#sleep token fist bump

[kaddyssammlung]

did III and IV also kiss?!

[hazyfaith]

Monster Among Men (3.3k)

Pairing: III & Vessel & II CW: Body Horror, Vomiting, Injuries, Vessel Transformation, Monster, Fluff, Platonic relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Pain.

Summary: The band had been off tour for a couple of weeks, the worship had become less, leaving her to grow weak and in desperate need for more. III felt weird the whole day, the feelings persisting into the night when something paid him a visit.

Read on AO3: Monster Among Men

A/N: This is the gift I made for @soul-has-left-the-chat for the Sleep Token gift exchange!! I'm so happy I could make this for you, what you put for your gift preferences really inspired me! I was so glad when you said you were fine with body horror that I might've gone overboard with it, but oh well!! I hope you'll like it <3

Despite the heaviness of his eyelids, III could not find sleep. 

He had gone to bed early, hoping to have a long night of sleep as he had been more tired than usual lately, but alas. Since he got himself settled under the covers, he had turned over and over again, unable to fall asleep.

His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, trying to ignore the never ending headache that was rattling his head. It had been throbbing for the past hours and nothing he did reduced the amount of pain he was in. Usually, after relaxing in a dark room for a few hours or sleeping it off would do the trick, but not that day. Everything was too much.

His whole face was hurting. From his tight jaw, his teeth grinding against one another, his ears ringing, to his eyes burning, he could not get the rest he wanted. 

Suddenly, a wave of warmth washed down his body, prompting him to push the blanket off of himself to cool down. As he moved his arms, a sharp pain ran through both of them, his finger tightening their hold on the soft material. His hands remained tense, unable to open them and release what he was holding. After what felt like minutes, he regained control of his hands, letting go of the blanket as his muscles relaxed, relief flooding his mind, only for a few seconds. 

A burning feeling made its way up his throat, bile threatening to come out. He got out of bed in a hurry, his head spinning at the sudden movement, before running to the closest bathroom. He swung the door open before scrambling in. His head throbbed even harder, dizziness taking over his body. He gripped the edge of the sink to steady himself, his knuckles turning white. 

His stomach churned at the sight of the moving sink, bile coming up his throat once again, this time spilling in his mouth. He dove to the toilet, throwing up a dark blue slug. 

He hovered over the toilet, his stomach contracting persistently, unable to stop the viscous liquid from coming out. The burning sensation made his tongue and the roof of his mouth burned, his lips tainted by the liquid. The pressure from it coming out made his throat tightened. He slapped his hand around his throat to loosen it, to no avail. He was choking.

His mouth agape, he hit his chest with his fist, slug finally coming out, splattering the toilet. His airway finally free, he coughed and gasped for air. Every breath he took to regain control felt like a razor blade, making him barely able to fill his lungs fully. Tears pricked in the corner of his eyes, threatening to spill at any moment. 

His knees began to hurt from kneeling in front of the toilet, prompting him to sit instead. As he moved his legs he felt a stabbing pain in both his calves. He quickly brought his legs towards his stomach to soothe the pain, only for loud cracking noises to rattle the small bathroom, followed by acute pain in his tibias. 

His legs fell back down immediately as he folded forward despite the cramps in his abdomen, grabbing at his knees. The shock from them hitting the floor created two bumps, one on top of each of his shins. 

A few seconds passed before he felt something pulling on his feet. His legs were extending as he felt emptiness in his lower legs. The pain became unbearable, the tears in his eyes fully flowing. 

When the pulling stopped, he felt like sand and glass shards filled this void, as if millions of microscopic pieces bridged the two parts of the broken bones. The inside of his legs were itching, as if the new part of his bones were jagged. 

As he reached his hands to scratch at his legs, his hands caught his eyes. The tips of his fingers were a deep black just like his hands, fading to his natural skin colour as it went up his arms. Despite having naturally long and slender fingers, he could not help but believe that they had also grown. At least his fingernails had grown as he had now red pointy claws. 

While he was observing his hands, the cramps in his abdomen worsened although his stomach had calmed down. Beneath his upper ribs, his heartbeat became more powerful, rattling his chest. From inside, his heart was pushing against his thorax. His rib cage expanded, creating an empty space between it and his organs, cracking noises echoing once more in the room. 

His headache from before had yet to disappear, it only became worse. 

His eyebrows frowning as the pressure against his hairline increased. Grabbing his head, he felt two bulges. At first they were of a small diameter, but enlarged rapidly. He ran his shaky fingers over them, squinting his eyes like he touched a mean bruise.

The bulges pushed upwards, his skin stretching until it broke. Skin filament hung loose as the wooden looking buds came out, blood dripping down his face. As they grew, he felt his skull being pulled, trying to escape from under his scalp. 

The dizziness he had felt became worse, forcing him to lie down otherwise he would vomit once more. The cold bathroom floor sent a shiver down his spine, contrasting with how warm his body had become. 

The thud of his heart grew in his ear, blocking out any outside noise. The yellow light from the ceiling blinded him. White spots filled his vision before complete darkness took over him.

—-------

Vessel and II had woken at dawn and went on with their day as usual. Since they were not on tour, they had been taking it easy, but still worked on new and old music, preparing for what was to come next. 

The whole morning, III had yet to be seen, a normal occurrence as there was no rigid schedule for the time being. 

The first two vessels had been in the studio for a little over an hour, working on the next album. III was supposed to join them, but never did, an unusual thing for him as he was alway hyped to create new music. After running over the music sheet one last time, they decided to take a break to get snacks and find where the bassist had wandered off to. 

II went to III’s room as it was a possibility that he overslept. Walking down the hall, he passed a closed bathroom with light coming out of the frame, but thought nothing of it yet. 

In front of III’s door, he knocked, but there was no answer, prompting him to push it open and take a quick peek. The bed was messy and clothes covered the clothes, but the bassist was nowhere to be seen. After backing out and closing the door, he walked to the lit bathroom, knocking.

Once again, he got no answer. As he was about to head down the hallway, his heart squeezed in his chest, a small voice in his head whispering to knock again. And so he did, this time louder. 

“III? Are you in there?” He asked, a muffled groan being the only thing he heard back.

On the other side of the door, III frowned as he was woken up by the knocking. A groan escaped his lips as he sat up. His whole body felt sore like he had worked out excessively the previous day. Getting on his knees in front of the sink, he gripped it and pulled himself up. 

A gasp echoed in the bathroom when he saw his reflection in the mirror. Instinctively, his hands went to his head, grabbing on the antlers that had grown seemingly overnight. A shiver went down his spin at the contact. Ignoring it, he glided his fingers up against the soft velvet antlers until he reached the tips. As his arms fell down, his gaze followed and all settled on his face. 

He grazed his nails on his face, taking it all in. His eyes were sunken into the sockets, black all around it as if he had put makeup on, His irises were red and his pupils slitted. His cheeks were shallow, the bones clearly outlined. His lips were elongated and thinner than before, his teeth sharper and yellower. Slightly turning his head to the side, he caught a glimpse of his ear, which was long and pointy, contrary to its small and round usual appearance. His neck too seemed weird, much longer. 

His breath caught in his throat, he couldn’t believe that what he was seeing was him. 

Another knock startled him, his eyes leaving the mirror and falling on the door. “Are you alright? I know you’re in here, I heard some shuffling,” II called out, his eyebrows frowning in worry. 

"Can I come in?" Vessel asked, who, at some point joined the drummer, seeing that neither of them were coming to the studio. The only answer he received was heavy breathing. 

"III? I'm coming in ok? I need to make sure you're alright."

"No, no no no no," III repeated, panic laced in his voice. How was he going to explain this to his friends? 

"III, we want to make sure you're alright. You sound quite scared right now,” II stated despite how obvious it was. He was hoping the bassist would understand their concerns.

"I-I'm ok," He whispered back with a shaky voice. 

"We know you're not... Let us help you, yeah?" II chimed in, his hand on the doorknob, turning it slowly.

At the noise, III threw himself against the door, blocking it so they wouldn’t be able to open it and see him like this. He couldn’t let anyone see him. His face alone was so different, they would have a hard time recognizing him. What if they became scared of him? 

Vessel and II didn’t waste any time and pushed against the door. III’s distress was too strong to be brushed off, even if he insisted on being fine.

Despite his best effort to anchor his feet on the ground and keep the door shut, III slid across the tiles, allowing for his bandmates to enter the small bathroom. 

Gasps erupted as they finally caught a glimpse of III while he rambled about how they should not be seeing him and that they should leave. Even though it was not their first time seeing someone like that, neither of them moved, unsure of how to bring comfort to their friend, simply looking him up and down.

Not only was his face different, his entire body was too. The hair on his head was touching the middle of his back. His limbs were already long to begin with, but they all had become elongated. However, his chest remained the same length, making his body look disproportionated. His hands and feet were black and transitioned to his skin colour as it went up his arms and legs, which was somewhat dissimulated by thick dark hair that covered him. His usually flat chest had grown as if it swelled, the band’s sigil carved in gold in his skin. 

Vessel, who had his fair share of taking care of someone in this state, was the first one to reach out. Despite being the first chosen vessel, he had been through fewer transformations than II, who had seemingly been the favorite one for this. However, he had always been there when the drummer went through it, helping in any ways he could. 

“Oh, III,” Vessel breathed out, taking III’s hand in his despite the taller man’s protests. “It’s ok, you’re ok,” he reassured him. 

“No, no it’s not! I’m-I’m terrifying! ” III exclaimed, gesturing towards himself. “I don't even know what happened... Yesterday I wasn't feeling well and now I look like something straight out of a folklore tale!” He cried out. 

“It’s Sleep,” II blurted out, “It happened to me too, many times, in fact.” III’s head turned to him, his red eyes piercing through II’s blue one. Before he could ask any further questions, the singer took a step forward and spoke first.

“We will explain everything, but we need to get out of here. Let’s go to the living room,” he declared, already pulling on III’s arm.

The bassist didn’t complain, letting himself be led out the room. Following his two friends out of the small bathroom, his antlers hit the doorframe, a whine escaping his lips as the shock resonated through his whole body. 

“Your antlers are really sensitive, aren’t they?” II asked playfully, wanting to ease everyone’s nerves. He was trying not to show that he was a bit scared as he was not used to seeing someone else transform other than himself. He knew how painful this whole process is, not wishing it on anyone, especially on one of his closest friends.

The walk down the hallway was laborious. Everytime III took a step, he felt like lightning was striking his shins. His knees buckled more than once, throwing off even more his nonexistent balance. After almost falling over, he held onto Vessel’s arm to keep steady. When they reached the living room, III squinted, the bright sun burning his retinas. The drummer quickly caught on to it, closing the curtains while Vessel helped III settle down before getting the tea he had been preparing before joining them in the bathroom. 

Sitting down in his habitual spot on the couch wasn’t as comfortable as usual. III’s back wasn’t fully supported, his legs were touching the coffee table, and his shoulders were pushed up his neck since his arms rested weirdly on the armrests. He was used to having difficulties in his everyday life because of his height, but everything was exacerbated by his lingering headache. Huffs and puffs could be heard from miles away as he shifted repeatedly.

His two friends joined him on the couch, waiting for him to stop shifting in his seat. Once he calmed down, Vessel, who was sitting beside him, took his long hands in his, pulling them towards him despite the flinching.

“What’s happening to me?” III whispered, tears filled his worried eyes as he met Vessel’s gaze.

“It’s Sleep’s doing,” He started while III tilted his head. “Since we’ve been on break for a little while, our worship has been weaker than She needs. Festivals and concerts bring her a lot of energy but since we are just practicing and making new music, less energy has been created and received by her. She uses the transformations to get more energy when She grows weak,” he explained.

“I’m usually the one to experience the transformation, but apparently She wanted to try it with you,” II added with a soft smile. 

“And through these, She inhabits the person which gives her more energy as She uses her power. Or at least that’s what we understood. It’s not always easy to understand her.” 

“She’s… in me?” III questioned. 

“Yes, She’s here,” Vessel observed, putting a hand on III’s sternum, “She’s in you now, you’re her vessel,” he declared, the carved sigil flickering beneath his touch.

III was speechless, bringing his own hand to his chest, tingles invading it. A small sense of pride bubbled in his chest. Their god was in him. Sleep had chosen him to regain her strength. 

“How long will it last?” III wondered.

“Usually a couple of days, it varies on how weak She has gotten,” II answered. 

The bassist lowered his head, “I don’t think I can be like this for that long… I can't do anything! Just walking was a challenge, I looked like a fawn!” He exclaimed, his cheeks red with shame. His independence was something he took pride in, and having to rely on others was always a hard thing to do. 

“It’s going to be fine! I’ve helped II during every one of his transformations, we’ll be able to help you too!” Vessel reassured as he saw the humiliation on his friend’s face, rubbing his thumb comfortingly on the back of the hand he was still holding. 

“How about we stay here for the rest of the day while you recover, huh? We’ll get some food in you and we can watch movies or take a nap… Does that sound good?” II suggested. 

III gave a small nod, his head still down, feeling the two men leaving the living room. Although accepting help wasn’t his strong suit, he knew he would have an even harder time than he already had with his new body. 

After letting go of III’s freezing cold hand, Vessel made it his mission to get him a warm fluffy blanket. He needed to be warmer if he was going to feel better. He also made sure to get his laptop to watch movies on, and some more pillows in hope of getting III comfortable.

II went in the opposite direction, heading to the kitchen. From the freezer, he took pre-made frozen soup that Vessel always kept on hand for when he was hosting Sleep or when someone was sick. He quickly went to work and put it in a pot to reheat it. Meanwhile, he filled a glass with water and made a fruit platter that would serve as dessert to get more vitamins in III. The soup warmed up rather quickly, and with all the food on a wooden tray, he was on his way back to his friend. 

Vessel had helped the bassist get as comfortable as possible with multiple pillows behind and beside him and a blanket covering him. 

“There you go, eat while it’s still warm,” II said as he settled the tray on III’s lap, handing him a spoon.

III tried to grip the spoon like he normally would, but his long nails were getting in the way. Instead, he gripped it like a toddler. He sighed heavily while eating as he struggled to do another simple task. II had asked if he needed any help, resulting in III pulling himself away and mumbling something about not liking being made fun of, a soft giggle escaping the drummer. Throughout the whole meal, Vessel’s eyes were fixed on the carved sigil on his chest as it glowed brighter with each bite. 

After finishing his meal, III felt fatigue wash over him. He sank down on the couch, pulling the blanket to his chin. The longer he watched the movie the guys had argued over, the heavier were his eyelids. Soon enough, snores could be heard in the living room, almost drowning out the noise from the laptop.

The three of them took the following days easy. No band practices were held as there was no way he would be able to play his bass with his obnoxiously long fingers and nails. Instead, Vessel and II spent time helping III with everything. From learning how to walk with his oddly proportioned legs, to soothing his itchy antlers as they shed their velvet, they didn’t leave him alone for a second. 

II mostly talked him through it, giving him tips on how to handle the rattling in his chest from Sleep, or the random pain in his shins by applying warm compress on them. III couldn’t deny that having someone who knows had experienced multiple transformations already was comforting, he felt less alone through all of this. 

Even though She was using III as a vessel, Vessel made sure to maintain a good amount of offerings to Sleep. He also made sure to cook some comfort easy to make meals, something the drummer was always grateful for when he went through it. 

It took a couple of days, like II said, for Sleep to regain enough energy before She left III’s body. The process was almost as painful as the beginning, but this time around he had his friends with him to help soothe the pain and help him get back on his feet.

[stariwrites]

This is probably incomprehensible cause it’s 2am where I am but I had to get this out.

GN reader x Jason Todd, pining, summer, basically just that feeling where you’re hanging out and don’t want it to be over. The song they’re singing in this is Granite by Sleep Token. This is incredibly self indulgent.

“We’ll have to do this again sometime,” Roy said, opening the car door. The lights blinded you at first, so used to the only glow coming from the radio.

Jason smiled, the two doing their excessive secret hand shake from a time where they were both younger, sidekicks of Batman and Green Arrow alike. You watched them in awe.

You wondered what it must be like to have that kind of closeness with somebody—not that you didn’t have close friends, but none of you had your own handshake or secret language that followed Roy and Jason. It made something settle heavy in your chest.

Roy looked back at you, giving you a fist bump. “You’re gonna join too, right?”

Warmth settled in your chest as you nodded with a smile. “I’d love to!”

He cheered stepping out of the car while Jason turned to face you from the driver’s side. He gestured to the now vacant passenger seat.

“You can move up front, if you want.”

If he noticed your surprise, he said nothing. You undid your seatbelt and got out of the car. Roy held the door open for you, dramatically. You smiled. Even though it was your first time meeting Jason’s friends it felt like you had known them your whole life.

“Why thank you,” you said hopping into the passenger seat.

Jason rolled his eyes at the display. “Get inside, Roy. It’s cold.”

“It’s summer.”

“Shut up.”

You giggled while Roy finally went to go inside his house. The two of you waited in silence, making sure he got in okay. Once he shot a thumbs up from inside, Jason began to pull out of his driveway.

The music was quiet, calm. You watched the scenery as Jason drove. The night had crept in on the three of you, after visiting various places and restaurants it was time to call it a night.

“Thank you,” you said. Ending the quiet between the two of you.

“For what?”

You shrugged continuing to look out the windshield. “For inviting me, your friends are really sweet.”

He snorts, putting his blinker on. His eyes glow in the dim light of the car. He looks beautiful basked in the various lights of the moon and radio.

“Wait until you hang out with them more, they’re menaces I swear.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Takes one to know one I guess.”

He scoffs. “Rude.”

“Am I wrong?”

He hums, pretending to mull it over. He keeps one hand on the wheel while the other rests under his chin. “I suppose not.”

You sit a little straighter, basking in your small victory. He shakes his head, noticing. He has that look in his eyes, the one that took you a while to decipher but one you figured out anyway. He did it every time you acted a little too dramatic or did one of your quirks.

At first you didn’t know what to make of it but now you know it means one word and only one word: Cute.

It isn’t until then that you notice the song playing and gasp. “I love this song!” You say excitedly.

Jason glances between you and the radio before turning it up.

“Sulfur on your breath. Granite in my chest. You will never have to talk about it. You never want to talk about it.”

Warmth pools in your chest at the action. Happily, you hum along to the song and begin to dance slightly. You catch Jason stealing glances through the corner of your eye.

“I was more than just a body in your passenger seat. You were more that just somebody I was destined to meet. I see you go half blind when you're looking at me. But I am.”

Without warning, Jason puts the windows down, allowing the summer night air to fly through the car. You laugh, looking at Jason. He wears a large troublemaking grin, his black hair flying in the wind. Your breath is stolen from your lungs just looking at him. For the first time since you’ve met him, he looks like any other twenty year old you’ve met; carefree and full of life.

“When you sit there, acting like you know me, acting like you only brought me in to get below me. Never mind the death threats. Parting at the door. We'd rather be six feet under than be lonely.”

You watch the houses pass by and think about how many people you’ve just woken up when it hits you. You’re going back home, part of you never wants this to end.

The realization is a bitter one: you don’t want to go home.

You want to stay here at this moment screaming to this song with Jason. Both of you head banging and laughing at one another while screaming the lyrics like you’re the only two people to exist in the whole world.

You wonder if you’ve ever felt this free before, when you watch Jason once more. He drums on the steering wheel, his voice deep and hypnotic, your heart twists. You wish you could hold his hand.

Before you know it, the song ends and the two of you pull up to your house. He turns the radio down and turns to you, hair still a mess. You smile fondly.

“Tonight was fun,” he says, carding fingers through his hair.

“It was.” You unbuckle your seatbelt and pull your arms over your head. “Not to quote Roy, but he’s right. We should do this again.” You hide the disappointment of the night ending tucked away. You open the car door just as Jason does.

He rounds the front of the car and hugs you. You return the hug, it’s comforting. You feel safe, always feel safe whenever Jason hugs you.

The two of you pull away as you nudge him playfully. “Let me know when you get home. Okay?” It contains the words you want to say but aren’t ready to. I love you, be safe.

Jason ruffles your hair. “I will relax.”

Satisfied with his answer you walk up your front steps and put your key into the lock. Before you get inside he calls after you.

“Hey!” His eyebrows pinch together. He goes to speak before hesitating. He finally settles on two words.

“Sleep well.”

I love you too.

[bangbaby]

##소리꾼 (THUNDEROUS) !

ALBUM: NOEASY

COMEBACK RELEASE: AUGUST 23RD 2021

TRACK: 소리꾼 (THUNDEROUS)

i’m not sorry, i’m dirty . . .

SKZ: villains make our blood boil !

audio moodboard by kiki ! [ vocals by meloneye ]

— 악당 무리에 뜨거운 피가 돌아 온몸에 번져 !

FORMAT: dot point

PAIRING/S: lucy and the boys ( skz )

GENRE: idol, fluff

WORD COUNT: 1.8k

WARNINGS: implied romance, alpha female energy, mentions of chan’s abs and ass

##PRODUCTION !

first things first, noeasy is lucy’s era. well, it’s everyone’s era but it’s the comeback where she’s got the most lines.

you would think being a main lyricist would cut her some slack but nope, management was always adamant that the group had to increase/maintain their popularity before lucy could get a chance to “shine”.

jokes on them though, because where would they be without lucy’s clout?

and now, they’re million unit sellers.

legends say taylor swift’s the man was actually written for lucy kang.

after kingdom, there was absolutely no way she was hiding from the spotlight ever again. the nation knows she’s not just the token female member, she’s a monster born and created: a triple threat alpha ready to devour.

too noisy? too bad.

no more background harmonies/vocals or a couple of pity lines— this girl’s finally getting verses and dedicated solo shots.

also, dance formations/symmetry be dammed. the girl fits seamlessly no matter where she’s placed, mostly thanks to her A CLASS stylists.

and to hell with “male” choreography— you’ve never seen a girl look so good spitting on her palms, ready to throw hands.

notable lines written by lucy and changbin:

there’s no way they can lower my ego, i stick to my principles

i don't care how they look at me, i’ll always say what i have to say

everybody's talking nonsense— tired of this and that, shaking my head

you talk too much, stop meddling

i was born crooked, my voice can go against a hundred

if i don't like something, i’ll talk back until i’m satisfied

notable lines written by lucy and han:

villains make my blood boil and circulate throughout my body

why you mad? why you sad? why you tick—tick—ticked off?

your attempt to look cool is cute

you don't even come close to me, this is my show

notable lines written by chan for lucy:

man, i’m not sorry i’m dirty

freezing cold but i know we’ll burn forever

keep on talking, we don’t play by the rules

##M/V & STAGE !

short cut of a nine-tailed lucy playing with dokkaebi flames (possibly animated).

body rolls from the crop top duo, ie. the chabs (chan’s abs) and the jelly belly (lucy’s pierced navel) would without a doubt break the internet.

same goes for the dragon twins’ (hyunjin and lucy’s) dance solos.

MAN, I’M NOT SORRY I’M DIRTY.

the amount of attitude in that one line is enough to take the entire fandom for months.

lucy owns the most wicked smirk ever caught on camera as she basically tells the entire world, yeah— i do sleep under the same roof as eight hot dudes. get over it.

really, this is lucy’s world and we’re all just living in it.

if yeji can do her crazy mafia squat, lucy can absolutely do the thunderous squat.

the finger-wiggling-neck gesture was one of lucy’s contributions to the choreography— it was initially a slicing sound effect/motion; but chan and lucy decided to convert it to something a little more friendly.

the “riding” choreography instead imitates a litter, lucy is back to back with changbin and her hands form the shape of a crown. chan, han and minho support the two (as their carriage) whilst hyunjin/jeongin and felix/seungmin “hold” onto the front and back.

lucy consistently makes sure she’s not hurting lee know as he piggybacks her.

lucy tries not to burst out laughing whenever she spots butt-hunter lee know from the corner of her eye.

lucy often changes the fist-bump choreography with lee know to play rock-paper-scissors.

you just know all of lucy’s ending fairies are immaculate; whether they’re in sign language or are smiley-cute/smirky-sexy— any close up of her is dangerous for the heart.

##MAKING FILM (SKZ-TALKER) !

lucy going off on a tangent about how much she loves historical/revolution concepts and mythical creature lore (with seungmin attempting to shut her up).

lucy and chan chasing each other around set to poke and/or tickle each other’s exposed midriffs.

lucy is an absolute menace on set because she can’t do anything without being remotely distracting (even if she’s being quiet).

out of all of the members, lucy gets into trouble the most. she’s often put to sleep by their managers or lured away with food and/or games.

but the kids like her company as her presence lightens the atmosphere/makes the filming process more relaxed and fun.

whenever lucy’s filming solo, it becomes a competition of who can make her react/break character first.

funnily enough, she is usually the most immersed and professional out of the members. it’s difficult to disturb a perfectionist like her at work— but not impossible.

the aussies are essentially the band’s cesco (korean anti-pest company), they’re the least afraid of bugs unless they’re massive spiders (in that case, it’s every man for themselves).

lucy giggling to talker about hand fans because they make her feel like she’s in a hair commercial.

lucy adorably showing her battle scars to talker and making up stories about each of them. i got this one from lee know’s cat and this one’s from my fist fight with seungmin! i won, by the way.

the tangerines (chan and lucy) flirting on quad bikes.

felix and lucy making mario kart references when they’re filming on bikes/in cars.

lucy gets the “chan’s-sound-of-third-person” mission whilst seungmin gets “lucy’s-sound-of-thunder”; he says his is by far the easiest and can accomplish it the second he gets within her radius. lucy groans and says hers is impossible because chan refuses to do aegyo anywhere near her.

lucy catches onto seungmin’s mission fairly quickly though, which makes for some interesting cuts of her trying to be nice whilst the kid is annoying the absolute shit out of her (they’re playing catch with a baseball and seungmin is purposely failing to catch all of her throws).

eventually she gives up and yells at him, seungmin-ah! seriously? *cue happy puppy bouncing*

chilling in the trailer with chan and jeongin, lucy refers to herself in third person but makes it a little obvious it’s part of her mission. lucy’s eating her snacks and—

i am also eating her snacks, chan laughs because he knows exactly what her mission is. third person singular, right? lucy replies with an irritated no!

chan and his teasing hwaiting! (be glad you don’t know what kind of look the girl gives him behind the camera)

later on, lucy tries to disguise her mission by interviewing changbin about what he wants to eat. he says he’s surprisingly not hungry, and chan?

i’m not craving anything in particular, the man has the audacity to laugh with his damn man titties hanging out as he immediately catches lucy for the second time.

what do you need from me? chan asks a frustrated (flustered) lucy (the bastard’s somehow getting better at flirting and changbin walks away with a satisfied smirk).

i’m just asking you— bang christopher chan, what you want to eat, and how you’re feeling!

chan starts filming lucy with his phone and jeongin walks in between the two in an attempt to widen the gap between them/ease the tension (to no avail).

but what will you do for me? (if chan were to help lucy with her mission).

lucy swears she didn’t just get the chills from his question, the air at 2:00am is just cooler than usual.

i’ll be cute for you,

oh? well, you go first then.

the two grin and chuckle too playfully: their members are watching from the sidelines absolutely sure this is going to be edited out of the video.

oppa! soyeonnie wants barbecue for dinner!

chan absolutely cracks himself laughing at her terrible aegyo before he responds with: and channie is off to do his shoot now!

I HATE YOU! are the last words chan records before he runs off cackling like a madman.

lucy laughs/pokes fun at the kids a lot whenever any of them forget their cues; but on the extremely rare occasion she forgets— the members never let her live it down.

jeongin and lucy pretending the smoke effects are each other’s fart clouds.

bingsu! lucy loves her bingsu! thank you 2PM!

lucy also loves taking cute photos of the kids whenever they’re smiling and/or eating— especially of her sunshine, felix.

chan and lucy spray tagging the wall: the two like using “K9”, because wolves and nine kids.

it’s not a myth, lucy literally eats cds before stages— 42 episodes of skz-talker = hard evidence.

and it’s definitely not a skz-talker without lucy and han bursting into song out of nowhere/lucy and changbin competing who can do their vocal warmups the loudest.

wolfgang stage included because why not: though the thought of girls growling/female werewolves might trigger something deep within me (like it definitely would chan, aha)

first verse with lucy and changbin:

focus—

yeah, you better be afraid if you hear us

shut your mouth, fix your posture when you see us

a hunter, but you’re weak

i’m showing no mercy

i’ll bite your throat and see

how you fall when you bleed

second verse with hyunjin, lucy and han:

now, we’re on the hunt

a pack, we’re gonna run

laughing at all the ruins from the battles we have won

wolfgang, yes sir

mission for your successor

we win when we’re together

so drop your head and kneel beneath the wolf i have become

(translated lyrics from lex’s cover)

skz-talker, aka time for “what’s in lucy’s snack bag today”

lucy trusts hyunjin, minho and felix the most with taking her photos; but only very recently has she begun to let changbin and jeongin take her photos to help them improve.

their managers and/or jeongin having to wake lucy from her naps (bc they’re the only people she won’t get angry at).

the view and grow up stage also included: very pretty pastel/plant mom vibes.

lucy humming “i like the view right now” whenever she gets a good angle of chan’s ass: he has absolutely no idea why the rest of the kids are laughing so hard.

grow up is one of the hardest songs for lucy to sing. and she wrote it with the kids in mind (not initially for chan during their early trainee days that’s for sure).

you’ll always be able to tell how much self-restraint lucy is using whenever any of the kids start crying (especially from lovestay letters)— she herself has a habit of looking up to the ceiling and catching the tears before they start to fall (chan is the opposite, he looks down and avoids eye contact).

being told she’s doing well and that someone is proud of her = lucy’s ultimate weakness. thank god lee minho is usually there to make her laugh/keep her from breaking.

lucy affectionately rubs han and jeongin’s back when they’re finally off stage to soothe them. she hugs her aussie kin extremely tightly, instinctively nuzzling her head into theirs and combing the hair on the back of their necks.

a process the kids know well (first witnessed with lucy and her brothers) but only on the rare occasion receive— though when it does happen, it shows how much lucy loves and cares for them.

[ nav ] [ masterlist ] [ skz ] [ itzy ] ©bangbaby

[nightwishesworld]

Hello! I love your writing and if you do take request, might I ask for a family night (including Heisenberg) playing Monopoly please? (OC is already in a loving relationship with Alcina and the girls love her)

Oh boy anon, this was by far the most difficult thing I’ve ever written. It’s not my best cause I know zero about the game so I had to try and work around it. Hope you enjoy anyway!

It's that time of the week again in the Dimitrescu castle. The most sacred and anticipated time of the week; not hunting, not harvesting, not even wine tasting... it's game night.

As soon as the sun sets the girls swarm in the drawing room to ready the space for the night's antics. Daniela digs out the game while Sorine opens all the curtains, letting the warm light of the moon shine through, and Victoria lights the fire and torches. It became a ritual not long after you moved into the castle. The girls often confided in you how they wished to spend more quality time with their mother on more than one occasion. Hunting maidens and harvesting their blood was fun, but they've been doing that forever! It was no longer as thrilling as it once was, not it felt more like a chore that needed to be done. And you can't count how many times Alcina admitted to feeling guilty about not giving her daughters more of her time. So when you pitched the idea of a routine game night, you got very little pushback.

The only one who hesitated was Daniela, and only because she insisted on inviting Uncle Heisenberg, which was totally fine. You get along rather well with the werewolf and enjoy his visits. Getting in touch with him was rather difficult though. Most of his visits were spontaneous reasons to see his favorite nieces, while the other few were strictly business-related held by Alcina. It took her some time to locate her brother, but it also gave you some time to make your way back down to your old home in the village to gather your collection of board games and puzzles. Some were missing a few pieces or cards, but they would have to do for now. Worst case scenario you just buy new ones.

When Alcina finally got ahold of Heisenberg he eagerly accepted and promised to start making his way back to the castle; the girls were thrilled. After all, it wouldn't be proper family bonding time without good ol' Uncle Heis.

In the beginning, it was decided that everyone took turns deciding what game they were going to play. The cycle started with you of course, since the whole thing was your idea, then went from oldest to youngest. Everyone had a blast playing against each other and laughing at one another. You can't remember a time you'd seen Alcina laugh so hard, she was almost brought to tears. Everything was just peachy until Victoria, ever the mischief-maker decided you should play Monopoly. The poor Dimitrescu's had no idea what brand of hellish gameplay awaited them. Only an hour and a half in and Daniela had successfully bankrupt her own mother. The proud look plastered on the girl's face would have been more amusing if it weren't for Alcina losing her temper. That was the one time you couldn't wait for the night to end, and hopefully, never play it again.

Much later that night in bed with Alcina curled up on your chest you woke with a chill running down your spine. It's Daniela's turn to pick the game.

Which is how you ended up lounging on your favorite chair by the fire watching Daniela and Heisenberg setting up the board and organizing the money. Again.

Alcina is sat on the floor next to you leaning comfortably against your chair sipping her third glass of wine. "Why are we doing this again?"

You give her a sympathetic smile. "You know why, dearest, it's game night."

She only rolls her eyes at you. "You know what I mean, draga mea. Why monopoly?"

"It was Dani's turn to chose the game. It'll be fun, don't worry Al."

"Yeah Mother," Victoria giggles. "What's wrong with monopoly?"

"You mean other than how overly competitive and childish you all become?"

You were about to open your mouth when Heisenberg started to laugh. "You say 'you all' as if you aren't just as bad."

Alcina chose to ignore him in favor of her wine.

"Ah! Mother's just upset cause she knows I'm gonna make her go bankrupt again," Daniela smiled as her sisters snickered. "I forget, what did you say you were going to do to me, Mother?"

This caused the chorus of giggles to erupt into laughter. "She said she was going to disown you!" Sorine choked out.

"Forging an alliance against your mother is just plain rude! And you-" she points to Heisenberg, "you stole my companion!"

Laughter erupted in the drawing room. You leaned against Alcina's arm as you lost the ability to breathe. "I did not steal them," Heisenberg handed you both your starting $1500. "I was in a financial bind and y/n was willing to make a deal."

"And just like that our alliance was born." You lean forward and fist-bumped the werewolf. "Let's let Al join us tonight, Heis, now we'll be even against the girls."

He ponders for a moment before noticing his sister's golden eyes burning into him and hastily shakes her hand. "Welcome to the team, sis."

Alcina sighed and accepted his hand in a near bone-crushing grip. You tried not to notice the man wincing. "About damn time."

You shot Alcina finger guns with a wink and "pew pew" and she full-heartedly laughs. "What on Hell's earth was that?"

"A dumb human thing, don't worry about it."

"Horray!" Daniela grinned. "Now Mother has a fighting chance."

"Now girls," you chided. "Let's try to keep this friendly tonight, ok? As funny as it was, and it was," Alcina glares at you from behind her wine glass. "We're going to let it go now. No more ganging up on your mother."

The girls gave an innocent smile, "of course y/n."

"Wouldn't dream of it, y/n."

"Cross my heart hope to die!"

Wait, aren't they already dead?  You shook your head. Doesn't matter.

"Are we using the same pieces as last time?"

"Might as well," you saw before Daniela can get a word out. "We were all happy with our tokens last time, yes?"

Daniela huffed and crossed her arms. "I want to be the dog!"

"Aw come on, Dani," Sorine says. "I think it's only fair Uncle Heis gets to be the dog."

"Since, ya know, he is a dog," Victoria smirks.

To say the atmosphere of the room was intense would be an understatement. But, you couldn't be entirely unhappy with the course of events either since your alliance was winning. Victoria is bankrupt and Daniela has been sitting in jail for the past three turns. Alcina refuses to sell her Get out of Jail Free card. Oh, how the tables have turned. Daniela, much like her dearest mother, is far too stubborn for her own good. She refuses to pay Heisenberg the $50 to get out of jail and Alcina simply refuses to bail her out. Petty revenge, but entertaining nonetheless. It's after midnight now and you're finding it difficult not to doze off against the vampire's arm. Heisenberg is awake pacing around the room as he lost interest in the stalemate already. He was nice enough to take his heavy boots off so he wouldn't disturb Sorine and Victoria's slumber. His repetitive pace was starting to lull you to sleep. You allow yourself to close your eyes for a minute, listening to Alcina's breathing and Heisenberg's hushed stomping circling around you.

The fire was reduced to crackling embers and you were left shivering under Heisenberg's coat. Out of desperation, you kiss the top of Alcina's gloved hand. "Nu putem termina în dimineața? Hai să mergem la culcare." You know she loves it when you talk in Romanian to her. Hopefully, it will give you the advantage you need to end this ridiculousness.

"I've got her cornered, y/n. A little while longer and she'll crack."

Daniela only squinted her eyes and hissed.

You were about to give up and let yourself fall asleep on Alcina when Heisenberg came stomping over, pure anger painted on his face, and kicked the coffee table over. Sorine and Victoria were startled awake by the crashing sound and snowfall of cards. It was honestly the most magical thing that happened all night. He shouted something along the lines of "Go to bed!" but you couldn't make it out over Daniela and Alcina's screams. They pay you little mind as they chase Heisenberg out of the room and down the corridor, the sounds of vases and antique decor crashing following them as they go.

Sorine stands over you looking at you through bleary eyes, extending her hand to help you up. "Bed?"

A lion's yawn overcomes you and you smile. "Bed."

[ruthlessminddribble]

Chaos Drawn to Madness- Ch 1

Butter’s POV:

Mysterion had become a bigger pain as of late. He had always shown himself at just the right moment, causing all of his planning to be for not. This time Chaos would be damned if allowed. He surveyed his fallen men, none of which had been wounded to bad. Strange it was when Mysterion allowed them off with only a few scraps. His way of giving warnings, as Chaos learned over the years. "General Disarray." Professor Chaos called out. If he was correct, this warning meant that Mysterion was suspicious without really knowing what was happening.

"Yes sir." Chaos caught sight of the young redhead limping over. He gave the boy a once over, covered in dirt and bruises starting to form on his skin.

"Did he find the drive?"

"No sir."

Good, it was just as he thought. Mysterion sent the warning as just that. His plan still remained in the dark; which meant they weren't out yet. "Get the men cleaned up." With a nod of acknowledgment from Disarray, he left the scene eager to put his plan to work.

Kenny's POV:

The next morning Kenny watched as Butters yawned at his desk for the 11th time. Don't get him wrong, it was the cutest thing he had ever seen and he could have watched the butterball yawn all day, but worry lingered in his chest. He was sure his warning would have been enough to put a stop to whatever evil the small blond was up to. The continued yawns were proof otherwise. "Long night buttercup?" Butter's flashed him a big smile, like he often did when he didn't want others to pry. So Kenny prepared himself for the small lie to follow.

"I got stuck on some homework." he gave a small chuckle.

Kenny watched as he unpacked his bag. Patiently he waited, expecting him to gush about last night's escapades with Mysterion and Professor Chaos. For a kid with an evil side, he sure was amazing outside the mask. Always making those around him smile and feel better. What Stan and the guys did to him during the time he was stuck in the afterlife must have really set something off in him. Even so, compared to most "villains" he ran into Butters never really got down right mad at him for stopping his plans. Often ending the battle with his usual "Aw hamburgers" before picking himself and his partner up off the ground and moving on to the next plan. Which was always less harmful than the one he would stop. Kenny often wondered what would happen if he ever told Butters that he was the one fighting him all this time.

When the bell signaling the start of the first period without a single praise from Butters about the fight made Kenny's nerves spike. He silently reminded himself that it was only the first class of the day but to keep an eye on the cute blond beside him, just in case.

Butter's POV:

Tired didn't even cover how he felt. The little sleep he did manage was spent tossing and turning. The rest was spent fine tuning his grand scheme. It was times like these that Butters missed elementary school. Not only was the work easier to understand, but the juggling of school and Chaos seemed like a piece of cake. He often thought about hanging up his villain cap and helmet and living a simple life as just Butters Stotch. But, South Park always gave him reason to keep going. Which meant that over the years, as Butters grew, so had Chaos. Deciding to keep to his strengths, hacking, allowing a more behind the scenes way to bring about the Chaos he so enjoyed. Butters was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't notice the locker door till he ran into face first. "Thanks Butters." Token gave a smile before walking away, arms full of books. Butters waved before letting out a groan and rubbing his forehead.

"Butters?" The small blond turned to the silvery voice. Kenny was standing in its place, worry painted across his face. "You ok? That looked like it hurt?" 

He let out a small chuckle. "Sorry. I guess I spaced out there for a moment." He watched his boyfriend's face shift into something he could read. "I'm really okay Ken. Promise." He gave him a big smile for assurance.

His face seemed to relax a bit. " Alright. Just let me know if you need anything." He gave a toothy grin back. Butters returned it with an eager nod as the bell sounded, making both boys run off to class.

Kenny's POV: 

Kenny sat at the picnic style lunch table, picking at some chipping paint. Butters had yet to show up and Kenny had tuned out Kyle and Stan who were chatting about the latest Terrance and Phillip show that aired. The noise around him had come to blend together into one giant white noise as he waited on the boy who was driving him nuts all day. The day was almost over and Butters had said nothing about the beating Mysterion gave Professor Chaos men the night before. Whatever he was planning, it was clear Butters didn't want him to know, which meant that he was powerless to stop him as Kenny or Mysterion at this point. It was Cartman's loud voice announcing Butters arrival that jarred Kenny from his inner thoughts. Kenny gave a bright smile as the small blond took a seat next to him. " How's the forehead?" He questioned. He watched Butters hand give a light touch to the spot he was hit earlier. 

"Doesn't hurt anymore. So, I guess that's good." Butters' smile lit a flame in Kenny's panicked heart. For now Butters was his normal sweet self and he couldn't have been happier about that fact. 

"So," Kenny turned his attention to the fat asshole sitting across the table. "So, Butters." Cartman tried to cover a laugh, which came out as a snort. "What's for lunch?" Kenny raised an eyebrow at the fat fuck. Before Butters could open his brown bag, he had already slid it over and was inspecting the contents inside. One normal ham and cheese sandwich, untampered with a bag of gushers, and one clean bag of chips to which he helped himself to. He slowly slid the contents back to Butters, confused. It wasn't until the sound of someone spitting their drink out that Kenny had caught on to the prank. But, it was too late. Butters had already had the foul liquid in his mouth. Kenny was up in a flash, diving across the table at a laughing Eric, the sound of his fist meeting Cartman's cheek echoed off the walls as the room around them went silent. Kenny turned to face Butters as soon as he was sure Cartman wasn't getting up. The poor blond was shaking, eyes wide. Grabbing the bottle of water left at his seat, he handed it to Butters and watched him down the new liquid as he rubbed his back and tried to assure him things were going to be okay.

Butter's POV:

The spray of liquid glistened under the florescent lights of the cafeteria. Butters watched, face pale, as the unknown contents fell to the table top. Lemonade wasn't supposed to be salty. Butters had no clue what he just poured into his mouth and he didn't want to. When the world around him came to, his Kenny was handing him a bottle of water. Taking a sip he gargled the clean water before spitting it out on the ground, not really caring about the fact he was inside. All he wanted was for the taste of whatever it was to be gone from his tongue. Once he was sure it was no longer there, he slowly started to down the rest as Kenny rubbed soothing circles on his back. As he finished the last remaining gulp, the teacher had finally decided to show up. Seemingly not being able to decide who was at fault for what, or what had just taken place, she ushered both Cartman and Kenny away to the office. This left Butters fuming, he didn't know what Cartman just pulled but it wasn't fair that Kenny was going to get dragged down with him. Butters decided he had had enough of that Fatass and his bullying. As the rest of the students went back to their lunches, Butter silently packed his things and left, missing the final two classes of the day.

Kenny’s POV:

Kenny sat in the plastic chair beside Cartman, who was now showing signs of his fist meeting his cheek. The two boys sat quietly as Mr. Macky stared at them silently. Kenny shifted in the chair to keep his butt from falling asleep. He couldn’t have cared less about being punished and wished Macky would just move this along. No, his mind was on Butters, who at this time could be anywhere. Beside him Cartman cleared his throat, “Well Mr. Macky, if there is nothing else, I suppose we should be going.” Eric stood from his chair and glanced at Kenny. “Shall we Kenny?” As Kenny moved to follow Cartman out the room Macky’s voice stopped them in their tracks.

“Sit down boys.” Cartman let out a groan as they both went back to their seats. “Boys, you’re both in 7th grade now. Don’t you think you should act like it, mkay?” Both boys looked at each other and shrugged. Macky let out a frustrated sigh. “ Alright, I’m giving you both three days suspention starting tomorrow. Mkay.” 

“Aw Weak.” Cartman crossed his arms and gave a pout.

When the boys left Macky’s office it was time for the final class of the day. Kenny ran past Cartman, who voiced his unneeded complaints, and headed straight for Butters classroom. He had hoped to catch the boy as he was exiting, but instead ended up bumping right into Kyle. Looking behind him Kenny noticed the classroom empty. “Butters left?” he asked Kyle between breaths. 

“Butters? I haven’t seen him since lunch.” Kyle replied. Kenny pulled his phone from his pocket as Kyle walked around him. Pulling up Butters number, he was about to hit the call button when the bell sounded. Reluctantly, he typed out a quick message and hit send as he ran to his final class. God did he hope Butters was okay.

Chapter 2

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

I Taste Honey but I Haven’t Seen the Hive - Chapter Two

Ao3,   MasterPost,   C.1

Relationships: eventual queer-platonic intruality, platonic logicality (and mentioned platonic relationships)

Warnings: swearing, mild body horror, negative self-thoughts/mental state, guilt. 

Word Count: 2,822

Patton woke up the next morning to find not a single disgusting token hiding away in his room, and that was after half an hour of semi-paranoid investigation. While he did find a patch or two of what looked like shedded dog’s hair and a snapped nail, they were scattered on the carpet as though left by accident. He already knew that Remus’ body was naturally more of a debris-machine than that of a scrappy pet, occasionally shedding off parts of his body like a constantly regenerating zombie. He decided then that Remus hadn’t been secretly trying to prank him, after all.

Now, being the embodiment of emotions, Patton was almost always spot-on identifying which emotions were which. That was why he could say, with perfect certainty, he had never quite had this mix of emotions before. And if he was honest, he didn’t really want to think about it enough to learn; he didn’t want to think about the night before at all.

Pushing the events out of his mind (not repression! He argued to himself, just thinking about something else for a while!), Patton carried on with his morning routine. That always took exceeding amounts of time, anyway, thanks to the numerous distracting things littering his room. What could have taken fifteen minutes was usually closer to an hour or so, but that was why Patton got up early! 

Well, that, and the fact that he usually didn’t sleep very well, but he preferred to not focus on that. 

That day, Patton decided, was not to be one for focusing on anything bad. He’d had a rough night, oh sure, but he’d woken up more refreshed than expected and was still riding the high of physical affection (despite its questionable source). He could feel that good, excited mood he had on occasion lifting him, and such an energy was just what he needed to go downstairs, start his day, and try to convince Logan into finally letting him help cook. 

Logan never agreed, of course, because he was the only side that had any skill in preparing food. But Patton never stopped trying, his fiery history with the kitchen notwithstanding!

Patton rose up in the living room, instinctively at his usual place. He took a second to appreciate the trinkets, odds and ends, and personal effects littered around the room. That kind of personality-infused mess always made him feel strangely fond. Reflective, even, upon how and why each item had come to lay where it was just then.

The smell of fresh food and the crackling of a skillet got him quickly back on track, though. Grinning, Patton made for the kitchen. 

“Morning, Logan!” He greeted him in cheer.

Logan startled, spinning on his heel a bit too fast. He didn’t share Patton’s positivity, no, he looked worried. 

“Patton! How are you ‘holding up’, as they say, this morning?” He said softly, like if he thought a loud voice could break something now. Patton cringed.

“Oh, I’m doing fine!” Memories of the night before pushed against his skull, and it was everything he could do to beat them back. But he was good at that sort of thing. “How are you?”

It was an obvious redirection. Logan pressed further:

“You sank out so abruptly last night. The others were- we were all concerned for your wellbeing,” he glanced away, chewing the inside of his lip. “That, and… Virgil informed me that, before he went to bed, he saw Remus leaving your room,” Logan’s voice dropped, “He didn’t upset you in any way, I hope?”

“No!” The exclamation burst forth from Patton with a ferocity he didn’t know he had. It was defensive even to his own ears, and he flushed in embarrassment. “I mean, no, he didn’t upset me! We were just-” cuddling? “-talking.”

Logan tipped his head sideways, disbelief obvious on him.

“...Talking?” 

“Yup, talking!” 

“You were talking to Remus?”

Patton pouted performatively, setting a hand on his hip as he doubled down.

“Of course I was, Logan! He’s an interesting fella, you know.”

“I know that,” Logan rolled his eyes, “I didn’t know you got along with him at all, however.” 

Patton- to both his own and Logan’s surprise- didn’t say anything at all to that. He barely nodded before he left the kitchen, calling out an excuse that he forgot as soon as it was out anyway. It was almost rude, and he knew he’d be dreadfully ashamed of it later. What was another little regret on the pile after all?

Logan had things to attend to, and Patton didn’t want to hang around and distract anyhow. At least, that was a good enough excuse for him to use as he sped out of the kitchen to find his next distraction. 

 Patton put the talk with Logan out of his mind without any trouble. His plans for a good day would not be so easily foiled by one concerned friend- who really had no reason to be concerned in the first place, in Patton’s humble opinion. Besides, breakfast with everyone was still nice! He’d gotten roped into a very enthusiastic conversation with Roman- one that got as increasingly loud, as was usual for the two- and when Remus joined in, it wasn’t too terribly awkward anymore. 

The rest of the morning was inoffensive, if a bit slow-going as Patton got all his work done. The afternoon was much the same, but he did get to spend a while with Virgil! (Who must’ve heard from Logan not to ask about the night before, mercifully). 

Evening rolled around, though, and with it Patton found that he’d made short work of his jobs. With the deficit of busy-work, it really couldn’t be helped if his mind started to wander- and what a dangerous thing that could be.

It was hard not to think of Remus. To not recall the… the softness with which he had treated Patton, something that the intrusive side hadn’t even seemed capable of before that. He’d been downright empathetic, and Patton still didn’t know how to take that. He’d done nothing to earn that kindness, not really, and certainly not from Remus of all people. He wasn’t sweet, or considerate, and calling him sentimental sounded like a joke more than anything.

‘Sounded like’, there was the key word, Patton mused. However long he spent thinking it over, it became more and more clear that this was yet another thing he’d misunderstood. 

Months ago only, he’d honestly believed that none of Remus’ suggestions could be genuine attempts to contribute, and now he helped them balance almost all their creative works as part of the team. He’d proven at every turn that he was honest, yes, but he was not shallow, and Patton knew he’d only just scratched the surface of Creativity. 

But that was besides the point. It was besides the point and Patton didn’t want to think about how little he knew. 

The point was, he wanted to learn. He had to. Even if it proved him wrong about everything- especially then!

So there Patton stood, shifting from foot to foot, Remus’ door staring him in the face. He was stalling, he knew, but his fraught thoughts also knew his intentions were not for self-improvement alone. He wanted to repay Remus, repay him for the strange and gentle and impossibly amazing comfort he’d given to him. He’d given him what he’d been missing- affection, willing affection- but what did Patton have to offer in return?

That was the scary part. Thinking of what he’d be asked to do.

But he still had to reach out and risk it. He had to know. 

Patton raised his hand, shaking, tilted back to knock. And there the hand hovered, untouching the splintering and algae-covered wood. It was almost like the underside of a boardwalk, stinking like ocean and stained green from years of salt water exposure. Would it hurt to touch, Patton wondered? Would the wood break off into his hand, or would it come away slick, slimy?

He ducked his head with a huff; that kind of disgust was completely unfair to the creature he was trying to reach out to, and he knew it. He didn’t have the energy for this; Patton wrapped against the door thrice in quick succession despite the nagging of his instincts (it was slimy, and rough as well. His head ticked to the side at the disturbing texture). The knocks rang out, and then there was an abrupt stillness in the whole of the hallway, like all life had stopped at once. This was true for Patton, at least; he held his breath, balled his fists, and it seemed he was standing stiller than he ever had before. 

From the other side of the door, there was muttering. It was frantic, but not upset, and one voice alone. A lot of things happened very quickly after that:

First, the door slammed inwards, no one on the other side of it. Naturally Patton leaned to look inside, and as well as he had- ragged claws sank into his shoulders, a shrill noise rang in his ear, and he was spun around. Screaming, Patton toppled backwards and landed flat in the threshold to Remus’ room.

Speaking of Remus, the creature himself was looming over Patton, his skin rippling with bumps and ridges and colors like a continual shapeshift. He had his arms raised, his mouth opened hugely; it looked like a soundless laugh. 

But he glanced down at Patton, then- trembling, whimpering Patton- and his eyes widened in recognition. At once his skin smoothed over and returned to its usual color, his jaw snapping back into place. 

“Oh!” Remus reached down and hauled Patton back to his feet with a strained huff. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Logan’s the only one who seriously knocks for me, cuz he’s all polite and shit.”

Patton righted himself, trying very hard to stop shaking. After a deep breath, he said:

“Oh, haah, it’s okay!” He pulled his sleeves taut, with a smile to match. “I just wouldn’t want to interrupt you, if you were busy.”

Remus shrugged, cocking his hip. 

“Oh, I bet you wouldn’t,” a smirk then split his face, and he winked. “But you should know I don’t mind anybody walking in on me, Daddy.”

Patton nodded quick, having no idea what (if anything) he was agreeing to, when in reality he was Very Uncomfortable with All of those words. He tried for a laugh, but at the same moment a deeply horrifying growl decided to erupt from behind him. He realized that he did not want to have his back to Remus’ room for even another second. 

“Uh- could we-?” 

Remus caught his meaning, stepping deftly around Patton and into his doorway. It was almost a twirl when he switched their positions, aided by the fact that he always moved like water.

“Right!” He clapped his hands together, “What was it you wanted, Pops?”

Oh, yes. That. 

Patton didn’t meet the Duke’s eyes at all, the words lumped together on the tip of his tongue. Why did this feel so embarrassing?

“I was wondering if we could spend some time together?” 

Remus’ eyebrows went way up on his forehead, and his face split in a downright sultry grin that had Patton red-faced and abashed.

“Not like- I’m not- I meant, like, an activity-” Remus’ smile widened, “-No, um, something fun! Not that that wouldn’t- well, I just don’t like-” 

Remus erupted in laughter, throwing his head back not unlike a shrill bird.

“Oh, I’m just fucking with you. No, really, what’s up?” 

Patton frowned.

“I wanted to know if we could hang out. That’s what I was trying to say?”

Remus gave a derisive little sound, and his nose scrunched.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he propped his arm against the doorframe, his gaze boring into Patton. “You were being serious? I figured you needed me to help with, like, chores or something!” 

Before Patton could even respond, Remus snapped the door shut behind himself and dipped into the hallway. 

“So, what? You wanna bake cookies or some shit? That could be fun, but there will be fire and broken glass if I’m involved. Or- you like those zen coloring books, right? Although, the adult coloring books I use are much more emphasized on the adult, you know, and vulgar-”

Patton shook his head sharply, and- gathering some courage- placed his hand on Remus’ arm to halt him. 

“Um,” he said, “I was thinking that we could do something you like to do, actually.” 

Remus stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he’d been touched, looking at Patton like he’d sprouted another head. He tried out several different expressions, like he was trying to see what reaction they’d garner- first amusement, then happiness, then offense- but he finally settled on plain confusion. It looked the most genuine.

“Are you joking?” He asked, the question laced with a striking sincerity. Patton wasn’t sure if what he was feeling was dread or guilt, but either way he let go of the Duke’s wrist. 

“Of course I am!” He enthused- tried to enthuse. 

There was a beat. 

Remus, for once, looked uncomfortable; fidgeting his hands, arms, tapping his foot.

“Really?” 

“Really really!” And Patton really really hoped that this exchange could be over, so that he could get on with this- he meant!! Um! So that he could have a nice time with someone who had been nice to him. (Oh, what was wrong with him?)

Remus tipped his head to the side. He hummed.

“This is because of yesterday?” That hit the nail right on its head, yup. Patton winced. “I told you not to worry about all that. You don’t really want to do this, you know, and that’s obvious to both of us. My idea of fun isn’t nearly as conservative as yours, Pops.”

Patton felt a stab of offense at ‘conservative’. He dropped his smile.

“I- look, Remus,” a sigh, “You didn’t have to help me yesterday, but you did, and… I still don’t know why. And I don’t really know why I’m here right now, either, or what I’m doing with you. I barely know anything about you!” Patton shook his head, but an indignant conviction was filling up his chest. He met Remus’ eyes, steady. “But I do know that we never let you pick what to watch on movie night. I know we don’t always listen to what you suggest on really important projects, even though that’s your job. I know we- that I try so hard not to make things about you, even nowadays. That’s gotta get, um, disheartening, right?” Remus tilted his head, but Patton didn’t wait for an answer. “And that’s why I’m here. So whatever you like doing, you don’t have to do it alone- like how you didn’t leave me alone. And…” He knotted his hands together in front of him, shoulders low. “I can figure out the rest later.” 

He meant it. He was surprised by how much he meant it, having no idea where it had all come from. It didn’t erase his nerves, his discomfort, even his disgust, but he stood there and he honestly hoped that soon he wouldn’t have a reason to feel any of those things with the darker side of Creativity. He wanted to understand, if only he could know how. And maybe, that creature before him, smarter than he probably seemed, would show him how. 

Remus was silent for a long, long while. His face was blank, expressionless. He wasn’t grinning, and there was nothing glinting mischievously behind his eyes; his nose wasn’t bunched in a snarl, there was no show of huge and horrible fangs, and he wasn’t moving.

It was the most intimidating he’d ever been.

“You don’t have to do that,” and Remus’ voice was soft. It was almost unreal to hear it that way, his accent not fit for that kind of volume.

But Patton was emotions, and emotions knew at a glance what awe sounded like- what hope sounded like. It was shocking to hear them from Remus, but Patton knew the shock was good. He’d been right- right about initially being wrong, right that Remus had more to him than his outside. He was right, and now he needed to know more of him. 

 Patton smiled, sincerely, and for once he knew exactly what to say. 

“I know I don’t have to,” he admitted, “But I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to.”

Remus tilted his head one way, then the other, and back again. Slowly, he returned the smile, and it grew to look much more like his usual beam. He darted past Patton, swung his door open, and strode inside. 

“Watch your step,” he warned, “The floor isn’t entirely dead yet!”

Patton, amazing himself, hardly hesitated to follow.

Chapter Three

Taglist:  @glitter-skeleton-uwu @donnieluvsthings @intruxiety @thefivecalls @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @gayformlessblob

[austennerdita2533]

A/N: Hey @commonxcrimminals​ remember that Melendaire Fix-It-Of-Sorts fic I’ve had on my computer since freaking MARCH?? Well...I finally finished it!  CAN YOU BELIEVE. Anyway, were it not for your oodles of encouragement or our constant why-did-Melendez-have-to-die wailing sessions on every social media platform out there, I probably never would’ve summoned the gall to finish or post the darn thing. So thank you!

This one is dedicated to you, my friend. Love you more than I can possibly convey! ❤️ ❤️

Summary: When it comes to moments of life or death, Neil and Claire learn sometimes one defibrillation of the heart can reset everything.

Also here: (A03)

Enjoy! xx

Defibrillation

The sirens start, red and blue lights cutting through the darkness with speed. Neil’s strapped to a gurney, conscious but barely, with tubes and leads sticking from him like he’s part machine while his eyes fixate on the gray-white swirl of the ceiling.

What’s happened? Where is he? Why the hell does he hurt so much? Right now the blunt ache over his left temple is a trifle compared to the scalpel-like shard that’s been stabbing through his abdomen every two to four seconds and has nausea roaring into the back of his throat with each bump, with each gloved touch that ghosts over his prone form in examination, his vision dotted and blurred and fading…

It’s fading quickly…

…yes…

…f-fading…

…so…q u i c k…ly…

Monitors beep in the background. Softly at first, then louder. Faster. Shorter. Quieter. Steadily the screens track his stats before diving into erratic nonsense that can’t be pieced together as his fists curl into the sheet beneath him, knuckles bumping against a metal railing.

Neil’s eyelids burn, they grow heavy. All he tastes is blood and bile. A mask hangs over his mouth so he can’t talk, can’t call out either, the oxygen cool as it filters through his nostrils, little hairs tickling. He winces once, takes another shallow breath in—and then nothing.

Blackness pops. Noiseless but everywhere. Like a falling curtain, it frays the edges of the world until he can no longer see them.

Coldness slams like a hammer over his chest, pouring, rippling, spreading out with tendrils to invade cell after cell until before he knows it he’s drifting away from time and thoughts and oxygen that won’t hold steady…He’s sinking down, down, down into a rigid stillness that refuses to lift.

But then—

A flurry of movement to his right. Behind his head. Next comes a lot of pronounced clunking, swearing, whispering; perhaps even some harried tearing or unzipping.

No, no, no. Stay with me, pleads a familiar voice from above him in echo. With his head spinning with delirium, however, he’s unable to place who is speaking.

Come on, Neil. Don’t do this, not now. Hold on for me.

He feels distant, detached, like he’s been sunk under water but never went swimming.

Hold on for me, the voice repeats again. Please.

The words are wet and desperate as they land on his chest with two hands that push, and push, his eyes slitting open just wide enough for Claire’s face to float into focus for a moment then out again like a dream, the heel of her palm pounding into him with the force of a tether to keep him there with her, alive, stable - one breath, one blink, one heartbeat at a time.

The fleeting sight of her brings him back. Hair. Scrubs. Hands. Eyes. She brings him back into the pain and into the light. Her relief, that smile—he needs it; it’s a leash yanking him off the ledge of surrender and telling him to fight for another chance to live. To speak. After all, he’s a surgeon, so doesn’t he already know time is a borrowed gift with no guarantees?

Stay with me, Claire says again. And this time, he clings. He clings to her as hard as he can even as the world goes black a second time, his heart still full of too many unsaid things.

She waits for the door to click shut behind her in the stairwell.

Alone on the landing, there are no more voices. No more computers or phones. There are no more charts to read, labs to run, procedures to schedule, or medications to administer.

Wheelchairs stop squeaking through the hallways. Their wheels are no longer sticking to speckled white tiles as they turn the corner and head toward recovery. The smell of brewing coffee in the lounge near OR Four becomes a stale memory because here, and only here, do the demands of the hospital dissolve long enough for Claire to collapse her head into her palms for a moment, and breathe. Just breathe.

She only takes a moment. A second to grapple with the enormity of all that is happening.

Eyes closed, thoughts scattered, her fingers coil around something metal in her pocket and idle.

Her thumbnail traces sleek edges, silver grooves. A chain droops over her knuckles and scratches. Soothes. Familiarity tingling with each pass.

It’s a cross she fists in the quiet gloom. A token. Some beat-up trinket of her mother’s she couldn’t part with after her death so she’s taken to carrying it with her like a talisman even though she hasn’t believed in anything, or in anyone, for a long time. Not for years and years. Not until him, that is.

Neil.

He’ll be fine, Claire assures herself with a nod and a sniff. He’ll be okay.

The scan results sit in a folder next to her feet, still in need of a consult, still in want of a surgical scheme. The words “stable but critical” float in her periphery then flicker out again like a nightmare that won’t fade.

He needs to be okay, she thinks. Cold bites into her palm as she squeezes then releases, squeezes then releases, her pinky tracing the divots the pendant leaves behind on her skin.

He has to be.

Slowly, organically, Neil has chipped away at her walls to become a fixture in her life and she likes him there. Needs him there. She realizes she’ll do anything to keep him around, to keep him close to her for as long as she can.

So believer or not, Claire bows her head. She closes her eyes tighter and lets faith bleed from her heart straight into her hands.

Clutching her mother’s cross to her breast, begging for the strength and the skill to save him so they can have more time to bowl badly or laugh the night away over beers, so she can have the chance to say the words she already feels, she utters an urgent plea into the space around the stairs.

Claire wishes so hard for him to live that the words flutter as they take wing. They transform into symbols of her hope and despair:

A fossil in the air.

A sob with feathers.

A scream leeching from her compressed lips like a prayer.

.

.

.

Neil wakes with his head bandaged, his abdomen dissected with stitches, and a tuft of curly softness blanketed over his arm.

Squinting against the harsh hospital light, he sits up. Allows himself to adjust. To take in his surroundings.

Currently he lies flat in bed. A central line coils up his arm. His head pounds, and his mouth is dry. Wrapped in scratchy sheets, in sticky gauze and bandages, he notices the curtains are pulled shut for privacy and that there’s a woman fast asleep in the space beside him.

The first thing he does is smile. The second thing he does is tremble, relief as well as gratitude pricking the corners of his eyes.

The sight of Claire snoring and pillowed against his side overwhelms him so much that he shifts to brush his hand over the crown of her head without thinking. His touch, both featherlight and timid because he’s worried she’s a mirage on the verge of disappearing, petrified that one wrong move will shatter the reality of this moment like glass, Neil cups her cheek in his palm and he marvels—he savors.

He loses himself in the pure simplicity of touch. The chaste pleasure of it. Tracing the curves of her face with his thumb until she wakes.

“Hey there, sleepy head. Nice to see you again,” he whispers as her eyelids flicker open.

“Hey, you. Welcome back,” she stirs groggily and yawns. “Can I get you anything? Pillows? Blankets? Meds? Here, let me—”

Claire makes to move, to fuss over him, but she stops when Neil shakes his head, holding her in place with a look, with a languid stroke of his fingers along her jawline. Relenting, she softens enough to desist fidgeting. Then leans into his palm to ask, “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“Fine?” she balks, sitting up. “Don’t lie.”

“I’m not. Though, I do have the sneaking suspicion I was autopsied in my sleep for spare parts,” he jokes, wincing, “but otherwise I’m not bad. Fuzzy. Sore mostly. And you?”

“I’m okay, I guess. You know…considering.” Her shoulders heavy, Claire shrugs as she averts her gaze to check his fluids and vitals on the monitor, exhaling like she’s been holding in a breath for years. “Anyway, I’m much better now that you’re out of surgery.”

“—Not to mention conscious.”

“Right.”

“And talking again,” Neil adds glibly.

“Yeah,” she laughs but it falls flat. “That, too.”

“How long have I been out, by the way?” It’s a pointed question. Uncomfortable. Painful for them both to address because of all the might have been’s and almost was’s it carries with it, but he needs to know. He has to be in possession of all the facts.

Turning toward the window, Claire adjusts the blinds and swipes at her face, hiccupping back some stray emotion she doesn’t want him to see. “It’s been a while," she explains. Doesn't elaborate.

“Oh.”

“Yeah," she says, her voice small. “Things were touch and go for a few days.”

“I see.” A beat of strained silence. Then another. And another. He’s starting to notice the weariness she wears about her person now: the paleness, her rimmed complexion, the wrinkles in her clothes. He even recognizes the remnants of a few to-go lattes in the trash bin. It makes him wonder how many hours she’s spent camped out in this room while he recovered—weighing the odds. Pouring over charts. Pacing the floor while she waited for signs of life that weren’t guaranteed, or worse, might not have been coming at all.

“Hey, Claire?” he breaks in softly.

“Hm?”

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Startled and sobering, she turns. Sits back down on the edge of the bed. “For what?” she asks.

“Nearly dying to start,” Neil says with a sigh. “For the cowardice I’ve been hiding behind. For not knowing one-sided conversations aren’t all they’re cracked up to be, or that living inside your own head lands you nowhere except in hell.

“I’ve been stupid and careless… wasted so much time. I’m a fool for not having told you I’m in love with you sooner, for one,” he continues huskily, his voice breaking around emotion and a smile when she gapes back at him in disbelief. “But I am. In love with you, that is. Have been for a while.”

Claire’s eyes are red and glassy now. Her head has fallen during his speech to make a pillow of his chest, a place from where she blinks even and level back at him. Studying him as if he were a scientific specimen.

Still, there’s a warmth about her that puts him at ease. Her attentiveness is a balm that makes him stronger and bolder even though he has no reason to be.

Shrugging, Neil offers a slight upward quirk of his mouth before adding, “I could have lost you. Best to just—lay it all out there at this point, don’t you think?”

The sentimentality behind his choice of words is not lost upon him but he finds there’s no point in discretion now. There is nothing dumber to him than chasing back courage with fear when he knows how he’s ended up here, and why. There has to be a reason he’s come back to this world. To this hospital. To this moment. And to her.

There has to be.

He believes there’s a future out there where they can hold happiness in both hands, he feels it like a scalpel pressed against an artery. All they have to do is be brave enough to make a grab for it. Mark the incision. Cut the damn thing wide open and let possibility bleed where it bleeds.

“If you don’t realize I love you, too,” Claire sniffs at long last, trying to sound droll and unaffected, though not quite managing it with tears spilling down her cheeks, “then you’re an idiot.”

“An idiot, huh?”

“The biggest.”

“Right.” He considers this seriously. “Got it. Now, can you rate that on a scale of 1 to 10 for me, please?”

Snorting, she fires back without missing a beat, “Sure. Try infinity.”

Neil laughs at that. Then, with undisguised tenderness, he frames Claire’s head in his hands and pulls her toward him by the nape until she’s tangled in sheets and IV wires with him. To hell with the pain.

“Well then. Let’s see if I can do something to lower that number, Dr. Browne,” he says before capturing her mouth in an overdue kiss to cinch things between them with chemistry. With feeling. Jumpstarting their hearts like a defibrillator that will reset everything.

That one kiss, as it turns out, marks the first step towards being able to forge a future together. A start. To them, it comes to represent just that: a new beginning.

[verus-veritas]

Collan's Caption This Catch Up

I was obsessed with Cullen McCathers. Coming to live in a college dorm after years of a hermit-like high school existence was culture shock. Back home I was the weird, skinny nerd, the token gay social outcast who did his best to avoid the rest of the small-minded, small town denizens who were all too willing torment the obvious outsider given the slightest opportunity, never mind that I had been born there just like the rest of them. So I had made sure the opportunities they got were few and far between, and I had assumed I would continue staying out of the way in college. Keeping my head down was a winning strategy. Why mess with success? What I hadn't counted on was the reality of being forced to live cheek-by-jowl with a seeming unending parade of ideal male bodies. Within the first hour I was overwhelmed by them. On the paths of the campus they walked, in the lounges of the dorm they casually relaxed, in the halls they fist bumped with their bros, and one in particular even invaded my room. I had requested a single room and had thought it had gotten approved, but in typical bureaucratic fashion I showed up on the first day of Freshman orientation to find someone already occupying an obvious double room. I had a roommate. Cullen McCathers. From that very first day, I discovered that even though he spoke to me in a friendly enough fashion and I apparently responded appropriately to the conversation, none of it really registered. He remained a remote and unattainable object despite our sharing a living space, because my thoughts, my gaze, the core of my very being seemed to be pulled into his orbit on a visceral level. He was muscled and toned like a fitness model, and he had a strong face that lit up when he smiled. His voice was sexy, his eyes were sexy, his walk was sexy. His scent, whenever I managed to get a whiff of it, drove me wild with desire, and after watching him unself-consciously change in our room to go take a shower, I knew he was hung so big that I wondered how he dealt with all of that meat in his crotch on a daily basis.

Within a day my universe shifted, and he became its center. He filled my waking fantasies and starred in my nightly dreams.

I was obsessed with Cullen McCathers. ***********

I guess my capability for intense mental concentration and focus, coupled with the depth of my obsession helped trigger the beginning of it. Each night I would think of Cullen as I drifted off to sleep, going over in detail the fragments of him I had collected in my mind that day, cherishing the nape of his neck, the swell of his bicep, the revelation of his tongue darting out to moisten dry lips. I yearned for him and cast myself towards him with wild abandon in my head. And then one night a couple of weeks into the semester, I felt myself drift off to sleep as usual with thoughts of Cullen filling my head, like the proverbial visions of sugarplums, but instead of my consciousness slipping away until morning, it slipped sideways instead and I found myself hovering just off the floor next to Cullen's sleeping body. I looked across the room towards my bed, if what I did can be called looking, seeing as I was a bodiless consciousness, and I saw my own body just where I would have expected to see it, lying and breathing gently in slumber. I was surprisingly unconcerned with what was undoubtedly a highly unusual occurrence. Instead, I was fascinated by what was happening and started to examine my disembodied self. I seemed to perceive some sort of silvery cord leading back to my body, and a scrap of information surfaced from my endless eclectic reading over the years. Astral projection. This is what this was. I had written it off as new age crap, but here was proof to me that not only was it not crap, but I had somehow managed to achieve it. I turned back to look at Cullen and saw the same silvery cord stretching out of his body and out through the wall, anchoring his dream self to his physical self as he journeyed through the night. The instant I realized this, my thoughts became action, and I flew out of the room through the wall, following Cullen's silvery cord.

The world blurred by dissolving into formless colors, before brightening and resolving into a daytime city street. Cullen was there, arguing with a police officer, a clown, and a talking cartoon goldfish in a bowl hovering in mid-air. Cullen was dreaming, and I was in his dream. I sensed some sort of change in myself and looked down to see that I had a body again. I walked towards the arguing quartet, but as I did the police officer flew up into the air, the clown popped like a balloon, and the goldfish in the bowl turned into a demonic cheerleader who began to chase a suddenly terrified Cullen down the sidewalk towards me. I was enraged that anything would dare to try and hurt Cullen, so I grabbed a parking meter out of the sidewalk and stabbed the cheerleader through the chest with it. She dropped to the ground instantly and vanished. "Oh, man! I thought I was dead for sure! You saved my life! Thank you!" said Cullen and hugged me tight. I went rigid in shock. Cullen had spoken to me, and for the first time it had actually registered as words instead of meaningless gibberish. Cullen had touched me. Cullen had hugged me! For the briefest of moments Cullen's dream world had become real to me, and the combination of his speaking to me, touching me, and hugging me threw me into such turmoil that between one instant and the next I was suddenly waking up in my bed in my darkened dorm room, gasping for air and shaking in reaction. I was obsessed with Cullen McCathers. ***********

To say that my obsession with Cullen deepened from that point on would be a gross understatement. Now that I knew I could spend all of my sleeping time with Cullen, I began to do so on a regular basis. He had starred in my dreams and now I began to star in his, sleep-stalking him every night. In his dreams, I found I could actually talk with him in a way that I was completely unable to in the waking world. Admittedly, most of the conversations were variations of his thanking me for one rescue or another since I became his dream protector and hero, saving him from countless monsters, demons, witches, aliens, and bad guys who were gunning for him because someone had framed him for a murder he didn't commit. After that first dream hug, I did everything I could to initiate physical contact between us during our nightly escapades, an arm casually draped over his shoulder, a hand gently tousling his hair, countless little touches, smiles, looks into his eyes. In the waking world, he grew more open and friendly towards me, looking at me more, smiling at me more, continuing to try and engage me in conversation despite the fact that I continued to blank it all out and watch our interactions as an observer, rather than as the active participant I was when we dreamed together.

It also dawned on me that there was a sexual tension between us that hadn't existed before. I was still jacking off to mental images of him every chance I got, but I realized he was spending more and more time wearing less and less when we were alone together in our room. He had never been shy about displaying his body, but as the days went by he went from t-shirts to muscle shirts to tank tops to bare torso, and from sweats to shorts to briefs to nothing at all. I exerted every ounce of my self control to not stare at the obvious things and be as casual and nonchalant about it as he seemed to be. The weeks passed, and the days grew shorter as fall progressed towards winter. I welcomed the turning of the seasons, because longer nights meant more time to sleep and dream with Cullen. Things might have continued on this way, but one evening in early November I went to sleep and slid sideways out of my body to find I wasn't alone in the room. There was another presence like myself, hovering just off the floor next to my bed as I was hovering next to Cullen's. It was another waking dreamer, I knew, and as I looked more closely I realized its silvery cord led straight to Cullen's sleeping body!

"Now it all makes sense," came Cullen's voice in my mind. "This is what you do. This is how you're always in my dreams." "Yes," I replied. "It happened first spontaneously, but it quickly became directed. I'm sorry. I can't seem to help myself where you're concerned." "You love me, don't you?" he asked. "Yes," I admitted sadly, thinking that this was probably going to be some sort of ending. "I've been obsessed with you from the first day. Love followed quickly once I started to get to know you through your dreams. I can't seem to talk to you when I'm awake. I think the reality of you is too much for me to take after a lifetime of isolation, but all I want is to be with you, in all ways, always and forever, to love and protect you, to be one with you. I'm sorry." "Why are you sorry? Can't you tell I feel the same way? Ever since you invaded my dreams and started saving me, I've become obsessed with you too. I go to sleep each night, knowing that you'll be there to keep me safe, even though you can't say so during the day. I could tell the feeling was there somehow, that we were connected on a deeper level. I've been longing to meet you on that deeper level, and now, suddenly, here we are." "You love me too?" I asked incredulously. "Yes," he said simply, and even though he had no body at the moment to express it, I felt the warmth of his smile on me anyway. I moved towards his warmth, and he moved towards me. We met in the center of our dorm room, still hovering just off the floor, and with no transition our bodiless bodies merged into a single being with two silvery tethers anchored at opposite sides of the room. There are no words to describe the unity we experienced in that moment. Pile every description imaginable of physical and emotional intimacy on top of each other, squeeze them all together, multiply all of that by any impossibly large number you can think of, then magnify it all again by an equally impossibly large number and you still won't approach it. Neither of us were prepared for it, and like the first time Cullen had hugged me, I found myself suddenly abruptly awake in my body in my bed. The only difference was that this time, Cullen was awake too. He launched himself, naked and erect, out of his bed and across the room to mine. I had thrown my blanket off, and his beautiful bare body landed on top of me, his mouth seeking mine to devour me. His gigantic cock leaked onto my stomach as he ground his crotch into mine, only my briefs separating us. He moaned his frustration into my mouth as we kissed, then he sat up and back, reached down, grabbed the opening in the front of my briefs, and with a grunt, ripped them open and yanked the remains out from under me, leaving me as naked as he was.

He laid himself fully down on top of me again and our legs intertwined. He kissed me again, and we were touching all along the length of our bodies, from feet to crotch to mouth. His cock ground down into me and my hips pushed myself in turn up into him, trying to somehow physically force our bodies to merge as our essences had in the moment before we awoke. Given our frenzy, we didn't last very long, and we shot together allowing at least part of our physical selves to merge into one as we mixed our cum together between our heaving bodies. As amazing as the orgasm had been, as amazing as it was that I now knew this beautiful body on top of me held a soul that loved me in a way that I had never felt before, my eyes started to fill and tears began to drip down my cheeks with sadness, because I knew that I would never be able to experience in the waking world the unity we had shared as we slept. I looked up at Cullen, and saw tears to mirror my own. I was with Cullen McCathers. ***********

I'm not entirely sure how we got through the next few weeks. We somehow got through classes and kept up some semblance of normalcy during the day, but it all seemed remote and unreal, because at night we left our bodies behind and merged together until dawn. After a while, it became harder to determine where I ended and he began. Our body language, speech patterns, and ways of thinking became similar to the point that at times it felt like we were one person living in two bodies. Thanksgiving approached, and with it the inevitable family obligations. We had become so detached from life outside school and each other that it was almost a surprise when it was time to part and we realized we should have made plans to avoid the separation. There was no help for it, though, so off we both dutifully went, to our individual destinations. Wednesday night was misery. I was back in the place I had grown up, that I hated and that hated me. I went to bed early, eager to experience the all-consuming love that I had discovered with Cullen, only to discover that I was unable to reach him fully. We had a vague sense of each other across the distance, but we couldn't seem to connect. I spent the night lonely and aching in my heart. Thursday was just as bad, spending Thanksgiving Day with my perpetually distant parents. It made no sense to me that they would want me here today after years of not really caring whether I was around or not. I had someone now who wanted me and I wasn't with him. The night was another one of yearning and a futile struggle to connect with Cullen in our dreams. Friday the separation became actual pain. My head hurt, my heart hurt, my body and soul ached to be with Cullen. I begged off the Black Friday shopping trip, knowing I would not be able to bear the long drive to the nearest town that was large enough to have decent places to pointlessly spend money on meaningless gifts. My parents drove off and I went back to my old room and flopped on the bed. After the last two frustrating nights I was feeling defeated and depressed, and I began to resign myself to not being with Cullen again until Sunday. I eventually felt myself drifting off to sleep, only this time, for the first time in months, I actually slept and dreamed. Except it wasn't a dream, it was a horrific nightmare, the details of which I didn't remember upon my panicked awakening except for the sensations of terror and profound loss. I curled up on my side, hugged my pillow, and sobbed uncontrollably at the feeling that if I didn't do something drastic, I would somehow lose the connection Cullen and I had found. I couldn't let it slip away, to become just me again instead of the unity of us. I had slept longer than I had expected to and it was already late afternoon. Knowing my mom, my parents wouldn't be back from the shopping frenzy until late so I had hours left to be undisturbed. Dropping off to sleep had almost become second nature to me, so it was easy for me to roll over and take back control of my unconsciousness. One thought was uppermost in my mind. I had to reach Cullen, no matter what. My eyes closed, my breathing deepened, and unlike earlier in the day, I slipped sideways out of my body as I fell asleep. This time I had a new determination and started to fly across the miles to my obvious starting point in my search for Cullen – the room that we shared. I felt pulled tight across the distance from my body, but I held on to where I was through the familiarity of the location. Uncertain what to do next, I hovered once again in the place that was ours, where I could feel him all around me even without his being there. I knew my sense of time was distorted when I noticed it was dark outside. I had been here simply contemplating Cullen, and hours had drifted by without my realizing. I began to notice, too, that my sense of him was growing stronger rapidly. My excitement and longing for him grew with each passing moment until the door opened, and there he was. I could tell he was as angry and frustrated as I had been. I moved to surround him and comfort him, but he couldn't feel me there. He sat on his bed for a little, but his tension didn't seem to be allowing him to relax. He turned to his travel bag and pulled out a bottle of wine, opened it, and drank some straight from the bottle, then went and sat on *my* bed and put his face into my pillow, breathing in deeply through his nose. He hugged the pillow to his chest and a tear dripped down his cheek. After a bit, he got up, tossed my pillow back on my bed, grabbed the bottle and headed out the door. I followed wondering where he was going. His goal turned out to be the top floor lounge at the back of the dorm, where very few people bothered to go. It was deserted, since it was the Friday evening after Thanksgiving. Cullen drank some more wine and gradually seemed to relax. By the time the bottle was empty, he had propped himself up across a couple of chairs and was staring blankly at the wall. Bit by bit his eyes closed, and then there he was, slipping sideways out of his body to join me. "You're here!" he said with surprise. "I've been waiting for you. I pushed and pushed to get here across the distance. I wasn't sure where I was going to go from here. The distance is difficult, but you came back, and you're here, and now we can be together again." And just like that we were. We were one again and our joy was endless. The unity of ourselves into a single being was a miracle, and all the sweeter for having been denied it the last two days. The only things that marred our joining were the silvery cords heading off to different places, Cullen's to his body in the chairs just next to us, and mine to my far away self. We were one. We needed to be one. All other parts of us were one. The cords needed to be one too. We were tugging on my silvery cord in an attempt to push it into his, when suddenly there was a sensation of severing, and an unattached tendril reeled in from a distance, flailed around as if seeking purchase, then laid itself down over Cullen's cord and into his body. ***********

We awoke with a start, disoriented from being in an unaccustomed place, uncomfortable from having fallen asleep on the chairs, and still drunk from the wine. We felt such an overwhelming feeling of happiness and well-being that we wished we could tell someone, but we knew no one would ever really understand. As I stumbled back to my room, I knew that the other bed would be remaining empty, but that was ok. I was with my love and I was within my love. We were one person forever. I was one person with no further need for two bodies. I undressed for bed and looked down at my body as usual and for the first time, happy with what I saw. I was masculine and strong in my body. I was loved and protected in my soul. I was Cullen McCathers.

Source: “Collan's Caption This Catch Up (10th May)”

[unlockthelore]

Nighttime Dance

Xion has a hard time sleeping at night but Roxas fares no better.

Part 1 of the Twilight Mirage series. For more updates, follow the twilight mirage tag on this blog. 

Xion jolted upright with a sharp inhale, a sheen of light blinding her along with a familiar weight in her hand. A soft clink and a jingle drew her attention to the token lying in her lap attached to the chain leading to the hilt and guard of the key blade brandished at the dark shadows of her bedroom. She breathed in deeply, sucking in as much air as possible, releasing it through her nose slowly.

Gradually lowering her hand, the Keyblade vanished in a sheen of light and her fingers trembled. Although she knew every inch of this room from her desk with the cork board adorned with photographs and scraps of papers from her adventures to the stacks of books on the floor, and her collection of sea shells and star-shaped marbles on the bookshelf.

Her curtains pulled aside allowed silvery moonlight to stream through, casting a shadow across the floor.

It wasn’t anyone else’s to her relief. Just her own.

And yet somehow, that wasn’t comforting at all.

Drawing her knees to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them firmly and stared up at the moon. It wasn’t the heart-shaped prison that she had been helping to create. Rounded with small craters here and there, but otherwise untouched by her own hand or anyone else’s. It was almost comforting to see and she wondered what that light would look like reflected off the waves of Destiny Island’s sea. It was far too late to go sight-seeing, besides, Axel and Roxas would worry if she took off on her own to another world at night no less.

And the last thing she wanted to do was worry them after they’d all been through so much.

Guilt wrested in her stomach and she pressed her forehead to her knees, trying to rid herself of the image of their eyes. Axel pleading with her to simply return to how things were before. Roxas, confused and at the center of a conspiracy he wasn’t even aware of, just wanting to be friends again with no strings attached.

It was naïve but they both had been. They were simply following orders, trying to find where they belonged, and they found one another.

And that was the cruel irony.

They found solace in one another when they were each other’s greatest enemy. But now, they were each other’s greatest strength as well. Xion’s lips parted and she lifted her head, staring up at the sky.

After a moment, she shifted from beneath her blankets and slowly set her feet upon the ground feeling the cold chill from the flooring. Axel complained about it often and even told Isa they should think about carpeting all the floors. Isa refuted that the mansion should be left as it was made. Aside from decorating, they shouldn’t do anything strenuous.

No one argued with him on that. In hindsight, Axel might have been trying to lift the mood or erase painful memories. But those weren’t likely to fade.

Xion grasped her blankets a bit tighter then tugged them, bundling them up in her arms and following the trail of mess on her floor to the door. It was a juggling act opening the door while keeping the blankets from spilling over but she managed somehow. Easing her door shut behind her, she glanced down one hall then the other, somewhat disturbed by the silence.

It wasn’t unlike the Castle.

However, even there Nobodies were wandering about making some sort of noise in a way that they did. She would’ve been grateful even to see one of them slinking about the halls tidying things up or doing that strange wiggle dance they loved so much. Walking down the corridor, she glanced over the railing at the foyer where the television and game systems the others had procured were turned off, leaving it lonelier than usual.

Sometimes, they would come together for a game night. Tense silence becoming loud jeering and cheering as someone won and someone lost. It was easier to compete with one another, to try and work through rather than pretend. And some days when she attended, and one of the others saw her, they would give her a seat and a controller rather than make her wait or ignore her.

Perhaps it was their way of making up for treating her like a tool.

Or someone disposable.

She shook her head, standing outside of the room of the one person — no, perhaps the only person who would know how that felt. Hesitantly, raising her fist, she took a deep breath then knocked.

It took a second or perhaps longer but the door opened and Roxas stood there in his t-shirt and shorts, rubbing his eyes and blinking at her slowly. Clouded with sleep and head bobbing a bit, he yawned and stepped aside.

“Come in…”

Xion smiled faintly, grateful that he didn’t ask why she was there but he never did. This wasn’t the first time they’d done this and as Roxas closed the door behind her, she didn’t tense up or ask him to leave it cracked like before. It almost felt silly going to his room in the middle of the night when she had nightmare. Like she was a child when she wasn’t.

But Roxas didn’t judge her.

And that made a world of difference.

“You left one of your pillows last time,” Roxas said offhandedly, and Xion spied the pillow lying on his bed in the same place where she’d slept the last time she came. It was a soft white, contrasting to his darker grey and black pillows. Somehow, the colors together made her want to smile. Yet, she was curious as to why he didn’t just give it back to her.

And why was his bed still made?

“Were you sleeping at your window again?” Xion asked, looking to him as he wandered past her, sitting on the window ledge with his ankle resting on his knee.

Roxas stiffened up and though he tried his best not to look guilty, the reddened tinge to his cheeks gave him away.

“… Yeah…” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck with a downcast look.

Xion scowled, dumping her blankets on his bed and marching over to take him by the hand. His eyes widening as their hands touched and she resisted the urge to shudder. It was different. Holding hands without gloves. Nothing between them. Despite swinging key blades around constantly, his hands weren’t nearly as rough as she thought they might have been and they were incredibly warm.

Roxas seemed just as mystified, transfixed on their joined hands as if lost in a trance.

“You need to sleep in bed,” Xion managed to say, pulling him back toward his bed, avoiding the spherical lamp on the floor adorned with stars and mini rocket-ships. It was cute and cast a decent enough glow that she didn’t feel threatened by the shadows.

“The window’s not that bad,” Roxas mumbled, hiking his shoulder in a half-hearted shrug.

With the reddened imprint on his cheek likely from where his face had been pressed against the wood, she begged to differ.

“You were rubbing your neck, Roxas…” She pointed out, letting go of his hand once her legs bumped against the bed side and she smoothed out her blankets atop his own, sitting down. “Clearly, it isn’t that great.”

Roxas huffed, his lower lip jutting out in a slight pout. Under any other circumstance, she might have thought it was cute but not this one.

“I didn’t… realize I fell asleep until I woke up…”

A dull ache and stabbing pain wrenched at Xion’s heart. Even before gaining one, she knew what it was like to feel pain when someone she loved was hurting. And Roxas did this far too often for his own good. Scolding him wouldn’t do any good. It wasn’t as if it was his fault that he had nightmares. Bitterly, she wondered if he ever dreamt of her and the fights that they had.

Shifting back, she tucked the blankets around her legs and looked up at him, sighing softly before she spoke. “Lay with me?”

Roxas averted his gaze from her but when she asked, his head whipped around so quickly that she thought he might have casted Aeroga.

“I— Wh—“ Ruined protests parted his lips and eventually, he sighed, dragging his hand along the side of his face a few times before dropping it at his side. “Outside or inside..?”

Xion glanced between the options presented, looking down at the spherical lamp then toward the wall. It didn’t matter to her really. She just wanted to be close to him.

“You pick.”

“Mmmm….” Roxas tipped his head one way or another then looked toward the wall. He nodded his head and Xion shifted to one side, letting him climb over her and pull back the blankets, settling in close to the wall with the blankets tucked around his waist.

She was always thankful when he gave her the space to be able to leave when she wanted. Feeling trapped was the worst possible thing. And whenever they slept together like this, Roxas always let her have a clear view of the door and an escape route should she want go.

Right now though, that wasn’t what she wanted.

“So…” Roxas started, trailing off with a slight flex of his fingers as if he was unsure what to do with his hands, opening his arms to her hesitantly. “… Do you want?”

Xion resisted the urge to smile as she shifted closer to him, easing her arms around his middle and tucking her head against his shoulder, pulling him down against the pillows. Roxas followed her easily, his hand resting on her shoulder with a gentle squeeze. His hair still carried the faint scent of the ocean. Something salty and earthy, reminding her of Destiny Island but also the beach in Twilight Town where they played one afternoon.

Closing her eyes, Xion relaxed at the gentle rubbing to her shoulder and between her shoulder blades. Roxas’s touches light and shifting though never going much further than there.

“Hey Xion…?”

“Yeah?”

Roxas shifted his hand slightly, caressing her shoulder with his thumb idly brushing back and forth across her skin. “Do you want to just sleep like this from now on?”

Her eyes opened and she lifted her head, looking at him confusedly. “… Really?”

They had their own space partly because it was what they were used to but more often than not, they spent the nights together. A familiar dance to find some vestige of sleep.

Roxas stared up at the ceiling and though it was hard to see, his cheeks were flushed a light pink.

“Why not?” He asked, tipping his head to one side, coming nose to nose with her as he offered a little smile. “We always were better at fighting together. And who else is gonna keep me from sleeping at the window?”

Xion’s eyes widened. He was right about that. They made a good team. Even when it was just the two of them. And Roxas deserved to have peace in his own bed and his heart.

If she could give him that then it wouldn’t be that bad.

“… I’d like that,” Xion muttered, curling up closer to him, her head resting against his neck.

Roxas tensed up and the slow swipe of his fingers stilled, his hand lifting from touching her with a soft noise of surprise.

“… Thanks Xion,” he muttered into her hair, his hand resting on her upper arm with a light squeeze.

He always thanked her. For the little things. For the big. But she should be the one thanking him. At least, that’s how she thought about it sometimes.

“Thank you too, Roxas…”

Who the next morning came, Xion woke up earlier than Roxas as per their usual. Soft orange sun rays filtered through the curtains completely drowned out the stars on the ceiling and bathed the room in a copper glow. Roxas was still asleep and Xion took the opportunity to admire him. Spiky dirty blond hair flattened and splayed across the pillow, his face lax with sleep and terribly cute. Everything about him seeming much softer when he wasn’t scowling or frowning.

Minutes ticked by and once Roxas opened, his clouded eyes clearing and focusing on her, he smiled warmly with a sleepy sniffle.

“Morning Xion…”

Her heart fluttered and for a split second, she wondered if something was wrong with her. But no, it was just him. And she could get used to him looking at her like that.

“Morning.”

“Do we have to get up?” Roxas mumbled, running his hand up and down her side, his touch featherlight and warm like sunlight.

She melted beneath it. It didn’t feel necessary to escape this. Not when the person she felt safest with was there.

“Not right away,” she said after glancing at his alarm clock.

Roxas hummed a reply, resting his hand against her side, his cheek resting against her head as he nuzzled against her. “Was never good at getting up,” he muttered, stifling another yawn with a hand pressed over his mouth.

Xion hesitated at the feeling. It was different — not bad but certainly different. Distracting herself with what he said, she hummed. She always had gotten up early for missions — wanting to be free of the Castle’s atmosphere as soon as possible. Roxas did seem to take his time whenever he came strolling into the Castle’s foyer, and once or twice, she did see him yawning.

“If we’re sleeping together, you might make me into an early riser…” he said, opening his eyes a bit, his lips tugging into a lazy smile. “Might.”

Xion laughed softly, poking his side. “It feels like you’ll turn my habit into yours.”

Though that wouldn’t be so bad, would it?

Sleeping in because she felt safe instead of waking up early to escape.

“Wait, so does that make a bad influence or…”

“I guess we’ll have to wait to see.”

Roxas smiled at her adoringly and her heart fluttered as he nuzzled her head, muttering softly. “Yeah, guess we will…”

Maybe the nights wouldn’t be as frightening anymore.

[hermannsthumb]

more newt/herms secret relationship as professors???

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

what about.......accident secret relationship.......a classique

————————————————–————————————

Newt’s alarm clock hasn’t gone off yet when Newt–much to his disappointment, because he’s earned a decent sleep, thank you–blinks awake to the hazy grey light of dawn and the bedroom curtains wafting in the wind. Not just the wind; the rain, too. Newt can see it pattering against the glass panes of the window and steadily drenching the windowsill, can hear the gentle roll of thunder outside. Hermann’s gonna have a hissy fit later when he finds out Newt left the window open.

It’s not enough time to fall back asleep before Newt has to wake up for it to be worth it, so he reaches out and swats off the clock with a groan. Hermann’s still asleep next to him, chest moving up and down lightly, his bedhead and creased pajama shirt making him look uncharacteristically rumpled. It’s cute. Like always. He’s missed a button on the pajama shirt (striped, and with matching bottoms, the grandpa). Probably because he did it back up in the dark the night before, even after Newt went to all the trouble of coaxing him out of it.Hermann hates things that are uneven or in disarray. Newt debates re-buttoning it for him, but wonders if that’s bordering some sort of line between cute and creepy. He’s halfway to Hermann’s collar before he can stop himself when Hermann finally stirs and squints at Newt’s outstretched hand, then glances over his shoulder at the alarm clock. “Is now really the time,” he says, voice rough with sleep, and Newt’s amazed he’s managed to muster up that much disdain when he’s been conscious for barely five seconds. “I know for a fact you have a class in half an hour.”

“Not today, man,” Newt says, and when Hermann moves to sit up he tugs him back down under the comforter. Hermann makes a single token huff, but doesn’t protest; their apartment is freezing, thanks to the open window (which Newt is regretting now), and especially compared to the bed, which Newt has insisted on overstocking with pillows and blankets. Newt immediately latches onto him and intertwines their legs, rubbing a socked foot on Hermann’s bare calf. “I’m totally cancelling it.”

“It’s only raining.”

“You’re totally cancelling yours, too,” Newt continues, and when Hermann makes an affronted noise, Newt nuzzles against his throat until it morphs into something that’s more of a pleased purr. “It’s gross out, and we’ll have to ride the train all wet and cold, and teach all wet and cold–”

“Lazy,” Hermann mumbles. He drags his fingers through Newt’s hair. “Selfish. Shirking your duties because you don’t feel like finding your umbrella.”

“I’ll make blueberry pancakes,” Newt says, between kisses to Hermann’s mouth, which is creeping up into a smile. It doesn’t take much to convince Hermann to stay in on days like today; the quick change in air pressure does a number on Hermann’s hip, to say nothing of the migraines and joint stiffness that occasionally tag along with it . Today doesn’t seem like a migraine day, but Hermann’s body does seem a little tenser than usual already. Luckily, Newt has a solution for that. “You can take a hot shower. I’ll just send off one tiny quick little email–”

“Bath,” Hermann continues to mumble.

“You can take a hot bath,” Newt corrects. “And I’ll send off one tiny quick little email and explain to our classes something very important came up.”

Hermann drags him down by a fistful of hair into a proper kiss. When he speaks, his voice is rough and low. “Mm. Shut the bloody window, too, before you draw me a bath. And dry off the windowsill. The wood will warp.”

Hermann has the incredible ability to order Newt around and somehow still make it sound like pillow talk. (And he’s the one calling Newt lazy.) “Yes, of course, right away, Dr. Gottlieb,” Newt says sarcastically. He gets a sharp tug on his hair–which Hermann was still clenching–for his troubles. “Ow.”

“And tea,” Hermann says, and releases Newt. “If you wouldn’t mind, of course, my love. But the email first.”

Luckily, they have pre-organized email groups of their class rosters, so all Newt has to do is copy over the ones for Hermann’s 10:15 and his own two and type up the promised Tiny Quick Little Email (Dr. Gottlieb and I won’t be able to make it to campus today, lectures are canceled, go over last night’s assigned reading for two days from now, come to office hours tomorrow if you have any questions, bla bla bla, -Dr. G & Dr. G) before tying on his apron and getting started on the pancakes.

It doesn’t occur to Newt until the following morning that he probably should’ve sent separate emails. Newt’s own students are used to his haphazard scheduling and correspondence and general vague unprofessionalism by this point (single word replies, labs moved back by weeks, office hours that change on Newt’s whims), but there’s no way Hermann’s students are, and there’s no way some random email from the guy with tattoos always hanging around their professor is going to seem legitimate. Whatever–it’s their own fault if they showed up to class anyway. 

Hermann hangs around Newt’s office long enough to hold his latte for him as Newt unwinds his long scarf. “I don’t know how you can stand this rubbish,” Hermann declares, wrinkling his nose as a bit of steam drifts from the lid. “It’s too sweet. And–orange.”

“Stop whining and try some,” Newt says, wriggling out of his jacket (corduroy and oversized, old Hanukkah gift from Hermann to replace his leather jacket that perished in Hong Kong). “It’s good.”

“It’s orange,” Hermann repeats.

Newt spent ten years living with rationing, goddamn it. If he wants to drink shitty overpriced seasonal coffee, he’s going to drink shitty overpriced seasonal coffee. “Just try a little,” Newt says. He inches up in front of Hermann, wrapping one hand over Hermann’s on the coffee cup and lifting it to his own mouth, where he takes a sip, then pushes it to Hermann’s. He lowers his voice. “You like pumpkin.”

“I liked the pumpkin scones you made last year,” Hermann murmurs. “I don’t really think that extends to–”

There’s a knock on the door. “Dr. Geiszler?”

Newt takes the coffee with a wink and steps back. “Come in,” he says.

It’s one of his first year students, bright-eyed and still clinging to the persistent desire to make a good impression, probably here for the office hours Newt offered up in his email. “I was wondering if we could, uh,” her eyes dart to Hermann, pink-faced, disheveled Hermann, whose gaze hasn’t left Newt’s mouth, then dart back to Newt, “discuss the reading? There were a few parts that confused me.”

“Of course,” Newt says, and flashes her a smile. “Pull up a chair. Dr. Gottlieb was just leaving.”

“Yes,” Hermann says, quickly. “I’ll be off. Er–until later, Newton. Dr. Geiszler.”

He books it out of there. Back in the lab, people used to catch them getting up to shenanigans daily, so this is nothing really all that new for them, but this is the first time it’s happened on campus. Not that they were doing anything besides flirting. Newt’s student looks guilty nonetheless, so Newt works some quick damage control.

“Did you have a nice day off yesterday?” he says.

“I did,” she says, and then looks guiltier. “Um. I hope you didn’t have to cancel for anything serious.”

“Nah,” Newt says, and gives her another smile, warmer this time. It’s weird having college kids be this nervous around him. Most of the time, his students barely even bother calling him Doctor. “Dr. Gottlieb and I had, uh–important research stuff to do. The new paper we’re collaborating on. What were you confused about?”

“You and Dr. Gottlieb spent the day together?” the girl says, eyebrows jumping. 

Newt doesn’t blame her for being surprised: their rivalry is pretty infamous on campus. “We did,” Newt says, and, hoping to cut off any questions about specifics, because he’s a terrible on-the-spot liar and would really like to not confess to making out on a couch with the entire contents of their DVR playing in the background. “The reading?”

“Right,” she says.

“Thanks to you,” Hermann declares that evening as they walk to their metro stop, arm-in-arm, “I had to field twenty bloody questions about why Dr. Geiszler was emailing for me, and why I was out, and if I was sick, and if Dr. Geiszler was sick–”

“What’d you tell them?” Newt says, grinning.

“I told them I spent the day with my husband,” Hermann sniffs, “and that the rest of it is my own personal, private business, and that it was inappropriate to bring it up in class so I would appreciate it if they stopped.”

“How romantic, Hermann,” Newt says. He bumps their elbows together. “Hey, you wanna stop somewhere for dinner? I don’t feel like cooking tonight.”

“Mm. Where?”

“There’s a good ramen place a stop up,” Newt says. He went there for lunch the other day, one of those days when Hermann doesn’t have to come to campus. “Fucking good buns, too. My treat.” He grins again. “To make up for your invasion of privacy, or whatever.”

“Fewer dishes to wash,” Hermann relents. “Alright, then. Lead the way.”

Dinner goes swimmingly, for the most part–they bicker, they each get a large bowl of ramen, and split enough vegetable buns to make the ramen unnecessary, and Newt even talks Hermann (who regularly scorns all beer not German-made) into trying one of the less familiar brews from the menu. Newt’s only regret is that they apparently chose the same night to eat out as did half of the university students, which means, of course, they’re seated directly across from a large table of a combination of both of their students who won’t stop taking peeks at them and whispering. Including the girl who stopped into Newt’s office this morning. The kids’ behavior is more bewildered than anything else, but when Newt reaches over the table and plucks half a bun from where it dangles between Hermann’s lips to eat for himself, they’re suddenly interrupted by a cleared throat.

One of Hermann’s students. “Howdy, guys,” Newt says through his mouthful of bun. “Whas’up?”

“Hi, Dr. Gottlieb,” the student says, ignoring Newt pointedly.

“Hello,” Hermann says. “Er. Is there something you need?” His eyes dart over to Newt. “I’m a bit–busy, at the moment.”

“How’s your husband?” the kid says.

Newt snorts. “He’s fine?” he cuts in. “Thanks for asking.”

“If you don’t mind,” Hermann says, politely, covering Newt’s hand with his own and patting, “we’re trying to have dinner–”

“Oh, of course,” Newt’s student says. She smiles. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your date.”

“So, that was weird,” Newt says. “I thought modern kids were supposed to be–I don’t know. Statistically not assholes about that kind of stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” Hermann says. He spits toothpaste into the sink, and Newt (fresh from his shower) scootches up behind him and grabs hold of his tiny waist. He’s wearing Newt’s sweatshirt to bed tonight. Fucking cutie.

“Dude, they were totally making fun of us.”

Hermann hums skeptically. “Oh, I don’t know. They’ve never in class,” he says. “I talk about excursions with my husband all the time. They’ve never–well, ridiculed me before.”

“Must just be me,” Newt says. (Hermann’s definitely too good for Newt; Newt’s never denied it. Too hot for Newt, too smart for Newt.) He kisses Hermann’s neck. “Sorry I’m not some rich, sexy bodybuilder like you deserve, baby.”

“I’m glad you’re not a rich bodybuilder,” Hermann says. He smiles at Newt in the mirror, lifts Newt’s hand to his lips to kiss the back of his knuckles. “And you’re already distressingly gorgeous. Now take me to bed.”

Newt doesn’t have to be told twice.

Newt has a gaggle of students waiting outside his office for him the next morning when he trudges up, corduroy jacket zipped up to his neck, another seasonal coffee in hand. It’s just him; Hermann’s bypassed their usual early office makeouts to catch up on grading tests instead. Totally boring. (He made sure to steal some of Newt’s coffee before he ducked out. He’s finally developing a taste for it, apparently, much to Newt’s annoyance that it’s at his expense.) “Hey,” Newt says. They part just enough for him to wriggle past to unlock his door. “You guys need to discuss the reading?” He really didn’t think it was complicated enough to warrant all this.

“You’re having an affair with Dr. Gottlieb,” one of the kids announces.

Newt drops his keys. “What?”

Four identical disdainful stares. Newt sighs. 

“Okay,” he says. He stoops to pick up the keys. “Inside.”

Three of his students accept his offer of black coffee from the dusty old Keurig he keeps in the closet and the chocolate digestives he digs from his top desk (stocked here for Hermann, he has to specially order them from some weird British website, the primadonna) while the fourth--the girl from yesterday--merely crosses her arms and levels Newt with a suspicious stare. Newt crosses his arms. “Okay,” he says. “You think I’m having an affair with Dr. Gottlieb?”

“You took a day off together,” a boy pipes up, “and lied about what you did.”

“You said you and Dr. Gottlieb were working on a paper,” the first girl says.

“Dr. Gottlieb said he spent the day with his husband,” the boy continues. “You sent a joint email, so we know that’s a lie. You had to have been together.”

“And I saw you flirting in here yesterday morning,” the girl says. “Over dinner, too, at the ramen place down the street.”

“Mmhmm,” Newt says. He nods, and pretends to rub at his chin in thought. The weird incident at dinner yesterday suddenly makes a fuck-ton more sense. “This is all very compelling evidence. If you’re already sure I’m having an affair with him, why bother confronting me?”

“To talk you out of it,” a third student pipes up. They lean forward in their seat. “Dr. Gottlieb digs his husband, Dr. G. It’s not right.”

“Of course,” Newt says. He nods again, then leans back in his chair and kicks his boots up on his desk. “Okay, rebuttal: I can’t be having an affair with Dr. Gottlieb because I’m the husband he’d be cheating on.”

“What?” two of the kids say.

Newt laughs. He just assumed it was common knowledge at this point. “We’ve been married for ten years, guys. They did a whole article about us. You could’ve Googled it.” 

Newt gets very sincere apologies, at least, as well as reassurances that Hermann is clearly deeply in love with him (and that sure is an ego boost), and his visitors very quickly flee without even so much as offering to clean out their mugs. Still grinning to himself a bit, he shoots Hermann a quick text: why didn’t you tell me you were married?

What on Earth are you talking about? comes Hermann’s reply. 

Newt sends a few heart emoticons. tell u later. luv u xxxx

Hermann allows him a single heart emoticon in response.

[parf-fan]

My nicknames for the Bacchs back at the start of the season

Queen Elizabeth I – I trust you shall shepherd your people well

Sir Henry Carey – dark!Kensington

the Lady Mayor Delores Anne Penburthy – The Eternal

William Cecil, lord Burghley – Spymaster

Sir Robert Dudley – a horse

Sylvia Forel – Head mercenary

Mistress Penelope Quickley – Penny Swift

Christopher “Kit” Marlowe – Writer’s-block buddy

Mary McBride – I say, you’re wearing Daughters of Ireland fabric!

Rose Hopfield – oh wait like in Titanic

Jack Tanningrove – yup, Titanic, I hate everything

Beverly “Bev” Tanningrove – Anger Issues

Yeoman Charles Kent – hold up a sec..... Kent?

Yeoman Bartholomew Wainwright – WAINwright i hate everything

Fan Liu – I’m your biggest fan!

“Bloody” Bonnie Buchanna – token Scott

Edward Mawson – You put up with A Lot

Captain James Thatch – Boytoy to the Lady Mayor

Captain Sheena Daley O'Connell – Green hat

Captain Ruth “The Blade” Gibson – Black hat

Captain Scarlett Seymour – Beatrix’s heir

Captain Eleanor Keetly – Blue hat

Gilda O'Sullivan – the Organizer

Keagan O'Sullivan – Ariel

Deklyn O'Sullivan – fam ur legs are scrawnier than Zach Minder’s r u okay

Alannah O'Sullivan – My changeling cousin

Sterling Maximilien Armstrong – MUSIC TRACK!!

Jeremiah Slight – *laughs in a decade of Faire accents*

William “Bill” Crimson – reverse Cadfael

Tucker Abbot – Cinnamon rogue

Amy Cooper – *sleep-deprived fist-bump*

William Shakespeare – young Will

Horace Tanningrove – Wine lad

John Hopfield – Beer fellow

Stella Hopfield – the Competent One

Sherry Tanningrove – Horny On Main

Gretchen Froman – Sausage Princess

Sheriff Jacob Perry – improv sheriff

Douglas Johnson – u have two surnames mate

Siobhán O'Sullivan – okay so it’s pronounced shih-VAHN

Sir William Pickering – a certain handsome noble in burgundy

Theresa Ratchet – ........Like Terry Pratchett?...

Eskarina Nutter – oh wait now I get your name

[oh-roman]

didn’t you love anything?

I.

Bill has the job no man wants. He spends most of time in the hospital waiting room these days.

.                         .                       .                         .                        .                    .

Hospitals are no place for hate, but Bill is a bit fussy at himself this particular morning—nipping at his lip and clenching his fist, all while bobbing his thigh up and down in the waiting room chair. He isn’t going to cry (he promised himself in the car), but the rate the his heart is beating, is making it nearly impossible to swallow the lump in his throat. Especially since the ER isn’t the most peaceful place in the world, surrounded in sob-stories and families saying prayers aloud. For a while, Bill keeps an open eye out for a doctor to rush in and tell him the news, but after the first 2 hours pass, his eyes close completely (partially out of sleepiness and fright that if a doctor actually did rush in like the movies, he might faint in fear that he’d hear something tragic).

Bill doesn’t immediately fall asleep. For a moment, he focuses on the closest idea to peace and somehow ends up recounting a vague memory of the time he stole flowers for her.

It was freshman year at the university and whenever Y/N got a knock on her dorm room door at six AM, she could be certain that it was none other than Bill.

“Surprise,” He motions toward the bouquet in his hands, made out of four dainty lilies tied together with a hair scrunchy at the stems. Lilies are definitely her favorite flower (and it makes her cheeks grow hot that he remembered), but these ones looked a bit worn out. She takes them anyway to be nice, but wonders where she could put them or how she could possible revive them. She mutters a thanks, before sending him a cheeky smile. “Flowers, courtesy of your my mother’s garden and scrunchy from your backpack,” Bill gave a toothy smile and a giggle tickled his throat. She rolls her eyes and thumbs over the softness of the petals. They’re actually quite beautiful (despite obviously being manhandled), she thought.

“I take it you like Care Bears?” He rocked back and forth on his heels, with hands stuffed in pockets.

“Wasn’t exactly expecting company.” Y/N smoothed her hands over the suede of her pajama shorts, decorated in a colorful, childlike pattern. The more she started at the fabric, the faster the wave of insecurity ran up her arms and soon, she was biting at the inside of her lip.

“I like them too,” He said. It came out as more of a whisper—a small token of adoration, in his case, because he did really like the shorts and if he were honest, every other article of clothing he’s ever seen her in. A crush was an understatement for the way his chest welled up and his breathing picked up for her. But then, she hadn’t responded and he felt completely stupid. “Well, I meant—“

“Thank you,” Y/N’s an asthmatic and no, it’s not comfortable, but Bill finds it absolutely adorable when he sees her chest rose and fall faster when she’s nervous. He couldn’t deny that that his breathing was becoming a danger to his body as well and suddenly, he wished he could stand there, feeling out of breath forever.

“Mr. Skarsgård,” Her lips formed around the words, as if they were foreign to her mouth. “Mr. Skarsgård...Mr. Skarsgård,” Soon, she was rambling on and on about his name in a way so eery, he practically shook himself away.

Breathing for Bill is worst when he first wakes up. So much that, Y/N is usually waiting bedside for him with an inhaler (that he’s too manly to use on his own).

The white, hospital lights are blurry for a moment and his head feels murky—like he’s drowning and can’t quite grasp the concept of exhaling, until he’s being lightly shaken awake. Then, he quickly stumbles to his feet. “Y/N,” He mutters, though it came across as more of a whine.

His breathing isn’t where it needs to be, but he settles on an uncomfortable rhythm, good enough to assure him that he’s alive and that the figure who shook him awake is not Y/N— and definitely not a woman, but a man—a doctor (presumed by his clothing)—mouthing something inaudible to Bill’s ears. It’s not until, the doctor reaches out his arm far enough to touch Bill’s shoulder, are his words coherent.

“Mr. Skarsgård?” He tilts his head to the side, hoping to get some sort of response, not necessarily wanting to hospitalize him and his fiancée. Then, Bill nods nervously, though he was moreso afraid than nervous. “I’m here to talk to you about your fiancée,”

There’s this moment when everything changes. You look back and there’s the moment before—when Y/N lifted her shirt a bit and Bill saw her tummy for the first time. The small bump that meant so much and he’d cried that night after she fell asleep, thinking of names that might fit the baby depending on it’s gender and how soft it might feel in his hands one day. He thought of how happy she made him and how much happier he’d feel after the baby’s birth. This only made him sniffle more and in the moment, he realized how long it had been since the last time he cried—the last time he felt so in love.

Then, there’s the present, where he’s hearing all the words he’s never wished of hearing.

“What’s wrong with her? Is it the asthma again? Is it hurting the baby?” He didn’t mean to stutter, but how he sounds is the farthest concern in his mind.

“The blood tests show that Y/N isn’t pregnant,” The doctor waits for a response and Bill swipes his tongue over the chapped skin of his bottom lip, before feeling a bit weak in the knees and plopping back onto the chair he’d fallen asleep in. “I understand you two were under the assumption that she was pregnant, but unfortunately pregnancy tests aren’t always as accurate as they seem.”

Bill’s thigh isn’t bobbing anymore. Instead, he’s looking for some sort of sign in the doctor’s eyes; that good news was coming. “We,” He sighs and rubs his eyes. “We never took a test, she just sorta felt it and the bump,” He sighs again, shaking his head against the swelling in his heart. Blinking keeps the tears at bay. “The bump—I felt it, our baby,”

“Well,” the doctor shiftes in his seat a little and turns toward Bill. “Sometimes a mass this size can mimick pregnancy.”

Then, Bill takes a much needed deep breath and looks away from the doctor, because surely, good news wasn’t much of a factor anymore. His leg was bouncing again and he had to bite down on his bottom lip to keep from screaming, or crying, or storming out of the room. As if the swelling feeling in his chest wasn’t enough, the lump in his throat grew, the more the doctor spoke. “Bill,” He said, glancing at the papers in his hands. “It’s ovarian cancer,”

His bite loosened on his lip and suddenly, Bill found it difficult to get a grip on anything—panting with a quiver at his lip and small shakes throughout his entire body. He’s still forcing the lump in his throat down, using every bit of strength to ball his fists up. “My girl,” he mutters, furrowing his brows at the doctor. “She’s my girl,” He chokes, tilting his head to side slightly and losing complete grip of the wall he’d built up in his mind. “Mine—she’s my girl,” Losing the fight against his stubbornness, he fell forward and rested his elbows on his knees, starring ahead, but not focusing on anything in particular.

He wound up sitting in that position for a long while, feeling himself shake with every sob; replaying moments from when Y/N told him things and he didn’t listen. He should’ve known—should’ve taken her to the doctor the first time she complained--shouldn’t have brushed it off. Thought it was just a stomach ache or maybe she had cramps—thought maybe she was about to start her period. God, she was always in so much pain during that time of the month, even had to take off work for a week once a month.

“Some women just have it harder than others, sweetheart,” Bill whispers, snuggling her close and thumbing soft circles on her hip in his position as the big spoon. Peppering kisses on her ear and shoulder when she whimpers.

Bill hears a soft shuffle next to him, but doesn’t bother to lift his head.

“She needs you,” the doctor muttered, patting Bill on the shoulder assuringly; the sound of his footsteps growing farther away.

Bill doesn’t say it aloud, but he silently agrees with the doctor. She needs him and he hopes there won’t ever be a day where she doesn’t. He’s proper fallen for her so many times that he admits he’d do anything—anything at all—to make sure she’s alright. To make sure she’s always going to need him.

Nearly an hour later, Bill fights just about everything holding him down and stumbles to his feet. He knuckles at his eyes, trying to dry the damp skin underneath his eyes and the bit of liquid running from his nostrils. He speaks softly to the lady at the front desk, asking what room Y/N would be in. So softly, the woman has to stand up and peer her ear toward him to make out his question.

It hasn’t really dawned on Bill yet—cancer’s a tricky subject, but he’s more concerned about how terrible his missus must be feeling, considering she went into the hospital anxious to know the gender of the baby, petting her tummy the whole ride there. “Hello, sweet thing,”

Then, Bill pauses right outside her door. He fell in love with a tumor invading her body—even cried over it and kissed it when she was sleeping. His eyes welled up again and he wanted to fight it—he really did—but he could barely ball his fist anymore. “I’m gonna be a daddy,” He closes his eyes when the tears fall, eventually tasting the saltiness on his lip. The hallway is quiet, minus his sniffling and the faint sound of beeping machines and murmuring nurses. When he feels he’s had his fair share of sadness for the time being, he’s sniffling more calmly and wiping at his eyelids again, before exhaling a shaky breath.

When she he shuts the door behind him and looks up from his boots, Bill finds it hard to breath, or walk, or speak. He’s  practically paralyzed, feeling particularly fragile. There’s a male nurse near the bed, arranging a plate of food, but Bill can’t see much of what’s on it, because the room is so dimly lit. Y/N seems to be asleep, but he really can’t tell and isn’t exactly making an effort to, because he genuinely can’t move. He doesn’t want to mess anything up—doesn’t want to hurt her.

“She said the lights were bothering her,” The nurse explained, finishing up the plate and flicking on a small lamp near her bed. “You’re...Bill, is it?” He asked, reading off a clipboard and walking toward him. Bill nods, sniffling again, before shaking the man’s hand. “She’s just sleeping right now. It’s been,” He peeked at his watch. “Five hours now. She hasn’t been sleeping very well these past few days, but that’s completely normal given the circumstances. However, it’s imperative that you don’t let her sleep too much, because we need to monitor her movements and make sure she’s eating on time. Also, she’s been a bit nauseated, so there’s a tin next to the bed and the bathroom’s right over there.”

The nurse, who introduced himself as Liam briefed Bill on Y/N’s state and Bill tried his best to remember it all, nodding after each sentence and periodically glancing at Y/N. When Liam was finished, he exhaled a little and folded his arms with the clipboard tucked underneath. “There’s a blueberry muffin, glass of water, and pill on the tray. It’s best that you wake her as soon as possible so that she eats.” He explained with a friendly smile and Bill nodded again.

The door closes behind him and Bill sighs, walking toward her. He sits in a chair placed next to her bed, quietly. He’s placed his hand atop her’s and notices the small tube bandaged to her arm. Her breathing is soft, like gentle puffs of air with every take and he silently admits that if he could, he’d settle on only being able to listen to her soft bouts of air and nothing else, for the rest of his life.

He cups her cheek in his hand and stretches over the bed to press a peppered kiss to her forehead. He’s whispering something lightly, urging her to wake up, but she only snuggles her face further onto the warmth of his hand. This makes a small smile dawn at his mouth and if it hadn’t been for the forming sore throat from crying, he would’ve giggled a bit.

She’s whimpering a little when he goes to move his hand and he thinks it’s the sweetest sound. “It’s me, sweetheart,” Bill whispers and Y/N’s lips part lazily. Eventually, her eyes are fluttering open and Bill’s got his hand stretched over her hip, stroking it over the hospital gown. She stares at him for a while when her eyes open, blinking the sleep away and making out his features with help of the small lamp. She notices the cherry blush on his cheeks and tip of his nose and the glossy streaks in his eyes.  

Bill hasn’t got much of anything to say, feeling rather stuck. She speaks instead and her voice is just as soft as he remembers. “Missed you,” She murmurs, voice low. He can tell just how weak she is, by the drain in the color of her irises. His fingertips trace over the side of her face and she’s silent, parting her lips again to speak, but he presses his pointer finger to his lips and shh’es her instead.

“You’re my girl,” He says and goes back to feathering his fingertips along her face. “And you’ll never have to worry about a thing.”

She doesn’t mean to cry; Hell, she’s done enough of that, but it’s the way he speaks to her—like she’s the one he’s ever wanted to spend his energy on, the only one he’s ever wanted to lie eyes on. It was true, what she was thinking. When you’ve found the person that you want to spend the rest of your life with, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.

Bill stands up and leans over her a bit, breathing faintly so it fans over her eyelashes. “Sweet creature,” He mutters, running the pad of thumb under one eye, then the other. “My sweet girl.” He stares at her for long while.

“Like honey?” She asks, slowly bringing the palm of her hand up to press against the fabric of his shirt. His heart was pounding in his rib cage and that reassured her for some odd reason. Then, she remembered and it wasn't so odd at all.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” Bill explains, standing in the pool--the water just below his chin. He just got this job as lifeguard in a fancy hotel uptown, and surely, it wouldn’t look good if the manager walked in on the two, far after the pool closing time, but Y/N admitted that she couldn’t swim and Bill just couldn’t go to sleep with that kind of atrocity.

She’s sitting poolside, lightly kicking her feet back and forth in the water, slightly nudging Bill in the side every time she kicked forward. He's holding her by the waist and winks up at her. Romantically, it’s been about a month they’ve been dating and it’s her first time seeing him shirtless and on top of that, he’s soaking wet and squeezing her hips, because he’s needy. “You’re not very convincing,” She said, just before sliding forward and squeezing her eyes closed when the dry parts of her body hit the water. Bill is a giggling mess, holding her up by the waist and spinning a bit in the water. “It’s...cold,” She musters, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. When she finally opens her eyes, he’s already starring and she realizes that for the first time, they were eye to eye and she made out the little scar near his eye and ran her thumb over it.

Before she could even fathom the words, he presses his lips to her’s and waited to exhale, until she grew comfortable and kissed back. Then, they were breathing (finally) and Bill furrows his eyebrows in concentration, because she feels so fucking soft. He was her first and she wasn’t sure how long kisses are supposed to last, but she wonders if it’s possible to kiss someone all day, because she’d be willing for Bill. When Y/N pulls back with a wet smack of their lips, it was because her inhaler was all the way in their hotel room and she couldn't risk an accident.

“You’re sweet,” He says, nodding his head, like he knew it already.

She puckers her lips to the side to unsuccessfully hold back a smile and tilts her head to the left. “Like honey?” She mocks.

He begins spinning them around again and a small smirk falls on his lips. “The sweetest.” Surely, Y/N had asthma since she was young, but everyday spent with Bill made her believe that it was him all along--the reason she can’t seem to breath steadily. Still, she shakes her head a little, smiling down between them.

“Here,” He takes her hand and guides it over his heart. “Feel that?” It was thumping against the skin (surely, breaking the rib cage, she thinks) and she raises her eyebrows, because he didn’t look the least anxious. “Pretty girls make me nervous.”

She sighs, feeling defeated and moves her hand back to it’s place on his neck. He narrows his eyes at her. “You don’t believe me,” He blurts and she bites her lip, because it's true, shaking her head no..

“Nonsense,” He says, beginning to twirl them around again--this time, not stopping until she’s in a fit of giggles, resting her head in his neck. She’s panting now, lifting her head with her lips curved. “You have to believe me, sweetheart,” The pet named slipped and she almost lost her grip on his shoulders. “Didn’t you love anything?”

She was too out of breath to muster any response, but she silently admitted it to herself, later on that night. Yes--she loved him; more than the desire to breathe.

“The sweetest.” Once Bill has cocked his head to the side enough, his lips brush against her’s and their breathing grows more labored by the second. Bill was silent, not daring to break his lips away. From the way she has her hands guided on the back of his neck, like her life depended on it, he fears she might beat him bloody if he did.

Kissing is a strange thing. You’re supposed to breathe, but if you’re doing it right, you shouldn’t feel obligated to, because when you’re pressing against the lips of the person you love most in the world, breathing and every other job we take on, becomes more a choice. Just as long as you can feel them--nothing else matters.

“Jesus,” Bill gasps, pulling back at the sound of Y/N’s heart monitor beeping rapidly. “You’ve got to breathe, bunny,” He’s panicking, checking her face to make sure he hasn’t hurt her, but she only smiles, steadying her breathing. ”Why didn’t you breathe?” He asks, more curious than afraid.

“Didn’t you love anything?”

[the-girl-with-shad0ws]

From Broken to Whole

@magicandheart (this popped in my head and wouldn't leave so I kind of imagine this as her full vow to Damon! Or whatever it is, it's meant to speak to Damon!)

Girls are always told that we are meant to endure. That we must face the pain to understand love. That we must learn what society wants and to conform to its rules. That our place isn't as we defined it to be.

What they also don't tell girls is that we can't show how broken we are. For our bitterness at the world and every person in it is unjustifiable. So endure we do and suffer long we have.

They don't let us speak. They are afraid of our voice and our power and our fight to go on. To continue and rise when speared through the ground.

I never really got that voice. I know my story now but it does not make it any less painful. From house to house, pain to near death, I witnessed too much all too soon for a little girl. I was told to keep quiet and live with it because no one cared enough to protect me like people should. I knew what scars meant before the warmth of a hug. I learned how to hide and make myself invisible in the face of bottle and the power behind a fist.

Life never did get easier after the homes. Flames came and went and memories seared into my head all while I was just turning 11. And then I met a woman. A proud, beautiful woman who taught me love and acceptance, leading me to learn to trust humanity again. A woman I still call mother today. She was ripped away from me and I was sent running away, coursing my path and etching my footprints for those who looked closer to see my story.

And then I meet more people. I met a man who kept a gang name as a token of survival and wears it with pride. This man is my father now.

I met a previous drug-dealing-heroin-addict who now is a body builder and runs Chipotles like no other. I call this man my brother.

Next we have a previous gang member who was taught that the world needed more predators than humans to survive. Enduring and resisting, she eventually found her way to us and never looked back once. Well, especially not after seeing what guns she coule have. I call her my sister.

Then we have the most irritating but loving twins I could ever know. I wish I could say you weren't than the Weasely twins but even Harry Potter would agree that they are both more devious than Fred and George ever could be. I call them brothers at best, distant cousins twice removed at worse.

And then we have an amazing technological prodigy with an affinity towards electricity. His powers spark and burst but just like his heart, it too burns bright from hid passions and hurts he's received. Still, he goes on and I love to call him the best baby brother I could ever hope to have.

And I would be an idiot to not mention the best wizard I will ever see or know. Too blinding for this world but too pure for sin, I owe him so much for everything he's taught and gave me. I think it was him that taught me what forgiveness meant. I call him my brother.

And his family is now my family. Consistent of love and squabbles, I know what family is supposed to be and I am honored to be a part of them. Thank you Aishling and Errol for that.

Of course this wouldn't be complete without mentioning the best doctor. The woman who never sleeps but always heals us with the power of patience and a hidden love for us all!

And finally.. the man who made me whole again.

Now this man and I did not have a good start at all. We met over a dead body in an alleyway and immediately bumped heads. It was only through the grace of our shadows that we even stayed near each other or else we would have been dragged by them. But this was a good thing because the unthinkable happened: we fell in love. Well.. after arguments and fights and lots of really angsty events that shoved us towards the other, making it impossible not to grow close.

And of course there were quiet moments in between. Cofee breaks here, case files there, and plenty of baking in between to put a diabetic to death from the sheer number of cookies I baked for this man (still do). And even after saying all that, this is still the man I would have chosen.

Sounds crazy but.. he completes me in a way that no one ever could. I don't like sharing this with people but I tried to kill myself when I was younger. The woman I mentioned earlier? She died. A horrible death that was caused through me but more indirect than that. And me attempting to cross that bridge just settled something in me that I never wanted to notice.

That I had pieces of me and none of them were ever going to be put back together to fuse and heal. I was shattered. Something empty and playing at being whole. I never wanted to recognize this and always shut that out of me.

But this man made me realize that maybe I wasn't as put together as I should- or wanted- to be. That maybe I needed to learn and see what made me feel broken so I could start the process of moving on to heal. And he was always there for the major or tiny steps it took to realize this.

This man, for all his faults and traumas he's endured, taught me to want to live and be happy for myself again. He taught me that I could be upset and cry or rage at the world and demand it give everything back to me. Demand that I be happy and to fight back for what I really wanted and needed in life.

I call this man Damon. With his beautiful golden-amber eyes that shine like a molten star caught in a sea of amber waves. With his shining ebony locks and the too cute light freckles that darken in the sun. I swear they're there- you just have to get close to his nose to see the dusting.

He also has a slight dimple and the most radiant smile ever to shine on this earth. And his smiles are not common, making them all the more precious when they are given.

His hugs are what a home should feel like and his heart- past all the walls and thorns- is a lovely, beating entity all on its own. It cries out for love and is scared of rejection, repulsion, and fear for what could happen to the person who dares to hold it.

But I held it and still continue to hold it. For his heart is the best gift ever given to me without me actually realizing it was to and for me. It beats and quivers, wavering in size but never in his feelings. It beats true and he gave it to me expecting to be shredded and thrown as an end result.

This will never happen. For Damon Riley Darkstorm has given me a thing I never thought I deserved. And for that, I will always be grateful to him.

You make me want to live and experience the world with you.

You make me want to learn how to overcome the bad shit and keep the good with me.

You make me happy- so very, very happy- because I never thought anyone could or would love me like you have. I never thought I would attain that dream of marriage and of someone completing you so wholly that you cannot look back without them. And I will always love you for that.

I love you Damon Riley Darkstorm. From now until I die and even then, I know I won't be alone. Because eternity without you id impossible now that we've met. Our souls are entwined from now and forever. A balance of good and evil, light and dark.

I am yours and you are mine and we become one. Because for you, my love will never fade, never waver, and never doubt. That I promise you from now until the end of existence. And you can always ask me, no matter if I'm sleeping or showering or just angry with you.

I love you.

Thank you for coming into my life and staying in it. It's been rough and too many times did it almost end. But at the end of it all, we overcame everything and became stronger because of it.

So from your stubborn idiot, I say thank you Damon Riley Darkstorm.

You beautiful, wonderful asshole.

[allthestripes]

Let Me Love You - a Valentine’s Bunny fic (for hypochondriac-butters)

Kenny scribbled furiously on his piece of bright pink construction paper. He didn't usually put massive amounts of energy into things, it just wasn't his style, but for this, he felt it was worth it. Crayons were scattered across the table of the art room, most of them half-melted and broken from the heat of Kenny's hand or the pressure he had used on them. With a few final flourishes of his hand, he dropped the blue crayon he had been holding, staring down at his masterpiece.

It looked innocent on the outside, only one word written across it in slightly scraggled cursive. Little, colored lines formed swirling patterns, creating a pleasant looking design. However, it was the inside that Kenny was most concerned with. It's reception, at least.

He licked his lips nervously under the hood of his parka, looking around the class. His friends, Stan and Kyle, were sitting together making people chains together, each person linked by the hands with tiny hearts. He would have laughed and called them gay if not for the paper in his hands. His eyes scanned over the rest of the students, taking in each person before alighting on the object of his deepest affections.

Letting out a sigh, he slumped over the table, watching the other paint at an easel. How in the world was he ever going to do this? It's not like he could just walk up and say, "Hey, dude, you're hot and I'm hot, and we're both single. Interesting, right?" No, no. This boy was too good for that. It needed to be special…

A heavy hand dropping onto his shoulder almost made him crush the delicate card in his hands, and Kenny's head snapped around as he leveled a glare at the owner: Eric Cartman.

"Aw, come on, Kinny, don't look at me like that," the chubby boy whined. "I'm here to help you."

"I don't want your help," Kenny growled, but was ignored as Cartman pulled his chair closer.

"I've been watching you as you creep stare at our dear friend," he continued. "I just wanted to say that since I'm so great at helping people get together, how about letting me help you, too?"

"Fuck you, you giant assed-"

"GREAT!" Cartman slapped his back, knocking the poor boy forward and the air out of his lungs. "I was going to try and match up someone else, but I'll move you to the top of my list since we're friends."

Kenny opened his mouth to retort, but stopped when Cartman addressed the air beside him, calling it "Cupid Me". The fuck? Deciding that Cartman was crazy, Kenny got up and slipped away, heading towards the easels. He stopped short, not wanting to get too close. He didn't want to be spotted, seeing as his open staring was pretty weird already.

The boy in question started to turn around, and in a panic, Kenny threw himself to the side, landing heavily on Stan and knocking him into Kyle. The trio collapsed to the floor in a tangle of limbs and pained cries. Of course, this drew the attention of the entire class, and Kenny grabbed the strings of his parka, yanking them to close his hood, hiding his reddening face.

The other students began to laugh, and it took Kenny a full minute to realize it wasn't directed at him. Glancing back, his eyes widened as he saw what was causing the laughter. Stan and Kyle had landed in such a way that resulted in them kissing, and the two were so shocked by this, they hadn't moved away from one another.

Using this as the perfect distraction, Kenny ran out the door into the hallway, snatching the hall-pass from the teacher's desk as he rushed by. Once he was free, he made his way down the hall to his locker. Turning the dial, he popped the metal door open and stashed away his carefully constructed gift. He couldn't risk taking it home, it could get lost or crumpled, and he couldn't keep it on him for the same reasons. No, it would be safest in his locker.

Tomorrow was Valentine's Day, and for all Kenny's perversions, he was a bit of a hopeless romantic.

----------

After narrowly avoiding getting locked in the gym with the object of his affection, Kenny made his way home with his little sister, Karen. The small girl was bouncing as she walked, telling Kenny about her day. He listened closely, a slight smile on his face. Kenny loved listening to her, hearing the excitement and happiness in her voice.

"-then Tricia, you know my best friend? Anyway, then she told our teacher that she didn't care about adding numbers and stuff, and she flipped her off! It was so funny, Kenny, the teacher was so mad!" Karen giggled at the memory, jumping over cracks in the sidewalk. "She's so cool and doesn't care what anyone thinks of her. I wish I was more like her…"

Hearing the sadness entering her tone, Kenny stopped, taking her hand and pulling her into a hug. "Well, I think you're perfect as is," he said. "Don't worry about being like other people. Just be the very best you you can be."

This got a giggle in response, and Karen nodded, hugging him back.

Once home, the little girl went off to her room to play, and Kenny left after checking to see that Kevin was around to watch her. They nodded slightly at each other, then Kenny dropped his backpack in his room and left to hang out with his friends. Arriving at the Marsh residence, he found Stan and Kyle sitting in the front yard, holding hands shyly.

He grinned under his hood, walking up to the pair. "So everything worked out I see," he teased, taking a seat just off to the side so he could look them both in the face. "First kiss wasn't to bad, was it?"

"Oh, shut it, Kenny," Kyle huffed, his face almost as red as his hair. "It's your fault, anyway."

"You're welcome~."

Rolling his eyes, Stan asked, "Do you know what's up Cartman's ass? He was super pissy on the bus home today, and kept saying something about ungrateful bastards. Butters was trying to cheer him up, but it didn't seem to be helping."

Kenny shrugged, flopping back into the snow to hid his sudden blush. "I don't know, did we ever get that alien prob out? Maybe it's malfunctioning and zapping him so he's cranky."

"Oh, man, I can't believe I forgot about that!"

After this, the topic of Cartman was dropped, and the boys went inside to play video games. When the sun had set and Sharon Marsh had fed the three, Kenny returned home with all the leftovers he could carry. As always, he went to his siblings' bedroom first, letting Karen and Kevin eat as much as they wanted before taking the rest to the fridge for his parents.

He went to his room and got into bed. He wasn't particularly tired, but he needed to get as much sleep as possible. It was going to be an emotional day, whether for the good or bad. He had to be ready.

----------

Waking the next morning, Kenny jumped in the shower before anyone else was up. He ate a cold waffle, then scrubbed his teeth for a good ten minutes. He didn't think he was going to get lucky enough for a kiss, but he didn't want to be unprepared if something like what happened to Stan and Kyle happened to him. It paid to be ready for anything.

Dressing quickly, he grabbed his backpack and left, heading to the bus stop a good half hour before he needed to be there. He just couldn't handle waiting around the house. Too many things could go wrong there, better to just go to a relatively safe spot.

He spent the time pacing, and when his friends arrived, the grass was poking through the snow where Kenny had worn it down. Cartman was in a better mood than the day before, and continuously shot knowing looks at Kenny between teasing Kyle and Stan. Every movement from the two, even a simple adjustment to warm their legs, would get him to scream, "OH MY GOD, YOU GUYS ARE SO FUCKIN' GAY!"

Kyle lasted ten minutes, longer than Kenny had anticipated (perhaps Stan's calming presence was already helping him), before he jumped on the other and they rolled around, fists flying and legs kicking. It was no small effort for Stan and Kenny to pull them apart, and they managed it just as the bus pulled up.

Tucking his hair back into his hat, Kyle boarded first, stomping to the back and throwing himself down, Stan settling beside him and whipping the dirt and snow from Kyle's jacket as best he could.

Chuckling to himself, Kenny followed, sliding into the last empty seat. The ride to the school was blissfully short, and Kenny rocketed out of the vehicle and to his locker, beating the flood of students that poured in shortly after.

Ripping his locker open, he gingerly removed the card he had so carefully crafted the day before. When it was in his hands, Kenny felt like he was on overdrive, aware of every single tiny detail all around him. He had to keep his gift safe until he could get it to it's target.

Challenging his inner ninja, he let the other students move him as though he were a leaf in a stream. Or, more accurately, a dry, dead leaf caught in a rapid. He was shunted from one side of the hall to the other, bumping and crashing into things left and right. For a brief moment, he wondered how disappointed Token would be in him for dishonoring the ninjas so terribly, but he quickly refocused.

Reaching the classroom, he forced his way through the crowd and popped into the room. He looked around, taking in all the people milling about and talking before the day began. Spotting his goal, he took a steady breath, straightened his parka, and walked over.

Butters was sitting at his desk, humming brightly as he organized a small stack of valentines, the kind bought at dollar stores. They were Hello Kitty brand, and Kenny could see the edges of fake tattoos poking out from each.

"Hey, Butters," he said, taking the desk beside him.

"Oh, heya, Ken!" the blonde greeted, sending him a smile that almost sent the death-prone boy straight into heaven. "How ya doing today? Do you have any plans with a special lady later?"

Oh, boy.

"Ah, no. I, um, I wanted to give you something." He held out the somehow still pristine card, offering it to him. "You don't have to read it now if you don't want too." In his mind, he silently begged the other not to read it until he was struck down, then he could forget and Kenny could get over him. But the universe just loved to fuck with him, so instead of him dropping dead, Butters put aside his cards and took the pink paper, flipping it open immediately.

Kenny's body tensed, his eyes focused on Butters' expression. The pink was brighter than Kenny remembered, and he wished he had used a less… noticeable color. As he watched, Butters' eyes grew wider and wider until he was sure they would fall out. A small twinge of guilt flared in his stomach when he saw the almost invisible scar line that went down the boy's left eye, but he didn't have time to think about it as Butters turned to face him. He was gripping the paper tightly, as if worried someone would take it from him.

"Ken, d-do you really mean all this?" he asked, his voice soft.

Silently, Kenny nodded, not trusting his voice. This was it, the moment of truth.

Butters looked between the card and Kenny, then a smile began to grow on his face, getting wider and wider until it looked almost painful. He bounced in his seat and laughed, then jumped up.

"Aw, Ken, you're so mushy!" He looked down at the carefully planned love confession, practically glowing with pure sunshine happiness. "I didn't know you were so poetic, neither!"

"Well, what can I say? You bring out my creative side, B-" The blonde's hand pressed into the fabric over Kenny's mouth, shutting him up. He looked at the other in surprise, wondering what he was doing.

"Nuh uh," Butters scolded lightly. "If you really wanna date me, Ken, you have to call me Leo, okay? But ONLY you get to call me that."

Kenny blushed, but smiled, grabbing his hand. "Anything for you."

"Anything?" Butters tugged on one of the parka strings. "Then could ya pull your hood down for a moment?"

Without hesitation, Kenny used his free hand to pull back his hood, shaking out his hair. As he had done this exactly zero times in school before, it immediately caught the attention of all the others, though the pair didn't notice, too busy in their own little world.

"What did you want me to do that for, Leo?"

The softest thing Kenny had ever felt brushed his lips lightly, and his entire being felt like it had caught fire. It wasn't painful like real fire, however, just warm and… dare he say, nice?

It took half a second too long to process that Butters, BUTTERS, had been the brave one and kissed him first. Holy shit. He hadn't thought it was possible to be more in love, but BOY had he been wrong.

"Oh, gee, I-I hope I didn't upset you, Kenny. I was just real happy because of your note that I couldn't help myself," Butters said as he inched back, his hands curling into loose fists as he rubbed his knuckles together nervously.

Before he could say anything else, Kenny pulled him into a hug, pressing gentle kisses all over Butters' face, making the boy squeal and giggle.

"You could never upset me, Leo," he said, finally moving back, though he didn't let him go. "I meant every word of that letter. I would die for you a million times, more if you needed me too. I don't know if I would actually be successful, but I'd be willing to give murder a shot to make you happy."

Butters snorted and broke into the bubbly laughter that Kenny adored. He patted his floof of hair, making it bounce. "For real, Leo. I don't know how you did it, but you kicked the shit out of my heart and made it yours."

"That's real gay, Ken." Butters tapped the tip of Kenny's nose, smiling. "Good thing I'm bi-curious."

[rofics]

Come Together pt 12

Bts gang au x hybrid reader and friend

Warnings: cussing, death, guns, creeper? Sex offender mention

Damn it! My plan was ruined! They weren't supposed to forgive each other!

http://rofics.tumblr.com/post/171951890192/come-together-pt-13-bts-x-hybrid-reader-and-friend

I'm not sure how long I napped for, but I felt great when I woke up. I stretched and sighed when my bones popped back into place, stiff muscles loosening. My body relaxes back onto the bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Chatter was coming from downstairs, everyone seeminly getting along again.

'Oh hey since you're awake you wanna know that Jungkook kissed while you were sleeping?' Kyra taunts and my eyes widen 'Nuh uh, you're lying' I reply, heart speeding up slightly. 'He did though, on your forehead' she assures and I smile to myself 'Man I thought you meant on the lips' I say jokingly and she goes silent 'He thought about it' she confesses and I sit up 'No way! Now you're just messing with me!' I whine, tail swishing against the bed. 'Maybe you should confess? I know it's kind of unprofessional since you're his bodyguard but Hoseok plans on confessing to Sacha tonight. So you confessing won't hurt' my tail wags at that, big grin on my face.

Those two would be a great couple, I can trust Hoseok with my big sister.

*knock knock knock* my head tilts towards the door, so I sit up and walk to it, peeking my head out.

"Hey Hobi" I greet, opening the door so he can step in.

"So this is yours and Kookie's room" he says with a smile, looking around as I nod. I take a seat on a giant bean bag chair in the room while Hoseok occupies the other.

"So you want to ask Sacha out huh?" I ask, leaning forwards with a smile. He looks at me in confusion before laughing with a nod

"Was I that obvious?" He questions and I nod my head.

"Do you have any pointers? I don't really do this often and I don't want to mess up" he adds, staring at me.

"Most definitely do it in private, and don't straight up say it. She likes you back but asking at random will scramble her brain a bit. Ease it into a cute conversation and you're guaranteed a yes!" I inform, Hoseok nods intently at me, taking in the information.

"Thanks Y/N. I'll owe you one if she says yes" he thanks, standing up and I wave him off.

"We're family Hobi, it means a lot that you came to me. But I do have a question for you...how could I approach Jungkook about feelings? I'm not exactly the best with words and he's pretty shy so it could get awkward" I ask, ear twitching a bit. He smiles down at me and sits back on the bean bag.

"Well he's still a bit hesitant, he does like you but he has to be confident in himself. Right now he's not sure if you like him back, maybe hint at it a bit? He's a strange kid" He replies making me laugh a bit

"Noted, thanks Hobi. Wanna go down together? I'm pretty rested from my nap" I ask and he nods

"I hope you'd be rested, you napped for about 5 hours, Jin was either going to cook or Namjoon would buy us food" he says and nudges my shoulder as I stare at him

"Wow, 5 hours isn't bad" I giggle, opening the door and walking down the stairs. Hoseok leaves the door open and walks down next to me. As always a seat next to Jin is open and I slowly sit down, still the slightest bit weary and upset. Sacha looks at me with a brow raised and I smile at her, shooting her a 'you'll see' look. She rolls her eyes at me and smiles as Hoseok sits next to her, my smile grows as I look at the two. Eli catches my eye and his gaze flicks to Sacha as if he's asking did they confess. I barely shake my head and send a 'not yet' look to which he smiles back at me. Being twins was a lot of fun because we knew exactly what the other meant.

"Now that we're all here what does everyone want to eat? We could go out and get something or just get something delivered" Namjoon asks and Eli pipes up first.

"What if we went out? And maybe go to a bigger arcade? This outing should be better than the others " he says and Tae nods.

"I like that plan!" He says, the two of them high fiving.

"I think that'd be cool" I add, Sacha agreeing as well making Hoseok agree.

"Alright, majority rules. We're going out tonight!" Namjoon exclaims, clapping his hands before getting up. I go and get changed real quick, putting on a red and black flannel, my black jeans, and the black Timbs. I finish my look with a dark red beanie on my head, throwing Sacha a light pink one that matches her pink sweater, jeans, and brown boots. Eli went with Sacha, Hoseok, Yoongi, and Namjoon while I was with the others. I was in between Jungkook and Tae in the backseat, Jimin occupying the seat next to Jin. Our car follows Yoongi's, Namjoon will probably pick the restaurant.

"Hey what did Hoseok hyung talk to you about?" Tae asks out of the blue

"Oh he wanted some pointers on how to ask Sacha out, so I gave him some" I reply

"And she actually likes him back? I'd hate for him to get a broken heart" Jin questions and I stop myself from clicking my tongue in irritation.

"I'm very sure she likes him back, I wouldn't have given him the pointers if she didn't." I say calmly, biting back the sarcasm wanting to leak out. The car stops, the smell of pizza filling my nostrils. I immediately got excited because not only did this place have good pizza, it also had a big ass arcade in the basement. We all get out and head down the stairs, all of the big tables were in the basement. There weren't many people luckily, only a small group of three teens. The waiter takes our drink orders, so I order F/D (fav drink). The dude seemed kind of creepy, he lingered by Sacha and gave me a wink that made me want to hurl.

While we waited for the pizza to arrive we put money into the machine to get tokens, each of us getting a hefty amount. Eli races over to the Dance Dance Revolution machin and I laugh as Hoseok joins him. This is going to be one hell of a show, Eli the goof vs dance master Hoseok. Eli picked Bad Romance by Lady Gaga, he's such a dork. Eli surprisingly does really well, feet keeping up with the arrows. They both have a good time, laughing and yelling random words or sounds. They hit the last note then the score pops up, leaving everyone in shock. Eli beat Hoseok by 1 point! Tae dragged me off to play basketball, putting coins in and poising myself. I feel like Tae had the advantage since he was taller than me but I didn't let that stop me, throwing the balls up into the basket. I somehow ended up winning because Jimin came up and began to pester Tae, making him miss a few shots. I high five Jimin, glad that I had an ally. Tae then challenges Jimin to play so I travel over to Jungkook and Eli racing against each other.

"I want to go against you Y/N!" He states, pulling me closer so I nod with a laugh. Jungkook gets off of his bike and I sit down, body leaning forward. We put the coins in and the timer counts down, I hit the gas when the screen says go, leaving Eli in the dust. I lean my body to the side when I need to turn, eyes focused on the screen. Sacha comes up and slaps my butt with a laugh

"Hey!" I laugh, trying to hit her with one hand and steer with the other.

"What? It's sticking out Jinx, I had to get the shot in" she replies with a giggle. We play a few more games then our multiple pizzas arrive, all of us swarming back to the table for food. We all dig in, conversing with food in our mouths. The group of teens settled into the corner, conversing quietly which made me suspicious. Before I can say something the waiter comes up, standing behind me this time.

"Everything tasting all right?" He asks, and I somehow feel like he's only talking to me which makes me shudder.

"Everything's fine thank you" Jungkook buts in, making me sigh when the creepy waiter leaves.

"That dudes a creeper" Sacha mutters, taking another slice of pizza. I nod, biting into my breadstick. We finish off the pizza and go back to playing more games because we have a shit ton of tokens left. There's a Mortal Combat game so I challenge Jimin, he gives me a 'seriously' look but sits at the machine opposite of mine. I pick Katana while Jimin picked Sub Zero. The fight begins and I land attack after attack, fingers mashing at the buttons. About mid way through match 2 Jimim starts doing really well, blocking and landing attacks.

"Were you holding out on me?" I ask with a laugh but he appears next to me with a grin.

"Nope, I subbed in someone" he states

"Jungkook?" I question, earning a nod from him. Kook takes the second round and we battle it out for the third, each of us wanting to win. I manage to pull a clutch win, getting a long range attack in and killing Sub Zero with one hit left to my health. I cheer, fist bumping the air. Jimin high fives me again and I give Jungkook one, being a good sport. With our last tokens Sacha forces me to play DDR so I pick Just the Way You Are by Bruno Mars.

The song ends and I get a higher score, beating Sacha by 1,000 points. She side hugs me and Namjoon leaves cash for the food so we go to leave, Sacha and I walking in sync. The waiter catches us before we leave

"Wait! Can I have your number?" He asks and I shake my head

"Sorry, I'm already taken" I reply, hugging Sacha closer to me. She nods, playing along.

"She can have my number too" he says suggestively, wiggling an eyebrow and I gag inwardly.

"They don't want your number" Hoseok says, stepping in front of us.

"Shouldn't you be keeping a low profile Kyle Kim? Seeing as how you're a registered sex offender and on parol, I'd hate for officer Park to find out you're trying to make advances on people" Yoongi warns stepping next to Hoseok, making my mouth turn into an o

"Damn Yoongi" I praise, dude turning around wordlessly.

"I don't like pervs" he says with a smile and I fist bump him. We walk back up the stairs peacefully, exiting the front doors to walk behind the building where the cars are. We're greeted by the waiter and the three kids, they all have guns and are in front of our cars. I cast a force field around everyone, one that will richochet the bullets back if they shoot.

"Can we help you?" Eli questions, crossing his arms across his chest.

"You can't, you're twin however, can. They wiped my boyfriend Ayden's memory. He doesn't remember me and his magick is gone, meaning my magick is gone. I'm not too happy about that or the fact your friend knew that I was registered." He says and I raise and eyebrow.

"Wow, you were just feeding off of his power? That's pretty pathetic actually, you get magick from practicing, not leeching it off of someone else" I retort, crossing my arms like Eli. The dude scoffs and points his gun at me, making me smirk. The three kids follow, guns all pointed at me.

"Are those supposed to scare me?" I laugh, taking a step towards them.

"No, rather what's in the bullets. Pure silver, designed to take out your kind, a werewolf" he says and I bite back a laugh.

"Okay, go ahead and shoot. We'll see what happens" I chuckle, I guess he didn't know I'm only half werewolf, Malamute and magick cancel out the harmful affect of silver. I was ready to turn my body into metal any second, eyes watching him intently.

*pow, clank, thud*

The guy shoots, bullet richocheting back, hitting him in the head. He dies instantly, the teens staring at me.

"Drop the guns, you don't want to do anything stupid" Eli adds, stepping closer to me. One of them shoots at him, bullet richocheting back into the kids head. She falls to the ground with a thud as well making me sigh in dispare.

"Please, you're too young to be doing this to yourselves. Don't you want to live to see the future? To grow old and explore?" Sacha asks, trying to save the other two kids. One shoots at Sacha, bullet coming back and another body drops. The last one is stunned, he seemed to be the youngest of the bunch. He stares at his friends then back at us, he throws the gun down and runs back into the building.

"At least one lived" I mutter solemnly, making the Earth take the dead bodies away. Hopefully their souls will go somewhere happier.

Nobody got any calls about an infultrated base, or random attacks so we went back home. It wasn't time for bed but everyone went to change into something comfy, Hoseok asking if Sacha could go to his room for a second. I give him a big smile and a thumbs up before walking into my shared room.

"Is Hoseok hyung going to confess?" Jungkook asks stepping into the room and I nod happily

"Those two are going to be adorable!" I giggle, walking into the closet. I change in the bathroom, not wanting to expose myself. I finish and swing the door open to see Jungkook half naked. He's only in his boxers so I close the door quickly, face completely red

"Sorry!" I shout through the door and place my head on it with a thud. It's silent for a minute or so, clothes rustling

"I'm dressed now" Jungkook says quietly so I slowly open the door and step out with an awkward cough.

"Sorry about that again" I apologize and he shakes his head

"It's okay, it was bound to happen at some point because we live in the same room" he says looking away and I nod my head, eyes on the ground.

"Well should we go back downstairs?" I ask with a smile and he nods. Sacha steps out of Hoseok's door with a wide smile as we exit ours.

"Did you say yes?" I ask and she nods vigorously. I laugh happily and give her a big hug

"Congrats Bee! You two will make a dope ass couple" I praise, ruffling her hair. Hoseok also steps out a smile and I give him a hug

"Good job Hobi! Just remember, don't mess up or you'll randomly disappear without a trace. Not even Yoongi could find you" I warn cutely, patting his back as I pull away. Jungkook snickers at Hoseok's nervous face, Sacha punching my shoulder.

"Don't threaten my boyfriend" she retorts with a laugh, enjoying the word boyfriend. We all walk down to the living room, Sacha and Hoseok hand in hand.

"You asked?" Namjoon asks, motioning to their hands and Hoseok nods.

"Yay! It's about time you got together" Tae says and Jimin nods.

"Seriously, it was painful seeing you two flirt constantly" He adds scrunching his nose and I laugh at how cute he looks.

"He has a point" I say, sitting next to Tae on the couch, Jungkook next to me. We spent the night watching movies like always, it was nice though. It was secure and fun, no awkwardness, just comments about the movie and random silence. One thing did bother me though, it was Jin. He didn't seem the same. I want to talk to him soon, I have to find out why he's still being rude. It's not fair since he's the oldest, he needs to act it. I won't do it tonight, maybe tomorrow morning while he cooks breakfast. I push it out of my mind for now and relax into the couch, legs strewn over Jungkook's for comfort.

*no p.o.v*

Just wait, I'll ruin your happy ending Y/N

*normal p.o.v*

A shiver ran through me, chilling me to the core. Why in the hell does that happen? It's always at night and always before something bad happens.

I think there's someone hiding in the shadows

-Ro! Yay easy chapter! And I finally got sacha and hobi together! I'm going to put reader and kookie through some angst first before they get together 😱as always I hope you enjoy this chapter! <3