#potential room for spin-off one shots or fics

[shsy7573]

We’re in This Together - Ch. 13

For more info or chapter index, see overview post

Alright folks, we made it to the end! This is the final chapter of WITT, and I’m happy to be posting it (I say as if I haven’t been spam posting all of these chapters over the last hour). I hope you enjoyed the story, and if you have any questions or feedback, feel free to leave a comment! This was such a blast to write from start to end, and even tho there were times where I had no clue how to continue the story, I pushed through and am now delighted to share it w/ all of u.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own own Voyager or any of the characters in this fic (except for the aliens. Those were my creation.)

*This story is not beta-read and has not been edited or proof-read in any way! This was just something I threw together over the past three days and decided to post as my first entry on this site!*

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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

A faint noise tugged at the back of her mind as Janeway swam through the darkness. At first, it was just a light buzzing. Barely audible and easy to ignore. But, as she floated there, her mind stuck between one state of being and the other, she was aware of the sound slowly growing louder. The buzz was amplified to a wave of static, and then as she sat even longer, it grew into the muffled sound of voices.

As she focused on the sound, she began to become aware of her other senses too. She could feel the light pressure of something soft pressing against her back and legs. Her nose began to pick up on the scents around her. There was a metallic smell, coupled with the indistinguishable aroma of several people.

Then, finally, audio in her head cleared up enough for her to hear a single word.

“Kathryn.”

Her name.

Her eyelids twitched as more words began to appear in her head. It was difficult for her to surf through the fog, and figure out what was being said, but she tried her best.

“Kathryn. Can you hear me?”

A small, barely audible noise escaped her throat. There wasn’t any nuance to it, just a sound. But it was enough.

“Kathryn, it’s Chakotay. Do you understand me?”

Janeway squeezed her eyes tight for a moment. As her brain adjusted to all the things her senses were picking up, she felt the deep lull of a headache beginning to form in the back of her mind.

The pain, so familiar if not less severe, was what made her remember.

Her eyes flew open, and she shot up upright from where she’d been lying down. Her heart hammered in her chest as she looked around. Scanning the room for any signs of the Arachnomen. As she did so, however, she became aware of the fact that Lieutenant Torres was nowhere in sight.

The Doctor came over, and both he and Chakotay started fighting desperately to force her back into the bed.

“Captain, please lie down! You’re fine!” The Doctor ordered, but she barely heard him.

“It’s alright, Kathryn, you’re safe! Everything’s fine!”

“Where’s B’Elanna?!” She gasped out, looking around the room again frantically.

“She’s—“ whatever the Doctor was going to say was cut off by the sound of Sick Bay’s doors opening. Standing on the other side of those doors, was Voyager’s Chief Engineer.

In an instant, B’Elanna took in the scene, and raced towards the biobed. “Captain!” She exclaimed, feelings of relief overwhelmed both of them as she engulfed Janeway in her arms. 

Kathryn hugged back, finally calming down now that the girl was in her arms. She was safe, she was alive. She was here, and they were together.

As her body finally relaxed, she was aware of the Doctor continuing his sentence beside them. “She’s fine.”

The Captain embraced her Lieutenant for another minute longer, running her arms in circles across the woman’s back. Her brain began to slow down as she did so, and she began to remember a little more about the caverns. She’d been lying in B’Elanna’s lap, holding her hand, and listening to her talk on and off about whatever came to mind. Then… then…

She couldn’t remember anything after that.

Reluctantly, Janeway pulled away, her face etched with confusion as she met the eyes of the people around her.

“What happened?”

Nobody really knew how to respond to that at first. Mainly because they weren’t quite sure how much they had to explain. So, Kathryn elaborated, “I was in the cave with B’Elanna, lying down, but I don’t remember anything after that.”

The engineer’s facial expression dropped. Sorrow coated her expression as she sat down next to Janeway in the bed. She held out her hand, and Kathryn took it gratefully.

“You stopped breathing. Your heart… stopped beating.”

The Captain was silent, taking a moment to process the information. She was able to fill in the unsaid blanks pretty quickly.

“I died?”

“In a medical sense, yes.” The Doctor provided, making sure to keep his tone gentle. “You were dead for almost ten minutes by the time you were beamed to sick bay.”

Kathryn nodded, but she could tell by their expressions there was more to the story. “What else happened… after I died.”

“A group of aliens attacked us.” B’Elanna explained, pressing closer to the Captain to remind herself she was there. “At first I was angry… really angry. I tried to fight them all but… there were just too many. So, at the first opening I could get, I picked you up and ran.”

The Lieutenant’s eyes clouded over as she remembered. Her sheer panic as she booked it down the tunnel, and the moment of despair when she came upon the ledge. Dozens of hands grabbing at her as she clawed desperately to reach the top of the incline.

“I almost didn’t make it… we almost didn’t make it.”

Chakotay decided that was the time for him to take over. “Voyager arrived just in time to beam you both to sick bay.”

“I was able to tend to Lieutenant Torres quite quickly. Although her injuries were numerous, and quite severe, they were nothing I hadn’t seen before. You, on the other hand…” the Doctor explained, trailing off as he looked at Janeway.

The Captain could only imagine. She had been infected by an unknown venom agent with an unknown way of treating it. Her heart had already stopped beating. It was a miracle whatever the Doctor did she worked at all.

She held up her hand, “you don’t… have to get into the details.”

He nodded, and she watched him walk away to grab a medical tricorder. Meanwhile Chakotay continued talking. “You gave all of us quite the scare. Especially B’Elanna. I had to threaten to call security on her just so she’d leave your bedside to rest. You two must have been through… quite a lot down there.”

The Captain and her Chief Engineer exchanged a glance. 

“We did.”

Chakotay stepped out of the way as the Doctor returned. “Well, I’ll leave you guys in peace. With the Captain on bed rest, I’ve got a ship to run. The crew will be happy to know you’re awake.” He turned around, but stopped just as he reached the bay doors. After a moment, he turned around again fondly, “they’re all be… very eager to see you.”

With that, the Commander exited Sidk Bay.

Kathryn turned her attention back to the Doctor. “How long was I… out of commission?”

“Five days.”

“Five days?!” Kathryn exclaimed.

“Here we go,” B’Elanna muttered, knowing full well that Janeway was about to become an extremely difficult patient.

“After a full week of being gone?! That’s way too long for a Captain to be out of service! I’ve gotta get back on top of things?!”

“What you need,” the Doctor insisted, giving the Captain a stern look, “is to rest. By order of your Chief Medical Officer, you are not to do any sort of work until I say you’re feeling better. Even though it’s been five days, your body’s going to take a while to recover from the effect of the venom.”

As he was talking, Janeway could tell what he meant. Her limbs felt heavy, and her eyes threatened to close on her. She was exhausted, and she could feel a small ache making itself known in her affected shoulder.

Kathryn sighed. She knew he was right. She just didn’t like being away for that long.

“The crew has your back, Captain. Everything’s going to be fine. Besides, not a lot has happened since you’ve been away. The locals refuse to let our ship go anywhere until they meet its Captain.” B’Elanna comforted, slowly lowering the Janeway back down onto the biobed.

She brushed her hand across Janeway’s forehead. She still had a mild fever, but for the first time in days, B’Elanna wasn’t concerned about it.

“Rest, Captain. Voyager will still be here when you’ve recovered.

And with one final smile sent towards her Chief Engineer, Kathryn closed her eyes, and let sleep take her.

Everything was going to be okay.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Man 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You stand behind the counter, ready to serve the next customer that comes through the door. If you thought the rush was bad, the lulls are worse. The time drags by as the clock seems to taunt you. You sigh again as you hear Bre clattering around in the back room. You’d rather be back there folding up empty boxes and scouring trays.

You yawn and waver on your feet. The small local cafe doesn’t have the consistent traffic of the franchised kiosk just down the block but there are still hectic rushes. The mornings just after nine, then at noon when the office workers run out for a refresh espresso or a lunchtime sweet, but the afternoons usually deliver no more than the errant college student on their laptop or a few friends in between visits to boutiques.

The door opens and you glance over at the man who walks through the door. He strikes you as out-of-place as he struts across the cafe, hitting a table with his thigh, and sneering at it as if it insulted his mother. He’s tall with broad shoulders, and his hair is slicked back while the sides of his head are buzzed. He wears a black turtle neck under and open jacket and a pair of matching slacks that show off his ankles. His loafers are a rippling grey and black snakeskin print with a shining silver buckle.

You grip the sides of the till as he approaches but he doesn’t look at you. You stare, a little put off by his lack of acknowledgement as he peers up at the menu. He steps forward, tapping his fingers on the counter as he blows out between his lips. A golden signet ring flashes on his pinkie. You’re still not sure he’s in the right place.

“Hello, sir, can I get you--”

“Shh,” he hisses and holds up his finger. You snap your mouth shut and blink. He squints at the menu. He hums, clucking as he gives a thoughtful look to the hand-painted letters. Alright?

You wiggle your foot impatiently, biting your tongue. You’re not an inherently rude person but some customers make you wish you were. You watch him and he finally lowers his chin.

“Oat latte. Half blonde espresso, half regular, with the toffee nut syrup and a sprinkle of cinnamon.”

You nod as you punch in his order. It’s quite the drink. Sometimes you think people just pile on to see how far they can push service workers. They can’t just have a simple drink. Some even request the temperature to the digit.

“Alright, got it, it’s fifty cents for the syrup, is that okay?”

“Fifty cents?” He echoes haughtily, “no, that’s not okay.”

“Um, okay, well, it’s uh, on the menu,” you crane to look behind you, “fifty cents for a flavour shot, twenty-five for whipped cream.”

“I didn’t ask about goddamn whipped cream. They don't charge me here, doll. Get me the goddamn drink,” he demands.

You reel. Admittedly, you’re new. You’re learning but your first lesson was simple; customers are awful.

“I can just take the syrup off, I guess,” you hit the x and the whole order disappears.

“Didn’t you hear me? No charge, honey. It’s on the house.”

You purse your lips and look at him. You raise a brow. Alright, this is a new one.

“Um, if you’d just hold on, I think... uh, I should ask--”

“Yeah, you better fucking ask,” he sneers as swipes at a stack of paper cups and sends them flying. You flinch out of the way and spin to burst through the door to the kitchen.

“Uh, Bre,” you say, “there’s a really angry dude out there and he wants a free latte so uh, what do I do about that?”

She looks over at you as she puts a tray of cookies on a cooling rack. She frowns and her forehead stitches. She pulls of her oven mitt and checks her fitbit.

“Shit, it’s Thursday,” she mutters as if it’s the end of time.

“Yeah, it is, so uh--”

She waves away your words with the mitt and tosses both on the counter as she hurries past you. Confused, you turn to follow her through the swinging door. You stay behind her as she goes to the till.

“Mr. Hansen, so lovely to see you, what were we getting today?” She chimes, more lively than you’ve ever heard you. At any other time, she’s dulcet, almost monotone, completely over the cafe lifestyle.

He scoffs and his eyes drift from her to you. He pokes his tongue into his cheek, “oat, toffee nut, half blond, half regular, cinnamon on top,” he notes each element tersely, “and how about you teach this one some goddamn manners.”

He glares at you and you give a wide-eyed look. You shrug at Bre as she glances over at you. She shakes her head subtly. You take a step back.

You grab a cup and she quickly takes it out of your hands, “I got it, stay out of the way.”

You put your hands up and back away. You don’t know what you did wrong. Who is this man? He smirks and hovers on the other side of the counter as he crosses his arms over his puffed chest. Bre brews a fresh espresso and steams the oat milk.

“I’m waiting, sweet lips,” he cups a hand to his ear, his other arm still over his chest.

You look back and forth.

“Apologise,” he demands.

Bre clears her throat and you glance over, your mouth falling open dumbly.

“Oh, uh,” you face the man again, “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t know--”

“Well, now you fucking do,” he sneers as Bre places a cup down before him and a paper bag.

“Mr. Hansen, there’s a cinnamon bun for you too. We just took em out of the oven.”

“You’re such a dear, Bre Bear,” he cooes, sending you a venomous snarl.

You cringe as he spins and strides out with his fare. You watch after him, still thoroughly perplexed. Bre wipes the counter with a cloth.

“The next time he comes in, give him whatever he wants,” she says quietly.

“Oh, I didn’t... who is he?” You garble.

“Better you don’t know. Just think of him as the boss,” she sends you a desperate look, her eyes gleaming, “if you know what’s good for you, you’ll smile and listen.”

She brushes you with her shoulder as she goes back into the kitchen. You furrow your brow and glance towards the door. The man’s just outside the windowed walls, watching you. He winks before he disappears beyond the next facade

[plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms]

Hide & Seek

Pairings: Werewolf!Steve Rogers x Reader (A Spin on Little Red Riding Hood)

Summary: America's golden boy becomes America's most wanted and he just found his perfect prey.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. DARK FIC. stalking, drugging, somnophilia, forced oral (f receiving), marking, running for your fucking life

Word Count: 2.4K+ (One Shot)

A/N: What? Grown ups need grown up fairy tales. 😈 Someone find me a wolf. Honestly I was shown this art by the very talented @murkycrush months and months ago by @autumnrose40 and I still cannot get it out of my head. I have a thing for the harness obviously.

Story Book Collection | Full Masterlist

Steve Rogers first caught your scent at an unassuming traveler’s stop in the middle of nowhere 8 months ago. It was your run of the mill stop for people just passing through, homey and not at all crowded that served good pie. A sleepy town with a tiny population that most people forget once it’s already in their rearview mirror. Steve had been extra careful to go unnoticed, growing out his beard and wearing his trucker cap low. He had been lifting cars at random and had been particular about not staying anywhere for too long. The rest of the time he ran. He much preferred it. Letting go into his full form and running at full speed in the thick shroud of the forests.

For the first time, Steve Rogers felt free.

It was big news when it came out. Every single headline for months read about the tragedy that happened. Captain America, an admired hero and a living legend, had volunteered to be a research test subject after it was found that his unique genetic makeup enhanced by the serum could potentially lead to a breakthrough to some of the world's most deadly diseases. It was admirable and very on brand for the Avenger, but something had gone terribly wrong. Somehow all the testing had resulted in enhancing him to unimaginable proportions, to uncontrollable heights. He was made into the perfect predator and along the way he began losing touch of his humanity.

America's golden boy had come unhinged.

It shook the nation. They say that anything enhanced had to come from something. Steve was a good man before, he still is, but all the loss that he's had to endure has jaded him. All the wars he's had to fight have hardened him. All the compromises he was forced to make had chipped away at the shiny idealism of that scrawny Brooklyn boy. He craved freedom. Freedom to make his own choices. Freedom to be selfish. Freedom to take back what was deprived of him.

So when you came into that small diner, smiling widely at the waitress as you ordered your food and gladly told her about your traveling plans, he knew he just had to have you. You were so beautiful, your face radiating joy despite the tiredness on your stiff shoulders. You pulled your red coat jacket tighter around you, pulling the hood lower to warm your face and shaking off the snow. 

Red looked good on you.

You would stay the night in the available rooms attached to the diner, he was sure of it. You looked much too tired to drive and it was getting dark, too dangerous for a woman to be traveling alone. There was something in your scent that told him that you belonged to him.

You were meant to be his.

You were passed out as soon as your head hit the pillow, your belly warm with food and the fatigue heavy on your eyelids. Your friends and family had all expressed their doubts and their worry about your cross-country adventure. It was dangerous for a woman to travel alone and there was an allegedly deranged super soldier loose, but it was the best time you've ever had in your life. It was so worth it.

Steve watched and waited in the shadows for you to fall deeper into your slumber, finding the small satisfied smile on your lips to be endearing. It was a simple matter after that to slip into your room. He loomed over you, palming his rapidly swelling cock as he took in the details of your features. You slept in only a small pair of panties, leaving everything open to his heated gaze. You were like a delectable meal spread out for him to indulge in.

You were so goddamn perfect.

You looked so inviting that he just had to have a taste. Carefully, he reached for your exposed breasts and squeezed. He sighed at how good you felt and your lack of reaction only made him grow bolder. You were more exhausted than you thought. He kneaded your breasts harder, rolling your hardened nipples between his fingers and relishing how responsive you were. He retracted his hand as you stirred, but groaned deep in his chest as you opened your legs wide for him.

"You need me, don't you? You want me to touch you some more, honey?"

His hand trailed from your nipples to down to cup your heat. Your back arched and your hips circled slowly as his hand rubbed, your panties growing increasingly damp. Still you remained sleeping and from your point of view you were having a very very good dream.

“You're just so tired, aren’t you? Let me help you take the edge off.”

His fingers shoved your ruined panties aside and dove in, slowly and inch by inch to make sure you didn't wake up. By the time he was knuckle deep in your pussy and scissoring you, his cock felt like it would explode in his pants.

“You’re so fucking tight. You’re gonna feel so good around my cock.”

You sighed and stirred a bit more, the little sounds you were making as your hips asked for more from him was making his head spin. He could smell the musky scent of your arousal and he loved how your pussy was sucking his fingers back with each pump he did.

“Don’t worry, honey. I’m gonna give my cock to you. It’ll fit. We just gotta stretch you out first.”

A sharp gasp escaped your lips and your brows furrowed when he pressed up on that extra sensitive spot inside you. He smirked, hastening his movements and continuing to drive you higher and higher. His other hand joined the other to rub hard circles on your clit and his mouth came down to suck on your tits. Your heavy eyelids began to flutter, your unconscious mind getting overwhelmed by the fire that was threatening to consume you.

“That’s right. Give it to me. Fucking cum for me,” he growled against your flesh.

You screamed, your eyes squeezed close tightly and your body shaking as your release racked your whole body. Steve could hardly move his fingers with the way you were squeezing them so he fucked them deeper inside you as you rode out your high. You sat upright suddenly, one hand flying to your hair and the other to your chest as you tried to stabilize yourself. Your heart was pounding out of your chest, your pulse was much too quick, and there was a thin sheen of sweat on your forehead.

“What the fuck?”

You felt an ache between your legs and was more than just surprised at how drenched your panties and the sheets were. You threw yourself back on the bed and took in big gulping breaths. That was one hell of a wet dream. It had been a while since you’ve had a good fuck, but you didn’t think you were that horny.

It took you a while to fall back asleep and in your disoriented state you failed to notice the dangerous looking blonde in the corner of the room, sniffing the scent you left on his fingers before slipping the taste into his mouth. His eyes glinted in the shadows as he watched your chest rise and fall in a more regular pattern.

That was the first time Steve came to you. He followed you across the country in your travels since then and the next time he got you alone he dove straight for your cunt, his mouth lapping at your folds ravenously. Having tasted you just that little bit from his fingers made him crave you and the small dose of drugs he slipped into your drinking water at the hotel as you showered was meant to keep you cooperative because he knew he wasn’t going to let up until your scent was dripping off his beard. He barely held himself back as he waited for you to succumb to the drugs, falling asleep as you watched some pointless TV.   

He moaned and growled into your pussy as his tongue speared into you, fully enthusiastic as he explored your most intimate parts. His large hands were gripping tightly onto your thighs, keeping you spread wide for him. He didn’t stop aggressively eating you out until your cum had soaked his face and was dripping down his chin. All through it, you were in a blissful state of unconsciousness.

When you woke the next morning, that was when you felt that something was off. Something felt very wrong from how your sheets were again wet, your naked state when you specifically remembered you wore a shirt and panties to bed, and the thick woodsy smell of someone else in the room.

You were terrified.

Your terror came to it’s height when once you woke up with a blinding headache and a sticky substance on your tits. That’s when everything clicked and you began to notice the little things you had overlooked in the past few weeks. Your luggage moving, your underwear sometimes out in the open. The creepy feeling at the back of your neck that you’re being watched. Some of your needs unexpectedly being met like those times someone had footed the bill for some of your meals or the time a small bag of groceries were delivered to you by the inn’s staff. You chalked it all up to luck or the goodwill of small town folk.

You should have known better. 

It had been a week since you last really slept, the fear you felt keeping you alert and jolting you awake at any little sound. You were exhausted, but you kept yourself tediously careful in trying to lose whoever was visiting you in your sleep. You kept switching up lanes, driving in circles, riding on ferries, switching out rental cars. You did everything you could to shake him off.

You were practically dead on your feet by the time you arrived at your grandmother’s log cabin in the woods. It was the end of your travel plans, culminating at your grandmother’s old cottage that she had left to you in her will. You pushed yourself to make sure every single door and window was bolted shut and couldn’t be opened without making a loud noise before you finally allowed yourself to rest. Your body dropped heavily onto the bed, your sore muscles finally relaxing after being so tense for so long. Sleep weighed you down and you were quick to slip into unconsciousness.

You startled awake at the sound of loud banging against the heavy wooden front door. Your heart rate immediately quickened and you scooted back on the bed, tucking yourself against the wall and keeping a wary eye at the door. Your blood ran cold at the sound of a low intimidating voice that seemed to be full of dark amusement.

“Oh come on, honey. Open the door.”

That voice.

You knew that voice. You knew it was the voice that had been haunting your explicit dreams, whispering dirty words as you lay unconscious and orgasm after orgasm was pulled from you, but more than that you knew that you’ve heard it somewhere else before. Hearing it again now seemed to spark your memory, but perhaps the fear was hindering you from placing it exactly.

“Open the door. I won’t ask again.”

Steve heard you whimper from the other side of the door. He smirked as he smelled your scent and at the memory of you trying to lose him. It was a valiant attempt and he did rather enjoy letting you think that you actually had a chance. You didn’t. There was no possible way for him to lose you when your very scent was now ingrained in his mind. This destination of yours even worked perfectly for him. Isolated. Surrounded by a thick forest. Miles away from the nearest town. No one would bother you two.

Though he’s been visiting you in your sleep and tasting you to his fill, he has held himself back from fully claiming you. He wanted you conscious for the first time he fucked his cock into you. He wanted you awake when he made you cum hard around him, screaming his name and gushing around his thighs. He wanted you fully aware when he finally claimed you, marking you and binding you to him for all eternity.

It was time.

He rammed his shoulder against the door and it shook on its hinges. You shrieked from the other side, murmuring pleas under your breath for him to leave you alone. He wouldn’t. That’s not how this works. He found his perfect mate and he wasn’t about to let you go. He rammed the door again, putting more of his weight into it. You could hear the wood splinter at the force and tears began to edge your eyes.

“I won’t hurt you, honey. Haven’t I been taking good care of you?”

You screamed as the door flew off its hinges, the cold air of the night blowing in and only worsening your shivering form. You were paralyzed, frozen on the spot as you watched with wide eyes the alpha male posed at your door. His arms were stretched up over his head, the muscles flexing as he gripped onto the doorframe. 

His body was bare, showing off just how strong this predator was and that you didn’t stand a chance. His cock was fully erect, angry and leaking at the tip, and just as intimidating as the rest of him. Another scream was caught in your throat as he drew nearer to you because at that point you were able to recognize him.

Even with the longer messy hair, untamed beard, glowing golden eyes, and elongated canines you still recognized him without a shadow of a doubt. His face was unmistakable and the recent news only made him more so. If that wasn’t enough then the dog tags, the harness around his torso, and the indisputable glint of metal on his back completely gave him away.

Captain Steve Rogers.

The disgraced Captain Steve Rogers.

The hunted down and most wanted Captain Steve Rogers.

He stood before you, smirked, swiped a sharp claw and ripped your clothes down the middle. His eyes darkened in lust at the sight of you bare, that red coat jacket with the hood barely keeping on you. He looked feral. He looked like a hungry animal and by the way he was licking his lips it looked like you were on the menu.

“Hey, Red. Missed me, honey?”

[maybcnksgf]

like i do

a/n welcome to my first liam dunbar fic :)

pairing: liam dunbar x reader

warnings: swearing, season 6 spoilers, the fight scene in 6x14, blood, mentions of death.

word count: 2.2k

check out my masterlist!

liam dunbar. the school’s ‘monster’.

he looked around the hallway frantically, listening carefully to make sure the rumours spreading through the school weren’t too apparent. he was so focused that he jumped when you placed your had comfortingly on his shoulder. 

“just remember what we talked about. they don’t know you like i do,” you whispered against his ear, smiling softly when he turned around to face you with a nervous expression painted across his features. 

mason approached the two of you with a relieved sigh. “okay,” he breathed out, facing his best friend with a reassuring nod, “not bad so far. this might be easier than we thought.”

“maybe,” he nodded in reluctant agreement, clearly not convinced. as the three of you began to walk, you looped your fingers through liam’s. 

well, that was short lived.

the minute you turned the corner, everyone turned to look at him. glares and dirty looks were thrown towards the boy in between you and mason, and you saw his shoulders slump in defeat in your peripheral vision. 

the looks he could handle. not that he was happy about them, because he was far from it. they made him feel like a freak, like a monster. but, they were manageable. it was only when you reached his locker that the whispers started. whispers that he could hear all too well. 

liam tensed up beside you, and though you couldn’t hear the voices like he could, you could only assume the nasty words rolling off of their tongues. he turned to the source of voices, facing them with a hurt expression before frantically looking around as the sound of them built up. 

“hey,” you spoke softly, snapping him out of his panic, “just block them out. don’t listen to them.”

“they know...” he whispered, voice strained in worry. 

“they’re just rumours,” mason reassured, trying to calm down the anxious boy in front of him, “they don’t know anything.”

corey was then by mason’s side in an instant, bearing bad news. “they know everything.” 

you shot him a pointed look, squeezing liam’s hand tightly in your own to calm him down before the anxiety began to bubble up again. 

“two sophomores on the lacrosse team were there last night,” corey continued, referring to liam’s shift in front of the public the night before. 

mason lightly shoved his boyfriend with his elbow as a warning, and scrambled with his words. “yeah, but it was late! it was pitch black out, and there was fog on the road-”

“it was a clear night. full moon, and a well-lit intersection,” corey interrupted, once again ruining the attempts to console him. 

liam inhaled a sharp breath. “i have to get out of here.”

“no. if you leave, these rumours never stop. you need to convince them that you’re a regular kid, that you’re not the monster they think you are.” your words were hushed, bringing your other hand up to rub liam’s shoulder in a comforting manner. 

“i’m not a regular kid,” he countered, voice shaky and cracking. 

“remember what scott said?” mason added, “be clark kent!” 

“clark kent turns into a guy with a red and blue outfit and a cape. i turn into a monster with claws and fangs!”

“you’re not a monster,” you replied calmly. 

“just get through the day without shifting,” corey suggested, and liam nodded with a deep breath. he lifted an arm to drape it around your shoulders while yours found home around his waist. 

“okay. get through the day without shifting. easy enough, right?”

-

wrong. 

you watched helplessly as liam was thrown through the doorway of your biology classroom and hit the floor with a thud. a group of kids were gathered around, eager to watch a fight break out and potentially see the other side to liam dunbar. 

you struggled against the grip of an older boy, huge hands latching onto your upper arms and keeping you from running to your boyfriend. it seemed as though mason was in the same predicament, judging by his protesting shout. 

liam’s eyes flashed yellow for a moment, as his heavy breathing briefly sounded like a growl. 

“get up,” nolan demanded, “get up!”

he managed to push himself up to a kneeling position before gabe’s foot made harsh contact with his lower back, kicking him straight back to the ground.

“gabe, you sick little bitch! leave him alone!” you shouted through the crowd’s commotion, and the boy on the ground struggled to contain his shift. “your eyes, liam. c’mon, you can do this,” you whispered, voice so hushed you were sure that nobody could hear apart from him. 

this seemed to calm him down momentarily before gabe tugged him back to his feet by his shoulders. “what are you trying to hide, liam? your eyes?” he taunted, shoving his back into the chalkboard with a sickening crunch. “open your eyes.”

the room burst out into reactions and a cruel grin painted itself across gabe’s face. when liam slowly let his eyelids rise, you couldn’t help but let the corners of your lips turn up in a proud smile as the normal baby blue colour of his eyes shined through. 

the boys, however, were clearly not too happy with this, because nolan immediately reeled his fist back and let it smash straight into liam’s nose. 

your face fell as you thrashed around in the student‘s grip, furious grunts leaving your throat. 

your boyfriend’s head fell back against the chalkboard with a pained breath, hand lifting up to wipe the crimson liquid from his nose. 

“hey! let him go!” mason screamed, struggling against the crowd. 

“leave him alone, you sick freaks!” you added. 

“are you just going to let us do this to you?!” nolan continued, ignoring your protests as gabe landed another punch to liam’s face, this time hitting both his cheekbone and his nose. he dropped to the ground from the impact with a deep, painful groan. 

nolan grabbed the boy by his face and dragged him back up to look at him. 

liam’s nose was covered in blood, hair falling messily across his forehead as he screwed his eyes shut. 

“you know you can take us. all you have to do is change,” nolan spoke lowly, his grip on liam’s head strong as he shook it with every word. “does your little girlfriend know that you’re a freak? that you’re a monster?”

you felt the rage inside of your chest building every second. “nolan, you bastard! i’m going to kill you-!”

liam choked back a cough, blood rising from his throat and coating his teeth as he opened his mouth to speak his first words while being in their hands. “the sun...” he sputtered out. 

“what?” nolan looked taken aback, furrowing his eyebrows at the ‘freak’ in front of him. 

“the sun,” liam repeated, peeling his eyes open and staring back at nolan threateningly. “the moon, the truth...”

the mantra seemed to gain him a slight amount of control. “come on, li. you can do this,” you whispered, the sound evident in his ears and his ears only. 

“what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“who cares?” gabe responded nonchalantly, shoving nolan out of the way and sending another violent punch to liam’s face. 

this sent him flying to the ground, coughing and shaking in both pain and anger. his eyes glowed yellow for a split second before his head hung low and a guttural growl of agony burnt through his throat.  

that was the moment you decided, you wanted to break every single bone in both gabe and nolan’s bodies.

“can’t you see how badly you’re hurting him?! he’s in agony! let him go!” you screamed, the student holding you seeming unfazed to the thrashing around. 

“you’re fighting it,” nolan stated, ignoring you completely. the pained grunts and groans tearing through liam’s throat left the boys unaffected, and your eyes welled up in fury at the sight of your boyfriend withstanding such a beating. “but you can’t hold back forever!”

at that moment, your biology teacher, ms finch, pushed her way through the crowd, and all eyes turned to her as gabe and nolan halted their movements.

 “do something!” mason shouted. she took one look at liam’s quivering form on his knees, covered in his own blood and shaking from the pain, and looked away. 

“sometimes it’s best to let them work things out on their own,” she spoke, raising her hands in mock defeat. 

liam’s head snapped up to her, eyes filled with disbelief before sending you a pleading glance. 

“what is wrong with you?! you’re a teacher! he’s being beaten to a pulp and you’re just going to walk away?!” you screamed at her, gesturing to liam on the ground with a cock of your head. 

ms finch looked at you for a split second before making her way out of the classroom. “you bitch!” you shouted after her. she froze in her place for a single moment, and you almost believed she would turn around and stop the fight, but she continued on her way without a second glance. 

the moment she left, gabe grabbed liam by the hair, forcing his head upwards. his breathing was shallow, loud and forceful and agonising as gabe sent his knee flying into liam’s chin. 

he fell onto his back and coughed loudly, blood spluttering out of his mouth like a fountain as he choked on it, though the boys didn’t stop there. they slammed their feet down against his ribs, taunting him and laughing while doing so, allowing his bones to break under their weight. you let out a broken and angry sob at the sight, watching as gabe grabbed liam by his shirt and pulled his head up. 

liam’s face was completely covered in his own blood, tears were staining his eyelashes as he tried his hardest not to fight back. 

something clicked within you at that moment. you sent your foot flying back into your holder’s crotch, and as you felt him release you and double over in pain, you bolted into the centre of the fight. 

gabe’s fist was reeled back, about to land another punch to your boyfriend’s face before you grabbed his arm, effectively spinning him around. he still sent the punch, but this time, it was at you. 

you let his fist connect with your jaw, and felt the impact of another hit as his second punch landed on your nose with a crunch. 

“y/n!” liam croaked out, too weak to jump to your rescue. 

he clearly didn’t need to, however, because suddenly the coach was there, shoving people out of the way with corey right behind him. 

“what the hell is going on?!” he screamed, grabbing gabe and nolan by the shirts and shoving them towards the door. “back off! hey, get to the principles office now!”

your face throbbed in pain as you wiped the blood away from your nose with your sleeve, but you ignored it as you fell to your knees by liam’s form. his body heaved, and his hands gripped onto his (very clearly broken) ribs. 

“what the hell is this? get out, all of you! i can’t stand to look at your faces!” the coach boomed, clearing out the crowd. 

all that was background noise to you as you combed liam’s hair away from the fresh blood on his face with your fingers. he was still grunting in pain when the coach kneeled by his other side, a look of disbelief and sorrow evident in his eyes, which was a rare look for the man. 

mason and corey softly grabbed liam by the arms and hauled him up to a standing position, coughs tearing through his throat. 

you followed suit, lightly gripping his shoulders to help him stand. “oh my goodness, liam,” you muttered quietly, placing a hand on the back of his head as he caught his breath. 

“i can’t believe you did that...” mason sighed, holding onto his back to steady him. 

“clark kent, right?” liam breathed out, forcing a slight nod as a smile ghosted your lips. 

“yeah, clark kent,” mason agreed. 

liam’s head fell against your shoulder in exhaustion, and your hand laced itself into his hair as you silently cried with him in your arms. 

-

“feeling any better?” you asked him quietly, sitting down next to him on your bed. he had an ice pack against his cheekbone and he was clutching his ribs protectively. he was mostly healed by now, but his body still hurt like hell. liam nodded. 

“yeah. still hurts, though.”

you wrapped an arm around him, carefully avoiding his aching bones, and he let out a deep sigh before letting his head fall against your shoulder.

”i know you think you deserved that, but you didn’t. brett and lori’s murder wasn’t your fault.”

he shrugged, clenching his jaw at the mention of their death and shutting his eyes when you let your hand run through his hair comfortingly. a few moments of comfortable silence passed by before he spoke up again.

“you didn’t have to do that, you know. get punched for me,” he said softly.

you chuckled at that, causing him to look at you quizzically. 

“you literally got beaten to a pulp and you’re worried about the two punches i got to the face?”

liam breathed out a slight laugh. “obviously. you can’t heal like i can.”

continuing playing with his hair, you grinned at him. “i’d take a punch to the face for you any day.”

[the-witches-you-couldnt-burn]

Like I did with you

So I’ve been procrastinating hard during my study break for my exams, but here have a song fic!

Ghost of you by 5SOS

Genius comments: The song tells the tale of a heartbroken lover who has lost his significant other – due to a breakup or even suicide/death – and is refusing to accept the fact that she is never coming back.

I didn’t feel like writing angst and whenever I hear this song I feel like ballroom dancing (and I have).

Also thank you to the lovely people on the Maribat discord server!

Ao3

The sequel ‘It started with a whisper’ is up!

————————

Gotham Academy implemented a new ‘Study Abroad’ program due to recent funding from a local humanitarian. This program gave the students of Gotham Academy a chance to study abroad in Europe and vice versa. Countries like Sweden, Greece, Germany, Ireland and more participated in the program; offering a multitude of high schools with many different courses.

And because of that very wealthy benefactor, his son got first pick on where he would like to study. This was 100% not a forced decision at all to subtly keep track of the happenings of Paris. With that the Ice Prince of Gotham took the City of Love by storm.

He had been at Collège Françoise Dupont for the past few months, and it’s been hell. The class he had been placed into was ripping apart at the seams. There were two students that the class gravitated towards; he observed some of the others meeting in secret, without the knowledge of their respective ‘leaders’.

The first student that held the majority of the class’ focus was Lila Rossi. She was a black hole with beady green eyes, who dragged who ever was in her reach to an agonising fate. Damian saw through her deceptions and rejected her flirtations. The students that followed her, ate up whatever lie she spat out. Rossi soon learned that lies about the Wayne family and Gotham wouldn’t fly with him.

“Really? You worked with Monsieur Wayne?” The pink clad girl, Rose, squeaked.

Damian had just walked into class on his second day at the hell hole and already regretted it. He shot a glare towards the large group, “Who ever told you that is severely misinformed. My father has never worked with a minor from Europe, due to potential rumours and allegations it could cause. It is not a threat but a promise if a lie of similar caliber is spread there will be a lawsuit.” And with that he walked towards his seat in the back, the Ice Prince had cast his decree, the class’ atmosphere had frozen over.

The second student was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Those that surrounded her were Alix Kubdel, Chloé Bourgeois, Max Kanté, Lê Chiến Kim and the occasional secret appearance from Juleka Couffaine. They didn’t view Dupain-Cheng through rose coloured lenses, they were always grounded and opinions were respected. Damian, who was a loner without Jon at his side, was satisfied by himself; Marinette respected that and didn’t force him to socialise like Lila tried to.

So that leads us to this. He stood against a sidewall of the giant banquet hall, staring out at the crowd before him. Jon was walking to wards him with a can of sprite in hand. Jon had moved to Paris with him but had been placed into a different class. The boy who was the epitome of sunshine stuck around the Ice Prince, their friendship is an enigma to the Françoise Dupont students.

Jon’s face was flushed. He had just gotten a drink after dancing for the past hour. Tonight was the night of the Collège’s formal dance for their graduating class. Skirts of all colours and fabrics swirled, as their partners (majority of whom had matching suits) twirled them to the music.

Jon, gesturing to the crowd, asked him whether he was going to stand there all night or dance. Taking a sip of his drink a smirk appears on his face, “unless the great Damian Wayne is to much of a coward to dance.”

Here I am waking up

Still can't sleep on your side

Damian’s head snapped towards the taller boy, “Are you seriously using my ego to get me to dance?”

Jon raising an eyebrow, “Well?”

If I can dream long enough

The temperamental teen stormed off, grumbling about “Jon being as bad as Todd”. Scanning the room he search for a suitable partner, there was no way he would embarrass himself by dancing alone.

You'd tell me I'd be just fine

I'll be just fine

He spotted Dupain-Cheng stood off to the side, alone. She was draped in a layered white dress with black hemming. As he neared, he realised that the asymmetrical skirt was actually a light blush with her signature apple blossom flowers embroidered. She looked up at him and he straightened his stance, slowing his pace. Her sapphire eyes locked on to his, her bangs curled off to the side along with the rest of her hair in beach waves.

So I drown it out like I always do

She gifted him a small smile, a usual occurrence within her interactions with him. He offered his left hand, bowing his head slightly. “Dupain-Che—“ he cleared his throat, “Marinette. Would you do me the honour of joining me in this dance?”

Dancing through our house

With the ghost of you

Her eyes widened, not expecting the Arabian God of a teen before her to ask her such a question. She saw his temper during class during his spats with Lila and how he kept to himself without the presence of Jon. But here he was in a fitted Armani suit that made his green eyes glow, and hair messily slicked to the side. Marinette looked at his hand, glad that her makeup mostly hid her blush.

And I chase it down

“I am...” She paused to find the right word, “I am a bad dancer. It is better for everyone that I don’t participate.”

“I can think of nothing less appealing than an evening of watching other people dance.” A small gasp escaped from her mouth before she could stop it. She watched as his mouth twitch’s downwards before his facade returned with full strength. “If you do not wish, to I won’t force you. But if you’ll allow me I’ll guide you through the dance to make sure it isn’t an utter disaster.”

With a shot of truth

Marinette’s lips quirked, giggling as she took his hand, “Your funeral Damian.”

What had he gotten himself into?

The two entered the dance floor, taking up the dance support hold. Their dance had the basic steps of the waltz, with a promenade and many spins; some as a couple and some were just Mari. Damian soon found he enjoy watching the sparkles in her dress light up as she spun. It became even more enjoyable when he discovered that the dress was her own creation.

Dancing through our house

The two made quiet conversations during their dance. Damian pulled her closer by the waist as they repeated the basic steps, their bodies perfectly in tune with each other. “You are a fine dancer despite your protests”

With the ghost of you

Marinette tilted her head up at him, blinding him with a dazzling smile. Damian’s heart fluttered, the two always had a mutual respect but it seems to have grown into a fond appreciation.

From the tables scattered around the dance floor there was a blond, with his fist clenched. Lila had dragged him off of the floor as soon as Damian and Marinette made their debuts; together. The brunette was now off angrily gossiping to Alya and any other who’d listen. It was a hot topic between Lila and Alya that Marinette loved him, although now, as he watched her dance with Damian, he was unsure as to whether that was ever true. He sat there, glued to his seat, watching the spectacle before him.

Cleaning up today

Found that old Zepplin shirt

The two dancers didn’t notice that everyone had cleared off the floor to watch them. They danced in sync, no movement was made without the other following it. Adrien had realised awhile ago that even though he didn’t have romantic feelings for Marinette, he cherished her friendship. That relationship was now tarnished due to the path he took when he first revealed his knowledge of the deceptions. His father had forced him to keep Lila happy, even if it made him miserable.

You wore when you ran away

And no one could feel your hurt

He had lost her, and he was unsure as to whether he could gain any semblance of their relationship back.

We're too young, too dumb

To know things like love

Damian lifted his partner’s right hand and twirled her three times, they both were content within their own world. The two swayed before turning together and walking around the now open space.

But I know better now (Better now)

Marinette flushed as she realised what was happening around her, leaning towards her partner she whispered, “I think we’ve become an impromptu entertainment.”

Too young, too dumb

To know things like love

Too young, too dumb

Damian subtly gazed behind her seeing their peers in a circle surrounding them. He was on the inside looking out, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world. He whispered reassurances in her ear, he wished to finish the song before he released her from his embrace. The two drowned out their audience, focusing on each other and the beat of the song.

So I drown it out like I always do

Dancing through our house

With the ghost of you

And I chase it down

With a shot of truth

That my feet don't dance

Like they did with you

The melody slowly faded off as the last lines were sung. The two finished on a basic waltz step before swaying in each other’s arms. The music ends and there is silence, blood rushed to their ears and their breaths mingled.

The two stayed in the other’s embrace, face-to-face, staring. They broke out of their trance by clapping. Looking around Marinette saw many of her peers and most of the supervising teachers applauding their performance.

Their friends broke through the crowd, Jon patted Damian’s shoulder (retracting before he got bit) while Chloe and Alix pulled Marinette back to their table to discuss what Disney magic had befallen the couple. The bluenette glanced back at her partner, mouthing a silent goodbye.

The crowd dispersed but were still buzzing from their display. Marinette was bombarded with questions, not only from her friends, but from other students about her dancing with the demon. Her stuttered replies did little to quench the crowd’s thirst. Her face must be comparable to that of a tomato.

Damian, having noticed the building crowd and Marinette’s uncomfortable stance, broke away from Jon. The crowd parted like the red sea, unwilling to be the one to anger the Ice Prince.

He offered her his arm (to which she took) and escorted her out to the patio outside. She stayed entwined with him, as she looked out at the stray Parisian night; leaning her head onto his should. Here the two could breathe. Here the two of them could be their present selves, no ghostly facades needed. It seems they could drown out anything in the presence of each other.

Unbeknownst to them, Jon had recorded their dance, along with their previous and present interactions of that night. He thought for a second to use it as blackmail material but decided to just send it off anyways. Oh the chaos it caused.

[morganaspendragonss]

Hello 🥰 Whump fic idea :)TK lands in the hospital, again. But this time they're serious, serious injuries, he is under a respirator, he is not breathing on his own, the doctors do not give him much chance of survival, they even advise it would be the best to prepare for the worst and say goodbye, just in case. Owen calls Gwen, she's arriving the same day with Enzo and baby junior. When in the hospital they find out how it happened and that it's mostly Owen's fault (I don't know, for example, he allowed Tk to enter the unstable building to tend to the patient, or whether he made someone else angry and this person unloaded it on TK, or Owen decided to do something reckless and TK wanted to save him or it is The arson situation from 2x12 so Gwyn arrives pregnant, without a baby of course), Gwyn slaps him twice and Enzo punches him right in the nose, breaking it, for risking TK's life. Fortunately, despite the bad prognosis, TK wakes up, but after he took his sweet time being in a coma.

holly's august extravaganza day 3: the meetings for those in my wake

thanks for the prompt! i really loved writing this one though i need to confess to toning it down a little? idk but with the way it was going it didn't feel right to have enzo break owen's nose. i hope you still like it!

ao3 | 3.3k | major character injury, coma, angst with a happy ending

For years after the divorce, Gwyn came to learn that any call from Owen was almost certainly bad news.

TK got in a fight.

TK overdosed.

TK was shot, he’s in the hospital.

Over and over, until the first words out of her mouth whenever Owen’s name flashed up on her screen were, What’s wrong?

Things have been better in the three years since her time in Texas. Gwyn suspects it’s partly TK’s influence—he’s been more than enthusiastic in getting to know his baby brother, and Isaac has latched onto TK despite only seeing him in person every few months or so. But they’ve talked as well, she and Owen, and they really are doing better. They’re almost like friends now, which is why Gwyn thinks nothing of it when he calls just after she’s put Isaac to bed for the night.

“Owen, hey,” she greets. “What’s up?”

The silence she’s answered with is the first sign that something’s wrong.

The sob that follows is the second.

“Owen?” Gwyn repeats, louder this time, her heart leaping into her throat. She sits down heavily on the sofa as she waits for Owen’s response; there’s only one thing that could make him cry like that, and tears prick at Gwyn’s eyes as she imagines TK hurt again, or worse.

“Gwyn,” Owen eventually manages to gasp out, voice wrecked. “Gwyn, it’s TK. He’s… You need to get here. You need— It’s not like last time. They don’t know if he’s going to— They don’t think— It’s bad. Really bad.”

Owen breaks off, crying harder, and Gwyn claps a hand to her mouth. She remembers well how devastated he’d been when he called about the gunshot, but this a whole other level. Gwyn’s head spins with the potential implications of that and she finds her breath coming in sharp gasps, but it’s Owen’s next words that knocks it from her altogether.

“They think we should say goodbye.”

The rest of the story comes haltingly—someone got angry after his son couldn’t be saved on a call, he came to the firehouse, he attacked TK—but Gwyn barely hears it. Her boy is in the hospital again and this time…this time he might not be coming home. She can’t understand it; she spoke to him just two days ago, they made plans for he and Carlos to visit for Isaac’s birthday, and now…

“I’m so sorry, Gwyn,” Owen finishes. She feels a flash of that age-old urge to scream at him, but she fights it off, not wanting to wake Isaac.

“I’ll be on the first flight over,” she promises, then ends the call, sliding off the couch to the floor. Her phone falls from limp fingers and harsh sobs tear from her throat, muffled by the press of her fist against her mouth.

Enzo finds her there an hour later and immediately takes her in his arms, not complaining about her tears soaking his shirt. When she tells him what happened, he insists on joining her, and Gwyn allows herself to take that shred of comfort and run with it.

She thinks it’s the only comfort she’s likely to get right now.

The next flight isn’t until morning, so Gwyn spends a sleepless night packing and unpacking their suitcases and making phone calls with the firm and her clients to cancel everything for the foreseeable. She has the brief, terrible thought about whether she should pack funeral attire, which almost sends her into a panic attack as reality hits her all over again.

Enzo saves her from it, gently guiding her to bed, but not before she packs the clothes anyway.

Isaac seems to pick up on her mood when they’re hurrying out of the house, remaining mostly quiet aside from the odd question about where they’re going. He perks up considerably when he finds out they’re heading to Austin, babbling about seeing TK, and Gwyn has to blink hard to keep from crying again. Enzo reaches over to take her hand, and he barely lets go until they’re landing in Austin.

*

The entrance to the ICU looms before her, and Gwyn feels stuck. There had been a part of her, still, that had hoped to find TK miraculously awake and on the mend, like the last time she had made this trip. She doesn’t want to believe that he’s here, hurt, maybe dying.

But he is, and she’s forcefully reminded of that fact when a kind-looking nurse approaches her hesitantly.

“Ma’am? Can I help you?”

Gwyn blinks at her, her brain taking a moment to catch up. “I, um. I’m here to see my son. TK Strand.” She pauses, then shakes her head, cursing herself internally. “Tyler Kennedy Strand.”

The nurse’s entire demeanour changes, a sympathetic smile taking over her face. “This way.” She leads Gwyn through the ICU, then points at a door near the end of the corridor. “Tyler’s room is just there. I promise, we’re doing everything we can for him.”

Gwyn nods absently, her gaze stuck on the door the nurse had indicated. She walks forward slowly, the room seeming to get further and further away until, suddenly, she’s standing on the threshold, and she sees her son.

TK is barely visible, his face half-obscured by the ventilator, half by bruises, and heavy gauze covers his forehead. His arms, resting limply at his sides, are littered with scrapes, and if Gwyn squints, she can just about make out more bandages peeking out from under the hospital gown.

She’d thought that seeing him would make it all real, but she feels separate from everything somehow, only one thought going through her mind on repeat.

This is not my son.

A quiet whisper draws her attention to the figure sitting at TK’s side. Gwyn has to suppress a gasp as she takes in Carlos’s appearance; she hasn’t seen him in person since the wedding last year, and his pale face and red-rimmed eyes cut a stark contrast to that day. He hasn’t noticed her yet, wholly fixated on TK, one hand gently stroking the tufts of hair poking out above the bandage. His lips move and Gwyn knows she should walk away, but instead she finds herself leaning closer, straining to hear Carlos’s words.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he’s saying. “I know you’re fighting and I know you’re going to try as hard as you can to come back to us—believe me, Ty, I am praying every day to see those pretty green eyes of yours open again. But I—I want you to know that it’s okay if you can’t. If it gets too hard, if you need to let go, you can. I already miss you like crazy and I really, really, don’t want to live the rest of my life without you, but the thing I can’t stand more than that is the idea of you suffering.

“Come back if you can, but if someday you find you can’t, remember that I love you and we’ll be okay. I promise.”

Carlos sniffs and ducks his head to place a gentle, lingering kiss on TK’s cheekbone. It’s such a tender, intimate moment, but it quickly shatters when Carlos looks up and spots her, his eyes going wide. “Gwyn. I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were there.”

She waves him off, willing herself to finally step into the room. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I should have said something, but I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Carlos nods, giving her a small, sad smile, which Gwyn does her best to return. She pulls up another chair and sinks into it, reaching out to take TK’s hand. She’s startled by the coolness of his skin, and more tears burn in the back of her eyes.

“What did the doctors say?” she asks, clearing her throat and twisting her body towards Carlos, though her eyes never leave TK.

“That it was a miracle he made it through surgery,” Carlos says, sighing wearily. “Eight stab wounds, too much blood loss, damage to his organs, broken ribs—that’s all bad enough, but they’re most worried about his brain. He took at least two blows to the head, and add that to the fact he wasn’t breathing for a good few minutes… They keep saying not to speculate, but we all know the odds here.”

Carlos’s voice breaks and Gwyn reaches out to comfort him, feeling sick to her stomach at the revelation. Why anyone would do this to her boy, she can’t comprehend; she finds herself both wanting answers and feeling unable to take any more.

Owen chooses that moment to appear in the doorway, looking every bit as wrecked as he sounded on the phone. “Gwyn,” he says roughly. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Carlos moves as if to give them privacy, but Gwyn shakes her head at him, cutting off his protests before he can even get them out. “You stay with him, Carlos,” she tells him. “We’ll talk in the hall.”

They head to a quiet spot not too far from TK’s room, and Gwyn turns to face Owen, holding her arms. “What the hell happened, Owen? Why is our son lying in there, not even breathing on his own?”

A flicker of a frown crosses Owen’s face. “I told you—”

“No, you didn’t.” Gwyn clenches her jaw, staring him down. “You said he’d been attacked, not that some maniac had used him as their personal punching bag.”

A few more seconds pass before Owen relents, sighing. “There was a call,” he starts, voice heavy with sorrow. “A car accident; dad and his kid were trapped inside. We got the dad out but the son was stuck pretty good. It took a long time to free him and by then it was too late—EMS did their best, but he was gone.

“The dad went ballistic, screaming at all of us, but especially at TK. We don’t really know why, but it was probably a convenience thing; TK had been the one to break the news, he was the closest person—the guy wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. He threatened him, tried to hit him—the cops had to arrest him eventually, but you know TK. He refused to press charges, said that the dad was just in shock and that he understood.”

Gwyn smiles a little at that; her son has always been too forgiving for his own good. It’s never come back to hurt him this badly before, though.

Owen pauses, throat bobbing as he seems to work up to the next part. His voice is quiet, and he seems reluctant to meet Gwyn’s eyes. “He showed up at the firehouse a week later—the dad, I mean. He said he wanted to apologise and, I swear, Gwyn, he really did seem genuine. None of us wanted to let him near TK, but ultimately it was TK’s decision. They went round the side of the house to talk; when neither of them came back after twenty minutes, we went looking.

“By that time, the guy was gone, and TK was…” He stops and shakes his head, swallowing hard. “He could barely breathe. Tommy and Nancy did what they could and they got him here quickly, but we have no idea how long he’d been like that before we found him.”

Gwyn’s head snaps up, a white-hot anger flashing through her. “I can’t believe you,” she hisses. “You left our son alone with a man who had already threatened him for twenty minutes, Owen.”

Owen frowns. “I told you, he seemed genuine. And TK—”

Gwyn can’t help it; she slaps him. “Don’t you dare,” she grounds out, crowding into Owen’s space. “Don’t you dare act like this was his fault.”

“I wasn’t—”

Her arm moves on instinct, but before she can connect again, a hand closes around her wrist. Gwyn turns to find Enzo staring at her, brow wrinkled in confusion.

“Gwyn, what’s going on?”

She shakes her head and takes a step back from Owen, freeing herself from Enzo’s grasp. “What’s going on,” she responds tightly, “is that he is part of the reason why my son is half-dead in there.”

Enzo gapes between them. “What?”

She ignores the question, needing to focus on anything else to keep her anger from overwhelming her. “What are you doing here anyway? Where’s Isaac?”

“He’s with Grace and Judd, they offered to babysit so I could come here. What—”

“Hang on,” Owen interrupts. “What is he doing here? I figured he’d stay in New York with the kid.”

“Isaac is TK’s brother, Owen,” Gwyn says, turning on him again. “And Enzo has just as much right to be here as any of us; he was more of a father to TK than you were sometimes.”

Owen’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Him? You’re joking, right?”

Gwyn isn’t sure what happens next, who starts it, but soon they’re all yelling, insults and accusations flying around the ward. There’s a furious nurse heading their way, but before she can say anything, another voice cuts through the argument, quiet and trembling but still somehow powerful.

“Get out,” Carlos says. “All of you.”

They all turn to him, Gwyn’s lips parting in shock. Owen takes a step towards him, holding his hands out in a gesture that’s probably meant to be pacifying.

“Carlos—”

“I mean it, Owen,” he snaps, harsher than Gwyn has ever heard him before. “You all screaming at each other is the last thing any of us needs, least of all TK. The only person to blame in all this is the guy who attacked him, and he’s already in custody; he’ll get what’s coming to him. If TK—” Carlos breaks off, clenching his jaw and staring down at the floor. He closes his eyes for a moment, before breathing out shakily and looking back up at them. “If anything changes, I’ll call you, I promise. But you can’t be here right now. Go, please.”

Carlos doesn’t wait for a response before turning on his heel and going back into TK’s room, reassuming his position next to the bed. Gwyn watches him for a second, nodding when Enzo pointedly takes her elbow.

“He’s right,” she says, directed at Owen. “We should go.”

Owen glares, gearing up to argue again, but he must think better of it as he suddenly slumps, all the energy draining out of him. “Right,” he mutters. “Right.”

They file slowly out of the ICU, closely watched by the hard eyes of the nurse from before. Gwyn spares one last look before forcing herself forwards; if getting here was hard, walking away is a thousand times worse.

*

Three weeks pass with no change and, crucially, no improvement. Gwyn spends more time with Carlos than she ever has before, and she hates that it’s her son being comatose that has brought the two of them closer. A tentative peace exists between her and Owen and she knows—truly, she knows—that the attack wasn’t his fault, that there was nothing that could have stopped it.

But she can’t help but be angry that, once again, her son was seriously hurt and she wasn’t around.

She takes Isaac to see TK once, when the worst of the bruises have faded a little. She worries that he’ll be scared, and he does seem to hesitate when they reach the room; in truth, Gwyn hadn’t wanted to bring him at all, but he’d kept asking about TK and she’d found herself helpless to do anything but acquiesce.

They still haven’t told him what’s going on. No-one knows how to. All Isaac knows is that TK is a little hurt and he needs rest, and even that knowledge seems to upset him.

Once he gets used to the sight, Isaac stretches his hands out to the bed. “TK,” he says simply, looking pleadingly up at Gwyn.

She hugs him close, trying to smile for him. “TK’s asleep, sweetie,” she explains. “He needs rest.”

“When wake up?”

“I don’t know, baby. I don’t know.”

*

Three weeks pass, and the doctors start talking about options and next steps. It’s obvious what that’s code for—they want to pull the plug. They’re told to take all the time they need to discuss it but, ultimately, the decision will be Carlos’s, as TK’s husband and next of kin.

Gwyn knows what choice he’s going to make; it’s the same one she, or anyone else in his position, would make.

That doesn’t make it any easier to bear, for any of them.

Gwyn finds him in the hallway, bent over with his head in his hands. She goes over and quietly sits in the chair next to him, placing a comforting hand on his back.

There’s a long silence before Carlos sniffs and turns to her, his face the picture of devastation. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this, Gwyn,” he whispers, voice cracking. “How am I supposed to just give up on him like that?”

She shakes her head. “You’re not giving up on him, Carlos. You’re letting him go.”

“I don’t know how to do that either.”

“None of us do.”

Silence again, but this time, it’s Gwyn that breaks it first. “Listen, Carlos, I know this is hard. God knows I wish none of us were even here. But we are, and we have to do what’s best for everyone, including TK.”

“I know that,” Carlos admits. “I just don’t want to lose him.” He closes his eyes and leans into Gwyn, allowing her to wrap him in a hug. “I wish we had more time.”

Gwyn’s heart breaks all over again, and she squeezes his shaking shoulders. “We’ve got time,” she says, though she knows that’s not what he meant. “As much as you need.”

The sob she’s answered with tells her there’s not enough time in the world for Carlos to say goodbye to TK.

*

The call comes in the middle of the night. Dread pools in Gwyn’s gut as she accepts it and lifts the phone to her ear, her hands trembling.

“Owen?”

“Gwyn. TK, he—he woke up. It was only for a few seconds, but he woke up, Gwyn. The doctors said it was a miracle; they think he might actually recover.”

Gwyn gasps, a sob crawling up her throat as the news sinks in. It’s everything she’s been praying for ever since that first call, and all she can think about now is getting to TK.

“I’ll be at the hospital in fifteen,” she says. She ends the calls and raises her hands to her face, wiping away the tears beginning to fall from her eyes.

Maybe this nightmare is finally coming to an end.

*

TK is off getting tests when Gwyn arrives, but she’s finally allowed back in the room an hour later, Carlos and Owen on her heels. The ventilator has been removed, replaced by a nasal cannula, and his eyes are open—barely to slits, but Gwyn doesn’t care. TK is awake and alive, and that’s all that matters.

As soon as she’s in the chair by the bed, she reaches out for him, her touch feather-light as she strokes his cheek. “My brave boy,” she whispers wetly. “My brave, brave boy.”

TK’s head rolls on the pillow so he’s facing her and he mumbles something that’s probably meant to be a greeting, but the words jumble together and come out as gibberish.

Gwyn thinks it’s the most beautiful sound she’s ever heard.

They’ve all been briefed about the risks of brain damage and all the potential lasting consequences which could impact the rest of TK’s life. But right now, as she holds TK’s hand with Carlos on his other side and Owen at her back, Gwyn chooses to take solace in the constant rise and fall of TK’s chest and the heart monitor beeping out a steady rhythm.

There’ll be enough time for worry later; for now, her son is alive, and Gwyn can’t think of anything else that's more important.

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Fic request if you have the time: The fight between Team Crastle & Skizz, but instead of Skizz dying, Impulse takes the hit from Grian's weapon instead. He could betray the Red Army, yes; but he could NEVER betray his closest friend. This action can either lead to him dying in Skizz's place or not, but either way, Skizz flees as the look in Impulse's eyes is one begging him to run.

*vibrates intensely* i will absolutely take any opportunity to change Skizz’s fate asdfghjkl

…

As the battle between the Red Army and the crastle begins, Skizz hangs back with Martyn, firing arrows up at the people inside. He knows they’re his friends, but he can’t think about that now. Right now, they’re his enemies. His bloodlust is stirring inside him, and he can’t hold it back much longer.

“Look, Impulse is in there!” gasps Martyn suddenly. “I can see him! He’s with them!”

“What?!” Skizz yelps, following his friend’s gaze.

Sure enough, he can see Impulse’s unmistakable face in one of the windows. Anger and confusion and hatred bubbles up inside him, mingling with his barely restrained bloodlust and creating a potent mix.

It doesn’t take long to explode.

Letting out a battle yell, Skizz takes off running towards the door, ignoring all three other members of Dogwarts calling his name. He shoves his way into the crastle, leaping over a pressure plate right by the door, and dashes for the stairs.

When he gets to the top, he spots Grian and Impulse standing by the slit windows, firing arrows out. They both spin round as they hear him enter.

Without stopping, Skizz charges straight at the nearest one, who happens to be Grian. Grian lashes out with his sword, but Skizz is so consumed by his bloodlust that he can’t quite react in time.

But as it turns out, he doesn’t have to.

Facing his best friend, Impulse dashes in front of Grian and takes the hit. He cries out as he feels the tip of the blade slice into his skin. Thankfully, he’s far enough away that he doesn’t take the full swing, but it still scores a long, fairly deep cut right down his back, from the middle of his shoulder down to his left side.

Grian gasps and takes an involuntary step back, staring at Impulse with wide eyes. “Impulse!”

Skizz pauses when he hears Impulse’s cry, stunned into silence. As Impulse sinks to his hands and knees, trying his hardest to stop the bleeding, he looks up with teary eyes and meets Skizz’s gaze.

Run, Impulse’s anguished expression is saying. Please….!

And it’s at this moment that Skizz fully realises how much danger his life is in.

While Grian is distracted with Impulse, Skizz turns and flees, climbing out the window and taking a running leap into the moat. He almost regrets this action as he remembers the magma trying to drag down anyone unfortunate enough to fall into it, but clearly the moat wasn’t properly finished; around the back here, it’s deeper and only filled with water, no jagged rocks or magma or anything, and Skizz is able to swim to the edge and climb out with no trouble.

Panting hard from exertion and adrenaline, he takes a moment to stare up at the window he just escaped from, his brain trying to comprehend what just happened. Impulse is on the enemy’s side… but he spared Skizz’s life. Whether intentional or not, he took a hit for Skizz and allowed him to flee.

After allowing himself a minute to recover, he rushes around the side of the moat, dodging arrows fired at him from Tango on the roof.

“Skizzle!” yells Ren as he approaches. “You’re alive! We had no idea what’d happened to you!”

“Sorry, I- I didn’t mean to worry you. How’s it going out here?”

“We’ve landed a few solid hits on them,” Martyn says, lifting his shield to block an arrow that’s about to hit his face. “But not taken anyone out yet.”

“Impulse is down,” reports Skizz. “I can tell you that. I saw it.”

“Down? I didn’t see a death notif in chat.”

“He’s not dead, but he’s not gonna be able to fight.”

Suddenly, an explosion sounds from somewhere near the crastle.

“Aim for Scar!” Martyn yells suddenly, pointing. “Aim for Scar!”

Skizz and Martyn draw back the strings on their bows at the same time, before simultaneously letting them go. Both shots hit their mark.

GoodTimeWithScar was shot by Skizzleman

“Look at you, getting three red deaths in one day!” Martyn says approvingly. “Good job on acting so quickly.”

Skizz smiles briefly but it quickly drops. “Guys, we gotta retreat. We’re still outnumbered and they’ve got the advantage of the crastle defences.”

“He’s right,” says Ren. “We’ve taken out three of them; that’s enough for today. Retreat!”

Led by Ren, the group retreats back towards the walls of Dogwarts. On the way, Skizz’s thoughts drift back to Impulse and he can’t help wondering if his best friend is okay. He replays the event in his mind and from the way he moved, there’s no way Impulse didn’t intend to jump in front of him. Impulse took a potentially deadly hit for him. But why? He clearly chose the crastle alliance over Dogwarts.

So why would he save Skizz’s life...?

…

That night, Impulse is trying to sleep in his room at the crastle but he can’t manage it. Lying on his right side is getting uncomfortable but he can’t roll over without shooting pain in his shoulder and back. Luckily, Scott has done a great job at cleaning and bandaging his wound. But that doesn’t stop the pain.

Trying to ignore the discomfort, his thoughts go to Skizz. When he made the decision to betray Dogwarts, he never expected that to include betraying Skizz. He’d tried, of course he’d tried. But in the end, he just couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t betray the man he’s called his brother for decades, even in a world where he knows it wouldn’t matter in the long run.

Now the question is… does Grian suspect Impulse took that hit on purpose…?

After a while, he hears a quiet knock at his door. “Come in,” he responds sluggishly.

The door quietly opens, but Impulse can’t move to check who’s just entered.

“Hey,” comes Tango’s voice. “How are you doing?”

Impulse tries not to wince as Tango appears in front of his limited vision. “Sore and stiff. And sleepy. But can’t sleep.”

Tango chuckles. “I bet. No sleep downstairs either; the battle is all anyone can think about.”

“Not surprised.”

After a pause, Tango speaks again: “Impulse, what exactly happened back there? Grian said you jumped in front of him.”

“I was trying to defend Grian,” Impulse responds. “But I was so focused on attacking Skizz that I didn’t realise Grian was also attacking until it was too late.”

“How could you not have seen Grian swinging a sword around?”

“I was just so hyperfocused on trying to defend him from Skizz.” Impulse snorts. “I hope you’re not accusing me of something, cuz this injury hurts like hell.”

Tango holds up his hands. “Not accusing you of anything. I just wanted to ask you directly, cuz Grian seems to think you did it deliberately.”

Impulse forces a quiet sigh. “Tango, I know you know Skizz is my best friend, but I chose my side, remember? I fully committed to you guys.”

“Yeah, but you do realise how it’s hard to fully trust you, right?” Tango responds. “Once you’ve shown yourself willing to betray one side, it’s hard not to be suspicious that you may do it again.”

“Tango, listen to me.” Impulse unflinchingly meets Tango’s gaze. “It was an accident. I hundred percent intended to kill Skizz when I inadvertently got in the way of Grian’s sword.”

After a moment, Tango nods and looks away. “Okay.”

Impulse marvels at how good at lying he’s become. He’s practised making eye contact and sounding confident in his words, because he knows that this is what gets him caught lying more often than not, especially by Tango, who’s known him for many years. But now he’s used his method on both his best friends and neither have seemed to pick up on his lies, so he must be doing something right.

“Anyway, I’ll leave you in peace.” Tango rises to his feet and reaches out, clearly to pat Impulse on the shoulder, before remembering his friend’s injury and awkwardly dropping his hand. “Try to get some sleep. ‘Night.”

“Goodnight.”

Impulse closes his eyes as Tango leaves, his nerves a little more settled. Maybe he can actually get some sleep now.

“Night, Skizz,” he murmurs. “Love you, buddy.”

[hermits-that-craft]

In My Dreams (Will You Remember Me?)

Flower Husbands Fic - Chapter Four - The hues in our hair compliment one another

Ao3 in the comments

Jimmy watches as the guests walk in, gawking at the decorations that he, Katherine and Gem put so much effort into. Pride fills his chest - a week of hard work paying off in happy citizens and rulers alike. Jimmy nods politely to Iris as they walk in, he knows that being one of Pix’s advisors means that the dryad doesn’t get much time off, so he hopes that they enjoy themself.

A group of dryads bow to him before they disappear into the crowd, which makes him happy - he’s still recognisable with the mask that Katherine gave him. It’s a standard masquerade mask, though it has small cod painted on it in bronze paint, though it has a white veil attached the the lower half to cover his face. It was nice of Katherine, to remember that he prefers to hide his face.

He feels safe with his face hidden.

Jimmy watches as a young woman in a black cloak comes in, and an axolotl hybrid from his empire chats with a man from Mezalea. He’s glad that they opened to ball not only to the leaders of the empires but their citizens as well, and a fae man in a forest green vest dances with a spirit in a ribbon skirt.

The doors open, distracting Jimmy from people watching for a moment.

Lizzie walks in, the necklace around her neck shimmering in the glow from the purple lanterns. Jimmy watches as everyone gawks at the wedding gift that he gave her - it’s rare to see her wear it out of battle. The necklace has two axolotls, one made of rose quartz and the other of red jasper, curled around a pearl and inset in silver. It was handcrafted by the finest artisans of the Cod Empire, and Jimmy himself carefully enchanted it with healing and protection.

The best wedding gift she received, if Jimmy does say so himself.

“You clean up nicely, did Katherine give you that suit?” Lizzie teases, pointedly ignoring the stares she receives as she walks across the room to him.

“You’ll find that your husband did, for your wedding.” Jimmy smiles. “Though I did get it altered slightly for the party.”

“You didn’t put slime in it, did you?”

“Lizzie!” Jimmy gasps, pushing his sisters arm in rage. She laughs, ignoring his fake rage.

“I’m very glad you ditched the cod head.” She says. “I think Katherine would have killed you.”

“She actually gave me this mask.” Jimmy admits. 

“Ohh, look at Scott’s outfit.” Lizzie says, and Jimmy turns back to the crowd. 

Scott stands next to Joey, looking mildly uncomfortable. The king of the lost empire wears a red suit with a black crown, rubies and jaspers adorning it. But Joey’s outfit pales in comparison to the one that Scott wears.

Scott’s wearing an intricate white top, with long sleeves that bell out at the end. He has a high waisted skirt, fading from a sky blue into a deep, ocean blue. He looks like he’s stepped out of a high fantasy story, a golden crown shimmering in his blue hair. He looks stunning, making Jimmy feel almost as though he’s underdressed.

Scott makes eye contact with Joey, an emotion Jimmy doesn’t understand flashes in Scott’s eyes as he walks over to Jimmy.

“Lizzie, I think I’ve made him angry.” Jimmy mumbles, breaking eye contact with Scott. 

“He’s your land boy, you work it out.” Lizzie says. “I need to go find my land boy.”

“Scott isn’t mine, Lizzie - Don’t leave me!” Jimmy protests, but it’s already too late, the queen of the ocean has left Jimmy to whatever fate Scott has planned for him.

Hopefully Lizzie will hold a nice funeral for him.

“You look nice.” Scott says softly, barely audible over the music.

“Oh, thank you.” Jimmy says, the back of his neck reddening. “You clearly outclass everyone here.”

“You really think so?” Scott asks, his face red. Poor Scott, he mustn’t get complimented often. 

“I know so.” Jimmy smiles, though the man can’t see it.

“Could I ask you to dance?” Scott asks, offering Jimmy his hand. Jimmy blinks in surprise, looking into Scott’s eyes in shock. The elven man’s eyes glitter in the lantern light, light and full of something Jimmy can’t quite place.

Even so, Jimmy puts his hand into Scott’s, and lets the man pull him into a dance.

Scott’s hand rests on Jimmy’s waist, and Jimmy puts his hand on Scott’s shoulder, letting him lead. Scott, thankfully, doesn’t mention when Jimmy steps on his feet, the king just mumbling instructions to Jimmy as he leads them.

“You teach dances like this often?” Jimmy asks breathlessly, trying to concentrate on not stepping on Scott’s feet.

“No, I don’t. I don’t think I’m even teaching you this correctly.” Scott admits. “I’m not even sure this is a real dance.”

“This feels pretty real to me.” Jimmy says, his heart picking up. “Kind of familiar, like I’ve done it in a dream, but real?”

“This is dreamlike?” Scott asks, cocking an eyebrow.

“Yeah.” Jimmy admits. “Do you think we could spin with this dance.”

“If you want to, then of course.” Scott says, spinning Jimmy around.

Jimmy giggles slightly, breathless as his hand falls onto Scott’s shoulder again. Scott leads them again, and Jimmy lets his feet go without thinking. It’s like the dance he had in his nightmare, with his shadow husband. Scott’s hand on his waist is comforting, a promise of safety, in a party of peace.

The music slows and they stop, breathless and hearts hammering. Jimmy takes his hand off of Scott’s shoulder, pulling away from his dance partner.

“I’m going to get a drink, you coming?” Jimmy offers. Maybe this could end with a new ally, a new friend.

“I need some air.” Scott admits, rubbing the back of his neck as though he’s nervous. “I’ll see you later?”

“See you soon.” Jimmy promises, smiling brightly at the elf.

The other man just nods, walking out of the room and up the stairs. Jimmy moves off of the dancefloor, avoiding bumping into people as he makes his way to the table, picking a prawn off of the table to eat while he looks for something to drink.

“Enjoying the food?” Pearl asks, startling Jimmy.

“It’s nice.” Jimmy says. “I love the prawns.”

“Thank you! I was hoping to get something from every empire.” Pearl says. “I’m glad I got something for you and Lizzie. Your empires were the hardest.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! I could have helped.” Jimmy apologises.

“Don’t be. Be more sorry that you didn’t tell Katherine about you and Scott. She’s rather excited that the prospect of you two being together.”

“What?” Jimmy asks, blinking.

“Oh, if it’s supposed to be a secret I’ll tell her to leave you two alone.” Pearl says, laughing. “Next time, though, don’t dance in a public ball like that. Rumours will spread!”

Jimmy stands confused, staring at the space that Pearl used to be in. He must be tired, why would anyone start a rumour about him and Scott? There’s nothing to talk about. They’re potentially friends, barely aquantinces. 

“I should find Scott.” Jimmy mumbles, walking in a daze towards the stairs. Scott must be on the balcony, right?

“Jimmy!” Pixl says, relief on his face. “You need to come with me. We’re leaving.”

“What?” Jimmy asks incredulously. “Why are we leaving?”

“Emergency at Lizzie’s empire, she’s asked that we both attend.” Pixl says, grabbing Jimmy’s hand and dragging him out. 

“What’s the emergency?” Jimmy asks, waving goodbye to Pearl and Gem at the door. The two of them share relieved looks as Pixl drags Jimmy further away.

Lizzie and Joel stand in the middle of the courtyard, holding a spare pair of elytra that they put of Jimmy’s shoulders as Pixl straps himself into his own elytra. Jimmy straps the elytra on, wriggling uncomfortably.

“What’s going on?”

“Gem told us to go home.” Lizzie says. “Sausage and Fwip are up to no good, apparently.” 

“Pixl said that there was an emergency at your empire?”

“I lied.” Pixl says. “Don’t look at me like that, you wouldn’t have come otherwise!”

“Look as funny as this is we have to go.” Joel says, pushing Jimmy and Pixl slightly.

The group takes off, flying into the sky. Guilt eats at Jimmy the further they fly away, and he turns back to look at the hall. Did anyone warn Scott that Sausage and Fwip were up to something?

He broke his promise to Scott.

----

“You look cute in the bunker.” The shadow says, sitting on the roof. Jimmy can just barely see out of it, and he knows that his husband wouldn’t be able to see at all.

“Shouldn’t you be preparing for battle?” Jimmy asks. “You don’t want to die.”

“I’m on my green life. I’m fine.” His husband says. “You’re the one we’ve got to worry about. Burning Dogwarts banner, really poppy?”

“I don’t want to see you sacrificed on any altar, petal.” Jimmy responds easily. “I’ll be fine, the bunker is safe and there’s an emergency exit.”

“Promise me you’ll come home.” His husband asks, standing up. 

“For you? Of course.” Jimmy responds. “In sickness and health. You’ll always have me by your side.”

Jimmy watches as the shadow people fight. It’s dreamlike, unreal to him. Swords clash and fires spread across a desert stained in blood. The dogwarts banner flies and burns and his allies are so outnumber it won’t ever be fair.

And a scream tears from his throat as his husband is shot.

His body dissipates, he’s not dead. Not permanently, but something is wrong. This world mustn’t have respawn, not the infinite respawn that it’s supposed to. Green life. First life. 

The love of his life is dead. He will come back, but he’s dead now.

“We want that banner!” A man yells, an enemy. There isn’t any winning this. He needs to get to him, to his husband, to his petal.

He’s shot through the throat on the ladder to the escape route.

Jimmy's screams echo through his empire. Not for the first time does he long for the embrace of someone who isn't even real

[just-another-obsessed-fangirl]

slow motion, double vision in rose blush (Renora College AU)

Summary: Ren doesn't need alcohol to know how gorgeous his best friend is or to admit to himself (kind of, sort of) that his feelings towards her aren't exactly platonic. Apparently, he just needs it if he wants to be unable to ignore those facts.

Warnings: Drinking alcohol, some suggestive thoughts

Fic under the read more or can be read on AO3 here

I wrote this for Flower Power Week, but I didn’t see that there was a rule to keep works PG-13 until I was almost finished with this fic, and I figure this fic is already inherently a bit more mature than that, so I don’t think I should use the tag or tag the blog.

Hope you enjoy!

Parties wouldn't really be considered Ren's "thing".

 He much prefers the slightly-hectic-but-relatively-calm get-togethers of his friends that they manage to schedule every week or so amongst all their university classes. But it was the end of some particularly grueling midterms and everyone in their little friend group (and apparently, everyone on campus) had wanted to let loose and let wild after being cooped up with only their textbooks and their stress for so long. So that, and not enough displeasure at the plan to do anything about it, is how Ren ended up in the corner of the front room of some frat house with a red Solo cup in his hand.

 He doesn't know where most of his friends have gone. Ren hasn't seen all of them in one place since basically when they first arrived and Yang had shoved shots of - Ren hasn't drunk enough alcohol in his life to know for sure, but he would assume it's whiskey - into each of their hands. He didn't have much desire to down it in one go like most of the group, would rather let its burn come in little bursts than have all of the pain all at once. By the time he had finished it, Yang had taken Blake somewhere promising to dance, Ruby heard a rumor of a ping pong table and had set off to find it with Weiss so they can challenge each other, and Jaune and Pyrrha went… somewhere. The only friend who hadn't wandered off was Nora, who immediately upon finishing her shot had started pouring ice, orange juice, and maybe a tad too much vodka into a Solo cup.

 She had immediately come back to his side, expressing how much this was needed for her after midterms. Nora then starts rambling about what lengths she had gone to in order to make the information stick and the stomach aches she got from the stress and how she was shaking during her last test partly from how little sleep she had gotten in the past month from projects. At least, that's what Ren was pretty sure she was talking about. The music was so loud that he had to lean in pretty close to hear what Nora was saying, and even then he couldn't pick up half the words said. Which was a shame, because as much as people seem to believe he just ignores her, Ren does listen to everything his best friend wants to say, and he likes listening to everything she says.

 Nora must've noticed how close Ren was leaning in, or his discomfort at the loud music, as she then grabs his hand and walks them somewhere else, still talking all the while. The farther they walk, the quieter the music gets, the more Ren can hear Nora. They arrive at some far-off corner and Ren is more than content to stay there and listen to Nora for the rest of the night. But then a girl dressed more like she was going to a full-out rave rather than a college party rushes up to Nora and begs her to be her partner at beer pong.

 "Kobalt and Ivori are ‘too cool’ for it, and Flynt's our DD, so obviously he can't drink, and you're fun enough and I bet you'd be super good at beer pong-"

 Ren can tell Nora wants to say yes, but she keeps looking at him from the corner of her eye like she doesn't want to leave him alone. If he really had heard her correctly, then she is certainly deserving of some fun right now, and it might be a little awkward standing here alone but it wouldn't be the worst thing.

 "You should go," he says.

 Nora turns her head fully to him. "Are you sure? You gonna be okay here all by your lonesome?"

 Ren gives her a little smile. "I think I can manage."

 "Great!" the girl says with a clap of her hands. "So it's settled". She grabs the cup that Nora was holding and hands it off to Ren. "Now be a good boyfriend and keep this safe for her."

 Nora's face flushes, and Ren can feel that he does too. "Oh no, Neon, we're not-" but before she can continue her denial, Neon yanks her away to the beer pong table.

 They're a little ways away, but they are perfectly within Ren's eyesight. He can see that they're playing against Sun and Neptune. He doesn't know them too well but he hasn't known them as anything other than friendly. Well, Jaune might disagree at least where Neptune's concerned, but it's been ages and he's since got over his crush on Weiss, so he's probably okay with him now. They start their game and on her first try, Nora lands the ball cleanly into one of the other team's cups. She jumps and pumps her fist in the air, showing off that usual bright beautiful smile in her joy that always seems to lighten up every room and flood Ren's insides with warmth.

 He looks away a little, not wanting to acknowledge what that feeling really meant, even if he had finally admitted to himself that what he had felt for his best friend wasn’t exactly platonic. The admission itself is a barely-there kind of thing because no matter how much Ren would prefer it, he couldn't be in complete denial over it for the rest of time so he'll just settle for being as close to that as possible. Nora's his best friend, what they've had since they were kids - it's good. For the most part, he's completely fine with the way things are and Nora seems to also so why potentially ruin or try to change something that's practically perfect already? Before he could uncomfortably spiral into that thought process anymore, mercifully, he is interrupted. But not so mercifully, that interruption is from Nora, laughing so loud and wonderfully that Ren just plummets even deeper.

 Something funny must have happened. Or maybe not. It doesn't seem to take much to send Nora into a fit of laughter. He likes that about her, that she can let joy or other emotions in so easily and that she doesn't really care about how it may look or what others might think. He's glad there isn't some insecurity that keeps Nora from laughing so often. She has such a nice laugh and Ren likes knowing she's happy and it's nice that she does it so much. And her lips are so pretty, especially when she smiles. He can't help but keep his focus on them. That is until she throws her head back, showing off the nice smooth skin of her neck. Ren then starts to wonder what it would be like to press his lips to the side of it and just how she'd react before he realizes the nature of just what exactly he's thinking.

 His mouth goes dry. Without thinking, he raises Nora's cup to his lips to make it go away but it isn't until he's already swallowed and surprised himself with the hefty burn it leaves in his throat that he remembers what was in that cup. Yeah, he definitely took a much bigger sip than he should've, and there is definitely too much vodka in that. But the orange juice masks the taste of it for the most part and the ice soothes away a good amount of the burn, so it's definitely not the worst alcoholic drink Ren's ever had and might actually be one of the more pleasant ones. He takes a smaller sip of it out of a measured curiosity.

 Ren's eyes drift back to Nora. If he had any sense left in him, he'd focus on anything else, keep trying to avoid feelings he doesn't want to feel and thoughts that might be inappropriate, or definitely inappropriate. But it's as if Ren's field of vision can only narrow down to just her. There are clouds of pink on the edges of what he can see, threatening to fill up the entire room, and it seems as if the only way it won't happen is if he keeps Nora right in the center, where all her movements seem to be in slow motion.

 She picked a green top tonight, a color more associated with Ren more than Nora. She bears a little more skin in this top too, the two spaghetti straps unable to hide the nice, toned muscles of Nora's arms and shoulders along with her delicate collarbone. Ren had already noticed this top when everyone was on the way to the party, trying to figure out if it was new as he's pretty sure he had never seen it before. He must've been more obvious than he should've, because Pyrrha had nudged his shoulder then, giving him a coy little smile. "Green's a good color on Nora, isn't it?" Pyrrha had said, as if he hadn't already known that. Nora doesn't have a lot of green in her own wardrobe, but Ren does, and the times when she has worn the color were usually because she was wearing his clothes. She's done it often enough - stolen his sweater to fight the cold in the café while they were studying, hung his jacket from her shoulders walking around town, switched into one of his tees and sweats when she needed to crash at his dorm for one reason or another. It always feels nice seeing Nora in green, especially when it's his green. Ren would let Nora borrow his clothes any time just to see it more often.

 Nora's skirt is still her signature pink, but without the usual volume or swish ability that she loves so much. No, this skirt is… tighter. It clings to the shape of her quite well, accentuating her curves very nicely. She's doing a little dance right now, and it looks like she's singing too. Nora's a really good singer when she wants to be but he can't imagine she's deciding to be that right now. She bumps her hip against Neon's and spins around, does some shimmying movement. Ren's mouth goes dry again. He's starting to feel really warm. He should look away. Nora's his best friend. He shouldn't be getting mesmerized by the movement of her hips or tracing his eyes over the muscles of her arms, or even noticing how her outfit and especially that skirt, while she’s dancing, makes certain areas of Nora more prominent and - okay Ren's taking another drink. He's taking another drink because he needs another drink, because he needs to stop ogling Nora and thinking these kinds of thoughts about her.

 The burn hurts. It's a deserved punishment.

 He's a little woozy right now but he still feels guilty. Nora is beautiful. She's always been beautiful. Ren has known that even before realizing he liked her in that way. But that doesn't give him or anybody else the right to objectify her like that. It's obviously not like her being gorgeous is the only thing to Nora, and neither that nor the idea of them being physical together are why Ren fell in love with her in the first place.

 Love.

 Well, that is… definitely true. It's definitely true but Ren doesn't think he's ever admitted that much to himself before. In fact, he knows he hasn't because emotions are uncomfortable and scary and often irrational and he doesn't like dealing with them especially when it could ruin probably the most important relationship he has. Why did he have to realize this now? Why did he have to realize this at all? This is uncomfortable. He might be panicking. He feels off balance. Ren takes another drink just so that he can distract himself from all of this but it doesn't quite work by the time he's finished off the rest of it.

 There's nothing of this too-much-vodka concoction left and it is immediately apparent to Ren that that was not his brightest idea. He doesn't really drink too much, even at social gatherings. Their friends usually appoint him the designated driver, and he doesn't mind. If he does drink, he'll usually stop by the time he feels a hint of a buzz. This was… more than a hint. He's more off-balance than before, the room sways a little more and he thinks it's grown even pinker. His head feels cloudy. And this is the longest a burn has stayed in his throat. And he is so warm. Ren leans his back against the wall for some stability.

 His eyes come back to Nora because if Ren couldn't stop it before, he can't stop it now. She's still there, being beautiful and charming and full of life, laughing with the people around her, and of course Ren is in love with her, how could he ever try to deny that fact. Neptune comes up to her, leans in kind of close to say something. Ren doesn't like that, or the way he's looking at Nora. Maybe Jaune was right about him. Maybe the problem with Neptune is that he's too friendly. Neptune points his thumb somewhere and - wait, is he pointing at him? He must have because Nora immediately turns her head and catches Ren's eye. There's some expression on her face and she immediately sets off in his direction.

 There's something in Ren that tells him to act casual and he raises the cup to his lips one more time but is immediately reminded of the fact that there's nothing left in it so he figures he just looks stupid.

 "Hey," Nora says as she stops in front of him. "You okay?"

 Ren looks up from his empty cup and pushes himself off the wall. He probably used a lot more force than he should've and stumbles a bit, which Nora remedies by putting her hands on his shoulders. She laughs a little, and he can't help but feel even warmer.

 "Guess that answers my question," Nora giggles some more.

 "I'm fine," Ren says. He is very aware of how her fingers are splayed out on his shoulders, the pressure she's putting that's just enough to still him. It keeps him calm, but also doesn't, and his heart is beating so hard she must feel it where her hands are.

 Her eyes scan over his face. "I've never seen your face so red." Ren's sure it only gets redder then. "How much have you had to drink?"

 He wordlessly brings his attention back to the empty cup in his hand, which Nora follows. "You drank all of it?" she points at the cup, her eyes widening. "Ren, I put a lot of vodka in that!"

 Ren blinks a couple times, having to more manually process what Nora said while he was trying not to stare at her mouth. "I can tell," he says, maybe a couple of seconds too late.

 Nora raises an eyebrow. It's another cute look on her. "You don't really drink that much. There a reason why now?"

 There's genuine concern in her voice when she asks that question, and it's so sweet and Ren's heart beats a little faster and he wants to take that concern away from her. But he doesn't think answering that question truthfully is going to help that. Ren's pretty sure the best-case scenario of saying 'you're pretty and I love you' to Nora is causing her confusion to the point of distortion.

 "I was… thirsty." And that's really about as close to the truth as he can get. Ren shakes his head, but not too hard because the room is moving too much already and… ouch. "I'm sure you've had more tonight," nodding towards the beer pong table. She must've, shouldn't she? Is it just his alcohol-addled mind or does Nora not seem any bit of drunk at all?

 She scoffs. "Maybe not. Sun really doesn't like putting too much beer in those cups. Besides, that's beer, not hard liquor. And I'm more experienced with it than you, so it takes a bit more to get me down. I've had more practice."

 Nora shoots him a cheeky grin, a little closer to his face than she was before. She leaned in a bit when she was talking, migrated her hands closer to the base of his neck. It's nothing new. Nora being so physically affectionate is one of her trademark qualities. And Ren's happy to let her do that to him at any time, but he knows he generally seems unresponsive to it. But what if he responds to it now? He's not going to, he's absolutely not going to, but it's easier to fall into that daydream than usual. Ren could wrap his hands around Nora's waist, lean into this little space between them to ultimately close it. He could press his lips to that grin on her face, and Nora would be a little surprised, but in no time at all, she'd be kissing him back. She'd wrap her arms a little easier around his neck and she could press herself a little more against him, the idea of having any distance left between them as unappealing to Nora as it is to Ren.

 "Uhh, Ren?"

 He falls out of the daydream. "Oh! Ah… umm… huh?" She hasn't been saying anything. Ren has been very focused on Nora's mouth for the past couple of minutes, so much that he had missed the blush on her face. He must've missed something happening. Did he say something? The thought of that mortifies him to no end.

 He might've been emoting his thought process on his face because Nora chuckles. "Yeah. That's definitely more alcohol than you're used to." She grabs his hand and leads him over to a couch nearby. Nora lightly pushes him down next to the armrest. "You stay right here," she says firmly, but full of fondness. "I'm gonna get you some water. And I probably need some too." Nora pats his cheek a little, brushes it with her thumb. Ren almost leans into it but she pulls away too soon.

 Nora turns around and goes in search of some water, and characteristically of him tonight, Ren can't help but keep her eyes on her, until he's forced to because there are too many people in that direction. He sighs, sinking into the cushions as he closes his eyes, feeling the warmth bloom in his chest. She's just so caring. Nora is just so caring and she loves people so much. And she's not afraid to give away all that love and care, to allow people to really see that that's what she feels for them, does it without a second thought. That's one of the big things, Ren thinks. That's got to be at least one of the big reasons why he fell in love with Nora.

 She comes back to him with two large water bottles in her hands. Nora tucks one under her arm in order to open the other, which she gives to him. Ren takes it and continues watching Nora as she settles right next to him, sitting down then kicking her legs up onto the couch. She leans back into the cushions and shifts herself more towards him, letting her head rest closer to his shoulder. Nora moves her head a bit to drink some water and then it actually touches his shoulder. Ren loves her so much. Moments like these are so small, and it's not like they don't happen between them very much. But maybe one day Ren will be brave enough to let them happen a lot more often, and those moments will have a slightly different meaning between the two of them than it does now.

 She looks so pretty in this light. Nora looks pretty in any light.

 Nora catches his eye again. She pushes her hand up beneath the water bottle Ren had forgotten that he was holding. "Drink up."

 And who is Ren to refuse her? He starts to sip his first non-alcoholic drink of the night and already his head is starting to feel less like it's filled with cotton. He drinks until the room feels still again, until everything stops looking like it's in slow motion, until there's no more pink clouds on the edges of his vision. Before he knows it, Ren's finished the whole bottle and his throat feels the best it's been all night.

 Despite the lack of pink clouds and an apparent increase in sobriety, Ren still keeps looking at Nora. She's giggling now. He doesn't know what exactly is so funny but that doesn't really matter.

 "Feel better now?" She asks. He nods because he doesn't know just what he'll admit to her right now if he allows himself to speak. "Great. I'm glad they set out those really big water bottles. That really saved me another trip. And you probably didn't drink enough that you'd need ibuprofen or something. I would've said to take some just in case, but I'm not sure what taking meds when something isn't really wrong with you could do to you. I think you should be fine now. Don't think you'll wake up in the morning with a hangover."

 Ren just keeps looking at Nora, without a word. He doesn't need them right now. He doesn't think he needs to do anything else besides look at Nora and hear her talk for the rest of time.

 But something must be wrong because Nora turns her head away a little, shrinking a bit into herself. "Are you mad at me?"

 That surprises him. "No," that is very much not what he was feeling towards Nora right now. "Why would you think that?"

 She heaves out a heavy sigh. "Neptune said you were staring at me the whole time we were playing." Ren's heart stops a little. Nora keeps shrinking down and her voice feels smaller.  "I don't know- I just figured you might be angry at me for leaving you alone at a place I know you'd rather not be."

 Ren straightens up, shifts fully towards her so she can more easily believe what he's about to say. "I told you to go," maybe he's leaning more forward than he usually would, makes more direct eye contact with Nora. "And being here isn't too bad. I just- uh- I uh-" He puts his head down a little, taking some time to find the right words. How does Ren explain the staring? That he just loves the way she exists and who she is and she deserves good times and it's nice when she gets them?

 "You were having fun," Ren brings himself to look back at her, says these words in all earnest. "I like when you have fun."

 That takes her back a little. Nora's eyes widen but her face softens. For one terrifying but almost hopeful moment, Ren thinks she might've understood what he really meant underneath those words. She smiles and brings her hand up to his face. She uses a couple fingers to sweep his bangs to the side. Ren's eyes almost close at the contact.

 "You're so sweet," Nora says, almost like she's in disbelief. "You wanna go back home? I can walk you back."

 "Are you sure?" That does sound like a good idea to Ren, but he doesn't want to take Nora away from something she enjoys just for him. "I'm honestly fine here. I know you were really stressed, I don't mind if you wanna unwind a little more."

 Nora smiles a little wider. "I think I've had a good amount of unwinding here already. If I stay here any longer and leave you unattended, who knows how many more screwdrivers you'll drink." She moves her hand from his forehead down to his cheek. "And you need to get home safe. For the most part, you seem all right now, but I just… I need to make sure."

 Ren leans into the hand Nora has on his cheek. It's a bit more than he'd usually do, but it feels right. "Alright then."

 "Can I crash at yours' too?" she asks. Ren chuckles a little at that, because when has Nora ever needed to ask that.

 "Of course." And then some daydream starts again. They get back to his single dorm and it'll be just like the other times Nora's slept over there. She'll switch tonight's outfit out for some of Ren's pajamas and she'll look just as good, if not better to Ren. They'll lay down and fall asleep in his bed, and that's all they'll do tonight. And then the morning comes and there's no trace of alcohol in their systems and everything's in the clear, and Ren will kiss her, soft and sweet. Nora will kiss him back because she has wanted this just as much as he has. He'll keep a hand on her cheek and maybe she'll tangle her fingers in his hair. Then maybe they end up never leaving the dorm that day, or even the bed. They'll talk, of course. They'll say what needs to be said, about their feelings and anything else. It's decided between them that Nora can sleep at his dorm a lot more often. And when she does, they don't need to struggle as much to fit together on this twin size XL bed, because Ren can wrap himself around her and they can let their legs get tangled together. He can wake up and bury his head into the hollow of Nora's shoulder and just breathe her in. The next time they see their friends, Ren and Nora won't act all that much different, but it won't take long before they realize something's up. They'll get it out of them, and they'll be happy, and then they'll be mercilessly teased because how did it take you two this long? Ren will get a bit embarrassed, but Nora will take it in stride. She'll kiss the blush on his face, and he'll just blush harder, and she'll laugh a little until he does too.

 But Nora in this reality grabs his hand and forces him to stand. He doesn't know if it's just how much he was in that daydream or if he's still a little buzzed from the alcohol, but it's a little disorienting as he makes movements.

 Before he knows it, they're out the front door and into the cold night air. It's a little windy out. Ren wishes he had a jacket to give to Nora.

 They walk at a leisurely pace in the direction of his dorm. Their hands are still intertwined, their arms swinging in between them. They don't speak, not uncommon at all for Ren but a little surprising from Nora. Ren might've wondered at this if we weren’t lost in his own thoughts.

 How close is that daydream to reality? How close could that daydream be to becoming reality? Is it just Ren or are there enough pieces in place for that to happen? All this time he's been worried about losing their friendship, what they already have. But what kind of future could they have? What could they gain? Is all that Ren really needs to do is get over himself?

 Maybe he's still not in his right mind. It certainly can't be that easy. But he can recall a few times when he's caught Nora looking at him. And maybe some of the comments she's passed off as jokes had more truth to them than she lets on.

 Everything about this still feels scary, but not as scary as it was before. He is at least very lucky to fall in love with such an incredible, amazing woman who's already his best friend. He doesn't know what will happen, but he does know what could. And yes, that may include losing the person closest to him. But as devastating as that is, there's another possibility that is at least that amount of wonderful.

 He peers at Nora from the corner of his eye. She's tucking some hair behind her ear to keep it from flapping in the breeze. Her hand is so warm in his.

 Ren's not going to do anything like confess to her tonight. Or the next morning. But looking at Nora, and holding her hand, and thinking about the good possibilities - he thinks he's starting to build up the courage.

[sailor-manga]

“Mi Amour” Sero Hanta x !Fem reader. [400 follower raffle fic<3]

A/N: I’m sorry this one was so late, I was so determined to make it as good as possible since this was my first time writing Sero. This was for my second raffle winner @reinawritesbnha​ . Like I said, I apologize for it taking so long, I was really studying and trying to capture Sero the best I could. <3 

This fic is for the readers that are +18, if you are not, please go elsewhere. Thank you <3 

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Yandere tendencies, nsfw, cursing, smut, oral. 

 The room was filled with loud chatter, it had been a while since you and Sero were able to hang out just the two of you. You obviously loved the BakuSquad, but Sero was definitely your ride or die. You two talked about everything and you were so comfortable with him, best friend material. You two sat off near the window of a local diner near his place, it was somewhere you two often escaped to share some fries and just talk. 

You two were sharing old stories of when you two attended UA High and it was always a fun time “Man, it’s crazy how much Bakugo grew up” you’d say popping a fry into your mouth, shaking your head some.

“Yeah, I mean.. He still wants to kill everyone, but matured for sure” Sero replied with a wide grin, causing you to let out a soft giggle. 

“That’s true, but grown nonetheless” you added before pulling the ketchup towards you and putting some down on the plate “So what are you going to do after this? I feel like we haven’t gotten a chance to just hang out one on one in so long, surely you can’t be tired yet” you’d say with a smile on your face.

Sero would check his watch and shrug “I don’t plan on sleeping just yet, would you wanna come back to my place? We can put on a movie and look at some old pictures.. Don’t make fun of me, but I made some scrapbooks” he said with a cheesy blush. 

“Why would I make fun of you? That sounds cool!” you chimed with a bright smile, causing him to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. 

The two of you seemed to eat a little quicker now, eager to go back to Sero’s place to relive some stupid high school memories. You kept those memories close to you too, Sero and the others were probably the closest bunch of people you had, even once you all had graduated, you still hung out almost everyday! 

The two of you walked back to his apartment and once you had arrived, you would kick off your shoes as he disappeared down the hallway. Shrugging to yourself, you would wander over to his couch before plopping down and crossing your legs, pulling out your phone to see if you had any notifications. 

All there was, was notifications that you had from the group chat you all were in with the BakuSquad. 

You were distracted though when Sero had returned with a large book. Plopping down next to you, he would smile brightly “Here it is!” he said, flipping open the first page, which showed a picture of you guys at your first year at UA.

“No way! I don’t even remember this being taken!” you’d chime with a chuckle, leaning forward to get a better look. 

Sero would lean close to you, and you two would sit and laugh a majority of the night, time had flown by so fast, by the time you checked your phone again, it was very late “Oh, shit” you’d mutter with a soft chuckle.

The male would lean forward to catch a glimpse of the time on your phone and groan “Shit, we did it again” he said with a chuckle before standing up and stretching “Do you have anything to do tomorrow? You can always crash here” he offered.

You would nod and stand as well “I would like that, thanks.. I’m going to run to the bathroom really quick and get washed up” you’d state before heading down his hallway.

As you did, you could see him going to his front closet of the home to start getting out extra pillows and blankets for you to crash on the couch. 

Making your way to his bathroom, you would pass his room along the way. You had been to Sero’s house plenty of times, and been in his room as well- But passing it this time was definitely different. A piece of lilac fabric had caught your eye immediately and you would take a few steps back to peer inside.

Your mouth would hang open quietly, it couldn’t be.. Could it? Looking back down the hall to see Sero still making a spot for you to sleep, you would push the door open more and slip inside, immediately walking to his bed and snatching the fabric that had caught your eye. 

Holding it up to your face your mouth would hang open in surprise and your face would turn a deep crimson, they were none other than your favorite pair of panties that you had assumed you lost some time ago. Why did he have them?! Why were they on his bed?.. Looking around some you would swallow hard and step towards his dresser, when you came over, things were usually more cleared off, so you’d never seen the multiple photos that he had of just you sitting atop the dark oak wood, or a little bottle of your chap-stick that you had thrown away because it was getting old.

It was like.. A shrine almost, things that you had ‘lost’ or thrown away. Swallowing hard you’d look back down at the silken fabric clutched in your hands. 

Most females would probably be.. Repulsed or heavily creeped out upon discovering something like this, but you and Sero were so close.. If anything you felt a little dumb for not realizing this infatuation that he had with you. 

You were lost in your own thought that the creaking of the males door didn’t ring in your head, but the gasp sure did. Spinning around, you would see Sero with a doe eyed stare, his hands raising up “Y-Y-Y/N! I.. This isn’t what it looks like at all” he said firmly.

Letting out a huff, you would hold up the panties in your hand “You know, you looked for these with me for like two hours a few months ago, but you took them” you said in a slightly irritated tone “What’s going on, Sero” you finally asked with a soft frown on your face.

The male would hang his head “I.. I know, but I couldn’t help it.. I can never help it around you..” he trailed off and finally glanced up “I.. love you, Y/N.. But we’re such good friends, and I.. I don’t know.. I figured this stuff.. Would suffice, because I don’t want to ruin anything” he said in a saddened tone. 

You felt your heart sink a little, you couldn’t deny that you always had a thing for Sero, but it was for the same reason you never pursued it either. Tilting your head some, you would glance back down at the panties “What.. do you do with these? They were on your bed” you’d ask quietly, a soft blush starting to paint your cheeks.

Sero rubbed the back of his neck “I.. um..” he trailed off.

“We’re best friends, you can tell me” you urged, stepping closer to him.

“I.. smell them, and rub them… “ he coughed “On myself, when I’m, you know..” he finished, trailing off, his own complexion turning a deep red color. 

You would return his blush and finally close the distance between you guys “Hanta, you should have told me” you’d say as you took his hands and placed the panties against his palm “Because you know, I would have.. Just given you a pair” you said with a light smile, trying to show the male that you weren’t angry in the slightest.

The male would look up to meet your gaze, wide and surprised that you were so understanding with it, even going through the lengths of offering him to have more if he wanted and even going through the length of using his first name, something that made his heart swell.“Y/N..” he said softly, his body instinctively leaning forward. 

You were ready for this, you.. Didn’t care about the worries of ruining a potential friendship, you two were already basically dating with how much time you spent together. 

You would lean your body forward as well, and soon your lips were pressed together, and he was quick to wrap his strong, muscular arms around your waist, locking you in. 

A quiet sigh would escape your lips as the two of you moved your heads in sync, deepening your first kiss “I love you” Sero stated again, causing you to bite your lip.

“I love you too, Hanta.. If you maybe, I don’t know.. Want to try this dating thing, I would be down to give it a shot” you offered, giving him a soft smile and hugging your arms around his shoulders. It really wasn’t a guilt or sympathy thing, you truly did feel this way for him, though it was pushed down, you were freely letting your heart do what it wished, and it wanted him badly. 

The male didn’t really seem hesitant now, his body would start pushing you back to the bed until you fell upon it with a soft ‘oof’, and his body would press up against you as he pushed your hair out of the way and began to kiss up your neck. 

Letting out a soft sigh, your hands would stay gripped onto his shoulders and you would close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of his soft, plush lips press against your cooled flesh. 

His hands that were firmly at your waist would slowly slide up, pushing up your shirt in the process to expose your stomach, causing you to shiver “Y/N” he finally muttered against your cheek. 

“Hm?” You’d say softly, turning your head to look at his pink stained face.

“You can say no, but.. I’ve always.. Thought about you a lot, and how it would feel if you” he bit his lip “Sucked me off” he finished.

Your face would soften and your hands would finally push at him “Your wish is about to come true” you’d muse with a smile, getting on your knees and pointing down at his mattress “Lay down” you’d chime.

The male immediately listened and plopped onto the bed, removing his shirt and fumbling to unbutton his pants. 

Settling yourself between his legs, you would help him and easily shrug down his pants enough to free his member twitching in delight. Just the thought of your lips wrapped around his cock made his erection spring to life. 

You didn’t make him wait long, your lips would cutely kiss the tip of his needy head and your hand would quietly stroke him as you licked around his sensitive tip, catching some of his pre-cum on your wet muscle and letting out a soft groan. Glancing up at him, he stared at you with such intensity, eagerly waiting for the moment you took him inside of your mouth.

Smiling up innocently, you would look back down and part your lips, slowly starting to inch him in until your nose touched the base of his cock. You would let out a few struggled breaths as you attempted to get used to his size, but when you did, your tongue would swirl around his veiny, twitching shaft, causing his head to fall back against the pillows “F-Fuck, Y/N.. A..ah, right there” he said in a breathy tone. 

His encouraging moans were enough to make you start bobbing your head at a medium quick pace, your tongue dragging devilishly over the bottom of his shaft. You could feel a hand tangle in your hair, gripping onto it tightly though not moving you in any sort of way. Swallowing on the males swollen head, he would let out a long strained out moan “F-..uck, I’m going to cum, will you drink me? I wanna watch that cute face swallow me all down..please” he pleaded in a gruff tone.

Your eyes would flicker up to him and stare at his face twisted in pleasure through your lashes before letting out a muffled ‘mhm’.

With your okay, he would now hold your head still and thrust into your mouth messily, letting out a loud moan before releasing into your mouth, causing you to cough out in surprise. Squeezing your eyes shut, you would moan out softly and swallow him down the best you could before his seed would leak past your lips that seemed suctioned around him. 

The male would wind down a little and pant, though his hard on was far from gone. When you finally slid him out of your mouth you’d notice that it was still throbbing, still needy for you. “I want.. To fuck you so badly babe, can we?” he breathed out, grabbing you by the arms lightly and pulling you to lay on top of him. 

You would allow it, and were very quick to place a kiss on his cheek. You truly didn’t think it would escalate to this, but you weren’t mad about it either “Yes” you’d muse, your lips still dragging against his cheek. 

Once again, upon getting your okay he would flip you over so that you were pressed against the mattress and his hands would shrug down your leggings before tossing them onto the floor. His hand was quick to find your dripping slit and he would growl out “You’re so fucking wet, Y/N.. All of this just from sucking me off?” he asked in a teasing tone.

Your body would shiver as he touched your aching pussy, and his words would cause you to blush out “O-Of course.. It was fucking hot” you’d groan, your hips bucking into his fingers, causing him to lick his lips.

“I can’t wait any longer,” he stated quietly before grabbing his shaft and rubbing his head along your folds, coating it with your juices and prodding at your swollen clit. Moaning out, you would reach up and hold onto his shoulders before giving him a nod.

Sero would stop just for a moment, and you would hear the sound of him ripping open a form of protection. As he rolled the rubber down his cock, he would pump it a few times before going back to your hole, getting his tip nice and wet before lining himself up and pushing inside of you.

You would immediately moan at the feeling of his girthy rod starting to stretch your walls, the way he pulsed around your velvet tunnel caused you to leak further, your essence dripping down your ass and onto the bed. 

He would push himself all the way inside before lingering, just enjoying the way your walls hugged him so tightly, welcoming his cock to mold you to only fit him and him only. “I’m going to start moving” he warned before pulling about halfway out and thrusting back inside of you, causing your back to arch instinctively, hands tightening on his shoulders which made him smirk some “I can feel you squeezing me, is that a way of saying you never want my cock to leave?” he asked in a teasing tone.

You would blush some and look away from him, letting out a scoff “D-Don’t go getting a big head, now” you’d mutter out before letting another moan out soon after as he circled his hips, stirring up your insides in the best way possible.

“I can’t help it, I finally have you.. I want to make you mine in every way possible” he mused before bucking his hips into you again, but this time not stopping. From the start his thrusts were messy and lacked any kind of true pace, he was desperate to have you, desperate to make his mark, and desperate to cum inside of you condom or not. 

Long strings of mewls would escape your throat as the sound of wet slapping filled the room, the smell of sex infiltrating your nostrils. 

“You’re so fucking tight, baby.. I’ve fucking..dreamt about this.. Ah god..” he moaned out desperately, his hands sliding back and gripping onto your ass tightly “This would feel.. Even greater raw” he added, hanging his head down to sloppily kiss at your lips.

Tilting your head up, you would kiss him back and moan into his mouth, your hand wandering to tangle into his raven tresses. 

By the way he was throbbing inside of you, you could tell he wasn’t going to last much longer, and that was okay, because very quickly your own climax was bubbling to the surface. 

You were surprised when you broke first. An orgasm would rip through your body with so much intensity, that you couldn’t even feel your toes.. White hot jolts of ecstasy would course through you and cause your body to tremble and spasm as he continued to hit your spongy G-Spot. 

That was too much for him though, because of your cunt squeezing his throbbing cock like a vice grip he would push into you one last time before releasing into the condom, but even through the rubber you could feel how hot his load was. His body would lay upon yours and he would struggle to control his breathing. 

Lazily moving your arms to hug onto him, you would do the same. 

“Never.. Leave me, Y/N” he finally groaned, pulling his cock out and rolling to the side, making sure to discard the used rubber before pulling you back against his chest. 

Biting your lip some, you would nod “I’ll try, Sero.. But we should try and take this slow, okay?” you asked 

You could hear the grumble in his tone, he wanted you now, and though he did- he knew what she meant by taking it slow. The clinginess had to die down a little, and this talk of being with her forever was worrisome. Regardless of that, you knew he meant well, and that he truly did just really have strong feelings for you. 

“I promise with all my heart, Y/N.. I’ll try for you” were his last words before he completely scooped you up and pulled some blankets around you two. 

You couldn’t really answer, you found yourself so comfortable in his arms.. So warm and so protected.. You would drift off to sleep.

Taglist: @nighthoodhawk​ @hipster-merchant-of-death​ @royal-after-dark​

[jaskiersvalley]

Ok so this is an idea that's been plaguing me but couldn't find it in fic anywhere. Feel free to not write it btw, I just had to share it with SOMEONE. Anyway, imagine a de-aging curse that wears off gradually and in the process, the cursed individual gets older. Like, aging years in a night while staying mostly the same during the day. Imagine the angst potential of Jaskier meeting a pre-Blaviken Geralt who's chatty as fuck. Imagine him meeting Geralt who's just heard of the sacking of KM.

You. I love the way you think. Because this is an idea that I had been toying with about three fandoms ago but wasn’t writing at that point so it never came to anything. Now you come along and reignite the spark. Thank you for the excuse to write it!

CW for injury and past abuse (of the witcher trials kind)

If Only Every Day Was A Birthday

In the grand scheme of things, it was a dumb as fuck thing to do. A ring of toadstools had cropped up on the doorstep of Kaer Morhen one winter morning. Naturally, it was Jaskier who found it and decided that this was within his skill set to deal with, primarily in the form of charming the fae with his songs, charm and overall delightful existence. Even worse, it worked. The witchers watched him chatter away with their less than desirable guests, filling a whole morning with stories, songs, poetry and even a few cruder jokes. In the end, Jaskier talked about birthdays and how sad he was for his witchers that they had forgotten when theirs should be celebrated.

“We wish to reward you for your time,” the fae crooned, getting ready to leave.

“Oh thank you but I couldn’t possibly accept. I have everything I need to make me happy right here.” Jaskier shot Geralt a soft glance.

“Very well. Your reward can be transferred. May the birthdays be as good as you described.” Just like that, the fae melted back into their realm and the toadstools withered.

Looking around, nothing had changed so Jaskier shrugged. Maybe the fae were mistaken or their reward was something like a cake being delivered on a certain day. Cake was always good, Jaskier hoped it would be chocolate. If only the gift had been a simple cake. Nobody was any wiser until the next morning.

“What the fuck?!” Lambert’s shriek was heard throughout the keep and everyone rushed to him in a panic.

In the hall where they had a tendency to gather after dinner, there was a child sleeping in Geralt’s chair. The very chair he had fallen asleep on in fact.

“Where’s Geralt?” Jaskier asked, a sinking feeling in his gut.

The child stirred and blinked sleepily up at the men peering down at him. Brown eyes, brown hair but the features were familiar despite the changes.

“Fuck.”

Child Geralt was chatty as anything. He happily followed them all around, was inquisitive and playful. Jaskier watched him beg Eskel to throw him in the air again or for Lambert to spin him. Even Vesemir was approached with a request to read him a story for an afternoon nap. Maybe the fae were onto something, Geralt had needed a break from everything and if this gave him a chance to enjoy life, Jaskier wouldn’t dream of begrudging him a few days.

Only, it wasn’t just a few days. It was all fine for the first few days. Eskel especially seemed happy to dote on Geralt, carried him around on his hip and even showing him how to cook things in the kitchen. Truthfully, Jaskier was a little enamoured, especially when he walked into the kitchen to see Eskel had Geralt sat on the counter, a whisk clutched in tiny hands as it was licked clean diligently.

If only things could have been so simple. Nobody expected Geralt to wake up on the third morning in tears, crying out for his “mama” and rushing around the keep, trying to find her.

“It took him a while to settle here,” Vesemir said sadly. “He was loyal from a young age.”

Each day, Geralt changed a little, grew older. A tension settled around the witchers that Jaskier just didn’t understand. On the whole, after that one day of Geralt tearfully looking for Visenna, he seemed to settle. A little quieter but still bright eyed and eager to please.

Then Geralt woke up with a black eye, a gash across his arm and looking generally miserable.

“Training.” That was all Lambert had managed to grit out before he stormed out. “Means he’s about eight.”

A birthday a day. Jaskier swallowed at the realisation and the knowledge that it was his fault. He watched from the sidelines as Eskel patched Geralt up, brought in a cloth packed with snow to put over the bruising. In a way, Jaskier envied Lambert and the fact he could just storm off to deal with his emotions. It wasn’t a luxury Jaskier was afforded. This was all his doing and he wasn’t a coward to run from his mess.

The next day the bruising and the cut were gone. However Geralt was timid, especially around Vesemir, kept his eyes to the ground. The only one who could coax a smile from him was Eskel. Not even Jaskier’s singing and attempts to pull Geralt into activities seemed to do much. That night, Geralt went to bed and the others sat in a heavy silence around the hearth.

“He’s what, 10 tomorrow?” At least Lambert had come back but he was no less agitated. If anything, he seemed to avoid Geralt at all costs. “I really hope this spell wears off tomorrow.”

The spell didn’t wear off. A bloodcurdling scream signalled the fact Geralt was awake. As one, the witchers were rushing to the room he had been given considering he didn’t remember his own and Jaskier couldn’t face leaving what had been their shared room.

“Don’t go in,” Lambert had warned but it was too late. Jaskier had peered into the room and blanched. There was blood. So much blood. Eskel was sat on the edge of the bed, holding Geralt down who was crying red tears, fingers flexing, trying to fight off the grip so he could claw at his own face. A foot caught Eskel in the ribs and he grunted but didn’t let go of Geralt.

There was hope in Jaskier that maybe the pain would last maybe a few minutes. At worse, an hour. He was proven wrong when the gurgle screams and cries lasted into the afternoon. Not once did Eskel leave him. It was only as midnight came that silence fell across Kaer Morhen once again. That night, Jaskier stayed outside Geralt’s room, the sheets had been freshly changed from filth sodden to something cleaner. The Lambert had dragged Eskel to his room and Jaskier was grateful he didn’t have witcher hearing. Even his human ones could pick up on the dry sobs coming from the room.

In the morning, a yellow eyed but still brown hairs Geralt greeted them with his arm in a sling. As Jaskier made conversation with him, he could hear Vesemir’s murmur of “one down, four to go” and that was the most chilling thing Jaskier had heard.

Sure enough the next day was more choking screams. Eskel looked haggard and they didn’t even snap at Jaskier to get out. Even though Vesemir tried to give Geralt potions to numb him or even knock him out, they didn’t seem to work. Three days of torture. On the second day Eskel barked at Lambert to take over and he hurried out. Each night found not just Lambert and Eskel curled up but Vesemir and Jaskier also ended up in the pile. It wasn’t a pile borne of good moods and love though. Some nights Jaskier watched the witchers, they all looked lost in their own heads, hollow and haunted. It wasn’t a good look on any of them.

White hair on a young teenager looked odd. But Geralt didn’t seem too fazed by it, he looked almost proud when he next woke up coherent. He was also a lot more inclined to tussle with Lambert and Eskel, gleeful in their battles. Even when he woke up with broken bones, on one memorable morning a locked jaw, he still seemed in good spirits. On the surface, the others were too but more than once Jaskier had walked in on Lambert and Eskel looking downtrodden.

“I’d forgotten how bright he was,” Vesemir said, leaning against the wall next to Jaskier while the others were engaged in some kind of strange wrestling that seemed to end up with Lambert and Geralt teaming up against Eskel and tickling him until he was on his knees and laughing while begging for mercy. “The Path had not been kind to him.”

It was an understatement. Watching Geralt grow up and become a witcher was difficult enough. To see him each year, sometimes cocky and sometimes lean with a spark of fury burning through him was fascinating. Until he woke up sullen and quiet. Still a young man but so much more like what Jaskier knew.

“I should have been there,” Geralt murmured and looked at the other witchers. “We’re all that’s left.”

That evening was somber, Geralt leaning heavily against Lambert’s shoulder as they drank.

“It doesn’t get easier,” Lambert murmured darkly. “But you learn to live with it.”

The next day Geralt seemed better but the others were clearly suffering, unable to shake everything that each of Geralt’s birthdays was bringing up. And just when Jaskier thought things couldn’t get any worse, they did.

Things had been going vaguely okay in their own way. Injuries, aches and pains came and went. Until Geralt woke up and didn’t get out of bed. He was scarily thin, looking worn and in pain on a level beyond physical.

“Renfri,” Eskel had muttered and, without another word, slipped into Geralt’s bed, curled up behind him.

“The year the whole Butcher of Blaviken shit went down, Geralt didn’t come home for winter. Never did tell us where he went or what happened.” Lambert cast a look into the room where Eskel was holding a shaking Geralt. In the end, Vesemir brought them up food and drinks, a second serving for Geralt when he saw how emaciated he was. Everyone ended up curled together in Geralt’s bed that night, quietly grateful that Geralt did actually come back from that disaster.

Not that the next several days were much better. Gone was the cocky, confident Geralt. In his place was a ghost. He ate, he replied is spoken to but stayed out of the way. Lambert was the one to track him down to any hiding place and try to forcibly draw Geralt out.

“It’s what I wish I had done all those winters,” he admitted quietly in the dark one night.

When Geralt laughed about a week later, Vesemir looked ready to cry. He hurriedly excused himself to the kitchen and Jaskier followed.

“He’ll be back to his usual soon,” Vesemir said, trying to keep himself busy by starting on dinner preparations - only three hours too early. “It gets better from now.”

“What changed?”

“You came along.”

Sure enough, Geralt slowly blossomed again. Not at all like what he was, he was more thoughtful, much less likely to rise to Lambert’s asinine riling. But he was no longer a storm cloud haunting the halls of Kaer Morhen. Jaskier went from a terse “bard” to “Jaskier” to “Jask” and, in the end, he was “mine” which was a relief.

They lost track of the years, not like any of them knew exactly how old Geralt was. But the last few days of the spell were only trackable by the scars Geralt’s skin bore.

“Do you think it’s worn off?” Eskel asked one morning.

Geralt gave him a funny look. “What’s worn off?”

So probably not. It was another two days before Geralt sat up in the middle of the pile eyes wide and he growled.

“Fucking fae.”

[anothertimdrakestan]

Damijon Christmas Present!

FOR THE DAMIJON SECRET SANTA I HAD... @nymph-patt

dear nymph:

hi love! i haven’t written in a fat minute and i’m a little rusty so bear with me hehehe. i hope you have a wonderful holiday season! all my love -elle!

I’ve got a fluff christmas fic and a lil headcanon for ya! 

Merry Stress-mas

“You can’t plan Christmas like a battle strategy Dami,” Jon groaned as Damian wheeled a whiteboard into their living room. “Actually, I’ve found it to be quite similar. Pay attention Kent, I know sticking to the plan has never been your strong suit.” Damian’s foot was tapping like crazy, Jon noted his clear anxiousness- needless to say Damian wasn’t the holiday type. Makes it a million times harder when it’s your first Christmas together as a couple. 

*super-couple. 

Jon gasped as Damian flipped the whiteboard like a school teacher, revealing meticulously drawn out plans mapped in expo-marker. “We start with my family, we stay until Jason is ten shots in, after that Christmas always becomes a nightmare so we head out. With your super speed it’ll be only an 14 minutes 37 second trip to your family where we stay for the majority of the night. At the end you rush us back to Gotham to console Dick after Bat-Christmas fails as always. Our emergency word is tyrannosaurus should anything go wrong at the drop we flee. Any questions?” Damian was flying through the plans, pointing at bulleted lists and analyzing possible flaws. 

Jon took a deep breath, a smile creeping over his face. “I didn’t think you’d care so much about our first Christmas together with our families, it’s kind of sweet.” Lazily he reached for Damian, clinging to his back while Dami shook his head, mumbling as he edited the board. “Not really our first Christmas Kent and I definitely do not care about family tt,” Jon didn’t reply, he just smiled into the crook of Damian’s neck.

“Our suits bring down our aerodynamic potential so I’ve taken the liberty of adjusting our arrival time to 15 minutes 43 seconds. Does that sound accurate?” Jon hummed in response as he straightened Damian’s tie, it was already perfect but he’d take any excuse to get closer to Dami. “Ready my love?” Jon glanced at Damian who was checking his watch. “Yes.” Damian responded, absent mindedly clasping Jon’s hand as they made their way to the mansion. 

“DAMI’S HERE!” Steph’s screech announced. She was hanging off the banister as she stole popcorn pieces from the massive tree. “Wonderful- Miss Brown I must ask you don’t eat the decorations tonight, have some festivity,” Alfred shook his head as he made his way to Jon. “Magnificent of you to join us Master Kent, I assume you will also be heading to your family’s festivities as well?” Jon opened his mouth but Damian answered first. “Yes Pennyworth, we plan on just saying for hors devours,” his curt reply brought a knowing smile to Alfred’s lips. “Always planned with you Master Damian,” his accent was playful making Jon chuckle. 

Dick descended the stairs, Damian groaned at his bright green and red striped suit, Jon couldn’t help but laugh either. “Hellllooo super boyfriends! Are-You-Readyyyy-For-Tonight!” Dick practically skipped towards the two, pulling them into a tight hug before Damian could slip away. “We won’t be long Grayson we must attend the Kent family Christmas too,” Damian nodded curtly, shifting closer to Jon who got the message and moved forward into the living room. 

“Actually, where are all the bat-siblings? And where did Steph run off to?” Jon noticed no one was around but Alfred who was preparing something delicious in the kitchen. Dick began chuckling, a devilish smile spreading across his face. “Oh, everyone is down in the batcave. C’mon.” Damian looked taken-aback but Jon was never to shocked by batfamily-antics. 

The two followed Dick to the secret door. “Now, we heard from a little super birdy [Dick winked at Jon who was now openly grinning] that you were a little nervous about having to deal with two Christmas’ this year, so we felt it’d be easier for everyone if we just-” Dick popped open the door to a winter wonderland of a batcave. A large table was put out, filled with their family members. “Merry Christmas!” A chorus of laughter broke out as Damian’s jaw dropped. 

At the table were the batfam, Kents, and even a couple speedsters littered around. All were laughing and smiling at one another. It was the biggest family gathering Jon has seen ever. “No need for crazy plans my love, just enjoy tonight with everyone,” Jon whispered to Damian as he scanned the room. “I- How did you- Thank you,” Damian settled on the last words of praise for the wonderful man who made every single day better. “No need for thanks, I’d get you the world if you wanted it, but for now let’s have a very Merry Christmas!” Jon took off towards his family and Damian would help but feel the corners of his lips betray him with a smile. Heart full he made his way down to his family.

“JASON DO NOT FLIRT WITH KARA SHE’S OFF LIMITS!”

“WALLY DID YOU EAT ALL THE COOKIES ALREADY?”

“BRUCE, CLARK, STOP FIGHTING OVER WHO GOT THE OTHER THE BETTER GIFT. YOU’RE BOTH RICH!”

very merry indeed. 

~

Okay so I haven’t absorbed much batfam content at all for weeks so hopefully my spin on the HC is still cute : )

I don’t think Jon gets enough credit for how observant he is. 

Too often Jon is forgotten, the second super boy, the sidekick, the boyfriend, the man who left everyone for space. 

It’s true, technically. But Jon is so keen at reading those around him, especially the un-readable Damian Wayne that I would argue it’s a super skill in of itself.

He gets it from his mother you know, Superman was always a little dense, but, though no one believes it, he always had Lois to help him out. Too often the quieter, smarter, more analytical side gets forgotten and that’s no different with Jon. His friends don’t see the way he checks up on them, taking in their facial expressions and reading them to know the right thing to say at the right time to help them out. They don’t realize he spent whole days memorizing their heart beats and their breaths to know if they’re ever in peril. And they don’t see the way he looks at them so fondly, beyond grateful they’re in his life.

Lois sees it.

She saw it when Jon met Damian. 

A young boy mesmerized by the wittiness and strength in the human boy. The greatest irony, the Superboy more human than the murder weapon now called “Robin”. But the two hit it off almost instantly- though Damian may not agree to that last bit. 

Lois knew Jon adored Damian, every deep red was “Robin Red” every Wayne Ent. building they walked past brought up stories of his adventures with the youngest Wayne, every Justice League trip meant begging for his dad to send him to Gotham for the weekend while he was out. He was young, but Lois knew a pair of soulmates when she saw them. 

There were these nights when they were teens. Jon would burst out of bed and rush to his mother. He never needed to say anything. There was this look in his eyes, Damian needs me. “Go” she’d always whisper, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead thinking back to when Clark would do the same for her. 

She remembers the frantic December weeks Jon spent toiling on Damian’s Christmas gift. “What do I give a trillionaire who has the world?” Jon would whine and mope around the house for any semblance of inspiration. 

Your heart Jon, all he wants is your love. Lois always thought to herself, she was quite aware of the two boy’s growing infatuation with each other, her husband was always slower in the “feelings” department and if he was slow she imagined Bruce was a damn sloth. So, she let the boys feel safe in her presence. Damian slowly spent more time at her home when Clark was out, she grew to have a sort of friendship with Damian. He’d comment on whatever news article she recently wrote, endure a three second reply and be on his way. She was always astounded at how up to date he was on all her pieces. 

Lois was always proud of the love Jon showed Damian. She’d be the first to tell Bruce he needed to hug his damn kids, but there was a special kind of caring Jon held only for Damian. A love woven only for the two of them. Like an invisible string linking them no matter where in the universe the other was at, there was a friendship, a kindness, a passion, a love.

Overtime, Jon’s analysis of Damian led him to his own feelings. And over an even longer period of time Damian discovered his own. Jon never stopped caring, he never stopped worrying, and he never stopped loving. 

Those, are the parts of Superman that Damian, and the world, need most. 

~

Merry Christmas! <3

[bumblesimagines]

The Oldest Pogue

Request: Yes or No

Heads up for most of these Outer Banks fic I'll probably do the mini intro lol they're fun. Btw timelines a lil weird. Takes place in ep 1 but have the party the day after they find the boat and all that. Idk Shoupe's first name so imma just call him Shoupe or dad. Idk what grade everyone is in but imma assume that the Pogues and Sarah (+ Topper) are sophomores/juniors since they're 16

~

"Then there's (Y/N) Shoupe, better known as Mama Pogue or (N/N). We got lucky with (Y/N) since he's the deputy's son. He's the definition of a mom friend, always taking care of us. We'd probably starve to death without his meals. Though we would never admit it, we all had crushes on him when we first met him."

(Y/N) entered the house, glancing at a passed out JJ. He chuckled, shaking his head as John B stepped out of his room.

"Morning, sweetie." (Y/N) greeted playfully, setting down groceries.

"Sorry I couldn't join you guys yesterday." (Y/N) started putting the things away and began making some lunch for the boys. John B shrugged.

"It's fine, you'll make it up to us with food." John B replied with a grin. (Y/N) chuckled, nodding.

"Where'd you go?" (Y/N) asked. John B sat at the table, glancing at JJ.

"Motel.. Found a sunken boat and a key in it so we went to the motel. Had to dodge your dad. He took money from a potential crime scene." John B told him. (Y/N) sighed.

"What do you want me to do? He already says half of our conversations are 'political'. He doesn't like that I'm hanging out with a bunch of idiots." (Y/N) said as Kiara and Pope entered.

"Ouch." Kiara grinned, glancing at JJ as he stirred. "Did you tell him about the gun and money?"

"Gun?"

"I was getting to that, Kie." John B sighed. "JJ took the gun."

"Jesus.. A gun? Underaged with an unregistered gun and no license?" (Y/N) stared at them. "Do you know how much trouble you'll get into?!"

"I tried to tell them, (N/N)." Pope said. (Y/N) pinched the bridge of his nose, putting the two plates of burgers before approaching the half asleep male.

"JJ, a gun? Really? Of all things?" (Y/N) stared at him. "Huh?" JJ looked at him, drool coming out the side of his mouth. A swift smack to the back of his head woke him up.

"Jesus, what the fuck?" JJ huffed, sitting up and rubbing the back of his head. "Come eat breakfast, JJ." John B called.

"What the hell am I gonna do with you four?" (Y/N) asked, sighing softly. JJ stood, chuckling.

"Love us." He replied, going to the table and sitting down.

"Please don't play with a gun." (Y/N) looked at him. JJ nodded, raising his hands. "Promise, Mama Pogue."

"Swear on Cheesecake?" (Y/N) cocked a brow.

"Cheesecake?" Kiara furrowed her brows.

"I swear.. I swear on Cheesecake that I won't play with the gun." JJ gave a nod. (Y/N) nodded, crossing his arms.

"Who's Cheescake?" Pope asked. "A fish we caught." JJ replied, mouth full.

"Gross." Kiara cringed, giggling.

"Eat with your mouth closed." (Y/N) called. JJ swallowed and nodded.

"Yes, mom." JJ replied, grinning. (Y/N) shook his head, running his hand through his hair.

"How's everyone after Agatha?" Pope asked.

"I mean.. People have been calling the department left and right. The power will probably be out for a while." (Y/N) shrugged.

"Bet those kooks will have power in no time." JJ mumbled, shaking his head.

"Can't believe the one day I don't hang out with you guys, JJ gets a fucking gun." (Y/N) sighed, shaking his head.

"Also! John B and Pope surfed the surge." Kiara said.

"You did what?!"

"Way to snitch on us, Kie." Pope mumbled. Kiara shrugged.

"It's called payback." Kiara replied with a chuckle.

"If it took down a boat, it probably could've taken you along with it." (Y/N) placed his hands on his hips. JJ mimicked him, earning another smack on the head.

"Come on, we're having a party at the boneyard." John B said.

(Y/N) laughed as he won the drinking competition. JJ laughed, high fiving him. Kiara noticed the JJ held onto (Y/N)'s hand for a little longer than needed.

"What would daddy say if he saw you drinking?" JJ asked, getting another cup. The two headed over to John B. (Y/N) laughed.

"What's he gonna do? Ground me? Lock me up for drinking?" (Y/N) questioned. JJ shrugged, grinning as he offered John B a cup but noticed Sarah Cameron and offered it to her instead.

"Sarah, can I interest you in a tasty Milawaukee beverage?" JJ asked. (Y/N) shot him a look, glancing at Topper.

"No, thanks." Sarah smiled, shaking her head.

"Come on. Is it not fancy enough for you?" JJ asked.

"No, we were just leaving-"

"You know what? I'll take it." Topper cut in. (Y/N) and John B shared a look.

"Let it go, JJ-"

"No, no, I'll have it." Topper cut (Y/N) off.

"That's nice, Topper but I didn't ask you. Now, if you said pretty please, maybe, but you didn't. So, Sarah-" Topper knocked the drink out of JJ's hands which in turn made JJ grab him by the shirt.

"JJ!" (Y/N) grabbed him as John B and Pope came in, pushing him away as well.

"Dirty Pogues!" Topper shouted. (Y/N) looked at John B.

"John B, don't you dare-" John B turned around, shoving Topper back. Sarah tried to cut in but Topper punched John B. The fight caught the attention of everyone else. Topper kicked John B while he was on the ground.

"Hey, John B, don't make me down you like your old man, alright?" Topper said.

"This dumb fucking blonde." (Y/N) whispered, pinching the bridge of his nose. A fight quickly broke out, the two fighting in the waves and sand as the crowd chanted. (Y/N) watched them, trying to get them to stop.

"Topper, stop!" Sarah shouted, trying to stop her boyfriend from drowning John B. (Y/N) quickly stepped in, grabbing him by the back of his shirt and pulling him back, punching him. John B coughed behind him, head spinning.

"You wanna go, Shoupe?" Topper asked. (Y/N) went to respond but a gun was pressed to the side of Topper's head, the safety clicking.

"JJ-"

"Your move, broski." JJ stared at Topper. Most of the teens on the beach ran while Sarah and the other Pogues tried to get JJ to put the gun away.

"We're good! We're good!" Topper repeated.

"(N/N), Kie, check your psycho friend!" Sarah watched, panicked and worried for her boyfriends life.

"Okay, everyone, listen up! Get the hell off our side of the island!" JJ shouted, shooting two rounds into the air. Pope and Kiara shouted at JJ while (Y/N) quickly rushed to John B's side as he collapsed.

"My dad's gonna kill me." (Y/N) whispered, dragging John B out of the water.

"Help me!" (Y/N) called, getting the others attention. JJ and Pope rushed over, helping (Y/N) carry John B to the van.

"Is he okay?" Kiara asked as she drove.

"Yeah, he's breathing." (Y/N) replied, staring down at the male. John B coughed but didn't open his eyes.

"He might have a killer headache tomorrow but other than that, he should be fine." (Y/N) said.

"I can't believe you were so stupid! Taking the gun out on a kook?!" Pope stared at JJ. The two got into an argument, Kiara jumping in as well.

"Enough! JJ did it to help stop Topper from hurting me and John B. Yes, he could've done it another way and handled it better but at the end of the day, he was trying to help." (Y/N) looked at them.

"You always take his side." Pope mumbled.

"It's cause he loves me." JJ grinned.

"You're my least favourite child." (Y/N) mumbled. JJ chuckled. "Admit it. I'm your favourite." JJ cooed. (Y/N) flipped him off. They got to John B's place, getting him in bed. (Y/N) got on his dirt bike and rode off, heading home.

"Can't wait to hear this lecture." (Y/N) mumbled, parking his bike and heading inside. He entered the kitchen, starting up dinner. (Y/N) made his dad's favourite, hoping it would please him. (Y/N) heard the door open and clothes, his dad entering in uniform.

"Hey, dad." (Y/N) greeted, placing the plates of food down. He sat, shooting his dad a smile.

"Got a call not long ago. Some kid had a gun." Shoupe said, sitting down. (Y/N) hummed.

"Did you find out who it was?" (Y/N) asked. Shoupe shook his head.

"No.. But from eyewitnesses, there was a fight and I heard you were involved." Shoupe said.

"Dad, you know I'm not the violent type." (Y/N) continued to eat. "But I did punch Topper for trying to drown John B." (Y/N) said quickly.

"Thank you for being honest." Shoupe said, sighing deeply. He put his fork down and looked at his son.

"(Y/N).. I don't want these kids to ruin the possibility of you going to culinary school." Shoupe said. (Y/N) sighed, looking away. "And they will if you keep running with them."

"Dad, I'm gonna be a senior next year. I have my whole life ahead. I could enter culinary school whenever I want or feel like it." (Y/N) said. Shoupe sighed and nodded.

"I know.. I just don't want you getting stuck here. I want you to have an early start." Shoupe said. "I'll be accepting of you.. No matter what." Shoupe assured.

"Thanks, dad. Anything new today?" (Y/N) asked. He thought back onto what John B told him.

"Nope." Shoupe shook his head. (Y/N) hummed, nodding. He stood, washing the plates and heading off to bed. He hoped the following days would be better.

[theonlygamergost]

A tattoo for a lost bet - Fd!au (2 / 3)

This fanfiction is based on the Family Dynamic au made by @antarctic-bay if you would like to know more, go check them out!!!

Also please bear in mind that the things written in this might not be canon!

This fic was corrected by the lovely @im-default

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

Techno and Skeppy bet on stupid things, and sometimes their bets can have very severe consequence if lost.

If you want to, look at what Minetra’s desing of Techno tattoo

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

Tw! Betting, swearing. Btw, this is very long

<---Previous part - Next part --->

Enjoy~

It was quite hard to keep such a big tattoo hidden from everyone, that was probably the only regret Techno had, but apart from that, he was actually quite enjoying his “rushed” decision.

It had passed enough time that he could carry his bag on both shoulders and didn’t have to put bandages anymore, just moisturizing cream and avoiding the sun.

Apart from some curious stares from Tommy, everyone else didn’t suspect anything… well, that was what he hoped.

He was expecting Skeppy to laugh at him for getting a floral themed tattoo, but on the contrary, Skeppy loved it very much. He was also the only one that knew about Techno’s tattoo, so he felt special when Techno changed next to him or took off his hoodie to reveal it, it felt like one of those pinky promises girls made with their BFF's. There was no denying that Skeppy was a bit clingy and overprotective with Techno, so it really felt special.

But of course, to keep that secret a secret, Techno had to get some habits to avoid showing his elbow and shoulders:

Taking off his hoodie if he had a t-shirt was a bad idea, so if it was a little warmer he had to deal with the heat, nothing too bad. Before and after P.E., he had to change in the bathroom stalls, sneakingly taking his clothes and changing without any teacher noticing, it wasn’t hard.

T-shirts were a no-go, but it was autumn, he would have thought about how to deal with the heat when the situation arose. The only time he wore t-shirts was as a PJ, but he made sure to wear it once in his room right before jumping into bed.

The few time he slipped up and was about to get caught were pretty stupid: One time Wilbur walked in the bathroom while Techno was having a shower, good thing he was on his phone though, so he walked in, gave Techno a minor heart attack, brushed his teeth while checking socials and walked out.

Another time was during P.E. he was so concentrated on dodgeball he didn’t realize that he had rolled up his sleeves, he didn’t notice it for about thirty minutes or so until Skeppy walked up to him, softly smacked him and pointed at his arms, good thing everyone else was also pretty concentrated and there was too much pressure and adrenaline to notice a small hint of ink on his arm.

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

It was a pretty chill morning, the alarms didn’t go off yet but Tommy was already awake.

After taking his time in the bathroom, enjoying the fact that for once he wasn’t crushed by his brothers rushing to get out before they were too late. He almost went to have breakfast but stopped, noticing that Techno’s room wasn’t locked.

Techno had always had this habit to lock his room’s door before going to bed, yes, Phil allowed him to do so only because all of the door’s keys were the same.

The young Pandel couldn’t stop thinking about how Techno’s left shoulder looked a little bit puffier, it had returned to normal recently but Tommy couldn’t help but worry about his brother: He knew by experience that it looked awfully familiar to a bandage, did Techno get hurt? Did someone beat him up? If someone had dared beat him up he was going to-

His mind was too offuscated by worry and anger to think straight, so he carefully entered Techno’s room, he was a pretty heavy sleeper so the chances of waking him up were slim, but he still approached him carefully.

He was laying on his stomach, sheets unpinned from the mattress and his small crown pillow and pig plushie were at each side of his head.

He walked up to the right side of the bed to notice something coming out of his sleeve all the way to his elbow. In the darkness he couldn’t see what it was, but the small strays of light coming from the blinds made it look like… Ink?

Tommy shook his head and took out his phone to use the flashlight, there was no way Techno had gotten a tattoo, Phil would have never allowed it, plus he didn’t tell them about it so-

His eyes widened in shock as he covered his mouth to avoid screaming, it took all of his will power to not drop the phone.

T-Techno had a tattoo? HIS nerdy brother Techno had a tattoo?!

He shined the light on his elbow again to see better the simple floral design contrasting on Techno’s pale skin. He lightly pinched and moved the hem of the sleeve to find that the tattoo kept going.

He gulped in anticipation and grabbed the collar of his t-shirt to reveal his shoulder.

Tommy emitted a small noise after dropping to the ground and pushing himself all the way to the wall behind him.

What the fuck?

He quickly turned off the light and placed his hands on his ears, but instead of blocking out noises, he wanted to keep his thoughts away.

What was happening? Why did Techno get a tattoo without asking and without telling?!

Tommy’s head started spinning, he needed fresh air.

After bolting out of Techno’s room and opening the window in his room, taking long, deep breaths, he decided he couldn’t keep this for himself, if Phil found out Techno was going to be in huge trouble:

He had to speak with Wilbur.

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

Tommy

Wilbur meet me in the cafeteria at

lunch, usual table.

Wooly

Wtf do you want gremlin?

Tommy

I’m serious Will, meet. me.

there.

Wooly

Fine, but listen to your

lecture. Gremlin child.

Rolling his eyes, he placed the phone in his pocket, how was he supposed to focus on the class when Techno could potentially be in big trouble?

Yes, he was mad that Techno had gotten a tattoo without asking and he had gotten one before he did, but he couldn’t let him get in trouble with Phil just because he was jealous.

As soon as the bell rang and the class ended, he b-lined to the cafeteria, grabbing his lunch and sitting at the table he and Wilbur usually met at.

While waiting impatiently, out of the corner of his eyes he noticed Techno sitting alone, reading a book while listening to music.

Wilbur sat down in front of him, “What do you want” Tommy took a deep breath, placing his elbows on the table and allowing his forehead to lean on his intertwined hands, he started speaking.

“Techno betrayed us, Wilbur” the brown-haired boy bent his head to one side, “and he could potentially be in big trouble, big I tell you” Wilbur shot a glance at Dream who was approaching Techno’s table, sitting next to him and taking one of his earbuds and placing it in his ear, Techno didn’t seem to mind.

He now also placed his elbows on the table and intertwined his fingers in a reflecting pose, “Elaborate”.

Tommy took another deep breath and started explaining to Wilbur what he knew. From his suspicion of the puffier shoulder, to the thought that it could have been a bandage, to him seeing the tattoo this morning.

Wilbur’s eyes widened, going back between Techno and Tommy, “T-there is no way Techno did such a thing Tommy, don’t be childish” he tried to regain his composure, “W-Will I’m not lying! You have to trust me it’s true!”

Wilbur didn’t want to believe Tommy, but he felt that what he was saying was true.

“There is only one way to find out” He got on his feet and walked to Techno’s direction, Tommy doing the same.

“Hello Dream, hello brother” He greeted the two boys, both too concentrated in their books to notice the world around them.

“I need to talk to you Techno, mind if I take him for a few minutes?” Techno leaned his head to one side, when Wilbur called him brother it was never a good sign.

“Oh sure, we weren’t doing anything either way.” he gave Techno the left earbud back and greeted him as he left with his two brothers. They looked awfully serious, hopefully, Techno wasn’t in any trouble.

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

“Take your hoodie off”

“No”

They had locked themselves into one of the supply closets, the smell of pavement cleaner and bleach filled their nostrils every time they inhaled.

“Why not Technoblade?” Wilbur had a very serious expression on his face, Tommy wasn’t talking, too scared to interrupt any psychological trick he was probably pulling on his brother.

“Why should I?” The older brother exhaled audibly, “You don’t have a choice Techno. Take. your. hoodie. off.”

Was this the end?

Techno took his red hoodie off, revealing a dark grey shirt with a white print spelling “Whatever” with three dots.

“Where is it Tommy” He looked back at the young blonde boy almost hiding behind him, “l-left arm” he stuttered, Wilbur looked back at Techno and looked at him right in the eyes.

“You either pull up your left sleeve, or I pull up your left sleeve” Wilbur didn’t like to be this threatening, but he knew that if he wasn’t, Techno was just going to ignore him.

This was the end

Looking down at the floor, Techno sighed and slowly pulled his sleeve up to his elbow, he couldn’t look at his brother’s reaction, but he could feel their gaze of disappointment, shock and betrayal on his skin.

“Why did you get a tattoo Technoblade?! Are you mad?” “I didn’t have a choice Wilbur” “What kind of excuse is that?! Of course you had a choice! Why did you not ask first” “Phil wouldn’t have agreed-” “There is a GOOD FUCKING REASON WHY HE WOUNDN’T HAVE AGREED!!!” Wilbur slammed his fist on the metallic locker, making a harsh noise that made everyone jump.

Silence fell between the brothers, none of them was able to look at each other. Tommy was expecting Wilbur to get angry, but not this angry.

The sound of the bell announcing the return to class, made Wilbur straighten his back, “I will tell Phil about this when he comes back, I’m sorry to give him this news after a tiring day of work, but we will talk about this more after dinner.” He unlocked the door as Techno put his hoodie back on, “After school, you’re coming back straight home, even if I struggle to trust you right now Technoblade, I trust you to do as I said.” Wilbur nodded at Tommy to follow him out, leaving Techno to grab his backpack and leave after them. He wasn’t hoping it would go like this.

After sitting down in his class, he took his phone out and texted the only person he could think of right now.

Technoblade

If I die tonight, you get my

potato farm.

Nerd

Why lol

Nerd

Don’t tell me Phil found out

about the tattoo

Technoblade

He will when Wilbur tells

him

Nerd

OH SHIT

Nerd

I’ll pray for you to come

back alive tomorrow at

school

Technoblade

You’re not helping me

Skeppy

The professor entered the classroom and started his lecture, Techno left his phone in the pocket of his hoodie for almost thirty minutes. He was about to place it back in his backpack as he glanced at the notification coming from Skeppy:

New message from Nerd

This is also my fault, sorry dude, I’ll help you

tomorrow with anything I can

Techno smiled and slipped the phone in his backpack, Skeppy was chaotic, but when he wanted, he could be very thoughtful and nice.

[lady-divine-writes]

ACITW AU one-shot - “Draining Pipes” (Rated M)

Summary: After Sebastian is accidentally exposed to Covid, Kurt convinces him to quarantine. While the rest of the city is slowly opening up, Kurt is returning to a life that resembles normal. But for Sebastian, home alone without his boyfriend, isolation is changing him. And Kurt has some concerns... (2063 words)

Notes: Yes, this is a pandemic fic, but I promise, it's funny XD

Read on AO3.

"Hi, honey! I'm home!"

"Nope. Try again."

Kurt's head snaps up so quickly he stutters a step, nearly tripping over his feet even though he'd already stopped walking. He glares at Sebastian from across the room as if the man had gotten up from his seat, strolled over, and, without a word, vomited rancid sushi all over his Manolo Blahniks. "What?"

In a tone reminiscent of one his NYADA dance teacher, Cassie July, used that made Kurt prickle from head to toe, Sebastian says, "Try. again."

"Try what again?"

"Walking through the door."

Kurt spins around to examine the doorway, searching for clues about what he could have possibly done incorrectly. "And what, pray tell, is wrong with the way I walk through the door!?"

"Every time you come home, you say, 'Hi, honey! I'm home!'"

"Yeah, and... ?"

"It's boring. Unoriginal. It harkens back to an era of television situation comedy that had no hand in influencing our generation and, frankly, regurgitating it is beneath you and your dramatic talents."

Kurt plants his hands on his hips and gawks. What the hell happened to his boyfriend while he was away? He was only gone four hours! "Have you been rifling through my old schoolbooks again? I told you, there was no Illuminati conspiracy going on at NYADA!"

"Why don't you try something different?" Sebastian counters, neither confirming nor denying Kurt's accusation. "Something a bit more, dare I say, exotic?"

"Exotic?" Kurt scrunches his nose with distaste when he says it. Of all the words in the English language, that's one of his least favorite. "What constitutes exotic in your twisted opinion?"

"I don't know. Think of something. You're the creative, not me."

"What? I... " A dozen arguments about how he's just gotten home, how exhausted he is, how travel between here and the theater was a pain in the ass because some people still don't seem to understand what 'over the mouth AND nose' means so navigating his way through the subway was like playing a game of human Tetris with potentially infected pieces and that he's never been all that good at Tetris anyway! die on his lips. 

It would be a waste of breath.

Still, Kurt doesn't know why he indulges him, but he turns on his heel and walks back out the door. After a few seconds of deep breathing in the hall to keep from screaming bloody murder, he storms back in and brightly declares, "Buenos dias, motherfucker! Como what's up?"

Seeing as the two of them speak fluent French, Spanglish is the most exotic thing he could come up with.

Sebastian nods in stoic approval. "Better. How goes life on the apocalyptic landscape?"

"I'm not selling my body for Cocoa Krispies if that's what you're asking," Kurt quips, wondering if this is how Sebastian acts at work and how no one has put the man through a window yet, partner or not.

"So what I'm hearing is you didn't bring home Cocoa Krispies."

"Nope. Sorry."

"Bitch."

"Yeah, well... " Kurt removes his shoes and socks, then sheds his coat, his messenger bag, his slacks, and his dress shirt, carefully piling them on a chair by the front door - their staging area for decontamination. While he undresses, he eyes Sebastian, not paying him an inch of mind, sitting on what has been dubbed the convalescence corner of the sofa, dressed in a soft white tee and flannel lounge pants, his laptop open on legs covered by a quilt his mother made for him when he was ten. Sebastian knows for a fact that Kurt is undressing and yet he's not leering at him, wolf-whistling under his breath or licking his lips like he's watching an Outback Steakhouse commercial. He's simply sitting in his spot, eyes glued to his laptop screen.

And Kurt loathes it.

Sebastian's attentions have been waning more and more lately, and even though it's savagely bruising Kurt's ego, he can't blame him.

Depending on how they choose to look at things, this situation could kind of, slightly, sort of be deemed Kurt's fault.

"Thank you again for doing this," Kurt says, extending an olive branch. He's been doing this so often over the past few months, he's started buying in bulk. "I can't tell you how much you keeping your distance and staying home has put my mind at ease."

Sebastian doesn't look at him when he replies: "No sweat, babe."

"I know it was just one small cough... and the kid was wearing two masks... and a face shield... "

"Hey, like you said, no need taking any chances. Right?"

"Right," Kurt agrees. And he believes it. He believed it then and he believes it now. Had the roles been reversed, Kurt would make the sacrifice, more than willing to lock himself away for the sake of curbing this disease and keeping Sebastian healthy.

But it isn't him. 

And he feels like dirt going to work three days a week, returning to something that resembles normal knowing what Sebastian is missing out on.

"It's his mother's fault for not mentioning that her little plague rat has covid before I got stuck on the elevator with them," Sebastian says, possibly trying to make Kurt feel better even though his gaze hasn't shifted.

"But quarantining for six days longer than necessary? That's above and beyond! I mean it. You deserve a medal." 

Sebastian tosses him a wink over his shoulder but he doesn't linger, giving half-naked Kurt only a brief once over. "I got you, fam. Besides, time's up tomorrow. Then... " He thousand-yard stares in the direction of the flat screen "... it's rat-hunting season."

"It hasn't been all bad, has it?" Kurt asks guiltily as Sebastian's eyes return to his laptop. He'll admit that maybe he did go a tad overboard when he'd found out Sebastian had been exposed, banishing him to one end of the penthouse and the guest bedroom, keeping him at broom handle length for the past nineteen days. 

But they were almost in the clear! And that's the part that pisses Kurt off most. 

The disease hasn't been eradicated, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel. The theater started allowing small groups to return for socially distanced practices. That's a huge win for Kurt. Being away from Broadway and rehearsals and opening nights and curtain calls... it was becoming difficult for him to breathe.

Sebastian was on the brink of going back to the office a few days a week, too. It wasn't so much not being at the office that bothered him, but the peripherals - eating lunch at his favorite deli or hitting the gym before dinner. 

Sebastian had taken three tests after that fateful elevator incident, all of which came back negative, so he was confident everything would be alright. He was in the midst of planning his first in-person meeting, but Kurt balked, pointing out that there has been so much controversy over the accuracy of those tests. Sebastian offered to take three more if necessary, but regardless of the outcome, Kurt didn't feel it safe. And even though they had access to the vaccine (because money), being exposed, even minorly, pushed Sebastian's timetable for receiving his first dose back two weeks.

Kurt's father and stepmother have both received theirs, and Kurt was so looking forward to taking a trip to Ohio for a first hug in over a year. He's going to be damned if a four-foot-tall Petri dish ruins that for him!

But because of his paranoia, Kurt and Sebastian haven't touched, haven't kissed in two weeks. They tried the whole Skype sex thing from different rooms of the penthouse, aiming to recapture old college day thrills to boot, but it didn't work out the way they'd hoped. And even though they see each other every day, talk to one another, aggravate each other, throw popcorn and other food items at each other, Kurt misses Sebastian like the dickens. He misses his hugs, his warmth, his smell.

And yes, he misses the sex.

"Since I've been back to work, you've had the peace and privacy to watch those wacky pornos that your brother sends you."

"Yup," Sebastian says, typing something into his search bar that Kurt can't quite make out. "The wackiest."

"Didn't he say something about them being illegal in the contiguous 49 states?"

"Forty-eight. Tennessee turned itself around."

"It would be Tennessee."

"Always is."

"You probably haven't given your fleshjack a rest in two weeks," Kurt prods, worried over these short responses. 

"Mmph... mmm-hmm... "

Kurt starts circling the sofa when all he gets is a chuckle in response, curious if Sebastian is even listening to him. He comes up behind him, standing on a piece of painter's tape they'd put down to mark six feet so Kurt can peek over his shoulder.

And what he sees on Sebastian's screen makes absolutely no sense.

"What are you watching?"

"Drain clearing videos."

Kurt's eyes go wide. "Drain clearing? Wh-what does that mean?"

"This guy drives all over, and when he finds a street that's flooded, he takes out a rake, drags it through the water, and tries to find the blocked drain."

"Does he work for the city?"

"Nah. He's just some guy."

"And he's made a whole channel about... clearing drains."

"Yes, sir."

"And you're watching it?"

"It came up in my recommendations so I clicked one." Sebastian shakes his head, chuckling when stagnant grey water, punctuated by speckles of rain, turns into a whirlpool, rushing through thick iron bars embedded in the concrete and disappearing from view. "It's so satisfying."

"What on Earth were you watching before this that YouTube recommended it?"

"Car cleaning videos."

Kurt's left eyebrow slowly climbs up his forehead. "A-ha."

"Yup. I never realized how relaxing it is to watch a handsome guy Bissell Kool-Aid stains out of carpet. But now... it's my jam."

Kurt huffs, offended on behalf of himself and his own vigorous cleaning regimen. "It wasn't your jam when I was steam cleaning our throw rugs! And the curtains!"

"Yeah, well, things hit different when you're forced into isolation."

Kurt storms forward a step. But then he remembers. And he stops, foot hovering an inch past the sacred boundary that keeps him from venturing too close to infection. He teeters, determination creasing his brow while anxiety wrestles his shoulders back. All the while, a war wages inside his tired brain:

"Get him! You've been vaccinated!"

"It's only one dose!"

"He's not even sick!"

"You don't know that!"

"Yes, I do!"

"It's not worth the risk!"

"Yes... it... IS!"

"Come on!" Kurt demands, throwing himself bodily at the sofa. He grabs Sebastian's hand, a small voice screaming inside his head as if his tiny naysayer is being burned at the stake. "Come with me... NOW!"

"Where are we going?" Sebastian asks, rushing to move his computer to the side before he gets dragged off the sofa by his surprisingly strong boyfriend.

"This is an intervention."

"But you shouldn't be touching me! Or breathing my air! I have one day left!"

"You're fine! If you haven't gotten sick by now, you probably aren't going to! This is an emergency!"

"What emergency?"

"Quarantine has turned you into someone I don't recognize! Car cleaning videos? Who are you right now?"

"They're educational. It's good to learn a new skill."

Kurt barks a laugh that could shatter crystal. "Right. Like you'd ever. You'd pay highway robbery to have your ten-speed detailed!"

"Nope, because you'd do it for free."

 Kurt rolls his eyes, unwilling to entertain his boyfriend's mocking of him to ask whether or not that's code. "If you're going to ogle a man wielding a Bissell, Goddammit, it's going to be me!"

"So... are we going to clean some carpets?"

"We're going to take a shower and then have sex. A lot of sex. You're getting fucked and sucked until you're back to normal."

Sebastian snorts, delighted by his incredibly good fortune. "If you insist. But are you absolutely sure about this?"

Kurt stops short and faces Sebastian. He looks him over, making certain he doesn't seem particularly sick, and shrugs.

"We'll wear masks. Or three. I don't need to kiss you to make you cum." Kurt continues to drag Sebastian towards the bathroom as his grin grows to epic proportions.

"Kinky."

[elmidol]

Where the Body Burns - Chapter 7

Read on AO3

Read Chapter 6

(Banner includes art for fic by @clumsycopy )

[Inspired by Fix Your Attitude by @kylorengarbagedump and Keeping Your Promise by @strongtwiheart ]

Chapter Summary:   Some Knights are suspicious that their Master is catching feelings.

Words: 4,800

Chapter Warnings:   Kylo's POV; very minor gore; slightly flashback heavy

Solluna

 Stars adorned the high-vaulted ceiling of the temple, wherein painted depictions of the planet’s deities hung on either side of an altar. Tomes and a single lit candle rested in the altar’s center. These objects demanded his attention, drawing his eyes to the surface of the text then the flickering flame that lit its cover. Boot steps echoed off the walls. Patrons of the temple glanced up from their supplications, their prayers interrupted by the intruder. The invitation that had led him to the planet had been extended by the priest presently presiding over the temple’s body. Wild space had much to offer in terms of culture, politics, religion—how it depicted the Force differed from what he himself had been taught or come to understand while under both Skywalker and Snoke’s tutelage.

 During his correspondence with the planet after being handed the mission by the Supreme Leader, Kylo had learned a truth that had altered his view of the Force’s capabilities. The system in which the planet resided contained twin goddesses, one of the sun and one of the moon, that had once ensured balance. He had fought gods before, had killed the Zillo Beast that Vader himself had once failed to eliminate. The sun goddess’s high priest had requested aid from the First Order, from Kylo Ren specifically, to confront the moon goddess.

 Kylo felt his lips threatening to quirk upwards on one side. He fought against the expression though his face remained hidden behind a mask. His gaze abandoned the priest, the altar, and leapt instead in the direction of a specific painting. The sun goddess, dressed in a flowing gown and clasping a weapon not unlike a lightsaber, bowed her head. Below her sprawled both corpses and living beings with their arms uplifted. Kylo Ren supposed that there was a story behind the painting, however it did not much matter to him. His sole interest rested in the weapon; it was this that had caught Vicrul’s eye and prompted the Knight of Ren to encourage Kylo Ren to undertake the mission in full rather than dismiss it as a waste of his time.

 The Knights of Ren filed into the temple behind him. Servants of the holy place pushed closed the doors, which released audible protests that echoed in his ears. Boot steps continued in six distinctive patterns.

 “Null Aeclati has spoken highly of the First Order. Her dreams are prophesy.”

 “So you have said.” He spoke simply to quiet the high priest, who for whatever reason found it enticing to try his patience with repetitions of useless beliefs. He and his Knights were there to slay the moon goddess, not for a history lesson. That could, if the goddess’s existence was proven true, come later.

 The high priest flicked his gaze amongst the Knights of Ren before he refocused on Kylo Ren. “Seasta will wage war with the planet she had once sworn to protect.” He paused, as though ready to be interrupted for a second time. This information, however, had not previously been elaborated on. It was pertinent to the mission. The unnamed goddess had fallen ill—an intriguing notion, deities vulnerable to the same weaknesses as man—and her twin had since stolen the weapon depicted in the painting.

 In return for his cooperation in slaying the moon goddess and returning the weapon, the sun goddess would bestow upon the First Order a coveted secret, one that Snoke wished to know, and a replica of the weapon.

 Or that would have occurred had Null Aeclati not taken the sun goddess’s life as Kylo and his Knights had slain Seasta. Aeclati had then used an ancient magic to steal the sun goddess’s face, affixing it in place of her own, and granted herself the moon goddess’s name. Thus Null Seasta, worshipped in place of the fallen deities by heretical priests and parishioners, had first gained her position of power.

 Snoke continued to admire the mortal woman, refused to allow her death if it could be prevented. She was, he informed the Master of the Knights of Ren, a test for another time. In the meanwhile she had her uses. Vicrul had since taken to studying her; he remained transfixed by the weapon that had nearly been theirs. Stealing the blueprint for the weapon, that would be the first of many missions Spacedust would play a part in once her training was completed. Grete Velantyn did not provoke his Knights into violence, and that was why they had been approached as the first member in Kylo Ren’s team that Snoke could never know about.

 They stood at his side, observing alongside him Spacedust dropping to her knees to avoid a strike from Ap’lek. She was unaware that her action had opened her to Vicrul’s attack until his knee collided with the small of her back. Vicrul followed up his attack by seizing hold of her, a hand pressed to her throat. Without it, Spacedust would have slammed into the ground. She clasped at his wrist with trembling hands; her back would be bruised, albeit not severely. The Knights of Ren knew better than to incapacitate her to a degree that their mission would be delayed. An excess of mercy would draw attention.

 “If she is pushed past her limits, she will die.” As though Grete understood him, that he required a reminder. Kylo glanced at them, at the passive expression painted across their countenance. There had been one potential candidate that had perished during training with the Knights of Ren. Enthusiasm and bloodlust was too swift a beast when unchained.

 Kylo Ren transferred his attention to Spacedust once more, and found that she sacrificed possession of her helmet as a means of wriggling free. Ap’lek struck her with the sole of his boot into her shin. Spacedust braced herself. She dropped into a position that lessened the impact; this stance was one that Grete would have taught her, not standard in First Order training, at least not for TIE pilots. Spacedust struck out—a feint. Her hands wrapped around a discarded weapon. She caught the edge of Ap’lek’s own on it.

 Luck, Velantyn mouthed whilst narrowing their eyes in assessment. Their gaze tracked Spacedust as she came into possession of a second blade, enduring another future bruise as tribute to the cause.

 Spacedust whipped around, bringing up both of her weapons and slamming them against the blade that Vicrul wielded. Kylo Ren felt heat burn his chest. A hunger, and not of her body, not of sex. He wanted to lunge forward to strike at the individual before him that had managed to catch Vicrul’s attack. Spacedust grit her teeth and flicked her gaze over to him—it was as though she knew of his hunger. Kylo dipped his mask, re-angled his visor to better inspect her sneer. She dropped down to her knees in unison with the moment Vicrul broke through the grip and thrust forward with the weapon. The blade shoved over her head in the air, narrowly missing Ap’lek, who twisted out of the way. This was a dance they had partook in numerous times on the battlefield.

 On the opposite side of the training room, the other Knights of Ren shuffled from foot to foot. Kuruk stroked the holstered blaster in his possession. Trudgen gripped his weapon’s hilt and tensed his knees.

 All the while, in the room’s center, Spacedust did not yield. Her breath came out unevenly, yet she did not lose her grip on the weapons with which she blocked attacks that would have left still more marks on her body. Kylo Ren’s throat bobbed. The two Knights of Ren had not tired. They were toying with her. Forcing Spacedust to expend her energy, giving her time for realization to dawn on her that she was at their mercy.

 She shoved her right hand forward, thrusting Vicrul back a step with her weapon. He growled audibly. Ap’lek grunted by way of response. With a glance over her shoulder, Spacedust repositioned her feet. Despite the muscles visible in her arms, there was a softness to her. She was young, too expressive without her mask.

 She realizes it now, Kylo Ren thought with a thrill, a coldness crawling into his veins and along the surface of his flesh. He curled his hand into a fist to keep his arm from extending in her direction.

 Spacedust inhaled while taking a step to the left. Her eyes swept along Vicrul before darting to Ap’lek. They each advanced on her in sideways steps, circling in. He would not stop them, nor would Grete despite their words. Ignorance of her own limitations would result in Null Seasta rending Spacedust limb from limb. And in preservation of the secrecy of their mission and his own goals, Kylo Ren would not lift a finger to prevent the foul woman from doing just that.

 Spacedust executed a spin, aiming to catch Ap’lek in the back with her second blade as the first met his weapon. He threw up his arm, elbowing the edge of his own weapon whilst dropping down to one knee. Vicrul’s blade deflected Spacedust’s. Grinding her teeth, she swung her leg and caught Ap’lek in the shoulder with the toes of her boot. Vicrul shot out his leg and kicked her other foot out from underneath her. Spacedust allowed her body to achieve an awkward angle, thus preserving her footing to the extent that she did not collapse to the ground. Vicrul once more sought out her throat.

 Preoccupied with that limb, Spacedust sustained a different injury that tore a cry of pain from her throat. Ap’lek drove the hilt of his weapon further into her side, twisting it back and forth. Ushar stepped forward. He paused when Kylo Ren jerked his attention to him. Collapsing, Spacedust shoved her weapon into Vicrul, hitting his abdomen mere moments after he cupped her throat in his palm.

 When he returned with the weapon and his Knights of Ren, the high priest greeted them by accepting the weapon and claiming her benevolence would meet him in the throne room. Null Aeclati, wearing the sun goddess’s face, stared at him from that throne. He could sense her in the Force and knew her to be a false queen. The floor ran red with blood as even then those who opposed her rule were made to kneel before her throne. Their arms were bound behind their backs, wrists sewn together and pierced with a stake. Some went into shock. Others were enthralled by the perverse manipulation of the Force, or whatever magic it was she had stolen from the sun goddess, that the woman wielded.

 Null Aeclati lifted a blood coated finger to her mouth and sucked the digit, tracing it with her tongue. The ornate bowl resting on her throne’s armrest held in it three mutilated organs. The eyes of a goddess to grant her clearer visions; the mind of a goddess to give her the deity’s wisdom; and the heart of the goddess to gift her a longer life, as close to immortality as her people knew to seek.

 “There is much I could teach you,” she had said. He kept his tongue still and inspected the countenance as well as how it had altered when placed on her body. The high priest spoke, demanding that he answer to Null Seasta.

 Beside him, Vicrul had stroked the hilt of his weapon lovingly without uttering a word. Yet words were unnecessary between them. This Null Seasta, she had been unable to take the soul of the goddess as Vicrul had been able to do with the true Seasta.

 In the present, Spacedust had sustained further damage before at last yielding; she did not request mercy, but had instead opted to curse Vicrul and Ap’lek. Portions of visible flesh had darkened already under the weight of the blows dealt by the Knights of Ren. The remaining four along with Grete converged to join the combatants in the room’s center. Spacedust breathed heavily, a single wheeze escaping. Despite their bloodlust, Vicrul and Ap’lek possessed enough self control that they had been able to pull back at the last second.

 He speculated that the allure of the weapon was what stayed Vicrul’s hand. For Ap’lek, his motivations had been different, although Kylo Ren did not know for certain what they were. It hardly mattered. Results were all that he sought, and results he had obtained. Logic, not fear, had influenced Spacedust to end the session. That was what had been desired of her. A swift learner, Kylo mused. There was nevertheless room for improvement if she was to succeed in the missions he required of her.

 Velantyn aided Spacedust in rising to her feet while they spoke in hushed tones. They informed her what the Knights of Ren were already privy to, what few in the First Order knew despite an awareness of Null Seasta. That she, along with her heretic priests and those subservient to her, had pilgrimmed to a separate planet unaware of her former identity as Aeclati. It was there that she maintained leadership, there that Kylo Ren and his Knights had been summoned on their most recent mission. Null Seasta toyed with them, taunted them with the knowledge that she held onto the blueprints of the weapon they had once been promised. It was there that Null Seasta had begun her experiments with living beings, transforming them into toys for her amusement.

 Spacedust pinched her mouth into a thin line while visibly resisting the urge to wrinkle her nose in disgust. Amusement tugged at Kylo, bubbling in his chest before it shot outwards to his fingertips. He furled his hands and looked to Kuruk, who stood meters apart from his fellow Knights. With a surreptitious nod, Kuruk headed for the door and exited the training room. Ushar followed mere seconds later. Cardo would repair any minor damage that had been dealt to Vicrul and Ap’lek’s armor; even then he stepped forward to inspect the weapons that had been used during the mock battle.

 Trudgen walked from his former position at the wall to Kylo Ren’s side, all the while adjusting his grip on the hilt of his vibrocleaver. Tension rolled off of him in palpable waves of Force energy, albeit ones that the Knight did not intentionally exude. It would warn prey away. Those not as sensitive to the Force would experience minor symptoms of unease, most often in the form of their body hair standing on end. Kylo reached into that trail of energy permeating the room, unravelling its threads to find where the sharp edges lay. Seeds of doubt, sown at the sight of the TIE pilot, had taken root.

 Leaving Spacedust to Velantyn’s care and direction, Kylo headed for the door with an awareness that Trudgen would follow meanwhile Cardo, Vicrul, and Ap’lek would delve into the repairs necessary for their armor. The heavy steps carried a new weight, one that spoke of Trudgen’s discontent with the woman left behind. Trudgen knew better than to undermine Kylo Ren in front of the others, yet Kylo felt a budding interest in learning what caused his doubt to spark.

 The door parted open, sliding too slowly for his patience. He pressed his teeth together and narrowed his eyes, his spine straightening. Stormtroopers marched past, their paces quickened the moment they observed Kylo and Trudgen. Fear slipped from them, more potent than Trudgen’s displeasure, and Kylo smirked behind his mask. They exhibited behavior that Spacedust had failed to display on her first meeting.

 Kylo felt a familiar warmth in the pit of his stomach that would readily grow into a fully ignited flame if he allowed. An increase of ripples in the Force drove away his desire, permitting a different heat chance to blossom.

 With each step taken, a decrease in First Order personnel developed. Trudgen’s minimal abilities in the Force gave him enough of an edge that he knew when it was wise to speak. “She’ll be slaughtered.” Kylo Ren turned his visor to the Knight of Ren and peered at him with an increased level of interest. It was a bold statement, and not one that Trudgen would lightly make. “Aeclati abandoned her homeplanet in part to toy with humanoids for her experiments.” Trudgen paused in his steps while shrugging the weight of his vibrocleaver off his shoulders. The blade’s tip hit the durasteel floor with a resounding clank. “And your pet cannot mask her expressions well enough.”

 Her eyes did, he noted, speak volumes. Kylo kept his fists at his sides, loosening their hold. “Are you so certain she is not the bait?” A hiss of air filtered through Trudgen’s mouthpiece. His head jerked in the direction they had walked from, as though he could peer through the various walls and study Spacedust. “She can survive.”

 “So long as Velantyn does not mind the potential loss.”

 “They have not failed me yet.” That said, Kylo better understood the doubt festering within Trudgen. Grete’s intrigue in Spacedust was not unique; that did not make it any less dangerous.

 Kylo stepped around Trudgen to proceed down a new corridor, his robes swaying against his legs with each foot fall. Footsteps echoed behind him, no less firm than his own. Velantyn had not cared much, on a personal level, for the individual that Spacedust replaced. Sentiment could well lead to the failure of their quest, at which point Null Seasta would have become fully aware of his plans to steal the plans for the weapon rather than wait until she dangled them as a treat, some reward for entertaining more of her whims. The pursuit of knowledge, to learn more how to transcend Supreme Leader Snoke, was a staircase—this was but the next step in his journey.

 His slight against her on their recently fulfilled mission would have left her on edge, stewing in anger and seeking ways to deal retribution without repercussions from Supreme Leader Snoke. Slaughtering any that Kylo Ren sent her way would be one such method. Transforming them into her own tools yet another.

 If his choice was between losing Spacedust and one of his Knights of Ren, Kylo already had his answer.

 In the hours that followed his conversation with Trudgen, Kylo Ren attended a debriefing with Supreme Leader before he sought solace in his quarters. His hand skimmed the surface of Darth Vader’s maimed helmet when he walked past. Conferring with his grandfather’s absent ghost encouraged a growth in his desire to unveil the secrets behind the man’s demise. If his soul had been cleaved in two, if the Dark and the Light had separated, perhaps that was a secret to immortality so coveted by the Sith. Snoke, too, sought methods of preserving himself beyond the need of his broken body.

 Outside the walls of his quarters, sounds of his personal squadron echoed. Ollis, Loor, and Pash were the loudest of the bunch. Kylo once more touched the top of Vader’s helmet as he angled his body in the direction of the door. His fingers stretched, their tips pointed at the floor. The stars shining through the expanse of his window were all the light he allowed in the area, and they played games with his shadow, distorting it. Those loud individuals did not irritate Kylo Ren solely due to the nature of the conversation. As was custom, they rearranged their sleeping arrangements to empty two rooms for the Knights of Ren.

 A flicker of energy, of being, snagged his attention. Kylo shifted four paces away from the helmet, seeking that familiar presence. It warped into a shade when approached by the spark he recognized as Lacien. Kylo held his breath in anticipation of the clash, the eruption. Instead he was granted the opportunity to feel the two signatures in the Force touch one another more gently.

 His abdominal muscles tightened. Each stride carried him to the door, which groaned under the weight of the Force; the sound reverberated in the hall and silenced the pilots, all of which darted to the nearest quarters. The earlier tendrils that had seeped from Trudgen had been insects when compared with the energy that slammed into the walls as he walked past. The ship bellowed in protest, loud enough for Kylo to make a conscious effort to swallow down his irritation.

 As with his own door, he used the Force to push open the entry to Velantyn’s quarters. They were seated with a datapad in their hands, likely reading through one of the reports that Kuruk had earlier sent their way. Lacien and Spacedust, meanwhile, sat together on the latter’s bed with the small door to her individual space hanging aside. Lacien’s left hand held her shirt up enough for her ribs, bruised almost entirely, to be exposed for inspection. He worked to apply fresh bacta to the injury.

 “You left medbay against the physician’s assessment.” A statement. There was no need to inquire as to whether or not this was fact; Lacien’s behavior with her was loud enough—his deceased cousin had often acted similarly, hence the unsurprising change in behavior that would, Kylo knew, not last when she healed.

 Spacedust ran a tongue along her lips, wetting them, catching dried flakes he took to be signs of mal-hydration. “I was informed of an exam I have to pass,” she countered. He stood there in silence. Wasting words was not a pastime he entertained. Spacedust bristled, her disposition prompting Lacien to pull away. He offered a nod of submission to Kylo. A wise choice, that. Spacedust raised her shirt once more, fumbling awkwardly to locate the bacta and smooth it over the surface of her discolored flesh. “The addition of a full second squadron means there is a change in clearance levels necessary to remain in this sector of the ship. I have not held station on a Star Destroyer long enough to warrant an automatic clear.”

 The words he might have spoken remained dead on his stilled tongue. Kylo Ren pondered over the possibility that Supreme Leader Snoke caught onto his intentions by bringing in Spacedust from her previous post. He thought next of Trudgen’s warning. There were many beings in the universe that would slay Spacedust, torture her, while sparing the puppetmaster pulling her strings.

 His anger abated, Kylo Ren did not exit the quarters. There was work to be done, a new training regiment to ensure he had not revealed his hand too soon. The echo of his heartbeat within his ears was amplified by his helmet. He refused to remove the mask, would not show his face to Lacien, whose loyalty to the First Order would remain rewarded though it set him against Kylo Ren’s true wishes.

 “When?” He need not elaborate. Spacedust gave the exact time and date of the exam, a mere two cycles away. She had been wise in leaving medbay, where she would not have been given access to material necessary to study.

 The cumbersome interferences to his squadron from political maneuvers of First Order superior officers were few between. He could not readily calculate the recovery period for this particular alteration in protocol. Pilots under his command had, in the past, been granted the appropriate clearance levels. The implementation of a second squadron on a permanent basis should not have yielded these changes. An absence of anticipation when it came to such possible obstacles threw a wrench into his plans.

 “If you fail?” Though he posed the question to Spacedust, his visor settled on Velantyn. Grete placed their datapad onto the three-seater leather couch that was standard in each of the quarters his squadron members were assigned. They walked across the length of the room until they stood nearly back to back with Kylo.

 “Four pilots total are being made to take the exam,” Lacien said when Spacedust did not readily respond to his questioning. Kylo Ren did not face the pilot as he continued, his voice steady, no signs of fear bleeding through. “Should they fail, they will either be sent to the secondary squadron or removed from  your command entirely. These changes may be in response to more than the second squadron. There were several redacted portions to the notification we each received.”

 “Show me.” His voice was a lance that pierced the calm that might have otherwise existed in the room. Lacien seized hold of a datapad that he had tucked underneath the pillow of his bed. His fingers were fast at work in typing the code to unlock the device, which he passed to Kylo Ren. Kylo thumbed through the message, its wording intentionally obtuse on the portions that were not run through with darkened rectangles. Such segments could have been omitted, emphasizing the feelings of inferiority and unease this message had been meant to instill in its recipients.

 He scrolled through the message at an increased quickness in search of the signature at the bottom. Instead of just one, there were three. Their existence supported Lacien’s assessment. Velantyn took the initiative to temporarily leave their quarters prior to returning with the three additional pilots that would undergo the exam.

 “You will not fail.” An order. With it spoken, Kylo Ren left the six pilots, four of which would study under Grete and Lacien’s tutelage.

 Despite having obtained two rooms in which they would reside, six armored beings awaited his arrival in his personal quarters. Kylo Ren did not spare a glance in any single direction as he sought out the chair, whereupon he sat and settled into a more comfortable position. Vicrul leaned against a wall within his view, arms crossed over his chest and weapon set aside. Only Cardo and Kuruk kept their main weapons on their bodies. The former tinkered with a bit of scrap metal that he would undoubtedly affix to a set of armor once he finished. Kuruk had tucked himself into a corner, away from the five other Knights of Ren.

 Ap’lek, nearest to Kuruk, made a gesture that summoned the more solitary Knight closer. They leaned their heads together conspiratorially. Kylo Ren frowned, once more grateful that he donned his helmet and thus concealed his expressions from the others. Ushar observed the pair as well prior to touching the edge of the stand on which Vader’s helmet was displayed.

 They were, each of his Knights, sharing a thread of thought; at long last their plotting had been ready to bear fruit only for another delay to occur. Velantyn and Spacedust would have been embarking on their first mission at the designated time of the exam. Though the Knights did not know of the nature of the delay, they could sense his displeasure, which he had sent in waves for them to feel. It was why they had gathered, the reason he did not dismiss them. His reaction to Ap’lek and Kuruk’s exchange was of a different nature.

 Kylo Ren settled his gaze on Trudgen, who stood by the bed. It was not only Velantyn’s sentiments that they were questioning. The assumption that he was developing feelings for someone he fucked due to her eligibility for the position in his plot would have been insulting had he not recalled his behavior during his mission with Null Seasta. He had to be prepared to allow her to perish if it became a necessity.

 Trudgen smoothed a hand down the length of his torso, brushing away a fraction of the dust collected on his armor. With as few words as possible, Kylo briefed the Knights on the current situation. “Is the third agent at risk?” Trudgen asked, once more dusting his armor so that dirt fell to the floor. Kylo Ren observed its journey with minimal interest. He considered the six pilots that even then were engaged in discussing what materials would be present on the exam. A single nod was all that he offered as an answer.

 Vicrul pressed his foot more firmly to the wall, kicking off of it to gain momentum, which he used to approach Kylo. “The window is a small one.” He rolled his neck, releasing audible cracks as the tension in his body was reduced. “If she doesn’t pass the exam, she will be spacedust.” Air puffed out of his vocoder. Bloodlust rolled from each of the Knights, strengthened as irritation and unrest gripped them. Had the eventual mission to Endor been the sole potential casualty, they would have discovered outlets for their anger. Null Seasta, on the other hand, and the weapon she withheld had been a thorn in their side for too long. This latest mission had only added fuel to the fire burning within each of their bodies.

 “Is that how you get off?” She had once asked him. Behind his mask, he felt his mouth twitching in amusement. He hungered for the chance to observe her with his Knights of Ren again. Preferably after she passed the exam.