#maybe it's the fact he's like the strongest ghost ever. that must count for something

[alexwilltellyouthings]

Oh "Edwin has so many love interests" this, "Edwin gets all the bitches" that but you know what's amazing? It's not JUST the love interests

He captivates literally EVERYONE in some way or another

Niko and him are an instant click. Cat King, well, you know. Monty was supposed to betray him but fell in love. He gave Crystal the hardest time and still she ended up loving him. He found out Simon liked him back. DESPAIR FUCKING LIKES HIM. Esther wants what he can give her (terrible I know but walk with me).

Is there something else in him we don't know of? Magic? Cosmic energy? How does that work???

[storiesforallfandoms]

nothing left ~ 10k;z nation

word count: 2229

request?: no

description: he accompanies her back to her childhood home to find nothing left besides the memories of times before the zombies, and they decide to leave some new memories there

pairing: 10k x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut

masterlist

(Y/N) kept a straight face as they drove past the sig with her hometown’s name displayed in bold, black letters against the stark white background. It was the first time she had been there since she and her parents had escaped during the initial Z outbreak. Since then, she had lost everything, but managed to find a new family within the small group that took her in.

They came to a stop at an empty parking lot of an abandoned supermarket. Everyone got out, weapons in tow.

“This place is a ghost town,” Doc commented.

“Almost everyone vacated when the infection started,” (Y/N) explained. “I don’t even think there would be any Zs here. It’s probably only been ransacked lately.”

“It’s the only town for miles, it’s our best bet for resources,” Warren said. “We search the place where we can and see what we can find.” She turned to (Y/N) to add, “Do you want to go home? Just to see the place if nothing else?”

(Y/N) was dying to get home, but she didn’t want anyone on the team to see her as weak or fragile. Although she knew they wouldn’t think any different of her if she did show some weakness, in this day and age, your biggest threat was to be perceived as weak to anyone.

Before she could respond, 10k spoke up. “I think you should. It’ll give you a break from everything, and you can be closer to your parents for even just a moment.”

(Y/N) had a hard time saying no to 10k, especially when parents were involved. She knew he wanted nothing more than to be close to his own father again, but, like (Y/N), 10k hadn’t been home in nearly a year. He didn’t even know if his own home was still standing. If she turned down this opportunity that she knew 10k wanted so bad in front of him, she’d never forgive herself.

“It would be nice,” she admitted.

“You go then honey,” Warren said, her voice soft and kind. “10k, you go with her for protection. Meet us back here before sundown. We’ll wait a little while, but not too long.”

The two youngest members left in the opposite direction of the group. (Y/N) led 10k down the still familiar roads. They weren’t too far from the house and, before she knew it, (Y/N) was stood in front of her childhood home. Her eyes widened at the sight of it.

All the windows were smashed and the door was practically ripped off of the hinges. They entered with weapons raised in case of a Z attack. (Y/N)’s heart broke to see the place ransacked and destroyed. Every picture her parents had hung were smashed to pieces. Only one remained partially in tact, one of (Y/N) and her parents when she was barley a year old. They were on their first vacation as a family to visit someone in another state. The picture was of the three of them on the beach together. Baby (Y/N) was in her mother’s arms, taken by the sand in her tiny hands while her parents were smiling brightly at the camera.

10k looked over her shoulder as her eyes began to water. “You look a lot like your mom.”

“I got that a lot,” she said. “We were basically twins. Dad said I got lucky with mom’s genes.”

She held the picture close to her chest as she moved up the stairs to where the bedrooms and main bathroom was. Whoever had broken in must’ve found what they wanted on the first floor because the bedrooms were relatively untouched. Every poster and picture (Y/N) had on her walls were still there. Her old laptop was even still there, although she doubted that it worked anymore.

“It’s weird,” she said. “It feels like I’ve been gone for years, but this room looks exactly the way I left it, like not a day has past.”

“Anything here you want to take with you?” 10k asked.

(Y/N) shook her head. “I took most of the important stuff when we left first. There’s nothing but memories here now.”

She was so lost in her own thoughts - memories of when things were good - that she didn’t hear 10k leave the room to walk into the bathroom until he spoke again. “The water still runs.”

She walked into the bathroom to find clean water running from the tap. She put a hand under the water, feeling it go from freezing cold to comfortably warm in seconds.

“The power and stuff must still be running,” she said. “Good news for us. I haven’t showered in ages.”

“You think it’s safe?” 10k asked, but (Y/N) was already placing her weapons on the bathroom counter and shedding herself of her top layers.

“I’m willing to take one for the team if it means I’ll be clean when I die,” she joked. “You can watch the door and make sure no Zs or no more looters come in. I’ll leave my gun close enough that I can use it if need be.”

10k nodded. Before he could get the chance to turn back on, (Y/N) grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head. For a split second, 10k saw the black bra she was wearing. It was old and worn, probably one of the only ones she had left. Due to this, it was basically falling apart, so when he got a brief glance of the bra, he also got a glance of one of her breasts.

10k’s eyes widened as he quickly turned his back so that (Y/N) didn’t know. He stood in the doorway, listening over the sound of the shower running for any indication of someone, or something, breaking into the house.

The warm water running over (Y/N) caused her to let out a moan of relief. It had been so long since she had properly bathed. The warm water of the familiar shower felt like heaven to her.

Outside the shower, 10k was shuffling awkwardly. He and (Y/N) had been close since they had first met, but they had only ever viewed each other as friends and Z fighting colleagues. He didn’t understand why he was starting to have this feeling about her. Maybe it was just boy hormones and the fact that she was a naked girl just a few feet away from him. But it felt like more than that. Maybe it had always been more than that but he was just afraid to admit it.

Before he could stop himself, 10k silently placed his gun next to hers on the toilet cover. He began to shed himself of his own clothes, working quickly and quietly as to not disturb her. (Y/N) had her head back with the water running over her hair and body when 10k pulled the curtain back and stepped in. She opened her eyes to look at him, shocked by his sudden appearance. She looked him up and down for a moment, her face giving away nothing.

“Gotta save water,” 10k said, trying to lighten the mood.

A smile broke out across (Y/N)’s face as a small giggle came from her lips. “Come here, 10k.”

She put a hand on the back of his neck at the same time that his hands found her waist. Their lips collided and it felt like the most right thing in the terrible, fucked up world around them. 10k’s lips moved against (Y/N)’s perfectly, as if they were supposed to be there, to be kissing her so deeply. His hands wandered over her dripping body, touching every inch of her soft skin with his calloused hands.

(Y/N) let out a sudden squeal as 10k lifted her effortlessly, wrapping her legs around his waist. She was shocked at his strength. Sure, he wasn’t as scrawny and wimpy as he may have looked, but he certainly wasn’t the strongest person in the world. He’s just full of surprises, (Y/N) noted as his lips connected with hers again.

His hard boner was against her aching core, teasing her ever so slightly with every gently brush against her. She whimpered against his lips when she felt him brush against her opening, trying to ground her hips against his to feel her inside of him. Knowing that she wanted this as much as he did made him even more turned on. He was almost afraid that he wouldn’t be able to make this moment last long enough.

He helped to guide her down onto his hard length, causing (Y/N) to gasp as he filled her entirely.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked her, suddenly realizing that he had no idea what (Y/N)’s sexual past was like.

“No,” she responded, her voice breathless and airy. “I just haven’t had sex in a very long time. I forgot how good it felt.”

10k smiled at her and pressed his lips against hers again. He pressed her back against the nearest wall and slowly began to thrust himself into her. (Y/N)’s back arched against the wall, trying to get as close to 10k as she possibly could.

He was slow and gentle, which drove (Y/N) even more wild. She held on around his neck as if her life depended on it, moaning and gasping against his lips with every thrust he pushed into her. She could barley even think straight, her mind focusing only on the pleasure that 10k was providing her.

“Is this alright?” he asked, his voice soft.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but smile. Sweet 10k, always thinking of the comfort of others, even when he was in the middle of the most intense shower sex (Y/N) had ever had.

“It’s more than alright,” she responded. “God, it feels so fucking good.”

10k had heard (Y/N) swearing many times, but hearing the expletive word slip from her breathless voice in that moment drove him wild. He rested his head against her shoulder, groaning as he pushed his hips against hers again, filling her completely.

“You feel so good,” he told her. “You’re so soft and warm, fuck.”

“Who would’ve thought that sweet 10k had a dirty side?” (Y/N) giggled.

“You must not know me well enough, then.”

“Maybe I don’t.”

Her thought was cut short as 10k pulled almost completely out of her then filled her again. Her mind was clouded with lust as she tried to rock her hips against his, begging for the release she wanted.

Noticing her desperation, 10k wrapped one arm around her lower back and slipped his free hand between them. (Y/N) gasped as his fingers connected with her swollen nerves and began to rub circles in them. She could feel a familiar pressure building inside of her. She clung to 10k’s shoulders, curses falling from her mouth in between moans of pleasure. Her legs began to shake as she felt herself hitting her climax. She threw her head back and called 10k’s name - his real name - in pleasure.

Feeling her walls contracting around him caused 10k to feel his own climax approaching. He held on to her hips as his thrusts became a little faster. Before he knew it, his eyes were nearly rolling back into his head as he felt himself filling her with his warm cum. The feeling of the warmth inside of her was enough to almost turn (Y/N) on again.

They stayed tangled together for a moment, completely forgetting about the running water cascading down onto them. It wasn’t until the warm water started to turn cold that they realized it was probably time for the two of them to get out.

Luckily for them, whoever looted the house also didn’t think to take any of the towels in the upstairs linen closet, so they had a way to dry themselves off. Before she started pulling her clothes on, 10k wrapped his arms around (Y/N) again and kissed her exposed shoulders and neck before placing one last sweet kiss against her lips.

“We should tell the others about the running water,” he said as he pulled his clothes back on. “If this place is relatively Z-less, we could probably get away with staying here for a while.”

“We’ve stayed in worst looking places,” (Y/N) agreed. “I’m sure everyone else is dying to clean themselves, too. There’s enough room for everyone to sleep with all the bedrooms and the couch downstairs.”

The reminder of the wreckage when they first entered caused a melancholy mood to wash over (Y/N) again. Noticing this, 10k brought her into his arms and held her tightly.

“I’m sorry about your house,” he said. “I’m sorry someone did this to you, that they took all the memories of this place.”

(Y/N) shook her head. “They didn’t take the memories. No one could ever take that from this place. Besides, I’d like to make some new memories here...with you.”

10k smiled and kissed the top of her head. “I think we’ve already started with that.”

(Y/N) giggled and pulled away from him. “Let’s go find everyone to tell them before they leave us abandoned.”

[mrslittletall]

saw your whump post, honestly the "I'm fine" screams Hornet to me, so it'd be cool to see that! - dooblebugs

Title: The Idol Fandom: Hollow Knight Characters: Hornet & Little Ghost Word Count: 2.825 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30941981

Summary: After the Hollow Knight is freed from the temple, Hornet does her best to take care of the ones that are still left in Hallownest. Everything should be fine... until it isn't.

(Author's note:  @dooblebugs

I thought about using canon verse with “Almost everyone lives AU” or your Mer AU. But ultimately, canon verse won, because I still miss some context for the Mer AU. I hope you enjoy.)

Hornet opened her eyes and jumped on her feet right away. Her day would always start with hunting and gathering food, preferably before Hollow woke up and tried to move, and it was a whole other problem trying to haul a bug their size back into bed, especially when they rigorously ignored their wounds.

While Hornet trusted Quirrel and Cloth enough to leave Hollow in their care for a while, she always felt better if she could look over them personally. However, the longer she hesitated with leaving, the longer she would need to come back, so Hornet left the house in Dirtmouth they had inhabited for Hollow's recovery and went towards the crossroads.

The little pitter-patter of tiny feet next to her prompted Hornet to look down. Ghost had decided to accompany her again. They always would. She could tell them a hundred times to stay behind, they would never listen. For a vessel meant to be void of mind, Ghost was one of the bugs with the strongest will that Hornet ever had seen.

“You will still come with me, even if I say no, right, little Ghost?”, Hornet said, shouldering her needle. Ghost didn't nod or sign at her, they simply stared, with their unblinking, never changing expression. It was enough for Hornet to know that they wouldn't leave.

“Alright, but don't get into my way.”, Hornet said. At this, Ghost swung their nail and jumped in front of Hornet in a pose that depicted a challenge, then their nail went down on the ground in a strike, the swing of it breaking through the calmness of the morning.

“I know! I know! You've beaten me twice, but... I have gone easy on you.”, Hornet half hissed. It was a blatant lie and she knew it. The first time she had simply underestimated them (or she simply had become tired of fighting) and the second time... she had given it her all and they still had remained victorious. In a sense, Ghost was the new king of Hallownest, but they didn't seem to put any mind on the title. They didn't even seem to be wanting to be celebrated for being the saviour of Hallownest. They simply joined Hornet every morning for hunting and went off on their own afterwards, always coming back to play with their friends in Dirtmouth.

As the both of them jumped down the well, Hornet couldn't help but think about that there wasn't much to rule anymore. This kingdom was in shambles. It had been two weeks and the dried off infection still crusted the crossroads, too little bugs alive to care much about cleaning the place up. It was becoming more and more difficult to get food, because so many of the infected had simply been reanimated husks, without any meat left in them.

They surely would have to wander to Greenpath again, hopefully finding a few vengeflies and mosscreeps to bring home.

Hornet was used being alone. She had been alone for a very long time. She had managed. She never was lonely... well, maybe a little lonely and now there was a bunch of strangers up in Dirtmouth who relied on her. Hornet never wanted for anyone to rely on her. She had seen what happened when bugs relied on someone and... there wasn't a solution.

She looked down on Ghost again, they had their nail on the ready and stared vigilantly in front of them. They must have crossed this crossroads a dozen times on their journey, still expecting to be attacked by the infected every given minute. Hornet could understand that it was hard for them to let go of old habits.

She was the same. She never let go of her needle as well. Even with the infection never being able to come back, she had to remain vigilant. She would protect her siblings, no matter what. She wouldn't, no she couldn't, let anyone down.

“We are nearing Greenpath.”, she said, only to cut through the silence between them. She knew it wasn't Ghost's fault that they didn't have a voice, but after years of not being able to talk to anyone, Hornet barely could stand the silence, when there was someone she could talk to. “Remember, when we hunt the mosscreeps, take their leaves as well, for the herbivores.”

While Hornet was able to eat plant matter as well, it never had been satisfying to her. She was the daughter of a spider and a wyrm, both predators, and therefore she usually would hunt for food. She was unsure about what kind of diet Ghost and Hollow needed, but they seemed to be content with the prey she brought back, so she wouldn't change anything about it.

“And remember, we can't hunt too much. The population needs a chance to recover.”, she said as well. The infection had done a number on the whole of Hallownest... it wasn't a surprise that there was such a food shortage. In fact, Hornet had cut her own food intake in favour of her siblings and anyone who couldn't hunt or still needed to recover. That bug, Tiso, came to mind. Had a far too big stomach for having been utterly destroyed by the colloseum of fools. Why Ghost had dragged him back to Dirthmouth, she would never understand.

Ghost showed that they understood with a little nod of their head and the both of them entered Greenpath. It was a MUCH nicer place without the infection, but they still had to pay attention, the fool eater plants were easy to overlook (not that Hornet had ever overlooked them, but Ghost tended to forget...) and there were some predators still around, though they were no match for her needle. The problem was to avoid them to not hunt too much. Like she had said to Ghost, they needed to give the population time to recover, if they wouldn't want all to starve beforehand.

“We get only enough for everyone back in Dirtmouth.”, Hornet said again. “Then we leave again. Let's search for some mosscreeps first.”

The both of them jumped and slashed their way through the vegetation of Greenpath. While Hornet preferred to use her needle, Ghost had found a lot of new ways to move around since the first time they fought and they dashed (literally leaving their shell behind and somehow phasing through time and space) and jumped with wings that reminded Hornet of her father... and she got a bad feeling in her guts every time she saw them.

After a bit of time, they had managed to hunt two vengeflies to bring back, Hornet keeping them cocooned up for transportation and were now searching through the vegetation for some mosscreeps. Finally, Hornet found one and struck it down with her needle, preparing a cocoon for it again, when Ghost picked something up from the grass.

“Ghost, what do you have there?”, Hornet asked. The item was too small to be prey and they tended to hoard stuff they found. It probably was just something that was completely worthless nowadays, only generating Geo when given to this historian in the City of Tears. She still wanted to know.

Ghost came over and laid the thing they had picked up in her outstretched hand. When she looked down on it, she froze.

It was a King's Idol, the item that the citizens of Hallownest had crafted to worship her reclusive father. Each of them looked different, but they all shared the general shape and depicted his most salient feature: The horns that resembled a crown.

Staring down at it, something in Hornet broke. It might have been the stress she felt since Ghost had arrived. Or the fact that Hollow recovered from years of abuse from both the gods of Hallownest. Or that she was running on an empty stomach most of the time. But once she saw that thing, all her frustration crashed down on her at once.

You!”, she hissed. “It was all your fault! You knew that the plan wouldn't work! You knew that they would suffer and you still have let it happen! The teacher, the watcher, my mother, all sacrificed for nothing! And then, in the moment you were needed the most, you vanished, you damn coward! We needed you! I needed you! I hate you. I hate you and I can't even say it to your face anymore!”

Hornet threw the king's idol on the ground with so much force that it skipped on the ground and then fell on her knees, slowly getting aware of the tears on her face and the presence of little ice cold hands patting her arm.

“I am fine.”, she said, wiping the tears away. Just a moment of weakness, nothing else. Even though she could feel the judgemental stare of Ghost, she was fine. She had to be. “Seriously, I am fine.”, she continued once more. “Let's continue hunting.”

As Hornet was putting her composure back together, she didn't notice how Ghost continued to stare at her, picking up the idol from the ground, and only starting to move again once she called out for them.

The hunt had been more or less successful. At least they had found enough prey that nobody should go terribly hungry (at least when Hornet halved her own portion again). As usual, hunting had taken the better part of the day. Hornet would have liked to go hunt at some different locations, but the Old Stag from the stag ways wasn't around lately, apparently he was taking care of some personal business. With him not being around, it was just too far to walk to the Fungal Wastes or Deepnest, at least not when she wanted to come back the same day.

Currently Hornet took in her meal in Hollow's room with Ghost present as well. She was busy thinking about if there was another route that would make sure she could hunt elsewhere but Greenpath for once, when she felt a nudge. When she looked down, she saw how Ghost offered them a half of their mosscreep, holding the prey up in their little hands, seemingly eagerly awaiting for her to take it.

“I can't take this, Ghost.”, Hornet said. “You need all the food you can get, you are still growing.”

Ghost cocked their head and for once their eternal deadpan expression was on point. Hornet knew how ridiculous her argument was. Ghost had been born before her. They hadn't grown in years. Their body had been unable to grow because they didn't had access to void. “You know what I mean.”, she defended herself. There was the possibility that Ghost would start to grow as long as they stayed in Hallownest.

Ghost offered their meal a little while longer and then gave up with a little frustrated stomp of their foot. It was then when Hornet felt another nudge... this time it was Hollow, who had simply watched the scene unfold in front of them, offering their part of their meal.

“Oh no, not you too, Hollow.”, Hornet sighed. “You need the food much more than me, you are still recovering. I won't accept anything from you.”

The both vessels shared a look and once again Hornet asked herself if they could talk to each with some kind of void telepathy, before both of them looked at the ground in defeat.

“I am fine.”, Hornet repeated herself, she knew that. “Really, I am fine...”

Hornet awoke the next morning... not because her stomach cramped and she had trouble sleeping because of it, but because someone nudged her. She cracked one eye open and murmured: “It's barely morning...” She just craved to go back to sleep, to forget about the day in front of her for a few minutes longer, but the nudging got more and more intense, until she shouted: “Fine! I am getting up! Stop bothering me!”

It was Ghost in front of her and immediately Hornet stopped being annoyed. What if something had happened? “Is something the matter with Hollow? Or is a threat approaching the village?”, she asked, already fumbling for her needle, once again forgetting that Ghost was more than capable of defending the village themselves. They just looked too much like a little, defenseless child, even though Hornet had experienced otherwise.

Gladly, Ghost shook their head, though this put Hornet right back into annoyance. “Then why have you woken me up?”, she said, falling back down in her pillows, ignoring the urge to close her eyes and looking at Ghost again, making sure to give them a judgemental stare.

Ghost did grip something under their cloak (wings? Hornet never knew what this thing around the vessels was) and after a bit of struggling, they produced a jar... a jar filled with honey. The smell actually made Hornet's mouth water. Honey was one of the few things she liked to eat that wasn't meat, mostly because she had trained in the Hive in her youth.

Though, as lucky as she felt about having more food, she couldn't help but scold Ghost. “Ghost, did you get this on your own? The Hive is dangerous, even without the infection! What if the Hive Knight would have found you?”

Ghost shook their head and then outstretched their hand, showing Hornet a shiny little charm. A charm she remembered. The charm of the Hive. “Wait, you have been there and challenged him already?” Hornet wanted to be surprised, but Ghost couldn't really surprise her anymore. When they could surprise her somehow, then it was that they were full of surprises.

“Anyway... I guess I have to thank you, though I don't approve that you sneak out at night into the Hive.”, Hornet murmured. “At least we have more food for the group now..”

Ghost rigorously shook their head and pressed the jar in her hands. “For me?”, Hornet asked and Ghost nodded.

“But... Ghost, I appreciate it, but I don't need.. the others need the food much more than...”

Another shook of their head and a stomp of their foot along with crossed arms and a slight turn around. Hornet suddenly felt very small, she had never seen them that upset.

“Alright, alright...”, she said. “Maybe I have eaten insufficient lately...”

Ghost nodded again and gave the jar of honey another press, so that she had to hold it firmly in her hands.

“Alright alright...”, Hornet finally gave in. “I will take your offer, Ghost.”

As she opened the jar, her hunger became more and more apparent and soon she dug in and had finished the whole jar in what felt like no time and finally, for once, she didn't feel overly hungry. Satisfied even.

She then saw Ghost holding up something. A little rock with a few letters written on it. Lately Cornifer had given them writing lessons, though it still was a work in progress.

“Fine?”

That was the word they had painted on the rock (where did they even have the colours from?).

“I am fine.”, Hornet said. “This time for real. I am sorry, Ghost, I shouldn't have lied to you. I just feel so... responsible for everyone. I can't show weakness in front of anyone.”

Ghost shook their head again and then got something out. Hornet recognized it as the King's Idol they had found in Greenpath. They tossed it at the ground, just as she had done and then hit it with their nail, leaving a notable crack in it.

“You as well don't have the best memories of him, right?”, Hornet said. Both of them had been left behind, though in a different kind of way. Ghost had been discarded and Hornet had been left with responsibility far too huge for her age.

Ghost nodded again and gave the King's Idol another smack, so that it landed in front of her. Hornet took it into her hands and stared at it. She did miss him, that she had to admit to herself, but she also knew that her anger and her disappointment were real and there was no reason to hide it in front of Ghost.

She squeezed the Idol until it cracked into two pieces and just watched as they fell down. “Thank you, Ghost.”, she said. “But make sure to not tell Hollow about this.”

The way Hollow idealized their father... it would break their heart seeing his image being defiled like that.

Another quick nod and then Ghost actually got another one out, their face clearly saying: “Wanna break another?”

A grin crept over Hornet's face. She would never get her mother back or escape her responsibilities, but at least she could vent out her frustrations, even though it took her sibling for her to realize.

“Oh you bet I want.” (Author's note: Little Ghost is kinda fun to write. I think they are a character mostly showing what they feel through body language and it was fun to come up with how they would act. I also like to think that they can stare very judgemental, even though their expression never changes, a stare of them can make anyone falter. Hornet's relationship to PK is... complicated. He hasn't actually been a bad father to her, but as the infection came back and depression took over, he left her alone more and more and she got angry about it... especially when he decided to just vanish. She felt utterly betrayed by it and it is a huge source of her frustration and anger. I put in some little references to the game in there, try to find them if you please.)

[mandoinevarro]

Red Steam Part II

If you want context and even more bullshit read Part 1 here.

Words: 4.5k

Rating: E

Warnings: Mentions of violence, vaginal sex, unprotected sex

a/n: thank god there are so many synonyms for “steam” 

It was only after he bribed the middle-aged Twi’lek clerk—who eyed the credits he set on her desk unimpressed, only to pocket them after an exaggerated sigh—and followed her up a cramped flight of stairs and along the dark, mazelike hallways of the second floor of the healing baths, that the Mandalorian found himself in front of the narrow black door that hid his bounty. Apparently.

The clerk’s molars chewed on a wooden toothpick while she fumbled with the key ring on her hip that rattled metallically with every step. She took her sweet time inspecting key by key and seemed unfazed by the waves of moans and the banging on walls that floated out of closed doors.

“Think he only brought a girl or two with him,” the Twi’lek mumbled as she took out a key from the bunch and held it close to her eyes. After a nod, she inserted it in the keyhole.

Mando scoffed. Only a girl or two. Like the kid hadn’t fucked himself into enough trouble already.

The clerk turned the doorknob, pushed it inwards and headed back to her station. Over her shoulder, she barked at the Mandalorian, “Make it quick.”

Yeah, he intended to.

That was about an hour ago.

The whole place is trashed. Mando gets up from the floor panting and clutching his bruised ribs. Something’s broken for sure. He limps towards his rival, who sits angry and defeated on a bed of splinters that confettied out of cracked staircase balusters when Mando was thrown against them and fell to the ground level. With painful movements, his heavy boot kicks the blaster from his adversary’s reach and picks it up.

It wasn’t his quarry who came after him hard when Mando barged into the little love nest. One moment the poor kid was begging for his orgasm, the next he was ripping his lungs at the sight of the bounty hunter and tugging desperately at the fluffy mock handcuffs that attached him to the bedposts.

The girl who was jacking him off, though. She didn’t even give the hunter a second’s noticed before she lunged towards him, effectively tackling and disarming him. She fought the beskar-clad man fiercely and barefoot in a flimsy pink robe, until he decided that enough was enough and scorched what remained of the balusters to a crisp. And then he pointed the flamethrower at her. The pink figure begrudgingly raised her hands in surrender and slumped on the floor after that.

But her eyes are not exactly waving white flags when Mando throws the strongest pair of shackles he owns on her lap and orders her to cuff herself. She glares up at him and wraps them around her wrists, but not before she spits, “Fuck you. Fuck. You. My father’s gonna kill him.”

Mando tongues a dent that he bit inside his cheek. This was supposed to be the easy job, damnit. He was going to find the quarry, tell him the girl’s family wanted his head, and take him back to the ship with not a scratch on the beskar. Easiest money he’d ever make. He wasn’t counting on said girl being with the bounty, much less her fighting like some trained assassin on spice. Stars, the galaxy’s getting stranger by the day.

Once the girl is done, she shakes her bound wrists in the air to get her captor’s attention. He bends down to yank the cuffs, pulling the feral young woman attached to them on her feet. The effort makes needles pierce his injured muscles.  

Maker, he’d been so sure it’d be some painless in-and-out job that he’d let you come along with him.

His grip on the cuffs falters.

He forgot. He forgot you came to the healing baths with him. Disappeared into the first floor corridors, saying you needed to “relax”. Could you still be here? Somewhere along the rows of steaming pools and massage rooms. Or maybe you hurried outside with the stampede of half-naked women he saw rush away from the healing baths.

No. No, if he had seen you run wet and covered only by the almost see-through cloth like the rest of the clients, he’d remember. He’d definitely remember.

The girl tugs insistently at the handcuffs, testing their strength.

Fuck, he shouldn’t be thinking about you right now. He shouldn’t think about you ever. But. There’s something about imagining you dripping with a tissue-thin textile plastered on your figure that makes him forget the cut in his mouth.

“We fucking love each other.” The prisoner’s squeal snaps him out of his reverie. He drags her to what remains of the stairs. He’ll take the quarry, find you, and leave for good. “We only want each other, we crave for each other.” Yeah, he’ll find you and go back to the Crest. Back to barely speaking to you. Back to silently craving for you. “I’ve never felt anything like the pleasure when he slides into my—”

“Okay, I get it,” the Mandalorian snarls. Maker, he can’t stand Core World snobs. He’ll just take the bounty and find you and go. He’ll just—

“You get it?” The girl stops dead on her tracks at the foot of the stairs. She looks him up and down in indignation. “You get it? You glorified gonk droid. What could scrap metal get about passion?”  The cuffs twist away from his grip as their master climbs a couple of charred steps. Before Mando can take her back in his custody, she turns around to face him, chin up, back straight, and towering over him. Too confidently for someone in shackles. She looks down on the visor with eyes so squinted her pupils look like horizontal lines. “What could you get about desire?”

That…that hits a nerve. Plenty, he wants to growl at her, even though she’s obviously just trying to taunt him. He knows plenty about obsessive lust that leaves room for little else. He’s known for a while that the reason he locks himself inside his quarters pulling pathetically at his stiff cock is not just an outlet for pent of stress. He’s come to accept that it is always your image that his psyche sneaks into his mind when his thumb circles the head. As guilty and disgusting as it makes him feel, he’s aware of the fact that every bead of precum belongs to you. That when he bursts into his glove he wants nothing more but to smear it all over your lovely face.

Still. There’s a little voice poking the back of his head and whispering that the girl is right. That someone who’s spent a lifetime with physical and emotional barriers separating him from all stimuli cannot possibly know genuine want. Even worse, maybe you have that idea of him. Maybe you don’t believe there’s flesh beneath the armor either.

His chest shrinks with a drawn out sigh as if he were the one defeated as he grabs the captive by the arm before she can get any further. He’ll just…just take the quarry…and find you—

Almost as a summoning, the syrupy density of your voice plops into his ears in a shape that feels like his name. The pounding against his chest quickens as he turns and ghosts a hand over his blaster. Waiting. Listening.

A high pitched whine drills a hole through one of the more secluded doors in a corner, urgent and upset.

You’re in danger.

The Mandalorian jerks the girl down from the couple of steps that she climbed, a little tougher than he intended. His neck is warm and the biting pain on his sides becomes an afterthought. One swift movement is all it takes to undo one ring of the usually complicated handcuffs. He spots a pillar and forces the prisoner’s arms to hug around it, securing the missing wristlet once her smalls hands meet at the opposite end.

“Hey!” she calls after the hunter, who is already stalking towards the cornered door. “Hey, you can’t leave me here, what—”

Fuck, he shouldn’t have let you come. He should’ve made you stay on the Crest like always. If something happens to you…

The Mandalorian draws his blaster and pushes the dark door open.

Hot, humid steam trails outside to welcome him, clouding his visor. He wipes it poorly with the back of his glove and steps inside. The heavy door falls shut behind him.

At first, all he sees is red. An angry, flaming crimson that dances around the black chamber and immediately draws strings of perspiration from his pores. Slowly, the smog thins and revels a bulky cube in the middle of the room. As well as another, smaller silhouette to its left, from where the restrained mewls are coming from.

Mando sheathes the blaster and steps closer to the figure, carefully, trying to make out what it is. Once he finds himself right between it and the table, he distinguishes the contour of a head. The mist dilutes and the desperate features of your face come to life under the hunter’s fascinated gaze. Your whole face looks like a crumpled piece of paper in an expression that falls just short of pain. Your eyes are wrenched shut and two fingers are shoved into your mouth. When a wide tongue licks them with lazy strokes, Mando feels the cloth over his crotch shrink.

Eyes wander lower, revealing a layer of sweat over your collarbone and…and…

The Mandalorian thinks the fall must have damaged his brain, because he only puts two and two together once he follows a droplet from your sternum to your heaving breasts. It hangs on to one peaked nipple before letting go and sliding down the line of your arm, down, down, down, getting fatter as it absorbs other smaller beads. It curls around your hand and finishes its journey once it falls from a finger. A finger drawing erratic circles around your clit.

If Mando thought it was hot inside the cave before…well, now he’s certain the seething thrill that rushes from his head to his toes and swells in his lower half is going to kill him. The potent punch of his heart is breaking more ribs than the girl did, and he can’t remember what exactly was hurting in his mouth when he runs his own tongue over cracked lips. His cock is draining all the blood and attention from the rest of his body, swelling bigger and bigger.

Of course he fucking knows he should leave. Walk out of the chamber, wait for you to finish, and take care of his own needs in some lonely corner back inside the Razor Crest. But, suddenly, one leg stretches and your foot sweeps over his cuisse.

Fuck, he can tell you’re close. Your thighs shake and the moans get louder and he really needs to get out. His knees start uncramping reluctantly, buying him some time to be able to at least see you come undone. Until you cry, “S-stars, Mando…!”

Did…did he hear you right?

Was that—?

Did you—?

Your fingers halt abruptly and ease out of both of your openings. Disappointment grabs Mando’s heart before panic crushes it. Shit, did you realize he’s here?

He takes a step back.

Wet eyelashes flutter a few times before your eyes open fully. They’re glossy as they look straight ahead. A finger wipes the vapor off the beskar. Your face moves along his body until your attention focuses on his visor and lingers.

The red light prevents him from knowing whether you’re blushing or not, but his cheeks sure as hell light up with shame underneath the helmet. He feels gravity pull his legs with more strength, holding him down in his place and making him face the consequences of his invasion

Still, his glove wraps around your wrist and gently pulls it away.

“I…I’m sorry,” the embarrassed hunter finally croaks out, dropping his gaze to the floor. “I heard you outside and thought…” He shakes his head and sighs. There’s no excuse for this. “I should’ve left. I’m sorry.”

All throughout his excuse of an apology you stare up at him panting. Your pupils are so wide your irises almost disappear behind them. The leftover surprise of being interrupted pleasuring yourself still hangs on your expression, but something in front of you seems to catch your eye, and your features rearrange to confusion. You scoot to the edge of the bench. Your neck cranes up, placing your face directly below his crotch.

The hot breath from your open mouth warms his clothed balls and makes him flinch.

What? Why are you—? Maker, he wishes he knew what the hell you were doing, because he doesn’t think the seams of his pants can hold the way his shaft is pressing insistently against them. Your nose ghosts over his taint and he jumps back.

A pair of hands rests on the plates over his thighs. The remaining spit on your fingers smears on the beskar. You lick your lips until they glisten, and your head tilts to the side as you study his growing erection. Realization irons the puzzled wrinkles on your forehead and a smile pulls your plump lips softly.

“Could you,” you gasp breathlessly, and the Mandalorian knows the answer is yes before you finish, “could you help me?”

Mando…Mando glitches. He’s almost convinced the girl spiced him and his subconscious is borrowing from his archive of filthy fantasies of you to produce the most obscene hallucination possible. Regardless, reality or illusion, you sit soaked and perfectly bare with your face half-wedged under his crotch. Waiting for an answer.

“I, uh. Um.” He gulps. “Uh, h-help you?”

“Uh-huh,” you purr. One hand resting on his cuisse trails up to palm the tent forming in his pants. Mando hisses. You smile. “Help me pick up where I left off.” Your other hand goes back to its place between your legs.

Staring straight into the lines of his visor, you draw languid circles around your bud.

The helmet feels incredibly heavier on his spine. Your finger pushes into your clit and you gasp.

This isn’t real. The hypnotic red vapor fogs his vision and senses with a dreamlike dimness. You look ethereal behind it, like you’ll turn to steam as soon as he reaches out. He’s going to open his eyes in the cockpit of the Crest hard and alone, like always. He’s going to climb down to the hull and see you and try his best to avoid you. He’s going to wake up from the best dream he’s ever had; from the gorgeous curves of your body open and ready for him.

But. But you’re still here. Delusion or not, you’re still dipping your fingers inside your cunt, inviting him to partake. To prove himself human underneath his layers of barriers. And who can blame him, if he indulges in the one thing he’s wanted for months. Even if he will wake up from this.

Without a second thought, Mando rips both gloves off his hands and throws them into the mist enveloping your bodies. Your sweet smile widens when he wraps his hands around your shoulders and massages the moist flesh. You answer by giving his bulge a faint squeeze. But the Mandalorian has little patience for teasing, and he’s not sure when exactly he’s going to be ripped from this dream.  

“Wait,” the modulated voice orders. “Stand up. Please.” You obey, grabbing him for support to avoid falling on the slippery floor. His palms land on your waist, spreading the sweat there. Stars, you feel wonderful.

“Do you want to, uh…” Somehow, he still can’t bring himself ask, so he pulls you closer, so that his erection presses against your belly.

Biting your lip, you look up at him and nod eagerly. Small fingers press between your bodies to unbutton his pants and explore inside. You hum when you feel how hard he already is for you and scoop his throbbing cock out of its prison. “Please.”

Mando grabs your hips and spins you until you’re between him and the table. He pushes you against its side. The fronts of your thighs hit the black surface and you hiss at the contact, but he barely hears you.

He feels buckets of perspiration pouring down his back and chest, hot and heavy wool sticks to his skin, and there’s barely any breathable air slipping below the helmet anymore. But there’s only you. There’s only you and your shifting shoulder blades and  the elegant curve of your spine and your ass, all tinged the color of blood and soaked with the liquified version of the mysterious substance floating around in the air. The pains that overwhelmed his body are long forgotten.  

The fingers of his right hand spread apart from each other and snake up your back so they can feel your silky skin under his.

You shudder.

Fuck, is this was the girl outside was talking about? Right now, tense and painfully hard and high on the sensation of your soft, sweaty skin against his calloused hands, he feels just as foolish as his quarry. Just as likely to beg for anything you’re willing to offer.

Rough fingers push wet strings of hair to the side and grab your neck. He likes how thin it is around his large palm. How the tips of his fingers almost meet when they circle you. He pushes it down.

When your tits brush the surface you flinch and pull back.

“It—it’s c-cold,” you stutter as you try to look over your shoulder at him, but the grip on your neck is steel-strong and he can’t bring himself to soften it. “It’s freezing, Mando.”

Normally, he’d let go. Normally, he’d drop his hand immediately and apologize meekly. Normally, he would’ve walked away the second he caught you pleasuring yourself and would’ve pathetically gotten himself off to your image back in the Crest, like he’s done so many times, and would’ve never brought it up again.

But here, he has you right where he’s wanted you for months. Right now, he needs to prove to himself and to you that there’s hot red blood running through his veins. That below beskar and wool, he desires just like everyone else. Even more.

Especially when it comes to you.

So he doesn’t let go.

With a stronger grip, he forces you down until your chest is flush against the icy table and keeps you still.

“Fuck,” you nearly sob.

The Mandalorian steps closer to you and flattens the backs of your legs and ass with his cuisses. You whimper at the contact like you did with the table, but the cries turn to moans when he starts rubbing his hard cock against the curve of your ass.

Every nerve in his body tenses like a stretched rubber band at the sensation. Your ass is so fucking drenched he doesn’t even need to spit on it to allow his rock-solid cock to glide against you. Your hips push back and you try to meet his movements, but his thighs just crush you closer to the side of the table.  

He won’t look down. He won’t—he can’t, or he’ll lose it right there. He’s certain he’ll cum right then and there if he so much as peeks at what his doing to you. Or worse, he’ll wake up.

He looks down.

It takes every scrap of his self-control not to spill his cum all over your back at the visual. Your glistening body is folded over the table. Your arms hang next to your legs. Your nails scratch the dark rock desperately. The turbid red steam makes you blurry, like an apparition. As surreal as the mental images he conjures of you sometimes, when the ship is empty and he chases his relief inside the hard clutch of his fist. Only now, the long, husky moans you’re letting him hear are as clear as daylight, the scent of sex and sweat radiating off both of you sticks to his nostrils, and the way your body writhes against his are making him harder and more frantic by the second.

This isn’t a dream. It’s you and he has you all to himself.

He can’t wait any longer.

Mando releases your neck and brings both hands down to your ass. He massages and kneads the plump meat there. His teeth grit together to stop a needy groan from pushing past them. Tough fingers spread your cheeks and hold them open. You turn your face to the side.

“Please,” you suddenly spit out, your back curling and flattening almost involuntarily, “oh, fucking stars, Mando, just—just put it inside, just pl—”

The heat of his cock teasing your folds cuts you off. The Mandalorian inhales what little oxygen he can get and sheathes himself inside you in one strong movement. You cry out and he groans like nobody can hear either of you.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, why are you so tight? You’re—you’re—

“So wet,” he hears himself slur. The red haze of the room spins around him. He sounds drunk.  “Why—who could be this fu-fucking tight and b-beautiful—I—” Mando manages to swallow the last few words. Now is not time for them. Instead, he pulls back. His cock eases outside almost completely, leaving only the head inside. Then he buries himself again, slowly, grinding into you and letting you feel how every vein of his shaft pulses against your slick walls. He works up a paused pace as he spreads your cheeks further apart and dips his helmet to see how he’s stretching you.

Your arms lift to your sides to clutch the opposite end of the surface. You’re making the deepest, most arousing sounds he’s ever heard. You take him with a throaty mmm or a trembling ahhh that make his chest collapse with embarrassing gasps that he’s trying so hard to suppress. But your boiling pussy clenches tighter and he can’t help choking on the heated vapor that dances under the helmet and drips on his facial hair.  

“It’s you—ngh,” you finally answer. “I think of you al—always.” His hips falter at the sound of your voice. “I g-get so wet just im—magining what you—˝ Almost as a reflex, he pushes roughly into you and you cut yourself off with a high whimper.

You can’t finish your sentence. You don’t have to. What you said is enough to scramble Mando’s brains like eggs and flick a switch inside him he didn’t know was there.

Maker, he shouldn’t go faster. He shouldn’t overwhelm you. What if he hurts you? But your confession seems to thicken the mist that’s clouding his visor and restraint. Stars, you think about him just like he thinks of you. Maybe there were nights you would both touch yourselves simultaneously to the thought of each other in your separate quarters. What would you imagine? How long has it been going on?

He doesn’t remember releasing your ass nor burying his fingers into your dripping hair. He didn’t even realize how faster and more brutal his thrusts got all of a sudden until he hears how you trade your long, vibrating moans for short mewls that sound like his cock is puncturing them out of you.

And he should stop and he should ask you what you want and he should apologize for being rough and he should be doing so many things that he just can’t fucking bring himself to do when he feels you squeezing around him like you want him to be that much of a fucking savage with you. So he picks up the pace.

Through the haze, though, he manages to glue a couple of broken words together. “Th-this o-okay? Y-you—fuck—it—it fee-l good?” He sounds like he doesn’t even know fucking Basic, but you’re apparently fluent in whatever primitive language he just spoke, because you nod fervently, your cheek still pressed to the cold rock.

Your mouth gapes like it’s trying to suck the words you need from the fog around you and drool spills from your pretty lips. You only manage to breathe out, “Harder.”

Harder he goes, tangling the fist on your hair more tensely until it pulls your neck up. His other hand shoves your thighs and digs around your folds until he finds a hard nub that he rubs up and down quickly. The feeling makes you clamp down so compactly around his swollen shaft that he has to put his back into his thrusts to be able to push in. Still, he manages to slide inside with the help of your arousal and his precum and the sweat of your bodies and whatever the fuck is vaporized in the room. Every thrust shoves your whole body forwards and makes the edge of the table dig more violently into your hips. But you’re not complaining. Your irises are rolled as back as they’ll go into your skull and your companion is not sure you can even hear yourself moaning for him anymore.

Mando is going to black out. He’s sure he’s going to pass the fuck out. He can’t breathe and you’re repeating his name like a prayer and he can tell you’re close and his cock is just begging for release. A cooler breeze brushes the edge of the helmet. He keeps opening you like it’s the last thing he’ll do.

His ears ring with light metallic clinks and you’re muttering incomprehensible gibberish and he clenches his jaw when he makes out the words “I” and “cum” and he can’t believe his fucking luck and his balls pull up to announce that he’s also almost there and—

“I thought I said,” a sudden, chastising voice cuts the dense steam like it’s butter, “to make it quick.”

You both jump at the interruption. Mando’s heart and movements halt as adrenaline shoots into his blood and he looks around the brume for the intruder.

The Twi’lek clerk stands near the door, squinting to make out what exactly is going on in the steaming room. You both stare at her stupidly—Mando still buried deep inside you—as she swats the fog like a swarm of flies she can scare away with her palm.

Finally, the cloud dissipates enough for her eyes to focus on the erotic sight before her.

She doesn’t even look surprised. She simply chews on her soggy toothpick annoyed and rolls her eyes, like this is just another day at work for her.

“We literally rent rooms for that,” she grouses exasperated while pointing a long finger to the roof  like she’s talking to two idiots, “upstairs.”  

[star-killer-md]

My Foolish Heart

Requests: 

@worm800 : babe, let's get some kylo fluff in here. KING of minimal and accidental kindness lmao. there's an option at the bottom of fluff prompts that says "writer's choice," so consider this a wildcard. some /suggestions/ i have are from the kiss prompts 7, 26, 25, 44. <3 <3 <3

@obsessionprofessional : I don’t know if you’re still taking requests (thanks, shitty tumblr functions) but may I request Kylo being sweet with the reader after you’ve had a bad day? Thank you!!!! Also please disregard this if your requests aren’t open!

Thank you both so much for requesting and waiting for me to actually write things. I hope you enjoy 💖

Summary: A little companion piece set before the events of DALDOM, one of RC’s very first dreams of Kylo after her promotion. 

Warnings: the set up is angsty cause it’s me, but there’s some fluff at the end, you don’t really need to have read my longer fic to understand, but it might be helpful 

Word Count: 1.5k

It was the yelling that did it. 

That set you reeling and made your heart pound in your ears and your hands shake and your breath rattle in your lungs and— 

And you wanted to put your fist through the top of your desk to relieve some of the pent up adrenaline, but that would mean admitting it got to you. Either way you came out wounded. At this point it was just a matter of what’s more important: your hand or your pride. 

Hux’s voice still bounced around in your skull, bruising neural pathways with the way it echoed. Logically, you understood that sometimes situations were simply irreparable. That there were occasions in your line of work when egos had been too badly damaged or high ranking individuals too personally insulted for you to do any sort of patch job. To be fair, you were most certainly not the one who had shot down multiple allied space crafts during the invasion of a resource rich, outer rim planet killing the son of one very important ambassador in the process, but somehow it ended up on your desk nonetheless. 

And there were not enough credits at your disposal to make up for a dead son. 

You suspected there may not be enough credits in the whole of the galaxy to negate that loss. 

Not that you would know—holodramas can only get you so far in understanding conventional family dynamics—but it seemed a cheap move even as the offer of compensation left your mouth. 

Turns out, you were right. 

The negotiations ended with a severing of ties from the Order and your ass in Hux’s line of fire. Of course it was you on the receiving end of his verbal arsenal seeing as Commander Trigger Happy Ren was conveniently predisposed in the medbay.

How fortunate for him. 

You’d escaped to your office just in time, closed the door and sat and wished you had a pillow so you could scream into it. Because if you screamed, the stinging in your eyes might go away and take the growing knot in your throat with it. 

You weren’t bad at your job, in fact you had just been promoted. 

You thrived in fast paced environments, you could think on your feet and Hux must not believe you’re a complete moron—he did hire you—but you just…

There was nothing you could have done to salvage that meeting. Nothing you could have said or offered, but it felt like there must have been something you missed. 

You wanted to be impressive, needed to be impressive. To whom you weren’t sure, maybe everyone. The look of disgust and disapproval on the General’s face was burned into your eyelids. You simply couldn’t stand the thought of failing. 

This was the only thing you were ever actually good at. 

And you needed to be good at it, because you didn’t have anything else. 

Something wet and shameful dripped from your chin and onto the cold, metal desk. The stream continued until there was a veritable puddle forming, threatening to spill over the edge and soak your uniform trousers. What was it Hux had called you? 

Pathetic. 

Damn if you weren’t just proving him right. 

You thought sourly of Kylo Ren. He’d surely be surrounded by medical droids and basking in the light of his victory, completely unbothered by its consequences. He stood on a pedestal—the hero of the First Order, its strongest weapon, a god in his own right leading you on the path to glory—while you were swallowed up in the shadow he cast. 

Trapped in the dark trail left behind, you carried the weight of massacred planets and dead sons on your shoulders. 

And how dare you falter. 

How dare you be anything but grateful. 

That’s what all your coworkers said when you got this position. What an honor, they said. 

What an honor. 

What an honor it was to work so closely with such powerful men. 

And, gods, you had actually believed that. 

What an honor? 

What a load of shit. 

You sniffed, wiping your face and nose on your jacket sleeve. This wouldn’t be the first time you’d been screwed over, and it most certainly wouldn’t be the last. The least you could do was finish the report quickly. That way it could be sent off to rest in the graveyard of all the Order’s other failed alliances and you could forget it had ever happened. 

Which would give you more time to stew, more time to focus on who was truly at fault here. 

You’d known very little about Commander Ren coming into this position—and while a reluctant part of you was enamored by his strength—the more you learned, the more he enraged you. In fact, you didn’t even know what he looked like behind that ridiculous mask he insisted on wearing at all times, but that mattered very little. 

Your anger did not need a face. 

Swiftly, you typed the report, forwarded it to the appropriate recipients and went directly to your quarters. The shifts would be changing soon and you wanted to escape into sleep for a while. The cafeterias would be open when you woke up anyway. 

Something felt strange as you stripped and slid into your bunk, the hard mattress pressing into your spine. The blankets were thin and scratched painfully at your skin in the low light. Your eyes fell closed somewhat against your will, like it wasn’t quite sleep that pulled you hard into a dark unconsciousness, devoid of thought. But you didn’t have the power to resist it regardless. In seconds the room faded out into a drowsy haze and you surrendered into the comforting oblivion.

*** 

It felt like waking. 

A sort of gradual coming into existence starting from your toes and working up until you could just barely peel your eyes open. 

Your head was spinning in the way it often did when you woke up at your desk expecting to be in bed. That same, strange disorientation flitted about your brain as it registered whatever was laying underneath you was much softer and warmer than your mattress. It rose up and sunk every so often like it was breathing. Maybe it was. Certainly felt that way, considering the cool prickle of moving air on your neck. 

Everything was still black, so you concentrated on the placement of your limbs in space. You were face down. There was something large and solid squeezed between your thighs, what felt like bone under muscle pressing in when you shifted. It felt very much like a body, with arms crushing you to a massive chest, and your head tucked into the crook of his neck. That explained the warmth then. You burrowed deeper into him, breathing in the scent of mint that fanned across your face. 

After a few moments of settling, the body shifted. He dropped his head, grazing the softest, plushest, pair of lips over the shell of your ear. You shivered and his arms tightened around you, eclipsing your body in his. The lips wandered lower, ghosting across your neck and licking a wet stripe down until they reached the joining at your shoulder and nibbled at the skin. 

Like he was tasting you, drinking the tension in your bones. With every press of his lips to your flesh, you went limp and melted into the body below you. 

Long locks of hair brushed your nose as he moved, descending on the other side to suck and bite at the skin. Teeth dug in, stinging as they printed marks across your chest. 

It was so…

Familiar. 

A quiet hum escaped you and was muffled by the broad expanse of torso. That made him still, made him pause, and tilt your head back by the hair. His hand cupped the whole of your skull in his palm. 

So big, so firm. 

So all encompassing. 

You couldn’t see, but you felt eyes on you—searching, though not finding. 

There was breath on your lips, and it wasn’t your own. It was sharp and clean and so close you could taste the warmth of it. The burning inside your chest and eyes was laid to rest under his scrutiny. A hand, with calloused, thick fingers ran along the curve of your jaw, clenching every now and again as though they were accustomed to such a soft touch. Used to more force. A tighter grip, a more violent purpose. 

But not here, and not now. 

You inhaled deeply, stealing some of him and hoarding it deep inside yourself. It felt warm, like his hulking body below you. 

It felt good.

It felt right. 

It felt safe.

It felt like a beginning.

His hand tensed, and tucked you back into him like his ribs might crack open and swallow you whole. By degrees, your awareness faded out. Your limbs lost their physical presence and everything faded into this odd, in between space. This time it was sleep that called. So, calm, content, and willing you followed its call. 

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

[spaceskam]

A Boy Like That

Summary: In which teenage Lan Xichen dotes on Nie Huaisang to flirt with Nie Mingjue. 

Word Count: 4,016

Warnings: implied separation anxiety

ao3

Nie Huaisang quite liked Gusu.

There were many more things to see with many more colors than in the Unclean Realm. That was all gray and boring, but the Cloud Recesses were all pretty blues and pure whites and tons of plants. The men inside were all stunning and, although he couldn’t see them, he had to assume the women were as well. Everything was endlessly beautiful. 

Including the very important person Da-ge was speaking to.

Lan Xichen stood tall and thin, his hands behind his back and his smile easy. He looked at Da-ge in the exact opposite way that he was looking at him with his shoulders back and his face permanently angry. It always was when there were others around to see. The only thing that made Nie Huaisang sure his brother wasn’t all stone was the fact he didn’t let go of his hand even when clutched his saber in the other.

“I can help you study,” Lan Xichen offered, voice just as pretty as he was, “I understand not everyone can learn by reading.”

“I learn just fine,” Da-ge said, but even he couldn’t keep his angry voice around Lan Xichen. Nie Huaisang couldn’t stop staring at him. Nothing in the Unclean Realm was like him; he was a character in a storybook who was the definition of elegance. 

“I don’t mean to insult you, Nie-gongzi,” he said, “One future sect leader to another, I think we need to work together if we want to be better than our predecessors, don’t you? Especially if it means surviving the elder sect leaders we’ll inevitably have to work with. Sect Leader Yao is going to outlive us all out of spite, I’m sure of it.”

 Da-ge let out a slow breath and looked to the side for a moment. Lan Xichen never once looked bothered. He was all patience. Nie Huaisang studied his face anyway, the smile that gave away nothing. Every single time he saw him, he had that smile. Nie Huaisang tucked it in the back of his mind for later.

“It isn’t that I can’t study, it’s that I can’t focus with my secret weapon,” Da-ge said, lifting his arm and lifting Nie Huaisang off the ground with ease. He giggled quietly and smiled at his brother. Lan Xichen’s expression changed just enough to show his complete fondness.

“Ah, I’d say he could play with A-Zhan, but A-Zhan doesn’t really play,” he said, crouching down just a little to get on eye level with Nie Huaisang, “But you’re in luck because I do.”

Nie Huaisang smiled shyly and pressed into his brother’s side.

“Xichen, you don’t need to‒”

“Let me help you, Da-ge,” Lan Xichen said, raising to his full height again. Nie Huaisang noticed the way his smile changed with his voice into something teasing. When he looked up to his brother, he saw him softening up just a little.

“If he gets to be too much, bring him back,” Da-ge said, “And he will get too much.”

“Nonsense,” Lan Xichen said, holding out his hand, “Come, A-Sang, let Da-ge study.” 

Nie Huaisang checked with Da-ge first before reluctantly grabbing Lan Xichen’s hand, but he kept a hold on his brother. He wanted to make sure this was actually what they were going to do. He didn’t really like leaving Da-ge’s side. It was always a bad idea. But Da-ge nodded and released his hand.

“Don’t cause trouble, do you understand?”

“A-Sang is not trouble, Da-ge is trouble,” he said. Da-ge glared at him until Nie Huaisang’s laughter made it go away. Lan Xichen chuckled.

“We’ll be just fine,” he promised.

Da-ge gave Nie Huaisang a once over before he reluctantly headed towards the library. He looked over his shoulder to him just once before he disappeared into the room that was full of things that Nie Huaisang could make a mess with. He felt a little nervous when he could no longer see his brother and he really thought about running after him and promising to be quiet. Lan Xichen was pretty and nice, but it wasn’t the same. What if something bad happened? 

“Don’t worry, A-Sang, we’ll have a lot of fun,” Lan Xichen said, his voice calm and reassuring. Nie Huaisang nodded and leaned into Lan Xichen’s leg. He was taller than Da-ge by just a little.

He led the way as they headed away from the buildings and into some of the pretty trees. Nie Huaisang reached out to touch the grass and leaves as he passed them, careful not to pull on any of them even when he really wanted to. Lan Xichen, oddly enough, had a much firmer grip on his hand than Da-ge. He was pretty and elegant like in storybooks, but he was strong. Maybe that’s why he’s the only one Da-ge didn’t hate.

They eventually came to a stop when they got to a small clearing with a stream nearby. Bunnies hopped around freely and Nie Huaisang watched them with wide, intrigued eyes. Lan Xichen loosened his grip on his hand.

“Now, you can play, but this is still a quiet place, A-Sang,” Lan Xichen said softly, couching down to look at him in the eye so he would understand, “This is A-Zhan’s favorite space, but I don’t think he’ll mind us playing here as long as we take care of it.”

“Yes, Lan-gongzi.”

Lan Xichen laughed softly, “That’s too formal, call me Er-ge.”

Nie Huaisang thought about telling him that was too informal, but if he told him it was okay then it must be. He nodded. 

Lan Xichen let him to the middle of the small clearing and gestured for him to sit down. Nie Huaisang watched all the bunnies hop around and he just wanted to chase them and grab them and hug them, but he knew that was wrong. So he sat and watched Lan Xichen intently, watching for what to do next. 

“If you’re very nice, they’ll be your friend,” Lan Xichen said softly, reaching out to pick up one of the braver bunnies. He put it on Nie Huaisang’s lap. “Be very gentle.”

He nodded, petting the bunny as softly as possible. It took a lot of self-control, but he tried really hard. He didn’t want to scare the bunny away.

“A-Zhan loves these rabbits. One time, I couldn’t find him anywhere I went, even here, but then it turns out he’d just been so still they’d all piled on him while he took a nap,” Lan Xichen said. Nie Huaisang looked up at him with wide eyes. He couldn’t imagine staying that still for so long. Da-ge said he kicked in his sleep, too.

“Wow,” Nie Huaisang said. Lan Xichen smiled, reaching his hand out to some of the shy bunnies. They sniffed his fingertips before hopping a little closer. “I can’t do that.”

“It’s alright. Everyone is different and they like different things,” he said, tilting his head, “What do you like?”

“I like…” Nie Huaisang said, watching Lan Xichen for a moment. He knew that he was supposed to say swordplay. He had gotten in trouble because he didn’t like swords. But Lan Xichen seemed like he might not get mad at him for that. “I like stories.”

“Stories? What kind of stories?”

“Like… Like the one where the big strong warrior saves the fair maiden and they, they fall in love and, and they get married. Or the one where the Sect Leader who was the strongest cultivator ever reached immortality and, and he fell in love with a lesser cultivator, but he spent years helping her so they could be immortal together and, and then he left his Sect to be a rogue cultivator with her forever!” Nie Huaisong said, getting a little too excited that the bunnies ran off. Lan Xichen didn’t seem bothered by it as he smiled. “Da-ge read me that one, he said it was his favorite.”

“Da-ge has a favorite love story?” Lan Xichen asked. Nie Huaisang’s eyes widened and he gasped, switching to his knees as he shushed him.

“Shhh, Da-ge said it’s a secret,” he said. It took him a few seconds before he realized he’d just shushed the heir to the Lan Sect. He was about to apologize, but Lan Xichen was smiling so maybe it was okay.

 “So Da-ge’s favorite story is of a Sect Leader and his love becoming immortal and running away together?” Lan Xichen said, smiling, “That’s very romantic.”

“Romantic,” Nie Huaisang repeated, dropping his shoulder and nodded insistently.

“I read one about a female cultivator who was so strong and wise, but she fell in love with a common man and gave up everything for him. I’ll have to find the book for you,” Lan Xichen offered. Nie Huaisang smiled wide and nodded.

“Yes, thank you, Er-ge.”

Lan Xichen smiled to the point his eyes got all crinkly. Da-ge never did that. It made him look even more handsome, Nie Huaisang thought. He wondered how many female cultivators pictured him when they dreamed of their future husband. Probably too many to count.

“What else does A-Sang like? Poetry? Music? Drawing?” Lan Xichen. He didn’t even once mention swordplay. Nie Huaisang really liked him.

“Yes! Da-ge lets me skip calligraphy practice to draw sometimes,” Nie Huaisang said, but he soon realized what he said and his eyes went wide, “But, but don’t say anything because Da-ge got in trouble.”

“I won’t, I promise,” Lan Xichen said, still smiling, “Da-ge is a very good big brother to you.”

“He’s the best,” Nie Huaisang said. Lan Xichen smiled and looked down for a moment. He almost looked a little sad. Before Nie Huaisang could say anything to make him feel better, though, he looked back up.

“Would you like to see something?” he asked. Nie Huaisang nodded instantly. Lan Xichen reached into his sleeve and pulled out a xiao. “Its name is Liebing.”

Nie Huaisang leaned perhaps a bit too close, eyes wide with intrigue. There weren’t really instruments in the Unclean Realm. They weren’t valued unless they were used in battle, which was a skill typically only used in the Lan Sect‒anything that wasn’t useful in battle wasn’t valued. He only got to see them when he ventured outside which wasn’t often. He’d never seen one so up close.

“And you use it to fight?” Nie Huaisang asked.

“I could, but the Lan Sect has many other uses for their instruments. We have songs to communicate with ghosts and songs to purify someone’s golden core and songs to help heal someone‒almost anything you can think of,” Lan Xichen said. Nie Huaisang nodded easily. Then Lan Xichen smiled and leaned a little closer. “But, if you can keep a secret, I quite like playing for fun.”

“A-Sang can keep a secret,” he promised. Lan Xichen nodded.

“I bet you can.”

He brought Liebing to his lips and played a couple of notes. Nie Huaisang was entranced. He scooted close and tried to see all the things Lan Xichen was doing. It sounded so pretty and it was so cool. Lan Xichen laughed.

“Here, look,” he said. He handed Liebing to Nie Huaisang and it felt like the biggest privilege in the world. He held it very carefully as Lan Xichen showed him where to hold it near his mouth and adjusted his fingers over the holes. “Now blow just a little bit. Not too hard. Gentle, like you were with the bunnies.”

Nie Huaisang nodded and a soft, pretty sound came from it. He nearly jumped out of his body with joy. He wanted to run around and make as much noise with it as he could, but he couldn’t because that was against the rules. So, instead, he smiled and tried to keep calm even though he was already moving. Lan Xichen didn’t seem bothered as he moved his fingers to show him another note.

They did that for a while until Nie Huaisang was struggling to stay still and Lan Xichen indulged him just a little, letting him chase around the bunnies for a few minutes. He knew it was against the rules to run inside the Cloud Recesses, but Lan Xichen urged him to get it out of his system. A-Zhan never felt the need, he’d said, but he understood wanting to.

“A-Sang should find things to entertain his hands when his body can’t run around or draw,” Lan Xichen said, “It will help.”

Nie Huaisang eyed him for a moment. It seemed like he was slowly leading in to tell him to practice swordplay, to keep him entertained. He wouldn’t know what to say to that. Lan Xichen didn’t seem like the type to particularly enjoy swordplay in the same way most disciples were expected to. He played music and read romantic stories. Was he really going to suggest swordplay?

“Does A-Sang know how to braid?” Lan Xichen asked. Nie Huaisang stared at him. 

“No.”

“It keeps your hands busy. Perhaps it will help you allow Da-ge to focus a bit more when he’s studying, it’s a very important skill,” Lan Xichen suggested. Nie Huaisang nodded and walked a bit closer to him. He sat down beside him again and stared up at him.

“Okay.”

Lan Xichen smiled and pulled some of his own hair over his shoulder, separating it into three separate strands. He showed him the proper way to cross them slowly and didn’t say a word when Nie Huaisang leaned in super close to get a better look. When Nie Huaisang took his own hair and tried to copy him, Lan Xichen offered him ample amounts of patience even as he messed up over and over. He never once got frustrated when he was playing his xiao or chasing rabbits or braiding hair. Nie Huaisang considered asking to stay here with him forever.

“In a few years, you’ll come to study at the Cloud Recesses with other disciples your age,” Lan Xichen said softly, smiling and nodding in approval as Nie Huaisang finally got the hang of the braids, “It will be very beneficial if A-Sang finds tasks that keep his hands occupied and his mind free. You have all the makings of a very strong cultivator. You learn very quickly.”

Nie Huaisang didn’t have the right words for that. He had no real interest in being a strong cultivator. He’d much rather live a life full of stories and spending time with pretty people like Lan Xichen who played music for him and helped him break the rules. But he couldn’t say that.

He had to follow the rules and he had to do as he was told.

Nie Huaisang smiled, doing his best to copy the way that he’d seen Lan Xichen smile. “Thank you, Er-ge.”

“Nie Mingjue, your Da-ge, is a very strong cultivator,” Lan Xichen went on, “One of the strongest of all the junior disciples here, but he has a bit of a temper. If A-Sang studies and practices and keeps his smile and his wits, I think the two of you could make a rather unstoppable team.”

“Like the brothers in that story Da-ge read where they fought all the bad guys all by themselves?” Nie Huaisang asked. Lan Xichen nodded firmly and smiled.

“Brotherhood is very important and so is balance. A-Sang balances Da-ge very well. The Nie Sect has had many fearsome and angry warriors‒it seems all of the light has been saved for you,” Lan Xichen said fondly. Nie Huaisang felt his cheeks grow a bit warm at the praise. “And you bring out the light in your Da-ge. One day, the two of you could be legendary leaders together. A-Sang must take care of Da-ge the way Da-ge takes care of A-Sang.”

Nie Huaisang nodded, never breaking eye contact. It seemed important not to. He never saw Da-ge as someone that needed to be taken care of, but Lan Xichen maybe knew more than him. Maybe they could.

As fun and smart as Lan Xichen was, Nie Huaisang felt infinitely more at ease when they got to the room he and Da-ge shared. He immediately barrelled into his brother for a hug and clutched him tight. Da-ge, for all his angry stares, pet his head and put a hand on his back to hold him in place.

“Did A-Sang have fun with Xichen?” Da-ge asked. Nie Huaisang nodded against his stomach.

“He taught me his xiao,” he said, “And he taught me how to braid. He said it was a very important skill.”

“Important?”

“Yes, he said so,” Nie Huaisang argued.

“I did say so,” Lan Xichen’s soft voice said. Nie Huaisang twisted his head just enough to see him politely standing in the doorway.

“Thank you, Xichen,” Da-ge said, taking his hands off Nie Huaisang just long enough to bow. They went back to his hair and his back once he was done.

“My pleasure,” Lan Xichen said, “I take great pride in being entrusted with Nie-gongzi’s most sacred of weapons.”

Da-ge hummed in a noncommittal fashion, petting Nie Huaisang’s head perhaps a little too rough. He didn’t mind as he hugged his brother a little tighter in retaliation. Da-ge never asked for hugs, but when he did things like that it usually meant he wanted one. Or, at least, wouldn’t reject one.

“Both Nie-gongzi and A-Sang should attend dinner with Grandmaster tomorrow evening,” Lan Xichen suggested, “It would be good for Grandmaster to meet you both.”

“Would it?” Da-ge asked, his tone of voice suggesting a little more than Nie Huaisang could put together. He tilted his head up to see if there was anything on his face giving it away.

Then, he remembered the way their father screamed and sent them both to punishment for little things and instilled fear in so many and yet still got praised with ‘at least he’s nicer than the previous Sect Leader’. That and Lan Xichen’s mention of Da-ge having a bad temper. Maybe that’s what it was.

“It would,” Lan Xichen said calmly, “Because then this disciple would not have to explain when I ask to attend with Nie-gongzi on my own.”

Da-ge was quiet for a very, very long time. So Nie Huaisang spoke for him.

“A-Sang thinks that’s very important,” he said, echoing the way Lan Xichen had spoken earlier in the day. The smile he got in return from the storybook-like man made it worth every effort. 

“Okay,” Da-ge said, “Okay.”

“Okay,” Lan Xichen replied, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Er-ge!”

“A-Sang.”

“Goodnight, Nie-er-gongzi,” Lan Xichen said, amusement in his voice even though he gave him a stern face and bowed deeply for Nie Huaisang to earn a laugh. He stood up straight with a smile and looked over his head to Da-ge. “Goodnight, Mingjue.”

“Goodnight, Xichen.”

Lan Xichen exited with that same ease he always carried. He seemed to float. Had A-Sang not felt his strength with his own hand, he might’ve thought he was simply air itself. The moment he was gone out of sight, though, Da-ge grabbed Nie Huaisang’s wrists and pulled him off his feet. Nie Huaisang laughed as he wrapped his arms around his brother’s neck and got a proper hug.

Da-ge breathed in deep as he squeezed him tight and breathed out. Nie Huaisang suddenly understood what Lan Xichen meant about taking care of his brother a little bit better.

“A-Sang missed Da-ge,” he said. Da-ge didn’t respond as he just held him for a little while. He wondered just how big he would have to get before he stopped lifting him in the air liked that.

He hoped he never got too big.

After they retrieved their dinner for the night and brought it back to their room, Nie Huaisang was finally allowed a bit of freedom. He ate while he talked and ate while he wandered around the room, looking at all the little things the Lan Sect put in their dormitories. He’d already looked at most of them, but they were usually too interested to ignore.

Eventually, Da-ge let him get a hold of his hair and he started adding braids everywhere he could. He didn’t fight him about or even look at him like he was angry, he just let him do whatever he wanted. He was his favorite person in the world.

“Did Da-ge study?” Nie Huaisang asked, again remembering what Lan Xichen had said as he took a bite off the spoon that Da-ge held out to him. 

“I did,” Da-ge said, “There’s too many rules and logistics here and not enough real-world application. I think I would’ve gotten as much knowledge with you asking what everything was the whole time.”

“A-Sang can do that tomorrow.”

Da-ge nodded in agreement.

After a bath and getting into their Lan-white night robes, Nie Huaisang lingered by the cot that had been set up for him when Da-ge had shown up with him attached to his side. It wasn’t usual for disciples to bring siblings too young to study inside the Cloud Recesses, but they’d made an exception after he promised to be on his best behavior. It usually meant sleeping in past Da-ge’s classes and then hanging onto his side after that.

“Sleep, A-Sang,” Da-ge said, lifting him onto the cot. He draped the blanket over him and pet his head.

Da-ge made it all the way to his bed and laid all the way down and extinguished all of the candles before Nie Huaisang slid off of the cot. He tip-toed over and crawled under the blanket, his head popping out of the top beside his brother’s. He didn’t yell at him or tell him to go back to bed, he just gave a tiny little smile and nodded.

“Er-ge looks like the cultivator from the love stories,” Nie Huaisang told him softly. Da-ge breathed in slowly.

“Does he?”

“Er-ge is pretty like them,” he explained. Da-ge didn’t answer, but Nie Huaisang reached out to put his palm on his cheek. He felt warm. “Da-ge thinks Er-ge is pretty.”

“I don’t think anyone is pretty.”

“A-Sang is pretty,” he refuted. Da-ge turned his head to look at him, smiling in that way he only did when there was no one around to say anything. Nie Huaisang smiled wide enough to make up for them both.

“You’re right, A-Sang is very pretty.”

The next morning, it only took a little persuasion to get Da-ge to keep the braids that hung around to frame his face. Nie Huaisang put a handful of random ones in his hair as well so he wouldn’t be embarrassed. It felt fair and Da-ge looked pretty.

By the time they ran into Lan Xichen, it was nearing midday. His eyes lit up and he stepped close, touching one of the braids in Da-ge’s hair.

“Da-ge, your braids! They’re so pretty!” It was the most vibrant Nie Huaisang had ever heard from any Lan disciple, even if it was teasing, and he felt the excitement grow in his chest in response.

“I blame you for this,” Da-ge grumbled, still managing that angry stare even when someone who looked like Lan Xichen was being so friendly. Nie Huaisang bounced onto his toes, laughing slightly.

“This disciple accepts responsibility,” Lan Xichen said, bowing slightly. His playful expression didn’t fade as he looked to Nie Huaisang. “A-Sang did such a good job.”

“Thank you, Er-ge.”

Lan Xichen nodded and stood up a bit straighter. He looked at Da-ge and Da-ge looked at him and they seemed to have a whole conversation without saying a word of it. It ended with Da-ge nodding twice.

“Would A-Sang like to draw while Da-ge studies?” Lan Xichen asked. Nie Huaisang’s eyes widened with excitement and he nodded, accepting Lan Xichen’s hand when he held it out.

The three of them walked to the library together and if he deliberately stayed on his best behavior when Lan Xichen leaned a bit closer to help Da-ge with his calligraphy, they would be none the wiser.

[creamypudding]

Woeful WIP Wednesday

Hi! This is the start of my Woeful WIP Wednesday series of posts which will happen on Wednesdays, duh. And before anyone gets up at me about it not being Wednesday yet... just remember time zones exist in this world, and yeah, it is actually Wednesday.

Other things about the name... Most of these WIPs I'm happy with so it's not the actual stories that are woeful. It's the fact that they are still WIPs and not finished that is woeful to me, hence the name, yeah? Ok 😄

So with that out of the way...

I've gone through all my folders and found the various bits and pieces of writing I've begun and let slide or abandoned. My hope is that by letting them be free on Tumblr I might either A) remember that these stories exist, B) perhaps get a renewed appreciation and motivation to poke them, C) give myself permission to never look at them again.

Some of these WIPs I 100% mean to finish one day. Some I know I won't. Some I have actually finished but haven't polished completely or something's getting in the way of me doing a final pass so I don't consider them worthy of going onto my Ao3 account just yet but hopefully will one day.

The WIPs I'm gonna upload are also of various lengths. I have some completed chapters that are thousands of words long, I have some that are mere hundreds of words long and are slips of ideas I started to formulate.

I have 10 AkuRoku WIPs and 6 Zakkura ones. Each week I'll post one WIP and the pattern will be 2 AkuRoku WIPs followed by 1 Zakkura to mix things up a bit. I'll blab a bit about the WIP and post the full WIP under the cut.

If there is anything in particular people would like to know about the stories or the creative process in future posts please let me know and I’ll incorporate more information if people are interested in that sort of thing. If you give me direction I can follow through.

I hope you will enjoy these WIPs and I trust you'll judge them way less harshly than what I judge my own writing.

So anyway, kicking things off I have a very short and sweet AkuRoku WIP. 

I started this in May 2019 and it's technically 'done' but I haven't posted it because it's not done to my specific level of 'done-ness'. All it needs is a little polish. A little editing here and there. Fixing the grammatical and spelling errors, and fleshing it out in a few spots perhaps.

It's the 'fleshing out' bit that hasn't happened and that's truly stopping me from considering this a finished product.

This story is called ‘10 ways to fall in love’ but I never came up with 10 scenarios which I suspect is why this story will never be finished. I could change the name of it and if I ever post it I will change the name of it. In fact, most of the WIPs I post would have different names if they ever do go up on Ao3.

But going back to this specific WIP— it is a canon story spanning Days, KH2, KH3, and after, which is maybe the biggest culprit in regards to why I never finished this story. I don’t do well with canon-based story telling. It’s too much pressure to get everything canon-compliant. Do people ask for things to be right? Probably not so much, but my brain is very hyperfocused on getting things right, which is a huge road block to my creativity and the reason why I prefer AUs.

I don't have much else to say about this story but if you enjoy this, or any of the other WIP’s it would be great if you would let me know.

If others are passionate about these stories it might make me passionate about them again. But who knows.

Rated G

Word count - 951

10 ways to fall in love

What do you call it?

This feeling I have?

Love?

No. Too strong, or not strong enough

A name

A special name

Your name

It was always your name

That made me feel like I had a heart

They didn’t have a name for it. They didn’t even know if what they felt was real because how could a Nobody feel anything. For Axel it was just a ghost of a memory of his old life. For Roxas it was an endless source of confusion because these strange sensations fluttered in his body all the time when he was around Axel. It was incredibly dull at first but grew exponentially bigger with the passing days.

He couldn’t reconcile that even the most tedious missions were made fun when they were around each other - though he shouldn’t be able to have fun without a heart. What were any of the experiences that ever happened between them, without a heart? They felt nothing. They were Nobodies. They couldn't be anything other than empty husks.

That had always been the greatest lie which had been told to them, which they chose to believe, until it became impossible, though the denial sat rife in the way they denied their joy, sadness, and anger. But the strongest denial flowed from the warmth and nameless affections that fluttered in the chest and stomach when they were together. Such a thing was most unbelievable of all and merely a figment of the imagination - a vestige of when they were Somebodies, a quiet echo in a vast nothingness of their actual existence. Even for Roxas, with his half-formed ideas of his Somebodies life.

But none of these things mattered because Roxas disappeared and Axel died.

"He made me feel like I had a heart." A quiet whisper of a thought, made real and said aloud finally crumbled the paper-thin veneer which Axel had clung too, all too late to do anything about.

And he is reborn, and now knows better. Lea knows better. He understands his returned heart which aches and bleeds broken and shattered even as it is physically whole inside himself, pumping blood. His soul has gone, reappearing for fleeting moments when he sees Sora get a certain look in his eyes, or uses a turn of phrase. A spark exists and it jolts Lea every time closer to awareness - closer to a name.

And then he is in that most miserable of places, fighting a war that might never be won, but he must try because the promise of what lies ahead if he does win is worth every risk. He fights for his friends, present and gone, and then out of almost nowhere Lea's heart is returned and whole and stronger than ever before, and his memories are back, and he holds the two people most dear to him. He cannot lose them again and does everything in his power to protect them both, and it is a safe feeling because it stops him from thinking too hard or feeling too strongly the flutters and warmth, and the soothing in his heart.

But he feels it all again, and let's himself be overcome by it as the never-setting sun of Twilight Town is observed with his most favorite people in the whole wide world sitting next to him.

He scooches a little closer, seeking the warmth and reassurance of Roxas next to him. The tinkling laugh builds his own and drips deep down into his body and soul to become the best sound he's always known to miss.

Happiness engulfs him. But it is not the word he looks for when he sees Roxas walking, talking, laughing, grumbling, and eating ice cream. It is so much bigger and all-encompassing than this miniscule word for a feeling..

"I never stopped wanting you back. I never stopped fighting to get you back," he confesses in the evening on Destiny Island, during a rare moment alone on this summer vacation full of reunions and happy tidings.

"I know. I saw, I heard."

"You did?"

Roxas nods and swings his legs as they dangle off the pier the both of them at sitting on.

It warms Lea’s heart to know Roxas was never far away. “I think I felt you – there in Sora. When he got angry and frustrated.”

Roxas laughs. “I was always angry and frustrated in Sora. Everything felt so warm and fluffy inside of there.”

“Realy? Why would that make you angry?”

“Because it’s like eating nothing but honey – you get sick of it,” Roxas shakes his head, “But it’s worse because someone else is force-feeding it to you.”

"It's ok. Just seeing you – knowing you were there wanting to get me back was enough." Roxas leans, Lea receives and the feels which are always right there, in the middle of his chest ignite and burn so bright.

"I'm sorry I couldn't do anything to help you."

Lea hugs him tight, almost too tight. Roxas writhes against his arms and just as Lea makes to let go Roxas gets his own arms around Lea and squeezed him, robbing him of his breath for a few seconds, but Lea feels he could happily die in Roxas' arms and savors the crush.

They both end up laughing against each other, inhaling deep breaths, rubbing their cheeks against each other and leaning their foreheads together.

Everything they ever felt for each other is still there, but stronger, because they have hearts and acceptance of their reality.

"Axel," Roxas' breath tickles Lea's lips. He doesn't care to correct Roxas. Roxas could call him a heartless and he wouldn't care because Roxas is back and with him.

"I don't want you to ever disappear again," Lea murmurs.

"I don't want you to ever suffer again," Roxas apologizes. 

Lea cups Roxas' cheek, which is so soft and warm. "I never will as long as you're with me."

[turquoise-stones]

Umbrella Pt. 2

Bakugou x fem!reader

Anonymous said:

can i rq for a part 2 for the umbrella fanfic of bakugou? i really love your writings!!

A/N: Sure! Just a little warning though, I wrote Umbrella about 2 years ago (and it was one of my first one-shots ever or maybe my actual first) so my style is a bit different now. I hope it’s not too noticeable (or at least it’s better!) 

You don’t have to read the first one to read this one, but it does give context. Here it is. 

Also, this isn’t a songfic, but listen to the music for maximum feels.

. . .

There was nothing worse than rain in the winter. Unlike the warm rain of the summer or the cleansing rain of autumn, winter rain fell in never-ending icy sheets.

Much like the sudden onslaught of heavy rains, class 1-A was suffering from a change in tone as well. It had only been a couple of weeks since Bakugou Katsuki had been kidnapped from the training grounds, and while he came back unscathed, the fear and paranoia he brought back with him stuck. The thought that villains could invade supposedly “safe” places whenever they wanted, and kidnap even the strongest of students, loomed over everyone’s heads. 

You let out a loud sigh, packing away your gym clothes and preparing to go home. The one good part about the rain was the fact that you were staying later at school and training more. You could watch the sunset too, and empty wet buses are always better than crowded wet buses.

You walked swiftly to the main entrance, thinking of the root of your worries: Bakugou. Even if he acted tough, he was still human, and humans don’t just walk away from a kidnapping completely fine. The changes were subtle but there: he trained harder than before, was a bit jumpier when you caught him by surprise. You had always considered him this impenetrable force of nature, but sometimes you forgot, sometimes everyone forgot, that he was still just a teenager.

Standing under the overhang, you pushed rustled out your umbrella, still wet from use this morning. You clicked open and stepped out into the soaked gray world. Water beat mercilessly down for a split second as you slipped under the curtain of water streaming down the roof, before turning into a lighter drumming. You shivered as wind whipped through your clothing, misting your face in rain. It really was freezing outside. 

You didn’t even know why you were so worried for him. One would think that they would fear their own safety first, but maybe that just wasn’t in your nature. You just cared for him and you couldn’t help it. The two of you weren’t lovers, in fact, you wouldn’t even count yourself among his close friends, yet you just cared for him. 

The closest spark of romance between you two was that time months ago when he had kept you safe from the rain, and while the rain was much more pleasant that day than it was now, your thoughts still traveled back to that moment. Even though nothing came from it, it was still the sweetest display of care that you had seen from him since. At the very least, you never forgot your umbrella again.

You glanced left and right down the long deserted sidewalks to cross the street, but paused when you noticed a bright splotch of red through the blurry rain. It was many streets down, and you could barely make out the small blonde tuft. He was just standing there, still.

Your heart skipped a beat, feeling a little uneasy. Perhaps you were just unused to seeing him calm, but he just looked so sad and lonely, all alone. Despite the biting winds and your desire to get home, you felt compelled to stray from your path and go comfort him. As you veered off the main road, you found yourself clumsily dodging more and more puddles as the sidewalk became less and less smooth. Rain ran downhill from you, kicking up at the fronts of your shoes and flowing in a sheet down. He spotted your brightly colored umbrella bobbling towards him, and he watched with amusement as your rain slicked form tottered into view. 

As you got closer you realized that he was standing in a park, or more like a small patch of grass scarcely large enough to house a swing set. And as you crossed the street to him, you realized that he was actually looking at the far more impressive view of the city below, sparkling with wet golden light. Panting slightly from the uphill climb, you finally reached him.

“Bakugou! What are you doing up here?” You called.

“I could ask you the same, (y/n).”

“What?” You made your way closer, as the drumming of rain on your umbrella seemed to drown out all sound.

“Why’re you here?” He asked, much louder. You flinched at the harsh tone but understood that that was just what Bakugou’s normal voice sounded like. Somehow, he wasn’t nearly as wet as you were, and was remarkably just in a t-shirt and sweats, while you were bundled up in a thick jacket.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay!” You said, reaching a point where the two of you couldn’t get any closer because your umbrellas were bumping.

“Of course I’m okay why wouldn’t I be.” He grumbled.

“Well I didn’t think you were the type to just stare at pretty views, so of course I got worried.”

“I can stare at whatever I damn so please.”

You were about to drop the subject, but you remembered the small changes in his demeanor over the past couple weeks, and decided to press him more.

“You don’t have to act tough around me okay?.”

His lips curled and he stepped away a bit, and you were afraid that you went too far. 

“Who said I’m acting?!”

You gave him a pointed look and he let out an angry huff, looking to the side and biting at his lip.

“C’mon Bakugou… you can talk to me.”

He frowned, before muttering something you couldn’t quite hear. 

“Say that again?” You asked, trying to move closer but the jostling of the umbrellas merely flicked water in your face.

“Nothing. Just… What's said here stays here okay?”

You smiled warmly at him, happy that he was allowing himself to open up. The smile quickly vanished when a brutally cold gust of wind flew by you. Bakugou and his hot quirk didn’t seem to be all too affected. He seemed to think for a moment, parsing through his feelings before forming words.

“I guess… I guess I feel like I need to appreciate this more.” The tips of his ears were starting to turn red. He didn’t understand why in the world he was admitting this to you, but you were the first person to genuinely ask him like that. 

“What’s ‘this’?”

“Like the world and stuff.” He huffed, gesturing vaguely at the wet streets, embarrassed that you were making him explain more. 

“Yes, the world is lovely.” You said patiently, not quite understanding.

“Cause what if they killed me? I mean it’s not like they could have. But what if they did?”

“Then you wouldn’t be able to treasure pretty things anymore.” You finished sadly for him.

“Yeah.”

He turned away from you to look down at the city again, face finally looking a bit more relaxed. You let him collect his thoughts for a moment.

“Were you scared?”

He narrowed his eyes at you and you thought for sure he was going to yell at you for even suggesting it. But his answer surprised you.

“Of course I was fucking scared. I thought they would torture me for information or some shit.”

In the many months that you had known him, you had never heard Bakugou outright admit something like that. 

“Like yeah I attacked them, but that’s only cause I knew that was my only chance. If I didn’t fight they would tie me back up and probably kill me. And… and if fucking Deku didn’t come I would have lost.” He let out a loud groan, obviously upset that he had to be rescued. “Fuck.”

You let out a noise of concern, reaching out to touch his arm.

“It’s… I’m…” He struggled for the word, the frustration building back onto his face. His eyes were starting to get glassy and he was practically shaking in frustration. “I’m weak. Fuck… I’m so damn weak.”

“Bakugou no you’re not.” 

You pulled your umbrella closed and dropped it on the ground with a clack, before stepping forward to give him a big hug. He jolted back in surprise, almost dislodging you. 

“You aren’t weak. All this shows is that you’re not invincible.”

“But-”

“Stop it. One defeat doesn’t mean you aren’t strong. You accessed the situation and fought because that was the best solution. You fought even though you knew you would lose, because you had to. You decided to go down taking as many villains as you could with you, instead of just accepting defeat. And if that’s not heroic… then I don’t know what is.” You murmured, voice softer now that you were close enough.

“Don’t… don’t say that…”

You patted his back soothingly as his arms gripped your back, pulling you closer away from the rain. His unsteady breath ghosted over your ear.

“Why not? I believe it.”

“I don’t… I don’t want your pity.” He choked out, starting to shake. “I-I’m…”

“Shh… shh…” You cooed gently. “Let it all out.”

“I-I don’t…”

You hummed lightly as he squeezed you tight, his shoulders shaking as warm tears fell into your hair. 

“It must be hard… right? Pretending that everything is okay all the time?”

He only sobbed harder, and it pained you to know that he had been holding these fears in for weeks.

“It’s alright… you’re alright. We can stay here as long as you need.”

As you looked over his shoulder at the rain blotched city, you realized that you weren’t cold anymore. All that mattered was you and him, tucked away together in the washed away world.

[justlookatthosesausages]

“In the eye of the storm” ◊◊◊◊ a post-Frozen 2 fanfic ◊◊◊◊ CHAPTER 5: Precipitation

Several days later, they didn't get any news from Anna, and it drove Elsa nervous to no end.

When Eydis was walking by her in the castle, she smiled and waved at her, but the Snow Queen was lost in her daydreams.

One afternoon, Kristoff found Elsa in a bedroom, looking at the rain through the window. He was right when he knew where to head to; the blonde always had a tendency towards quiet rooms with windows for introspection.

"Are you upset?"

Elsa saw him enter in his reflection on the glass, so she didn't startle at his presence.

"Why do you ask?" She muttered.

"You're snowing. I mean... It's snowing. Around your head."

Elsa gasped and waved her hand at the thankfully light snow that had fallen on the carpet. It melted right away, and Kristoff stared at her.

"You're overthinking or upset about something."

The blonde looked down and didn't answer anything else than a sigh, not feeling in the mood to share. He tried humor to light up the moment.

"Funny how it's easy to tell the difference between those snowflakes and the ones you make for Bruni. If he were there, I'm sure he would find their taste different."

Elsa chuckled at last. The little guy obviously would. Those snowflakes were created with an opposite mood; instead of given to him as a treat gift, they were falling unintentionally and due to sadness.

"Do you wanna talk?" Suggested the King, coming near her.

"...Maybe." Finally said Elsa.

"About the Spirits being in conflict or Anna going abroad?"

He could hear Elsa gulp.

"Both?"

The blond put a loving hand on her shoulder. She was still cold, but he didn't care.

"I can't tell you much advice about the Spirits. All I can tell, from my raised-by-trolls point of view, is that magic can be very confusing. And sometimes, you might think something is the way it is, and it actually isn't at all. Mom- Hum, Bulda... She reads emotions in color crystals and can sometimes tell future by the way northern lights move, but she once told me that it's sometimes unreliable."

He smiled, happy to support her, then he realized at how his revelation wasn't really reassuring, and he winced when he saw the side look Elsa gave him.

"Uh... I mean..."

He sighed, dropping his head. "Never mind. I'm not that good at helping magic people."

She had a smile at the corner of her lips. "Quite the opposite, Kristoff. I know you care, and it already lifted my mood a bit."

The blond smiled too. Elsa looked through the window again.

"I know that, even if I still can't tell what is going on with Gale and Nokk, I can still count on your encouragement."

"Anytime."

He then realized that she had included Anna in that 'you'. The King scratched his beard before daring to approach the other topic.

"Truth will come in time, I'm certain of it. Anna will do her part, and you will, and everything will fall into place."

Elsa's hand dramatically passed on the glass of the window. "I miss her already. I know you're here, it's not what I mean... And there's Eydis too... But..."

"Nothing's quite like Anna", understood Kristoff.

"Yes." Sighed Elsa, like it was a weight on her heart, even though everyone in her family knew that she had a special complicity with her younger sister. "And I can't help worrying for her, even if I know she's the strongest person in the world..."

"She'll be fine. You know she'll be fine, right? You're the person who has the most faith in her after me."

Elsa's eyes stopped watching the hills in the distance and she smiled to him again.

"Yes, I know. She could hold the entire world with her dedication." She stated, looking proud.

Her expression vanished a bit.

"She's a thousand times more qualified than me to be Queen."

Kristoff wanted to say she was wrong to reassure her, but it actually was an undeniable fact. Arendelle historians had repetitively told him that Anna already had more efficient decisions and better leadership than any of her predecessors on the throne.

A silence passed, and he noted that Elsa was staring at the hills of the East, the direction in which Anna had been heading. He turned to his sister-in-law with a soft expression.

"You know that despite the lack of news, she's going to come back home, right?"

"Yes, Kristoff, I know." Repeated Elsa once again, a bit upset at how he insisted on facts to take her out of her anxiety.

He noticed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude..."

"I'm aware that I'm overreacting and stressed at nothing. But I can't help it."

She sighed.

"Despite our years of separation in the castle when we were young, I always knew where she was. She was safe in the castle, and her safety was literally the only thing that mattered to me. And for the past 11 years, Gale could tell me if something was wrong anytime and almost instantly. They could even get to me in Ahtohallan or the furthest point in the Forest. Without Gale, I couldn't have known about that time you guys fell into a ravine, remember?"

Kristoff winced at the 2 years old memory. That family picnic had turned sour. "We still owe you one for that moment. Without your ice, the wagon explosion would have wiped us all. And I can't blame Olaf, he wasn't even there."

His humor didn't distract the Snow Queen. Her azure blue eyes were lost in the horizon.

"This is the first time in years that I don't know if Anna is safe or not. And it's nerve-wracking."

"Then forget her."

Elsa turned to him exaggeratedly. "Excuse me?"

The King was about to apologize and change his formulation, though he closed his mouth and stared at her.

"You seem taken aback by her absence. You kind of doubted that a national meeting would take place after she saw the stage of the storm, no?"

"Yes, but I thought that it would happen here, in Arendelle..." Murmured the blonde.

"Oooooh, that's why you're upset. You wanted her to stay here."

Elsa then sighed and buried her head in her hands, groaning.

"I'm such a selfish jerk..."

"No, you're not. Though, I have to admit, that supposition you made in your head was a bit mean for neighbor kingdoms' leaders who you had no guilt to imagine going through the storm until here..." Winced Kristoff. "But I swear you're not selfish, Elsa. You're sincerely one of the most altruistic persons I ever met. And I married someone who keep sacrificing her life for what's good."

A silence followed, and Elsa cried at the thought of Anna's dedication.

"I don't deserve to be her sister..."

She started to sob, and Kristoff hurried to put his hand on her back, slightly rubbing it.

"Hey, hey, don't you dare. She's nothing without you."

He then scoffed at how that sounded. "I mean... Well, you know."

The Snow Queen didn't move. The blond bent his head to find Elsa's gaze and make her look at him, a technique Anna had told him about for when she would have a breakdown. "Elsa."

"What?" She muttered with a sniff.

"You two complete each other no matter the distance. As strong sisters with an unbreakable bond, but also as the Bridge."

Elsa took a moment to let that sink in. "I know."

The King smiled, and he looked through the window along her.

Someone softly knocked at the door.

"Your Majesty... Lady Elsa..." Said Gerda's gentle voice, and they turned around. "I didn't mean to interrupt. Don't mind me, I'm just going to pick up Elsa's empty plate..." She then paused. "But I see that you actually haven't touched it."

Kristoff looked at the meal left on a coffee table by the door.

"Yes... I'm not very hungry." Murmured Elsa.

She had turned back to the window swiftly, and both Kristoff and the maid couldn't tell if it was because she had suddenly seen something in the horizon, or to hide her tears.

Elsa felt guilty for the silence that followed. She turned around again.

"Sorry for refusing those waffles, Gerda. They smell really nice, and it must have taken you a long time to bake them."

"Oh, it's not lost. Far from it. I know a little princess who'll get very hungry after her afternoon lesson."

Elsa smiled at her kindness. "She definitely inherited from her mother's gluttony."

Kristoff giggled in approval.

"I wonder if the languages teacher will quit after teaching both Anna and Eydis." Wondered Gerda. "When I passed by the living room's door an hour ago after making the beds, I heard her ask him to translate 'anvil' in every language he knew."

The Snow Queen burst of laughter, which wasn't very regal, but the servant and the King didn't mind at all; first because Elsa technically didn't have to mind about royal mannerisms anymore, and second because they had missed Elsa's laughter within those walls.

"Her passion for handiwork is not a thing she inherited from Anna, though." Laughed the blonde.

They all chuckled, and Kristoff was delighted to see happiness back on her features.

"Alright then. I'm going to give the waffles to Eydis." Confirmed the maid, and she left the room, closing the door behind her.

Elsa looked at the door with the ghost of her smile still on her lips, and as the rain was getting stronger and stronger outside, Kristoff invited her to go near the fireplace with a gentle hand gesture.

They stood here for a moment, looking at the orange flames, and Elsa missed Bruni's pink ones. She wondered if the tiny Fire Spirit could help her decipher the others' behavior. But she chased that idea of her mind; the Northuldra needed him now, there was no way she would summon him in Arendelle. The Sami tribe needed his magic heat in that storm, and Bruni also was an excellent watchman. Or watchlizard.

Elsa's thoughts drifted to Honeymaren. She hoped that she was alright and took care of her people like she always did.

Kristoff looked at the clock of the room to check time. He then noticed that the blonde's eyes were glistening. However, was it because of emotion or due to staring directly at the fire? He laid against the fireplace's mantel to be aligned with her.

"Are you feeling better?"

"I do, yes. Thank you for your help."

The King frowned and squinted. He knew Elsa enough years to tell when she had something on her mind. Her voice was different.

"Elsa, are you sure that it's all good now?"

"Yes."

She purposely wasn't looking up at him, still staring at the fire, the brightness of it reflecting in her eyes.

"I have to go find Kai, so we do an overview of the afternoon. Just don't do anything unwise and stay safe, okay?"

"Okay, I will."

He hugged her, then exited the room.

Elsa's gaze got lost in the flames, her jaw clenched. She had lied to her brother-in-law. She was going to go find Anna. 

=======

The blonde patiently waited for the night to fall and Kristoff to go read a bedtime story to his daughter. Then she sneaked out of the castle, crafting herself a hood made of snow and ice to hide her face as she reached to the stables under the pouring rain.

When the servants there recognized her approach because only one person in the world could be wearing such a magically bright white outfit at this time of the day, she noted that her idea wasn't that clever.

Elsa excused herself as she made her way in, and assured them all to not be alerted as she requested for the fastest horse in the stables.

"Do you really want to go in such a rainfall at that time of day?" Asked one servant.

"Your Highness, are you certain?" Worried a stable boy.

"You shouldn't do such a thing." Advised another one.

She forced herself to smile. "Just indicate me the best horse there is, please."

The servants looked at each other, to dedicated and polite to contradict their ex-monarch.

"Alright. This way." Said a hostler.

She followed him to one of the boxes of the back. He showed Elsa a tall horse, who wasn't bigger than the horses on each side of it, but it looked muscular and definitely had an athletic body shape.

"Here's the fastest we have, Your Highness."

Elsa forgot for a moment the urgency of her plan and dove in the sight of the beautiful stallion. It was entirely brown and had an undeniable royal aura, like it had been waiting for this task all its life.

The Snow Queen had a serious face until now, but started to melt in a smile.

"Hello you."

She walked forward, and lifted a careful hand. The horse blinked as it inspected it, sniffed it, and willingly nuzzled in her palm.

Maybe Honeymaren was right. Maybe she had a natural predisposition for animals. It was true that the blonde now felt like she was connected to Nature, and she was persuaded it was an illusion due to the fact she was embracing her magical powers and Fifth Spirit duty. However, she understood in that moment that there was a true link between that horse and her. Was it destiny? Or shared kindness, which was often a starting point on why Elsa spoke to wild animals in the Enchanted Forest?

She kept smiling and gently passed a hand on its head.

"I've never seen you here... It's a new horse?"

The servant saluted her sense of observation. "Indeed. He just arrived yesterday. He's a foal who recently finished his training and education to be in the royal guard. I was there all along his progress. Trust my words, lady Elsa; this is the fastest horse in all Arendelle."

Elsa carefully listened to all he had said, fascinated, but what mattered most than that to her was if the horse agreed to let her ride him.

"What's his name?" She asked, and she hadn't detached her eyes from him since the beginning.

"Rask."

Elsa smiled widely at the name. "...Rask."

She locked her gaze into his. "Looks like you were destined to this day, uh? This is too many coincidences."

The horse lifted and lowered his head like he was actually nodding, and she chuckled. Slowly, very slowly, and only after making sure he was agreeing, she approached her forehead to his muzzle, and softly touched there with closed eyes.

All the servants stared at the scene in awe.

"You're ready?" Murmured Elsa, stepping back.

Rask neighed, so suddenly and powerfully that she actually winced with a smile, and all startled, because the stables had been silent until now with just their calm voices and the sound of the rain outdoors.

Before riding him, Elsa made sure that everything was alright with his health and cleanliness, then she only accepted the bare necessities when the hostler helped her getting him ready. She refused the saddle, telling the servant that she was used to ride Nokk bareback anyway – and being made of ice most of the time, she had been in the most extreme case – and declined the stirrups as well. It was a good thing to make the horse as free as possible for their very first ride.

"I'll only take the bridle." Concluded Elsa.

They all felt surprised by her choice, but nothing really surprised them about the Snow Queen anymore, so they obeyed and helped her to put the harness on. When the bit was put in his mouth, Elsa felt a pinch to her heart, but she had no choice.

After a while and carefully listening to all their instructions, the blonde walked with him outside and climbed up. She took a moment to get used to his side, for he didn't have quite the same proportions than the form the Water Spirit had chosen to take. At the sight of the rain, she stroked his mane.

"I'm sorry for the weather, dear. But I need you more than anything right now. Let's go check on my sister."

The horse twitched a bit, and it felt like a nod again. She wondered if he could actually understand her.

Elsa deeply thanked the servants and asked them to tell Kristoff and her niece that they shouldn't worry.

She then tapped her ankles against the stallion's sides, and they dashed forward on Arendelle's cobblestones in the dark of the night. As wind whistled to Elsa's ears and rain gushed on her hood, she felt a deep sensation of freedom. Only then she noted how much she had missed this; riding along the hills, taking in the fresh air and the power of her ride with the sound of hooves under her.

She grinned in happiness, her heart also filling with joy as she knew she would be much happier once she would be sure that Anna was alright.

In a few minutes, they were out of the village, and were crossing at full speed the countryside lands of the East toward Hitiheimr.

=======

If she were able to connect with Rask's soul as she did with Nokk, she would congratulate him on how fast he was. The young horse was clever enough to see obstacles in advance, jumping over tree trunks and other accidents that had happened due to the storm. Hopefully, the path was mainly clear, and as her sister had underlined it a few days ago, the road to the Eastern kingdom was easy, for how many times it had been traced by merchants. Despite the heavy rain and mud, her stallion pierced the night like an ice arrow that Elsa would shoot from her bow as she hunted. It was perfect.

Soon, Elsa felt glad to have accepted the bride, for she realized that she had the reflex to ask the horse mentally to turn right or left, before remembering she actually was supposed to tug the reins for directions.

Nokk missed her terribly. At least, with them, she didn't use force during rides. They had become more than just fellow Spirits; the Water one had a unique connection with her, being a one of a kind friend and ally, and she tried to forget them as she was on this 'normal' horse. Nevertheless, Elsa couldn't deny it: the riding sensation was completely different. It was odd to not feel Rask's needs, sensations, and mood. Elsa loved to know how happy Nokk was when they were racing against Gale down the valleys, how sassy he was when he saw a young Northuldra fall off a branch, or how caring he was when he bumped his back to help her stand after a long tiring day.

As she thought again about Nokk's and Gale's friendship, Elsa frowned. Sincerely, how and why did the two Spirits get so angry at each other? As far as she could remember, she had never seen them going further than teasing.

She shook her head as she remained focused on the trail. Unlike when riding the Water Spirit, she couldn't let them do the job entirely and rest on their back from time to time.

A few hours later, something shiny attracted her eye in front of her, and Elsa gasped when she spotted something in the mud of the lane.

She briskly tugged on the horse's reins to make him stop, and he neighed in surprise and pain. She couldn't apologize for the reason of her eagerness, but felt terrible for hurting him.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to pull that hard. I'm very nervous." She whispered to his ears, gently stroking his neck.

Rask forgave her, yet snorted to show his disagreement.

Elsa put him to a complete halt, going down and patting him as she slowly walked to the shining object. What was something like this doing in the wild?

Her eyes squinted through the curtain of rain as she approached, feeling instinctively attracted to the object. Dark clouds were hiding most of the moon, and there was no thunder, so Elsa only had little light. She only then realized that she had been riding in complete dark, too focused on heading straight forward to need a lantern.

The Snow Queen stood above the tiny glossy thing, which seemed less and less natural as Elsa inspected it, and she twirled her wrist to create a glow of blue magic. A snowflake the size of her fist popped from her palm and brightened the whole path, giving her a better vision of it and reflecting in Rask's curious eyes.

She crouched and touched the solid object with her fingers. The blonde felt that it was made of metal, and took it off the soil with ease, thanks to the rain softening it. Elsa's ice sandals were covered with it and her white pants and trains weren't much white anymore, but she didn't care. Her focus was entirely driven to the item, which was larger than she expected as she lifted it.

Turning it in her fingers and approaching the light of her magic to it, she rubbed her thumb over the motives and used the rain to take the dirt out of it, making it shine even more. She frowned with confusion, tilting her head. It was something familiar, yet that she felt like she hadn't seen much... It was the size of her hand and had a curved shape, and when she revealed the seven tips all decorated with embedded crocuses, she squealed in a loud gasp.

Her azure blue eyes widened, along the glow of her snowflake, which become more intense at her distress.

[puckngrind]

Skating Lessons part 15

Summary: Josh rushes to reader’s side

Warnings: swearing, discussion of medical things and accidents...

Word count: 2112

Series Masterlist

Josh’s POV:

“Andy, Andy!” Seth is kneeling in front of you with your phone in his hand. “Andy!” He snaps and you come back.

“I...I...I...” (y/n) and Mason are your everything.  Your world.  You feel it crashing around you. “Need to get back to Columbus.”

“Yes, Torts said go. You need to get undressed and I’ll pack your bag and take it with me.” Seth stands and pulls your elbow up too. “Everything is going to be fine, Josh.” Seth pats you on the shoulder. He nods to Rick who you didn’t see standing next to your stall. “I’ve got to get on the ice. We will win this one for you guys. Go get your fa...girl.” Seth hugs you and turns to leave.

“Ready?” Rick looks at you after you stripped your uniform and pads off. He had your sweats in his hand ready to go.  Rick drove you to the airport and let the silence just sit in the air.

“Thanks.” Is all you mustarded to get out when Rick handed your wallet to you after the two of you got to the airport.

“Someone will meet you at the airport and drive you to the hospital. Update someone when you can. We all care about you guys. You okay?” Rick pats your shoulder and returns to the car.

The flight was a fog. You cannot even remember who picked you up but there you were busting through the doors of the hospital and heading to the room (y/n)’s mom had texted you.

You move the curtain and (y/n)’s mom is sitting next to the bed just watching television with her hand in (y/n)’s. Your eyes are locked on the love of your life’s body laying there motionless.

“Josh.” (Y/n) mom breathes out and stands to greet you. She motions for you to sit where she was. You refuse at first but it’s the closest seat to (y/n) and all you want to do is touch her. You run your fingers through her hair the ghost her skin down to her hand.  Grabbing it you squeeze willing her to squeeze back but nothing. (y/n)’s mom fills you in again because nothing really stuck when you answered the phone in the room.

You run through all of the information in your head while you rub (y/n)’s hand with your thumb.  She was driving to pick Mason up when a pick up ran a red light slamming into her driver side. The doctors were thankful it’s not worse than it is. Your mind flickers to the thought what if Mason was in the car. You are sure you actually flinched thinking about it.  She has a broken foot that may need surgery but maybe not. They are waiting for some tests to come back to check for internal bleeding and other things that make your stomach churn.  (y/n) has been awake a few times all she’s done is ask for you then goes back to sleep. The meds they gave her is what is making (y/n) very tired.  Letting her body rest is exactly what they want her to do so they have been keeping up the dose after they ruled out a concussion.  You look up to see the highlights of the game on.  Your boys did exactly what Seth said they would. You caught yourself smirking when you tell (y/n) the boys won one for her. It fades quickly when you realize how close you were to losing her. The doctor came in just then and confirmed how lucky we were this wasn’t a worse situation.

Her mom says she’s going to go home to put Mason to bed and she will check in. Leaning over (y/n) she whispers, “Baby girl, Josh is here. He’s got you. I’m going to go take care of your baby.” Kissing her forehead then turning to you. She kisses your forehead too, “Take care of my baby, okay?” and you shake your head yes turning your attention to (y/n)’s face.  

You just sit there in silence.  You feel your phone at an almost constant buzz.  You realize that Seth must have had someone message your mom so she didn’t worry when you were a last minute scratch.  Without releasing your grip of (y/n)’s hand you slide your phone out of your pocket and thumb through your messages.  Several of your teammates, Torts, and your Mom.  You decided to answer your mom and Tort’s texts first then sent Seth a message to share with the team.  You go to put your phone back in your pocket and you feel a squeeze on your hand.  You go to stand so she can see you.

“Josh?”  (y/n)’s voice is almost unrecognizable. “You should be playing.”  She whispers.

“Baby, I’m right where I need to be.  You need to rest.  I’m here.  Your parents have Mason.  Just rest okay. I love you.”  You lightly brush your lips to her’s.  They are chapped but familiar.  She goes to talk again and you rub your finger over her lips to convince her to save her energy.  

The chairs turned cots were not made for your frame.  You were able to curl up as best you could be with your hood up and arm stretched out and holding (y/n)’s hand.  You wake up when the lights turn on and the nurse starts apologizing but needs to do a neuro exam on (y/n).  She looks at you as you pull the hood off your head and her face turns bright red.  

“Oh...uh...so.”  She seems to have lost all her words.  This wasn’t abnormal for you to run into someone that didn’t know what to say but someone who was checking your girlfriend’s brain reaction needed to be coherent enough to perform the exam.   

“You know me, don’t you?”  You cut to the chase because (y/n)’s brain is more important if this nurse cannot concentrate it’s a problem.

“Yeah, sorry.  My boyfriend texted saying you were a late scratch for personal reasons.  He was bummed but looks like the team pulled one out.  So, this is your personal reason huh?”

You sit up and put the cot back into a chair.  “Yeah.  (y/n) is my girlfriend.  The team flew me home when I got the call.  You good to do the exam?”  

“Yeah.  Sorry.  I just wasn’t expecting a Columbus Blue Jacket to be sleeping in one of my patient rooms.  We are good.”  She says and you hear (y/n) try to speak again.

“Can he lay in bed with me?”  She whispers out and tries to sit up but the nurse stops her.  The nurse checks the chart, eyes you as you stand next to (y/n)’s bed, then at the bed itself.

“Yeah.  Actually.  That’s fine.  Your spinal tests came back clear.  We still have a few more tests that need to come back.  Mr. Anderson, as long as you don’t move the stabilizer for her leg, you will probably be more comfortable as well.”

(y/n) giggles and you look at her.  “Mr. Anderson, she knows who you are doesn’t she?”  And the flushed face returns to (y/n)’s nurse’s face as you shake your head yes.  “Did she tell you that you should have stayed to play too?”  (y/n) looks deep in your eyes and you feel like her personality is coming back. 

“Babe, shhh...”  You put your finger over your mouth and let the nurse finish her exam.  As soon as she left you crawled into bed with (y/n) and she kissed your lips softly as you gently pulled her into your body.

“I am glad you came.”  (y/n) whispers in your ear.

“There wasn’t another option, (y/n).  I’m always going to pick you over everything else.  I was terrified I lost you.  Like really lost you.  Rick and Seth are the only reason I was able to get here.  I was frozen in my stall.”  You kiss her temple and she shifts.  “Babe, you cannot move that stabilizer thing.”  You hand slides down her leg to settle down the nerves that seem to have a mind of their own.  You feel her body slip back into a sleep and you rest your head on the pillow next to her.

You slept for a little bit. You rub your hands down (y/n)’s body gently. She seems so tiny and fragile laying next to you. Does she always look like that but the desire and passion in those moments over shadow the size difference? She’s so confident in bed and all you want to to be as close to her as you can. Your hand runs through her hair as you lift up to watch the best thing that’s ever happened to you sleep.

“What are you thinking Josh?” Her eyes are closed but her voice is the strongest you’ve heard it. You keep stroking her hair and her eyes peek open. “Babe?”

“You. The accident. How you are the best thing that has ever happened to me, how I’ve messed this up so many times, and...” you trail off not wanting to admit the rest.

“And?” You are the corners of her mouth start to turn up. “And?”

“I lost my train of thought.” You smile at her while pushing her hair behind her ear.

“That bad, huh? Thinking of the fact that I’m naked under this hideous gown, right?” She laughs a little. And your face flushes. This women.  How does she take something so serious and joke like you two are sitting on the couch watching a movie?

“Well, not until you mentioned it.” You clear your throat a little. “Well, actually I was thinking about how small you are compared me...I’ve never really noticed it when we are...”

“Joshua!” (Y/n) elbow hits your abs and she giggles again. Hearing that laugh makes the tears fill your eyes. (Y/n)’s eyes meet yours. And her hand comes up to grab yours from her side. “Baby. I’m fine. We are fine. Accidents happen. Didn’t your whole body twitch uncontrollably. My dad was tell me it happened last season. You were fine right?”

“You getting hit by a car that you could have died from and me getting trucked by Wilson are two very different things.” You squeeze her hand as you think about that time when you were laying on the trainers table with no control over your body.  Having her by your side would have made that whole experience better.  She would have taken care of you after you decided to go back out on the ice. 

“Josh, you tearing up is kinda of sexy.”  She whispers to you.  This makes your cheeks flush again.

“Babe, this scared me you know?  We have forever to talk.  Let’s sleep, kay?” You rub her arm again and you feel the goosebumps your touch leave on her skin. Pulling the blankets even further up to her shoulder and you wrap your arm around her to try and keep her warm. Kissing her ear you whisper, “I love you.” And you did in a way before meeting (y/n) would have scared the shit out of you. Yes you dated. Most of the girls were after your clout that came with your job. When you wouldn’t post pictures or allow tags they would move on. (Y/n) sure didn’t care and you are pretty sure she would prefer if you were out of the spotlight. Freaking her out with the idea of moving in was the last real conversation you two had before the accident. You had been hinting about the idea for awhile and she didn’t really notice.

Falling asleep you let your mind drift to life with (y/n) and Mason..then even more kids.  The light wakes you up as it streams through the side of the blinds.  For a split second you thought it was all a horrible nightmare because you feel (y/n)’s body under your arm.  Waking up you kiss (y/n) as she starts to stir.  Climbing out of the bed you look up as the door starts to move.  What looks like (y/n)’s doctor walks in with a few people behind him.  

“Good Morning.  I’m Dr. Jaynes.  I wanted to check in on (y/n) and discuss next steps for her.  Are you her husband?”  Dr. Jaynes reaches for your hand.  You wanted to say not yet but I’m working on it but (y/n) fully wakes up and the attention shifts to her.  Your mind is trying to focus on what the doctor is saying but the thoughts of (y/n) as Mrs. Anderson keeps fluttering in your brain.  Then you hear the word “surgery” and you are brought right back to real life.

[xenoglossy-but-also-fishing]

| to carry onward

I haven’t really been feeling all that amazing for a while, and I haven’t written anything for even longer than that, it feels like. So I thought ‘hey! Maybe I can write something to try and make myself feel better.’ 

I still don’t feel 100% better, but I do feel a lot better. So I thought I’d post it since I was happy with it and stuff. And... ya. I don’t really know what to add here. That’s all I wanted to say, anyways.

____________________

It must have been some time near the next morning. Just close enough for the slow beginnings of the day to begin, yet without the majority of the city rising from their beds. 

In other words, Amandine’s favorite part of the morning. 

The slow feeling of dawn, when the sun was just barely awake itself… it gave her a nice spot of time to herself. A good book, a nice cup of something warm, and a roaring fire… 

Then it was out the door to get on with whatever exciting plans she had for the day. 

At least that was usually how her mornings were spent. Yet judging the scent of hot chocolate that wafted through the house, this was not the ‘usual’ morning Amandine had come to know so well. 

Not that she minded. A change of pace was welcome, now and again, after all. After slipping into her house robe and putting on her slippers, Amandine sauntered off into the strongest source of the cocoa scent. 

“Oh. Sorry— did I wake you up?” Oliver stared at her with a nearly startled look. Steaming mug of hot chocolate cradled in between his hands, a blanket draped over him like some sort of veil. It was almost covering his eyes. 

She shook her head at first. Not trusting just him seeing the gesture alone, Amandine replied, “Not at all. I am usually awake at this hour of my own accord.” 

“Really? I had no idea.” 

“You’re quite welcome, then.” She grinned for a moment at her own words as she slipped into the room to steal her favorite spot on the couch. “I put a considerable amount of effort into not making too much noise in the mornings. It disturbs the magic.” 

And in trying not to wake him, either, yet that was likely a given. He struck her as one who did not like being woken up needlessly, and she was frankly not quite interested to find out.

Oliver looked around, eyes narrowed and half-squinted in suspicion. “Magic…” There was a soft hum, then a sudden turn back. “Wait. You don’t mean literal magic, do you?” 

“Metaphorical magic.”

“Right. I knew that,” he said with a nod. The way he looked off towards the fire said otherwise, yet Amandine chose not to mention it. The loudest noise in the room, for a brief moment, was him taking a long sip from the mug. 

“If I may be so bold as to ask, Oliver…” He looked back up mid-sip when she trailed off, “Just how long have you been awake? You’re usually much more... aware than this, for lack of a better term.”

It wasn’t as easy a question as Amandine thought. Oliver leaned forward, placed down the mug, and started counting on his fingers. He stopped for a moment, blinked, then finally shrugged. “...can I get back to you on that one? I can’t do math at this hour.”

“Shall I assume you’ve not slept since yesterday, then?” 

“That’s probably more accurate than any number I could give you, to be honest. Ya.” 

“Fury preserve, what have you been doing, then?” Taking a better look, it certainly looked like he’d been awake that long. She wasn’t entirely sure if Oliver was looking at her, or through her. Or both, somehow. “Attempting to gain a sixth sense through sleep deprivation?” 

At the moment that it took for Oliver to answer, the sudden fear of him agreeing with her response was vivid. Twelve only knew what one could get from so little sleep. Other than hallucinations and a handful of questionable decisions.

“I… don’t think that’s actually possible, is it?” 

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been foolish enough to attempt it,” Amandine answered with a short rise of one shoulder. 

“Anyways, no, I’m not trying to see ghosts. Or whatever a sixth sense entails. Five is good enough for me.” The mug was once again cradled in his palms. Thumb running across the handle in some sort of rhythmic, subconscious pattern. It was oddly distracting.

Amandine’s gaze moved away from the mug handle. “Well then, forgive me my curiosity. I do hope you try and get some sleep soon.” All the talk of sleep did nothing but make her drowsy. A nice cup of coffee would set her right, at least— or, in a brief flash of an idea, “Did you happen to make any more hot chocolate? Assuming it isn’t cold by now, I may pour myself a mug, as well.”

“It should still be warm enough, I think.” Oliver looked up again from where his eyes had dropped. Once more looking rather surprised at the sudden words. More tired than he appeared… how good he hadn’t accidentally spilled hot cocoa on himself from nearly falling asleep like that. 

_______________________

The hot chocolate was far better than Amandine had thought to imagine. Clearly, it was a beverage Oliver had down to a fine art. 

“I’ll need to pester you for your methods of cocoa making,” she remarked to him as she walked back into the living space. The heap of blanket that was curled onto the opposite chair to her own said he was still sitting there. Whether he was awake there… 

There was a sharp intake of breath and a few mumbled words. “Thanks.” That was far clearer, at least. “It’s, um, this recipe that Syd always used.”

“Ah.” She took a long sip, “I see.” 

The silence that settled in was a few shades too tense than Amandine would have liked. Sydessin was still a rather sore topic to speak of. She had some doubts about the idea that their departed friend would stop being one. Death ever seemed to have that effect. 

It took another few moments for either of them to say something again. “Hey, Mandi?” The sleepy hints in Oliver’s tone were almost gone, suddenly. 

“Mhm?” Another short sip and Amandine’s attention was solely on him. 

“I… know we technically are already, but…” he trailed off, let out a breath, and asked, “Could we talk? About… something?” 

For some reason, ‘something’ didn’t feel like it was a hot chocolate recipe. Amandine placed down her mug, shifted in her seat, and nodded a few times in confirmation. “Of course. What is it you had in mind?” 

“Great. I just… wanted to ask, I guess. Do you ever just feel, like… tired?” 

The feeling of ‘not quite what it sounded like’ didn’t leave— in fact, it only seemed to have gotten sharper. “I doubt there is a soul who does not feel tired from time to time,” she answered with a slow hesitance. Head tilted by the slightest hint at the question, and her caution in the answer she gave. “No one is truly immune from feeling tired, after all. Hence why sleep is such a valuable tool, I would wager.” 

“I don’t mean sleep-tired,” Oliver said with a few shakes of his head. “I mean as in tired-tired. Even if you get a full night’s sleep, you still wake up feeling like you didn’t so much as close your eyes once.” 

So that’s what he meant. She’d had a feeling that was… hm. “More often than is perhaps healthy, in that sense, yes.” There was a mutual pause to sip their cocoa. Amandine didn’t bother putting her cup back onto the table afterwards. 

“Ya.” There was a sudden rise in his shoulders, and then all of the tension suddenly dropped. The blanket nearly fell over Oliver’s eyes, yet he pushed it back up to only cover his head. “I’ve been feeling like that for a while.” 

“There is little surprise as to why. These past months have been… eventful, after all,” she agreed. ‘Eventful’ was probably the mildest word she had for it. From Sydessin’s death to Eada’s announced retirement, they did not want for tragedy nor action. 

“And with all we still haven’t even begun to deal with, either… I can barely think of it all without wanting to curl up into a ball and cry, or something.” 

“There is undoubtedly a lot on our plate.” And more to come, as he’d said. Amandine let out a sigh and took another long sip. The hot chocolate was beginning to lose some of its heat. “There is little wonder why it has begun to crack.”

“It’s a surprise the plate isn’t in a million pieces already,” Oliver muttered into his mug. The look in his eyes was somewhere between jaded and frustrated. Or, more accurately, a healthy dose of both at the same time. 

There were plenty of things Amandine considered saying. Flourished and hopeful, frankly— she knew well enough the feelings he meant, and they didn’t feel all together helpful to herself, either. Yet it was worth enough of a try, if nothing else. 

“Well, I know not about the plate, yet I’ve been much helped of late by the support of friends,” Amandine told him. Her pinky finger flicked to his general direction before settling back into the mug. “Their presence does little to alleviate the weight of all that has happened, that much is true. Yet it goes some way to making it a little easier to carry, even if it is for but a few moments. And even should I stagger and fall, they are there to help me find my footing once more. And I for them.” 

Something of a smile crossed his face. Oliver nodded slowly a few times, mug rising just to his mouth before he took a sip. Weighing the words, it seemed to Amandine. “I guess so. That tired feeling is never as bad when I’m with you.”

“I’m full glad to hear it. And, in an unexpected turn of events, I feel the exact same way in your presence.” 

He got up after a moment, finishing off the last few mouthfuls of hot chocolate in his mug. “I should probably be getting to bed… I feel a lot better for talking. Tired, still, in more ways than one, but… I think I’ll be alright.” 

“I wish you a fitful sleep, then. Take care of yourself, Oliver,” Amandine told him with a final warm glance and a wave. 

“You too, Mandi. I don’t wanna sound too cheesy, but… thank you for, you know… being yourself and stuff.” 

“I can be nothing else.” She offered a wink and a laugh as Oliver turned away with a chuckle of his own towards his room. Full silence resumed in the room again, and Amandine turned back towards the fire, watching the flames dance.

What a simple sort of magic it was; both metaphorical and literal. Even in the bleakest of times, or the blackest of nights— there was ever some small hint of solace to take shelter in. To carry onward for and from.

[seraphimluxe]

Mama × b.b.

summary: In their darkest moments of despair people call for their mothers, but Bucky could never understand why.

Warnings: dark as shit, angst, lots of death, torture, starvation-dehydration-sleep deprivation, violence, just kinda sad imo

a/n: closest thing to whump I've ever written and I'm not sure how I feel. to me the flow is awkward but I think it came out how I wanted it. enjoy 🧡

trigger warning

Bucky's seen a lot of people die in the war. He's seen a lot. He's noted the way the light leaves their eyes, he's noted the way the pain stops the moment just before they're gone, he's noted the way their hands shake, their whole body quivering, and he can never tell if it's from fear, or their body being incapable of processing the pain.

There was one particular thing that was consistent, even among the strongest, toughest soldier, and no matter how many times Bucky heard it, it sent chills down his spine everytime;

they called for their mother.

Never their father, their nanny, beloved pet, their drill instructor, their aunt. No, always their mother. Naturally not every single man did it, but the amount that did shocked Bucky.

Even orphaned men, men who were silent, shy or emotionless, shamelessly calling for a saving grace. Each using their own delegated term for her: mother, mam, ma, mama, mum, mommy, mammy, mutter, he's heard it all, in every language he could thing of.

The first time he'd heard it, it was a chilling awakening to reality. As he heard it more often he began to wonder the reasoning behind it. Surely these smart, strong intelligent young men weren't looking for their mother to appear on the battlefield and magically heal them? Realistically, there was nothing one's mother could do in a situation like that, it would only result in collateral.

He figured it was an apology. A plea for forgiveness, a cry for mercy, that her child– the one she carried, and fed, the one she invested her love in, the one she raised and guided to adulthood– an apology from him, for abandoning her, for leaving her when it was his turn to take care of her, for causing an irreparable hole in her life. Yes, an apology it was, but only the tiniest bit.

But he came to find, that in truth, it was a call. A man regressing to his first instinct, wailing for his mother like he did when he first came into the world, looking for the safety and comfort she once provided. That's what they were looking for: safety.

Regardless of who they were, what their upbringing was, or even their relationship with their mother, she held him and kept him safe for nine months. For many she was so much more than temporary residence, she sacrificed, sought her child's best interest, and loved. Oh, the power of love, and to be the first one to ever love someone, to have that kind of impact on them.

Their whole lives these men had relied on their mother for answers, for comfort, healing, they relied on her to fix things. She always knows where their socks were, where their homework was, how to fix a skinned knee, how to fix a cowlick. And now, when these men are lost and scared, with no sense of security guiding them into the afterlife, they'd turn to her, because she must know. The infant-like belief that she'll protect them if they call for her.

That was absolutely jarring for Bucky.

He could never imagine doing it himself, despite how his friends back home used to joke about him being a mama's boy. He always protested, but only for the sake of his dignity, because they were in fact, correct.

She was a gentle woman. Mild-mannered and polite, like most women in the 30's, but her temper was enough to ignite wet hay. She reminded him of Steve more times than he'd admit, and the idea of leaving either of them– dying– it wasn't something he would let himself think about often.

He thought of her when he fell off the train. He thought of her before he even got on the train. The second before he hit the ground, an apology was ghosting his lips, awaiting release.

He didn't think of her again until after he got his arm. His focus was on the pain. There was so much pain. His hands shake whenever he thinks about it. He didn't understand what was happening at the time. He wasn't sure if he was dead or alive, or what they wanted with him. He thought maybe this was the afterlife, this was his punishment for killing all those men during the war. He couldn't understand.

They made him understand. They beat him, trained him, taught him. He will understand now.

But he didn't. He couldn't understand Russian, he didn't understand why they'd beat him, he didn't understand why no one was coming to save him. Even when they spoke his language, he still didn't understand.

They broke him. They tied him up, bound his wrists and bound his ankles, and they pushed him to his knees.

He didn't understand why they made him take his shirt off. He didn't understand why they hammered his flesh fingers until the bones splintered, why they laughed whenever someone would land a punch on him, why they won't let him rest. He hasn't slept in three days because of their "testing"

He knows they're only testing him for entertainment, and they know he knows. He knows his body is trying so hard to heal, but with no food or water, no rest, and new wounds constantly opening, it's fighting a losing battle.

He thought they might let up soon, the two men seemingly tired of his misery, but he didn't even have the energy to flinch when two new men entered, one with a whip, the other with a knife.

He couldn't take it. The first lash on his back enough send him over the edge. This was too far.

"Stop."

His voice sounded foreign to his own ears. Whether it was the incessant ringing, or the dry rasp in his throat, he didn't care enough to wonder.

A shared amused look between the two men was barely visible through his swollen eyes. He could feel his eyes working their hardest to produce tears, but the days of dehydration left his body unable to release anything.

He was humiliated. He was tired. He was hurt. He was broken. He was lost. He was confused.

The combination of these would have made any man terrified, but he didn't even have the energy to be scared. No, he wasn't scared.

He was homesick.

The memory of home was fuzzy, he couldn't even really remember what the concept was. His brain felt like goop from the past few days, so he couldn't quite pinpoint what it was about home, but he knew he wanted it. He missed it.

The flash of an alley, a porch with an iron railing, rain on asphalt, tall brick buildings with lots of windows, the smell of car exhaust and cigarette smoke, a tiled floor.

He didn't know why these random flashes in his head made his chest tug with longing, and why they were so comforting. He tried to hold onto them, to catch them as they shot through his mind.

Another sharp lash across his back broke him from his thoughts, a raw hoarse scream painfully tearing from his vocal cords. His thoughts were far from home. He was suddenly in the room again. The present is the only thing he knows. Pain.

He believes it wasn't always like this, there was a time before the pain. His mind drifts again. He wants security, safety, comfort. He wants to be held, and not hurt. He wants to be cared for– no, he needs it.

A strike across his back, tearing from the scarred flesh on his shoulder, across the other two lashes, and down to his hip.

Mama. A broken, dry sob fires through him, the word like sandpaper in his mouth. The impact sends him lurching forward, almost falling, his hair tumbling and sticking to his bloodied face.

He has broken.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

He remembers her.

The first time they wipe him it doesn't work, they just electrocuted the super soldier. He whispers the word again, his body nearly burned from the failed procedure.

The second time they succeed enough. He doesn't remember who he is. He remembers home, he remembers her, he remembers Steve, but he doesn't know how he fits, or how they relate to him.

The third time, the fourth time, the times when they start to lose count, he's gone. He's pliant. He knows his orders and what he's told. That's all he knows. There's still a gentle faceless frame of safety and comfort lingering in the dark part of his mind. It's fuzzy and hurts his head to think about, but he knows it.

Even when he doesn't know himself, he remembers her.

And then there comes a time where he forgets. His last ounce of comfort, the last remnant of humanity was forgotten.

And then he was lost.

[five-rivers]

Hey, there.   I’m still working on this!  Again, I am using @charcoalhawk and @thecommrade ‘s prompts!

.

.

Collateral

.

Chapter 4

.

Youngblood was bored.  Super bored.  Mega bored.  Ginormously bored. Bored to infinity.  So bored that even Bones couldn't un-bore him. Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored.  He didn't like being bored.  

So he decided to go bother Phantom.  

Phantom was a lot older than him (or a lot younger than him, depending on how he counted), and could be kind of weird sometimes (though Youngblood understood that was because he was a halfa, and therefore kind of sick, like Youngblood used to be), but he was good for a game or two, or a laugh, or a straight-up fight.  It really depended on how polite Youngblood was feeling, and how patient Phantom was feeling.  Or, from another angle, how bratty Youngblood was, and how territorial Phantom was.  No matter which way it played out, Phantom was never boring.  Unlike some people.  

Youngblood flew to Phantom's portal, giggling madly, already planning out his next game.  Giggling madly.  Like a mad scientist.  Ooh, that was a good idea.  He could be a mad scientist and Bones could be Frankenstein!  Or maybe Bones would be Igor, and they could make a Frankenstein!

“Hey, Bones, do you think you're more a Frankenstein or an Igor?”

Bones sighed, already shifting into a bony hunchback.  “I assume you're speaking of Frakenstein's monster, so I would have to say Igor, master.”

“Isn't Frankenstein the monster?”

“No, Frankenstein was the scientist, master.  The monster wasn't named.”

“Well, that's stupid,” complained Youngblood.  “Why didn't anyone ever name him?  He was the coolest ever!  Or he should have named himself, like ghosts do!”

“That's part of the book,” started Bones.  

“The book!?  Boring!”  

They had reached the portal.  Phantom's portal itself wasn't safe to go through.  His parents had sealed it tight, and had stuck a lot of guns and junk onto it.  Not to mention the house itself.  On the other hand, smaller, temporary, natural portals to Amity Park spawned near it literally all the time.  Bones and Youngblood didn't have to wait long for one to appear.

“Maybe I won't be a mad scientist,” said Youngblood, after they had gone through.  “Maybe I'll paint on the walls.  I always wanted to be an artist, you know.”  Youngblood had always wanted to be lots of things.  He vaguely remembered wanting to be a dinosaur when he grew up, but growing up was for losers.  “But the adults didn't recognize my genius.  Whenever I drew they were all like 'oh, no, you can't draw on the walls!'”

“I see,” said Bones, returning to his favorite parrot shape.  

Two cans of spray paint popped into Youngblood's hands, his outfit transmuting into a childish image of an artist, complete with a beret.  A too-wide, too sharp smile spread over Youngblood's face. He couldn't wait until Phantom showed up, so that he could spray the teenager in the face.  He could just imagine the look on Phantom's face.  It would be hilarious.  

.

.

.

Two hours later, and Phantom still hadn't shown up.  Neither had his weirdo parents, or his friends.  Which was weird, and also bleh. Boring.  He'd entertained himself with painting for a while, and with avoiding the coppers, who couldn't see him, and that red girl with the hoverboard who also couldn't see him even though she was obviously a teenager, but those games had limited utility.  

He wanted to play with Phantom.  That's why he had come in the first place.  

He floated in the air over a building that was now tastefully decorated in dinosaurs and superheros, pouting.  There had been fewer policemen than there usually were, too, and the red girl had seemed especially upset (and incompetent), now that he thought about it.  His eyes narrowed.  Youngblood might have been immature, but he wasn't stupid.

He floated higher, scanning the town.  

“Hey, Bones, help me find where all the police are.”

“The police?” asked the skeletal parrot.  “Aye aye, captain.”  He spiraled up even further than Youngblood, his circles growing ever wider as Youngblood spun beneath.

“Thar she is!” said Bones.

“You don't have to do that,” said Youngblood, flying in the indicated direction.  “We're not playing pirates right now.”

“If you say so,” said Bones, swooping down alongside Youngblood.  

They reached the part of the town that had the tallest and fanciest buildings.  Police and cameramen were swarming all over them.  There was yellow tape everywhere, especially in front of a stately building with columns.  

It was very exciting.  

But it wasn't terribly informative.  Most of the police officers and detectives were only talking about what was going on right then, about what they were doing, or what they had found.  They weren't talking about what had happened, which was what Youngblood was interested in.  Because this had to be related to why Phantom wasn't showing up.  It didn't look like it had been a ghost fight, at least not a typical one.  There wasn't enough damage, and Youngblood remembered enough about the human world to know that its buildings and structures didn't repair themselves.  In fact, as far as Youngblood could tell, there wasn't any damage at all.  But then, what ghost fight was typical, especially when Phantom was involved?  When was anything involving Phantom typical?  He was a weirdo from a family of weirdos in a town of weirdos.

What a weirdo.

“Perhaps we should listen in on one of the reporters,” suggested Bones.

“What? You think that they'd know something the cops don't?”

“Unlikely, but they will be talking about what they do know.  That's their job, after all.”

“Ooh. Good idea!”

They zoomed over to a nearby reporter, whose crew was just starting to get ready to film.  They waited impatiently.  At least, Youngblood did. He jiggled and bounced and made faces at the reporter.

“Hello!” said the reporter, finally.  “I'm Harriet Chin for Amity News, reporting from the site of the attempted assassination of our own mayor, Vlad Masters by a sniper in one of these buildings.  Mr Masters was not hit, thanks to the swift and heroic actions of Daniel Fenton, who had been receiving a scholarship from Mr Masters at the time.  Mr Fenton, however, was shot, and brought to South Mercy Hospital.  We are currently waiting for word on his condition...”

Youngblood floated off, no longer particularly interested in what the reporter had to say.  No longer wanting to hear what the reporter had to say. She had said the forbidden, most hated word.  Hospital. Youngblood hated hospitals.  He wasn't scared of them, he had spent too much time in them to be scared, but he hated them.  

And Phantom had been sent to one?  He'd been hurt that badly?

Youngblood barred his teeth.  He didn't like that, didn't like the idea of that. But it couldn't be that bad, right?  He had to see.

South Mercy.  He knew where South was, right?

“Come on!” he said, zooming away.  

The hospital, to Youngblood's dismay, was surrounded by minor and not-so-minor ghosts shrouded by low-level invisibility.  Phantom must really be hurt, for them to be acting like this.  There weren't any children among the ghosts that he could see, though, so it wasn't like he could just ask what was going on.  No one would be able to see him, and he wasn't interested in talking to humans right now.  

Flying through the crowd of ghosts was like flying through a sea of whispers.  They were angry.  No, they were furious.  

“Their lord has been wounded,” said Bones, voice low.

“Their lord?” asked Youngblood, curling his lip.  “Phantom's a lord?”

“It's a technical term.  He is the lord, and they are the vassals, although they might call themselves something else.  It's a relationship, not entirely unlike what you and I have.”  Bones settled on Youngblood's shoulder.  “He protects them, lets them stay in his haunt.  There are certain obligations that go along with that, even if Phantom does not demand them.”

“Obligations?”

“Duties, commitments.”

“Heh, you said 'duty.'”

They located the room around which the most ghosts were located, and slipped in.  Phantom was there, in a bed, trapped beneath tubes and wires, just like-

Youngblood fled the hospital.  It wasn't because he was scared.  It wasn't. But he couldn't be there anymore.  He had to leave.  He had to.

He didn't know what to do.  He had to talk to someone about this. Someone other than Bones.  

Ember. He'd talk to Ember.  

.

.

.

The ghosts of Amity Park swirled around the hospital in a ghostly analogue of human pacing.  There were all kinds of ghosts there. Blobs and will-o-the-wisps.  Ghosts of dogs, cats, birds, tigers, rats, foxes, bats.  Ghosts of men and women.  Ghosts that had been born ghosts, or who had never been born at all.  Little goblins. Pixie people.  Elves and fae things.  Monsters of myth and legend. None of them were particularly strong on their own.  In fact, most of them were on the weak side for ghosts.  Even the very strongest was only on par with the Box Ghost.  Many of them struggled to make themselves seen or felt by humans.  That's why they had sought protection from Phantom in the first place, why they chose to reside in Amity Park.

But that wasn't why they loved him.  They loved him because he cared. Because he loved them first.  Because he deserved it.  Because he was precious, and soft, and lovely.  Because he needed love. Because he belonged to them, as much as he belonged to the humans of Amity Park.  

That someone hurt him...  That someone here hurt him...  Hurt him this badly, and not even in a proper fight...

It didn't just make them furious.  It made them incandescent.

.

.

.

One of Vlad's duplicates glanced out a window, and all of him froze.  

He had known of the other ghosts that called Amity Park home.  Being one of them, how could he not?  He usually paid little attention to them. They were weak.  Nonentities, like the Dairy King, who nonetheless managed to avoid Vlad's attempts to evict him.  Annoyances.  True, Vlad could have put them to use, great use, had they been loyal to him, and he was the most powerful ghost in Amity Park, but they favored Daniel for some incomprehensible reason.  

Well, maybe not so incomprehensible.  Daniel had never understood power, had never bothered to learn how to exert it, how to use it for his benefit.  Daniel never asked anything from them, despite the traditional obligations he was owed.

But just because Daniel didn't ask, didn't mean he didn't receive.  Vlad, unlike Daniel, was very aware of what had happened to the missing GIW agents.  Weak these ghosts might be on their own, but when they acted together...  

Vlad's mouth felt very dry.  Surely, they wouldn't blame him for this.  He had been the intended victim!  He would have stopped this if he had known!

He shook himself.  He had nothing to fear.  Even together, these ghosts wouldn't be able to hurt him.  Still.  

But perhaps...  Perhaps he could use this.  Yes.  The ghosts circling angrily around the hospital were out for blood, yes, but the blood of the ones responsible for Daniel's injury.  Not Vlad's.  Well, as it so happened, Vlad had a bone to pick with the perpetrator himself, and he doubtless had more information than the pathetic specters outside.  

A thin smile spread across his face.

[alia-turin]

Oh my god that turned out so fucking long but I also had fun 

Fic Title: Not Strong Enough Previous Chapters: 1 Rating [Warnings]: G [mention of body injury] all chapters will have different warnings Pairing: Luche x OC Summary: 3 years have passed since Noctis disappeared and Luche finds himself on the side of unfamiliar road with no recollection how he got there Note: I was listening to Apocalyptica’s Not Strong Enough while writing that hence the title. It’s VERY suitable sing for the fic.

If you feel like supporting this writer consider buying me a coffee: Ko-Fi or  Ko-Fi

Tagging: @birdsandivory @jojopitcher @lazarustrashpit @yourcoolfriendwithallthecandy @ladychocoberry @kairakara101 @ashwritesfantasies (sorry love you said you wanted to be tagged on the glaive fics, that’s the first one, I forgot the tag on the previous chapter but the link is above!)

Luche waited in the dark trying to figure out what to say. ‘I’m sorry I almost killed you, it wasn’t my intention’ was terrible conversation starter. Three years was a lot of time, she might have forgiven him or even forgotten him. She might have moved on. He had tried to probe Tredd for any of that but he didn’t say a word, which was suspicious. She was with someone else probably, Tredd just didn’t want to be one doing the damage.

He turned the light on. No point in sitting like a ghost even if he felt like one. The room was small but had everything one would need. He imagined luxuries weren’t high on people’s lists given the circumstances. He started looking around hoping to find anything that could help him. Table was clear, just few pens were lying on it and a book Galahd history. On top of one of the drawers he found a knife and as he observed it he realized it was his. He had that weapon in his apartment when he left her, maybe she picked it up…he hesitated for a moment but then took the knife and tucked it under his belt. Luche had to stop himself from opening he drawers and going through them. That was a bit too far even for him. He walked in the bathroom, similar to the rest of the place it was almost as if no one lived there. Few towels neatly folded on the counter next to the sink. A bottle of shampoo and soap next to the shower. He reached for the shampoo and smelled it, cherry blossom. Some things never changed, she always liked that and wondered where she managed to find the thing now.

He walked back to the main room as the door got opened and a familiar figure walked in. They both looked at each other, neither moving.

“Hi.” He finally said. She was…beautiful. She looked almost the same way he remembered. Her red hair was a bit longer, her green eyes looked tired and she had lost some weight, but other than that she was the same small creature he remembered holding in his arms.

“Hi.” She responded and closed the door behind herself. Luche couldn’t read anything on her face beside the fact she was tired. They continued looking at each other, he knew he had to say something but what? “You look good.” She said quietly before he could come up with something.

“And you are as beautiful as I remember.” He offered her a smile but she just shook her head. Right. As Tredd said he had to adjust his expectations. The world really must have gone wrong if he was taking Tredd’s advice. “You are not surprised to see me?”

“I expected it. After Tredd and the rest started popping up around, I thought I might see you again.” She walked to the table and took her jacket off, then the two knives that were tucked under her belt. He didn’t fail to notice that she placed them within easy reach. Couldn’t blame her for that, last time they were together he had his hands around her throat. “How long have you been alive?” she asked after a while, finally turning toward him again, now he could see how tense her body was.

“Twelve hours maybe…I woke up in some ruined cabin in the middle of nowhere, started walking and reached that place.” He tried to walk closer to her but as soon as he made a step she pulled away, not that she had much space, the table was behind her, but she obviously didn’t want to be that close to him. “Okay. I really didn’t mean to kill you.” He knew she wasn’t afraid of him, there was something else. She wasn’t talking but she was looking at him, more like watching him. “Ada, please say something, anything. Shout at me, fight me.”

“Fine.” Her expression changed, her green eyes were filled with anger now. “Why didn’t you kill me? You killed Crowe, you could have done me as well. I know you can make the difference between someone being unconscious and dead. You don’t leave loose ends.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill you.” He admitted confidently. His memory was still a mess. He remembered events but had hard time placing them on a timeline. The night they fought…he remembered that clearly. He had told her what they were going to do on the day the treaty was signed. She told him that was insane and treachery. They argued. Eventually he asked her at least to not get involved and let them do what they were supposed to do. She refused. They argued and eventually they fought. “I was hoping you would join us, when you said no, I was hoping you would just turn your back on what we were doing. Should have known better, you are too good for that. Our orders were to kill everyone who might in some way endanger the operation. I wasn’t going to kill you, I love you, whatever I was doing I did it for us and Galahd. But we started fighting and…the easiest way to solve my problem was to knock you out…I’m not proud of that, but I also don’t think I had another option.” He smiled with the corner of his lips. “You were going to melt my armor to my skin.”

“I was defending myself!” she said a bit louder, anger creping in her voice. “Was I suppose to move away? Turn a blind eye that you were about to destroy everything we fought for. You killed Crowe! She was my best friend, Luche!”

“I did what I did for Galahd and for you.” He tried to get closer to her but her body tensed. “Insomnia did nothing for us. The King left our homes defenseless, we protected these people and they spat on us and looked at us as if we are garbage.”

“No, no, you are not putting that on me. You can take that ‘for me’ and shove it right up your ass. I didn’t ask for that. I missed Galahd as much as you did, I still do, but inviting the Empire in our homes wasn’t exactly going to work.” He saw her hand was curled in a fist, the knuckled white. “These people didn’t know better. What we have seen…they couldn’t even imagine it. But I guess you taught them a lesson, didn’t you? Now they all live like that.”

“Ada, I don’t want to fight with you. I didn’t come for that.” He made another step forward and reached with his left hand for hers, he didn’t want her to see the scars, not yet. “I missed you. I still love you and I want to fix things. Come on, no fighting. Let’s just talk.” She didn’t respond just looked at him. “Did you miss me?”

She laughed. It wasn’t funny laugh, there was sadness in it. Her eyes had grown softer and at least now he felt like she wouldn’t try to kill him.

“I’m so weak that I missed you every single day. I tried to hate you and it didn’t work. You were the first man I ever loved, Luche.” She looked down as she said that. “I knew that will happen. You would just come here and get your way into my life, again.” she sighed. “I’m tired. Had a very long day. You can stay if you want, I assume you don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Ada walked away from him and started undressing. She either didn’t realize what was she doing to him, or she knew far too well. His thoughts however went to completely different place once she pulled her shirt off.

“When did you get that?” he stared at the scars on her back. Magic damage, fine lines reminding a lighting covered most of her upper back, her left shoulder and if he wasn’t mistaken her upper arm. That was a lot. They all had some sort of magic scarring depending how often and how much magic they used, but usually it took years to get that bad. She had none of that while they were still alive and she was one of the strongest magic users he had ever seen.  

“Started about a year ago. Progressively got worse as you know.” She reached for the drawer and grabbed an oversized t-shirt and put it on quickly.

“Ada it cannot go that bad in a year. You didn’t have even an inch of that three years ago.” He walked toward her, damn if she didn’t want him near. He pulled her hand made her look at him. “How much magic do you exactly use?”

“Every day, hours at a time.” She admitted.

“That can kill you!” what had he done? If he had been here he would have stopped that, prevented it.

“And so what, Luche?” she walked away from him again, obviously upset. “Watch people die? Demons attack the walls every single day. We try to train people to fight but it’s a slow process, and we are having fewer people every day. I can count the experienced fighters we have on both of my hands. The Crownsguard is in terrible condition, the Kinsglaive is half gone, sure we have most of the old gang back, but we cannot be everywhere. I cannot sit and watch, not again.” He saw her eyes filling with tears and reached to embrace her but she pushed his hand away. “Don’t. I don’t want your pity.”

“Let’s leave.” He finally said.

“Have you lost your mind?” she stared at him as if he was high or something.

“I certainly didn’t.” he placed his hands on her shoulders and she flinched. She never flinched before when he touched her. “Ada, you cannot stay here, and if you stay you will kill yourself trying to help these people. I’m not letting you do that.”

“Somebody has to fix your mistakes.” She told him coldly.

“Let me take care of my mistakes.” He tried not to sound annoyed, but he was. He didn’t do a mistake. He thought he was doing the right thing.

“Luche, I was with you for four years and I had no idea what you were planning until the night you told me. You might not feel responsible for any of that, but I do.” They both stared at each other, they were both angry, he had to be smart about it. He wanted her back not to push her even further away.

“Let’s go to sleep, we can talk about the tomorrow.” He finally said, not sure he would be able to sleep at all.

 They were in bed next to each other, that was awkward and new. He was with his clothes, she had an oversized t-shirt and covered under the blankets. Neither of them was sleeping they were both just lying there and staring at the ceiling. Very awkward. Ada didn’t need to wonder if she still had feelings for him, she always had. She hated herself for that because he certainly didn’t deserve it.

“So…is there somebody else?” Luche asked finally. His words were actually welcomed, that silence was killing her.

“Was.” Another thing she fucked up in her life.

“That makes things easier.” He said that mostly to himself but she shook her head. Of course, it made things easier. In Luche’s life it wasn’t a matter of if things will happen it was when things will happen. That was something she admired, liked and hated about him at the same time.

“Don’t even think about it.” She warned him but she knew she had no bite.

“Ada, I died. It’s not a nice feeling, I still have the scars to prove it.” She turned towards him as he said that. She knew that in whichever way they had died, left traces on their bodies. She had seen Tredd’s, Axis’ and Sonitos’, she also knew that the ring burned Luche as per Libertus’ words. There were no visible scars. “I suffered for my part. I will fix what I can, in my way this time. I will however fix my relationship with you as well. One way or another.”

“Do I have a say in that?” she asked not sure if he asked her right now if she wanted to be with him what would she answer. Did she love him? Yes. Did she hate him? Yes. Where did these two meet exactly? What was that literature trope? Enemies to lovers…that wasn’t their case was it? It was friends to lovers to enemies to unknown.

“Of course, you do.” he fell silent for a moment and then added. “Once I know how to fix it, you will have your say.”

Death didn’t change him. Methodical, confident, knowing what he wants. All qualities she was attracted to, the reason she fell in love with him. That and a pair of blue eyes. She guessed it was all fun and giggles until all these qualities turned against her.

 She woke up alone in the bed and wondered if last night was just another dream. It couldn’t have been, in her dreams they never talked that much, they either tried to kill each other or fucked, never discussed the final details of their problems. Ada lifted herself slowly from the bed and saw him, sitting on the table reading the book she left there. It has been weeks since she had touched that book. No time for reading.

“Interesting choice of read.” Luche said as he saw her getting off the bed and walking towards him. “Early Galahd history. Missing home?”

“Somewhat.” She felt a bit stupid for leaving the book there. Truth was unlike him and Nyx and some of the other guys she left Galahd way earlier. They were already adults when they left and joined the glaive. She was fourteen when her family left, eighteen when she joined the glaive. If for many of them Galahd was a home, for her it had turned into a distant concept a reason to exist but not to understand. That is why she fit better in Insomnia, but she also missed that distant place. Luche used to tell her constantly that she reminds him of home and for the life of hers she never knew what he meant. Hence the book. Trying to understand.

Then the door opened and Tredd walking in.

“Fuck I was hoping you two will be in bed fucking each other. Need some new porn.” He left bunch of papers on her table. “I have seen every single porn video on my phone and every other phone I can get to. Nice legs by the way.” He finished as he pointed at Ada who was still in the oversized t-shirt which covered up to her ass, but not much further.

“I would say you should knock, but I know it’s pointless.” She sighed. Dealing with Tredd was impossible, there were toddlers with more self-control. “I will take a shower.” She said as she grabbed some cleaned clothes and walked to the bathroom.

“Don’t take forever. Axis and Soni are coming as well, we have something to talk about.” She heard him shout after she closed the door and just wanted to collapse on the bathroom floor. That was going to be another mission, another fucked up situation for which she had no strength.

 “How is that going?” Tredd aske as he looked towards the bathroom.

“Worse than I hoped, better than I expected.” Luche looked through the papers Tredd brought they were all maps with different markings on them. “She used to be with someone?” he asked without looking at the redhead

“Ah…don’t get me involved in that, I’m not telling you anything she doesn’t want to tell you, I like being alive.” Tredd was quick to deny it.

“Do I know him?” Luche looked at Tredd who was obviously uncomfortable by this conversation.

“You know of him, I don’t think you know him personally.” Tredd sighed. “Please don’t ask me anything else I really don’t want her to skin me alive.”

“Hey, Luche!” Axis walked in, he was holding something in a box in his hand and left on the table before embracing him. “You are looking good.”

“I can say the same to you.” Luche smiled. It was good to have the old gang together. “I heard falling from aircraft is not fun.”

“Beats burning to death.” They both laughed. It was a bitter laugh, but still felt good.

“Look at you! Good as new.” Sonitus walked in and also embraced Luche.

He was about to say something but Ada came out of the bathroom, fully dressed only her wet hair was betraying that she had been in the shower. There was a moment of silence where the two newcomers looked at her and then looked at Luche and then back at her.

“My wife told you to bring you that.” Axis finally said and passed her the box he had brought. Ada opened it, it was some sort of cake. It looked delicious and just now Luche realized he was starving.

“Why she never bakes me anything?” Tredd asked obviously offended.

“She doesn’t swear in front of the kids.” Axis said without even looking at the redhead.

“It wasn’t that bad…” Tredd tried to defend himself and reach for the cake but Ada slapped his hand.

“Your exact words were something of the sort of I will fuck it in the mouth until cum starts coming out of its ears and then make it lick my balls. That was a bit too loaded for a video game rage.” Ada said with serious face but Luche could see she was having fun. Everyone laughed. “Okay why are you all here?” she finally asked as she looked at the map.

“Bad news really.” Tredd suddenly became serious again. “Spoke with the Marshal this morning, they had decided to abandon some of the outposts. Here and here.” He pointed on the map. “With the one you two lost yesterday, that makes Old Lestallum the furthest outpost in these parts.” He looked at Ada and Axis, there wasn’t blame in his words it was just a fact. Luche didn’t know they had lost an outpost yesterday, explains why she looked like shit when she came home.

“We are losing more land.” Ada said eventually. It was just a statement, not an accusation or even an argument. “The place yesterday was a farm as well so that’s some food source lost. We won’t be able to house all the refugees in the current settlements.”

“Marshal’s order was to take as many as we can, send the rest to Lestallum, Galdin Quay…” Tredd didn’t sound hopeful.

“That still doesn’t solve our food shortage.” Axis added. “We can figure out the housing, but we can just manifest food out of thin air. We also don’t have enough hands to make sure demons don’t rush the gates while we try to bring all these people in.”

The situation was worse than he thought. Luche studied the map and just listened to them listing all the issues they had. Lack of medial supplies, building materials, fighters…seemed like there was nothing they had.

“How about here.” He placed his finger on Galahd ad he was met with four very confused looks. “Galahd is made of island and they all have a lot of resources. It’s easier to keep an island protected from demons. We purge whatever is on the island and then just keep them away. The problem with Galahd was that we couldn’t fight the Empire but the Empire is gone.”

“Power grid doesn’t reach there, so even if we manage to get rid of the demons, we cannot bring enough light to keep them away.” Tredd explained. “And we haven’t heard a word from the place since Libertus left. We haven’t seen any refugees, nothing.”

“That doesn’t mean everyone is dead.” Luche argued. “Come on guys think about it. We all saw Insomnia burn. How many people have you met who managed to escape Insomnia? If people are not leaving Galahd there is something there. Ada and I will check it.”

“Excuse me?” Ada gave him a puzzled look.

“The Marshal might have an issue with that considering we are short handed.” Sonitus said, not as an argument just put the information there.

“He can come and discuss it with me, I will be happy to explain myself.” Luche didn’t fail to see Tredd laughing at his words. “If Galahd is untouched by the demons that could save the people here. Worst case scenario we can just use some of the resources. Better than nothing.”

The rest was just details that they had to fix. Axis was going to find them equipment and try to find new phone for Luche. Ada didn’t say anything until it was just the two of them alone.

“You don’t need to go on suicide mission with me to impress me.” She said annoyed.

“Yeah but think about it. I can save everyone here and impress you.” He offered her a cocky smile and she just sighed and smiled back.

[spnsimpleman]

The Unknowns: Nineteen

This is a continuation for The Unknowns.  A one shot turned into a long ass Prologue.  Part One.  Part Two.  Part Three.  Four.Part Five.  Part Six. Part Seven.  Part Eight.  Part Nine. Ten.  Eleven.  Twelve.  Thirteen. Fourteen.  Fifteen.  Sixteen.  Seventeen.  Eighteen.

Dean x Psychic!reader

Teaser/Summary: An AU sparked from a songfic challenge, The Unknowns is based on Season One Episode Nine, Dean met reader in Lawrence as a child and they created an unbreakable bond. At the end of The Unknowns, reader decided to stick with her boys because she felt something coming but she holds secrets; one she holds close to her heart and a few that she doesn’t even really know yet.

Word count: 3545

Lines borrowed from season two episode one, “In my time of dying” in Bold.

I stood leaning against the porch railing staring out into the junkyard. The sun was hovering just above the horizon inching its way down, its last rays reaching my face with a gentle warmth.

A soft buzz in the back of my mind soothed and amazed me at the same time. I could still feel Dean. No emotions or anything else passed through the bond but I knew he was alive and right now that was everything.

Whatever Pamela had done, the static and the oppressive sense bearing down on me were dampened, tucked away under a heavy blanket. But Dean was still here. I closed my eyes and tugged on the buzz. I sighed as the hum spread, vibrating down my neck then out along my arms, soft and comforting like his energy was brushing down my arms to settle in my hands.

Darkness fell and I opened my eyes. What little was left of the light was being swallowed by the cars and trucks at the outskirts of the junkyard.

“I’ll get him to see reason.” I glanced over my shoulder, Jess was standing at the front door watching me. “I’ll kick his ass if I have to, or you know, just deny him certain things.”

I forced a soft laugh but her sadness swept through me matching my own. She meant well but the thought hurt her just as much as it hurt me. “I knew this would happen. I wanted to tell him and I couldn’t wait for the day when you two would be together again but I feared it too. You shouldn’t deny yourself anything. We both know it wouldn’t do anyone any good. Thank you for the sentiment though.”

She walked over to my side, “you gave us a chance to be together. That fact alone will bring him around.”

I glanced at her as she leaned her arms on the railing facing out toward the yard but her eyes were darting toward me. “I know but I don't think things could ever be the same.”

“We survived a good amount of shit we probably shouldn’t have. I think that gives us a better chance than most.” She reached over and closed her hand around mine, “come on, let’s get some sleep.”

I looked at the woman that had changed so much in such a short time but that’s what this world did. You either adapted or died and Jess just wasn’t the type to give up. “Okay.” I turned with her and didn’t drop her hand. It felt too good to release.

We walked upstairs and into the room where I had slept fitfully earlier. I was nervous that I wouldn’t sleep well without him but Jess squeezed my hand. I studied her, “did Pamela show you some spell to read my mind or something?”

A sad smile curved her lips, “it’s all over your face. I barely know him and I miss him, I can only imagine what it’s like for you but I think… it’s kind of like how much I missed you only magnified by a thousand or you know the heat of the sun.” She grinned, “something like that.”

I never knew what it would be like to have a sister until the few days I spent with Jess after I returned her soul. She was perfect in so many ways and I had been so happy for Sam until it hit me that I would have to lie to him about her. Then I realized how hard it must be to lose someone like her. I had been so mad at the situation in the beginning even though I knew it had to be done. I had felt the demon that night and he felt so much stronger than when I was a kid. He felt even stronger now.

We brushed our teeth side by side but remained quiet. It was comforting even though our connection didn’t have that buzz it had when I had first returned her soul. Our connection had settled into a normal zone like the one I had with Sam but hers would always be a little more. Pamela said the effects from taking on her soul would lessen but they would never be broken until death. In a way, our souls had linked for that night that hers resided alongside mine and even though hers didn’t intertwine like Dean’s had done, a small filament would always remain from that contact. Like Sammy was my little brother no matter what we were going through at the time, Jess would always be my sister.

Back in the bedroom, we changed in silence and I crawled into the bed. “You’re staying with me, right?” I hadn’t thought about it until that moment, how much I didn’t want to be alone tonight.

She smirked, “and miss a chance to sleep with you? Never.”

I chuckled, “if Dean ever hears you say that…”

She raised her brow as she climbed in beside me. “Oh, he’s one of those, huh?”

I rolled to my side and watched her, “a man? Yes.”

“You know, I never got to figure out if Sam was one of those…” Her gaze dropped, “he was never completely open, you know? And the crazy reasons I had thought…” She chuckled and I grabbed her hand.

“He wanted to tell you, he wanted you to know all about him but he was afraid. Not only of what he could bring to you but I think a part of him was afraid you’d think he was crazy and not believe him. He always wanted normal so badly, but maybe now that he has you, our sort of normal won’t be so bad.”

Jess smiled, “normal is boring.”

I giggled picturing Sam’s expression, “I can see him rolling his eyes now.” I rolled to my back and looked up at the ceiling. “There was this one time when we tried to have one holiday that was normal. It was this big surprise my mom, Dean, and I had tried to do for him. My mom had been cooking all day and sat down to play cards with us for a break. The look on his face throughout that whole day smelling everything that was cooking and even helping my mom with a few things, it was worth... everything.” My vision blurred and I blinked it away. “We tried again a couple years later in this crappy motel and even though it was all store bought food, it was the only time everything went as we planned which honestly was a fluke.”

“That first time was the day your dad died, wasn’t it?” Jess was quiet. 

I nodded, “he suffered so much loss by such a young age. I still remember the way he hugged my mom when she finally realized my dad was gone. Even then he always wanted to help people, to ease their suffering.”

Her fingers brushed my cheek and I turned my head toward her. Her eyes glistened, “so did you. He said you were the strongest person he’d ever known.”

The tear rolled down the side of my face and absorbed into the pillow, “because I had them.”

The look in her eyes shifted with the dull echo of her emotion in my chest, sorrow morphing into determination with such a strong sense of love bolstering it. “And now I have you and you have me too.”

Sam couldn’t have chosen a better person to stand by his side and a better fit for our world. “It’s kind of insane how well you fit in with us. Most people would run away screaming.”

“I may have screamed a little in the beginning. In my head anyway. But then when you live inside someone else for a night and your body survives a fire… it’s kind of hard to be surprised by things anymore.” She smirked.

I laughed. I couldn’t help it or hold it back, it burst out of me like a wild hostage. Jess lost her battle with holding it too. We lay side by side cackling like psychos trying to breathe and crying all the while. Maybe we were insane, but at least we had each other.

I finally gained some control again and stared at the ceiling. My chest ached and I raked in as much air as I could to soothe it. My cheeks ached too but for some reason, it didn't really bother me. Those good aches never did.

Soft murmurings rose from the wall beside me and I looked at Jess. She heard it too.

“Downstairs, maybe? Bobby and Pamela?” Jess whispered as she sat up and leaned toward me. I pressed my ear to the wall, “can you make out what they’re saying?”

I shook my head, “it's too muffled.” I pulled away, “sounds clearer when I’m not pressing my ear to the wall.”

Jess looked around the room and got off the bed, “a vent.” She moved around looking behind the dresser at the head of the bed and then ducking down to look under us. “There.”

I climbed off the bed and we pulled it away from the wall. We knelt down in front of the small rectangle vent.

“You’re not protecting her anymore by keeping her in the dark. She needs to know before someone else gives her their version of it and tries to use her.”

Jess glanced at me and whispered, “Pamela?”

I nodded as other questions flew through my mind. My eyes widened at the voice that echoed up through the vent.

“What is it with you guys thinking it’s some birthright?”

I felt Jess’s stare and glanced at her, “my mother.”

“It’s not but it’s information that could be used to push her to do something. What if Azazel tells her? Would you rather he corrupted it for his own purpose?” Pamela’s voice was agitated, her frustration hit me like a hammer which only meant it was much worse downstairs but my mother’s anger was still more sledgehammer.

“She would never believe him!”

“How are you so sure? If he told her we lied and never wanted to tell her? He could spin it any way he wanted because she wouldn’t know the truth.” Pamela kept full control of her volume, unlike my mother. It was only when Pamela got real quiet that shit was getting lethal. She kept her voice level because she knew my mother and was trying to keep her calm but my mother’s voice had already raised in volume and next would be pitch.

“Like the truth is any better! You know what it did to them! They became obsessed with a ghost story!” And there’s the pitch raise.

“We need to tell her. If we don’t, I can promise you someone else will and if they change it to suit their needs, we’ll never know what our baby girl is walking into!” Pamela’s voice had changed slightly, turned gruff yet airy.

My mother gasped and a loud thud reverberated through the vent. A chill invaded my body and something familiar flickered in my chest, it was heavy and made it so hard to breathe.

“You’re not protecting her by doing this, you’re cutting her off at the knees and serving her to them on a silver platter!” Pamela’s voice had risen. It wasn't like her at all and only twisted the feeling in my chest.

My mother let out a strangled sob and Bobby’s low timber vibrated through the vent but his words were too soft. Footsteps faded until it fell silent. Too silent.

My heart was pounding and roaring in my ears. My face was wet and I sucked in a tortured breath. Something just happened and I had no idea what, but I felt... I felt my father.  

Jess touched my shoulder, “what… was that? What do you think they were talking about?” Her voice shook and I wondered if she felt it too as I looked into her confused gaze.

I pushed off the floor and rushed out of the room, down the stairs, and skidded to a stop in the study. It was empty. Completely and unnaturally empty. Absolutely nothing lingered.

Jess grabbed the doorframe as she slid to a stop but didn't say a word, just scanned the area before walking into the study.

I still couldn’t breathe and my chest began to scream. I walked around her, through the house, and out the front door. Bobby stood on the porch leaning against the railing. “Hey, kid.” He glanced my way and did a double take, “you okay?”

I opened my mouth but nothing came out. There was nothing. Bobby strode to me and wrapped me in his solace. My lungs finally filled with an agonizing breath. The odd sounds echoing off whatever was nearby finally registered in my head. It was sobbing, maybe keening was the better description, and it was all coming from me.

I had never been able to turn everything off like that but maybe it wasn't me. The thought seemed to make it heavier. Bobby’s arms tightened, he was holding me up. Instead of fighting it, I leaned against him, soaking his shirt but he didn’t say anything. There was no need for calming words and he seemed to know that.

Ever since I met him, the one thing that never changed was his all consuming calm. For a man who had lost his life and was forced into a new one, he was always sure in his place. The fact that he never had any children to blanket with the love he had inside was a crime against nature itself. From the moment Pamela introduced him to me, I knew I was always meant to meet him and to know him because I needed him in my life. I could never explain it and I didn't want to.

I wanted my dad and I craved Dean so much it physically hurt. A pain in my chest like hot gashes tearing down my chest. If I couldn’t have them, I wouldn’t ask for anyone other than the sanctuary I was enclosed in. The one I was free to let go in knowing I would never be turned away. 

When I finally got a hold of myself, the pain in my chest dug in deeper, gouging harder. I choked out, “what is going on?”

“You and me both, kiddo.”

“It hurts so bad. I… I can't breathe.”

“Just deep, calm breaths. You can do that. One breath at a time.”

But the pain only increased, like my chest was being crushed in a vise. “Bobby…” I looked up into his eyes begging for help and tried to suck in air but my lungs wouldn't inflate. Panic flooded my system kick-starting whatever had shut it down. “Something’s… wrong.”

Bobby pulled away scanning my face and then looked down. I grabbed my sides gasping for breath against the vicious pain engulfing me. Bobby yelled something but I barely heard him.

Suddenly, hands were on my face but then I couldn't feel them. Everything was being sucked away, that buzzing was gone but so was Dean’s simmering hum. Unnatural silence. That was really starting to piss me off. Then it was just dark.

The loud ringing jolted through the black haze and I cracked my eyes open. My chest ached but I could finally breathe.

“Is that her phone?”

“Pama...la?” My throat felt like sandpaper and everything was still fuzzy.

I felt Pamela come closer and Jess’s voice followed, “who is it?”

I snatched my phone from the nightstand hoping it was Dean, I needed to hear his voice. “Hey,” I croaked.

“Thank god, Y/n, you guys need to move, the demon was in my dad, we got him out but… Dean needs a doctor.”

“You should've shot me! You could've ended this!” John’s voice pierced my aching head.

“Christ…” I rubbed my head but then Sam’s words sunk in. “What's wrong with him?” But I already knew, I grabbed my chest as I stared at Pamela, “it's his chest, isn't it?” He was weak… tired but it was there, his hum. Pamela’s eyes were closed and she laid her hand on my chest, her lips moving but she was silent. I sucked in a deep breath as the energy surged into my chest. “Sam, what happened?”

“The demon…” smashing metal and glass screamed through the phone. I ripped it away from my head and stared at it. The screeching filled the room and I couldn't breathe yet the energy still thrived, surging through my veins, frantically infusing my muscles.

When the silence finally hit, it was too much. I sat up and screamed their names not caring who answered as long as someone did.

I jerked toward Pamela and saw Jess standing at her side staring at the phone in my hands. I looked back at it and the pain in my hand registered, I tried to loosen my fingers but they wouldn't respond. Pamela pressed the speakerphone button then uncurled my fingers.

I met her gaze but everything was wrong. I couldn't feel anything. “I can't…” I couldn't even complete a sentence or a thought. The silence was too thick, too long, too unbearable. Fucking unnatural silence!

“He can't be.” Jess. My gaze shot to hers, the tears filling her eyes. It couldn’t be so cruel… this couldn't be the way… I flinched at the metal screeching and stared at the phone.

“Back. Or...” the phone line crackled then Sam’s voice was back, “I swear to God.”

Jess let out a cry and covered her mouth. I leaned toward the phone and closed my eyes, listening as hard as I could.

“You won't, you're saving that bullet for someone else.”

The cock of a gun racked my brain like a searing whip. “You wanna bet?”

Static blared from the phone and then the line dropped.

“Sam.” 

Pamela was moving before any of us, rushing from the room. Jess shook her head and looked at me, “can we track his phone if it's dead?”

I shook my head and regretted it. Grabbing it, I replied, “I don't think so.”

“Dean’s. We might get lucky. Or John’s, he was there.”

Bobby hustled from the room and I pushed myself to my feet. My muscles singing at finally expelling energy but I tripped over my own feet.

Jess grabbed me and wrapped her arm around my back, “we’ll find them. We have to. This is definitely not how this ends.”

At least I wasn't the only one thinking about how fucked up that would be. But the pain radiating from my chest wasn't filling me with confidence.

We were halfway down the stairs when the angry voices caught my attention. Jess was worrying her lip, nervous anticipation rattled through me but it was laced with determination. She knew what the fighting was about and I had been off in my own world.

We reached the bottom of the stairs and my mother was storming toward us. “You will get back in bed right now! You are in no condition…”

“Condition?” I choked out as heat lashed out to my arms from my chest, I dug my fingernails into my palms, “I'm going to Dean. I will always go to him no matter my condition.” I spat out the last word and she flinched but she wasn't done. She was never done. I growled, “I'm going and you cannot stop me.”

Her eyes flashed and her fear rippled out. “I forbid it! This is a trap!”

Pamela shouted, “she bonded with him!”

“YOU WHAT?!” My mother roared and stared at me like I'd just committed a cardinal sin. If she believed in those.

I raised my chin, “we did. And I'm going to him, I will do whatever it takes to save him.”

“How did you…” the color drained from her face and she turned to Pamela, “how did they..?”

I stared at my mother but felt nothing. She rarely shut everything down like that and I couldn't remember the last time because I had gained control of my ability so long ago.

“You've seen their connection since before they were teens. No one thought a bond could be a possibility anymore but they did it. There's nothing you can change now. She’s weak because he is and she will only continue to get worse if he does. I've seen it once before and I'm not going to watch it get worse. We’ll be back. Jackson will take you to the next safe house. We’ll see you again soon.” Pamela left no room for argument and glanced at Jess and I then tilted her head toward the front door.

We started forward and my mother stepped aside without another look in my direction. I threw up the wall knowing I wouldn't be able to handle the disappointment or whatever else she was feeling right now. I could deal with her later but I didn't know if I could deal with Dean’s loss. That wasn't a question I needed to be answered.

Twenty

@duchessofwinchester , @jodyri , @jencharlan , @deanssweetheart23  @torn-and-frayed , @chrisatplay , @mogaruke , @captainemwinchester  , @ashrod98 , @mrswhozeewhatsis , @caitsymichelle13  , @escabell , @thealyana , @michellethetvaddict

[tylerbeyond-blog1]

▼ ♢ ✖ ☎ ☂ ✣ ♀ lets fight

▼ kissing them

tae ho grins from ear to ear. he recognizes that unwilling smile. how he was somehow to blame for what is about to happen. he’s won again. melted their heart and side stepped their defenses, and now they couldn’t help but kiss him. tae ho liked winning. sometimes he wonders if they let him win, but that seems unlikely. even when he loses, he feels like he wins. “don’t look like that,” they say, pink lips turned in a frown. 

“don’t look like what?” he replies, still grinning. 

“that one, you smug bastard.”

 tae ho quirks an eyebrow, his expression even more smug now. “what’re you gonna do about it?” 

they kiss him again and he smiles into it, even when he feels their teeth at his lips. they try to punish him, bruise his lips to bruise his ego, but it only makes him happier. tae ho doesn’t know what it’s like to lose. he hopes he never finds out. as long as he has jung so by his side, he doesn’t think he ever will.

♢ stabbing them

this isn’t his vegas apartment. this isn’t even his brooklynn apartment. this is the apartment two floors down tae ho used to spend the odd afternoon in doing drugs and having sex with a man he barely knew, but considered his friend. wait, no, this is his apartment in brooklynn. it doesn’t feel like home. the posters on the walls are his but he feels nothing but terror and anguish in this room. there’s a message on the wall in blood. he smells smoke. he feels fire errupting from his side. heat spills down the blade twisting in his gut. his pants are soaked.

the hand holding the blade isn’t the one usually holding it. it isn’t large and strong and pale as bone. it’s slight and familiar. he isn’t looking up into the dark, soulless eyes of his killer. he’s looking down into the anguished, tear stained face of his best friend. but they aren’t beautiful. they’re twisted, shifting between the faces of beck and jung so. light and dark, love and hate, fear and loathing. “you did this to us!” the monster screams. “you did this to yourself,” it says in dark, gravely tones. “you did this to me!” red hot panic courses through him, but his scream is dead in his throat. all he can do is gurgle, drowning in his own blood. “it wasn’t supposed to be this way.” the two say in harmony. 

“ae… tae…. tae!”

finally the screaming makes it past the blood in his throat and he can move. he thrashes and fights, his limbs curiously tangled. suddenly, he’s soaked. his eyes snap open. this isn’t beck’s apartment. this isn’t his brooklynn apartment, either. he’s in las vegas. there’s no smoke, and there’s no fire. not on the walls, nor in his side, though it ached with the ghost of old injury. jung so is leaning over him. fear shocks his system once more and he scrambles to get away.

“tae, tae, babe, it’s me! it’s me! you’re safe. no one’s going to hurt you. he’s gone.” 

he watches them, eyes wild like those of a wary animal, chest rising and falling rapidly. 

“tae?”

“…why am i wet?” he asks, his hand going to his throat, then his side.

jung so watches him with pain in their beautiful, soft brown eyes. “you weren’t waking up. i dumped my water…”

slowly, tae ho starts to make sense of his surroundings. separating the nightmare from reality, he gets off the bed. jung  so follows. he raises a hand. “i need… give me a minute, please.”

they nod and watch him go.

in the bathroom, he dries his face and hair. he takes off his shirt. the great ugly scar in his side is closed. no blood. tae ho’s reflection is pale and drawn. he’s stronger now, but he feels as skeletal and weak as he had two years ago.

there are footsteps behind him. arms wrap around his middle. there’s no fear this time. jung so isn’t the monster. still, their words echo in his mind. 

you did this to me.

♞ shooting them

tae ho had a dream. no, not the rockstar dream, a different but tangentially related dream. just like barney stinson, he would never take a bad photo. so far, he’d succeeded. still, jung so tried. they tried so hard to catch him candid. they managed once. now tae ho sits in his boxers on the window sill of their apartment, stomach in rolls as he hugs his knees and stares out the window. he hears the floorboards creak. in a flash he sits up straight and drops one leg, resting his hand on his fist and looking contemplative. he hears a shutter click. “god dammit.” jung so huffs. 

“bet that one could go in rolling stone right now,” tae ho says, smugly.

“i’ll get a real candid of you one day,” jung so says, hotly. 

“holding a photoshoot in my sleep doesn’t count.” 

jung so raises an eyebrow and tae ho realizes his mistake. 

“you drool sometimes in your sleep.” 

tae ho laughs. “good thing i never sleep!” still, his insomnia didn’t seem to deter jung so. “i’m going to get a bad photo of you. it’s gonna happen.”

✖ punching them

tae ho’s head jerks back and he hears his teeth crack against one another. pain blooms across his face. “you haven’t hit me like that since high school.” he doesn’t think he deserves this. he doesn’t understand why they’re angry. he was just trying to help. it doesn’t bother him like it might someone else. they used to fight all the time. for fun and to settle squabbles. but it had been years since they’d proper punched him in the face. he might’ve responded in kind, but something stays his hand. they aren’t kids anymore. they aren’t just his young friend anymore. he can’t do it. he clenches his jaw and relaxes his fists. 

sometimes they needed to punch it out. sometimes that was the only way to resolve their issues. but not this time. not now, not after everything they’d been through and how far they’d come. maybe that was why his heart didn’t ache even though his jaw throbbed. jung so didn’t actually want to hurt him. if they did, there were far easier, less physical ways to do it. their words cut worse than any physical injury ever could. well, almost any injury. tae ho spits blood on the sidewalk. “watch the face, next time.” 

“shut the fuck up!” they scream. “how could you do that to me? it was humiliating! and cassandra’s pissed!”

“fuck cassandra! i thought you’d like it! you seemed so miserable, i thought― i thought you’d like hanging out with quinn…”

“fuck off! you humiliated me!”

➶ slapping them

to say tae ho has a vanity problem is a bit of an understatement. to say that is an understatement. since he started training in earnest, it has gotten worse. it means great things for the band’s promotional shoots and his instagram has never been more alive. tae ho turns in the mirror, trying to figure out the best angle for a selfie that doesn’t make him look like a total toolbag.

“there’s no angle where you won’t look like a total tool,” jung so says, coldly.

“wanna bet?” tae ho snapped one over his shoulder, getting a shot of his back and ass. when he lowers his phone to see, jung so got a peek. 

“i stand corrected. you look like a total fuckboy.” 

“probably cuz i am one.”

“you shouldn’t be proud of that.”

tae ho scoffs. “look at me.” he holds up the phone and zooms in on his ass.

jung so rolls their eyes. “toolbag fuckboy.” they gave him a sharp slap on the ass.

“oh! please, sir, can i have another?”

“oh my god.”

☠ poisoning them

tae ho’s knuckles are pale and tight as he grips the toilet bowl. a thin sheen of sweat breaks out over his skin, giving him a pale, clammy look about his thin face. “what… what did you put in that ramen?” he asks, forcing down yet another heave. 

jung so rubs his back soothingly, looking terribly guilty and apologetic. their delicate features pinched and slightly green. they have a sympathetic gag reflex so remaining here in the bathroom with tae ho was the ultimate declaration of apology and penance. “i- i don’t know! there were some chicken left overs but? they were only a day or two old, we’ve definitely had longer left overs before. oh, god, tae i’m so sorry!”

tae ho waved a hand, then quickly slapped it to his mouth as more ramen made a break for it. “shi- shit happens, babe. it’s fine.” he groaned. “better― ugh― better toss it, though. or give it to cassandra tomorrow.”

☂ picking them up

tae ho is not the strongest man in the world. he isn’t even the strongest man in the band. he is, in fact, the weakest. his endurance and energy knows no rival, but both gabe and fang had him beat in the upper (and lower) body strength. he is far better off than he had been two years ago, but cassandra not-so-gently insists he should do more strength training. jung so says he’s fine the way he is, but they work out with him whenever they can, and especially on nights when fang isn’t around or tae ho will definitely slack off. “c’mon, are you really gonna let fang be the hottest person in the band? well, second hottest to me, but you get it.”

tae ho looks at jung so with such offense you’d think they’d insulted his mother. “fuck no, are you kidding?” tae ho huffs, face blotchy, sweat shining on his freckled skin. arms trembling, he forces the barbell up. jung so pulls it back into place on the rack. with a whoop! tae ho stands up and punches the air. “how’s that for hottest band member?”

jung so’s smirking at him, the kind of smirk he knows means they really don’t want to be smiling but can’t help it. “second hottest. and you only did, what, ten reps?”

tae ho gapes at them. “that thing’s mad heavy! i bet i could press you.” 

“don’t you dare―” but it’s too late. tae ho swooped in and picked them up by the waist and lifted them clear off the ground. they squeal, gripping his shoulders and laughing. “put me down, you idiot!” he kisses their abdomen. “you’re so fucking stupid, this isn’t even a press! it doesn’t count!”

 tae ho laughs, giddy at how easily he lifted them. two years ago, this would’ve been unthinkable. jung so must think so, too. they kiss his forehead. “put me the fuck down.” 

✣ bringing them food

when you are in a band that’s as close as kiss & make up, illnesses pass through all of them like a plague. it usually starts with fang or tae ho and ends with jung so or gabe. this time, it’s jung so, and tae ho could not be more sorry. the great plague of twenty-seventeen originated with tae ho. he has jung so tucked into bed, a bed they kicked him out of. cuddled neatly into every pillow they own, they watch rupaul’s drag race with a sports bottle of gatorade and a box of tissues. “i’m hungryyy,” the whine. 

“it’s almost ready, babe!” tae ho calls from the kitchen. he ladels spicy mapo ramen into a bowl. “make room,” he says, carrying a tray of steaming ramen and couple packets of crackers. jung so makes a small effort to brush used tissues off the bed and sit up. tae ho lays the tray over their lap and takes a seat beside them. “just what the doctor ordered,” he says, smiling kindly at them.

“i don’t think any doctor has ever ordered an overdose of sodium,”  they say, picking up the spoon and stirring the noodles.

“i can take it back if you want.”

“no, no, it’s fine. since when do we listen to doctors?” 

tae ho laughs. he tucks a paper towel into the collar of their shirt and they swat his hand away. 

“if you ever do that again, i’ll kill you.”

“you’re sick. you can’t do shit to me.”

“wanna bet?”

tae ho

☎ hugging them

jung so slides into bed, carefully. the bed hardly shifts under their weight. they lean down and brush a tender kiss to his temple, then lay down beside him, pulling him into a gentle embrace. in an astounding feet of agility and speed, tae ho locks his arms and legs around them. jung so always said, if you give tae ho an inch, he’ll take a mile. really, they shouldn’t be so surprised that he koala hugged them so tightly they could hardly move. what did they expect from sneaking into his bed and hugging him? jung so had to hve known he was awake. he rarely slept, especially if jung so wasn’t with him. “you’re too hot!” they whine in korean. “you’re too hot― get off!”

tae ho laughs, nuzzling their cheek, taking full advantage of having them trapped in his embrace. soon they’d give him a good smack or an elbow or knee, and he’d have to let go. until then, he’d enjoy every inch of this mile jung so let him have. 

“oh, for fuck’s sake.” jung so jabs him hard in the stomach forcing tae ho to let go. 

“you’re so mean to me,” tae ho cried, rubbing the spot they’d poked him. 

“you’re so weird!” they exclaim, pushing tae ho so his back is to them. jung so curls against his back. tae ho grins into his pillow.

♀ proposing marriage

if jung so had their way

tyler is alive with music, alive in the glory of the love of their fans. this is what he always wanted. not boy band antics, no label to force them into a box they didn’t fit in. the audience is packed with a thousand friends, new and old, the people who brought them to this new point. no label to answer to, no weak willed manager to tell them what to do. kiss & make up reborn, and tae ho couldn’t be happier if someone handed him an emmy right then. 

he danced along the stage, reaching for the hands of their fans, thanking them with all his heart. he’s covered in sweat. he turns and sees fang, gabe, and jess are gleaming with sweat and pride and joy. jess hands off goldilocks to a roadie and comes forward with a mic in their hand. tyler holds his arm out to them. 

“this has been the greatest night ever, fam!” tyler says to tumultuous cheers. 

“you guys are definitely the greatest audience. you stuck around even with this one ate shit after the fourth song!” the crowd laughs along with jess as they slip under tyler’s outstretched arm. they’re dressed exactly how they want to be. they are exactly who they want to be tonight and the audience loves them for it.

“the stage was wet!” tyler insists.

“because you keep throwing water everywhere, idiot!”

“they’ve got you there,” says gabe from behind his drum kit.

“well! fine! but they don’t mind, right? you love us!”

the crowd agrees whole-heartedly. someone screams “i love you, tyler!”

“i love you, too!” he answers.

“you know who else loves you?” begins jess, stepping away from him.

“me?”

everyone laughs.

“i mean, yeah. but, not what i meant.” they get down on one knee. the audience gasps, a brief moment of silence before they start screaming. jung so waves them down to a dull roar. fang is already crying. “tyler… tae ho… i fucking love you. i’ve loved you ever since we started this band, but don’t tell anyone okay, that would totally ruin my rep.” they wink at the crowd who laugh right on cue. “you always said we were never gonna be apart, but, y’know, i figured we should make it official.”

tyler gapes at them, for once in his life, completely gobsmacked and still. his eyes shine. 

“will you marry me?”

“fucking― yes! yes, fuck, of course, always? fuck!” tyler fell to his knees and into their arms, kissing them deeply. the crowd explodes in support. fang and gabe come out from behind their instruments. “i’m so mad!” tyler says as jess swaps one of his rings for the one they got.

“why are you mad?” they ask, laughing.

“i was planning on asking you! you beat me to it! i had it all planned out, but you beat me!”