#oh damn i got real near the end. whatever send post

[spiderman616]

ok nvm rereading this i lied i DO have things to say here. Scourge was meant to be Sonic's personality but with a darker twist, his morals corrupted and all he can do is look out for himself. ZONIC on the other hand, is bred to be selfless, to sacrifice himself for the greater good. He's expendable (like any other employee lmao) and he knows it. He knows his life ultimately has no meaning compared to sonic prime, and that's why he calls on sonic so much. Because for all his trumpeting of his own importance he knows he'll never live up to what Sonic stands for, but he doesn't know why. He doesn't know WHY he isn't good enough, and like how Scourge is Sonic with no limits, Zonic is when you restrict Sonic into being able to do basically nothing. It's how the Council of Acorn and Geoffrey st. John tried to restrict Sonic's ability to help people but if sonic just. went with it. Zonic's very existence deconstructs sonic's character in tandem with scourge and overall makes sonic a more compelling character. but at the same time zonic is a character too, so you have to wonder how he got where he was. The very premise of the zone cops breaking such an unbreakable spirit like Sonic's is fascinating to me, where Scourge had nothing to nudge him towards a path of good, Zonic had everything working against the path of freedom, each diverse and varied member of the Sonic cast reduced to nameless, faceless enforcers. For all we know any one of the Zone Cops depicted could be Zails or Zantoine or any other character we know. But it doesn't matter it CAN'T matter because they're all the same anyways, and Zonic, the only one to even show a bit of uniqueness in the no zone, is reduced to calling on Sonic Prime at even the slightest inconvenience all because Sonic Prime is destined for multiversal greatness and his destiny is nothing and hes just forced to watch others living a life he can never have.

heyo kudos for having THE zonic opinions of all time people are either (understandably) ignorant of his potential or incredibly weird about him and you understand EXACTLY why he’s actually fascinating thank you so so much. keep up the great work

HI?? YOURE SO RIGHT my theory is that zonic was a. not owned by ken penders so wasn't hit with the scandal beams that made scourge popular and b. was ONLY used in tandem with sonic for the most part, not counting times when hes like "yo check this zone out lmao" so he gets relegated to "weird side character nobody cares about" in the eyes of the fans. which is a LIE!!! I CARE!!!!!! Zonic thge zone cop had soo much potential i'm MAD none of it got utilized but I'm inclined to believe it would have eventually because of the eggman nega stuff being set up, along with other characters like silver and blaze mentioning the zone cops/other zones. just when it was rebooted the focus was on new mobotropolis and there was no time for other parts of mobius let alone other zones. so zonic was basically a filler character, when there wasn't really any other big plots to further the writers fell back on other (usually unnecessary) zone shit, and the one time zonic was actually involved in a big plot thing, he just felt kinda shoehorned in since this was supposed to be a tails thing anyways. like end of the day i don't blame the writers for not doing as much with this character as they could have but. it still feels hollow since nobody made the effort to make him a character and not just. a faceless liason of the zone cops yknow??

[bi-bi-buckleydiaz]

deep breath, do your job | owen joyner

requested; yes! - Could you do a Owen x reader where the reader is Owens personal assistant while filming JATP and while they are filming the reader starts catching feelings for Owen but Owen is in a relationship. Owen and his girlfriend breakup and the reader comes over to comfort Owen and Owen confesses that the reason him and his girlfriend broke up was because of the reader.

word count; 6.4K ... yeah kinda got away from me there. longest fic i’ve ever written

warnings; language, implied sexual content but no actual sex or description thereof

a/n; lol, so i just wrote from 1AM - 4AM because i’m procrastinating my child dev. project thats due today that’s worth a quarter of my grade. i really didn’t mean for this to be so long so it’s probably not this good and the ending is a lil’ rough, but oh well. hope whoever requested this likes it. i kinda do even though it’s long and only slightly proofread.

“Owen Patrick Joyner! Get your ass into hair and makeup before - oh, um, okay oops. Sorry ‘bout that. Should have knocked. I’ll just - yep, i’ll just go.” 

You thought he’d be sleeping. It’s nap time for him anyway, so he should’ve been sleeping. Instead, your technically boss and definite crush, was on his trailer couch with a girl you’ve never seen before. Kissing her. Without a shirt. Yeah, you definitely need to get out of there. 

You’re quick to close his door and begin to walk back to the hair and makeup trailer to tell them Owen will be a minute. 

“Y/N! Hey! Wait up! It’s um, it’s not, well it is, but -” He grabs your arm, causing you to turn around and face him, which, big mistake. Abort. Abort. Turn around. His post make out face is something you did not want to see. Liar.  

“It’s fine Owen. What you do in your free time is not my, well, actually it is since i’m your PA, I just mean who - WHAT, what you do in your personal time, in your trailer, is not my concern. Just, you’re needed in hair and makeup like, an hour ago. So, yeah, just, get there.” You stumble over half your words and watch his face fall as you near the end of your spiel. When he lets go of your arm you’re quick to turn around and leave him alone, walking right past hair and makeup and to set where you can curl up in your chair and eat your weight in brownies, if Madi hasn’t taken them all that is. You hope he goes to get his hair done. You know you should walk with him there because if you’re not practically dragging him to where he needs to go he never gets there on time, as just witnessed. But it’s usually because he’s goofing off with Charlie, not sucking face with a random girl. 

You don’t notice the brownie in your hand has crumbled until a whistle comes from behind you. You turn around a little too quickly, sending the brownie bits flying to the floor. 

“Shit.” You kneel down to begin picking it up, another hand coming into help. Charlie, based on the rings adorning the fingers. 

“Is Owen’s keeper okay?” You huff a laugh at the name the cast gave you a week into filming. You’re the only one who has managed to keep Owen in line since filming started, the only reason he’s ever on time for anything or actually has real food in the apartment or has his drumsticks when needed, etc. etc. 

The boys didn’t want PA’s when Kenny proposed it during bootcamp, they were young adults, they didn't want to boss someone around, it felt wrong. But having more experience than the boys, Kenny vetoed how they felt and told them PA’s would help tremendously, especially on a project like this. That’s where you came in. You were trying to get into the directing and producing scene in Hollywood, you’re dream to be as good a director as Steven Spielberg or, well, Kenny Ortega. But you knew you had to start small, so you applied for a PA job on an upcoming Netflix show, getting hired within the week. Now here you are, a nineteen year old being in charge of another nineteen year old who acts more like he’s five. 

In the beginning, it was purely professional. You were nothing more than his PA who got him from place A to place B in a timely fashion. But then he started to rope you into pranks with the rest of the band. He started inviting you to movie nights, and adventures to the grocery store, and ice skating with Charlie and Madi, and somewhere between helping him keep his life in order and watching him fall on his ass at the ice rink, you fell for the blonde. You know it’s a mistake, falling for him. You work for him. He’s your friend. That’s all he sees you as, but you couldn’t help it. But you’re good at compartmentalizing, so you took all the inappropriate feelings, shoved them in a box, locked the box, and hid it deep in your unconscious. You were doing well with ignoring the box, until you walked in on Owen kissing someone that wasn’t you. 

“I’m fine Charlie, just, stressed. Owen was an hour late to hair and makeup so I kinda feel like a shit PA right now.” Charlie chuckles and hugs you as you both stand up. 

“Please Y/N, you’re the best PA. If it weren’t for you, Owen would never know where anything is, including his head.” You laugh into his shoulder, reveling in the hug for a few more seconds. When you part, you see a flash of blonde enter the set and sigh in relief. He made it. He’s ready. You’re not fired today. 

Just incredibly confused and upset. 

But not fired.

“You better go, I know you’re in this scene with Owen.” Charlie nods and squeezes your shoulder once before running after Owen onto the set that holds Julie’s shed. Taking a deep breath, you try to push whatever the hell you saw ten minutes ago into your box, and get ready for the day ahead. 

Four hours, six brownies, and two cookies later, Owen is officially wrapped for the day, meaning you can go home and continue to eat your feelings in ice cream. You’re quick to grab your binder full of Owen’s schedules to drop tomorrow’s off at his trailer before he sees you. You’re not really in the mood to talk to him about what happened earlier, so you fast walk to his trailer, fully intent on just leaving the paper on his counter where he’ll see it, but a brown haired, green eyed girl throws that plan right out the window. 

You’re so stupid. You should’ve known she would still be here. Waiting. 

“Oh, um, hi.” She says. She sounds nice. She looks nice. But when you look at her all you can see is her hands in Owen’s hair and his lips on hers. 

“Hi.” You don’t know how, but you managed to put on a smile and put a little pep into your voice. “I’m Ashley. I’m waiting for Owen. Is he done?” You nod, not trusting your voice as you stand awkwardly in the doorway, one foot on the step the other in the trailer, hand outstretched ready to place the schedule on the table. 

“He just wrapped for the day. Should be here in a few.” The girl - Ashley - nods. 

“You’re Y/N, right? His personal assistant?” How does she know that. She giggles, “He talks about you all the time. Says the only reason he’s not fired or dead in a ditch is because of you.” OH, you said that aloud. Coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoo-

“Y/N! What are ya doing just standing in the doorway?” Fuck. You put a smile on and turn around. He’s smiling softly at you, still in Alex’s clothes, twirling those damn drumsticks around his fingers. 

“Um, just dropping tomorrow’s schedule off. Here. Okay...bye.” You walk down the steps, letting the door shut behind you, fully intent on leaving, but Owen grabs your arm again, just like earlier, causing you to stop and turn to look at him. 

“Wait. Can we talk real quick. About...earlier?” No. No absolutely not. 

“Um, I really have to go. I have a lot to do tonight for tomorrow.” Owen sighs and lets go of your arm, face contorting into that of a sad puppy. 

“Just, one minute Y/N. Please. Let me explain.” Screw him and his perfect freaking face. 

“A minute.” His face lights up and grabs your hand, leading you back into his trailer, smiling even wider at seeing Ashley sitting pretty on the couch. 

“Y/N, this is Ashley, my girlfriend.” Ashley smiles and waves, standing up to stand by Owen and grab his hand. A rock settles in your chest at the word. 

Girlfriend. 

Girlfriend. 

Girlfriend. 

“Nice. I’m Y/N. But you knew that. Just like you also know I’m in charge of getting him to places on time. Which didn't happen today.” Owen’s face flushes at that while Ashley terribly hides a smirk behind her hand. 

“Uh, yeah, sorry about that Y/N. She surprised me today. We weren’t supposed to see each other until Thanksgiving but she finished classes early and flew out to surprise me. Kinda got, caught up in -” His face is beat red so you’re quick to cut him off. 

“It’s fine. Just, try not to get ‘caught up’ tomorrow, yeah?” It’s harsh and full of hostility, but you want to leave, the word still bouncing around in your head, swirling around the scene you walked into earlier. 

Girlfriend. 

Kissing. 

Girlfriend. 

Flushed face. 

Girlfriend. 

Kissing. 

“I have to go. See you tomorrow on set at 5 Am. Got it? Five A M. Don’t make me break into your apartment again. I almost got arrested for that.” Owen is still reeling from your harsh words said a second ago to laugh at the memory. Ashley however, has no qualms about speaking up. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he’s here on time.” She smiles and wraps around his arm like a koala. You hold back a scoff, throwing up a fake smile before turning and leaving. 

Girlfriend. 

Girlfriend. 

Girlfriend. 

It’s almost midnight.

It’s 11:48 PM and someone is knocking on your door. 

Who the fuck is pounding on your door at near midnight. 

You shuffle to the door wrapped up in your comforter, wiping the sleep out of your eyes. You don’t bother looking through the peephole, too angry at the person behind the door to bother, just wanting to yell at them and get back to bed. 

“What the - Charlie?” He looks exhausted, hair ruffled and eyes puffy. He’s in joggers, a random band tee and his denim jacket. You’re pretty sure his shoes are on the wrong feet. 

“Can I stay the night?” He doesn’t wait for your response before walking into your apartment, flinging his shoes and jacket off and walking to your room. You sigh, ignoring the way he just threw his stuff around and instead follow him to your room before he takes your side of the bed. You walk in just as he chucks his shirt off and woah. You were so not expecting that. An explanation as to why he’s here at midnight? Yeah. Him taking your side of the bed? Definitely. But not Charlie taking his shirt off and crawling onto the right side of the bed and curling around a pillow. You take a moment to collect yourself and your thoughts before crawling into bed next to him, making sure to drape the comforter over him as well. He hums in content and turns around to face you. 

“Sorry for barging in like this. Just, ugh, Owen and that girl are not quiet if you catch my drift.” And it’s like the rock in your heart is now a boulder and it’s crushing your ribcage. You can’t breathe. You can’t think. You’re frozen, staring at Charlie’s half asleep face. “Like I get it, you’ve missed each other. But c’mon bro I’m there too.” He keeps talking. Keeps pushing the boulder until all the ribs crack and puncture your lungs. “There’s somethings in this world I never wanted to hear, and Owen moaning was one of them.” He won’t shut up. Charlie shut up. You’re entire chest is fracturing, breaking at his words and he needs to shut. up.

“I didn’t really know where else to go, but I remembered how comfy your bed was last movie night so, here I am.” His voice is raspy, words slurring as he’s trying to fight sleep to explain to you why he’s here. But you can’t focus on him right now. Can’t think about a shirtless Charlie in your bed. There’s only one thing you can think about right now. 

Girlfriend. 

Shirtless. 

Girlfriend. 

Kissing. 

Girlfriend. 

“Thanks for letting me crash by the way. I’ll try not to kick you in my sleep.” He chuckles, then finally opens his eyes when you don’t laugh back. You don’t know how you look right now. You know you’re frozen. But is the panic and pure sadness showing on your face? It must be, because suddenly Charlie is wide awake and leaning up on his elbow to look at you fully. “Y/N are you okay?” He’s worried. You want to tell him you’re okay. It’s fine. Everything is fine. But you can’t move. You can’t talk. Because reality is crushing you. It’s ripping up your heart, suffocating you, consuming your mind. 

Owen isn’t yours. 

Owen will never be yours. 

You’re just a friend. 

You’re just his PA. 

That’s when the tears finally start. They come slowly, one trailing down your cheek, then another. Then all at once your sobbing into Charlie’s chest, no doubt getting snot all over him. But he doesn’t seem to care. He just starts to hum some random song while he repeatedly runs his hand over your hair, the other holding you close to him. He keeps humming, his chest vibrating and giving you something to focus on that isn’t your depressing thoughts. It’s almost soothing, the petting and the hug and the humming. 

You don’t know how long you sob into him, but when you stop, his humming stops too. He still holds you close, just lets go of your head so you can lean back a little and look up at him. He’s brows furrow in concern and he pouts at your post-crying face. 

“Are you okay? Am I really that bad of company?” He tries for funny but you can’t bring yourself to laugh with him. Just pout and push his semi-wet chest. “Seriously Y/N, i’ve never seen you like this. What’s wrong?” Those two words. 

What’s wrong?

What’s wrong? I fell for my boss and now he’s doing it with some girl and I can’t stop thinking about them and it’s killing me because before I could live with being his friend and PA because at least there was some sliver of a chance but now there’s nothing because he has someone and I have no one and I can’t breathe because oh my god I love him. I love that stupid fool and i’m nothing but his personal assistant. 

It’s quiet for a minute, too quiet, and that’s when you realize you said all that out loud. You look up at Charlie, which was a mistake because his face is full of pity. It’s all sad puppy eyes and “Shit Y/N i’m so sorry.” A fresh wave of tears make their way out of your eyes, but Charlie is quick to wipe them away. 

“Y/N I didn’t know I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have said all of that, God I was so stupid.” And then it’s like a whole new flood gate opens, this one full of laughter though. You start with a chuckle, but soon it’s full out belly laughing. Because Charlie isn’t the stupid one here. “I’m the stupid one. I mean, how idiotic does a PA have to be to fall for the one they’re in charge of? Never mix work with pleasure. It’s PA-ing 101, don’t fall for your boss. I’m so fucking stupid to ever fall for him or think he’d like me back because i’m just his stupid PA who has no talent what so ever, never has a good hair day, can’t go a day without eating their weight in sugar, and will never see him again after filming is wrapped.” Your laughing dies down by the end, and then ends completely when you see the look on Charlie’s face. It’s not exactly pity, but it’s not exactly sadness either. It’s hard to describe what exactly it is, but it’s not good. 

“Y/N. Babes. I don’t ever want to hear you talk about yourself like that again, okay? I swear to God next time I hear anything like that come out of your mouth again, I’m hitting you with a pillow.” You giggle, but he stays serious. “Dead ass Y/N. Listen, was it probably not the smartest to fall for Owen? Yeah. But you didn’t know he had someone. I didn’t even know he had a girl and I’m his roommate. But, we can’t help who we like. It’s all brain chemistry and heart palpitations and whatever else. It’s something we can’t control. So don’t say you’re stupid because of something you can’t control.” 

“You’re being really smart and caring for twelve am.” You both chuckle, a real smile gracing your face for once in the past twelve hours. 

“I’m sorry for the breakdown it’s just, there’s a lot in my head right now and what you said really didn’t help.” Charlie sighs and pulls you in close. 

“I’m sorry babes. You should’ve slapped me or something.” 

“I probably would’ve had the breakdown at some point tonight anyway.” Charlie pulls back a bit to look at you, confusion on his face. “I kinda walked in on them making out earlier when Owen was late to hair and makeup.” 

“Is that why you crushed that brownie earlier?” You sigh and nod. 

“Y/N, i’m sorry. I’m so sorry you have to go through this.” 

“It’s fine Charlie. It’s, well, it’s not but, I’ll get over it. I’m a big girl. Besides, I have you to get my tears and snot all over right?” He groans while you giggle, but he isn’t really mad if the way he pulls you close and rests his face in your hair is any indication. 

“Always babes.” 

The next day you drive to set with Charlie who didn’t have to be on set at five like Owen, but joined you nonetheless. Taking his duty as your new ‘heartguard’ as he called it last night, you walk to hair and makeup with his arm around your shoulders. It’s comforting, even though he’s putting most of his weight on you because he’s exhausted, the coffee you gave him this morning clearly doing nothing to wake up. 

“Charlie, you could’ve stayed in bed until you were actually needed.” You laugh as he trips up the steps to the trailer, nearly face planting if it weren’t for you wrapping your arms around his waist last minute. 

“Char you good?” You hear BooBoo ask. Charlie grumbles something incoherent and shoves his face into your neck as you lean against the arm of the couch. BooBoo laughs, so do you, but quickly sober up when Owen walks in, Ashley on his arm. Charlie must have ESP or something because, without looking up at who walked in, he wraps his arms around your waist and murmurs in your ear, “Deep breaths. I’m here.” You do as he says, shooting Owen a friendly smile, but dropping it as he frowns at you. 

What is that about? 

“Glad to see you on time Owen. I wouldn’t have been able to break in this morning anyway because an octopus decided to break into my own apartment last night.” You ruffle Charlie’s hair as you say that and he grumbles some more, playfully biting your neck as well. “Ow. Asshole.” Owen frowns even deeper at that, while BooBoo chuckles. He get’s scolded a second later for moving. 

“So that’s where you disappeared to last night. I was wondering why you weren’t home this morning.” Owen’s voice is tight while he says it, Ashley noticing as well if the tightened grip on his arm is anything to go by. Charlie squeezes your waist as a way to say, ‘prepare yourself’ before he moves his head to lean against your shoulder so he can talk. 

“Yeah well, I wouldn’t have had to if you and your girl weren’t so freaking loud.” You tense up, mind starting to reel again, but a squeeze to your waist and a warm breath on your neck manages to bring you back. The trailer goes quiet, even the hair and makeup ladies tensing up and sensing the tension. Charlie, ever the wrong place, wrong time type of guy, grabs your hand and places it on his hair, then moves it back and forth. 

“Pet me.” Despite the tension in the room, you can’t help but giggle at the stupid Canadian boy wrapped around you. Apparently that’s all the rest of the people in the trailer needed to go back to what they were doing. That or they just didn’t want to get involved in young adult drama. You shoot a look at Owen, his jaw tense and hands clenched into fists. Completely ignoring the way Ashley leans up to kiss Owen’s neck, you open your phone and begin to read off his schedule for the day, your left hand still running through Charlie’s hair. 

“Hair and makeup at five AM, sit your butt down and let Shelly do her thing, costume fitting right after. First scene at six-thirty with BooBoo, you guys are doing the scene at the Orpheum where you talk about what’s been going on, you’re going to be sad so this whole frowny face you got going on? Keep it. A break after that then rehearsal with Charlie, Jer, and Mads for Stand Tall. Fitting for the Stand Tall suit is after that, but no actual filming for that scene yet, just getting the measures right so after that, you’re done for the day.” You take a deep breath after all that, BooBoo whistling at you from his seat. 

“You could be an auctioneer with how fast you talk.” You smile and bow your head at him.

“I’ll take that as a compliment Boo.” He shoots you a smile and then raises his hand to high five Owen as he sits next to him. Owen ignores him. In fact, he stays silent throughout all of getting his hair and makeup done. Only smiling occasionally when Ashley shows him a meme on her phone. You watch them, the boulder in your chest rolling around as you do so. But not for jealousy, no, for concern. Owen is acting very unlike himself. You may be upset right now, especially with him, but it doesn’t mean you still don’t see him as a friend; still don’t worry about him. Something is wrong, and you can’t help but feel like it’s your fault. 

“So did it work?” You jump in surprise at the voice behind you, the cookie in your hand crumbling and falling onto the table. 

“Charlie! What did I say about sneaking up on me?” You turn to look at the boy who is smiling too wide at you for you to think this is about to be a completely innocent conversation. 

“Did it work?” He’s practically vibrating where he stands.

“Did what work?” 

“The cuddling this morning? Didn’t you see Owen? He was totally jealous.” And - what? That’s why he was so touchy this morning? 

“I just thought you were tired, that was - you were trying to make Owen jealous? Charlie what the hell? He has a girlfriend!” Charlie rolls his eyes and loops his arm around yours, dragging you away from the cookies and towards the costume room. 

“Yeah, but we both know she shouldn’t be. And the way he was acting this morning? I think he’s starting to realize that too.” There’s no way...right? No, the way Charlie described last night...no. 

“No, okay, he was probably just tired and angry about having to be here so early.” Yeah, that’s it. He was not jealous of the friendly cuddling you and Charlie were doing. Totally...not. Holy shit. You hear Charlie giggling in your ear as you enter costume. 

There, in front of you, is a very shirtless, very toned, very pretty Owen Joyner.

“You’re welcome.” Then Charlie is off to God knows where. Leaving you alone with Owen. Well, not really alone since Soyon is here too, running around looking for different fabrics and textures to throw on Owen. A still very shirtless Owen. 

“Oh, hi Y/N. What are you doing here?” Owen asks, looking at you though the floor length mirror in front of him. He’s not smiling at you, but he’s not frowning either, so improvement from this morning. 

“Oh, um, just making sure you got here on time. And look at that. You did! Good job.” You clap, who knows why, but it makes Owen laugh, which, whew, okay. 

“Yeah, I reminded him.” A voice behind you says. You turn and look at Ashley walking in, coffee cup in hand. She bounces up to Owen, ignoring Soyon and placing a big, wet kiss onto his lips before moving to the couch off to the side. Owen seems shocked by the PDA, which makes sense, you know he’s not big on that, remembering one late night conversation you both had a few weeks ago. 

“Anyway, Y/N, how does this one looks. I think the ruffles are nice. And then when he’s performing Stand Tall we can,” and then she begins to unbutton the shirt all the way down to mid chest and okay, seriously Soyon, now you just want to torture me. 

“I like this.” Owen says, twirling in the mirror like a ballerina. This causes the shirt to fling open more, showing his chest more in the process.

Deep breaths. 

Be a friend. 

You’re a big girl. 

“Yeah. It’s good,” you say, walking over to him to tuck to the sides back together somewhat. “Are you going to keep with the pink theme for the jacket?” Soyon smiles and nods, walking away for a minute leaving you alone with Owen and Ashley. 

“Should it really be unbuttoned that much? I mean, it is a kids show? I don’t want to share my boy with fangirls.” Ashley says. You can’t stop your eyes from rolling or the scoff that leaves your mouth. You watch Owen’s Adam's apple bob as he gulps. 

“Please, Charlie is sleeveless for a majority of the show. Owen showing a little chest isn’t gonna hurt anyone. Besides, Soyon chose good. The way the shirt fits and settles it’s never going to open all the way. Unless, ya know, he twirls like some Carolynn Rowland wannabe.” You smile up at Owen and inhale sharply when you see he’s already looking down at you. “And with the jacket on it’ll stay put pretty well.” You’re still holding the shirt in your hands, looking at Owen’s face as you talk. For a second, it’s just you and him, looking at each other, smiling. Then Soyon comes back and clears her throat. The trance breaks and you back up. You wipe your sweaty hands on your jeans before backing up and standing next to the mirror. You feel eyes on you and look over to see Ashely glaring at you. 

“Here we go. One pink jacket to match.” Owen slides it on and smiles wide. You have to say, it looks good. Professionally speaking of course. 

“Soyon, have I ever said how freaking amazing you are. I mean, this is really good looking. Very Alex.” Owen praises. He’s smiling and it’s a nice sight after this mornings debacle. 

“Alex is going to be the best looking one on that stage.” Owen looks over at you, his smile still there, and the boulder shrinks three sizes. 

“Still think the shirt should be buttoned.” Ashley mutters. But everyone ignores her, even Owen, who does another twirl in front of the mirror. 

“Well then, you’re all set Owen. Go ahead and change and I’ll see you tomorrow.” Soyon leaves, going off to do costume designer things, leaving you alone with Owen and Ashley again. Owen takes the jacket off, then looks around not knowing what to do with it. You sigh and smile softly, taking it from him.

“Here, just give me all the clothes and i’ll take them back to your rack.” He smiles thankfully at you, before frowning again and looking down at his outfit. Getting what he’s thinking, you chuckle and cross your arms. “Bub I just saw you shirtless it’s not a big deal. Now c’mon, give me the clothes before Soyon thinks you’re stealing them.” Owen looks up at you in a way you’ve never seen him look at you before. It makes you take a sharp breath in.

“Maybe you should go. I can give the clothes to Soyon. Don’t you have assistant duties to do?” Ashley is right next to you as she says it. It makes your ears hurt and hands clench. You’re quick to unclench though, not wanting to wrinkle the nice pink jacket. Ashley moves forward to unbutton Owen’s shirt all the way, but he grabs her hand before she can begin. 

“Actually I need Y/N to stay. I have to talk to her about some, ya know, assistant stuff. And besides, she knows where Alex’s rack is and that’s where the clothes have to go. Why don’t you go wait for me in the trailer, I’ll be there in a few.” 

I need Y/N to stay. 

That shouldn’t make you feel as warm and tingly as it does. 

Ashley scoffs and looks away, clearly trying to guilt trip him. Owen sighs and kisses her cheek.  

“Trailer. Ten minutes.” Ashley sighs before nodding and finally leaving. He watches her go, then turns back to you when she finally disappears. You clear your throat and he looks back at you, face a bit red. 

“Um, hey.” You chuckle. 

“Hi.” He nods, and you sigh, walking so you’re right in front of him. “Seriously, O, you need to get this off because if they’re not on the rack for Soyon to fix up by the end of the day it’s my head on a stick, not yours.” Then you’re unbuttoning his shirt. 

You’re unbuttoning. His shirt. You don’t realize you’re doing it until you hand grazes his navel when you untuck it from his pants. You hear him suck in a breath and you immediately take two steps back. 

“Sorry, um. Sorry that was not, um, -” 

“It’s okay. You were just, doing your job. Making sure I get stuff done on time, right?” But his voice is wobbly as he says it and his face is as red as a tomato. You couldn’t have made him that flushed, not you? 

“Right. Yeah. Um, so, pants?” Owen looks at you with wide eyes. “I need to take the pants back too.” It’s quiet, but you know he heard you because he nods his head and begins to unbutton them. You suddenly feel very hot, very suffocated. You should’ve left when you had the chance, just let Ashley do this. You shouldn’t be here, watching as he pulls the velvet pants down his legs. Watching as he steps out of them and - oh God he’s falling. You grab his hand to help him but it’s too late, you both tumble to the ground. You’re on top of him, smushed up against his bare chest, faces centimeters apart, sharing breaths. 

“Sorry.” You mumble. You watch him gulp and look down. Down at wha - oh. 

“It’s, it’s okay. I’m the one that fell and pulled you down.” You nod, causing your nose to brush against his. You’re close, so freaking close that if you were to move not even a full centimeter, your lips would touch.

So. 

Close. 

“What. The. Hell!” SHit. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

You’re quick to scramble away from Owen, butt scooting across the floor to get as far away from him as possible. Owen jumps up, kicking the pants away then realizing that was probably not a smart idea because now he’s half naked in between Ashley and you.  

“Ash I -” 

“You were taking forever, wanted to know why. Thought you said there was nothing between you two?” She’s practically screeching. You know within minutes there will be a crowd. A crowd Owen will not want, his anxiety will not want. Ignoring his stuttering and the conversation in general, you push away the heat in your belly and the tingling in your spine and take a deep breath. 

Deep breath. 

Be a friend. Do your job.

You grab Owen’s clothes and put them in his hands, ignoring his speaking and Ashley ranting, you grab his hand and then hers, and shove them towards the back exit. 

“This is a trailer conversation, not a wardrobe fitting conversation. Leave, now.” 

“No, I have a lot to say -” 

“Listen to me, I’m trying to do my job and not get Owen in trouble. If you really care about him, you’ll take this conversation to his trailer. Now.” Then you shove them out the door before Ashley could screech some more. 

Deep breath. 

Do your job. 

You go back to the fitting area, only to see Charlie, Jer, and Madi standing there, looking confused. 

Deep breath.

Do your job.

“Hey guys. Owen just left. He and Ashley are having a date night.” Charlie gives you a look, but Jer and Madi nod, going to accept it, but Charlie has to open his big dumb Canadian mouth. 

“Why’d we hear screaming then?” Charlie questions. Jer and Madi look at each other, then back at you. 

“Oh, uh, mouse. I saw a mouse. Yep. Mouse. Anyway, I have to get this clothes hung up before they wrinkle, so excuse me.” 

Deep breath. 

Do your job.

You walk around the trio, gathering the suit and shaking everything out as you walk over to the Alex rack to hang them up. You hear the door to the room open and two sets of feet walking out. 

“Charlie, everything is fine okay? Just a little misunderstanding.” 

“Like?” You sigh and turn around from finishing hanging up the clothes. 

“Like...Owen kinda fell and when I went to help him I feel too...on top of him.” There’s silence then, 

“OH MY GOD! Y/N THAT’S LIKE FANFIC SHIT THAT WAS THE MOMENT! DID YOU KISS OH MY GOD TELL ME EVERYTHING!” He’s jumping up and down as he makes his way to you. 

“Ashley walked in.” All excitement stops.

“Oh shit.” You nod, walking past him to settle on the couch, pulling a pillow to your chest. 

“Yeah. And she started screeching and I knew Owen wouldn’t like to attention so I shoved them out the back door to his trailer.” Charlie’s arm goes around you, pulling you close. He goes to say something, but your phone ringing indicating a text from Owen stops him. You pull it out, opening it as Charlie watches over your shoulder. 

My trailer plz. 

Charlie starts shaking your shoulders, smiling like a maniac. “This is your chance Y/N go go GO!” you shake your head at Charlie’s antics, but leave nonetheless. 

Anxiety creeps up on you as you get closer and closer to his trailers, not knowing what you’re going to walk into. Him firing you? Saying you can’t be friends anymore? Ashley ready to claw your face off? 

Deep breath.

Be a friend.

You knock on his door. It opens a second later to a frantic looking Owen. Now you're anxious about him. Why does he look upset? Is he okay? He grabs your hand and pulls you into his, oh, empty trailer. Ashley is nowhere to be seen. 

“Hey, thanks for coming.” You nod, still looking around expecting her to jump out and slap you. “Um, sit. Sit, I have to talk to you about something.” You go to sit on the couch, but then remember what occurred there yesterday and instead lean against the counter. He notices but doesn’t say anything. 

“Yeah okay. What’s up?” You try to act nonchalant, but the anxiety is too high for that. ‘I have to talk to you about something’ never ends well. He walks over and sits on the bed pats the spot next to him. God, this can’t be a good conversation if he really wants you to sit. 

“Ashley and I were never...on here.” He mumbles. You walk over and sit next to him, blushing that he caught on to why you didn’t sit on the couch. 

“Must be serious if you need me to sit.” Owen takes a deep breath, another, another, and then there’s lips on your. They’re soft and nice and taste like carmex chapstick. 

“Mhm, Owen, what, what are you doing?” Your faces are still close together, both of you not wanting to back away yet. 

“I’m gonna talk. Okay I’m gonna talk and I want you to listen and not crawl inside your head too soon okay?” You nod, knowing in this moment you’d do anything to keep him this close. 

“I knew Ashley from high school. She started texting me a few weeks back and one thing led to another and she was calling me her boyfriend. I didn’t want it but it happened and I let it because it got my mind off a girl I shouldn’t like because it would ruin so many things. I didn’t know she was coming to visit and when she knocked on my trailer she jumped me and just kept going. And I just went along with everything yesterday because I’m supposed to be her boyfriend and I’m supposed to think about those things with her and I’m supposed to want those things with her, but I don’t Y/N. I don’t want those things with her I never did. I, I want them with you. I’ve wanted them with you from the moment you finally stopped being shy around me and dragged me from crafts by my ear to hair and makeup. You’re so amazing Y/N and I thought if I did anything I’d ruin this and ruin your career and I didn’t want that. I never wanted that so I went along with Ashley but I shouldn’t have because the whole time I was thinking about you. It’s always been -” You kiss him. You grab him by the cheeks and kiss him. It’s a passionate kiss, an ‘about time’ kiss, an ‘i’m never letting you go’ kiss. 

You only break away when you can’t breathe, and even then you only pull away enough to breath in each other’s air. 

“She left. She’s gone. She knew I was never 100% in.” You nod, but you’re not really listening. You can’t hear anything other than your heartbeat. 

He likes you. 

Owen likes you.

Owen kissed you. 

“It’s always been you, Y/N.” You smile. It’s a big one that you have to hamper down by biting your lip. Owen smiles back, then you’re kissing again. 

And again. 

And again.

[damnlance]

Klance angsty prompt 6 please 👀

Klangst Prompt #6

6. “You’ve never hurt me. Ever”

Summary: Lately, Lance has been stressed beyond the point of breaking… The end of the war was 3 years ago and yet, it’s not enough time to pass for Lance to feel better. Not even close. Everyone has always called him a hero. And since the day they landed back on earth, everyone has gone so far to ask for photos and autographs and all that. These days Lance is sick of it.

Or; the pressures of being the ‘savior of earth’ has been building up inside of Lance, causing him to erupt on any and everyone.

Good thing he has his amazing boyfriend.

-there’s a slow start, but I PROMISE it’s klance so just keep reading!

-also galra (kitten) Keith ?? I love him

-

It all started with a fangirl just a few weeks ago.

Lance decided to walk to his favorite coffee shop one chilly afternoon. He woke up really late and was immediately craving something sweet yet bitter. And since he lives with most of his family, running out of coffee five days after buying a brand new pack of it is very common, especially when no one wants to buy more for whatever reason.

So there Lance was, walking down the street. Hands tucked into his blue lion hoodie (thanks to all the merch the fans of voltron have made over the years), making his way to the closest coffee shop near his home. And then he hears the high pitched squeal of a girl at least 10 feet away from him. Then 9 feet.. then 6.. then 4 because she’s literally running at him with the speed of a hundred cheetahs chasing a gazelle until she’s right there, face to face with Lance.

“Oh my god!!” She yelled, jumping up and down like some 5 year old girl getting a puppy. She was about 5’7, short brown hair and huge blue eyes that almost resembled Lance’s. She wore this giant faux fur coat and beanie to match, and her phone was IN LANCE’S FACE.

She was all over him and it was attracting others to stare their way. Lance tried to calm her down by smiling and using a little of his charm but it was just making the girl fangirl even more. So he took a picture with her to be on his way before the coffee shop got too busy. But she wouldn’t back off. Apparently she wasn’t satisfied with the picture, something about how her eyes were closed? Or how blurry it came out? Lance couldn't remember, he just wanted his coffee.

The girl kept hounding him and following him, demanding that he retake the picture with her. Lance let her down easy, saying how he needed to be someplace important and that he was running late. The girl kept pushing him. Following his every move, right on his heels. Begging, pleading with him to take more pictures because she ‘needed them,’ whatever that meant. Lance tried his hardest to be nice and polite because as a former paladin of voltron and as one of seven someone’s who have saved the entire universe, his image is everything. Without him or his former paladins, there would probably be no earth. So he stopped in his tracks and took a better picture with the girl.

He felt good to see her happy because of something that he had done. Plus he looked really good in that picture, who knew the earth’s natural lighting at 1pm could make his skin look so smooth? Once he gave his approval of the better pic, he was on his way again, hoping that the line to the coffee shop wasn’t even longer now. As he started to fast walk down the busy sidewalk, something yanked him back by the neck and he came crashing down. Literally. He fell right back on his ass and when he looked up, this same crazy girl was looming over him like a mad woman. With his blue hand-knit wool scarf dangling from her grabby hands. The anger that had been simmering in Lance’s gut was at a full blown boil and he was just about ready to explode. So.. he kinda did..

Long and embarrassing story short, Lance yelled at her. He snatched his blue scarf out of her hands so fast, it scared her, and as he rubbed his most likely bruised tailbone, he got in her face and began blaming her for the world's most horrible fan interaction. He was so angry, that he balled his fists, stomped his foot and had veins protruding out of his neck and forehead. He called her names and most likely spit in her face, but he didn’t care. And when he was done, he took a step back and examined the girl in front of him. She was folded in on herself, holding her arms close to her body as her bottom lip quivered and fat, giant tears rolled down her cheeks. She looked so.. mortified. And actually.. scared of him. Like if Lance were to say anything or move a muscle, she’d flinch.

Seconds later, Lance’s face softened into something regretful and he went out to reach for her, to apologize. But, like he knew she would, she flinched. And then hurried away like he was a mad man. All the while crying and clutching her phone to her chest. Lance felt absolutely demolished inside. He tried to go after her but his feet were glued to the cement of the sidewalk. He didn’t even want his coffee anymore.

Thankfully, there were no viral videos or photos or posts about the incident. Lance ended up tracking the girl down a few days later and showered her with all the love he could muster, even taking as many pics as she wanted and liking them on Instagram when she tagged him. But.. something inside him still felt so horrible about the incident. For a moment, Lance had realized that he genuinely hurt that girl for no real reason. He just wanted some coffee but is coffee more important than the people who are thankful and want to show their gratitude for him for everything he did with voltron? If the roles were reversed and he stayed on earth, he would be bending over backwards to let all the paladins know just how thankful he was to live another day on their planet. That girl probably had family, friends, maybe a spouse and kids, and in the midst of that horrible battle 3 years ago, she most likely thought that one of those days would be her last with them.

It broke Lance’s heart thinking about it. He really hurt her. Sure, he made it right and she forgave him, but in that single moment, he actually hurt someone enough to make them cry, to make them run away from him. It was a terrible feeling. It wasn’t Lance. He never wanted that to happen again.

And at the same time.. he.. kinda never wanted to be the savior of earth. Not really.. he just wanted to feel like he had a place in the universe, and to know that he played an important role. That he mattered.

Guess he really matters now..

He sends a long text to Keith with shaky hands.

Message delivered..

The second he walked through the door, his phone rang. It was a three-way call with Hunk and Pidge. Lance pressed the green button to answer and placed the phone to his ear. Immediately, Hunk starts going on and on about how much he misses Lance and when the next time they’ll see each other will be. Lance smiled at his best friend’s inability to ever take a breath between sentences and replied with a warm ‘I miss you too, buddy.’ They got to catching up as Lance ordered his garlic knots and sat down at a private booth near the back of the place. He didn’t want to draw any attention to himself, especially when he got the call from his best friends.

Hunk tells him all the great things that’s been happening at the Garrison and even on the Atlas. He tells him how his restaurant is doing and how his family is doing and how Shay is doing. Pidge catches him up on things with her family, some new inventions she’s been working on, and how being the youngest teacher at the Garrison is going. Lance listens and gives his two cents on everything his friends tell him and honestly, he couldn’t be more happy for them. The way they were able to just get their lives together 3 years after the war is.. incredible. It made him think about everything he’s done since the war ended. Which wasn’t much.. he took over his family’s farm and brought it back to life, he helps out Colleen, Pidge’s mom, with medicine and finding cures to strange space illnesses with plants she has him grow on his farm, and his family’s market wouldn’t be as popular or swarming with business if he didn’t work there. Sad but true. And that’s really it. He hasn’t done much else. Nothing life changing or breathtaking like his friends.

But Hunk and Pidge don’t need to know that. So he simply replies with: “Oh, ya know.. same old, same old,” and hopes it works enough to keep the conversation flowing and follow up questions at bay. It does.

30 minutes into their conversation and Lance is starting to feel a little.. agitated. With the garlic knots consumed and digesting in his stomach, he sits in the booth, alone, listening to his friends go on and on and on about their perfect jobs and their perfect little lives. He gets lost a few times and at one point has literally no idea what they’re talking about. When he tries to ask what or who or even get the slightest details, Pidge lets out a sigh that Lance can’t help but feel like is out of annoyance. Lance sighs back and continues to stay silent because obviously he’s not getting anywhere. Why even bother putting him on a call that Hunk and Pidge could have just had on their own??

Balling his fist, Lance let out a loud, overdramatic sigh. He didn’t care if his friends heard it or how they took it. He was upset. The conversation between his two friends comes to a halt and then awkward silence. Pidge is the first to speak up with a:

“Something you wanna add, Lance?” The annoyance in her voice is very much there and Lance doesn’t miss it. He scoffs loudly and grits his teeth.

“No.” He says, voice deepening in anger.

“Oh really?” Pidge asks, poking the sleeping bear that lies dormant in lance. “Cause it sure sounds like it to me. Why don’t you stop being such a fucking child and tell us what’s bothering you this time??”

Lance damn near growls.

The line has gone quiet now. Hunk’s unsteady breathing is audible but other than that, silence. Lance digs his nails into the skin of his palms and tries to keep the angry tears in his eyes from falling down his cheeks. With a deep shaky breath, he smiles through the pain.

“You know what, Katie,” Lance spits and it makes Hunk gasp. “Fuck YOU and this stupid, shitty attitude you have all the time!”

“Oh, god..” Hunk winces.

“I don’t know what the actual fuck crawled up your ass,” Lance continues, “but I’m sick of it! I've been sick of it for years! I’m sick of keeping my mouth shut and quite frankly, I’m sick of YOU!”

Lance is standing up out of his seat now. His chest heaves up and down as the angry tears have fallen past his face and down his neck. His voice is two octaves deep from anger and the skin of his palm is bloody from how hard he’s digging his nails into it. The place has gone quiet now and Lance can feel multiple pairs of eyes on him. So much for not drawing any attention to himself.

The line is quiet. Then, the sound of a huff of breath. A small laugh.. And then:

“Wow. Nice one, McClain..” Pidge’s voice is small, but so full of something. “Go screw yourself, you asshole.”

The call ends. Whether Pidge or Hunk ended it, is unclear.

Minutes pass, and Lance is still standing in the same place with the phone to his ear. Tears are running down his face, and his Altean marks are buzzing so loud in his ears. His heart is pounding in his ribcage and ice cold sorrow runs through his veins..

He sends a long text to Keith with shaky hands.

Message delivered...

Now, exactly 3 months since that little incident, Lance sits alone in his home. In his childhood bedroom he can’t seem to rearrange because he’s still holding out hope that one day he’ll turn back time and be his child self and get a redo on his life. But hey, it’s better this way. After the whole dilemma with Pidge, Hunk tried to call Lance to help but ended up getting his feelings hurt. Yep. By Lance. Because Lance is a big jerk and can’t stop hurting everyone around him.

So he hasn’t talked to Pidge or Hunk since then. Mostly out of guilt and shame because those two are supposed to be his bestest friends and he hurt them. Nothing he could say or do could make up for his selfish mind and stupid mouth. Lance had this whole plan to go to Shiro about it, to get his advice so Lance could make it all better.

But Pidge being Pidge.. texted the whole thing in their group chat and.. well.. everyone saw it. Shiro, Hunk, Matt, even Keith possibly! It got so bad that Lance’s phone kept going off with alerts from everyone asking what happened and what he said. Curtis tried calling him and left a few messages. Shiro left him a long voicemail. And of course the word traveled so fast that it reached New Altea and Coran got involved. Which caused Romelle to be involved, too. She gossiped to Acxa, who told her girlfriend, who happens to be Lance’s sister, Veronica. Veronica blabbed to Rachel, who blabbed to Marco, who blabbed to Luis.. who blabbed to Lance’s dad.. WHO BLABBED TO LANCE’S MOM. And boy did she have some interesting words for him in the SEVEN, LONG voicemails asking exactly ‘what happened’and ‘why The Holt siblings were so angry with him.’

Everything escalated so fast. Lance can’t even remember what he said. Or why he said it. Since the war ended, it’s been so hard on him. Sure, it’s been hard on everyone, but for Lance it’s been different. Everyone looks up to him for some reason and expects him to do so good and be the hero they all think he is, when in reality? He was just a leg…

Exactly what did he gain from being a paladin of voltron anyway?? Get banged up and bruised almost everyday he was out there? Have people on his case, constantly reminding him how unimportant he was to the team? Pointing out all of his flaws and mistakes and focusing on those when there’s a million other good things he’s done that towers over all the bad shit?? Sure, he returned home to his family who he literally missed and cried for every single day, but he lost the love of his life in the process.

To put it all out there, Lance didn’t really gain anything. He got to travel through space, which was his dream since he was a little kid, and then space chewed him up and spit him out as some fake hero with PTSD and other trauma that will haunt him for the rest of his pathetic life.

So.. these past 3 months.

Lance has been sitting up in his childhood room.

Wishing he could use the power of Altea or something to turn back time.

And be his younger self.

His innocent self.

His happier self.

Back when he wasn’t so fucked up and had dreams and goals.

Back when everyone was proud of him.

Back to when he didn’t know who Allura was or that she even existed. Back to when Voltron didn’t exist either and everything was fucking fine.

Staring up at his ceiling, Lance counts the glow in the dark stars that he’s had up there since he was six years old. Somehow they’re still glowing and Lance is thankful for that because at 3 in the morning when the world is fast asleep and everything is pitch black, he could use the light.

It comforts him. Reminds him of a simpler, more happier time in his life.

Something sharp digs through Lance’s chest as he stares at those fake neon stars, and it hurts really bad. His breathing begins to quicken, matching the beat of his heart, and a lump finds its way up his throat. Tears pool in the rim of his eyes and spill down the corners, streaming down the sides of his face.

And they don’t stop. The stars get blurrier as Lance’s breathing gets heavier. His body begins to tremble with every hiccup of a sob that pours out of him and he’s crying so hard that his brain throbs in his head.

He curls in on himself in his bed and wraps his arms around his torso, crying uncontrollably into his space themed pillow. His Altean marks begin to buzz and glow and he can’t bring himself to care because all he wants to do is disappear.

Disappear from this game called life.

He types a text to Keith with teary eyes and a quivering bottom lip.

Message.. deleted…

As 3 in the morning turns to 4, a pod lands in the grass just a couple yards away from Lance’s farm. Boot covered feet step out of said pod and touch the wet grass waiting for them. It’s still dark out and the only light visible are the fireflies that buzz around a pair of cowboy booted feet. Those booted feet begin to walk, carrying a tall, broad, raven haired stranger up a hill to Lance’s home. The frogs and crickets seem to grow louder as the stranger in black cowboy boots makes their way to the front porch and pulls back the creaky screen door to a cold, locked doorknob. A set of keys are pulled out and a specific blue key is pushed inside the lock, turning and unlocking the door. The stranger walks in and is instantly met.. with..

Crying??

“H-Hello??” The stranger calls out. “Lance?”

The crying stops.

It’s dead quiet..

The door shuts on its own and the echo around the house is eery.

Light footsteps descend the stairs and before they know it, the stranger is being tackled to the ground in a bear hug.

“Ah-! Lance!?” They yell as the duffel bag from their hand falls to the ground.

“Keith!!” Lance yells out, voice rasped from endless crying.

Keith can immediately hear it and wraps his arms around Lance so tight, holding him close. His eyes glow yellow, something that usually happens out of fear, anger, or protectiveness, and his lips protrude to make way for his double set of fangs that are ready to bite any and everyone.

“Lance!” Keith tries to sit up but is pinned to the ground with all of Lance’s dead body weight. “Lance, honey, are you hurt? What’s wrong??”

A hand through curly brown locks and Lance’s crying dies down. He snuggles his face into Keith’s neck and hiccups through a response. Something too incoherent for Keith to make out, but he feels it has something to do with why he was told to go home ASAP.

A few weeks ago, Keith was contacted by Acxa via video chat. They talked and caught up for a few minutes before Acxa told Keith the real reason for her call. She explained that Veronica was having a tough time reaching out to Lance and that he might be in some kind of trouble. Not knowing the full extent of the story, Acxa only told Keith what she heard from Veronica and others. Fearing the worst, Keith packed up his shit and set a course for Earth as fast as he could.

Unfortunately, there were some setbacks on his way over where he had to make a few stops to tend to aliens in need because after all, that’s still his job as a blade member, but when that got finished, Keith hightailed it over. His Galra instincts wouldn't allow him to stay away for much longer anyway and having accepted his galra side a long time ago, it would have been best for everyone to let him go home.

Keith now lays in Lance’s bed, every inch of Lance’s body wrapped up around him like a snake. Keith strokes Lance’s hair soothingly and holds him close to his chest, right over his beating heart. A deep, soothing purr emits itself from Keith’s body and calms Lance’s nerves right down to the bone. Keith knows how much Lance adoreshis Galran features and at this point, Keith would do absolutely anything for Lance to feel better.

They talked about everything that happened and are now in the cuddle stage. Lance has his eyes shut, listening to Keith purr just for him. Long limbs wrapped around every inch of his boyfriend while Keith’s long nails scratch at his scalp, life is so good.

Life is so good with Keith around.

“So,” Keith says, voice as calm as ever. “What exactly did Pidge say?”

“Oh,” Lance answers, his voice quiet as a mouse. “You didn’t see the messages in the group chat?”

“No.” Keith shrugs, laying his cheek against Lance’s forehead. “Been kinda busy.. And I actually don’t understand how a group chat works.”

That rises a chuckle out of Lance as he sits up a bit to reach for his phone on the bedside dresser.

“Idiot,” he whispers with a small smile on his face and it makes Keith light up, his purring becoming a bit louder.

Lance lays back on Keith’s chest as he scrolls through the messages on his phone. When he finds the message from Pidge, Lance clears his scratchy throat and sniffs.

“From Pidgeotto,” he starts, looking at Pidge’s name in their ✨Paladudes✨ group chat. “Just an FYI lance is a.. a total fucking jackass and I am no longer friends with him..”

Keith immediately frowns at that.

Lance continues. “He can suck my big toe for all I care. I’m done with him. Have fun being a lonely loser @LanceyPants.”

“What the fuck?” Keith says, eyes glowing yellow in the dark room. “Why would she say that!?”

Lance shakes his head, tears forming in his eyes again. “Because she was right. I am a jackass..”

“Lance, no!” Keith sits up, bringing Lance with him. They sit side by side as Lance holds himself and looks down at his space blanket. He shrugs once and sniffs.

“Keith, stop,” he says, wiping a tear from his eye. “Look, I said some very hurtful things to her and she lashed out in a perfectly normal way..”

“Normal!?” Keith scoffs, grabbing Lance’s phone and rereading the message again. “Jackass? Loser?? Come on, Lance, she’s completely bullying you and you know it!”

Lance whips around with an angry expression on his face “Because I deserve it!”

The room grows quiet. Keith takes a deep breath and reaches over to grab Lance’s shoulders.

“Calm.” He says, taking a deep breath for Lance to mimic. Lance takes a deep breath with him and lets it out. Keith begins to purr again and it calms Lance even more.

“I.. Sorry..”

Keith nods. He reaches up to cup Lance’s cheek and rubs his thumb across Lance’s tear stained eye.

“You know I would never hurt anyone on purpose..” Lance sniffs. “That’s not who I am. I’m just.. I’m tired of being this symbol of everything strong and good and brave.”

“Mhm,” Keith rubs Lance’s back, leaning in closer to him to nuzzle his forehead. Lance nuzzles back and Keith’s purrs.

“I keep.. I keep hurting everyone I care about..” Lance whispers in a voice so low and fragile, it nearly shatters Keith’s heart.

“That’s not true.” Keith pulls back a little to look into Lance’s teary blue eyes. “Lance, you are the most incredible, selfless, honest person I’ve ever known. You are strong and good and brave even if you don’t mean to be. Or want to be.”

Lance pulls away and stares at his hands. Keith keeps his eyes focused on Lance.

“I know you think you hurt that fangirl from a few months ago.” Keith continues. “Or Pidge. Or Hunk. Or your parents or friend or family or whoever, but you could never hurt anyone.”

“Yeah, right,” Lance shakes his head. “I already did. I hurt everyone.”

“And even if that’s true,” Keith grabs Lance’s hands in his own, “which it’s not, you’re not doing it on purpose. You have a right to your own feelings! And you have a right to speak your mind.”

“And what if that hurts people??” Lance looks up and meets teary eyes to indigo ones. “What if I accidentally hurt my mama or my sisters or brothers, or nieces and nephews because I can’t be who they want me to be, who they think I am!?”

“Lance,” Keith shakes his head.

“What if I hurt you???” Lance’s eyes go wide. He looks Keith up and down and exhales a panicked breath. “God, Keith.. wh-what if I hurt you??”

“Oh, Lancey,” Keith sighs that lovey-dovey sigh where his eyes go all big and black like a cat’s, and the purr in his chest gets louder. “You’ve never hurt me. Ever.”

Lance stares into Keith’s eyes like they’re his lifeline.

“B-but.. but what if-?”

“No more what if’s!” Keith cuts Lance off by covering his mouth with his hand. “Listen to me, Lance. Are you listening??”

Lance nods repeatedly.

“Good,” Keith smiles, all crooked and cute and beautiful. “The only person you ever need to worry about hurting is yourself.”

And there it is. The one thing Lance has been dying to hear without knowing he’d been dying to hear it. It’s like a breath of fresh air, or cool rain on a hot and sweaty day. The permission he needed but didn’t really need. He has a right to care about himself and put himself first but whenever he tries, the guilt eats him alive. Why should he care about himself when he has to care more about others???

No. That’s not the case. It’s never been the case.

“You’ve gotta stop doing this to yourself,” Keith finishes, stroking the endless sea of tears that are falling from Lance’s eyes. He strokes Lance’s glowing Altean marks and leans forward to kiss one softly. Lance trembles slightly, closing his eyes to bask in the moment.

“I’m sure Pidge has gotten over it by now,” Keith reassures. “She just has too much pride to make the first more and apologize. You know how she is.”

“Y-Yeah,” Lance hiccups, nodding.

“And Hunk?” Keith scoffs. “I bet your mailbox is full of letters from him, explaining how sorry he is and hoping you’re doing alright. You know if he can’t reach you from your phone, he has other ways.”

That makes Lance smile.

“There’s probably cookies on the way right now.” He looks into Keith’s eyes, exhaling a small laugh.

“Oh, yeah,” Keith agrees, laughing that angelic laugh and showing off his perfect pearly fangs. Lance’s heart skips a fucking beat.

“And your fangirl?” Keith’s purring stops. “Well, she never should have gotten all up in your space that’s for sure. You had every right to punch her.”

“Keith!” Lance squeaks, face contorting into shock and confusion. “I-I didn’t punch her!”

“Really?” Confusion etches itself all over Keith’s features and he puts a finger to his chin. “I could have sworn I read that in your text.”

“No way, man!” Lance defends, waving his arms around. “Why would I ever in my life-!” He stops mid sentence to see the shit-eating grin plastered on Keith’s face.

“Just kiddin, lil lady,” Keith says in his best southern accent, smiling big and wide.

Lance bursts out into a fit of laughter, hitting Keith’s chest and arms and back. Keith shields himself and laughs, grabbing Lance’s arms and bringing him down onto the mattress. They fall back with Keith looming over Lance, his long raven hair surrounding their faces.

Lance stares up into those beautiful, indigo eyes and sniffs, unable to look away. He reaches up and cups Keith’s face, rubbing his thumb over Keith’s Galran stripe.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” Keith asks in his softest voice, eyes roaming from Lance’s teary blue eyes to his luscious lips.

“Yes,” Lance nods, not even bothering to blink because if he does, he’ll miss Keith’s everything.

“Don’t let anyone get you down, my sweetheart.” Keith whispers, leaning in closer. “Ever.”

Lance nods.

“And if they do,” Keith’s face turns serious, indigo eyes going dark. “I’ll bite their throats out and hand them to you on a silver platter.”

“Keith,” Lance exhales, going red in the face and ears. “Holy shit, you can’t just say things l-like that.”

Keith’s hard demeanor falls as he giggles and leans in close. Before they close the gap between their lips, Lance whispers, “And hey. I thought pet names were my thing?”

And Keith kisses him to shut him up.

They kiss like they haven’t seen each other in years and it’s the greatest Lance has ever felt. Keith kisses like he’s starving for it, craving it so much more than air and it’s hot and powerful and so, so damn good.

Lance wraps his arms and legs around Keith’s body and kisses him back with fervor. He allows Keith to make him feel better, and kisses his pain away. Keith pulls away slowly, licking into Lance’s mouth before he does so. Lance lets out a small groan and smiles before he opens his eyes.

“I love you,” he whispers, tucking some hair behind Keith’s ear.

“I love you, more,” Keith whispers back, settling himself between Lance’s legs. “Feeling any better?”

“A little,” Lance looks away, sniffling a little. His eyes focus back to Keith’s and a small smile appears on his kiss swollen lips. “But I know a great way you can make me feel all the way better.”

“Oh, yeah,” Keith smirks, burying his face into Lance neck to start kissing slowly. “And what’s that?”

Lance giggles like a little kid, running his hands up and down Keith’s sides. When Keith pulls back, he trails his kisses up the side of Lance’s face and stops at his Altean mark.

“Make love to me,” Lance whispers, rubbing his nose against Keith’s. “Touch me all over and hold me until the sun comes up and just.. love me. Please..”

Keith’s face softens into something full of love and adoration. He moves forward to peck Lance’s lips, then his chin, and then his other Altean mark.

“Anything you want, my sweet..” he kisses Lance’s cheek. “Beautiful..” he kisses Lance’s jaw. “Amazing.. wonderful..”

“Alright, enough!” Lance laughs, slapping Keith in the back. His cheeks are on fire as he closes his eyes when Keith starts nibbling on his neck with his fangs. A chill runs down Lance’s spine and tingles to his toes, making them curl.

Keith sits up one last time and stares at Lance like he’s the world.

“I’ll take good care of you, baby.” He says with the utmost truth in his sultry voice. “I promise. We’re in this together.”

“Yeah,” Lance nods, letting his tears fall down his face and glowing Altean marks. “Together.”

And as Keith kisses Lance so lovingly, Lance can’t help but be glad that he can’t turn back time to be his younger self. Because with Keith around, he feels all the happiness in the whole world just like he did when he was young.

-END-

(send me a klangst prompt)

[jennagrinsoverml]

ML Fic Recs - Ladynoir

I think most readers can appreciate a good rec list, but it’s often the same fics that I see recced again and again. I get why they’re recced - they’re amazing! But I want help finding fic I haven’t already read. So I decided to be the change I want to see in the world. The rule: the fic must have less than a thousand kudos on AO3 (but I’m trying to limit to fics that have less than 500.) Obviously this means a lot of my favourites are not included here, but you’ve probably read all of those already anyway. 

If you enjoy these, please reblog so more readers can find these awesome fics!

To get things started and in honour of the quality ladynoir content we just got (which I’m hoping will inspire even more quality fan content!), let’s have some ladynoir recs. Fics are in no particular order.

Amnesiac? More like Amnesi-Chat by therealjanebingley

Oblivio's back, and this time only Chat Noir gets hit. Based on his limited knowledge and the way Ladybug acts towards him, he makes some assumptions.

One-shot. This is hilarious. From Chat’s genuine glee about his superheroes to Ladybug’s affectionate indulgence to having Chat provide an “outside perspective” on Ladybug’s non-platonic behaviour towards him to the teasing... I could see this actually happening in an Oblivio 2.0 episode.

Experimental Kisses by @komorebirei

Ladybug watched him. Maybe it was guilt, maybe sympathy, maybe a streak of playfulness. Maybe the traumatic akuma experience had softened her up. Whatever the reason, a thought wafted lazily through her mind and out of her mouth. “You know… you’re right. It isn’t fair, is it?”

Chat Noir looked up.

“I remember my first kiss, but you don’t.” She hummed and tapped her chin, making a show of remembering. “It wasn’t a bad kiss, but we were in the middle of fighting an akuma, so I didn’t get to enjoy it much, either.”

Oops—that came out sounding a little, no, a lot more flirty than she had intended. Anyway, if she was going to commit to this idea, she may as well go all in.

One-shot. Ladybug offers to kiss Chat since he doesn’t remember their kiss and the way she reacts to the kiss...it lives in my mind rent-free. I have fallen asleep many a night fantasizing about what the repercussions of the kiss might look like. 

What's your favourite colour? by @hermionemonica

Ladybug and Chat Noir sit on a rooftop, watching the sunset.

One-shot. This fic is short and sweet and absolutely lovely. It’s set post-reveal and despite only being 566 words it’s full of sweetness and feeling.

Margins of Error by orphan_account

“Do you…” Ladybug's voice is at an almost-whisper. He can feel her breath fire-hot against his face. “Do you want me to show you how I think they should write our kiss?”

Adrien isn’t here anymore, leave a message after the tone.

--

Adrien was raised on order. His life is meticulously planned, each day as reliable as the equations he studies in physics and calculus. But Ladybug- Ladybug always has him at a loss.

One-shot. Okay, so I know the author of this one since I download all my favourite fics, but since they’ve orphaned it I’m going to respect that. However, since the author was kind enough to leave the work up so people can continue to enjoy it, I’m going to suggest that people do so! Ladynoir kisses featuring my absolute favourite dynamic: sexually assertive Ladybug and receptive Chat Noir. (Don’t take this to mean the fic has sexual content - it’s just kissing.) AMAZING.

Liquid Luck by @somethingvaguetodo

Ladybug enlists Chat Noir's help in decoding the remaining ingredients for the power-up transformation potions. Together, they work on creating them, and possibly destroying the barriers between them.

Multi-chapter. The riddles of the secret potion ingredients are fun to think about, Ladybug and Chat Noir both get to show off their smarts, and the trust and support between the two of them is showcased. Perfect ladynoir.

when you weren't mine to lose by @bugsandchatons

Change is a scary thing, especially when it feels like nothing has stayed the same.

It's been a year since Marinette became the Guardian of the Miracle Box - a year of struggling beneath a burden she never asked for, a weight that has her leaning on her partner more and more as the hours fly by, of letting him come to her, too, when he needs a soft place to land. A year of falling for the boy who takes on the world by her side with a smile made of sunlight, and fighting the growing urge to tell him what he means to her.

After all, they'll have time enough for that when Paris is safe.

But when the unthinkable happens, Marinette learns the tragedy of loving someone quietly, and the lines she'll cross to save him.

Multi-chapter. This is what happens when Ladybug loses Chat Noir. It hurts in all the best ways and the writing is absolutely gorgeous and somehow we still get a happy ending!

well if i'm beautiful and you're beautiful then who's saving paris? by celebreultimaverba

Chat flirts. Surprisingly, it works.

And then it backfires.

One-shot. This one is so cute and sweet! It’s a quick read but you’ll be smiling by the end of it.

sometimes the dreamers finally wake up by magesamell

"Four days ago a mermaid flooded Paris and an ancient guardian introduced himself to his father as a substitute Chinese tutor. He had thought that would be the end of it."

Ladybug tells Chat Noir all of her secrets.

One-shot. Post-Syren. The fic we all desperately need about Ladybug actively working to restore the balance of her and Chat’s relationship after Fu messes with that. It’s not overly romantic, but it’s absolutely perfect.

i fall in love just a little, oh, just a little by @mlady-noir

If she was asked, Ladybug wouldn't be able to give a specific date when her heart decided to fall for her pun loving partner, but she could point out the night she realized it.

One-shot. Sofffffttttttt. This is just a beautiful narrative of Ladybug’s fall for Chat with a sweet, sweet ending.

Someone I Can’t Fall In Love With by @yslen54

Ladybug agreed with Chat Noir when he suggested that they should finally share their identities with each other, but she’s been dreading it ever since.

One-shot. This is short and sweet. An identity reveal that explores Ladybug’s feelings for Chat Noir and then plays with the divided heart trope.

The following fics are amazing and absolutely worth reading, but do feature sexual content, so minors beware.

You can’t stay away from me by plikki

When Adrien sides with his father, he expects to protect Ladybug and buy some time. He doesn't expect that his emotional state will make it so much harder to resist the girl that he loves, until he just gives in.

Multi-chapter. Rated M. Not-quite an enemies AU, but with all the beautiful angst and tension of one. There’s a fair amount of sex, so be warned but it’s SO SO GOOD. And all of the pain and angst is followed by a sweet happy ending.

baby, we don't have time to be coy by Molebear

"What are we doing?" Chat breathes, the words sending a tendril of lucidity back into Ladybug's hormone-addled brain.

It's a fair question.

The origins of this tryst are a little hazy in her mind at this point. Something about a lovesick akuma, maybe? Ladybug vaguely remembers Chat Noir getting struck by something, only seconds before it hit her too. There was a fight, or... there was something she and Chat Noir had been in the middle of doing - something important, like.... save-the-world important - before she'd dragged him underground with the sole intention of climbing him like a tree.

A scorned lover gets akumatized and gains the power to cast Lust. When it comes to distracting Paris' beloved superhero team, this power turns out to be... rather effective.

One-shot. Rated M. The UST of this one damn near killed me. It’s hot AF and I would commit homicide to read the conversation these two have after that lmaoooo

Charmed, I'm Sure by @chatonne-rousse

Friends with benefits. It's right there in the name, and it's what they are - friends. Best friends. This is just a way for two consenting adults to relieve stress after akuma fights, with the only person they'd trust with this level of intimacy. Really, what could go wrong? (The real question is, what could go right?)

Multi-chapter. Rated E. The sex is really, really hot. It’s in character and full of emotion. And there’s an amazing identity reveal followed by “I’m so happy it’s you!” sex. 

A Little Too Far by imploder

Ladybug gets handsy, and Chat Noir lacks self-control. Alternitavely: "Plagg's Worst Nightmare".

One-shot. Rated E. This one is hot and in character and just absolutely amazing steamy ladynoir content. Features my favourite: sexually assertive Ladybug. Because who doesn’t love playing with gender role stereotypes?

[misterghostfrog]

So I was reading someones post about what if Jon went back in time to save everyone, and he managed it. He kept Martin away from Prentiss, he Kept Sasha alive, Tim never even know the unknowing existed and he never had Jons paranioa to ruin him. But They never knew, there was never those moments of bonding between the terror. Martin never had that moment when he realized Jon wasn’t just his shitty boss. And sure the assistants were close, but there was no room for Jon. And it gave me thoughts.

Under the cut bc I started to Ramble and it got Long, warning; its Big Sad Hours down there. No happy endings here.

Jon solves all these problems before they start, he fixes it without anyone ever knowing. The assistants are blissfully unaware, maybe he stops sending them on ‘real’ statement followup. The archives are a normal, safe job for all of them. Sometimes it gets too much, pretending he doesn’t know them. So he’ll record, mostly for himself. Sometimes for them, though he’ll never share. He sticks them all in Gertrude's old storage locker, where he knows they’ll never be found.

And then something goes wrong. He knows the unknowing can’t work, of course it can’t. But Nikola doesn’t, none of the avatars know. And Nikola still wants her skin. She still wants his skin, actually. And she’s not afraid to play dirty to get it, she’s hands-on like that. Because why stop at the archivist when he’s got so many lovely ignorant assistants?

So he fixes the problem before she can make good on her threats, she can’t be killed that easily. He knows. But she died during the unknowing, and there are some pretty simple steps to follow to replicate that result. He knows the easiest way to make sure it works is also a death sentence for him. But that’s a simple choice to make. Alright no, it’s not. He’s terrified of death, of dying. He doesn’t want to die, but he can lie to himself. He can delude and say maybe he’ll get another chance. And just in case, he makes sure the assistants know they can quit now.

Tim, Sasha, and Martin don’t know what to make of the news that their boss died mysteriously in an explosion. They know even less what to make of the notes he left them.

Clearly the ramblings of a very unstable man. They all knew Jon was a bit off but this... Well, they all know there’s something weird about the job. But the apocalypse? Really? 

Sasha believes some of it, she’s worked in artifact storage. She’s seen what this stuff can do. But, well. Jon’s never come off as the most stable person, and with no proper proof to back up any of this there’s no reason for them to follow suit. After all she’s known lots of people to quit the institute, she even knows for a fact that Eric Delano did it when she was rooting through employee records for perfectly rational legal reasons.

Then Martin gets called up to Elias’s office, and gets the news he’s the new head archivist.

He tries to turn it down, but he’s offered a pay-raise and a promise that he can step down anytime if he doesn’t feel suited to the position. Elias just sees so much potential in him.

Martin tries to feel flattered and not thoroughly terrified by the way Elias says potential. He takes the promotion, after all, he can always step down if it’s too much.

He offers as much when he finds out Sasha probably should have been given the position, but she turns him down. It’s not his fault their boss is a sexist old bastard, and at this rate he’d probably just turn around and give it to Tim.

Things are normal for a few months. Until slowly a strange noise starts to be heard around the archives, a weird sort-of squishing sound with no source. Along with a metallic scent of meat. 

An infestation, of course. They’re getting the problem worked on, or so Elias says. But aside from the occasional exterminator coming in to ‘take a look’ nothing ever seems to change. Weird statements start showing up on Martins desk, surrounding meat and twisted up things, eaten alive and wrong. Suddenly he understands how Jon went off his rocker so easily.

It’s hard to believe all this supernatural stuff as it’s suddenly getting crammed down his throat, after so long of the archives being normal in almost every sense of the word it’s like missing a step on the staircase. The more awful statements he finds- that Tim and Sasha confirm -the more he realizes how much his boss was hiding from them.

He wants to quit, he thinks about it, he tries to think about it. But he just, can’t.

It’s another or two month before it happens. Meat and bone and gristle erupt from the floor, taking on horrible mangled shapes of almost-humans reaching out with hands full of teeth and hungry.

They all survive, though Tim gets eaten up a bit more than the rest of them. And they’ll all have nightmares for the rest of their lives. They’re alive.

And they find Gertrude’s body, though none of them know how to feel about it. They’ve realized by now there’s something to Jon’s nonsensical ramblings. And they’re long past regretting not quitting before this all happened.

There’s a section of document storage that got uncovered during the cleaning,an old cot that was shoved behind some of the shelves, and a box that had a few sets of clothes, an old teacup, and a key. The cleaners say they burned the clothes, but the cup and the Key are given to Martin for him to keep to return to whoever left their things in the archive.

Neither of those items belong to Tim or Sasha, so they all assume they belonged to Jon.

They start following Jons footsteps, they find out he was a suspect in an arson case surrounding Carlos Vittery’s old apartment. Nobody was there except one unidentified body. He was arrested for trespassing on a dock, though no charges were filed. There was an incident that ended in the near arrest of one Jude Perry, though no charges were filed and she soon fell off the grid. And then he exploded using C4 he had no way of getting, Nothing concrete, no proper genuine evidence except a series of weird encounters their dead boss had.

Martin Decides to try and hunt down Jude Perry, it takes some time. He has a very nice cup of tea with one Micheal Crew. Who points him in a general direction and is just a bit weird about tall buildings.

Martin finds Jude, and asks her about Jon. She laughs at him, of course. But she tells him anyway. Jon was trying to have her arrested- no, not arrested. Killed. Officer Tonner would have seen to that, he knew one of the Hunt could do her in, well. At least of Officer Tonner’s sort anyway. Jude resisted, naturally. He escaped her clutches only barely, by running. Like a coward. And she escaped the policewoman by playing innocent. She’s still on her tail though, damn dog. It’ll be a long time before she’d rid of her, but she knows better than to run. Oh, he doesn’t know what any of that means, does he? Oh he really doesn’t, how sweet. Just a little baby archivist- she was going to kill him after this. But watching him stumble into his own ruin will be so much more fun.

She sends him on his way with a burn.

Martin is terrified, he genuinely tries to quit. Almost manages it before his computer shuts off. The others try too, and then they all have a lovely freak-out together.

They decide to try and talk to Detective Tonner, which proves easy. She’s the partner of the one who’s been interviewing them. She comes to the institute, and they ask her about Jon. She tells them they believed he was responsible for killing Gertrude, seeing as he was next in line. Martin accidentally Compels her into a statement, and then into admitting she's mostly just saying he killed her because dead men don’t put up fights.

She threatens him right then and there, though Basira comes in and intervenes before anything happens. He files a dispute with the station, and avoids the police after that.

Basira brings him some of the tapes, she says it’s an apology. He’s pretty sure she’s just trying to get him to drop the dispute in the weirdest way possible. He does learn some about Gertrude though, and through her what he’s dealing with. And something about an ‘unknowing’

A man named peter Lukas visits the institute, one of the doners. Elias says he wants to see how the archive runs, Lukas says a few choice words about it. And Martin tells him in the most polite of terms to shove off. Lukas threatens him, and very briefly makes him forget everyone he’s ever loved. And then tells him he got off lucky, and that Elias should have picked a better archivist. You can hardly trust someone so childish to run something as important as this now can you.

Daisy visits him in his home, and threatens him in much more physical terms now. She tells him if he tries to do what he did to her again he’ll get more than a scar.

After that it’s a bit unclear how he gets marked by the next two (Curruption, Stranger.) but he does.

There’s a delivery, a few weeks after the stranger mark. It’s not supernatural in any sense, just a young woman dropping off a small box in the archivists office. She says her name is Georgie, and no, she doesn’t know what’s in the box. She just had an old friend tell her to deliver it if he didn’t check in after a bit. Then she found out he died on the news, and then she hadn’t wanted to deliver them- clearly whatever was in the box was going to get someone killed. And she wasn’t scared of it, she wasn’t one for fear, but the thought of putting anyone in danger made her skin crawl. But she didn’t want it in her house, and she refused to be haunted be this box forever. And there was no reason to defy the poor guys apparent final wishes- wait, why was she saying all this again?

In the box was tapes, a dozen or so of them. All addressed to ‘the next head archivist’

It’s Jon’s voice, on the tapes. Talking to who he apparently assumes to be an entire stranger, explaining the fears. And how Smirkes 14 wasn’t wrong, but wasn’t right either. It tells the next archivist to avoid eyes, paintings, doodles, abstract representations, and to keep playing dumb. There’s a lot out there, and the more you know the worse it gets. There’s no fighting, don’t struggle the nets already around you. There’s a way out, but you’re not going to like it.

It gives an odd image of Jon, the man who awkwardly tried to make small-talk int he break room, only to shuffle away after it fell flat. Carrying this world-ending secret on his shoulders. Stiff, awkward Jon. Grim, sad Jon. not so far apart but still so far outside of what Martin had known about him.

What had Martin known about him?

Tim decides to quit, Sasha stays. Elias hires Melanie. Who turns out to be another connection to Jon.

Melanie says he was kind of a prick, he belived her about her Sarah incident, but refused to give her library access. Probably because he was sexist, or maybe just a dickhead. She’d been trying to learn more about her encounter for ages. And this was finally her chance. They try to explain the way out but she won’t listen.

Martin starts following Gertrudes tapes, things about the unknowing have been popping up on his desk lately, and it sounds like Jon was right about an apocalypse. He goes to america, gets a bit kidnapped, and meets Gerry. He offers to help, and then asks about the unknowing. Gerry points him towards the storage locker. And when he gets back He and Sasha and Melanie check it out.

It’s mostly empty, apparently somewhat recently cleared out. Though in the corner there’s a large box of Tapes. There has to be dozens of them, and when they pres play it’s Jon. Talking to them. Except it’s not them, it’s another version of them, and something this version.

And there’s another Jon to add to the mystery of a man he was. The jon on these tapes isn’t stiffly awkward or forcedly professional. He’s open, sad. He cries, he laughs at memories they don’t have. He apologizes, a lot. Too much really. He talks about time travel, about forgetting faces and losing friends.

“Sometimes I-I think- I can’t help but be a bit... upset. At how unfair it all is. You’re all happy and laughing and together and i’m- 

i’m alone. 

I suppose it must be some sort of- cosmic Karma, I doomed the world so in this new one bright an new I pay my penance in isolation.

Or maybe it’s the other way around. I doom the world- suffer its horrors, and get a little bit of time to taste what humanity would be like.

Or maybe i’m just not that likable without an apocalypse.

Probably says a lot about me either way.

Is it bad that I- I sometimes consider letting things play their course? W-without any of you dying of course I just... I suppose it is bad, to want to end the world because you’re lonely. Just because i’m a bit sad doesn’t mean the planet should suffer, no... maybe i’ll try and reconnect with Georgie, it’s been... well. No. Perhaps best not.”

Sasha says that if she knew she would have at least brought him out for drinks or something. 

But they did sort-of know didn’t they? Not about the apocalypse, but about the loneliness. After all, nobody chats so awkwardly in the break room because they have a thriving social life.

“I’m going to kill Nikola tonight- i’m not going to die. I’m not. I didn’t die last time, a-and there’s no reason for that to change. T-there isn’t. I’m going to try and be a safe distance from the blast this time, too. But... Well, it’s not like I have anyone to miss me if I do go.

I suppose... Martin, if you’re listening to this- I... I miss you. You always did say I should be more open with my feelings, and it’s weird. To miss someone who’s right there. T-to look at a face and see a friend and a stranger. To love someone you’ve known for years who doesn’t even really know who you are.

It’s all very stranger, ironic really. Considering what i’m about to do.

I love you, and I miss you. I know you’re not listening, even if I did die you’ve probably long since quit. I hope you’re happy, whatever you’re doing. Happy and safe. All of you. 

And maybe you are listening, maybe... maybe we do become friends, maybe you actually choose to talk to me someday. Maybe I tell you about all of this and... And you don’t think i’m mad. Maybe you let me take you out to dinner and we’d be together again. We’d never be like before- not that that’s a bad thing what with the eldritch horrors. There’d be bits missing, memories we don’t share- but, it would still be you... It’s always been you, I think. And maybe I've decided to give this to you as some sort of silly romantic gesture.

A-and in that case. I love you, Martin Blackwood. More than you’ll ever know.

[HE SIGHS]

When I come back, i’m recording over this.”

[CLICK]

But he didn’t come back. He died that night. He died loving Martin, who never even really knew him beyond passing awkward conversation. Martin doesn’t know how to feel about it, besides guilty that is.

The tapes point them towards Georgie Barker, the woman who delivered the other set to the archives.

Georgie doesn’t really want anything to do with them, she knows whatever they’re stewing in got Jon killed. But she tells them about her encounter with The End, though she’s tetchy afterwards. Martins finally starting to understand this whole compelling business and is feeling pretty sorry about it. He redirects, he starts to ask about Jon. Who he was, really. What she knew he was like.

They talk, Martins curiosity is part Eye and part knowing that someone loved him, really, really loved him. And feeling like he missed out, like he skipped a train he hadn’t known was there. And wanting to know what kind of person would- could love him the way Jon did. And why that kind of person could end the world.

They talk, Georgie explains why they broke up (clashing ideals, he didn’t believe in the supernatural and her trauma was so inherently tied to it. He was a sleep-clinger and she kicked when she dreamed) And why it took so long for them to break up (Jon was funny once you learned to get his jokes, the Admiral loved him, he had a weird way of caring that was really sweet) they talk about things, Georgie lets him hang out with her as long as he promises to keep the supernatural out of their conversations. And how is Melanie doing by the way?

Sasha has a hard time splitting her time in the archive and helping Tim. He can manage himself of course but it’s hard knowing he’s sitting in her flat alone, he’s getting back into publishing though. Sleeping easier now he knows that not only is he free of the eye, but Jon very much killed the thing that killed Danny. He only wishes he could have been the one to pull the trigger. Sasha is getting more involved though, the eye has it’s own grip on her.

They finally confront Elias. They know it won’t do any good, Jons tapes explained what he was, who he was. But they’re frustrated. Low on options. Jon never really explained what the apocalypse was- if Martins learned anything from the other tapes it’s probably because he forgot, thought he did somewhere and didn’t.

Elias isn’t entirely surprised that they’ve figured it out, he knew something was going on. Though he wasn’t quite sure what. He claims he knows what oncoming apocalypse Jon was talking about, and that he was likely underestimating the amount.

He sends them to Ny-Ålesund. And Martin views the black sun. Gets briefly taken hostage by Manuela. And gets “saved” by a man who pops out of a door to stab her.

He says his name is Micheal, and he’s not there to help. He does his whole distortion bit, confuses them. Stabs Martin when he tries to take his statement. Says he was going to kill him, but what happens next might be much better than death. And leaves after stating that he’s very excited to watch how the rest of this plays out.

They go back to the institute, and Elias says he must have been wrong. Oopsie. Anyway the web is planning a ritual you should go check out the spooky house from all these statements.

They meet Annabelle in person, Martin gets marked by the web.

This continues on for the end the slaughter and the buried. They finally confront Elias again about these wild goose chases, he claims innocence but he’s done it enough times they don’t believe him. They stop trusting Elias. Not that they ever really did, but they stop listening to him.

Melanie isn’t as angry as she was. Though she is still angry. She didn’t go to india so no ghost bullet, but she’s still trapped. Though she knows how to quit, it’s been a scary idea. But the longer she stays the more she realizes how low she is on options. So she quits.

Martin is angry, he’s exhausted, he’s confused. Nothing makes sense. And another one of Elias’s goddamn doners is visiting. A weird old man who, when he shakes his hand, makes him feel like he just dropped off a rollercoaster at a million miles into empty nothingness. He laughs when Martins regained himself, and says that that tricks better than a buzzer every time.

He visits Georgie again, he’s thinking about quitting. But he can’t figure out what the apocalypse he’s supposed to stop is, because according to Jon it’s pretty bad. And he’s the one who can stop, or maybe start, it. But he doesn’t know what it is.

He talks to Georgie about Jon some more, it’s funny, to grieve a man you already knew. Except four years too late. There’s a sort-of helpless frustration to it, every time he talks about Jon he wishes he could be learning this first-hand. Not from someone who hadn’t spoken to him in years before this.

He also finds himself glued to the tapes, he can relate, in a way. To Jons loneliness. To have a person so, so close but so far away. He wishes he could meet the Jon on the tapes now. Then neither of them would have to be lonely. But Jon is dead. And Martin... Martin might love Jon. Jon, who died years ago. A dead man who apparently loved him enough to consider ending the world for the chance to have a real conversation with him.

He goes back to work, frustrated and so, so lost. A million questions that genuinely can’t be answered. There’s a fresh statement on his desk. It’s a statement of Jonah Magnus, regarding stopping the apocalypse.

Certainly a goddamn roundabout way of giving Martin information, but he’ll take it.

He reads the statement.

The world ends.

Sasha, Tim, Melanie, and Georgie all get their own domains. And wander free in the hills of suffering. Martin is alone, well and truly alone. He ended the world, because he was too stupid and sad to read a few extra paragraphs before starting the tape.

But Jon went back, didn’t he? He went back in time and stopped this once. Maybe Martin can too. Maybe he can stop the flesh from attacking, maybe he can stop Melanie from joining the institute. Maybe he can meet the real Jon.

He goes back, he does it. Nobody remembers but him. 

Nobody remembers but him. 

And things keep happening he can’t have predicted.

Worms, Sasha is gone, Gertrude. It’s all wrong. And Jon isn’t the Jon he knew, he doesn’t know Martin, he doesn’t even like Martin. Nobody is the person he knew before.

He is alone. And things keep happening he can’t have predicted, worms tables and paranoia. He starts recording. Trying to follow in Jon’s footsteps and leave information behind, easier to access this time of course. In his flat, and he’ll have the key sent to the archives if something goes wrong. He’ll record until Jon trusts him enough to believe him, Maybe he’ll even stop him before it’s too late and he’ll never need to find out what happened at all. Maybe he can't get close as he was to everyone, but he can keep them safe.

He doesn’t get to finish his recordings, he wasn’t careful enough. Jonah catches wind and half the tapes are destroyed when he dies in a mysterious housefire. But what’s left does get delivered to the archives.

And the cycle continues.

[tamagochiie]

late night escapades with hq boys + a song that goes along with it

genre: fluff! oneshots! character roster: bokuto koutaro, atsumu miya, sugawara koushi, kuroo tetsuro, oikawa toru a/n: i haven't been able to write in a while, and i'm really happy with these one shots. i kinda started this because i miss my friends and all the dumb things we used to do pre-quarantine.  anyway, i hope you enjoy! oh, and happy kuroo day! 😌✨

— bokuto koutaro [the way you remember me by st. lucia]

Without a doubt he's always been your number one go-to for a pick-me-up.

So, when you call him in the middle of night, without needing to finish your thought, he'll tell you he's on his way and hangs up the phone; and he'd be there in less than an hour.

You've got a lot of pent up emotions waiting to burst, so where does Bokuto take you? He'll drive you through the tunnels.

Bokuto glances over to you, one hand on the wheel and the other on the stick shift; his back relaxing against the cool leather of his seat. He coyly smirks at you as your weary eyes meets his; mischief twinkling in his golden irises. You hear a whirling above your head, and you look up to see the sunroof sliding open.

You raise a brow, tilting your head. "Koutaro, what are you—"

"In about 2 minutes we'll be in the tunnels," He cuts you off, his attention flickering from the road ahead to you ever so often, "and when we get there, you're gonna poke yourself through that sunroof, and you're gonna let everything out."

"I—I don't understand—"

He sighs,"Look dude, you've taken a lot of L's this month, and I love that you call me whenever you're about to bust, but I just don't think it's enough for you anymore. So, I'm just tellin' you to scream it all out."

You pout, still looking at him quizzically.Though odd in nature, Bokuto usually means well...most of the time he means well.

You shrug your shoulders and give to it, unbuckling your seat belt as you draw nearer to the tunnels. You rise from your seat and try to balance your weight on the cushion as you poke your head out the sunroof.

"You ready?!" Bokuto yells to you, tugging on the cuff of your sweats. "Yeah!" You reply as you start to pull yourself up.

The cool wind meets your cheeks and sends a euphoric feeling down your spine. There's a persistent white noise ringing in your ear as your heart begins to float away form your chest. Even if you don't scream, you already feel lighter than you had earlier.

Bokuto rolls down his window, sticking his head out like a dog as he continues to drive. "Raise your arms!" He shouts, the sound of his voice pulling you out of your daze.

You do as he says, but you close your eyes to let the feeling wash over you. You scream, you shout, and you even sing a little as the excitement thrums in your chest.

Bokuto closes his eyes for just a moment, shouting along with you as he smiles to himself; the wind rushing against his face.

Your voices echo, intertwining with each other's as you continue with your "woo-ing" and "cooing". You ride your high to its fullest, screaming to the top of your lungs as the weight that's made a home on your shoulders disappears.

Even when you're free from the bright lights of the tunnels and engulfed by the darkness of the night, you don't come down from your high. With your arms still raised and the wind in your face, you let yourself get lost in the moment, hoping to stretch it a little longer.

--atsumu miya [as we ran by the national parks]

Signing up to be Atsumu's friend was basically signing up for nothing but life long surprises.

He's unpredictable, coming and going into your life through a revolving door full of stories. He'll disappear for a little while, and when he feels like it, he'll resurface.

He's kind of like confetti; he'll go out with a bang, but he'll make sure to leave glimmering traces of himself behind for you to remember him by until he comes back;

And when he does, he'll immediately coming running to you like a boat towards a lighthouse.

He won't tell you he's on his way to pick you up, he'll already be there and call you out of your house to drag you somewhere while you're half asleep, still processing what's going on.

But no matter how much of an inconvenience it is for you, you can't help but give in anyway.

The winter air is thick; your knees begin to shake and your breaths grow ragged. You groan in pain, images of you shoving your foot up Atsumu's ass flash across your mind. If it wasn't for your lack of athletic abilities, you would've thrown your shoe at the back of his head by now.

"We're almost there!" He calls out to you, twisting his head to find you hunched over, finding support in your knees as you catch whatever oxygen that's still in you. "C'mon, don't give up on me now." His tone is playful, not a single sign of struggling from the twenty minute jog uphill you've just made.

The fallen leaves crunch beneath his feet as he walks back to you.

"You know, 'Tsumu," You gasp, trying set your pulse back to its resting rate, "I'm so close to killing you...I really am."

He takes your words lightly, disregarding the resentment laced in your words as he laughs heartily. "Ya don't mean that! Ya'd miss me too much, I know that for a fact."

There's a ringing in your ears that cuts Atsumu off mid-sentence; it dangerously nears to a C sharp. Your vision blurry ever so often as you train your eyes down to your bunny slippers.

The asshat didn't even let you change out of your shoes, let alone your clothes. He just showed up unannounced (as per usual), and dragged you out of the house because he had "something cool to show you".

"I—I don't think I can keep running." You huff.

"S'okay," He replies, "we can walk the rest of the way since we're close anyway...Here, gimme yer hand; I'll pull ya the rest of the way."

You raise your head; though he's sweating profusely, there isn't a single trace to tell you he's had a hard time as much as you have, or at least a little.

You narrow your eyes, glaring at him for his lax disposition. He's smiling down at you, eyes glimmering beneath the florescent light post as he waits for you to take your hand in his. You want to swat it away, but against your better judgement and sheer desperation, you take it anyway.

"Atta girl!" Atsumu cheers, still holding that damn smile.

You grumble the whole way through, whining about your feet aching and how dizzy you feel. Though it should've annoyed him or at least got a small rise out of him, but he only draws circles over your hand with his thumb, humming in response every now and then to let you know he's still listening.

Luckily for you, it only takes you both five minutes to reach...the very deserted destination.

"Oh my God, 'Tsumu," You groaned, throwing your head back as you try to pull yourself out of Atsumu's hold, but he only tightens his grip, "you pulled me out of bed for dirt?"

"I—What? No!" He rolls his eyes and pulls you close so you're standing next to him. "Why ya gotta be like that? I dragged yer ass outta bed for this!"

Your gaze follows to where he points, and the moment you see the view of the city before you, your eyes widen and your breath hitches in your throat.

The city lights twinkling, outshining the stars. You can hear the echoes of life from where you both stand, and all you can manage to say is, "Wow."

In all of your five years living in here, you never thought a sight like this was only a twenty-five minute walk away.

"Told ya it was worth it..." Atsumu slings he's arm around your neck and pecks a kiss on the crown of your head. "Ain't it cool havin' a friend like me?"

You shift beneath his arm, finding a more comfortable position in his hold as you pat his chest. "Yeah, you're alright..."

He squints at you, furrowing his brows at your poor choice of words and lack of excitment. You laugh at him, his crinkled nose and the deep frown lines on his forehead make him look like a child.

"Whatever," He sighs, pulling you close. "I know ya love me, ya don't even gotta say it."

"Shut up, 'Tsumu." You tease, burying your head into the dip of his neck. "All your talking's ruining the view."

—sugawara koushi [like real people do by hozier]

Just like Bokuto, Sugawara's your number one go-to except instead of having you screech into a tunnel, he'll be your soundboard.

Though he doesn't have a specific place he'll bring you to, Sugawara will definitely drive you around for hours and hours on end—anything that'll help calm your nerves or help you fall asleep.

He'll listen to your laughs, your cries, and even the quiet hum of your snores. He wants to be there for you in every moment you need him, hoping that one day you'll see him in a different kind of light.

But on the one night it rains, he thinks of something better for you to do to relieve your stress.

"You can't be serious..." A nervous laugh escapes you when Suga parks the car on the side of the empty highway, unbuckling his seatbelt before switching off the engine. "Ko-Koushi you can't be serious?"

"Live a little," Your name falls off the tip of his tongue so effortlessly, it completely escapes you that he's already getting out the car; and within seconds, he's completely drenched by the rain. He calls to you, motioning you to join him.

"You're crazy!" You shout through the glass, shaking you head as you laugh at him. "We'll get hit by a car!"

"No one's out here but us!" He argues. Suga begins to jump and down, dancing beneath the rain regardless of the lack of music playing in the background.

This is so stupid, you think to yourself, slumping into your seat. You sit there and watch as your best friend continues to dance in rain, smiling to himself as he spreads his arms open as if he's waiting for the sky to hug him back.

When he notices you still glued to your seat, he marches over to you with a devious grin painting across his lips. You rush to try and lock your door, but you're left betrayed by his car when he swings it open.

"Get out of the car," He sing-songs. "Get out of the car while I'm still asking nicely."

You widen your eyes, lips falling into an 'o'.

You think its best not to get out, fearing you might get hit by a car or something worse like catching a cold. But when Suga looks at you with a warm, comforting smile, holding his hand out to you, how could you possibly resist?

Kicking off your shoes, you slip your hand in his and step out of the car.

Slamming the door behind you, he slips one arm around your waist before bending down to swing the other beneath your knees, carrying you back to where he stood.

He spins you around, and you snake your arms around his neck tightly as you scream. Even in his recklessness he's careful with you, making sure his grip is tight on you. But when he feels you slipping from his hold, he carefully sets you down.

Your arms still around his neck. Suga cranes his neck just a little to meet your eyes; his smile charms you and you can't help but smile as well.

"Are you having fun?!" He shouts over the rai to make sure you can hear him. You nod your head as you wipe away the hair sticking to his face. "Yes I am!"

"Do you still feel like crying?!" He asks, still shouting.

"Not at all!" You reply. "I'm too busy worrying over the fact we might get run over! This is still crazy, Koushi!"

"Well, then you're just as crazy for joining me!"

"It's not like I had a choice, you jerk!"

Suga dismisses your last words as he flutters his eyes shut, pressing his forehead against yours . You stiffen at the sudden closeness, but oddly enough you don't mind it. You try not to choke on your own breaths, swallowing down a cough to keep you in this intimate moment you didn't know you were longing for.

Through your glossy vision, you take notice of his eyelashes. Was it always this long? Was he always this pretty?

You study his face; his clear skin, thick browns, cute little dimples in the corners of his mouth. He's so beautiful, you think. Was he always this beautiful?

You shut your eyes when you notice him blinking away the raindrops from his lashes.

"I like you," The rain is loud and thunderous, yet you can hear Suga's faint confession between the howling of the wind and the rhythm of the rainfall. Its as if for a moment, the rain died down just enough so you could hear his words as well as his nervous heart.

You bite your lips, keeping your eyes shut as you smile at his words; and he can see it. He can see your eyes moving beneath your eyelids; he cans see your lips quivering to smile, and he can feel you shaking between his arms.

It could be because you're cold, or it could be the because since the start of the year, you've had it rough and this was the first time in a long while you had something to be genuinely happy about without having to doubt it or worry that just like the storm, it'll eventually pass.

The moment you open your eyes, Suga's looking right at you, peering into your gaze as he waits for your response.

"How cheesy of you," You tease, "confessing to me in the rain."

"I thought you'd like it."

"Well, I like you, so I guess that's enough, isn't it?"

—tetsuro kuroo [real estate by adam melchor]

A bit random, but I'm a firm believer that Kuroo definitely likes to buy food from anywhere and park the car in an empty parking lot in the middle of the night to talk about whatever with you.

He'll call this adventurous, but you'll call it lazy.

It became a thing when you were both in high school; he'd come over in the middle of the night after you called and told him you weren't feeling your best.

he'd get you out of the house, not minding the time because he is a firm believer in physically getting out of the negative energy.

he'd bring you to convenience store because it was the only place open in your village, and share a meal with you that he bought as you both sit on the edge of the sidewalk and talked.

"How's my girl doing now?" The car circles around the parking lot once more before it comes to a slow stop. Kuroo rests his arm behind the headrest of your chair, looking at you intently as you wipe away a stray tear. "Still not-so great, huh?"

You shake your head as it hangs low. You don't want to meet his eyes, too embarrassed of yourself, but you must've forgotten that he's seen worse.

One of the many plastic bags Kuroo's got settled on his lap rustles as he digs a hand through the many snacks he bought at the convenience store. He pulls out an onigiri from the bag and sets it in one of the cupholders that's sitting just below the heater.

Turning the air up he says, "Food's just cookin', it'll be ready when you are." You can only mutter a soft 'thank you' in between your sniffling.

He sits in the silence with you, nudging your arm and patting your head ever so often, waiting till you ride out your crying to the fullest. He'll even wipe away the river of tears pooling at the tip of your chin.

You didn't feel like crying when you had first called Kuroo; you just wanted to use him as a soundboard to let all your pent up stress you've been trying to anchor through the week. But the moment you found yourself in his presence, you couldn't help but break. Its as if Kuroo was the comfort you were looking for in the pillow fort you made at home, or the warmth you were missing when you made yourself into a burrito blanket.

"I'm just tired," Your voice croaks as you whine to him. You lift your head to lean it against the headrest, flickering your eyes to Kuroo who looks at you intently, leaning in closely as if nothing else mattered but you."I'm so tired, and I don't know what to do...I-I feel so pathetic! Like, everything that I do doesn't measure up to how I want things to be—like—does that even make sense?"

"Plenty of sense," He hums. A soft smirk plays across his lips and you can already feel yourself healing.

You wipe away the stray tears. "You probably think I'm silly...I've cried over so many things so many times, you'd think I'd go dry by now, huh?"

He shakes his head, reaching out to you to cup your cheek. He softly grazes his thumb against your skin, and you can help but sink into his touch. "I think you're just perfect."

A laugh escapes you, but you don't tear your eyes away from him. "Thanks, Kuroo...You're always listening to me go on and on—you're a great friend."

His gaze lingers a little longer than usual, and you swallow the panic hitched in your throat when you notice him inching towards you. You close your eyes as the space between you lessens; you feel him hovering over you lips, his breath fanning against your skin.

"I also think I might be in love with you..." He whispers, his eyes flicking from your lips to your eyelids.

Your breath stays hitched in your throat and it takes all the energy you have left to quietly say, "Well, kiss me so you can find out."

—oikawa tooru [tell me by jonny jewel ft. saorise ronan]

oikawa's extraordinary efforts to make his life reflect in the same manner was one of many reasons you fell in love with him.

he was a bit dramatic in nature, so just like atsumu, he'd show up at your doorstep without a single warning to whisk you away at the dead of night.

in every visit, he'd always take you somewhere new. This always left you looking forward to the next time he'd come knocking on your door.

You giggle as he peppers kisses over your hand, intertwining your fingers together so effortlessly like the many times he's done before. With his eyes etched onto the softly lit road ahead, the florescent lights twinkle past you as Oikawa continues to drive.

You coil your hold around his toned arm, pulling the bed sheet you clung with you when he whisked you away. His lips curve into a soft smile just as he's about to kiss the top of your head.

"How much longer you?" You asked, your voice taut as its strained, fresh from slumber. He hums in response, cooing your name as he tells you its not much longer till you're there.

You wonder where he'll bring you next. At the top of a hill overlooking the city? A weird shop that had an underground bar? Though you aren't really dressed for the occasion, so maybe not.

You didn't mean to drift away so easily, but the sudden yet smooth halt jolts you back to your senses. Oikawa cups your face and draws circles over your skin, waiting for you to completely wake up.

When your eyes flutter open, a rather large neon sign greets you, reflecting onto the windshield, "The Neon Graveyard".

You squint your eyes before craning your neck back to look at Oikawa. "Toru, where are we?"

He does nothing but smile, leaving your question unanswered as he gently steps on the gas and begins to drive forward. He cranks the volume of the radio a little higher, setting the mood.

The place is canvased in old bright signs in different shapes and sizes, twinkling fairy lights, and everything other glowing thing you can possibly think of. Signs from buildings long forgotten and a string of lights that no longer gleamed for anyone.

The car once again comes to a halt and you feel Oikawa peeling away from you, making you frown. He only smiles, cupping your face to leave a kiss on your forehead before to tell you to get out of the car. You're reluctant, but you do so anyway.

Wrapped like a California Maki, you step out of the car and take in the sight before you. It isn't long till you feel a familiar pair of arms caging you in, swaying you back and forth to the beat of the radio faintly playing in the background.

"D'you like it?" Oikawa asks, his breath fanning across your ear. It sends a hot flash across you cheeks and all you can manage to do is nod. "I knew you would...A friend told me about it and I knew I just had to bring you here."

You rest against his back, leaning your head on his shoulder as he continues to sway you back and forth. Only until you manage to twist yourself around to come face to face with his eyes—eyes sparkling beneath the colorful lights.

"Tell me that you'll never leave me," He presses his forehead onto yours, his sigh warms your cheeks. His hands fall to your waist, weaving his fingers into a tight hold to pull your closer."I love you so much..."

You lean in to kiss him; the warmth of his cheeks meets the coolness of the palm of your hands. "I'll love you forever, Toru."

[jhoudiey]

You like to play God, don't you?

Wrote this fic a while back, #ChickenChallenge starts trending on magicam again, and Yoru ends up trying to distract herself with her friends. Ends up watching Jade as he builds a terrarium, and ends with dumb and dumber fluff. 1825 words.

hey you’re that chicken girl from NRC right?

Yoru stared at her phone. Idia had finally updated it so that she was able to use it freely, her hands no longer an issue on the touch screen. She normally didn’t pay attention to notifications, but had texted him earlier that night hoping to hang out, instead her magicam had exploded, messages popping in so quickly she could hardly keep track

show me ur feet

where else do you have feathers?

check it out, I’ve got weird feet too!

Whoa! Is that from a magic accident!? Crazy!!

omg ur disgustingggggg!!!!

you fucking freak!

ahahahaha no way your real. You’re like a chicken!!!!

can you send me a pic of your chicken feet? They’re so freaky I wanna show my friend!

you ever jerked a guy off with those? Do you want to?

She stared at the picture of the penis in her inbox with disgust, is this how normal people communicated? Why were all these people she didn’t know suddenly messaging her anyway? It was already past midnight, didn’t they have anything better to do? She exited her messages and found there had been a series of throwback posts from NRC Halloween, #ChickenChallenge was trending again. She sighed and closed the application, having lived through that once had been enough, she had no desire to repeat the experience online.

Idia still hadn’t texted her back, but her mood was soured. Focusing on her alchemy work wasn’t enough to distract her from the constant buzzing coming from her phone.

“Fuck this” she grumbled, throwing her phone onto her bed before launching herself out the window. She didn’t need to wait for a text back from Idia, she’d just show up, the same as always.

As luck would have it, however, Idia was busy. He wasn’t gaming as was usual for him at this time of night, but was in the middle of a video chat with Vita, making it much more awkward to sit in the corner of his room quietly. She didn’t want to know what they talked about when it was just the two of them. She wandered back out of the dorm, hesitating in the Hall of Mirrors. It was late, she should just go home...but… he might still be awake too.

She knocked on the door tucked down the halls of Octavinelle dorm, silently cursing herself for going down there in the first place.

“Come in”

Jade welcomed her into his and Floyd’s shared room, a small smile painted on his lips. He was in his pajamas, though clearly invested in building a terrarium, plants and stones laid out carefully on his desk in front of him. She spied Floyd, his pajama shirt discarded on the floor beside his bed, fast asleep curled around one of his pillows facing away from them. He’d likely turned away from the lamp light Jade had kept on as he worked.

“Ahh, I guess it is too late, I’ll go” Yoru mumbled looking between them, she’d never gotten along comfortably with Jade.

“You can stay. I don’t mind, Yoru-san,” He held his hand out to offer Floyd's desk chair to her “Would you care to join me? Clearly something is the matter or you wouldn’t have come by so late. I do know how much you loathe to be here.”

She hesitated.

If she stayed, she’d have to deal with his casual cruelty and observant eye, if she left she may have to deal with another dozen messages about how she was a disgusting bird freak who really should be embarrassed to look like that, not that she needed the reminder. She sighed and crawled onto the chair, her legs tucked in against her body, arms clutched around them as she watched Jade work. He was meticulous.

Like everything he did, every movement was measured, everything planned well in advance to come together just as he imagined it.

“Is this what you normally spend your weekends doing?” She asked, her eyes following his graceful hands as he arranged some moss.

“Hmm, it is something I am quite fond of, yes.”

“Why? Wouldn’t it be better to keep a garden or something? What’s the point of this?”

He laughed quietly.

“This is what humans call ‘a hobby’ I believe. The point is to enjoy it, Yoru-san.”

She rested her chin on her knees, her eyes drifting across his desk to the discarded pieces of clothing on the floor near Floyd's bed. She felt Jade watching her and turned her gaze back to him.

“But why do you enjoy it? What’s so good about building a tiny garden in a jar?”

“You mean what’s so entertaining about creating and controlling an entire ecosystem one can hold in their hands? I wonder…”

She snorted.

“Ahhh, so it’s just something else you can manipulate. Makes sense.” She grinned at him, his hands expertly arranging rocks along the bottom of the jar.

“How cruel, Yoru-san, to suggest my innocent hobby is anything but… I can’t deny the implications though.”

“Hah, so you admit it then. No wonder you like it...” She chuckled, her eyes wandering once again to Floyds sleeping form, his back slowly rising and falling with his breaths.

“Admit it? No, I simply enjoy when certain things go as planned” He smirked at her. He’d caught her wandering eyes twice now, though she was trying to hide it. She hadn’t come here to see him, after all. She faced him again, not wanting to meet his eyes instead focusing on his hands.

“Do you ever add bones?”

“Oya? What is it you’re trying to imply, Yoru-san?”

“...They’d be good for the soil. I can bring you some, if you need.”

“I suppose that would raise fewer questions than gathering them myself...Thank you.”

“Mmmm” She nodded with her head still on her knees, content to watch him in silence. He was building a whole planet before her, a God playing with nature to whatever suited his whim. A rock here, moss there… no wait… over there instead. It was fascinating and tedious at the same time. His hands weaved patterns from nothing, a garden blossoming from his fingertips. She felt her attention slipping and closed her eyes, the soft tinkling of his tools being drowned out by the slow tide of Floyd's slumbering breath. She tilted her head towards him, her own breathing slowing to match his like the sea lazily lapping at the shore.

“Why don’t you lie down with him, Yoru-san? I don’t mind” Jades voice cut through her dreamy haze, jolting her upright.

“What? No. Huh?” She stuttered, horrified that Jade had somehow known the comfort she felt in that moment. “I’ve gotta go, I must have fallen asleep. Bye Jade” She hurried to leave, bumping into Floyd's desk in her haste. The precariously stacked books toppled over and fell to the floor, making an awful racket in the near silent bedroom.

“Oh shit, sorry!’ She whispered in a panic, hoping she hadn’t woken Floyd. She scooped to pick the books up, her wings threatening to topple the chair she had been sitting in just moments ago. Jade laughed as he watched her struggle.

“Fufufu, Yoru-san. You seem quite flustered, did something I say upset you? Perhaps my suggestion to sleep with Floyd-”

“No!” She yammered quickly. Too quickly. “No, I’m just tired. I have to go!” She pushed the books back onto the desk haphazardly and turned to leave, hoping that Jade hadn’t caught sight of her face, red as it was sure to be. How could he have known what she was thinking?

“Hmmpppfff” Floyd whined, wrapping his arms around her waist, his face buried in feathers. “You’re too loud, Fugu-chan, be more quiet”

Jade smirked at the pair of them as Yoru struggled to free herself from his grasp. Floyd whined into her back, dragging her into his bed so he could go back to sleep.

“Yoru-san, it’s better if you don’t fight him, he can be quite insistent when he wants something” She knew he was right. To get free she’d have to peel him off of her, and with how tightly he held her it would be hard, Floyd really was too damn strong. She sighed and stopped resisting, feeling her feet leave the floor as he flipped her over him to settle her between his body and the wall.

He murmured wordlessly as he shifted around her wings, careful not to pull out any feathers accidentally. He settled between them, his head resting slightly above hers, his face nestled in her hair, body pressed tightly against hers. She was glad Jade couldn’t see her anymore, she could feel him watching them still, but with their faces turned away from him he wouldn’t be able to read her expression. She felt like her heart was going to beat out of her chest, she was sure Floyd must have felt it too, though if he did he made no mention of it. This wasn’t what she’d had in mind when she had come over, all she had wanted was to chat a bit, to forget about the people on magicam trying to ruin her night. She had to admit though… This was nice too. Ever since spring break they’d been more comfortable with each other physically, Floyd often clinging to her whenever he slept over, but so far that hadn’t left the confines of her bedroom. No one ever saw how often she clung back, she’d made sure to disengage from his grasp before he woke whenever she found herself too near him. It was much too embarrassing to be found like this, her face burning again knowing that Jade was probably enjoying himself immensely, proven right yet again.

The lamp clicked off, Jade finally retiring, Yoru felt herself finally relaxing. Her body jolted as tension left her, and she laid her arms across Floyd's, drawing lazy circles on the backs of his hands with her fingers. He sighed into her hair and pressed himself against her a little tighter at her touch, fast asleep once more. Yoru closed her eyes knowing it wasn’t safe to fall asleep where she lay, she had to get up and go home or she’d never hear the end of it. 5 more minutes then you have to go home she told herself, but it really was very comfortable, laying with Floyd like this.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

“Euuuggggghhhh Jaaaaade, turn your alarm offffff” Floyd complained loudly. He was close...too close. Yoru’s eyes snapped open with a start, she’d fallen asleep in his arms.

“Ahhh, I must have forgotten to turn it off. My apologies, you two fufufu”

“Mmmmm~ good morning, Fugu-chan” Floyd murmured as he tightened himself around her once more. She felt him smile as he nuzzled his face into the nape of her neck, her face blazed red once more.

[wayward-river]

Princess Of The Ghoulies 1/?

AN: Hey y’all look at me starting a new series with multiple already in works, I just can’t help it I guess lol. Charming will still be coming out as well, all mistakes are my own I do not own the Gifs used. 

Beta’d by @xserpentlife​ thanks babes! If you would like to be tagged please let me know! This will be a Reggie x Reader who is sister of Malachai. This was Requested but if I put the request in it will give things away! Anyways I’ll stop rambling, hope yall like it!!

Please do not copy and post my stories anywhere without written permission.

Your life was pretty hectic to say the least, you were the only living family member of Malachai, otherwise known as the King of the Ghoulies. Growing up was never easy for either of you so when Malachai had a chance to improve he took it no questions asked. He had built his family so to speak.

 Being the sister of Malachai was interesting, since you were the baby he was overly protective. At Southside High he had his ghouls to watch over your every move, but tomorrow… tomorrow you start Riverdale High. 

Riverdale High was going to be your escape, sure the Serpents knew who you were but they seemed to leave you alone, the Northsiders wouldn’t know you, you would have a fresh start. Somewhere you wouldn’t get dirty looks and people avoiding you, yeah tomorrow was a new beginning and you couldn’t be more excited. 

You shouldered your faded light blue, torn to shit bookbag as you stared at the building in front of you. It seemed to taunt you, once they find out who you are, they’ll all hate you, might as well not get your hopes up. You were shaken out of your thoughts with a slight bump to your shoulder. Looking over you saw three serpents. 

You sighed. “Look I don’t want any trouble...I just want to go to a school where I’ll actually get to learn.” 

Sweet Pea eyed you suspiciously, before clearing his throat. “Why aren’t you at Seaside?”

You rolled your eyes, you had heard enough of this from Malachai. Annoyed you let out a huff. “I’m not an official Ghoulie so I was put in Riverdale High, look I don’t ever cause trouble with you guys, yes my brother is a known enemy, but if you don’t tell then I won’t.” 

They huddled in a little closer to each other murmuring softly, before the shorter one turned back flashing you a smile. “Deal. Just follow behind us, we’ll call Riverdale High neutral territory.” You nodded. “I’m Fangs, this is Sweet Pea,” You had known Sweet Pea all too well from a party you weren’t supposed to be at and one too many beers, you both had pretended the whole thing didn’t happen. “That’s Toni. Stick by us these Northsiders can be real mutts.” 

You nodded as you walked up the stairs following the two headed angry snakes in front of you. If Mal knew you had befriended Serpents you would never hear the end of it. You stopped abruptly, watching in horror as students stood on the stairs yelling at the Serpents that stood in front of you. Quickly you snuck off grabbing your schedule out of your pocket, staring at it trying to magically will yourself to know where these classes were, turning into the next hall you smacked into someone sending you to the ground. You looked up profusely apologizing to the boy in the blue and gold letterman that stood above you. He held his hand out helping you up. “Don’t worry about it, I’m Moose.” 

What was up with these Riverdale names? “I’m Y/N, uh-sorry for running into you… it's my first day and I have no idea where my classes are. Someone was supposed to show me but then a fight happened between Serpents and students and well I ducked out.” 

Moose studied you for a moment, “I can show you to your class if you’d like?” You smiled nodding, grateful to literally run into someone helpful. 

Moose showed you to the correct class a few minutes before the bell rang, you stepped in seeing an empty desk near the middle, you awkwardly maneuvered in and out of the desks before settling on the only empty one, you slid your bookbag off your shoulder, opening it up as you pulled out a pen and your notebook. You patiently awaited for the teacher to start, hopefully they would care and not just have you read from a book or do whatever the class wanted. 

“Hey”

You looked over to the desk next to you. There sat one of the students that were yelling from the stairs. Was he going to yell at you now? In front of everyone? Oh God. 

“Why don’t you have a jacket on?”

You looked at him puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“You’re obviously new, I watched you walk in behind the school's new trash but you don’t have a jacket… why?”

“I’m not a Serpent, only Serpents have those jackets….I’m just a normal girl.” You added in as you turned back towards your notebook as the teacher took the front of the class. 

The boy next to you seemed to study you a bit longer before he nodded and looked away. 

You spent the rest of the class taking notes, painstakingly aware of the boy next to you stealing glances. When the bell rang you gathered your things slowly as you pulled your schedule back out. Jumping when the shaggy haired boy next to you spoke again. 

“I have that class next, if you’d like I can walk you?” 

If he thought the Serpents were trash, how would he think of you? Why did it matter? “I don’t even know you...”

He flashed you a smile as he extended his hand, “I’m Reggie Mantle.” 

“I’m Y/N.” 

He arched his brow, “Just Y/N?” 

You nodded, as he led you out of the classroom, your eyes flickering to Sweet Pea as you walked out the look on his face utter betrayal. What did you do? What did you owe him anyway? He hated you. 

You shook the look off as you followed Reggie to the lockers, a familiar face waiting. Moose gave you a warm smile. “Y/N, I’ve seen you’ve managed to find another tour guide.” 

A light chuckle escaped you, “I keep finding those. Guess I’m just lucky.” 

You sat down at a small table near the back corner pulling out your lunch, you huffed annoyed when Sweet Pea joined you. 

“What can I do for you Sweet Pea.” 

“Just giving some friendly advice, you might want to stay away from Mantle. He’s not the nicest person, very judgy. 

You rolled your eyes. “Why do you care?” 

“Look I know we aren’t the best of friends, but we have… well you know, so I’m just trying to look out for you, make sure you don’t get burned by a mutt.” 

“I’ll be fine Sweet Pea. I can handle myself.” 

Sweet Pea scoffed as he got up walking away, not much longer both Moose and Reggie were joining you. 

“So Y/N you new to town?”

“Lived in the town of pep my whole life. Just on the Southside.” 

“You must be the only good thing about the Southside.” Reggie flirted. 

“Lots of good people are from there, just are never given a chance, always judged too early.” 

The bell rang giving you about 5 minutes to get to your next class. “Can I walk you to class?” 

You smiled at Reggie letting him lead you to your classes for the remainder of your first day. He was cute to look at but he did call the Serpents trash, what would he think when he found out who you were. Yeah you might not be one but you were associated, hopefully you could be the one to open his eyes about the Southside, for now you were just glad you had made a few friends. 

-

You walked into the house of the dead happier than you left it and your brother took notice. 

“How was school Y/N/N?” 

You flashed him a smile, “It was good, the teachers actually care so I’m learning for once, I made some friends.”

“Serpents bother you?” Malachai cut you off. 

You rolled your eyes. “As always they left me alone. I tell you all the time Mal they pretend I don’t exist they are there to learn to you know, besides they can’t be that bad” 

Malachai studied you then, you had never been one to talk of the Serpents, always kept to yourself in school, was Riverdale High going to change you? He needed things to stay the same, you were the most important thing in his life he’d be damned if he let something happen to you. He needed to find a way to get information of who these new friends were and quickly. 

“Just stay away from them.” 

You rolled your eyes once more as you swung your bag over your shoulder and headed to your room. You should have known this was how he would react. Always treated you like you would break at any given moment. This year was going to be different, yeah this year you were going to live how you wanted to, what’s the worst thing that could happen?

[dreaming-of-brawlstars]

A Mortifying Discovery: Part Two. Part One is here.

Desc: Colt’s been running around Starr Park for ages now, and had depended on Jessie as his navigator. But sometimes a map doesn’t do justice to what’s there.

Warnings: Referenced memory alteration/wiping. Amnesia. Fridge horror. Some angst.

Author’s Note: Hurt/COMFORT. Comfort comes around the end but it’s comfort. Happy ending.

Extra Note: posting this separate because scrolling to parts can be a bit difficult on mobile and I just wanna simplify it.

“Okay, creepy spooky haunted house with a radio,” he muttered, moving forward slowly through the dark. “You got this, Colt.” He looked ahead of him, watching the dark area. “Just a few minutes. Find the radio. Turn it off. Call Jessie.”

His mind worked in circles as he walked, and he kept repeating that mantra. He looked around, his eyes finally having adjusted to the darkness. The house seemed big, very big. But it was only because the windows are tall, he reasoned. It’ll all be fine. Just a few seconds.

He concluded that it had to be coming from upstairs after a brief search of the floor he was in resulted in nothing, and he heard the radio slightly louder as he was near them.

He moved to the stairs, carefully ascending them. Then he heard a creak. It was just a small one, then another. Looking down, he could see that all the steps squeaked at the slightest weight. It made him cringe as he took another step up, holding on tight. Another creak. A few steps later, the stairs creaked louder. He held onto the railing, biting his lip as he kept going. Then he was on the top step.

It was probably made like that for the creep factor, since the steps looked and felt firm enough, but it still managed to unnerve him.

Slowly walking around the hall, he glanced at every door, trying to figure where the radio came from, following the sound. Finally, he found a room that seemed to be the source, and he pressed his ear against the door to make sure.

“And so, listener…” Yep, that was most definitely the radio. He went to open the door, noticing it wasn’t locked. But it was jammed.

“Damn it.” Colt briefly shifted, pressing his shoulder against the door on the side with the knob, leaning all his weight into it. If he could get past it without breaking the door open, he would be fine. “Hurry up, you stupid…!” He urged, gritting his teeth as he heaved his entire body against the door.

The door gave away slightly, and Colt let out a groan when he noticed a chain deadbolt. However, his solution was in reach. He saw a golden cane, reached his hand through, and grabbed it. Once he had it, he used it to slide the chain out of the bolt, opening the door.

“Which of our senses can be trusted?”

When it swung open, he froze.

It was a bedroom, a large bed in the middle with the radio speaking on the nightstand next to it. In the bed was someone sleeping, breathing softly.

Colt gulped, stepping into the room slowly and propping open the door with the cane. He carefully made his way over to the radio, watching the resting person.

“Which of our thoughts can be believed?” Colt hesitated to reach out to the radio, looking at the sleeping person.

They were wearing a Starr Hat, just like he used to. A felt yellow hat with headphones. Without thinking, Colt reached to take it off of them.

“Which story that we tell ourselves can be regarded as truth?” As he pulled the headphones off of them, he faintly heard the voice on the radio coming form the headphones too. He briefly glanced at them, then at the person. “It’s important to remember tha-a-a-“

Colt turned off the radio, ignoring the voice continuing from the headphones as he looked for a place to put it, eventually placing it on the nightstand next to the radio. He had his eyes on the person.

Pointed ears and purple hair. Weird, but not the weirdest thing Starr Park could do to a person. They seemed to be sleeping deeply, like most guests of Starr Park, but he noticed that they were wearing something different. Something white stuck out form under the dark comforter.

He wasn’t sure if he should wake them up or not, seeing as they weren’t awake. He decided to go with the former. He leaned closer towards them. “Hey. Wake up.” He tried to make his voice sound soft and comforting, even though there was something about that person that made him nervous, and he hadn’t been feeling well for days. “You’re not in a safe place, you should probably get up.”

He waited patiently for him to wake up before he decided what to do next. As he thought, they began to stir, waking up slowly. He noticed how they buried their head into their pillow more, and their brows twitched a bit as their head slowly turned to look at him, making him stiffen a bit in his place.

After a moment of struggling against sleep, they seemed to give in again, stretching briefly and turning. Colt’s eyes widened as two white wings emerged from under the covers and behind their back before relaxing, and they curled up with a contented sigh.

Wings. Actual wings. From behind their back. That was not something Colt had ever seen in real life.

Colt blinked a couple times, trying to process what he had just witnessed. When he did, his brain shut down entirely, leaving him stunned and unable to react. He stared at the person on the bed, who seemed oblivious to everything.

He. He should probably call Jessie. She might be able to help, right?

Colt didn’t know whether to think or say anything. He didn’t even feel like breathing properly, which didn’t seem to stop him from being able to talk though. He found himself fumbling with the radio, numbly attempting to turn it on.

“Colt?” She said quietly. “Are you okay?”

“I...uh…” He trailed off, not sure what he wanted to say. What was he supposed to say? “I’m. Good. Nothing attacked me. Turned off the radio…but I think maybe I need your help with something….”

She was silent for some time before replying. “What?” He knew that tone; she was nervous and worried and he hated it.

“Why do you think this place had a radio?” His voice broke a little, but he ignored it. “I-I mean, mine had one just like it. I-it was playing the WKBRL stream and everything and… I found it. On a nightstand. In a bedroom.”

Silence. More than one minute passed before her shaky voice filled the silence again. “Is there someone there?” She asked in a quiet voice.

Colt stared at the winged person sleeping, biting his lip and nodding.

“Yeah.” He answered. “He had the Starr Hat with headphones too.”

Another pause followed that, and he could hear the panic in her voice. “Is he alright? Is he hurt?”

“I don’t know.” He replied. “I tried to wake up but and then - wings, Jessie. He has wings.”

“Oh, Mortis’s bats-?”

“No.” Colt cut in quickly. “No, no bats. He’s got wings. Two big white wings with golden feathers on his back. And they’re moving. Like birds or something. Like real ones.”

“…no, Mortis is a vampire. His deal is bats and dark stuff, not… whatever you just described. That sounds more like Crow. Are you sure it’s not-“

“He is right in front of me. He is a guy with purple hair, pointy ears, and two giant white wings on his back. Like some angel.” He shook his head slightly, then sighed. “Jessie, I am serious about this. He’s got wings.”

She didn’t reply. He heard her breathing become laboured as she took in what he had told her.

He could practically hear the gears turning inside her head.

“It. It sounds like Mortis, purple hair and pointy ears, but I’ve never…” He could almost hear her shake her head slightly. “It can’t be him. What do you mean he has wings?”

“I’d send you a picture if I could.” Colt answered simply.

There was a pause, and then he heard her let out a breath.

“Okay. Okay.” She said shakily. “Okay, I guess I believe you. I trust you. Just… be careful. Please.”

“Will do.” He replied. Then his focus turned to Mortis. “Should I…” He paused, hesitating slightly. Should he wake him up?

“We can’t just leave him.” She spoke quietly, but loud enough for him to hear. “Maybe he knows something. Maybe he can help. Strength in numbers.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “Alright.” He stood up straight, pulling the cane out of the door and putting it on the floor beside him. Taking a deep breath, Colt moved closer to the figure.

He reached over to their shoulder, trying to avoid touching the wings, shaking it gently. The man didn’t move or respond to Colt’s touch.

With great effort he managed to shake him slightly.

“Mortis, wake up.” He murmured, shaking the body a bit. “Come on now.”

The man shifted slightly in his sleep, mumbling something. After a minute, the person’s eyes opened slightly and looked directly into his face.

Colt jumped, and took an involuntary step back.

He could see them blink, adjusting to the darkness of the room, before looking around slowly, looking at him. With a frown on his face, he watched his gaze turn to where the radio was still sitting on the night stand.

His eyes narrowed a little. There was something familiar about that face, but he couldn’t quite place it. He felt a pang in his chest; he didn’t want to remember.

He shook his head, focusing back to look at him, watching his expression.

“Uh…. hi.” Colt started.

“Who are you?” Mortis mumbled, actually reacting pretty calmly to the situation.

“Uh, Colt.” Colt said, holding out his hand for him to shake.

As Mortis looked at the offered hand, his eyes scanned Colt’s features and body language closely. “Where’d you come from?”

“Long - long story,” He dodged the question. He noticed Mortis reach for the radio on the stand, quickly putting his hand in the way. “No! That doesn’t matter,” He frowned a little when he saw Mortis’s face fall. He continued speaking anyway. “Just - listen to me please. Do you recognize me? Or this place at all?”

“Um,” Mortis frowned a little. “This place is…” He looked away, taking in his surroundings before he glanced at Colt again. “…I’m afraid I don’t recognize it…?”

A flash of confusion and mild alarm crossed Mortis’s face at the realization. He blinked, waking up slightly more.

“Apologizes, I don’t have a proper…” Mortis’s eyebrows furrowed and he tried to think. “Well this is terribly wrong.”

“What?” Colt frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I don’t exactly have any memories here,” Mortis seemed to shiver at his words, mumbling something to himself before speaking further, “Or any memories for that matter. My memories are… gone. Completely erased. No recollection whatsoever.”

Colt blinked a few times, staring at him for a moment. “Erased? So like everyone else here…” He tried to smile. “It’s - it’s not easy. I’ve been there. Starr Park-“

“No! No, you don’t understand.” Mortis threw his legs over the side of the bed, stumbling when he attempted to stand up. He seemed more distraught by this. “You do not understand the extent of my condition. You do not understand how far I have fallen.”

“Fallen?”

“Fallen.” Mortis echoed, and there was a certain weight to that word. But by judging from his expression, Colt could tell the Mortis wasn’t sure why. He repeated, softer, “Fallen…?”

Colt swallowed hard before continuing, unsure of how to approach this. “What happened to you here, Mortis?”

Mortis paused, taking a few steps towards the door, leaning against the wall behind him. He ran his fingers through his hair for a second, taking a couple seconds to calm down. His eyes caught the golden cane against the door, he raised his arm, reaching out to take it. He picked it up, looking at Colt for a brief moment. “I don’t remember. I can’t remember anything. Not a thing. Not even the…” He shook his head. “Not even…”

“Mortis?” Colt prompted.

Mortis lowered his arm, letting it hang by his side, the gold cane clutched between his hands. He breathed in deeply, staring at the carpet beneath his feet. “My memory is… gone. It’s all… a white void.”

Mortis held the cane closer, nervously wringing it in his hands. He stared blankly, presumably trying to remember something. He kept glancing up at Colt, seemingly hoping for a response, expecting a response, or something that might give him answers to the questions he had.

But there was none.

“That means your memory has gone, right?” Colt asked. “I’ve been there-“

“You don’t understand, I’m not supposed to forget. I don’t forget. What I am doesn’t forget!” Mortis cried. “I can’t remember who I am! I’m supposed to protect people, what kind of protector am I?!” He screamed. He took a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair, closing his eyes. His breathing began to quicken, getting shorter.

“Hey, hey, take it easy.” Colt tried to speak softly, keeping his arms at his sides. “Calm down, buddy. Just slow down. It’s okay…”

“What kind of protector am I, Colt?!” He yelled, throwing his free hand out towards him. “What happened to me? Where am I?!”

“Easy.” Colt said, stepping forward. “Take it easy.”

“I can’t take it easy!” Mortis shouted. “I can’t take it easy! I can’t take it easy!”

“Mortis, stop.” Colt said firmly. “It’s a long story, but the short version is that Starr Park - where we are - is a fan of memory wipes.”

“I am a creature of the light! My memory doesn’t get wiped!” Mortis screamed, holding the cane closer to his chest

“Mortis, you can’t know that for sure.” Colt’s expression turned more serious. “They did it to me.”

“But you’re a-“ Mortis stammered, looking for a word and wildly gesturing with one hand. “You’re a - you’re a human! A mortal! You’re weaker, more fragile. I’m-“

“Stop it.” Colt snapped, taking another step forward, grabbing Mortis’s waving hand by the wrist. “If this is you trying to convince yourself about some weird internal complex or-“

“Listen to me!” The other shot forward suddenly, yanking his wrist violently away from Colt, glaring at him furiously. “Please listen to me!”

There was a long pause. Colt sighed, nodding a little. “Fine. What are you, then?”

“…” Mortis heaved for a moment, trying to compose himself after the outburst before answering. “I am Mortis, a creature and bringer of the light.”

Colt wasn’t sure whether to believe this guy, or if Starr Park had experimented on some person and brainwashed them enough to convince them that they were some angel. Either way, he thought that maybe he should just stop making assumptions and be a bit careful as he went along.

Especially now.

Colt nodded slowly, still unsure. “Okay. That makes sense.” Colt shrugged. “So… what happened to you here? Why haven’t you got your memories anymore?” Colt asked.

“I don’t know.” Mortis admitted, “I have to confess that I’ve gotten no clue as to how or why I’m here. I don’t… recall getting here?”

“Any last memories?” Colt asked. “What’s the last thing you recall?”

Mortis stayed silent for a moment, glancing around on occasion.

“Home.” He mumbled it softly, but it sounded unsure. “I was thinking ‘Surely, this is home’, but I don’t know what home is…” He shook his head lightly before he looked back up at Colt. “I must admit, I feel rather lost.”

“Lost?” Colt blinked. “How so?”

Mortis shook his head again. “Nothing.” He muttered. “I… I was here for a reason.” He looked up as if something clicked. “I’m here to protect people.”

“Yeah, you said that.” Colt nodded.

Mortis glanced down briefly. “I protect people. But, I think I was scared… then I was safe? But that doesn’t make sense.” He said. There was something about how he spoke; it seemed almost like he wasn’t completely sure about what was happening either, like he wasn’t entirely sure that what he knew was true. “I was scared for… myself. Not just others.”

Colt narrowed his brows slightly, studying the other before deciding to say something. Maybe it would clear up things. “I’m guessing normally you’re worried for other people, being a protector, like some angel?”

Mortis’s gaze softened, and he stared at the ground quietly, nodding his head. “Yes… an Angel! I’m an Angel!” Mortis snapped out of the slight daze, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “Angels don’t forget! They can’t.” He shook his head before pausing for a long moment, eyes wide in wonder and confusion. “I can’t remember who I am…”

“You do, though.” Colt added.

“I know who I am. I remember my name, I remember the things I’m supposed to do, I know things; secrets never to be told, knowledge that is not to be spoken.” He paused. “But I don’t know a thing about… this.” He waved his hand to gesture to everything before putting it to his head. “It’s all a bright, white void.”

There was a moment of silence, with only the sound of fireworks in the distance. That caught Mortis’s attention, and he slowly turned to a window.

“…what’s that?”

“A firework show.” Colt sighed, “Happens every night. Same time. And it always ends up like this.”

“There’s- There’s fire.” Mortis walked to the window, forcing it open. “Are-are those screams?”

“…yeah.” Colt hesitated to answer, following Mortis slowly, trying to avoid touching his wings. “Same time, every night. Then the loop restarts after radio creep goes on some lecture-“

“They’re in danger!” Mortis turned to Colt, and Colt could notice his breathing picking up. “There’s fire, there’s explosions - what do you mean ‘then the loop restarts’!? What’s going on?”

“Long. Story.” Colt moved his hand to Mortis’s wrist, sensing that he was about to do something. “You should sit down for this-“

“No,“ Mortis yanked his hand away, now putting a foot on the windowsill and using his other hand to help himself climb out. “There has to be something I can do. Something I can stop.”

“MORTIS-“ Colt attempted to grab the angel as he leaped. However, when a firework went off, he flinched to hide instinctively. He hesitantly opened his eyes, looking out the window in a panic.

Mortis was laying on the ground, clearly having fallen. Colt cursed to himself, looking at the height, estimating that he fell about two stories. He briefly considered jumping down too, but after deciding he didn’t want to risk getting injured, he turned to the stairs and ran down.

Once he reached the bottom of the stairs, he hurried towards Mortis. He stopped abruptly when he saw Mortis on the ground, breathing heavily, but moving. He saw as the angel propped himself on his elbow, shaking his head.

“Are you okay?” Colt quickly asked. He knelt down next to Mortis, inspecting his body for signs of injury. Mortis waved him off. “What were you thinking!? Do your wings even work?”

“I’m fine, and yes, they do.” Mortis used his cane to push himself up, ignoring Colt’s attempts to help him. “Have faith in me, I didn’t become a guardian for nothing.”

Mortis opened his wings, making Colt back away. He bent his knees, ready to launch himself into the sky.

Another firework went off, and he froze in place, eyes widening in surprise. He even stopped breathing for a moment, staring at the sky in… fear? Colt watched as Mortis shook it off, readying to fly again. He leaped.

Light.

He barely made a few feet off the ground when the firework went off, freezing again. The second Mortis noticed himself falling, he fluttered his wings, landing roughly on one knee. He let out another soft sigh, lifting his head slightly as he gazed at the scene before him.

The fireworks and explosions continued to go off around them, bright light making him instinctively freeze in… fear? Terror? He grit his teeth, barely noticing the corners of his eyes starting to sting as more flashes of light filled the sky.

Why was this so terrifying?

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

He was supposed to protect.

And yet…. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t react, because he had no idea what had just happened.

But he did, he was attempting to fly, to help people, and then… light. Light in the sky that made him freeze. He barely noticed himself hyperventilating until Colt touched his shoulder.

“Mortis. Look at me.”

Mortis took several deep breaths through his nose, trying to keep himself calm. It was difficult though. His vision was blurred from the tears beginning to spill over.

“I… I don’t understand any of this.” Mortis finally managed, “I don’t know why I’m scared of this. I’m scared for people - I always have been - but-“

His voice cracked, and he let out a chokes sob. He attempted to clear his voice frantically, gripping onto his cane with white knuckles.

“Light shouldn’t terrify me.” He whispered, taking shaky breaths. “I don’t… I don’t understand. This isn’t right. Why can’t… why aren’t I protecting those people… why… why can’t I help…” He closed his eyes tightly. “I… I need help.”

Mortis opened his eyes, blinking rapidly as the tears began to fall. He looked up at Colt, who was watching him carefully. “Help…” He repeated softly. “I need help.”

“Mortis?” Colt looked at his face, noticing Mortis staring wide-eyed at everything, as if he expected to recognize it. But he didn’t say anything. “Mortis, look at me. Please.”

Mortis didn’t say anything, only looked straight ahead as tears poured.

“Why am I so scared for myself?” He asked, quiet.

Colt blinked in surprise. “Maybe something happened. Starr Park is a pretty horrible place, they do lots of things.” Colt offered weakly. “Maybe they did something to you.”

Mortis shook his head. “No,” he paused. “I don’t - I’m an Angel, angels don’t forget, angels don’t worry for themselves, angels protect.” He stared. He was trembling. “I shouldn’t be here, and yet, here I am… and I’ve done nothing… nothing.”

Colt shook Mortis’s shoulder slightly, attempting to snap him out of it. “Hey, listen to me,” he said, hoping to get his attention without shouting. “Mortis? You there?”

“What kind of protector am I if I’m trapped like everyone else here?” Mortis turned to Colt, “I can’t even protect the ones in trouble.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My… My… humans. They were hurt. They were hurting. I was going to save, and yet here I am, stuck like this. I vowed to- I failed.” He curled up. “…how do I know that?”

“Seems like Starr Park couldn’t take everything away from you.” Colt shrugged. “But that’s good. Even if it’s not that much, it’s good. Yourname, where you’re from, why you’re here, what’s going on - kinda - it’s a good start.”

“How do you know?” Mortis’s question hurt Colt slightly, and he raised a brow at him wincing. “Colt?”

“You remember stuff about yourself.” Colt looked away slightly. “That’s more than I started off with.” He smiled.

Mortis looked surprised at how happy Colt sounded at his admission. “What about yours,” he questioned. “Where are you from? Where does Colt come from?”

“You really don’t want to know.” Colt chuckled, glancing at the angel. “Besides, I don’t know. I’ve been awake for a while and I get some deja vu here and there, but nothing more. No memories about my old life, real name, or Starr Park and whatever was going on.”

“Then why do you know so much?” Mortis asked, and that gave Colt an idea. He watched as he reached into his duffel bag.

“You see, I wasn’t alone,” Colt pulled out a radio, turning it on. “Mortis, meet Jessie. She’s the one who woke me up.”

A small, red light flickered to life, indicating that Jessie was currently connected to the radio. “Hi.”

“Hello,” said Mortis quietly.

“Is that-“

“Jessie, meet Mortis.” Colt put the radio in Mortis’s hands. “He doesn’t remember how he got here, but he does know some things about himself.”

“Really?” Jessie sounded altered at that. “What do you know? Hold on I need to get a- got a pen. Okay, continue.”

Mortis nervously looked at the radio, then at Colt, who nodded encouragingly. Slowly, Mortis looked down at the radio in his hand, then looked down at the ground below. He glanced up at the sky briefly, then back down at the radio in his hand.

He sighed shakily.

“I know… I… don’t like fireworks. It seems like it’s the bright lights - which is peculiar - being a creature of the light and all.” He mumbled. He clenched his free fist, looking down once more.

“I don’t… really remember how I got here…” He sighed. “But I know I was here to protect - to save people. People here were getting hurt, and I wanted to save them.” He squeezed his eyes shut, taking a breath before he opened them slowly.

“I don’t know what happened.” His grip tightened on the radio. “I’m not sure why. Something just… I’m here now. And nobody’s saved. I guess I wasn’t much help.”

“You can help us now!” Jessie didn’t seem to listen to his doubts, slightly surprising Mortis. “Nobody can handle Starr Park alone. Why do you think Colt’s here? He’s my help, I’m his help. We’ll be each others’ help!”

“Yes!” Added Colt quickly.

“And we’ll find a way out of here!” Finished Jessie.

There was silence between them, and Mortis found himself relaxing slightly when he realized that he wasn’t alone in his distress.

“Thank you.” Mortis said softly, and then after another pause, “We can find a way out of here… together.”

“Of course.” Said Jessie. “And we can help everyone! But we should get to know each other first. You know your past, right?”

“Yes,” Mortis nodded. “I’m an Angel. A guardian to protect mortals.”

There was a moment of silence before Jessie broke it.

“…do you actually have wings?” She asked.

“Huh?” Mortis looked down in confusion. “Of course I have wings! What do you mean?”

“Do they work? Can you fly with them?” Jessie sounded excited, thrilled.

“Yes, they do work. I can fly with them, I would now but-“ He was cut off by a firework, flinching. “…maybe after the fireworks?”

Jessie hummed in response. “So tell me about yourself. Your life before here.”

Mortis thought for a moment. “Well, the humans here, they were the most important beings in my life and I cared for them greatly. Then I ended up trapped here.”

“Like us.” Suggested Jessie.

“Not quite,” He disagreed. “The humans here, they needed me, and I was there to help.” He frowned slightly. “…It is frustrating that I cannot remember.”

“Yeah, that sucks, huh?” Jessie agreed easily, “but hey, you might be able to help us out. You know… with remembering, and things and… stuff. Just let me know. We’ll figure everything out.” She sounded optimistic, almost cheerful.

“Right,” Mortis murmured, but he found himself smiling at her words. “Let’s just focus on making sure we can make it through this.”

“Okay. Sounds good.” Jessie nodded, and a moment later she added with a slight sigh, “Together. Our own trio.”

“Oh, yeah!” Colt perked up. “I like that. That’s definitely a thing we could use.”

“Exactly,” said Jessie, sounding relieved.

Silence fell over their little group, and for a few minutes, no more sounds were heard from either of them. Eventually, the fireworks stopped, the newly formed trio where nowhere to be seen.

At least, they wouldn’t be seen by Starr Park.

[faetalwords]

Summer Rains and Old Pains

It took four years for Lambert to admit that the Cat wasn’t just an acquaintance. It took two more before he acknowledged that in so many words. He would never know when he fell in love with him.It took six months for Aiden to stop sleeping with one eye open - the wolf didn’t have the patience for a long con. It took two years for him to start calling the wolf “his friend” at the Caravan. It took two more for him to think that he might be a little bit in love with him. It would be a decade before they kissed for the first time.

It was a delicate game that they played, dancing on a knife’s edge in barefoot summer rains.A light push in either direction would send them both into a free fall, anger and violence for months on end until they simmered and cooled enough to embrace and cling to the other’s company like a child to a blanket. A push could be as simple as a beg for another evening or as forceful as a fistfight. It was a dangerous dance that worked in their favor most days. They were determined to make it work; so it did.

* They rode at each other’s side, horses trotting along toward the next podunk little town big enough to have a decent inn. They hadn’t seen another traveler in days and even Lambert was aching for a good bed to lie in. Naturally it had to rain. “If you hadn’t insisted we check out that embankment we wouldn’t be in this mess.” Aiden grumbled, his hair was plastered to the sides of his face and neck. He should have looked like a half drowned rat... or cat. It wasn’t fair, he looked like a painting.“I’m sorry that I have some half decent morals!” He added a mutter under his breath of “Fucking Cat.” “Your morals got you a sprained ankle and no pay for a job that should have gotten us at least twenty crowns a piece, sweetheart.” He… had a point. It wasn’t even as though the drowners were near a village. They were three hours from the last washing post for Melitele’s sake. But… no. He was not admitting defeat.“Better than a dead kid next summer. Hell, what are you complaining for? You’re the one who's been bitchin’ about a bath.” “Yes. A bath. A wonderful, warm, lovely bath- not freezing rain and a muddy river. Melitele’s tits Lam!” Aiden was a good man, he was. A damn sight better than Lambert most days but the man could complain for hours . Lambert would be paying some inn keeper for a bath that evening; he simply knew it.  Even still… he reached over and flicked water from his gloves at the Cat’s face. “You’ll live.”

* “Duck!” Aiden hit the forest floor as an arrow whipped through where his neck had been just moments before. He rolled left and popped back to his feet in time to catch a bandit with his dagger, just under the man’s ribs. He made a satisfying sound when he hit the ground. Aiden didn't have time to revel in it. “Stupid thing, robbing a witcher. Robbing two? You must have been top of your class.” He spun in time to see Lambert knock the last man in the clearing unconscious before he took off into the trees. Branches broke as the archer took off post haste, seeming to realize that he was now in a very poor position. Lambert caught him before Aiden could take the first coin pouch off their would be assailants. Lambert was… harsh. He kept his gentle smiles and laughs, all his soft pieces that the world hadn’t yet managed to beat out of him close to his chest. Covered in layer upon layer of thorns and armor. He would cut his way through a hundred men before he let someone see the things he considered his weaknesses. Aiden had, somehow, managed to slip between those defenses at some point. He wasn’t sure when. Despite the rage that he carried in his chest Lambert was a good man; he didn’t take contracts on humans and he rarely killed them outright, a bit of maiming or disfigurement was well within the cards but he refused to make use of a grave. Except where Aiden was concerned. Except where the people who he loved were concerned. He’d asked, just once, why the death of a human was the line. Why after everything that life had thrown at him and all that he had done in return that was where he put the marker. Lambert had been half asleep and full of good whiskey at the time; so the answer was honest, too much so. “Cause I’ve got the upper hand no matter what. It’d be like beating on a woman or hitting a kid and I ain’t got any plans on being like my father. That’s if it’s jus’ me though. They wanna hurt someone else and I’m not going to let them get on with that. Might as well put those damn trials to some fuckin' use...” In the morning he hadn’t acknowledged the information he’d so trustingly laid at Aiden’s feet; and they went on with their lives. Lambert came back then with a recently cleaned steel sword. “They ruined my good boots.” “We’ll get you new ones.” Aiden promised. “I’m holding you to that.” A calloused hand was offered to him and Aiden placed his own within it. On his feet he stepped into the wolf’s space, using their clasped hands to pull him into a one armed hug. He ran his hand over the wolf's back for both comfort and to ensure there were no injuries he needed to patch. “Least I can do for you saving my ass.”

* They tumbled into bed together for the first time after a bar fight. It wasn’t a bed really; it was a bedroll laid beneath an overhang of rock and they were both too keyed up from their frantic flight out of town to make anything last long. Lambert had a black eye and Aiden had a split lip that protested every harsh kiss pressed against it but neither witcher cared. Pain was routine, a small price for the love and the pleasure- the oh so fucking finally feeling of giving in to what they wanted. With fumbling hands they brought each other off. Aiden slung a heavy arm over the wolf’s waist and tensed when Lambert’s hand circled his wrist, well expecting to have it tossed aside with a complaint about cuddling like he had in every inn they’d shared a bed within before. He didn’t though. Aiden woke the next morning with his arm still firmly in place. The grumbling about ‘disgusting dried fluids’ was even worth it.

* Lambert was in a mood. The birds were too loud, the flowers that bloomed alongside the road were too cloying, and the sun was too damn bright. Even Aiden, the only person on the planet that could stand his company more than a few hours, was distancing himself on their trek. The contract was for a pair of griffins, easy enough, but the alderman had smelled of cheap liquor and the look in his eye said that they would be lucky to get half the promised pay. “Hey, kitten?” It comes out as a biting thing, no matter his attempts to keep his frustration off the cat's head. “Yeah?” Aiden looked at him then, eyes that edged on green rather than amber, wide and expecting. “How ‘bout you go on and get our pay. I’ll probably gut the fucker if I have to deal with him right now.” The cat didn’t reach out for him, having spent too long at the wolf’s side not to realize his mood and the preferences that came with it. “Alright. You going to be in our room?” “Yeah, I’m going to try to sleep off the last of this damn potion.” He didn’t manage to sleep at all. Aiden came in with two plates of food and two tankards of ale to find him pretending, face down on the mattress. “Come on, asshole. I got food and most of our promised coin for you… I also got a new gwent deck last month that I’m gonna kick your ass with.” “Like you could win without cheating me, pretty thing.” he forced himself up, toward the food that made him want to be sick with the thought of it on his tongue. He needed it. He knew it, Aiden knew it. Just like Aiden knew that he wouldn't win without cheating. “Let’s see about that.”

* Cats were unstable. Dangerous. They were as quick to change from laughter to anger as a summer sky was from blue to storm gray. Cats were not to be trusted. Every witcher and human child was taught that from the moment they could walk. Lambert was never good at following instructions. “Aiden?” The carnage was… extensive. A dozen bodies torn apart with the strength of a hurricane and the care of a starving drowner. “Aiden, love?” Endearments, true endearments, were rare to pass his lips. They meant one of two things- he was well fucked or he was scared out of his ever loving mind.He stepped over a butchered arm, half cut and then torn, towards the figure in the middle of the room. They had split six weeks before, Aiden going to take on a contract that Lambert wanted to know nothing about. He wasn't naive, he knew Aiden didn't have the same qualms he did about humans and human contracts but he had asked in their third year not to know about them. Aiden respected that. Aiden respected him.It was the blood that gave them the chance to meet then, so strong even from half a mile through the forest that Lambert was helpless not to investigate.  Cats are unstable. Their mutations make it inevitable that they’ll snap one day. His hand wrapped around the cat’s wrist, firm and without fear. He expected him to lash out, was willing to take whatever scar or pain that came in order to simply touch. To ensure that Aiden was real. That the frozen figure wasn’t a lie, a cruel trick played on his mind. Aiden turned, Lambert tensed, but the dagger in his cat's left hand dropped to the floor rather than bury itself in his chest; and Aiden collapsed against the wolf’s chest. He was soaked in blood, Lambert realized dimly. Not just covered but he was dripping in it. Aiden’s hair was matted with it and his blue armor hardly showed through the red. It was old- turning black and crusting. How long had he stood there? “I’ve got you, kitten.” the hand on his wrist shifted to hold the cat’s waist, Lambert raised his other hand raised to clasp Aiden's neck. A feeble attempt at making it all better. “I’ve got you.” Fourteen bodies. Most wore some sort of uniform, a lesser lordling’s colors or some shit but... some did not. There were three men in commoner clothes, a torn scrap of pale lilac fabric, and a small pair of shoes not unlike… Oh gods.  “What happened here?” This is Aiden. He’s yours, he's good. There’s a reason for this. Salt was in the air, nearly lost beneath the copper of blood, and the body in his arms began heaving with sobs.“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”Cats feel too much. Lambert shifted his grip to half carry the other witcher outside, he needed away. He needed fresh air and dirt under his feet. He took the sobbing man around the back of the shack to a well where he could rip one of his undershirts into strips and begin to clean the blood and gore from the man’s skin. The armor, the clothes, they were lost causes but he could make sure that the only stain on his skin would be salt. He started with his hands, coaxing his fingers to uncurl with soft and even pressure. He took care around the nails, more than one of which were broken. Then up his arms with broader strokes. By the time he started on his neck the sobbing had quieted down to shuddering breaths, hiccups that ended before they finished. Ignoring his eyes which were red rimmed and half void of the emotions that wracked him so thoroughly just moments before, he was nearly calm.Lambert wiped at some splatter on his cheek. He tossed the cloth aside and took up another.

“Back with me, kitten?” He needed to be gentle. He had to be gentle for him.“Yeah.” His voice was like sandpaper.“Gonna tell me what happened?” Lambert asked, afraid of the answer.“... yeah.” Aiden swallowed, took a deep breath- shuddered and had to try again. Lambert waited. He could wait for Aiden. Only for Aiden. “Contract was for some kid- not to kill. No, gods no. Someone kidnapped a mayor’s daughter or a lord’s… I don’t know. Titles weren’t important. I just was supposed to find her and bring her back home but... but I tracked them up here after a few weeks. Gal had a lover and a kid no one knew about... I guess the dad's family couldn't stand a bastard kid running around or some shit and I thought that it would be easy to find her and she jus' would agree to keep it quiet but when I got here they were” his hands clenched, rage twisted his lips into a snarl but he didn't try to rise. “They were too distracted with her to realize I’d even gotten inside. They used her as a bargaining chip, Lam. She was half dead, held up here for all that time and... and they offered her to me. Like I was a- I didn’t kill her Lam, I didn’t touch her or that kid in there… that was all them. I tried so save them but it didn’t fucking matter and they... they... Please, please believe me that I wouldn’t- even as angry as I was I didn’t touch them. I didn’t do that to them. I tried. I didn't- I couldn't...” he was rambling, losing it once more and the longer he spoke the more rage built in Lambert’s chest.“I know you wouldn’t.” He pours every ounce of conviction into the words.“I blacked out, Lam. I… I don’t remember it all but I wouldn’t have” he was breathing fast again- panicking. He was losing him again. “I know, kitten. You wouldn’t. I know that, you know that. You’re too good for that, love.” He dragged the cloth over his eyelids, gentle, and then he tossed it into the bucket. He was as clean as he could be without a full bath. “Do you want me to burn it all?”“No, the girl and the kid. They deserve better. I’ll make a pyre for them if you’ll deal with the others.”“I can do that.”So Lambert gently squeezed the cat’s hands, kissed his forehead, heedless of the blood in his hair, and set to work.

* As the days grew colder the men took to curling tighter around each other’s bodies. They were only a month off the incident when Aiden set his lips against Lambert’s neck and said“I love you.”It wasn’t the first time the Cat had said those words but Lambert brought clasped hands up to his lips and whispered against them, for the first time.“Love you too, kitten.” Find more of my work on Ao3

[mythykl]

UNSPOKEN,, *todoroki x (f) reader

Genre : fanfic, smut *aged up* (shoto is imagined to be 21yo or something,, and reader as 19yo)

rating : explicit, NSFW, 17+

Warning : fingering, oral?? todo is pretty horny overall. starts w a pretty intense bg story, so you gotta read through all that to get to the good stuff. cool.

words?? idk, it’s pretty lengthy tho.

our todoboi is a pretty lovin’ bf in here.

————————-

“I’m really sorry for yesterday, Y/N. I-I did’n-”

You clench your fists as you sit on the couch beside him, and interrupt, “Whatever it is- save it, I don’t blame you to begin with. I-I’m just mad. I’d spent almost a week for that chapter, to give justice and bring perfection in what I wanted to put across to the readers. Well- its not even about the time; I had thought through it so much, and atlas thought of typing it out yesterday- I mean- whatever crap that I had even written, I was proud of that- until,, your ignorant ass decided to show up in the room and fuckin’ switched off the computer assuming it’s already logged off, o-or whatever. You could’ve at-at least- fuck-” yup ya ass is livin’ in the worst nightmare of a writer, stay steady

You of course cried, and even threw a tantrum for an hour or so once you realized what had happened. But primarily, you were just mad- mad at yourself for not saving that damn file, and even at him cuz ofc. 

Todoroki certainly didn’t take it well, since he is sad at present, and can’t even look in your eyes. He apologized multiple times since last night and had even prepared a breakfast for you before leaving for work; on the other hand, you haven’t even answered to his appeals yet with clarity.

Out of the blue you just cup his cheeks, making him instantly look up- at you, and then get up with an audible sigh, “Go get ready, I’ll prepare our dinner by then.” That gesture somehow took him aback. 

He gets up instantly and blurts out in confusion, “I d-didn’t expect you to prepare a dinner for me, and on top of it- wait for me so we can have it together. You should’ve ate already, it’s almost midnight.”

You turn back to him, walking towards him to hold his hands, "I honestly don’t know what to reply. My heart- just thought it is the right thing to do that; one mistake isn’t enough to just hate you all of a sudden, Shoto. Moreover we are talking about this, it’s not like you’re being arrogant or things are left unsaid- and you’re genuinely sorry. I can see that in your eyes. I’m just- I don’t know. I’m depressed a bit- yes, but it can’t be helped now. I need some time to think, maybe.” 

Little did you know that your kind words pricked him like thousands of tiny needles against his skin. He loves you, and however seemingly ‘small’ mistake this might be, he hates himself for hurting you- the person he loves so dearly. He thinks of his mother, his complicated family life- which had made him seemingly unemotional. You were one of the people to break through that forged cold wall. He had finally accepted you as his reality than his mere escapism and live with you, but here he is- bringing tears and fueling anger in you, like a good for nothing- just like his father.

After a slight pause, he just busts his arms open and pull you close to him, in his warm embrace, “What did I possibly do to deserve such an angel?” He almost whispers in his beautiful voice.

An angel? 

“So talented, pretty, wonderful, real and warm. Remember. I love you. No matter what. I always will. And I respect you- your passion, interests, talent, likes and dislikes, freedom, strengths-weakness, your work, happiness- everything. Throw all the tantrums you want and cry all you want- more than just agreeing and being there for you- I’ll always make sure I understand you first. I’m sorry for being so ignorant lately.”

It may seem as if he’s crying, but he’s not. He said all that with a tough stance and gratefulness in his tone, a faint disbelief of having you as his significant other. While you just stood there, in surprise. You aren’t oblivious to his past and his journey through it. Is he blaming himself? or Is he again thinking that he doesn’t deserve happiness?- you’re at the loss of words and a mind fumbling all over the place. You simply subside the chaos, and hug him back. 

“We’re definitely working, Todoroki. Understanding each other more than just being in love- something that many fail to do. Isn’t this great?” You at last blurt out.

“Yes. I guess,” he says as he detaches himself from you, “I’ll be right back- until then, read what I’ll send you as you have dinner. Gonna sound stupid of me- but I already had dinner at office. I assumed that you’d not prepare a meal for me and- would be asleep by now as well.”

“Wow icyhot, I’m mad at you even more now,” you say playfully as you walk towards the kitchen.

“I-”

“Save it. You would be saying that for the millionth time now,” you chuckle as you grab your phone, lying on the dinner table.

Before serving your food, you decide to see the text, only to find an attachment with a rather strange message- ‘Hey, here’s an headcanon for chapter 37, that I wrote. Enjoy.’

Wait-

Headcanon??

Wait did he- read your wattpad book? And moreover, came up with a theory to what might happen in the ne- next chapter.

Nice. jk. Ofc you lost your shit

For the sake of getting back to senses, you legit do the deep breathing shit- which your therapist always recommended you to do.

Now what?

You serve yourself some noodles instantly, since you don’t feel hungry anymore, rush to the dining table and start chomping on the cold noodles as you open the attachment.

What made you almost throw up was that the mention of word counts. Which is 3k by the way, though no where near how much you usually write.

Shoto is definitely not the kinda guy to have read any wattpad books, or more specifically even have come across the word 'headcanon’.

He probably noticed how you mention it as well at the end, but decided to put it in the beginning,, for god knows what reason?? Or, he did decide to go through the fanons- which your readers’ posts on tumblr. This eases your nervousness, you clearly urge for more.

You swipe down, reading furiously fast, yet scanning every word and sentence- atleast twice. The chapter, honestly, was mediocre. He had ideas but couldn’t put them across- with excessive repetition of words, but he is almost close to-

“Honey, are you done?” Todoroki’s voice almost scares you. You look at your bowl ready to grab another bite- but you had already finished the meal.

“Earth to Y/N. Don’t tell me my words were that mesmerizing,” he says with a smile as he rubs his hair with a towel.

“Let’s be honest, though you don’t have the talent of a writer, your idea was- kinda similar to mine. What I’m sayin is that you almost. GOT. IT. RIGHT. Well, kuro did spy on KAORI’S house that unfaithful night, and he didn’t have any sources as such, which does mean that he is hiding his real quirk- but, no- I’m not telling you more than that.”

“Since you already know that I read all your chapters, and did like the book- I certainly can’t wait to understand why KURO would possibly do that.”

You just smirk off his curiosity; “You gotta wait boy,” you say as you as you walk back to kitchen counter with your bowl. Todoroki marches behind you to grab the cleaning cloth to clean the table, as you do the dishes.

“Put that towel in the washing machine, please.”

“Yup,” you almost feel an ounce of happiness in his reply. After he closes the machine’s door, you at last ask, "So what are your thoughts?“ It has never been one of you expectations for the people to you read your books or even, praise you for writing, but a review wouldn’t hurt, would it?

"Uhh- well, I love how everything is now just coming together, as one can foreshadow that the book’s gonna end. The use of words was elegant, and the plot is bewitching. Has been a while since I even read anything in thriller, that too- this good. Fuck. Reading kaori’s point of view just the day before the murder was- unbelievable. And characters, they all are just great.”

That is indeed a Todoroki kinda explanation. 

“Wow you did read all of tha-” but before you could complete your statement, shoto just grabbed your hips and stood tall behind you, now speaking in an extremely low tone, “And not to mention- the first sex between Kaori and Braun, it literally was like the depiction of ours. Except, they were awkward and slow, we weren’t.”

You pause. what took over him all of a sudden?

He continues, “That gave me a whole another perspective to what sex really means, and moreover what intimacy mean to you. It was.. surreal. Reading it, was as if- I’m living through that afternoon again, but with more emotions, and a bit more of you.”

“It’s not like I’ve explored much to actually wri-”

 “Oh, is that so?”

“I’m not complaining, of course, but these are the moments I believe must be left to cherish and our intimate times just feel more- sacred to me like this??” Sigh, “Ugh. Now, how do I explain?” Well, that is true, even though Todo and you’ve dated for almost two years now, it was just four months ago that you lost your virginity with him, on your nineteenth birthday. 

He had already lost his with the previous girl he was with. Though he never implied, it felt as if you were obliged to do it for him, due to your own insecurities. Once he got to know that, his reaction was nothing as what you had thought. He said that he loved you, and such things are nothing related to love; that sex is overrated, and continued on saying dorky yet adorable stuff like- cuddling was much better and what not. Since then, you had sex with him just thrice. None of you were really against this unspoken agreement, to not have-

Wait, an unspoken agreement?

Unspoken.

You instantly feel like an hypocrite, since you had just claimed to have nothing unspoken between you both.

Sudden a sharp pain in the skin of your neck brings you back to reality. Shoto is sucking on your skin, kissing ever so lightly. As if marking you.

An audible morn escape your parted lips as the bowl just falls on the kitchen sink. Todoroki leans forward and simply closes the tap and whispers, “So you do like to be 'submissive’, don’t you? Had this discovery while reading one of your books, 'Starless nights’.”

The exact book for which you had to watch vintage porn to make the chapters with intercourses more sensual and intresting.

Again, taking you by surprise, he simply turns you around as you continue stare at the ground with your hands wet, in front of you like dog’s pow.

“So I assume you liked my headcanon.”

“Yup; was much better than the crap I write, let’s go to-” but you’re interrupted-

“Now baby, we both know you’re the better writer, and that you just lied.”

“That was sarcas-” but he just pulls you closer and spanks you hard. You hiss as the pain spreads all over your butt cheeks.

“Never interfere, Y/N.” Wait wut-

Your immediate reaction was biting your lips- is he saying the words from the book? Not exactly inacting them but attempting to set a similar atmosphere, which you lowkey craved for in your wildest dreams.

“Since I’ve anyways taken this unspoken, unofficial oath of keeping you happy and stuff, now why not help you with some satisfaction- with all those juices flowing down your-”

You suddenly push him back and blurt while blushing hard, “Stop with this teasing and aw- awkward co- conversations todoroki! Fuckin’ juices, seriously? I’m not co- comfortable with-”

But then, you notice his right hand in your shorts. Or more like the sheer coldness against you clit, almost like there’s ice against it. When did his hand go in there? You end up clenching his T-shirt, as you jolt up on your toes.

“You. Clearly. Want. This. Don’t. You.” Suddenly, he pulls his hand out as he grabs your ass tight as he pulls you even further. Then, he brings his hand up to the height of you face and simply starts stares at the dampness on his fingers, “Wetter than I suspected." 

Now behold the unbelievable.

He keeps staring at his fingers, opens his mouth as he places his fingers into them and suck it as you watch this piece of art in awe.

"Can’t believe that I had you like- just thrice before this. You do live up to what I usually call you, honey.” He continues, “I hope you’ve noticed my creativity as well, as i used my coldness to.. nudge it.”

“You’re being quite quirky today, aren’t you?” This statement just makes him go still, and the next second he’s found laughing. His deep voice, almost reverberating in the silent room. He steps back, brings one hand to his face as he looks down and continues to laugh. The mere sight of him in this way gives you so much warmth, this is the moment you realize that this is the true home. With him.

When he finally looks up, the mere sight of you blushing so hard makes him lose his composure again, but this time it’s a nervous laugh. 

Approaching closer, you set your hands on his torso and continue, “That was quite execrable pun to chortle at, we were doing excellent just now-” but in reply, he simply cups his hand around your cheeks and say, “Shit y/n. You’re going to be the death to me,” and continues grinning like an airhead.

Why is he being annoying now? After so much sexual tension, how can he stop? In midst of you cursing yourself in your head, he leans at your height and kisses you.

Finally being out of patience, you look at the ground and stutter, “Ca-can we do i-it al-alrea-”

“Quite frankly, I’d like if you stay quiet, you shall take what I’ll give you, right?”

You look up immediately into his beautiful heterochromic eyes and say without any further doubts with a smirk, “Go ahead, Shoto, who am I to deny?”

“Sedective. umm, I like that.” he smirks too.

“Know that I love you,” and that’s it. Within one second, his hands are in your hair and his face is buried in your neck, digging deeper into you, as if uprooting releasing your soul from your body.

Skin glistening on your collar bone now and colours warming up on your cheeks, you whimper under his dominance, as he squeezes your waist and lightly nips against your shoulder. You shiver, with pretty evident  goosebumps, in spite of the heat you both bear at this point. 

Your breath gets hitched in your throat as he moves inwards below your collarbones. while his hands rest on your waist. You involuntarily climb a bit on him, intending to close the gap, but more to feel his manhood against you. Your hands firmly on his shoulders, almost pushing him back- maybe because it’s too much pleasure to feel at once. 

At another rise of your hips, Todoroki places his hand on your waist and pushes you back down, “Easy, easy princess,” he mummers before getting back to fiercely kissing me. You run your fingers through his hair, as you body slowly commences to accept an indeed new experience bombarded at you. 

Suddenly, you remember something. In heist, you shove him back and say, “Wait! We need to wash our hands- I- I mean we have just did chores. Well, at least partially and I need to wash myself- I mean I’m clean,” but then you stop to look at him just to find him in utter shock. 

“Shoto! I mean I want this but hygiene is impor- fuck. I’m. Such. A. Boner. Killer. Ain’t I?”

“Point made.” Todoroki picks you up in bridal style and rushes towards the bathroom.  for some reason i thought of adding this,, lmao

“Wait what-?”

“No time to waste.”

This makes you giggle a bit. You wash yourself while he as well washes his hands, and you practically pull him out of the bathroom, grab him by his collar and kiss him deeply as his hands slowly move up and down, feeling your torso- flesh untouched due to s mere knit. 

His hand unapologetically moves to the hem of your sweater, and further inside; but within one move of his, you stood there shivering, exposed. 

Immediately, you move forward in order to close the distance between you and shoto out of nervousness. His eyes drop down to your heaving chest and you’re painfully aware of that.

“Don’t. Don’t hide,” he mutters, grabbing a hold of your hands and locking them behind with one of his own for you to stay still; as he slides his other in your shorts. You feel his gentle hand running down the slit.

“Honey you’re dripping wet, what have i done to this innocence?” It seems that he expected a reply, but you didn’t. You just couldn’t. He then pulls the other hand to you face, diving in for yet another passionate kiss- accompanied by a battle of tongues this time. You are going breathless, but he refuses to move away.

The creasing in your folds level up to three fingers now,. He isn’t generous anymore, with aggressive circles in there, he finally commands, “Say my name.” 

“Sho-shoto.” Your moans only fuel in his lust and desires, his want, an indeed selfish want to have you all for himself, to offer the utmost satisfaction.

He pushes a finger into you as you instinctively let out a small breath hold his busy arm with both of your hands. This makes him push you against the wall with his free hand.

“M-my legs, it’s going numb,” on hearing this, he removes his own shirt and slightly repositions himself, with one hand now on the waist and the other back in there. He kisses your forehead as you look down, unable to keep up with his pace.

That’s when the coldness returns.

 “I- ah- can we ge-get to the bed first?” Your stuttered words only results in a widened smile from him. He is enjoying the sight, clearly in love with the effect he has on you. His head shakes, further sliding another finger inside you, “You can do it baby. You’re taking it all in without questioning.”

You nod quickly, as you start climb up a bit again. In return, he slowly curls his fingers- more and more with each passing second making you almost cry out this time, “Please n-no, this is too intense for me.”

“Yet my princess didn’t make Braun stop after that, I read in somewhere that Kaori secretly wished for him to not stop even if she said so. Just go on.”

You didn’t know how to come back at it, because it is true. You want your Shoto to push those limits you’ve set for himself, and you’d as well be fine if he simply throws off you cliff at this point. 

“Now now, spread your legs y/n.” 

Did he say something? You couldn’t listen. With eyes rolled back, you can’t comprehend anything to begin with.

“SPREAD YOU LEGS or else I won’t play nicely.” You’re eyes shoot up, and find his already searching for yours; before leaning in and gently kissing you. Your legs not being shut anymore, todo takes the opportunity, making his finger get stuffed deeper. His two digits start moving faster and harder, pounding against your walls- all while he feels you squirm to slow down.

“You can take it hun’,” he definitely knows what he’s doing, and you’re totally in for it. “Y-yes,” you moan softly. This is when he slides in a third finger, now really making you scream.

You attempt to gasp and struggle to stand, but then he says,”Stay,” as you unknowingly slide down the wall. Your nails dig in the skin of his back as you try to stable your stance on your tip toes yet eventually, your legs give out on you.

Suddenly, you feel him hit a spot which just pulls something inside your stomach. Todoroki on the other hand, notices your unusual hitched breath and starts hitting the SAME. EXACT. SPOT.

His free hand goes to the back and around your waist, holding you evermore tightly so that you won’t hurt yourself.

“I feel- like that- again-,” you manage to blurt.

“Like what?”

“Like pe-peeing, b-but different. Just like th-the last time we-”

He simply smirks, “We what?” He sighs and growls in your ear, “Is princess gonna squirt for me?”

Your body shudders against him as you moan his name, again and again, “Shoto, I-I-”

“That’s it. Squirt for me y/n,” with that he removes his hand entirely for one second, only to push two digits inside again, now thirsting harder and curling tighter; with his thumb against you slit. His hand grows even more colder, almost stinging down there, making you restless. 

“Now.”

He watches you open your mouth and moan loudly, as his hand only gets wetter, feeling you squirt against his hand. You shake hard in his hold. He doesn’t let you go. A tear escapes you eyes, but simply doesn’t seem to care,”Shoto, for some reason I-I feel s-so great wi-with yo-,” but you are interrupted as he shoves you further against the wall , sliding down your shorts and undergarment, again with three fingers in.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises you while curling those fingers inside and then removing them together. He further continues, “seems like you’re ready,“ as he rubs the wetness inside the slit, giving special attention to your clit.

Saying that, he kneels down, now facing lower abdomen and plants a kiss over there. You simply look down at him, still struggling to balance, searching for even a slightest hint to know what is there to come.

Maybe he’ll stand up an carry you to the bed? or How about making him feel better this time?

But then, his face smashes his face on your dampness; almost attempting to bury in it as he holds you up and pushes. your legs apart. You clearly know where this is going, todoroki will be showing no mercy whatsoever.

"That wasn’t even the start honey,” he confesses in midst of you moans and begs for him to go slow. It doesn’t hurt anymore as much as it gives an unbearable form of pleasure.

You moan and whimper, yet he continues to suck in your clit. You can feel a finger inside, or maybe two, as they go in and out. Practically shattering you all at once while fusing you once for all.

Your hand travel its way to his hair. Ruffled enough to make the red and the white parts almost indistinguishable.

Oh dear.

Though your eyes are close, hands are fumbling around for support and legs are strictly held in place by Shoto, yet you can feel his tongue moving. As if in patterns, not that you could figure out. It either went in for an eight or just licked off entirely as one does while eating an icecream. You moan his name again and again, the same sensation building up block by block as he paves deeper and denser.

“I can’t take this anymor-”

“What makes you think that’s gonna stop me from eating this pussy.”

Little do you know that shoto can’t hold back anymore, it’s not just that he is in control but he has lost control. At the sight of your dark flushed red cheeks, delicacy and vulnerability, he only gets faster and tougher on you. His other fingers reach around and grips your ass, with his fingers slightly grazing across your unused hole.

That’s it, that was enough for you to go stagnant again, in your mind atleast. Your legs start shaking, with your mouth parted yet again. Shoto quickly stands up, with fingers still inside, to help you stay stood up. You feel yourself about to pass out, but in actuality are fully awake and aware. He kisses you, now moaning with you as well, as he fingers you until you cum.

His teeth take in your lower lip as your eyes flicker up at his unmatched ones.

Shoto, with one hand against the wall, halts for a minute. He stands tall in front of you, while holding you as you struggle to stand.

In midst of huffed breaths, you manage to say, “I- I, I mean- can I make you feel good as well?” On listening thise words, he goes still, “Baby, you can barely stand.”

“Still-” but again, before you could say anything, he picks you up in bridal style and dropping you on the bed; letting you lay back while he removed his left over garments.

This is when his erect manhood is finally exposed, refilling your memories of your first time when you had simply wondered how would you take all of that in. You did, though it was painful. But this time you refuse to be scared by the length, you know this is going to feel the best and you’re willing to take him in, deep inside you.

Shoto sighs and walks to the bed, “No-”

“Shoto?”

“Tonight is about you. Let ME explore you.”

“I wa-wanna hug you,” you blurt out.

He giggles, “sure, all that my y/n wants shall come true.”

But when you attempt to get up, your legs just fail to response. Even the slightest movement feels like a bolt of electricity run through you. At the sight of you falling back on the bed, Shoto simply smirks and says, “By the looks of it, I think I did a pretty good job at pushing your limits.”

“Don’t- I can’t even walk.”

“Wait,” he climbs on the bed beside you, sitting with back against the headboard while you lie against him, still breathless, still attempting to move.

“Don’t move princess,” saying this, he carefully pulls you up, with your head on his thigh. He helps you sit up slowly, while embracing your body against him, and finally hugs you, like a child clenching onto his teddy favourite bear.

“You are so beautiful,” he says as he gets up, while eyes glued on you. He moves to the end of the bed and pulls you towards him as he climbs in again. His two digits reenter your dampness, almost making you hiss at first but it’s soon replaced with moans.

Your back arcs as you mumble, “Sho-shoto, I’m very sensitive ri-right n-now. ah-”

While on his part, he receives it as a signal to level up to the next stage. He slowly penetrates in, soon pacing up. Warmth filled in your hearts and sweat glinting the lustre. He repostions you both a couple of times, giving you different forms of pleasures with each go. 

You as well witness his fire quirk leaking out at times. He kisses you deeply and claims you as his own as he repeats the words, “I’ll never let you go.”

Now it’s past 3am, as your exhausted bodies lay next to each other; that’s when he whispers, “I love you.” Maybe he thinks you are already asleep, but you are not. He clearly can’t leave anything unspoken.

i hope this has left you baffled 

[anextraordinarymuse]

LOVED your last post. Could have read more—ALL you wanted to write. Thank you!

You know what, anon? I just saw the new sneak peek from Parade of 8x09, and I am feeling exhausted. I am so tired of this game. So you know what? We’re gonna take another little ride on the “We’re not crazy, here’s all the proof” train re: Nathan is endgame. I hope you’re ready to read!  =)

The cast, writers, and characters themselves have already told us that Lucas isn’t endgame. I’ll start with an interview from Erin Krakow (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=98IN4aE0LYE) where she’s asked what she would like to see in season 9. Erin says that she’d like to see how the chosen man fits into life with little Jack - and she says she wants to see Elizabeth and said man “without the complication of the other man. Getting to have real dates, and see what that romance and courtship is like ...” At this point in season 8, I don’t think that comment makes any real sense as far as Lucas is concerned. We’ve seen nothing but their dates and their courtship this season. There is still the complication of the other man, because we know that Nathan is still very much in the picture, but I would argue that he’s not really that much of a complication since it hasn’t stopped Elizabeth and Lucas from going on dates or courting. We’ve seen them go to dinner, go on picnics, hold hands, almost kiss ... season 8 has basically been all about their dating and courtship. You know who hasn’t been on a real date? Elizabeth and Nathan. We have no idea what a romance or courtship between them is like, so I would point out that Erin’s answer only makes sense if Nathan is the endgame. 

But we also know that there’s usually always a theme to each season. Would anyone disagree at this point if I said that the theme of season 8 is fighting and conflict? Because come on. This whole season has been about conflict for pretty much every character: the conflict between Rachel and her mom (and then Rachel and Rosemary and Lee); the conflict between Carson and what he wants, and between Carson and Faith; the conflict between Henry and Christopher; between Christopher and Lucas; between Lucas and Nathan; between Nathan and Elizabeth ... etc. This season is about conflict and fighting. More specifically, it’s about fighting for love (and fighting against it). Considering that, it’s very telling that we’ve been told outright by Chris McNally and by Lucas that Lucas has no intention of fighting for Elizabeth. Like, straight up. Chris McNally has said that Lucas only wants what’s best for Elizabeth, whatever that may be. Which isn’t too crazy on its own. But, look at it in the context of the characters. Elizabeth says early on in the season, to Lucas, that love needs to be fought for. And what does Lucas do? He spits out a retort and walks away. Later in the season, when Nathan tells Lucas that he hasn’t given up on Elizabeth Lucas responds by telling him to do whatever he wants. These are both very telling moments. We’ve got Elizabeth who believes that love is worth fighting for, and Nathan who also believes that, and Lucas, who ... apparently doesn’t. They have given Lucas several chances to meet Elizabeth on this, and he pointedly does not. It’s no accident that it’s Nathan who says the same thing to Elizabeth like half a season later, unprompted, without knowing that she has previously said the same words to Lucas. When Jack and Elizabeth were courting they had their shared phrase: “Love is patient, love is kind.” Now we’re being shown that Nathan and Elizabeth have their shared phrase (although they don’t know/haven’t accepted yet that it’s shared): “Love is worth fighting for.” Lucas and Elizabeth don’t share anything like that. They have some similar talents (speaking French, worldliness, love of writing and reading, etc.) but they don’t seem to share the same views on what’s really important. Also, it’s been pointed out that Lucas isn’t the type to stay in one place for long and that he’s really only in Hope Valley because of Elizabeth. Why point that out unless it’s important? If Lucas and Elizabeth were endgame, how would that work? Because Elizabeth would never leave Hope Valley, and teaching is too pivotal to who she is as a person to give it up - but Lucas has more of a vagabond spirit. Would he be willing to stay in HV permanently? I find that hard to believe.

Juxtapose that with Nathan, who has put down roots in Hope Valley and wants to keep doing so. He’s already talked about building a house, and Allie is pretty settled in their life. Nathan is a family man who likes the simple things, by his own admission. Which of those two men seems to align more with what’s important to Elizabeth? That’s a deliberate difference. 

On a bit of a side note, I’d also like to point out that the phrases that have presented themselves for the Jack/Elizabeth and Nathan/Elizabeth pairings are just another example of how different Jack and Nathan are, and the differences in their relationships. Jack and Elizabeth’s phrase is passive, and gentle, and easy: “Love is patient, love is kind.” Whereas Nathan and Elizabeth’s phrase is active, and speaks of turmoil and difficulty and effort: “Love is worth fighting for.” This is a clever way of highlighting the differences through lexical clues. Jack and Elizabeth’s romance came relatively easy - they had the usual challenges of backgrounds, youth, and self-discovery to face and overcome. Nathan and Elizabeth’s romance is going to come relatively difficulty (as I’m sure all of us exhausted Nathan fans can attest): they have to overcome so much more than Jack and Elizabeth did because they are at different places in their lives and have a lot more baggage. This isn’t the ease of a first romance; this is the tribulation and tumult of a second romance on one side, and a first romance on the other. Think of how difficult that would be on its own, without the added complication of Elizabeth being a widow (and both Nathan and Elizabeth being single parents!). This isn’t a relationship that will come easily: it will be earned, and actively chosen, and fought for. No one has ever fought as hard for Elizabeth as Nathan has - including Jack, because Jack didn’t have to fight as hard. 

Also on that note, you know who doesn’t have to fight for Elizabeth? Lucas. He pursues her, as I touched on in my previous answer, but he doesn’t fight for her. She willingly steps into a romance with him, and they never have to confront her fears or worries, and nothing of note ever happens between them. Everything comes easily to Elizabeth and Lucas. Their only real spot of conflict is ... Nathan. Does that sound at all like Elizabeth’s “next great love?” No. 

Keep in mind, the writers aren’t just convincing Elizabeth and Nathan that they’re in love - they have to convince the audience as well. That’s true of any romance. You have to make people want it - you have to give them something to root for and invest in, otherwise there’s no payoff. The end result will feel hollow. Granted, I would say that the writers took that a little far with all of this. This fight has felt all uphill and ridiculously one sided all season. I have no idea how they’re going to change that or even it out in like two or three episodes (since I think Lucas and Elizabeth will still be a thing in episode 9 and probably at least part of 10).

Anyway, continuing on. If we go back to season 7, it’s clear that Elizabeth wants Nathan’s attention, time, trust, confidence, etc. She accepts those things from Lucas, but she actively seeks them out from Nathan. In the Christmas episode, Elizabeth offers to take Nathan and Allie to find a tree; she offers them the use of her decorations, helps them place it in the house, and then stays to help them decorate it. We also get our first moment of physical closeness and suggestion of a kiss here between Elizabeth and either man, in the quiet intimacy of an evening spent decorating said tree. Elizabeth is damn near against Nathan’s chest and in his arms, and she’s the one to turn and look up into his face. I’ll also point out that it’s Elizabeth who first looks shyly at Nathan when she says “when it’s right, you can just feel it.” Elizabeth immediately looks at Nathan as if she’s suddenly aware of having said something that she maybe didn’t mean to, and then Nathan looks at her - but his expression is not the same. Elizabeth almost looks like she’s been caught out, but Nathan just looks attentive. Anyway, twice in this episode Elizabeth tries to gain Nathan’s confidence (here I mean this definition of confidence: “a secret or private matter told to someone under a condition of trust.”) when she keeps asking him what’s wrong. Oh, and her smile when Nathan tells her there’s no place else he’d rather be? Yeah. She smiles at him like that a lot in season 7.

These themes are repeated everywhere in season 7. Every time Elizabeth and Nathan get closer, Lucas inserts himself in the situation. Elizabeth stops Nathan in the street to talk about Allie’s book report, and Lucas suddenly appears and butts in; Elizabeth makes eye contact with Nathan from across the saloon at the bachelor/bachelorette parties and gives him a sweet smile, and then she sees Lucas/he smiles or however that plays out; Elizabeth looks at Nathan when she says the mystery flowers really made her day because that’s who she thinks they’re from. Also, when Elizabeth is telling Rosemary about her argument with Nathan after the windstorm, and about how Lucas sent his mother her manuscript without asking, she says something about how she’s left wondering how much she can trust Lucas, and how the irony is that Nathan seems to be wondering how much he can trust her. Even though Elizabeth forgives Lucas and it ends up working out in her favor, it’s still very telling that Lucas knew that Elizabeth would probably say no to letting him send the chapters to his mother, so he just didn’t ask and did it anyway. So Lucas has momentarily lost Elizabeth’s trust, which upsets her, but she’s also concerned that she’s lost Nathan’s trust - which she’s been working for all season. 

In fact, season 7 establishes a pattern: in almost every instance in which she has a choice, Elizabeth seeks out Nathan first - as in, before Nathan seeks her out, and before she seeks out Lucas. There are a few exceptions to this, like in the finale of season 6 when she asks Lucas to dance, although if you go back and watch that scene I’m not sure she actually makes a choice. Elizabeth and Nathan do not interact in that scene at all, and she doesn’t actually see him until the moment she sees him walking out the door. So, it’s safe to assume that she probably didn’t even know he was there, in which case it wasn’t really a choice between them. 

In light of season 8, I think we can say that Season 7 was about Elizabeth pursuing Nathan, and season 8 is about Nathan pursuing Elizabeth. We’ve essentially flipped. Lucas has been pursuing Elizabeth since season 6, but she’s more given in to him than she has pursued him. 

And that’s interesting on its own. We find out in season 7 that Lucas’s father pursued his mother for like five years, or some insanely long time, and that she finally gave in to him. If I’m not mistaken, that’s the exact wording that Lucas uses. He then goes on to say that he plans to be as patient as his father was. But then in season 8, we find out that Lucas’s parents are separated and their relationship hasn’t been good for awhile according to Helen. This is clearly an allusion to what the future holds for Lucas and Elizabeth if they were to get that far. Elizabeth asks Helen if she has shown her true self and true heart to her husband, and Helen says no; when Lucas asks Elizabeth “how do you lose that?” in regards to his parents’ love, she says something about how maybe they loved each other at one time, and maybe still did, but it’s clear that it’s uncertain if either of those things are true. So, we find out that the relationship that Lucas has basically used as his basis for chasing Elizabeth is not stable or honest. And of course, we know now that Lucas and Elizabeth’s relationship is neither of those things either. Elizabeth is not showing Lucas her true self or her true heart. 

Also, if you’ve seen the new sneak peek for 8x09, there’s an interesting exchange in that. Basically, Lucas tells Elizabeth that he wasn’t hurt when Elizabeth took Nathan’s hands instead of his, and that she didn’t need to be mortified on his behalf. I’m sorry ... what? This is the woman you have now been courting for some time, and definitely chasing for years, and you ... aren’t at all bothered by the fact that she claimed another man’s hands in a game of “find your true love?” I find that ... odd. Especially considering that this isn’t just some funny, haha accident between, like, Elizabeth and Hickam. This is Elizabeth and Nathan, the man Lucas has been competing with for literal years for Elizabeth’s time and attention and affection. And you just ... don’t mind? Because you should mind. Honestly. If you cared deeply for Elizabeth you should be upset, at least on some level. Unless it was more about the chase for Lucas, and his feelings for her are not on the same level as Nathan’s, and he’s already begun to suspect that Elizabeth’s heart is really with Nathan. 

Because I think that Lucas cares about Elizabeth, and I think that he would be happy with her (at least for a while), but I don’t think that Lucas is in love with Elizabeth. I think he liked the challenge she presented, and he likes trying to sweep her off her feet, but I don’t think it goes much further than that. Here’s Nathan, who stands as sure and as concretely as a lighthouse in a storm, and will not be swayed. Elizabeth runs from him, it looks like Rosemary is going to try to discourage him, he has to watch Elizabeth and Lucas together all over town, has to tell Elizabeth something that will hurt her ... here is Nathan, who has been given basically zero encouragement or support in his efforts, and he still won’t give up. He believes so completely that Elizabeth is in love with him that he’s the freaking man who can’t be moved. Compare that to Lucas, who has finally gotten what he’s wanted for like two years, and he just ... has no intention of fighting for it. Easy come, easy go, I guess.

And that, too, tells us that Lucas and Elizabeth’s story is coming to a close. Relationships take effort - so much effort, even when things are good. They’re not passive: you have to actively build and maintain them. Not necessarily every day, but the longer you remain passive the more they degrade. So, where has all of Lucas’s effort gone? Because Nathan still has effort and try and fight in spades, and that man has been beaten down at every turn for like 90% of the season.

And still - despite how hard it is, and how alone he must feel, and how discouraging this all has to be - Nathan still won’t give up because he knows Elizabeth’s heart so well and loves her so completely that he can’t give up. Which is exactly what he tells Rosemary. 

So, I say it again: this has never been Lucas and Elizabeth’s love story. It’s always been Nathan and Elizabeth, and we’ve always been headed down this road. We’ve just taken a few sharp turns and hit a detour or two on the way.

[falcon-eye]

Part 3? of the story for my OCs for @inexplicifics Accidental Warlord AU! I intended to only write like the opening paragraph for this today but now it’s two hours later and the whole thing is typed out. Oops.

At some point this will all be on AO3, I promise! But until then, should I do a tag list? Would people want me to tag them as I write these in the meantime? Please let me know!

(Also points to whoever can guess what Veko’s talking about when it comes to colors and smells and things! I also have it, though not exactly like Veko does)

(Also bonus points to wherever can figure out what real life goat Ren is based on lol)

———————————————

Unfortunately, Veko wasn’t able to return to Eloise for a few more years. Between simply not being in the area, not having time between hunts, his brother Hamra almost being disemboweled one year, and his own injuries, he just hadn’t been able to make his way to her little town in Temeria.

This year, he was determined to go back, though he wasn’t sure why. He chalked it up to being able to stay somewhere comfortable, with actual good food, for free, but even he knew that was a flimsy excuse. Eloise fascinated him, for lack of a better word. She hadn’t been afraid of him—quite the opposite! From the get-go it was like she had tried to intimidate him, and godsdammit it worked. But she was so nice to him, and despite what she said, her food was quite good. Or maybe everything Veko had been eating recently was just that awful.

Veko swung down off of Nine—his new gray mare after Eight became wyvern food (rest in peace you prick)—and hitched her to the fence post outside Eloise’s house. For some reason, he was nervous to see her again. Was it because it had been so long (for a human anyway) since he’d been here? He didn’t want her to think he wanted out of their deal or anything.

Veko brushed as much dirt and grime off of his armor as he could before knocking on the door. A moment later, it swung open and Eloise stared up at him with wide eyes.

Veko scratched his burns. “Uh, hello Elo—“

Eloise threw herself at him, arms around his neck. “Oh my gods!” she cried. “You fucking prick! Where have you been?!” Veko faltered for a moment before tentatively wrapping his arms around Eloise’s, but she immediately pulled back, giving him an icy glare. “Well?!”

“I, uh, I’ve been... busy,” Veko replied, but for some reason, Veko felt awful despite it being the truth.

“Busy!” Eloise exclaimed. Holy shit, she’d really been upset about this.

“I’m sorry,” Veko said, staring down at his boots. “I really am. And—and I really was busy. I don’t want you to think I was trying to get out of the deal or anything, cuz I wasn’t—“

“You think I’m upset because of the fucking deal?!” Eloise shouted. Veko blinked at her and she pinched the bridge of her nose. “For Melitele’s—get in here!”

Eloise pulled Veko into the house and slammed the door. Despite the few years that had gone by, not much inside had changed. There were more paint supplies strewn around the house than last time, but that was about it.

Veko scratched his scars again and Eloise slapped his hand away. “Sorry,” he said automatically.

“I thought you were dead!” Eloise shouted, poking a finger into Veko’s chest. “You’re a bloody Witcher! That’s what happens, isn’t it? You fight monsters, and then you die. Well godsdamn you I thought you died!”

Veko was horrified when the salty smell of tears began tickling his nose; something must have showed on his face, because Eloise rubbed her eyes quickly, not letting any of them fall.

“I’m sorry,” Veko said again.

Eloise glared at him again before suddenly hugging him. “Fucking git,” she hissed. “Send a letter or something, at least! I don’t know how to get ahold of you but I’m always here!”

Veko hesitated again but hugged Eloise back. This time, she didn’t pull away. “Sorry,” he said into her hair. “Just, every time I was in the area, something would come up, or my brother was hurt, or I was too injured to travel—“

“Are you ok now?!”

“Oh yeah, all healed up now.”

“And your brother?”

Veko smiled sadly, remembering the blood on his hands and the horrifying look of resignation on Hamra’s face. “Touch and go for a bit, but yeah, he also made a full recovery. I just couldn’t leave him like that.”

Eloise finally pulled away and crossed her arms. “Well damn,” she grumbled. “How can I be mad at you now?”

Veko chuckled, feeling like a weight had lifted off of his chest.

—————

During lunch, Eloise filled him in on how things had been going since they’d seen each other. Lennart was still a bastard, but after being slapped in front of the gods and everyone by a lady at the tavern, he’d been officially removed from his position. A local woman had taken the title of alderwoman now, and things had been a lot better. A few of Eloise’s goats had had multiple babies, though a wolf problem last year had taken a few of them. She still had one of her original nanny goats, though, and apparently this particular goat was about as stubborn as they come.

“She actually chased one of the wolves off, even!” Eloise explained. “Charged it head on. I’ve never seen a wolf roll like that in my life.”

“Remind me not to piss your goats off, then,” Veko chuckled.

Eloise seemed to pause for a moment. “I actually have to go feed them,” she said. “Plus, your horse has just been... well, outside tied to my fence. Come with me?”

So that was how Veko found himself leading his horse to the tiny barn behind Eloise’s house. He could see a couple goats that were obviously youngsters immediately rush over to the fence, bleating loudly. From within the barn, a huge tan goat trotted out and fucking screamed.

Veko flinched and even Nine pulled back. “Sorry, sorry,” Eloise said. “That’s Georgina. She’s... special.”

“I’ll say,” Veko grumbled. “This our wolf chaser?”

Eloise shook her head and pointed to another goat on the opposite side of the paddock. A little black thing, shorter than the others, with huge, curled horns. Eloise whistled and the goat immediately charged—and slammed horns first—into the fence.

“Ren,” Eloise said, crouching down to scratch the goat between the ears. “She’s harmless. Mostly.”

Veko looked at Nine and seemed to almost share a stare with the horse. A ‘can you believe this shit?’ moment that got Veko chuckling despite himself.

“Whatever you say.”

Eloise led Veko and Nine into the barn and into a small empty stall. “This was my father’s horse’s stall,” she explained as Veko began undoing Nine’s tack.

“Where is your old man, anyway?” he asked as he heaved the saddle down.

Eloise looked away. “He, um,” she cleared her throat. “He passed, um, a few months after you left.”

Veko dropped the saddle. “Fuck,” he said. “I’m—I’m so sorry. Fuck, if I’d known—“

“Veko,” Eloise put a hand on his arm, “my father was sick. Even I didn’t realize how badly until a week before he went. But it was... it was peaceful, at least. I’d made him dinner, he wished me goodnight, and I found him in the morning.”

Veko honestly didn’t know what else to say. Death was a weird subject for Witchers, after all. He continued grooming Nine while searching desperately for something to say that wasn’t ‘sorry’ again.

“Did he have... a funeral?” Veko asked. He could’ve slapped himself. Of course he had a fucking funeral.

Eloise seemed to sense Veko’s fumbling, because she smiled gently and nodded. “A very nice one, too,” she said. “I’ll go get some water for your horse.”

As Eloise walked away, Nine looked at Veko again. What was it with this horse? Veko pointed a warning finger in his face; Nine simply huffed and turned away. Somewhere, Hamra was laughing, Veko was sure of it. His brother had always had a good relationship with his horses.

Eloise returned a moment later with a bucket of water. Veko immediately took it from her and poured it into the empty trough.

“What’s her name?” Eloise asked. If he could blush, Veko would’ve been scarlet.

“Nine,” he said.

“‘Nine’?” Eloise repeated. “Does that mean something in another language or like, the number?”

“The, uh, the number.”

Eloise slapped Veko’s hand as it reached for his scars. “Why?”

“She’s my... ninth horse.”

There was beat before Eloise burst out laughing. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Veko smirked to cover his embarrassment. “So I’ve been told.”

Eloise rolled her eyes and headed over to the opposite end of the barn. The far wall was lined with bales of hay. Before she could even reach for one, Veko rushed over and hoisted one over his shoulder. Eloise put her hands on her hips.

“You know I’ve been doing this for years even before you showed up, right?” And she had a point; what was wrong with him?

“I, uh,” he looked anywhere but at Eloise, trying to find an excuse. “I figured it’s... been a while since I’ve been here so I, uh, owe you. I guess.”

“Are you telling me or asking me?”

“Yes.”

Eloise laughed. “Ok then,” she said, heading back out of the barn. “I’ll get the gate at least.”

Veko followed Eloise to the paddock and held Ren by a leather strap around her neck while he made his way through the gate. The other goats immediately began following him. As soon as the hay hit the ground, the goats descended. Eloise let Ren go and the other goats parted to let her through.

“I never realized how scary goats were,” Veko said as Eloise latched the gate closed.

“To be fair, I have quite the herd of characters,” she replied. “Most people have a rooster to wake them at sunrise; I have Georgina and her screaming. Ren is like my own personal guard hound. Sometimes she gets out and chases off anyone who gets near the house. The others are still young, yet, but they’re slowly starting to show their personalities.”

“I’ll stick with horses, I think,” Veko said. “They’re enough trouble as it is.”

“Apparently!” Eloise laughed as she and Veko made their way back to the house. “Seeing as you’ve had nine of them!”

“This is a dangerous job!” Veko defended, but the tone was joking. “Plus in the grand scheme of things, nine horses hasn’t been a lot for how long I’ve been on the Path.”

Eloise’s brow furrowed. “How old are you?”

“Old.”

Eloise scoffed and started gathering some of her paints. Veko followed her into her art room, not sure what else to do at this point, and found the walls covered in different paintings than the last time he’d been here. One in an ornate frame was her father, exactly as real as if he was standing before them.

Eloise picked up a few leather straps from one of the tables. “Help me with something,” she said. “I’m going to repaint the goats’ collars and I don’t know what color to give who. I want you to help me decide.”

“Ok?” Veko said, taking a seat. “Why?”

“Something you said to my father, when you saved him,” Eloise replied. “It always confused him. He told you he lived in the house with the blue roof and you said it suited him. Why?”

Veko went to scratch his scars, but instead balled his hand into the fabric of his pants. “Well, it’s, uh,” he hesitated. Of all things for that old man to focus on!

“My father was always fascinated with color,” Eloise said, as if sensing Veko needed a minute. “That’s how I got into painting. He was never content with something being the original color it was. Hence, the blue roof. He said that you saying the blue suited him kind of, I don’t know, validated him.”

Veko’s chest felt tight. Now he felt fucking terrible for not being here before. Maybe Eloise’s father would’ve understood, or at least found it interesting that—

Veko cleared his throat. “So, sometimes,” he began, staring down at his hands. “When I think of things, or names, or... well anything, really. I get these senses.” When he looked up, Eloise was enraptured. “Like, your father, just looking at him, the color blue came to mind. I don’t know why.”

“Just colors?”

Veko shook his head. “Smells, sometimes. Like when I think of you... I, uh, I think of the smell of your paints.”

“That’s... that’s fascinating, Veko,” Eloise said. “Tell me more?”

Veko gestured to the collars. “Well, you’re trying to figure out what color for what goat. As soon as you said Georgina, green came to mind. I don’t know why. And Ren is red, but not because the name and word are close. Uh, sometimes when I picture my supplies in my pack, I see them like they’re all laid out on the table, lined up side-by-side, despite the fact that I know damn well they’re a jumbled mess in my bag. And in my head, the order is always the same. I kinda do the same thing with months. I see them lined up like squares on a wall.” Veko grimaced. Fuck. “No, ‘see’ is the wrong word, cuz I don’t—I’m not hallucinating or anything!”

“I believe you,” Eloise said softly, taking one of Veko’s hands in hers. And she was telling the truth. Veko felt the tension in his body release.

“It’s weird, I know,” he said. “So I don’t normally say anything. When I was younger the trainers thought my head got fucked up by the mutagens but it’s just the way I’ve always been.”

“Does your brother have this too?”

“No,” Veko chuckled. “But he’s been the most receptive to it, even if he doesn’t understand it. Like, his favorite color is green, but when I think of him I think of like an indigo color. And I’m red, but I don’t know why.”

“What about me?” Veko met Eloise’s gaze and held it. The look on her face was one of honest curiosity and interest. She smiled at him and squeezed his fingers. “What do you see when you think of me?”

Veko swallowed. “I see turquoise, like the color your dress was the first time we met. I don’t know if it’s because that’s what you were wearing or what, but when I think ‘Eloise’ I think of that faint turquoise color.”

“Does it work for family names?”

“Sometimes. What is your full name, anyway?”

“Eloise Calold.”

Veko cocked his head to the side. “Yellow,” he said. “Calold is yellow.”

“But not because of anything I’m wearing,” Eloise said, gesturing to the paint-stained brown smock she was currently wearing.

“Guess not.”

“Veko,” Eloise breathed. “That is the most fascinating thing I’ve ever heard of. So you see colors? Or, think in colors? I wish I had that. I wonder how it would affect my art. I wonder how it would affect your art.”

Veko pulled away and put his hands up. “Hey, whoa, who said anything about me being an artist?” he said.

Eloise laughed. “I bet you’re better than you think,” she said.

“I bet not.”

Eloise smirked. “Tell you what,” she said. “I’ll drop the subject if you do something for me.”

“Name it?”

“Let me paint you.”

Veko again was struck silent. She wanted to paint him? Apparently his mouth was hanging open, because Eloise tapped his chin to close it. “Why?” he managed.

“Because,” she replied. “We’re... friends. Or I like to think we are. And in case... in case something happens to you...” she gazed at the painting of her father, smiling down warmly at them, “I want you to be immortalized with him.”

What the fuck could Veko say to that? “Oh. Ok,” he said dumbly. “Uh. How do you want me?”

Eloise jumped up and ran for a blank canvas. “Whatever’s comfortable!” she called. “It takes a while.”

Veko just... sat there as Eloise began setting up. He turned this way and that, never quite settling, before Eloise huffed and dragged an armchair over. Veko abandoned the stool he’d been on and sat back into the warn leather.

“Better,” he said. He turned, scar facing away, and immediately Eloise’s hand reached out to turn him back. Her fingers grazed the puckered mess that was his cheek and he flinched.

“I’m sorry,” Eloise said gently. “I just—I want to see it.”

“Why?” Veko whispered.

“Because it’s a part of you,” Eloise replied. “And gods know I’ve kept you from scratching it enough.”

There was a moment where neither of them said a word. Veko’s heart sped in his chest like it hadn’t in many years. Eloise gazed over his burn scars and gently brushed her fingers over them again. Veko didn’t flinch this time, but just barely. Her fingers were cool against the phantom heat of his burns, and as she traced the expanse of them along his jaw, he couldn’t hold back the full-body shiver the touch elicited.

Eloise pulled back and Veko scrambled to find something to say before she said anything else about them. “So—so how does this work?” he asked. “I, uh, I just sit here?”

Eloise nodded and finally pulled back. “Yes,” she said, not meeting his gaze. Now that he was out of his own head, Veko could hear her heart hammering in her chest. “Just, um, get comfortable, relax, and um, don’t... don’t move, if you can help it.”

Veko grinned. “Ok.” Eloise nodded and began mixing a few paints.

Veko just... watched her. As brush met paint and paint met canvas, he could almost see the cogs turning in her head. Instead of sticking her tongue out, like he’d heard some artists do, she made faces. A stroke here and her mouth pinched to the side; stroke there and her mouth opened in a little ‘o’.

Veko wanted to slip into meditation, as that would be the best way to sit still for her, but he found he just couldn’t. As much as Eloise was watching him for her painting, he wanted to watch her. He couldn’t help but think of the last time they’d seen each other, and what he thought of her then. She wasn’t all that attractive, merely plain by any standards. Her laugh was unladylike and jarring. She intimidated him. She swore. She—

She made him dinner. She let him sleep in her home. She told him stories and listened to his in turn. She wanted his opinions. She found his mental crap fascinating. She worried for him. She cried for him!

She called them friends.

As Veko sat, watching Eloise paint his portrait, a warm weight settled in his gut. He didn’t want to leave in the morning. Hells, he didn’t want her to ever finish this bloody painting. And although emotions aren’t exactly a Witcher’s strong point, he had a sinking suspicion that what he was feeling...

Fuck.

[serifsans]

Vladimir’s bulk is warm and comfortable in a way nothing else is. It’d probably be downright luxurious to curl up on his lap in his true form but if there’s anything Jean-Paul hates, it’s letting their boyfriend (boyfriend, he calls him, as if either of them aren’t anything but too damn old, as if they don’t think of him as their husband, even if they dare not say it lest that change something and ruin everything.) see them when they aren’t wearing human form. It’s embarrassing, like being caught wearing bell-bottoms before they cycle back into fashion. They’ll let Vladimir see them now when they’re skulking around wearing ratty bathrobes so old they’re now antiques but JP draws the line as letting him see that silly pink dog.

(Also, they figure that if the regulators ever decide to mind-wipe him, it’s probably better if he has less memories of an obviously alien form. Maybe it won’t completely fry his brain then. JP’s terrified of that. Of course, JP also knows that if they ever came for him, Vladimir’s taking as many regulators as possible with him before they could even get to his head. They’re terrified of that just as much.)

They see each other so infrequently anyway that there’s no point wasting it looking like anything but a dream: that is, if your idea of a dream is undersized, middle-aged, and dressed entirely in designer brands. Vladimir’s is, which is part of the reason they like him so much. Their volph form is not a dream. It’s silly and little and adorable when it’s not glitching and lagging. JP will take adorable but the silly part, no.

Jean-Paul has his shop and his commissions and a whole part of his life he doesn’t want to drag Vladimir into any more than he already has. Vladimir’s got his work and his family and a whole part of his life he doesn’t want to drag Jean-Paul (or Polly Jean or whatever other name they cycle though) into any more than he already has. They both have businesses that keep them very busy and also side-pieces that also keep them very busy, mostly because neither of them really like to address their emotions and mostly deal with them by throwing themselves at whatever distraction they can find. Always, always, there’s the looming threat that this cannot last, that it’ll end poorly, that they should just end this, but whenever they break up, they can’t stay apart too long until the fear comes for one of them again.

Anyway, the point? Jean-Paul’s living like a fucking king over there because he gets to wallow all over this man. Anyone who doesn’t get to cuddle him is missing out on one of the finer joys of life.

“Paulie, my sweet one, maybe you would like it more if you moved a little, yeah? Just a little. I love you as I love no other, you are my starshine, my heart, but your ass, it’s bony. My legs can only take so much. I am sorry, my love.”

Oh, okay, the man he loves is just cruelly abandoning him like a complete and utter monster. That’s how it is. Being JP is so hard. They make a big show of looking extremely sad as they scoot off his lap and curl up against his side instead, sighing extremely, extremely over-dramatically. Vladimir pets his hair and gives him a little kiss to make up for kicking him off of his lap. JP sighs even more sadly and when that doesn’t elicit the desired response, sighs even louder so Vladimir kisses him again.

Their ass isn’t that bony.

“I guess I might find it within my heart to forgive you for this cruel and utterly cutting insult,” they say. “But only because I am an extremely kind person. The best. I’m completely saintly, darling. That’s the truth of it.”

Vladimir chuckles, a low rumble.

“They will write poems to your kindness and generosity. They will not say that you called what’s-her-name horrible things for hours only because she did not say hello to you while walking down the street. I still think she did not see you. If she knew what you said, she would never talk to you agains even if she did see you.”

JP huffs.

“First of all, it was not for hours. Second of all, I was only being truthful. Third of all, she did it on purpose; don’t argue otherwise. Fourthly, she can snub me all she wants, I really do not give a fuck, the joke’s on her, I made out with her dear old dad in the 70s and he liked it, so hah. I hope no one shows up at her fucking garden party. I hope she gets kicked out of the country club. I hope she buys a pony and it doesn’t love her.”

“Okay, Paulie, you tart,” says Vladimir, laughter still in his voice. “You were very busy in the 70s. You must have never rested.”

“You know it.”

Maybe being kicked off Vladimir’s lap isn’t so bad. It means they can nestle up against him and rest their head on his stomach. He likes to run his fingers through their hair, especially since they decided to start wearing it long in this body. Anyone else doing it makes him feel like anxious lapdog with no control over who does and doesn’t pet him (or pull his tail or mess with his ears or poke him) but Vladimir does it and he feels like a person instead. He closes his eyes and though he never naps, JP really feels so comfortable right now he could doze off. Bears are fantastic. The world needs more of them. Actually, it needs more of them and it needs this one to last forever.

“Mm, completely unrelated to exploits of the past, but I made an account on a website. Thought you should know. Transparency. Communication. That sort of thing. It’s fun.”

God, they’re comfy. This is amazing. Their life really is so blessed. Thank you, universe.

“Paulie,” his boyfriend says with gentle exasperation in his voice. “You join these websites, you find someone that maybe you do not like, you say things that you know to be hurtful, the websites say that you cannot go to them anymore. You can’t keep doing this. There is a reason that I run the boutique’s social media and you, you, my heart, are allowed nowhere near. You are very spiteful and very rude. I know this and I love you.”

JP really can’t argue against this one because they’re running out of websites to be banned from. Even still, they roll their eyes and huff because how dare Vladimir call them out like this.

“Ugh, fine, I’ll behave. I’m really trying to be nicer, you know. It’s all so goddamn weird that I wouldn’t even understand how to insult these people if I tried, anyway. I don’t fucking get memes, darling. It’s all a bunch of bullshit people pretend is funny. It doesn’t make sense.”

“I am sorry you do not understand the Internet. It is a strange place. I will send you Russian memes instead and then maybe you will understand,” Vladimir says. “If you do not like the site, then maybe consider not being on it.”

“I didn’t say that. I just said that it doesn’t make sense. Darling, you know I really do think people should cater to my exact sense of taste at all times but even though they don’t, I still very graciously put up with it,” JP says. “It’s a website for fellow space fans. They’re all bound to be weird."

Vladimir’s hand in his hair stills.

“I do not need to know the details of what you say on your websites, I think maybe I do not even need to know what they are called, but be mindful of what you post. You do not know who could be reading. Do not mention me on it ever, please.  Be careful.”

The ever-present anxiety starts making itself known. It’s not that Vladimir himself makes them anxious because he’s a giant softie underneath the leather and gruff exterior and the fact that he will commit murder in an instant if it means protecting his loved ones. It’s just that sometimes JP very suddenly remembers how much they absolutely have to protect him at all costs and what it will be like to lose him if they can’t devise a way to keep him around forever.

“I’m sorry, Vladimir. I should’ve said something before I made an account. I’ll delete it. I just...you told me I can’t keep running away from others like me. Well, I can’t deal with them in real life. I just can’t. It’s just a website, I didn’t think things through, I don’t want to compromise your safety, I can-”

“Ah, ah, no, I am sorry, I think maybe I said things too harshly, do not worry, my darling. I trust you. Please, maybe it will be a good thing for you and then you will understand their memes. I only want you to be happy and safe. Just be careful, okay? And do not start fights with people.”

JP whines and buries their face against him.

“I really can delete it. I, I don’t always think things through. I wasn’t made for thinking.”

Vladimir decides the best course of action is to pull them back into his lap in hopes it’ll calm the anxious volph, except JP can’t even properly enjoy it because their brain (if they even have a brain because they honestly do not know.) goes from zero to one hundred in half a second and now they’re thinking about everything bad that could possibly happen because they joined a website for aliens.

“Hey, it’s okay, okay? Have fun on your alien dating site. Maybe you will sleep with a Nessie and it will change your life. Do not worry about me. Just be careful with yourself, okay? You do not protect that person enough.”

That’s enough for JP to momentarily break through the anxiety.

“It’s a blogging website, not a hookup website."

“Okay.”

...

“Paulie? Is the Loch Ness Monster real? Do you know her?”

“Darling, you know I never kiss and tell.”

“Is she real?”

“Fuck if I know but I’m certainly not swimming all the way over there to find out.”

[calypsoff]

Thirty.

I been out in Cali near enough every day, shit is cool as fuck around here. I mean it’s a little quiet when I am in the house, but I am chilling out every day, I be driving Robyn’ Porsche around doing my thing, talking to suppliers, other designers, went to meet up with Tyga. He doesn’t even live that far from Robyn, we just hung out for two days straight. I am living that Cali life and I am loving it to be honest. Why did I even think this place was bad, I may have been trying to prove a point to Robyn. Thinking of Robyn, I need to text her. Drake invited me to the club, he invited me to the club with him. I am so hype for this, I have got a barber to come out to Robyn’ crib and do my hair but I can see how you can spend a lot of money here, I think I have spent more then I should have but I can’t help it. Just living life, I am happy right now. Robyn and I, we speak sometimes and it’s always that awkward conversation because I left annoyed with her, and she was hating on me when I left because of what I said but we haven’t even spoke on it, she is somewhat busy and I am also, not busy but I just keep it to me. I don’t know what to do or say to Robyn to make her feel better or for her to not be angry with me. I just don’t know what to do or say, I tell her about when I go out but I just keep it to me mostly because Robyn doesn’t care right now, also she ain’t give me sex, so I have been without since. Imagine partying with Tyga in his crib with the finest bitches there, and I am backed up and not had sex. I would never cheat on Robyn, ever. But it’s hard, she can’t do that to me because I said she is skinny. It makes no fucking sense, and I will bring it up wit her when I do see her, when we meet again of course.

Barry and TJ are forever facetiming me, they said they will be coming soon to see me and they want to be living that Cali life “listen, I am still trying to get used to shit. Like right now I can go to Tyga’ crib and he be like cool, sit with me. He has bitches walking around naked as fuck, without a care. He just be having bitches, bro. It’s crazy, I am sat there with my mouth open like damn. Then I remember oh yeah Robyn” TJ busted out laughing “yo, you need to remember number one now, so you think we should have moved there” hearing the buzzer go off “uhm, honestly maybe yes but no. I spent too much money here, like I ended up throwing some money at these girls just twerking because niggas was doing, you know. What could I do, shit was behind closed doors, so I just like uhm here a dollar” I snorted laughing pressing the buzzer “who this!?” I asked, “It’s JC bro!” letting out an oh “cool, come through” unlocking the gate “that’s me out, I got my barber out here” TJ and Barry gasped “no fucking way, yo. We are coming there ASAP, fuck you!” I cackled; this is funny because I know these niggas are dying to come down “aight, I’m out” disconnecting the facetime, I need to look good. I am partying with Drake now so yeah, fuck that noise, making my way through the hallway to open the door, this place is too damn big. It’s a nice home but I don’t think its home for Robyn, like she ain’t have no personal pictures around, like she just comes here. Opening the door “what’s good? Thank you for coming out” dapping JC “bro Tyga told me, I got you for whatever you want” moving back to let him in.

My hair isn’t even that bad, but I needed that shape up “I hear you making a name for yourself though, like when Tyga told me and he said Chris Brown. I was like huh, and then he said that clothing line Black Pyramid so yeah, you are making a name for yourself” JC said, I grinned “I will hook you up bro, I got some gear over here bro. I got you” I am glad I bought some gear over “good looking out, thank you” I dapped him, my phone started to ring in my pocket “yo I got to take this, might be my twin” digging into my pocket “dang, imagine dating riri though” seeing the caller ID, I knew it would be Robyn. Answering the call “hey” she is probably asking about that text “so now Drake inviting you to the club, why? What are you doing over there?” I don’t know if she was joking at first, but I think she is joking “my handsome looks, but I said I had to check in with the lady of the house first” I lied, because I said yes before anything “mhmm, what if the lady says no?” I hope she doesn’t “no? Then my haircut is going to be wasted, but can I call you back. I have my barber here right now” Robyn let out an oh “that’s fine, call me whenever and you can go” she is so weird, her mood is horrendous “cool, aight. Bye then” I would like Robyn to say I love you, which she hasn’t in so long, but she didn’t “bye” the call disconnected.

I was going to call Robyn, but I decided against it, I just went to the club to meet up with Drake. I wore my best shit and I drove Robyn’ Porsche here, I have to look the part. You do really need to look the part when you deal and sit with people that are rich as fuck. I got out of the car, I don’t know if I leave it here and I go or I wait but this guy came over with his hand out, I passed him my keys and he got into the car and went, I could have gave Robyn’ car away without even knowing, imagine that. But I am sure he is part of the club; the valet guy is right here. The queue is crazy, but I will go ahead, I will try it anyways but he said my name is on the list so I suspect I just go inside, I mean what else would I do. Walking by the row of people, and I mean a lot of people that haven’t gone in. This tall guy just looked at me “name?” he asked “Chris, Chris Brown” if my name is not on the list I am so fucked, I will go home. He is taking his time “come through” he moved the barrier “hey, I know you!” some girl grabbed my tee, looking to the side of me at this female I don’t know “I know you, please get my girls in” I shook my head laughing “you light skinned niggas are not shit!” she spat, let me just go inside.

Dapping Drake’ entourage, they welcomed me like I am their own people “you came!” Drake said, dapping him but he hugged me instead “this nigga, he is a great guy. I have good feelings about people, and you are one of them, I think you are destined to be great. I am glad you came out, what you doing here? I thought you would be on tour” shaking my head “I am in cali, housesitting for my girlfriend, she wants me to get used to Cali and honestly, I am loving it” Drake laughed “you say girlfriend like it ain’t Rihanna, but that is amazing. This place is amazing, the people you meet. Also I want you to meet Nicki, hey” he waved Nicki Minaj over, this is mind blowing “no way” I said to myself, I am sweating now. Oh shit, she is real “meet a friend of mine Chris, Nicki, Nicki, Chris” she is pretty “awww hey, aren’t you the cutest” hugging her “thank you” I mumbled “oh wait, you are Rihanna’ boyfriend, oh my gosh. You are the sweetest thing!” she yelped out, am I that cute. She is making me laugh at her reaction “what can I say” I am only going to let her get away with calling me cute, I am a grown ass man.

I find this so surreal, to be in this section. To be getting free drinks, getting that VIP treatment. My life has changed, and I am so happy with everything, I am not planning on drinking anymore because I need to drive back so I am just drinking some Red Bull right now, that reminds me. Let me see what Twin is doing, she never called me when I said to her. She is so uptight, it’s dumb and I won’t call her. I am just going to text her, my phone screen lit up and I have got various messages from people but Robyn, shaking my head tapping on my messages and writing one out.

Chris: No text!?

Pressing send on the message, I said no text but yet I meant to say no call which made me laugh. Niggas are going crazy in my messages because I just posted a picture of Drake and I, I am the with the homie, I mean imagine being homies with Drake. Nobody from VA can say that shit, so my messages are going crazy, Robyn text me back.

Twin: Why would I text you?

Chris: I mean call but does it matter you didn’t!?

Twin: Right!

Chris: I am not going to fall out with yu but yu are being so stank with me

Twin: This skinny bitch will come back to you when she is better for you

Chris: wtf? I never called you a bitch Robyn! I mentioned yu lost weight and I didn’t like yu skinny it looks crazy on yu like yu are taking drugs!

Twin: FUCK YOU!

I am not even going to speak to her, let her sulk and be the way she is because as a boyfriend I told her the truth, maybe I shouldn’t have text her intoxicated but I don’t care. She has for real pissed me off, it’s not even that deep. I fucking care for her, shaking my head locking my phone “you want a drink?” the girl just came up at the side of me, she grabbed a wine glass from the tray “for you” staring at the glass and then her face, I don’t even know her “nah, I am good” shaking my head, I am not fucking with nothing like that.

Watching the gate close from the camera, I always go through this process, it’s a headache to make sure everything is locked and closed. Just give me a simple door to lock, rubbing my forehead feeling stressed. The gate closed outside “cool” my phone started to ring on the side, it’s Robyn. I deep down want to ignore it but I won’t, she called and I shall speak to her. Answering the call “what’s up?" I answered because it’s really early morning there so something is up “well you complained I didn’t call you but also you are actually an asshole, right. Hear me out” here we go, let me walk to the bedroom “you called me peak skinny and then all of a sudden you think I would want sex with you? Peak skinny, I be singing on stage and thinking about it. My boyfriend telling me I am peak skinny and now I look like I am taking drugs, do I look that bad to you!? You have made me feel like shit and yet you still have this shit attitude with me. I am here seeing you having the most fun, Tyga!? The pornstar that has women around for nothing, you think I wouldn’t see the picture, that I wouldn’t know. You may not do anything but you’re there smiling” I really don’t want to hear it “right, you done? I smiled seeing some ass because my own girlfriend doesn’t want to give that one up” I am too tired to care “you are actually unbelievable, maybe Cali isn’t for you. Just know you have really hurt me; I have a lot to think about because you are being the asshole you are now. Because I didn’t give you sex” funny how she picks on that “see what I mean with you, you pick on that one thing. You have been so stank with me; I have tried with you. I left that tour upset but did you care? I kissed your forehead and left, it’s always the Rihanna show when you are in the wrong here, what about your attitude!? I don’t want to argue with you” sitting on the edge of the bed “imagine calling your girlfriend peak skinny and that I look like I take drugs, you are a bastard Chris. Don’t call me back” she put the phone down, she is right. I won’t be calling back.

I jerked off of the bed in shock, my eyes shot open feeling my whole body just be in shock. The only thing that can be heard is me breathing heavily and I am sweating “damn” pushing the covers off of me, I am sweating. Wiping my forehead, it’s still night and actually I didn’t even close the blinds which I should have but it’s dark as fuck. Shaking my head getting up from the bed, maybe I had a nightmare or some shit, but I don’t think I was. Making my way to the bathroom, I kind of hate this home because it’s too big. It’s not the first time feeling like this actually, it’s just big and lonely. I am not scared but it’s just a little lonely to me, I froze hearing a loud thud, looking up at the ceiling. That was from upstairs, not even a lie that was. I swallowed hard, I ain’t even going to leave the bedroom like that. Jogging back over to the bed, I am going to call the police. The noise is a lot, I am downstairs, her room is here downstairs. Someone is here, maybe more. Pressing the phone to my ear “yeah yeah, someone is in the home. I ain’t left the bedroom but I can hear footsteps upstairs, the home is 7800 block of Hillside Avenue, the home belongs to Rihanna. I am her boyfriend Chris. I need someone to come out here ASAP” I ain’t a scared bitch but I still don’t want to go out there and get killed “sir we will send someone right over, can you lock the door where you are at now?” walking over to the door “I am downstairs in the bedroom, it’s a little quiet now. Should I check?” maybe I should, like what if they taking her stuff “sir please stay in the room and lock the door” licking my top lip, opening the door to see and I just flat out died inside seeing this grown ass man in my face, I dropped my phone and I went into fight mode.

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 50)

Beaver Hollow

On the move once again. Dude... 50 chapters!! 😮 Thanks to everyone who’s stuck with me!

Tagging @emily-strange ❤

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

Much to my disdain, I was bedridden. The burns on my leg were placed as such that bending my leg and doing any more than hobbling outside to pee (a nightmare task) was out of the question. They were also extremely painful, but I tried not to go on about it, I did my best to ignore it and pretend it wasn't the case. Susan was on at me constantly to rest it, telling me I would only make the healing process worse if I kept bursting blisters and tearing fragile skin as it tried to heal back. She was right, obviously, but I hated not doing anything. 

There were only so many chores I could do from the bed, mostly sewing, and after two days of that, nobody had anything that needed repairing. I'd started taking commissions of sorts; in other words, I made people bring me things to draw for them. They'd get a drawing, and I'd get half an hour or so of entertainment, it was a pretty good deal. I drew Javier's hat, Strauss' spare spectacles, Arthur's boots, a ladle that Pearson gave to me and then later apparently went mad trying to find, and a flower that Tilly picked. 

Jack was my most eager customer, though. He kept on bringing me things, cool looking rocks, a 'snake' he'd made out of compacted mud on a plate (I had to ask him what I was looking at, momentarily concerned he'd brought me a gift from Cain), and a small wooden horse that apparently Sean had carved for him once upon a time. I drew them all, even the more questionable items, because he smiled like a little angel every time I handed him a finished drawing. It was definitely a welcome distraction from the discomfort I was near-constantly in.

I was finishing up a drawing of a character from one of his books when Abigail came in. 

"I thought I'd find him in here," she smiled when she entered, "he ain't bothering you, is he?" 

"Of course not! I love having him around," I grinned, "he's a good boy, ain't you?" 

Jack gave me a toothy smile and nodded. 

"As long as he's behaving himself," Abigail chuckled, then took a seat on the edge of the bed by my feet. "But I, uh, I'd like a word, if that's okay?"

"With me?" My brows raised a little, and she nodded. "Sure, I ain't going anywhere soon," I snorted.

"Alright Jack, why don't you go see if Susan can find you a little job to help her with, hm?"

"I don't like doing jobs," he sulked, fiddling with the corner of the page of the sketchbook on my lap. 

"Nobody does, but I need you to keep on being a good boy, come on," she breathed, putting her hand on the top of his head and directing him towards the door. "You can come back later, okay?" 

"Okay," he grumbled, though did as he was told. 

"I love you," Abigail called after him with a certain look in her eye. She gnawed on her bottom lip as she watched him leave.

"Everything okay?" I asked. It took her a moment to look at me again. 

"Sure. Arthur and Sadie are looking into how they can break John out today."

My heart thudded. "They are?"

"He never told you?"

"He said he had things to do today, didn't go into much detail. What're they doing?" I asked, mildly concerned. 

"I ain't sure. They promised me they'd get him back, Sadie said she had an idea to check things out over at Sisika. They ain't breaking him out just yet, but they're doing a hell of a lot more than Dutch is," she released a sigh and shook her head. 

"John will be back soon. You ain't gotta worry with Sadie and Arthur working on it," I reassured her. 

"I know, just feels like so long since..." she trailed off a little glumly, her head bowed and her eyes landed on my bandaged leg. "I'm sorry, how're you feeling?"

"I'm okay. Susan changed the dressing this morning and so far so good. Now that it's had a little time to calm down it don't look too bad," I explained and she nodded slowly. "Still hurts, but not like the first night."

"That was real scary," she closed her eyes momentarily, then opened them to look at me with a crinkled brow. "We have to move soon. Everyone's started packing up, we just gotta sort a new camp. That's kinda what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Yeah?"

"Are you coming with us? I heard Dutch saying something about sending you off to someplace else while your leg heals."

"He was talking out'a where the sun don't shine. It was discussed, but I ain't leaving unless Arthur's coming with me. I don't think Dutch'd be too happy about that, though."

"Well I thought you should know Micah's been whispering in his ear," she muttered rolling his eyes, "he don't like to see weakness in the gang. Said we don't need to be carrying around another invalid." 

"Invalid? Soon as I'm out of this bed I'll be back to normal, I don't wanna be lying around on my ass all day!" 

"I told him where he can shove his opinion, and Arthur would never let the gang cut you loose. And like you said, Dutch don't wanna lose Arthur. You ain't going anywhere. Unless– what was Arthur going on about, you and him getting away together?" She cocked a brow a little.

"When?" I frowned.

"When you got burned, he was saying all these things–"

"You heard that? Right. I know he was," I cut her off, turning my eyes to the ceiling, I hadn't even realised that Abigail was around then, "he was just worried and stressed, we ain't leaving any time soon." 

"You don't sound very happy about that."

"Of course I ain't. I wanted to be long gone before Arthur even ended up in Guarma! But that don't mean I'm gonna make him leave. I know the timing ain't right." 

"But you do want to leave with him?"

"Yes," I breathed, closing my eyes. "Before I lose him." 

"You never mentioned this before," she noted. 

"It hurt to talk about, while he was gone," I admitted. 

"Well, I bet you're relieved, at least. Now you've got your boy back in your sight?" She mused. I nodded firmly.

"Real relieved. I'm so thankful… he was so lucky, I was lucky. I really was starting to lose it for a while."

"Well, maybe now the timing ain't right for you pair to go off and start a life together, but it will be one day. For now, I get it. Lord knows I don't wanna be here forever. Maybe when John gets out we can… I don't know. I just want us three to be a family."

"You will be, Abigail," I reached over and patted her knee. 

"If Arthur knows what's good for him," she looked up suddenly, "he'll leave all this behind too. There's been too many close calls and Dutch has been... well, he don't seem to care too much about John being behind bars, or marching towards the gallows. Once upon a time he'd be racing to do something about it."

"You think he's changed?"

"I don't know," she frowned deeply, "I love Dutch, I do, but I'm just frustrated. And a little scared, too. Hosea used to always be at his side and I trusted him to steer his judgement just enough to– sometimes Dutch's ideas are a little theatrical. I don't doubt they'd probably work but Hosea kept Dutch's feet on the ground. It was better for us all that way. I don't know how to say it, I guess."

"He provided wisdom and rationale while Dutch provided passion and charisma," I murmured, "that was always the impression I got."

"Yeah, I guess that's it," she sighed heavily. "Maybe if Hosea was still here, he'd be convincing Dutch to help with getting John back."

"I'm really sorry, Abigail. You must miss him."

"I don't like admitting it, but I do. Jack needs his father and I need–" she stopped, then realised something. "Oh, did you mean Hosea?"

"I did. But you can say whatever you need to."

"I'm just… I'm ready to have him back now. I don't like all this," she sighed, the corners of her mouth turning down and twitching. 

"No, I know. Ain't gonna be for long, I'm sure," I told her softly. 

"Hey, if you're lookin' for something else to draw in that book of yours, draw John's dumb face for me, won't you?" She smiled a little and I chuckled. 

"Sure, I'll try," I beamed at her. 

-

Arthur had come back from scoping out Sisika, full of reassurance for Abigail that they'd seen John and he was alive and well, working the fields. He hadn't mentioned it to Dutch, he told me, there was a strange air about him when he spoke about what he and Sadie had done. He never spoke at his regular volume, looked edgy, like a child plotting something he knew he shouldn't be doing. I couldn't quite believe that Dutch would have something negative to say about them going off to save one of our own. But then again, his behaviour had been particularly odd lately. 

Arthur had collapsed into sleep not long after telling me tales of hot air balloons and O'Driscolls, stories that sounded like they should be written in a story book and not coming from the experience of the man I loved. It terrified me. He'd scoped out the prison in a damn hot air balloon. He'd flown. I wanted to cry, even if Arthur acted like it was all in a day's work, and even if he spent more time describing the view of the world from miles up in the air, than he did the feeling of coming crashing back down. This was going to get him killed, I'd said, why aren't you telling Dutch and putting a team together? But he was sleeping. His head nestled into my chest and his body half laying on mine, on my good side, careful not to disturb my injured leg. I let him get his rest. 

It wasn't long before we were on the move again. It was the next afternoon that Arthur left with Charles to sort out our new home. Murfree Brood territory, up in Roanoke, apparently. I remembered the gang's hesitance to head up there after the bank job, it turned out we just needed to work up our nerve by dealing with the Night Folk in the bayou before moving onto the even sicker, even more brutal folk up on the Ridge. We'd only had one minor incident in the bayou. Lenny had encountered a couple of Night Folk skulking around a little way away from Lakay, right on the edge of our camp. They hadn't harmed him, hadn't even tried to. It seemed as though they were just checking the place out, but Lenny threatened them, we upped security, and we didn't see them again.

Miss Grimshaw came into the room I'd resided in since the night of the shoot out, flanked by Micah and Bill.

"How's that leg feelin'?" She asked as the men hung back. Bill stood awkwardly in the doorway while Micah strolled in, leaned up against the wall and crossed his arms, watching me from across the room. I was a little surprised to suddenly have them all there. 

"It's fine, I've been keeping still just like you told me to," I told her, glancing at the men before looking back at Susan. 

"Well, now I have to retract that order, we're moving. I roped these strapping fellers in to help you out onto the wagon we've got waiting for you outside," she said, glancing over her shoulder at them briefly, "you reckon you can move?"

"I don't have much of a choice," I laughed a little anxiously, "but I'll be glad to see something other than this room." 

"Alright then, you ready to move now? We don't got much time," Susan was a little short with me and sounded stressed. I didn't blame her. Moving was never a fun task. I nodded, and she nodded back, turning to leave briskly.

"Very well, be careful with her, boys. Make sure she doesn't bend that leg too much."

Micah and Bill approached me and I sat up, moving to scoot to the edge of the bed while keeping my bad leg outstretched. Micah let out an audible sigh and I kept my eyes firmly on the floor as they surrounded me, reaching for me a number of times without actually lifting me, trying to figure out how to approach it. 

"What if I lift her legs and you carry her by her arms?" Bill suggested. 

"Why don't we roll her up in a carpet while we're at it? She ain't a corpse just yet, Williamson," Micah hissed. 

"Well, I don't know! I never volunteered for this."

"Neither did I!"

"I'd walk if I could! I don't wanna be a burden, you know," I snapped at them.

"How do you want it, ma'am? Want me to carry you bridal style while Bill tosses rose petals?" Micah suggested, bending his knees to come down to my level condescendingly.

"Just lower me onto my stomach and I'll drag myself if it's too much of a hassle just to put my arms over your shoulders and walk me out there," I deadpanned. 

There was a pause, then Bill moved forward, taking my arm and hooking it around his shoulders. We both looked at Micah expectantly, and after making us wait for a few seconds, he did the same. They lifted me up and carried me out of the building, the camp was filled with people bustling about loading our things up onto the wagons, one wagon was waiting for me with a blanket draped on the bottom, a nice little spot to sit. I pressed my lips together as the blood rushed down my legs, the first time I'd stood upright since it happened, the area feeling full and tense and sore. I kept my foot lifted, trying my hardest not to move my leg too much and pull on the delicate, healing wounds.

We reached the wagon and Bill and Micah turned me, easing me up onto the back of it, sitting me down on the edge. I gasped as I bent my leg too far, and Bill caught it in his hands, lifting it up for me as I shuffled back with my arms and my good leg. By the time I was settled I was breathless, despite barely moving with my own strength.

"Thank you," I breathed, and Bill waved a hand dismissively.

"You alright?" He asked in that gruff voice of his.

"Yeah, I'm okay," I nodded. 

"You just take it easy there, don't want you straining yourself," Micah said, though the sneer with which he spoke told me he wasn't being kind. I hummed my acknowledgement but otherwise didn't respond. The two men turned and left me there, and I heard Micah muttering something about dumping me in a hotel somewhere instead of carting me around, to which Bill grumbled at him to give it a rest. 

It did make me wonder how the gang would behave if Micah found himself in a position of needing to be cared for. If he was put to bed rest for a week or two, and we had to wait on him until he was better. Would anyone complain as much as him about the weak links in the gang? I'd heard the way Micah spoke about the likes of Reverend Swanson or Uncle, and even the women, about how they didn't contribute enough and were dead weights. He didn't seem to hold much compassion, if any. But who would complain if it was him in need? Probably no one. Everyone else just got on with things, did what needed doing, helped who needed helping. I wondered how Micah would feel in that situation. Guilty? Unlikely. 

With a sigh I leaned my head back against the edge of the wagon and closed my eyes, waiting for everyone to finish packing away our things, feeling useless the entire time. I didn't enjoy being immobile. Sure, I could probably force myself to stand and do things, but I knew that it would hurt and Susan would be on my case quicker than vultures on a corpse.

It was times like these that I realised how much I needed work to ground me. How much I relied on it to give my life structure and purpose, to give me focus. Without it, or with the limited amount I was doing, the days dragged on and gave me too much time alone with my thoughts. And these days my thoughts weren't always friendly, especially when Arthur wasn't with me. When he was out working I had a constant seed of anxiety in the back of my mind, growing and sprouting into every corner of myself, building and building until he walked back into view, and the worry subsided. I'd felt it when he was out scoping Sisika. I felt it when he was clearing the new camp with Charles… worse, in fact.

My stomach churned steadily, heart thumping, just hanging around and waiting was making me feel nervous. I didn't really know what I was nervous for, I guess it was just the impatience to get on the road again, because the sooner we were on our way, the sooner I'd be with Arthur and I could see he was okay. 

-

The journey to Beaver Hollow, our new camp, was bumpy and warm and humid… and awful. My backside was numb from the hard wood of the wagon, every rut in the road jostled my leg; at first it was okay, but the longer it went on the more it began to hurt and soon the pain was intense and my discomfort manifested itself in my stomach as the worst nausea I'd felt in a long time. I laid back against the side of the wagon with my head tilted up to the sky, breathing slowly and deeply, trying so hard not to let my sickness get the better of me. 

"You okay there sweetheart? You're lookin' a little rough," Abigail, who was sitting up on the seat of the wagon above me, called down over her shoulder. I shook my head. "Is it your leg? How is it, Miss Grimshaw's been checking it, ain't she?"

"Don't make me talk, I'll be sick," I said as gingerly as I could. I heard some murmuring from above, then the wagon shook with a thump as someone jumped down from above. I opened my eyes to see Lenny rummaging in the storage next to me, the clatter of metal meeting my ears. Then I was presented with a bowl. One we prepared food in! I wrinkled my nose and kept all my focus on not puking into it.

"You want me to sit with you?" He asked me, and I gave him a look that I hoped he would read as me leaving the option up to him. He didn't have to sit with someone on the verge of purging their stomach contents, but I wouldn't mind the distraction some company would provide.

Lenny sat down next to me, leaning against the opposite side of the wagon so we faced each other. 

"We're gonna be there soon, I promise, hang tight," he said to me, crossing his arms over his chest and watching me swallow thickly, the flood of excess saliva in my mouth. "You ever been up near Beaver Hollow?" He asked me.

I nodded minutely. 

"Sorry, right, I won't make you talk," he gave a small chuckle. "I heard some bad things about this place. But I think we'll be fine. A bunch like us? No one'll come poking around." 

I swallowed again, took a shaky, slow breath. 

"Hey, did Arthur ever tell you about the time he and I went drinking together?" He began, a toothy smile appearing on his face. I shook my head. "Let me tell you. Maybe it'll make you feel better," he said.

Lenny chuckled quietly, then glanced out the back of the wagon at the one following us, with Micah and Dutch on it. 

"Was when Micah went and got himself locked up in Strawberry. Arthur took me into Valentine for a few drinks, just to ease up a little, you know? All the worst nights start out with a quiet drink," he laughed, shaking his head. "Well, I don't remember a whole lot, we just kept on doing shots. One after the other. God knows how much we drank…"

I quirked a brow at him, trying to imagine him and Arthur drinking themselves half to death. I just couldn't picture it, especially not Lenny. He seemed like such a good kid! Perhaps Arthur had just been a bad influence… 

"I remember doin' the can-can in the middle of the saloon. I remember slapping Arthur in the face over and over, and that's about it… we woke up in a jail cell! I don't really know what we did to get there," he snorted. "Probably just being a pair of complete morons."

"How'd you get out?" I asked.

"They just let us go, I guess the sheriff saw the funny side," he grinned. "I ain't ever thrown up quite as much as I did in the aftermath of that, though– sorry, maybe I won't mention that."

I laughed just a little, careful not to jostle my stomach too much.

"We ain't been out drinking since, feel like I'm still getting over it," he snorted. I smiled, it was easier not to lose my breakfast while he was talking to me. 

"Tell me another story," I pleaded.

"Hmm, let me think for a second," he murmured. "I know. This was when we was out west, before Blackwater–"

Lenny talked the whole way, distracting me from my sickness. He told me stories about the gang from before I joined, and before everything started going so spectacularly wrong. It was nice, even if it did make me sad to think of all those the gang had lost since then, some I knew, others I didn't. He seemed particularly distant when he mentioned a girl called Jenny, who'd passed during the ferry job. I still didn't quite know what went on that day, but it seemed to be one major hit in a series of many the gang had taken in recent times. 

-

Charles met up with us on the way, leading us the rest of the way to Beaver Hollow. The caravan rolled into the new area, a clearing between the trees and the large cave that had apparently been used by the Murfree Brood before us. Arthur and Charles had cleared it for us, and it terrified me to think that Arthur had been up against that sick, deranged group of bastards. They seemed to have managed it though, and the place was cleared and ready for us to set up. Arthur was nowhere to be seen, however, but Charles approached me before I could get myself too twisted in a knot with concern. 

"There was a girl locked up in the cave. Arthur's taking her back home, he'll be back later," he told me, offering his arm out, hinting for me to scoot forwards towards the open edge of the wagon. I gingerly did just that, keeping my leg straight. 

"A girl? Is she okay?" I queried, and Charles frowned a little as he took my hand, guided it around his shoulders and lifted me onto my good foot. 

"Physically, I think so. She was real shook up, though. That place was a mess down there, in the cave," he told me quietly, depositing me down on a chair he'd retrieved for me. I thanked him for his assistance as he let me go. "How're you feeling?"

"Sick," I said truthfully. "Was all I could do not to hurl on the way up here," I chuckled weakly. His frown deepened. 

"Have your wounds been checked recently?" He asked me, looking to me for permission before pressing the back of his hand to my forehead.

"This morning," I nodded, "there's no sign of infection. I think it was just the journey, it hurt from all of the bumps in the road."

"Okay. I'll see if I can find something to help you once we're all set up," he patted me on the shoulder. 

"Thanks, Charles," I smiled. He went off to help everyone unload the wagons. 

I had to sit and watch everyone buzzing around setting up tents, making the place into something that resembled a home. As much as I wished to be able to help, I was glad that everyone was too busy to pay attention to me when I – as quietly as I could – finally lost my battle with nausea on the ground beside my chair on the outskirts of the camp. I almost immediately felt better, though it wasn't fun having to sit next to it until someone could come and help me move away. At least I didn't do it in the wagon, I thought.