#questions to ponder at 1 am while sitting on the kitchen floor

[7cfc00]

you ever think about how similar Ron and Glenn are... like you ever think about how their arcs almost mirror each other, but in opposite directions? Like, ron gets better but Glenn gets worse. you ever wonder what would have happened if they swapped arcs and ron was put on trial and the dads had to go into glenn’s memories instead? how would that have changed things? (would it even change anything?)

because i have not stopped thinking about this idea... like, would glenn’s struggles be seen as more sympathetic if he was not literally being judged? would ron have been found guilty of being a bad dad/bad person? 

because why were they treated differently? (not a rhetorical question) why was one punished and the other understood? is there a possibility that it could have worked out differently? it is so so interesting to me to prod at ron and glenn’s differences, and i think examining their characters in relation to each other via swapping their arcs (either just the anchors or both anchors and finding sons) is like. really cool i guess. 

[fancyhats-and-fennelsbuds]

What John and Sike react to Ratigan having a relationship with his arch nemesis, Basil of Baker street (if they are)?

Aaah! Let's see...

I'll start by saying that this Keane brothers AU was born for the funsies and specifically for the disfunctional-yet-united-family slice of life ones; therefore, Silver, Sykes and Ratigan are slightly """sweetened""" in this AU, due to their emotional baggage not being aggravated by the plots of their original films (or at least, not entirely). The dear brothers still meddle sometimes with not entirely legal acts -- but those are greatly more vanilla, less dire peril, than the messes they create in their respective films.

Turning our attention back to Ratigan; John and Sykes are extremely surprised by the fact that: 1. Padraic, has consciously chosen to get into a devote and (apparently) long-term relationship. 2. With the one individual that would have the ability to arrest him (or them) for his undercover wicked shenanigains. A happy (albeit worrying) fresh change in Padraic's long list of broken relationships; usually him being a dumpsterfire, short-lived, emotionally unstable love stories collector.

The moment of revelation went like this:

12:00 AM. Lunch time in the Keane house. John peers from the kitchen after hearing a familiar vigorous grateing of metal keys on the wooden frame of the entrance door.

"--how was yer day, Padraic?"

"My day, you say?" The man in fine black satin pondered in deliberate boredom, while removing with care his luscious top hat, "Mmm, let’s see... Aah! Yes... Of course. I misled a detective that has been for months on my tracks."

"How?" Sykes questioned, the gravel in his voice rolled from somewhere in the livingroom. Bill, despite his massive form, inconceivably had the ability to hide his looming presence through a deceiving stillness. Usually while sitting in a furniture that matched his suits' colours.

"...Caught him off guard." By his tone, Padraic recalled in delight, "--a clever ambush from the shadowy alleyway behind him while deliberatly striking a conversation before he could make any move. Then. Of course. With his full frozen attention in my hands. I barely had to say 'Would you like to go out for a dinner?"

"Tell me you got peppersprayed." Sykes rumbled, an humongous shadow somewhere around the sofa. His expression unreadable behind a crafty and unreadable newspaper-pokerface.

Padraic didn't even turned toward his older brother, but the corners of his smirk quivered like the rods of a rodent trap on the verge of snapping. "No. Not that." He spoke all teeth. "Not in the slightest Billy dearest." Padraic was aware and delighted by knowing how his brother hated such nickname. In fact, there was a sound of newspaper getting illmannerly crumpled.

"Get ta the point Padraic." John pressed, not knowing if out of pure doorkeeper's nosyness or barely in preparation, to the possible task of sweeping under a methaphorical carpet a human sized inconvenient evidence.

"He said I was a rascal."

"Ah." John was almost relieved.

"--Then, he said yes."

The newspaper fell, revealing Sykes' expression that was an equal mixture of disgust and fondness. He watched that dainty brother of his, looking up the pearly gates with an thetrical dreamy sigh. "Christ, Padraic."

"Mh..! I suppose that your gelous of the list of broken hearts I leave myself behind Billie boy."

John knew that was the right moment to remember that, in fact, lunch was ready. Right before Sykes has the physical time to rise and beeline toward Ratingan for a walloping. "How about, ye two leave the scruffle after we eat my delicious Ribollita?"

There was a tense moment of deep thought that lingered in the air. Rough hands devite to brawling itched with desire of knocking someone flat on the floor. But the aroma that permeated the air outside the kitchen was strikingly stronger that any desire of vegeance.

The two men on the warpath stared at each other, and said almost in unison. "Alriiight John."

[crowtrinkets]

A World Knowing You Aren’t in it

Prompt request from @mouselungs​ 

*forehead kiss* ty for that sweet sweet angst 

I wrote this at 1-2 am after watching a sad movie so uh yea I take my angst v seriously lol

Gender Neutral Pronouns for Apprentice, He/They Pronouns for Asra

Word Count: 2,208

I push my way into my shop, unwrapping my scarf from around my face. I take a deep slow breath of the not-so-fresh air mixed with dust and magical goods long since past their expiration. Wearing face coverings, just to go shopping in the market is necessary but I can't help but miss the days I could breathe in the fresh scents of spices and my favorite pumpkin bread without worry of getting sick.

"Asra? I'm back," I call out. I hear thumping traveling from the second floor and down the steps. A cloud of fluffy white hair pokes out from behind a curtain.

"Welcome home," he gives me a warm smile to which I return with my own.

"They were out of potatoes, something about merchants being scared of trade with Vesuvia," I follow them back up the stairs carrying my basket, sparse with groceries.

"I can't say I blame them," Asra mumbles to themself. I only hum in response, not wanting to push this topic further.

Asra has talked about leaving many times, but we had yet to do so, if we had the means we could but, there's no money in magic that can't heal a plague. Placing my basket on the counter of our kitchenette I pull out the food items I bought. Asra snatches an apple and bites into it but then grimaces.

"This apple is soft, like it's been left out," he goes to throw out the apple but I catch his arm.

"Don’t throw it out, if they're too soft I could make a cobbler or something out of them," taking the apple from Asra's hand I place it in a bowl with the other fruit I purchased.

"Oh, but they were out of sugar… maybe they're sweet enough on their own?" I mumble to myself.

"There's no need to go back out just for sugar, I'm sure we'll manage without it," Asra says with a smile that doesn't reach their eyes. They grab the lettuce I pulled from the basket out of my hand.

"Why don't I put these away while you go take a bath hmm? Wash the city air off of you," I give Asra a short nod and head off to the bathroom to wash up.

Suddenly feeling the weight of my day, running all the possible errands I can at once, so I am exposed less to the outside. I grab a towel from our tiny linen closet and pass by to give Faust chin scratches.

"Have you been bundled up here all day?" I question. She only responds by slithering closer so she can lean into my scratches. Her movement causes a blanket to fall, revealing a pile of books under it. My curiosity is piqued and I pick one up to read its cover. "Nopal Desert" it reads. I pick a map that was underneath it, depicting the better part of Vesuvia and surrounding territories. Nopal circled in ink. I hear Asra humming while he opens and closes the cabinets in the other room. I elect to bring it up after my bath.

The water is hot, almost too hot for my liking, but its burn soothes me in a way. Making me feel something other than the heavy burden that lays on the whole city's shoulders. I let myself sink down until the water cradles my head. Curling up so my whole body is submerged. I stare at the ceiling, watching the steam from the bath slowly rise, allowing condensation to sit on the wooden beams. I didn't bother to open the window so the bathroom could stay dry. I'll do that afterward. The water cups my ears, muffling the already quiet streets outside. My mind travels back to the books and maps I saw earlier. Was Asra trying to get us to leave? I explained in the past that I can't afford to pay rent on my shop and pay rent in a whole new area. Vesuvia is unsafe but the shop is my home, my lively hood. I can't give it up. I lie there, pondering and contemplating until the water has become lukewarm. My body aches after laying in the tub for far too long. After drying off my body and getting dressed I exit the bathroom, not bothering to stop my hair from dripping all over me. 

I walk towards my bed, finding the books and maps, untouched, and staring at me. I let out a frustrated sigh and collect the items.

I walk into the kitchen to find Asra nursing a cup of tea, and gazing out the window. They haven't noticed me yet. His eyes stare longingly out at the night sky. Sad and distant. I quietly approach and gently place the items on the table. Asra looks up at me in surprise. Neither one of us talks for a while. I clear my throat.

"What are these?" I motion to the map with the large black circle around the words that very obviously do not say Vesuvia. Asra places his cup down and fully faces me.

"Well I thought we could… stay there, I've heard the plague isn't present there and we could go, we could be safe and not have to worry about wearing face coverings just to go shopping," Asra's demeanor becomes meek the more he talks. I let out a sigh and collapse into the nearest chair.

"Asra I told you, I can't afford to keep my shop if I'm not here to work in it,"

"I can help you!" Asra says, straightening a little. "I-I've been painting masks to raise money, and we could go to Nopal for a few months, I could sell masks out there and you can have a makeshift shop in the desert," Asra reaches for my hand, taking it and rubbing his thumb across my knuckles. I give him a tired look.

"Asra, it's not that I doubt that you couldn't help me pay, it's just… Vesuvia is my home, our home, and I can't just leave at the drop of a hat like you," Asra winces and pulls away.

"Who knew you thought so little of me," he mumbles. I mentally kick myself for my choice of words.

"I'm sorry that’s not what I meant," I bring my head into my palm and lean my elbow on the table.

"What I'm trying to say is this is my home and I want to protect it so… I've decided I want to study medicine, to help with the plague," I look up to meet Asra's eyes. Their face pales and they sit back in their chair.

"Oh," is all he manages to say. I sit up fully and bring my hands into my lap, wringing them nervously together.

"I could use my magic to help too, and I want to be able to help the people, just like I did when I had people coming by regularly for magical ailments," I try to say something, anything to get Asra to stop looking at me the way he is. Scared, confused, frustrated, maybe even a little mad. He suddenly rises, his chair squeaking along the floor as it's pushed back.

"Asra please," I say barely above a whisper. Asra walks over the kitchenette and paces before turning to me, expression full of pain.

"That… That’s a terrible idea," he says. I suddenly feel taken aback.

"What wanting to help?" I say. Asra's face twists.

"You'll get sick, you'll… You will get hurt, you won't be safe!" he exclaims, starting to pace once again.

"There are people dying Asra I can't just sit around and let it happen! I want to do something, we can do something, we're both magicians!" I rise from my chair so I can fully face Asra as he frantically paces and runs his hands through his hair.

"How are we supposed to survive then, being exposed every day?" Asra looks me in the eye, his expression one of distress.

"Asra we're barely getting by as is," I motion to the bowl of fruit that I was organizing earlier. "The food isn't fresh, we have to go shopping all in one day so we don't risk exposure, and I am barely scraping by with my rent on the shop!" I let out an exasperated huff, folding my arms.

"I told you I would help you, I can sell masks, I can do fortune-telling just not here," Asra enunciates that last word by sharply pointing to the ground to make their point.

"I want to help, Asra… I want to be here," I shift awkwardly in place looking down at my feet. A lump begins to form in my throat, making it hard to breathe. Asra approaches me and places his hands on my forearms in an attempt to soothe me.

"Please, we can't stay here, let's just leave to where it's safe," He pleads, barely above a whisper. I slowly shake my head. Asra leans into me, trying to look into my eyes. His violet eyes, specked with tears in the corners.

"Why don't I help the people here? A-and you can stay home and make money off your painted masks," I say meeting his eyes.

"No, no no no," Asra begins to speak over me. He pulls away and faces his back to me, running his hands across his face.

"Asra I can't force you to stay here but you can't force me to leave," I say making my voice stern, hoping he understands my point. Asra quickly whips around tears falling down his face.

"Then how am I supposed to protect you!" he shouts. My breath hitches and I take a step back, my calves hitting the chair I was previously sitting on. The room grows eerily silent from his out burst.

"You can't protect me from everything, especially not this," I say, my own tears threatening to fall.

"Yes, I can! If you would just listen to me and leave! We could be safe," he approaches me, hands reaching out to me. I put my own hand up, stopping him from getting closer.

"Asra, I've made up my mind about this I'm not going anywhere," my chest aches, I want to leave with him, I want to leave because I'm scared. But I know I can help these people and I can't let my fears stop me.

"Please, you'll die," his voice cracks.

"If it saves the lives of even just a few people, then maybe was worth it,"

"No, you are too important to me!" they plead.

"Asra I have made up my mind! Nothing you can say will change it!" my volume begins to rise. Asra pleads my name and approaches once again gently grabbing my hands.

"Please it will kill you,"

"Asra..." my heart pounds in my chest.

"I can't live in a world knowing you aren't in it!"

"No Asra!" tears form in my eyes and my voice starts to crack.

"You will die-"

"Then death is better than this life we are living!" I shout. I didn't mean to. But I became so overwhelmed my temper flared-up. Asra takes a step back, releasing my hands.

"Is that how you feel," he says. I can't bring myself to answer, the lump in my throat has grown 3 times in size, swallowing my voice. "Very well," Asra turns away from me. Grabbing various clothing items as he goes. He disappears around a corner and I can hear him rummaging. I take in a painful deep breath. Wiping my tears as they fall. Asra comes back in with a bag, shoving items inside angrily, my eyes are too cloudy to fully see what he's doing but I can tell.

He's packing to leave.

"Asra," I croak. "Where are you going?" my voice comes out pathetically, as I try to compose myself. But my heart races in my chest. Asra ignores my question and continues to put items in multiple bags. All his clothes, his trinkets, their books. Anything they can carry.

"Asra please," I drag my feet as I try to follow him, but I can't stop the waterfall of tears escaping me. 

Asra finally stops in the middle of the room, passing me. He has multiple bags on both shoulders. I stand at the hallway entrance and watch him. Faust quickly slithers out from behind me, Asra crouches allowing her to climb up his arm. He takes his hat off the hook and places it on his head. I stumble towards him reaching out.

"Asra I'm… I'm so-" their eyes meet mine, cold, angry, pained. I stop in my tracks

"This is the grave you made yourself, I will not be there to watch you get buried," he says. His voice cracking. Without another word, Asra turns and goes down the stairs and into my shop. 

I can only gawk in silence, in disbelief that he actually left. The wall-shaking slam of the door breaks me from my shock. I grip the fabric of my top, just over my heart. Feeling as though it has broken in two. I sink to the floor and sob, harder than I ever have because a piece of my heart has left me.

[goldafterglow]

Head canon: MAKING JACK BLUSH. I NEED TO SEE IT. 🥺

Summary: Jack Daniels is a pretty cowboy.

Paring: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x reader

Word Count: 1.3k+

Warnings: soft!Jack, no sins but they are for sure basking in the post-sin afterglow, a lil bit of blushing for our baby boy, this is not beta read bc i’m impatient

Author’s Note: YESDJHGJFD I LOVED EVERY SECOND OF THIS. This is also my first little like drabble, except it’s too long but ig 1.3k is a drabble for me kids this is the standard.

It’s early in the morning. 1:43 am to be exact. But you can’t bring yourself to end the night; he always make it so hard to sleep. In a good way of course; a really good way.

It’s in the afterglow that his feelings begin to melt, glaciers in his mind turning to liquid as the golden amber spills gently from his lips and over your chest so that it will encapsulate you, dry around you and encase you, keeping his words wrapped around your body forever. Embroidered into the soft chenille of your neck and whispered into the lobes of your ears. He speaks to you in a way that you can feel; it’s a pleasure of its own to feel his lips kiss the dips of your clavicles through his words, his voice low and sending wide vibrations through your sternum. It feels sinful, heavenly, like something too good to be right.

It feels nice.

You’re laid by him on your side, face buried into his bare chest as his thick fingers run along the curve of your spine, re-exploring you with a sense of focused clarity that he doesn’t often get when he’s overwhelmed with lust and passion. His fingers are careful, sensitive, picking up on every bump and blemish until he can paint the perfect picture of you under his closed eyelids, even as the meek moonlight bathes your waist and glimmers against the sheets. Perfect.

He’s resolved to a comfortable state of wordlessness, eyes trained on the top of your head as you bask. There truly is something golden about the afterglow he casts onto you; you always seem to feel like you’re floating, like not even gravity could keep you from ascending to the clouds with him. He makes you feel precious.

With an inhale of his musk, you slowly nudge your chin so that you can look up at him, fingers tracing his jaw. You love to let him shower you in his affection like a delicate hummingbird is kissed by tiny drops of rain, but you rarely take the time to take him in. The bump of his nose is highlighted by the window’s rays, his lips still a little blushed and swollen from the night. The side of your palm runs up along the side of his face before finding his hair; it’s been mussed, disheveled by your greedy fingers. Gorgeous.

“What’s going on in that big beautiful mind of yours, angel?” Jack ponders, prodding you tenderly with his words. He can tell when you’re lost in thought, lost in him. Perhaps he can’t tell when you have no desire to be found, when you want to be left to traverse the tall grass of his forest and hug the applewood in his eyes. What a way to go.

“Nothing, Jack,” you assure. It’s a weak excuse, an almost embarrassing attempt at deflecting his question, but maybe it’s because you want him to ask you again, dig a little deeper into you so he can make a home inside you. Never leave.

“Now, darlin’,” he starts, feigning a little sternness in his tone, “I think you know good and well that ol’ Jack can tell when you’re fibbin’. Ain’t no use lyin’ to me, honey. I’ll catch ya every time.” Your heart swells swells a little at his words, because he’s so honest with you. You know he knows you, sometimes better than you know yourself. He’s made you his hobby, learning you like a subject and studying you like a book. He can always read you.

And yeah; he always catches you.

You take a few diamond-adorned seconds to look at him; his mustache rests right on top of his soft smile, there to accent his words and tickle your neck when he’s feeling playful. His eyes are wide like when a two-month old baby can finally look at its mother in awe, utterly mystified and doe-y. His face is sculpted by the gods, chiseled to magnificence in his charcoal features, and yet he uses it to show you he loves you. He loves you.

“You’re so pretty, Jack,” you whisper. The words barely leave your lips as a noise, traveling to his ears as wisps of the breeze you blow onto him.

Jack Daniels is floored.

It’s not a word he’d ever use to describe himself. Cocky, sure. Sexy, absolutely. Brash, confident, competent; he wasn’t too shy to toot his own horn every once in a while. But pretty? Flowers are pretty; butterflies are pretty. When the sleepy sun yawns and breathes a peach glow onto the front-porch flower bed, that’s pretty. When you step outside to dip yourself in the golden afterglow and he walks out into the backyard to find you sitting on the quaint bench he built just for you. When he drags himself into the kitchen in the morning to find you already there, frying up bacon on his stove in nothing but his unbuttoned flannel and last night’s bra; that is fucking pretty.

But Jack Daniels -- is he pretty? He looks down at you carefully. He can tell when you’re fibbin’, after all. 

You don’t look like a dishonest woman to him.

“You’ve already got me in bed with you,” he teases, trying to deflect. He can’t handle the weight of your words, isn’t strong enough to hide what they do to him, and he needs you to take them back before he bursts into a supernova of rouge love. “You don’t need to-”

“I mean it, baby,” you interrupt, tone serious. You can tell he doesn’t want to believe you, doesn’t want to grapple with the intensity of your thoughts. But he needs to know, he has to trust you’re not deceiving him. “You’re beautiful.”

His smirk is gone, his smug, self-assured grin nowhere to be seen. The room is dark; he knows that. But the moonlight hits him just right, at just the right angle that you can see that sweet strawberry syrup tint his cheeks, giving him up. You can’t help but smile a little, like you’ve done something good. He’s good.

Jack’s breathing is a little jagged, his heartbeats a little stuttered. What was it he’d done to deserve you again? Oh right; nothing.

Your hand leaves his hand to cup his red cheek, thumb running right under his big eyes. He leans into it, face turning a little to nuzzle your palm, and the notion makes you giggle. A fierce lion reduced to a whimsical lamb, so gentle under your touch. He is vulnerable when he is with you, especially in these shared moments of solitude, and you wonder if you could look at him like this forever.

Blushing.

“C’mere, pretty boy,” you tease, but you mean it. You mean every word.

You nudge him towards you, his face finding solace in your chest. He shifts down a little, his soft body wrapping around your middle. He can hide in you, feel pretty in your arms. He’s safe in you.

“You think I’m pretty, sugar?” he asks softly. Almost a little timid. He’s embarrassed to need validation like this, ashamed that he’s practically begging you to say those words again, but you make him feel so warm, so secure, and he knows that the last person to leave him for a lapse in strength is you.

You press a kiss to the top of his scalp, his wild hair tickling your nose but you don’t care; you want him close. Closer.

“I know it,” you whisper, throat closing on itself a little because you’re so grateful that you finally get to tell him. That Jack can finally begin to grasp just how much he means to you. There’s so much more you want to say, but you don’t want to overwhelm him with it because you know he loves you with a fury and passion that drowns him without you piling on your love too.

And as Jack closes his eyes, finally ready to let the night end, he thinks he might know it too.

Tags (ik this is a drabble but idk lmao):  @gustavos @catfishingmorales @keeper0fthestars @1zashreena1 @blancatobarxoxo @honeyedspace @chaotic-noceur @opheliaelysia @adikaofmandalore @din-damn-djarin @mrsparknuts @girlwithanewplan @mrschiltoncat @buckstaposition @the-feckless-wonder @ergotautology (girl you know what to do) 

also im gonna never tag anyone in my headcanons again bc that was embarrassing yikes gjfhdjgd

[ilovemesomekillianjones]

Navigating the Storm 2/4

Summary: Emma Swan navigates the aftermath of Neverland by trying to deal with everything the way she always has, by locking all her feelings away. Between having to share Henry with two other people now, her parents confession in the Echo Caves, her parents pushing her towards a man she has no interest in, and feelings for another man that she never expected to feel, Emma is at the end of her rope. *Post Neverland - No Curse*

Author’s Note: Thank you again to the wonderful @hollyethecurious for beta reading services! After the response to Part 1 - I am so nervous in hoping that Part 2 lives up to its predecessor. 

Rated M        3.1K        ao3         ffnet        Part 1        Under the cut, promise

Emma woke, wrapped in a warm embrace and her body immediately tensed in the fog of early morning brain haze. She never spent the night! Then she remembered where she was and who she was with and although a new fear popped into her head as she realized she was exactly where she wanted to be, Emma decided to unpack that later. They were both on their left sides and his right arm and leg cocooned her. She relished just how nice it felt to be right here, right now. Under normal circumstances Emma might feel smothered, but the crisp Maine air had penetrated the cabin a bit and his body heat was heavenly.

“Don’t run off, Swan,” he grumbled in a raspy, sleep-filled voice. “I can feel you thinking.”  

“What do you mean, ‘feel me thinking’?” she asked, mocking his husky morning voice and accent. She fell into giggles when he squeezed her in his arms and tickled her side. 

“Your body tensed as soon as you woke, that’s what I mean.”

“I actually wasn’t thinking about running off.” Emma sat up as she pondered how to translate what she was feeling. “I mean I was, but I was more thinking about not running. I know this is going to sound ridiculous because it sounds stupid in my own head, so don’t laugh.”

“Try me,” he said softly, as he sat up next to her. 

“Have you ever done things the same way for so long, or done the same thing so many times, that to not do the same thing scares you?”

Hook chuckled and nodded his head as he picked up on exactly what she was saying.

“I said no laughing,” she deadpanned.

“I wasn’t laughing at you darling, I merely know exactly the feeling you are referencing.”

Emma folded her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“Let me share with you,” he offered, “since I see you are doubting me, despite your lie detector’s silence.”

Emma narrowed her eyes, damn him for always being so right about her. Open book, his words echoed in her head.

“Why do you think I left when you appealed to me to help you and your boy, to be a part of something?”

Emma took a moment to consider this, and though she’d always assumed it was because he was the ruthless Captain Hook, maybe there was something to what he was saying. “Because it was what you had always done? Look out for yourself, you’ll never get hurt.”

“Precisely Swan, but - and this is where I understand what you are talking about, when you appealed to me, every part of me wanted to stay and help. I wanted to stay for you. For the first time in centuries, my focus wasn’t on my revenge, and that? Well that scared the shite out of me.”

Emma was a little bit speechless, she’d always been thankful that he’d come back, but she’d never stopped to really question why. In fact, she was embarrassed to admit that at the time, she’d assumed he’d found some self-serving purpose to help them. Placing her hand on his cheek, she leaned in to kiss him gently. “Thank you for coming back,” she murmured. “I don’t think I ever truly thanked you. And since you’re always asking for gratitude in the form kisses, that’s what that kiss was for.” 

“Let me show you how I say you’re welcome.”

Emma laughed, a carefree little thing, as he tackled her to the bed and kissed her soundly. When Hook broke the kiss, Emma tried drawing him back in, but found he was sticking to his word. While she was disappointed to not experience more of this man while she had him in bed, she knew that this was one of the kindest things anyone had ever done for her, putting her well-being first, even when she didn’t want to.

“We should get you home, lass, your parents are probably worried about you. I don’t suppose you checked in with them on your talking phone?”

“It’s just a phone,” Emma giggled, secretly finding it adorable that he was trying to learn new world lingo, “not a talking phone. And no, I didn’t. I left my phone at the diner so no one would bug me.”

“Bollocks, Swan. You’ll be lucky if there isn’t a massive search party underway already,” he said as he jumped out of bed. 

Emma took his proffered hand and left the comfort of the bed as well. “Ugh, you’re probably right.”

“Let me walk you home?” Hook asked after they’d dressed.

“I’d like that,” Emma answered. “Think we have time to grab a cup of coffee at Granny’s?”

They walked in relative silence as Emma pondered her next steps in helping herself. She was tired of feeling like a prisoner in her own life. Hook had made some really good points last night. Who knew Captain Hook was a life coach in training?

By the time they arrived at the loft, Emma had made a choice. Grabbing his hook, since he was holding a coffee in his hand, she said, “I’m going to talk to my parents this morning, about everything.”

“I think that’s a smart idea, love,” Hook affirmed, before taking a sip of his coffee.

“Will you come inside with me?”

After choking on his coffee and coughing until he was almost blue in the face, he answered truthfully. “I think that is the opposite of a smart idea, but… as you wish.” 

“Thank you,” Emma sighed in relief. Before she could grab the handle to the door, it swung open. 

“David, it is her!” Snow called over her shoulder. “Emma! We were so worried about you!” she cried as she wrapped her arms around her daughter. “I heard the coughing at the door and hoped it was you. You didn’t come home and I was so scared someone or something had gotten to you.”

“I’m fine, mom,” Emma assured her, hugging her back with her free arm.

“What’s he doing here?” 

Emma gritted her teeth as she peered into the loft and saw Neal standing inside. What the hell are you doing here? she wanted to scream at him. “I asked him to come with me,” Emma answered with a measure of calmness she was drawing straight from where she was still gripping Hook’s hook.

David stepped forward to join his wife and daughter in an embrace. “I’m so glad you’re alright,” he whispered. “Come inside,” David said as he ushered Hook and Emma into the loft. 

“Where’d you spend the night,” Neal asked.

“I don’t see how that is any of your business,” Emma growled. 

“Why is he here?” Emma asked, looking between her parents.

“I called him this morning when you hadn’t come home,” Snow confessed, eyes downcast to the floor. “I asked him if he knew where you were and he got worried and came over. We were going to get a search party organized. I’m sorry, Emma.”

“It’s okay,” Emma said, reaching to grab her mom’s hand. She didn’t miss the way her mom’s eyes shot up to meet her own, relief clear in the relaxed set of her brows as Emma uttered those two simple words. She gave her mom’s hand a squeeze before letting it go. “Let’s talk.”

Turning to Hook, she nodded her head toward the kitchen and pulled him forward. They both sat down at the dining table, where Snow and David joined them.

“I’m sorry I worried you guys last night. It was… bad form,” she smiled at the turn of phrase, “of me to leave my phone at the diner and not let you guys know I was okay. Killian was kind enough to let me stay aboard the Jolly for the night.”

“You really think jumping straight into Hook’s bed is the best thing for Henry?” Neal sputtered.

“You’re out of line, Bae,” Hook snapped.

“It’s okay,” Emma whispered to Hook, then she stood from the table and walked straight over to Neal, until her face was inches from his. 

Anger boiled in her belly, but she tamped it down and instead spoke with composure she didn’t feel. “Again, I fail to see how that is any of your business. I don’t give a fuck what you think about who I spend my time with or where I spend my nights. You lost that right so long ago. And I would never do anything to jeopardize Henry’s best interest, so you can stop using that as a cover for your jealousy of Hook. Now you can stay or you can go, but the conversation I am about to have with my parents probably isn’t something you want to stick around for.” She whipped around without waiting for a response and sat back down next to Hook at the dining table.

Emma looked between her parents as they sat next to each other holding hands, and it made her happy that they had each other. “Mom, Dad, we have to talk,” Emma started, pausing only momentarily when the door to the loft opened and slammed shut. “I let everything build up after we got back from Neverland. Last night was the absolute wrong time to try to make you guys understand all I’ve been keeping inside, and I’m sorry that I went off and then stormed out. I’ve never been the best at talking things out.”

“Emma, we only want what’s best for you,” David said sincerely. 

“I know that,” she said confidently. She reached across the table to place her hand atop her parents' joined hands to make sure she had their attention. “Neal is not what’s best for me.”

“I’m sorry we were pressuring you toward him,” her father interjected. “It’s obvious now that something happened between you two, but your mother and I didn’t know that.”

“That’s what I wanted to discuss this morning,” Emma said, sitting back in her chair. “I want to tell you what I should have told you from the very first time you mentioned Neal and I getting back together. Killian once asked me if I’d ever been in love and I lied to him. I lied because I was ashamed to admit that I had been in love once and I’d gotten my heart broken like the stupid, naive teenager I was.” 

She looked over to the man himself, and took his hook in her hand again. He smiled at her, giving her a reassuring nod. “Look, I’m going to make this as quick as possible, because this is something I hate to even think about, let alone talk about. Without going into all the details, when I was sixteen, I met Neal. We got together and eventually decided we wanted a better life, more than petty crime and sleeping in stolen cars. Neal said he had a way for us to make that better life, but it involved one last job, and I was stupid enough to help. When all was said and done, he left me holding the bag for his crime, because Pinocchio had found him and told him that I was The Savior. An anonymous tip was made to the cops and I was arrested. I was charged with possession of stolen goods in an amount exceeding the grand theft larceny limit, and they put me in prison for eleven months.”

Hook shifted in his seat, and she didn’t miss the fury in his eyes. “That’s where I found out I was pregnant, that’s where your grandson was born,” Emma’s voice cracked with a sob as the pain she’d dealt with on her own came rushing back. “What exists between me and Neal now, can only be based on what happened between us then. I hated myself, and by extension I hated him, because I did the one thing I’d vowed my whole life that I’d never do if I had a child of my own. I gave him up.”

David and Snow sat silently, grief stricken as they listened to Emma tell the story of what had happened to her when she was still just a child herself. A steady flow of tears trailed down Snow’s cheeks as she faced the collateral damage of a choice she’d made. David was ashen as he thought back to the moment he’d placed his precious daughter into that wardrobe so she could be The Savior. 

“And I hate that I put those looks on your faces, I know you had no choice in sending me away, but I didn’t know it back then,” she continued, straining to get the words out through the tears. Emma leaned into Hook when he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, helping her to fight the intrinsic urge to shut down, with just his supportive embrace. 

“I didn’t make the time to process anything that happened over the last few months, Neal returning, Neal dying, Henry being kidnapped, Neal being alive, mom wanting a new baby, Dad almost dying, Henry almost dying. Then we came home, and not only did I have to share Henry with Regina, but now I had to share him with Neal of all people. And he just wouldn’t let up about getting back together and putting the past behind us for Henry’s sake, like it was my fault that there is this wedge between us. The final straw was having you two push me toward Neal, it made things…  unbearable.”

“I’m so sorry, Emma,” her mother spoke first, “we had no idea.”

“How could you,” Emma said, “I tried to sweep everything under the rug instead of talking to you guys. I didn’t want your pity and I didn’t want to be the reason you’d pass judgement on Neal.”

Snows brows furrowed. “Emma, sweetie, parents are always going to lament the wrongs their children experience, it’s because we love you, not because we pity you. It’s especially painful, at least for us,” Snow said, looking at David for confirmation, “because we weren’t there to pick up the pieces with you.”  

“I’m sorry I never took the time to explain any of it,” Emma apologized.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” David spoke. “That… coward, he’s the only one at fault here. I’m just sorry I didn’t know sooner.”

Despite the somber mood, Emma couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Hook sat next to her, no doubt spoiling for a fight with Neal, and her father looked just as primed to knock her ex down a peg or two. “He’s still Henry’s father, and I didn’t want everyone in town to hate him because of what happened between me and him. That’s why I never said anything. And now that I have, I don’t need you, either of you,” she amended, looking between Hook and her father, “seeking to avenge me.”

“No sucker punches, then?” Hook asked, looking at David while rubbing his jaw subconsciously.

“Or sneak attacks with a crowbar?” the prince asked, eying Hook.

“Exactly,” Emma said, “I just need my parents to back me up when it comes to the fact that there is no me and Neal, and there never will be.”

“We promise,” David said solemnly. 

“Of course,” Snow agreed. 

“And just so there is no question, I am happy that you guys want to try for another baby. I was just a little taken off guard when you mentioned it in Neverland, I was already struggling with the whole orphan game that Pan was playing. I’ve always felt replaceable, a byproduct of being in foster care, and no one has ever stuck around, so it took me a hard minute to realize that you weren’t trying to replace me.”

“We just got you back!” Snow exclaimed. “We would never try to replace you, Emma.”

“I know that, logically. Like I said, some of this was my bullshit that I needed to deal with. I just wanted you guys to know that I am happy for you, and I also needed you to understand where my head has been these past two weeks.”

“Thank you for trusting us enough to confide all of that to us,” David said. “I hope you know we are always here for you. And Hook,” David continued as he extended his hand across the table, “thank you for taking care of our baby girl last night, she needed someone and I’m glad you were there.” 

Hook scratched behind his ear as he tried to come up with an apt response. His instinct was always toward sarcasm or innuendo, but he knew now was the time for neither. Accepting the handshake, Hook replied graciously. “You’re welcome, Dave. I’m glad I was there, too.”

“All this talking has made me really hungry,” Emma said. “Anyone up for breakfast at Granny’s?”

“Why don’t you and Hook go,” Snow suggested. “Your father and I already ate and now that there is no search party, we can still make our appointment to look at a property.”

“A property?” Emma asked.

“We want more space,” her father started, “and I miss having land and animals around.”

“I guess it is a little crowded in here,” Emma laughed.

“Not space from you,” Snow corrected, “you’re more than welcome to come with us when we find a new place!” 

The cheerful hope behind Snow’s voice almost made Emma feel guilty about the fact that she already knew there was no way she would be moving with them. “Thanks, mom.” Emma didn’t miss the swell of elation that crossed her mom’s face at the sentiment. “You ready to go eat?” Emma asked Killian.

“Aye, love.”

“Maybe you guys can tell me and Killian about the property over dinner this week?” Emma asked, and she didn’t miss the shocked expressions on each face in the room as so many things in that sentence gave each pause for different reasons. 

“Sure, honey, that sounds nice,” David answered, a genuine smile touching his eyes. 

The four said their goodbyes and then Emma and Hook headed out the door hand-in-hand.

“Does she mean like a double date?” Snow asked.

“I don’t know,” David admitted, hands on his hips, “but I think he’s good for her.”

“You? You think Hook is good for our daughter?”

“What?” 

“Nothing,” Snow said, a smile ticking her lips. “What a difference a trip to Neverland will make. You couldn’t stand Hook.”

“That’s before I knew what kindred spirits he and Emma are. I think he understands her in a way we never will.”

Snow’s face crumpled a little and her husband was quick to pull her into his arms to reassure her that he hadn’t meant it as a slight to them as parents. “Emma knows we love her, all I’m saying is she and Hook have a lot in common. They understand each other just as you and I have always understood each other.” 

Tagging some folks, please let me know if you want to be added or removed ♥

@laschatzi @qualitycoffeethings @hookedonapirate @wordsmith-storyweaver @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @wyntereyez @hooklineandswan @teamhook @let-it-raines @spartanguard @whimsicallyenchantedrose @tiganasummertree @apromisednightcap @xemmaloveskillianx @elizabeethan @cocohook38 @optomisticgirl @darkcolinodonorgasm @timeless-love-story @jennjenn615 @girl-in-a-tiny-box @thesschesthair @galadriel26 @ultraluckycatnd @lifeinahole27 @therooksshiningknight @kday426 @djlbg @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @lfh1226-linda @delightfully-difficult-pirate @thejollyswan @csalltheway @xarandomdreamx @resident-of-storybrooke @vvbooklady1256 @withheartfulloflove @mcakers @gingerchangeling @searchingwardrobes @snowbellewells @nadine200179 @alexa-fangirl-forever

[yandereclues]

Request: Hey! I saw that you take requests for Stranger Things and was wondering if you’d take requests for borderline-terato Mindflayer! Billy Hargrove?

Request by: @youre-gonna-stink-and-burn 😊

Note: I changed things up a little with the mind flare, just to fit the Yander print better. But I really hope you enjoy !! 💕 (also based on the pronouns in your bio I assumed you would want male pronouns, if not I can change them real quick.)

Pairing: Yandere! Flayed! Billy Hargrove x Male! Reader.

Warnings: Displays of obsessive behaviors, slight violence? And sexual themes.

(Credit to @fivemoonjunction for the cool gif 😋)

“Hey umm,” you spoke as stress-filled tears threatened to pull from your eyes, “have you seen Billy recently? He hasn’t been answering my calls and-“ your shaky words were cut off by Max’s reply.

“No,” she seemed uninterested. She went to close the door, but you managed to get a sentence out before It clicked closed; “Well, if you see him please call me.”

She opened the door again slightly, just enough to look you in the eyes. The unintelligible emotion behind her words put you off slightly. She quickly slammed the door closed. You stared at the frosted glass, at about eye level on the door. A small, almost silent sigh escaped your lips as you tilted your head up. But as you looked up, you noticed a pair of curtains flowing outside of an open window. You recognized the window, the same one you had been ushered to crawl through on many nights. Memories flew around your mind at the thought.

You remembered the chilly autumn evening vividly. “C’mon baby, if you jump, I’ll pull you up,” it was like his voice called to you from the open window, beckoning you closer. You had put all your faith into Billy’s relentless weightlifting that night, hopping towards the window. You remembered just barely touching the window sill, as strong warm hands gripped your forearms.

Many things had happened. You remembered music, calloused hands, cigarette smoke, and piercing blue eyes encasing you throughout the night.

A chill filled your system. The last time you had seen those beautiful eyes was last Friday. When Billy had dragged you to the changing rooms of the pool after hours. He had pressed you against the cold stone wall, lips grazing over your neck. Running his hands down your body as he usually did. This time though, he hesitated. As if he was waiting for some sort of signal.

It took a few seconds for it to set in how cold his hands were. He refused to let you ponder the subject though, as he resumed kissing your neck roughly. Much rougher than your previous nights, where he had been gentle, patient. His chest was pressed against yours, almost uncomfortably so. You shiver at the words he spoke softly into your ear that day. “I’ll be back for you, don’t worry.”

As soon as you got to your front yard, you threw yourself off of your bike. Not bothering to put it in the garage. Rushing to get to the door, you nearly dropped your keys as they shook, trying to get the damn thing to open. When the door finally slipped open, you scampered through, closing and locking it as you entered.

————————————————————————

“Come here,” you heard him call, “come here baby.” Billy sat down on his old bed, beckoning you forward with his pointer finger. You crawled forward, reaching your hand to touch his thigh. You seemed a mere inch away, but the only thing in front of you was now your kitchen phone. It rang, even as you rushed to pick up the receiver, it simply rang.

You could see him, on the other side of the line. You could feel him. He was cold, afraid, desperate. When the phone would stop ringing, he would dial your number again, placing it to his ear as he awaited your voice. You spoke through the receiver;

“Billy? Are you okay? Why are you so cold?,” you were frantic, trying to express your concern to him. But he wasn’t in his home anymore, he now stood in the field outside of your school. He just stood there, taking a long, shaky drag of his cigarette.

————————————————————————

Your eyes opened lazily, taking in the lights you had left on when you fell asleep. You looked at your bedside clock, it’s 1:26 AM. You stumbled over to the light switch, so inconveniently placed next to the door to your room. You flicked the light off, turning to now return to your slumber. But the familiar feeling of thirst made your throat scratch. You huffed, pulling the door open to stumble your way to the kitchen.

You flicked on the lights in the kitchen, the harshness of the fluorescent light fixture stung your eyes. A cold breeze flowed in from your left, making you shiver as the hair on your arms stood on end. But you got through it, in an attempt to grab a glass of water so you could go back to sleep. You tilted the glass up. “Hmmm?,” the top layer of the water seemed to have frozen. A frustrated huff left your lips. You stumbled towards the entrance of the house, where the thermostat was attached to the wall.

As you turned the corner towards the thermostat, the temperature continued to drop. Your eyes widened, as they landed upon your front door, standing wide open. You froze, not really knowing what to do. When you came to your senses you quickly walked over to close the door. But before you could close it;

Something called out.

The sound seemed to pull you outside. The grass was wet against your bare feet, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. You walked for a while, it seemed like it took twice as long as it did on your bike to reach your destination.

Billy’s house was dark; no lights, no sounds. You stepped up to the front door, almost knocking on it, when the sound of those awful curtains flowing outside of Billy’s window reached your ears. You looked up. There was something, no, cigarette smoke being blown outside of the window.

You walked over, noticing the ladder Billy had always set out when he wanted you to come over. It was an old rusty ladder, leaned up against the side of his house where his window was. You placed your hand on the rung, hesitantly. What if the smoke was just your imagination? You would practically be breaking and entering.

You quickly forgot those thoughts though, as you hoisted yourself up the ladder. One rung at a time. The final step onto the roof had always been a little awkward, but you managed. You tip-toed over the roof, taking no chance in waking the people beneath you. You stood under the window now, looking into the pitch black room, in which smoke no-longer emanated.

With a quick breath, you jumped. Your fingertips barely grazed the window sill. But once again, a strong, firm grip held onto your forearms. The grip easily pulled you through the window, with you simultaneously ending up on the floor.

You looked up, seeing those piercing blue eyes shining in the moonlight. “Billy!” You stood, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Bringing your body to his. He returned the embrace, nuzzling his face in your neck. You could feel him inhale deeply, as if taking in your scent.

He pulled away for a moment, moving his hand up to hold your jaw. “You heard me calling you?” He asked. It seemed like a rhetorical question, as his answer lies with you standing in front of him. Still, you nodded frantically. He smiled, his grip on your jaw tightening. He spoke; “hmmm, good boy. C’mere.” He pulled you over towards his bed. He sat, having you stand between his legs.

You piped up “Wait, where were you? I tried calling you so many times, and you didn’t answer. I was starting to get—,” something wasn’t right. Where the hell did he go? What happened?

Billy, in an attempt to pull you away from such silly questions, spoke; “You know, you’re so pretty. My pretty little boy, hmmm?” You froze, not knowing how to respond to his words, his touch. Dear lord it was cold in here.

You looked over, Billy must have turned on the lamp on his bedside table while you weren’t looking. Your eyes averted his, instead scanning the walls. It seems he had torn down all of his porno magazines.

You were surprised, he had spent years putting all of those up. But now they were instead replaced with, Polaroid’s? Many of them were blurry, like he had been in a rush. But one of the photos seemed oh-too familiar.

This photo, unlike the others, was framed. It was a photo of you and Billy. He had insisted that you sit on the hood of his car, while one of his buddies took the photo. As you looked closer, you realized that many, if not all of the photos were of you.

Many you remember having told Billy he could take while doing, scandalous things. Others seemed to be of you in many positions. Asleep in his bed, making him breakfast while his dad was at work, and the occasional shot of his hand on your ass.

Billy refused to let you ignore him longer. He pulled you down on the bed. With seemingly more strength than ever. He had you pinned down by your arms. He stared down at you with hungry eyes. His teeth shined in the lamp-light as he licked his lips. He leaned his head down to your lips, kissing them aggressively.

“Shit,” he whispered, “you drive us fucking crazy.” He bit your lip, hard. His action caused you to gasp, attempting to wrench your hands away from his grasp to sooth your lip. He only gripped them harder, with a bruising force. “We’re so lucky,” he breathed. “I thought I was crazy about you before, but he’s showing me just how much I can love you.”

Billy moved both of your wrists to his left hand, using his right to reach for the cuffs on his nightstand. Without warning, he quickly snapped the cuffs around your wrists. You then began to panic, struggling against the cuffs. He still had one hand, holding the chain linking the cuffs. The other, now moving up your neck.

“It’s okay, you can trust us,” his hand gripped your neck softly, “we aren’t gonna hurt you.” You tried kicking, thrashing your legs around. You tried kicking his legs, but it was to no avail as they stood solid where they were.

“Billy, what the fuck!? Let me go, now! Are you crazy?! You disappear for like a week, and now you’re talking about ‘we’!? What do you mean ‘he’s showing you’?!”

His grip tightened around your throat, choking you mid sentence. His expression changed, now darkened, like a switch had been flipped. He spoke, low and hoarse; “Don't fucking talk to us like that! You won’t know a damn thing about what’s out there. He’s shown me shit you couldn’t even imagine,” he growled “this is the only way you’ll be safe. The only way we can make sure you’re all ours.” His expression softened. “You're all ours,” he barely whispered.

As well as his expression, his grip on both your restraints and throat lightened. You took this opportunity, not knowing if such a thing would occur again. You pushed his hands off of you, leaving him momentarily stunned. The handcuffs rendered you slightly, but you pushed up from the bed, jumping over to the window. Making you realize, it was colder inside, than it was outside.

You got practically half way outside before Billy lunged towards you, dragging you down to the floor by your ankles. You fought back, pushing him away. But the seemingly inhuman force he used, easily had you rendered defenseless. “Stop struggling honey,” he huffed. Once again his hands wrapped around your throat. Only this time around, he didn’t hesitate to completely choke you out. He watched you try to pry his hand away, merely sighing as your body went limp beneath him. “Hmmm,” he spoke, “you’ll understand soon darling.”

——————————————————————————

Part two? Maybe?

[escapewriter]

Light of My Life

pairing : minghao x reader

synopsis : what’s better than celebrating your boyfriend’s birthday rapunzel style?

genre : whole lotta fluff and a bit of humor

word count : 2k

warnings : slight mentions of murder but its a joke

a/n : for minghao’s birthday😌 it isnt a lot like how i wanted but it does justice lol. also, lets pretend they weren’t by the ocean lol

svt written masterlist || main masterlist

You sat in your apartment opening the box you received from the mail today. Jun had helped you plan this date for Minghao for his birthday and this item would complete the whole date. You pulled out the lanterns that were in a plastic bag and scanned them. 

“Perfect,” You place them carefully in the picnic basket, finally set for your date with Minghao tomorrow. You heard your phone buzz on the table.

Minghao : hi yn, what you up to?

You smiled at his text, grateful that he took the time to text you even with his busy schedule 

You : i am currently preparing for our date tomorrow :D

Minghao : ooo how exciting. can i know what you have planned??

You : you should know the answer to that question 

Minghao rolled his eyes as he stared at his screen. Of course you would turn the tables on him, he always made your dates a surprise. 

Minghao : no fair :(

You : how is this not fair??

Minghao : cuz i want to know lol. 

You contemplated but stood your ground; you can’t tell him. 

You : guess you just have to find out tomorrow. 

Minghao sighed, giving up on attempting to find out what you have planned. 

Minghao : fine. but don’t think ill tell you what i have planned for your birthday. 

You : yeah yeah i know. dont you still have practice?

He looked at the clock in the practice room and then to some of his members who were sitting on the floor or standing. 

Minghao : yeah i should probably get going. its late too, you should sleep. 

You : i will dont worry. stay safe and dont push yourself. 

Minghao : i wont. goodnight my love, i love you.

You : i love you too. 

You locked your phone and took the basket, placing it on the kitchen counter. Tomorrow was going to be an eventful day. 

~

You placed the basket with all the supplies you needed in the trunk of your car, deciding to make it a surprise. Taking the other basket that you prepared this morning with various types of food, you put it in the backseat behind the drivers side. Getting in, you started the car and headed to Minghao’s dorm. 

You tapped the wheel in excitement, you finally get to have some part of the day with Minghao before his birthday. It was November 6th, so it wasn’t exactly his birthday, but you did get to have him until midnight and that’s all that counts. And it made your plan perfect. 

You got to the parking garage and texted your boyfriend that you were downstairs waiting. After 5 minutes, you see the elevator open and Minghao step out, looking as handsome as ever. 

He approached the car and got into the passenger seat, giving you a quick kiss. “Hi,” he smiled at you, “Hi,” you smiled back. You began to pull out of the building, picking up a small conversation with each other.

“How was the drive?” You turned down the radio, “Same as usual, smooth, nothing wrong, I was safe.” He smiled, happy that you had a decent ride, “That’s good. So, where are we going?”

You took your eyes off the road to look at him for a split second before focusing back on the road. A grin creeped onto your face, “You’ll find out soon Hao. Be patient, you’ll love it.”

“No, I know I’ll love it, I just have to let my manager know because of protocol,” You sighed, “Is that really the reason?” He looked outside the window, playing with his rings, “Half of it, they told me to have fun.” 

You smiled and turned up the radio, “Shut up and enjoy the ride baby. Trust, you’ll enjoy it more.”

~

“This is nice,” Minghao sighed beside you on the picnic blanket. “Yeah it is.”

All the food in the basket was empty, mainly Minghao devouring most of it. “So, what are we gonna do now?” You looked at the time on your phone. Sun sets at 6:45 and it’s 3:50. You have three hours for what you have planned so it should be enough. 

“I’ll be right back, I have to get something.” You got up quickly and retrieved the extra basket that was in the trunk. You returned to Minghao, “Ta da!” 

“More food??” You laughed and sat down in your place, “No, an activity. Jun actually helped me with the idea.” You opened up the basket, taking out of the things you packed inside, “What is this YN?” He picked up one of the lanterns. 

“It’s a lantern. I packed all these art supplies so we could decorate them and light them up and release them. Originally, I wanted to do it at midnight because that’s when your actual birthday is, but the timing wasn’t right, and plus it’s dangerous during nighttime.” 

He looked at you with his mouth agape, “That’s so,,, thoughtful. I can’t believe you came up with this.” 

“Actually Jun-” “-let’s just give you the credit for now.” You smiled at him as he leaned over and kissed you on the lips. You held his face in place as his right hand was planted in between the two of you so he wouldn’t lose balance. Pulling away, you smiled at each other, “Happy Birthday my love.” 

“Thank you, I love you so much. Now! Let's get to painting!”

~

“My lantern looks like crap oh my god,” you looked at the blue blob on your cylinder object. “I’m sure it looks fine YN, just keep going.” You put down the paint brush and looked at your boyfriend. 

He’s been in ‘The8’ mode ever since you two started painting. He didn’t want you to see what he was making, so it became a rule that when you both finish, that’s when you present your pieces to each other. 

“I don’t know why you’re not letting me see yours, it’s not like I haven’t seen you paint before.” You continued to try and make your blob look presentable by drawing a happy face, “You know, when you took me out here in like the middle of nowhere, I thought you would’ve killed me, broken up with me and left me here to starve, or go cloud watching.”

You looked at him with a weird face, “Well for one thing, there are no clouds today. And two, I wouldn’t have let you starve, that’s too painful.” You finally looked up at you, “So you would’ve killed me?” 

You purse your lips, “Would you rather starve to death?” He rolled his eyes and looked back down at his artwork. 

“I get that Jun helped you with this, but like, how did the idea come about?” You painted mindlessly while pondering on an answer, “Well I thought of you and what you would like, even if you said anything. But I just thought about what you meant to me, like how lanterns are bright when you light them up, and when you release them, they float. It’s a really bad metaphor, but you’re like my lantern. You’re the light of my life and every time I’m with you, I’m always on cloud nine. Plus it fits with your culture.”

He was looking at you when you tried to sneak a peek at his lantern. “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t just see you try to look at my lantern. But besides the point, that was really cheesy, but I love you.” You smiled and put down the brush. 

“Well, I’m done with mine.” You looked at him, seeing him also set down his brush, “Me too. Do we let it dry and assemble it?” You contemplated on your answer for a bit, “Uhh, I could probably assemble mine because it looks like trash anyway, but if you like yours, let it dry a little and then assemble it.” 

~

Minghao just finished assembling his lantern after it dried for a bit. It was currently 6:50, the sky was just turning into various shades of orange, pink and purple. “Okay, wanna see mine now?” You looked at your boyfriend and he held his lantern behind his back, “Show me.”

He brought it in front of him and lifted it up, slowly turning it to see the details that he drew on. “Wow, it looks beautiful, I can’t really see it.”

He brought it back down and signaled for you to scoot closer, “This here, is the bouquet of your favorite flower that I got you for Valentines Day,” You smiled as he turned it a little to move to the next picture, “This is the tree that we sat by on one of our dates. The one where a bird pooped on you,” You laughed and slightly hit his shoulder, “I can’t believe you put that there.”

“How could I not? It was an amazing memory. Anyway, this is a drawing of our matching bracelets, I didn’t want to paint it because I thought it would ruin it, so it’s a bit plain.” You shook your head, “No it’s beautiful.” He turned it to the final piece.

“This is a picture of us, or a silhouette of us. We’re watching the lanterns fly up into the beautiful sky together.” You felt a tear drop fall from your eye, “Aw crap what the fuck? Why am I crying?” You giggled and quickly tried wiping away the tears with your hands as Minghao laughed beside you. 

He put down his lantern and pulled you in closer to him, “Why are you crying though, baby?” You sniffed, “Because this is a celebration for you, and I feel like I should’ve painted something beautiful for you.” You kissed your forehead softly, “I don’t care what you paint baby, as long as I’m here with you, it doesn’t matter.”

“I kinda don’t want to release that one, it’s too beautiful.” He looked at you with a pout, “but I painted the future.” 

You laughed, checking your phone, “Okay fine. It’s 7:10, we should light it up now.” 

You both got up, lanterns in your hands. Grabbing a lighter, you lit yours and then Minghao’s, “Ready YN?” You held the hand that he held out, “I feel like I’m in high school musical,” he laughed, squeezing your hand, “Keep it PG, we do not makeout in public.”

“Okay,” You rolled your eyes with a smile, “On the count of three.” You both gazed into each other’s eyes, “1. 2. 3.” 

You both let go of the lanterns and saw them slowly float into the sun-kissed sky. You felt Minghao release your hand before hearing jazz music begin to play and feeling his arms wrap around your waist, swaying softly to the music. 

“Of course jazz music.” You heard him chuckle behind you, “Well, you can’t blame me, it’s a perfect time for it.” You smiled and leaned more into his embrace.

“Did you like the date?” He hummed in response, his chin on your shoulder, “It was perfect. I loved it a lot, thank you for making this special for me.” 

“Of course. It’s, well almost your big day after all.” You turned around, placing your hands on his shoulders and his on your waist. “Happy Birthday my love,” He smiled at you, heart filled with love and happiness as he looked into your eyes more. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss to your lips, taking your breath away. You would never get tired of this feeling. 

Pulling away, you smiled at each other before he looked up, “We should take a picture.” He took out his phone from his pocket, pausing the music and switching on the camera. He held it at a low angle to get the lanterns in the picture, but also getting the sunset in the background.

“Say cheese!” Instead of smiling at the camera, you placed your lips on his cheek, him capturing the moment perfectly. “You sly person,” you giggled and quickly pecked his lips. You grabbed his phone and resumed the jazz music. 

Hold out your hand, “I believe we were dancing earlier?” He gave you a smirk and took your hand into his before pulling you closer, the two of you watching the sunset and dancing slowly to the sound of jazz.

[rockthistowninsideout]

Never Too Late For A Leap Of Faith

Part 1

(Part 2)

Five times Taichi only feels the presence of Digimons and one time he actually meets them (again).

Words: 2126 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Tags: 5+1 Pairings: Taichi Yagami/OC, Sorato, Jyoumi

Inspired by this youtube video talking about how the end of Kizuna fits into the narrative of the Epilogue in 02, posted by TheDigiKnow. It’s in my opinion a thorough and yet personal analysis.

   When there was a baby’s cry from the labour room, Taichi broke down in tears. He’d been pacing to and fro in the hall leading to it, but only after his wife Kana had dislodged some knuckles in his hand by holding it too tight during a contraction and he had to be treated for it. Afterwards he hadn’t been allowed in again because, and that was something he didn’t like to admit, he had been on the brink of fainting before Kana’s force had jerked him back to consciousness.

    A nurse stuck her head out the door and smiled. “Congratulations, Yagami-shi, you have a son!”

   Taichi wiped away his tears, smile a little lopsided, and entered the labour room. His wife Kana, whom he had met at a diplomatic meeting three years ago, looked pale and drained, but smiled broadly. She mopped her sweaty brow with a neckerchief, pushed her long black hair that looked a tad greasy after her exertions behind her ear and leaned forward to receive a kiss from Taichi. Then she pulled away the duvet that had been drawn over her to reveal their newborn son. He had chestnut brown hair just like Taichi but his mother’s bulbous nose and when he opened his eyes they were a startling clear blue.

   “Most children have blue eyes when they’re born”, the nurse explained. “They’ll darken over the course of the first year.”

     Taichi hadn’t said a word yet, he was too transfixed on this small bundle of life that he helped to produce and that he was now responsible for. That realization suddenly felt heavy on his shoulders but when he looked into Kana’s soft yet endearing black eyes, the very eyes he’d been mesmerized by from the very beginning, he felt the weight ease.

   “Do you want to hold the little egg?”, Kana asked and lifted the bundle towards Taichi who’d been instinctively forming a cradle with his arms.   Something at the back of his mind stirred to life, something about a green yard full of cribs with colourful eggs, the way it never had before when the word “egg” was mentioned, but Taichi didn’t give it any notice. Tears were running down his face again as he watched the miracle before him. With a scratchy voice he whispered “Hello Hotaro, welcome to the world.”

   The first days were reserved just for them so the three could get to know each other. After the tiredness of being born had worn off, Hotaro was a very awake child. In every sense. He had trouble sleeping through, which caused Taichi, suddenly becoming self-conscious about his appearance, to use Kana’s concealer. She had taken a year off from work while Taichi went back to the office after three days. His colleagues welcomed him with a round of applause, a light blue greeting card, and a big stuffed and, for some reason, snow white teddy bear. As he looked the bear up and down, suddenly a cold breeze swept over him and gave him goosebumps. He immediately knew how he would name the bear.

     “I am Frigimon”, he muttered under his breath.

***

   Hotaro loved Frigimon. He had accepted the name without hesitation, affectionately calling him Friggi, and never going to sleep without him. Once Frigimon had entered the Yagami household, something had shifted within Taichi. Usually he was highly alert in his meetings but now he started dreaming away. Dreamt of a tram that didn’t need rails, of an island ruled by an evil bat-like looking creature, and vending machines in the middle of nowhere.

     He also started dreaming away at the kitchen table when having dinner with his family. At some point he was so far gone that it needed a gentle slap on the shoulder by his wife. When he looked at her questioningly, she said “Muchomon”.

   He tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

   “Muchomon was my Digimon partner. He vanished when I was 24 and had just finished my degree.”

   “You were a DigiDestined?” Taichi’s eyes went wide as saucers.

   She nodded. “It’s been a while but since you brought Frigimon here the memories have boiled up again. You should talk to your friends again, and more than just at their birthdays and about irrelevances. I thought you’d been so close? To be a DigiDestined, and having fought numerous battles, welds together – for life.”

   Taichi took a deep breath. He kneaded his hands. He hadn’t wanted all this to happen – to let the contact cool down or even freeze. It had just happened. Because. Because of life, he guessed. At some point work and his little family had become more important than his long-term friends. He didn’t even know how many children Sora and Yamato now had!

   He banged his fist on the table.

   “Dad!” Hotaro exclaimed frightened. He had never seen his father so agitated. Immediately, Taichi regretted his outburst. He had never wanted to scare his son, become violent around him. And now he had. Because of his own shortcoming. “I’m sorry, Hota”, he quickly said, tearing at his hair. He got up, walked around the table, and lifted his son in the air.

   “It’s okay”, the four-year-old said, gently touching his father’s face. “Can you let me down, please?”

   Taichi complied, a bit confused.

   Hotaro took his hand and led him to his room. “Sit down, Dad. I’ve found something while playing in the attic a few days ago.” He handed him a box which Taichi instantly recognized, and his heart ached. He didn’t need to lift the dusty lid, sprinkled with little fingerprints from his son, to know what was inside. But he did it anyway. Coming to light was a round pair of goggles and a smouldered Digivice. He only noticed he was crying when the first tears hit the Digivice, just like they had done many years ago when Agumon had to say goodbye.

   For good.

   Or so he had thought. But Digimons were reborn. He had witnessed that many times. Maybe it just hadn’t been the right time until now.

   He lifted his head to look straight into his son’s open, curious, beautiful face. When also Kana had been a DigiDestined, then maybe their child should also supposed to be one. Or no, no he shouldn’t. He should choose if he wanted to become one.

   They had been thrust into this world without having been asked first. They had had to come to terms all on their when they’d been mere children and the forces who had chosen them had never offered much aid. He wanted this to go differently.

   He noticed that Hotaro held up Taichi’s phone. Koushirou’s name was on the display, it was already dialling. “Call him”, Hotaro said. Taichi shook his head. That kid was much smarter than was good for him.

***

   “Oh!! It’s soo good to see you all again!”, Mimi exclaimed, as excited as ever.

   Taichi had to dial down the volume of his computer as the audio overmodulated. But he smiled, genuinely, because he felt just the same. Before him, the screen was split into five segments, all filled with bright smiling faces.

   “Jou, come over, they’re here now!”, Mimi called, her face turned away from the camera. In the background there suddenly was the sound of glass crashing on a tiled floor, followed by a stream of swear words. “Jou, I told you not to swear in front of the kids!” She turned back to the screen. “I’ll be back in a minute.” With that, her segment got empty.

  Her friends chuckled. “I see you were cleverer”, Taichi pointed out to Sora and Yamato, who were sitting together in front of the camera and holding their two children on their laps. Their son had inherited Sora’s maroon hair while their daughter was as flaxen-haired as Yamato. They were both visibly bored, wriggling about on their parents’ laps trying to grab office supplies that were clearly not toys in their vicinity.

  “I’m not so sure about that”, Yamato remarked, dryly as ever, as he pulled a stapler away from his son’s hands.

  “Dad, have you seen my hockey stick?”, someone called in the background of Koushirou’s screen segment.

  He sighed. “I thought you put it in the cabinet beside the shoe rack. You know, where it’s supposed to go.”

  “I did but it’s not there. And Yui and her mom will be here any minute to pick me up for training.” The voice grew whinier and more urgent.

  Koushirou bowed apologetically to his friends. “I just have to help my daughter.”

  Meanwhile, Mimi had reappeared, Jou and their two sons in tow. “Hiroshi, Sasuke, say hello to Mom and Dad’s friends.” Mimi nudged them a little forward.

  The older one, taking remarkably after Jou with his blueish-black hair and the glasses, hesitated but the younger one, sporting a daring chin-long bob with a middle parting, grinned and brightly said “Hi, I’m Sasuke.”

 The DigiDestined greeted him back with a laugh. “Say Sasuke”, Taichi started, “does your mom and you go to the same hairdresser?”

  Sasuke looked at him in surprise. “Yeah, but how do you know?”

  More friendly laughter.

  “My brother’s good at guessing, is all”, Hikari remarked, absentmindedly fastening her hair-clip. She wore her hair the longest it had ever been but subconsciously she itched for a cut. But her daughter always said that she looked so nice with the long hair even though Rika couldn’t stand long hair herself. Hikari had even caught her once as she had cut her middle brown hair with kids’ scissors.

  “Oh, I see”, Sasuke said, tilting his head. “But you don’t look like siblings at all.”

  “Sasuke!” Jou turned red in second-hand embarrassment. “Sorry, my son can be a bit blunt sometimes.”

 “I wonder whom he has that from”, Takeru mused, hand held on his chin as if he was pondering a very difficult question.

  “I heard you are a writer”, Hiroshi suddenly said, nervously adjusting his glasses.

  Takeru’s expression turned smug. “And a pretty successful one at that.”

  “Yeah, but Dad thinks you’re exaggerating at times.”

 Jou turned even redder. “That’s… that’s not what I’ve been saying!”, he sputtered. “You just sometimes spend a little too much time on one detail.”

  “That’s not what you said, Dad!” Hiroshi turned to his father, affronted. “I’m not a liar!”

  “Of course not, my dear”, Mimi said soothingly. Then she leaned in closer and whispered “Sometimes adults don’t like the truth very much.” Louder did she say “Why don’t you two go and get your guinea pigs to show our friends, mmh?”

  “Oh yeah!” They bounded off out of the frame.

  “And where’s your kid?”, Yamato asked his brother.

  Takeru shrugged. “At band practice. Don’t know where he got the musical talent from but he certainly has some. And no, Yama, he hasn’t gotten it from you. Because he’s better.”

  Yamato dramatically inhaled. “You didn’t say that!”

  “I’ve got a round of witnesses who can confirm that I just did.”

  “Sorry Takeru, my connection was a bit wobbly for a few seconds. You said something?” Taichi asked suspiciously innocent.

  Takeru shook his head. “And you call yourself my friend.”

  Before anyone could reply to that, Koushirou plonked himself down on his chair breathlessly. “I’m back!”

  “Did you find the hockey stick?”, Sora asked, glad about the diversion. She had already feared that the mood could be slipping.

  Koushirou nodded solemnly. “Yes, just in time. And it was actually me who had misplaced it because I had cleaned out the cabinet and didn’t put it back.”

  “Tststs, Kou. I hope your daughter doesn’t have to put with too much.”

  Koushirou shook his head. “Of course not. Being a single parent isn’t easy but we have a cleaning   lady who comes in two days a week and I can bring Koyuki to my parents if need be.”

 Yamato muttered something under his breath which earned him a jab in the ribs by Sora. “In this house we don’t judge”, she breathed into his ear, only audible for him.

  He reluctantly nodded.

  “These are Tom and Jerry”, Hiroshi and Sasuke announced, diverting the tension once again.

  Taichi chuckled. “They don’t look like a mouse and a cat to me.”

  “We weren’t allowed to have a cat and a mouse”, Sasuke replied.

 “You wanted a mouse?” Sora could hardly hide her laughter.

  “Unbelievable, right?” Jou seemed to shiver just at the thought of having a tiny and cunning rodent in the apartment. And a slightly dumb but very persistent cat chasing it.

  Takeru laughed, too. “Most certainly.” Then he leaned forward. “But have we just come together to get to know your pets or is there a more pressing matter?”

[flashbackharry]

Tw; Postpartum Depression

Call 1-800-944-4773 (4PPD)

English and Spanish or

Text a Message: 503-894-9453 if you are struggling with Postpartum Depression. This hotline is COMPLETELY confidential and available 24/7.

You sat down on the rocking chair with your 3 week old baby cradled in your arms. She looked so peaceful. You were so afraid of even moving an inch, careful not to wake her as you just got her to close her eyes. You never felt so exhausted in your life. Sleep was now a distant memory, you were moving through life in a forgetful haze.

You stared at your precious baby in your arms and a twang of hurt and absolute adoration tugged at your heart. There was no denying you loved this baby, she was now your entire heart-but there was a small piece of you that thought you couldn’t do motherhood. A small part of you buried deep, deep down. A small part of you that almost felt unworthy. Sometimes, when Harry was asleep and you just put her down you’d go into the bathroom, sink to the floor and sob. Turning the shower on to drown out your cries.

Harry was absolutely the best father you could have hoped for. But he didnt know how much you were struggling. Seeing him interacting with the baby seemed so easy, like besides singing, he was meant to take care of an infant. Your eyes swelled whenever you'd catch him in the nursery holding her even though she was already asleep.

“Just wanted to hold her.” He'd say with a raspy voice and you'd nod and walk back to your bedroom and go under the covers and try to hold everything back.

It's not like Harry didn’t notice your melancholy behavior. Ever so often he’d catch you staring off into space and within seconds he was in your line of sight.

“Everything okay?”

You’d give him a small smile and nod, telling him you were just tired. He’d hold you while you napped and whisper sweet nothings into your ear.

The day everything shifted was when Harry announced he'd be gone for a week. He had agreed to do a weeks worth of promo for his upcoming album. When he told you, your eyes widened and the anxiety settled in.

“A week?” you asked, trembling in your voice.

“Yeah I know it's not ideal, but it's only a week and I’ll be right back here.” He said washing some glasses in the sink, up to his elbows in soapy water. When you didn't say anything back he turned his head to you, his gaze met your teary eyes, and he noticed your palms were shaking. He took his hands out of the soapy water, grabbed a towel as he dried his hands off, all whilst walking towards you. He knelt in front of where you were sitting on the chair.

“Hey, hey what's going on bub”

He said softly, his hand went to lift your chin to meet his gaze.

You huffed and your breath came out shaky. How do you explain to him you were terrified of being left alone with your baby. How do you explain you couldn't do any of it without his help, to look out for you, but especially for the baby.

“Please don’t go, Harry, I c-can’t do this without you.” You hiccuped and suddenly the tears were coming on faster.

“Where's this coming from love?.” He cooed cupping your face.

You were getting frustrated. You moved Harrys hands off you and pushed back in your chair, standing up. Harry stood up and you were both now at eye level.

“Please! Harry just do this one thing for me pl-please.” You said through your sobs.

“Okay,okay. I won't go. I’m right here baby.” He said as he drew you closer to him and enveloped his entire body over yours. Clinging on to you like you'd crumble if he were to let go. He rubbed circles into your back, whispering everything would be okay in your ear and occasionally peppering kisses onto your forehead.

You stayed like that for a while before Harry finally felt okay letting you go. Your anxiety subsided, but it still lingered in the back of your mind. Only silent, slow tears leaving your eyes, you took a deep breath and let go of Harry. He looked up at you, concern laced his features, a mixture of worry and questioning haunted his eyes and you felt guilty for being the reason they were there.

Harry guided your shaky figure back to the dining table and pulled the chair out for you. You sat and immediately put your down on the cool granite.

Harry turned the kettle on and while he waited for it to boil, he walked over to your slumped figure, he massaged your back with his fingers and pressed kisses into your hair. He pulled a chair up right next to you and took your hands into his. Kissed each and every one of your finger tips.You raised your head and the two of you stared into each other's eyes. He looked tired and worried, you reciprocated the same look. You weren't crying anymore but the hurt still lingered deep in your chest.

“Wanna talk about it bub?” Harry asked.

You told him everything you felt in the past three weeks since you've had the baby. The hurt, the longing, the guilt. You told him about the crying sessions you've had in the bathroom late at night when he and the baby were fast asleep. About how you envied how easy all this came for him, how loving his child was easy for him; free of hurt and pain. About all the insecurities you had about being a mother.

Before you knew it you were crying again and Harry guided you to his lap. He cupped your face in his hand and wiped your tears away with the pads of his thumbs. You noticed he was crying as well. You kissed his salty tears away.

“Why did you tell me any of this was going on love? I'm so sorry this was happening and I didn’t pick up on it”

You pondered his question for a minute and the answer was on the tip of your tongue all along.

“I didn’t know how bad it was until the prospect of having to do it completely alone hit me.” You said,meeting his gaze.

You embraced each other for quite some time, forgetting all about the tea you planned to make.

“I’m sorry my love, we’re gonna get through this together. I’m not leaving your side.” He murmured into your neck.

“Would you be okay with seeing a therapist? You don’t have to do it alone, i’ll join if you want me to. I just want to make sure you’re getting help beyond what I can provide.” He asked, looking for any hint of hesitation in your eyes.

“Yes, I wouldn’t mind that. Not at all.” You breathed a sigh of relief, finally you were going to stare this thing straight in the eye. You just wanted your life back and now that seemed possible instead of terrifyingly daunting.

You heard the baby start to fuss over the monitor you had in the kitchen. You both stirred, untangling yourselves from each other.

“I got it.” Harry said but you took his hand and sat him back down.

“No no, it’s okay I got it bub.” You said, giving him a small smile and kissing his cheek. He turned his face so his lips met yours and you pinched his side before going up the stairs to the nursery.

Your baby was still fussing in the crib so you picked her tiny body up. Shocked at the sudden movement, she cried some more not long before smelling your familiar scent and calming down. You sat in the rocking share and this time saw hope instead of fear when looking at the love of your life in your arms.

“..Hey Jeff, yeah I cant fly out on Friday, might have to push back the promo stuff for a while.” You heard Harry say over the monitor.

“No everything is okay, just the missus and the baby really need me and i’m not comfortable leaving them for a week.” You felt saddened Harry had to push his album release back a few dates.

“They’re my entire world Jeff, thank you for understanding...yeah see you soon buddy, bye now.” Harry’s voice died out and suddenly you heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

Harry held a tiny baby bottle in his arms.

“I heard you on the monitor. I’m sorry Harry.” You said looking up at him as you took the bottle he was offering you.

“Nope, Up up please.” He gestured for you to get up off the rocking chair and he sat down, pulling you and the baby in your arms into his lap.

“None of that, I want to be here. That stuff can wait.”

“Are you sure? Everyone’s anticipating this album Harry.”

“Yeah I am too, but it would absolutely wreck me if I released it while everything wasn’t okay here. You two come first.Always.” He said kissing your daughter's cheek and resting his face on your neck.

“You are the best mother in the entire world.” He said.

“Right up there next to Anne.” He said smiling into the crook of your neck.

Things were going to be okay.

[pressedinthepages]

Kalon (Part 2)

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Eskel x Reader

Word Count: 3642

Rating: E

Masterlist

a/n: OMG, I just hit 100 followers!!! I am beyond words, thank you all so much for your kind words and support of this weird venture I’ve embarked on XD I was originally going to wait a little longer to release this chapter, but I thought it would be a nice way to celebrate the milestone :)

Tags: @whitewolfandthefox​ @havenoffandoms​ @MishaFaye @criminaly-supernatural​ @weathervanes-my-oneandlonely​ @magpie343​ @queenxxxsupreme​ @belalugosisdead​​  @hina-chans-stuff​

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Warnings: SMUT, draw me like one of your french girls, codpiece, oral sex, penetrative sex, eskel is a pussy eating GOD and you cant change my mind

You find inspiration for your next drawing, and Eskel is happy to help. (Part 1)

    “May I draw you again?”

    Your words ring clear in the lull of the morning, Eskel being the only other person in the kitchen with you. You’ve gotten up early, intent on making breakfast for the Witchers. You’d not been up longer than five minutes before Eskel joined you, wrapping an arm around your waist and placing a lingering kiss to your cheek before sitting at one of the benches at the table. 

    The pot of kasha steams and bubbles over the fire as you ladle two bowls full, bringing them over to the table as you speak. At your words, Eskel’s eyes shoot to yours, fingers clenching on nothing in particular. You set a bowl in front of him before sitting on the other side of the table, facing him as you sprinkle some dried fruits into your breakfast. 

    Eskel stares into his bowl, mixing some molasses into his kasha with a bit more ferocity than necessary. You let him ponder your question, gently blowing on the first spoonful of your meal as you tuck in. 

    “Did-” he clears his throat before starting again, “Did you have anything specific in mind?”

    “Actually, yes, but only if it was alright with you,” you whisper, not wanting to wake the others up before you could actually make your request. Ever since that first kiss that you shared, you’ve been unable to keep this idea from your mind. 

    Eskel’s eyes are still glued to the bowl, absentmindedly running his thumb over a groove in the table as he mulls over your words. “How is it you want to draw me?” His voice is low and gravelly, but you can’t tell if it’s from having just woken up or nervousness.

    “Well,” you start, pushing away your now-empty bowl, “I know how important your wolf medallion is, and I want to highlight that with you wearing it,”

    Eskel’s brows furrow, his head tilting down to glance at the metal circle that hangs from his neck. “Okay...seems easy enough-”

    “Wearing only the medallion.”

    Eskel’s golden eyes dart back to yours, a deep flush settling across the high planes of his cheeks. His spoon stills, halfway between the bowl and his mouth before he drops it, landing back in the bowl with a loud clatter. At the noise, he blinks back to himself, his hand coming up to scratch at the scars on his face.

    “Can-can I think about it?” he murmurs, not fully comfortable but intrigued nonetheless. 

    “Of course, darling, I’d never want to push you into something that you didn’t want to do,” your words reassure him as footsteps sound from across the keep. Eskel pushes away his now-abandoned breakfast, deep in thought as you rise to clean up. 

    When you return, all of the other wolves have gathered around the table, Lambert sliding up to sit next to Eskel with a bowl of his own. Geralt’s hair is wild with sleep, and Vesemir sips from a steaming mug as he works on waking to a reasonable state. Here, in the safety of the keep, the witchers can afford to fully rest and take their time in lounging as the sun rises.

    You rest a hand on Eskel’s shoulder before coasting onto the bench beside him, nodding a greeting to Geralt as he reaches for the molasses. Eskel turns his head to you, meeting your eyes as he stares deep into them. He smiles, something fleeting between heartbeats, before leaning to whisper in your ear.

    “I’ll do it.”

    …

    That evening, you’re setting up the different materials that you’ve collected throughout the day. Your journal and pencils rest on your bed as you work, draping several thick furs over the cold stone floor in front of the fire. There is no moon tonight, only the stars twinkling in the sky as they wait in anticipation. 

    As the last fur hits the ground you stand, hands on your hips as you consider if there’s anything else you’ll need. The room is silent, save for the occasional crackling of the fire, and you jump a bit when there is a sudden knock at the door. 

    You cross the room, your light skirt just barely drifting along the floor. You typically wear trousers around the keep, since they’re much warmer and easier to work in, but the skirt is less restrictive, fluttering and flowing around your legs. The door opens with a low creak, revealing Eskel standing behind it. His broad form takes up most of the doorway, but at least he has foregone the heavy armor and swords that are almost always strapped to his back.

    You smile, stepping back into the room and gesture for Eskel to follow. He does, gently closing the door behind him and kicking his boots off by the table before joining you in front of the fire. His hands are cool in yours as you take them, running your fingers over his knuckles as you look into his eyes. He’s nervous, you can tell, but you can also see the budding excitement that lies contained just below the surface. 

    “You’re sure that you’re okay with this?” you ask, your voice soft and soothing.

    “Mhm,” Eskel nods, leaning down to place a sweet kiss to your lips. You smile into it, squeezing his hands in your own as you pull back. 

    “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, dear,” you reach to his waist and untuck the light shirt from his trousers. The fabric is soft and well worn, comfortable to even the barest touch. You reach to undo the buttons at the neck, letting the edges fall away and reveal little glimpses of tanned skin. You fit your fingers under the hem and lift, raising the shirt over his head as he slides out of it. You carefully fold it up, taking your time as you place it on the edge of the bed. 

    You turn around, your eyes roving Eskel’s newly exposed chest as he watches you. You let yourself look, taking in the swell of his arms, the breadth of his shoulders, the dark dusting of hair over his skin, lingering only slightly on a particularly painful-looking scar that sits just below his sternum. You cross the room back to him, running your hands up his arms as you feel the muscles beneath twitch under your fingers. You admire the medallion, bright silver raised in the shape of a wolf’s head. You kiss the skin right next to it, Eskel’s chest pushing into your touch as he takes in a deep breath.

    You straighten up, letting your fingers skirt along the band of his trousers. Your eyes flick up to his for permission, smiling to yourself as he nods for you to continue.

    “Red is a good color on you,” you murmur, deftly undoing the bright ties on his codpiece. He huffs out a laugh, his smile easy and soft under your watch. You slip your hands down, pulling the now loosened trousers to the floor as you kneel. Eskel rests a hand on your shoulder as he steps out of them, letting you slide them out from underneath him. 

    You turn once more to the bed, folding the garments as you go and placing them with the same care that you had his shirt. When you face him once more, your eyes run up the long planes of his legs, the slight dip of his hip, and the impressive manhood that hid under the not-so-subtle codpiece. You blush a bit when you notice that he is already half-hard, swelling and flushing with the beginnings of his arousal. 

    As you approach him, you take a moment to thread your hands through his hair with a sweet reverence. Eskel sighs into your touch as you trace the lines and valleys of his face, feeling the slope of his nose and the slightly chapped lips under your fingers. You step back after a moment, fiddling with a loose thread on your blouse to keep your hands busy.

    “This alright, love?” Eskel blushes at the pet name, lowering his gaze for a moment before smiling lightly at you. 

    “I’m fine, it’s a little odd though,” he says, quiet in the sanctuary of the room, “I don’t think I’ve ever felt so...exposed…” His brow furrows as his voice trails off, his gaze vulnerable as you smile back at him. 

    “Do you want to continue? We’ll stop if you don’t want to-”

    “Yes, I mean, yes I want to continue, it’s strange, but a good strange,” Eskel’s voice is strong now, reassuring both of you with his words. 

    “Well then,” you hum, “let’s get started.” There is a cushiony chair in the corner of the room and you move over to it, pulling it back to sit at an angle just off parallel to the fireplace. “Eskel, could you kneel, almost like you’re meditating? Mostly faced towards me, but angled a little bit away towards the fire please.” Your voice is no more than a whisper as you grab your materials, kicking off your shoes before sitting in the chair as he follows your direction. 

    Eskel’s eyes flick up to yours as he settles, knees pressing into the soft furs as he rests his hands atop them. The medallion around his neck glints with the light from the fire as he adjusts for a moment, getting comfortable. When he is satisfied, he looks over to you for what to do next. 

    “My Gods, you are simply gorgeous,” you smile, Eskel preening slightly at your words. “Now, I just want you to relax. This may take a little while, so please, just let me know if you need anything-oh wait, I almost forgot!”

    You jump up, grabbing the cup of water that you had brought with you earlier in the evening. You set it at his side, leaving it within reach so that he can grab it with ease. Taking a thin strand of leather, you tie your hair back from your face, a few strands falling down nonetheless. You sit back down in the chair, tucking your feet under you as you flip to a fresh page. 

    “Eskel, you can close your eyes if it’s better for you, I just want you to be comfortable. Okay, here we go…” You take a deep breath before pressing the pencil to the page, gently marking the outline of his form. You hum lightly as you work, watching as Eskel sits still under your gaze. The fire warms you from the outside as you feel a different warmth bloom from deep within, settling in your core as you begin to add details. 

    You sit like this for a while, tracing the numerous scars and the lines of his muscles with your pencil. Eskel is relaxed, breathing slowly as you focus on the medallion. You take your time here, smudging and erasing the harsh lines to fade into a better representation of the decades of wear that it has seen. You move up and down his body on the page, shading and highlighting every inch of his skin with as much reverence as you would if you were actually touching him. 

You watch as Eskel’s chest rises with a deep breath in through his nose, almost growling as he exhales. His cock throbs in his lap, now fully hard and leaking onto his hip. He murmurs your name and you hum in response, using the opportunity to focus on capturing the way his length bends upward slightly at the end.

    “You smell delicious,” your gaze flicks up, catching him looking over at you. He is still in exactly the same position, but his eyes are open and boring into you, golden flames stoking the fire in your core. 

    “Patience, love,” you chide, smiling as you consider that you could really be speaking to either of you at this point. “I’m almost finished…”

    Eskel smirks, his eyes falling closed as he takes another deep breath. You shake your head, now determined to complete this quickly. You stop and start back a few times, looking over the picture for mistakes and making small adjustments as you find them.

    Finally satisfied, you rise from the chair and cross to the table by the door. You set down your journal and pencils, releasing your hair from its tie before turning back to Eskel. He is still kneeling on the floor, his eyes open once more and tracking your every move. 

    “Will you let me see it?” he asks, turning his head slightly towards you as you slink to his side. You stand over him, watching as he raises his eyes to look directly at you. They are clouded with lust, his hesitance and shame having been washed away by your worship of him. 

    “Hmm,” you ponder out loud, “I could, but Gods, I want to touch you so badly…” You lean down and fit the tip of one of your fingers under his chin, tracing the line of his jaw as you sink to meet him. You thread your fingers through the silk of his hair, bringing them down to rest at the back of his neck as you pull him to you.

    Your lips meet in a sweet, soft caress before swelling into something bigger, more powerful as Eskel steals your breath. You move as a push and pull of the tides, each keeping the other steady as your hands become desperate. Eskel licks into your mouth, sweeping you into his embrace as you feel his hand start to undo the ties of your skirt. It floats to the ground, pooling around you as he lifts your chemise. 

His hands are rough against the soft skin of your abdomen, but he moves with such grace that it’s insignificant. Your lips part only for the time it takes for the chemise to be lifted from your head before you surge back into Eskel’s grasp. His hands quickly find the ties to your underclothes, but he fumbles blindly with the knots. You laugh into his mouth when he growls in frustration, finally choosing to just rip them off of you. A fresh wave of arousal surges through you when you are finally, blissfully, bare before him, pressing as much skin into him as you can. 

You fling your clothes off of the rugs, leaving them to be picked up in the morning. You have far better things to concern yourself with at the moment, pushing Eskel’s shoulders back to have him lay on the furs as you straddle his hips. His hands move all over you, touching everywhere he can reach, glancing up your thighs, over your hips, pressing across your breasts, grabbing you by the hands and pulling you down, capturing your lips once more. 

He nips at the bottom lip before shifting his weight, bracing one of his feet on the floor before twisting, flipping the both of you so that you lie on the floor, caged in his arms. You laugh freely, the sound turning swiftly into a moan as Eskel brings his hand to cup your cunt.

“My Gods,” he sighs, “you’re dripping,”

“Mmm, only for you, darling,” you hum as his fingers move up and down the length of your slit, your legs falling open as he moves downward. Eskel takes his time, kissing and licking along your skin before laying on the floor with his head between your legs. Your nerves are singing under your skin, rising and falling in hums of pleasure that reverberate through your bones. He kisses along the inside of one of your thighs, climbing up, up, finally finding the peak of your core and suckling the little bundle of nerves. Your hands tangle in his hair as you moan, the sound low and deep and pressed through gritted teeth as he slowly sinks two of his fingers into you.

He hums against you, licking and thrusting and pushing and holding and taking, leaving you with barely a breath to tide you over. Your hips rock unbidden, chasing a pleasure that only they know the path to. You watch Eskel, his eyes glazed over, fucked out on the taste of you, his hips rutting against the ground in time with his fingers in your cunt. 

“Oh gods, please, Eskel, please,” you babble, words turning incoherent as he brushes just the smallest glance of teeth against you. He groans, sending you soaring into an abyss of stars that burn too bright and noise that is deafening in its silence. Your thighs shake and your core clenches around Eskel’s fingers as he coaxes through your climax.

You sink down into the furs, finding his hand at your waist and threading your fingers together as you whisper, “Oh, Eskel,”

He falls apart, growling into you as his hips falter, his hand squeezing yours as his release takes over. He thrusts a few times more, spilling between his body and the furs as he holds you tight. Eskel gasps against your core, his lips shiny with the evidence of your arousal. His grip relaxes as he comes down, breathing deeply as he rises to his knees. He is still hard, his own spend dripping down his chest as he looms above you. You reach up, tracing a line through it, feeling him clench as you do. You bring your hand to your mouth and suck his spend from your fingers.

“Fuck,” Eskel says, leaning down to kiss you. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist as you taste your own arousal on his mouth. He is heavy atop you, the weight of him enveloping you as you thrust your hips gently towards his. You pull back, panting as you feel the tip of his cock against your folds. 

“Please, Eskel, don’t make me beg,” you murmur into his lips. He hums in response, looking down as he takes his length in his hand to align himself. His mahogany hair tickles your forehead as he leans against you, slowly pressing into your core. Your fingers grasp for purchase on the thickest parts of his arms, your nails digging in as he stretches you wide. It’s almost too much, dancing the line between pain and pleasure. 

But when he pulls back, only to thrust into you again just a little bit faster, you can’t help that your legs push against his back, forcing him deeper inside of you as your hips rise to meet him. Your breaths intermingle in the space between you, filled with praise and begging for more, more, his cock spearing, nudging the bundle of nerves nestled deep in your core with every snap of his hips. 

“Oohh, yes, Eskel, right there, keep going, just like that,” your voice is husky in the night, stars drifting from their place in the sky to line your words. Eskel pushes himself up, gripping your hips with an insurmountable strength and holding you steady as he fucks into you. Your back arches with the new angle, feeling every move that he makes in a way that drowns out everything from existence. All you know in this moment is Eskel, the bright, shining moon that was missing from your sky. 

“Fuck, I’m-I’m gonna…” Eskel groans as his thrusts turn sloppy, the sound of skin on skin echoing around the room.

“Go on, take your pleasure in me, let me have it,” you grip his hand where it rests once more and he roars, spending deep inside of you, his cock throbbing against the most sensitive spot over and over and over, and all of that sends you spiraling in your own peak with him. Your bones sing, simultaneously feeling everything and nothing as you hurtle through an endless night. Eskel comes and comes, his climax taking over all of his senses, his spend dripping past the tight seal of his cock in your cunt and dripping down onto the furs. 

As the stars return to their place in the sky you smile, pulling him down to kiss him, humming against his mouth. He pulls out of you, a small whine crawling out of your chest with the emptiness. Eskel kneels next to you, fitting his arms beneath your knees and your back as he swiftly rises, cradling you in his grasp as he carries you to the bed. He sets you down gently, laughing as you keep your hands locked around his neck and try to pull him in after you. 

“Hang on a moment, love, I just want to grab something,” he pads away and you get comfortable, yanking the blanket up and nuzzling into it, accidentally kicking Eskel’s clothes off of the bed in your haste. When Eskel returns to your side, he climbs into the bed beneath the blanket, pulling you close as he fits his nose just beneath your ear. He inhales, moaning softly as he relaxes into your arms. 

“You always smell so nice,” he whispers, light and sweet in your ear. He pulls back, letting you curl around his side as he holds you close. You rest your head on his chest, reaching for the journal that he has clasped in his free hand. Eskel opens it, flipping to the most recent page. You feel him tense up just a bit beneath you, his heartbeat quickening ever so slightly as he regards the drawing on the parchment. 

“I-I don’t know what to say, I just...thank you,” his words rumble through his chest, thick with emotion that he still doesn’t really know what to do with. You tilt your head up, looking into his golden eyes that are shiny with unshed tears.

“You don’t have to say anything, I know,” you murmur, letting him hold you close as the stars twinkle and fade in the early morning light, content in their witness to worship.

................................................

a/n: So i just needed to tell you that I also briefly considered using this infamous photo as a reference for Eskel’s pose, but I couldn’t write it without laughing hysterically so I went with this instead XD

[domesticated-feral]

5 times Isaac tried asking Scott out on a date and the 1 time he didn’t have to || Scisaac Week 2020

A 5+1 trope fanfic, written by yours truly, Tyler. Rating: General WC: 2412

You can also read it on my AO3

Summary:

Today is the day, Isaac will ask Scott out, nothing can absolutely go wrong, right?

Sunday

“So today is the day?” Erica said, jumping up to sit on the kitchen island.

“Yeah, I’m going to ask him today,” Isaac said, “I also found out his coffee order, so I can give him it while I ask.”

“He’ll say yes,” Erica said, taking an apple from the bowl of fruits.

“I hope he does-” he glances at the clock- “oh, it’s almost time, see you later, Erica.”

“You better spill the beans later, Lahey!” Erica shouted as Isaac closed the door.

Isaac runs to the coffee shop, hoping Scott would be coming on time and not a second early or late.

He enters the shop and scans the room for the half Latino boy. So far, his plan was going to plan. Isaac strolls up to the counter and orders Scott’s order that he had byhearted and his usual order. He pays and goes ahead to wait at the pick-up line.

As he takes the two coffees and turns around, he is met with Stiles.

“Stiles, uh, good morning?” Isaac said.

“You don’t usually come here,” Stiles said, cutting to the chase, “what are you doing here?”

“Oh, just you know, getting coffee for Scott, I was going to ask him something,” Isaac said, walking with Stiles to a table.

Isaac didn’t notice the small step and he stumbled to the floor, accidentally throwing the coffee in front of him. He hears someone groan in pain from the hot coffee and he looks up from the floor to find that he accidentally threw the two coffees in Scott’s direction.

“Oh no, Scott, I’m so sorry,” Isaac said quickly getting up from the ground.

Everyone in the store was staring, Isaac stood staring at the mess and Scott had coffee all over his jeans and shirt, Stiles just stood, speechless.

“It’s- It’s alright, you fell, you didn’t mean to douse me in coffee,” Scott said, “I should go get cleaned, these stains don’t get out easily if they dry.”

“I’m sorry, I completely ruined your shirt,” Isaac apologized again.

“Isaac, it’s fine, also,” Scott said, walking closer to Issac, “what was that you wanted to ask me?”

“Uh, nothing, I didn’t have anything to ask you,” Isaac said, his brain short-circuiting to ‘get-the-hell-out-of-there-mode’, “I have to go, I’m sorry, again, really. I am.”

Isaac quickly walked out of the shop and didn’t stop walking until he was in the loft. Erica was on the couch, lying down as she scrolled on her phone.

“So, whatever that went down did not go down to plan,” Erica said, looking up at Isaac sensing the huge amount of embarrassment and discontent from Isaac.

“I spilled coffee and I walked out of the shop like a bloody idiot!” Isaac said, pacing around the loft, fidgeting with his hands.

“Spilled coffee? I don’t see a stain on you?” Erica questioned.

“Not me, I spilled coffee on Scott, two hot coffee spilled all over him when I tripped!” Isaac ranted.

“Sucks to be you, I guess,” Erica said, going back to scrolling on her phone.

Isaac huffed and went to his room.

Monday

Isaac pondered up a way to ask Scott again. A little coffee mishap shouldn’t get in the way of the pursuit of his crush. Waking up to a disgruntled Boyd making pancakes for Erica at 4 am gave him the best idea.

As the sun rose up and got warmer, he went to Scott’s house as he still was living with his mom until the paperwork for the apartment would be complete.

He gets in with the spare key to the back door and started cooking up pancakes. This time, there was nothing to spill and surely nothing could go wrong.

He made 9 pancakes and used chocolate chips to spell ‘D A T E  W / M E ?’ on the pancakes, a letter on each of the pancakes. He sets them on the table and turns around to make two milkshakes for him and Scott.

Melissa walks into the room, ready for work.

“Hey, Sco-” Melissa stopped, realizing it was Isaac, “Isaac, you’re here early, how did you get in?”

“Back door,” Isaac said, concentrating on making the milkshakes.

“Ooo, pancakes! Fine if I take one?” Melissa asked.

Isaac subconsciously nodded and Melissa takes three and heads off to work. He finishes up the milkshakes and turns around to see that the previous ‘Date W/Me?’ pancakes now spell, ‘A T E W E ?’

He couldn’t do anything but stare at the pancakes as he heard Scott come down the stairs.

“Morning, Isaac, whatcha got there?” Scott said.

“Uhhh,” Isaac stammered.

“Ooo, pancakes and milkshakes, thanks!” Scott said taking one pancake and biting into it.

Scott looks up at Isaac who looked like he was going through a software update, “you alright?”

“Just peachy, I’m going to go now,” Isaac said as he quickly left the house, with another failed attempt under his belt.

*

Back at the loft, Isaac told Erica and Boyd what happened and all they did was laugh.

“Atewe? ATEWE?” Erica howled through her laughs.

“Yep, that’s what it said, I’m just going to hide in my room now,” Isaac said.

Even if Isaac closed the door to his room, he still heard Erica’s howls of laughs echoing through the hallways from the living room.

Tuesday

Today was going to be different, Isaac knew it. He was going to walk over to Scott’s house and just say it straight to his face. Nothing could ever go wrong with words and Tuesdays were his lucky days. It was a new day and Isaac psyched himself up.

“So, Scott’s petsitting Fluffy today,” Erica said at the breakfast table.

“Fluffy?” Isaac asked.

“Yeah, Stiles’ pet, fluffy,” Boyd said.

‘Huh, must be a dog like Prada or something,’ Isaac thought, ‘a dog can’t get in the way of my plan, they can’t. They’re a dog!’

“Oh,” Isaac mumbled.

After breakfast, he marched up to Scott’s house and Stiles was on the driveway, starting his jeep up.

“Hey Isaac, bye Isaac!” he said, poking his head out his jeep as he drove off the driveway.

Isaac nodded and continued his way up and into Scott’s house.

“Ok, Scott, I have been wanting to ask you this ever since Sunday, well actually ever since ever and-” Isaac stopped as he looked up to Scott.

“Yes?” Scott said, putting what Isaac assumed was fluffy down in its cage.

“Is that fluffy?” Isaac gasped.

“Yeah, you don’t have anything against boas, right?” Scott said.

“He named his boa constrictor, fluffy?” Isaac said, feeling uneasy being this close to his phobia.

“Yes, so, what is that you wanted to tell me?” Scott asked.

“N-nothing, I have to go do something with Boyd,” Isaac said, walking out the door.

*

“You didn’t tell me fluffy was a boa!” Isaac screamed as soon as he entered the loft.

Erica and Boyd snickered.

“You’re scared of snakes, why would I tell you?” Erica said.

“Boyd! Why are you siding with her shenanigans?!” Isaac asked.

“It’s hilarious!” Boyd said through fits of giggles.

“You guys are the worst!” Isaac sighed.

“Love you too, babe!” Erica said, sending kisses in the air for fun.

Isaac rolled his eyes and went to shake his mind off with a good nature document.

Wednesday

It’s a cloudy day, but if it’s expressed in nature, it’s not hard to miss right? He walks up to the McCall household once again and Melissa was inside.

“Oh, hey Isaac, Scott’s gone to get groceries, he’ll be back in a while,” Melissa said.

“Good, I’m going to borrow your front lawn and the garden pebbles, if that’s okay with you?” Isaac said.

“That’s fine with me, not that I use either of them often,” Melissa replied.

“Thanks,” Isaac said, heading back outside.

Using the garden pebbles, he wrote out once again, ‘Date w/me?’ on the front lawn. It wasn’t nature-nature, but grass and stones are pretty nature-y.

As Scott rolls up in the car with the groceries, Isaac straightened himself up and got ready.

“Oh, Isaac, um, hi again?” Scott said, getting out of the car and opening the trunk.

“Once you put the groceries in, could you step out here?” Isaac asked.

“Yeah, sure,” Scott said, holding all the bags and heading inside.

As he waited outside, the cloudy day quickly became thunderous in a second. The hard rain and wind blew away the rocks, deforming his hard work and all he could do was run inside the house.

Isaac internally groaned as it was yet another failed attempt. He didn’t say anything to Scott while he was there, he was too agitated to speak.

When the rain thinned out, he threaded back to his loft, and his face explained everything to Erica and Boyd.

Thursday

The alarm blared shaking Isaac awake from his dream, he slams it to shut it off, “Scott was about to kiss me and you wake me the fuck up?” he gruffed.

He got up and ate breakfast, three days in a row, his plans have been foiled. Maybe it was time to ask the internet for a foolproof way.

“Roses, balloons, and park at sunset, is that a foolproof way to ask someone on a date?” Isaac asked for the opinion of his packmate.

“That’s basically a date isn’t it?” Boyd said.

“Scott isn’t that oblivious, so yeah, you have my blessing, child,” Erica said, slapping the back of Isaac’s head as she walked in the kitchen.

“Ow, Erica!” Isaac said, touching the back of his head.

“Oh, I just love it when my name is said in vain!” Erica said, sliding up onto the kitchen island.

“You’re such an idiot,” Isaac muttered.

“Hey, at least I’m Boyd’s, he loves his idiot right?” Erica batted her eyes at Boyd who grinned and nodded in return.

*

It was nearing sunset, Boyd was at the park holding his balloon and flower while Isaac made Scott ride with him to the park.

They get off and Boyd hands Isaac the flower and balloon and Scott had a mix of certainty and confusion on his face.

“Scott, please let this not get foiled like the past few days. All I’ve been wanting to say is that-”

Isaac stopped seeing Scott’s eye grow wide and his jaw drop.

“Scott? You okay?” Isaac asked.

“My bike!” Scott said, after squinting his eyes to whatever was behind Isaac.

He takes off as Isaac turns around and sees Scott’s motorcycle that they came on being towed.

Boyd walks closer to Isaac and they watch Scott retrieve the bike.

“He’s oblivious to a T,” Boyd said.

Isaac sighs and walks away, his head hanging low, as he held the rose and balloon.

Friday

“I swear, I am going to rip my hair out from this!” Stiles said to Scott.

“From what?” Scott asked.

“You and Isaac, literally, are you brain dead? Are you?!” Stiles said.

“Stiles, what do you mean? What are you talking about?” Scott asked.

“You really have no idea, don’t you,” Stiles said, not really asking for an answer.

“What?” Scott asked.

“You love Isaac and Issac loves you too, he’s been trying to ask you out all week! Ever since Sunday!” Stiles said, “but you, my best friend, Scott, Scottie, the True Alpha, have been completely oblivious to his attempts!”

“He likes me?” Scott gasped.

“YES!” Stiles shouted, “and Boyd called me today, he said that Isaac hadn’t come out of his room today.”

“Oh, it’s my fault isn’t it?” Scott said, feeling guilty.

“Absolutely, now go, bring him to the lookout point in the preserve,” Stiles said, quickly running out the room.

Scott goes out on to his bike and rides to the loft. He is met with a grumpy Derek who opened the door.

“Derek, grumpy as usual,” Scott said, giving a small smile.

“You caused this,” Derek muttered but let Scott in.

Scott walks in and goes to Isaac’s room. It was dark but with the light coming in from the hallway, he saw the boy wrapped in blankets watching national geographic documents.

“Go away, Scott,” Issac uttered.

“No, I came here to ask you something,” Scott said, going closer to Isaac.

“What?” Isaac asked.

“Would you, Isaac Lahey want to go on a date with me?” Scott asked.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do for the past 5 days,” Isaac said.

“I know, and I’ve been an idiot by being so blunt to your attempts,” Scott said, “I’m sorry.”

“I would actually love to go on that date with you, isn’t it too late though? It’s 6 in the evening,” Isaac asked.

“It’s never too late if I get to spend time with you,” Scott said, inching closer to Isaac who sat upon his bed, “I really want to kiss you right now.”

“Then kiss me,” Isaac murmured, their lips brushing against each other.

Scott cups Isaac’s face as their lips moved in sync. Scott softly sucked on Isaac’s bottom lip, and Isaac shuddered from the goosebumps going up against his spine. He had been intensely craving Scott’s touch and know that he was finally getting it, his heart fluttered and he felt whole.

Scott and Isaac move away as they huffed breathlessly. Scott had a smile curling on his face and Isaac couldn’t help but imitate it but 10 times bigger.

“C’mon, we gotta go to that date,” Scott said, getting up the bed and holding a hand out for Isaac.

Isaac gladly holds Scott’s hand and he stands up from his bed. Scott gave Isaac some time to change and he comes out to go on the late evening date with Scott.

Erica, Boyd, and Derek watched the two lovers head out, they were finally satisfied that it was worked out.

Scott and Isaac ride to the lookout point where Stiles had set up the mood with a picnic. Candles, sandwiches, and the whole nine yards with romance.

“Wow, this is nice,” Isaac said.

“Yeah, it is,” Scott said, as he held Isaac’s hand and walked with him to the picnic.

They sit down, share sandwiches, and stare at the sunset whilst cuddling in each other’s arms.

“Scott?” Isaac said, looking up at him.

“Hm?” Scott hummed, making eye contact as he stroked the boy’s blonde locks.

“I love you, more than it can be measured,” Isaac said.

“I love you too, Isaac, I love you a lot,” Scott replied, pressing a small kiss on Isaac’s forehead.

[chappedandfadedvds]

Nov 22th, Sunday 11:11

Jens woke to an intangible heaviness weighing on him in an unfamiliar bed. To get up today wouldn’t be easy. He blinked his eyes open slowly, allowing his conciousnous to remember having fallen asleep in Lucas’s arms in the same boy’s room. The argument came back to mind as well. He didn’t want to think about that now, so his eyes found his boyfriend who sat propped up against the bed rest, typing something on his phone.

The sun was out and shining on a day he had rather preferred to bring clouds and rain. But it allowed for the room to be covered in a white light, letting Lucas’s eyes glow in a deep blue. A shade that Jens was positive he hadn’t seen before, it was absolutely captivating. His boyfriend was so damn beautiful and Jens was afraid to wake up one day to feel different about it. Unthinkable, really.

„Morning.“ He whispered after some time had past in the calm of an empty flat on a sunday morning.

Lucas was startled for a second by the low voice, his head turning to look down at Jens. Not wasting another second, he put the phone away, sliding down to be on his level. The younger boy raised his hand to brush through Jens’s hair.

„Morning.“ Lucas said, 

„How late is it?“ Jens couldn’t possibly tell, as he was used to be up when the night haden’t quite left yet. But now the sun was already shining, throwing long shadows on the wall behind them from two plants dressing the window sill.

„Mhm something after eleven.“ His boyfriend replied, the uncertainty clear in his face, even though he had his phone just a minute ago. If Jens was honest, he probably wouldn’t have a clue either. How often had he specifically looked up the time on his phone to immediately forget it. It suddenly hit him that Lucas had said eleven.

„Wow.“

„Mhm?“ Lucas looked puzzled, his hand coming to a halt, as he waited for Jens to elaborate.

„I’m not sure when I slept for over eight hours the last time, and beyond eight o’clock too.“

The younger boy grinned at him, it made his heart jump in his chest. If he wouldn’t feel as odd as he did today, he would have smiled back. It certainly did catch Lucas’s attention. The fact that Jens couldn’t quite gather the energy to put any emotion in his face nor voice.

„How are you feeling?“ Lucas asked, his hand brushing down the back of his head, playing with the short hair in his neck.

„Honestly?“

„Yes, honestly.“ 

Jens wasn’t that sure how he felt. His mind was a bit foggy, he didn’t really wanted to think back to last night. Even though it was a calming feeling to not have to hide and ponder every word spoken out loud in front of Lucas now. So he was honest.

„I don’t know. Nothing really has changed for me, has it?“

„True.“ Lucas’s smile fell away. Jens didn’t like that. He never wanted to be a reason of worry for his boyfriend. But after yesterday it was no longer in his hands to decide. He expected to be asked about his whole situation. But Lucas didn’t, instead the question was a completely different one: „Can I kiss you?“

„Since when are you asking?“ Jens tried his hardest to convey his amusement, he partially succeeded, as the softest smile was back on the boy’s pretty lips.

„I’m just not sure, how to handle this. Maybe you want to... I don’t know.“ The little shrug Lucas did, as he said those words, made Jens weak.

„Yes Lucas, you, as my boyfriend, may kiss me.“ He said, moving closer, resting one hand against Lucas chest as the other pulled the younger boy towards him by his waist.

„Fuck off.“ Lucas whispered against Jens’s lips as he leaned in to close the last bit of distance between them.

It was almost saddening to think about yesterday. They could have enjoyed just that, lying in bed, making out, letting themselves fall into further unexplored territory. Without any worry if them being interrupted. Instead he had fucked it all up. 

He promised himself to savour every of these future moments between just them. As he did now, letting Lucas push him back into the pillows. 

Perhaps it could have lead to more, if Jens would have pulled Lucas completely onto him. Instead they shared some longer kisses, content with the tenderness shared.

„Can I go with you back today? I don’t want you sleeping alone tonight.“ Lucas asked, searching for his eyes, as the boy hovered over him, waiting for Jens to agree. So he did and nodded lightly. He even felt relieved at the prospect of Lucas being there with him at night. The confession still fresh in mind, the loneliness still lingering.

„Okay. Then I’m going to make us some breakfast, because if I remember correctly this too large friend group of yours wanted to meet in chat at around 1 pm.“

Jens must have looked pained at the simple mentioning of said plans. It must have shown, as concern spread across Lucas’s expression. Him instantly trying to give alternatives. 

„We don’t have to, Jens. I mean it. We can stay like this today. Just us. Or only I join and you can sleep more if you want. Or..“

„No, it’s fine. I want to see them.“ He interrupted the boy looking down at him, still, apparently his arms not having caved yet. 

It was the truth. Jens wanted to see his friends. And especially Robbe. After the message he had recieved, he just wanted to assure Robbe, that he was still there. That he didn’t want to loose his friends. 

„How do we explain this?“

It took Lucas a second to understand Jens’s question. 

„Mhm we were texting, met up for, I don’t know, playing something? And you slept over. Done.“

„Alright.“ Jens confirmed, glad, as he wouldn’t have liked being far from Lucas. And even if they wouldn’t get to cuddle or kiss or hold hands, they at least could sit right next to each other. That would be enough for him. Enough to feel supported and face his friends.

Jens was about to get up as well, when Lucas wouldn’t let him, the hand on his chest holding him gently down.

„I am making breakfast for us to have in bed, while you, my gorgeous boyfriend, stay and enjoy being taken care of for once, yes?“

He would blame the last night for being emotional enough over Lucas’s offer, to have to hold back new tears. He hoped the dumb sensitivity would stop before seeing his friends later.

„Hey, my cooking isn’t that bad.” Lucas smirked with a wink and instantly reconsidered. „Sorry, I shouldn’t be joking. I’m here, okay? And I don’t just mean physically in this flat.“

Lucas’s body weighing down on him once more, as he was beeing kissed, his eyes falling shut. And then the boy was gone, having moved off the bed. Jens could hear the bare feet walking across  the floor, leaving the room. Followed quickly by noises of plates, and pans, and cuttlery being taken out from the kitchen cupboards.

He remained on his back, his eyes open again to stare up at the ceiling for a while and listen. Until he robbed over to pick his jeans up from the floor and take his phone out. He felt a slight panic grow in him, as he realised he hadn’t checked for calls or messages since dinner yesterday. What if something had happend?

His fears were unfounded. There was no notification. Yet still not convinced, he quickly opened the chat.

Jens 11:44: I just woke up. Everything’s fine?

He stared hard at the screen, ready to get up and leave, if he needed to. But luckily he didn’t had to wait long for the reply to arrive. Allowing him to relax.

Mom 11:47: Morning, I’m good. Don’t worry. When will you be home later?

Jens 11:48: I always worry. And I think maybe at seven, if that is okay with you? Lucas would come with me.

Mom 11:50: seven is perfect, we can order something for dinner and of course Lucas is as always welcome ❤️

Mom 11:51: And stop worrying for a bit. Enjoy your day with him instead!

__ __ __

tagged: @odi-et-amo85, @tayspots

[cutiepisenpai]

Dear Stranger Series Ch. 7: Scavenger Hunt(Spencer Reid x Female OC)

Chapter 1 

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Warnings: Depictions of violence by unsub, sexually suggestive behavior, fluff

 A/N: This was my favorite chapter to write because this is where this story originally started for me and I hope you all enjoy it. 

Spencer had been having trouble sleeping the past few days. He had big plans to make but wasn’t sure where to start. So here he was at three am trying to make coffee quietly, not waking Melinda. A ring is the first place he should start because he hasn’t even been to a store to start looking at rings. For that he’ll need to wait for a day off that will hopefully not be interrupted by a case. And even with a day off he needs to find a way to get out of the house without having Melinda question it. Maybe he could have Emily, JJ, or Penelope help him. No, that would never work, none of them can keep a secret. He’ll just have to figure it out himself. He spends the early hours of the morning pondering what to do next. Not noticing the time he has spent formulating his plan until Melinda walks into the kitchen. “How long have you been up?” She asks groggily. “Uh.. just a few hours couldn’t sleep.” He says as he wraps her in a hug. “You know you could wake me up. I'm great late night company and you might have a better chance at going back to sleep.” She responds nuzzling into his chest. “It’s alright if I wake you up then we would both be exhausted at work.” They begin going about their usual morning routine making more coffee and a light breakfast before showering, getting dressed and heading out. 

Arriving at the office they don’t have much down time before they are whisked away on a case. Not even having gone into the briefing, they would be briefed on the plane. There had been multiple male bodies found in some remote woods in Washington. During the discussion on the plane Spencer’s mind drifts off back to the plan he is currently putting together maybe if they can get through the case quickly he would have time when they got back. Or if there is any free time he can try going to a jewelry store in Washington but then someone on the team could notice and … "Reid?...Reid?!" Hotch is calling out to him. "Yea sorry about that." "Is everything alright?" Hotch asks, seeming concerned. "Yeah did you know getting lost in thought or "zoning out" is actually quite common. The regions of the brain that become active during mind wandering belong to two important networks…. Researchers say a wandering mind may be important to setting goals, making discoveries and living a balanced life..." Spencer is rambling on. "Ok Reid, I just wanted to make sure everything was ok." Hotch says. Everyone is given their buddy assignments for when they land. Hotch, JJ, and Melinda are going to the police station, Rossi and Emily to the disposal site, and Reid and Morgan to the morgue. "So what was that all about earlier?" Morgan asks on the drive to the morgue. "What do you mean?" "I mean you totally just checked out on the plane. Are you sure everything is fine?" "I really wish people would stop asking that. I said I was fine." Spencer says in a huff. Morgan figures it's best to just leave him alone for now. When they get to the morgue the five victims that have been found so far all show the same pattern multiple stab wounds pre and post mortem but the cause of death for all was cyanide poisoning.

 The team determined that this unsub was a "black widow" killer that had been killing one victim a year over the course of at least ten years based on the other bodies that were found.They were now trying to find a connection between the victims to find the unsub.  

Four days later they had finally caught the unsub. She was a thrill seeking psychopath luring men in with her looks and then trapping and torturing them for a year before repeating the process. The team was happy to be done, the case dragging on and taking its toll on them all. On the flight home almost everyone is asleep except Spencer. In the minuscule amount of spare time they had with this case he finalized his plans and would set everything up as soon as they arrived home. Finally arriving back at the apartment everyone agreeing the paperwork could wait, Spencer waited for Melinda to fall asleep before getting up and getting everything ready. 

The next morning when Melinda wakes up Spencer isn't in the bed again. She really needs to get him to talk to her about what's bothering him so he can get some rest. She gets up and heads to the kitchen where she had been finding him every morning. But this morning he isn't there. She can smell the coffee which means he was here, on the counter is her favorite mug with a sticky note attached. "Running errands will be back later. I think we should have a date night." - S. He is rather strange at times but it's just added to the list of the reasons she loves him. She pours herself a cup of coffee. Since she has her own errands that need to be done she might as well get it out of the way while Spencer's gone. She needs to pick up last week's dry cleaning, drop off this week's dry cleaning, stop by the pharmacy and go grocery shopping. After showering and gathering up everything she will need she is out the apartment door locked behind her. 

Spencer was thankful to know his girlfriend so well that he could figure out her course of action if he was gone. Once she leaves the apartment he goes back in to set up his surprise.

Arriving back at the apartment in the late afternoon Melinda is surprised Spencer isn't back yet. There is another post-it on the door "You must go on adventures to find out where you truly belong." - Sue Fitzmaurice She had no idea what he was up to but it seemed like it would be fun. Under that post it lay another "Some take me in the morning, others in the evening, but one thing you should know, that when I'm "taken" I don't go anywhere." And now there are riddles, she likes riddles and he knows that, even if this one is simple she'll play along. After putting the groceries away, she goes to the shower since that is where the next clue will be. On the bathroom mirror sits another note "When I put on my clothes it takes off its clothes. What is it?" She laughs walking into the closet, a hanger, but what exactly is she looking for? Behind the closet door that leads to the bedroom is a garment bag hanging. Now that wasn't there earlier and on the floor lies a shoe box. She unzips the bag to reveal a beautiful dress, one she hadn't seen before and she assumes the shoes in the box are a match. This game he has set up is becoming more fun by the minute. She takes a shower, puts up her hair, and applies light makeup before slipping into the dress and sliding the shoes on. At the bottom of the shoe box is the next clue "Some visitors pause here and strangers announce their reason. Things that decorate me can indicate a season."  Heading to the front door thinking he had to at the door. But she is wrong, he isn't there but had to have been recently, sitting at the foot of the door is a vase of sunflowers that were not there when she arrived home. "A necessity to some, a treasure to many, I'm best enjoyed among pleasant company, some like me cold, some prefer mild, some like me bold."  Melinda heads into the kitchen checking around the coffee pot but there are no other notes, maybe a mug she thinks going through the cabinet. Okay so it's not in the house she grabs her purse heading to the coffee shop they frequent down the street. She isn't really sure what she should be looking for and they are never here this time of day so she doesn't recognize any of the workers. Maybe if she orders something they will give her the next clue. "Melinda!" She hears someone shout "Small coffee for Melinda!" She hesitates for a moment before walking over. "Um I'm Melinda but I didn't order this." "Oh I know some really handsome fella came in and paid for it." She says handing the coffee over to her. At this point she is appreciative of the coffee, this was quite some adventure he had her on. The note affixed to the top of the coffee reads, "A pile of words, jackets of hordes, take a quick look in a place of books." That one was by far the most obvious clue. She exits heading to the library. As she walks drinking her coffee she thinks of all the times Spencer and her had taken this walk on a morning off, she enjoyed anytime they had together. Arriving at the library she tosses her empty cup before walking in. Once inside she isn't sure where she should be going. Nothing draws her attention, no one is looking around expectedly so she just begins to walk around following the same route her and Spencer always take. She rounds the corner and that's when she sees it, another note. Maybe she should change her routine and not be so predictable. "A heart is not judged by how much you love; but by how much you are loved by others. - L Frank Baum (The Wonderful Wizard of Oz) she knew exactly where this was leading her. Heading towards the section and finding the only copy of the book she pulls it off the shelf. "If an adventure is what you want, take a look, open a book" inside the book awaits the final note simply reading "turn around". When she turns around, down on one knee ring in hand is Spencer. "Melinda, I love you more than I thought possible, would you join me on the greatest adventure and marry me?" Failing to hold back tears, in barely a whisper "Yes". 

The next morning waking up for the first time in two weeks with Spencer by her side. She smiles leaning over to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. Her movement makes him stir slightly as he moves closer to cuddle. His face in the crook of her neck he returns the kiss, "Shouldn't you be sleeping." He says in his scratchy morning voice. "You can't really expect me to sleep. I'm so excited I don't know how to contain it." She giggles out. She had been playing with the ring since he placed it on her finger, it felt so surreal. "Well if you're not going to sleep there is something else we could be doing." He says placing more kisses on her neck, moving down to her breast. But just as quick as their activities had begun they halted because the phone was ringing off course. Garcia called them in for a new case. Both groan in frustration sharing a few more kisses before separating to get ready and go into work. Arriving at the office everyone has the same look on their face, the why can't we just have two consecutive days off for once look. Spencer and Melinda were so caught up in the mornings frustrations they forgot about their recent engagement until Rossi came up to congratulate them. "Congratulations on what exactly?" They both ask. Rossi's comment had alerted the team to them immediately. He gestures to the ring on her finger. "Oh yea, thanks." Melinda beams out joy flowing through her. "Almost forgot about that after that phone call this morning." They are met with a sea of congrats. Emily and Penelope are already arguing over who gets to be maid of honor and asking if they already had a date in mind. The BAU family was hectic but it was home and they were excited to see what new adventures await for them

[celosiaa]

steady, love (chapter 5)

Summary:

Martin is not doing well.

Jon is there with him through every step.

(because I became obsessed ™ with the idea of Martin dealing with the physical and emotional aftermath of leaving the Lonely)

Chapters 1-6 are up on ao3 under the same username!

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

WARNING: martin's sick! and I describe it a little more in detail here. no vomiting or anything, mostly just coughing.

After fumbling with the doorknob around the large grocery bags in his arms, Jon is not surprised to find that Martin has presumably retreated upstairs for the time being.  Closing his eyes, he allows himself a deep, centering sigh.

A bit of separation ought to do us both some good.

The contents of the bags shift awkwardly in his hold, forcing him to prop them up at a strange angle.  He crosses the room quickly and sets them down on the kitchen table with a heavy THUD.

Sunlight filters in through the kitchen window, highlighted now in the absence of electrical lighting.  From this angle, Jon can see ribbons of dust framed in the sunbeams, undoubtedly landing to coat every surface in the small kitchen.  He sniffs reflexively.

Time to get to work.

He flicks on the lights and throws open the windows, willing the stifling air out of the cottage.  After taking out the cleaning supplies he’d purchased and wiping down every kitchen surface, he turns next to the array of vegetables.

Where do I start?  How does soup…work?

He ponders this for a few minutes, setting all the potential ingredients on the countertop and rearranging them periodically in an attempt to draw some method from his memory.  With some doubt, he decides to chop the onions, celery, and carrots first.  Luckily, he is not left to flounder for long— in a single moment, he finds that he Knows exactly what to do.  His hands begin to work with the rhythm of a seasoned chef, his movements fluid and sure.

Soon after, the aromatic soup bubbling on the stovetop floods the cottage with a kind of lived-in presence previously unknown to it.  As he works, Jon smiles to himself, beginning to hum some half-forgotten tune.  He pops the baguette in the oven to warm it.

At last, Watcher, you give me something useful to work with.

While he waits on their meal to finish, he takes out the mountain of medicines he’d purchased and lines them up on the countertop.  Placing his hands on his hips, he stares at them intently, unsure of his next move.

Should I go up there?

He might be asleep.

…or he’s climbed out the window.

As if on cue, a creaking stair from behind him causes him to turn around quickly.  There stands Martin, pillow creases on his left cheek, smashing down hair that had been standing on end and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Their eyes meet, and both freeze for several seconds, staring at each other, neither willing to shatter the uncomfortable silence.  Eventually, Martin breaks eye contact, pulling a chair out from the table and slumping into it unceremoniously.  He props his head on his hand, staring into the middle distance.

Jon’s heart fills with hope as Martin sits down, and he hurriedly sets the table for two, ladling out generous portions of soup and placing the sliced baguette on the table.  Taking his seat, he sets a glass of water in front of Martin, back ramrod straight, and anxiously studies the man before him.

Martin looks up then, meeting Jon’s eyes, expression giving nothing away.  Jon worries at his bottom lip.  He wants to say something, anything to break this awful silence.

They inhale simultaneously.

“I’m sorry—”

“I’m sor—”

They pause, mouths hanging open momentarily, before Jon continues, words pouring out of him in a rush.

“You were perfectly in the right, Martin.  You—”

“I shouldn’t have snapped.  I—heh—I can’t really understand what this—” he waves his hands vaguely. “—feels like, to you, but…I should have given you a chance to explain.  It’s only fair.”

At this, Jon drops his gaze, suddenly uncomfortable.

“It’s alright, Martin.  And…I’m still sorry,” he replies in a soft voice.

A corner of Martin’s mouth turns up, and he chuckles briefly.

“I can tell,” he says, motioning at the colorful spread in front of them.

“Y-yes, well…I did sort of plan this before my actions necessitated apologies.  I hope it’s alright.”

“I’m sure it’s lovely, dear.”

Dear.

Martin’s words draw heat into Jon’s cheeks, and he grins into his soup.  It is quite good, actually—full of flavor that Martin praises enthusiastically, though his senses are undoubtedly a bit muddled by congestion.

They eat in contented silence for while.  Jon’s heart bounds when Martin starts to get up for seconds, bowl in hand.  Snatching it from him quickly, Jon delightedly fetches him another steaming bowl full.  As he places it in front of him, Martin smiles fondly, and thin grey wisps travel out with his breath.

“We should probably talk about that,” Jon says, taking Martin’s glass and watching the rising plumes.

“Yeah, maybe,” Martin laughs, which turns hastily into coughing— substantially deeper-sounding than they had been earlier.

“And that,” Jon says pointedly, filling Martin’s glass with water.

“It’s not that bad,” Martin replies, even as his eyes begin to stream.

Jon huffs sharply.

“Well, you’re going to take something for it anyway, now that you’ve eaten.  Here—”

He shakes two fever-reducers into Martin’s hand, which he swallows obediently.  Jon then turns to flick the kettle on and leans against the counter, arms crossed loosely in front of him.

“How do you feel?”

Martin has the audacity to simply shrug as he takes a bite.  When Jon sighs loudly in frustration, Martin looks up, setting his spoon down and swallowing.

“Alright, alright.  I’m…better than this morning, I think.  Least I’ve got my voice back a bit.”

“Fever’s still there, though.  A bit higher, even.”

At this, Martin chuckles again, shaking his head and stirring his soup.  Jon holds his hands out to his sides palms up in questioning.

“What?”

“You’re fussing!”

“I most certainly am not!  I’m being perfectly reasonable, thank you.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Hmf.”

Jon turns back to making tea, pouring a mug for each of them, adding plenty of honey to Martin’s for good measure.  As he sets them down on the table, he continues his line of questioning.

“And the…Lonely stuff, then?  What should we do about it?”

At this, Martin lets out a heavy sigh, congestion crackling audibly in his chest as he does.

“Dunno.  Seems to come out more when you’re being sweet, though.”

Jon’s eyebrows shoot up into his hair.

“And I wouldn’t complain about having more of that,” he continues with a sunny smile, tipping his head onto his hand again, eyes full of amusement.

Jon returns his gaze with a sidelong glare, and watches as Martin’s shoulders begin to shake in silent giggles.  His own face melts into a smile, even as he tries to stop it from doing so.

Oh.

I think…I might love him.

Somehow, the thought does not alarm him.

Walking over to Martin slowly, he runs a hand over his hair where it still sticks up.

“Don’t push it,” he says tenderly, planting a soft kiss onto Martin’s scorching forehead.

Satisfied with the beet-red flush he’s pulled onto Martin’s cheeks, Jon sits down in the adjacent chair, taking Martin’s hand in his.  They enjoy the peace and quiet for hours, sipping at their tea and simply taking joy in each other’s company.

The fog rolls out of Martin in billows.

Jon awakens with a start, sitting up immediately, causing his head to rush.

What…?

Something had woken him, but listening now, he hears nothing but the house creaking around him.  Running a hand over his face, he tries to wrestle his sleep-laden thoughts into something resembling competence.

Something is…

He turns sharply to the right side of the bed, finding it empty.  Alarm rings through his head as he passes a hand over the Martin-shaped indentation on the sheets—already gone cold.  Breath quickening, he runs through worst-case scenarios in his mind, preparing to fight whatever had found them here, grabbing the knife he keeps at the bedside.  He slinks out of bed with cat-like grace.

From downstairs, he hears Martin’s deep hacking, urgently trying to clear his lungs.

Fuck.

Jon drops the knife to the floor, flooded with relief that he will not have to fight anything other than illness tonight.  Dropping back onto the edge of the bed, he doubles over, allowing his heart a moment to slow as it pounds in his ears.   Martin’s fit continues for nearly a minute before mercifully ceasing.

He must be miserable.

Jon winces in sympathy before standing again, pulling on his dressing gown as he heads down the stairs.

Upon entering the living room, he finds Martin once again on the sofa, curled up as tightly as his long legs will allow.  Jon can see his shoulders shaking as he desperately tries to hold back the coughs bubbling up in his chest, his face pressed into a tissue.  He turns away from Jon as he enters his peripheral vision, shaking his head rapidly.

“Martin?  What’s—”

He’s cut off abruptly by sneezing, loud and wet, that morphs quickly back into rattling coughs.  Jon’s chest aches as he watches, hearing whatever nastiness occupies Martin’s lungs refusing to loosen.  With a determined grimace, Jon steps over to him, placing a hand on his back, and begins rubbing circles with a gentle pressure.

Unfortunately, this does not seem to help, and Martin continues his half-drowned hacking with no respite in sight.

Biting his lip, Jon makes his decision and begins pounding the heel of his hand over the ribs protecting Martin’s lower lungs.

At last, this seems to break some congestion free, deepening Martin’s cough before he finally manages to get something up.  Looking into the tissue for a moment with disgust, Martin balls it up and throws it into the bin he’s dragged near the sofa, sniffling exhaustedly. He drops his head to rest on his hands.

Jon walks around the coffee table to sit beside him, resuming the slow circles on his back.

3͙̋̎9͓͂ͫ̆.̣̖̿6̩

Christ.

“I’m sorry, Jon.  I’m so sorry, it’s disgusting.” he rasps, voice wobbling with effort.

“Don’t—don’t apologize, Martin.  You’ve done nothing wrong,” Jon replies in the gentlest tone he can manage, continuing his ministrations for several moments in silence.

He looks up when he feels Martin’s shoulders beginning to shake, thinking he needs to cough again.

To his dismay, Jon sees hot tears threatening to spill over Martin’s cheeks.

“Oh, Martin, no.”

At his words, Martin immediately chokes out a sob, hiding his face in his hands, now unable to stop them from coming.  He gasps and heaves as Jon continues rubbing circles on his upper back, eventually coming to kneel in front of him, one hand resting on his knee as the sobs give way to shaking.

“Look at me, darling.  Look at me.”

Jon gently pries Martin’s hands away from his face, fever-glassed eyes meeting bright green.

“Listen to me.  I want to look after you.  I want to.  Please…please let me.”

Martin’s breath hitches, tears spilling out again, and Jon pulls his head to rest on his shoulder, stroking a hand through his faded curls.

They stay just like that for a few minutes, before Jon curls back up on the sofa next to him, hand still moving through his hair as he drifts off.

After several hours of fitful rest, Jon had managed to coax Martin into some breakfast and medication before dragging him back to bed for some proper sleep.  Basira and he had planned to speak at noon via the phone box in town, and he had told Martin as such.

Jon had left a note for him near the bed anyway.  Just in case the fever stole his memory.

He has just made it to the outskirts of the village, where sits the phone box.  It’s a bit dilapidated, peeling paint showing some hastily covered old graffiti beneath.  Jon smirks.

Martin would love this.

Stepping inside and closing the door, Jon dials Basira’s phone.  She answers almost immediately.

“Jon?  Is that you?”

“Y-yes, hello Basira.”

She exhales a long sigh of relief.

“You made it then.  Thank God, I was starting to get worried.”

Jon can’t help but smile at this.

“Yes, we’re here.  I don’t think we were followed, so we should be relatively safe for the time being.”

“Good.  That’s good.”

They pause as Jon carefully considers his words.

“Have you…have you found Daisy?” he asks in as soft a tone as he can muster.

Basira sighs heavily.  When she replies, her voice is lower, each word measured.

“I’ve got some leads.  But…I don’t want to go after her in earnest until I find out whether or not there’s any way she could…be the old Daisy again.  The real one.  I’ve been talking to some ‘experts,’ as it were.”

“Experts?  Wouldn’t that be us?”

Basira huffs out a laugh.  “You know, there are other people in the world outside of the Institute, Jon.”

“No, there aren’t.”

She fully chuckles at this, before they slip into a brief, but comfortable silence.

“And you?  How are you doing?” she asks, her question heavy with implication that Jon chooses to ignore.

“We’re fine, we’re…managing.”

“Are you, though?”

Jon sighs at this, knowing he has never successfully hidden anything of import from Basira, and he was unlikely to be able to start today.

“The Eye is…getting hungry.  Harder to control.”

“Thought as much.  You’ve been feeding on innocents again, then?” she asks waspishly.

“N-NO!  No, Basira, I’ve been able to resist.  I just…don’t know what to do going forward.”

“I’ll send you some statements then.  Should tide you over until…well, until the next horrible thing happens, I suppose.”

Jon feels he could cry with relief.

“Thank you, Basira.  Really, thank you.  You’ve got the address then?”

“…yeah.  I’ve actually been there before, you know.  With Daisy.”

Her voice grows muffled with emotion.

“It’s a lovely little spot.”

“It is.”

Their grief hangs in the air like a curtain for a few moments, and they decide to let it be.

Breathe it in, and let it go.

Just let it go.

Basira clears her throat and continues, voice stronger.

“Is Martin alright?  Is he…still Martin?”

“Yes, yes he’s been…more Martin than I’ve seen him be in a while.  Which is saying something, given that he’s quite ill at the moment.”

“Ill?  Ill how?” she says, her voice ticking up in concern.

“It’s…complicated.  Some kind of dreadful chest cold or flu or something, certainly.  But…sometimes, when he feels—”

Jon cuts off, embarrassed.

“Sometimes he breathes out this…fog.  It looks like the fog that was in the Lonely, so he thinks it’s a sign of the Lonely leaving him.  That it’s a good thing.”

“And what do you think?”

Jon sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“I think he might be right, but…I also think it might be what’s making him ill.  He’s…gotten much worse, even just since yesterday.”

“Hmm.”

Another silence falls, both pondering.

“Well.   Something else I can look into, I suppose.  You’re at the phone box in the village, right?”

Jon chuckles, looking around at the smudged glass.

“Of course.”

“Right.  Let’s plan to talk again in a few days.  Half past one on Thursday okay?  I’ll rush you the statements in the meantime.”

“That sounds perfect, Basira.  Thank you.  And…”

He cuts off, softening his voice.

“Good luck.  I hope you can find a way to get her back.  And…that we’ll see each other again, soon.”

Basira sniffs audibly, leaning away from the speaker for a moment.

“Right.  Be careful, Jon.  I mean it.  Call if Martin gets worse.”

The receiver clicks.

Jon gets back to the cottage just in time for Martin’s next round of Dr. Sims-prescribed medication, his hair tossed wild by the Highland winds.  The downstairs lights are still off, just as he had left them.

I hope he managed some decent sleep, at least.

He grabs the meds from the kitchen counter along with a fresh glass of water, and ascends the stairs on tiptoe.  Swinging the bedroom door open, he finds Martin sprawled across the bed, mouth open and propped up on every pillow they had managed to find.  Jon smirks fondly.  He then sets the meds and the glass of water on the nightstand as he sits on the edge of the bed.

3̗͒ͩ9̬̖̊̔.̳̰̓3.

Jon frowns the moment he places his hand on Martin’s flushed neck.  It’s down from earlier, but not by much, and still on the border of worrying.

Dammit, I’ve got to wake him.

Stroking his arm, Jon calls his name softly.

“Martin.  Hey, Martin.”

He brushes the damp fringe back from Martin’s brow.

At this, Martin lifts his eyelids halfway, heavy with sleep.  After a moment, he turns his gaze to Jon before groaning and scrubbing at his eyes.

Poor thing.

Jon holds out the pills and the water glass to him.

“Do you think you can take these?”

Martin stares blankly at them for a moment, as though mesmerized by their colors, before reaching out with shaky hands.  He pops the pills in his mouth successfully, but as he reaches for the glass, his hands shake so badly that Jon is forced to keep a hand over his as Martin tips his head back to swallow.

His breaths are shallow and crackling when Jon takes back the glass, and sweat begins to bead his brow.  Grimacing for a moment, Jon rubs his shoulder briefly before standing.

“I’ll be right back.”

He walks quickly to the bathroom, finding a clean washcloth and dampening it with the coldest water he can coax from the tap.  Deep, rattling coughs echo from the bedroom as he does, and he shakes his head frustratedly.

Why isn’t any of this helping?

As he returns, Martin has reached the bitter and unsatisfying end of his fit, his chest still crackling with each inhale in spite of his efforts to clear it.

“Christ, Martin.  You sound awful.”

But Martin has squeezed his eyes shut again, leaning back against the pillows in exhaustion and rubbing painfully at his chest.  Jon perches near his elbow and begins gently sweeping the cold cloth over his face, eliciting a contented sigh from Martin as soon as the coolness hits his skin.  Jon moves lower, stroking his neck soothingly before depositing the cloth on his forehead.

As he does so, Martin reaches up, grabbing his hand lightly.

“What is it?”

Martin does not reply, merely gazing at his hand with half-lidded eyes as he begins to massage it, much in the same way he had done the previous morning on their drive to the village.

Oh, Martin.

Jon smiles and runs his free hand through Martin’s hair.  Martin’s fingers work over the length of each of Jon’s, before Jon’s gentle motions relax him enough that he falls asleep halfway through his ministrations.

Chuckling fondly, Jon lifts the towel from Martin’s brow just long enough to plant a few lingering kisses there before replacing it.

“Sleep well, darling,” he whispers, moving the tissue box within his reach on the bed and patting his arm before slipping out the door.

[cosmiclatte28]

TEMPO (Racer!reader x sehun, nct, exo) #5 end

yay you made it to the last chapter 

PREVIOUSLY 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 

Sehun furiously left her with big question mark. Well the man he saw over her shoulder was Luhan. And Sehun knows this whole drama was of course Luhan’s plan. Only Luhan in his family who knows about (y/n) and he clearly warns Sehun to not fall in love with her. But love is a burst of emotion we can’t control right?

Sehun reaches his apartment and sits down on the big sofa. He waits for Luhan to enter the room too. They need to talk.

After a good ten minutes, Luhan enters the room with his innocent angelic face.

“You’re back early! Usually you come back late.. how’s the lesson?” Luhan drops the groceries in the kitchen table and begins stacking them in the fridge.

“What is your plan? You play dirty behind me.” Sehun scowls.

“What do you mean? I’m only back from grocery shopping.” Luhan calmly replies while stacking the oranges.

“(Y/n)! You.. you told dad right to send her to the riding school?! I clearly saw the company’s name..” Sehun frustratedly yells.

“Isn’t it nice of me? That poor girl really wants to enroll in that nice school!”

“No Luhan. Your true intention is not helping her reach her dreams.” Sehun glares into his brother. He stood up from the sofa already and faces Luhan

“Don’t care what my intention was… it’s a mutualistic symbiosis! I get to save you from doing a big mistake, and that girl.. will pursue her dream!” Luhan fixes the shopping bag and walks with a can of cold beer.

“You really hate me don’t you?” Sehun balls his fist.

“Me? I love you so much that I am keeping you on the right track. Wake up Sehun you know she’s way out of your league.” The older man calmly chugs on his beer.

“Bold of you to assume I love her,” Sehun stutters.

“You clearly have hearts on your eyes whenever you talk about her or come back from a walk with her. And you’re stuttering honey. Trust me this is for the best. One day you’ll thank me.” Luhan brushes Sehun’s shoulder and opens his door. “Oh! Right she’s leaving soon .. in two days? You better send her off for the last time.” He winks and closes his door.

Furious, Sehun grabs his car keys and speeds up to the place where he can find her.

Sehun reaches her small apartment after 30 minutes drive. He parks his car and jogs to her floor. Well he gained her apartment address when she scored A in logarithm. The tall man reads the number in each door along the hallway. It’s his first visit and come to think of it he did not bring anything! He mumbles her room number and stops when he finds the room.

He presses the bell and waits. Now what should he say? He waits nervously on the front door and when he’s about to press the button again the door unlocks.

Sehun freezes in his spot and blood clearly drowns from his face. He looks white as a ghost!

“Kai?” Sehun finally found his soul back.

“Um.. (y/n) is inside.. I’ll call her..” Kai awkwardly greets him.

“Well.. I’m sorry if I bother the two of you..” Sehun is at the moment confused, surprised, mad, and heart broken.

“Who’s it?” (y/n) pops beside Kai, “Ah Sehun-ah! You’re here?” she sounds confused.

“I can leave..” Kai knows Sehun did not expect him here.

“Well, I can wait until you two are finished. (Y/n), I need to talk just two of us.. I’ll wait in the minimarket across the street.” Sehun brings his hand to his neck and walks away.

“Okay give me a moment.” She disappears behind the door, and Sehun slowly leave.

Just as Sehun has finished picking his drink and paying a box of cigarette, he sees (y/n) crossing the road from the distance. She looks okay despite Sehun’s sudden decision that afternoon to leave her alone and suddenly appears in front of her door.

The two teenagers take a sit on the place provided in the terrace. Sehun offers her a stick, which she gladly receive. They share the fire and sit in silent with blowing smokes.

“So.. what makes you drive all the way here?” She begins.

“I.. feel like it’s not good of me to leave you alone this afternoon. I just have a lot in my head.”

“Well you can share, I’m all ears.” She looks into his eyes.

Sehun stares back.. so.. this is the girl Kai’s dating now? Are they a thing?? Why is Kai in her room… and .. why Kai?!

“Before that.. congratulations.. I didn’t know you’re with someone already.” Sehun embarrassedly congratulates her.

She breaks into a loud laugh, “Wait.. I think you get that wrong. I’m not with Kai!”

Sehun’s face clearly shows relief and embarrassment. “Ah~ sorry.. why is he there?”

“He lost a bet.. he has to clean up my room.. promise it’s just that,” she raises two peace sign, “Anyways, what do you want to talk to me in private?”

Sehun hesitates “Don’t take the offer.”

(y/n) clearly looks flabbergasted and dejected “What do you mean Sehun?”

“I think.. it’s not suitable for you.. it’ll be too hard.” Sehun fiddles with his fingers. Bullshit, he knows she belongs in the track, and he knows if she’s trained well she may become a professional player.

There’s a silence. Clearly the air between them is thick.

“Is that what you see me as? You see me as someone weak and incompatible with the race track?” her voice shakes.

Sehun feels he made another wrong move, but he must stand to his ground.. she must not leave.

“그냥… you won’t make it.” He forces himself to speak those words. Maybe by telling the truth she will listen to him.

Sadly Sehun chose the wrong storyline.

“I won’t make it?! Yak! Oh Sehun.. who are you? You barely know me for three months and right when the golden opportunity comes to me… for me to accomplish my dream.. you out of the blue stopped me. Who do you think you are?” she clearly jumps two octaves.

“The world is cruel! They won’t choose you! You’ll probably leave the school after a month, coz you can’t stand it.. or your sponsor gave up on you.” Sehun spits out facts and probabilities. He knows he is a bastard for saying this to her, but Sehun knows the dirty game his family is willing to play.

“Sehun, I don’t know where things go wrong.. but you’re a real dick for doing this. Fine. If you don’t want me to go, you might simply leave me on my own. I don’t need your sugar coated attentions. Turns out this is the real you.” She hits the table and stares to anything other than me. Sound of hatred and annoyance is clearly recorded in my mind.

“Look.. I’m sorry.. my words are too harsh.. but.. I’m keeping you away from the danger.” Sehun tries to coax her.

“Fuck off Sehun. You made yourself clear. You don’t want me reaching my goals, but I made my decision and you made it even clear. I am leaving for my riding school. Bye Sehun, you don’t have to send me off. You’re the last thing I wanted to see.” She steps on her cigarette bud and leaves without sparing her last glance to me.

She crosses the road hurriedly and runs to her room. Sehun sits in silence watching his dream goes.

“Great Sehun.. you totally ruined it.” Sehun curses to himself. He cleans his mess and stops when a man sits beside him.

“Sehun-ah, it’s been a while..”

Sehun glances to his side, and holds his anger in. Why must this man appears in his life AGAIN.

“What?” Sehun spits short questions.

“Nothing.. just I saw you’re alone.. finished the talk quick eh?” Kai smirks.

“What do you need? I need to go home.”

“Ah right, babies should be home by ten. Right now it’s–“ kai glances to his watch –“ah I just need 5 minutes!”

“You’re pulling my nerves.” Sehun grits his teeth.

“Come back Sehun.” Kai smiles.

“Eh?”

“Come for a drink with us this Sunday. We miss you and did you know your friends are now quite close with us?” Kai raises his brow

Sunday is the day (y/n) is entering the school… Sehun ponders  well he knows that the boys are in the same group now.. and that doesn’t really matter for him at the moment.

“I’ll try to come..” Sehun answers.

“Nice-“ his phone rings and a message pops.

“I’ll leave first. (Y/n) calls me to help her pack up. Bye Sehun.” Kai sounds mocking or is it because Sehun’s touchy?

Sehun stares at the apartment one last time, and he drives himself back home.

Luhan annoyingly welcomes his entrance.

“Ooff where are you from?”

“Not your business.”

“Ah someone’s heart broken… Relax Sehun, we can send her off this Sunday.. She will be excited I heard there’s a program where they send the top three to Italy and you know..” Luhan looks really annoying right now. Sehun wants to finish him then and there.

“Let’s hope she’s not in it.”

“We’ll see!” Luhan claps his hand and shows his smile.

--

Sehun cannot bring himself to send her off that Sunday. He locks himself home and in the end he sent a text message. Lying to (y/n) that he has to attend an important party he can’t miss, Sehun sent his warm regards through the text and (y/n) is not surprised. She expected it already; after all she knows Sehun and her are not meant to be. Their status are not the same.

Just like that, the friendship between them faded. Sehun forces himself to let her go and (y/n) is busy adjusting to the new school. She shares the struggles of training, socializing, and surviving to her team during the free nights where she can race. Her living area is only an hour drive to the track, that explains why she can still earn money from the wild racing. She tells them how the students who come from a rich family are using money powers, not real talents. She tells them how she survived the orientation week. Jaehyun knows his sister is a strong woman, she’ll overcome all hurdles in life. She seems to enjoy her program and has made her own goal. She looks happy as one can be, but her heart cannot lie about the missing part of her heart. Yes she misses Sehun so bad.

THE END 😭😭😭🎉🎉🎉🎉💖 THANKS FOR READING TIL THE END I LOVE YOU ALL !!

[thornsofdeath]

Five Nights at Rohan’s - chapter 1

this honestly started as a crackfic but now im deadset on making it good

>1k words

Summertime in Morioh was always something to look forward to. The beautiful clear skies and fun events always made up for the heat and humidity. Rohan was sitting on his porch drinking some sweet tea, his peace and quiet suddenly disturbed by the distant sound of boisterous laughter. He scoffs to himself. He thought that maybe today he could relax, but running into them in such a small town is bound to happen.

It was no secret that Josuke and Rohan loved to hate each other. From the day they met, they were rivals, no questions asked. Whether they had actual business with one another or were just passing by, some petty interaction was always inevitable. By the time Josuke, Okuyasu and Koichi got to his house, he was fixed to give the boys a greeting. “Oh~? If it isn’t Higashikata Josuke.” Rohan sneered.

“So there’s a scientist right? And- oh, hi Rohan- anyways he can turn himself into a pickle, koichi! Amazing!” Josuke didn’t even look in the artist’s direction as he barely acknowledged him. Rohan couldn’t tell if it was just to egg him on or if he actually cared more about fucking pickle rick than respecting his elders, but either way he was pissed.

“Oi, disrespectful much? Kids these days… Heaven’s Door!” he practically spat out. The white and gold stand manifested and gave Josuke the middle finger. Almost by miracle, Josuke gave in and nudged Okuyasu, whispering something. Suddenly, The Hand and Crazy Diamond appeared and were doing some flamboyant pose, both sporting middle fingers as well. Koichi just sighed. 

“Good afternoon, Rohan.” Koichi said, walking hesitantly to the others.

“Nice outfit you got there Rohan, haha.” Josuke chuckled while eyeing Rohan’s bold outfit of the day.

“Same to you. Who asked to see your cleavage?” Rohan shot back with a smirk. Josuke’s eyebrows were quick to furrow, but he made the recovery. 

“This guy did.” he said, snickering while elbowing Okuyasu. Confused grunting followed. While the highschool boys carried light conversation Rohan thought to himself. I’m off for the next week, why not have some fun. It’s always nice winning against pompadour anyways… Rohan cleared his throat and put his glass down. 

“I’d like to make a bet.” he said, intertwining his gloved fingers. They all had stopped talking to listen, how could they possibly pass this up?

“Oh? You’re asking for even more debt, Rohan?” Josuke said with a smirk. 

“I bet you three can’t stay over at my house for a whole night.”

“Too easy, i could stay at your dump for 5 nights if i wanted.” Josuke scoffed, Okuyasu giggled.

“Five then? You’re on. If you make it all 5 nights, I'll pay up. However, if you chicken out, you owe me 10,000 yen.” Rohan leaned in, interested in his investment. Oh boy, this is gonna be fun. 

Josuke threw himself onto his bed and punched in Koichi and Okuyasu’s numbers. 

“Can’t believe Rohan would make such an easy bet! Is he just trying to brag about his wealth? Either way, pack anything you think would keep us entertained, we’re in this for 5 nights.”

“If we’re staying for five nights.. How many pairs of underwear do I have to bring..?” Okuyasu pondered. 

“I’d invite Yuka but I’m not sure if she’d like the idea of going to an all boys sleepover at someone she doesn’t know’s house. I better give her the heads up at least.” Koichi said.

“Oi.. wouldn't it be priceless if we ended up scaring Rohan out of his own house?” Josuke laughed at his seemingly evil plan. 

7:00pm, and the boys were at Rohan’s doorstep, their stands holding several bags. A smug faced Rohan soon opened the door, welcoming them inside to the best of his feigned hospitality. “Josuke, Okuyasu, how do you prefer your tea?” Rohan chimed, after having sat them down at a table and shuffled away into the kitchen. He already knew how koichi liked his tea from past visits. After hearing their preferred way of drinking tea, rohan made 4 cups and sat at the table with them. 

10:00pm, the movie Jo Oku and Koi picked was rolling credits, and they were just chatting leisurely. Koi was getting tired, being the person he was, but Jo and Oku were adept night owls and insisted they don’t call it a day just yet. Rohan had been upstairs minding his own business.

“Oi, Okuyasu, did Rodney ever end up moving out of your town?” Josuke said, sitting upside down on a couch.

“No, he’s still there. I hit him with my racket over and over but he’s still there!” 

“Koichi, seriously, you’d love this game so much. Ooh- we can buy it for you with some of the bet money after we win!”

“Mm..” Koi hummed in response, reading a book. 

As he was about to flip to the next page, it vanished. So did his hand, the floor, and his friends. 

“Haa??? J-Josuke, where are you?? I’m scared of the dark!” okuyasu whined. 

“A power outage? Crazy Diamond!” Josuke opted to fix any messed up lighting system, but to no avail.

“Weird, nothing’s broken. Maybe that bastard Rohan is trying to scare us?”

“I dunno, but it’s working!” okuyasu cried out. 

“Guys, calm down. Use the light on your switch or something to look around.” Koichi suggested, being the IQ of the group. 

“Um.. okay, let’s see..” Josuke said, turning up his nintendo switch’s brightness and waving it around. 

“Everything looks normal, nothing weird- huh?” jo rubbed his rapidly widening eyes.

“Am i seeing shit right now or is that..?”

“Shut up! I’m already scared enough, don’t go makin’ shit up!” okuyasu whisper-yelled.

“I'm dead fuckin’ serious!! Look there!” josuke extended a pointing arm in the direction of the kitchen. 2 glowing lime green eyes were looking directly at the boys. 

“Isn't that just heaven’s door? Rohan, you can come out now..” koichi said, slightly annoyed. 

Suddenly the eyes disappeared. Okuyasu and Josuke were like a magnet, both scared but only one of them showing it. Koichi’s wide blue eyes darted around the room, trying to relocate the mysterious being. 

A dark chuckle rang from somewhere unknown in the house, and a chill ran up their spines.

The first night had began.