#matching the colors across the split was a journey though

[bloodblockadebattlefront]

can i please ask for more steven maybe with a little bit of suffering if its ok. i love how you draw him

NINE OF SWORDS

[ice-cap-k]

SSMP Pokémon AU Ramble #2

The Rivals

Now, when the ssmp crew become official trainers and receive their starters, they all ALSO all sign up for the Pokemon League.

However, the level of actual interest in challenging the league varies considerably across the group. Some of them see it as a fun little side challenge. Worth persuing, but not necessarily counting on going very far.

Take Sneve, for example. Sneve would LIKE the idea of challenging the elite four and bringing down the champion. He's certain the world would end before that actually happened, so for now he's trying his best and not stressing about it too much.

To lay a bit of ground work and deviate from the games instead of treating a region as an actual place, I should say there's no clear cut linear path taking them through each city one at a time. They can go back and forth between towns however they like.

The 8 friends have some nice little friendly rivalries going on. They're always bantering, getting into friendly battles, splitting up and regrouping as they go, trying to support each other while secretely also hoping to get their team of pokemon stronger than everyone else's.

Two of them may team up to travel to one city, or go it alone and try to handle things on their own, or leave the gaggle of friends they started out with to hang out with a couple of others they happened to bump into on the road. They're always going off in different direction after all. For some reason, though, they keep losing Ryan. That kid has a tendency to go off and do his own thing when the "big kids" aren't looking.

There are 2, though, that come pretty close to the stereotypical rivalry set up in the early pokemon games. The Red and Blue counterparts, if you will, albeit one of them is more commonly associated with the color green.

Legundo and Sean are the most vocal about wanting to face the league and become champion. Both of them talk about it all the time. They spend a lot of time planning and strategizing, and since they both make it obvious that they both REALLY want to beat the champion one day there’s a natural tendency for the two of them to butt heads over it. And argue. And those arguments break into the most petty squabbles. And then outright battle. There may have been a fist fight or two if their friends hadn't had to literally hold them back.

While others will occasionally challenge the nearest gym, and they’re all generally trying to get stronger, those two are the only ones trying to collect ALL the badges. Those two often end up dragging the others into gyms, battles, and training sessions for the sake of getting stronger, and by extension their friends do end up improving their skills and leveling up their pokemon in the process.

Robert arguably benefits the most from this because if it weren’t for Sean constantly dragging him into fights (and both of them constantly causing trouble) he doubts he ever would have ended up fully evolving all of his pokemon.

Meanwhile, Legundo tries to set up more legitimate matches with trainers he meets on his journey like they would conduct in the league. It rarely works out for him it's Kiply that shows him that quick and dirty matches are still a really good way to learn and help your pokemon get stronger. It's the only way he can expect to beat Sean, considering Sean never sticks to league rules in their "friendly matches."

[the-era-of-shadow]

The Same As I (A Distorted Reflection)

Written by Ash Rose Red

Summary:

As Eclipse leaves to go run a quick errand, one of the wisps that they had taken from Whisper awakens, that wisp being Blue. They strike up a conversation with Blurk, who was nearby, and quickly, it becomes clear that despite his form, Blurk is just about the same as them, but not exactly. He's like a distorted mirror image, or perhaps, a premonition of a dismal future? By the way, what is this strange sensation they've been feeling?

Notes:

CW/TW for body horror of a sort. Also just like. horror in general

Cold, heavy wind, quick in its journey across the skies.

That is what woke Blue up.

For a split second, they wondered if it was them once again crossing paths with the world renowned Sonic Hogpine, but as their vision adjusted to the sunlight, it would seem that there was no such heroic blue hedgehog in sight.

But there was someone.

That doctor, Doctor Ezrieal Clysdale, the one that Blue and their friends had been with for a good few days now - perhaps even longer. They stood just somewhat beyond the room that Blue was in, looking at who-knows-what, or perhaps looking for who-knows-what. They were in that strange form again, the one that they had been in since that battle at their clinic took place. Was this their true form? It didn't feel like such to Blue, who had met them as a fox mobian. They were supposed to only stay with that fox for a day or so, they were meant to be returned to their caretaker, Whisper. But Whisper attacked Doctor Clysdale, and then left without a trace, leaving Blue and the other wisps behind with the Doctor, now in that strange form.

Blue didn't understand why she would do such a thing, Doctor Clysdale was very kind to Blue and the others, so why attack them? What did they do wrong? Maybe it was because of Blue's aversion to violence, but they just couldn't wrap their head around it.

Even though the doctor was at a distance, Blue had the inclination to ask questions. Where were they? Why are they here? When will Whisper come back? Why did Whisper attack you? 

But none of those questions actually left their head, too scared to say them and then not be heard, or not understood. Doctor Clysdale didn't have one of those masks that Whisper and the others used to understand them. But they are a wisp doctor, so perhaps they had some other way of understanding them?

A shadow began to loom over from the side of Blue. They turned around to see that it was one of those young attendants of the doctor that Blue would see from time to time around the clinic, before the battle. 

This person, too, was once a fox, but he too was now in that strange appearance. Mobian, but also not quite? Maybe not mobian.

He looked so much like Doctor Clysdale, but also so much like Blue themself, like the middle ground of a two-toned gradient. His eyes had black irises that had pupils that were box-like and were a vibrant shade of cerulean blue, like a simplification of Blue's reflection, which matched the accent color of the young boy's… hair? Fur? Neither term seemed right. Whatever it was, it was very angular, just like his pupils.

"First one awake? Can't relate, honestly." He said, seemingly directly to Blue.

"I'm not usually the first one up, just a light sleeper, that's all." Blue responded impulsively.

"Ah. Again, can't relate. My siblings will tell ya, I sleep like a rock." 

Did… did the boy just… understand them??

"Anyways, did that lady like, give you an actual name or what?" He spoke again.

"Uhm… The Diamond Cutters always called me "Blue", and Whisper never saw a reason to call me anything different…" Blue explained.

"So no, then." The boy replied bluntly, "Is that just in your case or are all of you like that?"

"... All of us, I guess?"

"Figures. I'm sure Ma will think of somethin' for y'all." The boy noted vaguely. Blue wondered why it was that this "Ma", who they assumed to be referring to Doctor Clysdale, would have to think of new names for them and the others. But there was a matter that was far more pressing in their opinion that they wanted to get out the way first and foremost.

"How… How are you able to understand me?" Blue asked, their voice shaking ever so slightly.

"Oh yeah. Should probably change out of my bodysuit or whatever." The boy said with a chuckle, seemingly dodging the question. But his statement caught Blue off guard regardless.

"Y-your what-?!" They exclaimed in confusion. The boy did not answer, walking towards and eventually onto some sort of platform. The platform was ever so slightly raised from the floor itself, and contrasted in its high-tech appearance, being completely ebony aside from a strip of what looked like neon lights to Blue, glowing in the same hue as the boy's pupils. Or at least, in the same hue that his pupils once glowed, as when the boy stepped onto the platform, the color faded out, leaving an empty gray in its wake. 

From behind the boy's now completely blank face, a creature flew out into Blue's view, and approached the very confused wisp. The creature certainly looked like a blue cube wisp, but still, things were a little off. The skin tone wasn't nearly as vibrant as Blue's was. The eyes looked completely different, having completely black slits for irises that had no pupils, and not just that, but the eyes themselves were completely misplaced. While Blue's three eyes were all on their face, the creature only had one eye on his face, while the other two were on the sides of his head, one each. Lastly, the creature had a visible mouth, which was jagged and sharp, while Blue had no visible mouth at all. It was a sight that sickened Blue to see, but the creature's facial expression would suggest that nothing was wrong at all.

"Okay, cool. So is the answer clear to you now or what?" The boy's voice came from the creature, implying that the creature was the boy.

"... A-Are you… also a wisp??" Blue asked, their voice shaking as they did, not wanting to consider that this contorted form truly was a variation of their own self.

"Yep. Name's Blurk by the way. Sorry that I didn't lead off with that." Despite his apology, his tone did not waver for even a minute, it was as flat and monotone as ever, which seemed to only add to the unnerving aura this "Blurk" had in the eyes of Blue.

"... Why do you look so…?" Blue attempted to question, but was lost for the word they needed.

"Strange? Contorted? Corrupted? Yeah, that's a fair ask, I guess. Can't remember all the details but Ma's had us since we were still in eggs, and they, like, messed around with our genetics and stuff to maximize our potential and make us more Black Arms-like and stuff. Oh yeah, Ma's a Black Arms by the way. It's fine if you don't know what that is just yet, but I guess I should let ya know." Blurk explained in a rambling sort of way.

"...And that caused all… that…?" 

"Yep. Came out of the egg lookin' like this. Makes me wonder what it'll be like for you lot, having lived the most of your lives as just regular ol' wisps and all." Blurk began to speculate.

"What… it'll be like… for us…?" Blue echoed fearfully, suddenly feeling a strange pain surge through them.

"Yeah. Sorry 'bout the short notice, but since that lady decided to book it from the clinic, Ma decided to assimilate y'all into the hivemind. I'd rather you not make a fuss about it, I'm sure it means a lot to them to have the chance to go back to where their whole science shtick began, ya know?" Blurk revealed.

Blue was shocked, that's for certain, and still very, very confused. Assimilate? Hivemind? Black Arms? What does it all even mean?? It seemed like they weren't going to get much explanation on those fronts from Blurk.

"I don't really know how most of this stuff works, but I've listened to Ma and Rhy go off about it enough to have part of their scripts practically memorized. Basically, Ma did most of the heavy work last night while you all were asleep, and there's gonna be some neuro gas stuff coming out in like, a couple of minutes, to chill y'all out and numb your bodies while the whole mutation thing happens, so it doesn't hurt." Blurk continued to monologue.

"Mutation?!" Blue gasped, feeling the pain from before begin to return.

"Mhm. You lot are gonna look like us, now isn't that exciting?" Blurk responded, still as monotone as ever. "I wonder if you'll look like a clone of me or if you'll look a bit different. Both of those thoughts excite me, personally, but if you don't like what you end up with, there's always the bodysuits. Gonna have to talk to Rhy 'bout that stuff though. She won't mind, of course. In fact, I bet she'll be really happy to talk that sorta thing with you. Surprised she ain't here as we speak." He continued.

"B-But what if Whisper comes back for us?? Then what will you do, huh?!" Blue suddenly blurted out in a sudden fit of fury.

"I hope she does. That would mean Ma could assimilate her too. Wouldn't you want that as well?" Blurk surmised, his resolve not faltering for not even a single moment.

"NO?? WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU??" Blue yelled, giving into their anger.

"I was created to be a vessel for chaos. For that which orderly society fears the most. I know that such a concept is foreign to you. I can tell that you remain tied to your dimension of origin. You were born there, perhaps even raised there to a certain extent before being brought into this dimension by those "Diamond Cutters" you speak of. But you will come to understand the importance of chaos. Your mind and body will become a distorted reflection of the you that lingers in this moment. You will become one of us, and I will watch the process with the utmost excitement." 

Blue wanted to say something back, something, anything, but they came to realize that they could not. A mental fog took control of their brain's processes and stopped them dead in their tracks, and before they could try to fight it, the stench of anesthetics filled their senses, and blurred their sight.

"It is time. You must rest now…

Blarjikære*…"

*Translation Note: Close friend within the Black Arms

[stratiotis-nth]

Ever since Cas came back and turned human, it would seem he’s stopped giving a shit about literally everything. When Dean noticed this new aspect of Cas’ colorful personality, he had made himself paranoid that Cas would suddenly start flirting with him on the regular now that his big confession was out in the open.

So while Dean was scared shitless, he was confusingly disappointed when Cas didn’t do that at all.

No. The first thing the ex-angel did after surviving another encounter with death was start a Shotgun war with Sam.

And no, not the bang bang kinda shotgun.

“Shotgun!” Cas practically bellowed down the corridor as the three of them were getting ready to get dinner.

“That’s not fair, Cas! I’m in the bathroom!” Sam complained through the closed door. Cas ignored him completely as he strode past and ducked into the passenger seat of the Impala. Dean, who had been desperately trying to stay out of this war, just gave Cas a sideways smile.

“Y’know, the rules are you can’t call shotgun until you actually see the car, Cas.” He told him, his lips tugging up in amusement and…just happiness that Cas was close.

“Until Sam demands to implement this rule, I will abuse his ignorance.” Cas replied, smiling softly. Once again, every time Cas won the passenger seat, Dean wanted to ask what was with his sudden obsession with it. It wasn’t like Cas hadn’t been stubborn enough to claim it before he became human. He wondered what changed, why Cas suddenly cared about seating arrangements. But, as he had been doing ever since they got Cas back (again), Dean bit his tongue. He didn’t want to overwhelm the newly human with the tsunami of questions he had.

Sam griped the entire way to the diner, grumbling about being squished even though Dean knew there was more than enough space. Cas sat next to Dean, watching the trees amble by with a serene, totally unaffected smile on his face. Pleased as a pickle. Dean was fighting his own internal battle between his burning questions and undying amusement at Sam’s plight.

At the diner, Cas sat next to Dean. That much was hardly anything new. The two just naturally gravitated towards each other, and after Dean caught himself drifting mindlessly towards Cas more times than he could count, he stopped giving him grief about personal space.

Cas’ thigh brushed up against his almost the entire meal. Dean pretended not to notice, but internally, he was melting into a puddle of bi panic.

In the parking lot, Sam was quick to call shotgun when Cas got distracted by their waitress catching up to him and giving him her phone number. Dean was too busy bristling and snapping at Cas to hurry up to even notice Sam was sitting next to him.

Cas sulked the entire ride home, the waitress’ number stuffed into one of his pockets. Dean tried not to think that maybe Cas was saving her number for another time.

On Saturday, it was Dean’s turn to go on a food run. Sam was busy working a ghoul case with Eileen, so when Cas wanted to come along there was no yelling match over the front. He ducked into the passenger seat and just about blinded Dean’s poor weak heart with a smile that crinkled his nose.

They fought over eggs for about twenty minutes in the diary aisle. Dean win by threatening to give Sam exclusive access to shotgun. Cas relented with a glower that could have smote demons if he still had his grace.

Eventually, Sam did implement the rule about only calling shotgun with the car in sight, and as the weeks went by and Dean’s silent journey is self realization unfolded, the war at escalated. Now, neither of them could call shotgun without all three of them being in sights of the car. It had gotten bad enough that Sam and Cas waited impatiently for Dean in the garage, staring expectantly for him to round the corner so they could have their yelling match.

Cas nearly blew Dean’s eardrums out, bellowing “SHOTGUN!” loud enough to drown out Sam. He angrily opened his mouth to argue when his phone started ringing.

“It’s Eileen.” He said, his back snapping straight and immediately answering the video call. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Can you give me a ride?” Dean could hear Eileen’s voice over the tinny speakers. “My car broke down and the nearest shop is two hours away.”

“Where are you?”

“An hour away from you? It was supposed to be a surprise.”

Dean saw Sam’s face soften, the tension of worry falling away. He butted in, sticking his face in view of the camera so Eileen could read his lips.

“Just tow it here. I can patch your ride.” He said. “Sam can take the tow truck.”

“Are you sure?” Eileen asked.

“Course. ‘Sides, those guys won’t give you a fair price anyway.” Dean flapped his hand dismissively.

“Thanks, Dean.” Eileen beamed, and oh, Dean knew that smile. Mischievous and damnit, she had planned this from the start, hadn’t she? Just to get a free repair out of him. Dean squinted suspiciously at her, and Eileen just wiggled her eyebrows.

“Cas and I can pick up the curse box and meet you two back here in a few hours.” Dean said. He saw Cas immediately brighten, having secured the passenger seat.

Cas was looking particularly triumphant as they drove, his knees rocking back and forth in a content, mindless sort of way. Finally, Dean couldn’t hold back the question anymore.

He had done his work accepting the fact that he wasn’t as straight as he thought, that it wasn’t very heterosexual to stare at Cas’ lips or pop an awkward boner seeing him all cleaned up after Purgatory, or completely shutting down every time he died or getting all prickly when waitresses give him her phone number. He was gay for Cas, and he had just gotten around to accepting this. Cas said he loved him, right? so Dean shouldn’t be afraid or rejection or anything. Yeah, no he was terrified.

“Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?” He turned to him with that soft smile that Dean wanted all to himself.

“I gotta ask, man,” Dean chuckled a little awkwardly and kept his eyes firmly on the road. “Why are you so determined about sitting shotgun? You’ve never been before.”

“Ah.” Cas hummed, turning back to the road too. “I suppose now I have the freedom to pursue the things I want. Chuck is gone and my deal with the Empty is null in void. I have time to…focus my attentions on other things.”

“The things you want? What, you got a better view up here or something?”

“Well yes, the windshield does allow more viewing space.” Cas agreed. “But it’s not my main goal in doing all this.”

“Then…what is?”

“Dean.” Cas said in that ever patient, you’re-being-dumb-about-this voice. “I enjoy being up here because it allows me to be closer to you. You are the view I most admire, Dean. I’m always so helplessly drawn to you.”

Dean’s mouth had gone a little dry and his grip on the wheel was suddenly sweaty. The silence that fell was deafening. Cas didn’t even look concerned. He just sat there waiting the road as if he hadn’t just said something so…so…soft to Dean.

Helplessly drawn. Like Cas couldn’t bear being away from him. Like Dean was this perfect, magnetic thing that Cas was enchanted by, something worth having around.

With a jerk of the wheel, Dean was pulling over on the side of the empty highway in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. He threw Baby into park before twisting around and staring at Cas.

He didn’t even look vaguely concerned, the fucker. He just gave Dean a patient look.

Dean opened his mouth, and closed it. Did it again, ready to tell Cas everything. Snapped his jaw shut.

Cas watched in cool amusement. Dean felt his cheeks get hot.

“Screw this.” He grumbled to himself, before lunging across the bench, grabbing Cas’ face with both hands, and kissing him square on the lips.

He felt Cas freeze for a moment, probably in total shock, before he started moving.

Dean nearly choked on a gasp as the chapped, warm lips started pushing and devouring, Cas was suddenly the one taking charge, shoving Dean back against his window as he clambered across the seats to get on top of him.

Twelve years of pent up emotions came crashing out in a sudden burst of unstoppable passion. And as soon as it started, it seemed to have stopped. They both were panting, Dean’s jeans were tight and his entire body screamed to have Cas against him again. But Cas had made to move away, putting space between him as he looked at Dean with wide eyes.

He didn’t get very far. Dean grabbed ahold of his jacket lapels and held on tight with an iron grip, keeping Cas hovering inches above him, basically sharing air.

“Wanna hear a secret?” He whispered between heavy breathes. Cas just blinked at him. “I’ve always rooted for you getting shotgun.”

Cas’ kiss swollen lips split into a dazzling smile, and he rewarded Dean with another intense make out session. When they pulled away, Dean found the words spilling out of his mouth.

“I love you too, Cas. You can have me. God, you have had me, for years you have. Can’t believe it took me so long, I’m sorry I made you think you couldn’t have me, I’m sorry it took me so long—“

Cas shut him up with another kiss, and Dean’s ramble faded into a helpless whimper that too was swallowed up by Cas.

“Does this mean I get exclusive shotgun privileges?” Cas asked a few hours later than they finally took the curse box off the poor shopkeeper’s hands. They had arrived nearly an hour late, not that Dean (or his dick for that matter) particularly cared.

“Honestly? Play it up to Sam and he might let you get away with it for a while.” Dean chuckled. Without even thinking too hard about it, his free hand slithered over the bench, grabbing Cas’ and entwining their fingers. Something so small and simple, yet made Dean light up like a sun.

If Cas didn’t manage to convince Sam, Dean sure as hell would.

[the-iceni-bitch]

A Surprise to be Sure

Pairing: Geralt/Fem!Reader

Words: 5761

Summary:  You meet Geralt and Jaskier on the road and have a lovely little adventure in the kingdom of Temeria.

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, explicit descriptions of violence, TW mentions of rape, SMUT, 18+

A/N: It’s here y’all, my b-day Geralt fic! I’m really happy with how this turned out and could honestly have published it without the smut, that’s how much I love this fic. It is definitely going to be part of a series so I hope you all enjoy! (PS I love writing Jaskier way too much and could honestly just do a full series of him having random misadventures all over the continent!) I’m tagging @navybrat817​ because I know she loves some Henry Cavill

Jaskier had been belting the Fishmonger’s Daughter for the past 30 minutes, and Geralt was ready to murder him.

“Must you insist on shouting our position to every living creature in a 5 mile radius?” He hissed at the bard.

“List, my grumpy, hoar-headed friend. I need to be sure my voice is in top form if I’m performing at a royal ball. Now, you’ll feel better if you sing with me, Oooh Fishmonger, Oh Fishmonger, Come Quell your Daughter’s Hunger!”

“I’m going to feed you that damn lute before we reach the castle if you don’t shut up. I can’t listen to this for three days.” The Witcher growled under his breath. He couldn’t figure out why he had agreed to accompany the irritating man on his journey, but the man always managed to convince him to go along with his stupid plans.  

“Now, Geralt. You know you secretly love my singing. After all, how many jobs has that little song of mine rustled up for you, eh? Stop being so grouchy.”

He gave him a grunt. “Fine, can you at least sing something else?”

“Ah, but of course, my large, angry friend. Eh hem, You think you’re safe, without a care…”

“Gods, not that one.”

“Well, there’s no pleasing you is there. Ahh, what’s that noise?”

A feminine shriek split the air, causing a flock of birds to take flight only a few feet from the pair of riders. Roach of course didn’t mind, but Jaskier’s mount almost threw him, causing Geralt to smile.

“Gods, see, this is why I hate travelling on these creatures. Give me a nice coach ride any time. Come Geralt, let us see what fair maiden is in need of our assistance.”

“Our assistance?”

“Well, your assistance. C’mon Geralt, a damsel in distress, this is the perfect material for a new song.”

Geralt followed the idiot as he rode towards the sounds of distress, determined to keep him from getting himself killed. He didn’t really like getting involved in petty issues of the realms but knew that Jaskier lived for these tiny adventures.

They came upon you, surrounded by five men in soiled armor. Your cart had a broken wheel and was sinking into the snow and mud. One of the men had you pinned in the back of the cart by your neck as he buried his other hand in your skirts. The other men jeered at you as they kept their watch.

“Look Geralt, a fair maid waiting to be rescued, what could make for a better song? Ho there fellows, stop your raping or you’ll have to deal with my cantankerous companion here.”

“Move along, bard this doesn’t concern you.” One of the soldiers growled at Jaskier before spitting to the side. “Or, wait your turn and we’ll let you and your pal have her when we’re done.”

“Ah, Geralt, I’ll let you take care of them. Make sure to draw it out, a long fight always makes for a better song.”

“Oh, fuck this.” You hissed, pulling out the stiletto you had hidden in your skirts and gutting the man who was restraining you.

Jaskier turned his head and vomited as the man’s intestines seeped out of him and he crumbled to the forest floor. You flung your cloak off your shoulders as you drew the obscenely large longsword you had concealed beneath its folds and chopped off the hand of the next soldier who came charging at you before plunging it into his chest.

“I don’t know, bard. Seems like the maid has things under control.” Geralt grinned at his companion once he had finished emptying his stomach.

You wrenched the blade free as the two unhorsed soldiers rushed you. One of them tossed his own dagger at you and you used your sword to whip it back at him, catching him in the throat. You brought up your dagger and crossed the blades you were holding to catch the sword of your fourth opponent. You managed to loop the dagger under his hilt and wrenched the sword from his grasp as you let the momentum from his attack carry you the two of you backwards, flipping him over your head until you were straddling his chest. You gave him a small smirk as your drove your dagger through his eye.

“Shouldn’t we be doing something?” Jaskier asked as he watched the bloody show with abject horror painted on his face.

“What would you suggest bard? The woman seems to be able to handle herself, and I can’t say these soldiers seem particularly deserving of assistance.”

The final soldier had dismounted and was now striding towards you, twirling his sword around like an idiot peacock. You scowled at him before pulling a massive crossbow from beneath the packages in your cart and shooting him in the shoulder.

He went down with a soft grunt and you strutted over to him, crossbow slung over your shoulder and dagger twirling through your fingers. You tutted at him like you were chiding a naughty schoolboy.

“Oh, Abbett, what did you do with the money? I certainly hope you have it on you. I don’t feel like trekking through this frozen forest digging for it.”

“You cunt.” The man spat at you. “We fought those bloody Nilfgaardians to keep these farmers safe and warm. The least they can do to thank us is give up a few bloody coins and their daughters.”

You shot him again in the leg and he let out a scream.

“One more time, Abbett, the money? I can’t give those poor girls their maidenhoods again but maybe their families can offer a dowry to make them good matches.”

“Argh, bitch! It’s in the saddlebags.”

“Excellent! See, not so fucking difficult, and you saved me the nasty task of gelding you!” You took a few steps forward and shot him through the eye as you went to examine the horse and find the stolen coins.

“Ahem, hello, madam! I am Jaskier the Bard and this is my companion, Geralt of Rivia! Would you join us on our journey to the capital of Temeria? You seem like a lass with stories to tell and I’m just the fellow to put them to song.”

“Jaskier, shut the fuck up.” Geralt hissed at him.

You whipped around to the two of them and pointed your crossbow at the Witcher. “Fuck, I almost forgot about you two. Well, you’ve given me a bit of a conundrum boys. I was counting on there not being any witnesses here. These vagabonds are still wearing the king’s colors after all, and we’re close enough to the capital that that could prove to be a problem for me.” You had started to unfasten the bodice of the gown you were wearing, desperate to get out of the confining layers of cloth that had comprised your disguise. You revealed an outfit of bleached leather and furs that clung to your body.

“Oops.” Jaskier murmured, giving Geralt a sheepish grin as he raised his hands in supplication. “Geralt, friend, maybe you can talk to our new companion.”

“Right, listen, we don’t care that you just slaughtered five of the king’s soldiers, though I’m sure upon closer inspection they’ll be shown to be deserters. And as we have no desire to bring any trouble down on you, we’ll just be on our way.”

“Wait,” You called after them, tossing the rags of your gown onto the abandoned cart as you saddled your horse. “If you’re heading towards the capital, I’ll join you. I have some deliveries to make before I get out of this god-forsaken country, and that way I can keep an eye on you.” You gave them a grin as you rode up the hill to join them. “I can think of worse company than a bard and a Witcher.”

Jaskier shot a grin back at you as you joined them. “Ah, finally someone who will appreciate my talents. Tell me… um..”

“Y/N”

“Y/N, lovely, do you have any requests?”

Geralt groaned internally at the thought of being stuck with two singing idiots for the journey but was cut short by the sound of multiple bows being drawn.

“Fuck.”

“That’s far enough you three.” A captain in shining armor commanded as you came into view of a mounted regiment of king’s soldiers, accompanied by about 100 footmen who all had arrows trained on you. “What do you know about several groups of dead king’s men that have been found in these woods.”

Geralt shot you a look of reproach over his shoulder as you pointedly avoided making eye contact, examining your fingernails like they were the most interesting thing on the continent.

“There’s another group of dead soldiers in the clearing back there, captain. Looks like we’ve found our culprits.”

“Oh, just wait a minute. My grouchy friend and I were just passing through when we came upon this lovely woman being set upon by these supposed kingsmen. Granted, we considered dispatching them ourselves but our fair companion had things well in hand. Seems like she was doing your jobs for you.”

You and Geralt shared a groan. “Shut up, Jaskier.”

The captain gave a snort of derision. “You want us to believe this pretty thing has been besting the king’s chosen troops on her own for months? Take their weapons and restrain the Witcher and the woman. The bard can sing us some songs to pass the time as we travel. We’ll save this for the king to sort out.”

You gave a heavy sigh and started handing over your blades. Jaskier’s eyes started to bulge as you continued pulling smaller and smaller knives out of an increasingly absurd number of hiding places, until there was an impressive pile in front of the soldier who had been tasked with collecting your weapons.

Geralt was less forthcoming in turning over his weapons and didn’t really start until a spear prodded him in the back. He was gazing at Renfri’s blade when the captain lost his patience, and the butt of the spear whipped across the back of his head, knocking him cold.

“Put his blades with the rest of it.”

Geralt woke up with his face buried in your hair and let out a groan at the throbbing in his skull.

“What the fuck?” He lifted his head, squinting against the sun reflecting off the new fallen snow.

“Good morning, Witcher. Apparently this type of restraint has been proven to limit the ability of the restrained to extricate themselves from their bindings. You missed a fascinating lecture on it as they were tying us up.”

The two of you were bound face to face on the saddle of your massive black courser. Your arms and legs tangled around each other and wrapped in an intricate series of knots. He started trying to wrench himself free, but only succeeded in bringing you even closer to him as he let out a grunt of frustration.

“Look at the two of you, so cozy.” Jaskier rode up with a grin on his face, strumming his lute. “Do not worry yourselves, my violent friends. I am currently working on a plan to extricate the two of you from this predicament. I have the ear of the captain.”

“Are you going to annoy him to death Jaskier? Maybe if you sing that damn abortion song enough times, he’ll release us just to be rid of you.”

“You wound me, Geralt. The name of that tune is “You Think You’re Safe” and you’ll be happy to know that the captain is enamored of my talents and has asked me to regale him and his officers at their meal tonight.”

“Ah, good for you Jaskier. Make sure to sing the ‘Fishmonger’s Daughter’ I hear that’s a favorite of the troops.” You smiled at him, throwing him a wink.

“Oh, I knew I liked you, Y/N! See Geralt, it isn’t so hard to appreciate what I bring to the table. Thank you for your advice, sweet lady, I will be sure to take heed!” He rode off, humming to himself as he tuned his lute.

“Why would you encourage him?” Geralt growled in your ear, still fighting against his bonds.

“Ah, Witcher, you need to relax. I’m sure Jaskier’s plan will work out just fine.”

“The bard is an imbecile, the day I trust myself to any plan of his is the day I resign myself to a slow and painful death.”

“Well, be that as it may, if you don’t stop struggling, we’re going to end up in a very uncomfortable situation.” You said, giving a gasp as another jerk of your bonds brought you indecently close.

“Fuck.” He let out in a hiss, resigning himself to waiting for a better opportunity as a lock of your hair blew into his face, smelling of pine and turned earth “I don’t suppose you have any sort of plan of escape, since it’s your fault we’re in this situation.”

“Geralt, I do apologize that you have ended up in my mess. I’m so sorry that the war with Nilfgaard has caused unprecedented levels of desertion, and that the cowards that have runoff have been terrorizing and robbing the smallfolk. And I’m sorry that the king failed to listen to the pleas of his people, who had to pool together the last of their coin to contract me to come in and relieve them of their problems. But yes, this mess is entirely of my own making, and nothing to do with the colossal mismanagement of the realm of Temeria.”

“Hmmph.” He grunted into your hair. “So how are you getting us out of this mess?”

You gave him a snort. “Don’t worry that pretty head of yours Witcher, something will work out.”

“Alright, dismount.” One of the lieutenants ordered, leering at the two of you. “Hope you two have enjoyed today’s ride. I hear they’re already constructing a gibbet for you in Vizima.”

“I see the royal council has decided to do away with even the minimal farce of a trial then.”

Two soldiers had started to undo the maze of knots binding you and the Witcher together and you gave a hiss as blood started to flow back into your legs.

“An attack on the king’s army is an attack on the king. No trials for traitors to the crown.”

“You do know that neither of us are citizens of this kingdom?” Geralt asked him. “You can’t betray a monarch you don’t serve.”

“Pssh, a minor inconsistency. The king can’t be seen as soft during wartime.”

“Oh, of course not.” You murmured as the soldiers dragged you off your mount and led you to the prisoners’ tent that had been erected next to the officers’. The same intricate raveling of ropes and knots started again as they bound your upper bodies to the poles in the center of the tent. You could hear the beginnings of revelry in the officers’ pavilion when they left you.

“Well, now what?” Geralt asked you, pulling against the bonds at his wrists.

“Just, have a little patience.” You chided him, leaning against your pole in as relaxed of a pose as you could achieve.

“You did hear that they plan on executing us once they get us back to the capital?”

“No, Geralt, I missed that.” You spat at him as you heard Jaskier start to sing and gave a small smile. “Excellent, let’s hope he leaves the good stuff until they’re well and drunk.”

“What are you talking about, Y/N?” He asked you, still trying to wrench himself free.

“For fucks’ sake, give it a rest. Apparently the royal knot tyers are the only members of this army who haven’t fallen lax in their duties.” You rolled your eyes at him. “Just give it a half hour and we’ll give you a chance to get out all the pent up aggression.”

“So you do have a plan? Any chance you want to let me in on it?”

“I think I’ll leave it for a surprise.”

The two of you sat there listening as the sounds of drunken celebration filled the camp. It only took 20 minutes for the revelry to reach a dull roar, and a smile crept over your face when you heard the first refrains of ‘The Fishmonger’s Daughter’.

“Ah, Jaskier, perfect timing.” You muttered.

The song started speeding up and spread through the regiment. You heard the soldiers start clapping along and seized your moment, bending your legs and driving your back into the post you were bound to at each clap, starting to shift it out of the ground with each drive of your shoulders.

Geralt finally seized on your idea and joined you in wrenching his post out of the ground. Within a few rounds of the song, they were loosened enough for you to drag them out of their anchors, causing the tent to collapse around you. You slipped your bonds over the ends of the posts and unraveled yourselves. Geralt gave you a look of appreciation as you hefted your post, flung the folds of the fallen tent off yourself and whipped the post around to take out the two guards that had been posted at the entrance.

“Well, let’s find our weapons, shall we?” You said, giving him a grin.

Apparently, your appraisal of the army had been accurate; you ran into minimal resistance as you made your way to the weapons tent and managed to knock out the only sentries you encountered before Geralt had a chance to react.

“Ah, my babies.” You said to yourself as you started resheathing the ridiculous number of knives you had accumulated for yourself, kissing each blade before you returned it to its rightful place.

“How can you possibly be comfortable wearing all of that steel?” Geralt asked you around a grin, watching you tuck a dirk between your breasts and wondering how you managed to not cut yourself.

“I’m a woman traveling the continent alone, Witcher. I’ve found that the element of surprise is my friend, and there’s nothing quite as surprising as an unexpected knife between the ribs.”

He actually laughed at that, strapping one sword to his back and one to his hip as you hefted your crossbow and loaded it with a bolt before heading back out into the snow.

You were met by the surprised faces of a drunken group of soldiers who were wending their way through the tents, arms around each other as the slurred the lyrics to their favorite song. You shot the first through the chest as you drew your longsword over your shoulder and you dropped your crossbow to the ground, slashing the second across the face before they finally regained their composure and sounded the alarm.

Geralt drew his blades and clashed with three of the remaining soldiers as you grappled with the other two. He managed to drive his long sword through one of their chests before the other two had a chance to converge on him and he struggled to drive them apart with his fists to allow himself room to maneuver. One of his opponents went down suddenly with a dagger through his throat and Geralt threw a look your way to see your first opponent down and missing an eye as you drove your knee into the chest of your second opponent, driving him into a post as you brought your sword around and ran it across his throat.

Geralt threw his assailant over his shoulder and rammed his blade through his chest as you let out a shrill whistle and hefted your crossbow as the sound of hoofbeats rose through the camp. Roach and your courser came charging around the bend suddenly and you latched onto your steed’s mane and swung yourself onto his back as Geralt vaulted onto Roach’s. You turned suddenly and led him back towards the officers’ pavilion as drunken soldiers did their best to pursue you.

“We almost forgot the fucking bard!” You grinned at him as you hopped off your horse and slashed through the back of the officers’ tent. You emerged seconds later with a terrified looking Jaskier, who you tossed over the back of your mount like a sack of potatoes before leaping up behind him and kicking your steed to a gallop.

“Either of you want to fill me in on what the fuck is happening?!” Jaskier shrieked as he bounced around.

The two of you ignored him as you rode on. You set a punishing pace through the whole night, not looking back until you crossed the river into the kingdom of Redania as the sun rose and you finally allowed your horses to slow their pace to a walk, dismounting to give them a rest.

“If my lute is damaged, I’ll never forgive you.” Jaskier whined as he inspected his instrument, hobbling along as he tried to adjust after the unceremonious thrashing he had taken during the ride.

“Jaskier, a little thanks should be in order. Y/N and I did save you from a rather nasty execution after all.” Geralt grinned at him as he walked beside you, Roach nuzzling him in the shoulder as he patted her snout.

“I told the two of you, I had the captain’s ear, I would have been able to talk us out of any trouble.”

You gave him a snort as your courser butted his head into yours, begging for his own pats. “Jaskier, you would have been strung up right beside us. Just think though, this little adventure has the makings of a great song, eh? I’ll buy you a nice hot meal and a bath at the inn we’re coming up on.”

“Well, I’d never say no to a bath. How close is this inn?”

“Just over the next hill.”

You arrived within an hour and made arrangements for the horses as Jaskier headed in to arrange rooms and meals for the three of you.

Geralt and you headed into the inn and you grabbed the two of you the largest mugs of beer you could arrange before joining Jaskier at a table and tearing into the trencher of bread.

“So, good news first.” The bard said. “I arranged for nice, hot baths for all three of us, in addition to our meals. The only thing is, they only had two rooms.”

Geralt let out a groan at that. “Fine, bard, I guess the two of us are sharing accommodations for the next few days then.”

“Aah, well. I figured, with you two having grown so close during our little journey, that you wouldn’t mind sharing the much, much larger room whilst I make due with the tiny, lonely room myself that I’ve already had them unload my things into.”

The two of you shot him equally reproachful looks over your mugs of beer as a barmaid arrived to let him know his bath was ready.

“Ah, splendid. Well, you two enjoy your breakfasts. I’m going to take a very long nap after my bath and I’ll see you this afternoon, or maybe even tomorrow.”

A whole roasted chicken arrived and the two of you tore into it without a word, polishing it off quickly as you hadn’t realized how famished you were.

“I’ll arrange for them to bring up the hot water for baths for us.” You told Geralt as you stood up and stretched, downing the last of your beer.

“I’m fine without.” The Witcher grumbled at you.

You gave him a derisive chuckle. “If we’re bedding together for the two days it’ll take for the horses to rest up, you’re bathing yourself at least once, I don’t need to smell everywhere you’ve been in the past month.”

He gave an uncomfortable shrug of his shoulders as he followed you upstairs. It had been a while since he’d spent the night with a woman he wasn’t paying, and there was something about you he found disarming. Endearing, but disarming nonetheless.

“Ah, at least there’s two tubs.” You said gleefully as you entered the room. A group of attendants arrived a moment later, carrying four large buckets of steaming water between them that they emptied into the copper tubs before taking their leave.

You started by pulling off your supple boots and Geralt turned his back as he began to unlace his jerkin. He heard you give a soft laugh behind him. “Are we really going to pretend like neither of us have seen a naked body before, Witcher?”

He whipped around at the amusement in your voice. You had removed your corset and sleeves and were down to nothing but a thin linen tunic on top. He tried not to stare at the shape of your breasts moving beneath the fabric as you worked at unlacing your breeches. You shot him a wicked look through your lashes as you moved your fingers back to unstrap the multiple sheathes that had been hidden beneath your bodice.

He did his best to ignore you as he ripped his jerkin off over his head. He made easy work of his tunic and breeches and sank into the tub while you were still working on undoing the intricate trappings of your hidden arsenal.

“I really don’t see how you can be comfortable in all of that Y/N.” He chided you as you removed the final straps and drew your tunic over your head before shimmying out of your breeches. He did his best to keep his eyes occupied elsewhere as you stepped into your own bath, hissing at the heat.

“Comfort is a matter of individual preference, dear. Oh, that’s wonderful.” You sank into the water with a sigh and dunked your head under before coming back up with a gasp.

“So, you going to tell me how you ended up with a warhorse, enough steel to equip a small band of thieves, and the strength to wield a tentpole like a damn quarterstaff, or is that something I’ll have to guess at?” He asked as he dumped a bucket over his head and ran the water through his hair before shaking it back out and splashing you, making you yelp.

“I think I’ll keep that my little secret for now, Geralt. Maybe if you buy me a few strongales over the next few days I’ll regale you with my tale of woe.” You let out a sigh as you felt your muscles relax. “Maybe I’ll get you to tell me your history as well. I hear the Redanians have a liquor that will light your chest on fire and make you forget the seasons.”

He gave a laugh and settled his head back against the tub. “You think you can outdrink me girl, you’re in for a nasty surprise… fuck.” He hadn’t heard you leave your tub and sat up startled when you crawled into his, sloshing water over the sides.

“Oh, Geralt, you’ll find that I’m full of surprises.” You said before pressing your mouth to his softly and giving a gentle sigh.

He got over his surprise quickly and wrapped his arms around you, pressing you to him fiercely as he growled against your lips.

You gave him a small laugh as you moved your lips down the line of his jaw to his neck, running your teeth along his collarbone before nipping at him softly as your hands moved down the plains of his chest, dipping below the water to take his cock in your grasp. He gave you a satisfying moan as you did so and you began sliding your hand up and down his length slowly as you raised a small bruise on his shoulder with your mouth.

He bucked his hips up into your hand as you increased your pace and you moved your other hand below the water to play with his balls. You leaned against his chest and gazed up at him with heavy lids as you watched him come apart under your ministrations.

He arched his back and gave a heavy moan as he came in your hand and you grinned against his chest as he softened, planting soft kisses along his throat as he came down and his breathing slowed.

He swallowed thickly and grinned at you before scooping his arms underneath you and lifting you out of the tub easily, making you shriek with glee before he dropped you unceremoniously on the large bed and pounced on top of you, nuzzling himself into the skin below your ear as his large hands skimmed down the sides of your torso before coming to rest on your hips and kneading them, raising bruises on your soft skin.

He brought one hand between the two of you and ran his fingers through the soft hair of your mound before rubbing them between your folds, making you arch into him as you let out a thin whine, fluttering your lashes as you gazed at him. He grinned down at you as he inserted two fingers at an agonizingly slow pace and you moaned as he started fucking them into you, curling them against that sweet, spongy spot each time.

He added another finger as he buried his face in your hair, inhaling your clean scent as you mewled and whimpered, begging him for more. He started strumming your clit with his thumb and you writhed underneath him, doing your best to grind your cunt into him as his fingers stretched you.

It was almost too much when he added the fourth finger and you wrapped your hands in his silver hair, pressing his face to your neck as you cried silently. He moved his mouth back to yours as he increased his speed and pressure on your tiny bud, moving his tongue softly past your lips and tangling it with yours. You came around him, clenching down on his fingers in your release as all the breath rushed out of you. He felt you go rigid beneath him before you collapsed back against the bed with a sigh.

“You think you’re ready for me sweetheart?” He asked as he kissed your neck, moving his hands up to palm your breasts.

You pulled his head back by his hair and gave him a grin before squeezing his sides with your thighs and rolling until you were on top of him, straddling his hips.

You sat up over him and he groaned at the sight of you, soft skin moving over lean muscle, a patchwork of faint scars covering your torso. He ran his thumb over an especially noticeable one that ran over your ribs below your left breast as you guided him to your entrance and sheathed his length inside you suddenly, making him hiss.

You started grinding against him, rubbing your clit against his pubic bone before you started fucking yourself on his cock. He tossed his head back with a moan and a murmured “Fuck” as his hands moved to your hips and guided your thrusts, meeting your hips with his own as he rutted up into you.

He sat up suddenly and pressed you to him as he knelt beneath you, staring into your eyes with lust blown pupils, a thin golden ring around a pool of deep black. You wrapped your legs around his back as he fucked up into you at a faster pace, making it hard for you to breathe.

He wrenched your head down to his and crashed his mouth against yours, his tongue invading you hungrily as you felt your pleasure starting to coil in your abdomen and you whimpered into his mouth.

He felt you starting to clench around him and moved a hand between you to strum at your clit. It only took a moment and you were flying apart around him, every muscle below your waist spasming as your orgasm wracked you and you cried into his mouth. His release was right behind yours as his hips stilled and you felt his spend spurting into you, coating your velvety walls in his release with a feral growl.

He collapsed back on the bed, still holding you to him as you both came down from you pleasure, breathing heavily as your hearts pounded together. You propped your chin on his chest and gave him a sinful grin that he returned, planting a kiss on the top of your head as you started to untangle yourselves.

“Well, if all your surprises are that pleasant, Y/N, I can’t wait to find out more.” He said to you over his shoulder as he stood up from the bed, grabbing a towel to finish drying himself off. He tossed you one and you ran it softly between your thighs, cleaning the mixture of your releases from your slit as you grinned back at him.

“My dear Witcher, I aim to please.” You threw a wink at him before you stood up and stretched. “I arranged for some clean clothes to be brought up, could you check the door for them?”

He peeked his head out and brought in two sets of soft woolens, tossing one to you. You yanked a tunic over your head before stepping into the clean pair of breeches. You decided to forgo most of your blades for the moment, opting for a simple belt that contained two daggers once you had finished lacing up your bodice.

“Shall we head down for more ale?”

“Gods yes, what else do you know about this storied Redanian liquor?”

You gave him a throaty laugh as you headed down to the main room and lute music floated up to meet you.

“Ah, Y/N! Geralt! My friends! Join us for a song won’t you? Y/N, I still want to hear you sing ‘The Fishmonger’s Daughter’ for us, eh? Oh Fishmonger, Oh Fishmonger, Come Quell your Daughter’s Hunger”

“Gods, Jaskier, aren’t you sick of that song yet?” Geralt growled half heartedly

“Pull the stick out of your ass, Witcher. C’mon, Jaskier. To pull on my horn, as it rises in the morn!”

“What a lovely voice you have my lady! For tis naught but bad luck, to fuck with a puck!”

The Witcher rolled his eyes at the two of you as he headed to the bar and the rest of the patrons joined in. What he wouldn’t give to never hear this abominable tune ever again.

“Lest your grandkid be born, a hairy young faun! Bleating and baying all day, hey ho!”

Permanent Tags:

@drabblewithfrannybarnes​

[thezodiacco]

Petals for Armor: Parts 1-3

Read it on Ao3

Word count: 3,774

Rating: Teen

Pairings: Logicality (platonic), Intrulogical (platonic), Intruality (platonic)

Warnings: Body horror, food mention, death mention

Part 1- Simmer

The night was cold. The Fae could see their breath as they ran through the woods, bare feet crunching on the forest floor. They weaved through the mangled branches of the trees, and even though their mind was screaming at them to keep looking ahead, they couldn’t help but look back every so often. It was getting closer. They could feel it.

Their breathing was heavy, no matter how hard they tried to keep it calm. The wind was biting against their bare, light brown skin, the goosebumps spreading throughout their entire body. They felt so vulnerable, a feeling they weren't quite used to. They were alone now, and hopefully it would stay that way.

The moon shone down upon them. But it wasn’t the only thing illuminating the night. Hundreds of yards away, there was a second light following the Fae. It glowed a bright red, whisking away leaves in its path. It was getting closer by the second.

Eventually the Fae’s legs threatened to give under them. They had to stop, if only for a second. They ducked behind a tree, standing as still as they could. Their legs felt like they were on fire, and their heart was about to beat out of their chest.

Their heart. As they tried to catch their breath a bright, white light flooded their chest, showing their ribcage and heart.

Their breath hitched, putting their hands up to their chest to try and cover it up, but it was too late. They peeked out from behind the tree, and the light that was following them caught on to their light. It bolted towards them. They had to get moving again. It really was on their tail now.

Every second that passed was another misstep that was narrowly avoided. But their luck ran out as their foot hit a solitary rock, and they hit the ground hard. A few inches from their face was an old, rotting human skeleton sparsely covered in leaves. They looked back, and the light was almost upon them. They scrambled to their feet, continuing their journey forward.

Soon, after what seemed like hours, they came upon what looked like an abandoned house. They rushed up the porch steps and slammed into the door, grabbing the handle. They jiggled it, but it wouldn’t budge. They turned back, lungs aflame. They knew it was getting closer.

They looked to the side and saw there was a window, grabbing the bottom and pushing up. Luckily it was unlocked, and they slid in clumsily with some effort.

It was hard to make out anything in the darkness, but they were able to see a flight of stairs. They ran up as fast as they could, searching for a safe space to hide.

They looked down the hall and spotted a door, a bright golden light spilling out of the crack at the bottom. They stepped closer, heart rate quickening.

They grabbed the door handle and turned it, the door opening slowly. Inside was a bowl with what looked like brown clay, surrounded by white candles. They let out a breath. Was this, was this already there for them?

They bit their lip. They knew what they had to do, it was their fate. They couldn’t run from it anymore.

They grabbed a handful of clay and started spreading it over their body, over their arms and legs, their chest, in their hair. It felt soothing on their skin, cold to the touch. Soon they were completely covered in it. They shifted as it already started to dry and crack.

Outside, the light formed into an entity, humanoid only in its appearance. Its black robes covered its entire body, a silver mask covering its face. It let itself inside, drifting through the house. It caught sight of the stairs, and made its way up.

It turned towards the door at the end of the hall, moving towards it. It slowly opened the door, finding nothing in the room but a circle of candles.

A loud crash permeated the hallway. The entity fell to the floor, the Fae standing tall over it. The motion knocked the mask off its face. The face that the Fae was staring down at was their own.

They let out a defeated breath. This is what they were running from. They were running from themself. They couldn’t face it. They couldn’t deal with someone out there being the worst parts of themself.

They had heard the stories as a child. The stories of their kind betraying the gods, causing them to be split into two. One half was the definition of good, all encompassing kindness and compassion and empathy. The other half was the definition of evil, being only hatred and violence and ugliness.

When the Fae was born, their dark side manifested on the other side of the world, and had been looking for them their entire life. Once they met, they would have a battle, and the victor would be the dominant half. The only way for them to become of age was to not only defeat it, but fuse with it, becoming one whole entity.

They looked down at their hands, frightened of themself. They needed to get to a safe place where they could do this in private.

They dragged the body across the floor, moving down the hallway and around the corner. They came upon a spacious, empty room. The morning light was already pouring through the window.

They held the entity, their dark side, in their arms, wrapping it up in its cloak. They cradled it, stroking its hair. They wanted so desperately to stay good, to not have to deal with being seen as a monster. But they couldn’t deny it anymore. This was still a part of them.

They looked at it. It was whispering in their ear. Wrath, it kept repeating. Mercy, it kept repeating.

They held it close, and as the hours of the day went on, the cocoon started to form. It encompassed their bodies first, then grew to cling onto the walls. Soon they were off the ground, completely wrapped up in the spider-like silk.

Now the room was filled to the brim with daylight, and a single eye popped open, the creature sucking in its first breath.

-------------------------

Part 2- Leave It Alone

The Fae looked around, breathing in the crisp autumn air. They were in the woods now, back near their home. Something in their mind told them this wasn’t completely real, but the feeling of the wind against their skin and the dirt and leaves underneath their feet suggested otherwise.

They started walking, the breeze kicking up brown leaves around them. They didn’t know where they were going, but a low, soft voice was calling for them. They decided to follow it.

They walked for hours, sauntering through the forest. The sky was overcast, the grey clouds casting a glum shadow over the land. The voice was getting louder, and soon they came across a single oak tree.

They knelt down, gingerly touching the bark. They had seen this tree before, a long long time ago. It was a door, and now they just needed to find the handle.

They moved their hand across the bark, and after pressing against it they found a loose piece. They pulled, sap dripping from what was now a hole in the tree. They looked in, suddenly being sucked through. It was dark now, the dusk a cool blue.

Several yards in front of them was a bed covered in white sheets. There was a lump, a figure resting on it. They stepped closer, fearing what they were going to find.

They hovered over it for a few moments, their blue robes flowing in the breeze. The figure kept completely still. They sucked in a breath, slowly pulling back the sheets. There they were, their colony elder, Asystole.

The Fae’s own family was somewhat absent from their life, and it got worse as they got older. The only one they could turn to to be a parental figure towards them was their elder. They would hold the Fae, and tell them stories, and sing them lullabies. They would give them advice, and would always have the right things to say to make it better.

When Asystole passed away, their whole world fell apart. The only person in the world who could truly comfort them was now gone, and they felt like they had nothing left.

They passed right before the Fae's trial was to take place, right before they ran away. Maybe that was a reason why. Maybe it was because they didn’t know whether things were going to be okay or not.

They stared at Asystole’s face. It was so peaceful, it looked like they were just sleeping. Even though the voice didn’t say anything, the Fae knew it was theirs, and it soothed them. Then Asystole faded away, and the sheets gently fell to the bed.

The Fae let out a sob, sinking to their knees. Tears started to fall down their cheeks as they screwed their eyes shut. The wind swirled around them, leaves flying up in the air. They opened their eyes and they were back where they started, the sky still a gloomy grey.

They stood up, the wind getting stronger. They could do nothing now but dance, a ceremony performed in memory of the deceased.

The wind conformed around them, the leaves matching their movement. They let their grief overtake them as they moved their arms where it felt right to move them. They moved and danced, heart full of emotions.

Once they were out of breath, and their heart was beating like a drum, they fell to the ground, eyes fluttering closed.

Their eyes suddenly popped open again after what felt like hours. Their body felt different, completely transformed. They shifted, trying to move and wriggle out of the strong, sticky confines of the cocoon.

Their whole face was itchy. There were large, skin colored scales all over their cheeks, chin, and the bridge of their nose. Flowers petals were blooming from their eyebrows, and a stem was sprouting from under each eye. There were white marks on their chin and the bridge of their nose.

They moved their arm to scratch their face, and once they broke through the webbing they looked to see four large, sharp talons. Their eyes widened, looking at it in wonder.

Enough of the cocoon had dissolved at this point that they were free to lift their chest. They let out a groan, moving and shifting upwards, trying to get comfortable.

But the transformation wasn’t done yet. The cocoon wrapped around them again as they held their breath. The silk restricted their body, clinging to it like glue.

After several more hours they were able to break through again, a human looking hand reaching up towards the sky.

They were completely covered in the goo. They looked around as they struggled to breathe, gulping in air. They were still in the room, and now they just needed to get out of it.

Now their body felt a little more normal, more human. They reached out, clambering over and out of the cocoon. The silk stuck to their naked body as they slumped to the floor. They could hear their heart beating as they let out shaky breaths. They let their eyes close for a few seconds, catching their breath.

After a while the silk dissolved, leaving their body exposed. They opened their eyes, slowing their breathing. They tried to get up on unsteady feet, but they just stumbled back to the ground, the floorboards creaking beneath them.

They were finally able to stand up after a few more moments of trying. They wrapped their arms around themself, trying to cover their body. The house was cold, goosebumps forming on their skin.

They went back to the cocoon, gathering the dry silk and slipping it over their thin frame. They ripped it in pieces, covering up all the areas that needed to be covered. There was a tattered blanket in the room, and they draped it over their shoulders.

Then they heard it. Something let out a breath. They thought they were just imagining things, but then they heard it again. It was coming from the other side of the door.

-------------------------

Part 3- Cinnamon

The breathing continued. But there were no inhales, only exhales. They bent down, trying to see through the keyhole. They reached for the knob carefully, but jumped back, falling to the floor as the door started to open by itself.

They got up on shaky legs, stepping forward towards the hallway. A blue rocking chair was rocking by itself near the stairway.

They stepped down the stairs carefully. There were picture frames on the walls, but instead of housing paintings or pictures they were empty.

They got down the stairs on unsteady feet, stepping into the living room. They glanced up, and the chandelier on the ceiling was swaying to and fro. They looked behind them, and there was a black and white piano in the hallway. They looked to the right, and there was a record in the record player spinning. It was playing an orchestral piece.

They looked around at the mint walls, the floral wallpaper. There was a dark blue antique loveseat to the left. Propped up on it was a guitar, which fell onto the seat. The Fae thought they were going crazy. They swore that things were moving on their own.

Their suspicions were confirmed as they knelt down to a purple cushion near the fireplace. There was an indentation, like someone had been sitting there. He noticed tiny white hairs. Was there someone else in the house?

They cautiously exited the living room, and moved down the hall. Their ears picked up some sort of movement behind them, but when they looked back, nothing was there. They brushed it off, continuing forward.

They got to the kitchen, and on the table was a teapot and a cup of tea. There was still steam coming off the liquid.

They glanced forward to the left slightly, and there was a candle underneath a mirror that was still giving off smoke. They stepped towards it, taking a look in the mirror. In their reflection they saw another figure behind them. It looked like the wallpaper, and it had come to life.

They spun around, finding the humanoid figure petting a dog they hadn’t seen before. Then the floorboards came to life as well, the figure sitting up. The figures started moving towards them. They ran, discarding the blanket.

The figures chased them up the stairs, several pairs of footsteps thumping on the floorboards. The Fae ran back to the room they just came from, shutting the door behind them and locking all the locks. They backed up against the door, taking a moment to catch their breath. They could hear the figures whispering to themselves from behind the door.

They were welcomed with an unusual sight. There was a bathtub in the room that hadn’t been there before, for one. Two, there was another figure in the bathtub, but this one looked somewhat human.

Their black undercut was pulled back in a tight ponytail, and they reached out with a tanned arm to grab an oyster to eat it. The Fae furrowed their brows. The figure sank into the bathtub, and out came one of the other figures from before, this one being completely white to match the tub.

It crawled over to them, letting out a low purr. They stepped around each other, then it stood tall to match the Fae’s posture. It was exactly their height.

The Fae tilted their head, and the figure tilted its head back. They smiled a bit, swaying to and fro. They held their hand up in a wave. It matched their movement perfectly.

They kept moving around, lifting and dropping their arms, stepping forward and back. Every movement was matched, it was like looking in a mirror.

The Fae’s smile only grew as they started to dance, and the figure danced with them. They were too busy to notice that the other figures were in the room with them too, also matching their movements.

“I hope you’re having fun there,” They heard a voice say, the first voice they heard in a long time. They jumped, spinning around.

The door was now unlocked, and standing in the doorframe was a man, but he didn’t exactly look like a man. He had a transparent sort of air to him, literally. The Fae could see the opposite wall right through his body.

“Don’t worry, they’re not going to hurt you. They just like to cause trouble every once in a while. Besides, it seems like they’ve taken a liking to you.”

The Fae could do nothing but stare. He was quite taller than them, and round glasses were perched on his sharp nose. Everything about his face was sharp. His cheekbones, his chin. He was certainly very handsome. The Fae pushed the thought away, cheeks flushing red.

The not-quite-man walked up to them. “Logan, at your service,” He bowed politely, looking up at them expectantly. The Fae’s mouth opened, then closed again. The things they were supposed to do were escaping them.

“May I have your name?” Logan finally asked. The Fae’s breath hitched, “I-I don’t have one. I’m s-supposed to pick it.” Their voice was small, barely above a whisper.

Logan smiled, “Well, would you like some help with that?”

Their eyes widened, “I-I don’t know, I mean, I g-guess.”

His smile only grew, “Well, what about Eugene? I think that’s a sensible name.”

They shook their head. They didn’t really like the sound of that one.

“Martin?”

They shook their head.

“Thomas?”

Another head shake.

“Patrick?”

They titled their head this time, “Close.”

Logan brought his hand up to his chin, taking some more time to really think about it. He looked the Fae up and down. “Patton.”

The Fae sucked in a breath, smiling slightly. “Yeah, yeah I think I like that one.”

Logan matched his smile, “Well, it’s very nice to meet you Patton.”

“It’s nice to meet you too.”

They smiled at each other for a few seconds before Logan spoke up again, “Say Patton, what exactly are you doing all the way out here, in the middle of nowhere? Where did you come from?”

The Fae’s- Patton’s, smile faded. They thought back to their home, and how they would probably never be able to go back. “From far away.” They finally answered.

Logan nodded sympathetically at them, “It’s alright, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Patton smiled gratefully. Then they heard more footsteps coming up the stairs. In walked the dog they saw in the kitchen. It barked happily, trotting over to Logan and sitting beside him, trying to nuzzle him, but failing miserably.

“It’s alright, Remus. You can show yourself. We can trust them.” Logan spoke gently to it, looking at it, then Patton.

Then the dog transformed from dog to human. Patton stepped back, eyes wide. The dog, who was now a man, was still facing Logan. “I know, Logan darling, I just wanted to get extra attention!”

“You get attention from me in human form.” Logan scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Yes, but it’s not the same! Besides, walking around on all fours and having a tail is fun!”

Logan cleared his throat, “Remus,” He motioned to Patton, who still had a look of wonder on their face, “Don’t be rude.”

Remus’ eyes widened as he turned to Patton, “Oh, right! So sorry, I haven’t introduced myself! I’m Remus, pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He smiled, holding out a dark hand.

Patton’s eyes were still wide. They were forgetting to breathe. They took it cautiously, looking at him as they shook. They met eyes with Logan, who was looking at them expectantly. They finally stuttered out, “Patton,” remembering their new name.

“Well, I’m certainly glad you finally met each other,” Logan rolled his eyes. Then he looked at Patton, “You may stay here, if you’d like. We could use the company.”

Remus’ eyes widened in excitement. “Oh, yes! Yes, please! Stay! We have plenty of room! And food, and drink, and entertainment! We’ll take good care of you! Please?” He furrowed his brows upward as he pouted his lip, eyes wide.

Patton was caught off guard. Why would these not-quite-humans just let them come into their home like this? Was it a trick?

Still, this was a form of shelter and food, something they needed very badly. They weren’t going to just throw an opportunity like this away.

“Okay.”

“Yay!” Remus jumped, a wide smile on his face. Logan smiled back, rolling his eyes. “Well, come along, I’ll show you to your room,” They stepped out of the room together. Patton looked around and noticed that the four figures were all gone.

“I assume you’ve already taken a tour of the house,” Logan commented as they walked down the hallway.

“Y-Yeah, sorry about that,” Patton murmured. Logan looked at them, “It’s quite alright. It’s not often we get visitors. It’s a nice change.”

They continued down the hallway, turned to the right, and came upon a door. Logan opened it, and it led to a small room, one that could be mistaken for a large closet. It had a bed with a big quilt, and a small mirror.

“I apologize for not having another room available. We’d give you the biggest room if we could.” Logan told them.

“No, it’s fine, this is perfect.” Patton smiled gently.

“Unless they want to room with me!” Remus said, giving them a playful look. Logan sighed. “You don’t have to do that if you don’t want to, Patton.”

Patton nodded at Logan, “Yeah, no, it’s fine, I’ll be fine.” He turned to Remus, “Sorry.”

“No worries! Just thought I’d offer,” Remus smiled genuinely. Patton smiled back.

“Well, if you need us, we’ll be downstairs. We’ll let you get settled in. Feel free to join us whenever you’d like,” Logan said before beckoning Remus to follow him downstairs.

Patton watched them leave, taking deep, steady breaths. These past twenty four hours certainly have been very interesting.

They nestled into their new bed. It was soft and warm, something they weren't used to. But it gave them a sense of comfort. They curled up under the quilt, planning on just closing their eyes for a couple of minutes, but ending up drifting into a deep, needed sleep.

[daydream-believin]

The Never-Ending Roadtrip (kmart’s haunted)

Summary: (part 1) Reader has joined Douxie on the quest for Nari’s safety. He’ll need company. (part 2) - Missouri 1     (part 3)

Warnings: swearing, very light spooky?

Word Count: 2245

A/N: so we’ve established that Doux wasn’t the one who burnt the bookstore, but they don’t know that. look, have you been in a Kmart recently? its apocalyptic. also, you know that post about people repeating their default work greetings by accident? yeah

“Do you want me to split the bill or?” The waitress asked, not sure if the group at the table was a young couple and their child or just three college kids hanging out. It was kind of hard to tell. On one hand, that one kid was so small, wearing a little deer costume, and had been helped to order. The other two radiated the energy of an old married couple and talked mainly to each other. But on the other hand, college kids are just like that sometimes.

“Nah, I got it.”

“What? No. I’m paying for us.” Douxie insisted.

“I have the cash, Doux.” (Name) turned to the waitress. She put some honey in her voice. “Just bring us one bill, please.” The waitress nodded nervously before heading off.

“No. I don’t want you paying for too many things while we’re traveling. You’re unemployed.”

“And who’s fault is that Mr. Mephits-Are-Vulnerable-To-Fire? You fucking burned down the store and put us both out of work here.” Nari was squirming at the negative vibes going on. It helped that she didn’t exactly understand what was going on.

“It was magic fire!” Douxie interjected in outrage. He looked so cute when he got defensive.

“Yeah, okay, sure.” (Name) shook her head, looking up to the ceiling. She let out a huff, “look, I invited myself onto this trip, Douxie. I want to pull my own weight. You’re going to have to let me pay for something eventually.”

“We’ll see about that, Love,” he said as he grabbed the ticket from the waitress’s hands as quick as lightning, tucked his card in and gave it right back before (Name) could further protest.

“Ugh! FINE! Then I’m getting the tip.” She pulled out a tenner and slapped it onto the table. She glared right back into Douxie’s hazel eyes. He glared right back into hers with a matched intensity. Nari looked back and forth between the two and whimpered. (Name) broke the standoff to assure Nari that they weren’t actually angry at each other so she shouldn’t be worried. That seemed to ease the forest child a bit but not by too much. She could still feel the weird aura they were putting off.

“Okay! So here’s your check back and here’s that lox bagel you ordered to go.” The waitress handed (Name) a doggy bag.

(Name) took the bag gingerly. A big fake smile spread across her face as she was momentarily possessed by that good spirit of customer service. “Thank you! I hope your experience was spellbinding! Have a magical day!” (Name) said on autopilot in that high-pitched voice and winked exaggeratedly. It was like she was an NPC and her talk button had been accidentally pushed. The waitress laughed forcibly and scurried away to the kitchen. Douxie cracked up.

“You do know that when I told you to say all that stuff after ringing people up, I was hazing you, right?”

“Oh yes, I am completely aware, Doux. Did you think I’d not pick up on how ridiculous that sounds? But I still say it to spite you.”

He shook his head. “Of course.”

***

Archie scarfed down his bagel sandwich with almost disturbing speed. It was like watching the void consume, well, a bagel sandwich. It just disappeared. Down his furry maw and out of existence. Being a dragon works up an appetite, after all. (Name) was a bit baffled and asked him if she should go get him another bagel. He assured her that the one was just fine and said something about trying to catch some birds later. She leaned back on her elbows against the boat’s railing, trying and failing to not think about the details of that.

Douxie cleared his throat. “So,” He folded his hands together for emphasis, “Since the subject of money came up earlier, I think we should also discuss the topic of our accommodations.”

“Well, you two obviously cannot afford lodging every night.” Archie snarked, flicking his tail.

“Thank you, for that, Arch. No, I was thinking more along the lines of a tent.”

“A tent?” the cat asked incredulously.

“Oh, that could work.” (Name) pointed at Douxie animatedly, “keep us close to nature for Nari. And also could keep our possible property damage bills down. Good idea, Doux.”

“Thank you,” Douxie puffed up, “see Arch? Someone appreciates my ideas-”

“Wait. That’ll be a short-term solution. We’re just barely into September. It’s going to be much, much colder in about a month. By October it’ll be too cold to bear. Even if we all huddle together like penguins.”

Doux looked away to hide his blush at the suggestion. “That is a problem. Okay, um-”

“Maybe we could just cross that bridge when we get there? Who knows what could happen between now and then. We could find so temp work in a little town somewhere.” (Name) shrugged, smirking at Doux. She didn’t want to admit that ‘we could be dead by then’ was also definitely a possibility on the table, so she tried to further distract from that thought. “Maybe we’ll find a creepy abandoned cabin in the woods we can squat in. Maybe some nice trolls will take us in as novelty pets. Maybe my rich Aunty Josie could just suddenly die under some ‘mysterious circumstances’ and leave her lavish fortune to her beloved niece,” she smirked at Doux, “I dunno, just spit ballin’ here.”

“I’m electing to ignore that you just suggested we ice your aunt because you were onto something there.”

“I was?” Her tone was a mixture of sarcasm and disbelief.

“Yes! New Jersey!

“New Jersey?” The wheels turned. “Oh! New Jersey!”

Nari looked confused. “What is special about this ‘New Jersey’?” she asked

Both Douxie and (Name) turned to her, “Trolls.” They said in sync.

***

(Name) stood there with her hands in her pockets. Somehow this Kmart was still standing, out here in The-Middle-Of-Fucking-Nowhere, Missouri. She was standing here, in a Kmart. It might as well have been 1986. There was barely anything on the shelves. Half the shelves themselves were missing. The floor had a layer of grime to it, in spite of the wet floor sign along with the shiny patches that said that it had clearly been mopped recently. The air smelled like something (Name) couldn’t quite place, but it was nostalgic. A strange scent that took her back to her childhood. Or at least she thought it was her childhood. It had to have been. Taking deep breaths, she couldn’t quite get enough of it.

Continuing that vibe, a muzak 80’s tune played over the speakers. Funny enough, despite (Name)’s brain seeming to recognize that it was playing a song from the 80’s, she just couldn’t quite put her finger on it as to which. Every time she thought she’d figured it out, she’d hear a few notes that would somehow change her mind. It was a pop song at least, to narrow it down. It’d been going on for about six minutes now. Must be one of those extended tracks.

She’d ask Douxie what he thought the song was. She turned her attention to him and noticed he was still just staring at that same shelf like he had been for, what, ten minutes now? Even though this fucking Kmart barely had any shelving in it, by some miracle it not only had exactly what they were looking for but an entire aisle of them. How lucky was that.

Douxie was taking very careful consideration into this tent purchase. This was going to be their new home, after all. He just couldn’t decide which one was best. They all had fancy camping terms on the packages that meant nothing to him. He’d been trying to decipher the code. The secret outdoorsman code. Nari shifted uncomfortably in the basket.

“Hisirdoux, you should maybe, hurry this along?” She sounded strained.

But she was right. He should just pick one already. It’s all a gamble anyway. He decided on a dark green one that boasted a water-proof material. Good natural color, not easily spotted, and it wouldn’t soak through with rain. That should work well enough, he figured.

“I’ve hurried along. Sorry Nari.” He casually tossed the box into the cart next to her. She sniffed the box and nodded to him.

Now that they had their goal item, the quest party started for the checkouts. Douxie could have sworn that it had been on the side of the store they were in. They had passed it when they came in. Now it was completely across by the other door. Did he get turned around? Or maybe they did come in from that side of the store. He actually couldn’t remember.

As they walked, a few things caught (Name)’s eye. They passed a display of dark leafy plants in oddly shaped pots, a table stacked high with various books and a clearance sign, a knife case that had been left open, a candle display with a few that had already been lit and were dripping wax, a bargain bin of CDs, and lastly a sad box of no-longer-in-season pool noodles. There was a sale on bloodmeal apparently. Perfect for perking up those roses after the summer heat.

They arrived at the checkout after what felt like an endless journey. (Name) hadn’t noticed any other customers the entire time they had been there, and yet the line for the only check open had seven people in it. She grabbed a couple bags of red licorice from the impulse shelf to add to their cart while waiting.

Nari was really interested in that checker. (Name) took her in. The teen was taller than most and had very, very long blonde hair that cascaded down her back like a shiny golden waterfall. Her cheeks were slightly sunken in. Must be going through a diet phase. Poor girl.

The young woman was obviously not one for small talk. Name couldn’t blame her. Retail sucks. Her perfect red fingernails clicked against the keys of the register in a practiced beat. She turned around and told them their total in a bored monotone. As Douxie fiddled with his wallet and payed, (Name) found herself staring right into the cashier’s eyes. They were such a light icy blue, they were almost white. It was striking. (Name) was almost in a trance. It was broken as the cashier turned around swiftly to rip off the receipt off the machine, and, in an uncharacteristically cheery voice, told them to have a nice night. Night?

They returned the cart back to the stack, grabbing their one singular shopping bag and helping Nari out. Of course Nari could easily just jump out herself, but that wouldn’t be something a human child could do. They didn’t need to draw any unnecessary attention to themselves here. They made their way to the automatic sliding doors that lagged so that they didn’t open until you were standing right in front of them. This allowed Douxie time to catch a glimpse of the reflection in the glass. The reflection of the store was completely devoid of people. Not even the checker was at her station. He sucked in a breath. After walking through those first doors, he stopped. He took a moment to turn back. There she was, right where she should be, checking out another customer with three more in the line.

Douxie hurried along the doorway to catch up to (Name) and Nari. It was darker outside than he expected, and he was taken aback. He found them right outside the store, waiting for him. In one hand, (Name) was holding Nari’s, in the other, the plastic shopping bag. Her head was tipped up to the sky, transfixed by the moon. He came over, grabbing her shoulder as he pulled her along, in an attempt to urge her away from this place. She looked back at him, eyes wide with distress. He tried to convey that he understood with his eyes. All three of them instinctually knew not to say anything more why they were still in this parking lot.

It had barely been half past noon when they had started this little Kmart side quest. It was now at least seven by the looks of it. They had spent six and a half hours in a Kmart? How had they spent six and a half hours in a Kmart. There went their entire travel day. But no time to dwell on this, they needed to get back to Archie and the boat as soon as possible.

As they walked back towards the ship, (Name) and Douxie both took one of Nari’s hands so that she was in the middle, like how those couples walk with their children. The streetlights glared up at them in the slick pavement. Apparently, it had rained while they were in shopping limbo. Poor Arch. (Name) let out a puff of air.

“Well. That sure was something.”

Douxie nervously chuckled, “If we had stayed in there any longer, I think we might have died.” (Name) mirrored that nervous chuckle.

“Oh, no, dying would be much simpler than what would have happened to us.” Nari said sweetly, like what she was saying was somehow better. Nari liked being helpful. (Name) put on her best fake smile.

“Thank you, Nari.” She tried her best to sound as sincere as possible to spare the veggie lady’s feelings.

[lokislittlesigyn]

OG616 : Thor 1 - Pt.1 [The Coronation]

[My masterlist, where all parts of this and my other fics can be found]

Pairing: Loki / Sigyn (basically an oc based off the marvel/myth namesake)

Warnings: None! It’s all fluff for now.

Author’s Note: This will be an ongoing series - not sure how long it will last, but it is a Very long piece, going through each of the Thor movies, as well as some of the Avengers movies and times in-between, filling in the blanks much like the Thor: The Dark World Prelude comic and the like. I pull mostly from the MCU, with a dash of Norse myth and personal headcanons. There may be enough for a few months’ worth of content as I edit and post pieces!

If you’d like to be added for the taglist for this, please say so in the replies or message me separately, if you wish.

I hope you enjoy this story as much as I do - it’s been a personal journey for me, and I’m excited to share it. And if you don’t enjoy it? I wish you well all the same. <3

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

"Loki. Lokiii, wake up."

Sigyn was met with a mere grunt.

"Loki, darling. Wake up." She leaned closer, kissing her husband's cheek - he inhaled, eyes fluttering open.

"Why should I?" He murmured, rolling onto his side to face her, eyes still droopy with sleep. "I've got you."

Sigyn reached up to brush a wispy black hair from his face. Caressed his cheek. "But Thor’s coronation is today. We can’t exactly miss it.."

Loki smiled, though it was rather forced. "Yes.. Of course. How could I forget?"

"Well, it's alright if you forget sometimes. You have me." Another kiss, and Sigyn hopped out of bed. Their chambers were bathed in the golden light of morning, a fresh breeze drifting in from the balcony. She walked to their water basin, washing her face and hands, then patting it dry with the soft towel before dressing for the day. "I’d wager the feast will be wonderful," She glanced at him as he finally left the bed, "That is, if Volstagg leaves us any."

Loki chuckled. "That would certainly be wondrous." He too washed and dressed, though quicker with the help of magic, walking to the doorway to their balcony. Sunlight shone bright over the city... He took a deep breath, leaning against the threshold. "What time is it?" 

"Nearly midday, I would guess. You, my dear, are lazy." She teased, adjusting her clothes in a floor-length mirror: sleek and tailored, sapphire cloth mixed with dyed leathers. The colors contrasted with her skin - the same color as Loki’s, though her shoulder-length hair was a shade lighter. Deep brown, which matched her eyes. She brushed her hair back from her face.

"As I recall, you kept me up last night." He chuckled over his shoulder.

"I beg your pardon? You're the one who insisted on finishing just one more chapter of your book - no doubt a chapter that could have waited." Sigyn smiled.

"Now now, I- Not wearing your gown yet, darling?" He walked back to her, smoothing a hand over her shoulder.

"I was hoping to eat and visit the stables before I'm doted upon for hours.." She muttered, turning her attention to the gloves she was trying to pull on unassumingly.

"Nonsense, you should be doted upon promptly. Food can be brought to you." He kissed her forehead.

A huff. "All right, I was hoping to visit the stables."

"Mmn, as I suspected. I'm sorry, darling, but you'll do no such thing. Running off isn't permitted on such an important day." He smirked.

"I only wanted to see Villieldr."

"You'll see him tomorrow, dear one. Now, let's get you to the thralls, they'll need to start soon.."

~~~~

Hours later, Sigyn was still in a dressing room of sorts, secluded from the rest of the palace. It was golden, like the rest of Valaskjalf, though it sported a long, padded bench for her to sit on as she was tended to. Thralls - servants of the royal family, who lived and worked in the palace - had brushed her hair, prepared her gown, shined her adornments. Now they split her brown locks into long, loose curls, pulling them back into braids.

She stayed quiet, letting them do their work. Years of experience had taught her to remain completely still - or else incite the hushed grumbling and frustrated glares of the experienced hairdressers, who despised fidgety clients.

After what felt like a millennium of waiting, sitting in nothing but her shoes and a satiny slip, Sigyn was finally given her gown: deep green, with a gold armored bodice. The emerald fabric draped off her shoulders, over her neck and behind her in a sort of cape. On each arm, a golden band - and golden bracelets, which matched the headpiece they placed around her head like a crown. Golden, with a sweeping wing on each side, it was delicate and thin, shining in the light. She gazed in the mirror, smiling in spite of herself. "I do hope Loki is pleased.." She murmured, brushing her fingertips along the golden headpiece.

One of the servants giggled. Vieta, Sigyn's personal favorite and close friend, a younger girl with fiery red hair who'd taken to the princess from the start. "Let us know how he reacts." She winked.

Sigyn shared a grin with her before leaving.

~~~~

Sigyn walked past torch sconces and golden arches, carvings that had grown so familiar through the years. She smiled at memories of running between those same pillars, ducking behind them with her now-husband to avoid prying eyes. They had grown since then. She was no longer the shy, quiet girl who hid behind her father Vaskr, only speaking when spoken to. Loki, no longer the studious boy who desperately tried to impress her with spells. No, while Sigyn still had a quieter nature than most, and Loki still enjoyed his books and tomes, they were stronger together.

Now, there was no need to hide, or to feel out of place amidst the gilded walls. The palace had become her home.

"It's time." A familiar voice echoed.

"You go ahead," rumbled another.

Sigyn stepped out from behind the last pillar, smiling up at them - Thor, her brother, the crown prince, and Loki, who stood looking dumbfounded. She stopped in her tracks, gazing up at his freshly-polished armor, his sparkling eyes, his barely-parted lips that meant to speak, but simply couldn't... He looked positively gorgeous in the firelight. And by the pink of his cheeks, she figured he felt the same about her.

"You two act like a pair of newlyweds." Thor chuckled.

Sigyn snapped out of her stupor. Grinned, walked up to them both. "You know, Loki, I think Thor is jealous."

"Me? Jealous? Why-"

"Oh, yes," Loki piped up, taking Sigyn's hand and placing a firm kiss to her knuckles. "He's still single."

She giggled gently.

"Well then, brother. We’ll see you soon." Loki smirked, patted Thor on the back, and happily led Sigyn off, Thor chuckling as they left.

~~~~

Loki, still holding Sigyn's hand, continued his smug strut all the way to the throne room.

Sigyn’s grip tightened when they neared the entrance.

"All right, love?" He looked at her.

She smiled gently. "Just a bit nervous."

He turned to face her, gazing down at her a moment in silence, before breaking it. "Sigyn, you're the princess. Everyone loves you. Me most of all," He smiled. "Calm down and walk with me. I can't go in without you."

She pursed her lips, nodding. Without another word, they entered the throne room - raucous applause greeted them. Loki lifted his head higher, somehow, cradling Sigyn's hand in his as they walked down the aisle. She grinned. The excitement and anticipation in the room was palpable.

Finally, the couple stopped. Loki released her, leaving her at the bottom step to take his place just between her and Frigga, the queen. She smiled down at Sigyn, who smiled back.

Across the way stood their friends - the Warriors Three, Volstagg, Hogun, and Fandral, along with Lady Sif. Fandral winked at Sigyn, causing Loki to shift his weight, clearing his throat. Sif nudged him, exchanging a playful, knowing look with Sigyn. Fandral was a flirt - but he would never dare to try and steal any spoken-for woman. Well... No one who was spoken for by a prince, anyway.

But then the crowd grew louder still. Thor made his way down the aisle, working up the crowd as everyone knew he would. He was the eldest prince, after all. Proud and full of charisma, with a handsome, charming smile. He tossed Mjolnir into the air and caught it - the crowd roared yet again.

Sigyn smirked, watching her brother..

Her brother, whom she adored.

Her brother, who would now be king. She looked up at Odin. The king, the Allfather- no. Father. Her gaze turned to Frigga. Mother.

Finally, she looked to Loki.

Everything.

Her heart fluttered, her cheeks feeling warm. She caught Loki's eye, and in an instant he turned to her, tilting his head slightly, his brows furrowed in worry. She gave him a warm smile and he, though despite clearly trying to withhold such a smile, returned it - his gaze lingering on her before turning to Thor who now knelt before the throne.

It was time.

[vasoula]

The Peepshow (chapter three)

Summary: Two months after his redemption journey, Sasuke is back to Konoha and  Sakura couldn’t be more happy about them spending a lot of time  together. However, things take a hard turn when Sakura is assigned a  special mission and she has to hide it from the rest of Team 7. Everything comes spiraling down when Sasuke finds out exactly what she has to do.

Tags: hard rated m, blank period, kinda AU-ish

You can also read it on ffnet and Ao3.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Author's notes: The grand finale of my three way saga ends here with a bang! Beware this chapter is hard M, lots of naughty things happening here ;) This monster is almost 10k on its own XD BTW this is the only chapter my friend strawberrycreampiefluff has not read, even though this is a collab between us and the story was her inspo, so this is a surprise for her also. I hope everybody enjoys this fic, comment your thoughts. Ah, I didn't know which way to end it because this is quite self indulgent and the main theme of the fic was teasing so the ending is similar. One day, maybe, I will write a continuation. Thank you everyone for your love and support!

“Act three: Jealousy will drive you mad”

With two powerful stomps and a determined expression on her face, Sakura reaches for the doorknob and pulls.

Sasuke does indeed greet her in the doorway. It is obvious from the casual attire he has put on that he was also about to go to bed; his toned physique is adorned with gray sweatpants and a light blue shirt.

The pink haired woman has no clue what riles her up the most. Is the way those simple clothes cling onto him like second skin emphasizing his fit body or is it the way he is staring her with those bewitching mismatched eyes of his? She cannot wait to find out.

"Sakura," he says in the usual lethargic timbre he uses to pronounce her name.

She blinks her eyes at him fast in response to make sure she is seeing right.

"What are you doing here, Sasuke-kun?", Sakura asks, "It's late."

She casually points out it is time for sleep and not time for late night conversations in her room the two of them alone, together. It does the trick because Sasuke seems to realize a few things about their current situation. His eyes lose focus and start their slow descend, carefully scrutinizing what she is wearing.

His gaze stops his inspection the moment it reaches her chest, zeroing on her breathing pattern and the way some parts of her body stand out thanks to the chilly weather. Sasuke's impassive face instantly changes, his cheeks and ears coloring in a nice red hue.

Then, without much thought, his observation continues and he bites his lip at the display of her bare legs so up close.

For the life of her, Sakura cannot fathom that Sasuke Uchiha is blatantly checking her out.

Feeling self conscious, she hugs herself and steps sideways to allow the man to come into the room. Her blush matches his in response.

Sasuke finally – finally moves from his position and steps into her territory.

Putting a few loose pink strands behind her ear, Sakura closes the door quietly and props her body on it, hands coming to rest between her backside and the wood.

She lets the silence hang on for a few minutes allowing Sasuke to take his time to make up his mind.

"I came here to apologize," he speaks after a while, "I am sorry."

Sasuke peers at her from his spot in the middle of room, shuffling his feet unconsciously.

He looks down, "I shouldn't have interfered with your mission," and spins around to face her bed instead. "It was brash and uncharacteristic of me."

His apology sounds genuine enough, but that still does not excuse the fact he acted out of the ordinary for no reason.

Sakura has had it with this man. Even though she feels beyond furious with him, the girl prefers not to argue with him.

"Apology accepted." She announces curtly. "Still doesn't explain the reason you decided to interfere, Sasuke."

The lack of honorific translates to failure in Sasuke's book of apologies. He tries to take another route. Although he came inside her room prepared and resolute to be honest with her, it seems his pride and ego are still in the way.

"Sakura, you know I am not good at this," He deflates in frustration, "I am not good -"

Sasuke pauses abruptly, not capable of continuing his next sentence. Why is it so hard for him to confess his feelings? How does Sakura do it? Why can he not be more like her when it comes to matters like these?

The lone Uchiha knows how he feels about her, his heart hammering in his chest is that much of a clue. Since he was a young boy- he has always known -what he felt towards her. There is a special connection, even the most logical part of his brain cannot grasp it enough to explain it. It should not make sense how strongly he feels about her without him even comprehending it when growing up.

It has been building up since the start, those emotions have been lying dormant for years, slowly but surely pestering inside his heart. His mind always conjuring up images of her lovely smiles and her healing words. Her confessions and trials towards him whispering hotly in his ears and driveling his mind mad into oblivion.

For such a foolish little game she was playing, her opinion is sure important and sufficient to have him questioning his moralities; her words festering inside his heart and poisoning his mind with good prospects in life like love and family. Who is he to deny her anything when at times he was ready to sacrifice everything he thrived for just to keep her safe? He can try but ignoring his feelings like he used to do in the past is no solution anymore.

Sasuke recalls everything about her until now and comes to one realization.

Sakura was, is and will always be precious to him.

"What?" The woman, plaguing his thoughts, asks defeated. She pushes herself off the wooden door and takes a big step forward.

Thinking what he can possibly do to make things better, he comes up with an idea.

Following along, Sasuke moves closer to her, leaning the right side of his body to a pillar next to him. He is right across her now.

"I am more of a man of action-", he starts trying to redeem himself with his compensatory qualities.

"Then do something -", she explodes, interrupting him mid sentence.

Sakura puts her foot down hard, literally stumping it to the ground. With her fists balled to her sides and a snarl on her face, she feels her patience running out.

The woman looks at him expectantly, waiting for him to do something – anything.

Sasuke's ears are roaring, his pulse skyrocketing. He is breathing hard now, his gaze penetrating as he surveys every aspect of Sakura's face. From her rosy cheeks, to her heated eyes and at last to her luscious, red lips.

She hears him before she sees him react. A hard punch to the pillar he has been leaning on signals he too has reached his limit.

With two fast strides, in speed only Sasuke is capable of, he pushes her against the door with his body. His right hand comes up and he tangles his fingers in her hair, cradling her upper half in urgency.

His stump meets her waist halfway in an attempt to hold her.

"I am losing my mind here, Sakura," He confesses unabashedly, looking at her straight in the eye.

The girl in question glances up at him, his sudden embrace unexpected, but welcome nevertheless. Both of her hands are at his torso, her clenched fists clasping his shirt tightly and crumpling it in the process. Thanks to the position of her grip, she feels his heart beating fast inside his chest – a sign that rings true to his earlier statement.

Searching his eyes for any sign of discomfort and finding none, she makes it easier for both of them and inches closer; her mouth a breath away from his lips.

Sasuke's eyes open and close languidly in response, her glittering irises and pampered freckles on her nose the last thing he sees before he leans in to kiss her.

Sakura spots stars behind her closed eyelids the moment their lips finally touch. It is nothing more than their mouths caressing each other in slow strokes, but the implications of that innocent kiss are more than enough for the two of them.

Feeling brave, the pink haired woman wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him closer to her. Her heart is about to jump off her chest, aware of his hard yet lean body flash against her. They do not have any prior experience to this, but with their instincts leading them on, they are matching each other just right.

Sasuke feels something inside his head clicking into place, like a puzzle being completed; the repressed emotions inside of him exploding into a thousand pieces. The way he loves and displays it might be crooked, but when he has the woman he adores in his arms, he knows, he can conquer any emotional disadvantage he may encounter.

It seems everything that happens next plays out like it is in slow motion.

Grabbing her by the hip, Sasuke begins to move. Sakura arches into him, their kiss turning deeper. With the tall man leading them on, the couple turns around, mirroring their previous position, but with Sakura on top this time.

"Lift your legs," Sasuke quietly orders with his back against the door. Sakura obliges wordlessly and jumps slightly. Putting pressure on his shoulders, Sakura breaks their kiss for a split second and wraps her thighs around his waist, locking them tightly.

Sasuke's lone arm comes and finds its position snugly under her backside, palm open on her butt cheeks. Without so much a strain, years of physical exertion being put into work, Sasuke lifts her off the ground easily.

Sakura, still preoccupied with Sasuke's soft lips, does not realize their compromising position. Gently coursing her hands through his hair, she caresses his scalp while kissing him tenderly.

With his limbs busy and his vision limited, Sasuke takes a few cautious steps forward. With the bed as final destination, he carefully maneuvers them through the room. A few centimeters away, the mattress lies warm and inviting.

Their kiss stops abruptly when Sasuke's foot comes in contact with outpost of the bed. Lips breaking apart and breaths mingling, they stare silently into one another.

Realizing where the course of their situation is taking them, both of them pause.

Sakura searches his eyes and sees the lust mirrored in them similar to her own. With a determined expression, she grabs the collar of his shirt and drags him down with her the moment she lets herself fall back into the mattress.

Trying to stop his body from crushing her, Sasuke's arm goes forward and he places his hand next to her head. He lets out a disgruntled sound and lets his face fall into the soft cushions of her breasts.

"Sakura," he mumbles incoherently. In response, the girl in question lets out a sigh of pleasure and relief.

She knows the implications and relishes in them. No dream or fantasy could counter that moment in her mind.

Sasuke hesitantly looks up, face heating up slowly. Then, feeling suddenly nervous, he glances sideways, a scowl forming.

Being on top of Sakura, her body body pliant underneath him and her lips bruised from their intense kissing had him feeling some type of way. But, god, her face is what made him look away. Nothing prepared him for this.

Sakura makes a sound in the back of her throat, her teeth biting hard her plump bottom lip. She bats her eyes at him, light pink eyelashes fanning against her rosy cheeks prettily. Sasuke pretends to ignore her, even though he keeps stealing glances at her.

Sakura cannot believe there would come a day where the great Sasuke Uchiha, the infamous avenger, would be shy with her.

Hot stares and naughty smirks are more his thing than awkward and fleeting looks.

Sasuke is nervous, no one taught him how to handle situations like these.

Love is a new, unknown part in his life, and he is quite unprepared.

Wordlessly, she lifts her hand and touches the right side of his face.

He looks gorgeous like this, all strong bone structure and pale white skin. His aristocratic nose scrunching up in distaste, because he dislikes the fact he has no control.

"What?" The Uchiha finally looks at her and asks. He purses his lips and drags his body forward a little bit.

Sasuke is snugly on top of her now, their chests pressed together closely.

Sakura starts caressing his cheek, staring lovingly into his eyes.

"I thought I couldn't love you more than I do," she takes a shuddering breath, her eyes watering slightly. "But, I do."

Sasuke takes the whispered confession in, his throat bobbing. He feels so emotional right now, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. He clutches at her words, her proclamation consuming him like it did in the past.

The inner turmoil inside him makes his eyes burn. He struggles to find the words to express what he feels for her. The capacity to love and care endless, unlimited for her. A never ending waterfall of emotions washing his wrongdoings away.

The power coursing through his veins is nothing in comparison to the power she has over him. She could bend him all she wants, mold his being all the way to nothingness and put his pieces right back to their rightful place. No darkness inside of him is strong enough to overcome him as long as she loves him. Her light nourishing him and making him feel alive again.

So many thoughts plaguing his mind, but no words are enough to describe his admiration for her. He wants to convey though, he has to try. For her, going forward in life, he has to try.

"You make me feel alive," he shares with her, "I need you close to me,"

Sasuke utters in a mere whisper, but with each syllable his drive to confess grows tenfold. "I love you," he breaks, voice cracking in the end.

He closes his eyes to get his bearings for a second and hears Sakura's breath hitch.

Sakura feels her soul quivering in her chest; she went to heaven and back.

Before anymore tears could escape her eyes however, she quickly shuts them close. This is no reason for her to cry, for this is a happy moment. She sniffles and opens her jade orbs again. The sight that greets her makes her feel like her entire being is being consumed by hot molten lava. The man of her dreams is staring at her, his eyes intense – an endless inferno of feelings exposed for her to cherish.

Her throat bobs in anticipation at the prospect of him acting out what his eyes are conveying.

"Sakura," he says and nudges her chin with his nose.

Sasuke senses her shiver underneath him even though the temperature of the room is far from low. No matter, he is starting to sweat so he decides to undress. Knowing where this is leading them, he pushes himself up and straddles her, knees on either side of her body. Using his lone hand he grabs the outer part of his cotton shirt from behind and lifts it forward over his head.

Sakura gasps beneath him, eyeing him up and down in appreciation. That escalated way better than what she had in mind. Years of need, aching deep within her.

Her hands twitch and she tries to think clearly despite the situation.

"W-what are you doing Sasuke-kun?", she mumbles worriedly.

After finishing his task, the man in question looks down at her. The left side of mouth lifts in haughty grin before he can stop himself. Now, now what a nice view, he thinks.

Sakura's hair has created a beautiful pink halo around her head, matching her flaming, flushed cheeks. Those unique eyes of her sparkle in the dark, passion shining through clearly in them. Her lips part sensually in silent plea for him to claim her.

She wants this as much he does.

"Hot," he answers. The sensation of her, needy, under him or the room temperature are either correct interpretations.

He knows she likes what she sees. His athletic, lean body is no secret, but for him to display it so proudly to her strokes his ego in all the right places. No woman can appreciate him the way she does. Her pure devotion fascinates him, her hungry stares excite him. Only she has that effect on him. She may be the one to yearn for him since the beginning, but he is the one that has been suffering in silence for so long.

She has been loud, clear, but he has been repressed and tortured with his own fondness right along with her. He wants to toy with her a little more, tease her with some scalding remarks until she is dripping wet with fervor, but alas his patience is running out.

His arm stretches out and his hand reaches her throat, her eyes following along his every movement. His fingertips tenderly graze her pulse point, her skin alight with heat.

Goosebumps rise on her skin, his touch creating thousand fires along her neck. He is stalling, they both know it. But, she continues to stay pliant under him allowing him to continue his ministrations.

His eyes burn in a hankering frenzy, analyzing every little reaction he can get out of her before she turns the tables on him.

She closes her eyes in pleasure, throat stretching out and torso lifting, baring more surface for him to please.

Sakura breaths heavily, legs squeezing shut. She cannot believe this kind of simple form of touch brings forth this much twisted pleasure out of her. This is too light for it to be even considered foreplay, yet...she can get off just to the thought of him even touching her.

"N-no…" she tries to halt the upcoming teasing.

She is weak and needy and she knows he will abuse this knowledge to the fullest. He has always been a person to test her limits. Sasuke loves having the upper hand.

His hand slowly goes down and it reaches her ribcage, right at the center. Her nipples harden in response and she feels Sasuke shift above her.

When something hard grazes her stomach, her insides quiver. She is affecting him even though she is doing nothing to him in return.

Sasuke's movements stop abruptly when he realizes his body has been reacting quite positively to the display. He feels himself confined in his loose pants, the underwear straining against his hard length. Apparently, the object of his desires noticed it too.

This is where he loses the battle it seems.

Sakura opens her eyes slowly, her hands reaching her torso. Both of her palms lay flat on top of his hand – trapping him there. She takes it and starts to move it around her body, showing him just where she would enjoy for him to touch her.

When it reaches her right breast, she lets it loose. Sasuke keeping eye contact with her starts to massage her mound; first tenderly and then more roughly.

Depending on the reactions he gets out of her, his fingers play with her hardened nub, her thin t-shit an extra layer of teasing against her sensitive skin there.

Not knowing what to do with her free arms, she decides to test her power. She splays them flat on top of her lover's chest without so much a thought. His skin is a little cold and damp from sweat, his nervousness slipping through bodily fluids rather than expressions. Going up and down with each hand, she caresses his taught stomach, abs prominent against his skin.

Sasuke hums in response, an appreciative tone somewhere hidden in there.

Sakura makes it her mission to get more reactions out him before he finds out just how wet he has made her down there. His chest is there, pecs hard and her fingers skim over his nipples with a feather like touch.

His eyes clump shut and his body leans forward a little bit. He bites his lip and lets out a small sigh. Sakura smiles triumphantly knowing she is staring to push his buttons. Her hands descend lower, fingers toying with the waistband of his trousers.

Sakura looks from where her hands are, the bulge obvious and near to collision with the inside of her left wrist. She purses her lips and risks glancing up at him. He is breathing harder now, his hair falling like a curtain, his side bang hiding half of his face.

"Don't," comes out the strained response.

His jaw is taught, the angles of it sharp, someone would think he is mad.

He is mad alright, mad with desire.

Sasuke has been thinking a lot about these kind of moments the last few months, his mind conjuring up scenarios and positions – dirty, dirty little longing.

Nothing has prepared him for this sensation. He is powerless against her, needing her to feed his solicitude with ardor. Still though, greedy for her as he is, he struggles to shred his shyness away.

She sees right through him and pauses. "Are you sure?" she asks tentatively.

In an abrupt movement, he grabs her hand, grip strong on her wrist and slams it right back at the bed, near her head. An act of dominance will not hinder Sakura obedient so soon. She fights right back, seeing Sasuke struggle to keep her hand in place.

Sakura huffs and smiles smugly up at him. His face stays impassive, but his eyes glint dangerously.

Thinking she has won this round, the woman prepares a trotting remark. However, Sasuke renders her speechless with his next move. Abandoning his place above her, he straightens up and pushes his knee right between her legs, just below her searing heat. His lone arm reaches out and grips her left thigh roughly, pinning it backwards and spreading her legs apart in an instant.

Sasuke smirks devilishly at her.

The new position and attitude leaves her all hot and bothered.

Then, his hand finds its place just below her belly button. Leaning forward, he grabs one side of her shorts and starts pulling it towards him. Stunned, she allows him to take them off her.

Sakura wants, needs...she craves to see just how much further he can take it.

But despite all the excitement to see Sasuke's walls fall apart in front of her, she cannot help it when she tries to hide her half naked body from him. Only a thin layer of underwear is keep them apart. Feeling shy now is useless, but god these feelings in her heart are so intense and Sasuke acting out all her desires does not help her at all.

Sakura squeezes her legs shut, thighs pressed deliciously together and stomach taught - straining to keep her lower body hidden from his hungry eyes as much as she can.

In a way, Sakura muses, she is teasing him further by denying him access. Sasuke hates disobedience as much as he hates not getting what he wants.

As always impressed by her strength – even in bed – he clasps her knee and tries pushing it apart. "You don't have to ever hide from me." Sasuke says heatedly.

"I-I," Sakura struggles to find the right words, her blushing cheeks a hot flame on her face. "Sasuke-kun, please," she tries to prolong the inevitable.

How can he be so cool about this when they both know how reserved they are? Be that as it may, they both covet each others' touch and they have been doing so since their younger years.

Knowing she can hide herself no more and she is willing to give all of herself to him, all her scars and her invisible wounds, the pink haired beauty spreads her legs apart, baring her womanly figure to him.

It occurs to her that Sasuke is about to say something to her, but decides against it and prefers to speak with his body instead. With more space now free, the man finds himself snugly between her legs.

Before Sakura could realize what is exactly happening and what his next move is going to be, Sasuke surprises her yet again. Rather than mirroring his previous position on top of her, he chooses to cascade down gently with an objective in mind.

Continuing his ministrations, he smoothly lifts her shirt and scrunches it up towards her chest. With that out of the way, Sasuke starts peppering her belly with soft, open-mouthed kisses. It tickles a tiny bit, but the heat pooling between her legs is a tell-tale sign just how much this is affecting her.

When his hot breath fans above her damp underwear, she knows exactly what he is planning on doing to her. Then, Sasuke pauses and looks up at her questioningly as if to confirm if this okay with her.

To answer his unspoken query, Sakura sits up slightly and crosses her arms grabbing her white blouse by each side. She takes it off in one swift movement and quickly lies down, her eyes focused on the ceiling.

Sakura bites her lip, her hands finding themselves near his nape and fondling his shoulders in an attempt to clear any doubts in Sasuke's head that she may not be ready for this. No words need to be exchanged between them, Sasuke could tell even from the way she breathed if this kind of loving was unwanted from her.

She still feels coy, but, Sasuke knows how to handle her. His hand grips one thigh gently, putting slight pressure on it. He bends down and starts pressing delicate kisses right below her belly button and going lower. When his teeth graze the top of her baby pink, lacy panties, she lets out a tiny whimper. He bites the cute bow and pulls down; his eyes are closed and his fingers are digging into her supple skin, a sweet pressure pulling her back to reality.

Her feet trash a little bit, the covers of the bed becoming a mess in her wake.

Sakura unconsciously lifts her butt up when his hand places under her leg. Taking that as his cue, Sasuke grabs the underside of her lingerie and takes it off her.

With that out of the way, her legs spread apart and he leans back to take a good at her. So many thoughts are running through his head, too many things he wants to say to her. Compliment her beauty and ravishing body; even the most hidden parts of herself are pretty to him.

She looks gorgeous like this, all docile and yielding for him. Sasuke wants to worship her body and treat her with fairness; kiss every scar and caress every curve of her. Every little thing he cannot confess to her, he wants to convey it through every action he does just to please her.

The raven haired man wants to clear any doubts she might have in her head. He needs to make her his, claim her and show her how much she means to him. But first, he has to make sure she knows just how much he wishes to satisfy her.

Sasuke bends down once again, his head between her legs and his arm under thigh, his lone hand holding her captive.

Sakura puts her hands over her mouth in an attempt to muffle her upcoming reactions. When his hot breath fans over her wet folds, she loses it.

He hums thoughtfully as if he is pondering something and then his lips are on her most intimate area. First, a gentle kiss on her clit and then his lips part and he is consuming her wholly. Sasuke uses his tongue skillfully, parting her nether folds and lapping at her entrance. The skill he is displaying has the woman questioning her sanity.

He is very meticulous with her, going as far as using the sounds she makes as guidance. His mouth works in wicked ways and she is making embarrassing, loud noises.

When he pauses to take a breather, Sakura whines. The loss of this endless satisfaction turning her bratty.

"So wet, already," Sasuke says with pride.

Sakura wants to punch his face to the next dimension for that snarky comment, but he has her putty in his hands.

Her face is a little damp from sweat and she pushes a few loose pastel strands away from her sticky cheeks and forehead.

"Don't tease me," she pouts and she slaps his arm lightly – a warning.

Sasuke smirks as if expecting that reaction and then his hand leaves her thigh, a slight bruise already forming on her skin where he had been grabbing her.

Sakura's toes curl in anticipation, her hands settling flat at her sides.

At the same time, Sasuke's exploration begins once more, his mouth finding its place on her needy point. Her heart hammers in her chest and she feels her pleasure reach new heights when his fingers join his tongue.

He strokes her dutifully with his tongue while his two long digits spread her wet folds further apart, providing him with more access. Sakura moans in response, her legs unconsciously lifting with her feet landing gently on his shoulder blades.

Her eyes stop staring at ceiling and she watches as the man she desires has his face all up in her pussy, eating her out like she is the most delicious meal.

"A-ah, please," she keens, anything to lead him on.

Suddenly, he is sucking her clit benevolently, his eyes opening slowly when he senses her staring at him.

Sasuke's prowess activates committing this particularly sensual moment to his memory along with many others to come. Her green eyes are shining brightly and her skin glows; the color of her hair matching her skin, splashes of unique shades of pink intensifying her beauty to the next level. She is shaking slightly, trying fruitlessly to suppress her upcoming orgasm from reaching her too soon.

He itches to make her cum more than once, but his main mission for tonight is to make sure she remembers this night forever... just as he will.

Next thing Sakura knows, a finger is added to the mix and now both his tongue and this are hitting different pleasure points inside her.

Too soon, he suddenly stops and sighs against her quivering entrance. "Fuck, Sakura."

Those last few seconds were such a delicious sensation, she never wants him to stop until she is completely spent. Before she could prod him to continue, the woman feels his index entering her.

Sakura trembles when two fingers start going in and out of her in a fast pace, the intrusion welcome and needed. Then, as if this is not enough, his hand curls and his thumb starts teasing her clit simultaneously whenever possible.

Unable to do anything other than shake in his grasp, Sakura courses her hands roughly through his black hair needing to hold on to something. Her waist bends like a feline in heat, her chest heaving up and down and her breaths coming out in quick pants.

Sakura knows she might be hurting him with how much she is pulling on his hair, but she is unable to care at the moment. He deserves it for turning her in to this tiny, needy monster.

"Don't stop," she moans, face contorted in bliss. Her eyes are closed and her brows are furrowed in concentration. Sakura's mouth parts in a silent plea, her red lips shiny with spit.

She is so close, yet so far away.

Sasuke bites his lip, changes his position and moves to rest his forehead on her shoulder. He feels his member leaking precum inside his boxers and he tries to keep it together.

The man is listening intensely to all the beautiful sounds she is making and breathing hard. His pace is relentless and the muscle in his bicep is straining against his skin from the exertion he is putting it through.

Sasuke grits his teeth when Sakura's walls clench around his fingers, signaling she is close – he cannot stop now.

Sakura's arms loop around his neck and she hugs him close, their bodies sticking to each other. The position is not the most comfortable for him, but damn him if he does not love the way she feels around him. A few of her stiletto pointed nails dig into his skin, leaving angry marks on his back, but the pain just adds fuel to the fire.

"S-Sasuke-kun," she sobs into his neck, reaching euphoria finally. Her body spasms around him, his fingers getting coated with her juices.

Sasuke lets out a pleased sound, something akin to a quiet moan and rests his body on her, his hand coming at a stop and pulling out of her.

Sakura lies spent beneath him with her eyes closed and breaths shallow.

The black haired male feels immense pleasure and pride knowing he made her orgasm just with his fingers and his ego swells at her satisfaction. He has been wishing to be the only one to make her a hot mess like this.

Moreover, the discomfort he is experiencing right now because of her is distracting him from teasing her further, even though he truly enjoys watching her blush and squirm under his penetrating gaze and vexing comments.

His cock is solid hard and aching. It is borderline painful not only because he wishes to get his release soon, but also the whole stimulation confined in his pants is a dire situation that needs to be fixed immediately.

When she shifts underneath him, his boner brushes against her hipbone firmly. Sakura pauses, and peaks at him cautiously, her eyes burning with desire once again.

Not wanting her to make her uncomfortable, he tries to untangle himself from her, but the woman in his arms has other plans.

"You are…" Her voice speaks with purpose, however, her tone is light and shy.

Sasuke flushes and stays still as a rigid board, not wishing to discuss his rather big problem down there. He swears if she tries anything, he will lose control fully.

He is like a wild animal caged and untamed, but about to be set free.

The tall man starts to sit up on his knees in order to avoid the impending confrontation, but his member stands proud and obvious to the eyes. His hand, still wet from her peak, lies limply at his side. He swallows hard and blushes, turning to look the other way and avoiding her ignited stare.

Sakura's mouth waters at the sight displaying before her. Her beautiful lover has never looked hotter than this moment. His skin glistens slightly from perspiration, adding a nice glow to his body and accentuating his toned physique. Sasuke's bangs are tinted at the tips, damp from sweat.

His trousers, along with his boxers, hang low past his waistline and his pelvic bones peak out bringing attention to his happy trail and the prominent bulge in his pants. A vein is popping out in his bicep and Sakura catches a glimpse of his arm flexing, probably to ease up the muscle there.

Sasuke tries hard to compose himself in front of her, but his expression gives out and exposes how clearly turned on he is by this – as if his body has not showcased it enough to her.

It is her turn to command him, it seems.

Sakura decides to take the initiative since Sasuke has not moved from his spot. She approaches him cautiously, slowly sitting up on her elbows and regarding him. He murmurs something inaudible and glares at the mattress if it is the source of all his problems. Sakura takes his silence and his stagnant form as her cue and raises completely from the bed, her core still sore from his intense loving.

"Let me,"she whispers to him immediately upon kneeling in front of him. She almost does not recognize her own voice, with how seductive her tone sounds.

The moment the words come out of her mouth, Sasuke gets alert and his eyes widen a fraction. His lips part, ready to say something, probably to stop her, but he does not have the power to do so. She notices his sharingan is deactivated now, but the look he is giving her makes her resolute with her decision.

It incites her motivation to please him and show him how much she appreciates him and all of his efforts towards her. After that amazing orgasm he gave her, the talented man deserves to feel some kind of pleasure too. Besides, she cannot let him handle all that by himself, she thinks cheekily.

"Sasuke-kun," Sakura uses the best authoritative voice she can master at a time like this.

He instantly glances up at her, contemplating his options inside his head. Everything points to her with his dick in her mouth. Fuck him and his traitorous body. The most collected part of his brain melts at the thought of her even touching him.

Sakura's hand reaches forward and she palms him roughly through the layers of fabric, face set with a purpose in mind. Sasuke in return short circuits.

He allows himself to be completely overtaken by her.

His senses are overcome by the sheer desire coursing through his veins. Every fantasy, every touch, every word that has to do with her replaying like a broken mantra in his mind. He feels everything tenfold, the emotions consuming him like the black fire he commands to destroy.

Sasuke closes his eyes and takes a deep breath through his nose, his cheeks aflame and his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. His path to redemption has reached its final destination.

To become hers, wholly.

Sakura begins to massage him based on his repressed reactions like a twitch of his lip or the fluttering of his eyelashes. She starts gently, then she adds more pressure as she goes on. When the woman feels like she has had enough, she grabs the hem of his trousers and pulls down. The same process follows gradually for his boxers too. His cock stands proud and thick, complementing his already perfect figure.

Meanwhile, Sasuke, not knowing what to do, tries to minimize his reactions, preferring to stay reserved yet. His introverted nature makes him hesitant when he is the one on the receiving end. Despite that, he knows Sakura, being perceptive when it comes to him, will catch on quickly and she will accommodate herself to get customized to his still reluctant attitude.

Sakura understands why Sasuke acts so averse since he has yet to come to terms with that fact that it is alright to feel emotional. It is okay to express love and feel it consume you. He is afraid that if he lets himself go, he will never be able to stand even the thought of losing her.

When the outer part of her index finger starts to tenderly caress his hipbone, he shallows hard and opens his eyes to look at her.

The look she is giving him makes his heart flutter in his chest. Her expressive light green eyes shine with so much genuine adoration and her smile is sweet and warm; her whole aura feels inviting and secure.

"Sakura, I-" Sasuke begins, the tremor in his voice startling him.

"It's okay," Sakura says kindly and her other hand lifts, her palm laying flat atop of his heart. She soothes him with her next words, "It's okay to feel like this."

Sasuke studies her carefully, appreciating how much she cares for his comfort. She knows him so well and they are not even an item yet. He cannot wait to spend more time with her and learn each others' habits and quirks.

He lets out an affirmative hum and nods at her.

The powerful shinobi observes her as she continues her ministrations. Her left hand joins her right down there. She breathes out heartily, something akin to a laugh and an awkward smile etches across her face. Obviously, she has not done this before.

Then, Sakura purses her lips and with determined expression on her face, her right hand descends smoothly on his rock hard cock. The head is angry, red in color, his shaft one shade darker than the rest of his body. The girl inspects it as discreetly as possible and with two swift motions, her fingers circle around him and she begins to stroke him gently.

Sasuke lets out a hiss, unprepared for the foreign contact. He has touched himself before thinking of her, but nothing compares to this new, real sensation.

Her left hand stays still, clasping firmly his left hipbone to steady her movements. Sakura peers at him from underneath her pastel eyelashes, jade orbs shining innocently just as she bends down and places her bruised, scarlet lips right before his manhood.

Sasuke gulps down the saliva stuck in his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing. Sakura breathes out hotly on it, blinks at him and her tongue comes out to lick him.

The first swipe of her cute tongue against his shaft makes him let out a quiet moan. Unconsciously, his lone hand grabs a fistful of her hair, tangling his fingers in her soft tresses. He tags her forward a little bit, her mouth and nose bumping on his hardness, urging her to take him into her mouth.

Sakura, realizing she needs to step her game up, opens up and pushes his cock inside her mouth. She starts to suck him, creating a steady rhythm in tandem with her right hand. Half of his member is inside her crevice, her jaw stretching and aching pleasantly because of his girth while her hand strokes the other half that she cannot fit in her mouth yet. His size is above average and hard to handle, but it is nothing Sakura cannot learn to master with Sasuke as her teacher.

In time, she swears, Sakura will learn to please him so good, she will have him begging for more.

The woman picks up the pace, and her taste buds feel a salty essence on her tongue. He is starting leak precum already and her suspicions are further confirmed when he commences to panting.

Sasuke is rougher with her now, pushing her forward and making her cheeks hollow out. Her jaw hurts, but the pain is welcome. She gags a little bit, but she does not relent, wishing to deep throat him further.

"F-fuck, Sakura," he curses, his pleasured groans music to her ears. Sasuke sees white behind his closed eyelids, and he grits his teeth trying to hold on longer to the feeling.

The air smells like sex, and the hormones releasing from Sasuke's body makes his manly musk even more intense as Sakura tries to breath through her nose since her mouth is busy.

She moans loudly at a rather harsh tag against her scalp, and the vibrations it creates against his dick cause Sasuke to buckle suddenly. Her fingernails dig into his skin anew and it stimulates him even more, his orgasm approaching at an alarming rate.

Her strokes become uneven, but faster. At that moment, he decides to look down at her, and seeing her like this, on her knees for him doing everything she can in order to satisfy him enhances his experience even further.

"S-Sakura," Sasuke tries to warn her, albeit late. "—I am going to-"

Before he can get any more words out of his mouth, his climax hits him and his hand grips her hair hard, holding on for dear life.

"A-ah," Sasuke lets out a racy moan; a foreign sound when it comes to him. His eyes close in satisfaction and he leans forward slightly, riding out the remnants of his orgasm inside her mouth.

The image that greets him is enough to make him hard again.

Despite being unprepared, Sakura took his cock well, his semen filling her up and quenching her thirst to please him. She shallows everything he has to offer, like its sweet wine pouring down her throat.

He releases her hair finally, and in return she lets out his member fall out of her mouth with a loud pop. At the same time her left arm abandons its place at his hip and steadies herself on the bed instead. Her lips are bruised and swollen, while her hair is wild and untamed, the endeavor clearly leaving her disheveled. Her chin is shiny with spit and some of the excess fluids that must have spilled out.

As if this is not erotic or sensual enough, her fingers come forth and tap on her coated lips and chin to capture any sticky residue that has escaped. She glances up at him from her spot on all fours before him and puts her fingertips in her mouth, savoring every drop of him. Sakura smirks mischievously up at him, putting his infamous sneers to shame.

Sasuke almost gives in, ready to act out all his shameful thoughts away.

Sakura's core still burns deliciously and Sasuke's reactions to her has made her a little wet, in need of attention again, but she does not voice anything out loud and chooses to let this moment pass. They have all the time in the world, after all. The beautiful woman sits on her knees, her palms resting flat on her thick thighs and she lets out a content sigh.

And just like that, their lust infused spell is broken, their awkwardness and shyness returning back, reverting to their usual selves.

The man seems to have a similar thought process, because he relaxes and following her lead, he sits down on the bed.

They exchange a few fleeting glances, unspoken naughty thoughts going back and forth between them; the newly made couple stays put instead.

A few minutes pass, and then Sakura is getting up. She is fully naked, but she is not ashamed anymore, flashing her gorgeous naked body to him.

"We should probably wash up," she comments as casually as possible to alleviate the awkward atmosphere. Unconsciously, the girl scratches her head and puts a few pink locks behind her ears.

In an act of bravery, Sakura adds a proposition.

"Join me?" she asks and extends her hand out.

"Aa." Sasuke nods and gets up from the bed in all his naked glory, leaving his trousers and boxers behind.

Sakura clasps their hands together and leads him to her private bathroom.

Sakura steps inside the shower stall, Sasuke following close behind and joining her, just as she opens the tap. She alters it from faucet to shower head and together they let themselves be washed by the hot steam. His lone hand grabs her by the hip, aligning her thick behind to his still semi hard length. Sakura bends over a little bit, both palms laying flat on the shower wall, probing him further to sensually rub against her. They stay like this for awhile, their aftermath of their hot desire still prominent, influencing their movements.

Sasuke leans in close and hugs her, his hand continuing its journey and draping over her tummy, bringing her adjacent to his chest in an intimate embrace. Then, he kisses her neck and closes his eyes, sighing in contentment. His black hair is fully wet, sticking to his face and obscuring the left side of it completely.

The pink haired beauty, enjoying the warmth provided by her lover, exhales in quick gasps, her lips parting – tasting the water on her tongue, quenching her imaginary thirst. Her pastel locks stick to every part of her face, the hair transforming under the influence of the humidity and turning one shade darker, a close mix of hot pink and coral.

Deciding she has had enough, and this could lead them further into an endless inferno of love and sex, Sakura grabs the nearest bottle of soap and pours some of it into her open palm. Noting the new development, Sasuke lets go of her and allows the woman in his arms to turn around. She starts to wash his hair, standing on her tip toes. To help her out, Sasuke tries to shorten his height by buckling his knees a tiny bit and minimizing the distance between them.

He inclines forward, favoring her gentle touch, her caresses soothing him. The man pulls her into his chest, his arm circling around her waist and hugging her close. Her fingers tend to his scalp, her nails scratching him and creating a pleasurable, fuzzy effect.

Finishing her task, Sakura washes the soap suds off his head with the help of the flowing water, creating bubbles in her wake.

To return the favor to herself, Sakura pours another patch of soap straight atop of her head and turns around. "My turn," she says, giddy.

"Sure, darling." Sasuke says ironically to tease her, smirking lazily. Not counting the implications of such endearment, they both brush it off as a joke for the time being.

He stars to tend to her locks, coursing his fingers through her hair and smothering the soap everywhere, washing her up. Sakura stays still, humming in appreciation at the gentle touch of her menacing warrior, marveling at the fact he is becoming this soft with her.

When his hand descends lower and starts massaging her nape, Sakura lets out a whimper, feeling her knots loosen under his skillful fondling; the stress leaves out of her in a whoosh.

Sakura relaxes under his ministrations, not minding him caressing her body, from her shoulder blades down to her backside. Stopping just above her perky butt, Sasuke halts abruptly, not wanting to be tempted to do more. Paying attention to his struggle, the woman turns around and gives him a chaste peck on the lips.

After that small show of affection, the beauty does not waste anymore time and pours soap all over his body in a rush. He grimaces instantly at the sudden assault, but she does not relent, giggling heartily at his reaction. With the steam volume lowered, she gets her chance to wash his body clean, helping him out and lending a hand wherever it deems necessary.

Busy as he is, Sakura begins her own cleaning process. Using her hands quickly, she gives herself a throughout bath, paying extra attention to her nether regions. Always preppy and careful, Sasuke makes a good use of his lone hand and he washes up nicely, leaving no spot unattended.

They both finish around the same time, and Sakura adjusts the temperature and flow to fit their needs. Splashes of hot water come out strongly, rinsing their foamy bodies fully.

With that out of the way, Sakura grabs the nearest towels she can find; one for her and one for her lover. She lends it to Sasuke who steps out of the stall, giving her more space. The material feels fluffy as she brushes the towel against her body, wiping any excess water.

Sasuke swipes his black locks behind, the purple of his rinnegan glimmering in the low dimmed lights of the bathroom. The mirror is foggy from humidity so his reflection is blurry, a haze of skin in contrast to his glowing eye and dark hair. Sakura's pink halo comes to view, the rose to his black abyss; the contradiction of their permanent colors a poem of its own.

He uses the towel she gave him to wipe away most of the wetness on his skin, tapping gently everywhere. Meanwhile, Sakura struggles to squeeze all the water out of her hair, the towel moving along her scalp to make her strands as dry as possible. Sasuke follows her steps and uses his own towel to dampen his locks just enough so it is not dripping on his shoulders anymore.

After that, they both take a few minutes of their time to finish some extra bathroom businesses respectively and they exit the room. Clean and fresh, the couple lies on the bed; the fact that Sasuke has his own separate room across the hall left unsaid.

Sakura turns to her side to look at him, her body slightly curling to adjust to her favorite sleeping position. Sasuke lies on his stomach, his head turned to his left, staring at her silently. It feels quite domestic like this, Sakura almost muses out loud.

"Good night, Sasuke-kun," she says sweetly, a toothy grin on her face.

She is happy, Sasuke thinks. He blinks slowly, savoring every second he is looking at her.

"Goodnight," the man responds, a tiny smile gracing his lips.

His eyes speak way more volumes than his words are. The night may be small, but their love is forever. Both content, they let the need to sleep overtake them.

Knock, knock, knock.

What an awful background noise for the nice dream she is having; Sakura stirs in her sleep, her brows furrowing as she tries to hang on to the sleepless state. The imaginary images stop and her mind draws a blank.

She feels a little drool on her lips and her hand unconsciously wipes it away.

Sakura-chan!

Ah, yes, Naruto of course, Sakura thinks, exasperated.

Then, the weirdest thing happens. The woman hears mumbling next to her, more specifically grumbling. This person must be quite grumpy in the morning, because next thing she knows, someone curses.

"Oh my god, I can't believe this!" The blond is desperate, his fist banging against the wooden door loudly.

"Wake up Sakura-chan!" Naruto bellows, frustration clear in his voice, "That bastard, Sasuke, had the audacity to leave before us!"

This piques Sakura's interest, because she clearly recalls being the last one to see Sasuke last night. Just when she was enjoying her sleep, her overly excited friend had to come and remind her about her problem.

But wait a minute…

The culprit came to her room last night.

"Shut up," a male voice mumbles hoarsely, the grouchy tone awfully familiar.

Sakura's eyes widen instantly and the sight that greets her makes her breath hitch.

Sasuke is on his back, his lone arm resting on top of his eyes, trying to prevent the sunlight from peeking through his closed eyelids. His chest is rising up and down, the blanket barely covering his naked torso.

"Open up, already, Sakura, don't keep me waiting!" The blue eyed man shouts desperately. He is ready to barge into Kakashi's room if his friend does not show signs of waking up anytime soon. Sasuke has obviously left the building since his room is empty, no sign of him found anywhere when the blond barged into his room.

His options are limited here, and he thought since Sakura usually wakes up early, she would be the one to keep him company until they meet up with Kakashi.

Sakura is about to have a quarter life crisis here. She cannot believe she woke up to this. First, she felt annoyed at being woken up so abruptly, and now, as she stares at Sasuke's good looking side profile, she feels like someone is trying to torture her.

Then, in flash, her memory floods back and Sakura remembers exactly what went down last night. More specifically, how Sasuke went down on her.

Her loins burn and her core aches in a gratifying sense.

"Oh my god," Sakura whispers, trying to keep her voice down. In any other circumstances, she would be shouting. The woman puts her palms upon her heated cheeks, gaping at her lover who seems to be clueless as to what is going on.

"Okay fine," Naruto announces dejectedly, his voice a tad lower this time. With one last look at the door, the young man finally leaves.

Sakura lets out a breath she did not realize she was holding in. Sasuke seems to be wide awake, although his attitude leaves no room for discussion. He is still quite sleepy, and Naruto's wake up call was not the best to start the day with.

"Finally," The man besides her mutters. Sakura pokes his arm, curious to see his reaction to their predicament.

He looks at her from the corner of his eye, processing everything in. When his stare softens, Sakura greets him breathlessly. "Good morning, Sasuke-kun."

She gazes at him lovingly, remembering how his words left searing marks on her heart, how his lips felt against her skin, making her his.

"Morning," he mumbles and turns to his side, bringing her lithe form close in an intimate hug. Sakura fits herself into his embrace instantly when she realizes what his intentions are.

The couple snuggles silently for a while, their soft exhalations the only sound in the room. The birds are lightly chirping outside, creating a nice cicada in the quiet morning.

"The idiot can be quite a hassle in the morning," Sasuke murmurs suddenly as if commenting about the weather.

He pulls her closer, basking in her scent. His gentle touch, a huge contrast to his past self who was selfish and harsh. She is making him kind again, bringing forth the child like innocence he used to have. The man sighs against her, his heartbeat calm and his mind clear from any insidious thoughts.

The only thing important in his life is in front of him, right in his arms.

Sakura laughs, a beautiful sound and it rings inside him like a bell signaling happiness.

"Yes, always," Sakura responds, a teasing smile on her lips. "But he is our idiot and I wouldn't trade him for the world."

"Sure," Sasuke sneers, mirth somewhere hidden in there.

"Should we..?" Sakura suddenly asks, the implications clear. She gazes up at him seriously, awaiting for his opinion, making sure he is comfortable with all this.

"Let them figure it out on their own," Sasuke says, his eyes sincere. "Besides it will be funnier that way," the black haired man smirks, enjoying immensely the possibility of Kakashi and especially Naruto struggling.

"Hm, fine," Sakura smiles, her eyes glinting evilly. He is becoming a bad influence to her, but she will not lie and pretend that she will not be enjoying torturing those two – their funny comments about her beloved Sasuke-kun had teased her far enough.

Having decided that, the couple gets up and starts preparing for their day. Sasuke collects last night's clothes and wears them again. He bids Sakura a soft kiss goodbye on the forehead and heads to his room to finish up getting ready. Sakura blushes and stares at this retreating back fondly, a huge grin forming on her lips.

When he is out of the room, Sakura punches the bed in excitement, letting out a muffled cry, "Shannaro!".

Half an hour later, all members of Team seven meet up at the hotel lobby. Naruto's reaction is instant, proclaiming how he is going punch Sasuke's lights out for disappearing. The man explains, cool and collected, how it was none of the blond's business where he went. This arises some suspicions and some raised eyebrows as to where Sasuke could have went.

Sakura is trying to be subtle, really, but she is having too much fun. She giggles every now and then, throwing fleeting glances at her lover who is avoiding answering any questions about his whereabouts, probing the curious men even further to try and understand what could have possibly went down between the full of tension – not yet or so they thought – couple.

"I am going to find out what what is going on here and when I do, I will never let you guys leave it down," Naruto swears – an oath he is bound to regret really, really soon...

[mistraliprincess]

Recollection in Dreams

“Do̸ yoų e͜ven r҉em̕em҉b̢ęr ͠w̴hát ha͝pp̴en͘ęd t̵ha͘t̢ n̢ìght̨ w͟h͘en͠ y̛óu m͠èt ͝that d̷am̀n sun̴sh̢ine̕ an҉d̸ ŕain̴bo̶w̢s sh͟a̴de?”

The voice rang clear inside the sleeping Qilin’s mind with it’s ever present distortion. It’s question was one which confused her subconscious, that made her mind wonder, but she couldn’t respond. No control to her body in her slumber, nor to her thoughts as a dream twists and changes. 

Once an image of her young self seated on a blanket, happily eating and laughing with her parents  on a warm sunny day became cold. The sky darkening, clouds pouring snow and hail down, her parents fading and she finds herself standing at the foot of a broken mountain. Staring up it’s massive size, even with it being blasted apart and still exploding at random points with varying colors to each burst of energy. An intimidating sight she wished not to remember. 

Though she then finds herself staring into a gap between toppled rocks, then on the other end of whatever path lay between them. A rock nearly falling on her and a quick escape into an odd tunnel carved into stone to her side. Not even experiencing the journey through it, but finding herself landing on a knee on the other end. A small room, a shrine looking like it’s part of the wall across from her, Kaigan make, or at least similar to it. Then the shade of many colors standing before it, but her subconscious remembers this encounter, remembers feeling a sense of hostility from the being despite how it had seemed to help her earlier.

It’s form is bright in her sight, growing even brighter with each second, and it’s unclear whether this too was the actual events or just the dream twisting it. Not until it grew so bright that it felt she should be blinded by it would it become clear. Her dream was showing her something, something new about this memory, something that she wouldn’t have seen otherwise. Yet, it’s hazy, like it’s not something her mind is doing on it’s own, like the Shade sharing her mind was unintentionally filling in some sort of blank.

It’s subtle over the multicolor form, but as the light dims a form can be made out, one of a woman. Long floor-length hair of a near pure white shade, a large, grown horn sprouting from her forehead and curving back over the top with a great many branching parts to it. Odd tendril-like growths sprouting from beneath the corners of her nose and reaching back to end in white tufts by her ears as they float as if upon a gentle breeze. A long, thick tail covered in pearlescent scales and fur to match her hair along it’s underside and surrounding the end. Skin covered in patches of similar shining scales as the tail, under the eyes, around the face, along the arms and legs.

The figure doesn’t speak, but as the shape made of pure colors moves, so does the faded image of this woman. Turning away from her, turning to face the shrine, and the sound of a lock or latch echoes. It’s only seconds after when the figure turns back, and a smile is just barely able to be made out on the subtle features. One which, at first, appeared to be soft and warm, but as it’s seen for longer, it almost seems... sad. 

Within this dream recollection, she can feel her body shifting, a sense of odd dread filling her, and a cold swallowing her whole. Her hands moving as if to ready the Tanto hilted at her hip and draw it. Only to be met with sharp, sudden pain in both hands and the sensation of both being thrown backward by some force. The cold leaving instantly to be replaced with warmth, an uncomfortable warmth in her palms especially. 

No motion even occurs within this dreamscape between looking at this figure before her and reeling from whatever had just happened before her vision is set on her palms. Red pools filling them, surrounding geometric, cloudy shapes in the center of both. She’s hurt, it’s clear to her, but she feels no pain in this moment, not even the sticky wet feeling that the blood should bring. Instead she’s just... confused, and a little afraid. 

Only to find her attention returned to the figure before her, now standing right in front of her. Able to feel a burning sensation deep within her and to hear some odd sound in the distance, almost like something’s screaming in pain. All of which stops in a brief instance as everything goes white, and she’s outside the mountain once more. Not looking at the exploding rocky mass, however, that’s behind her, instead she’s looking out among a sea of snow, coated in black corruption. A collection of masses which begin to growl, his, roar, and howl at her as she realizes there’s no sensation of cold or pain in herself. 

Warmth, not in her hands, but her body as a whole, welcoming, comforting, warmth. A sensation which guides her body, not letting her move, but moving it for her. Drawing her Odachi with one hand, separating the Katana within the back of it to the opposite, and lighting the edge of the larger in a brilliant white. The last clear site being a Sabyr Grim rushing forward and pouncing to strike, only to be split with a blur of light. Though the blades hadn’t been swung, they still sat before her in readied pose. Instead, two crystals, both glowing with a bright, radiant white, float down into view with some mist rising off them briefly. 

Then everything rushes forward, the gems first into the collection of Grimm ahead before the metal of the blades begin to flash and blur over and again. A feeling of cold wind rushing against skin only for the skin to remain warm after as it moves and moves. An endless torrent of motion and cutting, of energy forming across some surface and being sent flying from it, of white streaks dashing across the blacks and reds. Occasionally catching glimpses of duplicates of herself or her weapons, though never seeming to actually make contact with anything.

Everything stayed as blurred motion, seeming to only grow faster and faster over what felt like minutes. Abruptly meeting an end with another shift, in her sight being forced to stare out at a countless many dissipating Grimm bodies. Then again to face toward the grand floating city off in the distance, only barely able to make it out through the blizzarding winds and snow. Yet, something was off. The massive Grimm wasn’t on it anymore... and it was... falling? 

The next instance she’s closer, atop a short mountain with better, clearer view to the floating city. Only to watch as it’s descent speed begins to increase for a brief second before her view changes again. Rushing through the snow, into the run-down crater city, catching a glimpse of some glowing ovular shape, and passing through it. Never once stopping once through, and only continuing along what seemed to be golden pathways toward another, larger shape, and passing through it all the same. 

Though coming out the other side, she found the warmth gone, and her body being pelted by harsh winds and a coarse substance. Ears battered by a cacophony of screams and roars, of scared people and Grimm attempting to slaughter them all. Sounds of bullets and blades cutting through the rest of the noise, and that of... ice? There was no sense made of what happened, where she was, and what was occurring, but  she can recall taking up her Odachi to cut down a Deathstalker in one fell swing of her blade.

Subconscious seems to eject her forcefully, some sort of voice just softly whispering her name in her ear as she awakes. Sitting upright with gasping breath and a dull pain in her hands. Both rising in front of her to reveal two-dimensional diamond-esque shapes of darkened skin in the center of both her hands. Almost as if some form of subconscious call had been made upon seeing the marks, she hears a soft whistle in the air before two soft glowing crystals that match the shapes marking her hands sitting in the air before her eyes. Before they both fall to the bed as she reels back in surprise at their existence being reality.

Reaching to pick them both up, one to each hand, she looks over them with the light glow from before gone entirely. Their appearance matching that of the crystal shards which now sat embedded within the grip of her Odachi... what was the connection between whatever this material was, and her people’s past? Why did so many things of the past come to her in this shape and form alone? 

More questions... always more, always, always more questions... it was tiring her greatly. 

[xbunnybunz]

stay here with me [underswap!papyrus x reader]

Summary: You and papyrus enjoy the quieter moments of life together.

Genre: Fluff, Friendship or Lovers

Date: April 26, 2017

-----

Streaks of the sunset painted the city before you in a palette of orange, red, and pink.  As the sun dipped lazily behind the curve of the outstretched horizon, both monsters and humans alike made their journey back home, mothers calling to their children for supper, and soulmates reuniting after a long day apart.

The calm prelude of night draped over the city and bled into your skin, the cool twilight air tranquil and slightly damp, hypnotizing you into a peaceful trance.

From this spot on the roof, time seemed to slow down. Life passed by slowly, leisurely, before your eyes in the form of a hazy sunset accompanied by the dull hum of conversation from below.

You allowed your eyes to slip shut, your ears picking up on a bypassing conversation involving the weather, and pieces of prattle speaking of a lightbulb in need of replacing. Basking in the fading light of dusk had always exposed you to the gentler parts of life, the life that was larger than anyone could ever fathom, but appeared to be so delicate that even the slightest whisper could disturb it’s serene lull.

It was humbling, you had decided a while ago, during one of your first visits to this roof. Life was abstract and immense, uncontainable and ever-spontaneous. In the groggy haze of the morning and the tumultuous noise of the late afternoon, it was hard to focus on anything but yourself. It was difficult to stop and admire the risen sun, bold, blazing, and beautiful, and even moreso to find pleasure in the smiles of those around you after a long day. But here, underneath a sky stained with the colors of yet another day coming to a close, you could finally allow your tense shoulders to fall and wholeheartedly enjoy the murmurs of a town readying for slumber.

Even in moments like these, where the seconds seem to dawdle, and then drip slowly like wax off of a candle, you could feel the steady beat of your strident heart - the rush of blood under your skin. The reminder that being alive was no longer a question for you, but an unwavering fact that you grew to accept; even become grateful for.

The monochrome coloring of daily life had jaded the brilliance of your existence, people who surrounded you always cold, always aloof and always detached. Your world, like many others, had changed when news of monsters came about.

The surface world was just as new to them as the concept of living alongside monsters was to you, and although you had remained hard-hearted and stoic in the face of impending change, fate had drawn your path to cross with those that would soon change your perspectives- and alter your reality.

Upon contact with them, your colorless world had exploded into a beautiful lilac sky- like a red-hot passion flower blooming in high speed- and just like that, you were overwhelmed.

Years of indifference bled into empathy, bled into compassion, and suddenly these beings that you thought nonexistent just months prior had morphed you into someone who could simultaneously be alive, and be living.

In the midst of thought, a breeze passed over you, bringing with it a chill that raised goosebumps along your skin. Your hands reach up and cradle your arms, an earnest attempt at preserving heat that seemed all but in vain.

A low and rumbling voice that reminded you of a rolling wave greeted you, a long-phalanged hand resting atop the crown of your head. You leaned into the touch, his bones warmer than you, who had been exposed to the evening chill for a longer duration of time.

After a bit of muffled shifting, a warm orange hoodie is strewn across your shoulders. You accept it gratefully, pulling the thick, wooly material over your head and allowing the excess sleeve pool around your fingertips. It’s scent was thick and comforting, a melty blend of cigarettes and intoxicatingly sweet honey. You burrow yourself deeper into it, enjoying it’s deep contrast with the thin and cool night air.

“hey, kid. admiring the view?”

You did not answer, but the silence did not seem to sway him.

He clicked and his joints groaned as he took a seat next to you, bone against shingles making a strange scraping noise. But that did not deter you from moving closer to him. With shoulders barely touching, you both look up at the sky, which had faded from it’s pastel tinted hues to a crisp and refreshing midnight blue.

“so, what’s on your mind? you usually don’t look so a-roof.”

You spared a few quiet chuckles at his bad pun, keeping your voice light and airy for fear of tainting the gentle silent spell.

“Just thinking about life, as usual.”

The click of a cigarette lighter echoes in your ears before the scent of freshly lit, earthy tobacco brushes past your nose. You wondered if you would also be able to smell the smoke from the embers, if only you leaned a bit closer.

“ah. anything new?”

Bones rattled softly against each other as he spoke in baritone, then exhaled. Smoke drifted off of his freshly-lit cigarette and formed swirls that danced about in the air; slight, wispy, and curling at the ends, beckoning and nearly seductive in their ascent to nothingness.

“No,”

You say, after a long stretch of still silence.

“But I’m glad that I’m here.”

Your eyes turn to him, and you are not surprised to find that he is already looking at you. The bone that composed his skull was dull, like eggshell, but pure and rich, much like porcelain. In the backlight of the new moon, you could trace the etches of his cheekbones- constantly turned up because of his grin- with your eyes. Gentle shadows fell over the slight chips and dents in the surface of his periosteum and continued down his vertebra, which disappeared into a thin black tank-top that was usually worn with a fleece hoodie.

Looking at him, you knew you two had never cared for someone quite as much as you did for each other. But, despite all this, he was not the reason you decided to stay, no. You had your own reasons, but he had made the decision seem so much easier.

“here?” he questioned, but it seemed more like a conclusion than an inquiry.

You drew your eyes back to the moon, not quite complete, but very much present and very much beautiful.

“With both of you. At home.”

You hear him shift and take another drag of the cigarette, this time allowing it to dangle between two of his long fingers. The burning amber color of the embers captures your eye for a split second before Papyrus lets out another throaty exhale, smoke wrapping around his head in exquisite patterns you learned was mostly magic.

“heh. am i competin’ with blueberry, now?”

He nudges you with his elbow softly, teasingly, though you can tell he is thankful you included his brother in your proclamation of happiness.

“Might just be.” You teased back, a smile playing at your lips. “He’s a real sweetheart, that one.”

Papyrus takes one last, long inhale before he snuffs the embers of his dying cigarette on the roof tiles. The smoke has yet to dissipate from the air entirely, leaving it warm and musty. He reclines onto his back, arms behind his head. He reminds you of a leisurely chesire cat: slinky, grinning, and witty.

You close your eyes again, basking in the bliss of this simple night and his presence. You can still sense the light of the moon and the stars above you through your eyelids, and you can still feel the fleece lining of the honey and tobacco-scented hoodie on your skin. You can still feel him lying beside you, and hear his easy breathing, a habit he told you was not necessary, but routine.

“i am too.” he says, his voice not breaking the silence, but sliding along with it. “glad that you’re here. with us.”

You hum, socked feet brushing against his sneakers.  “Here?” You ask, more of a conclusion than an inquiry.

You can nearly hear the smile in his voice, and you match it with your own as he answers “here. with us, at home.”

[jadedjo]

Star Wars Regency AU

Please accept this word vomit from my never to be finished Star Wars Regency AU.

moodboard from @celinamarniss​ 

~~~~

The candles flickered with light reminiscent of a thousand sparkles on the open ocean during sunset. It made Captain Luke Skywalker wish he were anywhere else then in the overheated ball room with said candles. In full Navel regalia, he longed for the open waters of the sea to cool his overheated body. But he had been ordered to attend the gathering held by his twin sister, and unofficial head of the house. He may hold the rank of Lord but it was the Lady Leia Solo who ruled the Skywalker estates.

Thus, his ship in port, and he himself on leave, Luke had very little choice but to make an appearance. As he gazed out upon the throng of pastel clad ladies and the dandies at their beck and call, Luke tried to hide a yawn behind his white gloved hand. 

After finishing a boring conversation with one of Leia’s political friends, he was about to head for the side door to the ballroom and his freedom when a flash motion caught his eye. 

Just entering the room, a woman in a scarlet silk gown that shimmered of the highest quality and complimented the cream color of her skin, stood at the entrance and let her gaze slide coolly over the guests. The red highlights of her hair blazed in the candle light amongst the gold curls, all swept up into a stylish chignon that left her elegant neck bare leading down to the expanse of her shoulders, uncovered by lace shall or chemisette. Luke could not see the color of her eyes from this vantage point and the low light, but when they passed his way and stopped for a split second before moving on, he felt a jolt of awareness spread through him. She was too exotic to be called beautiful by the current modes of fashion. But this captivating woman was worth sticking around for a while longer.

So transfixed by her presence, Luke almost did not see the man who stood at her side until he took her hand to lead her to a group of businessmen standing with his brother-in-law. Hoping to join the group before the woman and her escort got there, Luke slid through the crowd like a schooner through the rocks surrounding the outer bay of Alerra, arriving at his brother-in-law’s side just and introductions where being made.

“Captain Solo,” the escort said. “May I present Miss Mara Jade. My dear, Han Solo, Captain of the Millennium Falcon and our host.”

Han bowed and the woman curtsied before Luke nudged his friend and brother for an introduction. Up close she was even more captivating. Dark eyes, green perchance? Shone with enticing mystery.

Han shot him a wink only Luke could see before fulfilling his duties. “Captain Karrde, Miss Jade, a pleasure. And allow me to introduce my wife’s brother, Lord Luke Skywalker, Captain of the HMS Tantive. Luke, I’m assuming you heard the other half of the introduction so I’m not going to repeat it.”

Everyone gave the proper formalities before Luke asked, “Miss Jade, I’ve not heard that name before. Perhaps you are new to Alderaan?”

“In a manner of speaking,” she said in a throaty voice that sent shivers across his skin.

“Mara’s parents where from Alderaan before traveling east. She was but a child of 5 when they left. It was in waters off Jedha where their journey ended when the ship they traveled upon was attacked by pirates and her parents killed. I was a crewman of the ill-fated ship and managed to secret Miss Jade and myself away before the pirates found us. She has lived in Jedha ever since. It is only recently that I have brought her back to her homeland.”

It was as the man spoke that Luke finally took notice of him. 

Captain Karrde was of some indeterminate years older than Han, though not so old as to be labeled Miss Jade’s father. He carried himself like a man of the sea, stance slightly spread for balance and steadiness. His black hair was kept short and neat, as opposed to the current fashion of longer, curled hair. The gray at the sides gave him a distinguished air that would hold up to stuff with any courtier. The skin of his face bore the trademarks of a life of sun and salt but was of a darker hue then just an ordinary tan. The equally dark eyes seemed to see much and express little. His dress was simple yet of the highest quality and spoke to refined tastes and deep pockets. Luke had trouble placing his accent but it only added to his air of foreign allure.

“It is as Captain Karrde says,” Miss Jade added. “I have begged him for many years to bring me back to my birthplace. Finally, he has relented.”

“Bad timing if you ask me,” Han said. “War with the Coruscant is on the horizon and may happen at any moment. The Queen cannot keep the peace forever.”

One Han’s friends, a Mr. Calrissian said, “You worry too much my old friend.”

“And you don’t worry enough ‘Old friend,’” Han replied, but in a jovial fashion. The others in the group chuckled. Even Captain Karrde gave a slight smile as if also knowing of the good-natured ribbing exchanged by the two.

It was then that Luke heard the strains of a Naboo Cotillion beginning and saw his chance to get Miss Jade away from her chaperone.

“Miss Jade, would you do me the honor of a dance?” He asked. “I fear my land legs may yet trip me up, as I’ve only just landed but a day ago. But if you can bare it, I would be delighted.”

There was an indefinable pause as she considered his request before curtsying and replying, “Of course, My Lord. I have yet to fill up my dance card and have been looking forward to dancing tonight.”

“Please, I am but a simple Captain in her Majesty's Navy and would prefer to be addressed as such.”

“If you wish, my Lor… Captain.” She nodded to the assembled group before taking his hand.

Now standing beside her, Luke noted that she was taller than most of the ladies of his acquittance and once hand in hand opposite each other as the dance began, he found it refreshing not to have to look down at her. Even so close, the light was still to dime to make out her eye color but he found he was utterly captivated by them.

“How are you finding your homecoming, Miss Jade?” He asked as they danced.

“To be honest, Captain, I find it lacking,” she said dryly. “The whole world touts Alderaan’s tranquil vistas and peaceful society, but I have yet to find it to my tastes.”

“Is there something wrong with a peaceful way of life?” he asked, curious by her response. 

“As a man of war how can you say such a thing?”

“Because I am not a man of war but of peace and protection. I offer my service to Her Majesty and to the Navy to protect those I care about.”

“And what of the rest of the world?” she prodded. “Do they not also need your protection?”

“It has always been Alderaan’s covenant to provide aid to those who ask for it. Even now I have it on good authority that the Queen is considering a proposal that would extend our ability to provide said protection.”

“I would believe you if I had not seen the lack of Alderaan’s ‘protection’ with my own eyes,” she said with a touch of bitterness.

“I fail to take your meaning.”

“Were you not aware of Coruscant’s invasion of Jedha?”

“I was. I am very sorry that your home has fallen to Admiral Thrawn’s ambitions. But I fail to see what Alderaan could have done to prevent it.”

“Jedha asked for help. Help that was never given.”

“I see,” he replied. This dance was not going as well as he hopped. Her lack of understanding in upper political workings of his country, made her bitter and resentful. “All I can say is that I cannot presume to know the mind of the Queen only to say that that must have been a very good reason for any withholding of aid.”

The woman said nothing and Luke found her silence irksome. Jedha was on the eastern side of Coruscant, far from Alderaani shores. If he were one of the Queen’s advisors, he would have cautioned against sending a large force and provoking Thrawn into open war with Alderaan.

He brought them to a halt before the dance was done and asked, “You doubt me Miss Jade? My sister and I were once wards of the Queen and her Consort.”

“I do not doubt you Captain Skywalker, and I have heard of your connection the Royal Family. Even as far as Jedha we have heard of the rumors that Queen Breha wishes to make your sister her heir.”

When he did not confirm or deny the rumor she went on, “But I have yet to see any proof of Alderaan’s commitment to anything but its own self interests.”

“Then I am sorry for you Miss Jade. Perhaps now that you are no longer sequestered in the east the truth will be revealed to you.”

~~~~~

This ball takes place during a house party and Luke finds Mara snooping in Leia’s quarters, tries to arrest her but she gets awa.

She escapes on a horse and he follows.

She heads to Talon’s ship in the bay where Luke tries to prevent her from boarding only to get captured himself as a trophy for Thrawn.

~~~

A little back story...

Anakin and Padme are Lord and Lady Skywalker. Padme was a Princess of Naboo when she met Anakin, a minor lord of Alderaan and fell in love. Anakin was matched with many young ladies but it is said Skywalkers only marry for Love. This was the case with Padme as she was supposed to marry another but left Naboo for Anakin. It was a scandal when she wed so far below her station.

Unfortunately their love was short lived and Padme dies in child birth to twins. Anakin soon follows her from a riding accident a few years later. Though many that knew the couple we say he died of a broken heart.

Luke and Leia Skywalker. They are fostered by the Queen and Queen’s consort of Alderraan. Luke becomes a Navel Captain while Leia manages the estate. She follows in her parents foot steps and marries a merchant and humble background, Captain Han Solo ( who also is involved in “free trade”). This is an even greater scandal then her mother as at least Anakin had been a Lord. Luke looks the other way concerning his bro-in-laws activities since tensions with Alderaan and Coruscant are rising and Han’s enterprises are for Alderaan and against the Imperial Empire.

Mara Jade is a courtesan/spy for Admiral Thrawn of the Imperial Empire of Coruscant. He holds on her the safety of a group of warrior monks, the Guardians of the Whills, that trained/raised her and she must spy on her countrymen to free them.

Talon Karrde is her accompli. Doesn’t approve of what she’s doing and just wants her to go to the Alderaan Government and come clean.

[royalcordelia]

The Secret of Distance (3/?)

Summary: Anne and Gilbert embark on their journeys, but stay close to each other at heart. Courting across 1000 miles isn’t easy, but they’re more than willing to step up to the task. (A post s3 story)

Notes: Some people wanted to be tagged with the update, so I’m tagging y’all down at the bottom. You guys have all my love! ♥

~~*~~

Sebastian had known from Gilbert’s first mentionings of college that he was going to miss the skinny boy he called brother, but it had always seemed so far away. Now Gilbert’s room had been empty for an entire week. Leaning against the doorframe peering into the room, Bash noticed noticed how Gil’s bed-frame and desk were already beginning to collect dust. Delly sat on his hip, sucking her thumb in comfort, her hair growing out so much like her mother’s that Bash’s heart clenched to touch it.

Bash hated change, as most people do when they have to leave behind the things they love most. But standing in Gilbert’s room, Bash couldn’t help but feel homesick for a time when Mary was alive, Delly was strapped to her back, Gilbert was only a few acres away at school, due to return home in the golden hour. Where had his family gone?  

So many miles lost in his own thoughts, he didn’t hear the front door squeak open.

“Sebastian, you’ve got letters from Gilbert!” Hazel’s voice echoed from downstairs.

Bash jolted, wrapping another arm around Delly as he hurried down the stairs and slid through the hallway toward the kitchen. Hazel was ready to receive the baby, handing him two cream letters once his hands were free with a smirk and a shake of her head. Her eyes stuck on Bash as he greedily read Gilbert’s scratch on the back of the envelope. 

“Bash - open this one first.”

“Well, what it say?” Hazel asked impatiently. 

“Give me a chance to read it and I’ll tell you!” Bash retorted. As his eyes skimmed over the slanted words, he relayed bits and pieces to his mother. “It says he’s settled into his new house, living with some fella Ron. Nervous about school and…”  Bash’s jaw dropped. 

“And?” 

“And he’s courting Anne,” Bash continued, a grin sneaking into his voice. “He stopped to see her before she left.” 

Hazel spun around from the stove, startled enough to let her ladle drip onto the floor. She considered the news, before a steady look of satisfaction graced her features.

“Finally that boy got his head on straight. I thought he’d always drag it around with him on a leash with the way things were going.” 

“You’re telling me,” Bash mumbled, continuing to read. “PS: Please take the other letter to the Cuthberts. I wanted to tell them in person, but with the timing, I wasn’t able to. Would you be my ambassador?” 

 He flipped the second envelope in his fingers and noticed the difference in address.

Matthew and Marilla Cuthbert Attn: Sebastian Lecroix

“I’ve got to run to Green Gables. I’ll be back in time to help set the table for dinner,” Bash told his mother. He was halfway out the door when he froze and turned around. “Actually, do you mind if we have guests over for dinner? I want to celebrate.” 

*

He must have caught a glimpse of her through the thin autumn curtains, because the very second Anne lifted her hand to manse’s knocker, the entryway door swung open. Anne jumped back an inch, expecting to find the friendly, yet solemn face of Rollings, but instead found Cole. He wore a chestnut colored suit, but his sunny hair matched the elated smile on his cheeks, making his spirit recognizable even dressed in his resplendent clothes. Any of the neighbors peeking out their window would’ve seen the young man sweep Anne into his arms and lift her up off of her feet. 

“There’s my queen of Queens!” he said, voice straining through his laughter he held her up. Slipping out of his arms, Anne’s toes found the ground as she straightened this collar.

“I meant to come sooner, but I’ve been in so many meetings with professors and attending so many of the Freshman welcome events that I’ve barely had any time to myself. But I’m not just here to catch up. I’m here on business, as well,” Anne explained. She pulled a drawstring satchel from her purse and held it out before him. “Tell me, are these sufficient funds for a portrait commission?” 

Cole didn’t look inside the bag yet, fixing her with an expression of amusement and confusion. “A portrait of you?” 

“Yes,” Anne stated matter-of-factly, though she failed at hiding her budding excitement. 

“Anne, I have plenty of portraits of you in my portfolio. Why don’t you just take one of those?” 

Her new curls bounced as she shook her head. 

“I mean a real portrait. It’s going to be a gift, and since a photograph is beyond my allowance, I thought I’d offer you all that I could for the next best thing. Besides, a hand drawn portrait by you is better than any photograph I’ve ever seen. I merely stopped by to give my offer and payment, and see what time would be agreeable for you.” 

Cole considered this, vaguely wondering if the smell of violets was coming from the flowerbed or from Anne’s perfume. 

“I don’t like accepting your money. I know how hard you work to earn it,” he said honestly. Anne reached forward, moving his hands to cover the sack of coins, then pushed it toward him. 

“It’s payment for a service you’d be doing me. You’re a professional artist now, Cole. You deserve to be compensated as such, especially by friends,” she insisted. “Besides, I want you to accept the money now so  I can finally tell you what it’s for.” 

Biting his lip, Cole finally nodded. He grabbed her hand and tugged her into the house, sitting her down in the parlor. He was darting up the stairs to grab his supplies when he skidded to a stop. From the hallway, Anne heard Cole’s voice echo, “You’ve got time right now, don’t you?” 

“Yep! I have all afternoon free!” 

He reappeared moments later, large pads of paper in one hand and a leather case in the other. It was only when he began to situate himself directly before her that Anne realized he’d strategically placed her in a beam of bright sunlight. In the corner of her eyes, her hair looked like gilded thread, shining gold and warm. When she turned her gaze back to the artist, she found he had laid out his sketching pencils beside him, as well as the opened his wide assortment of paint pigments within reach. 

“Jo is out for the afternoon, but if you can, you must stay for dinner. If she discovers you were here without seeing her, she’ll never let you hear the end of it,” Cole explained, flipping open to a fresh new piece of paper. Then, with a keen energy of excitement and a pretense of professionalism, he straightened his shoulders. “Now, what did you have in mind for this portrait, Miss Shirley-Cuthbert?” 

Anne opened her mouth to answer, but pressed her lips together with a knowing smile. 

“Well,” she drawled finally, “As I mentioned, I’ll be giving this as a gift. I’d like to send it already framed to my new suitor. He requested something for his bedside table.” 

Cole slammed his pencil on his lap, nearly breaking the tip. The expression of delighted shock on his face nearly had Anne roaring with laughter, but she knew she had not yet delivered the best part. 

“Anne Shirley Cuthbert. You attend college for all of one week and you’ve already got a suitor! Finally, the young gentlemen of Prince Edward Island are realizing what a gem exists amongst their midst!” Cole praised. Then, his face became more masked, but his voice dropped to the floor, low with hesitance. “Does this mean that you...no longer care for Gilbert?” 

For a split second, Anne remembered the last thing she’d told Cole about Gilbert - about how she expected him to marry, and how she’d forever love him across an ocean of distance. She could remember with visceral perfectness the way she’d ached to let him go. Thus, it was with resounding joy that Anne allowed a cheek splitting grin to overcome her face as she spoke. 

“It’s for Gilbert.” 

Cole blinked. “It’s for Gilbert,” he repeated blankly. Then, nearly knocking over his things, he cried, “It’s for Gibert!?” 

This time, Anne did laugh, covering her blush with her hands. 

“Oh, Cole, I could burst just thinking about it! It’s a story right out of a fairy tale book.”  

The feather-haired blonde pointed the sharp edge of his pencil at Anne. 

“I told you so! Years ago!” he bragged. Anne nodded through her laughter, struggling to maintain a poised portrait pose. “Alright, I want to hear everything. Sit just like that. You talk, I’ll draw.”

*

Bash had no idea what the letters. All he knew was that the one in Marilla’s hand was the one he hand delivered from Gilbert, likely making her aware of his intentions, and the other one was from Anne, likely of a similar content. The Cuthberts read their respective letters with such severity that Bash feared for a moment Marilla would crumple up the correspondence and toss it in the oven. He fidgeted in his seat, scolding himself when he thought to himself, Wonder if I’ll read so slow when I get that old. 

Matthew was the first to finish, placing down the letter with tender fingers in front of Marilla. The woman in question hurried over the last lines of hers, then scanned over the entire paper once more, before handing it to Matthew. Bash bit back a groan. Couldn’t they just get to the celebrating? 

His patience broke sooner than he thought it would, and he leaned across the table as if to ask for a secret. 

“What’s it say, Marilla?” 

Marilla peered at Bash over the rim of her glasses and forced her smile from growing too noticeable. Beside her, Matthew blushed as he set down Gilbert’s letter and fisted his hands on the table to give his shaking fingers something to do. Taking a short inhale, Marilla began to read. 

Dearest Matthew and Marilla,

The view from my window reminds me ever so much of my own gable room. I find small hints of Avonlea everywhere I go - from the people I share my house with, to the billowing wildflowers in my neighbor’s gardens. Charlottetown people aren’t as rude as I had once surmised, and I expect that I will find a bouquet of kindred spirits as queens. You remain my most beloved kindred spirits, always. 

I’m afraid I’m short on time this afternoon - the Freshettes have an orientation to attend within the hour.  A lengthier letter will follow this one once I have settled into my classes, fully denoting every delicious thing happening here. The purpose of this quick note, then, is to give you a delighted warning at something that I suspect will be arriving at Green Gables within the next few days. 

That is to say, if Gilbert Blythe writes to you both speaking of intentions and courting, please don’t be alarmed. I have given him my own ecstatic, wholehearted consent, but it would be so very like Gilbert to want to honor you both as well. I don’t know for sure, as he and I didn’t have very much time to detangle all of our many misunderstandings last we saw each other, but if on the off chance he chooses not to write, let me be the first to tell you: Gilbert and I are going to start courting. Oh, the last time something felt so beautifully perfect was when I came to live at Green Gables and when Mrs. Barry said Diana and I could be friends after all! Truly, my feet haven’t touched the ground! 

I hope all is well for you both. I miss you abundantly. Charlottetown will never truly be home, not when there’s a Green Gables and a White Way of Delight beckoning me. I give you both

All my love, 

Anne

(PS: Please tell the Lacroix’s I miss them. Bash looked so forlorn the last I saw him.) 

As silence fell back over the room, Bash remembered the last time he’d seen Anne. She’d been peering up with such a hopeful smile and a handful of Avonlea blossoms, but he hadn’t really thought much of it until after peace had settled over his household. By then, Gilbert was gone, and it occurred to him he never got a proper goodbye with Avonlea’s Anne with an E. 

“Well, she was right about him sending a letter,” Matthew concluded in a strange voice.

“I hope that boy gave you a good explanation for all his foolishness these last months,” Bash said finally.

“I do believe he has made a more than adequate case for himself, though you’re welcome to have a look for yourself,” Marilla replied. Bash lifted his brows as if to ask Are you sure? Marilla gave a stiff nod, but smiled, sliding Gilbert’s letter across the table for him to read. 

Dear Mr. and Miss Cuthbert, 

I’m sure that I am the last person you expected a letter from, especially after all the gossip about me that has made its rounds through Avonlea. However, the matter I wish to write to you about is of such importance that it could not wait until my next visit home. It’s times like these I wish I had Anne’s elegant command of language. Instead, all I can do is tell you that I adore your daughter and humbly request your blessing to begin courting her. 

Your immediate feelings must be some variation of confusion because of the public knowledge that I intended to marry a young woman in Charlottetown. The sole reason I had been contemplating this decision was because Miss Rose’s presence in my life would have granted me the opportunity to fulfill an academic dream of mine. It all seemed so providential that I assumed Miss Rose’s presence in my life was supposed to be providential as well.  This assumption was not only incorrect, but it also led to the pain of many people I care about. 

Still, I have been so relieved every day that I read my Book of Revelations when I did. All my confusion has been cleared away, it is so apparent to me that I was a complete fool to pretend I could ever move on from how much I care about Anne. I’ve decided I don’t want my life to be successful because of the people around me. I want those people to be part of my success and the blessings of life - blessings that I intend to earn all on my own merit. 

I tell you all these things so that you don’t assume Anne is my second choice. I hope you understand me when I tell you that Anne has always been and always will be my first, and only, choice. From the day I met her, I admired her intelligence, her passion, and the loveliness of her spirit. My dream isn’t just to be become a successful doctor - what good is that if can’t honor the people I love most? And I truly do love Anne, as well as your family. That is why I ended my courtship with Winifred. It would be unfair to lead on her heart when mine was so undeniably and permanently tied to someone else. 

It’s unlike me to lay my heart on my sleeve, but it’s because I believe this matter is important that I do. I anxiously await your response (In full disclosure, I am fully prepared to travel sixteen hours home to convince you in person if this letter isn’t enough.) 

It’s my genuine hope that you all are faring well. Enjoy the warm harvest weather! 

With Sincerity, 

Gilbert Blythe

When he was done, Bash folded the letter back up and pushed it to the middle of the table. His chest swelled with pride for his brother, who had finally grown into the man he’d been rushing to be all these months. Now, the lad had done it on his own volition and on his own merit. 

“Well, what’s it to be?” Bash asked carefully. Matthew and Marilla exchanged a look that only a pair of siblings would be able to decipher before the older woman took up her own pencil and a sheet of paper. For a moment, Bash worried that she would say, “ Sorry Bash, but he isn’t good enough for our Anne.” But then she sent a smile of genuine satisfaction across the table and he heaved a sigh of relief. 

“If you give me just a moment, I’d like to write to Gilbert to tell him that he’s had our blessing long before Anne burst into our kitchen to say she was in love with him. Would you mail it for us once I’m finished?” 

“I’d be delighted to,” Bash replied warmly. He paused before adding, “Everyone knew except him, didn’t they?” 

“Seems so,” Matthew said bashfully. “She said it so loud, even the horses knew.” 

*

The perk of living with a philosophy major was that the house was almost always quiet. Silence suited the Sunset House - they’d begun to call it that without realizing it - and Gilbert couldn’t help but sometimes feel like he was sitting at his own desk back home. When he listened to the birdsong just outside his window or looked up at the printed skeleton models hanging above his desk, he could almost forget he was a thousand miles away from home. He shared the apartment’s study with Ron, but the man worked so soundlessly that the only sound Gilbert could ever make out was the gears turning in the man’s head.

School, as it turned out, was more tiring and more fulfilling than he could have prepared himself for. Two weeks into his classes, he’d collected an odd array of friends - mostly people Ron knew, which explained their peculiar nature. Yet, none of them were, as Anne would say, kindred spirits. Ron was either growing on him or he was merely becoming more accustomed to his nosy roommate’s antics. 

But when the day was over and Gilbert needed to share the intimacies of his heart with someone who belonged in his life, he’d add another page to his weekly letter to Anne and tell her everything that was on his mind. It paled in comparison to having her in person. 

On days like these when he was exhausted and homesick, he imagined what it would be like to rest his head on Anne’s chest while she held him and stroked his hair. Knowing she’d probably let him only made being away from PEI worse, but the quiet daydreams had a way of keeping him grounded. 

He was gazing out his window, picturing Anne dancing in ambered firelight, when Ron called up the stairs, “Gil? You’ve got mail.”

The legs of his chair screeched against the old wood floors and Gilbert pushed himself away from his desk and raced down the stairs. He found Ron shuffling through the various letters, peering with interest at a paper-wrapped parcel tied to one of the letters. 

“Let’s see. One from Sebastian Lacroix, one from the Cuthberts, and…” Ron wiggled his eyebrows and waved the package. “One from the ever-lovely, ever-red headed Anne Shirley-Cuthbert. My, you are popular!” 

“Give me those,” Gilbert chided, snatching away his mail and pulling it to his chest. For a second, he contemplated running back upstairs and locking his door behind him where Ron wouldn’t be able to follow, but the man would probably just pester him wherever he tried to hide. Shooting Ron a warning look, he sat down on the parlor couch and heaved a deep sigh. Where should he start? 

“The one from her parents is probably the most pressing,” he said aloud.

His fingers hovered over the flap of the envelope, trembling with hesitation. What if they said no? If he had a daughter and some schmuck like him came calling after her, he’d send the poor lad running. 

“Jesus Christ, Gilbert, just open the damn thing,” Ron cried, snapping Gilbert out of his thoughts. Tearing open the flap, Gilbert gently pulled the letter from inside. 

Dear Gilbert, 

Matthew and I have been anticipating this development for quite some time. Rest assured that you have proven yourself to be a most admirable young man. We all must learn the hard lessons of life at some time or another. I imagine you will discover more about the matters of the heart as you grow older - Matthew and I are still learning with Anne in our family - but it’s the best type of learning a person can undergo. Thank you for your transparency and your honesty. Anne has expressed to us that she has already given you her consent, and therefore, you have our blessing to court her. Though it does sadden us a little bit to see our young girl mature into a woman, we could not keep her from the desires of her heart. I hope you know we could not have asked for a better young man for Anne. Both Matthew and I wish you all the best in your studies. You make Avonlea proud.

Sincerely, 

Marilla Cuthbert

Gilbert’s relief must have been tangible because Ron whistled as he blew a cooling breath over his coffee. 

“Did you expect them to send you to the witch’s stake or something?” Ron asked. 

“For everything I’ve put Anne through? Yes. Absolutely,” Gilbert said, stunned. 

Unable to wait any longer, Gilbert took Anne’s parcel in his hands and smiled at the familiarity of her handwriting. There were two letters attached, one with a note on the envelope that said, “I wrote this before I received your letter. Open the present last.”  He was unsure whether that boded well for the contents inside, but decided to take the risk and finally read the letter he’d been waiting for all week. As his eyes skimmed the text, he fell back onto the couch and held the letter above his head. 

“What’s it say?” Ron queried.

“ Shhh !” Gilbert shot, pulling the letter closer to his face. He read and read and read. When he was finished with the first letter, he found he had a lovesick grin plastered across his face and a glimmering light in his eyes. With a voice as gentle as wind, Gilbert breathed, “She says she loves me.”

“I thought you knew that already,” Ron replied. 

“Not for sure. When I asked her if she did, she kissed me. I was fairly convinced then, but to have the words written out is much more certain,” Gilbert explained, already opening the second letter. He could barely bring himself to care that he sounded like an absolute romantic fool in front of his roommate. Anne loved him! 

My dearest Gil, 

It’s finally autumn! She’s officially arrived with her cold air and hints of dusky colors on the leaves. It makes me wonder if all those miles away, you’re seeing any hints of autumn as well. I was so pleased to hear that you’re doing well and settling in to your new home. I can just picture your apartment on North Sunset street! Tell me, is your home made of bricks the same color as the PEI roads? Does your window overlook anything spectacular? In truth, my window has a lovely view over Charlottetown, but I find myself preferring to reread your letter than look out over the city. 

Do you truly love me, Gilbert? Oh, I know you do, but I think I’d like to see you say it over and over and over - that is, if it isn’t too much trouble. It’s just so breathtakingly wonderful to see it written in your handwriting. You have my full permission to be bold and assume that I love you to equal measure. So much so, that I’m tempted to write you of little else. Perhaps one day I shall tell you how I adore you, in every way my imagination can conjure. For now, I will answer your questions. 

You asked me when I began to have feelings for you. In truth, I pondered this myself because once I realized what the feelings were, I couldn’t remember a time when they weren’t there. I trace them farther and farther back, and there I am, looking upon a very dashing young man asking me if there are any dragons in need of slaying. It seemed at times, I wasn’t only jealous and spiteful of your kindness and intelligence, but I seemed to desire it too.  Perhaps that accounts for my lengthy bout of confusion. Once we became friends, every day I grew closer to realizing that my admiration was equal parts attraction. 

As for when I realized that I cared for you. It was after dance practice that I realized I wanted to be the object of your warm gazes and soft touches for the rest of eternity. But it was after that night at the ruins that I realized I loved you. I didn’t want to be the one thing holding you back. Love was what prepared me to let you go, and be grateful that you’d be happy, even if it meant without me. I am a thousand times more grateful that we intend to be happy together, not apart.

As for the letter you wrote me, I am utterly ashamed to admit that I tore it to pieces before reading it. I hadn’t really allowed myself to be angry and hurt until that moment, but as soon as my anger expressed itself, it was gone. I tried to piece together the torn fragments, but came up with a message in which you said you didn’t love me and intended to marry Winifred. I couldn’t bring myself to throw them away though. They’re in an envelope in my bureau at Green Gables. Do you think you could piece them together for me during Christmas break? 

Phew! With all that out in the open, I can tell you that I am doing wonderfully here at Queens! I do occasionally get homesick, especially for you, but I do love my curriculum and the people in my classes. In my free time, when I’m not writing you or my family, I plan to write some short stories for publication. Hopefully, I can earn enough to come visit you soon. Would Ron mind? 

My hand is cramping, so I will conclude here for tonight. Think of me in the golden hours of the morning and afternoon, and I won’t be terribly far away at all. 

Unabashedly yours, 

Anne 

(PS: I tried out that new nickname. How did you like it?) 

(PPS: I’ve included something for you, per your request. Is it vain to say that Cole did a magnificent job?) 

Gilbert did not waste time, pulling parcel from his lap and tearing off the brown paper. Immediately the breath was knocked from his chest as he gazed upon a small painted portrait of Anne, signed at the bottom by Cole Mackenzie. She was depicted with her face angled toward the sun, with a rose blush on her cheeks and cherry color to her lips. Cole had paid amazing detail to her freckles, capturing them in each perfect location. She’d worn her hair and dress exactly as she had the last time he’d seen her, freezing that moment in the timeless artistic existence. Her smile was as he remembered it, so realistic that he could vividly hear her laughter as if she were in the room. 

He must’ve been staring at the portrait for so long that Ron rose from his chair and peered over Gilbert’s shoulder. 

“You weren’t kidding about the red hair,” he commented. Gilbert glanced up, before returning his gaze to the picture. “Not too far off from the color of carrots.”

Gilbert snorted, an affectionate smile turning his face to sunlight. “Don’t let her hear you say that.”

~~*~~

Tag list! (if you want to be added or taken off, let me know). @pterparkcr @be-feminine-be-unique @firehaireddeamer @annabel-lee23 @beinmyheart @forcordelia @ladyofhousewaters @brookie-cookie3 @peculiarly-deactivated @mrs-shirley-cuthbert-blythe @lexfangirls @amoraeternusforyou @pastaismysignificantother @spellsandbells @instantknightartisanwagon @noctislightning @lonelyscreaming @lbhmoon @findurhappy @mynameisbluenotjane

[puffwriter1998]

The Things We Let Go Ch. 1

Summary: Addison receives an invitation from her friend Charlie Abbott to attend the world cup, and must convince her muggle parents to let her go.

Character Pairings: Fred Weasley x New Character (NOT IN THIS CHAPTER)

Word Count: 5k

A/N: I’ve been needing a creative outlet and this story has been sitting in my head for a while now. Just a fun new look on JKR’s original storyline. I’ve never written fanfic before, but I’ve been having so much fun writing that I thought I’d share. Just a heads up I expect this to be very long and in many many parts, so if you stick by me through this journey, thank you so much :)

My life had always been exceptionally ordinary. Ordinary parents, ordinary school, ordinary friends, ordinary cricket practice on the weekends. In an ordinary neighborhood on the outskirts of London, surrounded by ordinary neighbors, with ordinary lives. That was until the summer following my eleventh birthday; when I received a letter that opened my eyes to a reality much bigger and brighter than the only one I had ever known. My life had flipped upside down in a way that could only be described as magical. With every day that followed being filled with even more wonder than the one before.

As I stood next to my open bedroom window, absentmindedly stroking the owl that was perched atop the spell books on my desk, gripping a scrap of parchment, I was viciously reminded of that fact. I was a witch you see, born to two non-magic parents, muggles they’re called, and my life was now anything but ordinary. The letter I’d received had invited me to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and I was now only weeks away from beginning my fifth year.

The owl hooted excitedly and I was drawn back to my modest bedroom. The open window had let the cool night time air fill the small space. I scanned the parchment again, trying to believe my eyes.

Addison!!!!

 My dad got tickets!! He surprised us just tonight at dinner. We are actually going to the World Cup, this Monday night!! Dad said Hannah and I can each bring a friend, and you know, of course I thought of you. Mum said if you want to come, she can call your parents on the telephone if you’ll send their number to us the regular way. She said she could try to look them up in a sort of directory book but that it had been quite some time since she’s used one. Send your reply and telephone number with Stella as soon as possible. 

 I can’t wait!

 -Charlie

I read the letter over twice more just to make sure it was real. Since I first began at Hogwarts, nearly four years ago, I had been instantly infatuated by the students dashing through the sky on their brooms, playing the popular wizard sport, quidditch. I had only struggled for a moment during my first flying lesson, and soon felt at home on a broom. After attending my first quidditch match, I became determined to earn a spot on my house team.

Now, I was being asked to attend the biggest quidditch match of the season. My favorite team, Bulgaria, would be taking on the Irish to compete to claim the title of the World Cup. Having only been able to read about professional quidditch matches in the wizarding newspaper, The Daily Prophet, that my friends sometimes sent me, I had no idea what to expect. My head was instantly filled with scenes of the Hogwarts quidditch pitch, where I had spent so many afternoons training and perfecting my skills to be the best beater in my year. Surely, it would be more grandiose than the modest wooden stands, colorful house flags, and homemade banners held up by students, but I had never attended a large scale wizard gathering before.

I ripped a piece of my own parchment and began to scribble a reply, but thought better of it. No matter how accepting my parents tried to be of my new life, they may not appreciate finding out that their daughter was planning to attend an international sporting event through a telephone call with a stranger

“You wait right here,” I pointed at the jet black owl, who was now pruning her wing feathers. I scooted a glass of water from my bedside to sit in front of the bird whom I assumed was called Stella. She clicked her beak appreciatively and bowed her head to drink.

I turned and started past my bed and the Bulgaria poster in which Victor Krum literally flew across the front on his broom and pumped his fist enthusiastically. Krum was their seeker. A position I had always admired, yet never had the skillset for. To think that I might actually get to see him play with my own two eyes made my heart soar. I couldn’t much see the infatuation that other girls my age had with him. Sure, he was arguably the best seeker in the world, but I always thought he looked a bit plain. Pinned up next to Krum on the wall were a few other smaller moving photographs. My Hogwarts friends smiled back at me and waved in what seemed to be encouragement.

I made my way down the stairs and into the sitting room where my parents were. Their backs were to me, both sitting on the red and yellow striped sofa that always reminded me of a carton of French fries. They were engrossed in a news program that blared from the small speakers on the television set that the furniture was all oriented towards. A few photographs, the faces in these all stationary, of our family littered the walls and surfaces throughout the room. I felt a familiar twinge of guilt as I scanned them. Fewer and fewer photographs included me as they grew more recent. The few that did include me were from summer or winter holidays, or before my eleventh birthday. In most photographs, my mother, with her sweeping hair that reminded me of smooth honey dripping over her shoulders, and full innocent eyes; my father, his sharp pointed features and muddy brown mop on top of his head; and my younger brother, a perfect split between the two of them, honey colored hair distinctly chiseled features, smile back at you happily. They look like a complete family unit. Almost as if there is no room for me in their world anymore like there is no room for them in my new one.

“Mum? Dad?” I called, just loud enough to be heard over the chatter of the television, “Can I talk to you both for a moment?”

My mother turned to look over my shoulder as my dad switched off the television, “Sure darling, what is it?” Her long hair was twisted up into a tight bun on top of her head.

I walked around the sofa, and carefully balanced myself on the arm of the loveseat that was adjacent to it.

“Charli- Er- Charlotte Abbott has just written to me. You know, one of my friends from my year at school,” I chewed on my lip, suddenly unsure of how this conversation would go. Would my parents be willing to send me trampling across the English countryside with a family they had never met, to watch a sport that they had no concept of. “Her parents have managed to get tickets to the Quidditch World Cup. It’s this coming Monday, and she’s invited me to go with them.”

“And where is this World Cup to take place? At Wembley Stadium?” My father chuckled, but I detected a note of seriousness to his tone.

“Well no,” I paused, amused by the idea of the world’s largest gathering of magical people taking place right here in London, “I’m not actually sure where it’s going to take place. They don’t exactly want mug- non magic people stumbling upon it.”

“We’re just supposed to ship you off about the country with people we don’t know then?” My mother sat up and raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know about that.”

“Charlotte’s mother is a muggle born- er- she came from a normal family, like me,” I cringed internally at my use of the world normal. I found my new life normal. However my parent’s idea of normalcy was far different from mine, and I wanted them to feel as comfortable as possible about me going. “She said she would phone you to make sure it was alright, if I’ll just send our telephone number to her through Owl Post.”

My father chuckled again, “And just how do we do that? The postman would laugh at us.”

“Charlotte’s sent an owl with her note. It’s up in my room.” I said, trying to say it as casually as I possibly could.

“An owl? In your room?” My mother croaked and leapt to her feet. Letting the wool blanket that had covered her lap fall to the floor. She had hated birds since the time on summer holiday in France when I was eight, when she’d lost a battle over her fish sandwich to a flock of no less than thirty seagulls.

“Estoria,” my dad said firmly. My mother’s head snapped towards him and for a moment anger flared behind her stark hazel eyes. As quickly as it came though, it was gone. She seemed to physically try to push the thought aside and sit back down on the sofa.

My dad had always been a little more excited about the idea that I had been born a witch than my mother. He tried to look past the bizarre nature of the things that I told him about the magical world, and see the excitement that I saw in it. My mother on the other hand feared what my new future meant. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her, but I didn’t see a future where they could be included in my world any more than the occasional holiday visit. If my father could read my mind, maybe he would be fearful too.

My father tore me from this thought and prompted me, “Tell us more about this Addison, we want to understand.”

“Well,” I started, “I don’t know a lot of the details. However, I can just send our phone number back with the owl upstairs, and I’m sure the Abbot’s would phone sometime tomorrow. They just live in Godric’s Hollow.”

“Well I think it’s safe to say,” my father looked cautiously at my mother, “that until we do have more details, we can say maybe. When your mother speaks with Mrs. Abbott tomorrow, then we can make a better decision. I know you’re rather fond of this er- Quidditch sport.” He tried to smile at me. My mother on the other hand looked incredibly uncomfortable.

“Mum,” I spoke directly to her, “Mrs. Abbott was raised in a non-magical family. It will be easy to talk to her. You really don’t have anything to worry about.”

She contemplated this for a moment and then answered softly, “I’ll speak with her about it,” and after a moment more, “but that’s all that I’ll promise.”

I let out a small squeal, thanked them, and then left the two of them whispering to each other in the sitting room. I scrambled back up the stairs to my bedroom to write my reply to Charlie. In it I told her that I hoped her Mum had a plan for talking my muggle parents into letting me go off into the wizarding world before the term began at school.

When my Hogwarts letter had first arrived, accompanied by the magnificently white bearded headmaster in purple wizard’s robes, Albus Dumbledore, my mother had thought I was trying to play some kind of prank on them. Despite my insistence that I had never seen such a letter before and would have no ability to contact this person to pull such a prank, my mother almost shut the front door in his face. However, he peered over his half-moon spectacles just before my mother had had enough, winked at me, and pulled out his wand. After a few minor magical demonstrations, my parents, half scared out of their minds, allowed him to come in and present his case.

Following what seemed like hours of conversations that both included me and required my absence, my father seemed fairly convinced. After Professor Dumbledore left, my dad spent days convincing my mother that they should be proud to have a child who possesses such rare (by their standards) abilities. Once my father had it in his mind, that a school to help me focus and control my magical abilities would be the safest place for me, my mother didn’t stand a chance.

There were a few days where my mother wept. My father told me that she was grieving the future she had always envisioned for me, but I couldn’t understand why. To an eleven year old, finding out you’re a witch, on top of finding out you never have to take math again, is a reason to celebrate, not to mourn. Nonetheless, my parents loaded me into the car the following September 1st and dropped me off at Kings Cross Station. From that point forward there was no regular world and magical world; there was just my world, and theirs.

~

The following Sunday evening, I had my school trunk packed, my broomstick by the door, and was stashing my wand inside the soft lavender robes I had chosen for the occasion. Mrs. Abbott had phoned my mother the previous day and convinced her to not only let me attend the World Cup, but also stay in Diagon Alley with them until the start of term at Hogwarts. I’m still not quite sure how she did it, but I wondered if Mrs. Abbott had been a little more relatable than my mother had expected, because I heard them laughing and chatting on the phone for nearly two hours.

By the time they hung up, you’d think she was excited for a wizarding family of four to show up on her doorstep. The day of their arrival, she fussed about, straightening and then re-straightening everything from throw pillows to the portraits on the wall. She scrubbed our little white kitchen until the sun bounced through the large window over the sink and off of the grey tiled floor.

About a half hour before the Abbotts were set to arrive, my father called me into the parlor where he and my mother sat enjoying their afternoon tea. I sat on a small seat across the table from them. Mum was wearing her favorite floral summer dress and had her hair in a long braid down her back. Dad looked dashing, but no more so than a work day. He wore suits into the office during the week, but on the weekends he could usually be found in his usual jumper and slacks combo.

Mum sat her teacup back onto her saucer and pursed her lips. I looked between her and my father.

“What is it?” I wondered aloud.

“Well,” my mother began, and I detected a note of sadness in her voice. A stark contrast to the excitement I’d felt radiating from her that afternoon, “this is the first year we won’t be taking you to King’s Cross to catch your train. You’re fifteen now, and you’ve become quite the exceptional young woman.” Her voice caught on the last few words.

“I think what your Mum is trying to say,” my father interjected, sensing that my mother was on the edge of tears, “is that we want you to understand the great deal of trust we’re instilling in you to let you do this. We also wanted to go ahead and give you some money for you to exchange at the er- bank.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small sealed envelope. “Now please, don’t go spending it all in one place. There’s a little extra in here for you to spend at the match. I won’t expect you’ll get a chance to exchange it beforehand, but please be sure to pay the Abbott’s back for anything they spend on you while you’re there, d’you understand?”

I stood and reached to take the envelope from him and he pulled me into a tight hug. After a moment, I felt my mother embrace me from the other side, and I pulled an arm loose from my father to wrap it around her. I could sense her silent tears as she kissed the top of my head. I wondered if she was mourning my would-have-been future again. I felt a pang of guilt at the thought of leaving them two weeks earlier than usual. I wouldn’t see them or hear their voices again until the Christmas holiday. Tears began filling my own eyes.

“It’s alright Mum, I’ll write to you. The normal way, just like always,” I whispered as I turned to wrap both of my arms around her.

“It just isn’t fair!” She exclaimed, sobbing into my shoulder. “You’re never home! Sometimes it feels like I don’t even have a daughter anymore.”

I recoiled from her at the same time that my father hissed, “Estoria! We talked about this!”

“It isn’t right Felix!” My mother wailed, turning to leave the room, “I shouldn’t have to send my baby out into a world I know nothing about!”

I watched her go silently as tears slipped down my cheeks. My father turned to me with pleading eyes.

“Addison, please don’t be upset, you know how hard this is for her,” he said quietly. He crossed the few feet separating us and wrapped me into his arms again. My father always felt so strong. As a young girl, I ran to him when I was scared. The day I left for Hogwarts, I was bursting with excitement, but deep in the pit of my stomach was the incredible weight of fear. Fear of going out into the unknown. Fear of leaving the only family I had ever known for months. I had turned to my father, and tried to be strong, but when I saw their worried expressions, I immediately crumbled. My mother had been moments away from taking me home right then, but my father knelt down, wrapped me in one of his hugs, and I felt his strength flow into me.

“I am so proud of you,” he had whispered to me that day, but the memory blended with the present, and I realized he was repeating those words to me now.

“She’s right though,” I sighed. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t belong here anymore.”

My father pulled back and held me at arm’s length, “Addison Page Morris, you will always,” he emphasized the word, “belong here. You are my daughter. No matter what direction life takes you, you will always be able to call my house, home.”

I nodded quickly and wiped my face on the sleeve of my robe. Surely, the Abbotts would be arriving any moment, and I didn’t want any evidence of our meltdown to be visible.

“I’ll go talk to your mother,” he said, “you just make sure you’ve got everything and have your trunk down by the front door.”

I moved on what felt like autopilot as I struggled to bring my belongings down to the front door. As much as I wanted to be excited about the prospect of being at the world cup in less than twenty-four hours’ time, I couldn’t bring myself to swallow the lump forming in my throat. Perhaps I shouldn’t stay in Diagon Alley with the Abbotts until September first. It wasn’t too far away from home. I could have my parents pick me up in front of the Leaky Cauldron, the wizard pub that stood as the gateway to the wizarding area.

I paused at the top of the stairs with my broomstick in hand and sighed. I didn’t want to come spend additional time in this home that felt so foreign to me now. Besides, there was no telling how long the match would go on. I’d heard of World Cups in the past that lasted days, and they had to keep bringing in alternates to let the players sleep. I would just have to set aside the guilt that came with leaving my family. The same way I did every year, just a couple weeks early this time. This time tomorrow, when I would be surrounded by wizards and fellow quidditch fans, my guilt would be far away.

A few minutes later, my mother and father had roused my younger brother out of his room, despite protest. James always seemed less than impressed with anything that had to do with me or magic. At 12 years old now, James had failed to receive his Hogwarts letter last summer. I always thought he had convinced himself that if I was a witch, he must have magical abilities too. He tried not to show his disappointment as his eleventh summer came and went, but his immediate attitude change toward me in general indicated otherwise.

He hovered in the doorway as my parents and I sat in the parlor waiting for the Abbotts. I hadn’t considered how they would come to collect me until now. I amused myself by entertaining the idea for a split second that they might have access to a car. There were many modes of wizarding transportation, brooms, traveling by fire through the Floo Network, but cars were hardly one of them. The only time I had heard of a Wizard family having a car was when I learned that two third year boys, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, had crashed a flying one into the Whomping Willow that resided on the school grounds after they’d missed the Hogwarts Express the previous year. You’d think that crashing a car into a decades old tree that could kill you with one swing would have warranted some kind of severe punishment, it didn’t. Harry Potter, sometimes better known as The Boy Who Lived, was something of an icon in the wizarding community. In the last war, that took place when I was a blissfully unaware muggle toddler, had abruptly ended when He Who Must Not Be Named had cast a curse at infant Potter that rebounded and seemed to kill the Dark Lord.

No one in the wizarding community dared speak his name, but I never quite understood it. Out of respect for my peers, the name never crossed my lips either, I was sure I couldn’t fathom the pain and destruction that accompanied his reign. Harry however had been launched into stardom. I watched the way whispers followed him in the corridors of the castle, and pitied him. I had heard from Ginny Weasley, Ron’s younger sister that Harry had been raised by his muggle relatives, and was as new to this world as I was. I wondered if Harry ever felt like he didn’t quite belong in either world, like I did.

An earsplitting CRACK from just outside the front door interrupted my train of thought. Bringing me around to another mode of wizarding transportation, Apparition. When I first heard about people Apparating, my first thought was the teleportation I had seen in old sci-fi movies like Star Trek. Once a wizard took and passed their Apparition test, they could legally Apparate from any location almost instantaneously to another. I had never done it, but I had heard from the older students at Hogwarts that it was incredibly difficult and sometimes painful. If it was done incorrectly, you risked leaving bits of yourself behind in a horrible phenomenon called splinching. I never expected them to arrive this way, Charlie didn’t know how to Apparate, and surely they brought her with them.

The doorbell rang, and my mother’s excitement returned. She jumped up, smoothing her dress and straightening the sofa cushions she had just been sitting on. She crossed to the front door and wrenched it open with a huge smile on her face.

“Mr. and Mrs. Abbott! Hello, welcome to our home!” She beamed at them, and stood aside to let them in.

“Hello,” Mr. Abbott gripped my mother’s hand enthusiastically and pumped it up and down, “Please, call me Ted and this is my wife Susan. You must be Mrs. Morris. Your daughter is a spitting image of you.” Mr. Abbott was a short stout man with a mustache that seemed to take up a great portion of his face. It was grey, like his hair, and a smile protruded beneath it. His wife was several inches taller than he was, and wore a soft warm expression. I had a hard time imagining how they ended up together.

“Please, I’m Estoria and this is my husband Felix. We’re very pleased to meet you. Addison doesn’t bring people around to meet us very often.” She shot me a sideways glance and I felt the heat rise into my cheeks as I flushed a deep red. It wasn’t that I didn’t want my parents to meet the people in my life, I just couldn’t imagine a gaggle of wizards sitting around having tea in our parlor with my Muggle family.

Mr. and Mrs. Abbott filed in the front door, followed by Charlie. She grinned at me when our eyes met, and my rush of excitement had returned as well. Charlie was shorter than I was, and her blonde hair was pinned back neatly away from her face and cascaded down her shoulders. Her emerald green robes complimented the green eyes that Charlie and her younger sister Hannah had both inherited from their mother.

“Hey Addie,” she said to me as she rushed forward and hugged me. I hadn’t seen any of my friends since last June at the end of term. I squeezed her tightly, noting that she had gotten a bit taller over the summer holidays. “Ready to watch Bulgaria get annihilated tomorrow night?” She teased.

“You wish!” I giggled and shoved her away playfully.

“Charlotte, you didn’t mention Addison was a Bulgaria fan, we may have rescinded our invitation,” said Mr. Abbott through a chuckle.

My mother looked wildly uncomfortable with the talk of a sport she knew nothing about. Mrs. Abbott must have picked up on it because she leaned towards her and said, “Wizards and their quidditch huh? I’ve never really understood the appeal myself.” Her attempt to distance herself from the magical community for my mother’s sake must have worked, because she relaxed immediately and smiled.

“Men and children in general possess an affinity for sports that I will never understand,” said my mother.

“Please, won’t you all sit down?” Offered my father, whom I had just noticed keeping James from retreating back to his bedroom with an arm clamped around his shoulders.

“Oh that’s quite alright,” said Mr. Abbott, “we really are on a bit of a tight schedule and we’ve left our younger daughter at home alone. I just wanted to assure you we will take utmost care of your daughter and will make sure to see all the children off on their train in a couple of weeks.”

“But she hasn’t received her school letter yet,” my Mum suddenly remembered, probably scrambling for a last minute reason to keep me home, “How will we get it to her to buy her books?”

“I’ve already written to Minerva to tell her Addison will be attending the cup and staying the rest of the holiday with us. I am certain they will deliver her letter to us in Diagon Alley, not much gets by them at Hogwarts,” Mrs. Abbott assured her.

My mother looked slightly disappointed in the flaw in her plea to see me again before the term starts. Relief quickly overshadowed the disappointment as I knew she would always rather me be prepared for what’s ahead; wizarding school included.

“Well then,” she conceded, “I suppose you’re all set.” She reached over and squeezed my shoulder. I smiled excitedly at her, and pulled her into another hug. Our exchange of emotion filled words from just a bit ago was all but forgotten between the two of us. I loved my mother very much, and as much as it hurt me to see her so heartbroken by what I am, I would always feel at home in her arms.

“I’ll write to you both,” I promised both of my parents. Another round of hugs and goodbyes was necessary before we could finally make it out the door. On the front stoop with the door closed firmly behind the Abbotts and I, was when I remembered the loud crack that had accompanied the Abbott’s arrival.

“Are we Apparating?” I whispered nervously to Charlie out of the corner of my mouth.

She grinned and nodded, “Don’t worry, it’s sort of exhilarating.”

“But I don’t know how!” I insisted quietly, not wanting to look silly in front of her parents. Mr. Abbott must have heard me though, because he turned around and beamed at me from beneath his mustache.

“Don’t you worry my dear girl, you and Charlie are much too young to Apparate on your own. We will be taking you with us by sidealong Apparation!” Before I even had a chance to ask about this, Mrs. Abbott had seized my left arm and was telling me to close my eyes. I frantically looked around for Charlie and saw that Mr. Abbott was taking the same position on her right. She squeezed her eyes shut and I did the same, just in time.

I felt Mrs. Abbott twist away from me, only to clamp down harder on my arm. I felt like I had been submerged so deeply in the ocean that there was an intense pressure from all sides. The feeling was similar to what I would imagine squeezing my whole body through a small metal tube would be like. I couldn’t breathe, my lungs struggled against the squeezing grip that a fist seemed to have around them. Just as I thought my eardrums may burst from the pressure, everything was still and I gasped in lungfulls of air.

Mr. Abbott’s voice prompted me to open my eyes and realize we were no longer in London. We were standing in the warm afternoon sunshine in the square of a quaint little village that seemed worlds away from home.

“Welcome to Godric’s Hollow.”

[huffle-dork]

Heterochromiacs: The Chromies Go Shopping!

(This is a fun lighthearted chapter of the new trio trying to help Kenna find new clothes to wear! Enjoy the fluff- it’s gonna get a bit heavier after this jghgh)

Chapter 1

Drew grins before giving Kenna a mock salute. “Ay ay Captain!” They follow after Darcio pushing the cart with ease, despite the new added weight.

Entering the shoe aisles Darcio gestures grandly around. "So you can buy anything here just direct Drew where to go."

Kenna stares dumbfounded at all the shoes, her eyes sparkling, “I... I don’t even know where to begin!” She does seem drawn to the smaller but wide boots farther down the aisle.

Drew looks towards Kenna’s gaze, following its trajectory. Not all the way near the back, but... Drew pushes the cart down the aisle, making sure not to hit Darcio. They keep pushing, not stopping their pace. “Let me know when you see something.”

They pass by the kids and sparkly shoes which Darcio sees a pair of highlaced boots with way too many buckles and swipes off the shelf on his way by.

Kenna watches the shelves with careful interest until perking up, almost tipping the cart over, “There!!!” She sees a pair of brown large buckled boots that look roomy and comfortable, but durable and easy to walk in. It’s like- the exact opposite of the dainty shoes she was forced to wear at the circus, if she could wear any. She bounces with glee, “I want those ones!!”

Drew brings the cart to a halt, adding a screeeeeeech! sound effect. They bend down and pull up the boots Kenna points out and looks them over. She’s got good taste if she wants these to last long, Drew thinks adding a quick glance to their combat boots. “Nice pick!”

"Not bad kiddo. Those will look both fashionable and be durable." Darcio looks around and adds a few more things to the cart. "Can never have enough shoes." They tell Kenna.

Kenna giggles as she takes the boots from a Drew, looking them over herself. She then beams and hugs them. Finally- she thinks... she thinks this is the first thing she owns that is just hers-

Drew is honestly taken a little aback by Kenna’s reaction, but their brain puts together the pieces rather quickly. The excited reaction, how she wanted these for herself, the fact she didn’t even really know what shopping was... “You sticking with those?” Drew asks, before taking a look at Darcio’s picks in the cart. Oh my Heavens.

Darcio grins up at Drew already knowing what they're thinking. A mischievous thought comes to them and they turn to Kenna. "Well since I picked out shoes and you now have your own shoes Drew should get some shoes too right?"

Kenna blinks out of her thoughts then looks back to the others, “Oh uh- I mean! If they want to, sure!”

Drew waves their hand in a dismissive manner before shooting Darcio a look. “No no it’s okay. My shoes are still in working order!” Drew slings their boot up near the cart, showing it off. Midnight green in color, tough material, all around very strong combat boots. “Plus, the person who gave me these means a lot to me. A good way to remember em.” Drew adds with a smile.

Darcio stuck their tongue out slightly before gesturing. "Well let's head on."

Kenna blinks in confusion, “More than shoes?”

Drew nods. “Mm-hm. Surely you would want something better to wear than that?” Drew gestures to the outfit she’s wearing from the hospital. “Something that fits, well, you!”

"We also need to get you other necessities. Like toiletries and a phone." Darcio looks up at the signs to determine which was closer. "Clothes are to the left if we want to head that way."

Kenna looks a little overwhelmed and hunkers down in the cart but her eyes sparkle in excitement, “More clothes? A phone?? ...Wow…”

“Alright, let’s head that way.” Drew says as they push the cart down the aisle and swings a left. Drew keeps a visible eye out to see where the clothes are while flashing glances back to Kenna and Darcio. “Yep!” Drew comments to Kenna. “You’ll have more of your own stuff now.”

"I think I see it-is that a petticoat?" Darcio blinks in confusion at the rack of pioneer like clothing. "I didn't know society was regressing this badly...Let's just...head on..."

Kenna is staring at all the different color clothes and styles in wonder and awe. She doesn’t even know where to start! There’s so much- she’s only ever been given clothes, she’s never been able to choose them on her own before.

Drew lets out a laugh at Darcio’s comment. “Hey whatever works in this day and age I guess.” Drew looks in Darcio’s line of sight and winces. “Oooh, oh yeah no.” Drew looks back towards the clothes and slows down a bit. “Kenna do you have a favorite color? We can work from there if you want. Or maybe Darcio can think up something.”

Darcio was already edging closer to the clothes. "I think in this instance we should go more by style than color. Less overwhelming in the long run." Darcio suggested.

Kenna laughs and shrinks down in the cart, “I-I dunno?? I... I’ve never really gotten to pick anything before? ...I want pants-”

“Pants?” Drew looks carefully through the aisles that the store has, and once they see some they dash down it, going not terribly fast cause, well, there’s a Heterochromiac in the cart. “Alright we got a lot of options here. Colors, sizes, shapes, uhhhhh...” Drew flatlines and a look of guilt comes across them. ‘I don’t really know clothing stuff oH NO.’

"We've got cargo, crew, straight cut, straight, wide, flare, skinny, bell bottoms, cropped." Darcio began listing all the pant types while flicking through the nearest rack. "Just start looking pumpkin and I'm sure you'll find something."

Kenna looks overwhelmed by the listening of the names but then nods at Darcio’s last statement. She finally climbs out of the cart, jumping out gracefully and looking at all of the pants curiously. Finally she finds a soft looking pair of green pants that are bunched at the bottom and her eyes sparkle. “I think I like these! They look comfy!”

Drew silently praises and thanks Darcio for their knowledge on this stuff. They take a closer look at the pants and grabs them carefully, looking them over. They could definitely work, considering the boots she bought. “Whatcha thinking Darcio?”

"They're a good match." Darcio looks it over with a critical eye. "You've got a good eye. Might want to grab a few pairs though."

“Oh!” Kenna looks at the racks and sees a couple matching pairs, some in the same color and some in light blue! She grins and grabs a huge armful, at least 4 pairs and walks back over with a big grin. “Like this Darcio??”

Drew looks and watches Kenna carry all the pairs over, but her big grin makes them chuckle.

"Just like that!" Darcio praises. He grins at Kenna as he flips through some nearby pants. "We'll have you stylish in no time."

Kenna smiles real wide and dumps her new finds in the cart. “You really think so?”

Drew nods. “Of course! You’ll look super awesome.” ’As long as she’s taking Darcio’s advice and not mine.’

"You'll be a star!" Darcio winks at Kenna and flicks their finger. "Just gotta pick out some shirts now."

Kenna blushes and giggles, pushing her matted hair behind her ear. She starts to look around at the other stuff then her eyes light up and she gasps slightly. She runs over and then points excitedly at a display. It’s a red and blue dress with cold open shoulders and big open skirt. A red loose hoodie lines the neck. “Oh!! What about this?”

Drew brings the cart over before stepping out from it and looking at it closely. They look to and from Kenna and the dress-hood. Loose, comforting... It surely fits what she’s picked so far. “I like it! How about you Darcio?”

"I think you might have the perfect eye for fashion pumpkin." Darcio says gravely. A big grin splits his face. "Go grab it. If it's what you want, you should have it."

Kenna smiles giddily and quickly tries to find the dress amongst the other stuff and squeals when she finds it, skipping back to the others. “I got it!!!”

Drew covers their face with their hand, a huge grin trying to peek through. They swear their cheeks are starting to hurt. When was the last time they smiled this much? “That’s great they still have it in stock!” Drew comments after removing their hand.

Darcio holds their hand out for a high five as they grin happily at Kenna. "Good job!"

Kenna looks a bit confused and stares at Darcio’s hand. She looks at hers then gently slaps her hand against his.

Drew stares at the high five and specifically Kenna’s reaction. Their heart twists a bit but god dang if it isn’t cute too. “That’s a high five Kenna, it’s a way to celebrate something with other people!”

"Yeah it's fun too." Darcio looked around and his eyes lit up as he saw something nearby. "And actually another way we celebrate is by documenting the journey." He swiftly strode over and grabbed a camera off an endcap. "By taking pictures!"

Kenna tilts her head to the side pictures? Then she perks up. “Oh! They sometimes had posters around the circus! Are those like pictures?”

“In a way! Pictures tend to be more of real things taken by a camera, which is what Darcio grabbed. Posters can be made by people, such as drawing on them with paints, pens, or even on things like technology.” Drew then stops their thoughts. Circus. ... Drew needs to talk to Darcio about this later.

Darcio tosses the camera from hand to hand as Drew explains. "They take a shot of the moment that you can keep forever and look back on." Darcio smiles at Kenna.

“Woahhhh!” Kenna says in awe looking at the camera. “I didn’t know things can do that!”

Drew ruffles Kenna’s hair. “Kenna just wait till we get you your phone. You think this is impressive? Wait till that.”

"We'll have to get her one of the fire proof ones." Darcio tapped his chin and pursed his lips as he thought.

Kenna giggles then hears Darcio and frowns slightly- thoughtfully rubbing against her neck bandages. ”... Ah... Right-”

“Hey hey hey.” Drew says and bends their knees a bit to look at Kenna eye level. “No need to think about that, okay?” Drew carefully and gently takes Kenna’s hands and moves them, holding them in their own. “You’re here now, okay? And we’ll help you all the way.” Drew pauses and looks at their hands, before looking back up. “But for now, let’s get you the rest you need okay? And celebrate, cause you took a step forward to your better future!”

"This is always a cause for celebration but I don't think you're ready for a full on party yet." Darcio smirked. "Maybe in a few days we can go to a nice restaurant but for now let's get you everything you need because you're here and you're amazing with how strong you are."

Kenna flushes and hides her face slightly in her shirt, “You guys are really too nice to me…”

Drew gently squeezes her hands before letting go and standing back up, putting their hands on their hips and grinning. “You deserve this kindness though! You honestly look like you’ve been through a lot, and while I won’t ask about it here, I can only imagine.” Drew turns to Darcio. “That nice restaurant sounds great by the way, like that idea.”

"Who can resist the call of a nice restaurant. With candles! And pasta!" Darcio's hand movements became larger and grander and it looked like the camera would go sailing soon. "One of the ones where they have a live jazz band playing softly in the background!"

Kenna looks surprised but excited, “Oh! No one’s ever taken me to a restaurant before! And what’s jazz!? It sounds cool!”

“Jazz is a type of music! In the music area it can be looked upon as kind of boring but it can really swing up and be super exciting to listen to. Not my overall favorite genre but it’s up there.” Drew explains as they adjust the cart.

Kenna’s eyes are so bright and she claps, “I’d love to listen to new music! That’s so rare for me!” She spins in place for a second, a great big grin on her face. “This place is so fantastic! There’s so many things to do and things to see and I know this isn’t even everything yet! So much more than back there-!”

Drew lets Kenna mention the little bits of her background, but enjoying her excitement. “Just wait till we have you all prepared and ready and we can explore more of the safe zone! You’ll love it so much.”

Kenna squeals and beams at Drew, her eyes even a bit misty. “This is... just a dream come true-”

"Well then onward to adventure!" Darcio crows while pointing forward towards a wall. A few employees nearby fondly shake their heads, used to Darcio bringing in others.

Drew watches Darcio point, and slowly brings a hand to their face. “We- We still have to pay for this first right?”

Kenna blinks and watches the two and looks down at all their goodies so far. “Can we pay for all this?”

Darcio whips out a gold credit card with a crooked grin. "Trust me. We can pay."

Drew stares at the credit card and a look of confusion crosses their face. “... Since when did you get rich???”

Kenna blinks more in confusion then leans in and whispers, “Are you a thief Darcio??”

Darcio blinks in confusion before buckling over in hysterical laughter so hard he can't breathe. "D-Drew! Kenna! It's my Mama's!" He wheezes before remembering Kenna's whispered question and breaks down again. "I have a semi steady income but I am by no means rich. Mama though works at a big name bank plus my family gets monthly payments for fostering and adopting orphans."

It doesn’t hit Drew until after Darcio finishes, and when it does it feels like a train hits them. “Oh my Heavens- of course it’s your Mom’s.” Drew grabs the cart and starts slowly pushing it towards the register, feeling like a complete idiot.

Kenna still looks confused by all these terms she doesn’t quite understand but she follows after Drew and giggles in a confused manner, “Oh- okay!”

Darcio winks at Kenna. "My Mama is paying today so don't worry Kenna. No thieving today." He pats Drew on the shoulder while trying to stifle random giggles as they approach a register.

Drew pushes it up and starts handing some of the items to the person behind the register and looks back to the other two. “I hope you don’t thieve period Darcio.” Drew says. “You too Kenna.” They add quickly.

Kenna blinks innocently and cocks her head, “I don’t think I’ve ever thieved! ....Thieving is bad right?”

Darcio gives Drew a look that missed innocent by a universe. "I would never Drew. Cross my heart and hope you never find out."

Drew gives Darcio a punch across his arm then crosses their own and looks at Kenna. “It is very bad, don’t do it. Even when I was a street-teen I never stole.”

Kenna giggles at Darcio until Drew hits him and looks down at her. Then she fidgets slightly, and plays with her hair, “-Oh- I... didn’t know.”

"It's ok Kenna. You know now." Darcio knocks his shoulder into Drew's before paying for Kenna's items and handing her the bag. "And you now have your own stuff!"

“Mm-hm.” Drew looks around the store before returning their gaze to the two of them, giving Darcio a quick glare. “Do you wanna change first before going on Kenna?”

“Oh I don’t wanna slow us down...” Kenna mumbles, now fidgeting with the bag straps. “It sounds like we still got a lot to do right?”

Darcio brushes a hand lightly through Kenna's hair with the experience of a sibling who's done it countless times. "We have time darling."

“Considering we’re in a safe zone too, yeah definitely.” Drew adds. “You wanna go hunting for a dressing room then?”

Kenna blushes and ducks down her head but eventually she nods shyly, holding the bag against her chest.

"That a way!" Darcio points before his expression blanks when he sees a sign saying Restrooms. He turns and points in the right direction. "I mean that way!"

“Darcio that’s my job to get directions mixed up.” Drew states before pushing the cart back to entrance, then making their way to the changing room.

Kenna giggles. “I’m so glad you guys are showing me around-” She quips with another innocent giggle.

"Soon enough we-" Darcio looks at Drew and away. "-I mean I will have you knowing every nook and cranny of the safe zone!"

“I will have you know I do know where stuff is! Just have trouble getting to it...” Drew admits quietly.

Kenna giggles again and pats Drew on the shoulder, “It’s okay, I don’t know where anything is!” When they get to the dressing rooms Kenna sprints over and finds any empty room and quickly goes in to change. After a few minutes her head pops out of the curtains shyly then she comes out in her new outfit and boots- gripping at the big poofy skirt and shyly looking at her tapping boots on the ground. “Um... does it look okay...?"

"You look amazing Kenna!!" Darcio gushed. He clapped his hands together excitedly as he looked Kenna up and down. "It suits you so much!"

Drew covers their mouth, but glee exudes from their visible eye. Well, at least, sympathetic glee. They look down to their side. ‘If only you were here to experience this with me.’ Drew looks back to Kenna, and without much thought runs over and gives Kenna a hug. “You look great Kenna, don’t doubt yourself for a second.”

Kenna’s face turns bright red and she short circuits for a second from the unexpected hug. But then she returns it and laughs, looking beyond happy and trying not to cry- “O-Okay-! Okay...”

Darcio let's a hand fall on Kenna's head to ruffle her hair. "Happiness looks good on you darling."

Drew lets go and let’s out a breath of relief. Drew smiles and stands back up, and puts their hands on their hips. “Let's add some more happiness, whaddya say Darcio?”

Kenna blinks as Drew lets go and cocks her head. Did she forget what they were doing next? ...Wouldn’t be out of character- she tends to forget stuff pretty easily- but she bounces on her toes excitedly, happy that with her feet bandages and in these boots she can hardly feel the pain anymore! “Oh what?!”

"Food of course! You always get food while shopping. And then..." Darcio grimaces. "The registration office's...."

“Oh Heavens I forgot about that.” Drew adds with a groan. “Yeah definitely food first. I can try and sneak off to get Kenna a phone later.” Drew reaches out a hand to Kenna for her to grab. “You wanna hold on or get another piggyback ride?”

Kenna’s shoulders get stiff at the mention of registration- and she gets a slight panicked look in her eyes, “Wait- registration...?” Her breathing starts to pick up. “No- no-! T-They could find me that way! They can’t know I’m here!!”

"Kenna even if they don't already know you're here they still wouldn't be able to do anything. This is the safe zone. They cant touch anyone in here." Darcio says with a small pained smile.

Drew grows a concerned look in their eye and stores Kenna’s words in their mind. “Yeah, I’m registered here last I checked. No bad guys have came after me.” ’Trust me, they would’ve by this point if that was the case.’ Drew adds mentally.

Kenna shakes her head and holds her hands against her chest. “I-I- t-they can do anything-” she whispers in fear. “They can go anywhere- they’ll find me!”

"Then they'll have to get through me then Kenna." Darcio declares. "If they want you it'll be through me."

“Yeah! I’ve tussled with enough officials in the past couple of years, they never stopped me. With us around, pffft! They won’t have a chance.” Drew comments.

Kenna still looks uneasy and scared. “...You two still barely know me... You- you don’t know who you’re trying to fight against... I barely know who I’m running from- I... I just know they’re powerful…” She hugs her arms and looks down at the floor, trying not to shake. On her hand, there’s a symbol that the others might recognize. The symbol of the bureau, branded and scarred against her deep tan skin.

"I've taken on a man who thought he was the new coming of the apocalypse and I'll take on anyone else who tries to get you." Darcio says stubbornly.

“Listen Kenna I barely may know who you are, but based on what I’ve heard you say you’re someone who managed to flee from people who are like the ones who tore my family apart and the ones I face when I go to free camps. They’re clearly an enemy to you so I’ll gladly help in defeating them. You don’t deserve to be hurt, no one +deserves to be hurt by them any more.” Drew spits. “I hate what humans have done to us Heterochromiacs. And if they think they can land a finger on you they’ll be dealing with us first and last.”

Kenna’s gaze is still on the ground, her fingers reaching to try to scratch at her bandages- but then her eyes harden and she nods, looking up at them. “...Alright... Okay...” She closes her eyes and sighs, taking a deep breath then gives them a tight smile. “Thanks guys...”

"The paperwork for killing a bunch of humans would be horrendous but anything for you darling." Darcio brushed imaginary dust off his skirt.

“As cruel as my attitude is towards them are I’m on a moral oath not to kill, so Darcio can do that part if he wishes. I’ll blind em though if they deserve it.” Drew adds with a wink. “And it’s no problem Kenna, again you’re like us. We stick together, trust us, you'll be safe.”

Kenna nods again. “I... I trust you...” She wipes a bit at her eyes then smiles widely, like nothing just happened- “Now, we were talking food?”

[starship-squidlet]

As You Like It: Chapter One

Story Summary: Modern/Theatre!AU. Jack Kelly and Crutchie Morris finally make it to Santa Fe, where they find employment at the World Theatre. There they meet a diverse cast of characters who rapidly become friends and family, making Santa Fe into the home they've always longed for.

Chapter Summary: Jack and Crutchie arrive at the World, where they meet the rest of the crew.

Word count: 4,058

Warnings: none (a few swear words I guess tho?)

A/N: Hey, y'all! So, I'mma say it now: 75% of the reason I wrote this story was for catharsis. It's absolutely based off of my current job in a theatre, as well as past jobs in other theatres, and I miss my job SO MUCH as we've been laid off for 6 months now thanks to COVID, and won't be back before January at the earliest. I miss my job and all the people I work with, so I decided to write a story about it, and projected it onto my current obsession: Newsies. Is Elaine a self-insert? Pretty much. Are the characters of most of the boys more based on the guys I work with than their actual depictions in media? Generally. But this was a lot of fun to write, and made me feel better about life. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Disclaimer: I don’t own Newsies or any of the characters you may recognize from it, but I do own this story, Elaine, Alden, Alan, etc. Cross-posting to ChocolatteKitty-Kat on AO3 and FFnet.

Tags: @the-cowbi

Next chapter: Chapter Two

“The World Theatre,” Jack murmured, squinting up at the metal sign shaped into the words, mounted over the door of the auspicious building. The World looked significantly newer than many of the other buildings they had passed on the drive in, but had also clearly been built in some kind of older or more traditional style than most of the other new buildings they had seen in the city.

“We finally made it.”

Jack glanced over at his passenger. His best friend and honorary little brother, Crutchie, was leaning forward as far as he could, straining against his seatbelt to take in as much of the huge building as possible. He didn’t spare a glance to Jack, focused entirely on the view in front of them. Jack smiled to himself and turned off the engine. “We sure did.”

“Come on, Jack,” Crutchie laughed. He leaned back far enough to unfasten his seatbelt and reached for his crutch and the door at the same time. “How long have you been wanting to move to Santa Fe for? And now that we’re here, I’d swear you want to go back to New York already.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I miss the pollution. Don’t go anywhere.” Jack grumbled as he undid his own seatbelt and clambered out of the van. The old-as-heck fifteen passenger had only cost him a few hundred dollars—to purchase. Repairs since then had totaled in the thousands, and Jack truly regretted not just spending more up front for a vehicle in better shape. Despite all odds, however, the piece of garbage had carried them both all the way across the country, and even loaned her converted back section—the first thing Jack had done was rip out all but one row of seats—as a temporary living space for the journey. The outside of the van had at some point somewhat recently been white, probably, but was now mottled with so many colors, between coats of paint, scrapes and scratches, and even a few rust patches and strips of duct tape—not to mention dried mud and more—, that Crutchie jokingly called its color “abstract art”. Somehow, this all seemed appropriate, though. Jack made his way around the van to open Crutchie’s door, and offered his arm up to his friend.

“Jack, I don’t need help,” Crutchie rolled his eyes. He slipped his right arm into his crutch and braced the other on the door before sliding off the seat to land on his left foot on the asphalt.

“Yeah, tell that to your arm and knees,” Jack eyed a nasty scrape along Crutchie’s forearm. “I don’t want you falling again. I don’t need that kind of stress in my life.”

Crutchie laughed and gave him a playful shove. “I fell one time. How many dozens of times have I gotten in and out of this car? And I fell once. It happens. It would probably happen even without this thing.” He waved his crutch to illustrate his point. “Anyways, the only reason I fell was because it was raining. The door was wet and my hand slipped. But, right now, it’s completely dry, so I’m perfectly safe.”

Jack rolled his eyes and shut the van door. “Sure. I get that. But I still worry.”

“Since when are you my mother?” Crutchie laughed, poking Jack lightly in the side, his eyes crinkling up as he beamed up at his friend. “Come on. We’ll be late.”

Jack rolled his eyes, locked the van door, and followed Crutchie up the low stairs to the door of the World. Inside, the air was cool, a blissful respite from the aggressive heat outside, and Jack paused a moment to take in the theatre lobby. To either side, wide staircases with more low-rise stairs wound up a full flight to small side balconies, then continued up another whole flight to a wide balcony that spanned almost the width of the room. In front of them was a long counter with a handful of people behind it, all in smart uniforms of white button-down shirts, blue ties that matched the theatre’s logo perfectly, and black vests.

“Good morning!” one of the uniformed clerks called. “Can I help you?”

“Hi,” Jack jogged up to the counter. “I’m Jack Kelly. That’s Charlie Morris. We’re supposed to start work here today. Uh, we’re supposed to see Hannah Martin?”

“You can have a seat over there, and I’ll call Hannah and let her know you’re here,” the clerk smiled cheerfully, pointing at an uncomfortable-looking couch by a wall to the left, underneath a sign with an arrow indicating the direction of a women’s restroom.

As Jack and Crutchie took their seats on the couch—which proved to be even more uncomfortable than it looked—the clerk picked up a phone and spoke quietly into the receiver. The lobby was quiet overall; the only sounds were the soft voices of the three clerks speaking into their headsets, clacking of keyboards as they typed, and the almost imperceptible whir of the air conditioning system far overhead, ever present behind the sounds of the clerks.

After a few moments of awkward silence on Jack and Crutchie’s part, a woman appeared at the top of the stairwell across the lobby from them. She made it halfway down before spotting them, then waved and smiled. “Jack and Charles? You can come on up.”

They stood up and headed for the base of the stairs, but a psst from one of the clerks caught their attention. “There’s an elevator under those stairs, if that’s easier.” He pointed to a small sign under the stairs the woman—presumably Hannah—was standing on.

“Nah, we’re fine,” Jack smiled.

“But thanks!” Crutchie called over his shoulder, already well on his way to the stairs, which he navigated easily, hopping up on his good foot, while Jack trailed along behind, constantly worried that Crutchie would land wrong and fall back down the stairs. Not that that had ever happened, of course, but Jack still worried. Hannah led them up the second flight, and through an unassuming door—labeled ‘offices’— off to the right, next to a small set of elevator doors. Inside, they smiled politely as they passed a middle-aged woman seated behind an impressive, L-shaped wooden desk. Hannah led them around a few small cubicles, constructed by low temporary walls, to a pair of folding tables surrounded by folding chairs.

“Sorry, the conference room is in use today, so we’ll have to use these,” Hannah chuckled a little too loud as she took a seat, gesturing for the boys to do the same. “Alright. I just have some final paperwork for you to sign, mostly about benefits and such.”

For the next few hours, Hannah walked them through quite a few different documents, mostly, as she had said, about insurance and benefits. She explained each document thoroughly before handing it to them, and answered any questions that they had before moving on to the next item. She split the completed papers into two stacks, which grew steadily as they went through each item. “Okay, I think that’s it!” she said finally, offering a bright smile. “These are for you”—she handed them each a blue-green folder—“Inside I have copies of our employee handbook and all of the documents you’ve just signed, for your records. Do you have any more questions?”

Both Jack and Crutchie shook their heads.

“Excellent!” Hannah smiled. “I’ll call backstage and have someone come up to walk you back. Or, actually…” She trailed off as a door, somewhere on the other side of the cubicles and unseen from where they were sitting, opened and a pair of loudly-chattering voices burst into the still quiet of the room. “Elaine?”

The voices quieted for a moment.

“Yeah?” a voice responded hesitantly.

“Can you come over here for a moment, please? We’re at the break tables.”

There were a few murmurs, one sounding suspiciously like good luck, before another door opened and closed, right around the same time a face popped around the cubicle corner that blocked the break tables off from the rest of the room. “Hi, Hannah,” the young woman to whom the face belonged chirped brightly, stepping fully out from behind the wall. She was small, with long, dark hair, and oversized green glasses.

“Hi, Elaine,” Hannah smiled warmly. “These are our two new hires for the crew. Would you mind taking them backstage with you?”

“Sure,” Elaine smiled. She waited as the boys stood up and headed towards her, then led them out of the offices. “Hi, I’m Elaine,” she turned to offer them a bright smile over her shoulder.

“I’m Jack Kelly, and this is Charlie Morris,” Jack replied, leaning around Crutchie to shake Elaine’s hand when she offered it.

“Wow, New York,” Elaine laughed. “Sorry, that probably came out wrong. I grew up in Boston and PA. It’s been a while since I heard a full-bodied New York accent on anyone around here. Well, besides Spot.”

“Spot?” Jack arched an eyebrow.

“Our house manager,” Elaine explained. “You’ll meet him sooner or later. Oh, do you want to take the elevator?”

“Stairs are fine,” Crutchie shook his head, already starting to hop down them. Jack hurried after him, even though he knew that his friend had an even easier time going down stairs than up them. Elaine bounced along behind them, her curly hair bobbing with each little hop down the steps.

“So, if you’re from the east coast, how did you get all the way out here to New Mexico?” Jack asked as they made their way down the double flights of stairs.

“I could ask you the same question,” Elaine teased. “My brothers are performers, and I used to be too. We moved around a lot for a few years, but decided to stick around Santa Fe, at least for a little while. We like it here.” She shrugged. “Your turn.”

“Jack’s always wanted to come to Santa Fe,” Crutchie said over his shoulder, hopping off the last step. “Never said why, though.”

“Yeah, well, I just kind of picked the furthest place I could think of at one point when I was a kid and promised myself that someday I’d get there,” Jack squirmed uncomfortably at the attention, and Elaine’s piercing gaze.

“Fair enough,” she shrugged. “Hey, Tommy, hey, Dutch!” she waved and grinned at two of the clerks behind the front desk. They waved back, and the one who had greeted Jack and Crutchie earlier offered them a second wave. Elaine led them through the spacious lobby, past a gift shop, located behind the front desk, and a concession stand, tucked into the wall by the theatre doors. She threw the double doors open dramatically, and the boys followed her into a small, unlit anteroom. The doors were about halfway closed when she flung open a second set of doors.

These doors opened into a wide room, full of arched rows of padded seats, with gently-sloped aisles leading down to a four-foot-high stage. “Welcome to the World Theatre of Santa Fe,” Elaine grinned, stretching out her arms and spinning as if to show off the huge room. “Seats about sixteen hundred; the booth for the sound and light ops is back there”—she pointed—“and, if you follow me, I’ll show you backstage.”

They trailed along behind Elaine as she made for the stage, then went up five steps built into the side of the stage, next to the wall. They walked through the side stage area, past a rail with several pegs with ropes tied to them. After that, they passed through a door, where they saw a small alcove with several washer and dryers set up in it—along with:

“What is that smell?” Jack nearly gagged.

“Oh, sorry, I forgot to warn you,” Elaine said breathlessly, already on the other side of the machines. “Something in the system backs up and, uh… yeah. That. Trust me, it’s worse when you’re the one standing there for the whole show.”

She led them up another long stairwell—Jack would have guessed it was a triple flight, if he wasn’t so winded by the top—and into a long hallway. “It’s technically lunchtime for crew, but I think I should take you to see Weisel first. I’m sure he’ll have something to say to you…” she trailed off, glancing down the hallway, then grabbed Crutchie by the arm and pulled him into a small, dark room off to the right, beckoning Jack to follow. “Just as a… heads up: Weisel’s a jerk. Like, obviously there’s at least one of those everywhere you go, but Weisel is his own special breed. He sucks, but he’s good at faking nice, so people tend not to notice, at least not straight off. Just don’t let him see if he gets to you. And he’ll probably be nice to start off with, anyways.”

She led them back into the hallway. “Okay. So that’s dressing room five. This is Spice’s office—don’t ever go in there unless you’re invited—and that’s the sewing room… men’s bathroom… cutting and receiving rooms for costumes, and Weisel and Medda’s offices.” She pointed out each room as they passed, stopping in front of the one she had named as Weisel’s office. “All that’s down that way is the rest of the dressing rooms. And that hallway leads to the green room and elevator.” She knocked on the door to Weisel’s office, opening it far enough to poke her head in when a response came. “I’ve got two new hires from Hannah, Mr. Weisel,” she said cheerfully. “And I need to clock out for lunch.”

“Oh, come in.”

“Cool. Mr. Weisel, this is Jack and Charlie.”

Elaine opened the door and slipped into an oversized computer chair, her fingers flying across the keys of the computer at the desk as she logged into it. The boys squeezed in behind her: the office was narrow, barely six or seven feet wide. The two “desks” were actually a wide counter built into the wall, two workspaces divided by a fancy copier, each with a desktop tower and monitor. At the back desk sat an older man, with salt-and-pepper hair—more salt than pepper—and a thoroughly displeased, unshaven face. He looked the two boys up and down, his face darkening further as he took in Crutchie; Jack instinctively wanted to step protectively in front of his friend, but couldn’t fit between Elaine’s chair and Crutchie to do so.

“Hannah said she hired two new crew boys for me,” Weisel turned back to his desk and took a bite of a sandwich, chewing slowly as he swiveled back to face the boys. “So, do either of you have any theatre experience?”

“No, not so much,” Jack said. “We just needed jobs because we were moving out here, and this is what was available. But I’ve done plenty of physical labor, and that’s what she said to expect, so I’m sure I’ll be able to sort it out quick enough. And she said something about… a spotlight operator or something for Charlie?”

“Yeah, yeah, the spot op position,” Weisel nodded, turning back to his sandwich. “Not sure what I’m going to do with him for builds.”

“Charlie, have you ever done any sewing?” Elaine piped up from the computer, where she was effectively trapped by Jack and Crutchie squashed behind her. “Wardrobe always needs help, and even if you haven’t, I don’t mind teaching. We never have enough hands to do all the little things, like buttons and hooks and name tags.”

“Alright, you can have him,” Weisel shrugged. “Next cue-to-cue they run, you can take him up to spot and teach him the follow spot.”

“Okay,” Elaine chirped. “Since it’s lunch now, do you want me to take Jack and Charlie downstairs and introduce them to everyone?”

“Sure, whatever,” Weisel waved his hand dismissively. “Jack, you come find me after lunch, and I’ll get you started. Elaine, you can take Charlie.”

The boys squeezed out of the little office and Elaine followed them. “I’ll show you downstairs, but I have to grab my lunch first. Do y’all have food?”

“Ah, no, we were gonna run out and grab something,” Jack said.

“Well, you don’t have much time for that right now,” Elaine said. “There may be a lot of places to eat around here, but it can easily take well over half an hour to get through them, plus driving back and forth, and we have less than forty-five minutes till we have to be back. But don’t worry, there’s some leftovers from the last concert in the fridge in the green room. Just follow me.”

Jack and Crutchie followed Elaine first to the sewing room, then to a large room, painted sage green, which she called the green room. “When we have concert tours in, we set up their catering in here. The upstairs staff usually eats in here on non-concert days, but Sarah—the other dresser—and I prefer to go downstairs and eat with the crew. Better company.” She opened the door to a tall, industrial-looking stainless steel refrigerator. “Here, there’s a bunch of stuff leftover from the concert the other day.” She produced a half-empty deli tray, along with some other food, and set it on one of the two long tables running through the center of the room, and grabbed some bread from a windowsill next to the fridge. “I know sandwiches aren’t much, but, hey, it’s free food. And way easier and faster than going out for lunch.”

The boys made their sandwiches in silence while Elaine microwaved her own lunch—“Quinoa with black beans, Ragu, and a little bit of cheese. It’s like spaghetti, but better!”

“It doesn’t smell better,” Crutchie wrinkled his nose.

“Yeah…” Elaine sighed, looking sadly into the container. “But I guess that’s the trade-off.”

Once they were done with the food, Elaine helped them load it back into the fridge and took them back out into the hallway. “Elevator,” she said as she punched a button on the wall. “It’s four flights to the basement, and I have bad knees. I try and take the stairs at least a few times a day, but my legs won’t let me all the time. Lunch is when I give myself a break.”

The elevator was painfully slow, and creaked alarmingly as they rode it down. “I don’t trust that,” Jack arched an eyebrow and stared up at the roof.

“Well, I’ve only heard of it getting stuck once, if that helps,” Elaine laughed.

When they reached the basement, the doors slid open—groaning as they did—and a wave of stale but cool air that smelled like beef hit them. The basement walls were made of white-painted cinderblocks, while the floor was the same painted grey concrete that the cavernous upstairs room behind the stage—where the washers and dryers were housed—had, although less stained and cracked. Elaine led them around a corner, past chain-link-fenced cubicles stuffed with fake Christmas greenery, and up to a small room created by two half walls, and an L-shaped row of old lockers, many of which were covered back and front with stickers advertising tours that had (presumably) come through the theatre in the past. There were three tables packed with folding chairs, on top of a filthy, old rug. In the back of the “room” were a small, free-standing sink with just enough counter space for a dish-drying rack, an ancient refrigerator with a freezer on top, and a rickety table with a microwave, old drip coffeemaker, and boxes of plastic cutlery and paper plates. On the back wall was a wide half-white, half-cork board; on the whiteboard side was scrawled, in faded green and red dry-erase marker, 

DEFINITIVE LIST OF THE TOP 10 DISNEY ANIMATED MOVIES EVER:

Tangled The Lion King

Aladdin

Great Mouse Detective

Moana

Mulan 

Sword in the Stone

Black Cauldron

Robin Hood (should be #2 but whatever)

Cinderella II

Lion King 1 ½

There were also several notes and arrows drawn on the board, seemingly trying to correct whoever had initially written it, but Jack and Crutchie didn’t have time to take those in—in fact, they barely had time to take in anything else, because as soon as they rounded the corner created by the lockers, they were met by a deafening cheer of “ELAINE!”

Elaine jumped, nearly dropping her container of quinoa-spaghetti, and yelped. “Dear lord, boys, don’t scare me like that!”

“Look, we fixed your list!” a voice laughed.

“You didn’t fix it, you made it wrong!” Elaine cried. “The Lion King SUCKS, and is definitely not the best animated Disney movie ever!”

The room immediately dissolved into chaos, each of the dozen occupants yelling over one another, mostly about the movies they felt should be on the list. Elaine set her food down on the nearest table and waved her arms. “Everyone, SHUT UP!”

The room slowly quieted, the shouting replaced largely by laughter.

“Come on, boys, we have to make a good impression on the new guys!” Elaine yelled over the continuing noise. That shut the boys up, and they turned their attention to Elaine. “Thank you!” She grabbed Jack’s arm and pulled him forward. “Everyone, meet Jack Kelly, and that’s Charlie…”

“Morris,” Crutchie stepped forward and waved his crutch, his other hand full with his sandwich plate. “But you can call me Crutchie.”

“Sure,” one of the boys laughed.

“Weasel has officially given Charlie to Buttons and Snipe as their new follow spot op”—

“You mean you’re bailing on us, Elaine!?” One of the boys in the back cried.

“Not by choice, Snipe,” Elaine retorted. “By decree of Weasel. Anyways, we always knew this day would come, especially after Barb and Carla quit. But don’t worry, I promise that I will miss you terribly.”

“Yeah, right,” the boy rolled his eyes. “You’ll forget about us in a week.”

“Five days, max,” Elaine said. “Anyways, Jack is on run crew with the rest of y’all, so be nice to him.”

“We’re always nice,” the boy in front of Elaine leaned his head back and batted his eyelashes.

“Sure you are,” Elaine laughed, rolling her eyes and giving him a playful shove on the shoulder. “Jack, Charlie, meet the crew boys.” She pointed to each person in turn as she introduced them. “Race is our deck chief—which basically means he’s in charge backstage, second only to Weasel—and he runs the fly rail. Albert is regular run crew, like you, Jack. Buttons is our L1, which means that he runs the light board and supervises the spotlight operators, namely you, Charlie, and Snipe over there. Elmer here is our A1, which means that he runs the sound board and heads up audio. Finch is the A2–a.k.a. Elmer’s backup and runs the backstage board—, and Henry is the A3–Finch’s backup. Mike and Ike over there are the twins; they’re run crew, and don’t worry about trying to tell them apart, because they’re always switching places anyways and still answer to the wrong name if you use it. The last two over there are Jo-Jo and Romeo, also run crew. And that’s Sarah! For concerts, she’s the hospitality coordinator, and she works wardrobe and dresses for our original shows.”

“And what do you do?” Crutchie asked as they squeezed into the last open seats at the same table as Elmer, Finch, and Sarah.

“Elaine does everything,” Elmer laughed.

“My title is production assistant,” Elaine said. “That just means that, yes, I do everything. I’m mostly a stitcher and dresser, at least for original shows. For concerts, I run for the tours and back Sarah up on hospitality. I also swing in for spotlight, and I’ve even done run crew a few times, and I’m the only person with experience with wigs so I do that, and I help Weasel out with props. But mostly I swing dressing tracks and spot op.”

“Swingers have the most fun,” Elmer teased.

“Gross,” Elaine rolled her eyes, but smiled despite herself. “Speaking of bad jokes, Finch, you wanna hear one?”

“No,” Finch groaned.

“What does a boat do when it doesn’t feel good?”

Finch glared at her.

“It goes to the dock!”

Sarah covered her mouth to hide a smile, and Elmer snorted into his water bottle.

“Thank you,” Elaine beamed.