#not another long form fic when I'm still trying to finish Second Glance

[not-krys]

The Traveling Adventures of Mister Fox and Miss Mouse

Few days ago, I was playing a FMK style ask game with @lorei-writes. One of the choices was who I would take a six hour train journey with. And, after I had given the other two choices some thought, Mitsuhide got the train ride choice. After that, the image of traveling in the old American West with him sparked in my mind.

And I tried my best to steer myself away from thinking too much about that concept bc time and energy levels wouldn't allow to make something completely coherent and complex.

And yet here we are, still thinking about an Old West traveling story with Mitsuhide.

Might as well see where this thought leads us.

Warnings: raw, unedited writing. Haven't done a whole lot of research into the old American West so details are bound to be incorrect. Reader will be referred to with she/her pronouns and other feminine aligning terms (Miss, missy, etc).

My Masterlist!

---

No one has ever said that the life of a detective was ever a glamorous one, especially when a man needed to put food in his belly and a roof over his head. Mitsuhide Akechi was also no stranger to the odd job he didn't care for but needed the cash it provided.

This current job, well, it may have just taken an interesting detour.

Back east, a sleazy gentleman had come to him to find and return his runaway bride, an oil heiress whose family he managed to swindle her out of. He knew this type and, quite frankly, didn't want to take the job because of it, but with the threat of bankruptcy of his business over his head, he had no other choice.

Instead, he took the job of recovering this runaway heiress, finding her trail laughably easy to trace. A common trend of runaway brides had started when the government started offering handouts to whoever wanted to move out west to desert and mountain country, hoping to settle it more with American citizens. Women were especially needed as schoolteachers, so it was his first thought of where he could find his runaway heiress.

Luckily (or unluckily), his hunches were rarely wrong.

He soon found himself on a train bound westward, sitting a few booths down from a young woman with a deep purple bustle dress, her white collar high on her neck and her hat decorated with sprigs of lavender. She matched the description the sleazy gentleman had given him so perfectly, it almost tore his blackened heart that he had found the girl so quickly.

But, he didn't have the time or luxury of moral dilemmas when money was on the line.

He then saw the young woman being boxed in by two other gentlemen, likely either hired by the same sleazy gentleman that had hired him or opportunists seeing a woman alone and sought to take advantage of her. Either way, he wasn't about to have his quarry taken from under his nose, especially not by amateurs.

"Please," he heard her meek voice, trying to be brave in spite of her terror, "m-my husband will be back soon, so please leave."

A perfect opportunity, Mitsuhide thought, as he grabbed the untouched dinner from his table and walked towards them.

"I don't see no diamond ring there, missy," the scoundrel smirked, "you best not be lying to me about no husband-"

"Sorry I'm late, dear." Mitsuhide said, sliding the plate of food in front of her. "The cook was busy with all the orders, and I'm afraid the waiter said they just ran out of your favorite chardonnay."

The girl turned to him, her face still nervous, but glad that someone was helping her.

Her companions, however, were not as pleased.

"Who are you?"

"Why, I'm this wonderful woman's husband." He said cordially. "The meat hadn't been cooked to the way the lady liked it, so I went to get her a fresh one."

His voice dropped lower in the next beat.

"Now, may I ask what business you gentlemen have with my darling wife?"

His hand moved subtly to his belt, brushing back his white overcoat slightly to reveal the holster and pistol at his side. The holster, decorated with stitched bellflowers, gave a not so subtle hint of who he actually was.

The boys paled.

"J-just saying hello, sir."

"Y-yeah, just saying hi, sir. N-not looking for trouble or anything."

"Good," said Mitsuhide with a smirk, "I hope you enjoy the rest of the trip, gentlemen."

The boys moved away from the lady's booth, grumbling but knew when they had been beat. You sigh with relief.

"Thank you, for stepping in."

"No trouble at all, Miss Mouse." he tipped his hat. "They shouldn't be giving you any more problems."

"…'Miss Mouse?'"

"Sorry, just came to mind when I saw you trembling."

You turned your face away, cheeks turning a light pink.

"Is it really that obvious, how nervous I am?"

"A woman travelling alone rightfully has every reason to be fearful." He took the opportunity sit in the seat across from you, giving a small push to his plate of food towards you.

"But, that's your-"

"I lost my sense of taste years ago, Miss Mouse. Complex flavors that are in likely there are wasted on me."

"Still, you need to eat too, Mister…?"

He paused, weighing his options of using his real name or coming up with a fake one on the spot. You would likely figure it out once he seized the opportunity to take you back east regardless, but, luckily (or unluckily), you just giggled and finished your own sentence.

"Mr. Fox."

"Mr. Fox?"

"Yes, if you insist on calling me Miss Mouse, I feel you should be able to take your own medicine, correct?"

Mitsuhide chuckled.

"Very well. Miss Mouse, may I introduce myself as Mr. Fox, a westward-bound traveler seeking opportunity in the wide, wild world?"

You giggled again.

"You introduce yourself well, Mr. Fox. I'm an up and coming teacher moving to the West. The Oda company is hiring in California and with my grant, I'll be ready to start my new life soon!"

A bullet couldn't have hit his heart harder. She was giving him the usual excuse for why runaway brides run from bad marriages these days. His hunch was, unfortunately, becoming more and more correct.

"A teacher? That sounds exciting. All the way out here for a teaching job."

"Y-yes." You turned your face away, looking at the passing scenery. "The Oda company pays well. They're even giving me housing and everything."

"Sounds like you're all set for life, Miss Mouse."

"Yes, yes, I am." Your voice trails off, still paying more attention to the passing scenery.

Mitsuhide turns to look out the window as well, seeing the grassy greenery and pale blue skies passing at a leisurely speed.

[azure-firecracker]

For your prompt list, can you do #36- "I never wanted to hurt you' for Azutara.

I'm gonna set this one up a bit if that's ok. This prompt reminds me of a scene from the soulmate au I'm working on (hopefully will one day finish lol)

If you don't wanna use this then that's absolutely fine. With that being said, here's the relevant info.

-Soulmarks are rare to appear. Everyone has a soulmate, but the only thing that's guaranteed is that you'll be in the general vicinity of them at some point in your life. The mark won't appear until you directly speak to each other, in this case it was the throne room scene from the show. When you are both aware of the mark, you become spiritually connected. This connection is different for every person. In thier case, the mark worked two ways 1) during moments of high stress, the non-stressed one's spirit is pulled to the other (think astral projection but they can't be seen) to provide support/comfort. 2) they see various memories of the other through dreams. I plan on using this aspect to build a connection between them since they hardly directly interacted during the show. Katara's memories and some of the actions Azula witnesses from Katara both inspire her to want to be a better ruler and show her that Katara is her equal. Katara sees a lot of the more negative memories of Azula, like when her mother implied there was something wrong with her, harsh training from Ozai, her mother disappearing, Zuko's Agni Kai. Azula also has anxiety from her past traumas so, needless to say, Katara's been providing quite a bit of comfort (Azula has a mark mirroring Katara's necklace and Katara has one of a Blue Dragon going down her spine)

Next point - the Crossroads of Destiny never happened. Azula freed Katara after seeing the soulmark. She didn't tell her about it and instead offered a deal. Her freedom in exchange for information on Zuko's location. Azula had the Dai lee lower the walls before trying to capture Zuko, so he had already fled when she goes to capture him.

Azula gets called back to the fire nation by Ozai, leaving War Minister Qin in charge of the city. When she gives her report to Ozai, she left out the info about Katara, which Ozai knew about thanks to Qin's report sent via messenger hawk. He accuses her of trying to hide her failure and also brings up her inability to capture Zuko. He decides to overlook the slight in lieu of her victory but threatens her to never fail him again. Katara saw all of this and her spirit is pulled behind the princess as she returned to her room and proceeded to lose her public composure, falling into a panic attack. That was the first time Katara provided comfort but the relevant part is Ozai's threat.

Later, on the Day of Black Sun, Azula had decided she was going to leave the capital, planning to teach Aang firebending. Her plan was to safely slip into the night after the invasion (she didn't leave during it because she needed to make sure her people were protected). She set up a plan to stall Aang using far more Dai lee than she did in the show. She gave them orders not to capture him however. With the invasion thwarted, she went to give her report to Ozai. She didn't get a chance to speak as he started laying into her about allowing the Avatar to escape. (Katara astral projects in. At this point her body is on Appa as they prepare to flee) When she tried to speak Ozai back handed her yelling/asking when she became so weak. The sudden movement shifted her shirt enough for Ozai the see a hint of blue in her neck. He pulls down her collar revealing the soulmark. The last thing Katara sees is Ozai throw Azula back, causing her to stumble as he calls he a born traitor throwing lightning in the process.

This is a spoiler point. I have Ty lee rescuing Azula with airbending. As the lightning kept from Ozai's fingers, she slammed him with a gust of wind, sending him flying. The lightning, with it's trajectory changed, strikes Azula in the shoulder. When Ozai looks back, the room is empty.

Ty lee, following the spiritual connection through Azula's aura, brings her to the Western Air Temple.

I'm curious to see your take on what happens next and this prompt seemed to fit it quite well. Perhaps you'll have Katara speaking to an unconscious Azula. Or maybe you'll have a couple scenes, one when Azula arrives and another when combustion man attacks, having Azula wake up, stumble out and strike him with lightning leading to Katara freaking out about her condition. There are really a lot of different ways this could go. If you decide to do it, I admit I'm very interested to see what you come up with. 🙂

Sorry this took so long but I really wanted to make sure I got this right, especially after you left all of those wonderful comments on my fic! This AU is absolutely incredible, and I hope I did it justice.

***

Katara awoke with a gasp and found herself lying on a flat stone ledge. Around her were her friends, each looking dejected after their recent failure. But Katara had other things on her mind.

She hadn’t told her friends about the blue dragon that had appeared on her back in Ba Sing Se, or where she really found herself when she “fell asleep.” She wasn’t exactly sure why she hadn’t told them. It was partially because they had so much going on already, but partially because she was afraid they wouldn’t trust Azula.

Azula...the girl had turned out to be so much more than Katara had ever imagined. Far from pure evil, she was a broken teenager with fierce protectiveness deep inside her, and Katara had found that they weren’t as different as she’d once thought. She was her soulmate, as strange as that was. Katara never would have expected it, but she had come to care deeply about her.

She paced the Air Temple in worry, wishing she could do more than just move her spirit into Azula’s mind, that she could help in some way. The last thing she remembered was seeing the girl at the mercy of her father. Katara thought she would know if Azula had died, but her heart still ached with fear.

« Help! » came a cry from far above. Katara leaped to her feet and glanced up into the sky. There was a Fire Nation airship zigzagging towards them. Sokka raised his sword, but Katara held out her hand to stop him. This ship was clearly being flown by someone who didn’t know what they were doing. Something wasn’t right.

The ship suddenly tipped forward, pointing straight down and hurtling towards the bottom of the canyon. At the last moment, Katara saw a strange form leap from the front window towards them, falling just short of the edge of the cliff. Katara raced towards them, but Aang was faster, leaping off the edge with his glider, falling into a dive. A moment later, he was back, and he wasn’t alone. Ty Lee was hanging on to his feet with one hand, and somehow she was helping propel them through the air. Was she...was she airbending? In her other arm was the limp body of Azula. Katara felt her heart leap.

Katara raced towards them as they landed on the side of the ledge. Aang and Ty Lee began a conversation, but Katara barely registered it. She ran straight to Azula and dropped to her knees, instinctively scooping the girl up in her arms. Thank the spirits, she thought. Azula was alive, if weak.

Quickly, Katara drew her water out of her pouch, her hands moving over Azula’s shoulder, feeling the electricity coursing through her. Healing Azula was, in some ways, the easiest thing she’d ever done, because the pattern of her heart and her spirit was so similar to her own.

Azula stirred in Katara’s lap and slowly opened her eyes. As her vision cleared, she groaned, and tears instantly filled her eyes.

« I’m sorry, Katara. »

Katara blinked. « What for? »

Azula sighed, tears still spilling down her cheeks. « I’m sorry that you’ve got me for whatever this soulmate thing is. You’ve done everything for me. You showed me compassion when no one else would, you calmed me down, you were open with me when you never had to be. You made me a better person. And me? All I did was hurt you. I tried to kill your friends, and now my father won’t stop until he kills me too. I’m a failure and a monster. » She looked up, right into Katara’s eyes. « I never meant to hurt you. »

Katara suspected that the girl’s weak physical state was part of what was making her so vulnerable. She’d never seen Azula be so honest, even with herself. It made her heart swell, with sadness for the girl who’d been made to believe she was a monster, when Katara knew that that couldn’t be further from the truth.

She pulled Azula up into a tight hug. She’d never hugged her before, but it felt right. Like they’d been made to put their arms around each other just like that. « Azula, you’re my soulmate. I...I love you. I love you because you’re a person, because you’re passionate and strong and human. You could never be a monster. »

Azula didn’t speak, maybe because she was still too injured, maybe because she had nothing to say. She just wrapped her arms tighter around Katara, and held onto her like she was the most important thing in the world.

A voice came from behind them.

« Wait a second. She’s your WHAT?! »

***

This was a super fun prompt! You’re amazing so I hope it made you happy! This is an amazing idea and I can’t wait to see where you go with it!!!

[brasskier]

@badthingshappenbingo trope #3 (and this one was actually requested!)

Thank you to the incredible @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde for reading this one over for me!

Trope: Suicide attempt

Summary:  Yennefer's just running a few errands, and doesn't expect to end up talking Geralt's bard down from a rooftop. Jaskier is ready to leap, and doesn't expect a certain mage to interrupt his grand finale. Both of them might just walk away with a better understanding of one another. (Or, a character study in borderline personality disorder.)

TW for suicidal ideation/threats/gestures and reference to self-harm. The descriptions aren’t graphic and he doesn’t actually jump, but this whole fic deals with suicide and mental illness. Be safe y’all <3

Read it on my ao3 or below the cut:

The trip to Tretogor wasn’t supposed to last long. Replenish her stock after the utter disaster that was the dragon hunt, some odds and ends as she came upon them, maybe get absolutely shitfaced and forget the whole thing happened. That was all. And it looked like, for a pleasant change of pace, there weren’t going to be any complications. Errands finished, Yennefer was enjoying a hearty roast at one of the better taverns in the city when she noticed the early warnings of a brewing commotion. First murmurs, then the voices grew louder and more persistent, and then people were pushing outside. She ignored them; a petty barfight was not something she particularly wanted or needed to get involved with. The bar was still stirring, and eventually when she finally shifted her focus off her roast, the tavern was near-empty, only the drunkest of patrons remaining. Even the barkeep was shuffling outside. Clearly, something was happening. Something big. With a beleaguered sigh, she pushed up from her chair and headed out the door.

A surprisingly large crowd greeted her outside, more expansive than the usual clamor around a simple drunken brawl. She approached the barkeep, standing on the outskirts of the mob, and she didn’t even have to speak before the barkeep jerked his head skyward. She traced his gaze to the roof of a towering building casting its shadow over them.

“Poor sod’s gonna jump, I reckon,” the barkeep ruminated, eyes still fixed upwards. In place of the massive beast she fully expected to be perched atop the building stood the figure of a man, trembling at the very edge of the roof. She squinted, an uncanny familiarity settling into her gut.

She mumbled her half-hearted thanks, already pushing through a portal to the rooftop. The man, still frozen in place on the opposite edge, didn’t seem to notice the sudden company, and her uneasiness grew into a sinking dread.

“Jaskier?” she called, tentatively, afraid to startle him. Any last shred of hope that she was mistaken (though the intricately embroidered doublet was hard to mistake) was gone when he jerked his head back to face her. His mouth was agape, an uncomfortable mixture of surprise and disappointment drawn across his features. “What are you doing?”

“The fuck does it look like?” He snapped back. There was more than his usual sarcasm or mock-incredulity in his voice, real and deep-felt anger coloring his tone.

“Don’t do it,” she urged, surprising herself with the tenderness in her own words. “Come on now. Just come down.” Why did she care? The question gnawed in the back of her mind, and she did her damndest to push it aside. She’s a good person, after all, right? She’d do it for anyone, surely. None of Geralt’s not-getting-involved nonsense.

“Fuck off, Yennefer.” He let out a barking laugh, thin and breathy, pitching forward ever so slightly with the force of it. She felt her whole body tense, hands reaching out reflexively.

“Where’s Geralt? What happened?” This was, apparently, the single worst line of conversation she could’ve settled on, because he dropped abruptly to a squat and for a split second she was certain she was about to witness the man’s death. 

“I’m not his fucking keeper.” He was nearly at a roar now, a fever-pitch that sent a shiver down Yennefer’s spine. “Haven’t seen him in a week. Not since— not since—” Though she couldn’t see his face, his eyes fixed resolvedly on the ground below, she could hear the tears cut through his words, his breath hiccuping.

“Shh,” she hushed him. Clearly, something had happened after she stormed off. What, precisely, could wait until later, when he was back on solid ground. “I know. It’s not fair.”

“The fuck do you know about fair?” he scoffed, shoulders hunched, arms wrapped around his abdomen against the biting wind. 

“He fucked me over, too.” She should’ve been offended, and she would’ve been if she wasn’t far more concerned with making sure the bard didn’t fling himself into an early demise, which would be decidedly unfair. That sentiment did little to ease him, and withdrew no response. “Fuck Geralt,” she declared, trying again. “Damn brute thinks he can just take as he pleases.”

“And— and then discard you once he’s had his fill,” he mumbled, offering her the slightest glance back, tears glistening against the pink of his cheeks. 

“You’re better than that,” she set forth like a thesis. “You’re — loathe as I am to admit it — talented, bard. People like you. You’ll find plenty of material to write about.” Perhaps an appeal to both logos and pathos would be sufficient, at least enough to get him off the ledge. 

“It won’t be the same.” He frowned tragically over his shoulder at her. “I've lost it all, Yen. Look at me— I'm just a silhouette.”

“That's nonsense. He… you're more than him. He's not everything.” It felt ridiculous to her, throwing yourself off a roof over an argument with a friend. After all, Jaskier had always managed to exist in the spaces between Geralt before; teaching, or penning his next obnoxious ballad, or bedding married women, or whatever it is overgrown manchild bards do. But, then, she'd almost killed herself to restore something she knew she could never get back. So perhaps they were even.

“Look, this is awfully sweet of you, but—” he swept his arm, gesturing vaguely at nothing in particular. “Just let me go. I’m doing everyone a favor.” He turned his attention back to the ground, wind rippling through his hair. “Should’ve done this a long time ago.” She felt her heart skip — a long time ago? This wasn’t just a histrionic reaction to whatever might’ve occurred between him and Geralt; gods knew how long he’d felt like this.

“You know I can’t do that,” she retorted, drawing tentatively closer. “Don’t make me portal you down.” He huffed, waving her off with a trembling hand. 

“Please, Yen.” Realistically, she knew it would be easy to oblige his request. Walk away, pretend not to hear the sickening thud, and carry on. He was only her ex-witcher’s ex-bard, after all. “I always knew it'd end like this. I’m just… I’m glad I even made it past thirty, really.” 

“That’s— I’m not— no, Jaskier. I’m not letting you throw yourself off a roof, for the love of the gods. That’s insane.” She wasn’t sure what was more insane, letting him go, or standing here arguing with him. “You’re going to be real glad when you make it to forty, bard.”

“Am I though, really? This isn’t my first time, believe it or not. And every time I live, or I back out, or I let someone talk me out of it. And I always regret it in the end.” Her mind reeled again — every time? How many had there been? She pushed the thought back.

“You won’t find out unless you get down,” she argued, drawing closer still. He tensed, sensing her presence, hands balling and unfurling repetitively. “Come on. Go to the tavern with me, get something to eat, have a—” she was close enough to smell the alcohol on his breath now “—more drink. I’ll be out of your hair in the morning, and if you still regret it, well…” 

“Fine,” he finally agreed on the tail end of a sigh, turning to fully face her. “I’ll do it tomorrow.” She didn’t like the resolve with which he said those words, but he was agreeing to come down, which at least was a small victory. She’d handle tomorrow when it came around. In the meantime she needed to get them both down. “Or eventually,” he tacked on as she held her hands out, forming a portal back to solid ground. “Inevitably.” The word rang in her mind as she looped an arm around him and led him through the portal. As an afterthought, she summoned a blanket with a flick of her fingers; it was one of those cheap, thin blankets they kept at the inn, but it would do. She tossed it over his shoulders and he dug his fingers into the fabric, drawing it closer around himself.

Once they were back in the tavern, that thin blanket still draped over Jaskier's shoulders and mug of ale held in shaking hands, it was time to talk.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, dragging his thumb up and down the cool tankard, avoiding meeting her eyes at all costs. “I’ve caused such a fuss. You must be anxious to get out of here.” He finally glanced in her direction when he felt a hand land on his forearm.

“It’s fine, really,” she insisted, and he couldn’t bear the pity in her eyes. “Now are you going to tell me what that was all about?” He huffed a laugh, looked away again.

“It’s just, you know. Me and my theatrics.” He shrugged, running a hand along his jaw.

“Bullshit.” When, exactly, Yennefer had gotten so good at seeing right through him, he wasn’t sure. But he did know he definitely didn’t like it.

“I’m sorry. I just, I… I get like that, I guess,” he muttered finally, dragging his thumb along the rim of his glass.

“Suicidal, you mean? You just get… suicidal?” She raised a skeptical eyebrow, moving her hand up to his shoulder.

“Yeah, I guess.” He reached blindly, dropped a hand over hers. “When something goes wrong. Someone leaves me again. I just, I fuck up a lot, and I’m no good at dealing with the concequences.” 

“That’s— gods, I know you’re an idiot, but that’s really worth killing yourself over?” She tried to keep her tone light, clipped, maybe a little detached. He was uneasy with the attention, it was obvious, and she was also certainly not ready to admit that maybe, just a tiny bit, she sort of cared about him.

“Geralt, he ran me off,” he mumbled, sinking further into the blanket. “After the hunt, after your fight, he blamed me. For everything, the entire two decades of our, well. I guess it wasn’t friendship.” He chewed at his lip, a nervous habit, anger bubbling below the surface at the thought of that day. “Told me the greatest gift life could give him would be to take me off his hands.” Yennefer balked at him, finally hearing the context of his despair, and she was just about ready to portal right over to wherever Geralt had fucked off to and give him a piece of her mind.

“That’s terrible,” she told him, the best she could really offer. Nothing she could say would undo what’d happened, and nothing could change how much it hurt him. “He really is a bastard.” Jaskier nodded slowly, raised his tankard up in toast. “When’s the last time you ate? You must be starving.”

“Stew would be nice,” he replied quietly, meekly. She haled one of the barkeeps, ordered him a stew, and requested another round of drinks. “It’s not just the fight, though,” he added once the server was gone. “I don’t know how to explain it, Yen. Why I do the things I do, or feel the way I feel. It’s just, it’s all too much sometimes, you know?” She knew. All too well, she knew. She was only just beginning to understand herself, just beginning to feel some semblance of control. He was so young — perhaps not by human standards, but comparatively. 

“I know. It’s hard.” They felt like empty platitudes, like she had no idea how to truly connect with him, and it was frustrating. She wanted to help him, but she wasn’t sure how, wasn’t sure he wanted it. 

“Yeah.” He bobbed his head, picked at the wood of the table. They drifted into silence, neither sure how to fill it, neither sure this was a conversation either wanted to have. The stew arrived, and he picked at it rather than devouring it like he usually did his rations. 

“You know I’m sterile, right?” she finally broke the silence once he’d finished his food and pushed the bowl aside, leaning closer, her voice pitched in a conspiratorial whisper. He nodded solemnly, averting his gaze, watching the light catch in his amber ale. “And you know I’ve gone to great lengths to rectify that, correct?” Another slow nod.

“I know, Yen. I’m sorry, I know you have far more right to be miserable than I do. And here I am, wallowing like a toddler—” She waved a hand to cut him off.

“No, listen, stupid bard. It’s really not about being able to have kids. It’s about the fact that I don’t have a choice, that I’ve never had a choice,” she elaborated, hiking the blanket further up his shoulders as it started to slip.

“I know. And here I am, I’ve gotten everything I wanted. I got to choose; running away, going to Oxenfurt, becoming a bard, traveling. Gods, I followed Geralt to the ends of the bloody Continent for two decades of my life I’ll never get back — but that was my choice.” 

“Would you please let me finish my point, instead of interrupting me to wallow in guilt?” He gnawed at his lip, finally turning to face her. “It wasn’t about being a mother, it was about choice. So this—” she waved her arm dramatically, wondering for a moment when exactly she’d started picking up his mannerisms. “This isn’t about Geralt at all, is it?” After a moment of contemplation, he carefully shook his head. “Then what is it about?” 

“I don’t know, to be honest,” he muttered at the tail end of a swig from his tankard. “I’ve just always been like this,” he said with a sweep of his hand, palm upturned, string-callused fingers twitching aimlessly. Her violet eyes bore into him expectantly, and he felt angry for a flicker of a moment — she was a witch, right? He should be able to just sit back while she delves into the darkest crevices of his psyche, let her root around and not have to struggle to put his life into context and language. “Can’t you just, y’know…” He tugged at his fingers, tilted his head.

“Read your mind?” she finished the question, scooting closer to him, and he felt the hair on his arms rise. “Are you sure that’s what you want?” He nodded, and she pressed her forehead against his, pulling him in close, enveloping him in the lilac and gooseberries he knew Geralt loved so much. He understood why; he felt inexplicably safe, even as the logical half of his brain urged him to pull back. This was all for show, and he knew that— she didn’t need to touch him to read him. Either way, he was grateful to not have to give language to the nameless, that she could just see.

See Jaskier at seventeen, screaming at Valdo from across the courtyard, "if you leave me I swear the fuck to melitile I'll kill myself," knowing he's made this exact threat verbatim so many times Valdo can't believe him, unable to recall what they were even arguing about anymore. When they break up, his mother tells him the first heartbreak always hurts the worst; it hurts all the same every time thereafter.

Jaskier at twenty, slicing thin lines into his thigh for what had to be the millionth time, running out of unmarred skin, witcher/tentative friend asleep somewhere beside him in the darkness. If asked, he’s not sure he’d have an excuse. Sometimes to feel something, sometimes to feel nothing. Either way, this uncertainty is what keeps his wrists clean.

Jaskier at twenty-three, wailing great, hiccuping sobs, shoulders rattling, blind beyond teary eyes. Geralt, gods bless him, doesn’t know what to do, stands arm’s-length away, regards him with uncertainty and pity. They’d fought about something that didn’t matter and he couldn’t remember, and that rage washed over him, red-hot, balled fists trembling at his side. “Get out! Gods, are you thick? Leave, Geralt; I fucking hate you.” But then Geralt listened, because Geralt didn’t play Jaskier’s games, and now there he was, sobbing, babbling, “don’t leave me, I’m sorry, I’ll be better, I can’t lose you, it’ll kill me, don’t go.” Geralt stays; they pretend nothing ever happened.

Jaskier at twenty-seven, at the ashes of his latest burnt bridge, just another failed relationship that feels altogether more like death than separation. Grieving it more like death, too; sobbing until he could do little more than stare at the ceiling and try to breathe, mourning a cemetery of mistakes and a lifetime of failure.

Jaskier at thirty-two, depression blanketing him with the fresh snow, the man he'd tangled up his entire identity in fucked off to the mountains for the winter while he sludged through classes, distracting himself from having to confront the fact that he doesn't recognize his own face in the mirror. Jaskier does exist in the spaces between Geralt, but, sometimes, that Jaskier is a husk.

Jaskier a few days ago, marching back to Oxenfurt because that's all he knows, doubtful Jaskier even exists anymore, the emptiness in his mind unbearable and somehow terminal, altogether certain he's been incompatible with life from the very moment he entered it and resolved to rectify nature's mistake himself. 

Jaskier who, his entire life, has felt everything, too much, all at once. Who's always been led by his heart — and not in the beautiful, Romantic way, but messy, tragic, and uniquely Jaskier. A man so utterly at the mercy of his own mind, drowning in feelings he doesn't have the language to name, his entire being defined not by who he is but what he does and who he loves. 

Jaskier, on a rooftop in Tretogor, itchy feet ready to fling him off the ledge. He'd told Valdo once, in the in-between hours not quite night or morning when everything seems strange and far away, that he knew how he was destined to die. Pressed on, even as Valdo chuckled and called him presumptive, “I'm going to kill myself.” Not today, or tomorrow, but inevitably. He said it not with the certainty of someone who's seen into the future but the cynical resignation of a man who knows no other escape. And Valdo punched his arm, told him not to talk like that, promised it would get easier one day. He hates Valdo now, not that he remembers why, and that day has yet to come.

She pulled back eventually— finally — and swept a shaky thumb over his cheek. He chewed on his lip, staring expectantly with hauntingly wide eyes. 

“Jaskier.” It was barely a whisper, uttered at the end of a sharp exhale, and when violet eyes met his they shone with an uncanny recognition. He wasn't sure what, precisely, she'd seen, but he knew whatever it was had been enough. He'd invited her to the bleakest corners of his mind, and now she regarded him like a lame horse. He ducked his head, but she caught him with a hand on his chin. “You know that's not how destiny works.”

“Hmm?” He wracked his brain to figure what she might be referring to, coming up empty-handed. He didn't have a big, grand destiny like she or Geralt did. He was just Jaskier the bard, Jaskier the one-night stand, Jaskier the disappointment. 

“It doesn't have to end like that. You have a choice,” she elaborated, still painfully vague, but he understood. 

“This isn't the first time, Yen, I—” 

“I know. I saw.” Right, she saw, probably everything, and he had the wherewithal to feel humiliated for it. 

“I've cheated it enough times. I can't outrun it forever.” It felt nice, at least, to let his walls down a little, stop playing the perpetual naive optimist. Almost a relief, even, a weight off his shoulders. 

“I know. But you're strong, Jask.” She moved her hand from his chin to the back of his head, guiding it to rest against her shoulder. “We have more in common than I thought, you know.” He laughed, thin and heady, but with a little more conviction this time, and pressed his face against her neck. 

“Is that your way of telling me you're fucked up, too?” He asked, and, despite the levity in his tone, he truly was curious. 

“Yes, bard,” she hummed, reaching out to sip at her tankard.

“You're not going to give me any more than that?” He fought off a yawn, pressing the back of his hand against his mouth. “I just told you everything.” 

“Maybe someday,” she replied, setting the mug back on the table. “But right now I think you could use some rest. We both could.” She slipped out of the booth and he let his head tilt back against the wall, mourning the absence of her warmth. 

She returned a few minutes later, room procured, and hiked the blanket back over his shoulders as he reached for his lute and followed after her. It was a nice enough room, two beds on opposite sides, a bath he had no intention of utilizing. Exhausted, he kicked off his boots, shrugged off his doublet, and dropped onto the bed. He let his mind wander, dozing as Yennefer readied herself for bed, eyelids heavy by the time she blew out the candles.

“You won't try again?” Yen asked from across the room after a while, barely a silhouette in the faint moonlight. Jaskier rolled over to face her, finding her staring distantly out the window.

“You, uh, you have to be more specific,” he muttered, tugging the blanket closer to his chin. It smelled of lilac and ale. 

“How am I supposed to make that more specific?” It came out sharp, like her usual tone with him, but he could still feel an uneasy twinge to her words. 

“I mean, I don't know.” He felt stupid for reasons beyond his grasp. “Not today, or tomorrow. But I can't promise never.” There was a long pause, and Jaskier barely breathed, wondering if he'd managed to upset her as sleep crept up on him. 

“Not today is enough,” she said finally, sounding almost far away, and his breath hitched in his throat.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, voice thick with impending sleep. “When are you leaving?” The me he omitted at the tail end rang in his mind, unspoken but understood, heavy in the nighttime silence. She was supposed to leave in the morning, so he could either move on or finish what he’d set out to do; he wasn’t sure he wanted her to uphold that promise anymore.

“Not today.” He exhaled slowly. Not today is enough. And maybe, just maybe, enough not today's would add up to never. 

[lousimusician]

Sex Pollen Part 2

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter has to deal with the effects of the sex pollen plant while you have to make a decision on what to do

A/N: okay this is by far the most popular fic I ever wrote. I had a lot of problems with trying to tag everyone so I'm really sorry if I couldn't get you in, tumblr just kinda gave up towards the end of the list.

Warning: Language, Masturbation

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

"You what!" Tony hissed.

You sat down on the end of the couch next to Thor as Bruce explained to your dad the events that had taken place only minutes before, while you were fidgeting with the sleeve of your sweater.

"I know." Bruce said. "I screwed up-"

"Screwed up!? Bruce you gave the kid alien viagra!" He shouted. His eyes snapped to you. "And you- what were you doing in an unsupervised lab!?"

You scoffed. "How was I supposed to know Banner brought an alien sex plant into the tower."

Tony ignored your comment, going back to Bruce, "How do we fix this? I'm not really up to telling his aunt that we've made her nephew basically go into heat."

Bruce chuckled nervously. "See, uh, that's the thing. The cure is, uh- it's uh- it's"

"Sex." Thor finished.

Tony sighed. "Of course it is." He grumbled. "Do we know if he has a girlfriend or something?" He asked.

"Well actually," Bruce cut in. "The plant kinda gives off the scent of the person you like, so it can only be with the girl who's scent he smelled on the plant."

"Okay, do we know who it is? Hopefully a girl that he already knows intimately, because I'm not letting some poor girl that barely knows him go in there."

Bruce looked away nervously, while you stared intently at your hands, your cheeks heating up. Even Thor didn't seem like the one who wanted to be the one to tell him.

Tony noticed the strange looks on everyone's faces. "What? Who is it?"

"You're not gonna like it." Bruce warned.

Tony narrowed his eyes. "Bruce, who is it?"

Bruce glanced towards you, making Tony follow his line of sight. Tony's eyes widened. "Are you telling me there's a horny teenage boy trying to mount my daughter."

You groaned loudly, "Oh my God, dad, don't say mount!"

Bruce scratched the back of his neck. "Kinda."

"Yeah, absolutely not. We're gonna have to find another way."

"You may want to reconsider that Stark." Thor said. "I noticed the spider has been getting worse and it's only been twenty minutes. I think his powers may be speeding up the process."

"And what happens if this pollen stays in his system?" 

"It would become increasingly painful and uncomfortable for him. Possibly causing trauma."

Tony let out an annoyed breath. "Is there anything else I should know about this plant?"

Thor hummed in thought. "From what I know about the plant, the pollen affects the body the person affects the mind."

Tony blinked. "Okay, try that in English now."

"The pollen will only affect his body, but he'll still be able to think clearly. But if (Y/N) goes near him, he won't be able to think straight. So as long as the two stay apart he won't become a danger to Lady (Y/N)." Silence filled the room as Tony thought about what to do, but the silence was quickly ended by Thor adding his two cents. "But I do think it'd be wiser to send Lady (Y/N) in there."

"Okay how 'bout you leave the problem solving to the scientist's. Just go throw out the shrubbery Point Break." Tony said, sending Thor off. He turned to you now. "And you young lady are going to your room. And I don't want you going anywhere near the nymphomaniac. Understood."

"Understood." You echoed, rolling your eyes before heading up to your bedroom. "Oh and only women are nymphomaniac's, it's a different word for guys." You called back sarcastically over your shoulder.

"Yeah whatever." He muttered back, off to the lab.

~~~~~~~~

Peter was convinced that he was going to die in a lust driven haze.

The first few hours of being locked in his room was torture. The second he was tossed into the room, he tried to break down the door, finding that Tony Stark was very thorough with the structure of the tower, making it impossible for it to budge even under his super strength. That was when he had resorted to banging on the door and begging to be let out, begging for you.

But when that was deemed useless, his attention turned to just how uncomfortably hard he was. He leaned his head against the door, squeezing his eyes shut, groaning as he palmed himself, aiming for any type of relief no matter how minimal it would be.

"Peter." He heard you say breathily against his ear.

His eyes snapped open, looking to his left, before realizing it wasn't real. That it was just his mind running wild. That he had to be hallucinating now.

But nevertheless, he rest his head back against the door, shutting his eyes. Because a hallucination of you was better than nothing at all.

"Peter." You whispered against his ear, lips barely touching the shell of his ear, your breath making goosebumps rise. "Please, Peter." You whined, hands coming up around his waist, your head falling against his neck. "I need you." 

Peter's eyes shot wide open, and he got up, bolting to his bed. Kicking off his shoes and shedding his shirt in the process. He fell onto his bed, hands flying to undo his pants, pushing them down, boxers and all. His cock sprung up, the tip red and swollen with drops of precum forming. His head fell back against the pillow, and he closed his eyes once again, throwing an arm over them. His free hand gripping himself tightly.

You laid next to him, trailing kisses down his neck. 

You were far from real, but you were still able to make it feel like he was suffocating. His hand starting to slide up and down, to the thought of you.

Peter gripped your chin, pulling you up, crashing your lips against his. He took control of the situation quickly, he needed to or else it would drive him insane with your incessant light touches. 

He flipped the two of you over, now sitting between your legs. Your body clad only in a pair of panties. His gaze devoured you. Peter trailed a hand down over your breast, pinching a nipple before ghosting over your stomach, and lightly stroking you over your underwear. The reaction was immediate, your hips bucked against his hand, searching for any kind of friction, as you let out a high pitched moan.

"Please," you whined. "I need you so bad." You practically cried. 

It was like his brain went into overdrive from that point on.

He wasn't able to focus on one thing in particular. Flashes of you writhing underneath him as he fucked you into the mattress. Images of you on top, underneath him, on your stomach, on your knees. 

Your voice whining, moaning, screaming his name begging for a release. 

His hand sped up, causing him to buck his hips into his own grasp. He moaned loudly, alerting anyone that happened to walk past the bedroom to know exactly what was happening. He moaned your name over and over again, amongst an array of profanities as well. His sweat drenched skin, beginning to stick to the sheets of the bed.

Nails digging into his shoulders, your entire body tensing up as you got closer and closer to the edge, breathing ragged and rough. Then your head falling back into the pillow, arching your back as you finally came with a scream of his name.

As he finally came with a scream of your name.

Peter panted harshly, now covered in his own cum and sweat. Relief flooding his senses.

But only for a few minutes, before he was unbelievably hard again.

Peter let out a broken sob of frustration as an even stronger flood of arousal took over every one of his senses. And he still found that the one person that would have been able to satiate him wasn't there.

-

Peter had no idea how long he was there for, but by the time his head started to clear, he noted that it was already nighttime. Meaning he had wasted the entire afternoon jerking off to thoughts of you.

The moment his body had spent enough time away from you his head started to clear, his brain no longer dealing with the heavy fog that had been there since he smelled that fucking plant.

And Peter couldn't tell which was worse.

He was immediately filled with a sense of guilt and embarassment at his actions, but he still needed to touch himself because he felt like he'd catch on fire if he didn't.

And because he was still so fucking hard.

He had no idea how many times he had came that afternoon, the sheets drying with his own cum as more of it was cooling on his thighs and stomach. And he still hadn't felt any better, in fact he was starting to feel even worse.

He laid in bed with the shame eating away at him. It was hot and stuffy, he felt like he couldn't breathe and he was dripping sweat. He found that with any slight movement that caused the bed sheets to rub against his skin he had to fight back a pitiful moan, self conscious now by how loud he had been during the day.

Yes, Peter was sure that this was how he was going to die.

What an embarrassing ending to a superhero, he thought.

~~~~~~

You sat uncomfortably in the kitchen. The rest of the Avengers, Nat, Bucky, Steve, Sam, Thor, and Wanda had gathered for dinner, some choosing to sit at the table, or lean against the counter or wall. You personally chose to sit on the kitchen counter, away from the rest.

It was awkwardly quiet at dinner. Just ten minutes ago Peter seemed to quiet down, you hoped that maybe he fell asleep.

You were incredibly self conscious while everyone ate. You hadn't expected Peter to be so loud.

Everyone knew exactly what had happened that afternoon.

They kinda had to, he had been screaming and moaning your name and curses at the top of his lungs for four hours straight.

Your dad had stayed in the lab with Bruce to try and figure out a cure, and because he didn't care for hearing his protege crying out for his daughter.

"So." Bucky started, finally breaking the awkward silence. "He seems excited."

You groaned. "Shut up."

Bucky laughed. "You plan on joining him anytime soon?"

You blushed hard, staring at your dinner.

"Leave her alone Buck." Steve said.

"Oh I'm just kidding." Bucky responded back. 

"So what happened again?" Sam asked, still thoroughly confused by the situation.

"Bruce brought back an alien plant from your mission last week." You started. "And this kind of plant is used for their breeding process. Peter smelled it and now, well..." You finished awkwardly.

"He wants to fuck?" Bucky asked.

You cleared your throat. "Basically, yeah."

"Hey, here's a question." Nat said. "What the hell are your dad and Bruce doing? If this is normal for those aliens shouldn't there already be a way to reverse it?"

Thor exhaled loudly, gaining everyone's attention. "I suppose I'll explain it again. The only cure is for the Spider to have sex with Lady (Y/N). I doubt Stark and Banner are going to find another cure anytime soon."

You stared intently at your dinner as the others processed the new information.

"Then." Bucky said. "Why doesn't (Y/N) just go up there and, y'know. I mean it sounds like he could use it."

Your face was so warm and you felt so embarrassed, this wasn't a conversation you ever hoped to experience with them. "My dad would never let that happen, and plus what about consent. I doubt Peter's in any state to consent to that- I mean not saying that I would even help him!" You yelped. "Not that I wouldn't if he really needed it but-" 

Thor cut you off. "Actually, you would be able to get his full consent. Remember when I said that the person affects the mind. If the Spider has gone long enough without you near him, he'd be in a perfectly good state of mind to give his consent."

"How's he supposed to consent if she can't go near him?" Steve asked

Thor shrugged. "Send someone to talk to him."

"There, problem solved." Bucky said with a grin, looking at you.

"Okay!" You yelped. "Can we just slow down for a second. My dad is gonna figure this out, and there will be no need for me to... y'know."

"Well actually." Thor said again. "Depending on how long it takes there could be some lasting effects on him."

"What kind of lasting effects?" You asked skeptically.

"I'm not entirely sure, but I'd imagine he's feeling a lot of shame right now but his body is still reacting to the pollen. I imagine that can be difficult for the brain to process."

"Great." You muttered sarcastically. "Can this day get any better?"

Bucky chuckled. "Well technically it could-"

"Oh shut it Bucky." You snapped.

Wanda studied you for a second before she cleared her throat, "(Y/N), Nat. Can we talk privately for a second."

Dread washed over you, no doubt already knowing that Wanda looked inside your head. You nodded your head and followed the two women out of the kitchen, regardless.

Wanda took the two of you into her bedroom, making sure the bedroom door was locked before turning to you.

"You don't think your father is going to fix it." Wanda said.

You groaned in frustration. "Wanda, I told you to stop looking in my head." You complained, throwing yourself onto your bed.

Nat sighed, sitting down next to you. "Alright, kid. What do you wanna do about this? Do you really believe Thor is right?"

You grunted out a yes. "I trust Thor more when it comes to these alien things. And I'm just scared for Peter. Even if they do figure it out, who knows how long it'll take. We don't even know how this'll affect Peter."

"Would you help him the way Thor suggested?" Wanda asked.

You became flustered. "I-I- guess- he's my friend, and he needs help."

Wanda snorted. "That and you've liked him for two years."

You sat up quickly and looked at Wanda. "Stop with the mind reading already."

Wanda smirked. "I didn't read your mind for that one, it was just a lucky guess."

You huffed, falling back down onto the bed.

"(Y/N)." Nat said, gaining your attention again. "You and Peter are both consenting adults now. Okay? If you truly think you have a better shot at helping him than your dad, maybe you should trust your gut. I'm not telling you what to do, your consent is just as important as his. All I'm saying is to really consider your options on this, and do whatever you're the most comfortable with. Alright?"

You bit your lip, nodding your head. "O-okay. But my dad-"

"Forget about him. Peter's your friend, do what you think's best."

You nodded again. "I just need to think for a bit."

"Of course." Nat smiled.

You thanked Wanda and Nat, before heading to your own room to think about the situation.

But honestly,

You were pretty sure you had already .made up your mind.

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

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[theravenclawlover]

Monster

Parings: James “Bucky” Barnes x Reader.

Warnings: +18 Mentions of torture, mature language, future smut, mentions of death, slight depression, mentions of kidnapping.  

Word Count: 2,066.

Summary: You are one of the youngest members of the Avengers, and you love it. Out of the blue an impossible mission is assigned to you alongside Natasha Romanoff, and it was sure to change your life. Lies, and betrayal from the closest people in your life; they never told you who you really were.

Chapter Number: 2.

Chapter Tittle: The Mission.

A/N: Hey! I’m back with another update for this series as you can see! I’ve been so busy with life, it’s a little tiring. Who would’ve thought that online courses could be so homework heavy... Nevertheless, I made some time to twink this thing up and some other chapter, so my prediction is that maybe later or tomorrow there’s going to be another chapter up! Thank you for being so patient with me, it means a lot! Now for those who read my Harry Potter fics, I know I still owe you lot a smutty Weasley Twins fic, and I promise I’ll post it by the end of the month or beginnigs of next, I haven’t been able to finish it for some reason. Also, I think I’ll try to start drafting chapters for my “Welcome to the Industry of Porn.” It’s been almost a year since I last updated that one. Okay, I’ll stop! Enjoy my fellow readers! 

After getting things ready, Nat and you found yourselves in her car; Natasha on the wheel. She kept on glancing at you, not real expression set but it was kind of annoying you. At first it didn't bother you and didn't really mind it, but it had been an hour since her eyeing had begun, so the annoyance was bound to sprout from you any minute.

"What?" you said a little snappy, it couldn't be ignored any longer. It was just rude to stare.

"What?" echoed Natasha with feigned confusion.

"Why do you keep looking at me like that?" You exclaimed while turning to face her as much as you could with the seatbelt on.

"Like what?" She didn't turn like you had, but you were able to see the change of her expression from your seat, she just gave you a confused look at your words.

"Nat, you haven't stop looking at me! It might sound crazy, but you've looked worried ever since Steve mentioned this "Bucky" person." You couldn't stop from raising your voice a little. She was agitating you and you knew you probably were overreacting at the whole situation.

She let out a sigh before answering, "Y/n, we have been sent to bring the Winter Soldier by no means of force. He has memory problems because HYDRA thought it was a great idea to mess with his brain. So, I'm sorry If I can't take my mind out of it! Also, I'm not looking at you with worry, I was just wondering why you seem so calm." At the last words she'd turned to face you, having reached a red light.

"I never thought that I would witness what I believe is a mini freak out from you. Also, I had my breakdown in my room when we were getting ready. He's scary for what I've read in his report. Remember Washington? Stupid question, of course you do. Dude, I cried when you and Steve were on the run. Trust me, I'm fucking scared, but I'm trying to stay calm. I have a theory that he can smell fear. So, I'm practicing my 'I'm cool with a brainwashed assassin in the room' face," you exclaimed with the tiniest grin on your face. Joking about the matter seem to help with your anxiousness, and the exasperation from before now gone.

"To be honest with you, I'm rather impressed that you look better than I do right now," she said after stopping the car in front of a big old building that looked like it was about to fall, "we're here."

"Shit." It was really happening. All you had to do was peacefully bring a brainwashed dude with you back to the base. Should be easy. Piece of cake, right?

"Let's do this, " said Nat getting out of the car, her façade of tough—not really a façade, she was tough—assassin had 'activated' once more.

You both stepped through the rough looking doors, according to the last report on him, he was in last the floor going up. You were shaking a little when you had finally made your way up. Nat made her way toward the door with quiet steps. Once the two of you were in front of the room neither of you knew what to do next. Do we just knock, or we burst in like the badass women we fucking are? you thought to yourself, a little grin trying to break on your face. You didn't get to dwell on it for too long because Nat had knocked on the door, her face showed the clear regret of that action. She had just acted without thinking of the consequences of her actions—how odd.

There was a noise coming from inside, you could hear hesitant footsteps coming towards the door, you knew he was going to open the door anytime soon, but you didn't know what to do so you just stood there. The movements from inside suddenly stopped, you saw the shadow of someone right in front of the door from its order side. A second later, that someone opened the door, and lord did the sight made you blush.

The door opened to show a shirtless man, long hair covering his face. He looked as if he had just taken a shower, he hadn't been expecting anyone—I mean, who would? The building was mostly empty, except for the homeless that looked for shelter. You knew you were staring but you couldn't remove you gaze from his massive, muscular form, and that glistening arm.

"Good afternoon," said Natasha, breaking the silence. He didn't say anything he just kept looking at both of you trying to figure out who you two were, and most likely wondering why you had disturbed his peace and quiet. After her words, more silence came—awkward silence.

"We are here to help you out, we know who you are," Natasha proceeded to say without introductions. Wrong move. The calm face he'd had was now replace with a cold expression. Before either of you could muster words out, he'd closed the door and hurried back inside.

"Shit! Shouldn't have done that!" Natasha grabbed her gun kicking the door trying to stop him. You did the same thing, grabbed your gun and try to stop him before he disappeared once again. You knew it had been hard to get a hold on a ghost like the Winter Soldier, so you couldn't afford to mess the mission up.

Once inside, he had put out on a shirt and was ready to jump from the window. Nat shouted a 'stop' but he didn't listen, he jumped from the window. You ran to the window to see him landing flawlessly on the ground. Before running off, he turned his head, and you swore he winked your way. Without another glance, he ran and vanished from your view when he took the first turn to the left.

"Crap! The fucker ran away again! He was ready," said an angered Natasha, now standing by your side.

"That was so fast. Who gets dressed that fast?, and that bag must've been packed already," you said looking around for any type of intel you could find. You needed to know where he has heading next, that could help with the foul mood Fury was surely going to be in.

"I don't know, but what I do know is that we are in big trouble when we get back," said Natasha with a sigh escaping her lips. With one quick look around, you gave up and headed back to the car, your murder by your boss awaiting you.

                                                        °°°°°

"Sir, he just ran back inside and jumped from the window and disappeared." For the umpteenth time you told what had happened to Fury. When the two of you got to the new secret facility of S.H.I.E.L.D.—or what was left of it—you were to give your mission report to Fury. Steve was there, listening on how bad the mission had gone; he looked worried, but you had a feeling that it was because his friend was in the world off the radar rather than worried about either Nat or you being yelled at by Fury. You felt guilty, Natasha and you had messed up the chance for him to see this 'Bucky,' but at the same time you were slightly annoyed at his uncharacteristic coldness at your failure.

Fury was mad that you two had failed the mission, but he had known that someone like him was no easy target, but that doesn't mean that he let you off without some type of punishment. You knew that S.H.I.E.L.D wasn't the same organization that once was, now it was just a little group left since the incident with HYDRA. Fury told you after he had—somewhat—calm down that Natasha and you were to be in the tracking team. Meaning that you were to sit down in front of a computer until you got wind of him.

You got back to your room but not before spending the rest of the afternoon working for the new coordinates of where he could have run to hide. You opened the door to your room; once in, you kicked your shoes off and walked towards where your bed was, putting your gun and badge on the nightstand. You were exhausted to even remain awake while walking around to get things done. You went to the bathroom to take the most relaxing shower. The warm water felt so good against your tired body and your thoughts ran wild, with no care. At first it was just how bad you had mess up the mission and the guilt that came with that, but then you could only focus on him. Those piercing blue eyes that seem to take you away from reality... You shook your head trying to forget about those eyes, but you found yourself going back to them. They seem to bring you a sense of comfort that you couldn't explain. You quickly finished your shower, trying to rid yourself from thoughts of him. Once out, you grabbed your panties and the biggest, baggiest t-shirt you owned, and with no trouble you fell asleep.

                                                         °°°°°

You were in a room that seem too familiar for some reason, there was a glass window in front of you. You walked towards it; it showed another room. Your eyes landed in the person that was in the middle of the room, it was him. He was shirtless inside a capsule, he looked troubled while he slept. There were people waking him up, and when they did, they sat him on a chair not far from the capsule he had been. There were doctors around him with clipboards, and big machines were being situated around the blue-eyed man. You looked around, besides the doctors there were people in green outfits—officers. Then you looked to your other side and saw one of the doctors coming to the room you were in, he walked towards to what looked like a control panel. You saw him pressing some buttons, and the big machines in the other room started moving.

Your eyes moved to find his, he was already staring right at you; he couldn't see you, though, the glass didn't allow it. One of the doctors near him grabbed something and put it in his mouth, him never questioning what. He kept looking straight ahead, you felt as if he could really see you through the glass, it made you shiver unconsciously. One of the doctors now gave a signal towards the glass, and so, the man on your side of the glass pressed one button and the machine got closer to the man sitting on the chair. Before you could guess what was going on, he was screaming. You didn't want to see, your heart ached at the way his eyes shut abruptly, how his knuckles were now white from gripping the chair. You couldn't look away and you weren't even able to flinch at his screams. You didn't know how long it went like that, but all the screaming was soon replaced with a shrilling silence. As soon as he was still, dead-looking, some officers were now helping him up and taking him somewhere else. Everyone started to leave, doctors and officers alike—loud-ish chatter amongst them. There was one person who didn't move, and he was looking at you. The man smiled and made his way towards you, he seemed familiar and nice.

"What you just saw, Y/n, was how we made our best weapon stay emotionless, and strong. That is why he is valuable to us; he doesn't show emotions towards his victims." The man was now kneeling in front of you, "now, honey, we better get you to your room. Tomorrow is going to be another day full of training."

"Yes, sir," you said. Your voice sounded so young, probably less than ten years old. He picked you up, and you wrapped your tiny arms around his neck. It took forever to get to what you guessed was your room. Once inside and you were changed into your pajamas, he helped you get in bed, tucking you in.

"Have sweet dreams, my little princess," said the man that was looking at you with loving eyes.

You gave him a soft, sleepy smile before yawning while muttering softly, "goodnight, papa."  

Tag list:

@boredtotearz100 @john-benderr @cnco-ravenclaw-46

[totallycorrectpmdquotes]

I'm on another PMD kick, and I stumbled across your Backfire fic on AO3, and it's super good so far! Even if it's a while to the next update, it was totally worth reading what you have so far-- so good job, and good luck with it if you ever continue!

Thank you so much! :DD

But speaking of updates...

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 2)

Uxie’s powers aren’t just limited to his lake, and affect all memories which could be traced back to the Time Gears. It’s easy to imagine the mental catastrophe this could cause in the mind of someone who’s spent nearly their entire life looking into them. In his defense, Uxie was really mad at Grovyle.

-

3.

For Chatot, it had been aparticularly frazzling evening. The Guildmaster had reorganized a storage roomwith a rather small window for Grovyle by throwing all its contents into thehall. Bidoof and Loudred carried out their orders to clear the mess away quicklyenough, although Chatot would not bethe first one to open the closets they had stuffed everything in. When OfficerMagnezone had led the secret transport of the still unconscious Grovyle,Dusknoir had followed. As Grovyle was deposited in his new bed – closer to theGuildmaster’s chamber than any of the apprentice’s, just to be safe – Dusknoirhad promptly positioned himself outside the door.

“Dusknoir, Sir,” Chatot had said,“we can have the apprentices take over that position. You don’t need to troubleyourself for us.” His intention had been to send Chimecho to take over, andmore importantly, have her make sure the Great Dusknoir was alright.

But Dusknoir had waved him offand refuted any further attempts to convince him that they could help. “I camehere to find him, I’ll guard him. It’s no trouble.”

A few minutes later, Dusknoirapparently caught sight of his reflection in one of the lower-level drinkingfountains and jumped in fright. No one dared to ask what startled him. Herefused to leave his post when dinner was ready as well, despite the fact thatGrovyle wasn’t due to wake for another several hours. And Chatot, well, mayhave reacted by bringing him a plate of leftovers sprinkled with a portion ofground sleep seeds.

He was concerned and had everyright to be! Dusknoir would surely be upset when he woke, and Chatot would takethe consequences of his actions in stride. He would apologize for hisdeception, but not for his actions. Dusknoir needed to rest – whatever ailmenthe was suffering from would not be treated if he ran himself ragged.

Night fell on the guild, andChatot enlisted Chimecho’s help to move the now fully asleep Dusknoir to theGuildmaster’s bed.

“And remember, this stays betweenus.” Chatot said, well aware that Chimecho already knew and wouldn’t say a wordabout Dusknoir’s condition. Nervousness kept him tittering about, though. “Areyou certain he has to be awake for you to examine him?”

“Sorry,” she said, and used herpsychic to gently set Dusknoir down. “If he’s against it, we could have someonetalk with him and I’ll examine him while he’s distracted.”

Chatot hesitated for a secondbefore he sighed. “You have better eyes for this than anyone in the guild. Ifyou think that would be enough for you to help him, then I trust yourjudgement.” He shrugged off Dusknoir’s bag and did his best not to look at thesleeping form. “You may take your leave and return to your quarters.” He was very aware she would not be doing that;the apprentices would be meeting in Team Relic’s room, where the two would bebombarded with questions about why they had decided to let Grovyle stay.

Chimecho nodded, and with a quietring of her bell, she left the room. Chatot watched her leave before he nudgedDusknoir’s bag closer to him. There was something strange about the bag,something that Chatot struggled to put a feather on, but it clicked when hefound a worn patch on the right side where a few rolled up pieces of parchmentwere visible. The bag was the same model as Grovyle’s.

Chatot allowed himself a momentof short, quiet laughter – he’d had such a horrifying feeling, and all it hadamounted to was that. How incrediblysimplistic. Those bags must be mass produced in the future with that samedefect. It was unfortunate that the Great Dusknoir had such a poor qualitytreasure bag.

With one long look at the piecesof parchment which, really, were none of Chatot’s business and were not something he’d be prying into,Chatot returned to his post outside of Grovyle’s room. The Guildmaster sat tothe left of the door, two crochet hooks in his hands and what looked like a half-finishedyarn apple in his lap.

“Hiya!” The Guildmaster said,loudly, but clearly trying to be quiet. “How’s Dusknoir? Is he having sweetdreams?”

“I’m sure he is,” Chatot said,and made himself comfortable to the right of the door. “And Grovyle?”

The Guildmaster put down his yarnand stared across the room. “…No,” he said, “he’s still having nightmares. Buthe’ll be awake soon. He’ll be happier then.”

Chatot glanced back, through thecurtain they’d draped over the doorway. The shadows were twisted around Grovyle,and in the dim light almost looked like they were standing over him.

Chatot pulled the curtain openfarther as Grovyle shuddered, and the illusion faded.

.-.

There was no vulpix named Breannain the Wigglytuff Guild. However, there was one who’d introduce herself by hernickname, Breeze.

She hadn’t known that Pokémon goby their species name unless interacting with their family until she was told.She was practically illiterate – everyone around wrote and read in footprintrunes, but she didn’t even know the alphabet. When asked where she was from, orwhy she had made her way to Treasure Town in the first place, all Breeze had tooffer was a shrug.

Honestly, it was impressive thatno one had figured out her secret yet. Well, they’d figured out about herDimensional Scream, but her secret of being a ‘human turned Pokémon withamnesia who couldn’t even remember her own real name’ was still safe.

Mostly.

Breeze sat beside her partner,Dusk, with their guildmates crowded into the room with them. They’d beenarguing for the past several minutes. Breeze had been reorganizing her treasurebag for most of them and left Dusk to deal with their friends’ questions.

At least Chimecho had taken pityand brought him a chalkboard so he wouldn’t strain his voice anymore.

“But I don’t understand,” Sunflora said, “he’s a bad Pokémon!”

Dusk dipped his paw in chalk duskand drew several footprints from various normal-types while Breeze triplechecked her stash of orans for any orens. She returned them to her bag as Duskgestured to his writing.

“I guess,” Sunflora hesitated,“but you can’t change nature.”

“We are still worried about youtwo,” Dugtrio said, “you may be confident in this second chance, but we wouldhate to see a horrible fate befall you.”

Breeze didn’t look at him (them?She really needed to find a chance to ask what Dugtrio preferred) and insteadgently dumped out her orbs. She started to sort them by function, thenalphabetically on top of that. Dusk used some grass and water-type footprintsthis time.

“We will not question yourdecision further,” Dugtrio said, “but know that you may fall back on us if thisfails.”

“WELL, I will!” Loudred announcedand was promptly shushed by the rest of the apprentices.

“Oh my gosh, do you want Chatot to come tell us off?”Sunflora said as she whacked him with one of her leaves. “Be quiet for once!”

“Fine!” Loudred said in whatcould barely be counted as an indoor voice. Breeze heard him stomp towards her,and kept her eyes focused on the orbs. “Vulpix, don’t do anything stupid.”

Breeze pawed categories of orbs alittle bit farther apart. “I won’t.”

“I mean it,” Loudred said, “Idon’t care if you think he’s cool,you get yourself or any of us killed we’re going to have a problem.”

Breeze licked her lips and didn’tlook up at him. “I won’t,” she repeated, “I know what I’m doing.”

“But that’s what we want toknow,” Chimecho pointed out, her voice gentle. “What is your plan? We know hewon’t remember you, and that you feel bad because of how much he’s missing, buthe nearly killed you both. Why are you putting so much faith in him?”

Dusk started to write somethingdown, but Corphish held up a claw to stop him.

“Hey-hey, no offense Riolu,” hesaid, “but I want to hear what Vulpix has to say about this. She’s been tooquiet.”

As an agreement rippled acrossthe guild, Breeze coaxed her orbs back towards her. “Uh,” she swallowed,“well…”

Breeze frowned. Why… why was she doing this? Yes, she felt badfor and identified with Grovyle, but she hadn’t been a bad person. She’d neverhurt anyone who hadn’t deserved it, and Grovyle had nearly destroyed the world.He’d tried to kill her, Dusk, Uxie, Mesprit, Azelf – everyone. What if she was looking at this all wrong? What if hestill remembered how much he wanted to hurt them, just not the why? What if she was being stupid, andputting so much trust in someone who was just going to hurt the guild?

“Come ON!” Loudred said, yellingright by her ear, “Spit it out!”

There was a muffled squawk beforea tremor knocked the apprentices off their feet.

.-.

Dusknoir sat on the edge of afrozen riverbank beside a man dressed in shades of gray. They had a pile ofrocks between them and sat in silence as they threw them into the river. Thesound of a splash was there, but the water didn’t move as it sucked the rocksdown. Dusknoir pulled out a rock, flat and circular with small protrusionsaround the edge, and handed it off to the human. Immediately after touching itthe human gasped and gripped his head. The rock fell from his hand and rolleddown the bank, bouncing twice before it finally settled in the shallows.Dusknoir stared at the man, and he stared back with blank, unseeing eyes.

Dusknoir blinked.

He was on a cliff face, a body infront of him and his hands stained a dark red. There was a loud, shrill noise.There had been for the past minute.

He turned around, and the imageof a small child with red-brown hair drifted away like smoke. The cliffblurred. The body faded.

He was in a blank but colourfulroom, and in front of him was an unfortunately familiar shadow form with a wispof white hair.

“Hello, Hope,” Darkrai said,absolutely smug, “are you having a nice nap?”

“Don’t call me that,” Dusknoirsnapped, immediately on guard. “What are you doing here?”

“What, you thought you were theonly one who followed those idiots when they fled back in time?” Darkrai said,“I knew you were dense, but I was hoping you weren’t stupid.” He sighed,overtly dramatic as Dusknoir scowled. “Of course that was too much to hope for.Tell me, what was your theory for why the brat doesn’t remember you anymore?The power of friendship between you and your minions?”

“You don’t need to act like achild,” Dusknoir growled, and continued to stare at Darkrai’s smug face. “You…did you do that to her?”

“If it’s any consolation, it wasa happy accident. I was aiming for the nuisance your friends have dumped in theother room – I planned on blasting him out of existence, but your little bratsaw me and took the hit.”

“She’s not mine,” Dusknoir corrected,“if you did this to her, why don’t you go finish the job?”

“What, and take all your glory? Please,” Darkrai grinned, “besides, Icould ask you the same thing. You’ve completed your mission. Why are you stillhere?”

Dusknoir narrowed his eye andspoke carefully. “There was an issue with creating the Dimensional Hole back.”

“Oh, why didn’t you say so?”Darkrai said, faux cheerful and still unbearably smug. He snapped his fingers,and the dream world shifted to hold a frozen Dimensional Hole. “I’ll just set thisdown right outside, and then you can finish your job.”

No! “That’s not necessary,” Dusknoir said quickly. “Besides,they’re both still far too entwined with the others in this time. I’ll needmore time to separate them so I can take them back without severely -”

“If you’re going to make excuses,at least put some effort into them.”

Dusknoir froze. Darkrai suddenlyseemed so much bigger than him. “E-excuse me?”

“I own dreams, you idiot. This is my realm.” He was barely the size ofDarkrai’s eye now. “I know you don’t want to leave. For all you try and protestyou want to stay here and enjoy this time before it’s gone, while still pretendingyou’re just doing your job. And who could blame you, especially with your history? I wonder what Dialga wouldthink of this after how much faith they put in you. I’m sure they’d be rathercross.”

“Don’t question my loyalties,”Dusknoir shouted back, and struggled to keep himself steady as Darkrai’s laughshook the dreamscape. “I’m just as loyal to Master Dialga as you are!”

The laugh grew louder. Thecolours got brighter, more saturated, and began to drip into each other.

“That’s not a very high bar,”Darkrai said. “Still, if you’re oh so convinced of your loyalties, then let memake the task simpler for you.” Dusknoir looked down and saw that his handwrapped around Chatot’s neck.

“Wait -” he couldn’t shout. Hisvoice wouldn’t get any louder than a whisper. The ground below him started toshake as the shadows morphed into Wigglytuff, and the colours dripped into thebackground of the Wigglytuff guild. Dusknoir tried to shout again, but no wordscame out.

“The Dimensional Hole will beatop Mt Bristle when you’re done,” Darkrai’s voice said, echoing fromeverywhere and nowhere at once. “Don’t take too long. Make sure you don’t needmy help again.”

A variety of faceless shadows ranin from down the hall, led by that same little girl with red-brown hair.

Dusknoir jolted, free from thenightmare. Breanna, who’d led the charge of apprentices through the guild’sshaking halls, was a vulpix again.

Dusknoir dropped Chatot and backedup as quickly as he could. The guild stopped shaking as Dusknoir raised hishands, and everyone ran over to help Chatot up. He had tiny flakes of ice inhis feathers, and Dusknoir glanced down at his hands in horror. There was norecovery from this. He would be run out – he needed to grab the two he had comefor and be done with it. He had no time to waste.

“I’m alright,” Chatot wheezed,and looked over at Dusknoir, halfway across the room. “Dusknoir, sir?”Wigglytuff grabbed Chatot and held him tight as the rest of the guild movedcloser. “Are you okay?”

Dusknoir swallowed and glanceddown at his hands. He scrambled to find the words, but his tongue was stillfrozen. He couldn’t think of what to say.

He looked up, at Chatot at first,then past him at Breanna’s horrified look. Then past her, at the green form inthe doorway he was supposed to be guarding.

Grovyle met his eyes before he ducked back, andDusknoir was confident he’d seen the whole thing.

[heart-eyes-kippen]

The pride hoodies

Hi! Here's another fluffy confession fic for anyone trying to cope with all of the angst lately (me! it's me!)

Summary: TJ and Cyrus wear matching pride hoodies to school. TJ has an annoying teammate. Drama (and fluff) ensues.

You can read it on AO3 here

[Fic is under the break]

Cyrus was walking through the mall with TJ when he saw them - the most adorable hoodies he had ever laid his eyes upon. Okay, so maybe they weren't the most adorable, but they were definitely up there if you asked him. 

 It was a warm Thursday afternoon and they were wandering aimlessly between shops, pointing out things they liked but never actually committing to buying anything. It was somewhat of a tradition for them, and Cyrus appreciated every moment he got to spend talking with TJ, but the hoodies had definitely stolen his attention away in that moment.

 Cyrus couldn't drag his eyes away from the window display as they walked past, the world moving a little slower as he took in every detail he possibly could. He knew he was probably being slightly dramatic, but in that moment he really couldn't care less. They were ridiculously cute, and he didn't think he had ever wanted an article of clothing so much in his life. 

 TJ, who had a casual arm thrown over Cyrus' shoulders, picked up on his distraction almost immediately. He was always particularly sensitive to changes in Cyrus’ demeanour, no matter how small, and it was a curse as much as it was a blessing.  

 A knowing smile came to his lips. “Whatcha lookin' at?"

 Cyrus was jolted out of his trance. 

 "Nothing," he responded, maybe a little too quickly because it had TJ raising an amused eyebrow.

 He stopped walking then, and Cyrus glanced about nervously at the swarms of people surrounding them as TJ pulled him aside, paying no mind to the annoyed glances they were receiving. He could feel his face heating up slightly at the attention - the mall suddenly felt a whole lot more overwhelming, with all of its bright flashing signs and bustling sounds.

 "TJ," he mumbled half-heartedly, fixing him with a glare. There wasn't any heat behind it though, and it had TJ smiling as he nodded his head towards the shop display.

 "They're cute," he commented.

 Cyrus bit his lip. "I don't know what you're talking about," he insisted, grabbing TJ's hand and tugging him lightly in the opposite direction. "let's keep walking."

 TJ gently pulled his hand back, folding his arms with an amused smile. "Oh come on, you clearly want one. Let's go inside and I'll get you one."

 Cyrus nearly gasped. "I'm not letting you do that!"

 "And why not?"

 He glanced about the mall again, feeling his face grow even warmer. "Because."

 TJ rolled his eyes and placed a light hand on Cyrus' back, steering him through the glass doors of the small clothing store. 

 "As your friend I'm obligated to buy you cute hoodies,” he declared, smiling even wider when Cyrus rolled his eyes.

 "I really don't think that's a thing."

 "It is now."

 Cyrus stopped arguing after that, partially because the thought of TJ wanting to buy him a hoodie was heart-melting and partially because yeah, okay - the they were in fact very cute.

 TJ dragged him through the first few isles, glancing back occasionally to make sure he hadn't lost the boy somehow. The store's walls were painted a pastel pink, with fairy lights strung along the displays and retro looking chairs sat outside the changing rooms at the back. There were a few other people browsing, and a very bored looking cashier tapping away at his phone. They arrived at the racks behind the window display, TJ shooting him an amused look as he rushed forward. 

 "They're even cuter up close!" Cyrus gushed, only to clap a hand over his mouth when he caught sight of the smirk on TJ's face.

 "I knew it."

 "Shut up," he responded playfully.

 TJ just smiled and ushered him forward. "Well go on then, try one on." 

 Cyrus hesitantly reached out to grab a hoodie, taking a few moments to examine it. It was the nicest pastel pink he had ever seen, with adorable little pride flags printed on the front. It was the type of thing he usually only saw online, so the fact that it was being displayed at a storefront amazed him. He supposed TJ was right - really, he was legally obligated to buy anything with a rainbow flag on it.

 He carefully took it off its hanger and slipped it over his head, wriggling into it for a few moments.

 "Taa-daa!" he announced once he had succeeded, flashing a pair of jazz hands. The sleeves were slightly long on him though, so only the tips of his fingers were visible.

 TJ grinned. "Now that's a look. There's no way we're walking out of here without one for you."

 Cyrus smiled bashfully at that.

 "What about you?" he asked quickly, attempting to deflect the focus.

 He winced as soon as the words had left his mouth and scolded himself internally for the suggestion.

 There was no way TJ would want to wear a pride jumper of all things. Not to mention that it would mean the possibility of them accidentally wearing it at the same time - that would be catastrophic.

 TJ just smiled though, taking the boy completely by surprise. "Yeah, actually. That'd be cool." 

 "Really?" Cyrus asked, not even bothering to hide his shock. "Isn't it a little too...you know..."

 "A little too what?"

 "Nothing," he assured, trailing off for a moment out of embarrassment. "It's just...what if we accidentally wear it at the same time?"

 TJ frowned. "What would be so wrong with that?"

 "Nothing! I guess I just thought you wouldn't want that. We might, you know...look like a pair of dorks."

 TJ looked visibly taken aback by that, clearly not expecting the words from him of all people. The momentary hurt that flashed across his face made Cyrus regret speaking at all. He looked like a wounded puppy at that moment, and it was the very last expression he ever wanted to see on TJ's face.

 "Is that what you think?" the boy asked, his voice soft.

 "Of course not!" Cyrus quickly attempted to back-track. "I'd totally love to be...hoodie buddies? Oh god, that sounds lame-"

 "Why don't we be hoodie buddies tomorrow then?"

 Cyrus was almost fully certain he felt his heart melt into a puddle right then and there. TJ actually wanted to wear matching pride hoodies?

 "Uh - sure! Totally!" 

 TJ smiled and shifted his gaze back towards the rack, sifting through a few of the sizes. He pulled one out after a few moments, draping it over his arm.

 "Okay - take yours off and I'll pay." 

 "I can pay for mine-"

 "No way, Cy. I was the one who suggested coming in here." 

 Cyrus just folded his arms, a stubborn pout forming on his face. "I was the one staring in the first place," he retorted.

 "Yeah - without the intention of buying."

 "But..." Cyrus trailed off as he pulled the jacket over his head, shaking his head slightly. 

 The athlete just rolled his eyes and plucked the hoodie out of his arms. "They're half-price, anyway. I'm buying them."

 Cyrus couldn't help but smile fondly, relenting with a small sigh and watching as TJ marched up to the counter, carrying both of their hoodies.

 He had officially come to the conclusion that TJ was trying to kill him. Seriously - matching pride jumpers? He could practically feel himself swooning.

 After a minute or so, TJ was bounding back towards him, a large paper bag swinging by his side.

 "Done! Let's go!"

 TJ wrapped his free arm around Cyrus' shoulders as they left the store, and the boy found himself wondering if there would ever be a time when the action didn't make his heart flutter.

 "So...are we still doing tomorrow?" TJ asked him, looking hesitant all of a sudden.

 "We're still doing tomorrow." he confirmed, smiling softly and giving the boy a playful nudge.

 ~

 Cyrus was in crisis mode on the walk to school the following day. Funnily enough, the chaotic swirl of storm clouds looming in the sky above him very much reflected how he felt at that moment. He was panicked beyond belief, and it was only worsening by the second. 

 Cyrus paused in his tracks for a moment, taking deep, purposeful breathes - he could already feel his forehead becoming damp with sweat, and his thinking was becoming more and more irrational. 

 TJ wouldn't even be wearing his jumper. Words were one thing, but actually wearing a pride jumper to school? That was another thing entirely, and he'd probably realised overnight what a mistake it was.

 Before he could get any more stressed out, he lifted the stupid pride hoodie over his head and stuffed it forcefully into the front pocket of his bag. 

 Along with the hoodie, it felt as though a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He walked through the school gates with a slight spring in his step, knowing there was no chance of humiliation when he inevitably saw TJ without his jumper.

 He crossed the basketball court and entered the school building, humming quietly to himself as he approached his locker and began to unlock it.

 "Hey - underdog!"

 His face paled slightly. He whirled around, fully prepared to apologise for ever suggesting the idea, but the words died on his lips when his eyes landed on the boy. 

 "...Oh."

 TJ was wearing the hoodie. TJ was actually wearing the hoodie.

 The athlete frowned. "Where's your hoodie?"

 Cyrus desperately tried to push away the memory of him asking Jonah a very similar question.

 "It's uh...it's in my bag. I didn't think you would wear yours." 

 "Why wouldn't I?"

 "Well, it's middle school...I didn't think you'd want to risk looking like..."

 "Looking like what?"

 He shifted nervously, a blush beginning to climb from the base of his neck up to his face. "A pair of dorks," he finished flatly.

 There was a surprisingly bright smile on TJ's lips now. "I'm pretty sure we're already dorks without the hoodies, and - for the record - we're definitely the cutest pair of dorks I know."

 A slow smile spread across Cyrus' face as he reached down to pull the hoodie out of his bag and slip it over his head. He spent a few moments wriggling into it, then he launched himself at TJ and hugged him as tightly as he could.

 "You're the best," he mumbled.

 TJ staggered back slightly, but he quickly steadied himself with a fond smile and wrapped his arms around Cyrus. 

 "I think you're the best actually," TJ corrected, his words slightly muffled. by Cyrus’ hair.

 The other boy was beaming as he pulled away. "Totally not true...but thanks."

 TJ opened his mouth to say something then, but someone beat him to it. 

 "Hey guys - nice hoodies!" 

 Cyrus immediately separated himself from TJ at the sound of Jonah's voice, his expression nervous.

 "Thanks...they're not too dorky for you, are they?"

 He honestly didn't know where the remark had come from, but he regretted it almost instantly. His tone sounded bitter even to him, and it clearly seemed to shock Jonah if his wide eyes were anything to go by.

 TJ looked between the two boys in confusion, before realisation swept over his face. He turned to Jonah, his gaze accusatory. "Did you say something to him?"

 Cyrus bit his lip and rested a placating hand on TJ's shoulder. 

 "It's fine TJ," he mumbled. "It was a while ago and I'm over it now, I don't even know why I-"

 "No. I shouldn't have said it."

 They both turned their gaze towards Jonah, so stunned that the words to respond had escaped them both.

 "I know it was a while ago, but I clearly hurt your feelings. I didn't mean to make you feel self-conscious, but...that's what I did. I'm sorry."

 Cyrus paused for a few moments, still processing, then he stepped forward with a smile and pulled the boy into a hug.

 "It's okay," he assured.

 Jonah hesitantly returned the smile as they pulled away. "So...wanna hang later?"

 "Yeah! That'd be great. Meet at The Spoon after school?"

 "Sure thing. I'll see you later, Cy." 

 Cyrus watched him walk away for a moment before turning to TJ, practically giddy with excitement. "He apologised for something! Wait until Andi hears about this." 

 TJ tried to match his enthusiasm, but he fell short drastically.

 "That's great!" he responded, but everything about the words seemed half-hearted. 

 Cyrus frowned. "Is something wrong?"

 "No," he said quickly. "Lets just go. You have English first, right?"

 "Yeah...but are you sure you're okay?"

 TJ's gaze flickered down to the ground for a brief moment, and he gave the boy a jerky nod.

 Cyrus raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Okay," he agreed, turning to walk away. "Let's go then."

 He began to leave then, but TJ reached out and gently grabbed his hand. Cyrus barely managed to conceal a smile at the action - walking away tended to do the trick. 

 TJ lowered his gaze to the floor, his cheeks a light shade of red and his hands fiddling nervously with the hem of his hoodie. He glanced wearily around at the nearby students. 

 "Do you still like him?" he asked, the words so quiet that Cyrus had to lean in slightly to catch them.

 It took him a few moments to register who TJ was referring to, but when he did his mouth fell open in shock. 

 TJ almost seemed...no. There was no way. 

 "No," he responded quickly, shocked that anyone could still think he liked Jonah. "I haven't for a while."

 "Oh." 

 Cyrus' eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "...How did you find out about that?" 

 "I didn't really find out per se, I just kind of..."

 "Figured?" Cyrus finished, a smile on his lips.

 "Yeah," he breathed. "Sorry." 

 "Don't be," Cyrus assured, stepping forward and placing a careful hand on his arm. 

 He hesitated for a moment before adding "is there anything you wanted to tell me?"

 TJ vehemently shook his head, a light blush staining his cheeks again. "Nope! I was just...wondering." 

 It didn't take long for Cyrus to forget about TJ's odd behaviour as they headed to class, laughing and playfully bumping into one another as usual. If TJ's glances just happened to linger longer than they normally did, Cyrus didn't mention it.

 ~

 “Okay guys, we get it, you’re wearing matching hoodies and it’s cute, now can you please stop taking photos of yourselves?” 

 Cyrus gave Buffy an accusatory look at that. “What do you mean? We’ve only been doing this for...” he trailed off as he glanced down at his watch, his eyes widening. “20 minutes! TJ -  how have we been taking photos for 20 minutes?” 

 The boy just shrugged, clearly amused by the fact. “Snapchat filters are fun.” 

 “They are fun,” Cyrus agreed, pocketing his phone. “But we should probably start interacting with our friends.” 

 Andi laughed. “Oh, by all means - keep going! We’d love to hear more about how TJ looks ‘absolutely adorable’ with the dog filter, and how he should ‘definitely wear more lipstick if this filter is anything to go by’ and-“ 

 “Okay, okay, I hear you,” Cyrus grumbled, a blush warming his face as he glanced over at TJ. “It’s all true though, just so you know.”

 “I’ll look into the lipstick then,” the boy said with a laugh.

 “Don’t,” Buffy advised him. “I’m pretty sure Cyrus would die on the spot.”

 “Pfft wow okay, TJ is cute but he isn’t that cute,” Cyrus said. 

 TJ raised a hand to his chest, feigning offence. “What did you just say about me?” 

 “That you aren’t that cute,” the boy responded smugly. 

 TJ gasped. “Whatever happened to ‘wow TJ, you look so cute with that panda filter!’ and ‘oh my gosh TJ, this blue filter really brings out your eyes-‘“

 “Okay, you definitely added that ‘really’ in there,” Cyrus teased.

 “That doesn’t change the rest of the sentence!” 

 Cyrus and TJ rapidly fell into their own world as usual, all playful remarks, lingering looks and whispered jokes. Both Andi and Buffy found the duo nauseatingly sweet (and frustratingly oblivious) at times, but seeing Cyrus happy made almost anything worth it.

 The bell rang not long after that, sounded sharply within the corridors and bringing with it murmured complaints about subjects. 

 TJ let out a heavy sigh. “I have maths next,” he despaired. “Then I have that basketball game so I won’t even be able to talk to you.” 

 Cyrus felt his heart flutter at those words. 

 “Wellll, if you get through both of those things then I’ll buy you a milkshake tomorrow.” 

 “...Does the milkshake come with a hug?”

 “Duh.” 

 TJ smiled fondly. “How could I possibly say not to that, then?” 

 “I have no idea,” Cyrus said honestly, returning the smile as he gently tugged the boy to the side of the corridor. 

 Students were rushing past them now, and TJ watched in confusion as Cyrus produced a pen from his pocket and lifted the boy’s arm. It took him a minute or so, the drawing was slightly wobbly, but TJ’s smile still had the same level of adoration as it normally did whenever Cyrus drew on his arm.

 “There - now you have a small milkshake on your arm that you can look at to get through maths.”

 “What would I do without you?” TJ asked, only half-seriously. 

 “Well - you’d definitely be deprived of my questionable drawing abilities.” 

 “Your wonderful drawing abilities, you mean,” TJ corrected as they began walking again, their hands brushing slightly.

 “...Sure,” Cyrus smiled. “We’ll stick with that.” 

 ~

 "Hey - Goodman!" 

 Cyrus looked over at the basketball player in confusion, before giving him a hesitant wave. 

He was stood in the hall waiting for TJ to finish up in the change rooms, and he really didn't expect any of the other players to acknowledge him. Sure - he attended their games and he'd had the occasional small talk with some of them, but that was the extent of his relationship with the team. The dreary morning had given way to a rainy afternoon by now, and having a conversation with anyone but TJ after an exhausting week was admittedly the last thing on his mind.

 The boy approached him, and Cyrus gave him a polite smile. He spent a few desperate moments trying to recall his name, but he came up blank.

 "Nice hoodie," he commented. "TJ's wearing the same one, right?"

 "Uh - thanks! And yeah...he is," Cyrus responded, wincing slightly and bracing himself for whatever comment was coming next.

 "That's cute."

 "...I guess, yeah."

 "You do know why though, right?" 

 Cyrus gave him a blank look. "Why what?"

 "I mean - you know why he's so down to wear the same hoodie as you, right?"

 Cyrus felt his stomach turn uncomfortably at the words, not liking the implications he was already picking up in the slightest.

 "Yeah - because we're friends."

 The boy laughed. "Oh man, that's funny."

 "...What's funny about it?"

 The basketball player just chuckled and placed a hand on Cyrus' shoulder, shaking his head.

 "Bro. It's because he likes you."

 Cyrus' heart skipped a beat. He had expected something along those lines, but hearing the words aloud?

 "I know he likes me," he replied quickly. "I like him too."

 "I don't think you're getting it. TJ like likes you. As in - he wants to date you." 

 Cyrus just took a deep breath. This guy was obviously just messing around with his captain, he rationalised to himself.

 "I really don't think so," he said with an uncomfortable laugh.

 The boy scoffed. "Come on, man. Why else would he wanna wear matching jumpers? Only couples do that."

 "Because we're friends. Just friends! That's it."

 At that moment, he heard the hurried sounds of footsteps against the hard wood floor behind him, and his heart sank. He whirled around, only catching a glimpse of TJ as he pushed his way past the double doors and rushed down the corridor.

 He didn't bother calling out for him - if TJ was upset, he definitely wouldn't listen. All he could do for a moment was stand there, his mind reeling with about a billion different thoughts.

 He turned to the basketball player with a sarcastic smile. "Nice chat," he remarked, before running out after the boy to call his friends.

 ~

 [6:36 pm] 

 Cyrus: TJ. Can we please talk?

Cyrus: It's been a few hours now and I'm worried.

 [6:58 pm] 

 Cyrus: Please say something. 

 [7:08 pm] 

 Cyrus: Do I have to kick down your door? Because I will. Maybe. 

Cyrus: At least send a fullstop or something to let me know you're safe?

 [7:16 pm] 

 Cyrus: Are you mad? Did I do something?

Cyrus: Can we please talk about this?

 [7:36 pm] 

 Cyrus: Okay. Nice talk. 

 "It's no use," he sighed, throwing himself onto the couch with a defeated sigh. "He hates me now."

 Buffy collapsed down next to him, a sympathetic smile on her face. "He could never hate you, Cyrus. He's just being annoying right now."

 Andi gently leant over to rest her head on his shoulder, wrapping a supportive arm around her friend. "He'll call soon, don't worry."

 Cyrus bit his lip and looked down at Jonah, who was sat on the floor in front of them.

 "I'm sorry I was too busy worrying for us to hang out. Could we try again over the weekend?"

 The boy just smiled. "Of course we can! Don't worry about it, Cy."

 "Thanks," he breathed out, sinking further down on the couch. It was still raining, and he found a strange sense of comfort in the fact that the weather seemed to be reflecting his mood. The grey sky outside was giving his living room a washed out appearance, and Buffy seemed to realise this because she got up suddenly and closed all the curtains, flicking on the warm lamps around the room one by one.

 "I have all the episodes of Queer Eye downloaded on my laptop," she told Cyrus as she moved around the room. "How about we watch some?"

 She smiled knowingly when he immediately perked up, straightening in his seat with an excited grin.

 "Yeah! Let's do that."

 "Great! I'll go get my-"

 The words died on Buffy's lips when the sound of sharp knocking filled the living room.

 Cyrus turned to Andi, who gave him an excited nod, then to Jonah, who gave him an encouraging thumbs-up, then to Buffy, who shook her hood in amusement and gave him a playful smack on the arm as she passed the couch. 

 "Go! And stall for a bit - we have to escape through the backdoor." 

 Cyrus nodded frantically and rushed through the living room, straightening his hair and his clothes as he went. He reached the front door and practically flung it open, realising too late that he probably looked slightly desperate.

 "I'm so sorry if I did anything or if what that guy said upset you, I promise I don't believe him-“ 

 TJ just surged forward and hugged the boy, who happily wrapped his arms around the athlete's neck and buried his face in the fabric of his hoodie. It was damp from the rain, but Cyrus couldn't care less in that moment. 

 "You have nothing to apologise for. I was the one being stupid." 

 "You're not stupid," came the muffled reply.

 TJ smiled fondly, before stepping back with a small sigh. "I really am sorry if I made you worry."

 "It's fine-"

 "It's not though," he interrupted, shifting his gaze towards the ground. He hesitated for a moment, clearing thinking over something in his head.

 "I was just scared," he added, his voice much softer now.

 Cyrus felt his heart break at that. He barely resisted the urge to move forward and try to comfort the boy somehow. 

 "Scared of what?" he asked instead.

 TJ returned his gaze to Cyrus. For a moment or two it looked as though he was searching for something - trying to psych himself up somehow. 

 "Scared that you might hate me," he explained after a moment, shoving his hands into his pockets. Cyrus recognised the action - TJ would usually did this to prevent himself from nervously fiddling with his clothes. 

 Cyrus frowned. "Why would I hate you? I could never hate you."

 “You might after I tell you this," TJ said with a slight laugh.

 "Try me," he responded, his voice sounding a lot more confident than he felt.

 TJ took a small step forward, and Cyrus could say for certain that he had never felt his heart race quite so fast. The rain was still pouring down behind TJ, splashing loudly against his driveway, but somehow he wasn't focused on that. Not when TJ was right there, his breathes slightly ragged and his gaze hesitant as it met Cyrus’. 

 "Adam wasn't wrong," he breathed out. "I like you."

 "...You do?"

 "Yeah. Like - a lot," he said, visibly drawing back as though expecting some kind of outburst.

 Cyrus was beaming at him now. He stepped forward slightly to close some of the distance between them. "Do you wanna know a secret?" 

 A hesitant smile began to tug at TJ's lips. "What is it?" he asked, visible hope on his face now.

 "I like you a lot too."

 He let out a sigh of relief and moved forward to engulf the boy in another hug. Cyrus wrapped his arms around TJ's neck for balance and stood up on his tippy-toes, placing a quick kiss on the athlete's cheek.

 TJ's face visibly reddened at that, looking both giddy and amazed in the most adorable way possible. Cyrus felt warm wrapped up like this, despite the icy breeze that had accompanied the afternoon rain.

 He caught sight of the smudged milkshake drawing on TJ’s arm as they pulled away, and he couldn’t help but smile. 

 He took both of TJ’s hands. “So...I was thinking,” 

 “About what?” the boy asked, glancing briefly down at their hands as if he couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

 “I still owe you that milkshake, and the carnival is still in town tomorrow, so how about a milkshake-carnival date? We could get some take-out from the spoon in the morning and head to the carnival from there.”

 TJ’s smile widened. “It’s a date.” 

 They remained like that for a few moments, completely caught up in one another, until a muffled yelp from Cyrus’ house alerted them to fact that they weren’t alone. 

 "You guys are complete liars!" Cyrus called over his shoulder.

 TJ watched in bewilderment as Buffy, Andi and Jonah all emerged from around the corner, looking guiltily at the duo.

 Jonah pointed an accusatory finger at the other two. "It was entirely their idea!"

 "Hey - it was raining!" Andi defended. 

 Buffy threw them both an amused glance and rolled her eyes. "I just wanted to see if I needed to beat TJ up for hurting your feelings. Turns out I don't, because - as everyone has known for about 10 years now - you both like each other!"

 Cyrus couldn't help but smile again at those words, while TJ just folded his arms and raised a challenging eyebrow.

 "You think you could beat me in a fight, Driscoll?"

 "Yeah, I do actually. Wanna go right now?"

 "Sure. What kind of fight are we talking here?"

 "Absolutely not," Cyrus interrupted, always the voice of reason. "We are not going to fight when my parents could come home at any second. In fact - we're not going to fight at all!"

 TJ immediately nodded. "Yeah. What Cyrus said."

 Buffy gave him an exasperated look, but she nodded along anyway. "Fine."

 "Good! Now - who wants to watch Queer Eye?"

 Everyone but TJ groaned.

 "Cyrus, we've seen both seasons about a billion times," Buffy complained. "And you're not upset anymore, so don't you dare use that as an excuse." 

 "So? It never gets old!"

 "It's very re-watchable," TJ agreed. 

 Cyrus beamed at him, turning to Buffy again with a smug smile. "See?"

 "Yeah," she scoffed. "Because he's not biased at all."

 He pointedly ignored the comment and took TJ's hand, pulling him inside and closing the front door behind him. He tugged him towards the living room after that, and the trio looked after them in mild disbelief. 

 "I'm pretty sure he's the biggest suck up ever," Buffy remarked.

 Andi nodded in agreement. "Is this what we're going to have to live with?" 

 Jonah watched Cyrus and TJ for a moment, thinking back to how defensive TJ had been earlier that day at the notion of anyone hurting Cyrus' feelings. He couldn't help but smile.

 "Eh, let 'em live. They clearly like each other a lot - it's cute if you ask me."

 He walked into the living room after Cyrus and TJ, leaving Andi and Buffy to exchange a small smile.

 "I guess he's right," Andi relented. "They are pretty cute."

 Buffy nodded in agreement and wrapped an arm around the girl's shoulders as they made their way to the living room. 

 "As long as Cyrus is happy, then I'm happy."

[sadboyayeron]

Hello! Do you, maybe have anything about deaged!Aaron? I've seen a lot of fics where other Foxes are deaged but I'd like some good smol Aaron content please! Also I'm not sure if you're still taking prompts or not... If you aren't, it's okay.

Honestly I’ve been waiting for someone to do this myself, so Ill try.

- They were all in the house in Columbia.  Only Neil and Andrew were up so far.  Andrew was sitting on the kitchen counter sipping on his coffee while Neil was leaning next to him slowly drink his.  They didn’t say a word to each other, just content with each others presence.

- Nicky was the next to wake up.  He greeted them with a “Good Morning” and started making pancakes, trying his best not to yawn every five or so seconds.  Andrew and Neil left the kitchen and found themselves on the couch, on either side of the arm rest facing each other with there toes touching.

- Lastly it was Kevin who woke up.  Which is weird because Kevin is always the last to get up.  Andrew wasn’t trying to worry or nothing but his brother always woke up from the smell of Nicky’s cooking, or at least decided it was time to get up.  Nicky started to look around but he seemed to not be able to found what he was looking for and frowned.

- Andrew sighed and got up to see what was the delay.  Nicky quickly looked back at his slightly burning pancake.  Andrew walked up the stairs and towards his brother room.  He doesn’t usually check on his brother or knock on his door unless its time to leave.

- He knocked on the door but there was no response.  Aaron was a light sleeper, just as light as him.  Its not like he knocks lightly.  He started banging on the door instead, until he heard a bump like something fell inside.  He quickly opened the door definitely not expecting to see what was looking back at him.

- There was a kid.  Not just any kid.  He know exactly who it was because used to look at that same face everyday in the mirror.  

- “Aaron.”  He let the name slip between his lip always.  He glanced at the bed noticing the ruffled bed sheets, half laying on the floor.  Aaron was clad in the same white long sleeve shirt that he went to sleep in last night.  Excepted it fell just below his knees and the sleeves went inches beyond his hands.  The caller was slanted to the side exposing his freckled shoulder. He could see a bruise on Aaron’s cheek and if he looked closely there was another on his shoulder. 

- “How’d you know my name?”  His voice was small and unsure with a slight lisp he remembers having in his own voice.  He was wrinkling his fingers together though the fabric.  His big hazel eyes were wide and then he looked down.  “Did mama eave me again?”

-That shook Andrew.  What did he mean leave him?  Before he could say anything else Nicky came in from behind him.

- “Breakfa-oh. Is that..?”  He stepped to the side next to Andrew to get a better look.  He was just as confused.  Aaron was definitely not this small.  He was when he was five or six though.  He had know idea what kinda witch craft bullshit this was but he knew a little of what Aaron was like at this age and maybe Aaron won’t recognize him.  Then again he would have been eight or nine himself. They only saw each other couple times between years before he took in the twins.

- He stepped forward a little and glanced back at Andrew.  He crouch down to Aaron's level catching the kids attention, he stepped back though not liking how close Nicky was to him.  Nicky could feel Andrews eyes on them.

- “Hey buddy remember me, its Nicky.  Your cousin.”  He tried to make his voice low and as non threatening as possible.  Aaron looked for something in his face, probably trying to find the lie in his truth.

- “Nicky, how’d you get so big.”  Aaron tilted his head to the side and squinted his eyes at Nicky then glanced behind him.  He leaned forward little and whispered, “Who's tat.”  Nicky tried to stop his smile from forming and hugging Aaron.  Aaron looked around again.  “Where are we.”

- Nicky stood back up.  Aaron always used to lose track of what he was talking about and jumped from question to question.  When they were younger, the times he actually saw Aaron, the little guy would talk and talk when he got comfortable with Nicky.  He would be timid at first but when you gave him some attention and time to warm up he would turn into a ball of energy.

- “Well I’ve been eating all my veggies, and uh this is uh...Your brotherrr?”  He didn’t know what else to say.  Andrew gave him a look and then waved at Aaron.  Awe he's trying.  Aaron looked confused but went with it.  “And we are at his house.  Anyways I just made pancakes your hungry.”

- Aaron dropped his arms to his side and tried to pull up the sleeves to show his hands.  He nodded and walked forwards following Andrew and Nicky out the door.  Andrew went a little more ahead to inform the other two about this little predicament.  Neil and Kevin were even more confused.  How the hell does that even happen?

- Aaron sat at the table and Nicky served him a plate, leaving a bottle of syrup in front of him.  Andrew sat on the other side of the table in front of Aaron.  Neil and Kevin too, sitting on the sides while Nicky took to sitting next to him.  Aaron started by cutting his pancakes into tiny little pieces and then dumped a load of syrup on top.

- Kevin scrunched his nose in distaste. That is way to much sugar for a kid. He practically rivaled Andrews plate.

- “Whoa Aaron slow down the food isn't going anywhere.”  Aaron was shoving piece after piece in his mouth barely giving himself enough time to chew before swallowing.  Aaron looked at Nicky with his cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk.  He then put his fork down and started to chew what was in his mouth.

- Aaron only got done with two thirds of his plate before he started to feel full.  He always eats fast even when it makes his chest hurt because he can eat more.  He needs to eat everything on his plate so he doesn't make anybody mad.

- “You don’t need to eat it all if your full.”  Neil spoke up.  He could see it in Aaron’s face the discomfort from putting another piece in his mouth.  Aaron looked at Neil then, for the first time since he became a kid.  He then looked at Nicky who in return just gave him a smile and took his plate.  When Nicky came back he was holding a glass of orange juice.  It was Aaron's juice, he aways got pissed when someone drank it and basically finished it.  The tiny Aaron took the drink between his clothed covered fingers a gulped down half the cup before setting it back down. 

- Nicky then took him back upstairs to wash his face and teeth

- “He said something about Tilda leaving him again.”  Andrew said to Neil once they were fully alone.  He didn’t like the sound of Tilda just leaving a kid with whoever, especially when most of her ‘friends’ where either drug addicts or dealers

- “Why don't you ask him then.”  Andrew didn’t want to.  He would feel as though he took advantage of the moment.  If Aaron really wanted him to know the extent of Tilda’s abuse and neglect he would tell his when he was ready, or when they speech to Bee. 

- Nicky came back with Aaron and brought him to the couch were he put on a kids show.  He left Aaron their and asked Andrew if he could have to the keys to the Maserati so he could buy Aaron some clothes and stuff.  Andrew only sighed and pointed to his keys.

- Neil went back up stairs to do some homework in their shared room.  Andrew was left with his child version of his brother.  Aaron seemed very much entranced by the Tv screen.  When Andrew sat on the couch Aaron flinched and looked at him quickly before looking back to the Tv.  Andrew really was not liking this.  He really needed Aaron to turn back or this to be some type of messed up dream.  He could tell Aaron was uncomfortable with Andrew on the couch with him.  He didn’t want to know why, well he did but he was telling himself he didn’t.

- When Nicky got back both twins were rigidly sitting on the couch looking at the television both on different sides of it.  Nicky didn’t know everything about what happened to Aaron with Tilda.  He does remember her always telling him to be quiet, ignoring his existence, and grabbing him with more force then his own mother ever even attempted I do.

- He gave Aaron a light blue t-shirt, gray joggers, and underwear.  Aaron demanded “Privacy” and went to the bathroom.  When he came out he looked like a mini version of his adult self.  Though now that he looked he could see how skinny Aaron actually was.  He's always been more lean then Andrew since he took him in.  When they were younger he knew Aaron was skinny, he was too but now that he actually looks he can see that Aaron was clearly underweight for his age and height.

- Andrew noticed to and pretended the anger he was feeling at the moment wasn’t there.  The bruises on Aaron's arms were now visible, some yellow and fading.  Others that were still blue and purple.  Aaron saw there lingering eyes and quickly looked down trying to make himself look smaller.

- “Can-um...Is it otay if I have a sweader.”  Nicky scrambled to get the shopping bag and pulled out a navy blue hoodie and handed it to Aaron who slipped into it swiftly.  He put the hood over his head and climbed back onto the couch and laid his head on the arm rest.

- Andrew wanted to say something or do something to comfort the boy who obviously felt like he did something wrong by just having bruises on his arms that were given to him by a women that should of loved him the way a mother loves a child.  Nicky was better at these kinds of things.

- “Hey Aaron look I got you legos,”  Aaron purked up at that.  “You can play with me and Andrew.”  Aaron looked at Andrew and Andrew tried to force a tiny smile that Nicky wouldn’t see. That seemed to do the trick.  Aaron relaxed onto the floor and Nicky dumped the legos in front of him.  Andrew slipped next to Aaron leaning against to couch.

-Aaron built a little car and had the lego man inside.  He was rolling it around making barely heard car noises.  Andrew was busy trying to make a city out of the legos but he didn’t think there was enough.  Aaron kept glaring at his creations with childish temptation. He had know clue what Nicky was doing but he was laying down making some sort of plain looking thing.  Aaron started to crawl towards Nicky with the car, then hopped over his body and kept driving the car around.  Nicky laughed at that and Aaron turned around and smiled at Nicky.  This smiled showed his teeth and was clearly a missing front tooth. 

-Nicky couldn’t help the cuteness and grabbed Aaron suddenly into a hug.  Andrew was about to grabbed Nicky when he saw the look of surprise on Aarons face and the flinched from being grabbed.  He stopped though when he notice Aaron melt into the hug.  He could tell Aaron didn’t regularly get hugged or shown any type of affection.  He saw the way Aaron rested his head on Nickys shoulder since Nicky was now sitting and Aaron was standing.  The way he didn't know where to place his arms so he kept them to his sides because he was scared he would mess it up.  Nicky leaned away put still had Aarons shoulders in his hands, smiling at him happily.  He remembered how touched starved Aaron was.

- “I’m going to go make you some lunch okay, it’s a little past lunch but its okay.”  He patted his shoulder and got up.  Aaron watched him leave and plopped back down into criss cross.  He picked up Nickys make shift plain then looked at Andrew.  Andrew did not want to know what that little look on his face meant.  Aaron then glanced back at his city and looked just about ready to pounce.  Andrew was preparing for the worse and schooled his face into his signature scowl.

- “Pushhhhhhh.”  Aaron flew the plain right into Andrews tallest building and it tumbled down onto Andrews lap.  Aaron laughed when Andrews face still looked blank and started to pretend he was a monster and kick the rest down.  He stepped onto couple legos and then fell into Andrew.  The weight of Aaron was definitely nothing compared to what he used to be as an Adult.  The weight still cause Andrew to slightly flinch but he still caught Aaron in his arms.  Now Aaron was basically sitting in his lap.  They both paused and then Aaron looked up at Andrew and laughed at the sight of Andrews constipated looking face from upside down.  He rolled off.  Literally.  Rolled into the legos and straight to making a lego angel.  This seemed like a entirely different kid from the timid scared one he saw in the beginning.

- Nicky came back with a sandwich telling Aaron to sit on the couch, Andrew following suit.  Nicky put on a Disney movie, The fox and the hound.  Aaron use to love watching this movie during those times he saw him.  Aaron saw happily between Andrew and Nicky eating a piece his sandwich slowly.  He saw the way Aaron started to lean on Andrews Arm, Andrew got stiff and then relax into the added weight.  He liked this feeling of the being a family.  There wasn’t a lot moments like these and he was happy to witness one of them.

-Soon Neil came down and saw the scene, he sat in the love seat and watched the last part of the movie.  Once the credits rolled around they noticed Aaron was sound asleep curled up against Andrews side.  Andrew moved slightly and put one of the pillows his could grab under Aarons head.  Nicky placed a blanket around Aaron and decide he should make fajitas for dinner.  It would take a little bit and hopefully be ready when Aaron woke up.

-They didn’t have to wait long because next thing they knew there was a scream.  Nicky watch Andrew walk fast towards the noise.  He could make out Kevin in the room with Aaron.  Jeez what did he do.

-Kevin was annoyed by this child version of Aaron to say the least.  He sat next to him while he was sleeping as far as he could get.  He was trying to watch the Trojans game that he reordered.  He turned it up and this  is when Aaron woke up and told him to go away.  What. The. Hell. All he wanted to do was watch Exy in peace, why wasn’t he in his own room.

- “You go away.”  Was it mature to fight with a child? No.  But this child wasn’t really a ‘child’ technically so it doesn’t count.  Aaron lunged for the remote and tried to take it from Kevin who was way more stronger then this version of Aaron.  Thats when Aaron bumped into the table next to the couch that had Kevin's glass of water set on top of it.  Then it fell and Broke.  The crash made Aaron flinch and he moved away from Kevin.  Kevin saw the look on his face and it made his gut twist.  

- “I’m sorwy, I’m srwy,” he kept repeating and Kevin really didn’t know what to do.  He got on his knees to try and calm the kid and make himself look less like he was about to hurt him.  Aaron start to cover his ears and griping them tightly along with pulling the curls of hair along his ear.

- “Hey, hey.  Its okay its not your fault I did it to.  Don’t do that.”  He reached out to try to stop Aaron from hurting himself.  That was a Mistake.

- When Andrew came he was not prepared for the sight.  Kevin was kneeled in front of Aaron who was gripping his ears tightly while crying.  Kevin was not far off from cry himself and was working his why into a panic attack as he was trying and ever so clearly falling at calming the kid.  He pushed Kevin away and thats when he noticed the broken glass. 

- “Aaron, Aaron its Andrew.  Your not in trouble.  No one is going to hurt you.”  He repeated those words till Aaron seemed to notice his presence and lose his grip on his ears.  His teeth were chattering and he was hugging himself.  He noticed Neil then, standing by the stairs.  He didn’t want to but he opened up his arms in a question. ‘Yes or No?’

- Aaron liked it here with Nicky, Andrew and their friends.  He didn't want to ruin everything like his mom said he does.  The sound of the braking glass made him think of mom.  Was she going to be mad at him?  Where they going to call her?  He panicked.  Andrews arms felt nice when he fell into them.  So Nice he started to cry again because he never been hugged twice in one day.  Andrew didn’t hold him tightly like Nicky did but he still felt warm.  He's so used to being cold.

-Nicky showed his face and frowned but then smiled at the scene.  Kevin was trying to calm himself by picking up the glass.

-When everything calmed down they all sat down in the same seats for dinner and ate quietly.  Aaron was still sniffing, his eyes were puffy still to.  Andrew honestly looked exhausted.  To much childhood trauma reminders for one day.

-Nicky gave Aaron a bath, with Andrew standing at the endurance of the bathroom door protectively.  Aaron didn't want him to go.  

-Putting him to sleep was the hardest part.  He always had a hard time sleeping.  He didn't communicate why and no body was going to force him to. Neil made him some warm tea with milk and honey that helped himself fall asleep.  It worked and Aaron fell asleep with his head laying in nickys lap; Nicky massaging his long curls.  Andrew was the one to pick him up and take him to his room.  Aaron woke up little, but settled himself in Andrews arms, wrapping his own around Andrews neck.

-The next morning Aaron woke up as a 21 year old again.  He remember everything.  If tears rolled down his face when he sat up in bed nobody was going to know.

[motleyfuckingcruee]

The Outsider (Nikki Sixx x Reader)

Chapter 5

Summary:

It's your first night on the streets of LA. You have just arrived and you have nowhere to sleep. You meet Nikki at a bar and he offers to let you stay with him. You are the outsider.

Warnings:

Language, fluff, abuse, considering smut

THE SONG THIS IS BASED OFF OF:

The Outsider

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!!

YOU CAN READ CHAPTER FOUR HERE

COMMENT IF YOU WANT TO BE ON A TAGLIST! OR GO TO MY BIO TO ADD YOURSELF TO ONE!

//

It's been two months since the band fully formed. Vince has been great! His voice fits what Nikki is going for perfectly. You've grown close with all of them. Even Mick.

It took a bit longer to break Mick's walls down, but you managed to do it. Underneath that scary demeanor, Mick is actually an insanely sweet guy. You think of him as your brother.

Usually when Tommy and Vince would go out drinking or go to strip clubs, You, Mick, and Nikki would stay at the apartment. You would drink and just talk. You love those nights. They're the most calming.

About a month ago they decided on the name Mötley Crüe for the band. It fits them well. Four people from different backgrounds coming together to make something fucking awesome. You couldn't be more proud.

Nikki wants to have elaborate shows in the clubs, almost as if they were playing at a stadium. You're not sure how that's going to work out, but as long as they're happy.

Tonight is their first show. Nikki has been freaking out all day. He's been pacing throughout the apartment all day.

You're sitting on the couch. Your eyes follow Nikki as he paces in the living room.

"Nik." No answer. His eyes are narrowed in thought. "Nikki." Still nothing. He doesn't even glance in your direction. "NIKKI SIXX!" You yell.

His eyes finally snap up to meet yours. He raises his eyebrows, seeming annoyed that you interrupted him.

"Why are you acting like this?" You laugh. "It's not like you've never been on stage before."

He walks over and flops down on the couch. He rests his head in your lap. He stretches out his legs, causing them to hang over the side of the couch. You start running your fingers through his soft black hair.

He sighs. "I just know that this band is going to do great. We've rehearsed a lot and it sounds good, but a band has to sound good together up on stage in front of people that aren't you and Vince's chick. Otherwise, it just won't work out."

You smile reassuringly. "You guys will do great. Quit your worrying and watch a movie with me. There's still like five hours before we have to go."

He smiles. "Or we could do something else."

"Don't make me push you off this couch."

"But we haven't had sex since last night!" Nikki whines.

You laugh. "Then you can wait until after the show."

He frowns, groaning. "Alright. What movie are we watching?"

-------

Multiple hours later, you sit backstage helping all the boys with their hair and makeup. You stand in front of Tommy, teasing his hair the best you can. He said he wanted it to be big. You're trying the best you can, but Tommy's hair isn't the most cooperative. And neither is Tommy.

"Tommy, sit still or I will duct tape you to the chair," You growl, gettimg more and more frustrated at him.

You move down to do his makeup.

He smirks at you. "Sounds kinky."

"Don't hit on my girlfriend, T-Bone," Nikki nearly yells from next to you.

You don't jump. You're used to his sudden outbursts. If he hadn't have yelled at Tommy you'd think he's sick.

"Nikki calm down. Go put on your fabulous outfit," You giggle, applying Tommy's lipstick.

"How long are you going to tease me about that?" Nikki groans, walking over to his bag. He pulls out a stripped singlet, his leather pants, and these red leather thigh high boots that are absolutely gorgeous.

"You made me go buy those boots for you because you didn't want too. I'm going to tease you about it for a long time," You pause, taking step back to observe your handiwork. You grab the stuff that Nikki gave you to apply the signature marks that Nikki came up with. "And the bad part is you won't let me wear the goddamn boots." You put two lines on Tommy's left cheek. "All done," You say, leaving Tommy and walking over to your overprotective boyfriend. You wrap your arms around his neck. In return he rests his hands on your hips. You kiss him on the cheek, not wanting to smudge his lipstick. "I love you."

This causes his frown to break into a smile. "I love you too."

He leans forward to press his lips against yours. You stop him with a grin on your face. He looks at you with a sad, confused expression.

"You're going to smudge your lipstick," You say. "And I'm not going to fix it."

"Damn it!" Nikki exclaims, turning around so that he can change his clothes.

You giggle at him. Vince walks over to you, grinning deviously.

"Does that mean I can get a kiss? I don't have any makeup on yet," He says.

You only roll your eyes. "In your dreams, Neil. I'll stick to kissing my boyfriend."

"One day," Vince says. "You'll kiss me."

"I highly doubt that, Vinny."

Just then some guy sticks his head through the door. "You guys need to get on the stage now."

They all nod, rushing out the door. Tommy gives you a kiss on the cheek. Nikki glares at him for a few moments, then walks over to kiss you.

"Have fun," You say.

You can still see the nervousness in his eyes. You don't understand why. He's been on stage before. It's nothing new. You know he explained it, but it still didn't make sense.

"I will," He responds, resting his forehead against yours. "Will you be front row?"

You nod, pecking his lips. "Aren't I always? I'm your biggest fan, Sixx. I always will be."

"Is that a promise?"

You nod. You pull away from him, even though you don't want to. You start pushing him out the door.

"Get your ass out on stage."

As he looks at you, you realize that he smudged his lipstick by kissing you. Goddamn it. You totally forgot in the heat of the moment.

You walk out from backstage. You make your way to the front row, smiling when you see that you're directly in front of Nikki. Vince introduces them, looking full of energy. Tommy starts the beat, Mick and Nikki quickly following not a second later. Vince's voice reverberates off of the bar's walls.

They sound fucking epic.

About an hour later they finish up their set. Nikki came off the stage, lifting you up in his arms and spinning you around.

"How'd we do?" He asks, breathless.

"Fucking amazing!" You exclaim, kissing him.

He smiled into the kiss, putting you back down on your feet.

"Man, the girl I remember never cussed," A familiar male voice says from behind you.

You turn, meet with the same blue eyes you've been avoiding. Fucking Jared.

"What do you want?" You nearly growl.

Jared holds his hands up innocently. "I just want to talk."

You bite your lip, looking at Nikki who is on edge. He looks like if Jared even takes another step towards you, he'll rip him to pieces.

"Alright," You sigh. "Nik, you can go ahead and go to our usual table. I'll meet you and the boys in a bit."

"Bu-," He tries, but you cut him off.

"I'll be fine," You say. "Go on."

He leans down and kisses you again. You know his lipstick got on your lips again, but you didn't really care.

You smile as he says, "Yell if you need me."

You nod, watching him give one last glare to Jared, then walking off.

You let Jared lead you outside. He leans against the brick wall of the bar. You pull your cigarettes out of pocket. Jared's eyes widen as you put the stick between your lips and light it. You take a drag, waiting for him to tell you the reason he dragged you out here.

"What do you want?" You repeat.

"I wanted to know why you left," He responds, watching you smoke with an odd expression on his face. It makes you feel uncomfortable.

"I was suffocating in that town. I needed to get out, and I did," You say simply.

Jared sighs. "When did he become apart of your life?"

"The day I got here," You answer, not really wanting to give him the full story. He doesn't deserve it.

You both stand quietly as you finish your cigarette. He watched you the entire time. That suffocating feeling you felt where you were raised comes washing over you once again. Fuck.

You stomp the cigarette out. You turn to back in the bar. "Well if that's it-."

You're cut off by Jared gripping your upper arm hard. So hard you're sure it'll leave bruises.

"What the fu-."

"You're not going anywhere," Jared growls, a familiar menacing glow in his eyes.

It's something you're used to. Something you endured for years. You thought you escaped it. With Jared back, you're prepared to take the beatings once again.

Tags:

All fics: @the--blackdahlia @sugar-content @sharon6713 @siliwanoel @charlyallise

Nikki: @moon-beame @slutfor-sixx @2dead2function @horrorpxnk

This fic: @celestica-1988 @miriampraez @scarecrowmax @fandomshit6000 @freddiessmallnipples

[riseandshinelittleblossom]

Go Mets!

A/N: This is my submission for the wonderful @mf-despair-queen‘s 2019 Dylan O’Brien Baseball Week.  This is my first ever Dylan fic, as well as my first ever reader insert (ish) fic, so keep that in mind hahahaha I hope you enjoy it!

 Also! DISCLAIMER: I write this purely for fun, I don’t get paid or anything like that, I’m just borrowing our favorite Mets fan for a bit of  good natured fun...

Warnings: light swearing, because it wouldnt be a riseandshinelittleblossom fic without it. :D

Shout out to my wonderful friend @ao719 for indulging me and pre-reading this for me..girl your rock!

 Tags: @leelee10898 @fullbeaumonty @kennaxval @superapplepie @mrs-mitch-rapp93 @stiles-o-dylan24  @ownworldresident @mrscutiefandobhaz

    Dylan held out his arm, staggering backwards a bit as he caught the baseball in his well-worn mitt.

    “Hey, nice one Maggie!” He chuckled.

    The six year old across the yard beamed at him and he couldn't help but feel his heart melt seeing her snaggletooth grin.

     He was so proud of how much she had progressed since he first started bringing her out back to play catch two years ago.

     His friends had all warned him to steer clear of getting into a relationship with you because dating a single mother also meant “you have to play Dad,” but that had never worried him in the least. Maggie was a good kid, really smart, and she shared Dylan's passion for baseball and the Mets. These days he couldn't imagine a better way to spend his time off between filming than to be in the backyard helping her practice for her little league games.

   She flipped her long, chocolate- colored plait over her shoulder and resumed her batting stance.

   “Okay, Dyl. Let's have another one. And don't go easy on me this time.” She sassed.

   “Go easy on you? I would never..” he feigned innocence, grasping the ball firmly and grinding into the mitt a few times.

   Maggie rolled her eyes, the bat falling to her side.

   “I'm serious, O'Brien. You think the girls on the Grizzlies are gonna go easy on me this weekend? Not a chance! They're out for blood after we wiped the floor with them last season.”

   “Out for blood, huh? Okay, well pick up the bat and I promise I won't hold back then, Princess.”

    She resumed her stance and Dylan shook his head.

    “Here,” he began crossing the yard in a few strides to stand behind her. He widened her grip on the bat and helped her crouch a bit lower. “Gotta widen that stance, baby girl. Otherwise the first speed ball's gonna knock you right off of home plate.”

      He returned to the makeshift pitcher's mound that he and Maggie had made with a pile of her kinetic sand. It was a project that you had been none too happy about.

      He stomped his feet a few times before releasing a steady pitch.

      With a loud crack, the young girl sent the ball sailing away from her. Dylan hit a backwards run in an attempt to catch it, but it soared over the fence anyway.

   You watched from the open kitchen window as your boyfriend raced across the yard and hefted the small girl onto his shoulder.

   “And the Mag-ster rounds first! She's off to second! Oh my God, she's flying past third! Aaaand she makes it all the way home!” He shouted as he ran a circle in the yard and Maggie cheered, her small fists pumping into the air as Dylan mimicked the sound of a crowd roaring. He placed the child on the ground and you couldn't help but chuckle.

    You and Dylan had been going steady for two years now, but it always made you smile to watch him with Maggie. He was the best daddy to her that he never had to be and it made you love him even more.

      You thought back to the day that he first entered you and Maggie's lives as you finished washing up the mountain of dishes in the sink.

***********”**

     You adjusted the settings outside of the batting booth before crouching in front of your preschooler.

    “You sure you want to do the batting cages? We could go for another round of skee ball instead.” You suggested as the little girl before you adjusted her baseball helmet and shook her head. The child-sized aluminum bat in her hand still looked humongous and you bit your lip, wondering why you'd agreed to let her go in there and let a machine lob baseballs at her.

    “I wanna baseball! I'm tired of just tee ball! It's time to break into the big girl game, because one day I'm gonna play for the New York Mets.” She told you matter-of-factly as she stepped into the cage.

   You blamed the babysitter. She was a sweet woman that kept Maggie for next to nothing and she had two boys of her own that were only a little older for your daughter to play with.

   The sitter's oldest son, Jacob, was nine and he played little league, which meant he and his brother often tried to get Maggie to play catch with them outside. Jacob was Maggie's hero and a die-hard New York Mets fan. All the time she spent with Jacob had ignited a fire within your near five year old. It had started with endless tee ball games in the local junior league and now...batting cages at the family fun arena.

   You wrung your hands nervously as the first pitch shot out. You'd set the machine on the lowest setting but it still felt like the ball was the Roadrunner, jetting away from Wile E. Coyote as it hurdled towards your small child. Certainly anyone watching must have thought you were insane to let her in there.

   Maggie held her own, swinging confidently even though the ball barely glanced the end of her bat. The metallic ting caused her to giggle wildly.

   “I hit it!” She shouted.

   “Hey, good job!” a male voice came from behind.

   You whipped your head to see a tall slender man wearing khaki pants and, coincidentally, a Mets jersey. Your eyes scanned over him, your bottom lip tucking itself involuntarily between your teeth.

   He twisted his baseball cap, leaving the bill sticking out behind him and tucked his folded sunglasses into his shirt. He gave you a polite smile and nod, the fluorescent lights overhead catching his honey colored eyes just enough to make them sparkle.

   Your heart all but stopped as you smiled back and quickly averted your gaze, embarrassed that he'd no doubt noticed you checking him out.

    “Thank you. She lives for this stuff.” You said shyly.

     TING

   “I hit it again!” Maggie squealed in delight, turning to face you. “Who's he?”

   She scrunched her face up as she stepped out of the cage.

  “Oh I was just waiting my turn is all. I'm going to use the cage when you're finished. Nice form in there,though. If you'd like, maybe I could give you some pointers.” The man said.

     “You would?!” She squawked.

    You were taken aback by the way he peered directly into Maggie's eyes when he talked to her. Not many people were so attentive when they spoke, especially to children. It made your knees feel weak as he trained his eyes on you in the same fashion.

   “I'm Dylan.” He offered, extending a hand.

************

    Your attention was pulled back to the present as you heard Maggie's sassy, near whiny voice through the window.

   “I am NOT a baby anymore, Dylan. I'm getting bigger everyday, you know.” She scoffed.

   He nodded. “Unfortunately.”

   You stepped onto your tiptoes to get a better view of the two loves of your life, straining to hear their conversation. They were seated on the patio now, Dylan helping Maggie oil her own glove as well as his own.

    “Mommy says that if I want to keep playing I have to take good care of my equipment. She said only responsible players get into the big leagues, so I have been trying to oil my mitt like you showed me, but sometimes it's hard.” The girl huffed as her mentor lifted his large hands-the ones that plagued your every day dream- and placed them over hers, patiently guiding her movements.

   “You want to make sure you get into every groove, Princess. Every crevice. See? You've got it. I'm so glad to hear you've been listening to Mom while I've out of town, though.”

     You let out a sigh, a warm feeling spreading from your chest throughout your body, a small chuckle escaping you. How did you ever get lucky enough to find him?

    “Dylan, can I ask you a question?” Maggie piped up.

     “Anything, squirt. What's on your mind?”

    “Why were you and Mommy yelling at each other last night?”

     Dylan's eyes went wide as he turned his gaze to his own mitt.

    “Wha..wuddaya mean? We weren't-”

     “Come on, O'Brien. I'm not deaf. You were saying, ‘Oh, Y/N,’ and Mommy kept screaming 'Dylan, oh my God’. Were you guys fighting?”

    You tried to stifle a laugh, your hand flying over you lips as you remembered the absolutely mind blowing events from the night before. The ones your daughter had apparently overheard. You could barely see your boyfriend's cheeks turning bright red right about now and you would have paid good damned money to get a view of that up close.

    “Uh, no. We weren't...we weren't fighting, Princess.” Dylan tried to be vague and he cleared his throat. You knew he was silently hoping that his answer had been enough to end the conversation, but you also knew Maggie better than that.

   “Oh. Well then what were you doing?”

    Dylan turned to wipe off his hands, holding the towel out for Maggie to do the same.

    “We were...we were talking in our sleep.”

    “I heard banging, Dyl.”

     The dark haired man gulped audibly, one hand rubbing over the days old stubble of his chin.

    “Uh...that? Oh we were… okay listen. You know I love your Mommy, right Princess?”

    Maggie nodded, “Yep! And she loves you.”

    “That's right. So we love each other. Sometimes, uh...when a boy loves a girl...ya know...they...dance...together?”

      You cackled softly listening to Dylan not even buying his own bullshit.

   “Oh. But I can dance without banging, see?”

   Maggie hopped from her seat and swept into a graceful ballerina twirl, her hands above her head.

    “Well that's because you're a beautiful baseball-playing ballerina, and as such you're very graceful. Mommy and I...well, we're sort of clumsy.”

   The child laughed. “So you mean you guys fall down a lot?”

   “Exactly.”

    “So that's why you were yelling right? You just kept knocking each other down?” the six year old cocked a skeptical eyebrow and Dylan nodded.

    “You're gonna have to do better than that, Dyllie. I'm not buying it.”

     Your boyfriend let out an exasperated sigh. “Okay how's this? We were dancing together because we love each other and we're clumsy so we kept falling down, but then he had...um bruises..?” He stopped short, clearly at a loss.

   “The truth, please. I was born at night but not last night, ya know?” Maggie sassed with an eye roll.

   “Okay the truth is... The truth is that I love your Mom and she loves me and sometimes when you love someone so much you just...you want to show them. There are things that you will learn about when you're older that help grown ups show each other how much they love their boyfriend or their girlfriend. And so..that's what we were doing. But those things are for grown ups only. I mean...grown ups that love each other and want to get married someday...not just any old boyfriend and girlfriend…”

     Your heart stopped at the thought. You and Dylan had been together for a long time, but somehow you'd never talked about marriage before.

    Maggie stared at him, one eyebrow cocked, her face scrunched in thought.

    “Do you..? You understand anything I just said?” He asked nervously.

    “Uuuuhhhh…..go Mets?” Maggie replied still obviously confused.

    Dylan laughed loudly as he ruffled her hair. “That's my girl!”

    “I don't even wanna know anymore,” she shook her head. “As long as you promise you and Mommy aren't breaking up.”

    Dylan wrapped his arms around her shoulders pulling her into a tight hug.

   “No way, Princess. You two aren't going to get rid of me that easily.”

     “Hey, Mommy!” Maggie beamed as you appeared in the sliding glass doorway.

      “Hey, kiddo. Why don't you take your gear upstairs for me? Dylan and I need to talk.”

      She complied with your request, gathering her belongings and tossing them into her athletic bag before hefting it inside.

     You grinned widely at Dylan as your daughter disappeared up the stairs. He exhaled audibly, silently mouthing “thank you,” as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck.

       He ambled across the patio, wrapping his long arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly close.

   “I know you were listening, you evil woman. Way to leave me hanging.”  Dylan muttered, his lips brushing yours as he spoke. His whiskey eyes were locked on yours, making your knees suddenly feel weak.

   “I dunno, you seemed to be handling things pretty well on your own.”  You smugly replied.

    “Yeah? You think so? I'd love to show you a few other things I can handle pretty well.” he pressed his lips to yours and you giggled into the caress.

    “You mean like...Go Mets?”

    He scoffed, giving you his near award-winning, lopsided smile.

    “You're damn right, go Mets.”

[rixxy8173571m3w1p3]

Out Of The Woods (3/?)

This multi chap fic has been one that I've wanted to write for a while. I'm hoping to connect a few loose ends, since my series is getting closer to the end. Don't worry, I still got a couple of fics left in me. I'd love to thank @xerxezra whose conversations with me are always inspirational. I'd also like to thank @dorkydisappointment whose writing got my creative juice flowing and @hoodoo12 who continues to inspire me all the time. Please check out the wonderful art done by @ravenousscorpian for two scenes out of the second chapter of this fic (Her art found here)

References to the woman in Ricks journal is from my fic What You Found Amongst The Pages. I know, that was shameless self promotion. There are a lot of questions that I wanted to answer in you'd chapter, but for the sake of editing had to put it in the next. I'll work on it right as soon as this is posted. Thanks for everyone's continued support. 😘😘😘😘😘😘

If you haven't read part 1 or part2, then heres a link (Read Chapter 1, Chapter 2)

In this fic the reader tries to uncover the mystery of the artist behind Zeta-7s portrait.

___________________________

Chapter 3: Dare Not Say That Man Forgets Sooner

Whatever redeeming qualities the room held in the previous happy hours were gone, and now even the remnant, lingering daydreams were falling away. With every hour you comprehended the severity of your assumptions and what the consequences were if you decided that enough was enough. Honestly, you didn't want to lose him because Zeta-7 was the light of your life; he expanded your universe and had helped you become a better person, but you could still carry on if you needed to. You had the means, your work, and an ever growing list of books to read, but was it enough, now that you had gotten a taste of the good life? Probably not.

Nothing made sense anymore.

Concerning the current situation, and all which led up to it; if you considered everything which included your existence, life till now, and all he had ever done, then there was no mistaking that he loved you; or had; at least thought he did, but it didn't change the truth of the matter; you hadn't been the first. A few hours had given you time to weep until you thought you had no tears left to cry, but there was still a thick fog over your thoughts and rationality; any shift of emotion being too much to bear. You curled into yourself, aching, hoping you'd disappear, but it didn't work; you were still here; stuck. Being at a disadvantage, not knowing how to get home and neither having a way to get there if you could was frustrating.

Who knows how long you'd been down here, despairing, wallowing in memories and dust, but you were tired, thirsty, and knew that if you didn't move he'd have trouble finding you, and yet you didn't care; let him find you; let him work for it. Though, how would that make it any better? All it would do is succeed in upsetting him before you knew all the facts. You hated this. Father always said hate was a strong word that shouldn't be taken for granted; you rarely had reason to feel as such, but the more you gleaned from those photos and the more proof you found of her presence about the place made you feel hateful and bitter.

Thinking of her smiling at him, receiving every bit of his loving-kindness and inviting demeanor animated by unaffected good-will; his general countenance and becoming familiar with a fresher-faced creature of your dreams; holding him; touching him; loving him. Oh God no, you thought, groaning into a handmade pillow. What was worse was that you couldn't dissuade the thought of her mysterious silhouette sneaking up behind you, plunging a knife into your already fragile identity, and taking back what was hers. Your doubt feeding these ugly horrors which were hybrids of nightmares and daydreams.

Though during a brief moment of clarity, you had come to a conclusion which hardly alleviated these feelings, but we're true; it wasn't your fault. Yes, it had been your choice to accept him and be in a proper relationship with someone with an ambiguous past, and yes you did snoop around a little, but you didn't know how much he'd been hiding or searching for someone like her and had settled on silly, stupid you. Yet, no matter how much you thought about it, why chase a vision of the past and put so much effort in the present? There must've been more to this; there had to be.

Manifested, unstinted kindness and consideration and love in his form didn't happen out of the blue, it was nurtured and conditioned. Had it been her influence which made you knew? Who knows, but you had been fortunate to have had an opportunity to associate let alone form a romantic attachment, but that would soon pass away once you confronted him. Right? After a little while longer, when your heart was finally beginning to slow and thought you'd be able to catch your breath, you heard him walking about upstairs; calling and knocking.

Rick was home and you turned over on the couch and covered your ears so you wouldn't hear him; you weren't ready to deal with this; you didn't want to deal with this. In your heart of hearts, you wanted to go home, to the past, back to when there were no problems and it was just you, dad, and your dreams. If only he was still around so that he could tell you that everything was alright and it was all just a bad dream and that he could fix it, but you couldn't; only in a dream, you could. Dad always knew what was best, but you were old enough to decide for yourself now.

Did this mean you wish you never knew Rick? No, but you wished that you would've never known about all this; about her; that you could've lived in ignorance. Oh, the sweet, sweet bliss of ignorance, how wonderful it had been while it lasted. Even when his warm laughter echoed down the stairway, having found you, ready, eager and excitable to be near you, you didn't answer. You knew you weren't in the state of mind to say anything nice, that despite it all he wasn't a bad person. Yet, the moment that hand of his touched your shoulder, you hissed. “Don't touch me.”

He gasped, stunned by this uncharacteristic aggression. Maybe you weren't the nice girl he thought you were after all; especially if the rustling of his clothes alone made you angry enough to dig your nails into the couch cushions. Zeta-7 waited for a few moments, ruminating on what would be the best course of action before he knelt down to be at your level and wondered. “What's wrong? Are y-y-you hurt? Is th-there anything I can do?”

Swallowing back a sob, you silently counted to ten then answered in a listless tone. “I don't know if you can. You've… you've been hiding stuff from me.”

“Huh, I-I have? What have I…”

“Don't try to deny it.”

Pushing yourself up, you rubbed your swollen eyes and chanced a look at him; your sight fuzzy as tears threatened to fall but thankfully didn't. The alarm in his widened eyes at the state of your runny nose, and tear-stained cheeks made him instinctively reach out to wipe your tears away, but you pushed that familiar, loving hand away. “M-mi corazón?”

Instead of answering as you usually would, you pulled out the well-loved copy of Persuasion from behind a pillow, took a deep breath and dropped it on his lap. “I found it while I was looking for something to read.”

“Oh geez.”

“And can you believe I found more than I bargained for.”

You two sat in silence for what felt like hours as he stared at it, and when he gathered the courage to look inside, the lines about his brow and mouth deepened; another sign that it was true. When he finally interrupted the silence, he confessed regretfully. “I-I was going to tell you.”

“But you didn't. There's a lot of things that I understand are none of my business, but this….I think is a good time to know. If you care about me at all, then read what you wrote.”

“But it's - it's not what you think.”

“Then there's nothing be afraid of. Go on then, read it.”

Visibly swallowing, his shaky hands held it open and he stuttered. “I-I-I thought of you today as I left th-the milky way, on my way t-to a classified location. I-I wish you were here so I could show you the beauty that exists across the universe, but knowing our limitations I can only send you this wonderful novel that I found when I was exploring a-a bookstore located on one of Saturn's moons. I-I know it can be hard to believe that Miss Jane Austen's works can reach the furthest depths of-of space, but that can be blamed on a certain Gallifreyan and his little blue box. I can't wait to hear what y-y-you think of it. Till next time my dear. With love, from Rick.”

“Don't forget the photos.”

Setting down the book, he glanced at the discarded photos, sagging a little after each one, gauging your reaction after he finished studying them. Rick was a smart man, he knew well enough that he messed up and how compromising those photos were. “It's not - I was only writing as ugh - as a friend.” He began, wringing his hands as he went on. “Y-y-y-y-you know I don't have that many.”

Which was true. “Really? So what did she do for you? Was she special?”

“She - she made me a little less lonely. That in itself was something I w-was grateful for.”

Your nails bit into your palms and that ever familiar ache bloomed across your chest; his answer birthing more questions than you were willing to ask. He offered you a Werther's original to placate you which you accepted; it's wrapper similar to the one in the painting. As ever he waited for you to answer, and the longer he waited, the more he sagged; his eyes pleading, hoping, wishing that he could know whatever hurt clouded your heart and wanted to fix it. “I want to believe you, I really do,” you admitted, which made him hopeful, though only for you to crush it with this. “but I'm tired of walking on eggshells. Tell me, what did you want from me when you had someone like her? Seems as though she was a good match for you. She was a creative who could paint, loved flowers, and butterflies among other things I imagine.”

“Sh-she did.”

You bit the inside of your cheek in an attempt to hold back the surge of feelings which were a result of his sincerity. Damn it. You could do this……possibly. “See?” you said cooly, focusing your gaze on your naked feet. “I knew she was special considering you sent her a book that had belonged to the Doctor. She also knew about your travels, which meant you trusted her and you hardly trust anyone. The point I'm getting at is that I want to know what I am to you. So, am I a knockoff or a rebound? Because we both know there's nothing like the real thing.”

“N-n-no, not at all. You mean th-the world to me and I-I love you. I have only loved you. ”

“But she loved you, didn't she? And you loved her. I can't ignore that. If she's anything like me, then what are we doing together Ricardo? Why aren't you with her? I…. I thought we understood each other but then I found proof that I was only second best. I can't do it, I can't compete with a shadow, and I'm not going to try. I don't have it in me.”

“I-I-I-I never expected you to. Por favor mi amor de m-mi vida, if you'll let me explain, I'll tell you whatever you want. I - I don't want to lose you. Please, honest t-t-to God, I don't. I can't.”

“Hmm, I didn't know you were a praying man.”

“When you're about t-t-to lose your universe, I don't think there are th-that many options. I can't - oh please I can't lose you. Not again.”

You felt your resolve breaking. You wanted to fall into his arms and melt into the comfort of them; for you both to comfort each other and let it all go because it probably was just a big misunderstanding; him being the best thing that ever happened to you, but not yet. Maybe he was a praying man after all, and if God was merciful, then why wouldn't you be? Rick certainly would. For Zeta-7, you could be. He'd definitely given you enough chances.

“Fine.” you decided, helping him up as you stood, but through this brief touch he almost misunderstood, thinking that the worst was over and gave your hand a squeeze; his warm smile weakening your resolve even further. Maybe Ricks were masters at mind games after all. And you knew it wouldn't take much for him to make you forget how unhappy you were, and like magic, show you something wonderful and dazzling, but you didn't want to be charmed; you wanted the truth. You bit the flesh inside of your cheeks hard enough for you to bleed, and despite relishing the warmth which permeated your chilled hands, you let go. “I'm……I'm not over it yet.”

TBC

[tokyoteddywolf]

Fuck It I'm Gonna Minific From A Phone

A little Self Story bc I need to write SOMETHING and my Voltron fics are reserved for a computer with a proper keyboard.

————————————————- Huffing, the teenage girl smacked her head onto her desk for what felt like the thousandth time that day. ‘When will this suffering end?’ She thought, tugging her scrunchie out and letting her copper and red streaked hair fall out in curly waves, brushing against her shoulders. She idly played with a particular ringlet as her English teacher ranted about Shakespeare or something similar up front, near the whiteboard. Lucky her, she was sitting in the very back, which meant more chances to daydream. Vaguely she thought that she should shower when she got home, since her hair was feeling a little oily and looked dusty, and earlier this morning she’d broken a comb trying to smooth out a few tangles. Curse her genetics for giving her father’s fluffy curls and her Mum’s wavy thickness to her unruly hair. She didn’t care if her hair was classified as “perfect curls or waves”, all she knew was she never had to use a curling iron to get perfect ringlets, and straightening the damn thing was an hour long process she had no energy for. Not to mention water was her number one enemy, always causing it to either curl or frizz when dried. Or both, which was normally why she kept it tied back with a scrunchie. She snapped back to attention when the bell rung, and she gathered up her things and left that godforsaken class. She said hello to a few friends as she passed them in the hallways, and played her usual game of How Gay Am I For That Girl as she walked to Algebra class. Humming along to the tune on her headphones, she slid into her seat once she’d arrived and waved an awkward hello to her pal Nathan, or Omega as he called himself. Things had been a bit strained between them, mainly because Nathan had a crush on her and she only saw him as a brother. She always felt bad when someone liked her, not that it had ever happened before to her knowledge, mainly because she was Aromantic. She turned to her notebook and hummed quietly to herself, remembering the conversation she’d had with her Mum the other day. “Boys are like static cling sometimes!” Her Mum had sighed, brushing silver and black hair out of her hazel green eyes. “So, you never really felt like dating anyone?!?” She’d responded, actually a little shocked. “No, actually. I stayed single my whole life til I met your father. He’d actually just stuck around me, and we ended up getting married, before that divorce. Every boyfriend since has just stuck to me until I agreed to one date, and I guess I just never had the heart to say no until I got fed up enough.” The older female had explained with a wry smile. “So you must actually be Aromantic like me! Huh! Ya learn something new everyday…” the teen had muttered, before grinning at her Mum. “So once we kick Steve out, no more boyfriends? Promise?” She’d asked, adding puppy eyes for full effect. Her Mum had laughed and nodded agreement. She shook out of the memory when a sheet of complicated looking equations was passed over to her, and she sighed. She had no idea what she was supposed to do, so she huffed and at least tried to figure out what the fuck X equaled. An hour and a half later, she was slumped against her close friend and brother figure Sam, who didn’t complain and merely continued to eat the nachos she’d gotten for him. He never had any money for school lunches, and she’d felt awful when she saw the sad little sandwiches he’d had to eat. She’s started with handing over her leftover food she hadn’t eaten, since she was worried he wasn’t eating enough. Then it turned into her handing over her food at every lunch period since her new meds that controlled her anxiety and ADHD also acted as a hunger suppressant, leaving her appetite nonexistent. She ate, of course, usually when she saw food she liked, such as the fish or the egg rolls, or usually just survived off of the fruit cups and milk cartons. Sam glanced over at where her head was pressed against his leather jacket covered shoulder and raised an eyebrow. “Tough day?” He asked nonchalantly, dipping a chip into some of the liquid cheese and sour cream as she grumbled and looked up and stared at his sideburns. “You have no idea. I might not live through fifth and sixth period.” She groaned, absolutely limp against his form. They had that weird sibling dynamic where physical affection wasn’t all that unwelcome. Sam chuckled and patted her knee sympathetically. “You’ll survive. If I can listen to Mel whine about her problems all day and still keep my sanity intact, then you can survive the next two classes today.” She snorted out a half laugh. “Well, yer her boyfriend. Listenin’ to her is kinda yer job.” She drawled, slipping into her Texan accent. What? She was tired! Her ADHD had kicked her ass the night before, so she’d been up til nearly three in the morning aching to go run or something before she managed to settle down enough to get SOME sort of rest. Sam rolled his eyes and munched on another chip. “Can’t argue with that.” He hummed, shrugging. She sighed. “Honestly I just want to take a nap but I have stuff to do…” Sam rolled his eyes again. “Don’t we all?” He joked, reaching up to ruffle her hair. She purred delightedly at the attention. She adored head rubs, but it was something she only let trusted people do. Which was rare, since she literally had no trust in anyone, anxiety only worsening the problem and making her believe that, even though she had a good life and friends and family that really cared, everyone would turn on her and abandon her and pretty much show that everything was one big lie, a joke. She and Sam started chatting about story ideas, since they had their own little AU called the Squad AU, just a little story about their OC’s and the trouble they get into in different universes, some already existing and some made up. The bell rang again, dismissing the lunch crowd, and she gathered up her things and bid goodbye to her pals as she moved to the class in the library. She grinned as the class door unlocked and she entered the computer filled room, sliding into her favorite spot and swivel chair, adjusting the tilted computer screen and lowering the chair so her chest could have a rest on the wooden table and give her aching shoulders and back a rest. Cracking her neck and back, rolling her shoulders, she popped a few finger joints and logged in, already working on an essay paragraph so she could do what she really wanted to; free write. She actually had a deal with the teacher, after several talks and lectures. After a while, he’d given her a deal: as long as you write a poem a day or an essay paragraph, you can take the rest of the class off to write your creative stories and documents. She’d finished the poem assignment a few days ago, so now it was just a paragraph for an essay a day and she could go back to writing plot lines, head canons, fic ideas and short stories as much as she liked. Once finished with the paragraph, she pulled up a familiar document, the plot line for a Shance one shot she was making, and started adding in more details to the document. Humming, she checked over everything and made a few changes before deeming it ready to be written out as an actual story before opening a new document and starting a new plot line, this one for another one shot idea she’d had last night during her little hyper episode, though to be honest she’d seen the same thing around a few times already but it never failed to make her smile or giggle. She had to research a little for it, but that was okay and she had the bare bones of the idea down by the time the bell ring. She saved everything twice before closing everything and logging off, ready for the long exhausting march to sixth period over in the second building. Once there, she greeted everyone with her usual “Man I feel dead inside!” and slumped into her tall chair, grateful for the cold black plastic table top against her cheek as she rested her head against it. A pencil shooting across the table had her glaring up at her frenemy, Nicholas. “Nick, for the love of everything holy, could ya fucking not?” She growled as the taller boy grinned at her from two tables away, his face blurry since she’d left her glasses at home today, but she could still practically FEEL him smirking. “But messing with you is more entertaining than anything else.” Nick chirped, twirling another pencil in his hand before flicking it at her. She flipped him the bird and nuzzled into her bag, to tired from the jog up the stairs to respond back for the moment. She rummaged around in her bag before pulling out a bag of chips and throwing it at him. “Here. Now shut up and leave me alone.” She hissed, glaring at him as she fumbled with her scrunchie and retied her hair back into a ponytail, or bunnytail since it was short and fluffy and curled down to brush against the back of her neck. To be fair, they were friends, sort of, since Nick went to her Grandpa’s church and she usually saw him there whenever she visited. But, they had a mutual hatred and respect for each other. A weird dynamic, since one moment she’d be sharing food with him and he’d be chatting with her about the logistics of a show, but the next they’d be at each other’s throats with scissors and flailing arms. No real harm was ever done, but it did annoy her to no end when he threw things like pens and popsicle sticks at her. She put on her headphones and ignored him the best she could, occasionally throwing a pen back or discreetly flipping him off, and started doodling in her notebook again. “Oh thank God, I’m free!” She declared as she exited the school, her scarf getting tossed into her face from the wind. Tucking the blue fabric back around her neck, she mumbled to herself as she walked the short distance to her house. “Well, at least until tomorrow.” She sighed, waiting for the crosswalk to turn green so she could cross the street and get home. It was a nice day for once, windy but not freezing cold like the winter they’d just left. Her skirt pressed against her legs as cars blew past, her scarf fluttering over her shoulder as she plucked her loose curl, the one she kept shorter for aesthetic purposes, out of her eyes in time to see the light turn green. She finally got home, and after fending off the excited dogs that swarmed her when she got inside, carefully dodging the hard whip-like tail of her boxer pit bull mix Kane who was a total sweetie, she managed to get into her room and shut the door to be alone. Ignoring the mess on the floor, she flopped onto her bed and sighed into a pillow before checking Tumblr, bored already. “Well, today was boring.” —————————————— I’m ending it there. See what happens when I’m not allowed to write for so long?!?!?!?

[fixandpix]

I'm gonna ask 4 for syndisparklez set in mianite if that's okay (pls and thank you)

Marked

Syndisparklez Fic set in the Mianite universePrompt: the one where you and your soulmate have matching marks and the marks glow when you’re near your soulmateYou can send me a number and a ship here, and I’ll write a drabble(at least) based on it :D

Jordan’s eyes opened, and he was immediately greeted withthe sight of the starry night sky. He tried to sit up, and felt the sand crunchunderneath his weight. He stood up and began to make sense of his surroundings.To his left was a vast expanse of sea, and to his right was a hill thatobscured the rest of the island he was on.

He stood up and brushed the sand off of his clothes, hishead swimming with thoughts. He breathed deeply, focusing on the scent of theocean breeze. He searched his memories to start. He could remember his name anda few small things about him, like his oddly simple wardrobe and funny choiceof swear words. He couldn’t remember anything about the life he’d led beforethis, except for the memory of a giant tree house, which only confused him evenmore. He resigned himself to postponing his existential crisis for later, andhe began to climb the hill.

It didn’t take too long for Jordan to climb over the hill,which granted him a good vantage point of the area. To his right he spotted acolossal mountain that basically commanded his attention, and to its left was asavannah. He was about to make his way to the mountain when he suddenly spottedzombies and skeletons littering the plains at the foot of the hills, and hecursed silently.

Jordan decided he’d wait until sunrise. It was the safestcourse of action, and there was no way he was going to make it through themobs-

A zombie turned its head and stopped as it saw Jordan. Hisstomach dropped as it began limping towards him, it’s low growl attracting therest of the mobs around it.

“God dang it.” He cursed, taking a step back. Three zombiesstarted climbing the hill, and he heard bones chattering to his left. He turnedaround just in time to see a skeleton fire an arrow in his direction, and heraised his arms instinctively to defend himself. The arrow missed him by aninch, and Jordan took another step back, and he knew another would mean fallingback to where he woke up.

A sudden glow blinded him, and it took him a second torealize that his a pattern was glowing on his right arm. It was three linesthat started out on his forearm, and it began to intertwine until itdisappeared under his sleeve. He could still make out the glow shining throughthe fabric, and he noticed that it created a flame-like pattern. It continuedto glow brighter, and he was sure that he shone like a beacon in the darkness.

As he tried to make heads and tails of the tattoo, a memoryresurfaced. He was looking into the mirror, his arm exposed, putting his tattooin plain sight. It was three lines stretching from his right forearm until itintertwined at his bicep, forming a flame-like pattern. The only cleardifference he could notice was that this tattoo wasn’t glowing, it was just…atattoo. He felt dread and sorrow as he saw the plain tattoo, almost as if itwas a sign of something bad to come.

The sharp THUNK ofan arrow landing at his feet brought him back to his current reality: his armlooked as if it had just gone swimming at a radioactive waterpark and mobs wereabout to kill him. Jordan was considering just barreling through the mobs, buta faint purple glow appeared from behind the zombies, followed by a swordappearing in and out through their chests. They burned until nothing remained,and a man with blue hair and glowing diamond armor stood behind them. Theireyes met, and the blue haired man wore a cocky expression, as if saying, I just saved your life, until heregistered Jordan’s glowing arm. Shock flashed across the blue haired man’sface before he looked back at Jordan. He was about to say something to Jordanuntil an arrow glanced off of his chestplate, shifting the blue haired man’sfocus to the offending skeleton.

Jordan watched the skeleton burn away with one hit from theman’s sword, and only the two of them remained on the hill.

“Uh…” Jordan said, unsure of what to make of the blue hairedman. “…Hi?”

The man blinked, as if he was looking at Jordan for thefirst time. Tension melted from his expression until he almost looked aloof,and he lowered his sword before approaching Jordan. “Hey!” he said, extendingan arm for a handshake. Jordan shook it with his glowing arm. “Your arm glows.”

Jordan noticed the tone in his voice almost immediately, asif he was trying – and failing – to act casual about it all; as if he knew whyhis arm was glowing. “So it does.” He replied, unsure of how to proceed.

They went silent for a second too long, and the blue-hairedman seemed to notice that he was still holding onto Jordan’s hand. Heimmediately let go and acted like it was nothing, before he continued, “Anyways,I’m Tom, and welcome your face to the world of Mianite!”

“-and that’s about it!” It was morning by the time Tom hadfinished showing him around the island. He had shown him the temple, theirhouses, and right now, they were stopped by the plot of land Jordan wasintending to build his home in. The whole time his arm kept glowing, but theglow had dimmed until it was just bright enough to use as a light forbook-reading or something. That, however, was pushed to the back of histhoughts as Tom gave him the tour. The whole time Tom was glancing at his armas if it might explode, but other than that, he was a very entertaining guide. “Ifthat’s all, I should get going-“

“Actually,” Jordan said, and Tom tensed as he gestured tohis arm. “I was going to ask about my arm? It didn’t glow before today.”

“Oh.” Tom said, looking slightly disappointed, but at thesame time, relieved. “You don’t know?”

“Yeah, I saw Tucker had a tattoo on him, but it wasn’tglowing like mine.”

“Well,” Tom said, pausing before he continued, “Everyone’sgot a tattoo when they’re born, right?”

“Uh, I didn’t know that, actually.”

“Well now you do,” Tom said, waving his hand dismissively. “Anyway,the tattoo’s like, a tracking beacon for your soulmate.”

Jordan’s heart quickened, and he acknowledged his glowingarm for the first time in a while. “Wait so…”

“It could mean your soulmate’s on this island.” Tom saidabruptly. His expression began to give away more and more with each word. Tomwas hiding something. “Anyway, I should get going. I promised I’d meet Tuckerto go mining later. See ya later?”

Jordan wasn’t given time to respond, seeing as Tom boltedimmediately. He watched Tom leave, his heart thumping wildly against his chestas he brought himself to look down at his tattoo.

It wasn’t glowing.

Jordan had quickly adjusted to his new life in the island,and it had only taken a month. His house was complete, and he had a statue ofhis head nearby. He’d fallen into a routine with the rest of the inhabitants onthe island, although Tom stood out.

Tom, his soulmate and the horrible liar. A few days afterarriving on the island, Jordan made sure about the whole soulmate tattoobusiness. Declan, their priest, gave him a whole lecture on it when Jordanfirst approached him. Then, he tried asking Sonja and Tucker if they knew whereTom’s mark was, but Sonja didn’t know and Tucker wouldn’t tell. “Why don’t youjust ask him?” Tucker asked, his smile giving away the fact that he knew. Itwasn’t exactly a secret anyways, since Jordan’s arm would go off whenever he waswith Tom. That didn’t stop Tom from hiding it, however.

Jordan resorted to trying to get Tom to strip, something hewasn’t too proud of, after they built their own strip club, the Diamond Hoe.Tom posed as a stripper for Jordan, and he was a mix of extremely flustered, embarrassed,and amused. Nothing came of it though, and Jordan wasn’t sure if he was happyor disappointed about that.

After that attempt, Jordan gave up, as much as it sucked. Hejust went through the daily motions, the constant adventures with the island’sinhabitants, and the occasional shenanigans with Tom. He looked forward tospending time with Tom the most, aside from the fact that Tom was probably hissoulmate.

He loved sharing jokes with Tom, and he loved the casualattempts at flirting Tom made whenever he joked. It grew to the point that theysomehow convinced Captain Capsize that they were dating, which Jordan didn’t doexactly discourage. Then there was their ‘date’ at Tom’s Dine-at-Nite, whichwent well enough that Tom and Jordan just defaulted to hanging out there everySaturday night.

On one such night, they were sitting at the only table,their laughter piercing through the silence of the night. Tom had stoppedbothering lighting a torch as their candle on account of Jordan’s arm, whichstill remained an undiscussed subject between the two.

Jordan was laughing until his vision swam with tears, and hecould feel his face flush. He wiped away a tear and saw Tom just smiling warmlyat him, which suddenly sobered Jordan. Tom noticed what he was doing too late,trying to pass it off with a laugh, but the tension in the air was there.

A few minutes later, Tom stood up to say goodbye, but Jordan’ssudden intense look silenced him. This talk was long overdue, and it wasbecoming clear to Tom that there would be no avoiding it.

“I never really asked but…” Jordan said, gesturing to hisarm. “Where’s your mark?”

Tom looked flustered, but he replied, “I…”

Jordan rose from his seat and walked to Tom, leaving only afew inches in between them. Both of them was surprised with Jordan’s suddenbold action, something they both thought out of character for him. But Jordanhad waited long enough, and if he didn’t do this now, he knew nothing wouldever happen between them.

Tom gestured to his chest, which was covered by the tux healways insisted on wearing.

Jordan’s mark was glowing as bright as it was when theyfirst met, and accompanying that was the rapid heartbeat threatening to betrayhis somewhat stoic expression.

“Can I…” Jordan said, trailing off.

Tom chuckled weakly, saying, “I don’t usually strip for justabout anyone…”

Jordan glared at him in the same way he would whenever oneof Tom’s jokes would fall flat, but Tom didn’t say anything else, which Jordantook as a yes.

He slowly began to unbutton his tux, the extreme intimacy ofthe situation not lost on either of them. He’d finally gotten it open and forthe first time, he could see Tom’s undershirt, and a pattern glowed faintlyagainst it. Lines started from his abdomen until it spread over Tom’s heart,making something that looked like a wing.

“Why’d you try to lie?” was the only thing that Jordan couldsay. “Which you were horrible at, by the way.”

Tom offered a small laugh before answering, “I…It soundsstupid but I was afraid you’d…I dunno, reject me?”

Jordan’s was about to say something but Tom hurriedly added,“Which is why I spent all this time with you first. I wanted you to get to knowme first, before all this soulmate stuff.”

Jordan felt lighter at Tom’s confession, and his heart feltrelieved that the tension as a result of his mark was finally gone. Jordanlooked at Tom and all he could feel was love, and he was glad t-

“Not that, I’m saying that you’re not going to reject menow!” Tom said, cutting Jordan out of his thoughts. “It’s just that-“

Tom took one good look at Jordan and stopped. “I’m going tokiss you now.”

“Good.” Jordan said, smiling widely and their lips met,their joined light shining through the night.