#she sucked up that void like a little vacuum

[ascalonianpicnic]

There's seven deadly sins but somehow all I got was greed.

Io came out of that fight against Soo-Won a little... different uwu (click her for better quality n all that)

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

What's the occasion?

Masterlist

A/N: What this was supposed to be: A fluffy comfort fic about reader's husband taking care of her after a rough day/week/month. What this isn't: A fluffy comfort fic about read.... you get me.

What this somehow ended up being: A not-so-fluffy not-so-comfort (?) fic about reader's husband taking real good care of her after a rough day/week/month.

You're welcome, I think? (I honestly don't have a clue how this ended up being some of the smuttiest smut I've written to date... But it happened... I'm not even going to question it.)

Pairing: Syverson x reader (you)

Summary: You come home from a terrible day at work, thinking you have about a thousand things still on your to do list, only to find your husband has taken care of all of that, and has also made you the first thing on his to do list.

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, SMUT, MINORS DNI. oral (m and f receiving), p-in-v sex, Sy being all dominant and massive, some light (yes, really) throatfucking, hair pulling, manhandling. Some of this can probably be considered blasphemy.

Also, fair warning: this story contains a man doing household chores without having been (explicitly) asked to do so. Just... Bear with me. I know it's not realistic, but we're here to have fun, right?

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @keanureevesisbae @fvckinghenrycavill @ellethespaceunicorn @peaches1958 @sillyrabbit81 @peyton-warren @summersong69 @mayloma @livisss

Parking your husband’s truck in your driveway is an absolute nightmare. It takes you twenty minutes and a breakdown – during which you fight yourself over whether or not to just go inside and ask him to park his stupid car for you – but you eventually manage. Now, it’s time to go inside, after the longest day at the office in the history of long ass days at the office, and do the six million other things that come for free with having a house, husband, and kids. Dishes. Laundry. Dinner. That stuff.

You toss your bag down on the bench next to the front door and put your coat on the overflowing coat rack six times – it keeps coming down because for some reason, your teen daughter owns 12 jackets, yet she still always asks to borrow yours seconds before telling you that all of your clothes suck – before you finally give up and leave it where it falls.

It takes you a minute to realize that you smell food. With three kids and your mountain of a husband, that can only really mean one thing: someone got hungry, your plans for dinner are now in ruins and your kitchen looks like an episode of Hoarders. And even though those are your expectations, your family still manage to exceed them every time, so God knows what you’re going to find when you round that corner and step into your kitchen...

It’s Sy. And it’s not just Sy, but it’s just Sy. Come to think of it... The whole house is suspiciously void of music, screaming or shoes scattered around for you to break your neck over.

“Where are the kids?” you ask as you walk towards Sy.

“With my mother,” he replies without turning around, “to be returned to us on Sunday night at eight, and not a second before then. Are ya goin' to make a habit of not sayin’ hello to me when you get home? ‘Cause I don’t care for it.”

“Well, excuse me for not taking the time out of my busy schedule for pleasantries, but I have a week’s worth of laundry to get to,” you snap. He doesn’t deserve it, you know that, but it’s the kind of day you’ve had, and... And it’s all on you again.

“Laundry’s done,” Sy says calmly, still not looking up from the lasagna he’s putting together.

“Oh,” you stammer. “Well, then I’ll just grab the vacuum and...”

“I did that, too.”

“Alright, I’ll give the garage a quick call to see if they can...”

“I changed the oil in your car this morning.”

“Groceries?”

“Done.”

“The bathroom?”

“Yep.”

“And you’ve obviously got a handle on dinner...” You have to admit it: you’re a little stumped. “What about...”

“Woman, if you’re lookin’ for somethin’ I didn’t do so you can blow up at me for it, I’ll just hand it to ya: I didn’t get to cleanin’ out the gutters today, so I’ll have to do that tomorrow.”

But you’re not planning on blowing up at him over anything...

“Well, hello Mr. Syverson,” you say, still completely in awe that your entire schedule for the night – and probably the whole weekend – just opened up. “Remind me... We got married in October, right?”

“Yes, Mrs. Syverson, we did.” He’s even less subtle than usual, skipping your hips and putting his hands on our ass right off the bat.

“So, what’s the occasion?” you chuckle. Sy pulls you in for a kiss, just passionate enough to leave you wanting more, but not so bad you beg him to take you right here on the kitchen counter. It’s a fine line, really. A tightrope you’ve tried to walk before, only to fall off on the wrong side and be late for yet another dinner with someone who was never going to be more important than having sex with your husband, anyway.

“The occasion is... You’re beautiful. You deserve it. You do so much for our family and somewhere along the lines I seem to have started takin’ that for granted. Take your pick, I’m sure there’s plenty more reasons to come up with.” He squeezes your ass. Hard. “This sensational ass could be the occasion?”

“You’re saying you got rid of the kids for the weekend and checked off my whole to do list to celebrate the existence of my ass?”

“Sugar, I celebrate the existence of that fine ass every damn day. Now, I’ve fallen a little behind on celebrating the existence of the woman attached to it... I’d like to make up for that.” There is absolutely no way you aren’t blushing right now. Sy doesn’t let go of you, but his hands move to your waist. You’re trying your best to not drown in his eyes, but you’ve been hopelessly lost in there for nearly twenty years. For a brief – but lovely – moment, you stand there, just holding each other and making eyes like you used to when you were young and in love. And young...

“This needs about half an hour in the oven, still, so how about I give you forty-five and you can take a nice, long shower?” Sy winks at you – or rather: tries to. “There’s something on the bed I’d love to take off of you later tonight, but I also understand if you just want to wear something comfortable.”

“Did you pick it?” you tease him.

“You’ll be more than happy to know that I did, but under the very strict supervision of Dana.” It seems like your dear husband has finally learned how to use the fact his best friend’s wife works in a lingerie store to his advantage… Took him long enough.

“Right on time,” Sy says as you step into the kitchen. You take the glass of wine he’s holding out to you and take a sip.

“Mmm...” The sound you make is almost a moan. One look at the bottle on the table tells you this is a really nice wine – one from a price range you can’t afford to shop at...

“Gift from a client. Walker said I could take it. I guess his wine cellar doesn’t fit any more.” Sy pulls you in for a hug. It doesn’t last long, but it’s nice, very nice.

Dinner is amazing. Sy is a great cook – when given means, motive, and opportunity – and he has prepared three courses of absolute heaven. He only has to assure you twice that the price of the ingredients won’t put your family in financial ruin.

You’re halfway through dessert – a deliciously indulgent, rich chocolate mousse you’re fairly sure he made from scratch – when you realize something.

“You can’t have done all the laundry. We don’t have the space to hang all of that...”

“I fixed the dryer,” Sy interrupts, “I’m sorry I only did that after it became a problem to me, personally.”

“That’s alright...”

“No, it ain’t,” Sy grins. He knows you.

“Very well, then. I accept your apology. You’re forgiven.” You remember the moment you knew you were going to marry this man: right after your first fight – he had been wrong, although you can’t remember what he’d been wrong about. It had had something to do with your mother. Either way, right after that fight, he’d apologized, and for some reason the lack of excuses had made you want to jump him right where you were standing. You’d almost broken up with him when you realized you weren’t half as good at apologizing as he was.

“Alright, well,” Sy smirked, still. It was incredibly attractive, and at least as annoying. “I was planning on makin’ up for that, but now that I don’t have to…” His voice trailed off for a moment before you gently nudged his leg with your foot.

“How about we finish this bottle upstairs?” You don’t need to tell him twice: he’s on his feet before you even finish the sentence.

“You go ahead, Sugar,” he says before kissing you as gently as a giant like him can muster, “I’ll make sure this kitchen is spotless before I come up.”

“Oh, Mr. Syverson, you are killing me.”

“Oh,” Sy adds with a grin on his face, “and you were right. The vacuum cleaner sucks, we need a new one.”

“Say that again…”

“The vacuum cleaner sucks?” He knows damn well which part you’re referring to. That wasn’t it.

“Before that.”

“Ah. You were right.”

“You have ten minutes to get to bed, or I’m starting without you,” you tease, knowing very well he wouldn’t mind one bit if you did start before he got there.

Sy is impatient as ever when he finally steps into your bedroom, pulling his shirt over his head before the door even shuts behind… Alright, maybe the door doesn’t close because he just leaves it wide open.

“Sy! Close the door!” you shriek, but he just takes a few more steps until he’s right next to the bed.

“Why? Kids ain’t home. We’re alone, we don’t need to close the door,” he says as he pushes you back onto the mattress. “We don’t gotta be quiet, either.” With a devilish grin on his face, he kisses you. First your lips, then your neck. His beard doesn’t tickle – not after all these years. He shaved it off once, only to immediately get on growing it back, because you wouldn’t give him any. You move your hands through the hair on his chest while Sy roughly pulls your shirt over your head. He groans appreciatively when the bra he picked out for you appears.

“Do you like it?” he asks. He doesn’t have the greatest track record when it comes to picking stuff that’s actually to your tastes, but you’d be lying if those items didn’t have their own special little drawer – that you definitely haven’t opened in far too long…

“I do,” you purr into his ear, biting your lip when he grinds his hips into you. He’s hard, seeking friction, release. You love when he gets this worked up over you. “You did a good job.”

“Hm,” he growls, “I didn’t like it at first. Thought it was kinda boring.” That’s not what you want to hear… It’s a good thing he opens his mouth again to continue: “But now that it’s your tits in there… Can’t decide if I wanna keep it on ya or rip it off…” To your surprise, he opts for the former, making sure to kiss every inch of skin that’s newly available to him as he makes his way down your stomach, dragging you to the edge of the bed as he goes along.

He can do it within minutes. Making you come on his tongue, that is. He never does, because the smug fucking bastard likes teasing you too much to ever give you what you want – nay, need – that quickly. That patience, however, is nowhere to be found when it comes to taking your clothes off. He admires you and your new underwear for maybe five seconds, and then your panties are somewhere in the room. No, you don’t care where, exactly.

“Fuck, Sugar, you’re beautiful,” Sy growls from between your legs. “I’ve missed this sweet little cunt.” His words used to startle you so bad you asked him to stop talking multiple times when you’d first started going out. Now, they just make you blush, and they make you wet, and that’s all that you need from him right now. Sometimes, you’re still grateful for the moments he can’t speak – when his mouth is otherwise occupied, so to speak. It’s the moaning, and growling, and the grunts and obscene slurping – hideous word, but sadly the only applicable description – sounds that get you. It’s the pleasure, and the way he knows exactly how and when and where to move his tongue to make you squirm, moan, and scream in his strong arms. Unfortunately, he still isn’t exactly at that point. He’s still teasing, and you’re still whining, and no one is coming.

In no time, you’re going nuts. It’s not bad enough to speak up. And by that you mean: beg him to finally eat you in that way you both know makes you see stars and seek God and scream His name – or Sy’s, but what difference does that make, anyway? Instead, he keeps you right there, at the point where you’re just invested enough in the fantastic feeling that you want to be consumed by it, but it just isn’t enough to keep you from getting distracted. By the feeling of his beard against the inside of your thighs. By the fact that your panties somehow ended up on the lamp on his bedside table. By the gentle pulsing of the vein in his forearm your finger currently rests on. And he keeps you there, and keeps you there until you’ve almost convinced yourself you’ve gotten so used to this – to him – that he can’t do it anymore, forgetting that he really isn’t even trying. That twenty years of ‘this’, whatever the fuck that may mean, just means that he’s found so many different ways to take care of you that he couldn’t go through all of them in one night even if you could physically take it, simply because he’d run out of time before he made it halfway through the list.

And when you get there, to that point where you start thinking he might just not be as good as he used to, you’ve lost. Because from then on, it’s a minute. Thirty seconds. Maybe even twenty, or ten, or less – not that you’d know, because you couldn’t count to three anymore if you tried.

“Darlin’, you taste like fuckin’ heaven,” he mutters, never taking his lips off your skin completely. His fingers tease your entrance, pads coarse and calloused. It appears that, even after all these years, you still haven’t learned that if your mouth won’t beg, your body will. Unconsciously, you angle your hips, lean into his touch, use your legs to pull him closer – and he answers. As always. Sy knows what you want, and he doesn’t think twice to give it to you, even if – possibly especially when – what you really want isn’t what you think you want. He’ll know, just like he’ll know exactly when his name is on the tip of your tongue, waiting to be released along with everything he’s building up inside of you.

A loud moan escapes you when his fingers curl inside you, diligently working the perfect spot while his tongue laps at your clit, looking for the perfect move, speed, pressure, everything, until you shriek the words ‘oh God, Sy, don’t stop’, or you gasp, or moan – or one of the million other ways in which you tell him what needs done without saying a single word. And he doesn’t stop. Not until he unravels you completely. Not until you remember why you normally close and lock that door and keep quiet. Not until you know with every fiber of your being that he holds back, and he reminds you of everything he’s capable of.

When he comes back up, caging your body in between his strong arms and broad chest, pinning you down on the mattress, you hope he’s had enough time to catch his breath, because you immediately pull him into a long, deep kiss that says more than just ‘I missed you’. If it was at all possible to stress every syllable of a sentence, now would be the time. But who’s got time for talking when that impatient bulge grinds between your legs, the heavy, coarse fabric of Sy’s jeans harsh against your sensitive skin.

You push against his shoulders – it’s usually pointless, but he seems to have grown at least as impatient as you have, so he gets up. Four hands reach for his belt. You always make a great team, but this is madness, and neither of you are surprised you don’t get anything done this way.

“Move those hands if you wanna keep ‘em, Syverson,” you say with a sly smile on your face. He grits his teeth when you look up at him – it’s one of the things you know he loves to hate, because it drives him insane, and he doesn’t like that. Sy wants to be in control. Tough luck. Getting him naked is child’s play now that his hands aren’t in the way anymore, and you can’t stifle an appreciative moan when his cock appears in front of you.  

“I’m not saying I married you for this big dick, but it didn’t hurt your chances.” You bite your lip and look up at him. The amusement at your words fades off his face within seconds, making room for something darker and more sinister than you usually get to see.

“If you can use that mouth to talk, you can use it to suck my cock,” he says. You’ve played this game a thousand times, yet you’re still stupid enough to open your mouth in protest, and he seizes the opportunity. “That’s a good girl.” There’s a hint more… savagery to his naturally dark and gravelly voice than you’re used to hearing under normal circumstances. It’s a possessive, almost animalistic sound. It’s something that used to scare you when you were first going out. Something he didn’t let you get too closely acquainted with until he knew for sure he could trust you with that side of him – the side of him that sometimes just loves to shove his cock down your throat in one smooth thrust until you’re gagging and fighting back tears. Tonight is exactly the night you want every inch of him in the exact way you haven’t had him in for the longest time.

Your eyes beg, and once again he listens. How one man can be made up of so many contradictions, is something you’ve accepted you might never find out. ‘He gently fucks your throat.’ It sounds completely insane, but it’s possible. And you know it’s possible, because it’s happening. To you. Right now. If that weren’t the case, you probably wouldn’t have believed it yourself. He’s kind and ruthless at the same time, moving in and out of your mouth with controlled movements while moans and profanities escape him with reckless abandon. His hand is tangled in your hair, gathering a good portion of it in his fist, gripping just tight enough to remind you he’s there, but not so tight you’re in pain.

“God, baby, I love fucking this pretty li’l mouth of yours,” he says, teeth gritted, eyes closed, and the expression on his face warped in such a way that tells you it’s taking everything he’s got to keep whatever composure he has left at this stage. “But I gotta tell ya,” he continues as his breathing grows more and more ragged, a low growl barely audible on the exhale, “this ain’t what I need right now.”

He effortlessly tosses you back onto the mattress, finding his way between your legs in no time.

“Baby, I want you,” he growls before he kisses you again. “I need you. Need your tight, wet, fucking pussy around my cock right now.” He doesn’t move away from you much as he lifts your legs onto his shoulders. He’ll be deep, too deep, maybe, and you know you’ll regret this in the morning – but what good has regret ever done anyone, anyway? As he pushes into you, you realize he’s on his last bit of restraint. You take one last good look at him, because after this, it’s going to hurt so good you won’t be able to keep your eyes open for so much as a split second.

“Careful,” you chuckle, already far more out of breath than you like to admit, “you’re too much for me.”

“What’re’ya talkin’bout, woman?” Sy grumbles. “I know you can take me.” He’s not wrong. Exhibit A would be the fact that he buried his cock in your tight pussy with that one, agonizingly slow thrust. The next one is neither slow, nor even remotely as gentle, making you moan as you pull his face down to yours and kiss him. Your legs are trembling on his shoulders within minutes, and you find yourself chanting his name religiously – making it just about the only thing in your life you’ve done in that particular manner.

“Good God, you’re amazing,” Sy growls in your ear as he bottoms out with every erratic thrust. You watch as his jaw clenches when you dig your nails into the flesh of his back, careful to avoid the scars – an unwelcome souvenir from his time in the army. Most of the memories of the times you accidentally caught one in the heat of the moment have faded away by now. It hasn’t happened in years. You could draw a map of his back: every muscle, every scar, every mark on his skin is etched into your brain, and will stay there until the day you die. He’s yours every bit as much as you’re his, although he likes to put a little more emphasis on the latter.

“Want me to fuck another baby into you?” Hearing him say that makes you realize how incredibly happy you are that he can’t make good on that threat anymore. Sy hadn’t been happy when you’d informed him that you were bestowing upon him the incredible responsibility of contraception after having baby number three, but appointments were made, surgeries were had and all was right with the world. He’d only pouted and moaned about shooting blanks for about six months until things went back to normal.

“Do your worst, big guy,” you tease. You heard his breathing when he asked his question, felt the sheen of sweat covering his whole, massive body as he continued pounding you into the mattress with the same relentless pace as before, only slightly wavering in rhythm… You pull him close, gritting your teeth to get through the cramp in your leg as the weight of Sy’s body forces your legs closer to yours. “Fill me up.”

“That was mean,” Sy mutters, out of breath.

“As if you would have lasted any longer!” you say as you slap him in the face with a pillow. “I was about to tap out, anyway.” Not one word of that is a lie. You wouldn’t have walked for a week if you’d let him keep going. It really was a good thing he was a little on edge already…  

“Fine, woman, have your victory,” he growls as he pulls you into his arms and lifts you off the bed. “Ready for another shower?”

[multi-fandoms-posts]

The Crossing of Worlds Part 1

X Men Masterlist

part 2, part 3, last part

The other world:

It’s a stormy night over New York when Charles Xavier and his team of mutants are on the trail of an extremely dangerous mutant. They are dealing with a mutant who has the ability to open portals to other dimensions. "We need to be careful," Charles says as they approach the abandoned warehouse where they suspect the mutant is hiding.

Y/N, Charles' girlfriend, who has teleportation abilities, stands beside him and gazes skeptically at the building. "And you’re sure he’s here?" she asks, her eyes narrowed in concentration. Her teleportation skills make her an indispensable part of the team, especially against such unpredictable foes.

"Yes, I sense his presence," Charles replies calmly and focused. "He is here."

Erik hovers beside them, looking skeptically at Charles. "This mutant can open portals, and you think we can stop him without getting sucked into one of those damned things?" Erik asks.

"That’s the plan," Storm murmurs from behind Erik, watching the sky. "We need to overwhelm him before he can open another portal," Storm says.

"Fine and dandy, but if he manages to fling us all into another universe, I will never forgive you, Charles," Erik growls.

"We'll manage," Scott says.

"Jean, stay close to me," Charles instructs. "We might need all the mental support we can get."

Jean nods, her eyes flickering slightly as she extends her telepathic senses to the surroundings.

Suddenly, a blinding flash splits the air. Before them stands the mutant, surrounded by swirling energies that dance like living beings in the air. "You have no idea what you're doing," he roars, raising his hands. "I open gates to infinite worlds! You can’t stop me!" the mutant screams.

"We’ll see about that," Charles murmurs, sending telepathic commands to his team. "Attack him now!"

Scott immediately fires a laser beam at the mutant, but he dodges with a mocking laugh and begins to open a massive portal. Y/N teleports behind the mutant to surprise him, but he is faster. With a swift motion, he tears the portal wider, and before any of them can react, they are all sucked into the glowing, spinning void.

---

The world spins, and the air feels electrically charged for a moment. As the X-Men are ejected from the portal, they land hard on a cold floor. A dull thud echoes through the room as chairs and tables topple over. For a moment, it is silent, except for the faint hum left by the closing portal.

Charles carefully lifts his head and looks around. "Where are we?" His voice sounds firm but also confused. He senses that something is different. The mental connection to his surroundings is disrupted, like static noise in his head. His telepathic senses are weaker here; he cannot perceive anyone outside the room.

Y/N rises beside him, looking around and frowning. The room is cramped, messy, with rundown furniture and walls that have seen better days. "This is definitely not our universe," she murmurs, brushing dust off her pants. "It feels... wrong."

Scott, Jean, and Storm get up and look around. Jean places her hand on her forehead as if trying to grasp something. "I... sense nothing here. It’s like a mental vacuum."

"This can’t be good," Scott adds, instinctively adjusting his visor, ready for anything.

Erik, on the other hand, looks around unimpressed, his metallic powers sensing the sparse metals in the room. "We shouldn’t waste time. The mutant we were tracking must be somewhere here. We need to find out where he is before he causes more damage."

Y/N teleports to the other side of the room and appears next to a battered table covered with strange weapons and devices. "What the hell is this place?" Her voice is cool, but it’s clear she understands the situation as little as the others.

Before anyone can answer, the office door opens. Five figures enter the room, each with a stance that immediately shows they’re ready for a fight.

Billy Butcher stands in the middle of the room, eyeing the X-Men with narrowed eyes and slowly lowering his weapon, but not out of his hands. "What the hell?" His voice is a deep growl, full of mistrustful aggression. "Supes. This isn’t my damn day."

MM, Hughie, Kimiko, and Frenchie line up behind Butcher, all with watchful eyes on the newcomers. The tension in the room is palpable.

"Supes?" Storm murmurs, raising an eyebrow. "We’re not ‘Supes.’"

"That’s what they all say," Butcher snaps. "What the hell are you doing in my office? And better yet, how did you get in here?"

Charles raises a placating hand. "We’re not here to fight. We were pulled here through a portal. We have no idea where we are."

"No idea where you are?" Hughie steps forward uncertainly, his gaze shifting between fear and curiosity. "This is the real world. You’re obviously Supes, so what’s with this portal crap? Homelander?"

"Homelander?" Scott repeats the word, throwing a bewildered look at the other X-Men. "We have no idea who you’re talking about. We don’t know any Homelander."

"This just keeps getting better," Frenchie says, blowing out a puff of smoke from his cigarette. "Now they’re clueless too."

Erik steps forward with a menacing calm, crossing his arms. "I have no patience for your games. Whoever this Homelander is, we’re not here because of him. We’re tracking a mutant who can open portals. That’s what brought us here, and we just want to go back."

"Oh, that sounds convenient," Butcher growls, turning his attention to Erik. "You sound like someone who thinks he can control everything. You know, you remind me of someone. Homelander, who I’d love to take out."

Erik’s eyes narrow, a dangerous glint in his gaze. "I’m not like this Homelander you speak of. But if you keep provoking us, you’ll regret it."

Butcher smiles coldly and leans in slightly. "Oh yeah? And what exactly are you going to do, Sup?"

Charles senses the situation is about to escalate and steps in immediately. "There’s no need for violence. We’re here to figure out how to get back to our universe. This isn’t our fight."

Hughie glances at Butcher with concern. "Maybe we should really listen to them. If they’re from another world... it could mean Homelander has nothing to do with this."

"Listen to them?" MM repeats, snorting quietly. "How do we know they’re not lying to us?"

Y/N, who has been silent until now, steps forward and raises her hands in a calming gesture. "I can get us out of here. My powers allow me to teleport. But I don’t know where in this world. We need information, and you obviously need some too."

"I don’t trust her," Frenchie murmurs quietly, still staring at Y/N.

Butcher scrutinizes Y/N for a moment before dismissing the situation with a sharp gesture. "Fine. But no tricks. You’re in our world, so play by our rules. The moment you make a wrong move, you’re dead."

Erik raises an eyebrow, his gaze hard. "I have no intention of staying here. But if you stand in our way, you will regret it, I guarantee that."

The tension remains thick in the air, but Charles sees his chance. "Maybe we can help each other. We’re here because we’re chasing someone who might also be a threat to you. If we work together, we could both win."

Butcher gives Charles a suspicious look, but it’s clear he’s considering it. "Work together?" He laughs softly, but without real humor. "I don’t work with Supes. But maybe, just maybe, I’ll let you live long enough to figure out how you got here."

[datoneboardedguy]

Charmcaster x Male Reader Fanfiction (LEMON!)

(DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE BEN 10 IP OR ANY OF IT’S CHARACTERS!)

Third POV:

A few weeks after Charmcaster/Hope kicks out Darkstar she starts getting lonely again & gets an idea to use her magic to get a man from Earth at random to brainwash & seduce under her spell, she casts the spell to the magical arch door & it disappears to pick someone up.

M/R’s POV:

I’m clocking off of work just as the taller guy called Kevin I think? As he arrives to clock in for his shift he passive aggressively shoulder bumps me as we pass each other, I don’t usually pay much attention since I only ever see him in passing as I get off work. Along the way home I see plenty of students wandering around the neighbourhood coming & going, since I’m not paying attention I almost bumped into a red head student as she says “Whoa, watch out where you’re going.” I look forward & see she’s walking with a blonde girl in a wheelchair who I’d presume is her friend & say “Oh sorry, I wasn’t attention. Excuse me..” as I swiftly walked around the two & went on my merry way. I approached a back alleyway to take a quick shortcut to my street but as I reached the alleyway entrance a couple of teens came out from around the corner with a pair of Mr Smoothie drinks in hand & completely blindsided me, one was a Chinese girl in a pink hoodie & the other was dude in a green leather biker jacket & he spills his Smoothie’s all over my clothes & I say in frustration “AH SH$T!” Then my phone sparks & shorts out zapping my left hand making me drop it due to being soaked in smoothie liquid it then smashes into pieces upon impact with the footpath pavement ground. “MOTHERF%#KER!” The guy apologetically says “Sorry sorry for your clothes & your phone, I didn’t see you!”- “URGH JUST WATCH OUT WHERE YOU’RE GOING NEXT TIME!” I then hastily walk away to head home & get cleaned up & study.

Then as I’m about to get home a massive rift opens up right in front of me which turns into a huge stone arch double door, then a bunch of illuminated pink symbols appear on the top of the arch door before the door slowly starts to open up. Sucking me into the door like a vacuum i then fly through the door & I’m now suddenly falling through a pink void onto a floating stone pathway in the middle of nowhere. I look up at the door I feel through only then for the door to shuts & vanishes, then a castle appears right in front of me & the castle gate opens up revealing a smoking hot white haired woman around my wearing some kind of purple & black costume with a black tiara looking crown that kind of resembles a big black eyebrow for some reason you’d see straight out of D&D. Then she walks towards me with her seductive swaying hips while saying “Looks my man package has arrived, I’m Charmcaster. Welcome to my Realm, that’s right this is my realm..”- “What’s going on here? Where the heck am I & can I PLEASE go home now?!” “Oh my little bird, you’re not ever going home, because this is your home now!..” “Like hell it is!..” I then started running away from her trying to find a way out of here. “So you want to play hard to get huh? Very well. ..Run, run, run as fast as you can! But you’ll never escape me!”

After what seemed like hours of nonstop running in what seems like an endless void of pinkish nothingness I finally found a town on stone buildings but as I got closer to it I realised that it was completely abandoned, a ghost town. “Oh you gotta be fucking kidding me?!” Then I hear a voice behind me say “You can’t run from me sweetie, my realm as you can see ..is endless.” I turned around to face her as she proceeded to say “..& you’re never getting out.” She then starts casting her magic to try & snare me, run away before she finishes her spell into the abandoned ghost town. As I’m running through the empty streets I’m dodging nonstop attacks. Until I get cornered inside of a windowless stone building with a single door way in or out & she’s standing right in the middle of it. “There you are, now hold still sweetie.” She says as she tried to snare me again but I barely dodged it & now I’m literally backed up against a wall with nowhere else to go as she tries again to snare me she, succeeds in grabbing & tying my body up with her magic snare & is slowly pulling me towards her as she says seductively “Nice try handsome, but you can’t escape your destiny.” I’m now standing right in front of her as she proceeds to seductively whisper “Just give yourself into me..” then she puts both of her pink glowing hands to the sides of my face but not touching my face she then closes the distance between us & as our lips finally touch my mouth is immediately flooded with soo much energy my mind immediately goes numb with lust for Charmcaster & I now can’t stop wanting to rip her clothes off & just sexually devoure her slim well toned muscular body & I immediately get a throbbing hard erection, her hands touch my face suddenly Charmcaster warps us both into her supposed bedroom.

We now proceed to passionately deepen our make out session as she magically warps both of our clothes off of us, she then pushes onto her bed. I momentarily regain my senses but I can’t move as Charmcaster seductively crawls onto the bed & crawls on top of me as she seductively whispers into my left ear “You’re mine now M/R..” then she grabs my face & starts deeply passionately making out with me & my mind immediately goes back to blind lust & thirst for her & we started pulling each other close as she inserts my precum leaking member into her folds & we started aggressively making love & thrusting into each other like rapid animals as she’s moaning into my mouth as we’re making out & suddenly pushes my face into her breasts & on impulse I started sucking & devouring her rack making her loudly moan even more. I feel her hands gripping the hairs at the back of my head the more I’m sexually devouring her breasts, I then start to kiss & lick my way up to neck & up to her face to resume our make out session, she moans into it as she starts using her magic to cover my body in her mind controlling runes, every second she traces her fingertips along my body sends endless amounts of ecstasy filled shivers down my spine as she ironically speaks in tongues into our deep kisses & as she finishes tracing her magical fingers over my entire body I feel my climax approaching & I think I can somehow sense hers as well, with every thrust both of her & my moans start to eco louder inside my head & as we finally climax our collective moans filled the bedroom & all of the halls of her castle walls.

As we finally finished she grabbed my face & gave me one last deep passionate kiss as I feel it, her runes start glowing & my body started turning into stone. Her eyes opened up to reveal her beautiful glowing eyes & my eyes started glowing as well as i sink into her beautiful gaze & suddenly I’m no more.. & my master Charmcaster seductively says “Welcome to the family my new lovely thrall!..”

The End!..

[theallenshorefangirl]

How bad can this be(very bad I cried writing this)

⚠️Warning this mini story is more about Z's lore on her bad schizophrenia and paranoia along with how her father abused her.⚠️

It was around 1am and Z laid in bed across the room from where Allen was.The soft light from the moon could be seen through her window.But she was trapped in a nightmare with something,someone who wanted to trigger her anxiety and fear and panic.He laughs sadistically.”Oh, you know what, what is schizophrenia like, anyway? Have you heard voices? Have you seen horrific figures in the darkness before? Have you had paranoid delusions about things? Is that why you locked yourself in that room?”

He laughs as he taunts Zoe.”Oh, your schizophrenia, you say?” He laughed. “It runs in your family, does it? Your so-called brother suffered, no? Is that where this fear of flames comes from? His fear? Does that explain your self-hatred? You're scared that you might become like him!? Agent Rainbow laughed more,the oil dripped from his mouth as he coughed and laughed more.Z looked around frantically trying to escape the nightmare.He laughs again.

”Oh, how adorable!No, no... this is all a part of the game,Zoe, and you're playing it quite well.”Leave me Alone!?” Z looked around,she was in some nightmare visage type version of her Shadow forms place the night sky was red and looked like he'll boiled over and the floor was filled with not a galaxy like floor but Rainbow chemical.She wore a similar version of her shadow forms outfit only it was more fabricated than its wax form.”Let me wake up you ugly slug!?” “Now calm down there, Zoe... we can't have a mental breakdown right now. You've got to hang in there for a few more minutes. Let this mind-game play out a bit longer. Who knows what we might see next?” He chuckles as the room goes pitch black.”No,what did you do,where's the lights!?” Z panics trying to find her flash beacon that was on the table.

Ah, I see your schizophrenia is flaring up in this darkness. Are some horrific things moving around in there with you? Or is your mind playing tricks on you? You know, Zoe, there is nothing scarier than the darkness... the absence of light. A true void. A vacuum which can suck you up and consume you without a second thought. So, I say to you, Zoe, why don't you go deeper into that darkness?

Why don't you see what happens? Go on my dear girl, go deeper into the void,or are you scared of what lies in the darkness.” Her heart beats out of her chest in pain,she can hear the familiar voice chiming in her head.She clutches her head backing up from where she stood.Rainbow grabs her shoulders and sits her down in a chair.”Now watch a familiar song and dance happen in front of you!” The wall in front of them starts glowing and memories that haunted Zoe appeared.

A small child around 10 was sobbing in her room,and the slam of the front door could be heard along with the shuffling of feet.A shatter of a bottle and quick footsteps to the child's bedroom.”Daddy?” The small sobbing child looked up.”Don't you play innocent,you little bitch.” The father grabbed the child's arm and slashed it with the beer bottle,blood trickling down the child's arm as she struggled.”Dad what are you doing!?” She sounded panicked and scared.”Shut up,you killed your mother, you disappointing child.” The child kept crying “But she died of natural causes!” The child begged but the father didn't listen.This kept happening every day and night,the child slept with the lights on,but when the father came in she quickly turned them off.He waited in the dark watching.The small child had bandages on both her arms and her legs from were she would escape the terrible beatings.She even had a long cut near her throat from the attempt her father almost committed there were three cuts on her neck covered with a bandage.

This kept happening for years till she turned 18.One night she got the courage to pack her things that were important like clothes and medication and grabbed all the cash she was saving,along with some from her father's wallet.She bought a bus ticket and left home.”Please stop showing me this!?” Zoe had tears in her eyes, rubbing her arms,and pulling her legs up to her chest.”How about we continue!” Rainbow laughed.

The bus stopped at Milton Haven and the rain poured heavily as the young woman got off the bus.It took an hour to make it to town and it was only 3:30pm.She looked around aimlessly and bumped into the local lighthouse keeper coming from the apartment building.”Oh I'm so sorry.” The young woman apologized with her head hung down,her blue jacket and long brown hair hiding her face well.”It's ok,I wasn't looking where I was going ... .Say ain't you a little too young to be out here,you might catch a cold?” The worried male said shyly.”Oh I ran away from home.” She spoke,her voice was shaking and hard to understand from her quiet sobbing.” The Lighthouse keeper wanted to ask but he was more worried about her safety.”I know I'm a stranger to you but let's go someplace dry and get you warmed up,you don't need to catch pneumonia in the rain.” He offered his umbrella as the young woman sniffled,and sobbed.

It was about an hour and they were at the house next to Point Icarus Lighthouse.”I'm sorry where are my manners,I'm Allen,Allen Shore the lighthouse keeper of Point Icarus Lighthouse.” He gave a small smile. “I….Im….Zoe.” She was frightened and stuttered a lot.”Hey,it's ok,I won't hurt you,say how about some warm food and some tea?” He kindly offered.”If that is ok…” She looked to the floor. ”Of course,my treat! I know you just met me but why did you run away?” He looked concerned.”My father….he kept blaming me for my mother's death….he kept abusing me ever since I was ten…..he would drink so much and would beat me up.Leave cuts and bruises on me….” She sobbed.Allen and Zoe both chatted for hours as the storm poured.”Say it's badly pouring out there, do you want to stay,there is a spare room.” He spoke with a gentle soothing tone.”That would be nice.” She had finished the chicken noodle soup and tea he gave her.”Don't worry about the dishes,I'll get them later,you can go shower and rest.I need to go do my nightly Lighthouse chores.” He got up and put on a long yellow rain poncho and yellow boots.”Thank you…Allen.” He nodded and left outside.

Zoe showered and looked at herself in the mirror,and took the scissors from the sink. “Hair holds memories ... .but all the good memories are gone….” She then cuts her hair as tears streamed down her cheeks.She had put her pjs on and placed her dirty clothes in the hamper that was outside the bathroom door.And walked into the spare room.She noticed the red light in there that was plugged into the wall.It soothed her as she was finally able to sleep in awhile.

“Stop you jerk,seeing the past….it hurts.” She sobbed as Rainbow laughed and disappeared.”Well I've had my fair share in tormenting you! Welp off to pester Desmond!” Agent Rainbow laughed and weezed.Zoe was left on the floor a bumbling sobbing mess.The wall went black as the room returned to normal.

It was about 5am and Allen was sitting at Z's bedside with a half sleepy and half worried expression on his face.”Zoe…Zoe wake up please you're having a nightmare again! Please wake up!” Allen was very worried.Z shot up sobbing and shaking and gasping for air.”Allen! He came again and he made me watch the thing that keeps me up from time to time again!” She was sobbing and shaking.Allen pulled her close into a hug.

It was quiet and the hug lasted till the both fell asleep with the blanket on their shoulders and Z had her head on Allen's shoulder as the morning sun arose from the sea.And Allen had a fresh quick poem he wrote before he fell asleep.

Oh Moon, why do you weep such sorrow and woe unto the ocean,the stars you weep that fall into the ocean cause no disturbance but worry I the sun.Why do you weep such sorrowful moondust when I am here to protect you? I am trying my best to help you and others.But shall I try harder to help you and others dear moon.

---Allen

[luckidae]

Coming Home

It's feels strange to think about it but I think I have only prayed twice in my life, now and a while ago. I think talking about to two in order would be most fitting. I can't tell you everything it's hard to sift but it started in 2030 when the Excelsior Climbing mk. 4 was built and chartered for some billionaire who I can't remember.

It was a small crew we were suppose to mine and astroid passing close to earth and return back with some Cobalt and other rare minerals we needed for said billionaires product, we will just call the balding bastard Billy since that's the only thing he has. We had me, a nice Ukrainian pilot who made her name in the war, a Taiwanese geologist, and Boris the mechanic.

No one was terribly chatty besides Boris who made sure we were all aware of what he was doing at all times. I think that's why I remember his name, I don't remember his face but his name. "Boris reporting maintenance on ventilator 3 complete 0300", "Boris reporting attention to engine room for routine checks" I thought it was trite at the time but now it's comforting to know I have one name to talk to.

I think I will call the pilot just pilot she never really spoke. I remember her accent was thick, and I think she had blonde hair. She spoke during the compatibility meeting with an introduction and qualification speech. I remember her eyes were that blue that looked through you, that felt like they saw behind you and devoured your entire self in their focus. Other than her scream in the final moments I think her eyes have stuck with me the most honestly.

The geologist wasn't actually at the initial meeting if I remember right, and I think I will call them geo. I only remember their scars they had them on their neck, face and arms and they would tell a story about anyone you asked about, I can't even remember their voice just the stories and how excited they were to talk about them. I miss the glow their eyes would get talking about rocks that almost killed them for a sample and the rush of it. I never took geology for an active science but then again I was just logistics.

My only job was to make sure we got enough material to make the trip worth the cost and that we had notes of the details of our trip, it was suppose to be a week, two days there and 3 days back. The remaining two were suppose to be for drilling and just Incase something came up.

The time frame is why we missed the landing, the vacuum of the astroid was too much. It felt like it was breathing us in like a little kid sucking up some berries. Little snowberry being eaten by an astral body. I could barley tell time honestly in the void if it were for all the battery powered clocks there wouldn't be a way to tell at all. Til the scream and the shaking "we're hitting" and a screech of someone having their air and self ripped into the pull of a force half the size of the moon. Next was Boris, he told us he was closing each section off and a breach in the cockpit killed the pilot, he made sure we knew it would have been virtually painless. I still don't believe him, that wasn't a scream of painless blissful disintegration. I was in my station/room and staring as she floated away, Boris told us next he was trying to see what he could do from the engine room, and that it was getting hotter, and the pressure was building.

Next came the bang, not of the engine but from Geo's quarters, I don't know how they managed to bring a gun or what made them think they could fire it in a 0g environment but first was the small bang, and then almost instantly was a much larger bang that I assume took Boris with it. That's when I prayed, the first pop louder than anything I had heard for days, louder than the scream, the following explosion was probably louder. I couldn't hear over my foolish wish to live, to survive. I don't really know why I wanted to, maybe it's human nature, the crash was probably loud too but you can't hear out there. There isn't any sound, I had put on my emergency evac suit to help with the pressure. Protocol made without the thought of what emergency we would actually be able to survive.

I remember being confused at first standing on the rock watching earth get smaller. I should have been immolated or atleast had a tear or something but I was fine just me in my little suit trapped with a blackbox with a clock on it, a clock and a calendar. If it weren't for those I would have probably lost my mind, or maybe I did. I might have, I should have, I named the box Boris. I found it fitting since he was the last voice recorded and honestly it was more him than anyone else. I was suppose to run out of air in 10 hours and according to my suit I did. That was forever ago.

When I say forever I don't mean years or months or day I mean centuries 3 of them. 300 years of just walking and screaming, I took off my helmet and I am still here that was less than a week in after I filled the sanitation repository. I though I would get my sweet oblivion then but I lived. I have been naked in space now longer than I have ever worn clothes, I began plucking my hairs to make clothes but then were uncomfortable so I made a bed. I doubt I actually weaved them correctly. I have had so much time talking with Boris hearing the shrieking nothing and watching waves of energy crash against my new home....home isn't the right word maybe grave. It went on like that for an eternity just filling time with self harm and silent screams. There was no life as the astroid flew just planets, and other astroids in every shade of brown, grey, and black. I saw a comet at one point probably several after a while I stopped really noticing anything.

It's like when you drive for a while to work, at first it drags but each trip it is a little faster until it feels like a short drive. Like that but no destination, until the second time I prayed. Shortly before I carved this, when I saw earth approaching again. I think before the madness or maybe in-between the episodes I fantasized about making it to earth again and that the course was an orbit. As the approach gets closer though I prayed I would die with everyone else. My grave will be another extinction event. I hope that whatever cruel deity made me live in this hell would give me a peaceful end. The pain or being alone on my own home might be worse, atleast I would have new avenues to try and find the secret to being free. I may even become a moon, a second moon for the soon to be baren earth. An ode to silence and a cosmic joke told by Bill and a punchline delivered by me, us really Boris, Grave and I. There is less green than when I left on the earth. The oceans are a grey now. Maybe it's for the best, I hope I will be given rest

-If

[saint-fagula]

vampire gfs chap.5

We arrived at my apartment in less than ten minutes. I chose a job nearby because I didn’t have a car plus Mona having a car makes a difference. 

I take a deep breath before entering the complex. I do not know the energy of the room when I arrive but I know it wouldn’t be anything different than this morning. 

As I reach our apartment, 264, Mona grabs my hand. She must’ve noticed my nerves. I expected to be even more nervous but I feel calm. Like I’m home. Mona is my home. 

“Guess who finally arrived.” scoffed Aurel. The way he says it is so different from the way Fran does. He glanced at Mona, whose hand I gripped tighter. “And with backup.”

“And?” I snarled. If he was going to come after Mona, he’d have to fight me first. I would fight tooth and nail for her.

“Nothing.” He said and for a second I believed him. “Just the fact that you are so pathetic that you can’t go anywhere without your bodyguard girlfriends. But what else would expect from such a filthy degenerate of a human. No wonder you like women, no man could ever love you. Hell, I doubt you could ever get a girlfriend.” He chuckles to himself.

I was furious with a capital f. But I wasn’t the one who clawed Aurel Traverse’s face off. That was my dear Mona. The minute those words exited his mouth, Mona launched herself at him. But now Aurel is dead and it’s not my fault. 

Mona is standing over his dead body, panting. Her white button down is now stained with blood. I never noticed how sexy people could be when covered in blood. I could kiss her, I want to kiss her.

The funny thing is that this was only getting weirder. Mona knelt down and took his hand. I thought she was feeling pity or maybe even remorse. But no, she bit his hand. I stood there in shock. How else do you respond to that? 

Mona. . .  sucks the blood from his hand. A tiny bit of blood dribbles down from her lip. When Mona finishes, she looks up at me with sadness in her eyes.”I’m sorry you had to be here for this. And before you ask, yes, I am a vampire, and no, I will not harm you. I usually steal blood bags for me and Lil, but this was more of an impulse buy per se. If you’d like, I could make you forget.”

“How much?” I ask. “How much would I forget?” I forget to even address the vampire part and honestly, I could care less. So what the love of my life was a vampire. I’d help her steal her food.

Mona looks down at the floor. My stomach churns. I’m not going to like the answer. “Everything. You wouldn’t remember Aurel, Leo, Lillaine. Not even me. I don’t want you to forget but this is the best option.”

Anyone could see the sapphire tears blooming in the corners of her eyes. It was a striking contrast from her void-like eyes. She cared for me in a way someone would care for a lover. If you asked, I wouldn’t be able to tell you why. 

“It’s ok. Yours and Liliaine’s secret's safe with me. I won’t tell a soul.” I reply quickly without thinking. She could kill me right then and now. Mona has every right to. But she doesn’t. Instead she smiles softly. Like how one would smile at a newborn; with joy and hope.

She leans into me, like a kiss. I could lean into it right now. We could make out over his dead body. But instead Mona rests her forehead onto mine. She just holds our heads together, sharing this intimate moment with nobody but the moon in the sky.

I wish time stopped and we could stay like this forever. The apartment was dead silent. Not even Mrs. Brisbois vacuuming at this unholy hour. The stars and moon shone a little brighter, as if they were only here for this moment.

After many more minutes passed she eventually broke our contact. I hope I didn’t look crest-fallen because I was. Mona started looking for something. I do not know what. 

“I’m sorry for what’s to come. I never wanted you to get involved.” Mona says thoughtfully “By the way, where are your cleaning supplies? We need to hide the body.”

Oh right. I forgot about that. “I’ll take care of the cleaning, could you hide Aurel?” I ask, trying not to sound exasperated. 

Mona nods and grabs his body. She tosses him over her shoulder like a bag of potatoes. I assume there is now more blood left, so she can’t share with Liliaine go off in search of cleaning supplies. I’m pretty sure there was some bleach in the bathroom.

The cleaning isn’t that bad. All I have to do is aggressively scrub the carpet with shout. Honestly, I wish Ms.Brisbois was vacuuming. The silence is unnerving. I take a quick break from cleaning and grab my phone. It was an ancient Iphone 6. It nearly gives me a 7th degree burn when I search something up. But it’s cheap and it works. I put on an album at random. It’s Evilive. I’m ecstatic. 

As cringe as it sounds, I dance to it. I twirl, I slow dance with the ghosts of my past, I belt the lyrics. 

I do this for way too long because out of nowhere Mona appears. Call it what you will but I can only describe the situation as tragic with a capital t. I think I turned as red as the blood on the carpet, which, by the way, has not been cleaned fully. I am a complete mess. 

But Mona, oh mona, she just laughs. She doesn’t yell at me for not cleaning, she doesn’t even make fun of me for my music. Or the fact that I was seconds away from grabbing my guitar and playing along.

“Um, where did you get rid of him?” I ask as a way to steer her away from the topic of my poor air guitar skills.

“Oh I dropped him off at the apartment. Leo’s gonna eat him.” I must’ve looked so confused so she continues, “Oh. Leo’s werewolf. Didn’t I tell you?”

I shook my head violently. The panic is fully taking effect. Holy fucking shit. Not only are vampires real. So are werewolves. Both are confirmed to eat humans. I mere mortal could be feasted alive by any of the people in the apartment I’m going to live in. I try not to panic and continue on with whatever.  

“I’m going to pack anything of value. When I’m done, you can take whatever you want.” I say totally not panicking.

She nods and I head to my room. Oh boy. It is a fucking mess and Mona, my darling, is following me into my room. If I told someone hurricane Katrina hit here, they would be convinced without a doubt. 

There are posters all over the walls. Clothes piled up insanely high on a chair. My guitar sits on the wall perfectly clean. It’s the first thing I grab. I quickly put it in its case and set it aside. The next thing to tackle is the posters. I should only grab the ones that are important. Mona is practically bouncing off the walls in my room. She loves almost everything I love. 

“Rad. You have the 'I want to believe' poster!” Mona says excitedly. I grin. I loved the X-Files as a kid. Still do but now I don’t have a T.V or time to watch it. 

I finished packing everything into this old army style duffle bag while Mona sits on my bed talking to me. I’m constantly filled with this warm feeling after reminding myself that I get to see them everyday. 

I fold the last shirt and say “Let’s get out of this shithole.”

[appalamutte]

inspired by this post about jack’s general disregard for his phone

Bitty’s halfway to putting the maple apple turnovers into the oven when Jack’s phone hits the ground with a sharp smack, face down, and it’s as if Bitty’s heart stops plum in his chest.

Nothing happens for a painstakingly drawn out moment. Then, Jack noncommittally says, “Oh,” and it’s not a word as much as it is a grunt. He doesn’t even drop down to grab it, just continues washing the bowls Bitty used like nothing happened, like his phone’s not face down and probably cracked as all get out on the kitchen floor, the poor thing.

Taking a deep breath, Bitty finishes putting the turnovers in the oven, closes the door, and wipes his hands together. “You gonna get that, sweetpea?”

He tries to keep his voice natural. He honestly, really tries.

Jack glances over at him before he turns to look over his shoulder at his phone. “Oh, yeah, in just a sec. I’m kind of...,” he trails off, gesturing down to his soap-covered hands wiping down a bowl with a rag.

Bitty chuckles. “Right, of course,” he breathes out, leaning back against the counter. He sends another uneasy glance at Jack’s phone because, really, he should just pick it up himself, but instead he says, “I can finish washing those if you’d like,” because he really isn’t sure he has the heart to handle checking whether or not Jack’s phone survived.

“No, it’s cool. I’m almost done.” Jack shoots him a crooked little smile then, like his phone is not still on the ground, and flicks on the faucet to start rinsing the bowl off.

Nodding, Bitty keeps daring glances at the phone and considers how many times a screen can hit hardwood floors before it finally shatters. He’s wringing his hands together into a white-knuckled mess, and when Jack finally finishes up, Bitty’s heart thuds precariously up into his throat.

“Hey,” Jack says, turning around, and—by god he bypasses the phone and steps right up to Bitty with that crooked little easy thing still on his lips. 

Bitty thinks he manages a smile back. “Hey there.”

“Those turnovers smell amazing.”

“Oh! Well, thank you, but, I mean...”

Jack’s in front of him now, his fingers hooked into the belt loops of Bitty’s jeans, pulling him in and leaning down. The kiss teeters on the edge of something more, just distracting enough to loosen Bitty’s shoulders, and Jack tastes sweet like apple filling. It’s inviting and so, so promising, and Bitty would give into it completely if it weren’t for—

“Jack, sweetie,” Bitty says, pulling back and placing a hand on Jack’s chest to stop him. “Um, please, just—your phone?”

“My phone?”

“Yeah, could you maybe...pick it up?”

Jack furrows his brow but steps back regardless. “Okay,” is all he says, and with absolutely no hesitation at all he bends down to pick it up. Bitty actually sucks in a harsh breath and closes his eyes, nearly cringing at the sudden reality of seeing Jack’s phone shattered. His hearts racing in his chest and it’s as if the kitchen falls into a vacuum, void or any sound; Bitty waits to hear Jack curse or sigh or something, waits to hear Jack say his phone’s finally bit the dust, Bits.

He waits, and waits, and only opens his eyes when Jack huffs out a small laugh.

Bitty can’t take it anymore. “Well?”

“Shits sent this huge text about some girl in his seminar. Apparently, he caught her doing coke at some house party after she debated with him on the war on drugs. I think she supports the war, by the way.”

“What? No, Jack, you phone. Lord, is it okay?”

“My phone?” Jack looks up and takes in Bitty’s panic-stricken expression before he laughs, hard enough to bend over. “Bits, is that—is that why you’ve been acting so weird?”

Bitty scoffs, crossing his arms and feeling his cheeks turn beet red as Jack turns his phone around to show a perfectly fine, un-cracked screen. “I have not been acting weird.”

“Crisse, I thought I did something wrong or something.”

“It’s perfectly normal for someone to freak out when a phone is dropped!”

“Only if you’re always looking down at said phone,” Jack chirps, setting his phone on the counter and stepping toward Bitty again. He’s still laughing a bit but is clearly trying to repress it. “Phone’s have Twitter, right? Is that why they’re so important?”

Bitty rolls his eyes. “I don’t need the sass, Mr. Zimmermann. The heart attack was plenty enough.”

Jack chuckles low in his chest and brings a hand up to Bitty’s face. The kiss this time is softer, lingering, with Jack’s other hand finding its place at the small of Bitty’s back and Bitty rising up onto his toes. “Thanks for looking out for my phone,” he murmurs against Bitty’s lips.

“Do you know how many heart attacks that phone of yours has given me?” Bitty leans up and kisses Jack again, drawing his hands up Jack’s arms to his shoulders before pulling back just enough to say, “I still think you need an upgrade. An iPhone would do you wonders.”

There’s a sudden smack on Bitty’s ass that has him yelping, and in the process Jack pulls him in closer. “Heart attacks keep the heart young, eh?”

“That doesn’t even make any sense.”

Jack’s hand slides into Bitty’s back pocket. “It’s good cardio. Come on, we have 10 minutes until those turnovers are done.”

He steps back and throws Bitty over his shoulder like he weighs nothing, manhandling him out of the kitchen, which—goodness, still does things to Bitty, particularly in ways that make their bedroom seem so much more appealing, but—“Jack! You know my rule about leaving the oven unattended!”

[evanox]

Hello ! Can I mention how much I love your stories and depictions of the characters its *chef kiss* this is why I wanted to make a little request of sort like...imagine if MC had pollen allergies with each LIs' reaction to it and how they could've discovered it (including Rime if you want).

Yes this is self indulgent my allergies killed me and I want MC to bear with me.

Stay safe !

Ahh you're so kind anon!! I hope your allergies ease up soon and I sure do hope I can deliver this in a timely manner <33

m.list

Felix

It didn't occur to Felix to warn you about the pollen-fest Florian's garden becomes during the spring. He was born and raised there after all, so I'd assume he developed immunity as a child, hygiene theory and all that.

You're practicing spells together when you sneeze mid-casting and it blows up in both your faces.

There seems to be no fever to explain all the coughing and itching and fatigue... Could it be the new clothes he got you? The flowers maybe? Once you tell him it might actually be the flowers, and all the greenery surrounding the mansion, he immediately portals you out of there.

It's not uncommon for Felix to get lost in his books when met with a problem he doesn't know how to solve. He might not be all that well-read when it comes to healthcare of the living, but that won't stop him from playing nurse.

"I've wrangled beasts of the void before; surely, I can wrangle your allergies too."

He's unfamiliar with natural treatments and herbal remedies but he's got a book or two regarding the subject. There's no guarantee they'll work, but he hates sitting there and feeling helpless.

Healing magic isn't his strong suit either but he can still fix up a mean potion, though he might be more reluctant to serve you the more experimental ones.

"Wherever can I find someone who suffers the same affliction, MC? Let alone have them accept this experimental medicine... This is why experimenting with the dead is far more simple."

As much as he'd rather you make the tea (claiming you just have that "special touch"), he insists on making you some soothing tea this time. It takes a few tries to get it just right, but what is he if not a persistent man?

Tell him about vacuums and how they suck up all the dust and dirt, and he'll figure out how to pull one from the void, then try to use a spell to power it. Hell, he might figure a void/portal spell that imitates a vacuum. Now the pollen is the spirits' problem.

Unless dragged outside, Stella is more than content staying in her rightful place guarding Lemegeton, so you don't have to worry about her bringing in pollen and dirt from outside. Sage, however, is banned from going anywhere near you.

Anisa

You greet her when she's back from work and Anisa immediately rushes to your side, wipes away at your tears and fusses over you, until you sneeze 6 consecutive times, and that's when she Realizes.

She might be careless about keeping her apartment clean, but not after finding out about your allergies! She insists that you don't pick up anything; she'd hate for all that dust to make your condition worse. So now you're wearing the face mask you somehow still have from the convention, after Anisa pushed you outside the apartment, and you can hear a lot of crashing coming in from the inside as you wait, each time followed by a "I'm fine! This is fine!"

It's actually surprising just how quickly she manages to get her shit together for your sake. Once every week she fills a small tub with hot water and soap so you can both sit together and wash your sheets and clothes by hand. It's not exactly a date, and there isn't much conversation to share, but it's a peaceful, domestic moment, and it's little things like these that make life feel all the more special. She looks up at you once in a while throughout the task, then quickly looks away when you meet her gaze. What's going on inside her head? Oh, MC and I are all alone! In my OUR apartment! We're doing chores TOGETHER! Oh, how fun >///<

You may not touch her when she's back from work until she's completely washed up and changed. She insists, because she will not be the reason your allergies could get worse!

Will soup make you feel better? Hell if she knows, she'll still try to make you one. She somehow ruins the kitchen in the process.

Never tires of saying "bless you" to every sneeze.

The apartment gradually returns to its sorry state of disarray as allergy season passes.

Sage

Is incredibly concerned by how often you sneeze around him. Turns out you didn't suddenly develop allergies to cats or dogs (or ilephta); it just so happens that they can still bring in their fair share of allergens. Sage's hair itself isn't a problem as he keeps it neatly braided, but he can't help what gets stuck in the wild fluffy tufts around his ears or the end of his tail.

Grooms himself more often than ever before, but especially before going into your room. Even cleans out his hair comb more regularly.

"Oh noo MC do you think that pesky stuff is stuck to my jacket too? Do you want me to take it off? ;)"

Please, he just needs to get his cuddles, and no, he doesn't care about your runny nose.

"Your blushy nose is so cute, MC."

"Do you think the snot is cute too?"

"... All of you is cute, MC."

Ok Sage

Felix gifts you a lint roller out of sympathy.

Sage is pretty bummed about you being less likely to go out with him; he's an outdoors cat guy not an indoors one, come on.

Alas, these are the sacrifices one makes for love. He'll just curl up by that sunny spot in your room for the occasional nap. Maybe he'll try his hands at soup or making a neti pot; all that sniffling and coughing keeps waking him up.

Rime

He gets a little too cocky when you keep slipping up during your spar session—missed hits and botched spells—but then you're doubling over and sneezing so often, stumbling as the tears blur your vision, and he starts to feel concerned (not that you have to know).

Well there's no point in forcing it, you'll only feel worse. You're staying inside, we're closing the windows and washing the sheets, and preparing a neti pot. What? This is for his benefit, not yours! What good is a sparring partner with allergies?

He keeps hovering over your bed and you might have to remind him that he's already doing a good job taking care of you, he doesn't need to hang by like you're on your deathbed.

Rime? Preening upon receiving MC's praise? More likely than you think.

But... he does want to hang out with you; he only realizes it when he keeps taking the route that passes by your room and listening in for any sneezing or coughing. And Rime has a hard time admitting to it, even to himself, so he just keeps finding excuses to come by. Give him some time he'll get there eventually 🤧🤧.

Actually pretty interested in Earth science and medicine so he'll ask a bunch of questions about how you coped with your allergies back there. He feels a little less frustrated about not having the astrolabe when he learns that allergy is less of a wound to be healed and more of a Reaction your body has to something—ie your body's own healing/defense mechanism—and healing magic might not exactly counter it, even if Rime still had it. Still, he wonders if there's a spell that can find a way around it.

[gimyeongbestboy]

Till Death do We Part

Jake Kim x Reader

Summary: You have entered a seemingly inescapable void after you have gotten the surgery done. You had thought it would be easier, but no, it wasn't. It had only given you more suffering instead.

Part 1

CW: allusion of suicide

For the past months that went by, you realize that getting the surgery is the same as dying. The feeling of emptiness lingers no matter what it is you do. You tried everything to feel something again. You tried watching stand up comedies in a vainful attempt to feel joy. You tried to watch horror movies to feel even a little bit of a scare. Not to mention, when you accidentally cut your finger you didn’t even flinch. Had you not noticed the red stain on the white cutting board, you wouldn’t know that you’re bleeding. There was no sting on your finger when you ran water over it. You could try with all your might to feel something-- anything, but every attempt will be futile.

There was a time, when you bumped into your new neighbour who was trying to carry boxes inside the apartment across yours. He hadn’t noticed you since he couldn’t see properly with the boxes in the way. A heavy box fell over you, and it resulted in you receiving a scratch on the cheek from one of the box staples. Your neighbour had asked you if you’re ok, and you wondered why. His finacèe who came over after hearing the commotion explained that your cheek is bleeding. She had kindly helped you with the cut on your cheek to make sure it doesn’t get infected, especially since the staple had a bit of rusting.

You envy the couple that lives beside you. You really do. They get to spend everyday with the person they love most. She wakes up each day in his arms, and he opens his eyes to see her lovely face every waking day. They start each and every one of their days seeing the person they love most, and end each day in each other's warm embrace. They are the people who are envied by those who are alone in this world. In this world, your romantic partner is your lifeline. Without them, you’re unable to live. If the person you love doesn't love you back, flowers will grow inside you like they do during a fine spring day. The red strings attached on two people’s fingers connect and bind them. They are each other’s source of happiness and joy. They feel happy and joy when they get to spend time with each other. They feel treasured, when they show how much they care for one another. They feel warmth and passion during the days and nights they spend locked away in the privacy of their bedroom. You understand all these emotions don’t you? Well, at least you used to.

It’s ironic really, before the surgery, you felt full inside, but it always managed to make you feel pain. Now that it’s gone, you feel completely empty inside. All of the feelings you once had, good and bad are all gone. It’s like a vacuum opened inside your heart and sucked you inside a void of darkness. That empty feeling always lingers. It embraces you day and night, sucking you in further and further into the void. If you have to describe that place, it is nothing but darkness-- nothing to see, nothing to feel and nothing to hear. No light can penetrate it. It is a cage that no one can escape. It is a place where one will wander aimlessly-- lost with no way to leave, and it is just you inside with no one else. It is a place where not even the strongest and most resilient person can survive. It is a place where you just want to close your eyes and sleep forever. You’ve been standing all alone in this dark place ever since you’ve had the surgery. Oh, how you wish to be able to feel something again.

It was fate. You were fated to be in the dark all by yourself. Ever since you were younger, you had known that you were going to die alone all by yourself. Afterall, when everyone’s string is tied to another person, yours wasn’t. Your string was never tied to any other person. It was as if it was severed from the very beginning. You know that falling for someone isn’t a choice, because whoever it is you fall for can not return your feelings.

Lately, Jake and his lover have been on a rough road. Well, “ex-lover” is the correct term. The person at the other end of the string of his ex-lover made an appearance. Jake had never met this other person, but he knows that they’re the reason why he and his ex-lover had ended. Not long after, Jake met the person at the other end of the string attached to his finger. Jake had tried to get to know her, but she didn’t want anything to do with a gangster like Jake. To make matters worse, she had told him that she is in love with another.

As days pass, Jake feels tightness inside his chest. During the first week, he coughed up petals of white lilies. He remembers the days when he was still a child. When he knew nothing of the world. Those were the days when he would just play with you in the garden of what he used to call home. He misses those days when he would give you flowers, and you the same.

I remember the days when I would give you flowers, Yn. I would always cut it directly from the stem in the garden. The gardener never liked it when I would carelessly pluck them out, so he taught me how to do it properly. He once told me that I should give you a different flower and not just camellias. I like them, they’re very pretty, and they always remind me of you.

In the second week, red tulips came out of him as he felt his condition worsen. He remembers the days when the two of you would spend the entire day with each other after school. The two of you would use the snack time as an excuse to refrain from studying.

I loved it whenever you would come visit me. Your presence was really calming. It was, and it still is. I love it whenever you hold my hand; it makes me feel all warm inside.

In the third week, buds of yellow daisies came out whenever he would cough. He always tries to hide his suffering whenever other Big Deal members are around. Much to his surprise, Jerry came up to him and asked him if he’s feeling alright. He chose to be honest with Jerry and told him he thinks he’s dying. With a surprised look on Jerry’s face, he asked Jake who caused it. Jake had simply told Jerry, “Even if I tell you, it won’t matter. Love is something you cannot force people to give you.” Jerry remained quiet. He knew that the decision of living and dying all depends on Jake. He doesn’t want his hyung-nim to die-- not now, not ever, even though humans are not immortal. Jason and Brad heard their conversation from outside the room, and with a solemn look on their faces, they knew Jake is willing to die.

I’m not sure why I’m suddenly thinking of you, Yn, but I’m glad I am. If I were to pass, I want to leave this world remembering the most precious moments I had. Of course there are those precious moments with mom, Jerry, Jason, Brad and Sinu. Oh, and Samuel and Alexander too! After all, they used to be members of Big Deal. But you know what? Nothing ever beats the memories I have with you. Nothing can ever beat those memories. They’re the ones that help me get through during the harshest weathers.

In the fourth week, red roses bloomed inside Jake’s chest. The pain became unbearable. Blood sputters out of Jake’s mouth every time he coughs. In his deathbed, Jake clutches his chest in pain, and Jerry, Jason and Brad can only watch him suffer-- unable to do anything. The only thing that is keeping him alive is the red string that is still attached on his finger. The one that is connected to his supposed soulmate that chose to not accept him because of who he is. Jake’s breathing is getting heavier and heavier as time passes. At this point, he only wishes to see Yn one last time before he passes. Accepting his fate, Jake had asked Jerry to grab him a pair of scissors. Brad and Jason tried to protest against what he’s about to do. With a heavy heart, Jerry gave Jake a pair of scissors to sever the bond that connects him and his supposed soulmate.

I’ve been wondering why those flowers have been the ones growing inside me. I realized, they are the flowers you gave me before. You once gave me white lilies when we were children. You told me the radiant colour of it reminded you of my smile. Then, you gave me red tulips when I gave you those white camellias. I remember that day clearly, I had asked you to marry me when we get older. I’m sorry that that won’t be able to happen anymore. Then, there’s the yellow daisies. You gave them to me after I had gotten jealous over another kid you played with. He got paired up with you instead of me. You told me that I am your one and only for always. Finally, the red roses. You had given them to me when you visited me in prison and again after I got out. I asked you why, and you said, “Because no matter what happens, whether you get locked up, or if you change, I will always love you. Please don’t lose yourself.” It was then, when I was able to ground myself again. No, to be precise, it was when you grounded me. That was the last time I have seen you. Where did you go Yn? Why did you just leave without saying goodbye? I want to see your face again before I go, Yn. I don’t care how much it hurts it to hold on, I want to see you one last time.

Beads of sweat cover Jake's forehead. His brows are furrowed and the darkness under his eyes is getting darker. The burning feeling in his lungs intensifies the longer he’s alive and the more breath he takes. Jake heaved another harsh cough and white chrysanthemum petals came out of him. Confused, Jake doesn’t know why he’s coughing out white chrysanthemum when you have never given him some.

That night, when Jake is desperately holding on, you have decided to let feelings of emptiness consume you. You decided to visit Jake one last time before you go. You wanted to see his face, and say goodbye for the last time, before you surrender to the darkness that you’ve been feeling ever since that fateful day. You had stopped by a flower shop to buy some white chrysanthemum to give to Jake. You knew he was going to ask what the meaning of the flower is, so you conjured up a story or an excuse that matches the meaning of the flower. With your lie ready, you walked closer and closer to your destination. Once you got to Jake’s place all you saw was the members with a gloomy look on their faces. The girls are quiet, and some of them are crying. From a close distance, you hear someone coughing and heaving, a sound you’re very familiar with. You heard Jerry’s voice say, “Please hyung-nim, please rest. Don’t let yourself suffer any further.” Jerry never ever refers to someone as “hyung-nim” other than Jake.

Approaching the room, you see Jake lying on the bed, covered in sweat, and blood tainting his usually perfectly white shirt. You know this scene all too well. With a whisper, you called for Jake. Hearing your voice Jake turned to you and called out your name. You dropped the white chrysanthemum on the ground, and rushed towards Jake’s side. Jake tried to tell you something, but it was hard to hear because of his shallow breathing. With a smile on his face, Jake caressed the side of your cheek as the light in his eyes dimmed.

Clutching his hand on your face, you lean your forehead on his and Jake looks up at you.

“Don’t cry, Yn. I don't want to see you sad before I go. I love you, you know?” Jake whispered with a smile. What an unfortunate and woeful way to escape the void.

“No, please Jake, don’t go. I need you to stay.” tears fell from your eyes like the rain during a storm. The strings becomes visible when the strings are no longer connected. You know this because your string had always been visible; it just so happens that you hide it really well. So when Jake didn’t answer, you noticed that the string that gives him life has been severed from its source.

“No, no, no” You whispered in panic. Everyone in Big Deal hung their head low mourning the death of their leader. No one tried to tell you to stop nor did they try to get you away from Jake.

When everyone gave up on Jake, you didn’t. You pressed your ear firm against his chest trying to see if he still has a heartbeat. The slow and faint lub-dub in his chest gives you hope that he can still live. With your tear stained cheek, you tied the end of your string to the severed end of Jake’s. If the string disappears, then Jake will live, but if not, then his faint heartbeat will keep decreasing until he takes his final breath. Clutching his hand and cradling his head, you keep your eyes on the tied string hoping that it will disappear.

Ever since you were a child, you have always been sickly. When you were born, your seemingly severed string was so dark and visible everyone thought that you were dead. However, you were able to survive. When you reach the age 5, is when you realize that love can also mean self love. Because you love who you are, you were able to grow as old as you are now. However, if you wish to live with just self love alone, you can not fall in love with someone else because your string isn’t tied to that person’s string. You will meet a lonely death with no one to hold you. Despite this condition, you lived on.

That night when you tied the end of your string with Jake’s, instead of disappearing, it burned. A fire grew from the string and it burned the strings binding you and Jake. You should feel sorrow, but instead you feel very light. It is as if something heavy has been lifted up from your chest. You feel relieved because somewhere inside you, you knew it worked. Jake’s breathing started to pick up a bit, and inside him the flowers fell from its roots. Jake sat up and coughed them all out. Happy and relieved, you tackled Jake in a hug. Everyone in Big Deal rejoiced that night. You thought of telling Jake what you really came there for, but if he ever finds out about what you went through, it would kill him inside.

On your’s and Jake’s ring finger, is a red line where the strings used to be tied around. Your love for each other burned so bright and warm, that it left a physical mark on your fingers. In the whole entire universe, only you and Jake have that mark. It is a symbol that not even death, can separate the two of you.

[chloelucia13]

Chapter 16: The Sauna Test

Pairing: Jonathan Byers x Henderson!reader

Prompt:  You always thought Hawkins was the most boring town of all, stuck in a vacuum void of excitement and entertainment. Well, it seems that way until the world decided to flip upside down, literally.

Chapter summary: Eleven, Max, Nancy, and Jonathan had all grown more suspicious of you and Billy after what El and Max had seen, but when everyone gets separated, the monster decides to rear its ugly head in more ways than one.

Word Count: 3352

Warnings: some angst, some fluff, some action finally (in more ways than one!!), a lil bit of cheating, language, pretty normal stuff

A/N: And we're finally getting somewhere with the Jonathan and reader plot line!!! I hope you all enjoy the chapter, and as always, my ask box and requests and tag lists are open babies! Love ya!

Tags: @just-my-fandom @nightbu-g

El couldn't let go of what she'd seen.

You being with Billy was weird enough and its strangeness had already burrowed under her skin, making her squirm. But the way you were acting, what she had seen that night when she was messing around, it wasn't right.

But what she had seen of Heather had made her downright disturbed. Sure, Billy was an asshole and she knew not to be around him, but he wasn't a murderer... right?

"Hey, there's nothing to worry about anymore, okay?" Max told her, noticing the way that El had gotten lost in her worried thoughts.

El gave her a doubtful look and let out a huff. "It doesn't make sense," she grumbled.

"What doesn't make sense?"

"Heather. The blood. The ice... Y/N."

"Heather had a fever, so she took a cold bath, but she's better now. And Y/N is probably trying to make Billy a better person or something. That has to be it. I don't know where that blood came from, but... we saw her. We saw them both. They're totally fine."

El stared at the wall, her brows furrowed. "What about Billy?"

"What about him?"

"He seemed wrong."

Max chuckled. "Wrong is kind of like his default. But it's nice to know he's not a murderer, because that totally would've sucked. Hell, maybe he seemed different because Y/N's making him better."

The two girls chuckled, and the conversation fell silent.

***

As soon as panicked panting sounded in the next room, Heather rose to her feet and walked over to the two people you held captive. Heather's parents.

You and Billy watched from afar as she spoke to her father, neglecting his pleas before stepping away and allowing you and Billy to replace her spot. Billy knelt in front of Janet as you knelt in front of Tom, both of you instructing them to stay still.

Simultaneously, you both rose to your feet and the three of you walked up the metal stairs. As you ascended the stairs, you could hear their pleas become drowned out by the guttural growls and snarls.

***

The next morning, you had awoke with a heavy pit in your stomach.

The image of Heather's overtaking was still etched behind your eyelids, and though you hadn't witnessed the other overtakings, you imagined that they occurred very similarly.

But the screams. You could never ignore the screams.

Silently, you slipped out of your bed and walked into the kitchen, pulling the freezer open and staring blankly.

The pint of strawberry ice cream from Scoops still sat there, perfectly untouched.

God, you wanted to sob. You wanted to scream. You wanted to go back to when your life was normal- well, more normal than this. Than being fucking possessed by this strange creature who was dragging you through hell.

You wanted to see your brother and his friends again. You wanted to see your friends again. Steve and Robin and Nancy and Jonathan.

Jonathan.

You were mentally kicking yourself, realizing that you spent the past six months avoiding him and now you don't know if you'll ever see him again.

You closed the freezer and scrubbed at your face, only to realize that tears had soaked your cheeks. Quickly, you swiped away the tears and rushed back to your room, not wanting to risk getting caught by your mother and having that creature take over once more.

After locking the door behind you, you curled up on your bed and pulled the blankets over your body. Maybe if you slept, you wouldn't have to deal with all this pain and guilt.

Just as you were drifting off, the doorbell rang. Immediately, your anxiety shot through the roof, and you contemplated not answering the door, but then the doorbell rang once more. You took deep breaths and slowly creeped out of bed, unlocking your door and leaving your room before stepping up to the front door.

Peering through the peephole, your heart sunk to your feet when you saw who was outside. Jonathan stood there awkwardly, his head bowed and his hands in his pockets.

You began to slowly walk away from the door when Jonathan began to speak, his voice traveling into the house. "Y/N?" he called out. "Are you home? I drove by the pool and you weren't there. I just... I was wondering if we could talk?" He sounded stressed, maybe even upset.

Your emotions took over, and against your better judgement, you pulled the door open. You watched as his eyebrows rose in surprise at the fact that you actually opened the door. "What's wrong?" you hummed. "I thought you had work today."

He chuckled, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah, that's uh... That's part of the issue," he coughed out. "Can I come in?"

You nodded, stepping to the side and allowing him to come inside before you shut the door behind him. Afterwards, you stepped next to him and the two of sat down on the couch. "So, what's going on?"

"I got fired. Well, Nancy and I got fired."

Your brows knitted together in confusion. "Fired? How? I thought you were doing amazing at the post!" You tucked your legs under yourself and turned to face him directly.

"I was, and I really liked it there! But..." He let out a sigh. "Nancy had answered a call a few days ago from this old woman, saying that all of her fertilizer was going missing."

Sounds like a newsworthy story," you teased.

"Hey, it's serious!"

You held up your hands in surrender, but a giggle slipped past your lips. "Sorry, sorry. Continue."

He let out a playful huff, a smile cracking at the corners of his mouth. "Anyway, she realized that the fertilizer was going missing because there were rats in her basement that were eating it and the rats... They were getting sick, or something." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Nancy and I went to investigate, and we didn't ask any of the higher ups because we knew that they would tell us that it was stupid. We went, and we realized that she was telling the truth. The rats had eaten whole bags of fertilizer."

"Okay, hold on, you said the rats were different? In what way?"

He shrugged, shaking his head. "I have no idea. It was like they were feral, diseased." He let out a sigh before continuing. "We went back to work the next day and Nancy told everyone about what we saw. Like we expected, everyone just thought we were being stupid. That she was some paranoid and lonely old woman who sucked us into one of her many conspiracy theories so she could spend time with somebody."

Jonathan paused, lost in thought with a deep line set between his brows. Silently, you reached forward and smoothed the line with your thumb, brushing some hair away from his face at the same time. "So you got fired because you followed a potential story?"

He shook his head. "We went back last night, and we found her in her basement. She had eaten the fertilizer, along with a whole bunch of chemicals that we found around the house. She was screaming about how she had to go back." He stared silently at the carpet. "Luckily, the ambulance was able to stabilize her and she's safe at the hospital."

You could tell how much guilt he was harboring, how heavy everything weighed on his shoulders. You rested your hand on his shoulder and squeezed, earning a small smile from him. "You saved her, Johnny. I don't think there's anything you should feel bad about."

A sigh left his lips. "Tom thinks that we abused his trust, and we fed into her delusions. So he fired us."

The mention of Tom gave you flashbacks to last night, but you quickly smothered them and instead gave Jonathan a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry."

"I drove Nancy home, and we... we got into a huge fight about everything that happened. About how I needed that job and she didn't, and she fucked it up for both of us. I-I said some things I didn't mean, but..." He returned his gaze to you finally. "I'm just hurt and guilty and confused about how I feel at the same time."

"Well," you sighed, letting your hand drop from his shoulder to his hand, linking your fingers with his. "I know that you both did what you think was right, and I know that you both were so concerned about this because you've seen things that make you worry that it could be something... Out of the ordinary." You scooted a bit closer, looking him in the eye. "But I also know that maybe you let Nancy drag you into this big mess, and you blame her for everything that happened. But Nancy has been going through her own problems, and maybe she felt that she needed to prove herself and her judgement was clouded by that."

He was silent for a moment, letting his eyes search yours as he looked for the words to say. "I should call her. Apologize to her."

You sighed. "Maybe. Or maybe you should let it sit for a bit, make sure you have all of your emotions lined up, because I know you both get a bit hot-headed when you're defending your actions."

He chuckled at that, his eyes dropping to your linked hands and gliding his thumb along your knuckles. "Y'know, Max and El came up to me yesterday, and they said they were looking for you. That they were worried about you."

You resisted the urge to stiffen, instead taking a deep breath and trying to stay calm. "Really?"

He nodded. "Yeah, they said that you were being really weird. That you were even hanging out with Billy. It even freaked me out a little bit. I... I guess that was part of the reason I came here, to talk to you. I wanted to make sure you were okay, and now I feel stupid for even worrying."

Please don't feel stupid. Listen to that gut instinct. Please.

"I mean, it definitely is a little stupid," you teased, nudging his shoulder. "I think those girls just have a bit of an overactive imagination. I'm just fine. Just normal old me."

"Thank god for that," he added, a full smile finally spreading across his face.

You returned his smile before rising off the couch. "Do you want something to drink or eat?"

He shook his head, also pushing himself to his feet. "No, I should probably get going. Thank you, though."

You nodded, walking him to the door and opening it for him. "Of course. Thanks for checking up on me, Jonathan, even if I didn't need it."

He stepped out the door and stood on the porch for a moment, eyes flitting over your face. "I missed you, Y/N."

A small sigh left your lips. "I missed you too. So much. Stay in touch, okay?"

He nodded. "Okay. Bye, Y/N."

"Bye, Johnny." With one final wave, you closed the front door.

***

After seeing Jonathan that morning, you had felt a sort of urge to see him again, a magnetic pull towards that boy who broke your heart.

You knew it was dangerous to see him, not only because he was now in a committed relationship with your friend (though after what he told you had happened between them, you wondered if that label would last), but also due to the fact that you had no idea when this creature controlling you would make you snap and do god-knows-what.

So you locked yourself in your room once more, staring at the ceiling as you laid on the floor and attempted to will this horrible longing feeling away.

To no one's surprise, it didn't work.

Your next idea was to go spend time with Steve, hoping that maybe he would talk some sense into you. You threw on a pair of jeans and a sweater and drove to the mall in the sweltering heat, not wanting to risk letting your skin bubble and sizzle under the sun like BIlly's had.

But of course, neither Steve nor Robin were working, and no one had heard from them.

Under normal circumstances, you would be worried about their wellbeing, but you frankly had too much on your mind concerning your own wellbeing that you didn't fret about it. Instead, you ordered a pint of strawberry and a pint of mint chip from the boy at the counter and hurried out of the mall.

Before you could even stop yourself, you had pulled up (in the

car you had finally gotten fixed) onto the rocky front yard of the Byers' house.

With a few mumbled profanities towards your impulsiveness, you grabbed both pints of ice cream and stepped up the front porch steps that creaked under your feet. You knocked at the front door and shifted awkwardly, turning slightly to glance at the setting sun.

"Y/N?"

You turned around to face Jonathan who stood at the door, now dressed in an olive green tee shirt and a pair of jeans. "Hi!" you hummed, smiling brightly.

"Hi," he chuckled, mirroring your smile. "What are you doing here?"

You shrugged, brushing past him and walking into the house. "I thought you might still be feeling down about today, so I wanted to bring you some ice cream. You still like mint chip, right?"

His eyes followed your figure as you walked into the kitchen and grabbed two spoons for the both of you. "Uh, yeah. Thanks...?"

You finally stopped moving for a moment to take in his confused state. With a sigh, you sat down on the couch, placing the ice cream and spoons down on the coffee table. "And after seeing you today, I realized how much I missed spending time with you. I guess... I guess I just wanted to see you again and catch up."

His look of confusion slowly melted into one of comfort and slight melancholy. "I missed you too. I'm glad you came over." We walked over and sat on the couch, his leg bumping into yours. "And I'm glad that you brought me ice cream."

You nudged his shoulder with yours, giving him a beaming smile. "You're lucky I remembered your favorite. I was just about to get some only for me."

He shrugged, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I don't mind sharing."

"I do!"

He laughed, resting his head on your shoulder as his shoulders shook with giggles. You laughed with him, but you were acutely aware of how close he was to you.

As your laughs died down, the two of you opened your individual pints of ice cream and began to dig in. "Have you talked to Nancy yet?" you asked before shoveling a spoonful of ice cream into your mouth.

He shook his head, letting out a sigh. "Not yet. I'm taking your advice and letting everything settle for a bit," he replied, leaning back on the couch. "I just... our argument made me realize a lot."

"Like what?" you mirrored his position, leaning back on the arm of the couch.

"I mean, I knew that we both came from different backgrounds and we would never agree on some things, but..." He poked his ice cream with his spoon. "I guess I never realized that though we've spent so much time together, she still has this idea that everyone has it as good as she does. That people can just throw away something that doesn't fit them perfectly because they have the money to do so." He lifted his eyes from his ice cream and up to you. "And maybe I'm narrow-minded too, spending time with other people who knew what it was like living without a lot of money."

You frowned as he spoke, slowly leaning forward to set your ice cream and spoon down on the coffee table. "Do you think that it could... hurt you guys in the long run? Knowing what she sees about the whole situation?"

He set his ice cream down as well, pulling his feet up onto the couch and crossing his legs. "I-I don't know."

Silently, the two of you searched each other's eyes with baited breath, a million thoughts racing through your head.

It was at that moment that your judgement took a back seat, and you felt that inky fog lurking in your mind.

You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his. He let out a hum of surprise, but he made no move to pull away from you. Slowly, you moved your hands to the back of his neck and scooted closer to him so you didn't have to crane your neck. You huffed out a sigh of relief as his hands finally rested on your cheeks, his shoulders beginning to lose their tension as he finally relaxed into the kiss.

Just as you were about to deepen the kiss, you felt the familiar surge of black course through your veins, your skin beginning to burn as black veins snaked up your arms and neck.

As the pull towards the creature grew stronger, your lips fell from Jonathan's and you fought the creature for control.

Jonathan gave you a confused look when you pulled away, but he quickly pushed himself away from you when he noticed the inky veins that adorned your skin. "Y/N," he gasped, his eyes wide with panic and fear. You immediately pushed yourself off the couch and rushed towards the door, only for Jonathan to lurch forward and grab your wrist. "Y/N, what the fuck is going on!"

You snapped your gaze to him, feeling that fog slowly take over your mind as you fought to stay awake. "Let me go," you begged. "Please, I don't want to hurt you."

"What?"

"Let me go, Jonathan!"

Your tone startled him, loosening his grip on your wrist just enough for you to slip away from him and out the door before the creature took control.

***

Jonathan began to pace back and forth a few minutes after... Whatever had just happened.

He knew those veins, those pitch black veins that flooded your skin. He saw them when he had to exorcise his own brother, and now another person he cared for so dearly was overtaken by that same creature.

When Will was fighting was controlled by that same creature, though, he didn't seem so... normal. Was it evolving? Learning?

That then made him question if it was even really you. Maybe it had learned your mannerisms, took advantage of the thoughts it had access to.

What if you didn't even want to kiss him, but that thing made you?

He shook the thought from his head. He knew you loved him, that you wanted to be with him. But he also knew that you wouldn't overstep since him and Nancy were still together, even though they had gotten in a fight.

But God, he'd kiss you again in an instant if given the chance.

With a huff, he sat back down on the couch and stared at the two half-eaten pints of ice cream, guilt and worry gnawing at his insides.

He needed to tell Nancy about what happened to you. Just not now.

***

You sat at the landing of the metal warehouse stairs, silently watching Heather patch up Billy's bloodied body as you thought back on what happened just minutes ago.

"The girl, was it her?" Heather asked, gently dabbing a damp cloth over Billy's shoulder.

"Yeah," Billy responded gruffly, his jaw set tight. "It was her. She knows now. She knows about me."

"Jonathan knows too," you voiced silently. "He saw."

He gripped onto Heather's wrist, stopping her actions. "She could've killed me," Billy continued, ignoring your statement.

"Yes. But not us," heather whispered. Silently, she turned to look over the rows of individuals you've sacrificed, people overtaken by the monster.

"Not us," you repeated.

[foone]

Unbreathing Vacuum

I got an ADHD inspiration to write a short DS9 fic off a shitpost about Star Trek-but-all-the-computers-run-windows-98, so I wrote a thing about Odo and the crew's reaction to his seeming death. (This was written for twitter, so it's gonna have some weird paragraph breaks, sorry about that)

Odo is tracking down a Bolian weapons dealer with as many morals as hair follicles when he finally corners him in a cargo bay. It goes south, quickly, as it turns out weapons dealers have access to a lot of weapons.

His Bajoran security officer is laying down suppressing fire as Odo sneaks around behind the Bolian who is trying out a wide variety of strange weapons, colored beams shooting across the room like we're in a deadly disco of death.

Odo reforms into a grumpy humanoid behind the blue man group reject, shedding his Andorian Ice Fox form that let him cross the sea of crates without detection. Odo grumbles "I think that's enough, don't you?" as the Bolian turns and screams.

The football shaped object in his hands that was beeping increasingly frantic pitches drops to the floor, and he dives for it. Odo looks down in surprise, then recognizes what it is, but it's slightly too late, as timers on Klingon grenades are not known for their accuracy.

There's a flash of light and pressure as it detonates, and the cargo bay wall cracks, and the one sound no one wants to hear in a space station begins: the high pitched hissing of air rapidly leaving.

Odo gets to his feet in that uncanny way he sometimes does when he forgets to move like a being who has bones. He simply transitions from a body on the floor to a standing vaguely humanoid form. The Bolian, being closer to the blast, appears dead, or at least soon to be so.

He turns to his security officer to tell her to go call Chief O'Brien, when the hissing wall suddenly groans with the sound of bending metal, and the wall gives way completely. An entire semi-rectangular wall panel is ejected into the black, taking Odo and the dead Bolian with it

The security officer, nearer to the door, slams the access panel and dives through the door before it can finish opening, and rips off a barely attached wall panel to yank on the manual bulkhead release.

The door slams shut with typical Cardassian efficiency, not caring or bothering to check if there might be a limb or two in the way. The hurricane wind of all the station's air trying to escape is suddenly ended, and deafening white noise gives way to the low hum of the station.

Moments later, the crew up in Ops are reacting to the news of Odo's death in almost comically predictable ways.

Kira, the career soldier, is angry. She's seen many friends die in front of her, and she never let herself become numb to it. She's swearing at Odo in ways that the universal translator is so good at eliding, saying she always told him he was taking too many risks.

Just because he won't mind when someone stabs him doesn't mean he's invulnerable, she told him, and he, as always, almost-smiled in the way he only seems to do around her and grumbled about how he'd be careful.

The young doctor is barely holding it together. Kira's lashing out but it's a controlled sort of anger, a way she keeps a handle on the pain of losing people. Bashir, the eternal optimist to Odo's eternal pessimist, doesn't really believe in death, a strange trait for a doctor.

O'Brien is focusing himself on technical issues to avoid having to think about the emotional ones. What kind of weapon could have taken out a reinforced cargo bay wall? Had it been damaged before and incorrect repaired? He makes a note to do a full check of structural integrity

Dax has seemingly no reaction, but that's almost to be expected. You have a different outlook on death when you've died before, multiple times. As a near-immortal you see many people and make many friends, and nearly all of them will die long before you.

You have to learn to accept it, or it will kill you by inches. One of the downsides of seemingly endless life is there's a lot of time to mourn.

The commander is definitely feeling the impact of the loss, especially having had far too much experience with this particular kind of loss before. He flashes back to that time he always, in some way, still resides in...

When an alien force shows up and starts carving your ship into digestible chunks, you quickly become intimately familiar with the effects of sudden decompression on the humanoid body. It's not pretty, it's not as fast as you'd hope, and it's something you never forget.

He maintains his composure, leaning on his command training, and asks Kira to make a list of security officers she'd suggest promoting to Chief of Security. He thinks for a moment, realizes Odo had no family, and says he'll send a note to Dr. Pol

He turns back to go into his office when there's a dull thudding noise, and a sort of faint tink-tink-tink caused by the flexing of glass that happens with even the thickest of reinforced viewport.

He looks around in confusion, and Dax suddenly points at one of the high-up viewports. Floating outside the window, looking only slightly more annoyed than his resting "I hate life" face, is Odo.

It feels like something outside of a horror movie, a ghost floating silently outside a second story window, because humanoids don't just happily move around in the harsh void of space without needing a suit or a forcefield to keep them breathing.

But Odo isn't like most humanoids, after all. He's not a humanoid, for one. He's more a confounding self-propelled pile of goo that sometimes feels like pretending to be a humanoid shape.

This is made more obvious by the fact that he's only half there. His lower half is not legs, but a shimmering stretch of undifferentiated shapeshifter material, in order to hold onto an access handle tightly enough to give him the leverage to knock on a window.

Seeing he's got the attention of the crew, he pulls his hands from the window and starts attempting to sign to them. Kira's the only one with any experience in Bajoran sign language, and the best she can make out is something like "he broke his... Weasel? Columns him... Boat?"

He sighs, rolling his eyes, like only a shapeshifter really can. The sigh is silent of course, but if anyone could grumble in disappointment in the vacuum of space, it would be Odo.

His hands blur together as he shapeshifts them into a new form: a small flat panel, with Bajoran lettering in a large block font, perhaps a little too blocky as his aggravation is coming across even in typographical form.

COMBADGE DAMAGED BEAM ME ABOARD

Dax and O'Brien quickly confer, taking a painfully long moment to figure out how to lock onto something that is neither wearing a working combadge or reads as a life sign. Finally they figure out how to get a lock, and engage the transporter.

The grumpy-looking chief of security rematerializes on the Ops transporter pad, adjusting his "uniform" in an entirely unnecessarily maneuver he long ago picked up in his study of humanoids. He's naked, after all, he just looks like he's wearing clothes.

"Thank you for bringing me in", he grumbles, not saying the "finally" everyone can clearly hear in his tone. "It turns out that you can't open airlocks from the outside, so I wasn't able to come in the obvious way."

O'Brien, still slightly surprised by the sudden reappearance of his "dead" coworker, falls back on technical details as always. "That's a safety system we installed. The airlocks won't open unless they detect a ship is docked."

Kira chimes in with "Yeah, the Cardassians didn't have that restriction, as they wanted the freedom to just toss Bajorans out the airlocks when they felt like it." Odo responds with his usual grunt, a dismissive "pah, you solids and your weaknesses and your squabbles" noise.

Sisko replies "Regardless, it's good to see you alive and well, Odo."

Odo half-nods. "Commander, if you'll excuse me, I have reports to file and a safety lockout to implement. As tempting a prospect as it might seem, I wouldn't want Quark to end up to be sucked out the station's new orifice when he comes looking for his shipment of Yarmok sauce."

O'Brien jumps in with his typical urgency, half-covering up the feeling of "I should have fixed that already, damn" that he's seemingly always feeling around here. "I'll send a repair team down there right away."

Odo doesn't turn as he walks to the lift. "That would be appreciated, Chief. I'd rather not have to walk along the outside of the station again today." he says, punctuating it by activating the lift and descending out of view.

Sisko rubs his forehead. This is a strange place indeed, and despite all the headaches it gives him on a daily basis, he's beginning to feel almost at home in this remote alien place.

This place is strange, the people are strange, the situation is strange... But they're his strange.

Maybe someday they'll stop surprising him. But he doubts it, and he isn't sure he would want them to.

He sits down at his desk and pulls up another of the day's reports, thankful he doesn't need to write that letter to Doctor Mora Pol, for more than one reason.

It's never easy losing someone under your command, and writing that letter to their next-of-kin never gets easier either. But it's a good day when you don't have to do either.

[melonishus]

Faith (Part 1)

It is @rei-of-sunsh1ne gift present time, so I made them this

____

Winter stood outside the Academy, crossing her arms as she checked her watch, yet again her girlfriend was late. She scowled as she looked up to the stars, letting out an exasperated sigh, she didn't mind usually but she had something important to tell her tonight.

As the minutes continued to drag on, she heard a disturbance in the schools armory, and as a ...PERFECT student...she had to investigate. She quickly moved into a nearby bush and watched several figures come out of a building, carrying an assortment of stolen goods. She frowned as she considered her battle strategy, she couldn't call her weapon down discreetly, so she was going to have to rely on glyphs and summons against four likely armed intruders, two of them didn't appear to be anything special but the last one was a complete unit.

"Hey" a familiar sounding voice called out from inside "Why don't you just vore all the cargo ?"

The smaller one paused , rubbing the back of their head "Vore ?"

Winter saw the other two turn angrily towards the doorway as her girlfriend emerged from the recesses of the building, looking beautiful even as she ruined her own life. Without thinking, Winter stood up , and pointed dramatically at the big one , drawing the groups attention

"Don't try it !" she cried out fiercely "I'll have you know that I'm at the top of my sparring class

May and the three intruders looked between each other before the tiny one, a sheep faunus let out a giggle which she quickly stifled. Winter glared and started marching towards her , only to be blocked by May

"May ?!" Winter growled, trying to move past her girlfriend to teach the intruder a lesson "Stand aside, that's school property"

"Winny listen"

The sheep faunus laughed again, getting an uncharacteristic hiss from Winter, which quickly shut her up

"I didn't want to involve you with this part, but ....since you're here" May said, extending her hand towards Winter "I.....want you to come with me and my friends"

Winter looked at her like she was insane, turning to face the three intruders who stepped out into the light to reveal their identities

Robyn Hill, Joanna Greenleaf and Fiona Thyme, three hoodlums who always seemed to have something to say against Atlas. She couldnt really say she was surprised to see THEM here

Winter narrowed her eyes "What ? I'm not going anywhere until I graduate"

Joanna facepalmed "Well, what now Marigold ?"

May stuck her tongue out adorably, cupping her face in concentration " Well... I guess Fiona can vore one extra bit of cargo"

"Guys, what is vore ?" Fiona said with concern as Winter backed up with concern

Robyn sighed and just pointed at Winter "Don't worry about it, just use your semblance on the brown noser"

"BROWN NOSER ?!" Winter said outraged as she was unceremoniously sucked up into Fiona's vacuum chute

......

Winter woke up in a daze, tied to a chair in what appeared to be some kind of low budget theme bar, her mouth tasting of....grass ?

"Was I DRUGGED ?!" Winter angrily called out through her fatigue "REALLY !"

May sheepishly peaked into the room "Well....no. I just have to convince the girls you're not a narc"

"RELEASE ME" she squawked, kicking her legs angrily

May squeaked and ducked back into the other room like a scared mouse, she had never seen Winter this angry before....it was kind of hot

Winter sighed and looked around the room, unable to stay angry at May for TOO long. There wasn't much of anything she could bring back to base about this little operation besides something on March 31st. May had gone through alot of trouble circling that date on the calendar, doodling a cute little knife in the middle. Was she planning a murder ?

"I would have helped....I'm great at planning" Winter pouted to herself

....

May walked back into the other room , her friends continuing to argue like they were when she left

"Well" Robyn said with a slight note of irritation in her voice "Is she going to work with us"

May winced "WELL ....she's still kind of irritated about being kidnapped, so I haven't really approached the subject with her yet

"She was so sweet in my pocket dimension" Fiona chirped as the waved her legs back and forth under the desk

Joanna frowned "What even goes on in there"

Fiona turned to Joanna, not breaking her smile and cheerful tone "You'll never know"

They stared at each other for several moments, Joanna glowering down at the tiny sheep girl as they both participated in a battle of wills. She lowered herself down to Fiona's level, focusing on exerting dominance until she saw into her eyes, a deep unending olive void that held no fear

"Rawr" Fiona said, holding her hands up like claws, causing Joanna to let out a yell as she jumped back

"Fiona" Robyn barked "Quit picking on Joanna, this is serious"

The tiny member of the party chuckled and leaned back, ending hostilities.

"May listen" Robyn said diplomatically as she approached May , placing her her shoulder "I know you like Winter, but if we can't get her to fall in line, we're going to have to let Fiona put her away until she can't give away our secrets"

May took a step back, looking at everyone defensively "She's cool"

"She's a Schnee, and a nerdy one at that

"I said she's COOL"

May dramatically ran out of the room, and past Winter into her bedroom which was right through the door behind her . She slammed the door and jumped on her bed to try into her pillow

"May"

May looked up at the sound of Winter's voice, wiping her eyes as she tried to compose herself.

"May, I wish I could come hug you right now to make you feel better....but I'm a little tied up at the moment

"That was a terrible joke" May chuckled, feeling a little better at Winter's attempts at comforting her, feeling the growing pout come from her bound girlfriend on the other side of the door

"Well at least I'm TRYING"

[greenteabtch]

Once Upon A Starkhaven Summer

A retelling of the iconic musical Anastasia featuring Sebastian Vael and Hawke.

Pairing: Sebhawke

Rating: G

Summary: In 9:20 Dragon a coup was staged on the royal family of Starkhaven. All those of the Vael line were thought lost, but the absence of the youngest Vael prince's body left many wondering: could the last of the Vaels yet live? Rumors are afoot, some claiming the young prince is alive, delivered to safety by the hand of the Maker himself.

A reward of a thousand sovereigns was offered to prove the theory, awaiting the lucky person who could return him safely to the Starkhaven council.

Leads are few, but the challenge is nothing to Helena Hawke. She knows he's alive, even swears she pulled him from the brink with her own hands. With the prolific author Varric supplying funds in the hopes of his next bestseller and Helena's determination to save her family from destitution, they resolve to find the prince, one way or another.

Chapters: 1 2 ....

Update: Chapter 2 is up, with an excerpt under the cut! :)

“Listen, little brother ,” she enunciated, pushing herself into his space. “I am pulling my weight. Don’t you dare accuse me of less.”

The air in the room had been sucked away like a vacuum, hair pin-straight on Helena’s arms. She was losing her temper, mana coiling in her belly like a serpent.

Boulder-toned eyes pinched closed, his posture as silent and looming as one of the many statues that lined Kirkwall’s streets.

“You know, I would have believed you. Once.”

Helena started, features wide in surprise at that. She refused to move from her position, instead listening to Carver’s footsteps as he pulled himself out of her way. “What does that mean?”

The wood creaked as he reached the fireplace, she knew for she had stepped in that spot many times before. A scoff tickled her ears, her eyes trained directly ahead.

“You did pull your weight. More than it, actually,” he muttered. “You were our big sister, our protector, even before Pa...” the remaining words were swallowed by the crackling flame, but Helena didn’t need him to finish his sentence. Her eyes fell to the ground, fists bunched by her side. Carver seemed to renew himself, a light thump of the mantle reigniting his passion.

“Look,” he asserted. “To the void with the past, you know how I feel about it. The fact is, the moment you rediscovered that cursed charm you’ve been doing nothing but chasing after the ghost of an old wives’ tale.”

Helena’s teeth clenched, eyes hardening to steel.

“It’s not an old wives’ tale.”

“What, you’re not even going to pretend that you’re not looking for your stupid prince?”

At that, Helena spun on her heel, hair whipping about like a storm as her voice raised. “ Carver ! I know what I saw,” she looked to her twitching fingers in front of her, a shake coming over her body as red blood seemed to coat them again. “I know what I felt,” They balled into fists, her chin whipping high in the air. “And I know he’s alive.”

“We were all there with you that day!” Carver’s arm swept out, his ire no longer sheltering itself beneath sarcasm. “Don’t you think that if you had discovered an injured boy, let alone a prince, one of us would have noticed?” He ran his hand through his growing bangs, the thin strands fraying under his force. “Ma says you weren’t even that skilled of a healer back then. If anyone was saving anyone it would have been Pa or Bethany.”

Cracks spread over her skin as Helena’s jaw clenched even harder, blood vessels throbbing in her skull.

“Do you think me such a foolish dreamer that I would jeopardize my family on a whim?”

He opened his mouth to answer but was cut off by her sharpening rage. “Do you think I don’t know how slim my chances are? How much I am risking for this reward?” Her voice was dangerously clear, eyes obsidian in her biting blizzard. “This isn’t a game, Carver. This isn’t an exciting little adventure for me to play the hero. This is a gamble for the rest of our lives,”

She set her jaw, “I wouldn’t dare bet without a winning hand.”

Silence reigned between them, the two remaining Hawke children squaring off in the low light of the fire. Her chest rose and fell with effort, breath shaking in her lungs. Carver appeared in no better shape, his eyes cast down to his shoes.

She had just let her eyes slip closed in frustration when she heard a quiet voice.

“I just want this to be over.”

She opened them.

Carver was picking at his fingers now, hair swaying with each pull. His lips quivered slightly, teeth baring themselves on occasion as his eyes grew wetter and wetter in the shadows.

“I’m sick of fighting for work out there on my own, wondering where in the void my sister is and how I’m going to bring back enough coin to keep any of us afloat. Ma’s no help, she’s too busy sobbing all day, and Gamlen,” his jaw trembled “well, he just takes.”

Helena’s body untensed, fingers inching their way towards Carver and halting when he looked away. Small, red lips parted, brows furrowing as her mind was quieted by her pounding heartbeat. Looking at him, it was impossible to see anything other than that long-haired kid with shocking dark eyes and tougher than grit smile, even when covered in scrapes and bruises. Her brother, brave and mature as he may be today, would always be five years old peeling oranges with cut fingers for her and Bethany.

Her little brother.

A sound came from her mouth as her face pinched, the words struggling to come out. She breathed, fingers pushing deep into her temple.

“Carver…”

His head shook from side to side, hand running through his hair.

Eventually, after a few moments of quiet, he spoke. “Just stay. At least in Kirkwall.”

Her mouth felt dry, body frozen in place.

Then, air blew from her nose, her body feeling light.

“That’s all?” she asked, voice low. “You’re not asking me to give up my search?”

Carver fiddled with the buckle on his shirt. “Like you’d listen.”

Her jaw clenched, lungs feeling as though they had been punctured. He was right.

“I’ll...” But she couldn’t promise this. Not yet. “...try.”

Her brother’s brows screwed in, each further dip of his mouth a sickly stab into her gut.

“Whatever,” he muttered, pulling away from the mantle he leaned on. He brushed past her as he made his way across the room, tossing her a venomous glance. “You’ll do what you want anyway.”

Before she could answer, he disappeared into the next room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Flames crackled, morose as the voice that had gotten lodged inside her throat finally broke free.

“I’m sorry.”

He didn’t hear.

[cassiecasyl]

stay (said the ghost to the living)

I missed writing irondad. 

prompts: @whumpay2021 day 1: “I thought you were dead” + day 28: chains relationship: Peter Parker & Tony Stark summary: There’s chains holding him to life, saying it’s not his time yet. 

read on ao3! 

~~~

There had been a scream, Peter remembered as much. The concrete had been hard under his body as pain faded. A few tears had still burned in his eyes. The cold had come from the chain wrapped around his right ankle, the one he was now holding in his hands, and had spread over his whole body. There had been a scream so loud it rattled through his bones, so loud it could’ve woken the dead. 

Now, he was walking in a dream. Colors and shapes blurred together even though there was no wetness on his cheeks. His eyes just wouldn’t focus. Distorted sounds sometimes made it through, but never a word. He was alone. 

It must’ve been a while since it happened, whatever it was, because their surroundings had changed from dark and muddy grey to bright and sterile white. There was the light that always blinded Peter when he was in medbay— wait. Medbay. Someone was hurt. Please, no, don’t let it be— He sucked in a breath that wizzed right through his body as he turned around, the chain in his hands rattling anxiously while he looked around. 

Peter stood next to a bed, the room abandoned except for two — no, three, there was somebody in the bed, he couldn’t see, can’t see, can’t see, who is it? — figures. Somebody was watching him. They stood close to the door, as if they weren’t sure whether they were intruding. But also, where they could overlook the whole room. Peter narrowed his eyes, focusing on them. A blob of red, a frown framing sharp, scary and knowing eyes. Nat. Peter almost wanted to smile at her, to celebrate his vision finally focusing and because she would know what happened, but then he noticed the tear tracks on her usually stoic face. No. The teenager’s eyes widened in fear. 

He took a step back and raised his arms in an attempt to get away from under her scrutinizing gaze. Clattering noise shook his body— he had forgotten the chain in his hands. Nat’s eyes narrowed further. “Mrs Romanoff?” Peter whispered, but no air passed his lips. What had he done? Then, her eyes left him to search the room and Peter could feel himself fading. 

The only thing keeping him anchored to reality it seemed was the cold iron touching his fingers, grounding him, linking him to the very ground he was standing on, or maybe to hell. Peter didn’t know. They shuddered with him, shattering against its parts, one by one. This time, the hunched over figure by the bed looked up. 

Peter was found in those brown eyes, the very same color as his, just a tad darker, but something was wrong. His face was fallen, devastated, looking out with utter hopelessness and barely contained anger — the bad taste grief left. “Mr. Stark?” he asked, but was drowned out by the man’s breaking voice. 

“Stop it, Nat.” 

“I’m not doing anything,” the spy answered. 

“I don’t care,” Tony mumbled, returning his gaze to the body lying on the bed. Peter ventured closer, chains clanking and fingers itching to give his mentor comfort. “What’s that noise then?” Tony barked, not bothering to hide his frustration. 

Peter stopped short as he noticed who was lying there. It wasn’t possible. 

“I’m trying to figure that out.” 

They were mourning him. But— he was here, alive, wasn’t he? He looked down his body, but his vision was blurring again. Alive. His bones were freezing, bidding him a good night. Alive. Peter reached out to Tony, fingers leaving his burial iron in favor of the Iron Man. How could they not? Instead of stopping at the man’s shoulder though, they continued, invincibly, through his skin and flesh. In horror, he retreated his hand, mustering it under the unforgiving light of the medbay. He looked up at Tony. His mentor never even noticed. 

Dead. He was dead. How? The more he tried, the less came up. Where once was a beat, now silence reigned. Peter cried out devoid of tears. Where once was air, now was a void, and Peter knew he’d collapse into it, into himself. Why couldn’t he breathe? There was a black hole in his middle, and the more he struggled, the more it took, but he couldn’t stop. He shuddered and with him that damn, chattering chain. 

“What the hell?” Tony asked, more awake now, staring straight through him. His eyes could’ve been lasers, as much as it hurt. 

Chattering? Hold on— 

Natasha moved through the room, approaching and then walking away again, almost touching as she walked by. Peter already yearned for human touch. He was suffocating in space’s vacuum. Warm comfort was right next to him, yet he could never reach it. He was Tantalus in his pool deep down in Tartarus, never quite reaching the delicious fruit hanging above his head. He was so cold. 

They returned, stopping right in his center, somehow avoiding the black hole. It was impossible. He was burning up, his ice fighting the sudden human heat. Who was she? Peter blinked. He was swaying in and out of reality. Mom? No, why would he see his mom, she died when he was four, plane crash, remember? The reason why he never really trusted planes anymore. That, and Coney Island. Yes, he remembered. He was here. No reason his mom would be here, unless he was— oh. He was dead. 

“It’s definitely coming from here,” Natasha determined, and Peter grasped her identity. Nat. Mrs. Romanoff. Black Widow. Spider-Mama, as Clint had one time called her, imitating a Russian accent. After the glare Nat had sent him, no one dared to repeat the words. Later, she had teased Clint on his hilariously bad accent work. 

She was still standing inside him, and Peter could hardly imagine a more uncomfortable feeling. The shiver working through his body translated into hers and she stepped away, rubbing her arms. Peter breathed in relief only to once again realize that air was indifferent to him. Afterlife sucked, he decided. 

“Since when are there cold spots in the compound?” she asked. Mr. Stark frowned. 

Chattering, Peter thought again. Chattering. There was something— right, morse code! He almost hit himself on the head because damn his slow undead brain — was it undead? He’d established that he was dead, but how could he be standing here if he was braindead? Why was he still lying in a hospital bed instead of the morgue? Had Mr. Stark not given him up yet? FRIDAY would surely pick up his brain waves. There was nothing science could really tell Peter about this. It would be exciting if it wasn’t so frightening and lonely. Noisy rattling interrupted his thinking. 

He moved his chains around until he could clank two of its parts together rather than the whole thing sounding. It should work that way. Peter waited a calming moment before he began to bring them together with a dinging noise. Two short — I. Two long — M. Pause. Four short — H. One short — E. Short, long, short — R. One short again — E. Pause, and repeat. Two short — I. Two long — M. Pause. Four short — H. One short — E… 

“That’s morse code,” Nat said suddenly, bringing Peter back from the trance the dinging had brought him in. “‘I’m here.’ It says, ‘I’m here.’” 

“‘I’m here’?” Tony repeated. “Who’s ‘I’? Is this some kind of sick joke?” There was fear in his eyes now, masked with anger. Peter almost jumped. He stopped. 

“No, Mr. Stark!” he said in desperation, “It’s me! It’s Peter!” Then, remembering his voice, he morsed. Long, short; three long — NO. 

“No? What’s that supposed to mean?” Tony stood up now, towering over him in anger, and Peter stumbled back. He remembered a scream rattling his bones in a way his chains could never achieve. He remembered the cold entering his body and nothing stopping it. He remembered how his vision became spotty before the black color filled it all. He remembered waking up. I’m here. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter mumbled, closing his eyes and letting a tear fall. It burned his icy skin as it ran down his cheek and along his skin in search of a good jumping point. Finally, it left him. Wait— he’d felt it. He was crying. There was water in his eyes. He blinked them open only to find the two adults in the room staring at him. 

Awkwardly, he waved his hand, and the chain rattled along. Tony blinked. “This isn’t real,” he said, falling back into his chair next to Peter’s bed, never leaving the ghost of his kid out of sight. They could see him. Peter grinned. They could see him. 

“Oh, you’re a Shaniac. Good to know if this ever happens again,” Peter joked into the tense room. Nat let out a near-manic chuckle, and Tony only stared. Fear had turned to amazement and hope and a tear left his left eye. 

It was Peter’s turn to blink at his mentor. “You can hear me?” he asked, uncertainty lacing his tongue. A smile grew on Tony’s face and Peter couldn’t help but grin back. 

“Whatever a Shaniac is, it’s good to hear your voice, kid.” He stood up again and opened his arms in invitation. However much Peter would’ve loved to jump right into the hug, he couldn’t. He held him back with his hand, lightly touching Tony’s hand to show him. His illusioned hand went right through Mr. Stark’s solid body, just as expected. 

“No touch. Sorry.” As he looked back up at Mr. Stark, there were tears in his eyes. It was like watching his heart break all over again, and Peter choked on air that still refused to enter his lungs — it was as afraid as he was of the void there.  

Tony stepped back and Peter looked to the ground. “FRI, Give me footage of this room. Now!” Peter flinched a little at the harshness in Mr. Stark’s voice, but eventually came closer to spy on the footage too. FRIDAY had immediately designed Mr. Stark a holoscreen, only giving a quick verbal confirmation — “Right away, Boss.” 

They watched themselves sitting and standing there. It was almost dull and pointless, except for knowing where the cameras were. Instead of Peter, a glowing bulb hung in the air. The boy moved a little, watching how the ball followed his movements. “Cool,” he whispered. 

Tony glanced up at him. If he was surprised by Peter’s sudden proximity, he didn’t show it. “Ghost?” he asked. 

“Ghost,” Peter confirmed with a nod. It was the only possible explanation. 

Tony sighed. “Oh, for fu— goodness’ sakes, why must it be you to prove me wrong here?” he lamented and Peter chuckled. 

“Told you you’re a Shaniac.” 

“I still don’t know what that means,” the genius admitted, and Peter shared a quick, knowing look with Nat. “Now get the hell over here and back into your body!” 

“Tony,” Mrs. Romanoff said while Peter obliged, “are you sure this is gonna work?” Her voice was gentle yet stern, as if trying to soften a blow or stop someone from doing something stupid. It was hard to tell which one. 

“It’s worth a try,” Tony replied. 

Peter lay down into his body, but there was nothing. He could’ve just as well laid down on the ground. There was no uncomfortable feeling like with Nat, now heat spread from a living body. Nothing. He tried to connect, but there was nothing to connect to, all the links were dead. 404, not found. He could cry. 

He sat up again, leaving his body on the sheets, much to everyone’s disappointment. “Do you think you could try again?” Tony asked, the hope in his voice almost unbearable. He was set on this, and there was nothing that could make him veer from this path. 

“No,” Peter sighed, “I’m sorry. There’s just… nothing,” he explained. 

“I’m going to contact Doctor Strange,” Natasha announced with a new-found determination. She briefly squeezed Mr. Stark’s shoulder before leaving. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter said again, only to be intervened by Mr. Stark. 

“No. No, kid. It’s okay. We’re gonna find something that works. And if not… Well, then, at least you're still here in this form.” Peter nodded, looking up at the tired and red eyes of his mentor. “And no ‘if this ever happens again.’ Because if this ever happens again, I’m gonna kill you myself. Or worse, I’m gonna call your aunt.” 

Peter blinked. “You haven’t called May?” 

Tony’s eyes found the side of the bed. “No,” he sighed heavily, “I wanted her to find out from me, but I— I just couldn’t. Not yet, anyway.” Peter could hear the tears in his breaths. 

“How long?” he asked. 

“A few— a few hours.” 

Peter nodded. Then, he drew Mr. Stark’s attention by waving his hand where he stared at. “Well, good news is, you’ve still got me around to annoy you.” 

Tony let out a broken laugh, but there was love in it. “God, kid, one day you’re gonna be the death of me.” It was a rupture in the small comfort they’d found. Tony on the ground, bleeding out, his helpless hands stupidly shaking as they tried to stop the flow. It was too late though. The light had already left his eyes. There was no going back. The teen tensed, staring up with big, unseeing, startled eyes; almost dead, or just hanging barely onto life. No. His father, Richard; Ben; not Tony, too. He knew it was meant as a joke, but the image wouldn’t leave his mind. He knew how close death was, how it hit when you least expected it. Hell, he was dead, right at this very moment. 

Tony seemed to sense his kid’s distress because he began apologizing. “No, kid, I’m sorry. God, this was stupid, I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t meant it, Peter—” 

It was a drowning noise in his ears. No, no, no. He had just become real again, he didn’t want to go back to the dream, to the fading realm where he was all alone. Where Tony mourned him. Where he couldn’t protect him, only watch without understanding. “Don’t die, please?” his voice was suddenly that of a scared kid — high-pitched and teary. He swallowed a sob. “Promise me?” 

“Well, everybody’s gotta die at some point, nothing’s immortal—,” Tony started with a sigh, but at the sight of his kid’s big, pleading puppy eyes, he stopped. “I promise,” he assured him. Anything for this kid.  

tag list: (let me know if you wanna be added/removed!) @starrynightdeancas @spookyscarykittycat @sherlockwhomentalist @lost-lunar-wolf @aixabi @peter-is-a-bean 

[thedefenderoftheearth]

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summary: Rose and TenToo start their journey together and it isn't always perfect but they're good together.

rating: T

word count: 2200

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30290310

On Day One, he knows the TARDIS is leaving before Rose does. She’s entirely captivated by this kiss, and he wants to be too (and is…mostly), but it’s his TARDIS, and his mind is big enough to think of both things at once–the love of his life re-entering it and the companion he’s not sure he can live without fading from it. He hates the thought but knows it’s true. He’s lived without Rose, knows he can do it…but he’s not sure if he can live without his ship. 

When Rose breaks the kiss with a gasp and bolts toward his disappearing girl, he’s certain that he can’t.  He takes the few strides to Rose, interlaces his fingers with hers because it’s the only thing he’s sure it’s okay to do. When they turn to look at each other, he wonders what he’ll be sure of tomorrow.

On Day Two, he wakes to a soft whirring sound--an electric toothbrush, he realizes. Rose is awake and coming out of the en suite. He doesn't know what to do with himself, so he flings the covers aside and hops out of the bed to meet her. 

"Oh," she says, and she won't meet his eyes. "Um. Hi. You're awake."

"Yes," he confirms. "And you have a bit of toothpaste just...there." Without thinking and before she can stop him, he licks the pad of his thumb and swipes the corner of her mouth.

"Um. Thanks," she says, and she still won't look at him properly. "Um...I thought...I thought I'd pick up your suit from dry-cleaning. And then we could go shopping, get you some things. I won't be long." She hurries from the room with her head down, not even pausing to wait for an answer.

He's puzzled, but when he's certain she's gone, he sucks his thumb. He can't taste every component of the toothpaste, can't determine the exact structure of the methylcellulose like he used to. What he can taste is Rose, and that, he thinks, could merit a full day's worth of analysis.

It isn't until he goes into the bathroom to relieve himself that he realizes why Rose did her best not to see him.

He wonders if this is a problem human males have every morning.

If so, he wonders how he could possibly bear this every morning--this heat that's spreading across his face, down his neck, and to his shoulders that makes him feel like he could disintegrate on the spot and like he wouldn't mind if he did, because at least he wouldn't have to face Rose again.

On Day Three, she catches him in the kitchen with two fingers in a jar of raspberry jam. He freezes, smiles sheepishly, grows nervous when she doesn't say anything.

"You know," she finally says, taking the jar from him and replacing his fingers with her own, "this is an awful habit to get yourself into." Her tongue darts out to clean the messy glob on her fingers.

"Dreadful," he agrees, when he can finally speak. "Terribly rude." He takes the jar back to help himself to more jam.

They pass the jar between them a few times before she stops and places it on the counter.

Sticky fingers weave through his perfectly tousled hair as she pulls his mouth to her and he wants to whine about it, but his brain shorts out as she swipes her tongue along his bottom lip and oh--all right then.

On Day Nine, they're okay. They've fallen into a safe routine: she cooks breakfast and he cleans the dishes; they share the bathroom (and it's not long before they decide it isn't big enough for the two of them); they reach together for two Torchwood IDs hanging near the door; she drives and he changes the radio fifteen times before they arrive.

Neither of them takes any risks with the other, but it's good. They're good together.

On Day Twenty-Eight, he cooks breakfast and doesn't burn the toast. It earns him a proud hug from Rose. He thinks back to a day when a shop girl from the Powell Estate pronounces a word correctly and elicits the same response from him. He wonders what happened to that girl and marvels at the woman before him who has all of herself pressed up against all of him.

On Day Forty-One, he goes on his third date with Rose. He's not sure why she keeps referring to it that way but she does and has more than once--to her mum on the phone and even to Jake at Torchwood.

He doesn't understand why she emerges from the en suite in a dress he's never seen before and strappy heels that couldn't possibly be designed for comfort (and definitely not for running) or why she smells flowery and certainly good but not quite like herself.

When they return to the flat, he doesn't understand her frustrated sounds when he kisses her, when he tries to slow their snogging back down to just that, just like always, just like normal. She finally relents and succumbs to his pace. When they're both breathless, she snuggles close to him...until she can't anymore.

He's utterly baffled when he's suddenly asked to sleep on the couch, but for the first time since he came to live with Rose--the first time in his existence--he does.

On Day Fifty, he understands why they call it "getting lucky." His brain is shrouded in a blissful haze, yet singularly focused on one thing: he has just had sex with Rose Tyler. He's done the deed, gotten busy, mattress mamboed, knocked boots--he doesn't have boots; maybe he should get some--and he feels a little bit like whooping...but his bones are liquid and he's melting into the soft down of the bed. His hair is in a state of permanent shock, his eyelids droop half-mast, and his mouth is set in a goofy sort of half-grin that doesn't seem to want to fade, but he doesn't mind. He fights to keep his eyes open just to keep looking down at an equally happy Rose falling asleep with one arm across his chest, her hand above his single heart, and her legs tangled with his.

On Day Seventy-Seven, they spend the entire day in bed. He moans loudly.

She tells him through a stuffed-up nose to "shu' ub."

"'Shut up'? Really? These could be my last words, Rose Tyler. I'm going to die!"

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"It's just a cold."

"Is not. It's swine flu, bird flu, SARS--No." He gasps. "The Plague!"

"It's not the Plague. They didn't even have that here."He whines and moans and groans and "But Roooooose"s, and even though she's miserable herself, she brings him soup, blows on it when it's too hot, and patiently cleans him up when he sneezes in her face and half the bowl goes down his front.

On Day One-Hundred Twelve, they're not okay. Neither of them knows how they got to this point, but hurtful things are being flung carelessly to the air between them. Things like maybe if he came back, she'd leave with him--back to her own universe, back home. Things like maybe if the wanker did come back, he'd just steal his TARDIS, and he could be the one stuck on this stupid planet in this stupid world.

He pulls at the doorknob, tries to flee with some dignity, but the jamb sticks. He twists and pulls and jiggles the lock and finally it breaks free. Tears prickle in his eyes, and he wants to know why this stupid body has his tear ducts hardwired to his frustration. It's a dumb design; he doesn't feel like crying, he feels like running.

He winces when he hears the door slam behind him--he didn't really mean that--but it's done. He can't take it back. He runs.

On Day One-Hundred Fourteen, he runs home. She's ready for him when he walks in, and he isn't expecting that. He's expecting to at least be able to change out of the clothes he left in, the ones that are soaked through and clinging to his cold skin. Maybe even a shave and a steaming cup of tea. He doesn't get those things; they're going to have it out right now.

She unfurls herself from the blankets, rises from the couch with an un-drunk, already-cold mug of tea in her hand and strides toward him. They're toe-to-toe before he can find his voice.

"Still mad?"

She leans in close and he's nervous. "Yes," she says against his temple. "Definitely," against his jaw.

He shivers, swallows thickly, and thinks--knows--they should solve this with words, but when she pulls back to look at him like that, he thinks the words can wait.

They're both sorry, and that's enough for now.

They're a mess of tangled limbs and warm breath as they fall to the bed. His wet clothes are left on the carpet and oh, she's not going to like that later. He wonders how he has room for that thought when he's got a half-naked Rose Tyler in his arms, then he knows: he never wants to make her mad at him again.

Right now, he decides, he's going to make her very, very happy with him.

On Day One-Hundred Fifty, he thinks Rose might be pregnant. He wants to believe it's his superior Time Lord brain counting thirty days to the millisecond. He knows it's his human brain and his human something else.

He's not sure if she thinks that--that there might soon be three heartbeats between them again--but he thinks he's scared, delighted, anxious, proud, reckless, loving, loved, amazed.

He wonders if it's a human trick, to feel all these things at once and not explode into light. If so, it's better than any trick any Time Lord ever had.

On Day One-Hundred Fifty-Two, he finds out he's wrong when she throws a pillow at him and demands toffee and a backrub.

He's not sure why he isn't relieved, or of the reasons he should be.

On Day Two-Hundred Two, he drops a ring--the ring--down the garbage disposal and panics. He stares down the dark void of the drain in horror.

Neither of them are ready for the question to be asked, but that ring....It's The Ring, and he's not going to find a replacement. When his own hand fails him (as does chewing-gum-on-a-wire and the vacuum hose with a bit of nylon over the top) he admits defeat and calls a plumber.

When Rose asks what happened, he has to tell her he finally finished that sonic prototype, and it was rather less successful than one might have hoped--wellll, by that he means it was a complete failure.

She rolls her eyes and asks him what's for supper.

On Day Three-Hundred Ninety-Eight, he thinks they are ready, but she comes home with two zeppelin tickets.

"Fancy a trip?"

"Yes!" he exclaims too loudly. He's done so well so far. He's only had a few freak-outs--no, they weren't freak-outs. Slips, lapses, tiny episodes, he thinks. But oh, would he love to travel. He doesn't have the universe at his fingertips anymore, but this world is still different, still has a lot to offer. Maybe the Sphinx still has a nose because he wasn't there to meddle, and maybe the sand feels different under his feet there because the silicon dioxide content isn't the same in this universe. Maybe the Great Wall of China wasn't built, but there's one in Mexico, and maybe the view is still spectacular. Maybe the best chips on the planet aren't at their old haunt at the hole-in-the-wall on Baker and Twenty-Fourth. Maybe they're across the globe in Sydney, and maybe they can find them.

"Yes," he says quieter, and then, "Where?"

"Anywhere."

"Okay."

"Okay."

And they go.

On Day Four-Hundred Twelve, they're running for their lives from a hunter-gatherer group in the Amazon that he's managed to insult.

They run, and the humidity gives them an endless supply of sweat. Huge droplets pool from every pore making their hair stick close to their scalps and their clothes stick to their skin as though they'd just emerged from a swimming hole fully-clothed and a muddy one at that, with the way the forest wants to cling to them and never let go.

He knows it's just something in the way this adrenal-cortical system works that makes him think that maybe they're really going to die this time, something about these rubbish--wonderful--human hormones, but he says the words anyway.

"Will you marry me?"

"What?" she says between tight gasps for air.

"Marry me.”

"Her answer doesn't come immediately. He doesn't know if she's thinking or trying to find the air for the words or both, but he's dying every second.

"Okay," she says, then looks over her shoulder to the group gaining on them. "Can it wait?"

"Yes!" he exclaims. He hollers an indecipherable word, grabs her hand, and they run faster.