheless was.

Braving herself, Elain slowly slipped her fingers into his. His palm was warm against hers and she felt them both hold their breath at the contact. She didn’t know how long they stood there, both in a mild state of undress, holding hands, and gazing out across the ocean like they could see the other side, but she found that when he returned her to her rooms that night, she felt lighter.

For the first time in months, Elain felt hope.

V.

Solstice had approached much quicker than Elain was ready for, and she found herself nervous at the prospect of giving Lucien a gift. She had never gifted him anything at any past celebrations, and she hoped he didn’t find her gift silly, despite its simplicity.

She prepared herself by slipping into a baby blue gown, dusted with glitter that fell off of her shoulders elegantly. The front pieces of her hair were twisted out of her face elegantly and adorned with baby’s breath flowers and small bits of foliage she had foraged herself. For the first time since becoming fae, Elain didn’t shudder at the sight of her new ears and immortal appearance. Rather, she found a secret part of herself hoping that Lucien would find her as beautiful as she felt.

His reaction came much sooner than expected when she stepped out of her door and promptly ran straight into him. As always, he had cleaned up nicely in a proper suit, although he had traded his usual colors for a deep blue and silver that Elain couldn’t help but notice complimented her own outfit nicely. She tried not to take satisfaction in how his eyes ran over her appreciatively. “Elain, you look stunning,” he told her earnestly, meeting her gaze. “I know,” she replied but blushed all the same.

He grinned at that before his expression turned more serious. “Elain, I know you’ve had trouble showing our newfound friendship in front of your friends and family. A fact which I accept and understand,” he said pointedly as guilt filled her. “I can feel your guilt. Stop, I get it. You don’t want them meddling.” Elain sighed, Okay, maybe having someone who knows your emotions can come in handy.

“In light of that, I was thinking that maybe we could keep up our nightly escapades and exchange gifts after everyone has gone to bed, or at least once everyone has retired to their own suites?” He asked hopefully. Elain smiled up at him, “That sounds absolutely perfect, Lucien. Just us.”

“Just us,” he echoed back, and Elain swore she saw him flush slightly.

With that, solstice night went seamlessly. Azriel came in beaming with that redheaded priestess on his arm. The pang of hurt Elain expected to feel never came, but rather Elain felt glad to see him smile and love so openly. She caught his eye as he walked in and gave him a grin, signaling to them both that their past was in the past— a huge relief.

As always, Cassian got roaring drunk, Feyre coddled everyone, and Nesta set herself on a mission to beat everyone at any game she was challenged to throughout the night. Exchanging presents went as it normally did, with Mor getting everyone horrendous gifts—Elain got a pair of wool socks— and Feyre gifting everyone sentimental paintings—Elain had to swallow back tears as she had looked upon a portrait of her and her sisters alongside their father. No one mentioned that the only two who didn’t exchange gifts were her and Lucien.

Nesta and Cassian were the first to retire to their rooms, feigning exhaustion poorly as they looked at each other with pure desire. Next, the priestess known as Gwyn needed to be returned to the library, so her and Azriel shot off into the sky looking all too smitten. Mor held Emerie closely as she took her back up to Windhaven, and Feyre and Rhys said their goodnights with an already asleep Nyx bundled up in their arms. Naren remained by the fire, nursing a glass of mulled wine, but Elain felt it was safe enough for her and Lucien to exchange gifts elsewhere in the house.

She signaled Lucien to meet her in the library and then she went to grab her gift to him from her rooms. After seeing everyone else’s extravagant gifts for the night, Elain felt even more self-conscious, but she didn’t have anything else for him so she found her way into the library late at night, once again.

Lucien was already there, waiting for her, when she arrived. He was holding something behind his back and nervously twitching as she walked towards him. “I think I have to go first because I couldn’t actually wrap yours,” he admitted. She nodded along in agreement and then he added, “Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

Elain set his present down on the shelf beside them and obeyed. She heard Lucien shift his hands in front of him, sigh, and then felt a heavy pot. be placed into her awaiting palms. “Can I open now?” she giggled. “Yes, yes! Sorry, open!”

She cracked her eyes open and she was met with a beautiful, shining purple and silver flower she was sure could only exist by magic. “What is it?” she gasped. “I’ve never seen anything like it!”

Lucien grinned. “I found them ages ago while living in the Spring Court,” he explained. “It’s called a moonflower. They only bloom at night and, as you can see, when they do, the let off a glow resembling the moon. Whenever I found patches of them in the Spring Court, they would absolutely stun me. It reminded me of you and how often you find yourself awake late at night. I wanted you to have a flower in bloom for when you do your late night walks.” Elain felt tears prick her eyes at the thoughtfulness behind his gift.

“This is the most thoughtful gift, Lucien,” she said gently, continuing to admire the flower. “My gift feels silly now, but here you go.” She sheepishly handed him the box while balancing the potted plant on her hip like a child. He tore into the wrapping paper and was obviously puzzled when he found a jewelry box awaiting him. Slowly he cracked open the lid of the box to reveal a set of earrings inside.

“After you took me to that beach a few weeks ago, I tracked down which one it was. I gathered these two little shells from that beach and brought them to a jeweler in Velaris. The chains attached the shells are long and the shells are small and have been spelled. Basically, you wear them as normal earrings, but then you can also insert the shells into your ears and they mimic the sound of the ocean,” Elain explained, trying not to blush. “Since you said the ocean calmed you, I wanted to get you something that could act as a constant reminder of that, and I can tell you like jewelry, so…” she trailed off.

Lucien remained staring at her. Slowly, he closed the lid of his gift and set it down. He then grabbed the plant out of her hands and set that, too, on the table. Moving as if she’d run away at any moment, those hands then reached up to cup her face. “Thank you,” he said as he leaned in and then kissed her.

Elain had kissed men before— well, a man. But she was sure it felt nothing like this. This kiss was all consuming. This kiss righted her soul and it felt almost healing to the golden string that danced wildly around within her at this new development. Elain lifted her own hands up to cup his face, and as she leaned into him, Lucien took that as a sign that it was okay to keep going. With that, the kids went from sweet to devouring. He kissed her desperately and without abandon. Moving his hands to grip her hips, he pushed her back until she was pressed against a bookshelf. He hoisted her up and she was all too willing to wrap her legs around his midriff. He groaned into the kiss as she squeezed her thighs around him, and it felt like a brand new high to feel her own desire echoed and then refracted by Lucien’s desire also burning through her.

As the bond between them continued to burn brighter and brighter, Elain suddenly grew scared of its bite. She felt out of control and nearly feral, an emotion that was pure fae and not at all human. With a start, she broke their kiss, pushing him away in a clear panic and separating her body from him. He held up his hands in surrender.

“I’m sorry, Elain please, I don’t know what overcame me. Please forgive me,” he begged, but Elain was already gone, her heart abandoned beside their solstice gifts.

+ 1 (Bonus Lucien POV)

The past few weeks had been perfect. Having the privilege of being Elain’s friend had filled a gaping wound in his chest, and he found himself addicted to her presence. That all came crashing down because of his own stupidity, of course.

He pulled at his hair agonizingly. The bond had felt amazing when their lips had met; he could feel all of his desire reflected and then magnified by her own pleasure in that moment. Unfortunately now, he could feel his own despair similarly reflected and magnified by her own, too. He hated himself for making her feel this way, but he didn’t know how to fix it.

How could he atone for this— for his stupid animal instincts that drowned out his every coherent thought around her? Gods, did she even know how those semi-sheer nightgowns nearly drove him to madness every time they met up at night. Or how when she had seen him in his state of undress the night they went to the sea, it had taken everything in him not to consume her whole when he felt her desire for him dancing across the thread? She drove him to madness, and he had been doing such a good job clinging to sanity, and then he lost it all.

Days passed by without a word from Elain. She was back to avoiding him at all costs, day and night. He could feel her confusion and hurt down the bond, keeping her awake night after night, and he hated the feeling of helplessness that arose out of him at having ruined their friendship that had brought her so much comfort.

Every night, he returned to their library in an effort to catch her, but every night, she remained in her rooms behind a locked door meant only for him. On the seventh night, Lucien felt resigned to his fate of Elain breaking their bond when he finally felt the lightest tug against his chest. It was so light he was almost sure he had conjured it up in his imagination, but then again, firmer, came another distinct tug.

With a start, the library door creaked open and he felt his breath leave him as he was greeted with the sight of Elain. He slowly approached her, head hung in apology, “Elain, I am so sorry. Please, I beg you to forgive me for my offenses against you. I took liberties where I should not have, and I understand if you wish to end our friendship, even if that friendship means everything to me now. I understand and apologize if I betrayed your trust.”

When he dared to meet her eyes, he was met with her staring at him, eyes wide and glassy with bushes tears. Dark circles hung below her doe eyes, and it made him feel all the more horrible to know he caused her so much inner turmoil.

Her voice sounded scratchy when she finally spoke, “Lucien, I was upset when you kissed me, but not because of you. I wanted that kiss and I want you,” Lucien tried now to let his heart skip at the present-tense use of the word want. “What made me leave was my fear of the bond,” Elain admitted defeated, “I’m not ready to accept it. I’m not ready to take on something so… so fae and immortal. But if you’ll have me, I can offer you my choice. If you can live with it, I want to choose you, Lucien. Bond or no bond, I’d like to explore more with you as my choice and because we both want it. What do you say?” She offered her hand to him, recalling how similarly their friendship started.

Lucien looked at her in wonder. “I am beyond humbled that you choose me, Elain. This is a far better fate than I deserve, and if you give me the chance, I’ll choose you every day, over and over again. Choosing you and being chosen by you is all I could ever ask for or desire.” He took her hand in his, and when he did so she used their clasped hands to tug him towards her.

“So, does this mean you’re courting me now?” she asked with a teasing smile. “Oh, Elain,” he smirked, “I am going to absolutely sweep you off of your feet.” She unclasped their hands and moved hers to his hair, using it as leverage to bring his face to hers. “Sounds wonderful,” she whispered. Then, he kissed her again, with no abandon and full of all the love he could put into a kiss. With or without the bond, he could be happy for the rest of his life like this.

The following morning, when the inner circle gather for a family breakfast, everyone’s eyes widened slightly as Lucien and Elain entered the room with clasped hands. Nesta smirked and winked at her sister once she overcame her surprise, and Feyre looked like she may cry from happiness at her friend and sister finally making their way to each other. No one openly questioned them, and when Elain found her spot beside Lucien and kept his hand to herself underneath the table, everything felt right.

A/N: Yay! Elucien oneshot!! I am tempted to write a pt. 2 of ensuing smut between them on their midnight excursions. Let me know if that’s something anyone wants. As usual, let me know what you think!

[inkweaver22-blr]

Merry Christmas, everyone! I’m sorry this chapter took so long. But here it finally is!

This is the first chapter where a cycle from the previous chapter gets continued. And since the last one was set in an AU made by @animemoonprincess, this one is as well! I’m sure you’ll be able to figure out which one it is pretty quickly!

Get cozy, as this chapter is feature length at 24 Thousand words! Drink water, take breaks, eat a snack! But above all else, please enjoy it and let me know what you think once you’re finished! (Also this chapter is split in two due to Tumblr not allowing more than 1,000 blocks of text per post. If you want to read the whole thing uninterrupted, click the AO3 Link below.)

AO3 Link

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Scattered Cicadas - Chapter Twenty One: Shining With Joy (Part 1)

The changes in Tang’s life never seem to stop. Luckily there are moments that shine bright enough to make them worth it.

----------

Tang took a deep breath of the crisp, early Autumn air. It had been the middle of Summer when he had first awoken in this cycle. Having so much time pass without his notice while dealing with his memory problems was both surprising and somewhat disorienting. Not only had he awoken at what would have normally been the end of a cycle, but it had progressed well past that point. The gift from his timeline’s Sandy was certainly working as intended, and Tang was extremely grateful.

Grinning as the leaves crunched underneath his boots, Tang moved with a bounce in his step. Autumn was one of the best seasons. The bright colors of the changing leaves. The refreshing chill in the air. The delicious seasonal foods. It was the perfect time of year to find a cozy spot to read both indoors and out. 

“Here’s a good spot,” Wukong said, pulling Tang from his musing. He sat under the tree he had picked and gestured for Tang to join him.

Tang looked around as he joined Wukong on the ground. It was a nice location. Trees surrounded the pair as leaves occasionally fell around them. They were just outside the clearing the ship had landed in, but still well within the perimeter of the protective wards that hid them from Lady Bone Demon’s forces.

Her behavior this cycle was very different from what Tang was used to. From what little news they were able to get from Megapolis, not much had changed despite the city being under her control. No oppression, no cruelty, no violence. Other than declaring herself ruler, most of her focus seemed to be turned outside the city by trying to capture their little group.

He supposed this was another effect of Sandy’s gift, enforcing peaceful cycles every now and then. Well that suited Tang just fine. He wasn’t quite ready to face her at her normal level of depravity so close after being freed from her.

Tang shivered at the thought of facing her at all.

“Tang? Are you still with me?”

“Huh? Oh, yes, sorry about that.” Tang shook his head to clear his thoughts. “I was lost in thought for a moment. Nothing to worry about.”

“Right,” Wukong said skeptically. “We can do this another time if you aren’t feeling up to it.”

“No, I’m fine, really.” Tang sighed as Wukong raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “I was just thinking about how different She is this time around. It’s… strange is all, but I don’t want to think about that right now. I’d much rather get to work on this.”

“Alright, alright.” Wukong sat up straight. “So. The 72 Transformations. It’s a bit of a misnomer as it can let you transform into literally anything you can imagine, but we won’t get into that.

“Learning how to do it normally takes years of study and practice, myself as an exception. Properly getting this technique down usually means that any of the practitioner's transformations are already permanent. However, you and MK inherited this power from me, so it works a bit differently for you. While you can still transform into whatever you want, I’m sure you noticed that it takes focus to maintain the form you’re in and a decent blow can knock you from it.”

“Sort of?” Tang scratched at the fur on his face. “I've been in my monkey form for a few months now and don’t feel like I’m focusing much on it. But when I flew away from the ship as a cicada I clipped a branch and that did startle me back into my monkey form.”

“Hmm… That’s strange. I can tell you that your form currently isn’t permanent as I can see your human self underneath it with my Gold Vision,” Wukong said as he rubbed his chin. “A hard enough shock, you running out of energy, or being knocked unconscious could probably revert you right now.”

Tang’s breath caught.

“W-what?”

“Hey, don’t panic! You aren’t going to revert any time soon. I mean, you don’t feel low on energy right now, right?”

“Well…” Tang took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. “No more than usual I guess.”

“Wait,” Wukong tilted his head. “Are you usually tired?”

“Just a little bit,” Tang admitted. “I assumed it was just stress from dealing with remembering everything.”

“That probably isn’t helping, but I think it might be something else.” Wukong activated his Gold Vision and examined Tang closely. “Yeah, you’re definitely channeling your powers to maintain that form.”

“But I’m not focusing on it,” Tang protested. “Plus, wouldn’t I revert whenever I sleep? Pigsy hasn’t mentioned me changing in the middle of the night.”

“It’s possible that you’re doing it subconsciously then,” Wukong said as he deactivated his Gold Vision. “It’s probably a trauma response and your mind is just trying to keep you safe by maintaining this form for you.”

“That… makes sense.” Tang blinked and raised an eyebrow at Wukong. “You’ve been reading Sandy’s mental health books?”

“Maybe?” Wukong grinned nervously. “But anyway! Back to the transformations! So while you’re not likely to revert to your human form due to your mind subconsciously supplying the transformation with your powers, it’s not sustainable in the long term. You’ve already noticed that you’re tired all the time. The longer you maintain this form, the more energy it will require. We’ve been lucky so far but we don’t want you passing out from over exertion.”

“So I need to learn how to make my transformations permanent so it doesn’t continuously draw on my powers.”

“Exactly!”

“You said it takes years of study and practice to learn. My timeline’s Sandy may have extended the cycles but I don’t think we have that long.”

“To learn the full technique, yes,” Wukong said with a smirk. “But you don’t need the full 72 Transformations. You only need to learn a single form. Luckily for us, Teacher taught me the shortcut he would use for his students that didn’t feel like they should be human.”

“Huh.” Tang blinked. “There were people who didn't feel like they should be human even that long ago?”

“Yup! I think the modern term is Species Dysphoria, but back then we just referred to it as a soul being born in the wrong body.” Wukong looked up at the falling leaves with a fond smile. “Teacher may have been a strict and harsh taskmaster, but he did care about his students. Of course he said he only helped because he couldn’t have students who were distracted by such frivolous things as appearances. But he always did help with the change instead of dismissing them.”

“Reminds me of one of my college professors.” Tang said with a chuckle. He hummed in thought. “Species Dysphoria… I’m not quite sure that’s what I’m experiencing.”

“Well the main symptom is a displeasure or discomfort with your body, specifically your species, which fits you. It doesn’t have to be from birth either. Some cases have been brought on later in life by traumatic experiences, apparently.”

“Okay, you have to have been reading about this with Sandy.”

“Big guy likes to read out loud when researching,” Wukong said with an embarrassed shrug. “Kinda hard to not absorb some of the stuff when relaxing with his therapy cats.”

“Well at least you’re finally taking your own mental health seriously,” Tang drawled.

“Let’s get back on track,” Wukong said, shifting in discomfort. “Learning a single form for a permanent transformation is still a pretty involved process despite it not taking as long. We will have to memorize a lot about the anatomy of both your base human body and that of your chosen form.”

“We?”

“Yes, we. Before you attempt the transformation yourself I will occasionally be guiding your magic through the process for transforming individual body parts. This to get you accustomed to the flow of the magic as it’s much slower and precise than the usual instant form shifting. It will also let you test out how certain parts feel so you can make changes before you try the final transformation. I’ll need to know what I’m doing before we can do that, though.”

“I’m assuming that guiding my transformation won’t make it permanent, otherwise you would have already helped me do it,” Tang said.

“Right. Something about how you subconsciously resist changes that you didn’t make yourself. The transformation would eventually revert over time if I did it for you.”

“If I’m understanding this all correctly, I’ll need to know the anatomy of my chosen form as well as know how it feels to change my body into that form in a precise way in order to make it permanent?”

“Pretty much.”

“How are we going to be studying the anatomy part?” Tang folded his arms in thought. “I don’t think Sandy has a book on rabbit demons in his self help library.”

“Did you know MK has a membership at The Cloud?” Wukong pulled out a couple of computer tablets. “Apparently, that makes his phone something called a ‘hotspot’ that allows any device he authenticates to access it. He helped me download a bunch of books onto these earlier. They even have audio versions!”

“Well that’s convenient,” Tang said as he accepted one of the tablets. “I suppose we should get started then.”

“That’s the plan,” Wukong said, plugging in some earbuds into the audio port of his tablet.

“Tang! Monkey King!”

“Or not,” Wukong sighed at Mei’s shout.

“We’re over here, Mei,” Tang called back.

“Something weird is happening to MK!” Mei’s voice sounded somewhat panicked. “Come quick!”

The pair shared a worried glance before rushing back towards the clearing. They followed Mei to the other side of the airship where they found some of the others.

MK was examining his hands, waving them around as he looked at them. Red Son was likewise scrutinizing MK, circling him and occasionally prodding at him. Pigsy was nearby, tapping his foot in agitation; a sure sign he was nervous about something.

It took a moment for Tang to remember that Sandy was inside the ship working on some component or another and that Macaque was on patrol looking out for any of the search parties hunting them.

“MK! Are you okay? What’s going on?” Tang looked over the young man. Outside of some leaves in his hair he seemed perfectly fine.

“I think so? I don’t feel strange,” MK said, slapping Red Son’s hand away as the demon poked at his shoulder.

“What happened,” Wukong asked.

“Well, Mei and I were throwing leaves at each other when Red Son snuck up and shoved some down the back of Mei’s jacket.” MK smiled. “It was really funny the way she squealed and-” MK snickered.

As he did, he began to faintly glow with a yellow-orange light.

“And then that happened,” Pigsy finished, gesturing at the young man as MK tried to get his mirth under control. “Except much brighter.”

“Is that all? I thought this would be something serious,” Wukong said as the tension eased from him. “Don’t worry, nothing’s wrong with him.”

“Then what’s happening to me?”

“Congrats, bud! Your powers are finally starting to recharge!”

“Really?! Yes!” MK let out a whoop and jumped up and down in celebration, his glow increasing in intensity as he laughed.

“Awesome! But what does his powers recharging have to do with the glowing,” Mei asked.

“The glowing technically is one of his powers,” Wukong explained. “Every time he laughs he’ll glow like this. I’m honestly surprised it took this long for it to show up.”

“So… Is this permanent or just a side effect of his powers returning,” Red Son asked.

“Permanent. It’s unfortunately not something he’ll be able to turn off. It’s just going to happen from now on. It’ll even happen when he’s under the effect of a glamor.”

“Well as long as it’s not hurting him it should be fine,” Tang said. He blinked as something occurred to him. “Wait, does that mean you glow when you laugh, Wukong?”

The Monkey King froze.

“Uh…”

“No way.” Tang felt a grin creeping up on his face. “You do, don’t you?”

“I- Uh- Well-”

“But Monkey King’s laughed in front of us before,” MK said. “Or at least, he’s laughed in front of me and he’s never glowed. If I can’t turn it off that means neither can you, right?”

“That’s… Yes that’s right.”

“Then what gives?” Pigsy was eyeing Wukong with suspicion. “You just said glamors won’t hide it so why haven’t we seen you glowing?”

“Well… It has to be real, genuine laughter or joy that sets it off…” Wukong chuckled nervously, noticeably not glowing as he did.

“But that means…” Tang frowned in concern. “Wukong? Have you been suppressing your emotions just so you would avoid glowing in front of us?”

Monkey King just shuffled in place as an awkward silence fell.

“What’s all the commotion about,” Macaque asked suddenly as he joined the group by stepping out of a nearby shadow.

“Oh look! Macaque’s back from his patrol! I guess someone should replace him! I volunteer! See you later!”

“Oh no you don’t!” Tang grabbed Wukong by the back of his shirt before he could slip away. “We need to talk about-” 

Wukong quickly twisted and ducked down before he could finish, shrugging the shirt off and darting towards the treeline.

“Macaque glows when he laughs but hides it too!” With that last shout over his shoulder he escaped into the trees.

“What?!” Macaque stepped back as all eyes turned to him. "Traitorous bastard,” he growled before sinking into the shadows cast by the airship and vanishing.

“So… Now what?” MK looked a bit lost as he glanced between the spots the two monkeys had disappeared into.

“We get those two to laugh as much as possible, is what,” Mei said with a devious determination. “I need to get me some videos of them glowing like nightlights!”

“While I don’t really approve of your motivation, you’re probably right,” Tang said with a sigh as he folded up Wukong’s abandoned shirt. “What they’re doing is not healthy. We should get Sandy to talk to them about it as well.”

“Do we even know what they will laugh at,” Red Son asked.

“We’ll just have to try a bunch of different things,” MK said, perking back up at the idea.

“So long as you don’t make any messes, especially in the kitchen,” Pigsy huffed. “I ain’t the best at telling jokes so don’t come to me for ideas.”

“All right!” Mei pumped her fist in the air in excitement. “Let’s get some brainstorming done for Operation: Giggle Glow!”

“Giggle Glow?”

“What? They giggle, they glow! Watch.” Mei poked MK in the side where he was ticklish. True to her word he giggled and started to glow.

“Fair enough,” Tang said with his own snicker as MK poked her right back, initiating a tickle fight. “I'll help out after I let Sandy know what’s going on.”

Tang hummed to himself as he made his way back onto the ship. It was nice to have something to keep busy with. Between studying rabbit demon anatomy and attempting to get two old monkeys to laugh, the next few weeks were not going to be boring.

He paused and chuckled at a humorous thought. Yes, the next few weeks were certainly going to be enlightening.

----------

“I know you said we would be trying out various transformations by having you guide them but… I wasn’t expecting it to happen so soon,” Tang said, fidgeting with his sleeves and doing his best not to tremble. If the concerned looks from Wukong and Pigsy were any indication, he wasn’t doing a very good job.

Barely two weeks had passed since they had started studying rabbit demon anatomy. Tang felt he had made some decent progress in his own research. His scholarly background was certainly a boon as much of the reading was rather dry. And if he decided to speed things along by applying a few retention and memorization spells he learned back during that disastrous training cycle? Well, no one but him had to know.

Wukong, however, was proving that his title as the Intelligent Stone Monkey wasn’t just for show. Even with a speed reading charm, the Monkey King surpassed Tang’s learning pace by a wide margin. By the end of the first week he had half of the chosen books memorized. He was attempting the transformation on himself halfway through the second. Yesterday he perfected it, which led them to now.

“It would’ve been sooner if I wasn’t constantly distracted by MK and Mei trying to get me to laugh,” Wukong half joked.

“Really?” Tang’s eyes widened at that.

Operation: Giggle Glow had gone into full swing a few days following the revelation in the clearing. After a talk with Sandy, both monkeys had reluctantly agreed to try and not hold back their laughter just because they found the glowing to be embarrassing. MK and Mei had taken full advantage of this. Jokes, slapstick, harmless yet humorous pranks, and various other attempts at comedy were thrown around with mixed success.

Tang had already found Wukong’s ability to learn at such a fast pace incredible. But if a few jokes a day were considered to be a distraction that prevented him from finishing sooner… 

“I knew you could learn impossibly fast, and I’ve seen you do it before a few times,” Tang admitted with an awed shake of his head. “Every time it’s both impressive and somewhat intimidating. I’m not going to have to worry about my role as scholarly nerd being taken, am I?”

“As if,” Wukong snorted. “Learning for learning’s sake isn’t my thing. I only put this much effort into stuff I find interesting, if the fate of the world is at stake, or as a favor for a friend.”

“I… I appreciate all of this,” Tang said, lowering his head in a small bow. “I really do.”

“Don’t sweat it.”

“It couldn’t have been fun with how tedious some of these books are.”

“That’s medical texts for you,” Wukong said with a shrug. “Can’t really add too much prose to wade through if someone’s life might be on the line.”

“Focus, you two,” Pigsy chided. “Tang, are you sure you want to go through with this? We can hold off until you’re ready.”

“I-” Tang swallowed and clenched his paws to keep them from shaking. “Do… Do I really have to revert to my… My other form to do this?”

“I’m afraid so,” Wukong said gently. “Layering a transformation on top of another can get… messy. The safest and easiest way to do this is if you’re in your hum- er- base form.”

“Okay.” Tang took a deep breath. In and out. “Okay.” Another breath. He could do this.

“Tang?” Pigsy reached out, taking a hold of one of his paws and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s alright if you want to wait for a bit.”

“No. No it’s… I want to do this. I just…” Tang took another breath before meeting Wukong’s eyes. “It… It’ll only be for a few minutes, right?”

“Five minutes, at most.”

“And… And we’re starting with my head today? So I won’t see Her in my reflections?”

“That’s the plan.”

“I won’t need to keep my eyes open for this, will I?”

“Nope.”

“Okay.” Tang breathed deeply once more before checking over his clothes. He had to make sure the gloves and boots were secured. It would only be his head that was transformed today after all. As long as he couldn’t see any other part of himself that would remain human, he could ignore it. At least, he hoped he could.

“Alright. Okay. I’m ready,” he said, doing his best to ignore his hammering heart. “Should I stand or sit?”

“Whichever is more comfortable for you,” Wukong said.

“How about we sit,” Pigsy suggested, grunting a bit as he lowered himself to the floor.

Tang nodded stiffly and moved to sit down across from him. This was it. While he was looking forward to completing this first step towards a full transformation, the thought of reverting from his monkey form was terrifying. Damn, the trembling had started again.

“Hey, you’re okay,” Pigsy said as he reached over and grabbed Tang’s paws and held them in his hands. “I’m here. Monkey King is here. We’re not going to let anything bad happen to you, promise.”

“O-okay.” Tang tensed a little as he felt Wukong kneel behind him and place his paws on his shoulders. He took a shuddering breath. “S-sorry. Just… Just give me a second.”

“Take your time.” Wukong said, patting him on the shoulder. “We’re in no rush.”

“Right.” In and out. Deep breaths. He could do this. “On… On three?”

“If that will help.”

“Okay.” He looked up at Pigsy and squeezed his hands. “Count down for me?”

“Alright.” Pigsy took his own breath and straightened up. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

“One…”

Tang took one final fortifying gulp of air.

“Two…”

He clenched his eyes shut and gripped Pigsy’s hands like a lifeline.

“Three.”

Tang reached into his well of powers. He had transformed dozens of times before. He had taken to the ability rather quickly back during the cycle when he was the Monkie Kid. It should be easy to just… revert.

His mind screamed at him as he focused.

What are you doing?! You’re safe like this! Stop! She can’t get to you right now! Stop Stop STOP!

It was hard to push past such visceral fear, but Tang grit his teeth and pulled at the thread keeping him in his monkey form.

It would be worth it! Please let this work! He could have a new base form of his own! One that She hasn’t tainted! Please Please PLEASE!

He felt the surge of energy flow through him. And then…

A draft on his bare face. His clothes rubbing against his skin instead of fur. The lack of a comforting weight at the end of his spine.

It worked!

Oh. 

Oh God, it worked.

“Good job,” Pigsy praised softly as Tang’s breath hitched. “You’re doing great. Take a breath. That’s it. Keep your eyes closed.” 

“I’m going to start now, okay,” Wukong said once Tang got his breathing under control.

“Pl-please hurry.”

“Try to relax.” Wukong moved his paws from Tang’s shoulders to cup his face from behind. “Let me guide your magic. I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

“O-okay.”

Tang could feel Wukong’s magic mixing with his as the Monkey King coaxed it to follow his will. Wukong gently pulled his paws up and over Tang’s ears, behind his nape, up and over his crown, down over his face, under his jaw, and back to his starting position. He repeated the motions several times, Tang’s magic following along like a current.

He could feel the transformation start to take effect after a minute or so. It was much different than his usual way of doing it. Instead of an instant surge, the magic flowed slowly and steadily. Thankfully, this didn’t make the change painful. It was… tingly. Almost like the sensation of that rock candy that fizzled and popped in your mouth. Which was not how he thought having his skull elongated to allow for a proper rabbit snout was going to feel.

Wukong’s soft, repetitive touches were soothing as more changes occurred. His teeth and jaw began to itch as they rearranged themselves alongside his skull. The sound of all their breathing seemed to become clearer as what felt like two loose flaps of skin grew down on either side of his head. Those must be his new ears then. Tang wrinkled his nose as a strange new sensation sprouted out around it. Whiskers, if he had to guess.

Tang let out a sigh of relief as he felt the fur start to grow in. He hadn’t realized how uncomfortable he would be with a naked face. Luckily the thick clothing he was wearing seemed to be doing their job as well. The fact they hid bare skin instead of fur was hardly noticeable anymore. He finally began to relax.

Wukong’s paws began to slow moments later. The gentle circulation of magic stilled with them. Tang felt Wukong’s magic carefully detach itself from his own as the sage removed his paws and took a step back.

“Done. Four minutes and thirty seven seconds, exactly.”

Tang took a deep breath in through his nose, marveling a bit at how different it felt. The amount of new scents he could pick up on was not unsurprising based on what he read, but still a slight shock. Luckily it wasn’t completely overwhelming at the moment. He’d have to be careful the next time dinner was being prepared or whenever they next visited a city, but he felt confident he could adjust to his heightened sense of smell rather quickly.

He opened his eyes. His vision wasn’t too different from his monkey form. Perhaps it was a bit better. Tang couldn’t really tell just yet. It was still an improvement from his base form’s poor sight at least. It was still incredible to be able to see so clearly without his glasses. His snout was very prominent, however. He wondered if his mind would eventually block it out like humans did with their own short noses.

Tang focused to look past his snout and frowned at what he was seeing in front of him. Pigsy was looking at him with a somewhat shaken expression.

“Is everything okay, Pigsy?” He reached up to feel his face. He could talk just fine, but the new mouth shape was somewhat odd.

“Yeah, I just…” Pigsy shuddered a bit. “Ugh. Perhaps I should have closed my eyes as well.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, this method of transformation isn’t exactly pleasant to watch with how slow it is,” Wukong said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “Probably should have given you a warning.”

“Now he tells me,” Pigsy grumbled.

“Oh.” Tang winced as a memory from his time as Her prisoner popped up unbidden. “Ugh, yeah, I get that.”

“Tang?”

“Just… just a bad memory. I’ll be fine.” Tang took a breath to reset his thoughts. He twisted around so he could see both Pigsy and Wukong at the same time. “So, how do I look?”

 “Oh. My. God,” Wukong gasped, his eyes wide as he clutched his paws to his cheeks.

“What?” Tang’s stomach flipped. Had something gone wrong?

“You’re adorable!” Wukong’ tail formed a heart shape behind him as he squealed. “I knew I looked cute when I transformed, but that was a given. You’re just so… so…! Eee!” Wukong began stepping in place as words failed him and his excitement grew. 

“Ah.” Tang could feel the skin under his fur begin to heat up. “That’s- uh- good to know? I honestly thought something was wrong at first.”

“Sorry, sorry! I just… really like small, cuddly animals,” Wukong said, doing his best to calm himself.

“I… I’m not sure how I feel about being called ‘small and cuddly’,” Tang said with a slight frown. 

“Right! Sorry!” Wukong shook his head, but tentatively reached his paw out. “I’ll stop but… Can I ruffle your fur real quick first?”

“Uh…”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Pigsy slapped Wukong’s paw out the air. “You’ve already felt him up enough as it is, what with you caressing his face earlier! Don’t think I didn’t notice that!”

“What?” Wukong blinked in what looked like genuine confusion.

“Don’t play dumb! You said you and the other furball were going to work out whatever is going on between you two first, and yet here you are making some moves!”

“Uh, guys,” Tang began to interject, but was quickly spoken over.

“Firstly, what’s going on between Macaque and I is none of your business. Secondly, what  in the world are you talking about?”

“You were flirting with Tang just now!” Pigsy seemed ready to blow steam from his ears. “Calling him cute and cuddly and trying to pet him even though it was making him uncomfortable!”

“Guys,” Tang tried again.

“That was not flirting!” Wukong was scowling now as well. “I just think rabbits are really cute! I’ll admit to getting a bit over excited, but I wasn’t trying to flirt!”

“Oh, sure! Do you go up to every rabbit demon you meet and tell them how adorable they are to their faces? I bet treating them like an animal instead of a person goes over well.”

“Guys!”

Tang’s shout startled them out of their arguing. He took a deep breath and clenched his fists as they turned to look at him.

“You… You both are supposed to be making sure this whole process remains as stress free as possible,” he gritted out, resisting the urge to start yelling as well. “I’m relying on you two to help me through this. You… You promised you wouldn’t fight.”

They began trying to defend themselves, raising their voices to be heard over the other. Tang made a frustrated scream and abruptly pushed past them. He turned to glare at them from the doorway to his bathroom.

“Excuse me. I need a moment to myself.”

As much as he wanted to, he did not slam the door shut. The very audible click as he locked it was satisfying however.

Tang leaned back against the door, sliding down it to sit on the floor. He buried his face in his arms and did his best to keep his breathing under control. He loved his family dearly, but dammit all they made him want to rip his fur out sometimes!

He winced as he heard them shout at each other through the door. Clasping his hands over his ears, Tang did his best to drown out their voices.

Pigsy and Wukong fighting wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. Even in cycles where they were friendly with each other they bickered over the smallest things. The fact they were fighting about him wasn’t even something new to Tang. Both could be rather possessive and prone to jealousy. Pigsy being the jealous one this time was just another normal variable that he had come to expect from the cycles.

Tang tightened his grasp on his ears as he felt tears well up in his eyes.

This wasn’t a surprise. He shouldn’t be this upset. This had happened hundreds, if not thousands, of times before. Tang was technically the oldest and most responsible between the three of them. He should have mediated and made them talk through this misunderstanding like he usually did.

And yet…

Tang did his best to keep his sobs quiet.

He had thought by sharing his story with his family that it would help. For the most part, it had. Everyone had been fairly accommodating to him. So was it selfish to have hoped they would continue to hold back for him? That they would put his need for their support above their seemingly instinctual need to argue?

Maybe it was. After all, from their point of view, it had been like the Tang they knew had changed overnight. Transforming into an emotional, needy wreck with impossible knowledge and some rather presumptuous notions on his relationship with them all. They were probably just as stressed and anxious as he was. Of course they would be fighting. He had managed to screw everything up just by existing.

Tang sniffed and removed his hands from his ears to wipe his nose. Pigsy’s and Wukong’s voices were muffled now. So they had stopped shouting. That was good, he supposed. He wasn’t needed to help mediate then. Which made sense. It was his fault they had been fighting in the first place. His presence wouldn’t have helped. He was completely useless.

That… that wasn’t really being fair to himself.

Tang blinked at that thought. It sounded like something Sandy would say.

What would Sandy say about all this?

Tang closed his eyes and attempted to calm his breathing as he tried to imagine what his large blue friend would think about this.

He would probably tell Tang that he wasn’t being selfish. That he had only just recently escaped from a pretty traumatic situation. That it was normal to rely heavily on others while he recovered. That it was okay to be upset with them when they didn’t take his feelings into consideration.

But… but he also couldn’t expect them to always put him first. They were people too, with their own emotions and needs. That repressing those negative feelings was just as bad as repressing the positive ones. How that didn’t mean they should take it out on each other. That fighting wasn’t a healthy outlet. How it wasn’t his fault if they did fight and how it wasn’t his job to stop them.

Tang’s breathing evened out. It likely wasn’t the exact advice Sandy would give, but it was close enough to help clear his thoughts. He was still upset. But now that he had calmed down a bit he could start to think more rationally. There were things he would need to discuss with Pigsy and Wukong and he wouldn’t be able to communicate them properly if let just his emotions guide his words.

Tang listened for a moment but could no longer hear the others’ voices through the door. Either they were silently waiting for him or had left to cool down. That was fine by him. He could use the time to plan out what he wanted to say.

Before he could do that however, he probably should clean up a bit. Tang wrinkled his nose at the sensation of his tears drying and matting his fur. It seemed the fur on his face was ever so slightly longer and thicker as a rabbit as opposed to a monkey. Just something he would have to adjust to.

Tang picked himself up off the floor and stood at the sink in preparation to wash his face. He glanced up into the mirror reflexively and froze. His reflection stared back at him, wearing the expression of surprise he was feeling. Knowing that he had been partially transformed into a rabbit was one thing. Seeing it for himself for the first time was… Well. It almost didn’t feel real. 

The dark, chocolate brown rabbit in the mirror was certainly real enough to mimic his movements as he examined himself. His snout was narrower than his dragon form, but still just as expressive. He ran a hand through the fur on the top of his head, which was long enough to resemble his usual hairstyle in his base form. Tang gently lifted one of his drooping ears, the proper term was lop if he remembered correctly, to get a look at the inner side. The fur on this side, while incredibly thin, was just as dark as the rest.

Tang frowned a bit at how… uniform he looked. He did like the chocolate brown, but perhaps he could add a secondary color to break things up?

Deciding to worry about that later, he let his ear fall back into place before opening his mouth to examine his teeth. The increased size of his front incisors was expected. The extra set of canines replacing a set of his premolars was not. He pulled at his cheek to get a better look. They seemed… rather sharp. Well, he was a rabbit demon, at least partially. Demons, despite being omnivores, did tend to have a preference for meat. It seemed biting was now a viable form of self defense for him if it came down to it.

Closing his mouth, Tang took his whole reflection in and smiled. It wasn’t quite exactly what he was expecting. There were a few things he might decide to change. But he could see himself, and only himself in it. The color of his eyes. The style of his head fur. Even his expressions were things that he could still recognize from his base form, but were completely untouched by Her influence.

Humming to himself, he turned on the faucet and began scrubbing his face clean. It felt a bit awkward with the gloves. He looked forward to when Wukong would help him transform his hands. Although he wasn’t sure how he would react if he wasn’t able to hold onto Pigsy’s hands for support.

He paused for a moment as he dried his face with a towel. Oh right. Wukong and Pigsy. He still needed to deal with them. Hopefully they had managed to talk through their issues and he didn’t need to go looking for them to get them to communicate.

Tang sighed as he turned and leaned back against the sink. He closed his eyes as he thought. Even if they had apologized to each other, there were things Tang needed to talk to them about. He wasn’t completely blameless for why the argument happened in the first place. He would have to clarify a few things between them all if these transformation sessions were to continue.

He stood there for several minutes, going over how he wanted to word what he wanted to say. A soft knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts.

“Tang?” Pigsy’s voice sounded uncertain. “Can… Can we talk?”

Tang took a step towards the door.

“Is Wukong with you?” he called out. He didn’t want to have to repeat himself more than once if he had to.

“Yes, he is. There’s some things we’d like to say.”

Tang took a deep breath. Looks like his time to rehearse was up. Hopefully he’d be able to say what he wanted in a way that was understandable.

“Okay.”

Tang unlocked the door and stepped back into his bedroom. Pigsy and Wukong were standing there with contrite expressions. They shared a glance before Wukong took a step forward.

“I’m sorry for how I acted earlier,” he began, looking Tang in the eye and remaining serious. “Treating you like a cute animal was demeaning and inappropriate. You’re a fully aware person and should be treated as such. I promise I won’t let myself get carried away like that again.

“I also apologize for not warning either of you over how… intimate the process of helping you transform would appear. I promise you there wasn't any alternative meaning behind it. It’s simply how it’s done.”

“I’m sorry I blew up at you about that,” Pigsy said as he stepped forward. “I didn’t know I could get so jealous or possessive like that. I know you didn’t mean anything by it.

“I’m sorry for starting a fight even though I promised you I wouldn’t, Tang. I was supposed to help with your stress, not add to it. I’ll do my best to keep my temper in check. But I… I’ll understand if you don’t want me to come to these sessions anymore.”

Tang let out a breath. He was glad they had managed to work through their grievances for the most part. Now it was his turn.

“I appreciate and accept your apologies. However, I need to apologize as well.” Tang held up a hand to stop Pigsy and Wukong as they began to protest. “Please, just listen.

“I’m… I’m extremely grateful for you, for all of you, for being so accommodating. You’ve been nothing but kind and supportive as I recover from my… ordeal. I honestly don’t know if I’d be managing as well if you weren’t all here.

“But I’m worried that you may be repressing some of your own feelings while trying to be mindful of mine.”

“Huh?” Pigsy frowned in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Pigsy, I’m going to need you to be completely honest with me.” Tang took a deep breath as Pigsy agreed hesitantly. “Pigsy, did you agree to the idea of Wukong and Macaque potentially entering into a relationship with us in the future because you were actually okay with it, or because you thought it was something I wanted and didn’t want to upset me?”

“I-” Pigsy’s eyes went wide and he floundered for a moment. “I don’t- I mean I- I can get used to the idea-”

“That’s not what I asked.” Tang shook his head. This was what he had been afraid of. “I… I can’t be okay with anyone trying to help me by doing things that will make them unhappy. It’s not good for either of us and will only lead to more pain in the end.

“So I’ll ask once more. Pigsy, are you okay with us possibly entering into a relationship with Wukong and Macaque in the future, yes or no?”

“I-” Pigsy swallowed. He clenched his fists and turned away. “No. No, I'm not okay with the idea.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Pigsy looked back up in shock.

“Okay,” Tang nodded. “I’m not going to make you do something you aren’t comfortable with. You are my partner right now, so if you say you don’t want to have others join in, we won’t.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. I may ask for your reasoning later in private, but your wants are just as important as mine. I refuse to make you feel obligated to do something you don’t want just for my sake, and I’m sorry if you felt like you had to.”

“Oh. That’s…” Pigsy’s shoulders slumped as an unseen tension bled out of him. “That’s a bit of a relief actually.”

“Honestly? Same here,” Wukong said. “I’m fine with the idea, but Macaque isn’t. It’s, uh, one of the main things we’re still fighting about. Having the pressure taken off of us is going to be a big help while we figure things out. Although I should probably take your example and let him know what he wants is important too.”

“I’m sorry,” Tang sighed. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like you all had to join into a relationship together.”

“It’s not your fault. I’m sorry I wasn’t honest about how I was feeling,” Pigsy said, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment. “Could have probably avoided this whole argument if I spoke up earlier.”

“Well, we live and we learn, right?” Wukong said. “Now that we’ve cleared all this up we’ll be able to be more careful about it going forward.”

“Right,” Tang agreed with a nod. He staggered a bit and grabbed onto the door frame of the bathroom as he felt a slight wave of dizziness. “Whoa.”

“Tang?” Pigsy quickly moved over to help steady his partner. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Just dizzy for a moment.”

“Oh right!” Wukong turned and picked up a serving tray that Tang had failed to notice. “I almost forgot! Even though I was the one guiding the process, it was your magic and energy fueling the transformation. You’re going to need to replenish yourself, so Pigsy and I went to get you some snacks after we talked things through.”

Wukong carefully placed the tray on the ground and motioned for the two to join him on the floor. Once they had situated themselves, he removed the cover of the tray.

“Help yourselves,” Wukong said as he snatched a bag of marshmallows and popped them open. 

Tang looked over the selection of snacks and blinked in surprise. 

“Chocolate wafers and orange juice?”

“Well, they’re your favorite,” Pigsy said as he grabbed an apple for himself. “I picked some up at the last city we visited. I, uh, was going to save them as a surprise but thought you would need some cheering up after the argument.”

“That’s very sweet of you,” Tang said. He leaned over and tried to give Pigsy a kiss on the cheek, but he wasn’t quite used to the shape of his snout. So he settled on a quick nuzzle instead before turning back to the prepared food.

“Be careful,” Wukong warned in between marshmallows. “A rabbit’s sense of taste is way stronger than what you’re used to.”

Tang nodded and dipped one of the wafers into the orange juice. Once it had absorbed enough to be slightly soft, he took a bite. Tang’s eyes widened and he started to cough at the explosion of flavor. He swallowed quickly to avoid spraying food everywhere and continued to cough into his arm.

“Tang!”

“I warned him.”

“I’m fine,” Tang gasped as his eyes watered. “Damn, I wasn't prepared. That was… incredible.”

He quickly dipped another wafer into his drink and took another bite, much to the disbelief of his companions. The flavors were still extremely strong, but he was ready this time. He moaned a bit as subtle tones he hadn’t been able to pick up on before danced across his tongue. It was like heaven in his mouth. If this was just what a simple snack could taste like, he couldn’t wait to try Pigsy’s cooking like this.

“Figures he’d adjust quickly when there’s food involved,” Pigsy snorted. He paused just before he took a bite of his apple and frowned. “Wait… isn’t chocolate bad for rabbits?”

“For normal rabbits, yes,” Wukong answered. “Some rabbit demons do have to follow the same dietary restrictions as their animal counterparts, but that’s less than four percent of them. As we’re the ones in control of how Tang transforms, we also control whether he has to adhere to it or not.”

“Obviously, we decided to not go with the restricted diet,” Tang said as he swallowed another wafer. “There’s too much good food out there for me to give up on it all.”

He glanced at Pigsy who had laughed and returned to his apple. Well… almost all foods. There was one he wouldn’t be touching for the rest of his existence.

Tang shook his head to clear his thoughts and avoid thinking about that.

“Ack!”

Tang’s lop ears had been sent flopping around as he shook his head and were currently resting across his snout and eyes, blocking his vision. He didn’t need to see to hear Wukong’s snickers. He reached up to untangle his ears, only for one of them to droop into the glass of orange juice he was still holding, getting it soaked

There was a stunned silence for a moment before Tang, quickly followed by Wukong and Pigsy, started to laugh at the absurdity of it all. The stress from earlier had completely melted away. And if being a bit clumsy with his new ears was all that was needed to get Wukong shining gold with mirth, well Tang could live with that for now.

----------

Tang sighed as he rubbed his left ear in an attempt to quell the ticklish sensation in his ear canal. The past few days had been somewhat tiring. Each morning Wukong would guide his magic through transforming his head into a rabbit’s and each evening he would guide it back. It was taking a bit of a toll on Tang if he was to be honest. Perhaps they should take a break for a few days.

He frowned and began to rub a bit harder. The tickling wouldn’t go away. It started just after breakfast. He had ignored it at first, more preoccupied with how warm he had been feeling. He had thought it was just him not being used to the thickness of his new fur. But going out to stand in the fresh air on deck hadn’t helped much, especially once it started raining shortly afterwards.

Tang scowled as the sensation changed from ticklish to itchy. There was a building pressure that he had barely noticed but realized he had been feeling all day. That certainly wasn’t helping with his headache.

He shoved his hand under his ear in an attempt to reach directly into the ear canal and scratch the itch. Before he could wiggle a finger too far down someone grabbed his wrist and pulled it away.

“Tang!” Pigsy scolded. “Don’t do that! You can hurt yourself by shoving things in your ear.”

“But it itches,” Tang whined. He pulled his hand free and went back to furiously rubbing over the top of his ear in vain.

“Tang, are you alright?” Sandy asked.

“I…” Tang looked around the living room as he thought about it. Everyone was staring at him with expressions of curiosity or concern. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean?” Pigsy reached out and gently pulled his hand away from his ear again.

“My inner ear itches. There’s a pressure building up there and I have a headache. I thought I was just overheating earlier but I might also have a fever?”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Wukong said as he made his way over. “Lift your ear for a second and I’ll take a look inside.”

Tang did as instructed, squirming a bit as he resisted the urge to stick a finger down it again. Wukong leaned down closely and activated his Gold Vision.

“Damn,” he said with a scowl after a minute of inspection. “Ear infection.”

“How did that happen?” MK wondered in concern.

“Rabbits with lop ears have a harder time cleaning them out and thus are more prone to infection,” Wukong explained as he straightened up. “Though it might have been the orange juice…”

“Orange juice?”

“Not important. The problem is that we don’t have the medicine to treat it on the ship right now. We’re nowhere near a town or city to buy some, but until we do get it treated I won’t be able to transform him back. Internal injuries and transformations don’t mix well unless you’ve mastered the full technique.”

“Isn’t he going to revert back after a while anyway?” Red Son reminded them all. “That means we’re on a time limit.”

“We could try transferring him some magic and hope it holds until we find a town,” Macaque suggested.

“I might have something that we can use,” Tang said, getting their attention. “I’ll need a bowl though.”

Once a bowl had been obtained, Tang held his hands out over it. He took a breath and focused. His hands began to glow with a golden-yellow light. As he continued to channel his magic, the light seemed to thicken. Before long it began to drip from his hands, coalescing in the bowl as a shining liquid.

“There,” Tang sighed, stopping the flow once the bowl was half full and leaning back into his seat.

“What is it?” Mei asked.

“An all-purpose general healing elixir,” Tang answered with a yawn. “It won’t automatically cure anything, but it acts as a disinfectant, antibiotic, stomach soother, and fever reducer. A few drops of this every few hours and my ear should be better in a day or two.” He yawned again. “Learned how to make it back when I was obsessively training to keep you all safe. Takes a lot out of you though.”

“We just said that reverting back would be bad for you,” Wukong said with a scowl. “Please don’t expend your energy like that again or it will happen before we get you healed up.”

“Sorry.” Tang shook his head to try and chase the tiredness away, but scowled as his ears went flopping over his face again. “Stupid ears. I’m starting to think they’re more trouble than they’re worth.”

“I thought you liked them?” Sandy said as he prepared a dropper for the elixir.

“I like how they look,” Tang clarified. “But they get in the way whenever I shake my head or lean over something. I’ve also noticed that while I can hear things in front of or behind me a lot better, things directly to my side are actually muffled. Now there’s the possibility of them getting infected more often than not.

“I… I think I’m probably going to switch them to the erect style.”

“You sure?” Pigsy asked, taking Tang’s hand and squeezing it in reassurance. “I know you were pretty excited about them being this way.”

“That was before I knew how much a hassle they were,” Tang sighed, wincing as the itchiness in his ear grew. “I’d rather not have to deal with them getting infected again if I don’t have to.”

“Well, it’s your choice.”

“Right. Wukong?”

“Yeah?” The Monkey King blinked. “Wait, you mean right now?”

“If you think it won’t use up too much of my energy,” Tang said. “I can wait if you think it will, but I would prefer to get it done as soon as possible.”

“Well… It shouldn’t,” Wukong admitted reluctantly. “It’s only a few small muscles that will need to be adjusted. Since it’s all external it won’t mess with your infection. If you're sure, I can do it, but only if you promise to do nothing but rest for the remainder of the day.”

“I can certainly do that,” Tang agreed with a yawn. “Might even take a nap out here once you’re through.”

“Ooh! Living room sleepover!” MK jumped up in excitement. “I’ll go get blankets and pillows!”

“I’ll make some soothing tea,” Sandy said enthusiastically.

“I’ll find some relaxing tunes!” Mei began typing away at her phone.

“I’ll wait here, like a sane person,” Red Son huffed.

“Might as well transform my ears now while we wait,” Tang said with a smile.

The transformation didn’t take long. Tang marveled at how he could now move his ears around freely. The muffled noises were no longer a problem and he could hear everything around him with a sharp clarity.

As MK set up the bedding, Pigsy helped apply the elixir with the dropper. Tang shivered a bit at the sensation of liquid flowing into his ear, but sighed in relief as the itching finally faded.

“Ooh, here's a good playlist,” Mei said. “Chill LO-FI Beats to Relax and Recover From an Ear Infection To!”

“Of course,” Red Son groaned with a roll of his eyes.

Tang snickered as Mei began streaming the genuinely relaxing music to the sound system. He leaned against Pigsy’s shoulder and pulled one of the blankets up around them. The others all made themselves comfortable in various ways as well.

Tang hummed to himself in satisfaction. The gentle music. The rain pattering against the windows. MK’s soft snickers and glowing as Mei showed him funny things on her phone. The smell of Sandy’s tea. It all combined into a wonderfully warm and cozy atmosphere. Before long he drifted into a peaceful sleep.

----------

Tang focused as he did his best to mold the clay into the shape he was imagining with his paws. It had taken two full week's rest after recovering from his ear infection before Wukong had been comfortable enough to start the transformations again. Once he was, Tang had picked for his hands to be next so he could get rid of the confining gloves.

It was taking some time to adjust to his paws. The fingers were shorter for one, with only two segments instead of three. The same was true for his thumbs having only a single segment, but were still fully opposable. Instead he had a set of claws growing out of each of his digits. They were decently sharp, as Tang had discovered after nearly drawing blood by scratching his face. He’d have to be a bit more careful and relearn the proper pressure to apply.

He had paw pads now as well. They certainly made gripping things easier than if they were completely covered in fur. His fingers were wider than he was used to to accommodate the pads. It was a bit frustrating for Tang for the first few days. He kept misjudging when he went to grab things. Being used to the normal length of his fingers, he would snag objects by his claws and send them falling to the ground.

After being banished from the kitchen for breaking a third glass, Tang dragged out the giant basin of clay he still had. He couldn’t break the material no matter how clumsy he was and set about messing with it to get a feel for how his new fingers moved. He grew bored of his stuffy room after the first hour and relocated to the living room where the light was better.

He was rather pleased with his progress so far. Three of the simplified zodiac animals he had decided to make were finished and he was near completion on the fourth. They weren’t his best work as he wasn’t using his earth shaping, but he could live with that. Tang was happy to discover that his new claws were very handy when it came to some of the more intricate details.

Tang’s ears twitched and rotated back as he heard hurried footsteps from down the hall. He looked up in time to see Macaque dash in followed closely by MK and Mei who were holding… feather dusters?

“Stay away from me!” Macaque was rather breathless as he jumped over the couch and landed opposite of the coffee table Tang was working at.

“You’re trapped now!” Mei declared victoriously. “Prepare for a tickling of your lifetime!”

“Stay back!” Macaque reached down into Tang’s basin and scooped up a glob of clay. “I’m armed!”

“Hey!” Tang’s protest was ignored as Macaque threw the clay at the approaching menaces.

“Eep!”

MK and Mei managed to duck down in time. The clay went flying and-

SPLAT!

-hit Wukong, who had appeared in the doorway, square in the face.

There was a stunned silence for a moment as they all froze. Wukong slowly wiped the clay from his face and just stared at it with a stupefied expression.

“Pfft… Bwahahahaha!” Macaque began to cackle. He glowed a bright purple while his six ears glowed blue, pink, and green.

WHAP!

Macaque’s laughter cut off as he was struck by the clay. Wukong smirked from where he had thrown it and laughed at Macaque’s look of shock. The black furred monkey growled as he reached once more into Tang’s basin.

“Uh oh…” MK said.

Soon clay was flying all over the living room. Tang quickly cast a dome of protection over his figurines to save them from the line of fire. It wasn’t a moment too soon as a wad of clay hit him in the back of the head. He turned and glared at a guilty looking Mei.

“I was aiming for Macaque!”

“Oh, I bet you were.” Tang raised his hands and they began to glow golden-yellow. Three spheres of clay rose from the basin and began orbiting him as he smirked. “Doesn’t mean I can’t get my revenge!”

“That’s cheating!”

Tang responded to her objection with a clay ball to the face.

Cries of success, shouts of surprise, and peals of laughter filled the air as the clay was flung back and forth. It quickly turned in everyone against Tang as he used his earth shaping to gain the upper hand. He stood in the middle of the room, dodging or catching the projectiles as they came at him. He did his best to redirect the clay towards their hiding spots, but mostly hit the furniture they were taking shelter behind.

By the time the basin was empty, both the combatants and the room were caked with clay. As the laughter faded and the adrenaline died down from the lack of ammunition, the realization of what they had done slowly crept in.

“Oooh, Sandy’s gonna kill us,” Mei bemoaned as she tried to scrape some clay off the wall.

“At least it looks like we didn’t break anything,” Macaque said and he uprighted a fallen chair.

“No, but I’m not sure this is going to come out,” MK sighed as he held up a stained couch cushion.

“Don’t worry, I can fix this,” Tang reassured.

“You can?”

“Trust me. Just try to stand somewhere there’s not a lot of clay and hold your arms out.”

“If you say so,” Wukong said with a shrug.

Once they had all found a spot to stand, Tang closed his eyes and focused. He began to use his earth shaping to sense the room around him. Lifting his hands, he began to turn slowly in place. He gently pulled any clay he could feel from the surface it was stuck to and collected it in the center of the room. After a few minutes he opened his eyes and lowered the giant ball of clay back into the basin.

“That was awesome!” MK looked around the room in awe. “You got almost all of it! The rest shouldn’t take too long to clean up now.”

“I’m surprised you even managed to get it off our clothes,” Mei said, examining her jacket.

“Wish the same could be said about our fur,” Macaque grumbled as he pulled out a tiny piece of clay.

“I could probably get it out if you let me run my paws through your fur,” Tang suggested.

“Please.”

Macaque sat on the ground in front of Tang while the others began cleaning up the few remaining bits he had missed. He reactivated his earth shaping and gently ran his paws through his fur. Being mindful of his claws, he carefully combed the fur with his fingers, allowing whatever clay he found to stick to his paws.

“Hmmm… You’re pretty good at this.” Macaque had relaxed into Tang’s touch as he worked. A soft purr began to emanate from him as he closed his eyes.

“Alright, I think I got it all,” Tang said a few minutes later. He blinked in surprise as Macaque’s purrs trailed off into gentle snores.

“Did you just put him to sleep?” MK asked slack jawed.

“I… I guess I did.” He looked up as he absently flicked the collected clay into the basin. “Do you want to go next, Wukong?”

“Sure,” Wukong said. “Don’t think you’ll catch me falling asleep like a newborn though.”

Unfortunately for the Monkey King, Tang’s ministrations were apparently extremely relaxing and he too succumbed to slumber.

“This is great,” Mei whispered as she snapped pictures of the two monkeys leaning against each other as they slept.

“Did either of you two want me to get the clay out of your hair as well?”

“And get put to sleep by your chloroform hands? No way!” Mei put her phone away and made to leave. “I’ll just take a shower, thank you very much.”

“Suit yourself,” Tang shrugged. He dismissed the protective dome around the coffee table and picked up the figurine he had been working on.

“Uh…”

Tang looked up and found MK standing there. He was shuffling from side to side and didn’t seem to know where to put his hands.

“Yes, MK?”

“I… I wouldn’t mind you getting the clay out of my hair.”

“Oh.” Tang smiled as he put the figure back down. “Well then come over here and we’ll get started.”

Some hours later, Tang dimmed the lights of the living room as he left so it wouldn’t disturb its three sleeping occupants. On the coffee table rested a full set of the twelve zodiac animals.

----------

Tang examined himself in the mirror and frowned. It only took one week this time for Wukong to agree to move on from transforming just his hands. Now his entire torso was transformed. Outside of being covered in the same chocolate brown fur, he didn’t feel much different. Wukong mentioned something about a flexible spine and sturdier arms for running. Tang hadn’t made it that far in his own studies to really understand what he meant.

He probably should have asked some clarifying questions. However, with more of his body being transformed at once came the price of having to spend more energy to do so. Tang had needed some food and a nap right after they had finished. He had only woken up a few minutes ago in fact. This was his first chance to see how he looked.

Tang didn’t consider himself exceedingly vain. Yet as he looked at how uniform his fur was in his reflection, he couldn’t help but feel a bit dissatisfied. Being the same color all over felt… Bland. Boring. Maybe even unimpressive. Not that he wanted to stand out in a crowd like a flashing neon sign. He just wanted something to break up his silhouette.

Luckily he had time to figure out what he wanted. He could even experiment a bit with a spell that changed the color of one’s hair. It should work just as well on fur and since it was completely cosmetic it wouldn’t mess with his transformation.

First he would need to figure out what pattern his secondary coat color would be. Using a bright neon green to mark it out, he began to play around with some options.

Just his chest? A good start but not enough.

Chest and abdomen? Better. Perhaps it could extend past his waist once fully transformed.

Ears? Unlike the lop ears his erect ears didn’t have fur on the inner side and had exposed pink skin. They were rimmed with fur however. Something to think about.

Arms? Hmm… Maybe just the undersides?

Tang sighed as more and more options seemed to come to mind. This was trickier than he thought. He should probably pick a color first before he decides on a pattern anyway. That way he would know if where he was deciding to change his fur would look good with it. The bright neon green wasn’t really helping.

Sticking with just changing his chest and abdomen for now, Tang started to cycle through various colors.

Red? Very striking. But also very noticeable. It looked a bit too much like he was bleeding all over.

Yellow? It matched the brown very well. But he was honestly sick of the color. That was a no.

Cream? Nope nope nope nope nope nope! That had been way too close to white for his tastes. That was one color he hoped his fur never became.

Tan? Better than cream at least. But it was still somewhat bland.

Pink? Probably a softer shade than that. Yes, that was nice. It reminded him of Neapolitan ice cream though.

Purple? It didn’t look bad. It just didn’t grab him that much either.

“Tang?” Pigsy called as he knocked on the bathroom door.

“Come in,” Tang answered absently. What if it was lavender instead?

“It’s almost time for lunch,” Pigsy said as he opened the door. He blinked as he watched the fur on Tang’s front change from lavender to deep violet. “Uh, what’s up with your fur?”

“Hmm? Oh, sorry.” Tang canceled the color changing spell, reverting to chocolate brown. “I just think being a single color all over is a bit boring,” he said with a sigh. “I was testing to see what secondary color I might want to try.”

“Not having much luck?”

“Not yet.”

“Well I ain’t good at this kind of stuff,” Pigsy admitted. “I’m not artsy like MK.”

“That’s alright,” Tang reassured his partner as he stretched. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Why don’t you look at some actual rabbit breeds?” Pigsy suggested as he stepped aside to let Tang exit the bathroom. “Maybe you’ll get inspired.”

“Not a bad idea, actually,” Tang said as he pulled on a shirt. “But that can wait until after lunch. I’m starving!”

“Ha! Never known a time when you weren’t!”

----------

Tang carefully walked around the clearing on his new legs. It had been a bit hard to convince Wukong to skip the plantigrade shaped feet and jump straight to digitigrade. He had tried convincing the scholar that it would take too long to adjust to them, but Tang had insisted. He had already given up on one of his preferred traits with the lop ears. He wanted to at least try before dismissing another.

The next month had been rather laborious. Standing was actually a little painful at the start as he wasn’t used to balancing all of his weight on just his toes. Walking was out of the question. He had spent most of the first week sitting in bed stretching and massaging his feet to get a feel for them. Luckily he had his studies on anatomy to keep him occupied.

Sandy, the wonderful friend that he was, had come through and constructed a water tank with a treadmill that was commonly used in physiotherapy. The first few sessions had been utterly exhausting. Wukong had nearly put his foot down and called the whole thing off after Tang almost passed out while still in the tank. He had managed to convince the Monkey King to let him keep going, but just barely. After a week and a half of consistent practice, and some rather liberal application of recovery spells, he was able to last a full three hours with no pain.

He began moving around the ship on his own after that. It was more difficult without the water to help hold his weight, but he managed to hobble around without needing too much assistance. He still grew tired if he stood too long, but that also improved over time. After another week he didn’t even need to hold onto the walls for support.

Tang breathed in the crisp air and smiled. It was unseasonably pleasant. Just slightly chilly instead of the usual cold at the start of late Fall. He was glad they had picked today to park the ship for maintenance as it would probably be the last nice day outside as Winter loomed closer.

“Hey, Tang!”

Tang looked up and waved as MK and Mei approached. He had to actually look down a bit as they came near, thanks to the slight increase in height provided by the shape of his feet. It was a bit strange being the second tallest after Sandy.

“Mei and I are going to race to see who can cross the clearing faster,” MK explained in breathless excitement once they reached the scholar. “Wanna join in?”

“I don’t know…” Tang hummed in thought as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I haven’t really tried anything faster than a power walk just yet.”

“It’s only about twenty meters,” Mei said. “A short sprint might be good for you.”

“Perhaps.” Tang stretched his legs. He had been feeling a bit restless just walking around. “Oh, alright. But we should get Wukong to watch just in case something goes wrong.”

“This is a bad idea,” Wukong grumbled later as he stood to the side of the three participants. “You haven’t even tried jogging yet. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“I’m going to have to try running eventually,” Tang said as he stepped in place. “Might as well get it out of the way now with you on hand in case something does go wrong.” He stretched his arms up over his head and glanced over at the sulking monkey with a raised eyebrow. “Or would you rather I have to figure it out in the middle of a dangerous situation?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Come on!” MK was practically bursting with energy. “Let’s do this!”

“Alright, alright,” Wukong sighed. He raised an arm in preparation to signal the start of the race. “On your marks.”

The three of them all took their positions.

“Get set.”

Tang tensed.

“Go!”

Tang shot forward as Wukong swiped his arm down. He kept his whole focus on staying upright as he ran. He was moving quite fast, to his surprise. He had known rabbits were built for running, but feeling the wind racing past his ears was an exhilarating experience.

Something told him he could be going even faster. That he could outrun anything if he just crouched down and used all four limbs. Lost in the rush of adrenaline, he decided to do just that. With a short leap he tried straightening his back to be parallel with the ground and reached out in front of him with his arms. A moment of sharp clarity hit Tang just before his hands hit the dirt and two thoughts blared in his mind.

The first was the realization that his arms and torso weren’t transformed right now.

The second was that this was probably going to hurt a lot.

Tang barely heard Wukong’s shout of alarm as his arms gave out under him and he went tumbling across the ground. He rolled for a few feet before coming to a halt in an undignified heap. Groaning at the new bruises he felt, he straightened out to lie on his back. He stared up at the sky as he tried to get his breathing back under control.

For some reason, he found the situation amusing and giggled. Probably a side effect of the adrenaline still coursing through his system. He laughed a bit harder when Wukong’s unimpressed expression passed into his vision as the monkey leaned over him.

“Well you can’t be too hurt if you find eating shit like that to be funny,” he deadpanned. His brow creased a little in concern. “Unless you’re concussed.”

“I-I’m fine,” Tang snickered. “Just… just a little bruised.” He accepted Wukong’s outstretched paw and pulled himself up. “That was quite the rush!” He leaned slightly against Wukong, still feeling bubbly. “I’m definitely keeping my legs this way. I can’t wait to try that again with the full transformation!”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” Wukong groaned. “Let’s stick to light jogging for now until that happens.”

“Can do,” Tang agreed with a chuckle. He waved over to a concerned looking MK and Mei to let them know he was alright. He hadn’t seen who had finished first, but he felt that he had won something himself.

----------

Tang panted a bit as he snuggled into Pigsy’s embrace. He felt quite content at the moment and basked in his partner’s presence. He giggled a bit as he felt one of Pigsy’s hands sliding down and began gently playing with his fluffy tail.

“Enjoying yourself?” He teased.

“Mmhmm,” Pigsy hummed in agreement.

“Well, I’m glad you had fun helping me test out my last few bits.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?” Pigsy chuckled. “I’d be more than willing to help ‘test your bits’ anytime.”

“You… you didn’t find it weird?” Tang asked in a sudden wave of self-consciousness. “It’s not like what you’re used to…”

“Yeah, it was different. But it was still good.” Pigsy kissed Tang’s forehead in reassurance. “You were good. Don’t really care what it’s like as long as it’s with you.”

Tang smiled and nuzzled against Pigsy’s chest. They lay there for a bit, enjoying the closeness of the other.

“Wukong says I should be ready to try the full transformation myself soon,” Tang said softly.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Tang swallowed a bit, suddenly nervous. “He’s been quizzing me on my anatomy studies and says I should only need a few more weeks of review.”

“That’s great,” Pigsy praised as he pulled Tang into a tighter embrace. “You’ve been working so hard on this.”

“What if I mess up?”

“You won’t.”

“But what if?”

“Then Monkey King will help fix it and I’ll be there to support you.”

“But-”

“Shh. Don’t think about it too much. Just relax.”

Tang sighed as Pigsy began purring, unconsciously doing as instructed.

“Cheater.”

“Is it working?”

“You know it is.”

“Then that’s all that matters.”

Tang closed his eyes as he let the vibrations from his partner’s chest soothe him. He had always had a weakness for purring. He couldn’t wait until he could reciprocate with his own.

“Feeling better?” Pigsy whispered into his ear.

“Mmhmm.”

“Good.” His voice became a bit more playful. “Then how about we start test number two with those bits of yours?”

Tang responded with enthusiastic agreement.

----------

Tang took a deep breath as he stood alone in his room while in his monkey form. It was time.

The others weren’t very happy that he had insisted that he attempt the transformation by himself. Tang had reasoned that he needed to be sure he could do it alone, as he wouldn't have their support at the beginning of the next cycle. They had reluctantly agreed. As a precaution, they were all currently waiting just outside in the hall, ready to burst in at the first sound of Tang’s distress.

Tang shook his head and refocused. There wasn’t much point in putting it off any longer. Quickly disrobing, he sat in the center of the room and began to meditate.

He breathed slowly and evenly. He kept everything he had learned over the past few months at the forefront of his mind. He remembered the flowing sensation of his magic as Wukong had guided it. He recalled how each and every part of his body was supposed to feel from his experiences from the test transformations.

Once he was ready, he cut the magic keeping him in his monkey form and reverted to his base form. 

His human form. 

Shivering a bit at the draft against his suddenly bare body, Tang pressed down on the rising urge to panic and began to circulate his magic as Wukong had taught him. He warmed as it began to form a current through him. Keeping his eyes closed, he brought forth everything he had studied and felt over the past few months. He gently took hold of the swirling flow of magic within and pushed.

The sensation of having his whole body transform at the same time was very disorientating. The tingling all over was much stronger, almost to the point of distraction. Tang resisted the desire to grit his teeth as they were currently rearranging themselves in his jaw and willed himself to stay focused.

His skull elongated and whiskers grew from his snout. His ears lengthened and re-positioned themselves further up his head. His fingers lost a segment and grew claws. His spine grew slightly as a tail sprouted from its base. His feet creaked as the bones rearranged themselves so he would stand on his toes. All of this happened simultaneously and Tang struggled a bit to keep track of it all.

What felt like hours but could have only been minutes passed. Tang did his best to keep his breathing steady and nearly sighed in relief as he felt his fur start to grow in. He redoubled his concentration as he focused on the knowledge of how genes worked to determine the color and pattern of a rabbit’s coat.

The fur stopped growing. His bones stopped shifting. His skin stopped stretching. The tingling began to fade.

Tang kept the circulation of his magic up for a few moments more. Once he double and triple checked that there didn’t seem to be anything else left to shift, he let it go. Taking a steadying breath, Tang opened his eyes just as his magic settled.

He did his best to examine himself from his seated position. His paws and feet looked and felt right. It seemed he got the secondary color he had picked out correct. He could hear and smell things with the expected sharp clarity. His bits were all in order.

He shook his head at how ineffective it was to just stare down at himself. What he needed was to look at his entire body all at once. Tang picked himself up off the floor, breathing a sigh of relief as he was able to stand on his digitigrade feet just fine. He pulled out a strand of fur and blew on it, looking away from the bright flash as it transformed into a full length mirror.

Trembling, Tang stepped in front of the mirror.

He stared.

The rabbit demon in his reflection stared back.

Tang swallowed thickly as he examined the figure in the mirror.

He had managed his fur color correctly. While his face, paws, feet, and he assumed most of his back were the dark chocolate brown he liked, his front was a vibrant reddish brown that blended beautifully together with the darker color. It even rimmed his eyes and inner ears, providing a wonderful contrast.

His breath caught as he looked over the traits that he recognized from his human form. The style of his head fur. The color and shape of his eyes. His expressions. All of it combined together with the rabbit traits and the fur color to make…

Himself.

He slapped a paw over his mouth as his eyes watered.

Tang was looking at himself. That rabbit demon was him. And it was only him.

Overwhelming emotions rushed through him as he reached out and touched the mirror, the reflection that was him copying his movements perfectly.

Incredulity.

Relief.

Hope.

Peace.

Joy.

Euphoria.

Tang couldn’t hold back any longer and began to sob.

The door to his room burst open.

“Tang!” Pigsy rushed over and began looking him over, the others all close behind. “What happened? Are you hurt? Did something go wrong?”

“Pigsy!” Tang hiccuped as he grabbed his partner’s arm and pulled him in front of the mirror. “Look! It’s me!” He laughed through his tears as spread his arms out to fully present himself. “It’s me!”

“It’s… It worked?”

“It worked!” Tang threw his arms around Pigsy’s shoulders and laughed and cried in equal measure. “It worked! It’s me! It’s me! It’s me…”

“Well, uh, congrats and all that,” Wukong coughed, grabbing their attention while he stared up at the ceiling. The others were likewise averting their gazes. “We’ll all just, uh, wait outside for you two then.”

“Huh,” Pigsy blinked as they made a hasty retreat and closed the door behind them. “What was that about? You’d think they’d want to stick around and celebrate.”

“Pigsy,” Tang giggled, finding the whole thing hilarious. “Pigsy, they left because I’m naked.”

“You are?” Pigsy looked down. “Oh. You are.”

Tang couldn’t help it. He laughed. The euphoria of his transformation combined with the hilarity of his oblivious partner just filled him to the brim with joy. It felt like it could burst out of him at any moment.

He started to glow a bright golden-yellow.

“Tang, you’re glowing,” Pigsy said. “Literally.”

“Thanks, I didn’t notice,” Tang snorted. “Guess I- pfft- guess I caught the Giggle Glow. Let me just- hahaha- let me catch my breath.”

The glow dimmed as he got his mirth under control, but occasionally brightened as he continued to giggle.

“Okay. I’m okay. Let me clean up and get dressed then we’ll go celebrate with the others.”

“I mean, it sounded like they would be willing to wait a bit,” Pigsy said. He looked Tang up and down with an appreciative smile. “We could celebrate ourselves first.”

“Later,” Tang promised. “I want to show off my new self to everyone.”

“When you say show off…”

“Don’t worry,” Tang said with a smirk. “You’re the only one who’ll get to see the whole thing.” He shamelessly stretched his arms up over his head. “Once we’ve had our fill of the party, we can come back and I’ll share all of myself with you.”

“Sounds, uh, sounds good,” Pigsy swallowed as he stared at Tang’s form.

Tang snickered, glowing slightly as he moved over to the dresser to pull out some clothes.

Once dressed, he and Pigsy made their way to the living room where they were met with enthusiastic congratulations. The celebratory mood only grew once Wukong confirmed that he could no longer see Tang’s human form with his Gold Vision. The transformation was indeed permanent.

The revelation that Tang had somehow developed the Giggle Glow as well was met with some confusion. They had scratched their heads over it for a few minutes before they all shrugged and moved on with celebrating.

Tang could not remember a time when he felt so happy. Both before and during the cycles. A weight inside him had seemed to have been completely lifted.

He thoroughly enjoyed the party that lasted for most of the day. 

He enjoyed the after party with Pigsy even more.

----------

As Tumblr only allows for 1,000 blocks of text per post, this chapter has been split into two. The read the rest of this chapter and see my closing notes check out Part 2 Here or scroll back up to click Next. If you prefer a completely uninterrupted experience, click the AO3 Link above.

[dbmars]

The Week from Absolute Hell

First and most important for this blog, I posted a new chapter of Bram Stoker's Hannibal.

I'm really glad I posted because I haven't been able to write much this week. My brain literally would not let me. All i could do in my free time was get lost in a movie or chat with the Hannibal Ais on character.ai, pretty much rp'ing as Will with various Hannibal bots and setting up random scenarios like "Will is working at a charity car wash!" just to see what happens.

I don't post online in general about my real life in the fandom space, because I almost feel like it's just a way to elicit attention and sympathy from people who don't really know me, which shouldn't be validating but... I don't know, can be? When I see others posting about their struggles with mental health and such I always try to leave a message of support or just a like or something, send a meme if asked, etc.

I have real supports in my life to draw on. Some real besties, despite my marital partner's lack of ability to support me the way I want to be supported (that's for another post but whatever). It's self indulgent, but here we are.

The week before this was spring break, and the family had a lovely little vacation. I did catch a cold on the road which doesn't surprise me; lack of sleep and gas station bathrooms, even as I tried to stay germ free. I have a 1yo so I knew if she caught something, I would, too. Luckily the symptoms held off until the day we left and I was miserable on the two day drive home but whatever, I was just in the car.

Sunday night/Monday Morning I have a very vivid dream about my grandmother dying in my arms. The next morning I get a text from my mom that she did die that night. I knew it was coming; she had stopped eating and was refusing it. She'd gotten COVID and didn't want to recover it seemed. She was 99 and living in a care facility and decided it was time. I was more worried about my mom to be honest, but I also had a lot of feelings to unpack. But there was no time to process, oh no. No time for big feelings -- I have 2 children, a house, and a full time job.

I felt really sick on Monday, and I was still compartmentalizing about Grandma. But I knew on Tuesday I had two interviews at my job. One was to keep my current position I've had for six years. The other was for another job I was interested in that paid the same amount as the current job but would be a fun change. These interviews got pushed to after spring break and I needed to get them done even though I felt like shit and I was emotionally messy.

The interviews happened Tuesday. They didn't go great but I wouldn't say that I bombed them. I definitely had some sickness related brain fog.

The next day I took a bereavement day to rest my body and help my mom with the plans and maybe give myself time to process. I had my day alone planned out, the kids at school, when I get a call from my boss that I didn't get either job. I was being demoted. I would still have a job that paid less, even after devoting myself for six years to this particular job.

The worst part is that they announced the new hires, and everyone retained their position but me. And they haven't finalized what I'll be doing next year so I can't say I've been offered something else. But EVERYONE KNOWS now that I didn't get either job I applied for. I feel like a total failure. I feel publicly shamed.

All this, and I manged to leave my wallet on the roof of my car and drive off. I was trying to get my child in her car seat and the email announcing the hires had just come out about an hour before and I wasn't thinking straight. So now I get to cancel my cards and try to get a new license etc.

I couldn't write. That's my one escape. My brain just wouldn't do it. So the fact that I managed to post this chapter at all is a testament to my tenacity and my loyal service to the Hannibal fandom and all the beautiful wonderful people that come onto Ao3 and Wattpad and Twitter to encourage me, take time to leave me notes and interact with me. I thought about just scrapping this whole project after 50 chapters, but I won't do that to them.

[suvidrache]

Real Slow, Now

age in bio when interacting. minors do not interact.

Word Count: 1,142 / Read it on AO3 / Wattpad | Event List

Kabal was known to disappear at times. He never told you where he was going, but he always told you when you could expect him to be home again. He only ever said the time. He never stated the day he'd be back. That was his business to know, and you didn't need to be meddling in it. He never told you anything, not since Kano had gotten hold of him. Kabal lived his life as a criminal, working for the Black Dragon. Kabal didn't want you getting involved in criminal ways. He wanted you to stay safe. He also wanted to protect himself. The less you knew, the better. If you were ever interrogated, you wouldn't say a word. After all, what could you say? He never said a word. The only things that you knew were he used to work as a New York City SWAT team member until he was horrifically burned, forced to wear a respirator for the rest of his life, and then he was suddenly healed and back to his old self - sort of. He acted differently than he did before, and you had no clue what he did for a living. You were always afraid you were going to lose him again. He'd disappear for days on missions, whatever they were. He never told you where he was going, either. It was always the time he would be back and nothing further. You were glad that he at least kept in contact when he went on these missions. He'd text you almost daily unless he had become busy and was unable to do so. Luckily, his missions were only once or twice a month. Never for very long, until one day, he disappeared. He didn't bother to be in contact with you. You had nearly lost him when he had been burned. He had been gone for weeks when it happened. He disappeared for months once before and returned in perfect health. It bothered you, for him to have disappeared a third time, no place to start looking, and no one to turn to for help. You cried, and you stayed up for days, hoping, willing, praying. Anything that you hoped would work to bring back the man you loved dearly. You sat up in your bed. It was five in the morning. The time Kabal would be getting up to go to his job as a police officer, you never forgot it. You had been with him for years. You swung your legs over the side of the bed, and you placed your head in your hands. Your elbows dig into your legs. You moved your face lower, your hands touching your head.

"Please… come home…"

You heard the noise as if someone had been breaking into your house. You quickly grabbed Kabal's gun from your bedside table. You raced downstairs and pointed the gun at the door. Your fingers were on the trigger, ready to pull and shoot whoever dared to enter your residence at this hour. You still remembered the days when Kabal had taught you how to shoot. The days when he let you keep one of his guns in case anything were to happen. He didn't want you to get hurt while he was away. He wanted you to be able to handle yourself if anything were to happen. You stayed prepared, keeping the gun close to you and locking the doors and windows at night. 

Kabal continued to struggle outside the door. Not being able to find the right key to unlock the door in the dark. Someone had left the porch light off. He finally managed and walked inside the lit-up house. He froze, seeing you armed and ready. He raised his hands slowly.

"Babe, it's me. Kabal."

You lowered your gun.

"Where the fuck have you been?"

He closed his eyes and breathed out slowly. He stepped into the house, closed and locked the door behind him.

"I'm sorry. I-"

He rubbed the back of his neck.

"I'm home now?" He said with a shrug. He didn't want to explain in detail what he had been doing, but he hoped the obvious knowledge of him being home was enough.

"I had been busy…"

"I thought I almost lost you!"

He looked at the ground as you continued to go off on him. He nodded slowly and took a step closer to you. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close.

"I'm sorry, I really am. I'll… I'll see if I can stay home more and not do so many missions."

You held onto him, your nails slightly digging into his sides as you held him as tightly as you possibly could. Kabal would wait until you were ready. When you let go, he picked you up and carried you up the stairs.

You closed the door to the bedroom and Kabal stood on the other side of the door. He waited a minute before doing anything. He wasn't sure if you were mad at him or what had gone on. You quickly changed, wanting to surprise him. He gave a quiet knock on the door and waited again. You didn't reply and Kabal stayed, not doing anything. Finally, you opened the door and Kabal had a worried look on his face.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Would you like to take things further?" You asked as you grabbed your hand and pulled him into the room with you.

"Yes, let's do it."

You began to remove your clothes a bit hurriedly.

"Let's go real slow now and make it last longer," Kabal said as he watched your movements.

You slowed down and Kabal looked away for a second before looking back. A habit he had even before his injuries. When you had finished, Kabal began to remove his clothes.

You sat on the bed watching. Kabal moved closer to you, his legs moving in between yours as you laid back.

"You look nice." He said as his fingers began slowly rubbing/stroking you.

You let out a moan. "Thank you, babe. So do you."

His fingers continued to rub/stroke you before they were replaced with his cock. He slowly rubbed himself against you and you bit your lip.

"You feel so nice." He said as you began to cum. You had been staring at the ceiling, but you closed your eyes at his comment as you felt your cheeks heating up.

He continued stroking/rubbing, anything until he had managed to get you and himself to cum. He slid himself into you and his hands grasped your legs. He wrapped your legs around him and his hands moved to grasp your hips. He slowly began to thrust in and out of you. His noises combined with your own as he continued to thrust.

© SUVIDRACHE — do not copy, translate, modify, or plagiarize my work. reblogs are appreciated!

Tag List: @phantomheiko, @thevoidwriting, & @sunmoongoddess / To Join My Tag List Apply Here!

[forabeatofadrum]

aap noot mies (15/15)

Notes: Thank you!

AO3 | S&C

–

EPILOGUE

A few months later

Kurt, Blaine, Burt and Carole land on Schiphol Airport. Kurt’s gripping Blaine’s hand.

“Ik ben nerveus,” he says, “Is it bad that I am this nervous? I’ve talked to them a lot, but now we’ll meet them face to face.”

Burt puts his hand on Kurt’s shoulder.

“We’ll be fine, kid, they’re also looking forward to seeing us,” he says with a reassuring voice.

“Ik ben er voor je,” Blaine also says in support. When Kurt first asked Blaine if he wanted to come along to their trip to the Netherlands, Blaine almost refused. He didn’t want to impose on such a big moment.

But Kurt argued that Blaine had to be there.

“You’re the one who taught me Dutch for this moment. You made part of it possible,” he had said, “Ik wil dat je erbij bent.”

And Blaine cannot say no to this man. He’s basically moved across the universe for him, so of course he’d follow him across the world.

The four of them get their luggage and they walk towards the Arrival hall. Many people are waiting for their loved ones to arrive, and Kurt’s family isn’t an exception.

Kurt’s cousins, Gwen, Anne and Jeroen, are holding a huge cardboard sign that says “WELKOM IN NEDERLAND, HUMMEL-HUDSONS en Blaine!”.

The letters are in red, white, blue and orange. Blaine lets out a laugh when he sees that they scribbled his name to the side. The sign is also decorated with stereotypically Dutch things, like wooden clogs, windmills and tulips. They put some effort into it.

Burt tearfully hugs his long lost sisters. Carole talks to Ellen and Paul, the in-laws, about the flight. Kurt talks to his cousins in basic Dutch. The sentences are still very simple, but it has the desired effect. The cousins are very surprised and delighted.

“Mam, mama!” Gwen yells to the adults, “Kurt spreekt Nederlands!”

“Echt?” Barbara, who is still hugging Burt, sounds bewildered.

Burt and Carole also picked up some very, very basic sentences from Kurt and Blaine and Kurt’s extended family is delighted.

“Wat een verassing!” Janine says and she claps her hand in delight.

Kurt then talks to everyone in his Dutch family, showing off his skill. Blaine’s standing at the side and he’s beaming with pride. Then Kurt looks over his shoulder and motions towards Blaine to come over.

“En dit is Blaine, mijn vriend, in every sense,” Kurt says and Blaine shakes hands with everyone, “Hij heeft mij Nederlands geleerd. Hij is een goede leraar.”

“Bedankt,” Blaine blushes. He properly introduces himself in Dutch, using the cover story about his life. Only Kurt knows that he’s an alien. (Okay, and Rachel, and Santana, since Brittany told her. It’s fine.)

“Shall we?” Janine asks, “Time to show you our beautiful little country.”

“Ah, yes, Holland here we come!” Burt says happily, which makes all the Dutch people gasp.

“Uncle Burt, it is the Netherlands, not Holland!” Anne says.

“Holland isn’t the same. It’s only a part of the Netherlands!” Gwen shakes her head.

“It’s like calling all of the USA Florida!” Jeroen adds.

Kurt turns to Blaine. He didn’t know that.

“You never said!” Kurt says.

Blaine shrugs.

“You never asked.”

“Well, I suppose I have a lot to learn,” Kurt pouts, “Luckily I have my Dutch family. And you.”

Kurt gives Blaine a peck on the lips and together they follow Kurt’s family out of the airport.

–

End notes: Thank you for reading and thank you @klaine-word-scramble for hosting. I got a total of 144 points, which is great. I am going on a small tangent here, but I loved this challenge a lot because we always played Scrabble with my uncle and it was always a lot of fun. May he rest in peace.

I hoped you enjoyed me using this fic as free real estate to moan about my language. If you don’t know Dutch (and Chinese, at one point), I put all the translations of the text here. 

Thanks again. See you for the Advent (hopefully).

[solarsa1nt]

𐚁֙࿐ A+ PARENTING

toji fushiguro x fem!reader

Tags — fluff , banter , bad parent toji , good parent reader (though she’s not megumi’s bio parent)

Notes — none

"You lost your son again." Y/N informs with a deadpan, one hand resting on her hip as the other holds onto Megumi's, the child being distracted by the vanilla milkshake Y/N had bought him minutes earlier.

"Huh?" Toji, the bastard, looks up from his phone as he nonchalantly glances at the two.

"Oh, thanks." Toji replies dismissively before looking away again.

"You— ugh, why do I even bother?" Y/N asks herself, eye twitching in annoyance as she sits down on the bench next to Toji, Megumi settling comfortably on her lap.

If anyone were to pass by them, they would surely think Y/N was the boy's parent rather than the homeless-looking man sitting next to the pair.

"It was my lunch break as well..." Y/N whispers to herself with a frown, pulling out her own phone to send a quick text to her boss, who luckily decided to take pity on her. Small mercies.

"You're lucky I care about Megumi, otherwise I'd call the police on you." Y/N sighs deeply, idly raising one hand to pet the child's hair, smiling faintly at the sight of the relaxed boy.

"Isn't that what you did the first time?" Toji questions boredly, a half-hearted attempt to irritate the woman further.

"The first time you had forgotten him at a grocery store." Y/N refutes with a pointed glare at the man. "I didn't have much of a choice there."

Toji only rolls his eyes in reply, the action only furthering Y/N's annoyance.

"God, you're seriously the worst. Do you even know Megumi's age?" Y/N asks sarcastically, but as silence answers her, spanning on with no sign of stopping; she pauses.

Toji eyes stay stubbornly on his phone, not so much as flinching at Y/N's harsh gaze.

"...Why am I not surprised." Y/N irks, eyes narrowing at Toji distastefully, "He's five, you failure of a parent."

"His birthday was last week— how do you not know this? I took him for the entire day, for god's sake!" Y/N gestures her hands out in a show of childish annoyance.

"Oh, that's why you kidnapped that day." Toji mumbles thoughtfully, a look of realization crossing his face.

"Holy shit. I did not— I didn't kidnap him! You literally gave me permission you insufferable man!" Y/N hits Toji across the head harshly, ignoring his grumble of annoyance from the act.

"Megumi, promise me you won't end up like your dad." Y/N looks down at Megumi imploringly.

Megumi stares up at her blankly, green eyes blinking slowly in a cat-like manner before he gives a short nod of the head. "'Kay."

"And if you date someone, make sure they won't be a lousy, good-for-nothing, deadbeat parent who relies on a stranger to take care of their son." Y/N continues, ignoring Toji's tired glare directed towards her.

"'Kay." Megumi nods, taking another sip of his milkshake only to glance down and find it empty. "Can I have another?"

"Of course! I bet this bastard doesn't feed you enough anyway. Do you want to try the strawberry one this time?" Y/N cooes, hoisting Megumi up and settling him against her hip.

"There she goes, kidnapping my son again." Toji mutters sarcastically, just loud enough so Y/N would hear the jab.

Y/N's eye twitches, "Let's go Megumi, I'll get you two."

© 𝓢OLARSAINT 2024 ─── all of my works belong me alone! do not copy, steal, plagiarize, or spread any of my works in any other social media platform. these have only been reloaded on my own accounts on ao3 and wattpad

[mmvalentine]

More Jurdan I beg of you

I Do Love It When You Beg

I slide down in my chair and lean my head against the darkly stained teak of the backrest.

While I once had to fight tooth and nail to have my existence even acknowledged by the Living Council, it is now my distinct pleasure to be in attendance twice a week, every week, with Grima Mog’s bared teeth holding everyone’s attention quite captive to me. One time, a councilor rolled his eyes while I was speaking, and the Red Cap general had the tip of her knife in his third buttonhole so fast even I forgot what I was saying. Sort of counterproductive, that first time, but since then no meeting will begin until I am seated.

As appreciative as I am of this, I will admit that I struggle at times with the length, and the damn frequency of these meetings, when actually, now that the political dust of the coronation has largely settled, the minutes consist mainly of squabbles between council members. In short, I am bored- which is to say nothing of my husband’s attention span.

Cardan attends fewer than half of these meetings, and Randalin at once disapproves of this and also suggests that I could similarly take leave. I do the next best thing and drag Cardan along with me whenever I am able.

Today I think the High King might actually be dosing off opposite me. I kick my shoes off under the table and stab my big toe into his inner thigh, and hide my smirk when he jolts upright.

The speaker pauses halfway through his sentence, and frowns. Cardan lets his head fall into one hand, and with the other waves him on. The Unseelie minister continues. He is trying, without success, to get Cardan to care about his disagreement with the Seelie minister, who, for her part, is drilling holes into him with her gaze. He continues his tirade.

Cardan keeps his eyes on the councilor, but beneath the table he’s caught my ankle and is rubbing circles onto its curve with his thumb. It feels nice, and I slide a little further down so he can get more reach.

Then he tickles the soft arch of my bare foot and I yank it back so fast my knee bangs against the underside of the table.

Seven pairs of now turn to stare at me, and I scowl as I sit up straighter.

“Sorry,” I mutter, then remember I am Queen. “Well do go on, Mikkel,” I say magnanimously. The Unseelie minister looks unnerved to be interrputed a second time, but clears his throat and keeps speaking.

I glower at Cardan, but it seems he has given the minister his full attention. Looks simply rapt, in fact. He has one arm resting on the table and the other props up his chin.

I hate being tickled.

Even though tickling has nothing to do with magic and is a common game for human children, something about the way that it makes you lose control of your body, and especially about the way that you might be horrified but all you can do is laugh, reeks of fae trickery. I abhor it and Cardan knows it.

Fine. If Cardan wants to play innocent and attentive, so be it.

I slide down my chair once more and this time my foot travels up the inseam of his trouser leg. I point my toe and stroke it gently. Right over Cardan’s crotch.

Cardan’s back stiffens, almost imperceptibly.

I happen to know that the High King didn’t get any last night. Or the night before.

Or the night before that.

I stroke him again and he gets hard so quickly I could laugh out loud. Instead, I mirror his listening posture and keep my eyes on the Unseelie Minister. I raise my hand.

“Minister?” I ask, all manners, now. The eyes return to me. I fold my hands primly on the table, while my foot rubs up and down between Cardan’s legs. “I cannot help but wonder that you and the Seelie Minister have not managed to come to terms in private. After all, you were both invited to the Council as diplomats.”

“Yes.. well… I…” Mikkel splutters.

“I believe we have heard quite enough. I move that we allow the High King to pass final judgement, seeing as there is no civil settlement in sight.”

Heads around the table swivel to my husband, whose obsidian eyes glitter darkly at me. When he speaks, his words have to work their way past clenched teeth.

“I think…” he begins. Where no one can see it, his tail snakes around my ankle and winds up my calf. I think for a moment he’s going to shove me away, but he only pulls me harder against him.

“I think that it is not decent behaviour to deny a partnering party’s entreaties in private and then attempt to sully their image in public.”

“Sire!” the Unseelie Minister objects. “It was not my intention to-”

“He speaks the truth!” The Seelie Minister shoves herself upward. “For weeks my representatives have attempted to parley with yours and have been turned away.”

“Only because they’ve nothing substantial to offer!” Mikkel is turning a strange colour now. Cardan is staring at me with eyes on fire, and has subtley started moving his hips so that he rubs against the ball of my foot.

“Recess,” Mikkel mutters now, convinced that the tides are turning against him. “I call a recess.”

The council grumble around us as they begin to collect their things. I drop my feet back to the floor and smooth my hair back. Cardan doesn’t move at all, just stares at me from across the table.

As the last of the councilors file out, I put my hands on the armrests of the chair and drag myself upright.

“Well thank the gods for that,” I say, gathering my own belongings. “If I had to listen to another minute of Mikkel’s…”

“And just where do you think you’re going?” Cardan growls softly.

I look up at him, pausing what I am doing. Cardan has stood up, his hands braced wide on the table, and there’s a rumble issuing from somewhere low in his chest. I look at my nails, going for nonchalance.

“Well, since we’re all going for a break, I thought-”

I am cut off by a snarl, and am waiting for Cardan to stalk around the long wooden table. Instead, he leaps up and slides over it in one smooth motion. He lands on his feet and leans forward to grip my armrests, trapping me in my chair. Instinctively, I lean back, but he follows the movement and then the tip of his nose is tracing down mine.

“You thought… what, pretty villain?” he asks me. His voice is dangerously low, and the way he’s looking at me through his black lashes makes me feel like he might eat me. “Thought you’d first subject me to the lethal monotony of yet another needless council meeting, then make a fool of me in front of its members?”

I run a nail down his forearm, following a blue vein there. When I look up at him, I’m all innocence.

“Would I do that to you, dearest husband?” I say. Cardan’s teeth click together, audible in the empty room.

“And worse, my unscrupulous queen,” he says. He towers over me, in my little chair. “And now you’ll pay your dues.”

“I owe you nothing,” I spit back.

“But Jude, darling,” Cardan croons. “You love to obey when no one is looking.”

And fae as he is, he’s not lying.

Sometimes, I think I like it because it’s infuriating to Cardan that the only time I listen to him is when there are no witnesses. Other times, I just know it’s a relief to not have to be so completely, impeccably, omnipotently in control all the damn time.

So I can’t help it. I follow his orders.

“Take off your underwear, Jude.”

I wriggle them out from under my skirt, and place them into Cardan’s waiting hand. He stuffs them into his pocket, and then puts his hand back on the armrest.

“Good girl. Untie my trousers.”

I reach for the fastenings.

“Take it out.”

My fingers grip the hard length of him and pull him free. At the touch of my fingers, Cardan moans a little.

“Now open.”

I hesitate for just a second, not sure of how long we have before the council members return. But as I meet his gaze, Cardan leans one knee on the seat next to me, and then his cock is level with my lips.

“Open,” he repeats, and this time, I do.

Cardan’s head slides onto my tongue and I watch his elbows buckle slightly where he’s still leaning on the arms of the chair. He doesn’t make a sound, but I can see the shudder he’s trying to repress. It’s falling out of his shirtsleeves.

My hands wrap around the base of him, and he lets me touch him like this for a minute before he takes my wrists and pins them down on the armrests. I breathe through my nose and take him deeper into my mouth, and this time he does moan, long and deep as his eyes flutter closed. I feel that heady mix of being vulnerable and yet somehow still having so much power- my teeth touch him only slightly and his eyes fly open and then narrow at me. I’d smirk if I didn’t have my mouth full.

“It’s always sharp edges with you, isn’t it, little wife?” Cardan says. He’s slightly breathless already. “No one’s completely safe when you’re in the room.” He starts to draw in and out, just gently, for now.

“I wonder what’s more dangerous,” he muses, even as his head falls back and I can see his throat working. “To hate you, or to love you.”

Now he looks down at me again, and one hand goes to the back of my head so that he can hold me in place. While he fucks my mouth.

“Don’t answer,” he grits out. His hand releases my pinned wrist so he can grip the back of the chair. I suck harder as he moves. “I have done both and still could not say which is the sweeter agony.”

Cardan’s breath labours now, and with visible effort he slows himself down. Knocks his hips forwards once, twice more before withdrawing.

“They’re coming back,” he says softly, and a moment later my human ears catch up and I hear the footsteps. They’re arguing already. I look back to Cardan and he’s made no move to get dressed.

“Get to your seat,” I hiss, wiping the corners of my mouth and making sure my hair has not been mussed.

“As you wish,” Cardan murmurs, and lifts me up out of my chair so he can sit down in it. He pulls me into his lap, arranging my skirts so that I can feel the press of his cock between my legs. And my underwear is still in his pocket.

The Living Council is now trailing in and finding their seats again. Papers rustle and furniture squeaks, and in amongst the noise, Cardan whispers in my ear.

“Well if little miss isn’t soaking wet from sucking my cock.”

He lifts my hips and shifts a little, and suddenly he’s pressing right into the centre of me. I will myself not to blush. Randalin looks straight at us.

“If my Lord would like to take his seat we can begin,” he says to Cardan.

“I’m quite comfortable where I am, Randalin,” my husband replies, and tugs my waist closer to him. I clutch the edge of the table, and he’s half way in. “You may resume your complaint.”

Cardan leans his chin at the join of my neck and shoulder, and his hands squeeze on my hips. He flexes beneath me and reaches his hilt. I’m trying to keep my breathing steady while my body finds space for him. Mikkel stands up.

“To recap my position,” he begins.

“Yes, yes,” Cardan interrupts. His hands are sliding beneath my skirts again. “Let’s try a different position.” I clear my throat and make a show of readjusting my papers. Meanwhile, my hips grind minimally on Cardan’s lap, and then his fingers hover over my clit.

“Why don’t we hear from the Seelie Court for a change. It’s been too long since I’ve visited your lands m'lady. I plan to travel in the Summer, but sadly, Jude can’t come. Can you, Highness?”

“It is yet to be seen, my Lord,” I reply. “I have plans but- there may be movement yet.” Cardan raises an eyebrow and says nothing. He’s got two fingers on my clit now and they rub small, slow circles.

“Well make your case, Nihuar,” Randalin says.

Mikkel sits down in a huff, and the Seelie minister draws herself up gracefully.

“My Lord, my Lady,” she begins. I don’t hear what comes next because Cardan has increased the pressure of his fingers, and I am trying to keep a straight face. But it feels so good. Cardan’s eyes are on the speaker, but his lips are moving on the nape of my neck. The Council are accustomed to his brand of shamelessness, and think nothing of him kissing is wife in public.

As subtely as I can, I roll my hips back into Cardan. My upper body does not move, and with the volumes of my skirt beneath the table I do not think anyone can see the motion. I make my hips make a very slow circle, and I feel him twitch beneath me. I repeat the motion, and my eyelids grow heavy. I don’t know if I’m doing it for his benefit, or mine. Cardan’s fingers speed up over my clit, and they move easily in the slickness they find there.

“Too slow,” Cardan growls. Nihuar pauses.

“My Lord?” she ventures.

“This is taking far too long, I have half a mind to leave you all to your bickering. What do you think Jude, would you come with me?”

I open my mouth, but then clamp it shut as Cardan’s nails dig into my thigh. Warmth is sliding down my limbs, buzzing in my fingers and toes. “Jude?” He says again. “Are you going to come?”

I bite the inside of my cheek to get a grip on myself, while Cardan’s fingers move up and down, and up and down relentlessly. “No,” I say forcefully. “I think you’re the one dragging this all out. Why don’t you just make a decision here and now and be done with it?”

“Hear, hear!” Randalin says. “What say you, my Lord?”

“I say,” my husband replies casually, “everyone out.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me,” he says.

Then with no warning at all his mood flips, and his roar shakes the ink pots scattered over the table.

“Everybody OUT!”

And then all the council members are scowling and snatching up their things and trudging toward the door. Although they are disgruntled, I cannot honestly say they are shocked, since his Highness’ mood swings are hardly new.

As soon as the door swings shut, Cardan launches himself to his feet and I am thrown forward. My hands hit the table and next thing I know Cardan is holding me down, keeping me bent over while he pounds into me hard from behind.

“Oh you wicked fucking creature,” he says to me. “Fucking me slowly in front of the entire Living Council. Where are your courtly manners?”

I would reply, but Cardan’s fucking me so hard I can hardly breathe, let alone form a coherent sentence. His fingers find my clit again and rub roughly against it. I moan, finally, turning my forehead to the chestnut wood and biting down hard on my bottom lip.

“A little wound up are we?” Cardan asks, cruelly. “You think you had it bad, perched prettily on my cock? Teasing me with your hips?” Cardan’s free hand finds my throat, and pulls me up against his chest. He tilts my head back and his lips find mine, greedy and untidy, his teeth scraping my tongue.

“Do you want to come, Jude?” he asks.

“Yes,” I gasp.

“Do you need to come?”

“Yes,” I say again, reaching back and tangling my fingers in his hair. “Yes, god yes, please Cardan please…”

“I do love it when you beg,” Cardan growls in my ear. His hand moves from my throat to squeeze over my breast, toying with my nipple. “Come on then, Jude,” he says roughly. “Come for me.”

Then impossibly, he’s fucking me harder, and his fingers are moving between my legs, and his teeth are on my ear lobe, and my legs are giving way as my climax rears up over my head.

“That’s it,” Cardan breathes. “Good girl, come just like that, good g-”

He chokes off then as his own release finds him, and the way his body shudders into mine has me falling all over again.

“Fuck Jude,” Cardan hisses. He rocks into me again, and I’m shaking.

Finally, we slide to the floor, our chair long since tipped over behind us. Cardan pulls me into his arms and kisses my neck, my ears, and my temple. I lean back against him and wait for the room to stop spinning.

“You know,” he says, low in my ear. “Maybe I should come to more of these meetings.”

I kick his ankle.

****

Okay so

Idiot that I am, I managed to delete this the first time I posted it. Which is so ironic because the reason I was fiddling with it in the first place was because it didn't have many notes and I was going to reblog it, and now I'm starting over minus the people who already read this and have no reason to do so again. That'll teach me to have note vanity. Harumph.

MASTERLIST

[tripleaxeldiaz]

nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy

read on ao3

Eddie’s fine. Really. He’s got a fresh scar on his right shoulder, a twin to his other one, and a couple more medical bills to pay off, but other than that, everything is good.

Why shouldn’t it be? Things could be worse — he could’ve lost his arm, could’ve been shot in the spine instead, could’ve not survived the trip to the hospital. But he did — he’s healed, he’s still breathing, and he’s ready to get back to work on Monday, to stop staring at the inside of his house and get back to the life he’d finally started to feel settled in. There’s a twinge in his chest every time he thinks about actually being back out in the field, but it’s just nerves, a small worry at getting back into the swing of things. He knows the team and how well they work together, so he’s sure one rope rescue with Buck is all it’ll take to feel normal again.

He’s fine. Or almost fine. Really, he is. He doesn’t let the tremble in his hands or the ice in his gut tell him otherwise.

~~~~~~~~~~

It doesn’t really register, the first time it happens. There’s a glint of light in his periphery, and for a second, his arms go numb. It’s just a second, though — he sees the flash again, sunlight shining off an axe Ravi is packing onto the truck, and he moves on, doesn’t think about it again.

The next time, the wind whips by his ear a little too fast after a call at the pier, and he turns around so quickly he cracks his neck, the thought of bulletbulletbullet ricocheting in his head. It gets him a concerned look from Bobby and reminds him that he never called that therapist his doctor mentioned at his last visit, but he elects to deal with it later and moves on.

Things keep happening, but they’re all small, insignificant — someone laughing too loudly at dinner, the feel of hot asphalt under his hands as he reaches under the ambulance for a runaway bandage roll, a phantom jolt of pain in his shoulder when someone accidentally jostles him running to the truck.

Tiny things, meaningless, not even worth remembering.

He’ll get used to them, eventually. He’s been healing, isolated from the real world for months now, it’s going to be a bit of a shock to his system and his senses.

He doesn’t call the therapist.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck’s happy. Genuinely happy, in an open, honest way that Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen. His laughs are still loud but they’re freer, unrestrained, and his smile is bright enough to light whatever room he’s in. It makes something sing in Eddie’s chest, especially when all that wattage gets directed at him. If he’s honest, the music’s been there for a while, it just took lying in his own blood, reaching toward the only thing that felt like safety, for him to finally put a name on the song that’s been playing.

Talk about shitty timing.

Because Buck’s with Taylor now, and as much as he still doesn’t care for her, she’s helping with Buck’s new attitude too. He sees the soft smiles that linger after a text from her, and he only gives himself a minute to wish it were for him instead before reminding himself how much of a miracle those smiles are at all.

If he had watched Buck get shot, been splattered with his blood, been soaked with it as he tried to stop it from leaking out of his chest, he’s not sure he would’ve had any kind of happiness to spare.

So he adds this feeling, this particularly green beast twisting in his chest, to the list of things that he’s just going to have to get used to, and moves on. Buck is still in his and Chris’ life, still at their house more than his own, still the center of both of their worlds, and that’s enough. 

It has to be.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Wow, Eddie, you look like shit.”

He glares at Chimney as best he can, but he’s too tired for it to hold any heat. “Good morning to you too, Chim.”

Hen sits next to him at the table where he’s nursing his second mug of coffee of the day, downing the first one before driving Chris to school. She presses the back of her hand to his forehead, and he tries not to melt into the touch too much.

“You don’t feel warm,” she says, “but you look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

He shrugs, staring down at his coffee. “Just haven’t been sleeping well.”

That may be an understatement. Not sleeping well implies sleeping at all, which Eddie’s not sure he’s been able to do in the past few days. It was easy enough when he first got home, still on pain meds that made his eyelids constantly heavy. And when Chris crawled into his bed the night after his sling came off, quiet but sniffling and burrowing into his side, it was a relief to gather him up close, a hand stroking through his hair as they both drifted off, clinging to each other. It was good for both of them, necessary to remind them both that Eddie is still here, but Chris went to his own room on Monday night instead of Eddie’s, and Eddie refused to take that choice away from him. 

So he’s been alone, in a too dark room with a too big bed and a too loud brain that only shows him flashes of light and blood and fear whenever he does try to close his eyes.

Just another thing he has to get used to.

He sees Chim and Hen exchange a look and hopes to God they don’t press it. He’s beyond frayed, his state of exhaustion warring with his almost constant state of hypervigilance, and he’s not sure if he’d snap or cry or both if they try to ask him any more questions. Either way, that’s not how he wants them or anyone else to see him, especially not at work. At work, he’s Mr. Cool, always level headed, always in the game, always on top of it. Despite the jumpiness, despite the sense of dread that seems to be a permanent fixture under his skin, he’s been able to keep that attitude going, even getting lost in it sometimes, feeling like the Eddie of four months ago again. If that starts to unravel, who knows what other parts of him will fall apart with it?

Luckily, they seem to get the hint, a pat on the back and a squeeze on the shoulder as they leave the loft to restock the ambulance. But even once they’re gone and he’s alone in the quiet of the loft again, Eddie feels exposed. Fragile. Vulnerable. Teetering on the edge of an abyss he can’t afford to fall into. And he hates it, because this isn’t him. He’s the protector, the provider, the guy who’s survived getting shot twice now, and as much as he encourages Chris to be open and emotional, it still feels wrong to him, like something too close to failure. He knows, rationally, that talking about the mess in his head would probably help, but it would also feel like a loss. Like this one-sided war he’s been fighting was all for nothing.

He hears Buck before he sees him, his unmistakable bounding up the stairs echoing through the whole loft. Just that sound, just the knowledge that Buck is about to be in his vicinity, is enough to yank Eddie back from the edge. He’s not settled or calm or better, but he’s not worse. These days, that’s all he can really ask for.

Buck takes Hen’s vacant seat, stealing a sip of coffee and chattering about a traveling art exhibit he thinks they should take Chris to. Eddie feels the vice on his ribs loosen, letting Buck’s voice and enthusiasm wash over him, pushing him back to center. He doesn’t quite make it, not when Buck stops talking mid-sentence, brow furrowed and looking so intensely at Eddie he can probably see right through him

“You look tired,” Buck says. 

Tired isn’t a strong enough word. But he smirks half heartedly instead, willing a little bit of his confidence back to get the subject changed sooner. “And here I thought I looked good today.”

“No, you always—“ Buck clears his throat and shakes his head, “You just look like you could use a nap. Are you okay?”

And for the first time since he woke up in the hospital with a new hole in his body and extra demons in his head, Eddie doesn’t want to say he’s fine. In the face of earnest blue eyes and worry lines, he doesn’t want to lie, and that’s exactly what an I’m fine would be, no matter how much he’s been trying to ignore it. He doesn’t want to downplay and pretend that it’s nothing, because it’s Buck. Buck who has seen him lower than he’s ever let anyone see, who slept on his couch so he was never too far away from him or Chris, who knows when Eddie needs to be pulled or pushed or pressed or none of the above. 

He doesn’t want to just say he’s fine, because he’s not.

The courage to say so finally fills him, just in time for Buck’s phone to light up, Taylor’s name flashing across the screen on two messages. Buck doesn’t even glance at his phone before flipping it face down and pushing it to the side, but it’s too late — Eddie feels his walls going back up, any bravery leaving to make room for the reminder that Buck is in a good place and Eddie will do anything to keep him there. He’ll take another bullet, he’ll keep every emotion under lock and key, he’ll carve his own damn heart out of his chest if he has to. He cannot — will not — be the reason that smile that’s become so natural on Buck’s face dims by even a watt. 

The crease in between Buck’s brow has only gotten deeper the longer Eddie hasn’t answered, so he musters up the most genuine smile he can. “I’m okay, Buck. I promise.” The lie cuts through his throat like broken glass.

Buck squints at him, scooting forward until his knees are digging into Eddie’s thigh. “You’d tell me if you weren’t, right?”

“Of course,” he says, another lie, more salt in the wounds he’s already given himself. Buck’s quiet for a few long moments, studying Eddie’s face, and Eddie prays that he doesn’t crack, that Buck doesn’t keep pressing. By some miracle, he doesn’t, just rests a hand on Eddie’s knee and squeezes before heading to the pantry for a snack.

The vice is back as soon as he’s out of sight, and Eddie’s list of things he has to learn to live with is starting to feel a little too long.

~~~~~~~~~~

Healing isn’t linear. It’s something he’s heard from every doctor he’s seen, every therapist he’s been assigned to, something he’s experienced first hand, physically and emotionally. So when he wakes up one morning feeling rested, energetic, and normal, he’s wary. He doesn’t want to focus on it, afraid he’ll scare this fragile feeling away, but he also wants to soak in it as much as he can. Wants to remember the easy laughs with the team and the night of board games with Chris and Buck when he’s inevitably surrounded by darkness again tomorrow.

He falls asleep and he doesn’t dream and he wakes up and feels...normal. Again. Same thing the morning after, and the morning after that. For a whole week, he doesn’t wake up with the taste of blood in his mouth or a soreness in his shoulder. He hears birds and sees the sun peaking in and feels something dangerously close to good. The wariness is still there, but every day it gets pushed a little farther back in his mind, making it a little easier to believe that while this feeling might not last, maybe it won’t be as dark when the clouds roll back in.

He’s wrong. 

The restlessness comes back with a vengeance — a thrumming in his blood that won’t let him sleep, that amplifies every sound to sharp snaps that remind him too much of the gunfire he’s been trying to forget, putting him constantly on edge again. There’s a heaviness too, making it hard to breathe, hard to move, even though staying in one place for too long feels like putting a target on his back for the monsters that have made a home in his head.

He tries to keep his cool, tries to keep the facade up, but it’s hard to keep your balance on a frayed tightrope.

Bobby notices the shift right away.

It doesn’t help that even the quiet thump of the oven closing makes Eddie flinch where he’s sitting at the kitchen counter. He had hoped that watching Bobby make breakfast would calm him, remind him of the countless hours he’s spent in Abuela’s kitchen doing the very same thing, but it doesn’t. He’s still jittery, worse than he can remember being, and everything just feels like too much. 

Bobby sets a to-go container down in front of him, and Eddie flinches (and curses himself) again. He looks up, confused, and is met with Bobby’s I’m about to tell you to do something and you are not allowed to say no look. Usually it’s Buck on the receiving end of that one.

He tries for a deflection. “Are we going somewhere, Cap?”

The look stays in place. “We are not. You are. There’s enough in there for you and Chris, take it home and don’t let me see you here for the next 48 hours.”

“There’s still three hours left of shift.”

Bobby pushes the container closer. “Go home, Diaz. Be with your kid. We’ll talk when you get back. And if you won’t talk to me, we’ll find someone you will talk to.”

Normally, he’d fight back. Raise his hackles, insist he doesn’t need any special treatment or intervention. But he feels like his insides have been scooped out and replaced with lead and cement and he’s tired. He barely has enough left in him to keep himself upright.

He slowly picks up the container and gets up to leave. Bobby calls his name as he gets to the top of the stairs.

“We’re here for you,” he says. “You’ve been through too much to be handling this on your own. Just let us know how we can help.”

I would if I could, but I don’t even know where to start. 

He just nods, hopes his face looks some degree of reassuring, and heads to the locker room.

~~~~~~~~~~

The way Chris’ face lights up when he sees Eddie waiting for him in the front office is enough to thaw the ice in his chest for a minute. He can hear the exact octave his mother’s voice would reach if she heard about him pulling Chris out of school for “no good reason”, but he also could not give less of a shit.

He feels a little bit more like a person with Chris in the backseat. That’s a good enough reason for him.

They set up camp in the park near their house, Bobby’s food and extra snacks Eddie picked up spread out between them, and Chris fills Eddie in on all the things he missed while he was working. He tries to focus on everything — Chris’ excitement about his upcoming science fair, the Sour Patch Watermelon sugar stuck to the tip of his nose, the way his hands move with his words. Eddie feels better, more settled, just getting to bask in the sun and in Chris like this, but he still feels heavy, like every move he makes has him fighting against gravity, threatening to pull him into the dirt. 

There’s a crack from the playground in front of them, and Eddie’s blood turns to ice. He’s halfway to standing before he sees it’s just some kids snapping sticks in half to build some kind of log cabin. He lets out a slow breath as he sits back down and wills his heartbeat back to normal.

Chris is staring at him, eyes intense and brow furrowed, very similar to someone else they know.

Shit.

As soon as he’s settled, Chris moves to sit in the criss-cross of his legs. He’s a little too on the lanky side for this anymore, but Eddie’s absolutely not going to complain. Chris twists until he’s looking Eddie in the eye. Eddie does his best not to look away.

Chris rests a hand on his cheek. “It’s okay if you’re feeling bad,” he says. “You can talk to me about it, if you want.”

The crack comes from Eddie’s own heart this time. His kid has been through so much in 10 short years, and it’s only made him wiser than he should be, compassionate and understanding and open, ready to be there for anyone without a second thought. He’s good in every sense of the word, and Eddie’s in awe of the fact that he, somehow, has something to do with that. And the last thing he wants to do is lie to his son, but he just...can’t. Talk about it. Not now. Not yet. Not in a way that will keep Chris this good.

He has no way of articulating all that, so he just wraps his arms around Chris’ middle and squeezes him close.

“I know, buddy. Thank you. I’ll be okay, and we’ll talk soon.”

It’s not a lie, but it’s not everything.

It seems to be enough for Chris, though. He nods and pats Eddie’s face before reaching into his backpack and pulling out a library book. “Well, I’m gonna read to you until you feel better, just like you do for me.”

It’s the first real smile Eddie’s cracked in months. He kisses the top of Chris’ head, settling his chin there as Chris leans back into his chest.

“Sounds like a good plan to me.”

They sit there for a while longer, Chris reads to him about Percy and Annabeth and Grover, and Eddie, inexplicably, feels a little bit lighter.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck’s Jeep is parked outside when they get home, and Chris practically breaks down the door to greet him. It looks like he’s gone all out, too — Chinese food on the table, the promise of cookies and cream ice cream in the fridge, and a list of movies that Chris ecstatically agrees with as Buck lists them off. Chris hurries off to change and clean up for dinner, and Eddie moves to start opening plastic lids and cardboard containers. 

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” he says. He leaves out just having you with us is enough.

Buck waves him off. “Anything for you two.”

He could leave it at that, keep up the comfortable silence as they move around the kitchen in tandem, but there’s a nagging memory that he has to ask about or he’ll never stop thinking about it.

“Didn’t you have a date with Taylor tonight?”

Buck tenses ever so slightly, a container of dumplings shifting in his hand. “Cancelled,” he says with a shrug.

Eddie knows there’s more, but Chris comes back before he can ask, and it doesn’t feel like a conversation they can have in front of a 10 year old. So they eat, and fall into the familiar banter between the three of them, and for half an hour, Eddie can be present. He can forget the last six months and the weight still hanging off of him and live in this moment, with the two most important people in his life, and pretend that this is all there is. Just these two and their joy and warmth that wraps around him tight enough to make him feel alive again, if only for a little while.

Two bowls of ice cream and one and a half movies later, Chris is dead to the world. Buck carries him to bed and Eddie tries to ignore the new ache that’s sprung up of the course of the evening, the one that wants and pulls towards Buck like a magnet. The one that almost purrs when Buck settles back on the couch so close they’re touching from ankle to (good) shoulder, contentedness washing over the living room as they find a rerun of The Shawshank Redemption playing on cable. It’s not perfect, there’s still a roiling in his blood that won’t seem to leave him alone, but he feels better than he has in God knows when.

Buck shifts closer to Eddie, eyes glowing in the light of the TV, and Eddie never wants him to leave. “Thanks for coming tonight. I— Chris and I both really needed this, I think.”

“I told you, anything for you two. Always.”

He ignores the way his stomach flips and tries to focus on the movie. He gets about five minutes of peace before another thought comes back, still nagging him, mixing with his anxiety enough to actually force him to say something.

He aims for cool and casual. “So, you and Taylor...everything okay?”

Buck gives him a very long, almost challenging look before turning off the TV. Seems he missed that casual mark. “I should be asking you the same thing.” “Very funny.”

“I’m not trying to be. I’m really worried about you, Eds.”

“This isn’t my first time getting shot, I know how to handle it.” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as bitter as it does, but he can’t bring himself to care, either. He doesn’t have the energy to keep a filter up anymore.

“Eddie, I’m serious.”

“I’m fine, Buck,” he says sharply, and he’s surprised his teeth haven’t fallen out of his head yet with how hard he’s lying through them. He hates that he’s lying to Buck at all, but those smiles he’s gotten used to have been fewer and farther between recently, and he knows it’s his fault. He might feel like his own seams are coming apart, but he’ll be damned if he rips Buck open too, even if it means pushing him away from his mess. “You’ve got a life and a girlfriend to worry about, I’ll figure everything out on my own.” 

“I don’t.”

“What?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend. We broke up.”

Eddie pauses, curses the faint hope that sparks in his chest. “Why?”

“Because I’ve been a little distracted by someone else for the past few months. It didn’t feel fair to her to keep it going.”

He gives him another long look, and Eddie might be a little dense when it comes to things like this, but that look breaks through loud and clear. This is it. This is real. This is everything he’s wanted for the past six months — and probably longer than that — but now that it’s happening, it doesn’t feel right. Buck was happy, free, finally settled into his own skin, and it’s all gone now because of Eddie and his stupid, broken everything. He knows he won’t be able to give Buck everything he needs, at least right now, but Buck needs to know that too. “Buck—”

“Nope,” he says with a firm shake of his head. “I know you’re gonna try and blame yourself for this somehow, but…don’t. It was bound to happen anyway. Because you’re right, I do have a life, but it’s you two. You and Chris. That’s all I need it to be. That’s all I want it to be. And I hate that it took so long for me to figure out, that it took you getting shot, but we’re here now.” His eyes shutter a bit as he looks down at his hands. “At least, I hope we are.”

And there it is. So simple, so easy, for Buck to admit this huge thing that Eddie thought he was dancing around on his own. The ease reminds Eddie, through his fog of sadness and anger and every other bleak feeling that’s been controlling him, that that’s what makes them work so well together. Honesty. Being able to show all their ugly, mismatched inside parts to each other and still find the beauty, the ways to help, the ways to hold each other together when they need it the most.

And Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever needed to be held together more than he does right now.

“Ask me,” he whispers, the sound seeming to echo around the room.

“Ask you what?”

“Ask me if I’m okay.”

Buck shuffles on the couch until they’re facing each other, takes both of Eddie’s hands in his. 

“Eddie,” he says softly, “are you okay?”

The world blurs as the tears he’s been fighting finally break free, but he feels strong. Brave. Like he can do anything now that Buck’s holding his hand.

“No,” he says, a crack in his voice but the conviction behind it still firm. “No, I’m not okay.”

The floodgates open, and he lets everything wash over him, all the things he’s been holding back, forcing away in the hopes that they’d just disappear one day. He’s floating and sinking and lost in the waves of it all, but strong arms wrap around him and pull him close, and there’s relief. Not a lot, not enough, but it’s there, for the first time since he woke up in the hospital. He feels safe here, with Buck wiping away his tears and pressing kisses along his hairline. He honestly forgot what safety felt like, was sure he’d never feel anything like it again. But he knew it that day he was bleeding out on the street, and he knows it now — it feels like Buck’s sweatshirt and smells like his aftershave and sounds like whispers of it’s okay and I’ve got you.

It all subsides, eventually, but Buck still holds him close, presses their foreheads together so there’s nothing else Eddie can focus on. His eyes are piercing, bright like Eddie only usually sees when Buck has a plan that refuses to be derailed.

“Let me help, Eddie,” he says, punctuated with a kiss on Eddie’s cheek. “I know you think you can do this yourself, but you don’t have to. I don’t want you to. Let me help you carry it.”

His voice left with the rush of everything, so all Eddie can do is nod before sinking back into Buck, into relief. Even that simple motion, the silent acknowledgement that he’s not alone anymore, is enough to let small seeds of hope sink into him and take root. They’re still weak, still unfamiliar, but they’re here, waiting to grow. 

And Eddie knows, with a certainty that he forgot he was capable of, that Buck will be here to help tend to them, no matter how long it takes for them to blossom.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Eddie wakes up the next morning, he still feels weighed down. There’s still an edge, an unease low in his gut, anxiety still crawling through his veins.

He’s not okay. But he looks over and sees Buck — breathing even, arm thrown over Eddie’s stomach, keeping him close — and the ever-present darkness fades from an angry black to melancholy grey. Not perfect, not even close, but better.

He’s not okay. He hasn’t been for a while. But now, finally, he feels like he will be.

[talkfantasytome]

Model Students - Part 2

Aelin came! She actually made it to the party, and to her delight, Rowan seems to be sticking by her side. She can't help but hope, if she's smart with her drinks, she might have a chance at a really good night.

Warnings: Drinking | Word Count: 3,031

Previous Part | Model Students Masterlist | Read on AO3

a/n: Rowaelin Month Prompt: College or University AU

I'm calling this Rowaelin Month Day 2.5 since, a) this is my second prompt for day 2; b) it's coming to you on day 3; and c) you could argue this hints at a potential opportunity/need for a secret relationship, so if you're being creative and liberal could say this is on the verge of day 3. 😂

Not to date myself or anything, but for all you people too young to know, when snapchat was originally created, it was first used/known as an app for sexting, because the images/videos would only play once, you couldn't replay them (back then), and if you screenshotted a picture, the person would be notified about it. I honestly don't know if that last part is still a thing, but yeah. Or, at least, when I first heard about it, that's one thing people said, that it's good for that. 👀 So, this is relevant. And, even if I'm kinda wrong...just pretend I'm right when reading this.

Aelin couldn't help but smile when she saw Rowan standing there in the middle of the living room. Their eyes had met, and she let herself get lost in the pine green sea as she entered the house behind an enthusiastic Dorian.

He'd texted her about half an hour before, saying he wasn't letting her make a last minute excuse to miss the party, so he'd swing by and they could walk over together. Luckily, she'd already gotten dressed and was in the midst of doing her make-up at the pace of molasses, trying to make sure she wasn't ready too soon. She didn't want to get there early, but she didn't really have anything else to do once she was done, except maybe stare at herself in the mirror.

It wouldn't be the worst way to spend a few minutes, as she'd really outdone herself. She was wearing a metallic gold, backless halter top with gold chain straps that fell loose in her front, and covered her up fairly well, but with only one chain strap around her neck, and another around her waist, it literally left her entire back open, the chains just tight enough to keep her from putting something private on display. She also left her hair down and loose, which offered some small amount of coverage…at times. Below the shirt she was wearing a cute, light wash denim mini-skirt with a few rips and a frayed hem. It was simple, and helped keep the top from being too much, plus it was one of her favorite skirts and gave her some much needed comfort.

Not that Aelin was nervous about the party. She wasn't a hermit. Just determined and ambitious. But she was still sociable, with absolutely stellar interpersonal skills…generally speaking. Charisma was the key word, and she'd be lying to say she hadn't been blessed with a natural talent for it. She just didn't take it out to play as often as most, spending so many nights in the library, with study groups, or reading up on the emerging conflict between Doranelle and Wendlyn. Nothing truly awful had happened yet, but Doranelle was showing signs of hostility that worried Aelin. And kept her heavily engaged in reading more on the topic. Just one of the many reasons she found herself as more of a bi-weekly party-goer.

It drove her housemate Lysandra crazy. Of course, Lysandra sleeping with Aelin's cousin drove Aelin crazy, so they really were even. It was just a different type of crazy. Aelin was rather uncomfortable every time she heard Aedion's voice, or worse, his…sounds. Lysandra, on the other hand, was 'worried' Aelin wasn't actually happy with her current lifestyle.

She appreciated the concern, but it was unnecessary. Happiness was reaching her goals. It was getting the marks to find the best internship at the capital in Orynth this coming summer. It was working for two years for a Senator before applying to Oakwald Law School, the top law school in all of Erilea. It was getting into Oakwald and spending the next three years studying law, specializing in Constitutional Law and Public Policy, of course. Maybe seeing if she can get in some Criminal Law classes too. And it was then going back to Orynth to make a name for herself as a lawyer, subtly campaigning until there was an open Senate seat for her to run for.

She wouldn't wait until she was president to worry about happiness, but she could wait until after law school, at least. She had some tight deadlines to focus on.

Still, even Aelin could agree that letting loose every once in a while was a good thing. Plus, being in Terrasen, surely a good chunk of the students here would be future voters. But, was that too much?

Nah. It's good to think ahead. It's what will set you apart.

Not that she was actually thinking about potential future voters now. She had a quite the distraction at this party.

Eyes still on Rowan, Aelin started toward him just as he began to move as well, his lips curving upward, revealing the adorable little dimples in his cheeks. She could stare at them all day.

"You came!" he beamed, stopping once they were about a foot away from each other.

"We had a deal," she teased. "I appreciated the proof of you upholding your end of the bargain." A light twinkled in Rowan's eyes at the mention of the snapchat he'd sent her. An image of the trunk of his car, full of beer, cider, ginger ale, vodka, and a thing of grenadine larger than Aelin had ever seen before, with a caption that said, 'Your turn.'

"Well, if you'd sent one back proving you were getting ready, I might be less surprised."

A laugh slipped out of Aelin. "Rowan Whitethorn! Surely you're not suggesting I use snapchat for its original purposes."

Rowan's face fell, his cheeks flushing red as he realized what was being suggested. "Oh! No! No! I-I didn't mean…"

His eyes were wide and fearful, making Aelin want to laugh even harder. She hadn't realized how easy it would be to torture him. They hadn't known each other very well before this year. He'd simply been that guy she'd ogle from across a party, their major and semi-mutual friends bringing them to the same place every once in a while. And, it's not like she'd had opportunities like this during class. But she was going to enjoy this new little tidbit about him.

"I know," Aelin offered with a wicked grin, ending Rowan's stuttering as his mouth slammed shut and he gave her a small glare.

"Demon," he muttered, but there was an amusement in his features that swelled Aelin's heart. "Come on, let's get you a Dirty Shirley."

He started walking toward a corner of the living room, which made Aelin realize there was a cooler slightly hidden there as she followed. "Don't knock it 'till you try it."

"I think I'll stick with my beer," Rowan chuckled, leaning down and opening the large, green cooler. "But, don't worry, apparently it's embarrassing enough." He handed her a can as he pulled out the vodka, grenadine, and a can of ginger ale, and Aelin took a look.

"Oh my gosh, it's so cute!" she squealed, taking in the cartoon kittens. "I love it! If I liked beer at all, I'd totally try this just for the can."

"You can try some now, if you want," he offered, handing her a red cup to mix her drink in.

Aelin laughed as she handed the can back to him before kneeling at the cooler and starting to prepare her drink. Vodka first, about two to three shots worth, then as much ginger ale as she could fit into the cup without being at risk of spilling, and then a healthy pour of grenadine. And a splash more. "I think I'll pass. When you don't like beer at all, trying an IPA is basically asking to gag…no offense. I'm sure it's great, if you're a fan of that type of taste."

She threw a smile over her shoulder at Rowan and then took a sip of her drink. Sweet, cherry, with just enough vodka to know it's there. It was perfect. She threw the vodka and grenadine back in the cooler, gulped down another mouthful, and added some ice to the drink to keep it cool.

"And I'm sure yours is too, if you're looking for something that tastes like sugar." He grinned at her as he poured his beer into an empty cup.

"Which I am." She watched Rowan suck in his lips, as if he were biting down on them to hold back a laugh. "It's the best flavor."

Rowan just shook his head, his silver hair shining in the light that was just above them. Aelin slid her free hand into the back pocket of her skirt, an attempt to keep herself from running her fingers through it.

"Come on. I want you to meet some people," Rowan said, jerking his head to the side in a 'follow-me' sign, which she did. He led her over to a group of three guys and a girl. One of the guys and the girl had darker skin and black hair, the girl's falling to just below her shoulders, the boy's to around the middle of his back, though they didn't look related at all. Which was probably a good thing, considering the arm the man had around her waist. One of the men had shaggy, dirty blonde hair that almost fell into his brown eyes, and the last had skin just a bit darker than her own, with shoulder-length dark hair and chocolate eyes. He stood straight backed and muscular, though wasn't quite as tall or broad as Rowan.

"Aelin, this is Nesryn, Sartaq, Ress, and Ren," Rowan explained, pointing to each person in turn. "Everyone, this is Aelin. She's in the Model UN class I've been TAing for."

"The clever one?" Nesryn asked, cocking her head slightly as she looked Aelin over.

"Most definitely," Aelin responded with a smirk.

Rowan balked slightly, looking down at Aelin. "I never said that."

"No?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, then you horribly misrepresented me. Unless you instead chose to describe me as gorgeous…breathtaking…what gets you up in the morning. Those would work too."

The others chuckled with Aelin as Rowan rolled his eyes. "Caught me, that's definitely what I would tell them."

"Then you all already know so much about me." She grinned widely, earning another chorus of laughter.

Aelin continued talking with the group, though she spent most of the time teasing Rowan - which they all seemed to appreciate - and as she did, the party started to fill up. What seemed like a never ending parade of students entered the house, most making their way directly to the back yard where the twins seemed to be keeping everyone entertained with music and beer games constantly going.

All five did seem to be on the same page about convincing her to join the club, to the point that she agreed to attend a meeting on a trial basis, but made no guarantee. At that, Rowan slung an arm around her and squeezed in a celebratory way that had Aelin blushing like crazy, sipping her drink slowly in an attempt to use the cup to hide the red on her face.

He then left his arm around her as they continued to chat, everyone pitching in to explain the different things they do during meetings, how they prepare for conferences, and so on. Aelin, admittedly, wasn't really listening. Her entire being was focused on Rowan's arm, casually draped across her. How his hand dangled over her front, his fingers brushing the skin of her bicep when they moved. The feel of his bare forearm on her bare shoulder, igniting something within her, spreading from that point of contact.

It was…a lot. And half of Aelin was already wishing for another drink, not even done with her first. The other half very much didn't want to move from that spot, and also wondered if she should avoid drinking more…just in case. She wouldn't want to embarrass herself…or find herself too drunk to take her chance with Rowan. He did seem like the respectful type, like the kind of guy who'd never take advantage of a drunk girl, no matter how much she wanted it even when sober.

Yes, best to stay put, in his arm, and just nurse her one drink for the rest of the night. Just in case.

The group dispersed not long after Aelin agreed to join a meeting, Ress and Ren saying they wanted to get in on a game of beer pong, Sartaq and Nesryn very clearly wanting to leave to engage in other, private activities. Aelin told herself she wasn't jealous.

"Another drink?" Rowan offered, leading Aelin back to the cooler.

"I'm still working on mine, so I'm good," she answered as he reached in and pulled out another beer. Maybe she'd be able to grab a cider later. That could be a safe choice.

Rowan stood up as he poured his second can into his cup, his eyes flicking over Aelin's shoulder. "That was fast," he sighed, laughing softly to himself.

Aelin looked behind her quickly to see the golden twin - Fenrys, she thought - now inside the house, bracing himself against a wall with one hand, Dorian trapped between that and the arm Fenrys had at his hip. Though, Dorian didn't exactly look trapped. Not as he smiled up at Fenrys, the two leaning in until their lips met.

She quickly turned back to Rowan, her cheeks flushed once again. "I didn't realize they were together."

"They're not," Rowan explained. "They just do this every party. Fenrys claimed they wouldn't tonight but, well…clearly I was right to not believe him."

Aelin joined Rowan in his laughter. She didn't know Fenrys well, but from what she did know, that sounded very in character. And exactly like something she knew Dorian would do. "I assume you'll call him out on it tomorrow morning?"

"If I don't get the chance to tonight," Rowan said with a conspiratorial grin. She smiled back at him, their eyes truly locking for the first time since she got to the party.

It was as if they'd suddenly been transported to a new location, quiet and free of any distractions, anything that could pull their attention away from each other. Aelin found herself biting softly on her bottom lip as her mind started to run rampant at the sign of those bright eyes focused on her.

Rowan definitely noticed, his gaze flicking between Aelin's mouth and her own eyes, and it caused her breath to hitch. She felt her body start to lean in a bit, and was about to take a step forward when a voice broke through whatever spell had been cast.

"Aelin!" The shout was high-pitched, but not shrill, and familiar. Aelin turned to see a petite brunette walking toward her excitedly and she couldn't stop the smile spreading on her face.

"Elide!" she responded happily, helping the girl close the gap before giving her a hug. "How are you?"

"I'm great!" she exclaimed with a big grin. "I hear I have you to thank for the Dirty Shirley supplies."

Aelin laughed. "Naturally."

"Such a provider," Elide teased. "Hi Rowan!"

"Elide. Where's the shadow?" Rowan asked.

Just then a dark-hair man appeared at Elide's side, his shoulder sitting just above Elide's head.

"Rowan. Galathynius," the man grunted, glaring slightly at Aelin.

"Salvaterre," she replied in a similarly flat tone.

Elide looked between the two, her face seeming delighted. "You two know each other?"

Aelin beamed. "Oh yes. We had Criminal Law together last year. Very fun class…for me."

"I did just fine," Lorcan growled, rolling his eyes. "I don't need to be the teacher's pet to pass."

"Neither do I," Aelin argued.

Lorcan's black eyes flicked meaningfully between Rowan and Aelin. "Could've fooled me."

Rowan choked on his drink as Aelin gaped. She couldn't help it. And the look of satisfaction on Lorcan's face only annoyed her further. "Don't be jealous, Lorcan. We can't all be likeable. We need dicks like you to remind everyone how nice the rest of us are."

Vindication swept through Aelin as she watched Lorcan's face fall into his signature scowl. He looked as if he was going to bare his teeth at her, but Elide seemed to calm him, laying a hand on his forearm.

Interesting.

Aelin hadn't been aware of that development. She wasn't entirely sure she liked it, but if anyone could wrangle a guy like Lorcan it was Elide.

"Lorcan, didn't you promise to give me a tour?" Elide asked in a soft voice, pulling his attention back to her. He gave her a gentle smile - something Aelin never thought she'd see on the man - and then took her hand, leading her away from Aelin and Rowan.

"How long has that been going on?" Aelin's eyes didn't leave the couple until they'd rounded a corner.

"Less than a month," Rowan answered. "To the best of my knowledge, they met in the Diplomacy class they have this semester."

Aelin nodded in understanding, looking back at him. "It's oddly fitting, though, Elide's an old family friend. I don't like how this means I'll probably have to see Lorcan a lot more often."

Rowan chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. "Sorry for what he said…about…you know, us and the teacher's pet thing…"

"Och, don't worry about it," she breathed, waving her hand nonchalantly. "I learned to ignore Lorcan Salvaterre week one of Criminal Law last semester. Besides, if I was going to be the teacher's pet of any of my professors or TAs…"

She smirked up at him, tilting her head slightly, allowing her hair to flow to one side of her body, showing off the skin of her neck for him just a bit. Definitely hoping to get back to where they'd been before Elide had interrupted them.

Rowan gulped, the movement easy to follow, and his ears were tinted pink as he looked her over, his eyes darting between her gaze, her mouth, and her displayed neck.

He took a step closer, and she let her smile grow, telling him she wanted this too.

Her heart fluttered rapidly, her eyes glued on his. She'd fantasized about this more times than she cared to admit. And now it was about to happen, and there was nothing that could stop Aelin.

He was just reaching his hand out, as if he were about to caress her face, when the front door swung open loudly and a deep voice Aelin knew far too well broke through the crowd.

"Looks like the party can finally start!"

Aelin squeezed her eyes shut, groaning slightly as she felt Rowan's body pull away to a respectable distance. And when she opened them, she turned to see exactly what she expected.

In the foyer, looking directly into the living room, was Lysandra, arm in arm with her cousin Aedion.

Fine. There was one thing that could stop Aelin.

There will be a part 3. 😄